18+ mdni

part one | masterlist | part three

It’s a very serious decision that you have to make—your final dinner selections—one that should never be taken lightly, and the sole reason you’ve found yourself inside of a Thai restaurant bickering like an old married couple. 

“So… I say we do an order of egg rolls, a chicken pad thai, a curry, and maybe something else to share? Or is that too much?” you chuckle as you review your order, taking charge of the endless indecision that’s plagued the both of you. 

“I think you underestimate just how much I can eat,” Joaquin shoots back, stealing a playful look at the mom and pop restaurant owners that wait, patient smiles plastered to their faces as the two of you fail to make a decision.

“It’s not a competition,” you tease him, side eyeing his flex. 

“It won’t kill us if we get two pad thais. It’s kiiiinda my favorite,” he adds, while simultaneously, you interject with a, “Yeah, why not? We can have leftovers.” 

“Okay, well, what if we just get one pad thai and then something else, but you can have most of it. I only want a few bites, I promise,” you reason with him, though you can’t promise it’ll be true. 

“Bullshit.” 

You laugh. 

After all this time, he still knows you so well. 

“Okay fine. I guess we could double up on pad thais or do you want to get another noodle dish and we’ll still share,” you suggest, bringing up your former idea again, this time expecting some kind of acknowledgement from Joaquin. You send an apologetic look to the restaurant owners—a silent, I’m Sorry—who, you can only imagine, are growing more and more impatient by the minute. 

You both wait a beat, thinking it over before simultaneously coming to the conclusion that:

“No you’re right we should do that,” Joaquin agrees with a sigh, admitting defeat. 

“No, let's do what you want! You just said pad thai was your favorite,” you concede, in complete harmony with your twin concessions. 

You both laugh and the couple who own the restaurant share a knowing look. 

“Well, what do you want to do?” you ask with a giggle, your eyes wide as you look to Joaquin. “Nah, you’re right. We should mix it up instead,” Joaquin reiterates, holding his ground. 

“You sure?” you question, hesitantly. 

“How about we give you all three noodle dishes, plus the curry…” the woman finally interjects, putting you both (and probably her and her husband) out of your misery. “...and a discount for the Falcon.” 

“Your service to this country is much appreciated,” her husband adds with a curt, yet reverent nod. 

Joaquin grins in response, and you’re not sure whether he’s celebrating his two-chicken-pad-thai win or the fact that he’s been recognized as an Avenger. He thanks both of the restaurant owners with a charming smile, before pulling out his wallet. 

“Oh you are not paying!” you protest, panic in your eyes as you move to stop him. “Yes, I am!” he insists, shooting you a look. “At least let me go dutch with-,” you begin. 

“Absolutely not!” he scoffs, shrugging your suggestion off like he’s almost offended. “You’re letting me crash with you anyway.” 

“Joaquin!” “Oh honey, let the handsome boy pay,” the restaurant owner interjects once again, this time with a wink in Joaquin’s direction, putting yet another debate between you and Joaquin to an end. 

“Let him pay,” her husband repeats firmly, his face serious enough to shut you up. 

You’re speechless, so instead you let out an exasperated sigh, throwing up your hands in defeat. The couple shares yet another knowing look before tearing your order off of their notepad to give to their kitchen as they talk amongst themselves, switching quickly from English to Thai. You can only assume it means they’re talking about the two of you as they share a laugh, then a pointed look back to you and Joaquin, and you can hardly blame them. You’ve sure put them through it in the five minutes you and Joaquin have been here. 

“Did you put them up to this?” you ask in disbelief, launching your mostly-joking accusation at your friend. 

“Oh yeah. They’re paid actors,” he replies quickly, the wittiness and smugness evident on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

You scoff with a playful eye roll, trying your best to ignore how a familiar warmth fills you. You’ve missed Joaquin’s flirty banter, something that had always been there between the two of you, but never acknowledged. All these years you’d kept your distance, certain that you’d be a terrible army wife. You knew you’d be no good, sitting at home waiting for your husband to return from his deployment, and Joaquin had been intent on enlisting when the two of you graduated high school. 

You wonder if it’s the only thing that held you back from ever taking your friendship with Joaquin any further. Not that anything has changed… he’s still active duty… and now he’s an Avenger. But after his accident, you’ve questioned your own stubbornness, unable to deny just how much his near-death experience scared the shit out of you. 

*

The Thai takeout has been demolished, what’s left of it stored away in the fridge hours ago. You’re half asleep when the credits music of Matrix Reloaded—Joaquin’s request—wakes you. You blink your eyes open to see Joaquin half asleep on the other end of the couch, his feet kicked up, legs stretched out across the length of your incredibly comfy couch. 

“Hey doofus. We fell asleep,” you whisper, nudging his leg with yours. 

Joaquin groans, slowly beginning to blink his eyes open. His heart skips a beat as he wakes to you, making note of the fact that he really likes it. 

“So much for our Matrix marathon,” he mumbles, sitting up a little taller from where he’s curled up on the couch. 

“You should take the bed,” you suggest softly, noticing the way he shifts uncomfortably. 

It hasn’t been that many weeks since getting out of the hospital. It makes the most sense and you don’t mind sleeping on the couch for a few nights. 

“No, I’m fine. Really,” he brushes off the notion. “I just-. Well, you’re still technically recovering and-.” you begin making a case for your suggestion. 

“But the couch is really comfy!” he grins, trying a little harder to convince you. “It is a comfy couch but I still think you should take the bed,” you reply, firmly. 

Joaquin searches your expression for any kind of retreat, realizing that you’ve clearly made up your mind. And he knows what that means. 

Once you’ve made up your mind, there’s no changing it. 

But he doesn’t love the idea of kicking you out of your own bed either.

“Why don’t we just go halfsies?” He suggests so casually, as if he’s suggesting the two of you split the bill he insisted on paying earlier. “Not like we haven’t shared a bed before. Doesn’t have to be a big deal or anything.” “You do have a point,” you drag out slowly, your breath catching your throat. But you know you’re going to have to sell it better. “Right, yeah. No big deal.” 

He’s technically right. You’d had plenty of sleepovers as kids, and had spent many a class overnight field trips in sleeping bags next to each other. 

“Just like last time,” Joaquin adds, caution in his voice this time. 

Last time. 

“Last time” had started the way they always do. After returning from the blip, you and Joaquin reconnected and had gone out to catch up, dancing into the early hours of the morning, fueled by a few too many tequila sodas in downtown Miami. It was a night to remember—except for the parts you’re not sure he does. 

You’re not even sure you remember correctly. 

You remember the next morning, waking up in the same bed as Joaquin, and having to explain to both sets of your parents that you’d both had a little too much to drink and crashed at Joaquin’s because it was safer than going home. 

It was harmless.

Just a night of fun and old friends after five years of being gone. 

Nothing happened, you both insisted, much to the unconvinced looks on both of your mothers. 

Except… if you remember correctly… there was a kiss. 

A few kisses, actually.

But you’d never talked about it and both you and Joaquin had been drunk, so you assumed it wasn’t worth talking about, an event of the night swept under the rug so seamlessly you figured it clearly hadn’t mattered to either of you. 

“Right yeah. We should… share the bed. Totally makes sense,” you finally agree, plastering a fake smile on your face like you haven’t just had a mini-existential crisis. 

“What?” Joaquin asks, searching your face for a reason you’re suddenly acting so weird.

“Nothing,” you’re too quick to defend. “That’s not a nothin’ face,” he points out, unconvinced. “I-, it’s nothing!” you shrug, your voice higher in pitch, telegraphing that it really is okay. “No, what’s up?”Joaquin asks, this time much more concerned as he begins to back off his suggestions. “I don’t have to share the bed if you-.” 

Had he pushed too far? Should he not have brought it up? 

“Joaquin, it’s fine, it’s just-.” you interrupt, wishing you had just done a better job lying in the first place. 

Joaquin chuckles, “You’re a terrible liar. You know that?” 

You roll your eyes, because you love and also hate how easily he recognizes the look on your face. 

“I-,” you start, giving yourself one last chance to back out of telling him the truth. But you know there’s no use. He already knows something’s up. 

“It’s just-. Well last time…. Listen, it wasn’t a big deal or anything, and we were really drunk and I had just gotten back after being gone for five years so there’s that but-,” you stammer out, tripping over how awkward and uncomfortable this conversation is about to be. 

He waits patiently, a softness in his eyes that lets you know that whatever’s on your mind is okay to share. 

“I take it you don’t remember…” you sigh with a nod. 

It’s not like you’d been holding out for him to bring it up, that you thought he’d been holding on to the memory ever since, just waiting for the right time to confess his love, but you’re surprised to find yourself disappointed as you accept that he really must’ve not remembered. 

“...Well, there was sort of… a kiss between us. That night. You know. Last time.” 

“Oh, uh,” Joaquin begins hesitantly, wanting to tread as carefully as possible. “I uh. Yeah I-, I know.” 

Oh. 

I know?!

Your heart skips a beat. 

It’s not exactly the reaction you were expecting. 

“Wh-?” you begin to ask, caught off guard by his admission. “I-, I didn’t think you remembered.” “I didn’t know if you wanted me to,” he admits, earnestly. 

You have to stop yourself from letting out a laugh. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you ask, a laugh following as you feel a warmth in your cheeks. 

“I-. You didn’t say anything the morning after and, like you said, we had both been drinking the night before so… I don’t know. I didn’t say anything because you didn’t,” Joaquin explains, almost shyly, catching you off guard even further. 

It’s your turn this time to say: 

“Oh,” 

“Yeah,” he lets out a sigh. His eyes nervously search yours, trying to get a read on you. 

“Listen, this doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’s-, it’s not a big deal!” you deny, trying your best to get things back on track. “I think I just… I don’t even know why I brought it up. Maybe just so it wasn’t awkward when we-. You know. Address the elephant in the room and get it out of the way, you know? 

You know you’re rambling, but it’s as if your mouth’s run away from you and taken on a mind of its own. “But…” Joaquin trails off, as he decides to tumble off this cliff with you, uncertain whether the risk will pay off. “... doesn’t it feel like it? I mean, this feels weird, right?” 

You take a breath.

A beat. 

“A little,” you admit quietly, as the two of you exchange nervous laughter. 

Yeah. A little, being an understatement. 

You try your best to gauge any kind of reaction from Joaquin, wondering why the tension between you feels so charged, especially considering how many times you’ve insisted that this was so not a big deal.  

An idea crosses your mind, and you think you might be going insane, but you’re not sure you can fall asleep feeling this weird about things. 

“Okay, well, before we jump into my bed together… I think we should… resolve this,” you begin, deciding to take charge. 

“What do you mean?” Joaquin asks, hesitantly. 

“I-. I don’t know. It doesn't seem like talking about it is getting us anywhere. And… well, shit. I brought it up in the first place so. Sorry for that,” you continue to ramble on nervously. You take a deep breath before suggesting what you think might be a terrible, terrible idea. 

“Maybe we should just… get this out of our systems? So we can prove to ourselves that it’s totally not weird at all and just… not even a big deal.” 

Joaquin processes, going over and over in his head what he thinks you’re trying to say. “You mean… kiss again?” he finally asks, a hope in his eyes he prays isn’t too goddamn obvious. “Maybe. Yeah. I don’t know. What do you think?” you ask, shakily. 

A beat. 

“Fuck it. This is a terrible idea and I-,” you begin to backtrack, shaking off how silly that way.

“No, it’s not!” Joaquin is quick to interject, inching a little closer. “But… I mean. You sure?” 

You nod slowly, contemplating what you’re agreeing to, before finally deciding on: 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” You both exchange nervous laughs, before shifting just a little closer to each other. “So should we just-, I mean are supposed to just-,” you giggle, awkwardly, gesturing towards the man. 

Why was this so weird? 

Joaquin grins, another small laugh falling out of his mouth as he leans in closer to you. 

“Oh my god! Joaquin, what’re you doing?” you gasp, your voice quiet as his lips are inches away from yours, as if this weren’t your idea. 

“Well, you said we should just go for it,” he teases gently, and you can feel his breath on your lips. 

“I know but. It’s weird. This is-, it’s weird, right?!,” you giggle again. It’s as if your mind wants to pull away, but your body betrays you, as your heart skips a beat, reminding you to learn forward this time too. 

“Mhmm,” he hums, with an aplomb you certainly do not have. He lowers his voice, and almost as if he’s warning you, he adds, “I’m gonna kiss you now.”  You nod, just a little, before replying with: 

“Okay.” 

He chuckles. 

“Okay.” 

Joaquin takes his time, almost teasingly, before brushing his lips against yours. You’re taken by surprise by the fact that it doesn’t feel like enough. He pulls back just enough, before pressing his lips to your with full force this time. You inhale him, this moment, and the feeling that everything is about to change as you kiss him back, meeting him just as deeply as he’s met you. 

It’s not like you’d never wondered what this would feel like, but thinking about kissing Joaquin had just a thing of your childhood fantasies—something you’d thought you’d long forgotten. The way his lips move against yours feels like the fucking Fourth of July, explosions going off in and outside of you. 

“Joaquin?” you murmur against his lips, hanging onto the last threads of self-control you have (which, you think should come with a gold medal, considering especially the way he’s kissing you right now). 

“Hmmmm?” he hums against you, his hand coming up to cup your face, with no intention of stopping any time soon. 

“Yeah, so this kinda feels like a big deal,” you reply, in between kisses. “Uh huh,” he sounds in response, before sucking on your top lip. You gasp, more than happy to keep going, but he wants to make sure you feel the same. 

Joaquin pulls away just momentarily, his hand still cradling your face. He’s inches away from you once again, his gaze matching the seriousness of his tone as he asks, “We don’t have to keep going. If you don’t want to. We can stop.” 

“No!” you practically cry out, eliciting a small chuckle from his lips. The ones you very much wish to be kissing again. 

“Dimelo. Tell me what you want,” he says softly, and you’ve never felt safer with anyone. You’re actually not sure how you’ve managed to keep it together, ready to melt off of the couch and into his arms. “You wanna keep going?” 

“Uh huh,” you nod, this time closing the distance between the two of you, crashing your lips against his. “I wanna keep going.” 

So much for this not being a big deal. 

He takes your ‘yes’ as a sign to keep kissing you, as you shift for your body to face his. You’re wrapping your arms around his neck, and he’s licking into your mouth so that his tongue can tangle with yours, the two of you surrender to whatever this thing is between the two of you. It’s as if you can’t get close enough to him. His hands are cautious, his fingertips grazing your arms, before hesitantly trailing his hands over your waist. You lean into him, wanting to be even closer, and on your cue, Joaquin pulls you onto his lap. With your knees on either side of his hips, you straddle him, pressing your body to his chest as his tongue teases yours. 

You pull away, only for a moment, your eyes telling him that you need to explore more of him. You begin to kiss along his jaw, then down to his neck, leaving kisses along the column of his throat. As you begin to travel outwards, you notice the scarring along the back of his neck and shoulders from the accident, surprised at how quickly the skin has healed. 

It’s gotta be some kind of super-medicine, you think to yourself. 

His eyes search yours as if to ask, Is it okay?

His scars, he means. 

You begin to kiss along the tops of his shoulders, his collarbone, and where his shoulder meets his neck, as if to reply: 

They’re beautiful.

You’re beautiful.

It’s more tender than you’re ready for, caught up by surprise by the moment, so you lift your head, meeting his lips once more. Joaquin’s hands are less cautious this time, pressing you against him as you wrap your arms around his neck, continuing the passionate makeout. 

Holy shit. 

You’re making out with your childhood sweetheart. 

The one you swore you’d never date. 

But right now, you could care less, because he feels too good, and he kisses you like you’re his favorite thing. It’s all soft sighs, gentle hums that turn into moans, and hands all over. You could really lose yourself in this as you feel Joaquin’s hips buck up into yours, causing you to let out a moan. 

“Joaquin, wait,” you pant, using all the willpower you have left in you at this moment, as you break the hot and heavy makeout session that’s gone on between you. 

Because it feels too good. 

And because you want this to go where you think it’s going. 

“If we keep going… this-, we- we can’t unring this bell,” you pause, your eyes searching his for confirmation that he wants this just as much as you do. 

“I don’t wanna,” he replies, with the utmost sincerity and admiration in the way he looks at you. “I don’t wanna unring the bell. No take backs.” 

You giggle with a nod, “Okay. No take backs.” 

It’s innocent and hot all at once. He pulls you back into him, his kiss tender as he smiles against your lips. 

“Hold on,” he rasps, his order direct and sure. 

Before you know it, he’s standing up, and you’re clinging to his strong form with your legs and your arms letting out a laugh as soon as you realize what’s happening. 

“So does this mean you wanna share the bed or-?” he teases you, knowing very well that that’s your only plan for tonight. 

You chuckle in response, shaking your head, “Take me to bed or lose me forever, Torres.” 

“I love that movie,” he smiles. “I know you do,” you smile back. 

“But I mean it. Take me to bed, baby.” 

Baby. 

He likes the way it sounds on your lips, and he likes the fact that it’s you calling ‘baby’ even more. 

“Yes ma’am,” he grins, as you hold onto his body, feeling every step towards your bedroom. 

You’re grateful for once, that your apartment isn’t that large, as Joaquin reaches your bed before you know. He lays you down gently, hovering over you as he removes his shirt. 

“Oh my god!” you gasp, as he approaches the bed, this time shirtless. You cannot get your hands on him fast enough, feeling each plane of his superhero body against your hot, hot hands. “Please remind me to thank your personal trainer.”

“Oh that’s Isaiah. He-,” Joaquin begins to explain, smirking as you chase his lips.

“I really don’t want to think about Isaiah right now,” you interrupt him, taking your shirt off for good measure. 

Joaquin is on you in seconds, kissing you like he’s kissed you a million times before. Were you really going to do this? Were you about to have sex with your best friend? 

Before you can overthink it, Joaquin begins to leave kisses down your neck, returning the favor from earlier. His hot, wet mouth feels incredible, and all you can do is feel every single nerve ending in your body ablaze. You moan as he nibbles on the sensitive skin just below your collarbone, and you can feel him smile against your skin. He takes his time, making his way to the very top of the bralette you wear, leaving delicate kisses as he looks up at you. 

“May I?” he asks. 

He’s met with an eager nod from you, his large hands coming up to pull the fabric down, just enough to expose your breast to him. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he sighs out. 

Before you can respond, he’s wrapped his mouth around the peak of your breast, and you’re crying out in response. 

“Oh my God, Joaquin,” you sigh, feeling the way his tongue begins to circle your nipple. 

This is so not how you expected this evening to go, but you let yourself enjoy it anyway. Joaquin makes his way over to your other breast, giving it the same attention and reverence as the former. 

As he pulls away, you’re practically tearing the bralette over your head and onto the floor, tossed somewhere you won’t worry about till tomorrow morning. Joaquin’s mouth is on yours for a brief, smacking kiss, then he’s making his way down your body again, allowing your mind to wonder what else he can do with his mouth. 

You don’t have to wait long to find out. 

Before you know it, he’s removing your PJ shorts and panties, and leaving teasing kisses along your inner thighs. 

“Fuck, you’re wet, baby,” he practically moans as he gets closer to where you need him. 

“Hmmmm, yeah. Well, someone likes to tease,” you let out on an exhale, unsure of how you’re able to make a joke at a time like this. “You want my mouth? That it?” he asks you, nibbling on the soft skin. 

You moan, your hands tangling themselves in the thick locks at the back of his head. 

“Yes, baby. I want your mouth. Please.”

Please. 

He never thought a word could sound so sweet, but coming from you, here, between your legs, as he’s wound you up enough to make you beg him? He’s lost all shreds of self-control he has left, unable to deny you nor him any longer. 

You cry out as soon as you feel the warmth of his mouth on you, parting you open with his tongue. 

“So wet,” you hear him groan  into you before beginning to devour you. 

His tongue is everywhere, licking broad stripes up to your clit, drawing abstract shapes like he’s Matisse, then dipping into you over and over again. It’s not until he slides a finger, and then two into you, his tongue focusing on your clit, that your pants of pleasure have turned into a string of moans.

“Holy fuck, Joaquin!” you cry out. 

“I think I’m gonna-,” you stammer out, feeling the coil inside of you ready to snap. “Don’t stop, babe. Please. Fuck. I’m gonna come.” 

He’s relentless, his tongue on your clit and his fingers inside of you, bringing you up and over your peak till you break like a wave. Joaquin takes his time, slowing down the ministrations of his mouth while he cleans you up with his tongue. 

“How was that?” Joaquin asks, a mischievous smirk on his face as he stares up at you from between your legs. You look just as wrecked as you sound, and he can’t help but feel accomplished. 

You let out a laugh, “Holy shit. Was the screaming of your name not enough?” 

His smirk turns into a grin, and he’s moving up to kiss you as he answers, “I think I could hear it again.” You can taste yourself on his lips as you kiss him back. 

“Then you’re gonna have to make me come like that again,” you’re quick to parry back, as if it’s a challenge. 

“I think that can be arranged,” he replies. “You have condoms?” “Mhm,” you reply, before sitting up. 

You promise you’ll be right back, and anything said after that is lost on him as he watches your naked body move around the room. As you return to him from your quick trip to your nightstand, condom in hand, he can’t get over how beautiful you are. 

