#coyote x you

[beyondthesefourwalls]

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

[sushiwriterhere]

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.

#top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic #top gun: maverick fanfic #javy machado x you #javy machado fic #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy coyote machado x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake ‘hangman’ seresin #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #coyote x reader #coyote x you #javy ‘Coyote’ machado #no use of y/n

[inklore]

bad liar

the daggers of love masterlist

premise: hooking up with your brothers best friend is not a mistake you wish to repeat. watching each other get off seems like the only viable option to restrain yourselves.

pairing: javy 'coyote' machado x seresin!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: eighteen+ content, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, coyote is a little tease, references to past hook ups, spit mention, pet names (bunny is readers nickname, baby), a touch of enemies with benefits, reader and jake are step siblings therefore reader is not written with any ethnicity in mind.

note: it's insane ya'll don't write for this pretty man more. but this is basically a prequel to the full fic i have planned for javy aka brothers best friend galore!

“You’re not playing fair, bunny.” Javy smirks at the scowl you give him for the childish nickname. His tongue runs along his bottom lip like the predator of his own nickname would its prey—coyote vs. bunny.

“I didn’t know you made the rules.” You retort, trying to act as unphased as one can with their hand between their legs, touching themselves in front of their brother's best friend. 

His head falls to the side, giving you a cheeky look that makes your lower belly burn. “I mean, it’s not really fair when you’re doing this to keep my hands off of you, and I can’t see that pretty pussy that I want so badly.” His own leg that's bent, and on the couch, the two of you share kicks at your ankle gently. Trying to pull your legs apart, spread you for him so he can see between your thighs. 

“Or I could just,” his hand leaves his cock, which is hard and leaking against his fingers, to lean forward and wrap itself around your calf. 

“Javy!” You scold him, kicking his palm with your foot, your legs flailing for half a second to get him away from you and back to his spot on the other end of the couch. His laughter makes your own bubble up inside of you. “Stay on your side.”

“Then let me see you.” He leans against the arm of the couch, his fingers coming back to his cock. Thumb running along the head slowly before he strokes down, a hitch in his breath. “Please, baby.” 

The dip your stomach does from the silly pet name, the way his chest falls heavy each time he moves over the head of his cock—flashbacks of the noises he made when he ran it through your wetness before pushing in and stretching you to the point of burning pleasure at your spine, the first few thrusts feeling like he was splitting you in two, Javy’s mouth hovering over yours, “I know you can take it, baby." 

And why shouldn’t he feel as fucking wrecked as you do right now, when he’s not even inside of you? This was the whole point of this, wasn’t it, to get all your feelings out this way instead of actually sleeping together again. 

Jake would kill the both of you. And while you hate labeling it a mistake, it’s not something you think should happen again for that very reason. You were notoriously bad at keeping secrets, and you’d like everyone to continue to think you found Coyote to be as annoying as the first day you met him—and not currently giving you the type of bedroom eyes that make you willing to risk your pride and the wrath of your brother to feel the weight of his cock against your tongue or his fingers in your hair guiding your pussy down onto his length. 

So without another objective thought, you spread your legs, and while Javy was still adorning his gray shorts, you were completely bare from the waist down. The burning look that flashes over his face, like he’s starved and it’s taking everything inside of him to not connect his mouth where your fingers are currently rolling your clit, has you whimpering. 

Your wetness completely on display for him. Showcasing the arousal that’s gathered against your thighs and coated your fingers and pussy. Any shyness you could possibly feel draining from your body thanks to your own desire and how he’s devouring you with his stare. 

“You drive me crazy,” he says, half laughing, half groaning. Teeth rolling his bottom lip between them. 

“Good, because the feelings are more than mutual.” You can’t even pretend to give him your regular flare of annoyance in your voice. Of hatred, because it’s drained from your body completely. 

“I might be a little jealous if this is how your body reacts to someone you dislike as much as you claim to.” 

“New rule, no talking.” 

He chuckles. “Now you’re pretending like you don’t get off by every word I say? You’re just full of lies, aren’t you, bunny?” 

“Don’t-”

“First you claim you hate me, but you were wet even before you started touching yourself. I didn’t even try to touch you, and I made that pussy wet.” He smirks, “and now you don’t like when I talk, when I specifically remember walking you through coming on my cock the last time you were wrapped around it. And your fingers haven’t stuttered once.” He locks his eyes on yours, “you wish you hated me, baby. So so badly, don’t you? It’s okay,” he teases. 

If your cheeks weren’t on fire and your body completely inflamed from not only his dark eyes but his—annoyingly correct—words, you’d do something other than reach your foot out and hit his calf with it. 

And you want to hide your face in the pillow at your back when you watch his neck bend to spit on the tip of his cock and rub it along his shaft, the soft squelch of your own bodily fluids that made a similar, more filthy noise the last time you were this wet—this in need. 

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. 

The longer your eyes lock, explore, and the more Javy opens his mouth, the closer you get to begging him for something that can’t happen. 

The ache in your core only grows more and more intense, like there’s a fire in your insides, the longer you rub fast circles against your clit. Coiling up for a release that won’t even come close to satisfying in the way it would feel with Coyote’s hands replacing yours. 

“All you need to do is ask, baby.” You hate that he knows what you’re thinking; the intensity you’re feeling as wrecked and heady as you are just from the prospect and desire of wanting—needing—him. While the animalistic look in his eyes and the soft grunts he’s letting out are making him look composed, as if he’s just waiting for you to ask. To beg him to fuck you. 

You shake your head, an attempt at a scowl making him smile. 

“Always such a good girl. Even when you’re so close to coming for me.” The muscles in his arm strain with each stroke to his cock, his hips pressing up each time you let out a noise. “It would still count as you making yourself come if you used my tongue. Fucked yourself against it. It’d feel so much better than your fingers, I promise.”

“Fuck,” you whimper. Your head in a repeated shake at this point; your own words are more of you trying to convince yourself of the truth that lies within them than Javy. “We can’t.” 

"But we both know that you want to, don’t you?” 

And without hesitation, as if it’s a muscle memory reaction, your body answering for you, you nod. “Fuck, yes.” 

“God,” he groans. Exasperated and frustrated, the filthy sound more like a growl than anything else, and it makes you clench. Has you right at that precipice, “come for me. Remind me how pretty you sound saying my name.” 

#javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado x you #javy machado #coyote x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado smut #top gun smut #javy machado x you #top gun x reader #javy machado imagine #javy machado x y/n #coyote x you #coyote smut #coyote imagine #greg tarzan davis

[hangmanssunnies]

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

[sailor-aviator]

All That Glitters: Prologue

All That Glitters: Prologue

Pairing: Javy "Coyote” Machado x Reader

Summary: Growing up in the untamed wilds of the west afforded you many opportunities that most women weren't allowed, namely that of choice and self sufficiency. One day, your father announces his intention to marry you off, and you take your chance to escape, moving south to try your luck at striking gold. You arrive in the town of Maverick, setting up shop, but soon learn that life on your own is tougher than you previously thought. You catch the eye of a handsome man, but you're determined to rely on your own skills. Only, you may end up needing his help after all...

Trigger Warnings: References to living in the wild, Mentions of Indigenous tribes, Use of Y/N, Allusions to daddy issues, Poverty living, Sexism, Forced engagement, running away, Talks of gold. I think that's everything, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 1.36k

Masterlist || DPU Masterlist

The mountains of the west are where you called home, and you knew every tree and stone like they were old friends. Or at least, that’s what it felt like to you.

The Rocky Mountains had sheltered you in their bosom from as early as you could remember, the old trees hiding you away from the rest of the world as your father worked, trapping and skinning the different animals that roamed this part of the world. He was an older man, getting well on in years, and you had no doubt he would pass on his trade to you any year now. You practically helped him run the business as it stood, a fact that you were very proud and mindful of.

It had just been you and your father for almost two decades now, your mother having taken ill when you were still young. The shadows of a kind smile and comforting song still teased the edges of your memories, but it had been so long, that you couldn’t be sure if they were real or the manifestations of hope teasing you with ideas of what it was to have a mother. You had been told by all who knew her that you were her spitting image, and to those comments you were never sure how to respond, so you didn’t.

You and your father lived in a remote cabin in what felt like the densest part of the forest. While he went out checking his many traps for new boon, you were stuck at home tending to the chores around your little fortress. Not many people came by your way, but those who did already knew where to look. Your father had friendships among the local Ute tribes, often trading with them for needed supplies. You had made tentative friendships over the course of the years, knowing that it would come in handy one day.

Now that you were older, you were trusted with more, and you prided yourself on keeping a neat home despite the surrounding wilderness. You were hanging the laundry up to dry when the sound of a horse trotting through the thicket caught your attention. Your body stiffened, ready for a potential threat, but you relaxed as you recognized the rider.

“Duncan,” you greeted easily, continuing your task. Duncan was a tall, strong man of about thirty years with strawberry blond hair, earth brown eyes, and sun-kissed skin. The scruff on his face indicated that it had been a few days since he had last shaved, and you weren’t sure if you like it.

“Y/n!” He called with a grin, his horse, Boone, barely coming to a stop at the foot of the small hill before he was dismounting. You supposed he was a handsome man, but you had known him since you were young, your fathers working together in the trade before Duncan’s father took ill some six years back. Duncan had already been well into adulthood by that time, promptly picking up the mantle his father had left behind.

Deep down, you knew your father had wished you were his son rather than his daughter, but you worked tirelessly to prove to him that you were just as capable as any son. You supposed it also helped that Duncan was a near constant figure in both your lives.

“Is your father around?” He asked, looking past you towards the cabin. You pinned the last sheet to the line before picking up the basket and holding it at your hip.

“He should be back soon,” you told him. “Why don’t you come wait inside?”

The rest of the day passed quickly, your father making his appearance just before the sun set below the horizon. You served dinner, listening quietly as your father and Duncan discussed business around the fire. You cleaned quietly, excusing yourself to your bed. The cabin was a one room building, the little privacy you were afforded was hidden behind a makeshift curtain in the far corner. You changed into your night shift, moving to slide into bed when you heard your father utter your name. You paused, glancing at the curtain that separated you from the two men. Padding to the edge quietly, you peeked through the crack between the fabric and the wall. The two chairs were silhouetted against he warm, orange glow of the fire, but you could still see the smoke rise from your father’s pipe.

“I’m getting older. You know that, Duncan,” your father sighed, relaxing further back into his chair. His accent was thick with the weariness of the day, and there were days where even you struggled to understand him.

“Yes René,” Duncan chuckled. “I’m aware.”

“My girl is smart, strong, capable,” your father continued, and your heart swelled with pride at his words, your chest puffing up a little. “But she can’t be on her own when I’m gone.”

