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beyondthesefourwalls · 5 months

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And I Want To Make Her Mine

Summary: Javy thought it was too good to be true when he saw you, the girl he had crushed on for almost a year, standing in the Hard Deck. But there you were, looking just as beautiful as you always had. He thought maybe he’d finally get his chance with you after all this time. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one whose attention you caught.

Pairing: Javy Machado x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Language, somewhat suggestive thoughts. The Blonde One™️.

Word Count: 3.9K

Notes: Written for @roosterforme's '80s Rocktober challenge using the song Jessie’s Girl by Rick Springfield. Sorry it’s so late, Em! But hopefully some Javy content makes up for it.

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Javy stood at the bar, waiting for Penny to bring him the beer that he ordered. He was the first out of his friends to arrive and he figured that there was no point in waiting for them. It had been a long week, and he was ready to unwind for the weekend before doing it all again come Monday. A flash of color caught his eye and he looked over for a moment, only to do a double take and have the wind damn near knocked out of him. He stuttered out your name as shock coursed through his veins. He had to be seeing things, he thought. But then your head turned, and those eyes he remembered so well widened in surprised recognition.

“Oh my God. Javy?!”

“Holy shit,” he breathed, shaking his head to try and clear it. His heart sped up in his chest when you wrapped your arms around him in a tight, but way too brief, embrace. “Hi. What-what are you doing here?”

“I transferred to North Island, I start my new post on Monday morning,” you told him as you pulled away, smiling brightly. “Wait. Are you stationed here?”

“I am,” he said, his smile matching yours.

He couldn’t believe his luck that this was happening right now. You had been an administrative assistant at his last duty station, and he had harbored a crush on you for the year that he had been there. You were always friendly with him, matching his flirting at the same level, and the two of you had even grabbed drinks a few times, albeit with other people in attendance. He had never bucked up the courage to ask you out, but had promised himself he would finally bite the bullet as soon as he got back from his last deployment. He had the whole thing planned - dinner and dancing on the pier - only to never be able to actually follow through after orders of a permanent assignment at Top Gun. He had never expected to see you again, yet now you were here, standing right in front of him.

As Javy quickly scanned your face, he took notice of how you were still just as breathtaking. He couldn't help but let his eyes linger on you for a moment too long. You were wearing a simple pair of jeans and a tank top, the clothing hugging your curves in all the right places. He could feel his cheeks heating and quickly looked back up to meet your eyes.

"Wow, small world," he said with a chuckle. "It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you too," you replied, your smile never faltering. "It's been what, a year?"

"Too long," he said, feeling a little tongue-tied. He noticed that you didn’t have a drink in your hand just yet and opened his mouth to ask if he could maybe buy you one when a hand clapped roughly onto his shoulder, a familiar head of blonde hair saddling up beside him.

“Well well well, who do we have here?”

Javy turned to see Jake grinning mischievously, his green eyes trained on you. He felt his stomach twist nervously, knowing that look in his best friend’s eye all too well. Begrudgingly, he gave a quick introduction. "She was stationed down in Florida with me, but is transferring here. We were just catching up," he said, trying to steer the conversation back to you and him.

“Nice to meet you," Jake said, flashing you a charming smile. “It’s an absolute sin that you don’t have a drink in your hand, darlin’. You mind if I fix that for you?”

His eyes widened and panic washed over him when he realized what it was Jake was doing. Either his best friend hadn’t recognized that Javy was about to do the same thing or he simply didn’t care. Either way, he was shooting his shot, and much to his own dismay, you were laughing at the line the blonde had served you. He stared at him with a clenched jaw, missing the way you glanced at him first, a moment of silence passing before you agreed to the proposition.

Before he even really knew what was happening, Jake was placing a hand on the small of your back and turning to the bar to order you a drink. At the same time, the rest of his friends arrived, and Javy was dragged into a conversation with Phoenix and Rooster about something that had happened earlier that day. He kept trying to wrap up the conversation without being rude, and when the two fellow aviators finally retreated to the pool table, he breathed a sigh of relief. He turned back to where you and Jake had been leaning against the bar completely intending on reasoning his conversation with you and hopefully nudging his best friend out of the way. But when he laid eyes on you, his heart sank.

You were laughing at something Jake said, your body leaning into his. Your smile was wide and your face happy, and it was so clear that you were enjoying yourself. You brought your hand up to rest against Jake’s bicep as you threw your head back and laughed, and it felt almost like he was being punched in the face.

Instead of interrupting like he had intended, he threw the rest of his drink back and left the bar.

___

Javy knew he would only get away with ignoring Jake for so long, and he was proven right first thing Monday morning when he was changing into his uniform after hitting the gym on base before their morning brief.

“Where’d you disappear to on Friday night?”

“Didn’t feel good all of a sudden,” he mumbled in response, and really, he wasn’t technically lying. He still felt sick imagining you with him, and he had spent all weekend moping about it.

“That why you dodged my texts, too?”

“Yup.”

Jake snorted, clearly amused by the answer, and Javy felt a flare of annoyance course through him.

“Well you missed a good night. That girl you introduced me to is something else. Did you know she was from Texas?”

Javy did know that, and he was suddenly incredibly resentful that Jake did, too. It was something that he would have in common with you, and just another reason why he was sure the blonde might be more appealing. From what he remembered, you loved talking about home.

“We were thinking of grabbing dinner this week, you sh-“

Javy slammed his locker shut with more force than intended, the sound of metal clanging echoing in the open room. Jake raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Javy paid him no mind as he finished zipping his flight suit. “Good for you, man. Hope y’all have a great time.”

He checked the blonde’s shoulder on his way out the door, ignoring the call of his name and the “what the fuck” that followed.

When he walked into the briefing room a few minutes later, he stopped short of his seat. You were standing at the front of the room flipping through papers with Admiral Simpson. You glanced up once you handed the senior officer what he needed and met his eyes. Your face lit up and you waved happily. Javy wasn’t able to stop the tug at his lips, even if it was tinged with sadness. He raised his hand to wave back - you really did have the best smile.

Then Jake entered the room behind him, and Javy had to wonder who it was you were directing it to to begin with.

_______

Javy knew that he was staring. He couldn’t help himself, not when you looked that good. You were sitting at a table in the back of the bar, shamelessly drinking a glass of sparkling wine in a bar that usually only saw beer and whiskey. You wore one of those flowy skirts that fluttered around your calves, a graphic t-shirt tied in a knot above your belly button. Your hair was down and a little wild and your skin seemed to glow under the fluorescent lights. But it was your smile that really drew him in. It was blinding, radiant, and the most beautiful thing he thought he had ever seen.

But it wasn’t aimed in his direction.

No. Instead, you were smiling at his best friend.

He wanted to look away, to stop torturing himself like this, but he couldn’t. It had been a few weeks since you had come to California, and Javy hadn’t gotten used to the sight of Jake beside you. Here, in the cafeteria at work, even walking down the hallway a few times. It was a constant reminder that he had missed his shot.

He knew he had no right to feel this way. After all, he had never made a move on you, never even hinted at his feelings. Jake had been the one to pursue you, and clearly, he had succeeded. Too bad that didn’t stop Javy’s mind from drifting to what could have been. He wondered what it would be like to be the one to make you smile like that, or the one who was allowed to wrap his arm around you and pull you close. He pictured himself leaning in to steal a kiss, to taste the Prosecco on your lips, to feel the warmth of your body against his or whisper something in your ear that made you shiver.

He was drawn to you in a way that he couldn't explain, and he found himself wanting to stay there, watching. But then you threw your head back and laughed at something he couldn’t hear, and he knew he had to snap out of it.

He downed the rest of his beer in one gulp and stood from the stool he had been perched on, not even bothering to say anything to the rest of his friends as he walked back to the bar. Maybe it was time to move on, to let go of this hopeless crush he’d been harboring and focus on finding something new. The best way to start that, he rationalized, was getting another drink.

He put his order in with Penny, smiling kindly when she slid a fresh pint glass across to him. “Thanks, Penny. Put it on my tab?”

“It’s already paid for,” she told him.

“What?”

She nodded behind him as she moved on to the next customer, and the wink she gave him seemed almost like she was in on something that Javy was entirely missing. He turned in the general direction of where she was indiciating, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His eyes met yours almost immediately. You smiled at him brightly as you waved. Despite everything he had just said, that smile aimed in his direction sent his heart racing.

Javy sighed when you started beckoning him over. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he could handle being so close to you with how his thoughts were currently racing. He was surprised when he took note of Jake no longer being beside you, and a quick glance showed him walking in the direction of the dart board where Rooster and Fanboy were standing. It was the first time the blonde hadn’t been at your side when you were in the same vicinity since you had come into town, and he felt like a terrible friend when it made his decision a little bit easier. At the very least, he could thank you for the drink.

He tried to keep his face neutral even as his heart rounded in his chest as he made his way over to your table. "Hey,” he said, forcing a smile and trying to sound casual.

“Hey, Javy,” you grinned, and you sounded genuinely happy to be speaking to him. You patted the seat beside him, telling him to sit. He did so after a moment of hesitation, and being so close to you immediately had him reeling. “Where have you been hiding?”

“Hiding?”

“I’ve barely seen you since I ran into you here! It feels like you’re dodging me,” you laughed as you took a sip of your drink, and Javy felt his face heat. He hadn’t thought he was being obvious in how he was avoiding both you and his best friend as he worked through the emotions he was feeling.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve just been….busy.”

“Ah.” You didn’t look like you were buying it, and Javy didn’t blame you. It was a weak excuse, and he had to mentally slap himself for not coming up with something better than that. But you didn’t look mad, either. If anything, to his confusion, maybe the look you gave him was even a little amused.

“Well, I hope you’re not too busy for a round of pool,” you said with a cheeky grin. “I’m itching to beat you.”

Javy couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at your tone. It was one of the things that had always drawn him to you. You were so happy and playful. Still, he glanced over at the dart board before looking back at you. He cleared his throat lightly. “Not darts?”

“No,” you answered simply.

“Teams, then?” He pushed. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was doing it to himself.

You shook your head and he swore you leaned just the slightest bit closer to him. “No teams. Just us. Are you up for the challenge?”

He took a deep breath and thought it over for just a second. The smart thing would be declining and getting up and walking away to save his own feelings. But you were smiling so sweetly at him and from this close, he could smell your sweet perfume, and your skin looked so soft. He took a somewhat shaky breath and took a sip of the drink in his hand, before he let a smirk cross his face.

“I don’t know. You might regret asking me to play against you.”

You laughed so prettily, your hair shaking around you when you threw your head back.

“Is that a threat, Lieutenant Machado?”

It felt so reminiscent of how the two of you used to talk to each other that Javy couldn’t help but lean into it. He shook his head with a smile. “No, just a warning.”

You laughed again and stood up, grabbing your drink and motioning for him to follow you. You sent him a wink that went right through him. “Well, let’s see if you can handle me.”

The words sent a shiver down his spine. He followed you to the pool table, his eyes locked onto your hips as they swayed in front of him, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have them pressed against him. He shook his head, trying to push those thoughts away and focus on the game at hand. You set your drink on the table and grabbed a cue stick, holding it out for him to take.

“You break,” you said, your eyes daring him, but for what he wasn’t really sure. Javy took the stick from you, his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending a jolt of electricity up his arm and straight to his heart.

He took a deep breath and stepped up to the table, positioning himself carefully before taking the shot. The balls scattered across the table, and Javy watched as the white ball sank a solid, followed quickly by a stripe. You clapped your hands together, a wide smile on your face.

“Looks like we have a game on our hands,” you teased, leaning over the table to take your shot. Javy couldn't help but watch the way your body moved as you lined it up, sinking a solid easily in one of the corner pockets.

As the game went on, Javy's focus began to wane. He was too distracted by you, by the way you moved, the sound of your laughter, the warmth of your body when you brushed against him. He found himself wanting to touch you, to feel you closer, to know what it was like. He was getting lost in the way you moved, and how your eyes lit up when you made a particularly good move.

For a while, he could pretend that he had a shot.

“Victory!”

Javy groaned as you yelled out your success once the final ball was sunk. You threw your arms up in triumph, a bright smile on your face as you turned to face him. He couldn’t help but smile at your excitement, even though he had just lost in a somewhat embarrassing fashion.

“That did not go the way I anticipated.”

You laughed at his disgruntlement, the sound ringing like music in his ears. “Thanks for playing with me,” you said, “I had fun.”

“Me too,” Javy replied, smiling softly. “Although I think you might have hustled me a little bit.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “I’m just good at pool.”

Javy chuckled. “You’re good at a lot of things.”

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked at him, not saying anything in response. He worried, for a moment, that he had said too much. Silence passed between the two of you. It was like there was something unspoken hanging in the air, something that both of you could sense but neither of you could quite put into words. He swallowed hard, trying to push the feeling aside. He didn't want to ruin the moment, not after how much fun he had just had with you.

Finally, you took a deep breath, and he swore it sounded a little shaky. You grabbed your drink and took a sip, looking at him over the rim of the cup. “I’m glad we did this.”

“Me too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

But like a physical reminder that all good things have to come to an end, he caught a glimpse of Jake watching you from across the bar. There was a strange look in his best friend’s eye, something that looked almost like excitement, but Javy couldn’t quite decipher what it meant. Still, he could feel the weight of it settling in his stomach.

He cleared his throat, setting his pool cue down to lean against the wall. This time, the smile he sent you was strained. “I should let you get back to Jake.”

To his surprise, a look of confusion crosses over the delicate features on your face. You glance behind you to where the blonde is before looking back at him, your eyebrows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach. “I know you two have been…spending time together,” he said, and despite how hard he tried, the words tasted sour in his mouth.

“I mean, yeah. But…wait.”

Your pretty eyes widened and you shook your head, your hair shaking as a grin started spreading across your face. Javy felt more confused than he had all night, and for some reason, embarrassment was starting to settle in, too.

“What?”

“Oh gosh. Javy. Me and Jake?”

“I…yes?”

You broke out into a surprise bout of laughter, the sound like bells ringing in his ears. Your hand found his arm and you gave it a squeeze before letting it rest against his bare skin below where his shirt sleeve ended. Your hand felt so soft. He wanted you to keep touching him. "Oh, Javy. No. I thought Jake was kidding when he said that’s why you were probably dodging us left and right.”

The pieces weren’t quite connecting as his mind fought to catch up, having gotten distracted by your touch. He floundered for what you were saying to make sense, but he came up short. “I…am so confused.”

Your laughter peeled off into quiet giggles before quieting all together, and your face softened into something that looked understanding and hopeful at the same time. You took a step closer to him. His breath caught as his heart started to pound in his chest.

“Jake and I are just friends, Javy. That’s all.”

His pulse continued to race as hope set in. He played over every interaction that he had witnessed between the two of you over the last few weeks, realizing that maybe he had been a little blinded by the jealousy he had felt. He knew how Jake flirted and how he acted with women that he was into. Aside from that first night at the Hard Deck when he had introduced you, that intimacy had been absent. Instead, now that he thought about it, it had been a comfortable familiarity, not different from how they interacted with Nat or Halo or Rooster’s girlfriend.

He was starting to feel like an idiot.

“Really?”

“We have a lot in common. We talk about home a lot. But…I’m not into him. Someone else had already caught my eye.”

He swallowed thickly, still not allowing himself to completely believe it. Your fingers still traced light circles on his arm. “Someone else?”

You giggled softly, and then you raised on your toes and leaned in. There was a moment of hesitation, as if you were both waiting for the other to make a move, before you took it upon yourself to close the distance and your lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was featherlight and over before his brain could even register it had happened. You were still smiling at him when you pulled away, your eyes glinting with amusement. You nodded slowly, whispering to him, “Someone else.”

The words sent a jolt of electricity through him, his hand finding its way to the small of your back as he pressed his lips to yours again. Javy’s hands slipped around your waist, pulling you closer to him as the kiss intensified. It was like a spark had been ignited, and suddenly the kiss was deepening, becoming more passionate.

The rest of the bar seemed to fall away as you both lost yourselves in each other. Neither of you heard the excited yell of “finally” come from over at the dart board, completely caught up in the moment. Javy couldn’t believe that this was happening, that he was here with you, kissing you. Finally, indeed.

Finally, the need for air became too much and the two of you pulled apart, gasping for breath. You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a warmth that made his heart skip a beat.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” you admitted, biting your lower lip between perfectly white teeth. Javy’s chest swelled with affection and he leaned in to kiss you again, this time with more certainty. He felt the warm pressure of your lips on his, and the sensation was intoxicating.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said once he pulled back. He had been wanting to do so for weeks, now, and it seemed it was his own fault that he hadn't, yet.

You brushed your nose against his, nodding. “I’d like that.”

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Main Masterlist

Notes: I love this man so much. Hope you enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it!

#alli writes #javy machado appreciation #javy machado #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado fic #javy machado imagine #javy machado x you #javy coyote machado x you #coyote x reader #javy coyote machado x reader #tgm fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun rocktober

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sailor-aviator · 7 months

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Sailor-Aviator's Masterlist

Hi! Thanks for checking out my masterlist!

✨My blog is 18+ Only! I curse, write smut, and other dark elements that minors do not need to be dabbling in. I do my best to tag everything accordingly, but some of my darker fics include elements of non-con, violence, etc.

✨I currently write female reader-insert fics. I mainly write for Jake "Hangman" Seresin, but I write for other TGM characters as well from time to time. I have been thinking about branching out into other fandoms, but time will tell when that happens. In the meantime, take a seat and enjoy the fics!

✨I have discontinued my taglist, so if you would like to be updated on when I post, please follow my sideblog: @sailoraviator-library and turn on post notifications! I post fics, drabbles, moodboards, and polls for my followers there.

✨Requests are currently: Open! And always feel free to send in some thoughts/thots or random asks!

Don’t know what to read first? Why not spin the wheel?

A multi story series that takes place around the 1870s in the New Mexico territories of the west. Each series follows Jake Seresin, Bradley Bradshaw, and Bob Floyd with their respective partners as they navigate the west and their lives as outlaws.

Universe Masterlist

Series

A collection of series that I've written about Jake...

One-Shots

A collection of one-shots that I've written about Jake either on my own or by request...

Collections

A collection of concepts that I've written about Jake either on my own or by request...

Drabbles

A collection of drabbles that I've written about Jake either through asks or text posts...

Series

A collection of series that I've written about Bradley...

One-Shots

A collection of one-shots that I've written about Bradley either on my own or by request...

Collections

A collection of concepts I've written about Bradley either on my own or by request...

Drabbles

A collection of drabbles that I've written about Bradley either through asks or text posts...

Series

A collection of series that I've written about Bob...

One-Shots

A collection of one-shots that I've written about Bob either on my own or by request...

Collections

A collection of concepts that I've written about Bob either on my own or by request...

Drabbles

A collection of drabbles I've written for Bob either through asks or text posts.

Series

A collection of series that I've written for Javy...

One-Shots

A collection of one-shots that I've written about Javy either on my own or by request...

Drabbles

A collection of drabbles I've written for Javy either through asks or text posts...

Two Birds

Mafia!AU featuring Jake "Hangman" Seresin and Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, MxFxM, No Hangster.

Dagger Moodboards

Mythical Creatures Revolutionary War The Three Musketeers The Mafia The Gods

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year

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Mav's Reaction to Each Dagger Dating His Daughter

Pairing(s): Daggers / Mitchell! Fem!Reader (Mav's Daughter)

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Protective Mav Dad, Reader is Maverick's Daughter but no Description of Appearance or Biological Parentage; Can be treated as an OC; She's referred to as 'Baby Mitchell' occasionally; Third Person POV, No "You" or Y/N

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: Maverick finds out that his daughter is dating someone that he knows when she invites her new partner to dinner. And so he makes it his mission to greet them at the door first.

A.N. Starts out with the same basic set up but then it splits. All seven main Daggers have their own separate story (about 250 words each), so read your favorite(s) or all seven!

Master List

Maverick never exactly looked forward to meeting his daughter’s partners.

Maybe it was because he was a little worried that he didn’t exactly give her a healthy example to follow. Maybe it was because he was just trying to compensate for all of the times that he wasn’t there for her when she was little. Maybe it was because he was just a smidge overprotective.

But either way, he never looked forward to meeting his daughter’s partner.

So, when she told him that she was inviting over her new partner for dinner, and mentioned that he already knew her partner, Maverick was given a new mission—to answer the door before her. He wanted to see if her partner could cut it on their own without his daughter coaching them through every step of this new dynamic.

And when the doorbell rung five minutes ahead of schedule, Maverick sprang into action.

“I got it!” he called up the stairs to his daughter.

“No, I’ll get it, Dad!”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Maverick insisted, reaching for the front door.

Twisting the knob, Maverick flung the door open and paused when he saw who was standing on the other side of the door.

[Pick Your Dagger:]

Rooster

Rooster stood on the front steps of the Mitchell house, nervously shifting his weight around.

“Why did you ring the doorbell, Bradley? Just go through the side entrance,” Maverick instructed Rooster, completely missing the point of Rooster’s arrival. He held the door open and stepped aside. “But my daughter’s new partner is coming for dinner. You’re free to join us if you like, but it might be a little awkward.”

“Uh . . . yeah . . .” Rooster trailed off, really wishing that his girlfriend would get down the stairs already. “I was . . . going to stay.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll just set out another plate.”

Rooster stared after Maverick like he’d grown a third head as he walked off to reset the dinner table. Shaking his head, Rooster glanced up at the stairs as his girlfriend hurried down them, smiling at his appearance. Rooster shut the front door behind him and held out his arms as his girlfriend threw herself at him.

“Hey,” she giggled, pressing a loving kiss to his lips, “how’d you survive?”

“Well, he seems to think that you’re bringing someone else home,” Rooster explained sheepishly, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

“You didn’t tell him that you were my boyfriend?”

“Well . . .”

Letting out a sigh, she grabbed her boyfriend’s hand and pulled him with her down the hall. Maverick was in the middle of setting down another plate when the young couple walked into the room. Maverick looked up and smiled at them. But he froze when he caught sight of their intertwined hands. Maverick straightened up and glanced erratically between Rooster and his daughter.

“You . . . you’re dating my daughter . . . Bradley?” Maverick asked his godson, who started to sweat a bit.

“Yes, we’re dating,” Baby Mitchell answered on Rooster’s behalf. “We have been for four months.”

“This is some kind of joke, right?” Maverick tried to laugh off, but Rooster and Baby Mitchell’s expressions did not change. “Right?”

“No, it’s not,” she replied calmly. “Rooster is my boyfriend. We’re dating. I invited him over for dinner. So, let’s have dinner.”