“Looks we still gotta get you naked. And do not bring up your personal trainer again, my God,” you groan, earning a laugh from him. You place the condom down on the bed beside you, before pulling Joaquin towards you. 

He kneels on the bed, his knees on either side of your legs as he begins to pull his sweatpants down. You’re not sure if you’re nervous or excited to see him completely naked as your heart flutters. Joaquin clumsily makes his way out of his sweatpants, the two of you exchanging nervous laughs, before he’s kneeling over you again, completely naked. 

He’s thick, and just long enough that you’re glad you’ve had a solid night of foreplay so far. You reach for the condom, handing it to him. Freeing up your hands, he takes it, and you slide one hand around his cock because you just have to feel it. 

Joaquin hisses in response, shooting you a warning look. 

You giggle, allowing him to slide the condom on first, before returning to you. 

“We don’t have to-, you know. Right away. We can do some more of this,” he says, as he kisses you, slipping a hand between your legs. 

It’s insane how your legs fall open for him without hesitation. You moan as he drags his index finger along your heat, earning a soft moan from. You allow him to tease you for just a little longer, the kisses shared between the two of you are long, patient, and passionate. 

This is it. The point of no return. 

As if he can read your mind, he slots himself between your legs, and you’re making room for him instinctively. 

“You sure?” he asks you, almost as if he’s giving you one last time to back out. 

“I’m sure,” you answer confidently, this time, reaching down between your bodies to line him up with you. 

Joaquin hisses once more, the feeling too good as you drag the tip of his latex-covered cock up and down your sex. 

“Baby, please,” you say, as if you know they’re the magic words. 

“Oh my god,” Joaquin groans, because he can’t take it anymore. 

Slowly, he pushes just the tip in, the two of you moan at first contact. He pulls away just enough, before pushing in again, deeper this time. It goes on like this, each thrust bringing him deeper into you till he’s full seated inside of you. Joaquin pauses, allowing the two of you just to feel. You breathe each other in before he kisses you with a passion and fervor that takes your breath away. 

Joaquin begins to move his hips, giving you a few experimental thrusts. 

“Feels so good. You feel so fucking good,” he whispers in between kisses. 

“You feel good too, ‘Quin,” you whine, as he begins to pick up the pace. 

You cry out, because you can feel him so deep, and because he feels so goddamn hard and so goddamn good inside of you. It’s as if your bodies take over, and before you know it, Joaquin’s fucking you into the mattress, pressing your hands above your head, tangling his fingers with yours, and making you come on his cock for the very first time. 

He watches you come down from your high, and he thinks he could do this forever, because you’re so damn beautiful when you come. There’s something about it—knowing it’s him that’s making you feel this way—that makes you feel this good. 

“Switch with me,” you order, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“What?” 

“Let me get on top.” 

He must have the dopiest smile on his face as he does, laying back against the mattress and watching you crawl on top of him. 

This can’t be real. 

Could this be real? 

It feels really fucking real as he feels you slide down over him, your head thrown back in pleasure, taking him inch by inch. 

“Dios mio, baby,” he sighs, his hands moving instinctively to your hips as you ride him. 

He lets you set the pace, moving your hips slowly at first, settling into a rhythm as he admires your naked body. From the way you tangle your hands in your hair, the way your breasts bounce as you ride him, the way your hips swivel every few thrusts, he’s never seen a more magnificent sight. You take your time, just enjoying this, enjoying each other, with no rush or care in the world. 

Joaquin can’t take his eyes off of you. 

It’s just you and him and the way you feel. 

With one hand on his chest, your back arched, your hips working up to a feverish pace, you can feel yourself on the verge again. He feels too good: Joaquin, your childhood best friend, the one that, just hours earlier, you thought would forever just be your friend. But now that you know how he kisses, what his tongue feels like, what his cock feels like, there’s absolutely not going back. 

You let out another moan, an offering to the gods, because all you want is more, more, more. 

“Holy shit! Why didn’t we do this sooner?” you gasp, the pace of your hips quick, chasing your high. “You said you didn’t want to be an army wife,” he pants in return, his thrusts meeting yours. 

“Well, I’m currently reconsidering because-. Oh fuck!” you cry out, and you know you’ll have to bake apology muffins for your neighbors later this week. 

There it is. It’s there. 

You’re so close. 

You can feel it. 

“If you’re still talking, I don’t think I’m fucking you good enough,” Joaquin teases you. 

“Well then, put your money where your mouth is, Torres, and make me cum.” 

It’s meant to sound like a challenge, but you wonder if it just comes out as desperate as you feel. 

Joaquin pauses, and before you can complain, you feel him shift so that he’s sitting upright. You both moan as she sinks just a little deeper. He kisses you deeply, his thrusts starting out slow before quickly moving to something with much more intention. He knows exactly what he wants from you. 

With your face buried in his neck, he’s set a blistering pace, and you’re meeting him thrust for thrust. He really meant it when he said he’s fuck you even better. 

“Fuck. Yes. Right there, right there, right there. Oh my god,” you shout into his neck as he hits that spot inside of you. 

“I’m not gonna last long,” Joaquin grits out, and you can tell how much he’s holding back. “With you squeezing me like that. Fuck.” 

“Then don’t,” you beg him, before your orgasm takes over you one last time. “I want you to come, baby.” 

All you can do is hold on, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, moaning into his neck as you come again. He fucks you through it, his thrusts getting more erratic and sloppy with each one. It’s the way you pulse around him, how tight you’re squeezing him, milking all remnants of self control he has left that brings him to his high. Joaquin follows shortly after, because you just feel too good coming on his cock. 

He comes with a strangled moan, stars exploding behind his eyes, followed by sharp pants as he tries to catch his breath. 

You stay like this for what feels like forever, and not long enough. 

“Holy shit,” you say, lifting your head to look at him. 

“Uh… yeah,” Joaquin breathes, as the two of you share a smile. You leave gentle kisses along his shoulder as the two of you breathe together, enjoying your last moments like this. “Just uh, give me a second.” 

You nod, careful as you let him slip out of you, allowing the both of you to collapse on your backs. 

“So…” Joaquin drags out, looking over at you. “Still think we should share the bed?” 

You laugh, pressing your lips together before answering with: 

“You’ll be lucky if I let you out of this bed this weekend, Torres.” 

“Mmmm I think I like the sound of that,” he grins, rolling over onto his side. 

“Me too.”

*

masterlist | part two

You watch him fall out of the sky on national television, the footage juxtaposed with an exterior shot of the Walter Reed Military Medical Center that’s got been stock footage, resulting in the world’s worst case of emotional whiplash. The news anchor’s voice is clear—reassuring, even—as he explains the situation: 

An accident involving the Falcon. 

In critical condition. 

The new Captain America at his side.

Hopeful. 

It’s the word he keeps repeating. 

The doctors are hopeful. 

But his words are lost on you, traveling in through one ear and out through another. In a state of shock, you’re only able to comprehend bits and pieces because watching the man you’ve known for most of your life soar through the air—not to mention, in flames—and plummet straight into the Indian Ocean, makes you feel like you’re going to pass out. 

It’s not like you expect for him to pick up—but you’re calling Joaquin’s phone, your heart practically beating out of your chest like he could—because there isn’t much else you feel like you can do. Besides, if, when he wakes up, you want him to know that you’ll be there.

You get his voicemail. 

Of course. 

But you can’t sit with this alone.

So you call your mom. And then his. And then three of you hold each other through the phone like he held your father all five years through The Blip. 

And when all is said and done, after days of agonizing nothingness, you get a text from his mother saying: 

He’s going to be okay. 

*

It’s the seventh time in the last ten minutes that Sam sees the screen of Joaquin’s phone flash upwards toward the hospital ceiling, signaling that he’s got yet another notification. 

“You should give ‘em a call,” Sam encourages.

Joaquin shoots a quizzical look to the man he’s looked up to his whole life, as Sam nods towards the cell phone once again, clarifying his previous statement with: “Your family, Torres. And whoever else’s been blowin’ your phone all day.” 

His face falls. 

The doctors had called to let his family know that he had made it through a successful surgery, and that he was going to be okay, but he hadn’t reached out just yet. Hell, he was almost grateful that his phone had been dead for days, crossing his fingers that the hospital wouldn’t find a spare charger. But then Sam came in this morning, brand new phone charger in hand, forcing Joaquin to return to reality: an overwhelm of missed calls and texts.

“I don’t-, I… I don’t want to worry them,” Joaquin hesitates, the disappointment in himself evident in how cautious he is. It’s why he’s been putting it off. He can’t seem to beat the nagging feeling that he should’ve done some differently—something so he didn’t have to make this kind of call. 

But he knows he’ll have to face the music sooner or later. 

“What-? What do I say? What am I supposed to tell them?” he asks earnestly, searching the face of his mentor for any kind of guidance. 

“Tell ‘em you’re gonna be okay,” Sam replies gently, the reassurance in his words allowing the obvious to land a little softer than it would had he chosen a different path. Joaquin nods slowly in response, reaching for the phone on his hospital bedside table. 

With a sigh and a heaviness he can’t yet name, Joaquin begins to scroll through the notifications. While he expects to see calls and texts from his parents, extended family members he hasn’t spoken to in years, he doesn’t expect to see 5 missed calls and 3 texts from you. 

Sam watches carefully as a look of surprise washes over his friend, colleague, and wingman’s face, and there’s something different about his reaction when his thumb hovers over your messages. 

“I’ll give you a few minutes, man,” Sam bows out, respectfully. 

*

When Joaquin finally texts you, it’s just a stupid GIF of a zombie rising from the grave. You’re less than amused by his humor at a time like this, but your heart feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest as you see that the notification is from him. 2:08 pm 

You: Not funny, asshole! We’ve all been worried sick. 2:10 pm 

Joaquin: 😣You talked to my mom?!

2:15 pm 

You: 🖕Fuck off. You know Lydia likes me more than you. 

2:16 pm 

Joaquin: 💔

Savage. 

2:16 pm 

I’m jk. Mom told me how wonderful you’ve been with her and Dad. Thank you. 🙏

2:22 pm 

You: I’m just glad you’re okay. 

2:30 pm 

Joaquin: 😅

2:30 pm 

You: Can I call you later? 

2:31 pm 

Joaquin: Yeah :)

*

You’ve never been this girl: the girl that waits by the phone for some guy to text her.

But in the days following Joaquin’s accident, you have to remind yourself that the fact that you’re practically glued to your phone waiting for updates is just a result of the fact that you could’ve lost him. 

Besides, he’s not just some guy. It’s Joaquin: he’s the neighborhood kid you grew up with, the sweet seventeen year-old boy who took you to your senior prom, and the man that both of your mothers still swear to this day that you’ll marry. 

It’s Captain America—Sam, he insists that you call him—who eventually puts you out of your misery by inviting you to see Joaquin, when he notices his wingman’s recovery is going better and better all thanks to his mysterious pen pal. 

“I know kids these days can’t get off their phones, but something’s telling me there’s a cute girl on the other end, Buck,” Sam mentions over the phone one day, when the latter asks him about Joaquin’s recovery. “Hey, I’m not mad at it! Seems like it’s helping him.”

“Kid’s gotta girl?” Bucky asks from somewhere along the campaign trail, a hint of curiosity in his voice as he inquires further. “There’s only one way to find out,” Sam shrugs with a little mischief in his voice. 

It’s not hard to swipe Joaquin’s phone, considering his recovery still requires lots and lots of rest. The last thing you had expected that day was a call from Captain America himself—from Joaquin’s phone, no less—asking you to come to DC to reunite with your childhood friend. 

What’s even more shocking is the fact that it’s Sam Wilson himself, who’s there to meet you at the hospital. You try to keep your cool as you introduce yourself, but you can’t shake the giddy feeling of excitement that fills you upon meeting the Avenger you and Joaquin used to see on TV. He leads you down the long hospital hallways, warning you quietly that Joaquin was pretty badly injured, and he may have a little more wear and tear than you expected. 

You don’t mean to gasp, but your sharp intake of breath upon seeing him in his hospital bed isn’t exactly subtle. Your eyes trace over him worriedly, as you take in the burn scars on his neck and the still-healing cuts and scrapes on his face. It’s the moment you realize that, since making the choice to join The Avengers, your superhero friend is not so invincible. 

“What’re you-?” Joaquin balks, speechless at the sight of you. He looks from you to Sam, then back to you, before returning to Sam once more, his eyes landing on the man like he’s Benedict Arnold. “Sam, you didn’t-. How did you-? You called her?!” 

“Wasn’t hard to swipe your phone when you need a nap every 2 hours,” Sam replies casually, as if he isn’t acting like the world’s most embarrassing dad right now. “And I got tired of watching you wait by the phone all day for your girl to finally text you.”

“Oh my god!” Joaquin groans, at the very same time you let out a:

“Oh he’s not my-!” 

“Dude, we’re not-,” Joaquin gestures towards you in a panic, as he searches for the right words, saying a silent prayer that he can get out at least one full-finished sentence. “I’m not like, waiting by the phone but It’s not like I can go anywhere right now, man!” Sam chuckles only to be met with a very dramatic eye roll from Joaquin as he tries to defend himself. 

“Listen, we’re old friends. We’ve just been catching up,” he tries to explain again, gesturing towards you once more. 

Sam smirks, uttering an unconvinced, “Sure. Well, whoever she is or isn’t to you… seems like she’s been helping your recovery. Thought it couldn’t hurt.” 

You laugh, exchanging a look with Joaquin. 

“I still can’t believe you called her,” Joaquin shakes his head, still trying his best to process this. 

“Well, of course he called me, Torres, considering you’ve always been shit at asking for help,” you finally chime in, with a ball-busting attitude he’s missed. 

“Oh shit,” Sam says, looking from you back to Joaquin as he waits for a reaction. 

Joaquin grins, gearing up to explain: “When she feels threatened, she has a tendency to lash out.” 

Sam chuckles. 

“Feisty. I like it," he smirks with a nod of approval. And he knows that this that’s his cue. It’s time to give you kids some time alone. “Imma step out for a second. You guys… catch up. Or whatever.” 

You press your lips together, stifling another laugh, and waiting a beat as Sam disappears. 

“Dude,” you start, taking a few steps closer to Joaquin, with a look of disbelief.

“Dude,” Joaquin mimics you, unable to hide the smile on his face upon seeing you. 

“That’s like… Captain America,” you nod towards the hallway as you take a few more steps forward. 

“I know,” Joaquin says back, an excitement between the two of you. 

“Captain fucking America,” you emphasize.. 

You’ve really been doing the best to keep your cool, but you’re not sure you can contain it any longer. 

“I know!” he fanboys with you this time, because Joaquin still can’t believe this is real either. 

That he works with Sam Wilson. That he’s Captain America’s wingman. That you’re here, in DC, with him. 

It’s as if a piece of home has joined him for the first time in a long time in this new chapter of his life. 

The two of you exchange another smile and a wave of relief washes over you. 

You take a beat and one step closer to him, sitting down in the chair next to his hospital bed. You shake your head and this time, the expression on your face goes from soft to a much more hardened and worried look. 

“Joaquin,” you start, the tone of your voice a warning enough. 

“Oh God,” he sighs, recognizing that tone. 

“I could kill you,” you threaten, the next part reinforcing his more than accurate evaluation of you from earlier. “But clearly you don’t need my help.” 

“Well, I did technically die,” he parries, light heartedly. 

“Joaquin!” You interject, your voice going up in pitch as you cut him off. 

“What? You scared you’d miss me or something?” he teases, meeting your fire with his. 

“Oh fuck off,” you scoff, with a shake of your head. “It’s not-, don’t joke about that! It’s not funny!” 

“Didn’t you just threaten me with-?” he continues, knowing all the buttons to press. 

“Yeah, but it’s different when I-. Didn’t you just say that I have a tendency of lashing out when I feel threatened?” you snap, the worry in your voice enough to get him to stop. 

You sigh, your eyes scanning him once more, because maybe it would be easier if he really were invincible.

You take a beat, and the two of you share a full silence between you. It’s comfortable, yet filled with ‘what ifs’ neither of you want to acknowledge. 

“I can’t believe Sam stole my phone and called you,” Joaquin shakes his head this time, groaning again because Captain America really should be renamed to America’s Most Embarrassing Dad for this. “How did you get here so fast, anyway? My parents won’t even arrive till tomorrow.” 

“Oh I uh-. Well, you’ve been busy saving the world so I haven’t exactly been able to tell you,” you reply, realizing that it hadn’t even come up in conversation via text yet. “I moved to Philly a few months ago.” 

“Philly?” Joaquin asks, a little surprised, because he’s not sure he could picture you anywhere that has a properly cold Winter season. “Yeah,” you chuckle, immediately recognizing his look. “I had to buy my first Winter coat this year but… the trade off is that I’m only an hour train ride away from you now.”

His face lights up as soon as you spell it out for him. 

“Well, my parents are coming in tomorrow. Are you-, think you’ll be around?” he asks, hopefully. 

“Do you want me to be?” you ask in return. 

He nods, “Yeah. Think they’d like to see you.” “Okay,” you agree softly. “I’ll stay.” 

A beat. 

And another silence between the two of you, one that feels much heavier than the last. 

“You could’ve died, Joaquin,” you state quietly. 

“I know,” he replies, the guilt evident in his voice. 

You could’ve-,” you begin to repeat, your voice breaking this time. 

“I know,” he says again, much firmer as he reassures you. “But I didn’t. And we’re here now.” 

He reaches for your hand, and you’re almost angry with the way your body betrays you. With tears in your eyes you look back at him, shaking your head. 

“Goddamit,” you swear with a small laugh. “You’re the one who gets hurt yet you’re here comforting me.”

He shakes his head this time, squeezing your hand as he smiles, “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.” A beat. “But I’m still gonna kill Sam.”

You laugh, wiping a few tears out of your eyes with your free hand. 

“And yeah. I would,” you finally admit, your voice soft. 

“Hm?” Joaquin asks, his lashes heavy as he blinks, taking you in. 

“I would really, really miss you,” you answer, a vulnerability in your voice this time that you’re quick to put an end to. “So don’t fucking do this shit again!” 

Joaquin laughs as he squeezes your hand once more, knowing it’s not a promise he can make to either of you. 

*

9:45 am 

Joaquin: Mom and Dad left yesterday and Mom told me to tell you that she misses you already. 

10:01 am 

You: You can just admit that you miss me already. 

10:03 am 

Joaquin: 🤐

Thanks though. I think they’re a little less worried now that they know you’re close by. 

10:08 am 

You: How’s it going? 

10:13 am 

Joaquin: Good! I got discharged a few days ago and am heading to Wakanda in a few weeks. 

New suit! 🦸

The last time you see me can’t be in a hospital gown. 

10:15 am 

You: I don’t know why you’d say that! It’s a great look for you. 

10:20 am 

Joaquin: 🙄

Guess I should’ve swiped one from the hospital to wear all the time.

What’re you doing next weekend? 

10:21 am 

You: Nothing. What’s up? 

10:30 am 

Joaquin: What do you think about me coming to Philly? 

10:31 am

You: To visit me? Or just because?

10:32 am Joaquin: Yes to visit you 😆

Thought we could hang out before I go.

10:33 am 

You: Yeah! I know it’s only an hour train ride in and out, but I’ve got a super comfy couch you can crash on if you want. 

So that’s an option. 

The next text you receive is a selfie of him, wearing a plain grey crewneck sweater. 

You laugh. The guy loves a good selfie. 

10:40 am

Joaquin: 1 photo attached

Rocky ain’t ready for this 

10:43 am 

You: LOL 

Please don’t tell me you’re coming to Philly so you can recreate the Rocky training montage.

And if you’re wondering, I will not be partaking. You’re on your own with that one. 

But yeah, I’d be happy to host you! 

10:48 am 

Joaquin: Deal. 

I’ll call you later. We can work out the details :) 

11:00 am 

You: Deal :)

*

A few seconds of silent followed your answer, and genuine hope began blooming in your chest at the prospect of falling back asleep peacefully.

Letting out a satisfied sigh, you buried a bit deeper under the covers, eyelids dropping again, and your mind focused on trying to chase back the fragments of the dream you had been rudely awaken from—

“Bitch get up.”

Natasha opened up your door so violently you almost jumped out of bed.

“Jesus Christ, Nat ! Ever heard of knocking ?” You glared at her, hesitating on throwing one of your pillows her way.

“Come on, get up, we are going.” She declared, standing in your doorway with her arms crossed across her chest.

Not intending to move one bit, you simply put up your elbow, head resting on your palm to look at her better.

“Why do I even have to go anyway ?”

“Because it’s a team bonding activity,” she explained, looking a bit desperate now to get you out of your room, “so we can’t properly bond if we’re missing someone.”

“Are you kidding me ? We already bond eight hours for three hundred days a year ! I think you’ll do just fine without me. And actually, I think it’s better that way, we need to learn how to be independent from each other.”

“You know, seeing you like that really makes me wonder how the hell you manage to get up for early training.”