You frowned at that, brow furrowed in confusion. What did he mean by that? Had you not proven to him time and time again that you were able to take care of not only yourself but him? You were so caught off guard that you nearly missed his next words.

“She’s too dependent on me,” he murmured, frown evident in his voice. “She needs a man to keep her safe and grounded.”

“What are you getting at André?” Duncan asked carefully, leaning forward onto his knees as he stared at your father.

“Take her for your wife, Duncan.”

Your heart stopped.

“She’s agreeable and a hard worker,” your father continued, a cough wracking through him. “And I’m sure it has not escaped your attention that she’s quite the beauty as well.”

“It hasn’t,” Duncan hummed. “It’s true, she would make a most agreeable wife, but I don’t know.”

“Duncan,” your father chided. “You are the son I never had. Why not make it official? It would do this old man’s heart good to know that my daughter is in the care of someone who will take care of her.”

There was a long pause between the two.

“Alright, André,” Duncan relented. “I accept.”

You watched as the two men shook hands, bile rising up in your throat. You slunk back into your bed, waiting for their conversation to die down and silently making plans of your own.

It had taken you all of one day to find your opening to escape, a singular, small pack holding a change of clothes and your mother’s journal. Duncan had left your home with the promise to return the following week, your father having gone out not too long after. You had left him a note, telling him that you had left and that you wouldn’t be back. There was no point in beating around the bush. The two of you weren’t flowery people. It took you all of two days to make it to Denver, trading a couple of furs for a few nights at the local tavern. You hoped you’d be able to come up with a plan before your stay was up.

“You heard the news?”

You glanced over to the table to your right where two men sat, drinking beer and playing a game of cards.

“What news?” The man with the beard asked in a grunt, throwing down a couple of chips. His friend threw down the same amount, drawing a card to add to his hand.

“Heard they found gold northwest of Santa Fe,” the first man said, scratching at his whiskerless chin. “A little town called Maverick. Sounds like they’re opening a mine and everything.”

“Maverick,” the bearded man drawled, “ain’t that the town with the upstarts?”

“The Dagger Posse, yeah,” the man said. “Anyway, the mayor apparently announced that they’re handing out permits or whatever for mining and panning. Could be worthwhile.”

His companion grunted, revealing his cards as the man groaned. Pulling the pile of chips closer to him, he sniffed.

“Might not be a bad idea to get a move on now before more people showed up.”

You didn’t hear the rest of their conversation, already heading back to your room to make plans for tomorrow.

A/N: And here it is! The start of Javy's spinoff! The plan is to work on my entry for the Galentine's day challenge and then I'll let you guys decide who we hear from next! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Be sure to follow my side account: @sailoraviator-library and turn on post notifications if you'd like to be notified of when I post! You can also follow me on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Thanks for reading!

#javy coyote machado #javy coyote machado x reader #javy coyote machado x you #javy coyote machado fanfiction #javy machado #javy machado x reader #javy machado x you #javy machado fanfiction #coyote #coyote x reader #coyote x you #coyote fanfiction #top gun coyote #coyote top gun

[laracrofted]

❝ strike a match, watch it blow

synopsis: after a bitter break-up with your long-time partner – both in life and missions – somehow, you keep ending up on the same assignments as him. you must have some of the worst luck in the world – or maybe, some of the best.

pairing: agent!javy machado x fem!reader

general warnings: minors and ageless accounts dni (18+), mission impossible au, explicit smut, explicit language, see individual posts for specific warnings.

one shots

coming soon!

drabbles and blurbs

coming soon!

extras

agent degas x false god (mission: impossible dead reckoning) search the tag

anything marked with ⊹ contains smut

#i probably shouldn't post this right now but i don't care lol #javy machado fic #coyote machado fic #coyote fic #javy machado x you #javy machado x reader #coyote x reader #coyote x you #javy coyote machado #agent!javy

[theharddeck]

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

[siempre-bucky]

daylight

Javy 'Coyote' Machado x Reader

Summary: Javy looked so pretty in the golden morning light pouring into your bedroom. So you decided to show him, covering his body in loving kisses and maybe something a little more.

warnings: oral (male receiving) 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI.

WC: 1.7k

a/n: there's just something about body worship that really get me going and that man fucking deserves it. I don't write smut often but when I do it's just giving Javy a blow job!

Winter was melting. You didn't need a groundhog or an overzealous weatherman rejoicing at warm weather while he enthusiastically pointed to the climbing white digits to tell you. It was the way the light poured into your bedroom, painting your bedroom golden. No longer would the cool toned light wake you from a sleep wishing for warmth and the bloom of spring. 

A smile appeared on your sleeping face, being awakened by a warm kiss from the sun. The bed started to move from beside you, followed by the sounds of bones cracking and a gentle groan of consciousness. Javy was awake, you noted, cracking one eye open to look over at him. 

You were met with empty sheets and a pillow with the indent of his head. With both eyes open, you followed the white lines lined with golden sunlight. There he sat with the sheets pooled around his bare waist. The morning light painted his dark skin so beautifully, hugging every muscle of his back while he stretched. The light created shadows in those muscles, showing them off as if he was made from the finest marble and carved by Michaelangelo himself. Or maybe not, he couldn’t create something that beautiful. 

"I can feel you staring," he spoke playfully, you could feel the smirk on the plump lips that felt like home. His shoulders rolled back, the muscles of his shoulder blades flexing from the movement. Javy stood up and stretched once more, the duvet falling to reveal the black Navy issued PT shorts that sat low on his hips. 

"I like looking at you," you responded with a small smile, rising from your spot and crawling to the corner of the bed. You placed your hands on his lower back, the touch creating goosebumps along his back. Soothing the bumps, your hands gently trailed upward towards his shoulders. 

Javy turned and captured your forearms, large hands sliding down to intertwine your fingers. He raised a brow while he looked down at you admiring his body. He never thought he was that interesting, sure he worked hard for the body he had but surely he wasn't worthy of the admiration. 

"You're so pretty, Javy," you said as if you could hear the thoughts churning in his mind. Freeing your hands, you returned them to his torso, gliding along till they found his hips. Leaning forward, you placed the first of many kisses. 

He smiled at the feeling of your warm lips on his abs, each defined muscle getting a kiss directly on the center. The kisses started to linger, the subtle smacking noises made his head start to go numb. By the time you rose on your knees and reached his sternum, your tongue began to trace the skin followed by a painfully slow kiss. Javy put his hand on the back of your neck and smirked, "What are we doin' here, cheri, hmm?"

Your eyes flashed upward and he thought it was borderline sinful to watch you kiss along one of his pecs. "Pretty tits," you moaned quietly, massaging the neglected pec, and also ignoring his question. 

His head tilted back, eyes rolling at the term. "You gotta call them that?" He grumbled to fight back the moan. 

Your thumb swiped his nipple and he suppressed a moan. "Don't act like you don't love it," you teased before swirling your tongue around the other. He did, but he'd never admit it. 

Once you pulled away, Javy placed a crooked finger under your chin to tilt your head. He smirked when your gaze met his. "Again, what are we doin' here?' He purred, smoothly stepping forward so his hardened cock could press against your torso. The aviator bent down, capturing your lips in one of those kisses that effortlessly left you breathless. 

All the air from your lungs left you as he pulled away, leaving tingles in their wake. "Let me take care of you, Jav," you told him, inhaling the needed air, and falling forward into him. 

He obliged and let you move him back into the bed, the soft hums from his lips as his head hit the numerous soft pillows made you smile. You didn't hesitate to settle yourself in between his toned legs, hand feeling every inch of his thighs. "You don't need these," you sighed as your fingertips disappeared underneath the hem of his shorts. 

You stripped him of the shorts, his cock springing from its confines and slapping against his abdomen. Tossing them onto the floor, you turned your attention to Javy who was already reaching for his dick. Catching him by the wrist, you laid on your stomach and put the palm of his hand on the side of your face. “‘S about you,” you mumbled, kissing the top of his left thigh. 

Javy sucked in his lower lip, he wasn’t used to being the center of attention like this. Even after all this time together, he felt the need to do something—make sure you knew you were loved and touched in all the ways you deserved. Take the back seat, he reminded himself as you teased him with kisses to his inner thighs. He sunk deeper into the pillows and let his eyes flutter close, the sunlight no longer blinding him. 

You placed kisses and love bites until there was a pool of glossy precum on his stomach, you moaned at the perfect bead forming at the tip. Your hands found purchase on his hip bones, the pads of your thumbs tracing the faded small stretch marks. “Baby, please,” he whined as your kisses got closer to where he wanted you the most. “Need your pretty mouth on me.” Glancing upward, an eruption of butterflies went off in your chest. The sun hit his glistening skin, creating a highlight along his jaw, and the bridge of his nose. His chest began to rise and fall faster with anticipation, the light shining along with his movements. 

After a few more kisses, you gave in and flattened your tongue on his balls and licked a long stripe upward. His hips bucked instinctively as your tongue swirled slowly around the tip, dipping into the slit to gather the precum. Holding his hips down, you went lower, taking him as deep as you could. 

Spit began to spill from the corners of your mouth as you quickly bobbed your head. The saliva provided the right about of slick for your hand to stroke the last few inches of his cock that couldn't fit. Strings of beautiful curses and praises left his lips. Fuck—God I love you—feel so good—so pretty wrapped around my cock. Fuck! 

Your mouth and hand worked together to bring Javy close to the edge. His hips started to roll and his thighs flexed under you. "You close, Javy? Do I make you feel good?" You moaned, pulling off of him. 

He lifted his head, brown eyes cracking open to look down at you. His dick glistened with the mix of precum and spit, your lips beautifully swollen, a string of spit still connecting the to of you. He fell back onto the pillow and sighed deeply, "So fucking good." Javy's eyes screwed shut as you went back down, he wanted to feel everything. The way your cheeks hollowed when you got closer to the tip, the way your hand gently fondled his balls, he could feel the beginning of an orgasm forming in his stomach. "I-I wanna cum," he pleaded, voice wavering. 

You paused, pulling off his cock, and kissing upward on the side of the shaft. Looking up at his blissful face, you kitten licked the tip of the head. "Take what you need, Javy," you whispered, "cum for me." 

Javy took his hand, and gripped the back of your head, politely forcing you back down onto him. His hips lacked rhythm as he thrusted into your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. He tried to let out moans instead of an apology for making you gag—you'd scold him for apologizing. 

Moans turned into pathetic whimpers of need. He kept you still as he thrusted once, his back arching off the bed. Thrusted twice, and a long drawn out moan flooded from his lips. And on the third thrust, the grip on your hair tightened and spurts of warm cum hit your throat. "Holy shit," he panted, finally opening his eyes and releasing the hold he had on you. His whole body felt limp.