Baby Mitchell led the way over to the table and sat down in her seat. Maverick shot Rooster a look and in response Rooster simply shrugged his shoulders and followed after his girlfriend.

~~~~~

Hangman

Hangman offered Maverick a curt nod and his usual smile-smirk-combination.

“Hey, Mav—”

Maverick slammed the door shut and locked it, just to be sure. Shaking his head, Maverick glanced up at the stairs as his daughter hurried down them.

“Who was at the door?” she questioned, looking confused.

“Just . . . a delivery driver.”

“Where’s the package then?” Baby Mitchell demanded, frowning at him.

“Well, that’s the funny thing—”

The doorbell cut off Maverick’s lie and caused his daughter to shoot him an aggravated expression. Reaching around him, she unlocked the door and pulled it open to see Hangman still standing on the front steps of the Mitchell home.

“Really?” Baby Mitchell scoffed at her dad before letting her boyfriend inside.

“Oh, Hangman, I didn’t see you standing there,” Maverick lied poorly.

“Frankly, I was expecting worse,” Hangman told his girlfriend, who shook her head in response.

“Dad, Jake is my boyfriend and I invited him over,” Baby Mitchell began, trying to keep the aggravation out of her tone. “So, you can’t go around slamming doors in his face just because you don’t like the fact that we’re dating. Okay?”

“I . . .” Maverick trailed off when he caught his daughter’s annoyed expression. “Alright, alright.”

Baby Mitchell shook her head before turning for the dining room. She grabbed Hangman’s hand and pulled him along with. But, while her back was turned, Maverick shot him the ‘I’ve-got-my-eye-on-you’ gesture with his fingers. Hangman nodded in return, but Maverick didn’t miss the slightly nervous look that he wore.

~~~~~

Phoenix

Phoenix gave Maverick a sarcastic mock salute as the door swung open. Standing confidently on the front steps, Phoenix straightened up.

“Hey, Mav.”

“Hey, Phoenix,” he returned with a nod. He held the door open for Phoenix and she stepped inside. “So, you’re the one who gave my daughter a hickey two weeks ago?”

Phoenix blinked, clearly a bit caught of guard, before her usual confident demeanor returned. Phoenix nodded in response and didn’t let her nerves show.

“Yes. But, to be fair, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“I assumed,” Maverick replied, nodding along. After another moment of thought, he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Well, at least you can’t get her pregnant.”

“You’re not going to give me a shovel talk?” Phoenix asked Maverick, folding her hands over her chest.

“I like to give it at the end,” Maverick assured Phoenix while his daughter hurried down the stairs. “Let’s me personalize it a little better.”

“Hey, babe,” Baby Mitchell called, pulling Phoenix in for a quick peck. Turning to Maverick, Baby Mitchell shot him a look. “I hope that he wasn’t too overprotective.”

“No, he was fine,” Phoenix assured her girlfriend with a small smile. “Though we have a debriefing scheduled for after dinner.”

“Dad.”

“What? I would do the same if she was a man.”

The two girlfriends shared a look and Phoenix shrugged her shoulders in response. Baby Mitchell let out a groan and shook her head.

“Fine,” she muttered, grabbing Phoenix’s hand. “Well, come on. Let’s get you some dinner first before you’re interrogated.”

~~~~~

Bob

Bob offered Maverick his usual awkward smile. Maverick blinked once in surprise before he let out a humorous breath of relief.

“Bob, I’ve never been happier to see you,” Maverick chuckled, holding the door open for the WSO.

“Really?” Bob asked curiously, walking inside the house.

“Yeah, I was worried that she was bringing Hangman home,” Maverick replied with a light chuckle, closing the door. “But I’m glad to see that I was completely wrong.”

“Thank you?” Bob returned quietly.

“Hey, babe,” Baby Mitchell called out to Bob as she walked down the stairs. “Glad to see that the dragon guarding the castle didn’t hurt you.” She hurried over and pulled Bob in for a quick kiss in greeting before turning to her dad. Leaning against her boyfriend, she smiled brightly as she glanced between them. “Should we sit down and start dinner then?”

“Yeah, I’ll start bringing stuff out from the kitchen,” Maverick agreed, walking off.

When Maverick’s back was turned, Bob reached out and grabbed Baby Mitchell’s ass playfully. She giggled and pressed a heated kiss to his lips that Bob eagerly returned. Reluctantly pulling away, she leaned towards his ear.

“We should go. Don’t want him to get suspicious,” she whispered to Bob.

“Alright. But . . . later?” he suggested, giving her ass another light pat.

“Absolutely,” she agreed with a wide smile.

~~~~~

Coyote

Coyote offered Maverick a small, nervous smile. Maverick paused for a moment before opening the door wider for him.

“So, you’re dating my daughter, Coyote?” he asked as Coyote stepped inside the house.

“Yes, sir,” Coyote returned politely.

“You don’t have to call me that,” Maverick replied, closing the door. “Yet, anyways.”

“Yet?” Coyote repeated, confused.

“I only make my daughter’s boyfriends call me ‘sir’ if I don’t like them,” Maverick explained quietly to Coyote, trying to prevent his daughter from overhearing. “And, frankly, as long as you don’t toss me out of my own home and onto my own lawn, I think that you’ll be okay.”

“I appreciate that, s—Mav,” Coyote corrected himself.

The sound of footsteps caused both aviators to look up. Baby Mitchell walked down the stairs with a bright smile when she spotted Coyote. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she pressed a quick peck to his lips before turning to her dad.

“Did you get the shovel talk out of the way, then?” she asked sarcastically, leaning against Coyote.

“Not yet,” Maverick replied before turning to Coyote. In a quieter voice, he added, “We’ll get to that after dinner.”

Baby Mitchell gently shoved her dad away from her boyfriend and shook her head.

“Honestly, I’m not sixteen anymore.”

“Well, I like Coyote a lot more than the boy that you were seeing when you were sixteen,” Maverick conceded, causing his daughter to wince.

“Who was—” Coyote started to ask.

“—No one!” Baby Mitchell interjected.

~~~~~

Fanboy

Fanboy smiled nervously at Maverick as the door swung open. Maverick could tell that the WSO was nervous if the way that he fidgeted was any indication, but Fanboy was doing his best not to show it. Unfortunately for him, Maverick was very observant.

“Hey, Maverick,” Fanboy greeted him politely with a slow nod.

“Hey, Fanboy. Come on in,” Maverick replied, holding open the door for him. Fanboy stepped inside and Maverick shut the door behind him. “So, you’re the flyboy who’s dating my daughter?”

“Yeah, I am,” Fanboy agreed confidently, though with an edge of concern. He glanced up the stairs for his girlfriend before turning back to Maverick. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, not yet,” Maverick replied calmly, shaking his head. “And between you and me, backseaters tend to be more . . . stable than their pilot counterparts. So, that helps you as well.”

“Well, I don’t disagree with that,” Fanboy chuckled before his girlfriend started down the stairs.

“Hey, amor,” Baby Mitchell called down to her boyfriend.

She hurried the rest of the way down and greeted Fanboy with a quick peck to the lips. She grabbed his hand and turned back to her dad.

“Everything okay, Mr. Overprotective?” she asked Maverick.

“Wouldn’t he be Captain Overprotective?” Fanboy quipped, earning a groan from his girlfriend and a distinct ‘dad’ laugh from Maverick.

“I like him,” Maverick chuckled, pointing over at Fanboy. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

~~~~~

Payback

Payback nodded and smiled confidently at Maverick as the door opened. Maverick shot Payback a small smile in return and held the door open.

“Are there any bets on how tonight goes then?” Maverick asked as he let Payback inside the house.

“A few,” Payback agreed, nodding along. “Why? Did you want to place your own bet?”

“No, no, I try not gamble. But, out of curiosity, is there a way to make sure that Hangman doesn’t win . . . at all? And maybe Rooster a little bit too.”

“You can’t threaten to chase after me in a F-18, you can’t make a joke about the two hundred pushups, and . . .” Payback trailed off, trying to remember the rest of the bets. “You have to greet me like you would a son-in-law tomorrow on base. But that last one is only if you want Rooster to lose.”

“How much money?”

“Fifty bucks each.”

“Well, his mother taught him not to gamble, so Rooster should have paid more attention,” Maverick replied, clearly taking the bet.

“Hey, babe,” Baby Mitchell called down to Payback, walking down the stairs. She gave him a quick hug and peck before glancing between Payback and Maverick. “Everything going well so far?”

“So far,” Maverick agreed with a nod and smile. “And by this time tomorrow, both Payback and I will be fifty bucks richer.”

“Good. Because that was the whole point of this dinner,” Baby Mitchell replied sarcastically. Grabbing Payback’s hand, she turned for the dining room. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

1K notes · View notes

sushiwriterhere · 11 months

Text

it’s not rotten work (not if it’s you)

summary: Four times you, Jake, and Javy danced around the truth, and the one time you confronted it. rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x f!reader x Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado word count: 4.2k warnings: idiots pining, mmf PiV (unprotected), m/f oral (receiving/giving, face sitting), cockwarming, hangman being hangman, light angst, dacryphilia a bit, mention of violence (stabbing), no use of y/n. notes: companion fic to my 'a little bit of fun' drabble. thank you to sana and amelia (@laracrofted @theharddeck) for the inspiration! this one's definitely more heavy on the emotion, so please let me know what you think!! tagging: @sebsxphia @sometimesanalice @waklman @joaquinwhorres @gretagerwigsmuse @lewmagoo @genius2050 @seresinsweetie @teacupsandtopgun

one.

Neither Javy nor Jake really reacts when you’re the one to initiate conversation in your group chat.

Bad day. Someone pick me up?

Javy responds with a thumbs up and then a simple-Hangboy’s in the air. See you at 5.

Neither of you speak on the ride to their place; Jake’s usually the one to fill those silences. Javy just places his hand palm side up on the center console and wraps his fingers around yours when you place your hand in his. It’s the sort of companionable silence that stirs feelings you don’t really have the energy to identify.

An hour and a half later you’re settled in Javy’s lap, one of Jake’s old Navy shirts falling loosely around you, Javy’s cock inside you. It brings you a rare type of peace.

He’d made you shower and eat, guiding you through the motions with a tenderness somehow not at odds with his broad shoulders, the military uniform he’d removed when he climbed into the shower with you. You’d talked in low tones over a recipe of his grandmothers’, him coaxing you to tell him about your day. They already had a half-empty pint of your favorite Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer.

He’d undressed you from the waist down the same way he’d dressed you after your shower—gently, slowly, like you were something precious and fragile. You very pointedly did not cry. He took you apart on his tongue once, kneeling between your legs as you melted into the couch.

When he slid into you, your mind finally went quiet.

Javy’s got some game on in the background, the lull of the commentary giving you something to tune out as you drift. He’s solid and warm below you, inside you, a constant like the rate of acceleration due to gravity. Occasionally, he’ll shift or smooth his hand down your back or adjust the blanket that’s draped over you, but otherwise the two of you are still.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been napping til you hear keys in the door. You recognize Jake by footsteps alone, the way his keys jingle as they drop in the bowl by the door, the sound of him sliding his boots off til they land on the floor with a soft thump.

“Hey, thanks for getting her.” Javy nods against you, his chin bumping the top of your head where it’s buried in his chest, “She tell you what happened?”

Javy smooths your hair so his hand comes to rest over the ear not pressed into him, but you hear their conversation anyways, “Boss yelled at her in front of everyone for something that wasn’t actually a mistake. He didn’t apologize.”

The way Jake scoffs is muffled but your mind can picture his face, “I’m gonna give that asshole what’s coming to him one day. I keep telling her to quit. We’ll take care of her while she looks for another job. ”

Javy laughs gently, jostling you despite his best efforts, “And what? Get us dishonorably discharged in the process?”

It makes your chest clench when he says 'us' instead of 'you', as if Javy would be right there alongside him on your behalf. A pause, and Jake says something you don’t catch.

Javy’s response gets drowned out by the buzzer sound from the game, by the way his hand is still covering your ear. You only catch “never agree”.

Jake is apparently unsatisfied with Javy's answer because you can hear it in the way he leaves the room. You drift off again.

The next time you come to, it's because your dream had you squirming in Javy's lap, reminding you of how he still had you nestled on his cock. Then, there's a kiss being pressed to your forehead. You open your eyes to see Jake’s face in front of you, his hair dripping wet onto his shoulders.

"Hey baby," He murmurs before pressing your lips together.

It's heated, it's possessive, like he's trying to convey everything he feels he's unable to say through the way he licks into your mouth. Javy grabs the back of his neck so he can peck Jake, the kiss so chaste in comparison to the way Jake was just devouring you. It warms you beyond just the way Javy's body heat does.

They've been doing that more often, like they're discovering something beyond years of longing, beyond years of ribbing on each other to try and relieve what they didn't realize was sexual tension.

When you three finally make it to Javy’s bedroom, they take you apart the way they always do. But somehow, it’s infinitely more tender.

Javy fucks you first, rocking into you as you sprawl on his king size mattress. Jake’s there the entire time, kissing away your tears and petting over your stomach to press down on your lower abdomen.

Neither of them stops talking the entire time.

“So beautiful and smart, our girl—”

“I can feel Javy in you baby, you’re taking him so well—”

“God where would we be without you—”

You sob as you cum for the second time that evening, and Javy fucks you through it all. You’re so overwhelmed by the way their words wash over you like the sun on a summer day. The baritone of Javy’s voice murmuring “our girl” rattles around your mind til he finishes inside you.

Then it’s Jake’s turn. He’s just as, if not more, gentle than Javy.

Javy slips off the bed to go clean himself up. When he rejoins the two of you, Jake is already so close. He pulls out at the last minute, fisting his cock til he finishes on your stomach and chest, a punched out moan leaving him.

It’ll never cease to amaze you the way they manage to make you finish with such ease as Jake’s fingers find your clit and he plasters himself all over you so he can kiss you. It should be gross, the way his cum makes him slide a bit against you, but it grounds you instead. You can feel where the mix of you, Jake, and Javy is running down your thigh.

You’ve got Javy’s hand in a vice grip. They’re here, they’re real.

When it’s all said and done, Jake appears with a wet washcloth to wipe down your forehead, between your legs. Eventually, he carries you to the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth (“Javy got to carry you earlier while he was inside you, mind you, so it’s my turn.”).

Laying between them, you start to feel human again. You have half a mind to ask what they were bickering about earlier, but sleep is dragging you under before you can act on it.

two.

Jake's been irritating you all night. He begged you to come to the Hard Deck, claiming lonely since Javy was out of town for the weekend, some trip to DC neither of them wanted to discuss.

Distantly, you know this is how he shows affection. Like a teen boy, he’s poking and prodding at you. In between his turns at pool, he’s pulling you into his arms, grabbing at your waist, yanking on the ends of your hair. Something about Jake just requires he’s touching you at all times when you’re within his general proximity.

Natasha sets a beer down in front of you, before settling in across from you, “I don’t know how you put up with it.”

Your thing with Jake and Javy isn’t exactly a secret, but no one addresses it. It’s just sort of, there. The rest of the Dagger Squad seems to have just accepted the dynamic, brought you into the fold.

“Put up with him?” You nod at Jake, who’s trying to show Rooster some pool move that apparently requires one leg on the table. The tension between the two of them has eased considerably these days.

She laughs, “Either of them really, Hangman and Coyote. They feed off each other’s energy in the worst way sometimes, I think I’d go crazy.”

You’re silent, trying to figure out a way to respond. The three of you haven’t defined what this is, haven’t talked ‘feelings’, despite the amount of time you spend at their place, the way your days are filled with each other. You’re not sure how to explain that it just works somehow—on the outside it might seem like you lean into Javy more, but the reality is more complicated.

Jake and Javy are bonded by years in the Navy, nothing quite like constant near-death experiences to foster love. They do feed off each other, but in the way that they’re so familiar they’re almost one. Javy does steady you—but he also riles you up like no one else. Jake brings out the livelier side of you, but he’s also fiercely and openly protective of you.

You're stubborn and unmoving where Jake goes with the flow. You're snarky and sarcastic where Javy is calm, at ease. It just works.

Natasha just looks at you expectantly, and you shrug. Unsure of what to say.

You settle on, "They do drive me crazy, but I think I'm not totally gone yet."

Her laugh echoes above the background noise of the bar.

Back at the guys’ shared apartment, you fuck Jake slowly, keeping your lips pressed together. You whine into his mouth when he hitches your thigh up on his bicep, the position hitting something inside of you just right.

In that moment, he doesn't comment on the change of pace from your usual, more intense sex—he leans into it. He presses his lips to your forehead, then leans his against yours. His grip on your hip and thigh aren't as bruising as they usually are, they’re more grounding.

Jake always talks during sex, never shuts up. This time, he’s whispering more than anything else, and you can’t understand him. You want to ask but the way he’s fucking into you makes you lose all ability to speak.

When you finish, you keen and arch your back as Jake licks a stripe up the side of your neck. You shudder as he cums right after you. The two of you lay there for just a moment, taking deep breaths.

Jake presses his lips to your forehead one more time before pulling out and sitting up, "You wanna talk about it?"

Of course he noticed something was up–that's just who he is. A hurricane of a man, but still attentive to every little detail.

You consider him for a moment, his naked form, completely at ease with your eyes roaming over his body. You think of telling him about your conversation with Natasha, about the way it had made you think through the three of you. Instead, you shake your head and curl onto your side, and wait for him to get back into bed.

three.

Surprisingly, it’s Javy’s who’s been pushing you. Jake’s been hesitant to open his mouth on the subject, but you don’t miss the way he perks up slightly when you and Javy start getting into it again.

“I have a perfectly good apartment of my own, Javy!” It’s repetitive, like a swing dance, at this point. “I don’t get why you want me to move in.”

“Sweetheart, if you’d listen to me, you’d ‘get why’. You live in a bad area of town, and I’m laying awake every night worrying about whether to expect a phone call from the nearby hospital.”

Jake focuses intently on the crossword he’s pretending to do as you and Javy both stare at him expectantly. The last time he’d voiced his opinion, you’d threatened to call his mother and tell her he was trying to tell you what to do. Theoretically, he knows she’d be on his and Javy’s side, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with that.

(You haven’t threatened Javy in the same way, and he wonders if it’s because his mom is the only woman in this situation with a more stubborn disposition than you. Maybe it’s just because it’s Javy.)

"Well, maybe you should worry less." You snark. Javy doesn't respond and Jake can hear the way his eyebrow raises.

“Seventeen across, 'unconcerned',” Jake half mumbles to himself, half trying to break at least some of the tension.

“Perfunctory,” you snap at him from where you’re glaring at Javy, because of course you know.

"That's not an option, sweetheart." Javy's using the tone that says his decision is final, that he won't change his mind–it's one that you fucking hate.

Jake barely manages to stand up to intercept you when you turn around and head for the door, sans any of your possessions but your phone. He wraps his arms around you and refuses to release you despite the way you squirm indignantly in his hold.

He eases his grip just enough so he can lean down to whisper in your ear, "Baby, at least consider it?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake sees the way Javy just stares at the two of you. His expression is nearing anguish, and Jake gets it. The way you pull back every time they try to bring you closer feels like ripping barbs out of their skin. The emotional pain is so intense it rivals physical.

It’s not entirely about safety this time, not really.

"He's being a dick." You murmur, finally acquiescing and wrapping your arms around Jake's torso.

"We're not trying to control you babe, we want you here. He just maybe should've led with that. We want you to be safe." A little good cop, bad cop. Sorry, Javy.

To his surprise, you just say, "I know."

There's no fight left in any of you. Not since someone got stabbed outside your apartment building a month ago and the three of you, well, you and Javy, have been arguing non stop about it.

You just want it to stop—the tension every time you leave their apartment for work, the shared knowing that you won’t necessarily return. Jake clearly is getting sick of the arguing and you and Javy aren’t any less exhausted.

Turning around in Jake’s arms you look at Javy, “You—You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Javy’s in front of you in an instance, taking your face in his hands and kissing you fiercely, “I’m sorry, too. We care about you, we want you to be safe.”

There’s much left unsaid, but in that moment, all the words spoken are more than enough.

four.

When you wake up, you're alone in bed. You vaguely remember Jake getting up in the middle of the night and him and Javy talking in low tones as Jake got dressed. He kissed you goodbye and promised to come home safe. Javy had gotten back in bed.

The curtains let the gray of the morning light leak into the room, washing everything in a sort of hazy filter. There's clanking from the kitchen, but for just a moment, you let yourself lay there, absorbing the moment. The sheets still smell like that combination of Jake and Javy that lulls you to sleep every night.

For a second, you're overcome by a fear that one day you'll turn to your right and you won't be able to bury your nose into the pillow and smell Jake. He's only gone for the weekend, but it's that part of you that rears its head every time one of them leaves. Every deployment, every work trip they're not allowed to discuss, every morning they leave for training.

The bed dips next to you as Javy climbs in–you hadn't noticed him come back into the room. He smells like sweat just a bit, and you giggle sleepily when his fingers ghost up your ribs.

"Get out of the bed, Javy, you're sweaty," You groan, turning away from him as he drags you backward into his chest.

"Really," He laughs, "You didn't mind so much last night."

Despite your protests, you snuggle back into him, feeling the way his workout shirt slides against your bare skin. It's the sort of closeness that isn't just physical—it's about knowing your partners' boundaries, about knowing that they don't actually mind that you just came from the gym and then climbed right into bed. The sheets need to be changed anyways.

Javy kisses right below your ear and you hum happily. His lips ghost over your cheek but don't reach your lips.

"Go shower," You murmur as you turn around to kiss him.

He doesn't respond. He can't–not with the way you're flush against him, only wearing a pair of boxers where he’s only in a shirt. Not with the way you lick into his mouth lazily, humming when you taste the juice he drank. Not with the way your hands run down his stomach and grab clumsily at his hardening cock.

If you weren't awake before, you sure are now–especially with the way Javy's warm and calloused hands skim your nipples and lift your leg to hitch over his hip.

He rolls the two of you so his weight is pressing you into the mattress. There’s something so distinctly soothing about the position, the way he’s warm and heavy and everywhere on you. You move your hips in a steady rhythm against his.

When his hands find their way into the pair of boxers you stole from Jake, he finds you already soaking. You can feel the way he smiles smugly against your mouth. That just won’t do.

Shoving at his shoulder, he lets you turn the two of you over again. You kiss his neck, working your way down his body. Making a show of wrinkling your nose at his shirt, he yanks it off in one fluid, yet desperate, motion.

The instant you wrap your lips around him, his hands are in your hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re—”

He doesn’t get to finish his thought, not when you slide your mouth down the length of him, fighting your gag reflex at the way he nudges the back of your throat. There’s something so sensual about the way your nose almost brushes the curls at the base of him.

“Shit, shit, Jesus,” This is the way you like Javy best, all his boundaries down, just letting himself feel, “Your mouth is so fucking good, god, how do you—ugh, fuck!”

You’re pulling out every trick in the book. You fist the base of his cock in tight grip and let your spit ease the twist of your wrist. He shudders when you pull your mouth off him to lazily tongue at the sensitive spot at the underside of the head.

You know he’s getting close when his hips start thrusting, despite the way he usually holds himself back. The groan he lets out when he comes down your throat is guttural.

“You’re a menace,” He gasps out, and the glaze of his eyes is so familiar, so welcomed in the way that it makes your chest clench with pride and something else.

“You didn’t seem to mind just now,” Reflecting his words back at him before you make a show of swallowing deeply.

He drags you up his body while tugging off the boxers, “I mind because I wanted to fuck you.”