“If I don’t show up to base I’ll literally go to prison, Nat. And besides, this is the only two weeks of vacation we get, so please,” You whined, “please, let me enjoy it how I see fit. If you guys’ idea of relaxing is going on an eight miles hike at five in the morning out in the snow, suit yourself. My idea of relaxing is getting a little sleep, so what, sue me.”

Before putting in your vacation dates with the base’s administration, Natasha had suggested that you all synchronize them, so that you could go somewhere together.

The idea had seemed exciting enough at the time.

It was Bradley who had suggested to go somewhere cold, to escape, if only for a moment, the grueling heat of California. Everyone had eagerly agreed. Settling on a place in the mountains came as an evidence, you had a privileged access to the beach twenty four seven, and the need to see something else than sand and water could be felt simmering along everyone in the squad.

Bob was the one who had suggested Vermont, of all places, to settle down for a week of vacation. Quickly after that, flights were booked, as well as a beautiful little cabin perched up in the snowy mountains of the state. To find something somehow affordable, you had to settle on a cabin with only three rooms… for all eight of you. Since you all bunked enough on deployment, it was a fight to the death to get to have the only single room.

A fight through a tournament of rock, paper, scissors. One you had won by a landslide, mostly due to your squad mates’ inability to change the pattern in which they played the signs, but you were certainly not complaining. This trip was simply the best, exactly what you had needed to unwind. That was… up until now.

When three days into the trip the squad had decided that you would climb up the mountain near the cabin to go see the sunrise from the summit. A fantastic idea you had thought, until you had realised at what time you’d have to wake up. Which all led to the whole squad, already suited up in puffer jackets and snow boots while you were still cuddled up in bed.

“Actually, we don’t even know if it’ll be eight miles, we haven’t decided which trail we’re gonna use.” Bradley said, coming up behind Natasha to pear at you.

“Thanks for the info, Bradley, there was already no chance I was getting up before but this just sealed it. I mean, what kind of organization is this ? Cyclone would whoop your asses if he were here,” you said before putting on a perfect imitation of your superior, “this is not professional of you, you are naval aviators, top guns graduate, the best of the best, we expect better from you.”

You heard Mickey’s laugh from the hallway before you saw him pop up in your doorway, “I love when you do that.”

Reuben was quick to join, along with Bob and Javy. It was beginning to feel like a mission brief in the entrance of your room.

“Come on, Y/N.” Reuben pleaded, “we’ll have tons of fun and it’s gonna be beautiful up there, plus, you promised last night you’d come.”

You frowned, “did I ?”

“Yes.” All your friends affirmed in unison.

A beat.

“Well obviously that was a lie.” You deadpanned at them before fluffing out your pillow and lying back down, “enjoy the hike, and close the door on your way out, please.”

Before any of them could protest, heavy footsteps echoed in the stairway.

“What the fuck are you all doing, you having a meeting in there ? We’re gonna miss the sunrise.”

The sound of Jake’s drawl made you bury yourself deeper under the covers. This was absolutely not what you needed right now.

“Y/N doesn’t want to come,” Bob replied.

You heard Jake let out a snicker, “of course she doesn’t.“

“Bradley, which trail did you say we’re gonna use again ?” Javy asked.

“Oh I don’t know yet.”

You swear you almost heard the sound of Jake’s head whiplashing to look at Bradley.

“You don’t know ? We’re leaving in thirty minutes tops, how the fuck did you make it in the military with that organization ?”

Barely containing a laugh you suppressed it in your pillow at the last minute.

“Alright,” Jake clapped his hands, obviously about to take control like he, so often, loved to do, “everyone go back downstairs, pack your bags, chicken,” he pointed to Bradley, “choose a damn trail, I’ll be down with sleeping beauty in twenty minutes. Be ready by then.”

If your eyes weren’t scrunched shut you would have seen Bradley putting his middle finger right in Jake’s face, who was only harboring a smirk and even winked at him.

Natasha was squinting dubiously at Jake, “what do you even think you’ll be able to do to make her come that we couldn’t ?”

Jake‘s smirk only widened at Natasha’s choice of words, “oh you know, I have my techniques.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you could feel the hair on your neck stand up.

“Alright everyone get out now,” Jake practically pushed them out when they only stared at him dubiously, “and I mean it,” he called out as they were going down the stairs, “I want everyone in front of the door and ready to leave in twenty minutes !”

The sound of the door closing made your heart race in your chest and each step that Jake took towards your bed wasn’t helping.

You felt the mattress dip slightly where he sat next to your lying body and you forced yourself to sound as exasperated and firm as possible, “get out.”

Jake’s hand reached out on your cover covered waist, rubbing lightly. And the simple weight of it, even through thick layers, was enough to have you flush under the cover.

“You don’t mean that,” he almost cooed.

Finally looking up at Jake, the sight of him made you pause for a second, the harsh retort you had ready and loaded dying on your tongue.

If there was one thing you’d reproach to this beautiful cabin, it would be was the lack of effective blinds in your room. The only thing supposedly holding off the light from drowning your room in unwanted sunlight in the morning was a very, very thin beige curtain, which was approximately as useful as Jake when it came to being a supportive wingman in dogfight training.

But that’s not something you were going to complain about now, not when it was letting the moonlight grace Jake’s features in a way that made him look so angelic, making his green eyes full of mischief pop out even more than usual.

Fuck, was he hot.

“I do mean it,” was the only thing you were able to say, tone very much not conveying the authority you had meant it to.

Humming, his gaze quickly flicked to your lips before returning to your eyes, the small smile never leaving his lips, and you wished you could say that your stomach flipped out of repulsion and not… something else entirely.

A beat of silence passed then and it was enough to almost make you squirm under his prying gaze.

“If I eat you out, do you promise to get up ?”

Your eyes almost bulged out of your eyes.

“What ?!”

Jake let out a chuckle at your outburst, “oh please, don’t be so shocked, I thought we were past that now.”

He seemed to be, but you sure weren’t.

It was no secret that you and Jake didn’t always get along, it was basically public knowledge, even the higher ups knew it. To be fair, it was pretty hard to miss when the both of you would engage in your weekly screaming match in the middle of the tarmac.

He just seemed to have a special talent to drive you up the wall, he made you so angry it was sometimes hard to deal with the fury burning up in your stomach. Natasha liked to joke that this whole rivalry and hating game between the two would disappear with a simple, good heated hook up, to blow off the steam between the two of you.

And in a way, she had been right. Except that you hadn’t stop at one.

You wouldn’t even be able to explain how it happened the first time, it was kind of a blur. All you could remember was really how fucking good it was, and how much you hated that it had been. The regret after had been almost soul crushing… But, on second thought, it must hadn’t been that bad because it didn’t stop from you from doing it again, and again… and again.

Jake was like an addiction, no matter how much you wanted to quit him, he made it impossible to.

And after a while, you just accepted it, stopped beating up yourself for it. He made you feel fine, good, great.

Fuck that, he made you feel things you didn’t even know you were capable of feeling.

After that it had become an implicit agreement that since the only place you seemed to cooperate in was the bedroom, why not just enjoy it ?

And you did consummate your arrangement pretty regularly, so you guessed it was hypocritical for you to act so offended by Jake’s proposition. But if you had accepted the situation as it was, it didn’t stop you from putting up a bit of a fight from time to time, if only to hold on to some of your dignity.

Getting over your initial shock, his casualness over all this still unsettled you a little, but you guessed it was to be expected for a guy like Jake. You wondered if there was anything in this world that he considered to be a big deal.

Now that you were sitting up, his hand had gone down to your calf, gently rubbing it over the covers.

“So, what do you say ?” He inquired, voice having naturally dropped an octave.

A shiver ran through your spine at his tone and you just prayed to God it wasn’t visible. If you were honest with yourself, wetness had began pooling in your pajama pants as soon as he had closed the door behind him.

Feeling your cheeks heat up you averted your eyes from his for a second, if only to get a breather from his intense jade eyes.

“Twenty minutes to make me cum is a bit of a long time, don’t you think ?” You provoked, voice coming out a bit breathier than you intended, “thought you were better than that.”

When your eyes flicked back to him, his smirk had gone from cocky to downright predatory. Jake leaned in, catching your lips in a strangely sweet kiss given the situation. The way his lips moved against yours was enough to send butterflies in your stomach swarming around endlessly. And you almost chased him when he pulled apart, his lips made a descent down your neck. Leaving open mouthed kiss on the thin skin, the heat coming from his mouth made your thighs squeeze together. God, it was almost embarrassing how easy you were for him.

“You know I only need five,” he whispered into your neck, his tongue darting out to lick a stripe of skin up to your jaw, “the other fifteen minutes are for you to get ready.”

Taking a deep breath, you desperately tried to not sound like you were already on the edge of begging, “you better get to it then.”

You watched with a racing heart as Jake made his way down your body, keeping his intense stare right on you. He lifted the covers, revealing your lower body and gently stripped down your pajama pants. Feeling a deep flush rush to your face at witnessing Jake’s pupils dilate so much upon landing on your already glistening folds, you almost closed off your legs.

No matter how much time you did this with him, it always felt a bit embarrassing at first, at least for you. Jake didn’t seem to mind one bit. He never did.

An appreciative sound resonated low in his throat, “you’re already dripping, sweetheart,” he said, and the sheer tone of his voice was enough to make you clench around nothing, “was this your intention all along, act all stubborn so I would come in here and eat your pretty little pussy to give you some motivation ?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you tried to scoff but it turned into a gasp when Jake placed a kiss right on top of your clit, “I was having a great dream before you all came barging in here, bugging me about some stupid hike.”

He raised a brow, staring up at you, “a dream, huh ? Was I in it ?” He asked in a grin.

“No.”

Yes, and he was very much doing what he was about to do now.

He only hummed in a smirk, his eyes returning to the task at hand. He lapped up a big stripe from your hole up to the very top of your clit, his thumbs were keeping you open for him, allowing his tongue to explore every surface of your arousal swollen pussy.

“Fuck, you taste like heaven right now,” he groaned right against your entrance, tongue dipping in slightly, making you moan loudly and immediately slap a hand over your mouth.

Jake only chuckled soflty, quickly returning to lap up and kiss at your clit. Your hips had instinctively began to grind into his mouth. Your eyes nearly rolled all the way back to your head when his tongue began flicking the underside of your clit, and you had to bite your hand to muffle the desperate whine piling up in your throat.

“Jake, fuck—“ you choked on a moan when he did it again, “right there, stay right here— oh my god,” your hands flew to his blonde hair, intent on keeping him right where he was.

“I know,” he cooed against your twitching bundle of nerves, “you have such a sensitive clit, baby,” he gave it a gentle suck, making your hips buck right into him, “can feel it twitching in my mouth.”

Letting out a drawn out moan at his actions and words, you pulled on his hair slightly, “don’t be— ah fuck, don’t be weird.”

“That’s not a very smart move,” he commented, looking up from your glistening folds, a smirk pulling at his lips when he noticed the frown of your brows, confusion slipping through the pleasure, “there’s no use in lying, darlin’. Your sweet pussy is more honest than you are, I can feel you clenching around nothing.”

And as if your own body decided to betray you, your core desperately clenched again at his words. Whining, you tried to close your legs around his head out of embarrassment.

But Jake’s hold on your thighs kept them firmly opened up for him, “huh huh, none of that.” He warned, his teeth playfully grazing the hood of your clit, making you yelp.

“What do you even get out of this ?” You asked in a quick breath, prompted up on your elbows and forcing your eyes to stay open and focused on him.

His tongue stopped the kitten kicks it was inflicting on your clit for a second, he looked up at you, something like indignation flashing in his eyes.

“That’s a stupid question and you know it,” he remarked, collecting the slick that had accumulated between your inner lips, “I get to worship this gorgeous pussy of yours, taste you… fuck look at her, she’s dripping for me.” He watched, almost mesmerized as a string of slick was slowly getting pushed out of your cunt, and you wished you could pretend that the way he was referring to your pussy as if it were a whole person wasn’t making pleasure flash hot in your lower stomach, “already swollen from just a few licks,” Jake marveled, “doesn’t take you much, huh, sweetheart ?”

Your head had long since thrown back against your pillow, a mix of wanton moans and whines were interjecting your labored breaths. The effort to try and be quiet long forgotten.

“Stop— Ngh, shit, stop narrating everything.”

Jake’s tongue circled your clit, as if grazing every single nerve of the sensitive pearl with his mouth.

“Why would I ? She clearly loves it,” he pointed out, voice heavy with lust as his thumbs opened you up more, watching with an obvious hunger the way your inner walls were fluttering around nothing.

Growing closer and closer to your high, you started to become more and more desperate, legs shaking and squirming in Jake’s hold.

“Jake, just—“ a moan interrupted you when he licked into your hole, “ah— just make me cum.”

Looking up you, he stopped everything, his lips left your puffy folds to stretch out into a smirk.

When he made absolutely no move to dive back into your burning core, you let out a pathetic whine, hips instinctually bucking into his face.

“Jake…” you groaned, frustration bubbling low in your stomach alongside the remains of the pleasure he was providing you only seconds before.

“Come on,” he coaxed, voice husky, almost purring, “we both know you can beg better than that.”

You would never be caught admitting this out loud but the way he spoke to you was enough to build you back up towards the edge.

“Looks like she knows it too,” he hummed low in his throat, appreciatively eyeing your pussy pushing out another string of slick arousal.

Moaning out of sheer desperation and frustration, you swallowed back your pride. The need to cum was making the urge to fight him at every turn slowly dissolve, overtaken by the overwhelming desire to feel him on you.

“Jake,” you whined, looking down at him between your legs, a deep flush taking over your neck and face, “could you make me cum, please ? I… I need it really, really bad, please make me feel good ?”

“Good girl,” he praised, his hands affectionately rubbing your inner thighs, “so sweet for me…” Jake immediately went back to suck on your twitching bud.

Feeling the white, hot pleasure spark again in your lower stomach made you arch and cry out in bliss.

“Shh, I know, baby, I know.” Jake shushed you softly, “try to quiet down a bit for me, mmh ? I’m gonna take good care of you, but just try not to alert the whole squad, okay ?”

Nodding quickly, you put up your hand over your mouth, trying to conceal every one of the desperate noise that were translating just how much Jake was unraveling you with simply his mouth.

“I know just what you need, sweetheart…” he whispered into your cunt.

His hands snaked their way up your body, slipping under your shirt. And through the hazy fog taking your brain hostage, an understanding of his plan shined through, and the prospect alone made you clench. With a shaky and almost frenetic hand, you pulled up the hem of your shirt, exposing your breasts to the slightly cold air of the room. Your nipples were already erect and perky, practically begging for Jake’s attention. And he wasted no time to indulge them.

“Jake— Jake, fuck… that feels amazing,” you moaned out when his big hands cupped your breast, squeezing them passionately.

The groan he let out sent delicious vibrations in your clit. It was like every little thing he did was purposely meant to make you lose your mind, and you didn’t know if you loved or hated the fact that he knew your body so well, knew you so well, that he was able to unravel you in just a few minutes.

“I know, you feel amazing too, sweetheart, feel fucking perfect.”

Jake’s fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, occasionally rubbing the perked up nubs, all the while his tongue never stopped its sweet torture. Flicking your clit, sucking on it, licking between your outer and inner lips, lapping up at your weeping hole…

Your moans were freely echoing in the room now, along with the lewd sound of Jake slurping you up. Growing more restless as you could feel the rubber band in your lower belly threatening to snap at any moment, your hips were squirming against his mouth, and from an external point of view it wasn’t very clear if you were chasing him or trying to get away from him. Feeling your frenetic desperation, Jake was quick to reassure you.

“Relax, baby,” he soothed, “focus on me, okay ? Just let yourself feel it, let go sweet girl…”

And all it took after that was a very gentle suck on your swollen clit for the coil in your lower belly to finally snap. A cry left your mouth as white hot pleasure locked your body into place. The hold you had in Jake’s hair tightened as your legs closed around his head, your chest rising in quick breaths as your pussy fluttered sporadically around nothing.

“That’s it, baby, just like that, make a mess… Jesus, look at you.” He groaned, almost reverently while staring at your convulsing form.

After the peak of your orgasm faded, fatigue seeped into your bones as you tried to catch your breath, and the way Jake’s hands were raking all over your satisfied body was not helping.

“You did so well, sweetheart. Shit, I wished we had time to fuck.”

“We could, we could just stay here,” you immediately said, the idea of staying in bed while Jake thoroughly took care of your body was much more appealing than going on that stupid hike, “we’ll find an excuse.”

“Sorry,” he grimaced, not apologetic at all, “we made a deal, remember ?”

You pouted, “you’re no fun.”

He chuckled, all warm and affectionate and you were scared to admit it maybe made your stomach flipped harder than when he was avidly lapping you up just seconds before. His hand came up to cup your cheek, he leaned and left the most gentle of kisses on your cheek.

“I did also wanted you to come on the hike, that’s the second thing I get out of this. The sunrise is gonna be beautiful, don’t want you to miss it.”

That stunned you for a moment, but Jake didn’t give you the time to answer.

“How about I properly take care of you when we come back, hm ?”

Your heart did something weird in your chest, and all you could do was nod.

“Yeah,” your voice came out way too breathy for your liking, you cleared your throat, “yeah, let’s do that.”

Jake smiled brightly at you, stealing one last kiss, smearing a bit of your own arousal on your lips in the process.

“Alright, get your pretty little ass up darlin’ and get ready.”

When you finally came downstairs after the exact twenty minutes that Jake had announced, the whole squad was by the door, all eyeing you with a weird mix of disgust and fascination.

But it was Natasha who spoke up first.

“Oh you two are fucking disgusting !”

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Author’s note : unfortunately I need him so bad.

This has been on my mind for a long time, I’m weak for the rivals with benefits dynamic, I hope you liked it !💞

Also, will I one day be able to write something that’s straight to the point without 1k words of useless squad banter ? No, I don’t think I will.

Beautiful colors of pink and violet were painting the sky, the sun beginning his descent towards the western aerosphere. It had shined brightly throughout the entirety of the squad’s monthly beach day, bathing your skin in warmth and golden light.

“For fuck’s sake, Javy ! You guys can shoot down a target from two hundred feet while flying at Mach one but you can’t aim a volleyball for shit !” You snapped, dusting the thousands of grains of sands from your book and towel.

Next to you Natasha was hiding a laugh behind her own book.

Pointing a finger at her, you warned, “don’t you dare laugh at me, Nat.” You got up to brush off more sand off your legs, “that’s why I hate going to the beach with them, there’s nothing less relaxing on this earth,” you mumbled out, a frown making the lines on your forehead prominent.

“My bad, Lightning !” Jake called out, his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound, though his tone was very much not apologetic, and the smirk stretching his lips only fueled the irritation simmering under your skin.

Glaring at him, you debated for a second on yelling back a piece of your mind, indulge into this game he seemed to initiate anytime he could. Riling you up, provoking you and then simply grinning like an idiot when you eventually ended up taking the bait.

But for once, you decided to be the bigger person. So you settled on raising your middle finger high enough that he could very much identify what lovely sign you were throwing his way.

“I love you too, darlin’ !” He yelled back.

You rolled your eyes so hard you feared for a moment that they’d get permanently stuck.

“Careful, you’re blushing,” Natasha snickered, still lying next to you.

Scoffing you flipped her off as well, “which side are you on ?”

“The side of love, darlin’.” She smiled in a perfect imitation of Jake’s Texan drawl.

You couldn’t have contained the laugh that broke out of you even if you tried, “shit, you actually sound just like him.”

“I know,” she cooed, obviously proud of her trick, “is it turning you on ?” She inquired, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

A shocked laugh escaped you, “Geez Nat—“

“OH MY GOD WHAT TIME IS IT ?” Javy’s sudden gasp made you both jump as he came running towards you, where all of the squad’s stuff was and he started abruptly digging through his bag.

“It’s seven.” Bob supplied after a quick look to his watch.

“I was supposed to meet my mom for dinner fifteen minutes ago,” he explained, panicked as he was hastily grabbing all his stuff and throwing it carelessly in his bag. “Jake, can you drive me ?”

Usually, you carpooled to avoid bringing everyone’s car and having to park too far away if the beach was busy that day.

“Let me think about it…” Jake walked over, deliberately slow, pretending to think it over.

Javy groaned, not in the mood to entertain his friend’s antics, “come on, man.”

Jake sped up a bit, raising his arms in mock defense, “alright, alright, don’t throw a fit mama’s boy. I’ll drive you.”

As he was gathering his own stuff, you suddenly saw him frown, and then frantically look around. Lifting his towel, emptying his bag only to pack it again, passing his hands in the sand in visible hope of stumbling upon something…

You were about to throw in a witty remark when you noticed something missing on his wrist.

His watch.

His father’s watch.

In its place was now a tanning line. A ribbon of whiter skin surrounded by his Californian and natural Texan tan.

It didn’t take a genius, nor being Jake’s best friend to know how precious that watch was to him, or to guess that it might have been one of the last few things left from his dad.

He wore it at all times. There weren’t much occasion you had seen him without it ever since you’d met him. It had stayed securely around his wrist all throughout Naval Academy, and then had stayed through every one of his deployment until he got permanently assigned in San Diego. During every flight, every mission, every exam even, every casual outing… You could always see the watch rest proudly on his cuff. Perhaps it was the only thing about him Jake didn’t feel the need to flex, a quiet legacy he carried around with him, feeling the weight of it in his every move, every decision.