Javy looked down and jolted out of his lying position once he saw the tears fall from your eyes. "I'm ok," you giggled once he took your face in his hands and wiped the tears from your eyes and the dribble of his cum from the corner of your mouth. "I'm alright, baby, I promise," you coughed to relieve the tickle in the back of your throat from the way his dick hit it perfectly evey time. 

He nodded and kissed your forehead, the intensity of his orgasm rendering him speechless. They were always more intense in the morning, he suddenly understood why you preferred morning sex. You got to see him fall apart in the best way; overcome with pleasure. You wrapped him up in your arms and buried your face in the crook of his neck. He let out an unintelligible hum and gently laid you on his chest, sinking into the pillows. 

"You with me, Javy?" You asked kindly after a while, basking in the morning light, his fingers tracing words into your arm. 

"Yeah," he smiled lazily, "just enjoying this." 

"We should get you cleaned up," you advised, hand sliding down his abs and wrapping around his sensitive cock. He grunted and snapped his head to the side, eyes staring at the mischievous look in yours. "Or we can do it all over again?" 

Javy began to sit up, pulling you up with him. "A shower sounds wonderful," he said, pecking at your lips. He pulled you up by the hand and kissed you again before wrapping an arm around your waist, fingers gripping the fabric of your sleep shirt as he pulled you close to his side. He whispered sweet nothings, leading you into the bathroom. Javy kicked the little grumpy hairless cat out of the room and helped you onto the counter. 

"Let me take care of you, meu amor?" He asked, his nose brushing your jawline, followed by his lips. 

"Always, Javy. Always."

#top gun maverick #top gun #javy machado x reader #javy machado x you #javy machado smut #coyote x reader #coyote x you #javy machado imagine

[eternalsams]

Sweet Memories ⇴ J.Machado

pairing: Javy Machado x old flame fem!reader

warning/content: angst, regrets, fluff, cheating, mentions of breakup and innuendos to divorce

summary: An umpteenth night next to your husband makes you realize what could've been your life.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: English isn't my first language so please take that into consideration. This is inspired by the song Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan. I DO NOT TOLERATE CHEATING, THIS IS ONLY USED AS A PLOT FOR FICTION.

masterlist

The window of your bedroom was open because of the unbearable heat of August. You were listening to the limited cars driving by, your hands joined on your stomach and an arm draped over you. You look at the man sleeping next to you and couldn't resist running your fingers in his hair, getting the locks out of his face. His brows furrowed for a moment and then peace took over his features. You softly smile and kiss the top of his head before turning back to your bedside table, staring at your phone. Sleep didn't want to come to you after you've read the text Javy sent you sooner today. He was in town. It's been years since the last time you saw him, since you'd broken things with him. You were the one ending things up, he never knew the real reasons, and he probably never will. He didn't know why he sent you that text, probably because he unconsciously wanted you back. He never met anyone else like you, he got his fair share of women, one night stands and relationships. But not a single one could even dream to compare to you.

You grab your phone and unlock it, staring at the text for a moment before opening Instagram, as if you felt it, Javy just posted a video of him in a bar you didn't recognize. He was smiling, singing along some old rock song and probably annoying that blond guy who was trapped under Javy's arm. You chuckle quietly and before you could even think about it, you respond to his video with a laughing emoji. You realize what you just did and drop your phone on your chest. You haven't talked to Javy in years, you never told him why you'd broken up with him, he must hate yo-

Vzzz

You look down at your phone and see the new notifications with Javy's username. You look back at your husband who's sound asleep and grab his arm to get out of the bed without waking him up. You just couldn't text with another man when your husband was holding you in his arms. You quickly grab your robe and put it on before joining the kitchen and checking Javy's messages.

Hey It's been a while since I've heard from you

You stare at the texts and decide you shouldn't do this without a drink. You open the cabinet and take a bottle of red wine and a glass before pouring you a large drink. You take a few sips before texting back.

I know It's been too long I'm sorry

You take the glass in your hand after sending your last message and watch the little bubbles appear on the screen. Your heart pounds in your chest and you can almost feel the butterflies get crazy in your stomach.

Don't be, it's not your fault Kind of, yes... Well, it's not what I think What are you doing awake at that time anyway?

You take a new sip and contemplate telling him the truth. For once. You catch a glimpse of your wedding ring and freeze. You drop your phone on the counter and quickly take it off, putting it down beside your glass of wine before taking back your phone.

Couldn't sleep You still have insomnia?

For his part, Javy lost complete interest in what was happening around him when he saw your first text. He was a little bit drunk, having fun with his best friend at the local bar but the moment he saw your username interacting with his post and that beautiful smile on your profile picture, he even forgot his own name. He only knew he needed to talk to you. He'd spent years longing after you, regretting every single decision that could've led him to you breaking up with him. You left him in such a blurry space when you uttered those three words. This is over. First he thought you had met someone else but when he asked, you promised him that was not the case. Maybe he had been to needy in your relationship? Did you think he had been toxic? Lord, he hoped not.

No. Do you want to talk about it?

He knew something was on your mind if you couldn't sleep at this hour. He stares at the little bubbles on his screen, waiting patiently for your answer. He was still hoping to win you back, however long it would take, he was known for his patience.

Not over texts.

Javy's heart starts to pound in his chest and a goofy smile takes place on his face when you send him your address. He grabs his jacket and quickly says bye to Jake who was shamelessly making out with a brunette before leaving the bar. He jumps in his car and enters your address in the GPS. 17 minutes. He would see you again in 17 minutes.

Was that a good idea to see Javy in the middle of the night when you haven't seen him in years? Definitely not. But did you want to? Absolutely, you needed it. You wait patiently in your living room, emptying your glass of wine and checking your phone now and then to see if Javy sent you another text saying he was down the street. Not even 20 minutes later, your phone starts vibrating and an unknown caller is trying to reach you. You know it's Javy so you answer. "Hello?" You say, your voice weak and timid. "It's good to hear your voice." He immediately responds, you could practically hear the smile in his voice. "It's good to hear you too." You smile softly, wrapping your free arm around you. "I'm down the building but I don't see your name, can you open the door please?"

Of course, he couldn't find your name, you were married now. You clear your throat and look back to your bedroom, your husband was still sleeping deeply and you didn't want to run the risk waking him up and discovering Javy in your living room. "I'm coming down." You tell him and step out of your apartment, keeping the phone to your ear. "Alright, I'm waiting for you." The low rasp in his voice makes it irresistible and you want to swoon and run away with him. When you join the lobby, you can see him by the windows, waiting in the night. He must sense your gaze on him because he turns to you and freezes, a tender smile on his lips. "How can you look this pretty at 2am?" He asks through the phone and you can only focus on the way his lips move saying those words. You hang up the call and he chuckles lightly, sliding his phone in his pocket as you go to open the front door of the building, joining him outside. You wrap your arms around yourself at the fresh nightly breeze and he's quick to give you his jacket. You refuse it and ignore the flash of hurt passing through his eyes.

"It's good to see you." He says and you look away, feeling your cheeks blushing. "Likewise." You only say and you can hear him sigh quietly as he sinks his fists in his pockets. "So... What's happening? Why can't you sleep?" He tries to search for your gaze. "Why did you send me this text?" You ask him without really answering his own question. "You texted me first." He chuckles and you look into his dark eyes for the first time in years, making his chest clench. "Not tonight. Why did you text me this morning? Why did you want me to know you were in town?" You ask more explicitly. He sighs and rubs his face, looking for his next words. "I guess I just missed you. I just came back from a huge mission and I needed to tell someone I was back home. I didn't even know you still lived here." He shrugs and looks away. "Did you get hurt on this mission?" Now you're the one searching for his gaze. "No. I almost crashed during an exercise but I'm fine now. I promise." You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from asking for more information and only take his hand in yours. "I'm glad you're okay." You smile at him.

"I've missed you." He admits with a tender smile that could turn your legs into jelly. His brows furrow for a second and he opens his mouth. "You didn't tell me why you couldn't sleep." A sly smirk now takes place on his lips as if he knew the answer. He's pretty sure he now knew why but he wanted to hear you say it. When he catches sight of your cheeks blushing once more, he knows. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your head so he can look into your eyes. "Is it because of me?" He asks and you can't do anything else than simply nod. A more loving smile stretches his lips and he takes a step closer to you, invading your personal space. Too close, too close. But never close enough. You could see him leaning in dangerously, his eyes transfixed on your lips and wanting to taste them for the first time in years. You gently put your hand on his chest and tilt your head back. "I can't." You speak so softly Javy doesn't even know if he heard you or imagined it. Not being sure, he stops his movements and looks at you. "Why not?" His hand is now cupping your jaw and his thumb softly caressing your cheek. "I'm..." married. You can't say it, the words just won't come out of your mouth.

"I'm not sure I can love you the way I used to." You eventually say, grabbing his wrist and taking his hand off your face. He nervously licks his lips and looks away from your face. You could practically see the gears turning in his head. He wanted you, there was no doubt. But did you want him?

"I can teach you how to again. If you'll let me." He lifts your joined hands to his face and kisses the back of your hand. "When do you leave town?" You ask him and he smiles widely, feeling he almost won you back. "I'm on indefinite leave, my whole squad is after our last mission. They'll call us back in a few weeks I think." He could at least tell you that. You nod and look back at the building behind you, thinking about your husband sleeping in your shared bed. It wasn't fair to him. It wasn't fair to Javy. "Give me a week to sort out some things and I'll call you. I have your number now." You gently grab his face and stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs. "You deleted my number back then?" He asks, surprised but still with a smile on his face. You ignore his teasing and stand on your tip toes to reach for his face, placing a delicate kiss on his lips. He closes his eyes and enjoys the short second of your lips on his. "I'll see you next week." You whisper, your breath hitting Javy's lips.

"Give me one more... Please." He practically whimpers, his eyes still closed. You smile and wrap your arms around his neck, smashing your lips on his once again. This kiss is much more passionate and desperate than your first one. He's grabbing your hips like you're gonna disappear the moment he lets go of them. He even ends up wrapping his arms around you to keep you close. Your lips fit perfectly together, his teeth even nibbling at your bottom lip because he knows you like it. And he's not wrong, he pulls a small moan from your lips and your tongue slips between his parted lip to taste him. You feel his chest vibrating when he groans at the feeling and smile against his lips. You definitely want him.