You giggle at the way he fakes his frustration, but you’re cut off when he lifts you up and over him til you land on his face. His strength never fails to stun you.

Javy settles you directly on his face. There’s still a part of you that feels overly exposed in the position but he wastes no time. He licks into you without reserve, burying his tongue in you and closing his eyes and humming in satisfaction.

Javy knows your body through and through—he knows what makes you gasp, what makes you moan, how he can drag this out or rush to the edge. This time, he’s savoring the moment, bordering on torture. His tongue is slow, purposeful, as it circles your clit and fucks into you slowly.

You can hear the way you’re whining as if you’re outside of your body. Your voice sounds foreign even as you beg Javy please, please, fuck right there, please don’t stop, please.

When you come you slam your hand on the headboard and moan something deep in your chest. Javy smooths his hands over your waist and ass as you come down, shaking slightly. He slides you off him and down the bed til the two of you are face to face again.

You think he might be murmuring something as he presses your lips together, again and again, but you can’t quite make it out.

plus one.

The Hard Deck seems so far away from here, where you and Javy are sitting on the beach behind it. Jake's only a few feet away, inside getting the three of you a round of beers. The noise of the crowd celebrating the end of another week is dim and distant.

You and Javy are sitting side by side, just barely touching. The heat radiating off him is unreal, as always. The two of you are talking about Jake and Javy's families, having drifted to the subject after recalling the way Jake's mom had squealed at the sight of you when she'd FaceTimed earlier in the day. His mom absolutely loves you.

He shrugs, “Momma and Amy knew about Jake and I before we did. I brought you up once and they figured it out.”

That surprises you. You knew Javy's mom and Jake's mom were perceptive, yet open, women, but you hadn't expected this—them seeing not just Jake and Javy for what they were, but the three of you, too.

You lean into him, snuggling close, "What did they say?"

He presses a kiss to your hair before answering, his words muffled with the way his lips move against your skin, "They said you had to be one hell of a woman to put up with us."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" You pull back from him, and shock paints his features.

He laughs, a bit uneasily, "Who else is saying that?"

"I'm not 'putting up with you', I love you, I love Jake, I love you both." You push yourself to standing, unexpectedly frustrated. The sweetness of the moment seems acidic now. It eats at you.

This was hard enough for you to accept. Hard enough to rationalize, to try and understand what it meant that marriage certificates were for two names, that it was 'partners' and 'couples', that the world generally worked in twos. That's enough to try and deal with–much less with those closest to you pointing out how difficult it must be for you.

Javy can't even savor the fact that you've just said you love him, that you love Jake–not when your lower lip is wobbling and your chest is starting to heave in that way when you cry.

"Hey, hey," Javy's voice is steadying, as he stands next to you and takes your hands, "Look at me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry."

It didn't even register to you that you're crying, but you feel it now. The telltale itch in your nose, the way your throat feels tight, your eyes watering. You rip one of your hands from his to wipe at your face messily.

"Woah, woah, what's going on?" Jake materializes next to you, the three beer cans dropping in the sand, forgotten in the instant he saw you crying.

"Everyone keeps trying to tell me it must be hard for me to love you, and it's not." Jake's mouth only drops a bit when you say love, an admittedly muted reaction in comparison to what you'd been expecting.

"I mean–" Jake starts, but he stops when Javy shoots him a look over your head. It's not the time for jokes.

He tries again, "We fought with you for a month to try and get you to move in with us, it's not hard for us to love you at all either."

For some reason, that just makes you cry harder as they pull you into them, "I didn't fight with you, I fought with Javy."

At that, the two men can't resist bursting into laughter.

"I'm-I'm sorry, sweetheart," Javy says as his laughter dies down, "We're not laughing at you."

You wipe at your tears hastily and giggle just a bit, "It is kind of funny."

“You love us?” Jake’s smile is cheeky, as much as it can be when he feels like you’ve split his chest open with your bare hands and are now holding his fluttering heart in your palms.

Fighting the urge to run or lie, you simply nod, “Unfortunately.”

Old habits die hard.

Later that night, when you’re pressed up against Jake’s chest with Javy at your back, they chant the words to you like a sacred prayer. They say it while they take you apart with their fingers, their tongues.

Jake says it in the way he curls his fingers inside of you, searching for the spot that makes your back arch and your thighs try to squeeze together. Javy says it in the way he inches ever so slowly into you, in the way that he tilts your hips so he can fuck your just so.

You say it in the way you trust them to see you so vulnerable, tears streaming down your face in pleasure, eyes rolled back. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

776 notes · View notes

hangmanssunnies · 1 year

Text

Bones, Hearts, & Marriages

Summary: You and Javy "Coyote" Machado did not get married for the right reasons. Now, three years later, you are going to make sure that you two at least get divorced for the right reasons to make up for it. However, per usual, things don't always seem to go to plan when Coyote is involved.

(Thank you @bradshawsbitch for this stunning gif 🫶)

Pairings: Javy "Coyote" Machado x AFAB! Reader

Word count: 11k

AO3 link

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Marriage of convenice, PinV, Realistic intimacy conversations, implied plus size reader, insecurity, self image issues, Valentine's Day.

Please let me know if I missed any.

Authors Note: Oh gosh, I have been working on this for a while now. It was supposed to be posted for Valentie's Day, but then life happened. I love Coyote soo much, and I actually NEED him to be my husband or I will perish. Coyote Hangman BFF supremacy implied. As always, apologies for any mistakes.

Thank you so much if you take a chance to read this work. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

There was no question in your mind that your husband, Javy "Coyote" Machado, was your dream man, and most people would think that it is very lucky to be married to your dream man. Most people also wouldn't think falling in love with your husband was a terrible mistake. However, most people's husbands were in love with them back. You hadn't married Coyote because you loved him, and he certainly didn't marry you out of affection, either. The truth was, it was just a very convenient arrangement for the two of you. Javy hadn't wanted to live on base anymore, plus the benefits and pay for married men were better. Also, he was so tired of being bottom of the totem pole for vacations and holidays off to the aviators and sailors who were married or had families. For you, being married would change your financial aid status to receive almost three times more money each term. Having a clean, financially stable roommate was the cherry on top of the deal. You and Javy had really only known each other a few weeks when you had jokingly mentioned your need to get married. After several conversations where Coyote was deadly serious, you found yourself at the courthouse with him signing licenses and throwing a small party with your friends. Even now, nearly three years later, you would still catch yourself thinking about the sweet kiss he had bestowed on you.

To say you were unhappy with your marriage or your husband wouldn't be true. You were happy, and Javy was good, almost too good and kind to you. That itself could be an issue because it was so easy to slip into being his wife, being Mrs. Machado. Nowadays, it was second nature to snuggle up on the couch with him, celebrate your wins together, and seek him out for comfort with your losses. You would try anything new he would whip up in the kitchen and offer a detailed critique. It was natural to want to make Javy happy. You worry and care about him. Though you try not to make comparisons, you were pretty sure you missed him just as much as any other military spouses missed their partners anytime Coyote was gone. You never allowed yourself to consider the possibility of your marriage being more with Javy. It didn't take much for you to deter those thoughts; typically, just some extended longing looks at Javy paired with a glance in the mirror to remind you that Coyote was out of your league. No matter how often he would compliment or say that you were beautiful. Three years into this marriage, you two still had separate rooms and hadn't fallen in love or bed even once, despite your secret hopes, which was telling enough.

You and Javy were friends first, no matter what the other circumstances were. So, picking Coyote up from the bar certainly wasn't something unusual. This evening his texts, where most things were misspelled and littered with random emojis, made you thankful that he shared his location with you because they were borderline incomprehensible. He wasn't actually answering any of the questions you were asking either. It was there at the bar picking him up that you started to realize maybe the benefits of this marriage weren't enough anymore.

"Howdy, Mrs. Machado," Jake says affectionately when you enter the bar and found the group of familiar aviators that made up your husband's friends. You kiss his cheek in greeting, taking stock of his well-being, pleased to find Jake mostly sober.

"Hey, Hangman," You verbally answer, looking around for Coyote, wanting to get home and into bed as quickly as possible. His tall form isn't around the table with the other aviators, so you look back to Jake expectantly. "And where is Coyote?"

"Aw, little M&M, you don't even care about me anymore," Hangman says in a fake whine while pouting.

"That just isn't true," you say, rolling your eyes at the blond while continuing to look around the honestly concerningly dark bar.

"He's at the bartop," Jake finally supplies. You try hard to contain your frown, but you aren't fully successful. Javy had already been very drunk when he texted you earlier. Sighing, you turn to the bar, finally spotting the tall and broad shoulders you were looking for. He is on the back side, furthest away from you. It takes conscious effort not to let your eyes linger too long, lest you get caught up in just how tall, broad, and what a great ass your husband has. You wave a hand towards Hangman and the rest of the group in a half thanks and beeline to the bar.

Coyote is laughing with the bartender when you get there. You slide in close next to him, leaning in against the bar top. Javy's eyes flash a glance at you, away, and then back towards you as he turns to face you completely.

"Oh my god Mark, my wife is here!" Coyote says enthusiastically and at least two times louder than he needs to, considering how close you are standing.

"It's nice to meet you," Mark says, smiling at you. Javy wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him in a half hug so that he doesn't let you go after. His lips press to the side of your head that is lingering. You ignore how he nuzzles you and how warm and strong his arms feel, reminding yourself that Coyote is just a very affectionate drunk.

"Hi Coyote," You greet him, trying not to let the wide smile he gives you go straight to your heart. However, when his eyes crinkle, it was a fool's errand. You see that smile nearly every day, and it still manages to make heat blossom in your chest. Finally managing to tear your eyes off him again, you focus back on the conversation.

"It's nice to meet you, Mark. Has Lieutenant Machado paid his tab yet, or should I?" You ask, nudging Javy's side playfully. It has the opposite effect than you intended as Javy pulls you even closer and tighter into his side.

"He hasn't. In fact, he was just ordering another Shirley temple," Mark informs you. Shooting a halfhearted glare at Javy for ordering another drink this late, his grin hasn't dimmed once. Sloppily he raises the drink to his mouth, taking three attempts to finally find the straw and slurp up a large gulp. When he sees your frown, Javy sets the drink back down on the bar.

"It's a virgin," Coyote reassures you with a small laugh, no better than a schoolboy with what he finds funny sometimes. Once he manages to contain the giggle, he continues on, "I know better than to drink after 12:30."

That answer placates you as you start rummaging in your purse for a card to pay. However, when you go to hand over the card, it is smacked out of your hand. There wasn't any real force or aggression to the action, but it certainly was surprising, causing the metal rectangle to clank against the bar top.

"Javy!" You gasp in surprise, turning to see him glaring at you.

"You're not paying for anything when I'm around," he all but growls. His arm that is snug around your shoulder hasn't moved one bit, but his free hand is digging around his pocket, clearly looking for a wallet.

"Javy, sweetheart. It's okay. I know how you feel about this." You pick up the card from where it fell on the bar and show it to him. As you explain, the Navy Federal Credit Union logo is clearly visible for him now, "This is the card for our joint account."

Halting the digging in his pocket, he narrows his eyes to fully observe the card. Once he is convinced it's the card attached to his account, he weakly apologizes, "Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, " you say as you pass over his soda and then nudge his side again. "Why don't you say goodbye to the boys. I will close your tab."

"You're not going to leave, right?" He asks you worriedly. His thumb brushes a broad stroke against your arm while he asks the question.

"Not without you, handsome." You reassure him, ignoring the small butterflies he still inspires in you.

"Promise?" Javy asks you in a small voice.

"I promise," you say. You squeeze his hand gently and then peel his arm off you.

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise," you guarantee, hooking your pinky with his. A wide grin splits Javy's face again, and he kisses your forehead. Walking away, mostly steady on his feet, to say goodbye to his friends. Once you're sure he made it alright, you turn back to Mark.

"I'll grab his tab, and we might as well grab Seresin's Tab also. The blonde one over there," you request, gesturing back their direction.

"Sure thing," Mark says, offering you an easy smile and taking your card to run through the POS system. It's in that quiet moment in-between while paying when your whole night shifts. You hear a group of men a bit farther down the bar, but there weren't even any people between you and their gabbing. You were sure they were all drunk enough to think that the conversation wasn't one that could be overheard.

"That's Coyote's wife?" One asks in disbelief catching your attention.

"Yeah, I'm shocked every time," someone else confirms. You resist the urge to look over at the group and see which one of them had met you before or if they just knew because of Javy's previous yelling. It's not like you exactly played the part of trophy officer's wife very often like someone married to Javy should be.

"I don't understand," the first man says like he is trying to solve a very complex math problem. It's not an uncommon reconciliation someone might have to make seeing you and Javy together.

"There is no way Coyote settled for that," One of them says in disbelief. Their conversation is a dagger to your heart and self-esteem. While you knew that Coyote was out of your league, confirmation from someone outside yourself doesn't make it hurt less.

"Maybe she looked different when they first got together. You know a lot of women let themselves go after marriage."

"Well, she is kinda pretty… If that's what you're into." Gritting your teeth to keep from crying, you wish you could just disappear or that Mark would hurry up with your card so you can collect Javy and leave.

"Fair enough, but Coyote is a ten dude." Maybe it was more offensive that they thought you weren't aware of your husband's attractiveness than their opinions on your own looks. As if you weren't aware, like you didn't see Coyote shirtless daily or when he got home from his run and the gym. The 5-inch inseam shorts he wore on your last beach vacation and just how great his thighs looked haunted your dreams for months. As if you hadn't seen him in his dress whites, dress blues, and the Tuxedo he wore to his cousin's wedding last summer. You were very conscious, hyper-aware even, of how attractive Coyote is.

"You know who else has an ugly wife?" Someone interjects, and their conversation moves on. You wish it was as easy for you to move on. Of course, it's not the first time you have heard similar comments, but they still nearly bring you to tears every time. It's not fair so much importance is put on physical looks, on something you can't even fully control, despite what most people think.

You make eye contact with Mark, who is looking at you with something much too close to pity, while your card is processing. How he looks at you makes the pit in your stomach fall a bit lower like he agrees with them but would never say it. As if he is embarrassed that you were forced to endure hearing the truth on this matter. You manage to give him a smile, but it clearly is forced. Anyone thinking you weren't painfully aware of the discrepancies of attractiveness between you and your husband must also believe you are blind. When Mark gives you the receipt to sign, you quickly scribble a tip and your signature, wanting to escape as quickly as possible. As you shove your card into your purse, you finally look over to the group who made the comments trying to remember their faces in the din of the bar so that if you meet them again, you can avoid them at all costs.

You go back to Coyote, who is laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking, and his eyes are crinkled. You know that he isn't laughing at what you just heard. Javy's sense of duty regarding you and your sham of a marriage is boundless, and he hasn't hesitated to play the part of a protective husband before. However, you feel so sensitive now that part of you thinks he must be laughing at you. Despite how irrational it is, you can't fully push the thought away. Coyote must find it funny that he has gotten you to come pick him up. It's funny that people always view the discrepancies in your marriage in his favor.

As your feelings and thoughts start to spiral darker, your nails bite into your palms. The looming cloud over you is shoved to the side because Javy is making grabby hands at you. As a human embodiment of sunshine, something magnified by how carefree and open he is while drunk, it only takes that and a smile for the dread hanging over you to significantly lessen. Even though you don't feel quite as low as you did when leaving the bartop, you still aren't in high enough spirits to settle into Javy's welcoming embrace. His strong arms fall back to his side at your denial, which also dims his smile as he comes close to you.

"Are you ready to go, Coyote?" You ask, trying and failing to achieve the upbeat tone you were shooting for.

"No," he answers petulantly.

"No?"

"I want to dance before we go." He pouts, opening his arms wide again. You try to ignore all his friends' eyes on you and Hangman's amused sniggering. Javy is very affectionate when drunk, and it wouldn't shock you that Jake had been on the receiving end of that affection in the time it took you to get here to pick your husband up.

"We aren't dancing. We are going home," you respond, maybe a bit too curtly because all the joy in Javy's face is sucked away. Watching his grin become a frown and the mirth in his eyes drop just serves to add to the heavyweight you feel coiled up in your chest. The one that is always there but was aggravated by the conversation you overheard and will be as sensitive as an open wound for several days to come.

"Bye guys," Javy says halfheartedly, waving to his friends and now quickly striding to the door, not even waiting for you or checking if you are following. You look over to Hangman and shrug quickly, telling him that you got his tab too.

"Little M&M, you do care!" Jake gasps, pressing a hand to his heart.

"And don't you forget it," You say, while accepting his side hug.

"Thank you, honest. And you get my wingman home safe, please." Jake says, letting you go and shooting you a stellar smile. The rest of the group calls their well wishes, and You give one last wave before hustling after your husband. Coyote is standing, waiting near the door outside. You immediately start to walk to the car but turn around when you realize Javy hasn't moved.

"Can still hear the music out here," Javy mumbles.

"True, they must have an outside speaker." You say while backtracking to him again. Javy lifts a hand, settling it on your shoulder, then running it down your arm until his fingers tangle together with yours.

"Dance with me? Please." He requests again, and you can't say no with the way he is looking at you.

Setting down your purse on top of one of the outside tables, you hesitantly step closer into Javy's waiting arms. He hums contently the moment you are there. Singing along with the music into your ear, he holds you close. The dancing is little more than swaying together almost in time with the music. That doesn't really matter to you, though, because Javy is warm, and being this close to him makes you feel safe. Two songs pass that way. However, when a more upbeat tune comes on Coyote tries to spin you, nearly falling in the process, and you think it's probably time to get home.

He doesn't make any complaint getting into the car, except for insisting on carrying your purse and then holding it in his lap once his seatbelt is secured. While driving home, Javy is staring at you instead out of the window. He was so quiet at first you thought he had fallen asleep. However, when you cut your eyes over to him at a stop light, you are trapped in the deep brown of his gaze. You're lucky the roads are mostly abandoned because you nearly miss the green light you are so caught up in him.

"Do you ever wonder?" Javy eventually asks you.

"Wonder what?"

"About us. About this," He says, spinning and twisting his wedding ring. Javy had surprised you when he had come home one day with the matching bands only a few short weeks after you got married. There had hardly been an occasion since that he could be found not wearing it.

"I don't know. What is there to wonder about Javy?"

He blows out a long sigh through his nose, and your stomach clenches with anxiety. Javy had always been so resolute, so committed to this deal you two had. His steadfastness is what you would desperately cling to on the days that you felt like you conned him. Javy questioning your union suddenly shakes everything in you. Maybe he had heard what those men in the bar were saying after all. Perhaps after all this time, it was going to click for him that he shouldn't waste away in a loveless marriage, that he could do so much better than you.

"I suppose so. 'S Not like we could go back and change anything."

"Do you regret what we did?" You ask him, barely above a whisper. The quietness following your question is heavy, and the dark of the car makes it nearly suffocating. Javy's left hand peels your right hand away from the steering wheel, and he threads your fingers together tightly.

"No. I never regret," he says firmly. Neither of you utters another word on the way home, but Javy doesn't let go of your hand either.

The men's comments from the bar hang over you all night as you fitfully toss and turn, trying to sleep. You consider them beyond just the comments about your looks, but more about Javy and what he deserves. How he deserves something more than you. You want to keep him, but the more you think about it, the more wrong that seems. While meditating on your husband, you come to the decision there is nothing, not even your own comfort, that you care about more than seeing Javy "Coyote" Machado happy and in love. Something he will never be with you. You rationalize it's like a bone that had been allowed to heal the wrong way; the only way to remedy it and set it on the right path is to break it first. Bones, hearts, and marriages all practically the same thing.

You are buzzing with this revelation, and when you wake up the next morning, you know you can't wait. The sooner you get it over with, the better it would be for both of you. Still wearing pajamas, you go straight to the kitchen after waking up. You can hear Javy there making noise.

"Javy, I want a divorce," you declare more confidently than you feel. The words leave your mouth before you have even fully gone through the kitchen doorway. There is a clattering and your eyes are instantly drawn up from the floor near your feet where you had been focusing. Javy is standing by the counter wearing his Kiss the Cook apron and drops a knife he was holding.

He opens and closes his mouth twice before he finally says something. It sounds directed more toward himself than you. "I can't believe you just asked me for a divorce on Valentine's day."

"Is it Valentine's Day?" You ask him, shocked. Quickly pulling out your phone to check the date, the device confirms that it is absolutely February 14th. You can't believe you woke up and let the holiday sneak up on you.

"It is," he reaffirms, a deep frown marring his handsome features.

Guilt immediately floods through you because Javy loves Valentine's Day. He had openly admitted on your first anniversary that it was one of his favorite unexpected benefits of being married. He loved having someone to do all the typical Valentine's Day things with. Someone he was guaranteed to spend the day with. He wouldn't admit it, though you suspected he also liked that it was a day you were guaranteed to think of him. An added day to the calendar that he knew he wouldn't be forgotten.

There are not one or two, but three large bouquets of flowers scattered in the room. The table is all set up with a cloth covered in pink and white hearts. With a glance at the pan, you see the potato pancakes Javy is cooking as well as the sweet crepes arranged with strawberries he had cut to be heart-shaped. All of this on top of the various decorations littered around the room. The room is littered with evidence of Javy's joy for the holiday, almost decorated to the point of tackiness. Every part is thoughtful as well as endearing, and you hadn't even realized the day. Tears prick at your eyes while taking the whole thing in. He leads you to rest at your small round dining table his palm warm on your arm as he guides you.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize. I can ask again tomorrow, I guess." You say with a wobbly voice.

"No sweetheart, I don't want you to ask again." He says tightly. Javy isn't even sitting in the other chair. Instead, he kneels in front of you while holding your hands, looking so earnest. "Why do you want a divorce?"

"Well, the reasons we got married don't really apply to us anymore. You will still live off base now no matter what, at your rank, and I'm finally graduating." Javy's thumb is still swiping across the back of yours. You recognize it's wrong to take comfort from him right now, but you also can't help how you relax slightly which each stroke.

"Okay," he says slowly. Staring at you intently, you can see how hard Javy's brain is working to process the information you just threw at him. He traces over your face, then falls down to look at your joined hands. Javy squeezes your hands and drops them, sitting back on his heels, and you feel the dread seep in again, not having his steadying warmth so close anymore. "Can we dissect this together, please? You want a divorce?"

"Yes," you answer. He blows out a long heavy sigh, scrubbing his hands across his face as he sits in the chair on the other side of the table. Silence starts to stretch before Javy breaks it again.

"Have I been making you unhappy?"

"No. Not directly at least," You answer quickly, and it's not a lie. Javy himself is rarely the cause of your unhappiness.

"Indirectly then. And you have been unhappy?"

You think over his question and then start to think of a lie. You don't want to detail your feelings about this. Honesty would certainly lead to both your feelings being hurt more than necessary. You have been unhappy but in ways only of your own making. Wanting that which you could not have, fancying yourself a sort of Icarus.

"As much truth as you can spare me, please. Don't want to hear whatever lie you were just cooking up."

"It's more about the happiness we are cutting ourselves off from. The opportunities that we are missing."