The only times he ever took it off was during underwater training and at the beach if he went for a swim. Surely a watch like that was waterproof and even capable of descending a few feet deep, but the fact that Jake was unwilling to bring it with him in an environment it was specifically designed to survive in, was only another proof of its value to him.

He never talked about it. Never ever voiced the words ‘my dad’ out loud, but everyone knew. You knew.

Javy was ready to go, packed bag at his feet as he hastily threw in a t-shirt over his head, “Jake ? Are you good to go ?”

Jake froze for a moment. It was rare to see him display anything other than sheer haughtiness. And it weirdly tugged at your heartstrings to see him look so lost for an instant.

You were about to help him look for his watch — sure you hated him, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel empathy for him losing something so precious to him, when—

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He said a bit absentmindedly, his eyes still frantically looking around as he stuffed, slightly violently, all his stuff in his backpack.

He quickly got up, threw the bag over his shoulder as Javy was waving everyone goodbye and starting to make a run for Jake’s truck.

You watched Jake with a shock you hoped wasn’t too visible. Yes, he was the emotionally constipated type, never one to speak about feelings or do so much as even mention or acknowledge them, but surely when he was about to lose, perhaps forever, the one thing that probably meant more to him than the whole world, he would say something, express himself, let it out.

And you knew that if he’d speak up right now, the whole squad would stop everything and help him look for it. Javy would run right back on the warm sand and rampage through the entire beach if he had to.

Surely, he had to know that the squad wouldn’t see him as weak over getting a little panicked upon losing the one item he held so dearly in his heart ?

But you watched, stunned, and for some reason with a weight pressing down on your chest, as Jake looked one last time at the beach, eyes boring into the sand as if the distance would give him some perspective and help him spot the watch in a nanosecond.

“See you on Monday,” he threw to everyone over his shoulder, soundly halfhearted as he turned around and began to walk towards his truck, joining Javy.

The image stuck with you for some reason. it was like seeing him willingly abandon a piece of himself behind, and for what ? Just so he could hold on to his ‘feelings make you weak’ Hangman persona ?

If you had been closer to him, and in any place at all to call him out on this, you would have screamed at him. Yanked him back by the collar and prohibited anyone to leave this beach until the watch wasn’t back on its rightful place, on Jake’s wrist.

“I think I’m gonna head out as well,” Reuben spoke up, “does anyone want me to drop them home ?”

“Me please,” cheered Mickey, dusting some sands off his chest.

“Yes, please. Thanks Reuben,” Bob smiled, gathering his things.

“I’ll ride with Y/N, we’re gonna head back as well, right ?” Natasha turned to you.

If you had been able to say anything other than insults and provocative remarks, you would have reassured him.

If you had been able to consider yourself his friend, you would have helped him look for it.

“Y/N ?”

But you were capable of none nor were you any of those things.

And still—

“Actually I’m gonna stay a bit longer,” you blurted out without really thinking about it.

“You sure ?” Natasha questioned, skeptical.

“Yeah, the sunset is beautiful, it’s still warm and my book is getting really good, I’ll stay for a bit.” You assured, as if trying to convince yourself more than Natasha.

“Alright,” she conceded, still eyeing you a bit suspiciously, “be careful, you text me when you get home and don’t forget that Penny’s right next door if you have any problem,” she pointed to the Hard Deck which was facing the beach.

“Yes mom,” you chuckled as she playfully rolled her eyes at you.

As Reuben’s car drove away, you stood there for a moment. Watching the waves crash on the beach, the soothing sound of it blending with the distant echo of music coming from the Hard Deck. This beach wasn’t an especially popular one, and you marveled for a second at being the only person standing there.

Why had you stayed ?

You kinda had blurted it out without any real thoughts of what you would actually do once left alone.

Because you hadn’t stayed for the sunset or your book, in fact, the book was getting a bit boring if you were honest.

Jake’s expression when being met with the realization he’d lost his watch suddenly flashed into your mind and it made your heart clench. And perhaps it was what prompted you to start digging in the sand where his towel had previously been lying.

“I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” you muttered to yourself while rummaging through the sand, the watch couldn’t be far… right ?

You didn’t even notice when the warm light of the sunset got subsided by the sharp, white one of the moon.

The spot where the squad had previously established its camp was empty. You didn’t find anything apart from a few seashells and a colony of small crabs that you had probably woken up from their slumber.

You probably should have gone home. The watch obviously wasn’t there. But then your gaze drifted out towards the ocean… the guys usually played volleyball closer to the water, perhaps Jake had lost the watch around there ?

The cold breeze coming from the ocean had started to pick up as you searched the grounds of what was previously the volleyball court.

And when you didn’t find anything there, you moved on to other parts of the beach, trying to remember and retrace the entirety of Jake’s steps during the day. Your knees were aching from being constantly on them, hands pruned from the wet sand you’d been digging up, nails completely darkened by the grains. Your phone was slowly dying, using all its battery to shine inside the holes you were digging up, desperate to see a flash of silver. And it was cold, so, so cold. The wind was getting stronger, making you clutch your hoodie tighter around yourself.

The moon had well settled into the sky now, an indicator of just how much time you’d spent there.

You had wanted to give up, oh so many times. But everytime you had wanted to get up and leave, an image of Jake’s face would flash back into your mind. The way he had looked back at the beach, like he was saying goodbye to his dad a second time. And every time, without fail, your brain had conjured images of him getting home, and calling his mom back in Texas, telling her about how he had lost the watch and the image was just too painful for you, enough to bring unwanted and in your opinion, unjustified, tears to your eyes if you thought about it too much.

Anyone could have argued you were being overly dramatic over a guy who you proclaimed your hatred towards from the rooftops. And you would have agreed. But you wouldn’t leave this beach until the watch was secured in your hands.

You were on your hands and knees, near shore where the water was gently lapping up at the sand, bringing new things and taking away some when—

“Y/N ! Is that you ?”

Penny’s voice from the front of the beach made you jumped.

“Jesus Christ, Penny !” You exclaimed, a hand over your racing heart, “you scared the shit out of me !”

Jogging up lightly to meet her, you saw her frown when she took in the state of you, her worried face illuminated by the Hard Deck’s sign.

“What are you doing out there, sweetheart ?” She asked softly, and you could perceive the same tone in her voice she’d use with Amelia sometimes, no doubt that her maternal instinct were kicking in, seeing you all alone, covered in sand and digging up holes in the dark.

“Oh I was— I lost my bracelet earlier, you know we had our beach day with the squad ? Yeah, so the bracelet means a lot to me and I— I couldn’t leave without it.”

You pestered Jake for being emotionally constipated but you couldn’t even admit to Penny, of all people, sweetest woman alive who’d never judge you, that you were doing this solely for him.

“I see,” she said, an empathetic smile pulling at her lips, “I’ll help you.”

“No don’t worry Penny, it’s alright, promise. I’m all good.”

Was there a sick part of you that wanted to be the one to find Jake’s watch ? Maybe, you would deny all of it thought.

“At least I’ll wait for you, I just closed the bar.”

“Don’t worry,” you repeated with the sweetest smile you could mutter out at the moment, “I won’t stay much longer anyway.”

“You sure ?”

“I am, thank you though that’s really nice of you.”

“Could you at least activate your location please ? And also text me when you get home, okay ?”

Saluting her you let out a chuckle, “I will, Penny. Promise.”

“Alright.” She conceded, bregrundly.

She knew this beach was safe, otherwise she would have never left you alone. You parted with a warm hug and watched her drive away, similar to how you’d watched your friends leave a few hours ago now… God, had it been really that much time ?

You were beginning to lose hope, Jake’s watch seemed to have truly vanished, and you tried to ignore the heavy feeling sitting on your chest that came along with this conclusion. Telling yourself to check towards the west side of the beach before leaving, though you knew it was useless, you couldn’t really recall Jake going there, you still crouched, and began to dig, again…

Phone flash blasting in the dark, the light reflected on something then…. Silver !

“Oh my god !”

You rubbed your eyes to make sure the sight in front of you was real and not the fatigue making you hallucinate. But it was real, the small silver circle was still there.

“Oh my god !” You exclaimed again in a laugh, immediately digging in.

And sure enough, the watch was there. Covered in sand, but there. You carefully inspected it for damage, but other than the general dirt, it seemed fine.

Turning the watch over, your eyes caught something. The initials of who you could only guess was his father were delicately engraved in the metal, G.S. Before you could even think about it, your thumb passed, almost tenderly over the gravure.

A small, disbelieving laugh escaped you again, and it was incredibly chocked up. You didn’t even notice you’d been tearing up until you felt something wet roll down your cheeks.

Quickly you wiped the tears off, a feeling of embarrassment creeping up your neck even though you were the sole person standing on this beach, moonlight illuminating your figure.

Forcing your emotions to settle down, it was only a watch for Christ’s Sake, you practically ran all the way back to your car. It felt as if your whole body was buzzing, and you couldn’t explain this weird feeling of excitement and… was it fulfillment ?

A genuine giddiness was coursing through your veins as you drove home, you couldn’t wait for Jake to have his watch again. See him settle, knowing his father’s legacy was in him, like it’s always been and always would be, but the physical representation of it, back on his wrist. The comforting weight of it bringing meaning to every one of his moves.

The excitement kept you awake once you were home, so you took the time to carefully clean the watch. You physically couldn’t give it back to him like that. And soon enough, once you were sure that there was not even the tiniest grain of sand left in any notches, only then, did sleep finally caught up to you.

The sun wasn’t even up yet when you made your way to base the next morning. You had decided that you would just leave the watch in his locker, he didn’t need to know who found it, and maybe he wouldn’t be too happy to see you holding his father’s watch, considering you hated each other…. Right ? At least that’s what you told yourself.

Arriving in front of his locker, you opened his numbered lock, honestly who was stupid enough to put in their birthday as a password ?

But then, anyone could argue that it was weird you knew his birthday, as someone who hated him so much.

Refusing to give this any more thought, you neatly placed the watch in his locker, on a little rag. You made sure one last time that it was perfectly clean, made sure it was not askew, made the sure the rag wasn’t wrinkled…. And for a moment it felt as if you were stalling.

“My god, I need to get a grip,” you mumbled to yourself, finally closing the locker door, a bit more forcefully than you had intended.

“I’m telling you, my mom is obsessed with getting me in a relationship !” Javy complained to Jake on their way to the locker room, “last night she just kept showing me pictures of her friends’ daughters and being like ‘you two would make an adorable couple’ like, oh my god, can’t a man go at his own pace ?”

Jake only hummed, not exactly in the mood to discuss Javy’s mom self proclaimed matrimonial agency.

Each of his step was heavy. Heavy with the lack of sleep and the mass pressing down on his chest. The missing weight on his wrist made him feel strangely stripped bare, like a piece of himself was missing, left where he had abandoned it on the beach the night before.

When Jake had gotten home after dropping Javy off, he had cursed himself. He couldn’t believe he had actually walked away, without even taking the time to look for the watch, no he had just left.

He had to refrain back tears when his mom had called him that night, asking him about his day, and he hadn’t had the courage to tell her what had happened, consumed by sorrow and shame. He felt pathetic. He spent that entire night sulking, thinking about how ashamed his father would be if he saw him like that. It felt like letting him down.

“Like she doesn’t get that I don’t want to settle down, I mean not yet anyway—“

“Yeah, tell her you want to keep bringing girls home from the Hard Deck every weekend for a little while longer, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear it.” Jake finally answered Javy’s rant, trying to give his remark its usual wit.

“You fucking jerk, you’re supposed to be on my side !” Javy whined, opening up his locker.

Jake was abort to retort something but the words died on the tip of his tongue when he opened his own locker.

He froze.

He was met with his watch. Neatly placed on a small rag, looking as new as the day he had received it from his dad, just a few days before losing his battle against cancer.

His heart skipped a beat in his chest. How ?

Jake stayed there for what felt like an eternity to him, but was only a few mere seconds, just staring at the watch. He could faintly hear Javy next to him still talking, now rambling about how his mother compared him to his cousin or whatever, but the sound of his voice was drawn out, an echo in Jake’s ears.

With shaky hands, he gently grabbed the watch and immediately turned it over, eyes fixed on his father’s initials that he traced with a tender pass of his thumb, and his heart clenched, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of emotion.

He had no idea how the watch had gotten there, and perhaps it should have worried him a bit more — whoever this was had cracked the impossible code of his locker for Goodness’s sake ! — but he chose to pay it no mind.

Now Jake wasn’t superstitious or a believer of any kind, far from it, actually. But in this moment, he chose to believe that whatever, whoever had found his watch and brought it back to him, had somehow been missioned by his father, who had probably been very upset about his son being so careless with the precious time teller.

Jake knew it was stupid, truly. His father, from the beyond, somehow orchestrating a whole plan to find the watch left on the beach and leave it in his locker on base, was a stupid theory. But the thought of it made a warmth spread out in his chest and his eyes sting slightly. So he decided that for once, he would let himself believe in a little stupidity.

This weird mix of euphoria and serenity hadn’t left him the entire week. He felt good, more confident now that the watch was back on his wrist. And he would sometimes just stare at it for a few moments, in amazement and incredible gratefulness for having been given a second chance, that’s how he saw it. And he would honor his father in every action he took while securely wearing the watch.

He had found a new vigor, a new desire to win, one that made him better, he thought. Though the squad would probably argue it just made him more insufferable.

So that’s with a pumped up step that Jake walked into the Hard Deck that week end, closely followed by everyone.

“Alright, what do you guys want ?” He cheered, still in an exceptionally good mood.

The squad all gave him their orders before going to find some seats, you merely grumbled a ‘nothing that comes from you’ and somehow, Jake understood it meant a virgin mojito.

He made his way to the bar, patiently waiting for Penny to finish off her conversation with a customer.

“Hey, sailor !” She greeted with a smile when she saw him, “what can I get you and the squad ?”

After he told her, she started to prepare the drinks on front of him, making small talk, asking about training, how life was on base when—

“Oh by the way,” she seemed to remember, momentarily stopping the making of your virgin mojito to look at Jake, “do you know if Y/N found her bracelet ?”

Jake frowned, confused.

“Um, I don’t know. I didn’t know she had lost a bracelet,” he said, head turning slightly to look for you in the crowd and he suddenly frowned more, looking back at Penny, “in fact, I didn’t even know she wore bracelets, her wrists are usually bare.”

“Oh, because I saw her last week, after your guy’s beach day. I closed the bar a little earlier than usual because it was pretty quiet, and she was there, digging in the sand, looking for her bracelet. I proposed to help her but she said she was fine. It was quite late though, so it really must have mean a lot to her, that’s why I was wondering if she’d found it. But I’ll ask her myself later then, thanks Jake.”

Penny’s words had the effect of a sledgehammer hitting Jake right in the chest. The realisation dawned on him and he froze for a moment, not sure what to do with the newfound piece of information.

“You okay ?” Penny asked him, his shock seemingly visible on his features.

Her voice got him out of his trance.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good, thank you for the drinks Penny, talk to you later !”

He made a beeline for the spot the squad had settled in, their usual one, next to one the pool tables. He absentmindedly handed the drinks to everyone, keeping your virgin mojito in his hands and making his way over to you. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that it was borderline painful. It seemed as though his vision had zeroed in on you, only you. Images of you on the beach at night, cold, alone, tired but still looking for his watch flashed into his mind and he felt a knot get caught up in his throat.

He barely heard the ‘thank you’s’ the squad threw him.

Leaning over some of the high tables near the windows, you were watching Mickey, Reuben and Bob engage in a heated game of pool.

“No Mickey it’s still my turn,” you watched with a smile as Reuben interjected his friend, “you sinked the cue ball so I get to shoot twice, gosh you’d think that you’d know the rules after playing literally every week end !”

You snorted, amused by their banter. And out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake walking towards you. Expression unreadable but his step visibly determined.

Arriving in front of you, he practically shoved the drink in your hand.

“I told you I didn’t want anything,” you said, monotonously, nonetheless still grabbing the glass.

Any excuse was good enough to start a fight with him.

You turned your gaze back to the pool game unfolding in front of you, but when the quick wit you were expecting from him never came, you turned back to him, frowning.

His jade green eyes were trained on you. Chest rising up quickly, like he’d ran a marathon before coming here. You didn’t think you had ever seen him so… moved.

“You good ?” You asked, letting your tone convey the tiniest bit of concern.

Jake took a shaky breath, “why didn’t you tell me ?”

The hand that was bringing the glass to your lips froze halfway through.

“Tell you what ?”

“My watch.” Was all he said, eyes still boring into yours, seemingly looking for answers you were absolutely not intent on giving.

Your eyes quickly flicked to the leather band sitting proudly on his wrist.

You had noticed it all week, how it was right back on shining on his cuff. How Jake had seemed to smile even more cockily than before, brighter. And you hadn’t been able to ignore the weird, warmth feeling spreading in your chest every-time you had caught him eyeing his wrist with a flash of pride and cherish.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, forcing yourself to keep an annoyed tone as your eyes flicked back up to meet his.

“There’s no use in lying, I know it was you.” He said, voice firm and steady despite the whirlwind of emotions threatening to choke him up, “why ?”

You weren’t known to give up that easily.

“Jesus Seresin, I literally told you I have no idea what you’re talking about, go win at darts or something, leave me alone.”

Swallowing uncomfortably under his prying gaze, you silenced the tiny voice in your head that was telling you just how much similar to Jake you were in terms of showing feelings.

Facing your stubborn resolve in not telling him the truth, Jake let out a small, humorless laugh, “Y/N I just want to thank you properly, so please, for once, just let up.”

Let up. Stop fighting me for a second, was really what he was saying. And looking at him be willing to be honest and open for once did something to you.

“I did it because you looked all pathetic, okay ? And really, I didn’t want you sulking all day on base and mess up every training.” you finally conceded, tone annoyed despite the loud thumping of your heart in your chest, “besides it was just underneath where you had put down your towel, so really you could’ve found it if you had put a bit more effort into it. But I guess that it’s just another thing I’m better at than you, huh ?”

It was a complete lie. And both of you knew it.

Just the fact that you had been the only one to notice he had lost his watch told him everything he needed to know. And he knew from Penny that you had stayed well past midnight looking for it. To see you in front of him, knowing the length you had been to for him — despite what you were saying — made his heart do something inexplicable.

And Jake moved before he could think any more about it. He slightly bent down to wrap his arms around you, slipping under your own and hugging your middle, bringing you into his chest, chin resting on your shoulder, head touching yours.

All your muscles stiffened on instinct. The contact took you by surprise and you stayed frozen like that for a second, letting him hold you without reciprocating the touch.

He was warm, very warm. His arms were tightly wrapped around you, one draped across your shoulder blades and the other one across your waist. His body was firm against yours and for a moment, you almost thought you could feel the thumping of his heart against your chest. Your head was resting just shy of the crook of his neck, on his shoulder, and despite yourself, you caught a whiff of his smell, residue of jet fuel, his expensive cologne, the warmth of his skin and something so undeniably him it almost made your head spin.

“Thank you,” he whispered shakily, a small crack in his Hangman armor.

Those words and his tone felt like a detonator, hearing him sounding so small almost broke your heart. It only took a second after that for your arms to wrap around his neck. And as soon as your arms made contact, you felt his whole body relax and melt into you.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you whispered back, rubbing his back comfortingly.

He seemed so small in this moment and it pulled at your heartstrings to know he was letting you be the one to seem him like that.

“You don’t know how much this means to me.” He murmured into your neck.

Oh, but you did. That was the whole reason you had done it.

It seemed as thought the entire bar had gone quiet, leaving only Jake and you, wrapped up in each other. You had no idea how long you stayed like that. But you certainly weren’t complaining, your arms tightening around him was met with the same intensity from Jake.

But the sudden sharp sound of a glass hitting the floor and shattering in pieces took you both out of the peaceful and comfort trance the embrace had took you both in. And you both found yourselves pulling away, reluctantly.

You noticed the slight pink hue dusting Jake’s cheeks, and his green eyes were bright, almost glassed over, shining with unshed tears.

God knew that if you had the courage you would take him into another embrace right here and then, and not let him go until the first rays of sunshine peaked through the windows, or realistically, probably until Penny kicked you out.

But unable to succumb to your deepest desire, no matter how much you wanted to, you instead fell back into your old ways.

“Try not to lose it again, cause I won’t get it for you next time.” You warned, though your tone was missing its usual bite.

You would.

You would do it all over a hundred times if needed.

Jake let out a laugh, a bit choked up, but a genuine one nonetheless.

“I promise.” He said in a smile as bright as a thousand suns.

And you had a scary realization then.

That in fact, there was not a lot you wouldn’t do to see him smile like that again.

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author's note : I have had this fic idea for literally forever and I’m so happy I finally got down to write it.

I really wanted to kinda ‘dig deep’ into Jake’s character here, I hope it worked and that I was able to do him justice. He’s my baby I love him so much.💞

“You’re no fun Bradley,” Coyote mumbled.

“I’ll drink to that,” Jake agreed with his friend, making a mock cheers motion towards him with a beer he — somehow —already had open.