You reluctantly pull back and place short kisses along his cheeks because you can't get enough of him. "I gotta go now. I'll call you, I promise. Let me take care of some stuff and I'll be all yours." You press a last kiss to his lips and try to get yourself out of his arms. "All mine? Promise?" He looks at you with a silly smile and sparks in his eyes. "Promise." You let go of his hand and go back inside the building, walking back to keep looking at Javy. he bites his bottom lips as he looks at you going back to your apartment, not even thinking you could go back to a sleeping husband.

taglist:

@hardballoonlove

@iliketopgun

@roosterforme

@jessicab1991

@atarmychick007

@hangmansgbaby

@els-marvelvsp

#javy machado #coyote #javy coyote machado #javy machado x reader #coyote x reader #javy coyote machado x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #coyote fanfic #greg tarzan davis #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #coyote x you #javy machado x you #javy coyote machado x you

[beyondthesefourwalls]

The Great Escape

Summary: All you wanted on your wedding day was some time alone with your new husband. Luckily for you, Javy was more than game to make an escape and has just the hiding place in mind.

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

Word Count: 1.4K 

Warnings: Suave Javy and fluff for days. 

Notes: Back on my Javy agenda. Written for @thedroneranger's pick your poison challenge, with one of the prettiest boards I’ve ever seen. I’m so excited to be able to post it on her birthday of all days! 

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You couldn’t contain your giggles as you slipped out of the ballroom, the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and early 2000’s hip hop quieting as the ornate doors closed. All of your loved ones remained behind it, celebrating and more than halfway drunk from the open bar. But you and Javy craved a moment alone, and you were determined to get it, even if it meant sneaking out in the middle of an orchestrated dance battle Jake had agreed to start on your behalf. 

One hand held the skirt of your dress up as the other was held firmly in his as you hurried down the long hallway, the sound of your heels clicking against the pristine granite floors mixing with both of your laughter. 

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” you urged, picking up your pace. Your mother hadn’t been far away from you all night, and you knew without a doubt she would notice you missing immediately and go looking for you. Like you thought it into existence, the door to the hotel ballroom opened just as you rounded the corner, Javy skidding in his shiny black shoes as he tried to keep pace with you without losing his grip on either your hand or the chilled bottle of Prosecco he had swiped from the bartender on your way out. You picked up into something closer to a sprint as she started calling your name. 

You made a split-second decision and veered off into a stairwell, the heavy metal door hitting against the walls and echoing in the space. Javy’s body pushed yours into the cold, tiled wall, shushing you quietly even as he struggled to contain himself. You tried to stifle your echoing giggles, hoping to remain hidden. You both held your breath at the sound of clicking heels right outside the door, but once they passed by and didn’t return, you burst into more laughter. 

“Wanna hang out here for a minute?” you asked, leaning against the wall as you caught your breath. Javy looked at you with a warm glint in his dark eyes, his lips curved into a smile just for you. The dim light filtering through the narrow windows cast gentle shadows on his face, and you could see when the look turned mischievous. 

“I have a better idea. Come on, Mrs. Machado. Hike up that skirt, we’re going up.” 

You squealed when he slapped your butt playfully, but the name sent a thrill through you that you didn’t even try and hide. You followed him up the stairs, your dress once again bunched in your hands. By the time you made it to the top, there were tears in your eyes from how hard the two of you laughed as you tripped over the material more than once. 

“Why did I wear a ballgown?” you panted as Javy pushed open the door to the roof. He snorted, and the two of you spoke at the exact same time when you said: 

“Your mother.” 

“My mother.” 

You laughed again as you stepped out onto the rooftop terrace, the cool night air hitting your flushed cheeks and providing a welcome respite from the chaos of the wedding reception. The San Diego city skyline twinkled around you as you took a deep breath of fresh air, taking it all in.  The night breeze tousled your hair as you stood there, reveling in the stolen moment of solitude and embracing the peace that came along with it. It was the first time you had been alone with Javy since you slipped the new piece of hardware on his finger and said I do just a few short hours ago. 

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, the cool bottle of the prosecco still clutched in his right hand chilling you when it bumped against your arm. "Mrs. Machado," Javy whispered against your ear, his voice filled with tenderness. He peppered gentle kisses along your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You tilted your head to the side, savoring the sensation as he continued to shower you with his affection. 

“I love the sound of that,” you admitted freely. 

Javy hummed in response, turning you in his arms so that you were facing him. He looked down at you with that same devastatingly handsome smile you fell in love with the moment you met him. He brushed a kiss across your painted lips, soft and sweet and not nearly enough for what you wanted. “Me too.” He leant his forehead against yours for just a moment, savoring the feeling. When he pulled away, he smirked at you and held up the bottle in his hand. 

“Feel like popping this with me?” 

“God yes,” you nearly moaned. 

His eyes were fixed on yours as he carefully twisted the wire cage off of the bottle. The anticipation in the air was palpable as he held it at an angle, and with a swift motion, he twisted the cork and a loud pop echoed through the night air. Neither of you had taken into account all the running you had done to get to your rooftop destination so when the bubbles frothed over the rim, cascading down onto your hands and his, you both laughed in surprised delight, jumping away from the overflow. 

“Smooth,” you joked, “you’re a regular casanova.” 

Your husband winked dramatically, shaking off some of the excess liquid from his hand. “You know it, baby. To us,” he toasted, taking a swig before handing you the sticky bottle. 

“To us.” 

The taste of prosecco danced on your tongue as you took a sip, savoring both the sweetness and the moment you were having it in. You passed the bottle back and forth as you leant against the railing of the rooftop. Javy pulled you closer, his arm draped around you, pressing your body to his. 

"I can't believe we did it," he said, his voice filled with awe. "We're married now."

You smiled up at him, feeling your heart swell. You couldn’t quite believe it either. "I know. It still feels surreal."

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, sighing. "I couldn't be happier, Mrs. Machado."

"Me either, Mr. Machado," 

His eyes sparkled with a mix of love and adoration as he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours in a teasing caress. The taste of bubbles lingered on his breath, intoxicating you even more than what was in the bottle. You melted into his embrace, wrapping an arm around his neck and deepening the kiss. Javy’s hands wandered down your back, his touch igniting a fire within you. You gasped against his lips as his fingers traced the delicate curve of your spine, sending electric currents through your body. The taste of the wine mingled with the heat of your kiss, creating a heady blend that you wanted to bottle up and keep forever.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, the world around you fading away into a blur of lights and distant laughter. It was just the two of you, the way both of you preferred. 

When your lips finally parted, Javy's eyes locked with yours, full of an intensity that took your breath away. His voice was husky as he whispered against your mouth, “What are the chances we can go down and say our goodbyes and ditch the rest of the party?” 

Your heart raced at the suggestion, unable to resist the allure of being alone with him. But you huffed out a laugh, absolutely knowing better.  “You’ve met your new mother-in-law, right? We probably have ten more minutes max up here before she threatens to call the police and send out a search party.” 

He groaned, cursing under his breath, though you knew it was playful. “Well, you know what that means then.” 

You arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, scratching lightly at the back of his neck as you waited for him to elaborate. 

A mischievous smile played on Javy’s lips and he pulled you impossibly closer with a hand on your back while the other covered the one holding the bottle of prosecco, raising it. He took a sip before speaking, the look in his eye wicked in the best of ways. “We have ten minutes to finish this bottle, and I have ten minutes to kiss your lipstick off so that everyone knows exactly what we’ve been up to.”  

You giggled happily just as he kissed you, and you thought the taste of the sparkling wine would never taste as good from a bottle as it did from his lips. 

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Main Masterlist

Notes: Happy Birthday, Jay! I hope I did Coyote Casanova justice for you💚

Thanks to @roosterforme and @mak-32 as per usual!

#alli writes #pick your poison challenge #javy machado #javy machado appreciation #javy coyote machado x reader #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado fic #javy machado imagine #javy machado x you #javy machado x oc #javy machado fluff #coyote x reader #coyote x you #javy coyote machado x oc #javy coyote machado x you #tgm fic #top gun fanfiction

[sushiwriterhere]

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)”

#am i sorry? no #should i be? maybe.... #javy 'coyote' machado #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #top gun: maverick #javy coyote machado #jake seresin #hangman x you #hangman x reader #coyote x reader #coyote x you #coyote x hangman #javy machado x reader #javy machado x you #no use of y/n #javy coyote machado x reader #javy coyote machado x you #javy machado fic #jake seresin x reader x javy machado #jake hangman seresin x reader x javy coyote machado #jake seresin x you x javy machado

[coyotesamachado]

if it's worth your time masterlist.

Javy "Coyote" Machado x Female!Reader

It has been a little over two years since the Uranium Plant Mission, when Omaha needs to recuse himself from the specialized squadron created after it's success. You're called back to replace him, packing up your two year old daughter, and heading back to Top Gun. You know you're heading back to work with old friends, ones you haven't seen in years. What you don't expect is there's someone else waiting there for you, too.

Considering this will be multiple parts, I thought I'd throw up a masterlist for it. I'm really excited to be writing this. It's based off a line from the song "Chelsea" by The Summer Set, and Bozer and Riley's interactions in the first season of the 2016 Macgyver. Chapter titles are from the original Macgyver, for no reason other than I love Richard Dean Anderson and wanted to tie it all together nicely.

Preview.

Two times the trouble - Prologue. High control. The road not taken. Every time she smiles. For love or money. The black corsage. Ten percent solution. Split decisions. On a wing and a prayer. The gauntlet. Unfinished business. Three for the road - Epilogue.

I'm going to have a separate taglist for this, so let me know if you'd like to be added.

#coyote #javy machado #javy coyote machado #coyote machado #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfic #coyote x reader #coyote x you #javy machado x reader #javy machado x you #javy coyote machado x reader #javy coyote machado x you #coyote machado x reader #coyote machado x you #coyote fanfic #coyote fanfiction #javy machado fanfic #javy machado fanfiction #my fic #worth your time fic #masterlist

[deadratio]

Javy 'Coyote' Machado x gn!Reader Headcanon

You're married to Javy 'Coyote' Machado, but you're Jake 'Hangman' Seresin's ex.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: One mention of sex, heartbreak - not a warning but no mentions (to my knowledge) of readers gender.

You met Jake when you were in your late teens after deciding to move from your small hometown to San Diego, California.

Jake was attending Top Gun, and was a few years your senior. You both decide to take things slow and get to know each other. 

You spend the next several years into your early twenties dating Jake and traveling to wherever he goes. You love getting to explore the country and try new experiences.

After being together for so long, you think that Jake is ready to propose to you. Jake, on the other hand, is not keen on the idea of settling down.

Because of “your differences”, according to Jake, you break up. 

You’re devastated, having thought that Jake Seresin was your one and only. 

You move back to your home state, throwing yourself into your career.

You spend the next few years working at a start-up firm that eventually hits the ground running, with you being in their corporate field.

While visiting San Diego for a business conference, you go to The Hard Deck and run into Phoenix. You met her through Jake, and although you weren’t super close, you still considered her a friend.

You catch up with her, and she’s not surprised when you tell her that Jake broke up with you. She’s empathetic towards you, and eventually you decide to take a selfie together.