The hold on the very neutral look Javy has been wearing slips, and he clenches his jaw hard. You are momentarily distracted by the flexing muscle, nearly forgetting the conversation at hand. The deep frown that pulls Javy's lips reorients your priorities, and you really wish this was a conversation that didn't have to happen face to handsome-distracting-gorgeous face.

"Is there someone else? Has Mrs. Machado's eye finally been caught after all these years?" Javy asks the questions more casually, curious than you are expecting. It does make you feel foolish to look for jealousy in his words. However, the idea of there being someone else is so funny you can't contain your dry chuckle.

"Our divorce is not a laughing matter!" Javy cries so indignantly it just makes you laugh harder. Then a few breaths later, his deep laugh intertwines with yours. It is not long until you are both breathless after the chuckles turned giggles turned howling. Javy is actively pushing away stray tears, and you are clutching your side, feeling a small stitch. Leaning back in his chair, he blows out a breath, sniffing in hard and breathing the air out in a measured way.

"Okay, well. This isn't something that can really happen today, is it?" Javy asks you.

"No. I guess not," you agree.

The corner of his right mouth quirks up then, and some of the severity eases on his face. "It's still valentines day then, and you're still my wife, so —" He trails off and reaches across the table, picking up an envelope that was sitting in the center, handing it to you. With shaky fingers, you open it. The card inside is almost more beautiful than any card Javy has ever given you. The front is covered in tasteful pastel hearts, gold foil, and your name. It's just as high quality as you knew it would be. You aren't sure where he has been buying these over the years but every card you have ever gotten from him is stunning. Seeing the inside filled with Javy's cramped writing with an extra sheet included almost moves you to tears, and you shove the card back in its envelope.

"I'll read that later," you mutter with a watery smile. Javy doesn't push you, which you are thankful for. Instead, he just holds out a hand, and you immediately grab it threading your fingers together.

"Will you be my valentine?" Javy asks you hopefully.

"Yes, of course, I will."

He grins, but it's not as wide as you would hope. There is still a clear air of somberness to him. "If you don't want to spend the day with me now I understand."

"Oh Javy, I'm so sorry. I should have thought through bringing this up to you much more than I did, including factoring in relevant holidays. Of course, I want to spend the day with you."

"No sweat, my Valentine. How about I finish cooking us breakfast then? I have the whole day planned, you know."

"Yes, I know," you say affectionately.

"Today's menu and itinerary can be found to your left," Javy informs you. His free hand gesturing to a small decorated chalkboard propped on the table. Then he lifts your joined hands up to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of your palms. When he tries to detangle your fingers and stand from the table, but you stop him.

"Hold on. I have to go grab something."

"You already had papers drawn up?" He asks in a strained voice.

"No, I haven't. Let's set the divorce aside for the day okay?"

"That's a good idea," he agrees.

"I didn't completely forget about Valentine's Day. I just didn't remember this morning. Do you really think I would miss all the heart decorations all over the place? Or the 14 hearts you drew on the calendar." You ask him teasingly.

"Well, I don't want you to think you have to do anything."

"Javy," you sigh affectionately. Then telling him to stay put, you rush to your room and grab the wrapped gift youpicked out only days after new years. Coming back down, you excitedly plop the box in front of him on the table.

"This is so kind you didn't have to."

"I never mind doing anything for you Javy. Now stop delaying and opening it."

Obeying your command, he excitedly rips at the paper and into the box, searching for the gift. When he pulls it out, he smiles so wide his eyes crinkle, and everything is right again. "A candle of the month subscription?"

"I thought you might like it," you admit.

"With a wood wick," he sighs, opening the candle to smell it.

"And they let me put a list of all our no-no scents," you say.

"I love this, really. Thank you so much, sweetheart." Javy says while he reads over the little brochure that had been sent with the first candle.

"I'm so pleased you like it."

After that you finally allow Javy to finish cooking breakfast, making surprisingly easy conversation. It almost seems as if he truly has taken the temporary tabling of your divorce to heart. The day preceding light hearted and upbeat the rest of the morning, following the same patterns as years past.

You and Javy do have Valentine's traditions at this point, gifts, and the day spent together. The first Valentine’s you spent together he had made reservations at the fanciest restaurant in town weeks in advance. Only for the meal and service to be subpar, both of you agreeing Javy could have made something just as good if not better at home. In the years following, you two have still dressed up, but Javy makes the meal. Valentine's day is also one of the two days a year you are guaranteed kisses from Javy. He will drink too much wine, becoming affectionate and playful. Then he will pout about all the work he put into cooking, never in a way that makes you feel guilty. Huffing until you ask what he wants in repayment. Then Javy will always request the same thing. Each of the last four Valentine's days and all three of your wedding anniversaries, a kiss. It never stays at one kiss, but it has never been more than a heated make out session. It's something that neither of you ever brings up the next day.

You think it seems odd that you should make an exception to that tradition just because it's the last one. You hope that your foolishness of suggesting a divorcee on today of all days won't make an impact, but the more rational part of you knows it already has. Regardless, you still dress as nicely as you always do that evening for dinner.

The hallway into the kitchen and the kitchen itself are decorated with way too many mini candles to be considered wholly safe. The soft lighting is accented by the heavy aromas of Javy's cooking, making your mouth water slightly. Javy has a dress shirt on with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and has a towel thrown over his shoulder as he puts the final touches on some of the dishes. Glancing up as you enter the kitchen he freezes into place before straightening to his full height.

"You look beautiful," he utters, throwing the towel on a rack and striding across the kitchen to you.

"Oh come on Javy, don't make fun."

"I ain't making fun," Javy says, catching your hands and holding them tightly in his large warm palms. When he sees your disbelief, he repeats the words again, squeezing your hands urging you to believe him. With a breath, you accept his words the best you can. You had spent a lot of time deciding what to wear and were pleased with how the overall styling went.

"Thank you. You look very handsome. Are you an aviator or a model? We may never know."

"Why can't I be both?"

"Don't worry Coyote. I'm sure the day the Navy decides to do a shirtless Naval Aviator calendar you will be number one on their speed dial." Which makes him laugh as he pushes in your chair for you at the table. Then pressing a kiss to your forehead, he goes back to the kitchen.

"Callsigns at home, on Valentine's Day. Sweetheart, you are trying to break my heart." Javy teases, bringing over your plates. Paying him all his compliments due, You had only had the first few bites when Javy asks you a question that catches you off guard.

"What about health insurance?"

"What?" You splutter.

"What are you going to do for health insurance when we are divorced? You need that insurance, sweetheart."

"Javy, I thought we were leaving it."

"I can't leave it. I don't want a divorce. So, I'm sorry, but I can't leave it. Who's going to take you to your doctor's appointments? Where are you going to live? Am I moving, or you, or both of us? Are we selling the house?"

"I don't have it all figured out yet. It's something that we are going to have to do as we go along."

"I just don't understand what we would gain from this," Javy says, frustrated.

"Freedom!" You cry out, wishing you could find it in you to explain the twisting feeling, the dark and sad thoughts you had to endure in this marriage. Knowing you not only would never be enough but that you were less than. Your words make Javy stiffen like a board.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I had entrapped you into this relationship," The words are biting, and you wish a conversation could ever go the way you were hoping.

"It's not like that," You tell him quickly. "Don't you want the freedom to choose to be with who you want? Don't you want to date and not have to awkwardly explain that you're married to your roommate?"

"So there is someone else?"

"No, just you Javy."

"Can you tell me what it is about me that you don't love?" He asks you in a quiet way. Javy's eyes drop down to his plate and you feel his knee bouncing quickly. Your mouth goes completely dry, and you scramble to sip some water from the glass set out. After a big gulp you still aren't sure how to answer. But then Javy's shoulders slump slightly, you see part of him crumble, and you crumble with it. He deserves honesty, maybe more than anyone else you know, because Javy is straightforward, ambitious, loyal, funny, kind, and you love him.

"That's the problem. There isn't anything about you that I don't love Javy. And god, you would think after nearly four years married to you, I would have found something not to love. I honestly think you are more wonderful now than when we first met."

Javy's eyebrows draw together, and he clearly is struggling to process your confession. Then he lets out a sigh of relief, "Thank god, this is wonderful news. I love you too."

"Javy you could do so much better than me. You should be with someone who is on your level."

He laughs. Javy laughs, and you wish you could manifest yourself out of existence. But then he is out of his chair and crowding in close to you, hooking a finger under your chin lifting it so that you can no longer avoid his gaze. "Sweetheart, there is no one better than you."

Then slowly, so slowly, he leans in and catches your lips in a gentle kiss. A kiss before wine, and before a drawn out preamble. It was a kiss because Javy loved you with no other pretenses involved. He pulls away, and you suck in a heaving breath. His eyes study yours intently, and he leans in for another kiss. Meeting him halfway you wrap your arms around his neck, awkwardly pulling him closer while deepening the kiss.

Javy looms over you, and the angle makes your chair squeak shifting backward, trying to take the shifted weight. You are saved from falling completely thanks to your arms and his that instinctually wrapped around your waist. Once you are both steady on your feet and the danger of falling has passed, you meet Javy's eyes while biting your lip to keep the giggles in. He looks in a similar state of mirth, not able to stop smiling even as he presses kisses to your face.

"Do you know how hard it's been? Blissful torture every day of our marriage. Able to have you here, to see you, but not allowed to touch. And I have wanted to touch you for so long."

"Where do you want to touch Javy?"

"Oh everywhere sweetheart," he says roughly. His hands drifting from your waist over your ass and then starting to trace the shape of your thighs in slow appreciation. Just when you are finally getting to appreciate Javy's tongue against yours, his phone rings. He pulls away from you with a pained groan, glaring across the room. His phone is set on the furthest away counter that it can be practically tucked away. You know Javy would have had the phone turned off and tucked away if he was allowed. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he strides quickly across the room and picks up the phone.

"This is Lieutenant Machado," The tone is stark and official. His eyes haven't moved from you, though. Then a tick forms in his jaw, and he grits out, "Hangman, are you serious? It's Valentine's Day. I care about you, but unless this is life or death, I'm spending the night in bed with my wife." Hearing who it was that called, you follow Javy into the kitchen. Sliding up to him, you slot yourself into his side, draping an arm around your shoulder, pulling you even closer.

"In bed with M&M?!" You hear Jake start to yell, but you are taking the phone from Javy.

"Seresin, don't call back through do not disturb unless it's a real emergency," you mutter into the receiver before hanging up. Javy's lips are tracing your neck less than a breath later.

"What was this you mentioned about bed?" You ask Javy.

"Do you want to get in one with me, like right now?"

"Yes, please," you agree breathily. You hand Javy his phone, and he tucks it in his pocket, clearly displeased by the device's proximity.

"I hate being on call."

You are pulling him in the direction of his room just because it is closer before you can let any further idea of work enter his head. Entering the room, you both practically scramble to undress each other. Javy whines while reminding you that his shirt is Armani, and he wants to keep all the buttons when you fumble opening them. You roll your eyes but slow down and take care not to ruin one of your husband's favorite shirts.

"I think about these pretty lips every single day," Javy tells you. He kisses you again, but it's more tender than you expect. When he pulls away, he smiles.

"I think about how pretty they are when you smile and all the ways that they could touch me. What they feel like against my lips. How they would feel wrapped around my cock." Javy's thumb starts to trace your lower lip, and you suck it into your mouth, gliding the tip of your tongue against the pad. Inhaling sharply, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth, to your disappointment.

"I think about touching your tits all the time." Javy pivots while grabbing a handful of your breast and squeezing, taking the opportunity to unhook your bra. You help him slide the straps off your shoulders, and he takes a moment to admire your breasts. Then dipping down to kiss them as well. Urging you to lay back on the bed, once you are lying down with Javy's eyes raking over your form, you start to feel self-conscious. Even as he pulls your panties off and starts kissing your legs. You cross your legs and do your best to cover yourself. His intense gaze nearly making want to reach for the throw blanket that is on the end of the bed. The sight of Javy's chiseled chest and cut edges reminds you of your soft edges and curves, the thought that you are ill matched flooding your brain.

"Now Mrs. Machdo. That is not how things go in this bedroom. But don't you worry, I'm here to teach you." Javy tsks at you. Javy grabs an ankle in each large hand, pulling you toward the end of the bed. Then completely unabashed, he stares at your pussy. You try to close your legs again, but Javy's hands on your ankles prevent you from doing so. Kneeling down, he presses soft kisses to your legs and the inside of your thighs.

"I'm going to take my time with you," he tells you, kissing up your legs. He bypasses your sex, instead kissing your stomach. As he is teasing one of your nipples, you dare to touch him back, letting your fingers dance over the shape of his arms and then across his strong shoulders. It's an exploration you have dreamed of many times, but the soft smoothness of his skin is better. When Javy has paid attention to both nipples and leaves a mark you know will blossom into a hickey near your collar bone he is kissing you again. With one of his strong thighs in between your legs, you push against it trying to seek some friction and relief from your burning arousal. Pulling your lips away from his.

"Javy, I want you now," you gasp, pouting. Squirming against his thigh, you trace your hands down his back with the full intention of pushing down his briefs. Instead though, he is easing himself back down your body and kneeling on the side of the bed.

"No Ma'am. I'm going to do everything I wanted to on our wedding night when we should have consummated this marriage." Javy starts tracing your skin again, peppering kisses where he sees fit. You jump slightly at the feeling but quickly relax. Even though you two have not ever been intimate, that doesn't mean that you aren't comfortable with him in almost every other way. It feels surprisingly easy to take this new step, to be pressed together. You had always thought it might not be there, a physical spark, that maybe you were compatible with Javy in every other way. However, the moment Javy's tongue meets your clit, and he is the one who moans first, the doubt largely vanishes from your mind; it's so evident he desires you too.

While licking your clit Javy traces a finger along your lips, occasionally dipping into you, but the whole action is teasing. Just when he edges the length of his finger inside you, he kisses your thighs. When he licks your clit in firm strokes, he starts to edge his finger out of you. It's building you up but also making you feel like there is no end in sight.

"Javy, I need you now," you beg again.

"It's too soon." He tells you, lifting his head and pulling his mouth off you, and you nearly cry at the loss. "I have to warm you up baby, or it will hurt."

It will hurt, Javy claims, and the thought of his dick being big enough that is something he worries about sends another wave of arousal rushing through you. Married three years, you had seen the delicious outline of it in boxers, briefs, grey sweatpants, and towels, and even now, you still haven't seen all of him.

"Now, please," you whine.

"Prove you can take my fingers, and then we will see," Javy tells you, attempting to compromise with a teasing lit. He only has one finger in you, and you buck against it, seeking more. When he teases another at your entrance, you shift taking that finger as far as your position will allow. Sighing contently when with the stretch, feeling more full. As you clench around his thick fingers, Javy grunts out a low moan, speeding his digits and occasionally scissoring you wider open.

"What about a third?" He asks eventually. The idea sends another wave of arousal through you. As you clench around his fingers, Javy hums against your clit. Gasping desperately, you fist your hands in his forest green quilt. Javy doesn't actually indulge you in a third finger but continues to tease your entrance like he might. His tongue drags against your clit, and the wet sounds of the whole act making you clench harder around his fingers.

"Please, just fuck me. Please, Javy."

"You think I'm going to fuck you before you cum on my tongue? You're so silly, sweetheart. I'm taking my sweet time with you. I have so much to make up for," Javy nips playfully at your inner thigh. You hum at the contact spreading your knees and legs a little wider to accommodate Javy's broad shoulders. Flattening his tongue to give you a broader stroke and occasionally licking around his fingers. You feel dripping at the combination of your own juices and his spit. It's teasing and playful, a pattern you're starting to notice with him.

Nearing an orgasm, you try to grind harder on Javy's tongue, but when you do he teases a third finger again. The push for new fullness drags you back from the edge. Teetering there, you try to figure out if another one of his fingers will enter you. When he curls it away, you groan lowly. Javy stops sucking at your clit and turns his face back to pillow on your thigh. You can feel his smirk against your skin. You weren't prepared for this kind of edging, and the desperation feels nearly raw and beyond just needy.

"Please, Javy. Do I need to beg more? Do you want me to cry? Or—" you trail off, hoping that he will fill the blank for you. You are willing to give him whatever he wants; you just don't know what that is yet. Navigating sex is always something a little awkward with a new partner. It feels an extra layer of odd because you know Javy, and have known him for years. You know that the smallest glance with a squeeze of your hand means he wants to leave a party. You know when he spends too long at the gym by the slightly slower pace he walks. You know the soup to make him when he has a cold and tries to hide it from you. You know Javy. Suddenly having a situation where you are unsure feels foreign and uncomfortable.

Javy sits back more on his calves so he can better gauge your reactions. "I want to rock your world. I want to ruin every other man for you. I want my name to be the only one you know. I want you to be mine and only mine. Sweetheart, you are all I want."

"You already have all those things," you reassure him. Propping yourself on your elbows so you can meet his gaze. Even heavy with lust, his eyes still make you feel warm and safe. A small genuine smile lifts on his lips, then grows into a splitting grin that makes his eyes crinkle.

"You've been so good and giving for me Mrs. Machado. About time I give back to you ain't it?" He asks, peppering more kisses all over your legs. His fingers resume pumping into you steadily, and he is purposeful in how he drags them along your inner walls. "I want one more thing, though."

"Anything Javy. Anything."

"I want you to cum for me whenever you're ready. I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything you want, baby." Javy isn't teasing this time. He starts to work you over again with his lips sealed around your clit. He sucks while also tracing hard twisting strokes of his tongue. His digits maintain a steady speed, but they are fucking into you harder, and he continues to curl them, occasionally dragging over your walls. Arching further to the edge of the bed, Javy's arm lays across your hips, holding you down so he can grind his tongue against you harder.

"Don't stop," you beg, and this time he listens. It takes a few more pumps of his fingers, and you are tumbling over the edge. Your pussy spasming around his fingers. Javy moans, and the vibrations travel right through you, extending your orgasm and making your hips stutter before falling all the way down to the bed. Closing your eyes tightly with short breaths, it takes you several moments to come back to your body. When you finally feel yourself, you find Javy on the bed with you resting with his head on your tummy. As your brain starts working, you try to push Javy's head away, but he resists snuggling further into you.

"Javy," you start to say, not sure how to explain to him your insecurities.

"Thank you, baby. That was so good. You are so beautiful," he says, mouthing little kisses near your belly button and up your chest.

"I love that you're so soft," he mutters, almost in awe. One of his hands squeezes your side, and the other graces over your lower belly. Javy presses his lips to your breasts and sucks a nipple. You keen under him. Using your knees to urge him that much further up your body so you can kiss Javy, tasting the hint of yourself on his tongue still. Once he knows that you don't mind your own taste he deepens the kiss and rolls you both to be less perilously positioned on the end of the bed.

"Will you fuck me now?" Javy is nodding, but not as enthusiastically as you expect him to. So you ask him hesitantly, "Or we can do other stuff?"

"I really want to make love to you, but."

"But?" You ask. Groaning, Javy slides to lay next to you, hiding his face in your chest. You run your fingers across the shaved prickly skin at the base of his skull, patiently waiting.

"I'm worried I'll cum too fast. I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

You make no attempt to stop the burst of tenderness and love you feel at his small confession sharing vulnerability. Then in the kindest voice, you say, "that's okay. It doesn't really matter to me. As long as you enjoy yourself, that's what matters."

Lifting his face from your chest, the look Javy gives you is horrified and a little offended. Immediately he starts jumping into explanation, "To start, fuck no. That is not what matters. Like I said, I don't want you to think that I'm always quick to cum. I've just wanted this for so long, and I spent so much time putting everything together today that I didn't even jack off in the shower. My second round of the day is always so much longer, I promise."

"Javy, thank you. I promise this isn't going to change my thoughts or feelings about you. Okay? And a second round sounds great to me. We have to get through the first, though."

"Okay," he says with a sigh. Javy stands off the bed again, and you take the opportunity to scooch further back against the headboard. You watch, entranced, as he finally peels his briefs off; Coyote’s cock is mouthwatering. You aren't at all ashamed of the small gasping moan that falls from your throat.

"How do you want me?" You ask him as he crawls back up the bed. You stare at his body, suddenly overcome with the urge to trace over every single inch of him with your tongue.

"How do you want me, beautiful?" He fires back in an easy tone.

"Missionary?" You suggest. Nodding his head enthusiastically to your suggestion. Settling in between your thighs and you have to widen your knees to accommodate his broad frame.

"Fuck yes, I want to be in this pretty pussy and able to see your pretty face too."

He wasn't lying when he told you that he was big, and as he starts to push in, you are appreciative that he took his time with foreplay. Being stuffed so full of him leaves you gasping, and your mind keeps repeating better. This is better than you ever thought it would be. He is better than you always knew he would be.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?"

"So good. I'm so full of you Javy. I want more."

Taking your permission, he starts rocking into you at a steady pace. With one arm, he anchors himself against the headboard gripping it tightly, then his free hand traces your face. You can tell Javy is trying to hold himself back and take things slow for the sake of his ego. You start to meet his thrusts lifting your hips a bit more to get a better angle. Javy's hand falls from your face to your ass, helping support you. The steady pace starts to increase to a hot frantic tempo. He moans your name brokenly, and you grab his ass, trying to urge him even closer to chase his pleasure. His hips start to stutter, and panting he slips out of you. His hand lets you go to give his cock a few harsh jerks, and Javy cums on your chest. He is frozen like that for a moment before rolling to your side with a wide grin on his face.

"You could have cum inside. We are married, you know." You tease Javy. He stops breathing momentarily, and you turn your head to see him better. Despite having just cum, his eyes are still heavy with lust, and when he does take a breath again, it's a little ragged.

"We've never really discussed that and should have used protection anyways. I'm sorry." Javy hasn't even finished the apology when you drag your finger across some of the cum on your chest. Delicately you swipe your tongue across your finger, tasting him. Javy groans low in his chest, turning to lie flat on his back and his face in the crook of his elbow. You hum happily, the power you have over him intoxicating to a degree.

"You're right. That's definitely something we need to talk about, but next time…" You wait for Javy' to remove his elbow and look at you again. He does peek at you a few seconds later. "I want you to come inside me. I want to feel you dripping down my thighs. I want you to fill me up."

Javy's mouth falls open, and his eyes are so dark you feel like you could get lost in them. He is surging forward then and kissing you. It's a dirty and quick tangle of tongues. Then he pulls away and starts mouthing at your throat. "Do you want to be stuffed with my cum, baby?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Machado," you say cheekily.

"Fuck. You drive me a little crazy," he warns you lowly as you move to straddle him. You can tell he is still sensitive, but his dick is already starting to thicken again. You settle on his thigh instead, deciding that you could be patient waiting for him. You rock against his thighs for the smallest bit of stimulation just to start you going again. Javy watches you, completely captivated.

"You being a good girl and waiting for me? Just give me a few minutes."