You rolled your eyes at his words, Hangman’s childish behavior was only fueling the irritation and oncoming exasperation you were already feeling bubbling up inside you, from merely standing on the burning sand.

“I don’t even know why I keep coming to these things,” you continued complaining to Natasha, needing to lament yourself at the prospect of the hellish afternoon you were about to willingly — only God knows why — put yourself through.

Natasha only chuckled and before she was able to retort anything, Jake’s voice resonated in your ears first.

“I have my theory Lightning, wanna hear it ?”

“No.”

“I think that the temptation of seeing my hot, sweaty and shirtless body absolutely destroy Bradshaw at volleyball is just too much for you to resist.” He laid out his explanation, cocky smirk firmly in place, shirt already nowhere to be seen as he took a sip of his beer.

Natasha’s eyes slightly widened at Jake’s bold choice of words. Her eyes flicked from him to you, awaiting your answer and not missing the way your nostrils slightly flared in irritation… or was it fluster ?

You scoffed, hoping it came across as indignation, rather than a pathetic attempt to hide how rather truthful his observation had been.

“Just shut the fuck up Hangman,” you hissed, “go splash around and leave us alone, will you ?”

He stayed silent for a beat, pride radiating from his features as a victorious grin stretched his lips. No doubt that your reaction gave him the answer he was looking for, he’d been bulls eye, as always.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he winked at you before making his way towards Reuben and Mickey who had started a swimming race.

Bradley, who was still busy unloading his Bronco — waist deep into the trunk, suddenly got out upon hearing Jake’s words.

“Hey no— come back here Hangman !” He yelled after the blond. He turned to you then, lifting his arms in incomprehension, “what the fuck Lightning ?”

You didn’t even dignify him with a response, too busy watching Jake’s back as he walked towards the ocean. Your eyes raked over his form. From the short hair at the top of his nape, giving way to his neck, meeting the muscles of his shoulders — expanding into his whole back. His waist, which narrowed a bit from the rest of his body — his hips, on which his bathing suit was sitting lowly, the curve of his ass—

The sound of Bradley clearing his throat next to you made you jump out of your trance. When you — regretfully — tore your eyes away from Jake to glare at Bradley, he was looking at you in a deadpan expression, one eyebrow raised.

“I’m not bothering, am I ?”

You heard Natasha snicker as she was now the one waist deep with Bob into the Bronco’s trunk, and you felt heat rising to your cheeks at being so blatantly caught ogling at your so called ‘arch nemesis’.

You cleared your throat, making your voice sound as normal as possible, “No, you’re not.” You smiled tightly at him, resuming the unloading of the car. “How many stuff did you bring anyway, Bradley ? Feels like you have enough things to camp here for a week.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt.

“I’m sorry, Lightning, I like to anticipate. You never know when you might need something.” He explained, “besides, someone’s gotta think about it. And we can’t count on you for that.” He muttered out his next words, “you’re way too busy staring at Hangman’s ass…”

“I’m sorry what was that, Bradshaw ?”

He smiled sweetly at you, “Nothing, Lightning, it was nothing.”

“Alright let’s just finish unpacking this damn car.” Natasha called out to both of you, “I wanna go in the water already.”

You four finally finished getting everything out and setting up a small space with parasols, the cooler and all of your towels. When you had finished setting the last towel down, Natasha was already halfway out of her t-shirt and shorts and already in her bathing suit, Bradley was doing the exact same thing as he ceremonially took off his t-shirt.

“You guys coming ?” Natasha asked Bob and you, as you were both sitting comfortably on your towels under one of the parasols.

“Not for now, maybe I’ll come in later.” Bob replied with a sweet smile, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“And I’m not going in at all, now or later.” You answered, aiming to smile as sweetly as your friend.

“Oh come on, you do this every time,” Natasha complained, “just come in ! Just for a quick swim, please !” She begged, joining her hands in a pleading motion as Bradley snickered next to her.

“Ain’t no way you are getting her near the water, Nat,” he said putting on his aviators.

“He’s right, I’m sorry Phee but you know it, there’s too many weird ass creatures in there for me to ever step foot near it.”

Natasha let out a defeated sigh, “it’s alright, I’ll just have to have tons of fun without you then.”

“Yeah you do that,” you chuckled, “please try to drown Hangman on my behalf.”

She saluted you before she started jogging towards where the rest of the group was with Bradley.

“Hey don’t forget to put on sunscreen !” Bob yelled after them as he was holding a tub of said sunscreen in his hand.

“Yes mom !” Bradley yelled back, even though they made absolutely no move to come back to get some.

You enjoyed the peace that came with their departure for the waves, only hearing the distant sounds of their voices and laughs as you could only make out the outline of their bodies as they were already so far out in the water.

“Since you don’t like going in the water, have you got any other plans for today ?” Bob asked you sweetly, as he was getting out a book from his backpack.

“Actually Bobby, yes I do,” you smiled back at him as you were getting out your own book from your bag.

Bob — as the sweet, curious and engaging man he was — looked at the cover of your book with interest. The cover was pretty simple, it was actually a pretty drawn picture of a beach, and it didn’t let anything on about what was happening inside the pages.

“Ohh what is it about ?”

You smirked, opening the book where your bookmark was, eyes skimming over the page before deciding to hand it to him.

“Just read this page, it pretty much sums up what the story is about, tell me what you think.”

You carefully eyed him as he was reading through the words. Gradually, you could see his eyes widen and his cheeks taking on an adorable pink hue. When he had read through the page entirely, he gave it back to you.

“Well,” he began, chuckling but obviously flustered, “that’s certainly something.”

“I know,” you grinned at him, delighted to see him so sheepish, “what is your book about Bobby ? Are there any naked men in yours ?”

He laughed as the pink on his cheeks deepened in a slightly darker shade of red, “There are not, it’s just a regular thriller.”

“Okay, enjoy your murder mystery.”

“And enjoy your orgy.” He winked at you, settling himself properly to read.

You laughed, surprised to hear the word coming out of his mouth, as you settled down yourself comfortably for a good read.

Two hours passed during which Bob and you cozily read your respective books next to one another. By now, the other squad members were out of the water, tired out by their endless races and splashing around. They had gone back to the sand and Reuben and Mickey had ran back to where you and Bob were laid out to grab the volleyball net. Even exhausted from swimming, a single “I could still beat you all right now” from Jake was enough for everyone to regain their energy instantly.

It was Mickey, Bradley and Phoenix against Jake, Reuben and Javy.

They were not too far from where you and Bob were settled, close enough that you could clearly see the game. And close enough so that you could ogle away at the — unfortunate, truly you hated having to admit it to yourself — object of your desires.

You looked up just a tiny bit from your book, just enough to gawk at Jake without making it obvious from his perspective.

He was still wet from his hours of swimming, drops of water cascading down his naked torso, disappearing beneath his swimming trunks. The way his muscles moved as he hit the ball, his thighs flexing as he ran up to the net to spike. And God that ass—

“You found someone more interesting than the naked men in your book ?” Bob mischievously asked, still laying next to you.

Must someone always interrupt you whenever you laid eyes on the best part of Jake’s body ?

Nonetheless, you were enjoying seeing this more playful side of Bob, even if it was at your expense.

“Well Bobby, sometimes I like myself a little reality instead of fiction,” you shot back, feeling comfortable enough to keep your eyes on Jake, even after Bob’s remark.

He just laughed, shaking his head fondly, “and you dare say that you hate him,” he sighed out with a smile.

“I do hate him, just not his God given attributes.” You countered, “I know when to admit Mother Nature did a good job.”

“Yeah, you tell yourself that.”

You just playfully smacked his arm before sliding your bookmark into your book, carefully setting it down on your towel.

“I’m going to dip my feet on the shore, it’s hot as hell here.” You announced as you were getting up.

“Mmmh,” Bob hummed, “is it really the sun or Jake’s half naked body getting you hot and bothered ?”

You looked back at him in slight, delighted shock at seeing him so openly teasing and playful. Your only response was to jokingly flip him off before walking towards the water. You were totally unable to do anything more than dipping your feet in the small waves that crashed on the sand. Everything that had to do with the ocean — while it was fascinating — freaked you out.

You walked past your squad mates, who were deeply immersed into their volleyball match, and didn’t see you walk up to shore.

Instant relief washed over you as soon as the wave hit your feet. While it was true that the heat of the blazing sun was getting unbearable, Bob was partially right. Your body temperature had significantly risen as you had taken the time to ogle at Jake — and the book you were reading before laying your eyes on him definitely did not help. So you welcomed the cooling sensation that came as the wave hit your feet, walking for a bit and taking the time to enjoy this moment. You hated the beach. But today hadn’t been so bad, you were able to get ahead in your book and gawk away at Jake in a way you weren’t able to do on base. So yeah, pretty good day so far.

And right as you were about to indulge yourself in some more Jake watching—

“OW FUCK !!”

Your scream of agony echoed on the beach as scorching, white-hot pain speared into your left foot. The pain was mind numbing and nearly made you fall over. A moment of clarity shined through the burning sensation and you looked down to where your foot had began to throb, and the sight made you jump back. You saw the stingray’s barb move in the water before the flat fish left and began to swim back towards the ocean. Blood had begun mixing with water where the barb had punctured the side of your foot.

Panic was seeping its way into your veins, mingling with the pain. Breath heavy with fright and excruciating suffering, you felt yourself start to fall backwards, unable to keep upright any longer. You prepared for the added hurt of the fall—

But instead of the blazing and hard sand, you felt two strong arms around your back.

You turned to see Jake’s face close to yours, green emerald eyes injected with worry and fear.

“Y/N what the fuck happened ?! Are you alright ??”

His voice was strained and breathy, like he had sprinted all the way over here. His eyes roamed over your body quickly, assessing if you were hurt, and finally his gaze found your left foot, that had already begun to swell and bruise, and which continued leaking blood.

Jake winced, cursing lowly under his breath as he gently set your head down on his lap. He took a beat to examine your foot from where he was.

By now the squad had gathered around you two.

“Bradley, call 911, Y/N was stung by a stingray.” Jake instructed, voice calm but firm.

You only heard Bradley running back to the towels to get his phone, you could also hear the others’ quiet and worried whispers, having shut your eyes to avoid looking at any of them. Even with the agonizing pain throbbing — not only in your foot now — but in your entire body, this felt humiliating.

“Shh, it’s okay sweetheart, I know it hurts,” Jake’s soothing voice came into your ears.

It’s only then that you realized that tears were freely running down your cheeks, your breathing was ragged, heavy with pain and you were letting out small, strained whimpers that were a testimony of the hell you were going through.

“Oh fuck,” you cursed in a mix of pain and embarrassment, still refusing to look at any of your squad mates, while furiously wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

Jake shushed you soothingly, one of his hand coming up to tenderly brush your hair back from your sweaty forehead.

“It’s okay Y/N, you’re okay I promise. I know it hurts right now but 911 will be here soon.” His voice was so gentle, and for a minute it pulled your mind away from the throbbing pain in your left foot.

You finally opened your eyes and turned back to him, squinting a bit to look up at him, and Jake immediately moved a few centimeters so his head was now shielding yours from the blinding light of the sun. His eyes were staring straight into yours, worry still swimming in them, along with a tenderness you were not used to see.

“Are you okay ?” He asked, voice impossibly soft and gentle.

It made your heart skip a beat, and the realization that he was still lovingly brushing your hair back did not help. To avoid blurting out anything stupid — though if you did, you’d at least be able to blame it on the pain later — you did what you were so used to do.

“Of course I’m not okay, what does it fucking look like Seresin ?!” You hissed at him.

But despite your unjustified anger towards him, Jake just smiled down at you. Not his usual cocky smirk, or his smug grin — a genuine one.

“The fuck are you smiling for ?”

His smile only widened, “you’re still angry at me, it must not be as bad as I thought it was.”

You scoffed, outraged, but just as you were about to retort something with the same amount of venom that was probably spreading in your body right now—

Another wave of pain flared up. Intense and excruciating, you cried out and instinctively, one of your hand shot out to grip Jake’s forearm, squeezing it as hard as you could to try and focus on anything else except the agonizing pain flaring up in your entire body.

And even though your nails were anchored in his arm, probably drawing a tiny bit of blood, Jake did not waver. He stayed with you, his other hand still lightly brushing your hair.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said again, voice reassuring. “That’s it, just hold onto me.”

He then turned towards the rest of the squad — who was still anxiously waiting behind him.

“Where is Bradley ? Does he have an ETA on 911 ?” He asked, not a trace of panic in his tone. Even when he wasn’t talking to you, his calm and lulling voice was soothing your system.

You could feel your blood pump in your ears and for a moment the intense pain calmed down, leaving just a permanent ache in your foot. You released your death hold on Jake’s forearm but kept your hand on his skin, the warmth of it grounding you.

“I don’t know, he’s still on the phone,” Natasha said, voice shaking a bit and trying to get a look at you from behind Jake.

“Should we do something while waiting for them ?” Mickey asked, panic in his voice at seeing you in such a state, “elevate her foot or something ?”

“Absolutely not.” Jake’s response was instant, “the venom is already spreading in her body and moving her could accelerate the process, it would do more harm than good. We just have to wait for 911 to come.”

You could feel your friends beginning to approach, in a desire to do anything that might help you while awaiting for the ambulance to arrive. But while the pain should have relieved you of your inhibitions, in this instant there was nothing worse for the tough fighter pilot that you were than your squad mates seeing you down and writhing in pain because of a stupid flat fish.

You squeezed Jake’s arm once to get his attention. He turned to you, eyes softening once again.

“Yeah, sweetheart ? You need anything ?”

The next words were hard to get out, not only because of the pain but because of how humiliating they were to pronounce out loud. Especially to someone like Jake — your rival, your arch nemesis, the one person you claimed to hate more than anything on this earth.

But right now — with your head on his lap, his hand caressing the top of your hair and him calling you sweetheart like you were the love of his life, you couldn’t find it in you to keep fighting him.

“Jake, I don’t want them to see me like that…” you whispered, voice strained by the pain that was still clinging to you.

Quick understanding flashed through his eyes, he didn’t say anything, didn’t question you, he just turned back to the squad — firm and authoritative.

“Could you please go load back the cars ? So that when the ambulance arrive we are all ready to go.”

Mickey, Reuben, Javy and Natasha all nodded diligently, happy to be of service given the situation. They all ran back to the towels and parasols, where Bradley and Bob already had started to pack up.

You squeezed Jake’s forearm again.

“Thank you— Oh fuck !”

Another wave hit you then, fuck, when was this going to stop ??

This one was especially bad, it felt like your entire body was burning alive. You cried out, reaching for Jake, trying to anchor yourself to him. Your eyes welled up with tears that were flowing endlessly down your cheeks, breath quick and heavy with panic.

“Jake, Jake Jake Jake—“ your voice was rushed, filled with fright and pain.

“I’m here, baby, right here. Try to take deep breaths for me okay ? Breathe in…” He made a show of taking an exaggerated inhale.

You just followed his instructions, breathing in deeply.

“That’s good, that’s perfect. Now breathe out…”

You copied his theatrical exhale, still holding on tightly to him. He gave you a proud smile, the one hand that wasn’t still busy brushing your hair, came up to cup your cheek — thumb tenderly caressing your skin.

“That’s good, you’re doing so good.”

You placed your right hand — the one that wasn’t holding on for dear life to his forearm — on top of his hand that was cupping your cheek, still breathing deeply with him.

Your next words would probably make you want to kill yourself when the pain stops numbing your mind, but right now there was only one thing you wanted. And it resided in the very man above you, who was looking at you and touching you with an affection that would have you shedding tears if you weren’t already doing so because of the pain.

“Please, Jake, don’t stop. Keep talking to me.” You pleaded, voice shaking with tears and a few sniffles.

Something shifted in Jake’s expression then, a reflection of how his heart broke for you right at this moment. His beautiful features took on a raw display of emotion, he inhaled sharply — forcing his voice to come out as calm and unwavering as possible.

“I will, baby, don’t worry. I’m right here with you, I’m not leaving you.” He soothed you, green eyes boring into yours and desperately trying to convey everything he felt in this moment and couldn’t possibly express with words. “Not ever.”

You let out a relieved sigh, not only at his words, but at the feeling of the spike of pain calming down, leaving — once again — only the static pain in your foot. You closed your eyes, still taking deep breaths like Jake told you and trying to slow your heart beat down. If it weren’t for this stupid stingray who had your foot feeling like it would burn and fall off your body at any moment, you would consider this moment peaceful. Jake holding you, touching your skin like you were the most precious thing in this world, voice soft and gentle like you’ve never heard before….

“The pain will continue to come and go in spikes,” Jake explained, voice low, as if to not disturb the moment, “it’s the venom spreading in your body.”

You kept your eyes closed, only nodding slightly to tell him you understood.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Jake admitted after a beat of silence, in a small, almost sad laugh.

You nuzzled closer to his hand that was cupping your cheek, “are you saying you care about me, Hangman ?” You inquired, a teasing smile pulling at your lips, your voice coming out a little strained and tired from all the pain.

“I don’t know, I might just do,” You only heard the fond smile in his voice.

Only moments after, you felt his lips press with an infinite amount of tenderness on your forehead. You sucked in a breath, opening your eyes in surprise. The kiss lasted a few seconds, and when he pulled away, the look in his eyes almost took your breath away.

“What ? You surprised ?” He probed, mimicking your teasing tone.

You felt yourself flush. Fluster temporarily replacing the pain in your body, filling you with a warmth that was making you forget about your punctured foot that was still leaking blood and painting the water crimson red.

You just snuggled further into his hand, tearing your eyes away from him to escape his prying gaze, “shut up,” you mumbled.

He just laughed, keeping his affectionate administrations to your skin.

And that’s when you heard the loud wail of the ambulance siren coming closer to the beach. Just seconds after, the whole squad was running at full speed towards you two.

“They are here !” Bradley yelled, “they are here Y/N !”

“It’s almost over, sweetheart,” Jake whispered, placing one more quick kiss to your forehead before the whole squad, along with the medics, reached you.

Jake immediately took the initiative to explain the situation, “she was stung by a stingray, approximately 10 minutes ago. The barb punctured the side of her left foot, it’s been bleeding ever since the sting. Venom has already started spreading.”

“Okay, thank you sir,” one of the medic addressed Jake before turning to you, “ma’am, my name is Martin. What’s yours ?”

“Y/N.”

“Okay Y/N. Listen we’re gonna need to put you on a stretcher to get you in the ambulance. Just know that it will probably hurt.”

You just nodded, taking a deep breath.

They hoisted you up onto the stretcher, you muffled a cry behind your hand and squeezed Jake’s hand which had slipped into yours. Once you were installed in the ambulance, the medics looked at you and then at the squad.

Martin spoke up, “one of you can climb with Y/N in the back of the ambulance. The rest can follow behind by car to get to the hospital. Who do you want coming with ?” He asked.

Lying in the stretcher that was inclined so you were sitting up a bit, your eyes immediately found Jake, who gave you a hopeful smile. You so desperately wanted to say his name, have him climb in with you and hold you like he had been doing on the beach. But sitting here, the whole squad in front of you, you felt the words get stuck in your throat. Jake seemed to see it in your eyes, the hesitation, seemed to feel that for some reason, you would not be able to express wanting him by your side. And witnessing the sadness and disappointment flash in his emerald eyes after having been so bright, made your heart fall into your stomach.

A beat passed before Natasha slightly raised her hand.

“I’ll come with—“

But Bob, of all people, was the one who interrupted her.

“Nat, I actually got a call from Cyclone there’s a meeting we have to attend, all of us.”

Phoenix, along with the rest of the squad looked confused, sharing interrogating glances.

“What ? A briefing ? Right now ?” Bradley questioned, incredulous.

Bob gave him a pointed look, “yes, Bradley, right now.” He then turned to Jake, a characteristic sweet smile on his face, “Jake, you’ll stay with Y/N, right ?”

Jake seemed surprised for a moment, his eyes flicking rapidly between Bob and you.

“I— Yeah, yeah of course,” he nodded quickly, he then turned to you, hopefulness returning to his gaze, “if you’ll have me.”

“Yes,” you answered, way too quickly — which Bob, along with the medics, quietly snickered at — “yes of course, come in.”

After the squad bid you goodbye and promised to come see you at the hospital, Bob mischievously winked at you and hurried them back to the cars.

Jake climbed into the ambulance, sitting on a seat next to your stretcher, fingers intertwining with yours instantly, like instinct. And almost as soon as his skin made contact with yours, a wave of pain hit you again, hard.

Cursing, you wiggled around on the stretcher, the burning sensation was stronger than before and was taking your whole body hostage, eyes almost rolling back from how painful it all was.

“It’s almost over, sweetheart, I promise.” Jake reassured, voice strained from seeing you hurt like that.

“Y/N,” Martin caught your attention, “the venom is progressing quickly and we need to act fast. We’re gonna give you something for the pain, it might make you a little loopy and you might fall asleep. You’ve been through a lot and the pain has definitely taken a toll on you, so totally normal if you want to crash for a moment, alright ?”

You nodded, feeling Jake squeezing your hand, you heard him take a deep breath next to you and you could feel the relief radiating off him. One of the other medics went to slap his shoulder.