Phoenix shares it to her social media, which prompts Jake to see the photo. 

You’ve already flown back home when you see a follow request from Jake on your Instagram. Skeptical, you accept it on a whim.

You had gotten over Jake a long time ago, but it still hurts to see that he’s engaged to a model-type who is way out of his league. 

You follow him back, although neither of you interact with each other besides liking the occasional post.

Ever since you had followed Jake on Instagram, you’d made a point to be less active on all of your socials and focus on yourself.

Deciding to get back into the dating scene, you download a couple of dating apps.

You have a few dates here and there, but many of them don’t work out.

That is until you meet Javy Machado. He’s also a Naval Aviator, but he doesn’t act the same way Jake did.

You and Javy do long distance for a while before you decide to start working remotely so you can move in with him. 

Life is sweet to you and Javy. Although he travels a lot for work, any time he is home he dedicates his time to you and your love.

After being together for a year and a half, Javy proposes to you, and you can’t say ‘yes!’ fast enough.

You’re both overjoyed, and only tell your close friends and relatives. 

A few months after your engagement, you and Javy decide to elope in the Grand Tetons. 

The pictures from your ceremony are stunning, and you can’t help but post a few photos of you in your wedding attire on your socials. 

You leave Javy out of the pictures, operating on a consensual ‘private but not secret’ basis.

Phoenix and others congratulate you, but you can’t help but feel a little torn by the fact that Jake doesn’t like or comment on the photos. 

You speak with Phoenix a short time later and find out he had called off his engagement and is living the single life. 

Your conversation makes you realize just how invested you seem to be in someone else’s life.

You decide to delete all of your social media to give yourself peace of mind.

You spend your honeymoon in the Caribbean Islands.

The next couple of years go by without a hitch, and you couldn’t be more in love with Javy.

When he gets called back to Top Gun, you decide to stay behind because of some projects at work. 

That doesn’t stop you from texting Phoenix, who has also been called back, asking her to watch out for him.

Phoenix obliges and gives you updates.

Once back on shore from the detachment, Javy is hanging out with the Dagger Squad at The Hard Deck when he reveals that he’s married.

Everyone is shocked, and they practically beg him to show them photos.

Phoenix can’t help when her jaw drops at the sight of you and him. Even though she knew, she was still surprised.

Jake remains silent, sipping his drink.

Javy can’t help but question it, but he doesn’t say anything to Jake at the time.

When he comes home, you’re so relieved. 

Javy tells you he wants to invite the whole squad over to meet you, and so they can all get together during their leave period. 

You’re more than happy to have company.

You spend the next several weeks planning the party and the dinner. 

The day of the party, you greet everyone with an excited smile, hugs and laughs are exchanged.

You can’t help your disenchantment when Jake walks through the door. 

Javy practically tackles him to the floor in a hug, which makes you realize how close they are.

You avoid Jake at all costs, spending time with Phoenix, Halo and Rooster on the deck.

Your stomach drops to your feet when Javy steps out, asking you to speak privately. 

Jake had told him about your past relationship.

He asks you why you didn’t ever tell him that you had dated Jake. You can see the hurt in his eyes.

You choke up trying to explain to Javy that you didn’t tell him because Jake was the dark part of your past, and that you took years to recover from the emotional and mental damage it did to you. 

Javy is understanding, and you both agree to be more transparent about your past, and your future.

You’re reluctant when Jake steps into the room and Javy leaves the two of you to talk.

You can’t face him.

He tells you that he still loves you, and he always has. 

You can’t believe your ears, especially since Jake had been the one to split the two of you up.

You tell him that you’re flattered, but that quite frankly, he had lost his chance all those years ago, and that you won’t let him ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

After your talk with him, you spend the rest of the party in Javy’s arms.

Once the party is over, Javy and you have the most mindblowiing romantic soft sex you’ve both ever had.

When you wake up in the morning, you can’t believe how lucky you’ve gotten, and you can’t wait to see what the future holds. 

#javy coyote machado #javy machado fluff #javy machado #javy machado headcanon #javy machado imagine #javy machado x reader #coyote #coyote x reader #coyote x you #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #tgm #top gun fanfiction #topgun #top gun fic #top gun #topgunmaverick #glen powell #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman x you #jake seresin #hangman imagine #hangman top gun #jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin x you #jake seresin x you #top gun headcanons #headcanon #top gun headcanon

[sailor-aviator]

All That Glitters Masterlist

Pairing: Javy "Coyote: Machado x Reader

Summary: Growing up in the untamed wilds of the west afforded you many opportunities that most women weren't allowed, namely that of choice and self sufficiency. One day, your father announces his intention to marry you off, and you take your chance to escape, moving south to try your luck at striking gold. You arrive in the town of Maverick, setting up shop, but soon learn that life on your own is tougher than you previously thought. You catch the eye of a handsome man, but you're determined to rely on your own skills. Only, you may end up needing his help after all...

Series CW: Swearing, violence, period related violence and swearing, slow burn, fluff, (eventual) smut, enemies to lovers in a way, suggestive language, references to prostitution, firearms, etc. Chapter specific warnings will be included.

All posts related to this series will be tagged as "ATG" and "All that Glitters"

*Denotes smut

Masterlist || DPU Masterlist

Series;

Prologue

Chapter One (Coming Soon)

#javy machado #javy coyote machado #javy machado x reader #javy machado fic #javy machado imagine #javy machado x you #javy coyote machado x reader #javy coyote machado x you #top gun coyote #coyote x reader #coyote x you #coyote fanfiction #javy coyote machado imagine #javy machado fanfiction #javy machado smut #javy coyote machado smut #western au #cowboy au #wild west #fluff #angst #smut #top gun maverick #masterlist #atg #all that glitters

[princessphilly]

Do you have any thots on what kinks the different squad members have? I feel like either Rooster or Hangman or both have a daddy kink. Hangman also seems like the kind of guy who would enjoy a little corruption kink like teasing a more innocent partner and opening them up to new kinks. Bob likes spanking. I will not accept that not being canon lol

Rooster: sweet daddy, exhibitionism (he’s fucking you in his plane), food play (he wants to make you into a sundae or he’s pouring a bottle of champagne or beer between your tits and licking it up), dirty talk, a pleaser

Hangman: mean daddy dom, exhibitionism (any place any time), really filthy talk, restraints, some verbal degradation if you’re down for it. He really likes someone who can verbally spar with him and make him earn it. Angry sex and make up sex are two of his favorites too

Bob: he likes to spank. He wants your ass to feel hot and get red. He’s no stranger to canes and bondage. He loves to please and despite his shyness, he’s in a plane for a reason. Pretty open-minded; if you say you want to try something, he’s going to research it and learn how to do it to drive you wild

Coyote: he is a bit more vanilla in that he’s not into bondage outside of a pair of cuffs, and the only time he’s spanking you is during doggystyle. But he’s going to make sure every time is fun. You’re going to cum a lot and you’re going to laugh and have a good time

#drabbles #top gun maverick blurbs #smut #top gun smut #hangman #rooster #bob #coyote #rooster x you #hangman x you #Bob x you #coyote x you #coyote x reader #rooster x reader #hangman x reader #bob x reader

[theharddeck]

your love is the love i need || chapter 2/4

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

summary: Cross and Javy continue their charade, try not to think about the kiss, and share secrets of heartbreaks past

warnings: 18+, minors please DNI – even though there is no smut in this chapter, there will be some in the next

length: 7.3k

A/N: once again, thank you to my anons who send inspiration, and the people who let me brainstorm with them @daggerspare-standingby (also ty for beta-ing!) @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @peakyrogers💙

previous chapter

Sunday

It’d been a productive morning, which you were choosing to believe was because you were a productive person.

Absolutely not because if you sat still for more than two seconds you started panicking. 

You cleaned your kitchen—not merely putting away dishes and swiffering the floor, no, you windexed the windows of your kitchen. Outside and inside.

You ran a load of laundry for the dagger squad—after a day of dogfight football and the news that the laundromat on base had flooded, they’d dropped sandy towels, tshirts, and swimsuits off with you, promising to pay you back with coffee.

You made dough for cinnamon rolls—it  took 8 hours to rise in the fridge, and you could have a good answer for “what did you do this morning?” or “and what will you do for the rest of the day?”. And in the absolute worst case scenario, you could use it as an emergency escape plan if required, but you doubted it would come to that.

You turned your closet inside out, trying to decide what kind of image you wanted to present and ultimately deciding on a sundress with a light cardigan. You were wondering if it was too on the nose when you heard a car pull up outside. 

Javy’s mom probably expected him to walk to the door to fetch you and, as fun and confusing as last night had been, that wasn’t how you wanted to start today. You locked your front door quickly behind you, and were sliding into the backseat of the car before Javy was able to get out of the driver’s seat. 

“Good morning!” you sang, wondering if you sounded as fake-happy as you felt. 

“Good morning,” Mrs. Machado said warmly, smiling over her shoulder at you. “What did you up to this morning?”

“Ah, not much,” you lied through your teeth, pulling on your seatbelt. “I did get started on a batch of cinnamon rolls, so that’s exciting.”

“Oh, do you bake much?” she asked.

“Not at all,” you sighed, wanting to lie, but also knowing you’d be doing enough of that today, so the truth slipped out easily. “I was just nervous, so I needed something to do.”

“Sweetie,” Mrs. Machado fully turned in her seat to smile kindly at you, “you don’t need to be nervous! I’m just pleased to have time with you and get to know the other special lady in Javy’s life.”

You smiled back at her like you were reassured, when the opposite was true. You looked nervously at Javy, to find his eyes on you in the rearview mirror. You didn’t recognize the expression on his face, which did nothing to calm the butterflies in your stomach from her words, so you looked away quickly, hoping you hadn’t blown this already.

“That’s,” Javy cleared his throat, checking over his shoulder before he turned the car around, “that’s a great dress.”

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled, flattered that he’d noticed. You supposed you didn’t wear dresses that often around the squad, so it was probably something like a shock. 

“Duckie,” Mrs. Machado chided softly, “you can do better than that.”

“Momma, I don’t need—” Javy grumbled, but broke off when his mother just lifted an eyebrow. His eyes met yours in the rearview mirror again, before they darted down to the reflection of your dress, and up again. 

“You look beautiful,” he said.

And it was three words, three very simple ones, but they settled deep in your skin, the kind of compliment that made the sun shine warmer. Javy looked like he meant them, too, he looked earnest and honest, which was a combination you’d never stood a chance against. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, hoping you didn’t seem flustered.  After all, surely Javy would give his actual girlfriend compliments like that all the time—but you got the feeling that if he told you the same three words every day for the next fifty years, you’d still glow from them. 