"I've been waiting three years. I can wait a little while longer to be full of your cum," you tell him, but it comes out as a whine like you're trying to convince yourself that's true. Javy settles a hand on your hip, giving you a small bit of encouragement to grind against him harder.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting, sweetheart. No more though. I've got you now. I promise. I've got you." He repeats gently. His sweet and caring tone only makes the desperation in you burn higher. Shaking your head at him, unable to form the words explaining how you are feeling. Instead, you drop your eyes down to look at your chest again. You thought you would feel a little more peeved at the feeling of his cum drying against your skin. Rather, you just find more you can scoop into your mouth. The fact that his dick isn't in your mouth feels criminal.

Taking a moment to not just admire him but also strategize. Javy has a long cock, and you know you wouldn't be able to take all of him down without practice and working your way up to it. Something that definitely wouldn't be happening tonight. However, then the taste of his cum isn't enough, and neither is just looking. You slide further down his thigh; your own pleasure is lost in the haze of this need.

It's a more burning type of relief to have your mouth on him. You give the head a few soft licks, vaguely wondering how different he will taste when he hasn't already been in you. Javy lets out another shuddering moan. You want to lift your head in order to take in his features, but you are too absorbed in the feeling of his cock in your mouth. Javy clearly doesn't mind as you set about tracing his length. After a thorough exploration, one of your hands joins the mix, appreciating his shape and how heavy his dick is in your hand.

Sucking Javy until he is fully hard again, you become braver, daring to take more of him in your mouth. Bobbing slightly and sucking, letting your hand make up for the rest. However, just as you start to feel pleased with your rhythm, Javy gently pulls you off him, cooing when you whine.

"Baby. Baby stop. It's okay. Take a breath. That was so amazing. You are so fucking amazing."

"I hope it was okay. I might be a little out of practice," you admit to him shyly. Your lusty haze ebbing, you trace the lines of his chest but don't want to meet his eyes. Surely he hadn't been expecting you to be this much during your first time together.

"You're doing so good, sweetheart. I love you, and I love this," he reassures you. You shimmy up to straddle him again, lightly dragging your dripping cunt over him. Javy's cock is pressed hotly between your thighs, spreading your lips while nudging against your clit. You rock along him, wanting that friction while bracing against his chest, leaning down to kiss him.

"I love you too," you mutter against his lips. When Javy shifts his hips in tandem with yours, catching your entrance and then sliding past it, you're spurred into action. "I need you in me, Javy."

"I ain't stopping nothing, but are you sure you are okay?"

You don't answer him directly; instead, you reach between you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. Leaning back for a better angle, you slide down his whole length. You are taken aback, letting out a sharp almost pained gasp. Having already accommodated him inside once tonight, you didn't expect to still feel the slight burning stretch of his girth now. Once you adjust riding Javy is a dream. Praise spills out of his mouth along with the most delicious sounds. It's a great angle that makes you feel incredibly full. Your thighs start to burn when you stop the slow grinding and transition to you bouncing quickly on his dick. You hope the increased pace, paired with the snapping of Javy's hips, would get you there. However, it's still not enough. Not even when Javy brings his thumb up to circle your clit in strong consistent strokes. Although you are nearly in tears, Javy looks perfectly content like this is exactly what he wants.

"Javy," you cry high pitched, completely ceasing your movements. Even though you froze, he doesn't. Javy's hips continue lifting up fucking into you, and his thumb doesn't falter either. You take a moment to just feel it, and savor the moment. Then tiredly you slump down against his chest. A few thrusts later, you bite Javy's peck hard. He doesn't complain as he runs one of his hands down your back and squeezes your ass, chucking.

"What do you need, sweet girl?" He asks you. You bite him again, licking one at his nipple before nibbling it too. That rewards you with an extra hard thrust from Javy.

"I don't know," you admit, frustrated. The constant stimulation makes you burn hotter and is tantalizing, but it doesn't give you any push to the final release. Javy completely stops moving but stays hilted in you. His hands urge you to sit up, and he holds your gaze steadily.

"It's okay. We always figure things out together, don't we? This isn't any different."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, of course. Now tell me how you are feeling. Tell me what you like."

"I really like you. I love you Javy. And I've been thinking about this for so long."

"I've been dreaming about it too. I can't believe neither of us said anything sooner."

"I couldn't ever tell you."

"I wish you had. Why didn't you?"

"We both know you're out of my league, Javy. I never thought that you would want me back." He makes a pained sound hearing your admission.

"I'm not out of your league, and I've always wanted you back from the beginning. Okay?" You feel a little frustrated that he doesn't see or understand what you're saying, and if he wasn't literally still inside you, it might have been possible to press the issue. Right now, though, you know your insecurities could be tabled to another day.

"Okay."

"Good," Javy mutters, slipping out of you with a wet sound. "Let's try a different position. Does that sound okay, sweetheart?"

"Okay, we can try that," you say with a shrug.

Then with little effort, he gently manhandles you off him into a new position. Your front is pressed to the bed ass up for him, and Javy helps slide a pillow under you for better support. Kissing down the length of your spine. He asks twice if you're comfortable, taking his time pushing into you. It's a good position, allowing Javy to fuck into you harder than before. Your biggest complaint is the loss of being able to appreciate his handsome features.

In between telling you how good you are and just how wet and perfect your pussy is, Javy asks if he can spank you. It's a suggestion that has you biting your lip and agreeing hesitantly. It's not even a hard spank against your ass, just enough for a slight sting. The sharpness in contrast with how deliciously you're being filled, has your back arching. With a few more spanks, all of which you can tell Javy is holding back for, you feel close to an orgasm again.

"I'm getting close," you warn him.

"Going to give you every last drop, sweetheart. I'm going to make sure you're so full of me. I really want to feel you cum, though. Can you do that? Will you cum for me, Mrs. Machado?" Javy finally gives attention to your neglected clit again, and you know it's only a matter of time. Every time he bottoms out and gives your pulsating bundle of nerves a tweak, you feel yourself teetering.

"Call me that again," you request, relishing the way it falls off his lips more than nearly any of the other times he's said it in the past.

"Mrs. Machado," he repeats. "My wife, my girl, my love. Mrs. Machado, I want you to cum now."

With an extra hard press of his thumb, you're cumming. The heat that had been building in your abdomen bursts flooding bliss through your limbs. Crying out his name and fluttering around his cock, your legs start to spasm too. Coyote keeps fucking you, though, a little harder, a bit more selfishly chasing his own release.

"Javy, fill me up now," you demand, turning your head as much as you can to watch him. His pace falters at your request but immediately picks up again.

"Yes ma'am," Javy gasps. Speeding up so fast and hard, you feel a twinge against your cervix at the abuse. Just as you think you are going to have to tell him to be more gentle with you, Javys hips stutter. Holding himself entirely in you, his hands gripping your hips so hard you won't be shocked to find bruises later, he finally fills you up. You clench purposely around his length, wanting to help him milk his orgasm as long as possible. The warm spreading feel of his seed in you makes you sigh happily, and the boneless tired feeling after a good orgasm hits you like a truck.

Javy lays down on the bed, his breath still coming out in short pants. Immediately you cuddle closer to him, turning to lay your head on his shoulder. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you even closer to him. As his breaths even out, he starts kissing you slowly, hands cluching you tighter to his chest.

"Come closer, sweetheart," he requests quietly. Part of you wouldn't be surprised if Javy will ever think you are close enough to him again now that he's been inside you, but most of you relishes that concept. You scoot even closer, more than half laying on his chest, pressing as much of your skin together as feasible.

Later after one of the most tender intimate showers of your life, you are snuggled into Javy's bed with fresh sheets, trying to pick out a sappy Valentine's Day movie to watch. Javy had brought the extra pillows in your room, so you could make an extra area for movie cuddles. You are still scrolling when he comes back into the room with a plate of reheated dinner. Ravenous from skipping dinner and the following activities, you grin widely seeing the food.

"You are the most amazing man to ever walk this earth, Javy Machado." You tell him, patting the spot you left for him next to you.

"Sweetheart, you'll give me an ego if you keep talking to me like that." Javy expertly balances the plate and nestles in close. "Please tell me more," He says cheekily, pressing a kiss casually to your lips. You have to take a full minute to process that's a thing that can just happen now. So you lean a little more of your weight into him, and seek out Javy's lips again, simply because you want to and can.

'Well, no one cooks like you do."

"Yeah?"

"And no one gives as good cuddles as you do."

"I think that one's actually about you because you are the most comfortable and soothing person I have ever met. Of course it turns me into a snuggle monster." You laugh at him, and he casually throws an arm over your shoulder. He feeds you a small bite in off the plate before taking one himself. However, he doesn't seem overly invested in it like you expect.

"You ate a plate in the kitchen, didn't you?" You guess and feel Javy stop breathing.

"That maybe could have happened. I'm sorry sweetheart, I was so hungry." Javy adopts an exaggeratedly apologetic face sticking out his lower lip pleadingly.

"I guess, I could be convinced to forgive you."

"Oh, I'll do anything to earn your forgiveness."

"How about breakfast in bed tomorrow," you suggest casually.

"Absolutely, whatever you want. Quiche? Waffles? Omelettes? Croissants?"

"That all sounds good, but I was thinking of something else."

"Really? And what do you want to have, sweetheart?" He asks curiously.

"The only thing I had on the menu was you," You tell him cheekily. His eyes widen a little, and his teeth dig into his lower lip. He kisses your neck sweetly, nosing under your jaw. He closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath.

"Marry me?"

Finding his joke funny, you laugh lightly, playfully tapping your elbow into his side. Javy remains quiet and serious, though. When he doesn't respond, you set the plate aside, so it has no danger of spilling and turn to face him more fully. You are sure that he is waiting for that to reveal his mirth, but his eyes are just as serious as his tone.

"Javy, we are already married." You say, chuckling again.

"Marry me, again." He requests earnestly. Taking your hand in his, he gently pulls off your wedding band, holding it out like an offering. You pluck the ring back from him, sliding it into place on your finger. A smile breaks out on his face following your movement. Then you place that same hand on his face, holding him so he wouldn't be able to avoid your eyes.

"No. We are not going to get remarried." Javy pouts, and before he can reach true sadness, you lean forward to kiss him again. "But we can throw a really nice party if you want."

And when you two do finally get around to throwing a big old party, most of the room is confused about why exactly you and Javy are exchanging vows. However, absolutely no one is surprised when Javy produces seven cramped front-to-back sheets of paper of written vows when it's his turn.

#javy machado x reader #coyote x reader #Javy coyote machado x reader #javy machado x you #coyote x you #top gun fanfiction #tgm fanfiction #carnal for coyote #hot hot hot!#hot 🥵#bones hearts and marriges

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 4 months

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Top Gun: Maverick Masterlist

Content Guide

❤️‍🔥 - Smut

☁️ - Fluff

💢 - Angst

🍬 - Sweet

📚 - Multi-Chapter

‼️ - Trigger Warnings

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

SERIES:

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ONESHOTS:

I Can Be a Better Boyfriend Than Him ❤️‍🔥 ☁️ 🍬

Photo Finish ❤️‍🔥 ☁️

And In The Middle of My Chaos There Was You ❤️‍🔥 ☁️ 💢 🍬 ‼️

Red Lips, Green Eyes, You’re Mine ❤️‍🔥 ☁️

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

SERIES:

You Are My Soulmate ❤️‍🔥 ☁️ 💢 🍬 📚 Last Updated : 03/06/2024

Dance Like We’re Making Love ❤️‍🔥 ☁️ 💢 🍬 📚 COMPLETED Last Updated : 11/21/2023

ONESHOTS:

Daddy’s Little Princess ☁️ 🍬

Please Talk To Me. I need to know you’re alright ☁️ 💢 🍬

Straight on ‘Til Morning ☁️ 💢 🍬

Bookmark my Heart ☁️ 🍬

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia

ONESHOTS:

There's Nothing I Wouldn't Do: A Former Gunpowder & Lead Extra ☁️ 💢 🍬

Wake Me Up Before You Go Go ❤️‍🔥 ☁️ 💢 🍬

Robert 'B.O.B' Floyd

ONESHOTS:

Back to You 💢

Sex on the Beach (What a Treat) ❤️‍🔥 🍬

Sickles, Snowflakes, & Sharks ☁️ 🍬

The Cute One With the Glasses ☁️ 🍬

Javy 'Coyote' Machado

ONESHOTS:

'Tis the Damn Season ❤️‍🔥 ☁️ 🍬 💢

A Hazy Shade of Winter ❤️‍🔥 ☁️ 🍬

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace

ONESHOTS:

Firebird ☁️ 💢 🍬

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

ONESHOTS:

Don’t You Forget About Me Part 1, Part 2 ☁️ 💢 🍬 📚 COMPLETED Last Updated: 10/03/2023

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foreverrandomwritings · 10 months

Note

With sweet Javy, to each other ❝ hey, is this asshole bothering you? ❞, to a third party ❝ get lost. ❞, [ CLAIM ] for one muse to possessively place their hands on their shoulders or hips.

Darts With a Side of Secret

Summary: You and Jake are waiting at the bar for Javy. When he arrives he tells Jake a little secret. This is going to be added to my You and Javy and his friend Jake short series. But it can be read as a separate part just like the other ones can be.

Pairing: Javy "Coyote" Machado x afab!Reader Bromance Javy "Coyote" Machado x Jake "Hangman" Seresin Platonic!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x afab!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, bar, alcohol, mission and a little sexual innuendo, you'll miss it if you blink kinda thing.

Word count:1118

Masterlist M's Hundred Celly Masterlist Series Masterlist

You and Jake had been at the hard deck for about an hour or so. Javy had stayed at the base late finishing up some paperwork from his last mission. Jake had picked you up from your house on the way to the bar. That way you wouldn’t have to worry about driving two cars home. You had bet Jake that you could beat him in darts which was likely to happen because he thought it was funny to see you brag about winning sometimes. You, Javy and Jake all knew he took it easy on you but none of you ever said anything.

“If I make this one then you have to pick up my tab for tonight.” You rolled the dart between your fingers, the jagged metal digging into your skin delightfully.

“No fucking way that’s gonna happen. I just bought your dinner the other night. You’re gonna fucking make me go broke.” He scoffed at you before taking a drink of his beer. You both knew that the statement was false. Between the money he got from the Navy and his family wealth he didn’t have any financial worries.

“Not my fault you suck at darts. Maybe if you weren’t so worried about picking up air bunnies you’d actually be able to practice sometime.” Your words were playful, it had become an inside joke in the squad that Jake was a player. But you knew better than that, he rarely ever slept with any of the women he left with. He would normally make sure they got home safely before going home himself. But he had already been labeled as a man whore so he figured he’d put on a show.

“I’m gonna tell Javy that you’re being mean to me.” your mouth dropped open as you looked at him. There was a playful twinkle in his eyes as he gave you a big toothy grin.

“You wouldn’t dare.” You glared at him, he gave you a nonchalant shrug.

“Is this asshole bothering you?” It was almost like Javy knew you were talking about him as he came to stand behind you, hands placing themselves on your hips, chin laying on your shoulder. You gave Jake a smirk causing his own to fall from his lips.

“Yes actually he is.” Jake went to protest but Javy started laughing, you could feel the vibrations from his chest on your back.

“Get lost.” Jake gaped at you as Javy jested, you held your hand out to him expectantly waiting for him to place his last dart in your palm.

“You’re taking her side?” Jake placed the red dart in your hand anyways, you stuck your tongue out at him.

“You’re not the one that I plan on going home with tonight.” Javy’s smooth voice and the innuendo in his words had your whole body igniting with warmth.

“This isn’t fair. I should’ve never set the two of you up.” The blonde continued to grumble as he mopped away, going to the pool table where some of the squad were playing a game.

“He’s so whiny.” You turned in your boyfriend's hold coming face to face with him. You took in the sharpness of his jawline and the smirk on his lips. When your eyes met his brown ones, they had a sparkle in them.

“He was just mad because you were about to hand him his ass in darts again.” you giggled at his reply, fingers drumming across his chest. He grabbed your wrist and brought your hand up to his lips kissing your fingers before grabbing the two darts from your other hand.

“If I hit bullseye with both of these you gotta do that thing I like when we get home tonight.” His lips brushed your ear as he whispered into it. Your cheeks heated up at his words, mind becoming foggy at the thought of what he meant.

“Let’s see what you got then hot stuff.” You gave him space to throw the darts, hand dramatically gesturing towards the board. He gave you a wink before he skillfully sent the first dart through the air. It hit the center of the board and he sent the other one through the air quickly after. It hit the center of the board as well.

“Well sugar?” He turned to you with both of his eyebrows perked up. You gave him a teasing smile, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I’m ready to go home whenever you are.” You walked past him, landing a hand on his ass and sending him a wink. His eyes followed the sway of your hips as you walked to the bar.

“I taught both of you everything you know about darts you realize that right?” Jake came up and slapped a hand on Javy’s shoulder.

“Yea, yea, yea. Whatever you say man.” Javy glanced at his best friend and saw the smile on his face. His eyes fluttered back to your form leaning against the bar talking to Penny and he let out a long breath, shoulders relaxing.

“I wasn’t at work ya know.” Javy desperately needed to tell someone where he was at. Jake looked at him questioningly, confusion clear in his expression.

“Where were you then?” Javy hadn’t lied to you in the two years you had been dating so Jake wasn’t sure why he had started now.

“I was looking at rings.” Jake’s mouth fell open before he punched Javy’s arm.

“Ow. What the fuck was that for man?” Javy rubbed the spot that Jake's fist had just come in contact with.

“You were looking at rings to propose to her without me? How dare you?” Jake pouted his lips as he glared at the New Orleans man.

“I didn’t buy one yet you asshole. You can come with me when I do. Now shut up she’s coming back over here.” They both looked back towards the bar and saw you walking their way with three beers in your hands.

“What’re you boys talking about?” you asked them as you handed them each a bottle.

“I was just asking Javy about taking the dogs on a hike this weekend. I heard one of the techs talking about a spot that I want to go to.” Javy was grateful for his friend's quick thinking.

“Gumbo and Ella would love that. What time were we thinking?” Your excitement was clear in your words as your eyes got wider and your tone got a little higher. Javy took you in as you and his best friend talked about this weekend and he thanked whatever was out there that he was lucky enough to have these two amazing people in his life.

A/N: This is the finale of my month-long pride celebration and my hundred celly posts. I can't believe I've posted something everyday for the whole month and that I've gotten through all my requests. Thank you everyone that has shown me so much love during this time and to everyone that requested something for my celebration.

Tags(open): @wkndwlff @sylviebell @taytaylala12 @eternallyvenus @loving-and-dreaming @princess76179 @kmc1989 @qjdjjexnsk (slash through means I couldn't tag you)

#m's pride month celebration #m's hundred celly #javy coyote machado x reader #javy coyote machado imagine #javy coyote machado oneshot #javy machado x reader #javy machado imagine #javy machado oneshot #javy machado short series #javy machado x jake seresin #bromance #coyote x reader #coyote x hangman #fluff #top gun maverick oneshot #top gun maverick imagine

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theharddeck · 1 year

Text

your love is the love I need || chapter 1/4

pairing: javy machado x femme reader (no y/n), callsign Cross

summary: Cross and Javy are very good friends. Javy might've let it slip to his mother that they're more. A little fake dating never hurt anyone, right?

warnings: 18+, minors please DNI – no smut in this chapter (there defs will be in later chapters, and I never want someone to be caught off guard) but there is an attempted roofie-ing in this chapter.

length: 6.2k

A/N: literally the biggest shoutout in the WORLD to @daggerspare-standingbystandingby for talking me off a ledge, and also line editing, and also depth. @bradshawsbitch and @laracrofted thank you for always brainstorming with me 💙

Saturday

“Cross, get in here; I need a stand-in.”

You’d been looking for a glass for your cherry coke in cabinets at the Miramar Family Center, but at Hangman’s call, you grabbed a straw and jogged back over to the pool table. Bob folded a napkin and slid it across the table as you got closer and you smiled at him gratefully before setting the sweating can down on it.

“Tapping out already, Hangman?” Phoenix asked from across the table, where she was wiping chalk over the end of her pool cue.

“You and Avalone wish,” Jake drawled, smiling wanly at the group. “Nah, I’ve got to pick something up; I’ll be right back.”

He tossed his pool cue at you without looking and you considered letting it clatter to the ground, but you grabbed it out of the air, trying not to read into the gesture too much.

You were a recent addition to the squad; when Fanboy had decided he wanted to try piloting again, they’d needed a WSO to fly with Payback. Having only been a teammate for a couple months, you were still finding your footing with the group. Everyone had been welcoming, of course, but there were times that you felt the little idioms and questions were a type of test. Tests that you were determined to pass, not just for the sake of assimilation, but because this was a team you were genuinely proud to be a part of, and you wanted them to know it.

“Am I solid or stripes?” you asked, looking down at the table, confused by the seeming lack of structure on the felt.

“We’re playing cutthroat,” Payback said, looking after Hangman with a grimace, for not giving you any context.

“We’re 11-15,” Coyote said, because of course he and Jake had been a team. He swiped the chalk that Phoenix had been using, and as he dropped it into your palm, his fingertips brushed yours. You tried to ignore it, it was just an accidental brush, but your skin prickled anyway, and you looked away quickly.

“1-5,” Phoenix cut in, pointing between her and Fritz.

“6-10,” Payback finished, lifting a fist in Bob’s direction, as the WSO held up a clenched hand obediently.

“Cool,” you said, deciding if you wanted to take on the pilot who held your life in his hands any time you got in the back of an F/A-18, or Phoenix.

Which, honestly, wasn’t even a question.

You surveyed the felt once more, before seeing a clear shot for the 9 ball, walking around the table to take it, and shooting Bob an apologetic look as the ball clattered into the pocket.

“I knew I liked you,” Natasha cooed.

“Yeah, I don’t know why we bother,” Payback sighed to Bob, who shrugged, both of them good-naturedly.

“Atta girl,” Coyote crowed, and Phoenix nodded approvingly and you grinned at her, rather than risk looking at him. Not with the butterflies that erupted in your stomach at his completely platonic praise. You were on the same team, it was nothing more than that, and now was so not the time for your relentless crush to make an appearance.

Pool wasn’t really your game, and you weren’t at all surprised when you botched the next shot, flustered by the nearly six feet of Abercrombie model at your shoulder. You backed away from the table as Billy stepped up, apparently next in order.

You swiped your soda from the table by Bob, crossing the room to perch on the side of a sofa and wait for your turn again, or Jake’s reappearance, whichever came first.

Your eyes flitted over to Javy, as they always seemed to, when you weren’t actively trying not to. It wasn’t your fault he was magnetic.

All easy smiles and broad shoulders, deep protectiveness and unabashed confidence, just as good as Hangman and Rooster and Phoenix, less likely to call attention to it. The way he’d look deep at whoever was talking to him, nodding along as he gave them his full attention.

At present, that person was Phoenix, and Javy’s shoulders dipped as he hunched his back slightly, to get closer and hear her better. You played with the end of your pool stick, watching as their heads tilted together, quietly commenting on the table as Fritz lined up a shot.

“It’s a statistical impossibility, right?” Halo whispered, appearing next to you on the couch. “For them to be that pretty and that good of pilots?”

You followed her gaze to the trio around the table and shook your head, agreeing.