“You did a good job, boyfriend.”

Jake just chuckled and you caught the faintest shade of red color his cheeks. Neither of you bothered to correct him on the term ‘boyfriend’. You all but smiled through the pain, looking at Jake with something that people might call love.

“Yeah, he really did.”

Martin turned back to you with a syringe, “okay Y/N, you need to be brave for one more minute, you might feel a slight pinch.”

And while the needle punctured your skin, similar to how the stingray’s barb had — only minutes prior to this, your eyes never wavered from Jake’s.

It only took a few moments for the painkillers to start acting, you let out a sigh of relief at feeling the pain peak progressively go away. Along with the disappearing agony, you felt your eyelids grow heavy.

“Jake…” you called out softly, already halfway into Morpheus’ arms.

“Yeah, sweetheart ? I’m right here.” He squeezed your hand again.

A smile pulled at your lips.

“I think— I think I’m gonna take a quick nap.”

“Yeah, looks like it,” he chuckled affectionately.

“Will you still be here when I wake up ?”

A beat of silence passed before he leaned forward, leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead that widened your smile.

“Yes I will, you rest, baby. You’ve been so strong today.” Another kiss. “I’ll see you when you wake up.”

And with that confirmation, your eyes finally closed, body finally at ease after all the events of the day. Before sleep took your mind away to a far away place, you registered Jake leaving one last kiss on your forehead, like he just couldn’t help himself. The warmth that filled you would have been able to alleviate any pain better than any of the medics’ painkillers. You fell asleep the heart light, knowing that when you would open your eyes, the first thing they would land on would be Jake’s green ones, full of something that could only be called love.

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Author’s note : thank you for reading "Saltwater Monster" I hope you liked it !!! Also I hope everyone spent lovely holidays !!

Momentarily stopping, you kept your journal close to your chest, hiding its content from his view. He whined, finally deciding to leave you be, choosing instead to go slump on the opposite couch, while making it known just how unfair and mean you were for refusing to get him out of his lethal boredom.

Your morning training flight had ended thirty minutes ago, and Maverick had needed to attend some last minute meeting with Cyclone, leaving you in the briefing room, waiting for his remarks on each of your flying. Everyone had found a way to occupy themselves, except Mickey, who kept bothering everyone, trying to find something that he’d deem amusing enough to focus all his attention on.

He’d already gone to Natasha who had quickly sent him packing, choosing this rare free time to catch up on some paperwork the base’s administrators had been begging her to send for three months.

Bob had been kind enough to propose to share his book with him, but he refused, claiming it was too boring. And you suspected that he had actually found something to do, and that that thing was simply to annoy all of you, who were calmly waiting for the return of your instructor.

His next victim had been you.

You should have guessed it, truly. Peacefully sitting on the couch, tracing lines in your drawing notebook, eyes flicking discreetly every so often to the pool table, where Reuben, Javy and Jake were engaging in a pretty wild game of table football.

“Can I just look at one page, please ?” Mickey tried again, putting on the best puppy dog eyes he could conjure.

“No.”

No one had ever even glanced at your drawing notebook. Even though you’d always carry it around, whipping it out if you had a rare moment of rest during your busy life on base, everyone had learned to respect that boundary, no matter how futile it seemed to some.

“Leave her, Fanboy. She just doesn’t want you to see the naked men she draws in there,” Jake snickered from his spot at the table football.

You simply flipped him off, not even rewarding him with a stare.

Despite your notebook being so firmly guarded, everyone knew you drew beautifully. If they were honest, beautifully wasn’t even cutting it.

While your notebook was strictly off limit, you’d let them see when you’d lazily and mindlessly let your pencil graze the paper of a torn up blank page. They never ceased to be amazed at your ‘talent’, and they’d always let you know whenever they had the chance. Which, it’s not that you hated it, but the word ‘talent’ rubbed you the wrong way. This was no talent, it was years of hard work and practice, none of this had come your way the first time you had grabbed a pencil, and yet, the squad always made you out to be some kind of prodigee.

Everyone knew you drew portraits the best.

The first time it truly hit them was during one particularly boring meeting where Cyclone was just up everyone’s asses and complaining about how none of you ever bothered to do the administration work you were required to do. His scolding wasn’t new, you’d at least get one of these meeting every month, so it wasn’t something you all took too seriously. After a few minutes of sketching you passed off as pretending to take notes, you elbowed Natasha, snickering a bit as you showed her the piece of paper on which you had made Cyclone’s angry face come to life.

But the chuckling you had expected never came. In its place, Natasha’s eyes were wide open, in complete awe of the pencil sketch you had presented her. She quickly, and the more discreetly she could, passed it around the table for everyone to see, pointing to you in pride when the other members of the squad would look, equally as amazed as she was.

Ever since that day, Mickey had begged you to draw a portrait of him. You had always refused, not exactly knowing why, maybe simply for the pleasure of seeing him pout at your constant refusal.

He had been greatly offended when one night you had casually handed Penny a sketch of her you had quicky drawn at the Hard Deck.

“She gives me free drinks,” you had justified, a small smirk pulling at your lips.

“I have your life in my hands every-time we’re in the air, is that not enough for you ?”

One year, for his birthday, you had finally decided to grant him the one thing he kept begging you for. Mickey had literally screamed, yes screamed in sheer excitement when you had handed him the portrait you had drawn of him. It now stood proudly on his bedside table, adorned by a beautiful frame.

You drew beautifully, there was simply no other way to put in.

“Please, Lightning, I’ll do your paperwork for a month if you let me see,” Mickey had resorted to bargaining.

“No.” You said again, firmly camping on your position as the movement of your pencil grazing the page could faintly be heard.

“Good morning aviators.” A booming voice made every single one of you jump out.

And then immediately salute when you realized it was your commanding officer. Mickey nearly toppled over from how fast he stood up.

“Captain Mitchell has some other matter to attend to. I reviewed all of your flight footage so I’ll be the one debriefing you today.”

You swore you audibly heard Reuben swallow next to you.

Your commanding officer wolfishly grinned, a terrifying indicator that this debrief wasn’t really about to go as smoothly as when Maverick was directing it.

“Let’s move to briefing room three, shall we ?” He smiled, seemingly impatient to share his mind about the way you all flew.

Reluctantly, you all followed with a dutifully soldier step, though not without dread.

“You’re gonna get chewed up, man.” Javy whispered to Jake, snickering.

And he did. After absolutely destroying him, Maverick would have at least, discreetly, praised the risky maneuver he had pulled off.

But commanding officer Whitman was nothing like Maverick. After words that were anything but kind about his flying style, he was sent back to the main briefing room, like a child sentenced to think about his behavior.

Jake guessed he had maybe grown too accustomed to Maverick being somehow of an older and just as reckless version of him that he had forgotten that most of the moves he pulled could get anyone not only written up, but grounded, for good.

Jake sat down with a sight, the feeling of having been scolded like a child, something that hadn’t happened since the Naval Academy, sitting heavily on his chest. He groaned when he felt that he had carelessly sat down on something, the futile action only serving to upset him more after what he had endured a few doors down.

But all irritation suddenly vanished when he lifted himself to glare at the object daring to pester his sulking.

He froze.

Lying there, rarely unsupervised, was your drawing notebook, Sitting neatly where you must have dropped it when Commander Whitman had walked in.

The light green cover was a little worn out from you carrying it every where you went. He gently picked it up, took it out from under him so he could sit down again. His fingers hesitantly toyed with one corner, debating on opening it.

Why were you so adamant about no one looking through it anyway ?

While he mainly joked about it, Jake was convinced you were actually drawing naked people in there. What other reason would there be for your constant refusal ? You were talented as hell, wouldn’t you want to share that with everyone ?

Jake spent more time than he’d like to admit just watching you, nose buried in that stupid notebook, sketching away God knows what. The little furrow in your brow when you seemed to draw something just a tiny bit difficult, though he knew without seeing it that it’d look effortless no matter how much of a struggle you seemed to display.

His stare was fixed on the notebook in his hands. There would be no way for you to know he had gone through it if he put it back in the same spot, right ? He would just have a quick, harmless look. Besides, it wasn’t like he would be reading through your diary, it wasn’t anything too imitate.

And besides, he figured that if you did find out, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. You’d scream at him, sure, but again, it wouldn’t be different from any other day, no matter how hard he wished it wasn’t the case.

Still, he found himself still hesitating. Even if you never found out, it was basic respect to honor a boundary you had made abundantly clear throughout the years. But just as he was about to, though not reluctantly, put the precious notebook back down, curiosity with a mix of self deprecation, knowing that at least now you’d have a real reason for disliking him, made him open it.

And—

Well.

To say that it was underwhelming would be a tremendous understatement.

The first page greeted him with the beautiful sight of a Lily. Though, perfectly drawn, it seemed to be taunting him. Was this really what he had defied your prohibition for ?

Why would you even hide this ? Oh, what, did you think the flower was out of proportion ? Embarassed because you hadn’t drawn the petals as accurately as Mother Nature had carefully crafted them ? He had a little chuckle to himself, yeah, that was probably why. You thought your work was shit even thought it looked straight out like a Lily seed had been planted in your pages and you had dutifully took care of it to grow it into the beautiful flower staring back at him right now.

Pages after pages, he was met with objects from your daily life, drinks from the Hard Deck, a sunset at the beach, flowers that grew behind the base... One particular drawing of your F/A-18 that looked like one of the engineer on base had themselves drawn it had him staring a bit longer. And he found himself wondering just how many hours you had put into this, into all of this. How many years did it take for you to master life around you so effortlessly ?

He continued to turn the pages, snatched away by the beauty of your work. Jake was almost halfway through it when he suddenly froze.

A mirror was his first thought.

It felt like looking in a mirror.

His own face was staring back at him on the page, the only difference was the serious air he was harboring on the drawing, a huge contrast to his jaw hanging open at the sight of it.

He didn’t even have that fleeting second of astonishment, of doubt, of ‘oh my god is that me ?’. Because there was no place for doubt. It was, undeniably, him.

After the moment of shock had passed, his heart began to pound in his chest to the point it was almost painful. His eyes flicked to the page right next to it, him again. A small smile stretching his lips and a toothpick in between his teeth.

Jake stayed in what felt like a long time just staring at the perfect pencil drawing of his face. The knowledge that you had been the one to delicately trace every line of his face was spreading a warmth all throughout his body. He felt a flush bloom from his neck all the way to his ears and he laughed slightly, embarrassed by his own reaction.

Jesus, these were only drawings, he tried to reason himself. You drew people often, hell you had even drawn Commander Whitman in various state of fury a dozen of times, though his pounding heart didn’t seem to agree.

Willing himself to move on, he turned the page—

His breath got caught in his lungs.

The next page showed three little sketches of him, all different emotions that somehow covered a good part of the wild range of his personality.

On one he was harboring his usual cocky expression, smirk stretching his lips wide, eyebrows slightly raised in a defying air, and there even was a teasing and arrogant twinkle in his eye that made the drawing seem all the more alive.

The one right next to it showed his profile, head looking down at what he guessed was a pre flight checking list. Expression closed, focused, like every pilot ought to be while checking the plane that would bring them up to fifty thousand feet in the air.

The last of the three little sketches showed his upper half, a cue stick in hand, a genuine smile, staring off into the distance, where normally the Hard Deck pool table would be. But there was no scenery, only him. Happiness and relaxation evident in the way he held himself.

His heart wasn’t exactly beating the way it should, a weird mix of a flutter and a stutter that made his whole chest feel tight.

Jake felt seen.

And seen by your eyes, you, was the greatest honor he could think of.

His eyes widen when he saw the next page. Taking up almost the entire paper, he was drawn down to his midthighs. Swimsuit sitting low on his hips, Adonis belt on full view, abs carefully defined, puffed up chest, a grin illuminating his face and sunglasses to hide his precious green eyes from the sun.

Jesus fucking Christ, you had even gotten the mole on the left side of his hips. His flush only worsened, made him feel like his whole body was on fire. The harsh fabric of his flight suit suddenly feeling like too much on his feverish, sensitive skin.

Jake exhaled shakily. It felt overwhelming, and overwhelming wasn’t even cutting it.

His hands acted on their own as he continued to turn the pages. Each filled with images of him. Because to him, they were images. Not drawings. Images you had wanted to capture, keep a piece of. Stolen moments you had wanted to keep ingrained on paper, had wanted to keep him.

Almost half of your notebook was of him. He got to the last page you had drawn on.

A close up on his face from his neck. The brightest smile illuminating his features, the kind that allowed the creases near his eyes to make an appearance. A glint in his gaze that made him look warm, loving, almost tender like.

Writings at the bottom of the page caught his attention. The date was marked, like all the other drawings, he realized.

He frowned reading it.

The date on that last drawing was marked from the day before… which was a Sunday.

….You hadn’t seen each other on Sunday.

Something short circuited in his brain and in his heart.

Did that mean you were able to draw him by memory alone ? That you had every crease, every hair, every mole, freckle, every line of his face so deeply ingrained in your brain that you were able to render them that faithfully without even looking at him ?

It felt dizzying.

Eyes still transfixed on the drawing, steps coming from the hallway got him out of his trance and without thinking, he shoved the notebook into his flight suit.

“How did it go ?” He tried for casual as the rest of you walked in.

“Listen man, he even gave me shit,” Mickey complained, seeming still offended by what had happened, “I don’t even fly the goddamn plane !”

By the look on all of your faces, Whitman didn’t have anything nice to say to any of you.

Jake felt his heart stutter when his gaze shifted towards you, who were engrossed in a conversation with Natasha, most likely bitching about the debrief. It felt weird, to see you like that, knowing how you carefully sketched him every change you got.

You caught his gaze and frowned.

“What are you looking at, Hangman ?”

He smiled, and he wasn’t exactly sure if it turned out like a smirk or a genuine one.

“Nothing, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes and Jake could decipher the smallest quirk of your lips, the lightest blush on your cheeks and wondered if it had always been there but just been too blind to see it.

You didn’t say anything about your notebook, didn’t seem to notice it was missing, too distracted by the morning’s event.

That night, Jake went home with the notebook. He didn’t quite have the heart to let go of it yet. Lying wide awake in his bed, with what had become a precious artifact, open, he kept staring at that very last page. Carefully, he’d trace the lines out with his fingers, in adoration of the way you saw him. Touch over every brush of the pencil you had evidently, carefully thought about.

He struggled to find sleep, whenever he would finally turn off the light, it would only take minutes before he’d turn it on again, grab the notebook and flip through it. He felt like his insides were melting every time his eyes raked through the pages.

Knowing he had been your secret muse all this time was setting a new desire alight in his chest, burning as fiery hot as a SuperHornet engine. Jake wanted, almost foolishly, to pose for you. Look into your eyes as you’d trace every single line of his face, body and soul, knowing you wouldn’t even have to stare at him to get him perfectly, down to every detail.

When he finally managed to fall asleep, you visited his every dream, and being haunted had never sounded so delightful.

“Where the fuck is it,” you grumbled under your breath, frantically moving the couch cushions around.

It was only when you were already at home that you noticed the very unusual absence of your drawing notebook. The realisation that you had forgotten it on base was scary. But the realisation you had in this instant, as you had come earlier than usual to look for it, that perhaps you hadn’t simply forgotten but downright lost it, was terrifying. You trusted your squadmates enough to believe that they would respect your boundary even without yourself present to firmly remind them of it, but what if any other people found it ?

God, you’d actually have to transfer base.

“You looking for something ?”

You jumped and grabbed at your chest where your heart had a similar reaction as you turned around.

“Jesus Christ, Seresin ! Don’t sneak up on me like that !”

“If I really wanted to sneak up on you, sweetheart, I can assure you I wouldn’t have announced myself quite this loud.”

Your eyes rolled automatically, a reflex you had taught yourself a long time ago whenever Jake spoke.

“Yeah, right, thank you, you can leave n—“

You stopped dead in your tracks. Eyes fixed on Jake’s right hand and what it was holding.

Jake saw you freeze and suddenly he lost the cocky edge. He cleared his throat.

“I think you forgot this yesterday.” He now held the notebook in both hands in front him, but not quite holding it out for you yet.

You didn’t dare to meet his eyes, because you knew, without even him saying anything, you knew. He had gone through it. Mortification couldn’t even begin to describe the feelings going through you as you stayed there, just staring at your notebook in his hands. Somehow, despite this situation being your worst nightmare, in the back of your mind something told you that in between Jake’s hands, the notebook felt at its right place. The muse holding close to him every piece of art he had inspired.

You knew. And Jake obviously knew you knew.

“You’re very talented.” He finally said, trying to break the silence.

“It’s not talent it’s—“

“Hard work,” he finished with a small, endeared, smile. “I know. And it shows, how hard you work I mean. It’s beautiful.”

You gulped. “What is ?”

“All of it.”

A pitt was forming in your stomach. You hated how he was dancing around it, hated how careful he was around the subject and a small part of you wished he could have just laughed at you, made some cocky remark, at least that way you’d have gotten some reaction out of him. You didn’t truly understand his behavior, did he think he was showing you mercy after going through the most intimate item in your life, one that was practically a pathway into your mind and heart ?

You cleared your throat, knowing you’d have to be the one to address the obvious elephant in the room.

“Are you not gonna ask why I draw you over and over again like a maniac ?” You asked, trying to sound jaded and uninterested despite the beating of your heart.

The smile that stretched his lips was soft.

“I don’t need to.”

Something in you bloomed at the way he looked at you.

Jake finally handed you the notebook, which you took with shaky hands that you struggled to hide.

You both stood in silence for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. Dancing on your feet, you chewed the inside of your cheek. What the fuck were you supposed to say ? This felt like too big of a conversation to have at six in the morning just before the morning flight.

“You—“ you immediately cringed at the way your voice was strained and cleared your throat, “do you wanna take one ?” You offered, eyes looking everywhere but directly at his eyes.

His eyes seemed to widen in barely hidden shock before he schooled himself.

“Of course I do, you know I’d never missed an opportunity to have my own face hanging around my place.”

You chuckled, feeling at ease by the way he lifted off a bit of the emotional tension. You handed him the notebook back, him holding it didn’t look as terrifying now.

“Here, choose and just rip it out.”

You’d thought he’d take some time to think about it, ponder about his decision, but no. Jake opened your notebook with a speed and ease that suggested he knew exactly what he was looking for, and he did, landing at the last page. Jake showed it to you.

“Can I ?”

You nodded, temporally surprised by his overly respectful behavior. He laid the notebook down on the nearby table and began to carefully rip the page.

When he finished, he handed it back to you, keeping the page he had ripped for him.

“Thank you.”

Silence filled the room again. And when you finally dared to lift your gaze and look in his eyes, it almost took your breath away. How gently, how patiently he was looking at you, a small, almost encouraging smile on his lips. You realized that he was waiting for you to talk, allowing you to take that next step and you guessed it was only natural. You were the one drawing his face everywhere in your notebook like a psychopath. He didn’t need to ask, he had said. Didn’t mean that in his heart he wasn’t dying for you to say it out loud.

You took in a big breath, and took a step towards him. A small physical reconciliation that you hoped you’d be able to morph into an emotional one.

“Listen, Seresin, I—“

The sudden boom of the door bursting open made both of you jerk back from each other.

“Damn,” Mickey whistled, “you’re here early.”

The rest of the squad followed close behind him, and most of them were barely able to hide the small, knowing smile pulling at their lips. Mickey seemed to be the only one confused.

“Hey, did we interrupt somethi—“

Bob elbowed him before he could finish his sentence, and he only shot his friend a death glare when he loudly exclaimed his pain and whined about ‘what was that for ?!’.

You hurriedly scurried back to your usual spot on the couch, feeling caught red handed even though you had only been standing in front of one another. Jake, much more relaxed than you, settled down next to Javy on the other couch, across the room and facing you.

You feigned a normal behavior by opening your notebook, about to pretend to draw like your world hadn’t shifted on its axis just a few seconds before.

Right as you opened it, something fell right from between the pages and into your lap. Frowning, you picked it up. It was a folded piece of paper, you carefully opened it and felt your heart stutter in your chest.

On the paper were drawn two very simple stick figures. Though, simple, they were very recognizable. It was you and Jake. The fucker had drawn himself with an eight pack and it tear a quiet laugh from you.

The two stick figures were holding hands and their mouth lines were quirked up in happy smiles. Objectively, it looked bad, primary children level. But it was his. He had drawn that while thinking of you.

Warmth bloomed throughout your body and you looked up, searching Jake’s gaze. You didn’t have to search long because he was already looking at you, awaiting your reaction. Truth be told, you don’t exactly know what you did, perhaps you bit your lip, shyly smiled, or even simply stared at him in astonishment, whatever you did, it seemed to please him.

Jake smiled. And he suddenly looked exactly as you had drawn him on that page that now had found a new place in the front pocket of his flight suit. A sight that would have blinded you had you not learned to love its brightness.

And without thinking, almost on instinct, you picked up your pencil.

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Author’s note : omg it felt like such a long time since I’ve written for my babyyyy !! Just some little fluff, hope you like it !💞💞

Also is this projection about me wanting to be any good at any sort of art ? Yes it might. And the title sucks because I couldn’t, for the life of me, find something else.