You looked away first again, out the backseat window to watch the car pull over the Coronado bridge. There were runners in the pedestrian lane, bright neon splotches against the bay and the sky, the same shade of gray as the morning mist hovering over the sea. North Island blurred into La Jolla, and Javy dropped you and his mom off in front of Harry’s Coffee Shop, while he looked for a spot to park the car. 

Mrs. Machado linked her arm through yours, as you walked up to the restaurant and asked for a table for three. They seated you at a brown leather booth in the back and you busied yourself with the menu before recognizing Javy’s voice as he spoke to the seating hostess. You expected him to slide in next to his mom, but he sat on your side of the booth, facing her. His arm went across the back of the booth, not quite touching you, but you could feel the warmth of him through the cotton of his henley all the same. 

Mrs. Machado was studying her menu, but the corners of her mouth turned up suspiciously when you pushed your menu towards Javy.

“So,” she asked brightly, once a waiter had come to drop off waters and take your order, “I want to hear your version of how first you met my son.”

Of all the questions she could have asked, you were relieved she’d chosen one that would require little to no embellishment on your part. You glanced at Javy, who was fiddling with the wrapper of his straw, somewhat embarrassedly, before looking back at Mrs. Machado. 

“Well, it was right after I was assigned to this detachment,” you began. “Some guy was being creepy to this girl at a bar, I called him out on it, he wasn’t backing down. Then Javy stepped in, flexed a bit, and the guy was humbled pretty quickly.”

Mrs. Machado’s jaw dropped, looking at Javy. “I thought you met while you were playing darts!”

“We did,” he said stubbornly, and it didn’t surprise you at all that he’d downplayed his role on that night. “She came over and beat Jake—you should’ve seen his face, Momma, it was hilarious.”

“That’s when we met,” you acquiesced. “But my first impression was before that, when this guy was in full Knight In Shining Armor mode.”

“Yeah, call me Lancelot,” Javy joked, winking at his mom, like it was easier to brag than accept praise. He’d started peeling strips in the paper wrapper, a little pile of confetti forming on the glass tabletop. 

“More like Galahad,” you told Mrs. Machado, who looked at you fondly. “No, seriously, it was like something out of a movie. I half expected him to have some John Wayne line like ‘I think you’d better listen to the lady’, something like that.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Javy grumbled, and you shook your head. 

“It was to that girl,” you insisted. “It was to me.” 

You weren’t sure when you’d moved, but your hand was on his forearm, an unspoken emphasis of the weight and meaning behind your words, but you withdrew it quickly. He wasn’t looking at you, but you saw his jaw clench, looking down at the table; you looked back at Mrs. Machado, who was smiling proudly at her son.

“That’s my boy,” she said fondly. 

You couldn’t help but smile at the clear affection between the two. A waiter came by with coffees, cleaning off the table and picking up Javy’s scrap pile. You felt the bench start to shake and you realized he was bouncing his leg—was he nervous? He couldn’t be. His mom seemed like the kindest person, and this story was pretty damn congratulatory. 

But his leg kept moving, and it was making you nervous, so you shifted slightly, your leg resting next to his. You regretted it almost immediately—with his arm almost over your shoulders, and his long leg now pressed against yours, Javy was entirely too close to you for you to be able to complete full sentences. But his leg did still, so you figured that was better.  

“Anyways, darts came after that,” you said, continuing the story. “Jake was beating him pretty embarrassingly, and I’d wanted to say thanks anyways, so I went over and introduced myself.”

Mrs. Machado poured some sugar and cream into her coffee, sliding the sugar jar down the table to you. 

“Well, I’m glad I asked,” she said. “I figured there was more to the story than a bar game.”

“He may not have noticed me before then,” you shrugged, “but that’s when I saw him.”

“I noticed you,” Javy said quietly. 

He didn’t seem to realize he’d said it aloud, but the table was quiet as you and Mrs. Machado stared at him. He looked between the both of you, lifting a shoulder lightly. 

“Come on, are you kidding, of course I noticed you.”

And it warmed you, the same way his compliment in the car, that he’d say something so kind with absolute conviction. A tiny voice in the back of your head whispered that it wasn’t real, but his brown eyes held brightness and honesty, so you told that voice to stuff it, and turned back to Mrs. Machado.

“Well, there you have it,” you said, reaching to fix your own coffee.

Mrs. Machado smiled over the rim of her mug, looking between the two of you, before the conversation shifted. You talked about your hometown, what Javy was like growing up, how training was going between missions. 

Safe conversation topics, topics without surprises. 

Maybe that’s why you felt brave enough to lean back a little, relax into the warm leather of the booth, your shoulders brushing against Javy’s arm. Maybe that was why his hand dropped from the back of the booth, his thumb ghosting over the thin material of your cardigan. 

The rest of the meal flew by, and you’d tried to break away after breakfast, but Mrs. Machado had insisted that you come with them as they walked around Balboa Park. So you joined them in playing tourist for the afternoon: picking out glass ornaments in the Spanish Village Art Center, coming up with names for the koi fish in the ponds at the Japanese Friendship Garden, struggling to pronounce Latin names in the Botanical Gardens. 

Your phone died somewhere between the Casa de Balboa and the Old Globe Theater, and so it was Javy’s phone that you handed to strangers offering to take pictures of the three of you. The wind caught Mrs. Machado’s scarf as you were posing by the lily pond; Javy took off to chase it, and the kind tourists held out his phone to you, photo opp deferred. You thanked them, waving apologies for having interrupted their afternoon, as Javy leaned dangerously far over the pond, trying to snag where the scarf had tangled in some bulrushes. 

You swiped through the pictures they’d taken, laughing at the stop-motion effect of the wind blowing her scarf away, but the pictures they got before then were cute. You minimized the camera by force of habit; you didn’t mean to look, but Javy’s background made your heart skip a beat.

It was a picture of the two of you.

Last month.

“This is the dumbest idea any of you have ever had,” Phoenix announced, to a roomful of ears that were absolutely not listening. 

“Yes, but it’s team bonding,” Fritz said, dragging a stack of chairs across the Family Center. “You know how Mav feels about that.”

“THE dumbest idea,” Phoenix reiterated, “and, really, guys, that saying something.”

But she grabbed another stack of chairs. 

Fanboy’s latest comfort youtube content was various Star Wars cast members on Hot Ones—the show where celebrities were interviewed while eating increasingly spicy chicken wings—and as a gag gift, Payback had gotten him a verified box of the hot sauce lineup. One thing had led to another, and now an industrial amount of wings had been delivered to the Family Center, while half the squad was raring to prove that they had the strongest tastebuds.

Or, at least, the most fireproof ones.

“So, Phoenix,” Rooster called, “is that your way of saying you’re not gonna join in?”

“Absolutely not,” she responded. “This is not a question I need answered.”

Everyone laughed, as you arranged chairs around a foldout table. 

“Halo?” Hangman asked, lifting his hands in dismay when she shook her head. “What? Come on.”

“I feel like she’s protecting our dignity,” Bob said, as he carried over a couple gallons of milk and some paper cups. 

Everyone looked at Callie, who smiled slightly.  

“I was raised on Ma La Xiang Guo, guys,” she shrugged, pointing to a sauce with a literal skull and crossbones on the label. “I could brush my teeth with that stuff and be okay.”

“It’s all good,” Hangman said, with an impish smile as he looked between Phoenix and Halo, so you knew what he was about to say was just to goad them into reacting, “we all knew a man was going to win this anyways.”

And apparently it worked. 

Because, without batting an eye, Phoenix announced, “Cross’ll do it.”

Your head whipped around as you heard your name spoken from down the table. “Cross will what now?”

“Welcome to the competition, Crossy,” Jake crowed, slapping a paper plate down in front of you.

You looked down at it. “Guys, I’m not—”

“Feminists everywhere are counting on you,” Phoenix said solemnly. 

“Remember when you said this was a dumb idea?” Payback asked, and she waved a hand at him. 

So that’s how you ended up sandwiched between Rooster and Harvard, eating wings doused with hot sauces that sounded like terrible porn star names, and hoping the lining of your stomach could take it. 

It was fine, and then it suddenly really, really wasn’t. 

Bob tapped out on the fourth one, bless him, and Omaha was out on the fifth. Rooster hung on for a couple more, Payback too, but by the time you were down to the final two sauces, it was you, Fanboy and Coyote. 

“For our penultimate round, ladies and gentleman,” Hangman croaked, his voice hoarse from Da Bomb, the sauce that had knocked him out in round eight, “I present to you—Unique Garlique, by Puckerbutt Pepper Co.”

“That is not the name of the company,” you groaned, your eyes streaming. 

You’d started crying around round six, and had accepted it as your fate. No way were you about to touch your eyes, and sweet Bob stood beside you with a tissue, patting at your face helpfully, but it really was no use. 

“Tragically, he’s not,” Fanboy sighed, dabbing some sauce onto a wing, before passing the bottle to Coyote.

And honestly? Fuck him. Because you were actively weeping, Fanboy was sweating patches into his uniform, and Coyote looked like he’d maybe gone for a light jog. If anything, he was glistening, like some eau de perfume commercial from the early 2000s, and it really was ridiculous. 

He handed the bottle to you, and you grimaced, reading the label. “How does something as innocuous as garlic somehow contain 642,000 Scoville heat units?”

“You can always tap out, if you need,” Hangman teased, and you wanted to flip him off, but that took more energy than you had to spare.

“I want you to know,” you told him, not looking up from the wing that was practically glowing with garlic poison, “that I’m channeling all of my pain into anger at you specifically, and I will win this damn thing on spite alone.”

“The American way,” Coyote said, cheersing his chicken messily into yours with supernatural enthusiasm, and then Fanboy’s. 

You three took a bite.

You three chewed, thinking maybe it wasn’t so bad. 

And then you three saw hell.

You could not drink enough milk, and Natasha was trying to be helpful by fanning you with a notebook, but somehow it felt like that was stoking the spiciness higher. Your mouth felt like it was actively on fire, and you were pretty sure your throat was closing up on itself.

“Holy shit,” Mickey wheezed.

“What if we just die,” Javy rasped, “what are they gonna tell our families?”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled. “Only one more, right? Then I have clear and convincing evidence that I am more of a man than Hangman could ever dream to be?”

Javy might’ve snorted beside you, but he also might’ve just been choking. 

“Oh, babes, you passed that a while ago,” Callie said soothingly, rubbing your back.

“One more,” Bradley confirmed, and he slid the bottle down the table to the three of you.

The Last Dab, it was called.

You looked at the bottle—orange red, with a flame logo, and a lovely worded description that explained how it was the only hot sauce in the world made with the apollo pepper, and the Scoville heat units couldn’t even be calculated.

“Well, I have had a stunning epiphany,” Mickey said, slapping his hands on the front of his pants. “And that is that I straight up do not need this. I’m out.”