“The worst part of it,” you mumbled back, “is that they have the audacity to be decent people, so we can’t even do the easy thing and dislike them for being perfect.”

Halo clicked her tongue against her teeth, fiddling with the plastic cap of a water bottle.

“That’s why they need us,” she mused. “You, me, and Bob: subverting expectations as gorgeous backseaters.”

You snorted, before Callie’s words registered, and you looked over at her, your voice teasing when you asked, “Bob, huh?”

She shrugged lightly, even as a pretty flush bloomed on her cheeks.

“Completely impartially, of course,” she said, sheepishly. You smiled reassuringly, bumping her shoulder with yours, and she tilted her head as she looked back at the table.

“How’s that view from your glass house?” she asked, sweetly, making you nearly choke on your soda when you saw she was looking pointedly at Coyote.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked.

“I mean, it was a guess, but that just confirmed it,” Callie smiled broadly, before sighing again. “I think crushes on other pilots is the particular curse of Wizzos—we know better, but we think we’re smart enough to get around it.”

“I’ll drink to that,” you muttered, bumping your soda can into her water bottle, memory taking you back a couple months to a night just like this one.

It was your first day in San Diego; you’d caught an early flight and were able to move into your off-base apartment and walk around North Island for a bit, exploring before you’d meet your detachment the following morning. As the sun sank over the Pacific, you walked along the beach, enjoying the warm sand and cooling air. You could hear a piano in the distance, something you assumed was the effect of a bluetooth speaker until you realized it came from a bar a little farther down the beach, and you redirected your footsteps towards it.

The Hard Deck smelled like sweat and good beer, and you clocked a couple different types of badges as you scanned the room. There was a good chance someone here would recognize you tomorrow, so you asked for a coke from the older man behind the bar, settling on a stool and looking around.

There was a man with a mustache and aviators (Indoors. At night.) at the piano, his head cocked back as he worked through the greatest hits of the 60s. Beside him, a stunning woman in a tight bun stood shoulder-to-shoulder with an impossibly tall man, also with a mustache, both of them singing along enthusiastically. A pool table was nearby, a couple more uniforms draped across it, and two men were playing darts against the wall closest to you.

Well, one of them was playing darts.

The blond man was clearly in his element, sinking bullseye after bullseye, and the man beside him seemed content enough to let him play it out. It wasn’t so much a competition, as it was one man showboating, and his friend humoring him.

The louder of the two was making jokes about his odds, calling shots before he took them, and every now and then his partner would quietly say something that would make his shoulders laugh enough to miss his shot. Their conversation faded into the noise of the bar as you turned on your stool, looking around you. When you came back to the bartop, you noticed a man sidling up to a younger girl a couple stools down from you.

She was rebuffing him as gently as she could, and he seemed to be taking it pretty well—until she turned to chat with someone over her shoulder, and he dropped something in her drink while she was preoccupied.

Your jaw dropped; that’d been clear as day. But the bar was crowded, and she’d been distracted by her friends, and your heart lurched when she reached back for her drink without paying attention.

“Hey, wait!” you called down the bar, and she turned to look at you. Along with the half of the bar, you assumed, but you slid off the seat rather than check and see how much of an audience you had. The girl frowned at you, an unfamiliar face yelling at her, but whatever she saw in your expression held her attention for the moment it took you to get down to her.

“Sorry,” you said, quietly as you could, when you got closer to her. “I didn’t want to make a scene, but he definitely put something in your drink.”

“Oh my gosh,” the girl set the drink down on the bar, glaring at the man. “What the hell, you creep!!”

“I didn’t—,” the man’s face flushed, and he looked angrily at you before at the people around him, placatingly. “Hold on, you can’t just go around accusing—”

“It’s not an accusation if it’s true,” you said, turning to the bartender. “Are you the owner?”

He shook his head, looking over your shoulder at some of the other patrons, then set down the tap he was pouring. “I’ll get Penny.”

“Now, hang on Jimmy,” the creep sputtered. “I-I didn’t do anything, you can’t prove I—”

“Drink it, then.”

Everyone turned at the deep voice, as someone else stepped towards the bar. You recognized one of the men from the dartboard, the quiet one, and he crossed his arms as he came up behind you.

The creep’s expression paled as he took in the tall frame of the pilot behind you. “I mean, it’s her drink, I’m not–”

The girl slid her drink down the bartop, in front of the man. “Go on.”

A door slammed in the back of the bar and a moment later, a slim brunette woman let herself behind the counter. She stalked behind the bar, looking sharply at you.

“You saw it?” she asked.

You nodded, and her jaw ticked. She planted her hands on the bar, looking the creep clearly in the face, like she was memorizing it, before she covered the drink with saran wrap and handed it behind her to Jimmy.

“You’re gonna wait in my office until the police get here,” she told the man, her voice level. “And when you leave with them, you will not set foot in this bar again. Understood?”

“Police?” the man echoed, his eyes going wide. “Hold on, this is all getting blown out of proportion, all I did was—”

Penny jerked her head to the side, and you felt a hand on your shoulder for a moment as the quiet pilot brushed by you to reach for the creep. The blond man was with him, suddenly, and they unceremoniously hauled the creep away from the bar.

Penny pursed her lips together, looking meaningfully over at the piano, and a moment later, some Elvis song was playing through the bar. Penny checked in with the girl, pulled some receipt paper out of the printer and had her write down her contact information, in case the police wanted to follow up with her. She waved you down as well, and you came over.

“Don’t think we’ve met before,” she said brusquely, holding a hand across the bar. “I’m Penny.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, shaking her extended hand and giving her your name. “You handled that really well.”

Her jaw clenched again, as she shook her head. “Hate that I have to handle it at all. Thanks for saying something; what’re you drinking tonight? It’s on the house.”

“Oh, thanks,” you shook your head, pointing to your abandoned coke, “but I’m not drinking; I have an early day tomorrow.”

Penny hummed, looking you over. You had the uncanny feeling that, even without your uniform, she somehow knew you were Navy, which detachment you were in, and—given another minute or two—she could guess your callsign.

“Better get your information too,” she said, sliding the receipt paper down the bar, “in case they want a statement from you. Include your CO; I can probably put a good word in edgewise.”

You scribbled your information down, wondering what ties she had to the Navy, but not doubting for a moment that they were strong. Her mouth twitched as she read over what you’d written, blooming into a full smile as she looked up at you.

“Well, that’ll be easier than I thought,” she said, almost to herself, before walking over to the tap to pour you another coke. “So, what brings you to North Island?”

You chatted with her until the police came and she excused herself to go deal with them. You were finishing your coke when you realized the two pilots were back by the dartboard, the blond one having sunk three bullseyes and performing what appeared to be a victory shimmy.

He looked like a Ken doll, like someone had manufactured him in a Mattel factory, then turned him to life and told him he could do anything a real boy could do.

You laughed to yourself at his antics, and watched while the quiet one collected the darts and took his stance for his turn. His first dart landed on double 16—solid, except it couldn’t beat 3 bullseyes.

You’d wanted to thank him for helping out before Penny got there, and this was as good a chance as any, so you hopped off the barstool and crossed towards the darts wall.

“Hey,” you said, inelegant but effective, appearing behind the two of them, turning to look at you in surprise. “May I?”

The blond man made a sound in the back of his throat like he was both shocked and thrilled by your presence, and he nodded like of course you could butt in. You looked over at the quieter one, trying to pretend he wasn’t the most beautiful person you’d seen in your life.

They’d both looked great from a distance, but up close, he was somehow even prettier, and as you looked at him, the corners of his mouth turned up in a hint of a smile. It was like he liked the weight of your eyes, which was terribly flattering, and you found yourself wanting to smile back. You looked away quickly, back to Ken Doll, thinking about the accent you’d heard in his bragging earlier.

“Texas?” you asked, to distract yourself.

He raised an eyebrow. “Six generations back.”

You hummed, before holding out a hand to the quiet one.

“The lady will shoot for her own hand,” Ken Doll said, like he was quoting something, a laugh in his voice as you felt two darts drop into your palm.

“Pick that up from Medieval Times?” you asked.

“Brave, actually,” he muttered, before smiling sheepishly, “my sister’s kids love that movie.”

“What do they call you?” you asked, turning the darts over in your hands. It was a guess, but the way his eyebrows raised slightly when he registered the cadence of your question confirmed you were right.

“Hangman,” he said, lifting his chin over your shoulder. “That’s Coyote.”

You looked over at him. “Hey.”

He smiled, slow and easy, and you looked away before you messed up your shot. You focused, let it go, and Coyote whistled.

“Triple 20,” he said.

“Triple 20,” you agreed, looking back at Hangman. “Want to see it again?”

Hangman’s eyes narrowed as he did the quick mental math, and beside you, Coyote crossed his arms across his chest, laughing quietly. It was a warm sound, and tempted though you were to turn and see it, you let go of the last dart and watched as it landed next to your first.

“Look at that; Coyote wins,” you wiped your hands on your jeans, smiling at a shocked Hangman.

“Damn,” he said quietly, then grinned. “I like you; you can stay.”

You snorted as he strolled lazily across to the board to pull out the darts, before you turned to look at Coyote, who was watching you already. He had deep brown eyes, eyes that looked kind, like they laughed easy, like they didn’t miss much.

“Anyways,” you said, apropos of nothing, clearing your throat. “I came over here to say thanks for backing me up at the bar.”

Something like surprise flashed across his face before he could stop it. He shrugged like anyone would’ve done it, like it was nothing special to believe women, to support a stranger the same way he’d supported his friend all evening, and in that moment—before he knew who you were, before you knew his actual name, before you’d spoken more than a dozen words to the man—you fell hard for Javy Machado.

“Bob, you’re killing me,” Payback groaned, and you jerked out of the memory. Apparently, Fritz’s turn was done, Bob biffed it, and Phoenix lifted her hand in an “after you” gesture as Coyote stepped up to the table.

He walked slowly, and you tried to be impartial like Callie’d said, but it was damn hard when his shoulders filled out his khakis like that. He walked a slow circle, frowning at the spread and you shifted the pool cue in your own hands, telling yourself to stop staring and continuing to do just that.

“Duckie,” a soft voice called across the room, “if you don’t take the shot already, we’re going to be here all night.”

Javy dropped the pool cue with a clatter, turning to find the voice. You spotted Jake the same time everybody else did, his chest puffed out proudly as he escorted an older woman on his arm. She wore warm gray senegalese twists, dangling turquoise earrings and a wide smile you’d recognize anywhere.

“Momma?” Javy asked softly, then a grin split his face as he sprinted across the room. His mother opened her arms as Javy rushed into them, carefully bending his tall frame to enfold her, before straightening and spinning her around. Their laughter echoed around the room and a couple claps of applause went up.

Jake slapped a hand on Javy’s back as he stepped around them, walking over to the pool table to give them a minute together. Phoenix smiled lightly at him, a soft thing that you doubted any of you were meant to see, before she cleared her throat, looking back at you.

“See, this is why we put up with him being an asshole as much as he is,” she told you, shaking her head at Jake. “He’ll leave you out as bait if it gets him a shot at a bandit, but he’ll remember your mother’s birthday, burn his visitor passes, and fly her across the country to surprise you.”

“Take it easy, Nat,” Jake said lightly, resting his knuckles on the pool table and surveying the game’s progress since he’d stepped away. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”

Phoenix shook her head before lining up her next shot, and Jake pushed away from the table to come stand next to where you and Halo were seated on the couch.

You bumped his shoulder with yours as you both looked back across the center, where Javy and his mom were walking arm-and-arm towards your group.

“That was awful sweet of you,” you told him quietly, not wanting to “ruin his reputation” as he put it.

“The fact that you don’t sound surprised means Phoenix’s lies are taking root,” Jake muttered, but you heard the pride in his voice; he was pleased with himself for pulling this off.

You looked away from the pair over to Jake, who held out a hand for you to hand him his pool cue. You passed it to him, tipping your head, holding onto the other end of it.

“So there was absolutely no altruism involved in reuniting your best friend with his mom?”

“You wound me, Cross,” Jake said drily, but he lifted his chin at Javy’s mother, who was smiling broadly up at her son, her eyes shining as she patted at his uniform proudly. “Give it a sec; let’s see if it pays off.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but you felt your expression turn soft at the clear fondness between Javy and his mother; somehow you always knew he’d be a momma’s boy. Her neck was craned at a sharp angle to look up at him, but both of their smiles were wide as they broke into the group.

“Guys,” Javy said, his voice nearly giddy, “this is my mom. Momma, this is the group. We’ve got Payback, Bob, Phoenix, Fritz—I guess you already know Jake—Halo, and Cross.”

You all smiled and waved as Javy pointed you out to his mother, and her kind eyes followed Javy’s hand around the circle. You thought you might’ve imagined they lingered a little longer on you, but then her smile grew wider as she looked back at Javy. She elbowed him, then looked back at you.

“Now, Javy,” she chided gently, “I know that’s not how you introduce me to your girlfriend.”

The group stilled, and Jake pulled in a deep breath through his nose, his own smile turning decidedly smug as he pushed away from you, taking the cue with him.

“And there’s your answer, Cross,” he said out of the side of his mouth, going over to the pool table and lining up a shot.

You wet your lips as your eyes darted from Mrs Machado up to Javy.

His expression was a strange mix of shocked, mortified, and pleading, and you weren’t sure what Jake had done to land the both of you in this predicament, but you knew you weren’t about to spoil this reunion for Javy.

“Mrs. Machado,” you smiled, pushing away from the couch to come and hug her. “I’m so excited to get to meet you.”

Of course, she hugged like an angel.

She was just a little shorter than you, and she held you like you were something precious she was excited to have in her arms. When you pulled back, her hands settled on your elbows and she beamed up at you.

“Oh, aren’t you just the loveliest,” she smiled, and her voice sounded like the happiest thing. “You know, I told him, I did, when he started talking about the newest wiz—oh, what is that abbreviation?”

“WSO,” the group chorused.

“WSO,” Mrs. Machado nodded, grateful for the prompt. “Yes, well, when he started talking about you, I asked him if you were a nice young lady, and he insisted that you were just friends, but I just knew, you kept coming up in conversation and, well, I knew it was something more. And then sweet Jacob…”

She broke off to smile kindly at Hangman, and when you looked over your shoulder, Callie and Natasha had cornered him threateningly, but he looked too smug to be intimidated. Under Mrs. Machado’s eyes, they smiled charmingly, but their stance didn’t change. You appreciated them coming to your defense, but it did make you wonder how many people seemed to know about your crush.

“Yeah, sweet Jacob,” Payback deadpanned from the other side of the table, before assuming his role as Resident Adult of the squad. “Mrs. Machado, can we get you something to drink? I know lines at the base access point can be awful, maybe a glass of water?”

“Oh!” Mrs. Machado looked between Reuben and the kitchen, then at you. You smiled reassuringly, pulling your arms free from her.

“I’ll be here,” you said, then reached over without looking, turning away. “Hey, Jay, can I have a word?”

“Yep, figured,” Javy muttered, as your hand closed on the lapel of his khakis, pulling him after you.

“You both are doing my push ups after the next of Mav’s drills,” Payback hissed under his breath as your paths crossed.

“Done,” you said quickly.

“For sure,” Javy said, stumbling slightly as he tried to follow your shorter stride as you pulled him to a corner of the Family Center. You figured the group would be watching you so you turned your back to them, pulling Javy to stand in front of you.

“Wait, you’re his backseater,” Javy smoothed down his lapel, frowning over your shoulder in Reuben’s direction. “If he’s doing them, you are too, and 400 pushups isn’t—”

“You’ve got, like, 15 seconds to tell me why your mom thinks I’m your girlfriend.”

You probably could’ve handled it with more finesse, or at least not interrupted him.

Javy’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck; if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was nervous, but there’s no way that was real, so you just waited on his explanation.

“Okay, so she means well, my mom, but every time we talked, she’d be asking about if I’d met a nice girl, or telling me how one of her friends had a kid in town, that I should meet up with or—”

“15 seconds,” you reiterated, trusting in Reuben’s vamping ability, but the man was only mortal.

“Right,” Javy swallowed. “Uh, so it’s just…one day she was just going on and on, and I said I’d asked someone out, and she wanted to know who and you were the first person I thought of.”

You blinked.

“Not like that, not like I’d planned on asking you out or something,” Javy rushed to say, which shouldn’t have stung as much as it did, but damn. He must’ve realized how that sounded, too, because he winced. “I mean, not like that, it was just the easiest lie that she’d believe and she was never supposed to be here and meet you and—”

You crossed your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him. “How do you think this is going?”

“Yeah, not great,” Javy mumbled, his hand falling to his side.

“Awesome,” you muttered. “So now that we’ve established how it’s just a matter of me being the easiest lie, you didn’t want her to meet me, and you wouldn’t actually ask me out—”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Javy said stubbornly, even though it was what he’d just said. He looked frustrated, and you couldn’t tell if it was towards your reaction or something else but when he opened his mouth, the words got stuck, because he just sighed.

Javy drew in a deep breath, looking over your shoulder. You knew when his eyes landed on his mom, because his whole face softened, and his shoulders drooped slightly.

“Tell me this,” you said, weighing your words carefully, “is this for her or for you?”

“For her,” he said, with conviction, and when he looked back at you, your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes. It was honest and deep, something selfless and that scared him too, and you believed him.

“She gets worried about me,” he explained. “What she and my dad have is special…when me or my siblings don’t have that, she gets worried. Like, it’s something she prays for. I know she’s proud of me and my career and all that, but I think a part of her will always think something’s missing, unless I’m with someone.”

You looked over your shoulder to find Mrs. Machado in the kitchen, smiling happily at Rueben as he made her some tea. She had this aura of comfort around her, that of being loved and known, and wanting it for everyone around her. It wasn’t an energy you were super familiar with, but you could understand that it would be heavy for someone like Javy to bear.

And this was a terrible idea—you were gonna embarrass yourself at the least, potentially break your own heart at the worst—but you couldn’t say no.

“Okay,” you sighed. “So, how do we do this?”

Javy’s eyes closed for a moment in relief, and for a second you thought he was going to reach for you, but then he held himself steady, his hands clenching at his sides.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

You nodded, already regretting this, knowing if you could do it again, you’d choose the same result, every time.

“Yeah,” you said, rubbing at your temples briefly before looking back up at him. “Um, I guess, how much do you want me around? I’m sure you guys want time for just the two of you.”

Javy seemed to think it over. “I’ll probably take her to dinner tonight—she’ll invite you, but I think we can get you out of it. If…do you want to do breakfast tomorrow?”

Somewhere a trickster god was chortling, thrilled by Javy asking a question you’d never expected to hear, and in an entirely different context.

“I can do breakfast,” you said.

“Great,” Javy said, a full smile growing. “God, thank you. Great.”

And somewhere that same trickster god rolled their eyes, because you were a simpleton who’d do any number of ridiculous things to see that smile again.

Javy squeezed your shoulder lightly, moving to go around you before stopping himself and stepping back.

“You’ve never called me ‘Jay’ before,” he said, his expression curious.

And you hadn’t, never aloud. But in your texts to your girlfriends back home, you referred to him by his initial, just in case someone ever stole your phone.

“Yeah, well," you deferred, "Duckie was taken, so…”

Javy’s nose wrinkled as he tried not to laugh, and there it was, that smile again.

“I had a stuffed duck, when I was a kid,” he explained. “Took it everywhere with me, like some kids have their blankets…Momma always told me she loved me like I loved that duck, and it kind of stuck.”

“That’s adorable,” you said, honest.

Javy waved a hand, like it wasn’t anything, and then he looked back at you.

“I like it,” he said, something different in his voice. “Jay.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you pressed your lips together and shrugged. Javy looked at you for a moment, then he tilted his head towards the group. You turned with him, following him back to the group, telling yourself it was going to be fine.

Of course, that was until Mrs. Machado insisted that they drive you home.

Thankfully, you were able to convince her to take the passenger seat, so as Mrs. Machado and Javy talked quietly, the soft music on the speakers kept their conversation from reaching you in the backseat. You leaned your head against the glass of the window, trying to recall the cross streets from memory, rather than think too hard about any part of tonight. The car was in park for a minute before you realized it was idling in front of your apartment.

“Oh, sorry,” you said quickly, sliding off your seatbelt and leaning forward to brush Mrs. Machado’s shoulder lightly, “it was so great to meet you. Thanks for driving me home.”

“Of course,” she beamed over her shoulder at you, reaching back to catch your hand in hers, and squeezing. “I’m so glad we’ll get to visit more tomorrow.”

You smiled back, then let go of her, sliding down to the seat to the door. As you unfolded yourself out of the backseat, Javy’s hand appeared on the car door, holding it open for you as you climbed out. He shut it behind you, walking beside you towards the door of your apartment.

You looked up at him out of the side of your eye.

People shouldn’t be pretty from this angle but he was. The moonlight seemed to highlight his long lashes, and the soft shadow they cast over his face.

“You don’t have to walk me,” you said under your breath, once you were out of hearing range of the car.

“Nah,” Javy said, his voice lower rather than quieter. “Momma knows I’d walk my girl to the door.”

It wasn’t a long walk up the driveway, but you seemed aware of every step. Or maybe the world just froze when Javy said my girl.

You glanced over at him again, admiring the way he looked perfectly at ease, his hands tucked into his pockets, steps slow to match your pace. You thought about how sweet his mother was, how excited she’d been at the prospect of spending time with you tomorrow. She was probably watching from the car now, and it did somewhat soothe the guilt in your chest, knowing that someone else had set a precedent for her, and she wouldn’t be too disappointed when her son calmly told her you had broken up.

“That’s good that she’s met others,” you said, climbing the first step to your porch, “it’s less intimidating to know I just have to be an average.”

Javy made a soft sound, something between a hum and an exhale, shoulders rising slightly in a shrug. “Actually, you’re the first since the Academy.”

You stopped on the step, turning to find Javy watching you closely. With the added height, the two of you were almost eye level, and your stomach flipped. His brown eyes seemed to glitter, something soft like starlight in them.

“But you said…” you trailed off, realizing Javy had said it was how he would be, not how he’d been. “Literally how is that possible?”

Javy smiled easily, looking back at the car, then back at you as he lifted his chin. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

You smiled back, you couldn’t not, even as you shook your head, despite the heat crawling up your neck because you didn’t realize you’d said that out loud. He was too bright to leave you unaffected, so you stood there on the step, smiling like a fool at a man who somehow had no idea how much of a marvel he was.

Which is when you realized you were staring again.

“Well,” you said, looking away, taking another step up the porch, “thanks again for the ride home. And walking me up here, and I guess…I’m gonna go inside.”

“Oh,” Javy said it quietly, like he hadn’t meant to, like you’d surprised him. He nodded, and you waited for him to say something else, as he looked over his shoulder at the car, but then his easy smile was back again. “Yeah, no worries. Actually, thank you, right?”

You were pretty sure the moonlight was playing tricks on you.

Because there was something in Javy’s expression that you hadn’t seen before, something that looked like uncertainty, something almost like wondering. The extra step put you almost taller than him, your faces closer than you’d expected. Javy blinked slowly, his gaze darting down to your mouth before he stepped back a half pace, like he’d remembered something.