Alsoooo, I feel like lately my fics have been having very little dialogue and a lot of internal thoughts about feelings and stuff ? Is that annoying to read ? Please be honest guys

Bradley maneuvered the walkway as he carried the tray of beers to get you a spot next to him. Jake, who finally escaped the pool table to rejoin the Daggers at the table, was sitting right across from you.

"Alright, I'm judging whoever ordered the light beer," Fanboy joked, reaching across to grab a bottle.

"That one would be Payback," Bradley said, laughing as he settled back into his seat. His arm effortlessly draped over the back of your chair, his thumb lightly brushing your shoulder. To you two, was a completely platonic gesture, but you saw the exact second Jake noticed it.

His smile didn't leave his face, but it stiffened. He picked up his own beer, taking a long slow sip. His eyes started to track Bradley's hand.

"So, Maverick has us doing low-altitude drills tomorrow," Phoenix says, leaning forward to start the conversation. "Who's going to take the lead?"

"I figure Hangman will try to jump into it, per usual," Javy chimed in, tossing a crumpled napkin at Jake's chest.

"Hey, when you're the best, you don't wait in line," Jake replied easily. His tone was confident, but his eyes flew straight to you. It was almost as if he was begging you to fire back a sarcastic comment like you normally do.

Instead, you ignored him. You turned to face Bradley, laughing at an unrelated expression he made. "Please, Bradley," you said, your voice carrying just enough over the music and the rest of the squad. You reached out and placed your hand firmly on his forearm, letting your fingers linger against his skin. "I'd bet on you any day to be the one who'll clear the canyon first."

Bradley's arm twitched underneath your hand as he tried to hold in a laugh. "Did you hear that, Hangman? Someone's got faith in me."

Across from you, Jake stopped fidgeting with his beer bottle. His jaw tightened as he stared directly at your hand that was rested on Bradley's arm. His cool demeanor was starting to evaporate, and an irritation began taking it's place.

"Well, is that so?" Jake asked, his voice dropping an octave, which made him sound even more serious than you'd ever heard him. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table as he looked right at you. "Sweetheart, I didn't realize you were such an expert on aviation strategy."

You chose to keep your eyes off of Jake as you squeezed Bradley's arm one more time. You pull your hand back to take a drink of your beer. "I just know who I like to back," you mumbled, smiling at Bradley.

Jake gripped his beer bottle to the point his knuckles turned white. Not a single word escaped his lips for the remainder of the conversation. His eyes felt like they never left you and Bradley.

-

When midnight rolled around, Bradley announced to the group that it it was his time to call it for the night.

He stood up and stretched, "Alright, I'm out."

"Past your bedtime, rooster?" Fanboy called out. Bradley waved him off with a grin.

You decided to stand up from the table with him. "I think I'm going to take off too," you said to the group. You quickly caught Jake's eye; he was still sitting, leaning back in his seat. He was trying so hard to look like he didn't care, but his eyes were tracking your every move.

"I'll walk you out," Bradley offered smoothly.

You walked next to each other as you headed toward the exit. The moment the doors opened, the cold air outside hit you instantly. You walked into the parking lot, stopping by Bradley's Bronco.

Inside of the bar, Jake sat frozen for a few seconds, but to him it felt like minutes. The sight of you walking out of the bar with Bradley brought an ache to his chest. His brain told him to play it cool, to not let anyone see it messing with him. But his heart and gut had a bubbling, jealous anger that drowned out all of his reasoning.

He stood up abruptly and marched out of the bar.

Outside, you faced Bradley. "Thanks for the assist, Bradshaw. That was pretty enjoyable."

Bradley grinned, "Anytime." He glanced over your shoulder to see the bar's entrance doors fly open. "He just walked out. There's your cue to get the job done."

There wasn't an ounce of hesitation. You stepped closer to Bradley, wrapping your arms around his neck for a hug. You held on for a second longer than you normally would. Right before pulling away, you planted a kiss onto his cheek.

"Drive safe," you whispered.

Bradley gave you a subtle wink, one that Jake couldn't see. "Good luck," he mumbled as he climbed into his Bronco. As the engine turned on and he backed out, you started to head towards your car.

You managed to make it three steps toward your car before a hand grabbed your arm.

The grip wasn't painful. It was uncompromising as it spun you around until your back was against your car. It made your breath hitch.

Jake towered over you, completely in your space. His cocky arrogance that was seen an hour before was gone. His jaw was clenched so tight, and his green eyes were darker than normal. His expression was a mix or frustration and possession.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded. His voice had a dangerous growl that you felt through your chest.

Your heart hammered as you swallowed hard. You forced an 'innocent' smile to your lips. "What was what, Seresin? I said goodnight to a friend."

"Don't play dumb with me," Jake snapped. His hands came up and landed on each side of you on the window, trapping you between him and the car. "You have been over Bradshaw all night. Touching him, laughing at him. Then that?" He scoffed. "Do you think it's funny? You think I'm just going to sit there and see you do that in front of me?"

"I didn't think you would care this much," you teased. Your voice trembled just enough to betray you; his sudden dominance was affecting your game. "You seemed really busy with your pool game."

A breathy, angry laugh escaped from him, his eyes locked into yours intensely. "Didn't care? I've been wanting to rip him away from you for the last two hours. You're playing a dangerous game, darlin."

"And what if I am?" you challenged him. Your chin tilted up defensively.

Jakes eyes flashed with a desperation you'd never seen before. "Then you're about to lose."

He didn't give you any time to respond. His hand came up to your jaw, his fingers firm as he brought his lips down to yours with force. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a possessive, desperate claim.

The kiss was a dizzying, chaotic collision of tongue and teeth. The kiss tasted like beer and months of unspoken feelings. Your hands moved to his chest, pulling at the fabric of his shirt. You attempted to match the aggression as you pulled him closer to you, but you were never going to catch up with him.

He let out a slight groan against your mouth, a sound that sounded low and defeated. The grip he had on your jaw softened enough to graze his thumb along your cheekbone. He pulled back, both of you trying to catch your breath.

The energy between you two was heavy and completely charged. The weight of his feelings made it tight, crushing any playful feelings that were there at the beginning of the evening.

Jake didn't let you go, he couldn't get himself to. His chest heaved against yours as he looked down at you, his eyes still the same dark green they were when he first entered the parking lot.

"Get in my truck," he commanded. His voice was rough, sending a shiver down your spine. The usual, smooth Texan drawl he had was nowhere to be found.

You blinked, trying to clear your brain and process what he said. "What? What about my car?"

"Darlin, I don't give a damn about the car," Jake said, his fingers grasping a little tighter on your waist. You consumed every ounce of his focus. His grip on you was firm as he led you toward his truck. "I said get in."

You let out a breathless laugh, adrenaline coursing through your veins. He was completely unraveled by you. The controlled, unshakeable persona he always had shattered.

You were eating it up.

You didn't protest any longer, letting him take you take you across the gravel parking lot to his car. Your heart was racing at how intense and undeniable the air had become.

The door of his truck slammed shut behind you as Jake climbed into the driver's seat. His movements were sharp, moved by pure adrenaline. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, almost tighter than the grip he had on his beer bottle inside of the bar. He didn't look over at you right away as settled himself into his seat.

"Jake," you started slowly, not paying any mind to the teasing tone in your voice. "You're going to break the steering wheel."

He let out a rough chuckle, finally looking at you. His pupils were blown. "If I don't hold onto this steering wheel, darlin, I'm going to pull you over the console. And if I do that, we will not be making it back to my place."

Before you could process the depth of his words, he turned on the car and backed out of the parking lot faster than you've ever seen anyone drive. The number on the speedometer climbed quickly.

A wicked smile spread on your face. The tension in the truck cab was intoxicating. You shifted in your seat to turn your body towards him, completely unbothered by how fast he was driving.

"What's the rush, Seresin?" you asked, your voice bringing back the playful innocence from earlier.

Jake continued looking forward, keeping his eyes on the road. "Shut up," he grumbled, even though there was no maliciousness in his tone. Just the desperation of a man trying to hang onto his last shred of control.

But you didn't shut up. Instead, you reached across the center console, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw before sliding to the nape of his neck. You slowly slid your hand into his hair, gently tugging at the short strands at the base of his head.

Jake let out a sharp breath, his shoulders tensing as a shiver visibly ran down his back.

"I'm serious," you teased. You brushed your thumb behind his ear, "I asked you what the rush is."

"You knew exactly what you were doing back there," he growled. His voice made butterflies form in your stomach. "You spent three hours trying to push me to the edge. And congratulations, you did it. So now were going to my house, and I'm going to take care of it."

The intensity of his words and how they were said so confidently sent anticipation flying through your bones. A silent understanding sat in the air of the truck.

You chose to reply with your hands, not your words. You let your hand move from the back of his neck to glide across his chest. You could feel the heavy thudding of his heart racing through the fabric of his shirt. Your fingers lingered there for a moment, and then you started moving your hand lower down his abdomen.

You tilted your head with a playful smirk. "Whoops."

Jake let out another ragged breath, his grip on the steering wheel getting even tighter as he tried to focus on the road. "You're testing every bit of my patience." He was fascinated at how well you were managing breaking him. "We're almost there. Just try to stay still for five minutes, alright?"

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you lifted your hands in a mocking defeat. "Alright, alright. I'm keeping my hands to myself," you mumbled as you leaned back against the passenger seat.

He tried to hide it, but you caught the glance he shot you before you settled back into your seat for the last few minutes of the car ride.

The moment Jake turned into his driveway, he cut the headlights and unbuckled his seatbelt. He was out of his seat before the engine even completely turned off.

He moved with laser-focused concentration. He sped walked to your side of the truck and yanked your door open, remaining a southern gentleman even in times like this. But you were more surprised he didn't break the door off of the hinges.

He didn't speak one word. He reached up to wrap his hand around yours. His grip was firm, tight, and full of the last hours of built-up tension. He pulled you down from the cab of the truck with a force that caused your heart rate to spike.

You looked over at him in the moonlight. His expression was serious, not an ounce of anything else was on his face. He looked like a man on a mission. You on the other hand couldn't fight off the slow smile that was spreading across your face.

You knew exactly what was coming, and you weren't complaining one bit.

His hand never left yours as he led you up his porch steps. He unlocked the front door, opened it, and led you inside.

The second the door clicked shut, it was game over. Jake didn't turn on the lights. He barely set his keys down on the entryway table.

In the dark of his entryway, his hands found their way to your waist. With one swift motion, he spun you and pinned your back against the wall. Your breath left in a gasp, immediately replaced by his mouth crashing onto yours.

This kiss was different than the one before. The pent up anger in the parking lot turned into a pure, needy hunger. He kissed you until your knees almost gave out, his hands moving their way up to your hair. He had you exactly where he wanted you.

He pulled away from you for a second as he rested his forehead against yours in the dark.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to watch you tonight?" his voice vibrated against your lips. He nipped at your bottom lip in between his words. "Sitting across from you while you touched him." He grabbed your hips and pulled you until they were against his, moving his head to your neck and biting lightly. "You did this to yourself, darlin. I've been trying to be good. I tried to take things slow, be respectful. But you pushed me right over the edge."

You let out a small gasp as his mouth moved up to your jawline, his fingers laying delicately against your skin. Even in this state, you couldn't help but lean into the teasing.

"Please, Seresin," you whispered. You tilted your head to give him better access as a smile fell on your lips. "You love a challenge. I'm just giving you one."

He didn't say another word as a growl escaped his chest.

Before you could process the sound that came from him, Jake slid his hands to the backs of your thighs and hoisted you up in one swift motion. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you buried your face into his neck, playing the same game he was.

He began walking blindly toward his bedroom down the hall, but for you, the teasing wasn't over. As he carried you, you nipped lightly at his neck, your teeth grazing his pulse point. Jake let out a hiss as the grip he had on your thighs tightened. You were going to have bruises on your legs in the morning, but that was the least of your concerns.

You moved your kips up to brush his earlobe, your teeth catching it in a playful bite. Your fingers that were once locked behind his neck started to slide down his shoulders. You let your nails dig into the muscles of his biceps as you held onto him. He was completely undone by your touch.

Jake kicked the bedroom door open and walked you to the bed. You expected him drop you down forcefully. Instead, he lowered you down slowly, his body following until he was hovering over you.

He leaned down closer to you, pinning his arms on each side of your head like he had earlier in the parking lot. His lips lightly brushed against your ear; his voice was low and rough.

"You wanted to give me a challenge, darlin?" he whispered. His breath was hot against your skin. He pulled back just enough to look you straight in the eyes. "Challenge accepted."

Once those words fell off of his tongue, the last of the playful banter you had kept up with this whole time crumbled. The teasing attitude you held on to all night disappeared in his bedroom. You didn't want to play a game, you didn't want to have banter. You wanted him.

You reached up to tightly grab his shirt and pulled him down to meet you. Jake didn't hesitate. His mouth immediately landed back on yours. His hands found their way to your waist as he pinned you to the mattress.

His tongue parted your lips as he took everything you allowed him to. You moaned into the kiss, your back arching against the bed as his body pressed down on yours.

"My god, you drive me crazy," he muttered against your lips.

He took a deep breath in, the energy in the room no longer something that could be described. The playful games earlier on in the evening turned into something more serious than you could have planned for.

Without breaking the kiss, Jake's grip shifted. He moved one of his hands from your waist and slid it down your thigh, hooking his fingers on the bend of your knee. He pulled your leg up around his hip, moving you right against him. He closed every inch between you two.

Your breath caught in your throat as you let out a light gasp into his mouth. Your hands moved from his shirt to his arms, tightening against his biceps as you attempted to ground yourself to him.

He moved his hand out from behind your knee to your hip, pressing you against him. The other hand that was securely on your waist finally moved, slowly trailing its way up to your face to tilt your head so he could deepen the kiss.

Just as it felt like you were both boiling over, he pulled back from your lips.

The seriousness on his face turned into a slow smile as he looked down at you. "You talk a lot of talk," he chuckled, "you think you can actually handle this?"

A blush formed on your cheeks as he tried to tease you. You let out a small laugh and smiled at him. Your eyebrow raised in amusement as you kept eye contact with him.

Your fingers moved back to the small hairs at the nape of his neck, something that had him undone earlier. You grip tightened ever so slightly, pulling him back down to be close to you again.

"Try me," you whispered against his mouth.

The words barely escaped your lips before he crashed back down onto you. The months of pretending you both didn't want this and the tension it brought was released in that moment.

He shifted his weight to fully come down over you, burying both of you into the mattress. His mouth moved lower, moving down your jaw, then trailing a path down your neck, to your collarbone.

The room blurred away, the only thing you could focus on was the sounds escaping your mouth as he lifted your shirt and continued moving his lips down your body.

-

The late hours of the night crept into the early hours of the morning. The moon was still glowing into the bedroom through his window, but you couldn't bother to worry about what time it was.

Jake is lying on his side, facing you as his eyes still remained intently locked into yours. The fierceness and jealousy that was in his expression earlier in the evening was gone. His hair was messy from your hands. His heartbeat finally came back to a normal rhythm after the night's events.

For the first time that night, and one of the first times you'd ever seen it in your life, his guard was down. It made him look softer than he'd ever let himself appear on base.

He reached out to you, his thumb tracing your collarbone. His touch was light compared to the grip he had on you earlier.

"You really played me tonight," he whispered honestly.

You turned your head on the pillow to face him. "I just wanted to see if you cared, Jake. You always make it seem like there's nothing that can get to you."

Jake’s hand paused its movements on your chest. He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head at himself. His eyes dropped to the mattress, then locked back into yours.

"Nothing usually can," he admitted quietly. He moved his hand up to cup your cheek. "But you do. Seeing you with Bradshaw tonight, it made me hurt in a way I didn't think was capable. I pretend a lot on base because I have to, I need to. But with you? I don't want to play Hangman. I just want to be me. I want this."

Shock rippled through your body. Hearing the words actually come out of his mouth made your chest flutter. Until Bradley had told you about Jake's feelings hours before, you had been completely oblivious to what he was feeling. To hear him say that he felt deeply about you shook you.

You didn't reply to his confession right away. You reached over to intertwine your fingers with his, laying your hands down against the sheets.

"I've wanted you for so long, Jake," you whispered. You looked straight into his eyes, letting the pure delight of the vulnerable moment take over. "I had no clue you felt the same until tonight."

Jake’s eyes widened slightly as a smile tugged at his lips. The heavy tension he was feeling lifted from his shoulders. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. His forehead rested against yours as he exhaled a breath he seemed to have been holding all night.

For the rest of the night, you were his. And you were going to continue to be as long as he had a say in the matter.

---

“Was it that bad ?” He questioned, voice taking on a hint of empathy.

“It was okay,” you shrugged, lying through your teeth.

After the catastrophic evening you’d spent, the last thing you wanted was to expose to your coworkers just how bad and plainly sad your romantic and sex life had gotten over the past few years.

Jake let out a chuckle as he sinked a striped ball over by the pool table, “weren’t you supposed to spend the night at his place as well ? Poor guy must have not even know the clit existed for you to be here with us instead of getting laid.”

“Don’t be gross, Hangman.” Bradley scolded, watching him sink yet another ball.

“Not gross, just facts. So, what happened ?” Jake pressed.

Shifting on your feet, you debated on how to deliver the news. You definitely couldn’t say Jake was right, even if he were, admitting out loud such a thing was not a smart move, it never was with him. Alas, your short silence seemed enough for Jake to grip on and roll with.

“See ?” One outstretched hand pointed out to you, “listen, sweetheart, you know my generosity knows no bounds. My door is always open if you need a real man to show you a good time.”

You were about to retort something in hopes of shutting him up for good when—

“Please keep that door fucking closed and locked, for all of our sakes.” Natasha said behind you, seemingly coming back from the toilet. She looked at you quizzically when she spotted you, eyes raking up and down your dressed up form, “what are you doing here ?”

“Her date sucked ass,” Mickey answered for you.

Natasha made a sympathetic moue that didn’t even bother to hide how fake it was.

“I mean I don’t want to say I told you so but…”

“So don’t.” You pleaded, already embarrassed enough.

“He did seem a bit selfish in bed.”

Javy scoffed, “that’s not something you can see.”

“Sorry, Coyote, but it absolutely is,” Natasha doubled down., pickup up her beer and taking a sip, “your best friend is a prime example of it.” She pointed to Jake.

“Hey, what the fuck ?” Jake took offense, straightening back up from taking a shot,“I’m a very generous and selfless lover,” he stated, one hand covering his heart as if he was swearing and living by those words, “that’s why I was so very kindly offering my services to Viper over here.”

Natasha’s lips briefly curled in disgust before quickly stretching out in a smirk as she looked at you.

“Or you know, if you ever want to have a real good time, you could always finally shoot your shot with women.” She teasingly slurred, snaking a playful hand around your waist.

You swatted her hand away with a chuckle and tried to ignore the way your heartbeat had unreasonably picked up.

“Yeah, maybe one day,” you joked, hoping nobody would notice the strange strain in your voice.

“Well, you know who to call when that day comes,” she winked at you, grabbing a pool cue and leaning on the table, giving you an unintentional — or was it ? — view of her cleavage.

And no matter how loud you screamed in your head at your eyes not to go there, your gaze still inevitably landed on the swell of her breasts. How pretty they looked and sat against the fabric of her fitted tank top. You could even make out the faint outline of her nipples poking through when she straightened back up after sinking a ball, and you immediately averted your gaze.

“Phoenix, you have to stop believing you can turn every straight girl gay, it’s doing awful things to your ego,” Jake said, taking his turn leaning over the pool table.

“Excuse me, you’re the one talking about ego ?” She snickered.

“To be fair, remember that one girl you flirted with when we docked in Cannes during deployment two years ago ? She came out as a lesbian right after.” Mickey remarked.

Natasha pointed to him, visibly delighted by his intervention, “thank you Fanboy, for backing up that I am simply stating facts.”

Jake scoffed, shaking his head, but you barely heard any words that came out of his mouth after that.

Natasha was a lesbian.

It was known, widely. It wasn’t something she hid or made a big deal about. She never felt the need to outright and explicitly spell it out to people, mostly because she thought she quite looked the part but also because she didn’t like the fact that most people seemed to think it was something that needed to be announced, straight people didn’t need to proclaim their sexuality, so why should she ?

Still, if Natasha thought her attraction to women was quite obvious, it still felt like a shock to you when three years prior to this, when you had just been admitted as the newest member of their already well knitted squad, she had casually mentioned an ex.

“Oh my god, my ex used to do this all the time ! She was stuck on the idea that—“

Your brain had immediately latched on to one single word, and you never knew such a short assemblage of letters was enough to somehow rewire your entire world view.

‘She’.

You had felt something in your chest then, like your heart contracting uncomfortably in your rib cage, and you didn’t like the feeling of it if you were honest. You hadn’t liked it at all.

But you forced yourself to show none of it, because what even was this reaction ? You didn’t want Natasha to think you were uncomfortable, or worse, somehow disgusted by her casual admission. You had plenty of friends who were themselves attracted to women, whether they were bisexual, lesbian, pansexual… so what the actual fuck was going on with you ?