“Garcia’s out!” Omaha yelled.

“He yieldssssssssssssss,” Jake called, like he was an announcer at an internationally broadcasted sporting event, not standing in the middle of a team of dripping, miserable pilots. 

You looked at Coyote.

At his ridiculously handsome face, with his ridiculously calm demeanor, with his ridiculously nonplussed expression, as he handed the bottle to you. “We doing this?”

You desperately wanted to say no.

Just go stick your head in a freezer or stand under a cold shower for the next three hours or drink your weight in orange juice until your body felt some semblance of normal. But Javy was looking at you like he was having fun, like he and you were the only ones in on this joke, and you weren’t about to walk away from that.

Also, feminism, peer pressure, all that. 

“We’re doing this,” you sighed, coating the final wing. 

He poured the sauce onto his wing resolutely, then shrugged, following the tradition of the show and dabbing an additional glob on top. 

“Lagniappe, and all,” he muttered. 

“Laissez les bon temps rouler,” you offered, those two phrases combined being the extent of the New Orleans slang that you knew. Javy flashed a smile at you as you clunked your chicken wings together in a cheers, then took a synchronized bite.

God, it was awful.

Truly horrendous, mind-bogglingly painful, and if you hadn’t already been openly weeping, this would’ve done it. The squad was going crazy. You were pretty sure Natasha was taking pictures, Jake was being an exceptionally good sport and had started clapping and the whole room was yelling, cheering like you’d won dogfight football, and for a moment, you felt it—you were on the team. 

Javy caught the scarf. 

He returned, brandishing the colorful fabric like a banner, and Mrs Machado patted his cheek as he helped wind it about her shoulders again. You didn’t say anything about the picture, turning off the display on his phone, before you handed it back to him, and tried to forget about it for the rest of the day. 

Mrs. Machado had an evening flight and there were a few more things that Javy had wanted to show her before she left, so you thought that now would be the perfect opportunity to give them some time alone, and use your cinnamon roll excuse. You borrowed Javy’s phone to call yourself a ride, and bid your goodbyes to your fake boyfriend’s mom. She held you so close when she hugged you goodbye, making you promise to text Javy once your phone had battery again, letting them know you’d gotten safely home, and you felt guilty the whole ride back to your place. 

Maybe that’s what all this was—an extension of your guilt. 

Guilt had you so on edge that you’d imagined Javy being calmed by your touch this morning. And he’d probably kissed you last night because it was part of convincing his mom. And his phone background—well, the phone background was hard to explain. 

It looked like the picture had been taken right before that final wing, at the impromptu competition last month. A nervous smile was on your face and you’d closed your eyes bravely. Beside you, Javy was laughing at something you’d said, his eyes on you, his expression one you didn’t remember. 

But, maybe you’d remembered that wrong too. 

You’d only looked at the picture for a couple of moments, and maybe there was something you hadn’t seen—Jake acting a fool or something funny that would make sense for Javy to keep it as a background. 

Guilt and emotional exhaustion made a hell of a cocktail, so you let autopilot take over as soon as you got home. Plugged your phone in, rolled out cinnamon rolls, put them in the oven, cleaned the kitchen while they baked, set them on a rack to cool and clipped your hair up before you hopped in the shower. You were almost done with the arduous process of moisturizing your whole body when there was a loud knock on your door. 

You made a face at your foggy reflection in the over-the-sink mirror; someone must’ve gotten the wrong address for one of your neighbors. As you readjusted the towel under your arms to continue rubbing lotion into your legs, the knocking continued.

“Wrong apartment,” you called, hoping they’d realize their mistake soon. 

“Cross, come on, open up.”

You froze, recognizing that voice.

Shit. 

Glancing around the still misty bathroom, you realized your clean clothes were in your bedroom, opposite of the way to the door, but you weren’t about to answer the door in a towel. Thankfully, the closet that held your washer and dryer was right next to the bathroom, and you rooted around in the dryer for the first tshirt you could find, sending a moment of gratitude to the universe that your front door had none of those filtered glass panes on it. You shoved your arms into the shirt as you struggled into some pajama shorts on your way to the door.

“What are you doing here?” you asked before the door was opened, and even then, only wide enough for your head to poke through.

Javy was leaning against the door frame, arms braced on either side of it, and you noticed his shoulders relaxed a bit when he saw you.

“You’re okay?” he asked, his eyes running over you, seemingly scanning for some nonexistent injury.

“What?” you blinked. “Yeah, I’m fine, what…”

All at once, you remembered the promise you’d made to his mother, and your phone charging in the other room, and how long it’d been since you’d gotten into the car at Balboa. You looked up at Javy, clocking the relief and stress warring in his expression. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, your nose wrinkling. “I just got carried away with stuff and—”

“Is that my shirt?” Javy interrupted you, and you looked down. 

It was his shirt. 

You’d grabbed it out of the tumbled load in the dryer, which you now remembered was one of the last dogfight football loads.

“It was the first one I grabbed,” you said, quickly. 

Javy didn’t say anything, but his hands did drop from the door so he could cross them across his chest. And he was smirking, damn it, something that should be annoying or at least not attractive, but it was, and it made you want to stomp your foot. 

“It doesn’t—“ you tried again. “Don’t be weird about it, okay, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sure, Cross,” he said, that lazy smile growing, and you pursed your lips, refusing to give into the impulse to smile back. 

“Okay,” you said, knowing it was petty, but pointing to the phone he held in his hand, “is that my picture?”

Javy’s jaw actually dropped.

“Don’t be weird about it,” he mumbled, a moment later, stuffing his phone in his back pocket, parroting your words back to you. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

It was your turn to hum, amused. 

But you did feel bad that he’d been worried enough to drive to your place, so you stepped back, opening the door to your apartment. You walked through it without waiting for Javy to follow you, heading into the kitchen to cover the cinnamon rolls, the smell of them still lingering in the air. You heard the door shut behind you, and smaller shuffling sounds as Javy toed off his shoes.

“You actually made cinnamon rolls?” he called after you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to be offended by the surprise in his voice.

“To everyone’s shock and amazement, yes,” you replied, flipping on the tap. “Want some water?”

“Sure,” Javy said, his voice closer this time, and by the time he made it to the kitchen, you had filled a glass and held it out to him. You wrapped the cinnamon rolls carefully, while Javy stayed in the doorway. 

When you glanced over your shoulder at him, he was looking around your small kitchen curiously. He looked at ease, like he almost always did, with the calm aura of assurance that was deeply grounding. It was something to see him like that, in your space.

He finished the water and walked the glass over to the sink, turning to lean his hips against it. You pushed the cinnamon rolls to a corner of the counter, crossing your arms in front of you self consciously as you became aware of the casualness of your dress. 

“Well,” you said, awkwardly, “thanks for checking on me. I am alive, so this has been a win for due diligence.”

Javy nodded slowly, his eyes still flitting around the kitchen, as the silence stretched. 

“What if it did?” he asked, and you tried to track what that could mean, but couldn’t place it.

“Sorry, what?” you asked, confused.

Javy shrugged, his posture casual, but you noticed his hands gripping the countertop behind him. 

“Mean something,” he said, before continuing as you shook your head, still confused. “My shirt. Our picture. What if…what if it meant something?”

The room felt like it’d been de-pressurized, like suddenly there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air and you couldn’t breathe. 

“What?” you managed again, your voice sounding like more of a squeak than your actual voice.

Javy didn’t move from the sink, merely lifting an eyebrow while he waited for you to process what he knew you understood he was asking. It made his forehead wrinkle, which was annoying, because he couldn’t be adorable while he was tilting your world off its axis. 

Your mouth felt dry and when you wet your lips, you felt Javy’s eyes dart down to watch your tongue as it slipped between your lips. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” you said, your voice sounding shaky, even to your own ears, “it was really sweet having breakfast with your mom. And today was fun. And like, it was a good kiss, but it’s been like twelve hours of faking it, we can’t—”

You stopped talking when Javy pushed away from the sink, his long legs crossing the room quickly. The laid back air of earlier was gone, replaced by an intensity that seemed to crackle the air, and you backed up as he walked closer to you. Your back hit the opposite wall and you yelped quietly, but Javy didn’t stop until he was right in front of you. 

He didn’t touch you, and you could’ve moved, but you both knew you wouldn’t. 

Not when he leaned his forearms against the wall behind your head, his large body caging you, and all you could see, all you could focus on, was him. 

“First of all,” he said, and his voice sounded different up close, like it rumbled out of him, “it wasn’t just good, and you know it.”

You knew what he meant, and his eyes darkened when you nodded, after a beat.

“Second,” Javy continued, in that same voice, and you shivered, “we’re pilots, not actors. Twelve hours…if that was all it was, neither of us would feel like this.”

You shook your head, knowing that if you let yourself imagine, just for a moment, it was going to hurt all the more. 

“You said you had no plans to ask me out,” you whispered, aiming for a cavalier tone but coming up short. “That this was just the easiest lie.”

“I’d take it back if I could,” he said quickly, and you read the honesty in his eyes. “But, look, I was panicking. I’d been telling Momma about you for months and then she showed up and I had to say something before she told you how much I…before you got freaked out. I didn’t know you felt the same thing I did.”

You both desperately needed, and were terrified of, what he’d been going to say. 

“This is wild,” you mumbled, your mind reeling. “You can see that, right?”

Javy smiled, the inevitable, gorgeous smile of his, and he lifted his chin a little bit. “Kiss me again.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

And you knew it wouldn’t solve anything, wouldn’t explain any of it, would probably complicate things further, but if the tradeoff was clarity or Javy’s mouth over yours, you knew what you were choosing. Your fingers curled into the front of his henley, pulling him down to you, and then you could feel that smile against your lips as he kissed you. 

It was different when you weren’t two steps above him, when one of Javy’s hands fell from the wall to hold the side of your face as he kissed you. His lips were so soft, and of course he was teasing you with it, his mouth brushing over yours with light chastity until you pulled harder at his shirt and he pressed closer to you, his lips parting. At the first sweep of his tongue, your knees literally weakened and you swayed into him, your bodies coming flush together. Kissing him was dizzying, dreamy, and when you came up for air, you thought this might be your favorite sight—beautiful Javy, from this close. 

You reached up to wipe at his mouth, where some of your chapstick had smudged, and he turned to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Told you,” you whispered, “Galahad.”

He laughed softly, another sound that was different up close, warm and deep and you wanted to hear it again. Unfortunately, Javy cleared his throat, kissing your forehead before standing up straight. 

“I should get back to base,” he said, regretful but responsible. And he was right, of course, because you had drills in the morning, and whatever was between the two of you could wait another day. 

“Stay,” you blurted.

You almost took it back, embarrassed of how needy it had sounded, but when you looked up at Javy, he looked almost as hopeful as you felt. 