It had to be the moonlight, or you were seeing things.

But you were the first person that’d come to mind when he’d needed a lie, and that had to count for something, right, and he’d looked for a moment like he was trying to think of a reason to keep you on the porch.

You reached for him, your fingers curling around the back of his neck and the slightest pull was enough for him to take back that half step, then more, closer, which was enough for you to know it wasn’t just the moon, and you kissed him.

Or you meant to.

The moment your lips brushed against his, Javy’s hands were on your waist, his long fingers spreading across your lower back, his body heat seemingly burning through the thin fabric of your shirt, like he needed to hold onto you. And then you weren’t kissing him, because he was kissing you, something that you couldn’t quite believe was happening. It was slow and soft and absolutely devastating, as unrealistically perfect as only Javy could be.

And then it was over, just as quickly as it had happened.

Javy’s lips lifted from yours, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulled back entirely. Still two steps down, you liked how he looked, looking up at you.

“I’ll wait till you get inside,” Javy asked softly, his voice like velvet, and you nodded, very uncertain if you could find words. You rested a hand on his shoulder to lean down to wave at the car, and Mrs. Machado, who was practically beaming back at you, before letting go and walking up to unlock the door. You let yourself in, turning just inside the frame to find Javy still watching you.

“Night, Jay,” you said.

Javy’s lips parted at the nickname, then he smiled at you, bright as the noonday sun.

“Night, Cross,” he said. His hands were in his pockets and he took a step back from you, waiting for you to shut the door. You did, leaning your back up against it, and waited for the sounds of the car starting and them driving away.

Now, what the hell had that been about? And, more importantly, how were you supposed to survive tomorrow?

next chapter

taglist: @peakyrogers @mxgyver @princessphilly @hangmanbrainrot @wildbornsiren @roosterforme @blowmymbackout @datemephoenix @fuckyeahhangman @lt-bradshaw @double-j @callsignvalley @sebsxphia @javihoney @jadore-andor @rosiahills22 @andrewrussgarfield @teacupsandtopgun i don't have a coyote list yet bc this is my first writing for him, so if any of you folks would like to be not included, please do let me know!

#javy “coyote” machado #javy machado fic #javy coyote macado #javy machado #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado x reader #javy machado x you #coyote x you #coyote x reader #misskielwrites #god why is hitting publish so nervewracking???#i hope y'all like this chapter #i have a lot i want to do in ch 3 and ch 4 but this is necessary for now #a smidge of pining is good for the soul right #coyote x cross

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beyondthesefourwalls · 2 months

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The Plus One

Summary: You couldn’t believe he was here. He had told you he would be, over and over again, but part of you had convinced yourself it was too good to be true. There was no way a man as perfect as Javy Machado would be so into you after you spent one night together, months ago, that he’d fly out to be your date to a wedding for people he’d never met before. Yet here he was, looking as good as a dream. By the end of the night you knew one thing for certain: a weekend with him would never be enough.

Pairing: Javy Machado x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Fluff, language, smut-esque but not detailed. Suavy Javy, because he’s a warning.

Notes: A not-so-subtle follow up to An Aviation Special, but can be read on its own!

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You had to make a conscious effort to keep your eyes on your sister and your new brother-in-law as they exchanged vows at the altar, as opposed to letting them stray to the man in the 8th row in the dark blue suit.

You couldn’t believe he was here. He was actually here.

He had told you he would be, over and over again, but even after three months of talking on the phone almost every single day, falling a little bit more with every conversation, part of you had convinced yourself it was too good to be true. There was no way a man as perfect as one Javy Machado would be so into you after you spent one night together, months ago, that he’d fly out to be your date to a wedding for people he’d never met before. Once his original flight had gotten canceled and then the next one delayed, you had convinced yourself it wouldn’t happen at all.

Yet…here he was. Slipping in right before the ceremony started, looking just as dashing as you had remembered, and smiling at you like you were the only one in the room.

Holy shit.

You took in a deep, silent breath through your nose and forced yourself to center on the words being spoken by the happy couple. It was almost over, so it wouldn’t be long until you could speak to him.

Only it really, really was. Your job as maid of honor didn’t end after the ceremony. Pictures lasted almost 45 minutes, and then you had to help your sister bustle her dress, and the tiny buttons were impossible to find amongst the miles and miles of fabric of her train. The cocktail hour was over by the time you were done, and dinner started immediately after that. You kept glancing at where he was sitting from your spot at the bridal party table, and each time you met his dark eyes, you could feel the flush heating your face.

You barely remember giving your speech, and the best man’s lasted so long, you almost requested the DJ play the Jeopardy theme song. The first dance was beautiful, but throughout the whole thing, you felt the anticipation bubbling inside of you, so hot you thought you were going to implode. Your fingers tapped an impatient rhythm against your thighs as you watched the couple twirl around the dance floor for the entire length of the song. Once it was over, the DJ invited everyone to gather on the dance floor as something more upbeat started playing through the speakers, and you were out of your seat and moving through the rising crowd. Your eyes never left his as you made your way toward him, and your smile grew the closer you got. The nerves faded away to make room for the excitement you felt at finally, finally seeing him again.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he called out once you were close enough to hear him, a mischievous grin on his handsome face, and you giggled as you launched yourself at him.

His strong arms wrapped around you, your feet leaving the ground as you buried your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of him that you had really only experienced once, but that somehow seemed familiar in all the best ways.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you whispered into his ear, and you could feel the rumble in his chest as he laughed. He set you back down, but kept a hand on the small of your back, your body staying close to his. His dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, and the look in his eye was one no man had ever given you before.

“I told you I would be,” he said. He raised his other hand to your face and let the back of his finger run gently down your cheek. You couldn’t help the shiver that went down your spine at his touch. “You look beautiful, by the way. Even more beautiful in person. Just like in New Orleans.”

“Javy,” you breathed, unable to produce any other words now that you were this close to him - that he was really here, after so many months of just hearing his voice or seeing him through a screen. If it wasn’t for physically feeling his hands on you, you would think you were dreaming. You could feel the thrum of electricity starting in your veins, and by the way his gaze darkend when it flickered to your mouth, you knew he could, too.

“My name sounds better in person, too.”

You groaned out loud, the combination of his words and that look in his dark eyes proving to be too much. Unable to resist, you pulled his face to yours. His lips were soft as they met your own, and he didn’t hesitate to press even closer, coaxing your mouth open for him. His kiss tasted even better than you remembered.

You let yourself get lost in the moment, the music fading into the background as all of your senses honed in on this man. He pulled you impossibly closer, your body now completely flush with his. Every touch sent a jolt of heat through you, igniting the fire that had been smoldering since that night in New Orleans. No amount of talking on the phone could have prepared you for how good it would feel to finally have his hands on you again. It took everything in you to pull away before you let it completely consume you. And you knew it would have been so easy to let that happen. You had discussed that very scenario in one of the calls that had gotten a little heavier than it probably should have, him describing how it could go in very nice detail.

You had a fleeting thought that maybe you should be worried about how simple it was to lose yourself in him, all things considered. Just like that first night, though, and all the conversation in between then and now, it all felt so, so right.

But you were surrounded by your family, and jumping his bones in the middle of the ballroom probably wouldn’t be the wisest decision, even if it was all you wanted at that moment.

“I have to make it through this reception,” you told him, breathless and flushed.

Javy swallowed deeply, but nodded in agreement. He kissed you again, quick and sweet and not nearly enough. He leaned his forehead against yours, and for a moment, you were both still, breathing the other in. Then he took a deep breath and stood up straight, sending you that charming smile you hadn’t been able to get out of your head. He held his arm out, and you linked yours through it.

“Drink?” he asked, and you smiled as you nodded. While you waited in line at the open bar, he leant down to whisper in your ear. “Do you think they have aviations on the menu?”

You threw your head back as you laughed, remembering the pretty purple cocktail he had bought you during Mardi Gras. “I can confirm that they do not. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t try and convince her to add it.”

“Damn,” he cursed jokingly, no real heat behind it. He shot you a wink before asking you about how the morning had gone for you, knowing how stressed you had been over it. You talked quietly to one another as you slowly moved forward to the bar, and it wasn’t too long before Javy was ordering both of your drinks for you. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized he remembered exactly what you had said your go to normally was. You turned your head to try and hide the wide grin threatening to take over your face and pressed a kiss into his shoulder through his suit jacket. You didn’t miss how he shivered slightly at the action.

The next few hours passed by in a blur, yet felt like it moved at a snail's pace all at the same time. Javy was never far from your side, being surprisingly willing to meet all of your family and friends. He introduced himself as a friend, but you didn’t miss the twinkle in his eye when he shot you a look as he said it. It made you giddy, even as it fueled the feeling that this was too good to be true. How in the hell had you gotten this lucky?

You swayed in his arms now, an old slow song playing through the room. He held you close, his fingers running softly over the skin of your back where your dress dipped low.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” you murmured, lifting your head off his chest to meet his gaze. “I’ve been dreaming about this for months.”

“Dancing with me?” he joked. The confident, teasing glint in his dark eyes made you immediately feel more at ease, to where you didn’t worry about dishing it right back at him.

“Among other things, I suppose.”

He laughed lightly, and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped to match. He pulled you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Cheeky,” he whispered into your skin. You hummed in response, neither confirming nor denying, and let yourself sway with him for another moment in silence before he spoke up again, touching on the first thing you had said. “Didn’t think I’d show?”

His tone was the same playful one as before, but you could sense the thread of insecurity in it, too, and wanted to alleviate it.

“It’s not that,” you assured him. You trailed your finger down the lapel of his jacket, smiling softly. “Most guys…I don’t think they’d go through the effort. They certainly never have before. So I guess I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you’re real. Does that make sense?”

Javy nodded slowly, a contemplative look crossing his face. You let him process your words, moving together with the music. You straightened his sage pocket square and let your hand rest there, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm. Another moment passed before he was softly speaking your name. He hooked his finger beneath your chin to guide your eyes back to his. His stare was darker now, more intense than it had been all night. You barely had time to furrow your eyebrows in confusion, let alone question him, before he was swooping down to capture your lips with his. Your squeak of surprise turned into something closer to a moan as he kissed you harder than he had all night. You sunk into it without a second thought.

When he finally pulled back, you were left breathless, your lips tingling from the intensity. His hand lingered on your cheek before he let it trail down the column of your throat, going as far as your collar bone before it dropped. You felt the warmth of his touch sear through you, making your heart race even faster.

“I’ve been counting down the days until I could do that,” Javy confessed quietly, and you had to bite your lip to keep the whimper from escaping. His voice was low, like it was just for you, like you were the only two people here. His eyes were filled with desire, but also with something deeper, more profound. It mirrored exactly what you were feeling inside, even if you didn’t quite understand it.

“Javy…” you started, your voice coming out breathier than you anticipated, and you watched his eyes darken at the sound of his name like that. “I-”

Before you could continue, you were being tapped on the shoulder. You turned quickly, startled by the touch. Another of your sister’s bridesmaids was there, a smirk on her face as she looked you up and down. You couldn’t help the heat that crept up on your face, embarrassed at how you and Javy must look on the dancefloor right now.

“Your sister and the hubs are ready to do their exit. Can you go tell the DJ?”

Part of you was annoyed that she had interrupted you when it would have been just as easy for her to fulfill the request. But the other part of you knew that this meant the night was almost over.

“Yeah,” you told her, “I got it.”

You turned back to Javy once she walked away. He was looking at you with a knowing, anticipatory look in his eyes. They seemed darker than they were before, like he also put two and two together on what the bride and groom’s exit would mean. Without missing a beat, you raised on your toes to kiss him again.

“I’ll be right back.”

You stood with your parents as your sister and new brother in law made their way through the crowd, hugging everyone goodbye. You were glad that your dress was long enough to hide your tapping foot as you urged her to move a little bit faster. When she finally got to you at the end of the line, she sent you an overdramatic wink as she pulled you into her arms. “He’s cute. Don’t worry about cleaning up. My wedding planner is on it.”

You had never been more grateful for your older sister in your entire life.

It was only a few minutes later that you had bid your own goodbyes to everyone and had Javy’s finger’s locked with yours as you tugged him out of the ballroom. You turned the corner to a long hallway before you stopped him, your hands cupping his face to pull his lips to yours. His big hands fell to your waist.

It was urgent, hungry, and the raw electricity between the two of you crackled.

“I don’t want to assume anything,” he managed to say between kisses, his lips trailing to your jaw as you both breathed heavily. “But my room is right upstairs, and-”

“Yes,” you said.

He pulled away far enough to look into your eyes. “Yes?”

You bit your lip, nodding quickly. “Yes.”

As soon as you walked through the door of his room, he had you pressed against it, claiming your lips again. You moaned into his mouth as you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close. He lifted you into his arms, but your long dress made it impossible to wrap your legs around him like you so desperately wanted. He must have realized that too, as he deposited you onto the counter just to the right of the door, never breaking the kiss. You bumped into various travel size bottles, and you thought some of them might have toppled over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care; you were far too invested in this man, instead.

When you had to pull away for air, you rested your forehead against his, breathing hard.

“Javy,” you whispered, your voice sounding wrecked even to your own ears. He was staring intently back at you, dark with need and something.

“You make me crazy,” he confessed before you had the opportunity to. His voice was husky and rough, and your eyes fluttered shut at the words.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” you said in return.

He whispered your name, so softly you almost didn’t hear it. Your eyes opened slowly, looking at him. He didn’t need to say anything - his eyes said it all. You pushed his jacket off of his shoulders as his fingers found the zipper at the back of your dress, and then he was helping you down from the counter, and the material pooled at your feet.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he told you. Without another word, Javy scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the bed, laying you down gently before shedding the rest of his clothes. When he lowered himself onto the bed over you, his touch was reverent, his kisses slow and deep, and you knew you would never be the same again. Every moment with him felt like a dream, surreal and intoxicating.

He lit every single nerve ending on fire as he coaxed you to orgasm again and again, and by the time he came for a second time, you were nearly boneless, covered in sweat and completely satiated. You laid curled against his chest, your finger tracing the divots in his abs as his hand ran up and down your bare back.

“This can’t just be this weekend,” Javy whispered into the quiet room. You picked your head up to meet his eyes, and he was already looking at you. “Tell me we can make it work.”

You studied his face for a moment, searching for any hint of doubt or hesitation, but all you found was a raw honesty that nearly took your breath away all over again.

Part of you had been worried that this weekend really would be all that it would be. You had a whirlwind night together that ended far too soon months ago, and talked nearly every day since in anticipation of finally having the time you wish you would have then. There was a fear that perhaps it was a weekend meant for finishing what you had started. But instead, it had just stoked whatever had already been brewing.

“We can make it work,” you said with conviction.

Distance be damned, he knew, without a doubt, that one weekend with him would never be enough. Not even close.

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Notes: This was supposed to be just straight smut....clearly, it didn't turn out that way lol. I hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks to @roosterforme @sylviebell and @mak-32 for reading it over and all the help along the way!

Main Masterlist

#alli writes #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado fic #javy machado imagine #javy coyote machado x reader #javy machado #javy coyote machado x you #coyote x you #coyote x reader #javy machado appreciation #tgm fic #top gun fanfiction #javy machado smut #javy machado x you #javy machado x oc

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sailor-aviator · 4 months

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Thinking of doing a series of Disney AU one- or two-shots.

I’m thinking…

Bradley: Snow White

Jake: Rapunzel

Bob: Sleeping Beauty

Javy: Beauty and the Beast

Mickey: The Little Mermaid

What do y’all think?? This would definitely be a future thing (like at least a month or two from now), but tossing the idea around now

#Liz rambles #Liz plans #AU ideas #Jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #Bradley rooster Bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #Javy coyote Machado x reader #javy machado x reader #coyote x reader #Mickey fanboy Garcia x reader #mickey garcia x reader #fanboy x reader

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gennyanydots · 1 year

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Dagger squad reactions to your class making them Veteran’s Day cards

AN: My class made these for some staff members and I was thinking about how some of the dagger squad would react to getting them.

Rooster:

“Hey babe did you see the cards my class made you on the table?” You ask from the living room. You hear him walk into the kitchen and shuffle through the cards.

“They made me these?” Bradley asks.

“Well yeah. They wanted to thank you for your service. We learned about Veterans Day this week and they know about you so they wanted to make you cards,” you say back and look towards Bradley who has tears in his eyes. “Oh honey! Are you okay?”

He immediately clears his throat and wipes at his eyes quickly, “It’s fine! I’m fine! This is just very nice. I’ve never had anyone color me a picture before. Please thank them for me.”

Coyote:

“Hey babe did you see the cards my class made you on the table?” You ask from the living room. You hear him walk into the kitchen and shuffle through the cards.

“What time does your school start?” Coyote asks you.

“Umm like 9 ish,” you say giving him a funny look as you watch him take out his phone.

“And how many kids do you have?” He asks.

“Umm like 20?” You say.

“Okay so I’ll text you on Monday when DoorDash says the donuts have been delivered,” he says walking towards you and flops down onto the couch next to you.

“What donuts?” You ask.

“The donuts I ordered for your class for making me cards,” he says and grabs the remote and turns on the tv and wraps an arm around you.

You smile and lean against him and kiss his cheek, “What a softie.”

“Yeah, yeah don’t tell anyone,” he says jokingly while smirking.

Hangman:

“Hey babe did you see the cards my class made you on the table?” You ask from the living room. You hear him walk into the kitchen and shuffle through the cards.

“But I don’t even wear camo!” You hear him say from the kitchen.

“Jake they’re 8 and 9 year olds. They barely even know that there are different branches of the military,” you say rolling your eyes.

He comes into the living room and sits next to you pouting, “But it does.”

“Aww poor baby. What happened to it’s the thought that counts?” You ask.

“I’m going to have to come in and teach them what an aviator wears,” he says with a determined look on his face. “Maybe I can get some of the other aviators to come in and talk to them.”

You smile, “I’m sure they’ll love that.”

Bob:

“Hey babe did you see the cards my class made you on the table?” You ask from the living room. You hear him walk into the kitchen and shuffle through the cards.

“These are so cute, baby,” he says while picking each one up and looking at it closely. “They did such a good job!” He puts them all in a pile and starts walking down the hall.

“Where are you going?” You ask watching him.

“To hang them up in my office. Art like this needs to be displayed,” he says as he heads into the office.

About 10 minutes later he comes back out and joins you on the couch and shows you his phone screen. He took a picture of all the pictures hung up, “I love them and I’m going to show everyone at work.”

#rooster x reader #hangman x reader #coyote x reader #bob x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #Javy Coyote Machado x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #x female reader #dagger squad #dagger squad’s reaction to getting veteran’s day cards from your class

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sushiwriterhere · 11 months

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a little bit of fun

this is my attempt at a drabble (1.8ish-k words), this is for/dedicated to/inspired by @laracrofted and @theharddeck because sometimes a threesome can be and is something so personal and healing <3 i hope you enjoy!! i have nothing else to say for myself lmao - minors DNI! warnings: threesome (mmf, and the boys do kiss hehe), dp (PiV, unprotected) + ass play (oops lol), spanking, dacryphilia a bit, pining if you squint tagging?? @sebsxphia @sometimesanalice @waklman @joaquinwhorres @gretagerwigsmuse @lewmagoo @genius2050 @seresinsweetie

You're midway through taking your first sip of the perfect ice cold beer when a deep voice behind you intones, "We saw you from across the bar, we liked your vibe."

Turning around slowly, you turn a very unimpressed gaze upon Jake and Javy, both of whom are sporting shit eating grins. They're clearly amused with themselves.

"What is this gay lovers bit you guys are doing?" You raise an eyebrow at the pair, nodding your head at where Javy has an arm draped across Jake's shoulders. "And why do you think it's going to work?"

If you're honest, the two of them are a sight to behold. They both somehow glow under the artificial lighting of the Hard Deck, and their uniforms are too form-fitting to not be tailored, despite you knowing they're not. Truly, it's unfair how attractive the both of them are.

"It's worked before, sweetheart," Jake's smile is sharklike, but there's little real bite behind it. It's Javy you've got to keep an eye on.

"Thought we might try again." Javy lets his eyes scan your body lazily, not even bothering to hide the way his gaze fixates on the way your thighs press against the barstool and the way your tits strain against the sundress you'd thrown on.

"Well, you're shit outta luck. Not looking to get disappointed one more time today." You make to turn the barstool around, but then Jake's crowding you against the bar.

He's so fucking warm and solid against you, you almost don't know what to do. But you push weakly against his chest and try to make a help expression at Javy over his shoulder. He just shakes his head.

"Disappointed? Baby, if I remember correctly you were–"

You don't let him finish because you slap a hand over his mouth and exclaim, "Okay! None of that please. I'll get Penny to ring the bell if you finish that sentence."

Behind Jake, Javy just smiles warmly at you and his expression melts into something that sends a lightning bolt of arousal through you, "Just one drink?"

"Fine. One."

"Thought you said, uh, you didn't want to do this again," Jake's voice is strained with the way he's holding himself back from thrusting up into you. "Fuck, you're tight."

All you can do is moan in response as you drop your forehead to rest on his shoulder. Every single one of your nerves feels like it's on fire and you think you might be running a fever. Stradling Jake's hips and sandwiched between the two men, with Jake's cock already buried inside of you and Javy steadily sliding into you, your mind is swimming with arousal.

"Nah, our girl loves a little hate fuck." Javy emphasizes his last word with a little thrust, one that jostles both you and Jake up the bed just slightly.

Despite the copious amounts of prep and what feels like a good third of the bottle of lube Jake keeps in his bedside table (which he vehemently denies he bought just for when this keeps happening), you still feel the slight stretch as Javy inches inside you alongside Jake. You're panting and whining; you can't even bring yourself to care about the fact that you're supposed to not want this. The two of them are relentless, Javy behind you, Jake under you.

"Shit, shit, fuck!" You gasp out as Javy finally bottoms out. "Both of you aren't supposed to have huge dicks," You pause to let out a whine as Jake rocks his hips up just slightly, "That's against the laws of nature or something."

"The fact that you're talking so much means we're doing something wrong," Javy laughs lightly and smacks your ass in a way that makes you jolt.

"Shit, Javy, you gotta warn me before you do that." Jake attempts levity but you can hear the way he's fighting the urge to throw caution and coordination to the wind, press his feet into the mattress, and fuck you with abandon.

Javy doesn't respond, instead he makes his point by using one of his huge hands to grab your hip and the other to grab you by the ribs and dragging you back against his hips and down onto both his and Jake's cocks. A surprised groan leaves Jake and you squeal.

You bite Jake's neck to try and muffle the moans that are bursting from your chest at the way Javy's hands feel on you, the way Jake keeps petting your sides but also pinching your nipples. He usually complains the morning after, but never in the moment.

It would surprise most people, you think, the way the two operate in bed. Javy's usually confident in that quiet way that lets you know he's competent, whereas Jake is all ego. Every time you've found yourself in this exact position though, or some form of it, it's Javy who's in charge.