“Snuggles?” he asked, and you pressed your lips together at how freaking adorable it was, that this enormous man lit up like a kid on Christmas at the thought of something so innocent.

“If you want,” you hedged, and Javy gave you a look like it wasn’t even a choice for him, before he thought it through. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said gently, “but, hell, I want to.”

You shook your head determinedly. “We won’t do anything. I don’t want to rush it, and today’s been a lot to add that, too... but it’d be nice to be together, without the pretending.”

You couldn’t believe you were practically begging the man to stay and just cuddle, but also it was Javy Machado. You’d do a hell of a lot more than beg, if push came to shove. 

You could see him deliberating, and you decided you might as well throw in a final desperate bid. 

“And you can give me a ride to base in the morning,” you added, “so I don’t have to catch the bus.”

Javy chuckled, before nodding seriously. 

“Well, when you put it like that, it’s only practical,” he said. “The rational choice.”

“I’m a very rational person,” you said. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks to be a WSO.”

Javy blinked. “Do they—”

“They definitely don’t,” you laughed. “It’s off of rank, same as the rest of the Navy.”

He rolled his eyes, but followed you obediently deeper into the apartment. 

You showed him where extra toothbrushes and toiletries were in the bathroom, and offered his shirt back, which he adamantly refused. He ended up grabbing a nondescript Navy shirt from the pile, which you were pretty sure was Jake’s, but didn’t want to comment on, since it seemed deliberate that he hadn’t asked. 

Being in the same squadron, and being based in San Diego, there was a level of physical awareness that you two had passed months ago, so it was oddly anticlimactic to be sharing space as you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed. 

Which is why the nerves, as soon as you and Javy settled into your bed, surprised you.

It was dumb, because you knew you had nothing to be nervous over. You’d both already agreed nothing else was happening tonight, you should be tired enough to just be chill about this. But as soon as your back hit the mattress, it felt like someone had injected straight caffeine into your veins and you couldn’t lie still.

Javy’s arm was under your head and you’d turned slightly into him, but suddenly your feet needed to be out of the comforter. Or maybe you needed to lie on your other side. Or the top sheet felt weird on your skin, or you weren’t sure if—

“Cross,” Javy sounded like he was trying not to laugh, “I’m gonna leave if you don’t lie still.”

You winced at the ceiling, disengaging so you could put just a few inches between the two of you. You felt yourself relaxing, like some weird performance anxiety, after he’d been so excited to hold you. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, “it’s just—”

“A dream come true, I know,” he sighed, like it was a heavy burden to bear, and you swung halfheartedly in his direction. Your hand swatted at the comforter over his chest, and you could feel the bed shaking as Javy chuckled. 

“Unfamiliar,” you revised, “is what I was going to say.”

Javy hummed, and you both knew his answer was closer to the truth, but he was kind enough to drop it. 

You shifted slightly, settling more deeply into the bedding, trying to tell your body it was comfortable so it could just be still. But even with the distance, every inch of you seemed hyper aware of the fact that Javy freaking Machado was literally in your bed. You knew you’d made the right call earlier, that you didn’t want to rush this, and everything else rational…but you were only human, damnit, and you were too curious to drift off to sleep. 

You chanced a peek at Javy, at what little you could see of him in the dark of the room. 

He was on his back, facing the ceiling, his hands folded over the top of the comforter like it was a sitcom from the 60s. His eyes were closed, and his chest was rising and falling rhythmically with his deep breaths, perfectly at ease. Except…if what he’d said last night was true, he should’ve been as ill at ease as you were, sharing a bed with someone. 

“Can I ask you something?” you asked quietly.

“Ah, sure,” Javy said, still sounding amused. “Not like we’re sleeping till you’re tired out.” 

“Okay, well—” you huffed, but Javy lifted a hand from the comforter placatingly. 

“I kid,” he said. “Honestly, we should all be impressed that I’m staying PG and not slipping into a ‘well, I can think of an easy way to tire you out’ line of thought.”

Your mouth snapped shut; you hadn’t even considered that. 

Javy shifted and the comforter crinkled as he cleared his throat. “Okay, neither of us can think too hard about that; ask your question.”

You hesitated for a moment, kind of enjoying the comfortable silence of the room. You turned your body to follow your head, settling on your side with your arm between the pillow and your head, before you asked, “Why hasn’t there been anyone since the Academy?”

Javy didn’t freeze, didn’t pull in a deep breath or tense up, but you felt his surprise, all the same. “Sure you don’t want a happier bedtime story?” he asked, his voice carrying a kind of hesitation that was new to you. 

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want,” you hedged, meaning it. “I can think of another one.”

You watched his jaw tense, and then he shook his head, just once. “Is it crazy that I want to tell you?”

You weren’t sure, but you did know that it felt an awful lot like trust, and you wanted that more than you wanted to know the story. Javy was fiddling with the end of the comforter, and the motion reminded you of the straw wrapper at Harry’s so you reached for him.

His movement didn’t break, he just accepted your hand and enveloped it in his. He wove the fingers of one hand between yours, and with the other he traced along the tendons on the back of your hand.  

“There’ve been folks since Academy,” he said, slowly, like the conversation had to pick up steam. “Just no one I’ve introduced back to Momma. You know how it is, how you can always find someone for the night. I found it was…easier. To keep it that way. No expectations, no strings, just fun. No one gets hurt that way.”

His slow motion of his fingers over the back of your hand was soothing, tracing patterns an retracing them with another finger. 

“You got hurt before?” you asked softly, watching Javy’s nostrils flare slightly as he processed the question. 

“I hurt someone,” he said, quietly.

You doubted the distinction was mutually exclusive, but you stayed quiet as you waited for him to continue. 

“We met when I was at Annapolis and she was at St Johns. She was from up North, so she was like no one I’d met in Louisiana. On a law track, in a sorority, all that. And we were…serious.”

He paused, and you could tell he was trying to decide how much to tell you.

“Pick out a ring, serious?” you prompted.

The pause lingered, before Javy traced down the fourth finger on your hand, saying quietly. “Put a down payment on one, serious.” 

It shouldn’t have surprised you. 

You tried to envision a younger version of Javy, bright-eyed and fresh at the academy, planning his life out, with conviction. That part hadn’t changed, Javy’s calm assurance, and you could envision some paralegal from Connecticut being absolutely swept away by him. 

“I got my first post, in Norfolk,” Javy continued. “She got into Law School at William and Mary, and we had a little place in the middle. Painted the kitchen yellow, had a hell of a fight with the landlord over it. We had window boxes with flowers; we couldn’t keep anything alive in there, winters were too cold, but we tried every spring.” 

It sounded idyllic, how he described it, and you could hear a painful undercurrent of longing in his voice as he told you about it. Like even now, it hurt how perfect it’d been. 

“What happened?” you asked, gently.

You watched Javy’s profile shift as his nose scrunched up, in answer to that question. 

“I had an accident, one day, flying—I made it, my wingman too, but the plane was rubble.They called her to meet me at the hospital and I remember when they let her in to see me; she was so quiet. She’d been real worried, I guess, and seemed pretty upset…I thought she might’ve missed an important lecture, or something, I don’t know, but it was weird.”

You frowned, squeezing his hand. “Surely a lecture wasn’t more important than being there for you.”

“Nah, she wouldn’t have thought that,” he said, then laughed wryly. “No, that wasn’t what she was upset about. When they discharged me a couple days later, and I got back to the apartment it was half empty. I remember walking in, and she was sitting on the hearth, one last cardboard box by her feet.”

You squeezed his hand again, hating that you knew where the story was going. Didn’t everyone who shared your employer?

“Yeah,” Javy sighed. “Uh, and she was right, you know, it wasn’t fair. If I’d died that day, she would’ve been stranded in Virginia, and every time I went up in the air, she was going to have to wonder if this was the time I left her for good.”

A dozen responses flash through your head, but you bit your tongue, before answering carefully. 

“Flying isn’t something you do against someone,” you said evenly. “No one plans on burning in.” 

“I know,” Javy said, and you hated how his voice had taken on this detached quality, like this speech was one he’d given himself hundreds of times. “But it’s selfish to ask someone to love you with all that on the line, and ask her to carry that fear. I get it, it was too much, so…yeah. I get it.”

He hadn’t stopped tracing over your hand, and your heart broke for younger Javy. How he must’ve felt standing in that empty apartment, as the woman he’d planned the rest of his life with left because she was scared. How blindsided and guilty, and clearly holding that guilt years later, as he relayed that story to you. 

“Run that last bit by me again?” you asked.

Javy looked at you. “It’s selfish to ask someone to love you with all—”

“Yep, that part,” you interrupted. “One more time?”

You knew Javy knew what you were getting to, because he didn’t repeat himself again. 

“You know what I mean,” he mumbled.

“You know what I mean,” you retorted. “Not everyone can take what we do, and that’s fine. But that’s something you hash out on a third date, when you talk about career plans and make sure your lives line up. Not when you’ve dated through college, have a home together, and when you get a call from the hospital. That’s when you need support, not for someone to ask themselves a question they should’ve asked years ago. Like. I’m sorry, but that’s a shitty thing to do.”

The room was quiet for a moment, and you wondered if you’d overstepped. Obviously you didn’t know the entire ins and outs of the relationship, but let’s face it, you were always going to take Javy’s defense against some WASPy lawyer. 

Or, as far as you knew, a wannabe lawyer. 

With her staying power, maybe she didn’t even pass the bar.

You let out a long breath, trying to release your animosity with it. 

“Thank you,” Javy said quietly.

And you were sure there was a lot you could’ve phrased better, maybe held your tongue on, but you didn’t. Instead, you told your restless body to get over itself and slid back across the bed, into Javy’s side. He kept his hold on your hand over the blankets, but you tucked yourself against his torso, more determined to be comforting than comfortable.

“You’re not selfish for asking someone to love you, Jay,” you said, your voice muffled by his tshirt. “And I think you deserve someone whom you don’t have to ask.” 

He didn’t say anything, but a moment later, you felt him shift, before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You felt the both of you settle, either lightened from the sharing of his past or from the relief of holding each other, and sleep came easily, this time around.

//

next chapter

tagging: people who haven't told me to stop and people who interacted with ch1: @mxgyver @princessphilly @hangmanbrainrot @roosterforme @blowmymbackout @datemephoenix @fuckyeahhangman @lt-bradshaw @double-j @callsignvalley @sebsxphia @javihoney @rosiahills22 @andrewrussgarfield @teacupsandtopgun @katiedid-3 @beyondthesefourwalls @gretagerwigsmuse @auroraboreallisfine @bioodforbiood @m1ssmunson @rassvetsky @desert-fern @et-homephone @letskeepthislo-ki

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