You're digging your nails into Jake's shoulders and trying to breathe through the onslaught of sensations as Javy sets a brutal pace, your forehead buried in Jake's neck. He throws his head back and pushes his hips up just as Javy pulls out and the way the two slide past each other instead of with each other might haunt you for the rest of your life.

When Javy puts a hand on the back of your neck for leverage, you know you can't hold on to your ploy any longer. You lose yourself in the way your bodies move in tandem, the way Jake moans and pants are right by your ear. Javy spanks you again and you feel the tears on your cheeks before you register that you're crying at all.

Then Javy's lips are up against your ear, "Fuck, look at you, taking our cocks so well. You're so fucking perfect, made for this, made to be stretched out and fucked."

Jake groans when Javy's lips brush his over your shoulder and then he's babbling too, "Shit, Javy, I can feel her squeezing us. Baby, I can't believe you pretend you don't love this."

You think you might be trying to defend yourself, might be trying to tell them that it makes it fun when everyone involved knows that this is how you'll end up anyway, but you can't form words. All your attention is on the way the curls at the base of Jake's cock are rubbing on your clit, the way one of Javy's hands has sneaked around to the nipple he's learned is more sensitive than the other. You think you might be drooling as you moan mindlessly.

Then, the moment of light tenderness is over when Javy leans back slightly and chuckles darkly before saying, "Jake, watch this."

His free hand grabs your ass and spreads you open. Then he spits. You moan at the sensation of the coolness against you, til he gently prods at you with his thumb and you choke off the sound. You jerk away from the sensation involuntarily, a little too fucked out to control your body, a little too turned on to do anything but gasp out a desperate please.

"Fuck, Javy, do it again, she loves it." Jake lifts your face away from his neck so he can look into your eyes, so he can see the way they flutter at the sensation of being so goddamn full.

You can only imagine what you look like–sweat plastering your hair to your forehead and neck, eyes slightly red from crying, lips bitten to hell. He keeps eye contact as Javy repeats his actions and your eyes roll back. Your eyes are closed when his hand slides from your face to your neck and just holds you there.

The moan you let out when Javy moves his hand from the back of your neck to trail feather-light down your back is animalistic, it tears itself out of your chest as you feel yourself cry again. Jake tries to keep an even pace with the rhythm of Javy's hips, but you can feel the way they're starting to lose pace, clearly both close.

Then Javy starts talking. It's always the same when you're all so fucked out, the barriers come down.

"Such a good fucking girl, you should see the way you're stretched around us, good god, never going to let you go. Should keep you here so we can do this every day, fuck you full of us, sweet, sweet girl." His voice has lost its hard edge, but he keeps the tip of his finger in your ass, his other hand on your lower back.

"Fuck, you're so good to us. You look so good like this, bent over for me, I bet Jake loves the way your tits feel. You're so fucking incredible."

Jake somehow finds it in himself to speak up too, "Come for us, c'mon baby, let go, wanna feel you come around us so fucking bad. Let go, come for us."

They've never failed to talk you through it. It makes your heart clench in your chest in a way that it shouldn't when you're split open on their cocks, when your eyes are too glazed over to really see the expression on Jake's face where he's now holding your face firmly in one of his hands.

They hold you when you finally fall apart, barely faltering. Jake keeps chanting something about your tight fucking cunt and Javy pets your back and calls you our best girl.

Jake finishes next with a grunt that breaks off into a moan as he shoves his hips up hard into you, and you shudder from oversensitivity. When Javy comes it's sloppy, like it always is, his cum adding to the warmth of Jake already inside you. Everyone's oversensitive but Javy keeps the three of you rocking together til you come to and whine and smack Jake in the chest, til you brace yourself on him so you can reach back and try to hit Javy too.

"There you are..." He murmurs as he pulls out and you almost collapse from the way you know his eyes are hyper focused on the mixture of his and Jake's cum leaking out of you.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," You grind out as you roll off Jake and throw an arm over your eyes, remembering that you're supposed to hate them, but also bone tired.

Jake's arms are still around you and your legs are draped on Javy's thighs, his hands now petting your calves and thighs. It's strangely domestic and soothing despite the way you ache and you know you'll need them to hold you for the next hour. They always do it more than enthusiastically, working as well together to take care of you afterwards as they do a team in the air.

In that moment though, Javy's smile is devilish when you peek at him and you know Jake is wearing a matching expression, "Why? You offering?"

"Oh, fuck you."

"Already did, baby, already did."

read the companion fic - “it’s not rotten work (not if it’s you)”

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 4 months

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'Tis The Damn Season

Javy 'Coyote' Machado x Reader

Description: You've made your closest friends over the past decade as a Naval Aviator. That close friend group only expanded when your best friend fell in love when you were in flight school. Nat and Jake are cute together, you can't deny that. It helps that you get along well with Jake. Sadly, where Jake Seresin goes, so does Javy Machado. You can fly with the man, be the perfect wingman, but when both your feet are on the ground, you can't stand him. You're so sure the feeling is mutual. 48 hours in a car with him teaches you differently. Javy Machado is sweet and funny and you might just be falling in love with him. Or have you been in love with him all along?

Themes: Stuck in the snow, showers, shower-thoughts, hate-to-love, stranded in the snow,

Warnings: Female!Reader This fic is for adults age 18 and older, only! There are some fairly spicy thoughts in this part and 100% spicy happenings in the next part! Please do not read if sexual intimacy is disturbing to you!

Word Count: 3938

Author Note: This is part one of two of Gypsy and Javy's story and was written for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge! I had an absolute blast writing this fic for Trope #17, Stuck Together/Snowed in/Stranded. I hope you all love reading this fic as much as I loved writing it! All my thanks go to @desert-fern who was instrumental as I bounced ideas back and forth for this fic, as well as for beta-reading it for me!

Cross Posted on AO3 Here!

My Masterlist

It was supposed to be the start of a fabulous holiday - supposed to be, being the key words. It’s rare, honestly nigh on impossible for you to end up having vacation leave lined up at the same time as your friends. You’re in the Navy, you’re a pilot; it kind of comes with the territory. But what is the likelihood you’d find yourself stuck in a car in the middle of a Colorado snowstorm with none other than Javy Machado? You’re unsure who you should blame because the universe clearly has it out for you.

Well, it's either the universe or Natasha Fucking Trace. Honestly, between mystic powers controlling everything that has been or will be and Nat, you’d pick her any day. A part of you has some sympathy for her. It can’t be easy dating a guy and knowing your best friend and his can’t stand each other. It’s the truth, too. You can’t remember why or when you started to get angry at the sight of his smiling face. Still, it was probably sometime between when he asked you if you needed a booster seat to see out of the cockpit and when he blitzed you on the first of the many flights you’ve taken with him.

Why the fuck isn’t he going home to Louisiana? That’s what he usually does. God, if there’s anyone who’d know, it would be you. After all, you’ve been flying with Coyote Machado for the better part of the past decade. Every year, he’d cash in all his leave and fly home. Like clockwork, he’d return after the new year more infuriating than ever. But your knowledge of his behavior doesn’t explain why he’s in Colorado. You were both on an aircraft carrier in the Philippines, for fuck’s sake. There had to have been a transport to Louisiana via the East Coast. But against all odds, the two of you had been on the same transport and flight, hell, even the same bus to the terminal once you landed in Denver.

Now he’s staring at the same board you are, with flickering red signs as flight after flight gets marked as canceled. Including the one you were supposed to be on. It’s just your luck that Tash and Jake are reporting to Norfolk Naval Base right now. It’s just your luck that the only transport you’d been able to get on had landed in San Diego. And it’s just your luck that the cheapest flight you could get had been via Denver in the midst of what has to be the worst snowstorm the region has ever seen. Reception is spotty, but you huddle in a corner, praying to all the gods you don’t believe in that your call connects.

“Tash?” Her voice is grainy and barely audible, but god, if it doesn’t make you want to cry. “I’m in Denver, yeah. There’s a colossal snowstorm blowing in. My flight’s been canceled.”

“I don’t think I’m going to make it in time.”

“I know.”

“I know. I’ve missed you so much. But I don’t see a way for me to get out of here and get there in time?”

“Yeah, Javy’s here.” You can’t control your eye roll as you say his name. “Yeah, I’ll give him the phone.”

“Yo, Machado. Tash wants to talk to you.” He takes the phone from you like he doesn’t want to touch you, which shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

It’s loud and crowded at the airport, so you can’t hear a word of what he says to Nat. There’s nothing else to do but stand at the window and watch the snow fall and fall and fall. There’s already close to a foot accumulated on the ground, and while you’d been wishing for the snow in the heat and humidity of the ship, you hate it now.

“Here, Gypsy.” You accept the device with a half-smile. “Tash had a pretty good idea, y’know?”

You can’t help raising your eyebrow. Javy swallows, more than a little discomfited at your gimlet gaze. “She suggested we rent a car and drive out to Norfolk together.”

Eighteen hundred miles, and he wants to spend all of that time and distance stuck in a car with you? You scoff, “You couldn’t pay me to do that, Machado.”

“Yeah, I know.” There’s something sad and haunted in his eyes. “I know. Believe me, I do. But this isn’t about you and me. This is about Jake and Nat. They want us there, celebrating Christmas with them. So don’t think about doing this with me. Think about how you’re doing this for them.”

Damn him. Damn him for being right. “How are we going to get a car in this?” People are yelling at the poor airline staff behind the counter, kids are screaming, and Christmas Carols are pouring out of the speakers. It’s chaos - loud, unmitigated chaos.

“You leave that to me. You have your bags?” Before you can think or even respond, he’s cutting a swathe through the crowd, and you’re left standing near two Navy standard-issue duffel bags and your one small rolling suitcase. It takes half an hour before he comes back. In that half an hour, you find you’re glad you’d opted for carry-on bags because the mob at the counter waiting to collect check-in bags descends into an outright fistfight.

Javy’s rumpled, his sweater mussed when he lopes back to you, thankfully with car keys in hand. “I got ’em. We have to head down to the main concourse.”

“Anything to get out of this shitshow.” He chuckles and grabs your bags and his own despite your protests.

The car is old but functioning. It’s tiny, though. It's so small that you’re not sure he’ll fit behind the wheel. It can’t be comfortable when he does end up in the car. It looks like his knees are pressed against his chest, even with the seat pushed back as far as it can go. You’re in the passenger seat because he refused to let you drive, and as expected, you’re surrounded by snow the minute the car leaves the parking garage. Visibility is shit, and it feels like the car is moving at a glacial pace. You’re surprised the roads are open at all, and to add insult to injury, you’re sitting in silence. The radio isn’t working, there is more snow - this time of the feedback variety, ironically - and the car is old, so there is no auxiliary cable or USB cable to connect your phone to. And, well, you’re not a fan of the man you’re stuck in the car with for the next 24 to 36 hours, so the less conversation you have, the better. It’s not even like you can read. You’ve only been on the road for an hour at most when the sun sets. But the roads are still open, and traffic is still moving.

As the minutes turn into an hour on the dark, snow-covered roads, you feel your exhaustion setting in. You’ve never slept well on planes - go figure that ninety percent of the time you’re in a cockpit, you’re flying - but flying commercial somehow makes it work. Strap yourself into a jump seat on a cargo plane, and you’re out like a light. Sleeping on a carrier with planes taking off round the clock and midshipmen screaming outside the door, you’re snoring like a baby. But flying economy? Forget about it. So, besides the few hours of fitful sleep you’d gotten on the cargo plane - because you can’t sleep where Javy Machado can make fun of you - you’ve been awake for nearly 48 hours. Your eyes feel itchy and hot, each blink torturous as you fight exhaustion. The car is so warm, and Javy's silent. Even he can't object if you rest your eyes a little, right?

You wake up to a roar of the word, ‘SHIT’, echoing through the car. You startle, and if you were a cat, you’d be stuck to the upper upholstery, fur ruffled and back arched. A coat covers your lap, the soft, rich wool imbued with spicy cologne. It has to be Javy's coat. When did that get there? The visibility out of the windshield is even worse, if possible, and Coyote’s arms are corded as they clutch the wheel in an iron grip.

“Hey, how long was I out?” He doesn’t even look at you when usually he’d be more than ready to tease you on how you probably have drool on your face.

“Coyote? ‘Yote? Hey?!”

“Javy? What’s going on?” You place your hand on his arm, pretending not to notice how firm and warm it is under the bunched-up sleeves of the soft sweater he’s wearing. “Javy, you’re scaring me. C’mon. Tell me what’s happening. What’s a wingwoman for if she can’t help?”

“We’re somewhere in Kansas, and the snow makes this really hard.” There’s something unreadable in the expression on his face as he snarls at the other, far slower drivers on the road in front of you.

“We should stop for the night then.”

“No.” He snarls the words at you, and that’s when you know something is wrong. “No, I can keep going.”

“Javy, maybe you can, but I can’t. I need to take a break, hit the head, and stretch my legs.”

He doesn’t respond, content to make you worry the longer the silence spirals between you like an oppressive living thing. He pulls off the highway when the next exit presents itself. The motel he pulls up to on the side of the road is rough-looking. It’s small and old, but at least it smells clean, or well, at least clean-ish. As luck would have it - because your luck couldn't be any shittier - there’s only one room left for the night. You slap your credit card down on the counter before he can object. He’s Javy Machado. You know what he’s like better than almost anyone else. You may not like him very much, but you can read all of the signs. He’s not the type to let a woman pay for anything, not when he can pay for her. He can take it up with you when he’s not acting weird.

You push him into the shower once you’re in the room, content to just sprawl out on the bed until he’s done. Really, all you're hoping is that the hot water is enough to snap him out of this eerily quiet, angry mood and back to the pain in your ass you're used to. When he steps out, it’s wrapped in one of the motel’s paper-thin towels, and you have to avert your eyes. There’s just a shadow of a smirk on his face as you pass under his arm with all of your clothes bundled up against your chest, trying and failing to avoid making eye contact with all of his wet, glistening muscles. It takes you far too long for your brain to reboot after that sight, and mortification and anger are your companions as you hurriedly strip off your snow-laden clothes.

You’re grumbling the entire time it takes the shower to heat up because it is not fair that Javy Machado looks like that under his uniform. No wonder every girl within a ten-mile radius of base wants to get into his pants. You step into the shower nearly too early, stifling squeals as the too-cold water splatters across your skin. After a few minutes of determined shivering, you finally step under the warming water, coming out in a steady, roaring stream. At least it’s getting hot now, though it’s not as hot as you’d like. You let the spray beat your muscles into submission, relishing the first moment you’ve had by yourself since you left the carrier fleet hours ago. But you’re left in peace only for a few moments. Unbidden, your one-track mind finds its thoughts consumed by Javy Machado again. It starts off with an innocuous thought, “How did a man that large fit into this tiny shower? He could probably see over the curtain rod!” Then you’re wondering if he’s alright. But as your soapy hands trace over your skin, you start to imagine other things.

You start to imagine water droplets sliding over the ridges of his muscles, skating over defined abs, and collecting in the dip of his collar bones. His hands are big and calloused as they lather soap across his skin and then over yours. Shit! When did you start dreaming of yourself in the shower with Javy Machado? There’s an ache in your pelvis as you clench your thighs together as you dream of how those calloused fingers feel on your skin. You get yanked violently out of the vision when the water goes cold on you. It feels like you’ve been immersed in one of the snowbanks outside. You almost fall as you step out of the shower, but it’s silent. Your face is flushed in the fogged-up mirror, your eyes fever bright as your blood pulses in your veins in the same rhythm as your aching cunt. You inhale and exhale raggedly, trying to get your libido under control. Please let there be a bar near Nat and Jake’s place - please - you need to get fucked so bad that you’re fantasizing about your wingman, of all people, now.

It’s getting cold in the bathroom as the steam dissipates when you finally pull yourself together and get dressed fast in a bid to escape the cold. But it is still silent outside the bathroom - almost too silent. You expect laughter at the very least when you open the door because your warmest pajamas are covered in dancing penguins. Instead, Javy’s sitting on the bed, staring out the open window at the milling snow, looking for all the world like he’s lost something he’s just found.

It’s cold in the room, the motel’s shitty heating is barely able to combat the frigid snow outside, and he’s not wearing a shirt. But he doesn’t even notice the gooseflesh on the smooth, broad expanse of his back and chest. The cold blue light reflecting off of the snow piling up outside makes the room even colder, casting deep purplish shadows over his face and making the room eerie. You check that the door is latched and bolted before walking back towards Javy. He doesn’t move a muscle when you take his hands in your own. They’re like ice. He doesn’t even seem to care when you put the pillows down and fish one of your warm fleece blankets out of your bag. Bless Nat and Jake for not having a fully set up guest room yet because there’s no way you’re sleeping in this bed using sheets you’re not sure are clean. The blankets you brought are going to be perfect for the night. He doesn’t move or do anything until you intertwine your fingers with his own and tug on his arm's broad, burly expanse. He lists to the side without protest, and now you know something is wrong. Javy's not the type to do anything quietly. He's the type to shit-talk all the way while flirting endlessly. He turns towards you as you tuck the blanket around his big form, and when you move to pull another blanket out, his hand tugs you in until you’re in his arms.

The pinched furrow creasing his brow finally dissipates slightly. Something’s wrong, and you’re not sure what it is. If this helps, you’ll stay where you are. After all, you’ve slept in far more uncomfortable beds with much worse companions. Javy smells incredible, like soap, cologne, and something you can't place. You curl in closer despite yourself, letting him drag the blanket even further up around your shoulders. Everything is muffled around you. All you can hear is your breath and the soothing thud of his heart. It would be easy to curl in and fall asleep, but you can’t until you know your wingman is alright. But he seems content to lie there, brown eyes glittering with emotions you couldn’t read even if you tried. There’s barely any space between the two of you. Every breath you take has your chest brushing against his.

With the howling wind and the tink of snow against the window, you feel like you’re in a dream. Finally, Javy’s eyes close, even if he is still indescribably tense. You can feel it in the arms wrapped around you and in the muscles jumping in his jaw. His eyes fly open when your fingers trace the stressed tendons lightly.

“What’re you doing, Gypsy?” You’re unsure how to respond; instead, you trace your fingers over the furrow in his brow. Maybe your touch will wipe the stress frown away from his usually jovial face?

“You’re being awfully sweet, Gyppie.” You snort at the diminutive form of your already short callsign. “And here, I thought you hated me.”

Your gasp is barely audible, but you’re sure he can hear it anyway. “You never let it affect things between us when we fly, but I know you can’t stand me.”

“I’ve spent over a decade wondering why.” His next exhale is a harsh whoosh of breath. “But you’ve never told me, and right now, I think I know exactly why. It’s just me, isn’t it, Gyp? Just me and everything that I am.”

Your voice feels stuck. Trapped, lost, chained up behind a decade of hatred, hatred which wavers like it’s standing on a stool that may just have had all of its legs cut out from under it. You curl into Javy’s embrace, wrapping your arms around his waist like it’ll show him you feel differently. Because you do. At first, you had hated Javy Machado. You hated his effortless grace, charm, and ability to pick up concepts you’d had to work to understand yourself. But then he’d been persistent, and you’d been thrust into his company by the presence of Nat and Jake.

That’s when you’d been able to see past the bravado, the mask he put on every day. That’s when you’d fallen headlong into a more profound and long-lasting crush than any relationship you’d found yourself in. But by the time you realized your feelings, he’d picked up on your stand-offish behavior and realized he couldn’t befriend you. Your crush never faded, but it’s evident that Javy had noticed your initial feelings and acted accordingly. But why would he blame everything that happened on himself?

“I know you’re probably wondering why I’m not home for the holidays right now.” What does that have to do with what he was just talking about? “Just chalk it up to another textbook case of me being myself.”

“I can't say I didn't wonder. But it's not my place to poke and pry. Why you're not heading home to Mama Machado is your business.”

“But you can't deny that you're curious, can you?” You shrug as much as you can with your arms wrapped around him.

“Of course you're curious. But how could I have gone home, Gyppie? How?” There's so much pain in his voice as he growls the words out.

He goes silent then, a frown creasing his face as his jaw moves under your fingertips. Your gentle touch doesn’t seem to bother him, just like the prickle of his stubble doesn’t bother you. In another world, in another life, could you have been sleeping every night in his arms like this? You’re not sure you deserve it. Javy was right earlier. You’ve been rude ever since the day you met him. Would anything have changed if you’d acted differently? If you’d been shy and withdrawn instead of angry and argumentative? That water’s long since flowed under the bridge. Too much time, too much history, too much animosity. All you can hope to do is listen. For your wingman, that’s the least you can do.

But your little nap in the car hadn’t been of much use. The longer you spend pressed against the human equivalent of a space heater, the sleepier you feel. You have to stay awake. This could be your one chance to go from rivals or enemies or colleagues to friends. Maybe you could even casually ask Javy to grab a beer after the holidays? But the first step to all of that is to stay awake.

His hands slide up until they're cradling the back of your head, pulling your face level to his own.

“You're not falling asleep on me, are you, Gyppie?” You shake your head wordlessly, captivated by how you can feel his breath against your lips, practically taste the mint from his toothpaste, and how you could kiss him if you leaned in just a bit further.

“It's okay if you do. You barely slept on the plane. My problems don't mean a thing in the face of your exhaustion.” Once again, you're speechless. How is he so selfless? How did you not notice before this very moment?

“I'm okay, Javy. Tell me one thing that's bothering you, the most important thing.” Your voice is the barest whisper, a sigh as he maneuvers you closer and traps your feet between his calves.

“Well, your feet are like itty-bitty ice cubes, Gyppie. The fuck did you do? Stick ‘em in a snowbank before you get into bed?” You gasp and growl playfully at him, pushing at his chest until he pulls you in even closer.

“But in all seriousness, you've been wondering why I didn't go home.” His words are expelled on exhales of breath, just as quiet as yours were earlier, spilling out in stops and starts. “I can't go home, Gyppie. My brother's wedding is on Christmas Day. But it's not that I'm against my brother's marriage. It's more like his fiancée is against having me there.”

You can’t believe anyone would go so far as to ban Javy from his brother's wedding just because she didn't want him there. You cup his jaw gently, letting your hand curl around to cradle the back of his in a position mirroring how he's still holding you.

“You want to know the kicker, Gyppie? She was my fiancée first. She dumped me because she couldn't stand the deployments and fell into bed with my brother days after.”

“What a stupid thing to do.” You're no longer looking into his eyes, focused on his collarbones. “That was a dumb move, and you know it, Machado. She just alienated herself from most of your family. Your Mama first and foremost.”

His laughter has you giggling, too. When your laughter and his finally taper off, you're left to marvel at how much things have changed.

“You want to know the best part?” You hum in response. “The reason why we broke up was because I was already in love with someone else.”

He doesn’t wait for you to ask or even allow you a chance to get past your shock. His hands tip your head up again until you're face to face, and he kisses you, slow and sweet. Your moan takes you by surprise as you try to pull him even closer, letting him imprison you in his embrace.

“Fuck, this Christmas would've been so different if I'd just told you how much I loved you before we left flight school, Gyppie.”

This time, you tug him in, kissing him slow and sweet until there's molten lava in your veins and there's snow in your mind. It's beginning to feel like a holly jolly Christmas indeed.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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