You simply nodded as she continued to tell her story, hoping she wouldn’t notice the absolute turmoil of emotion her words had caused within you. Eventually, you had gained the courage to engage the subject, if only to show her that you were totally cool with it and that whatever weird reaction you might have let slip had nothing to do with who she was.

“So,” you started and immediately cleared your throat when your voice came out strangely croaky, “are you also into men or just women ?” You asked, opting for casualness but completely failing as your voice ever so slightly wavered on the word ‘women’.

Thankfully, Natasha didn’t seem to notice the unusual and strange behaviour you were exhibiting.

“Oh no just women, thank God for that,” she chuckled, “you ?”

She hadn’t meant anything by it, truly, she was simply returning the question, one she personally deemed harmless. But it sill landed on you as a shock — the second of the night you had realised uneasily — and it made your heart skip a beat as you replied what was the undeniable truth, your undeniable truth.

“Oh I’m straight.”

That day Natasha had simply hummed, quickly moving on to other matters and you had been so, so thankful for that.

The years following, you and her had grown to be close friends, and who wouldn’t ? Being the only two women pilot in an elite Naval Aviation squad was bound to strengthen the ties. Never again had you felt this weird sensation of contraction in your chest whenever Natasha mentioned her sexuality or the women she’d been with, and you were glad, because it meant it had been a fluke. Just a weird, inexplicable, and one time thing kind of body reaction. You had both even fallen into the depth of friendship where you’d pretend flirt with each other, making the rest of the guys very confused about which way you swung.

“I’m straight,” you assured them almost on a weekly basis.

“Then why the fuck do you act gay as fuck with Phoenix ?” Jake would interject, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s very hot to watch,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you and you made a gagging sound, “but you ought to admit it’s a little weird.”

“Oh my god, Hangman, it’s just for fun ! Don’t ruin it, please,” Natasha would defend you.

Before Jake could get another word in, Mickey would chime in.

“Yeah, it’s just something people do, I pretend I’m gay with Payback when we go out.”

“Yeah but that’s because It’s you and you are fucking weird, Fanboy, nothing about you surprises me anymore.”

Natasha would often jokingly — half jokingly ?— tell you to try women, that unless you actually had sex with one, how could you know for sure you didn’t like it ? One time you had retorted that she should try men then, just to be sure. She had casually replied that she had actually hooked up with a man once, and concluded it wasn’t for her. That had shut you up quickly.

Jake’s voice rising in volume got you out of your thoughts.

“That’s bullshit, having sex for six hours in a row is physically impossible. What, you actually think I would believe this ?”

Natasha let out a laugh, “that’s true Hangman, I don’t know what you want me to tell you. You know, women don’t really need a refractory period, so as long as you both want it, you can just keep going.”

Jake simply scoffed for what felt like the millionth time tonight, and Natasha saw the perfect opportunity to push harder. She walked up to him, her cue stick still in hand and rubbed his shoulder, as if comforting him while her face took on an empathetic expression.

“It’s okay, buddy, I know that if you men last longer than ten minutes it’s a time to put in the records books.”

Jake simply looked at her, and she seemed absolutely delighted to notice he didn’t have an answer ready and loaded like he usually did.

“And you guys always think penetration is the main event when it’s not even in the top three things you can do in bed,” she pressed on.

“And how would you know ?” Jake questioned once he had finally gotten his voice back, clearly offended his dick wasn’t considered the centerpiece of sex.

She didn’t even dignify him with a response, simply choosing to maintain his daring gaze with a smirk and a raised brow, “you have so much to learn of this world, Bagman.” She finally said in a condescending tone.

Natasha carelessly handed off her cue stick to Javy and made a beeline for you, “now let’s get you drunk, gorgeous, you need to forget about tonight.”

You couldn’t have agreed more.

The drinks kept magically appearing in your hands, you weren’t sure exactly who was refilling them with such efficiency but you were happy that with every sip you took, the memory of your disastrous date was slowly leaving your brain, drowning in the alcohol you were rapidly swallowing.

The night passed in a blur. The only clear things you could make out was Natasha’s voice in your ear, whispering things you couldn’t quite understand but that still made you giggle uncontrollably, her hands gripping your forearm when she laughed or squeezing your waist as she walked behind you… You weren’t sure anymore if it was her closeness or the alcohol making you feel so warm.

When she drove you home, you found yourself feeling disappointed the night was ending. She helped you out of the car, helped you inside your building and accompanied you all the way to your apartment door on the sixth floor.

“Thanks, Nat,” you slurred, exhaustion and alcohol weakening your speech as she was opening your door with your keys, she had stayed perfectly sober to keep an eye on you.

“No problem, sweetheart.”

A swarm of butterflies seemed to take off as violently as Super Honerts in your stomach at the nickname. Natasha was the type of person to regularly use pet names and terms of endearments for her close friends. You had always liked it, it always made you feel strangely warm inside, all gooey like. It made you feel special.

“Thank God we have the day off tomorrow huh ?” She chuckled, careful to not speak too loudly in the quiet hallway.

“Yep.”

Helping you inside, she took you to your bedroom, made you sat on your bed. She kneeled down in front of you and carefully started to take off the pretty heels you had chosen to wear. The visual made your head spin even more than the intoxicating amount of alcohol you had consumed.

“Are you gonna be okay ?” She asked, voice so gentle you wanted to live in its embrace forever.

You simply nodded lazily and extended your arms to her still kneeling form. Natasha smiled fondly and instantly indulged you, rising up to wrap your her arms around you.

Her smell immediately engulfed you entirely, something sweet and airy that reminded you of the beach on a bright and early spring morning. You could also faintly make out the sweaty and alcohol dripped scent of the Hard Deck from her spending all night at the bar. But instead of putting you off like it probably should have, you found yourself taking what you hoped was a discreet whiff. The combination of fragrance went straight to your brain, putting it into this strange and overly relaxed state, similar to when the alcohol had first started entering your body a few hours ago.

The feeling of her breasts pressing against yours made goosebumps rise up along your arms. She felt so soft. Unconsciously, or perhaps very much intentionally, you squeezed her harder, in a little perverted aim to feel more of her.

“Goodnight, baby.” She almost purred when she pulled away, nearly making you whine out in disappointment, but the pet name quickly acted as a soothing balm over your wound.

“Goodnight.”

You watched her exit your bedroom and keenly listened to her steps throughout your apartment, you listened as the door opened and finally closed behind her, leaving you all alone.

Your bedroom felt cold now, without Natasha’s presence to warm up the space like she usually did. Plopping down on the bed with a huff, you found it surprising that Morpheus hadn’t yet taken you into his warm embrace. Instead of the much needed coma inducing sleep you were expecting, flashes of Natasha took your mind hostage — or was it really a hostage situation if you didn’t mind it ?

You had always admired Natasha, that was a given, how could you not ? She was the literal and ethereal definition of a strong, independent woman, the kind every little girl looked up to and aspired to be.

Though sometimes you had to admit you acted in very strange ways around her, usually, you tried hard to not dwell too much on it because otherwise you would over analyze and pick your mind apart over every little interaction you’ve ever had.

You thought about the first time you had shared the women’s communal shower with her. Being in the military, it wasn’t new for you to shower with other women, it was the norm. Something you had to forcibly start doing when entering the Naval Academy. Anxious at first, to so casually expose your naked body to any possible judgmental stares, the feeling had progressively disappeared over the years, when you realised that nobody cared. You were all women, aware of what bodies looked like, so really you had learned there was nothing to be scared or shy about. You had even found it to be a quite relaxing moment, away from the overwhelming majority of men that flew within the US Navy.

But relaxation was thrown out the window the first time Natasha had casually undressed herself in front of you, mid conversation, to go wash herself under the warm jets. She’d been talking to you about some apparent crazy stunt Jake had pulled — once again, she had insisted on that fact — during training. But Jake wasn’t really on your mind at the moment, your brain was being sent into overdrive by the sheer vision of her.

Almost as if on autopilot, you undressed as well and followed her in the communal shower, where she was rising off under a jet while continuing to complain about your fellow squad mate. Your eyes kept quickly flicking over to her, in an irrepressible urge, a need to see more of her.

Natasha stood next to you, apparently completely oblivious to your inner crisis happening just a few centimeters away from her. Her eyes were closed as she let the warm water cascade down her body and relax her muscles. Her breasts sat prettily on her chest and your stomach churned at the sight of her perky nipples.

“I don’t even know how he has all these women at his feet, I mean I can understand that he’s hot, I don’t really see it but I can admit it, but as soon as he opens his stupid mouth they should be running away…”

Natasha’s eyes were closed as she kept on talking. She wetted her long black, letting her hands run comfortably down her body and you nearly let out a very embarrassing and inexplicable sound when her fingers ever so slightly brushed her breasts and caught on her erect nipples.

You felt as if liquid lava had been poured inside your lower stomach, your whole entire skin was burning and it certainly wasn’t because of the lukewarm water from the base’s showers. Your gaze continued to travel down on its own, feeling as though you didn’t really have control over where your eyes wanted to roam, stare so intense, as if intent on trying to graze her with a look. You followed the curve of her sternum, down to the faint outlines of her abs, her hips…

Your breath imperceptibly hitched when your eyes landed on the space between her legs. Her pubis was covered in short, jet black pubic hair that were neatly trimmed, and when you felt some weird and down right depraved disappointment when you realised the folds of her pussy were hidden by her thighs, your head snapped away, shame and guilt eating away at your insides and replacing the enjoyable, and leg weakening feeling of warmth the acute observation of Natasha had given you.

What the actual fuck were you doing ?

That day, you hadn’t stop thinking about that weird episode in the shower.

Over the years, despite the guilt and the perversion of it all, you hadn’t ever stopped looking at Natasha. Prying eyes raking over her frame every time you thought she wasn’t looking. Whether in the shower, on the tarmac in her flight suit, or at the Hard Deck when she was wearing those low neckline tank tops that pushed her breasts together and made, ever so subtly, apparent the outline of her nipples. It was a habit you found hard to shake, but to made it easier on your conscience you had reduced it to envy. Envy, and perhaps a little healthy jealousy you would say.

Natasha was gorgeous, truly. From the refined traits of her delicate face to the well sculpted and taken care of muscles of her body, there wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t beautiful. So yeah, if you looked a little too long at her naked breasts in the shower, it was because you envied her, wished yours would be as pretty and sit as nicely as hers. And if you happened to catch an unconventionally extensive look at her lips, it was because they looked good, so soft… Her hands, delicate but strong at the same time, looked like they were well designed to… to hold a control stick…?

And if sometimes, very rarely, you wondered how her perfect tits would feel in your hands, well, you had simply decided it was nobody’s business. Strangely enough, you had also decided it was none of yours either.

When your drunk brain, whether still drunk from the alcohol or now drunk from these thoughts about your squad mate you weren’t sure, finally let you go to sleep, it was a restless one. Filled with images of her.

Waking up was rough, to say the least. Your head was pounding, and an immediate wave of dizziness hit you as soon as you tried to sit up.

Yeah, you were never doing this again. Or… well, at least not until the next time you’d hook up with a guy and it ended up making you miserable instead of relaxed and euphoric like good sex was supposed to make you feel.

Flopping back down on your pillow, careful not to worsen your headache, a loud knock on your door startled you.

“Oh my fucking god,” you groaned into your sheets, seriously debating on getting up to go get the door.

You were fully ready to go back to sleep when the person knocked again, louder this time.

“Open up, bitch, I’ve got breakfast.” Natasha’s voice traveled all the way to your bedroom.

Weirdly, the sound of her was apparently enough to make you forget about your dizziness as you got up and hastily made your way to the door, heart beating perhaps a bit too loud as it should have been simply greeting a friend.

Opening up the door, you were met with Natasha’s dazzling smile. Her hair was up and she was wearing another one of her goddamn tank top, and you didn’t know if it was a curse or a blessing for you that she loved wearing them so much. She was holding up a paper bag from which came a heavenly smell, one that was slowly waking up your upset stomach from the alcohol. Before you could even say anything, Natasha made her way inside, walking right past you, gifting you with a quick whiff of her sweet smell.

She put the paper bag on your small coffee table and went straight for the cabinets in your kitchen, getting out a pill of ibuprofen and filling up a glass of water before making her way back to you and handing both items to you.

“Drink this.”

Chuckling at her authoritative tone, you took the pill and the glass, “yes, ma’am.”

Taking a sip, you missed the way Natasha’s eyes seemed to ever so slightly glaze over, suppressing a smile by poking the inside of her cheek with her tongue. What you did notice though, was the way it had felt to call her that, way too good. Jesus, the military really had messed you up, you thought.

You also missed the way a teasing glint went alight in her gaze as she watched you diligently swallow the ibuprofen pill.

“Good girl,” she purred, walking past you, giving your waist a playful squeeze on the way as she started to set up breakfast in your living room.

You forced yourself to chuckle out loud, trying to sound amused and not like those two casual words had rewritten your entire DNA. A huge flush hit your entire body, making you feel way too hot all of a sudden, weird, Californian heatwaves weren’t supposed to hit yet at this time of year…

Hyper aware of everything happening in your body, the way your clothes sticked uncomfortably to your skin, the way your heart hadn’t slow down its frenetic rhythm ever since you had opened the door, the way the place between your legs kept getting warmer and warmer…

You finally joined her over with the awkward and confusing sensation of your panties sticking to your progressively wet folds. Yeah, you were really craving a good fuck, that was all. Your brain was overwhelmed with horniness, not thinking straight, which surely explained all these strange feelings… right ?

You plopped down on your couch next to her as she immediately handed you a plate full of pancakes, your mouth watered and your heart swelled at the sight.

“You’re the best.”

‘I love you’ was on the tip of your tongue, something you had told her casually numerous times. She was your friend, friends loved each other, so why did it feel so awkward to say it now ?

“I know,” she simply replied with a smile, biting a piece of pancake off her fork.

Conversation flowed easily after that, thank God. You were back in your usually rhythm, a familiar one that brought a pleasant warm to your chest.

You were complaining about how Cyclone had been on your ass lately when the sounds coming from the tv, turned on for some background noise, stopped you short.

The two main characters of some shady tv show were getting it on, and that was putting it lightly to say they were full fucking like wild rabbits on the HD screen of your TV.

Natasha made a disgusted noise, prompted simply by the view of heterosexual inter course, you laughed before letting out a big sigh.

“I really, really need to get properly laid. Nat, I’m so fucking horny all the time, it’s becoming a seriously urgent issue.”

She simply looked at you for a moment, an unreadable expression flashing in her eyes.

“Shit, maybe I’ll actually end up taking Hangman’s offer if this keeps going like that.”

That seemed to wake her up.

“Yeah, hell no. You’re not doing that.”

“Well I might need to at one point you know, I physically cannot keep going on like that. It’s actually becoming damaging to my mental wellbeing.”

She paused, putting her pancake plate away on the coffee table.

“If you really wanted to get laid properly, you could always try women.”

“Nat…”

“Hey, it doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. I’m just saying, any woman could take way better care of you than fucking Hangman. You just have to have an open mind.”

Her dark eyes were boring into yours, not letting you escape her stare and you felt yourself squirm under her prying gaze.

“Does ‘any woman’ include you ?” You asked chuckling, the joking tone you used leaving a bitter taste in your mouth for a second.

A smirk stretched Natasha’s lips as she snaked a flirty hand onto your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

“You know it does, gorgeous.”

You almost jerked your thigh away from her touch from how much the casual contact ignited such a strong fire in your lower stomach. She was sitting so close to you, her thumb rubbing small circles on your clothed skin, she smelled so good, and fuck her nipples were peaking through that goddamn tank top again…

You flicked from her eyes to her lips without anything you could do to prevent it, like her mouth was a magnet, attracting you with the force of physics you simply could not resist. Natasha’s smirk widened, raising a small, inquisitive brow.

“Sweetheart,” she tried to grab your attention, voice as soft as a murmur, “is there something you wanna ask me ?”

Your chest was heaving with each breath you took, it felt as if your whole skin was burning as your eyes went back up to her eyes. Something warm bloomed in your lower stomach at the way she was looking at you, her hand slid higher on your leg, her fingers brushing your inner thigh and getting dangerously close to the space between you legs that was now almost painfully throbbing in your panties. Her question barely registered in your mind, the word ‘sweetheart’ had taken hostage all your cognitive abilities.

“Baby ?” She gently prompted, an amused smile replacing her self assured smirk, “I asked you something.”

Oh fuck.

All doubts, deep rooted denial and inhibitions went out the window. Your brain was clouded by a pleasurable fog, one that went by the name of Natasha.

A very embarrassing sound escaped you without anything you could do about it, like a little pathetic wine, a desperate call for her to get closer. Natasha bit her lip, eyes becoming progressively more half lidded. She squeezed your tender flesh.

“That’s a very pretty sound, sweetheart.” She cooed, the praise seeping into your mind, melting you from the inside out, “but I need words. Can you do that for me ? Tell me what you want ?”

Her hand was becoming more daring along your thigh but her body remained a respectful distance away from yours, it made you ache, it felt unbearable, wrong even for her to be for far away from you.

“I want you,” you managed to speak up in a breath, voice strained and pleading, “I want you so bad, Nat, please.”

Natasha’s cheeks took on the prettiest flush, “I always knew you’d beg so pretty, sweetheart.” Her hand left your thigh to settle on your waist while the other cupped your cheek, “do you want me to kiss you ?”

You nodded eagerly, not sure you could handle another second of her lips not being on yours, but she tsked softly.

“Use your words like a good girl, mmh ? I need to hear you say it, gorgeous.”

“Fuck,” you whined out, dizzy with sheer desire, you probably would have been embarrassed if the only thought plaguing your mind at the moment wasn’t her tongue deep down in your throat, “I want you to kiss me so fucking bad, Nat, please don’t make me wait any longer.”

“Awww, baby,” she cooed in a faux sympathetic tone, “don’t worry, I’m gonna take such good care of you.”

Natasha finally leaned in and her lips collided with yours with a gentleness that contrasted greatly with the fire igniting your insides. The contact seemed to unlock a floodgate of sensation within you and a small moan escaped from the back of your throat, one that undeniably testified to just how much you loved this. Her tongue gently probed at the entrance of your mouth, as if asking for permission, and you easily gave it to her, opening up your lips to let her in. Natasha’s tongue met yours and you could faintly taste the maple syrup she lathered her pancakes in only minutes prior. She lightly sucked on your tongue and you didn’t even know it was possible but somehow you felt the sensation explode deep within your lower stomach. Natasha pulled away and you hadn’t even realized you were running out of breath, too eager to taste more of her. She looked nothing short of heavenly. A few strands of hair had escaped her bun, her face was flushed with the most beautiful shade of red you had ever been given the chance to see, her lips were shiny with both of your spit and ever so slightly swollen.

“How did that feel ?” She asked, eyes flicking between your mouth and your eyes.

Words couldn’t have possibly described what that had felt like. Unable to find your voice, you leaned in again, almost lurching at her and your mouth met hers a bit more forcefully than intended. You felt her lips stretch out into a coy smile into the kiss and that only fueled the desire burning in your veins. She hummed against you, the sound resonating within you and now making you hyper aware of all the slick accumulating in your panties.

“Fuck, I love how eager you are,” she whispered against your lips, mouth never leaving yours.

In one swift movement, Natasha swung one of her leg across both of yours and suddenly, she was on top of you, her weight sitting down on your lap. Your breath hitched into the kiss, a mix of surprise and sheer horniness. You felt as if your internal temperature had just risen by a thousand degrees. Her weight pressing down on you felt nothing short of perfect, and you felt another string of slick get helplessly pushed out of you at the knowledge that the only thing separating her pussy from yours were a few mere items of clothing.

Having her on top of you felt feverish. For a second you were weirdly brought back to the first time you had ever watched porn, your brain waking up to something entirely new, maybe a little bit scary and yet so enticing and exciting you couldn’t look away, your sense awakening for the first time. It wasn’t your first time now, but it sure felt like it was. Even the briefest of Natasha’s touch was enough to have you moan louder than the jackhammering of the guy you had hooked up with the night before.

“You can touch me you know,” she whispered in your ear, licking your lobe and lightly biting down on it, sending a shiver down your spine.

It was only then that you realized your arms had been uselessly sticking to your sides, like touching her was something out of a dream and not something you were actually allowed to do. When Natasha pulled away, she seemed to decipher the conflict, the hesitation in your eyes. She smiled softly and quickly pecked your lips before taking your hands in hers, and oh so slowly guiding them to the hem of her tank top, slipping right underneath.

Her skin was warm, burning even, and it felt good knowing that maybe you were affecting her even just a third of the way she was affecting you. You watched, mesmerized, as the bumps that your pair of hands made underneath the fabric traveled up her stomach, which dipped at the brush of your fingertips. How fucking cute, you thought. Her ribs and… your eyes widened when it finally clicked into your slowed down horny brain where the final destination was. Natasha let out an amused chuckled above you as her hands snaked down to hold your wrist and guide your hand to the one place you had been in denial about obsessing over for the past three years.

A desperate moan left your lips as soon as your hands made contact with her breasts, they felt divine and fit perfectly into your palms, like they were fucking made for you, your brain supplied.

“Yeah,” Natasha encouraged you, voice just a tiny bit lower, clouded by lust, “always knew you were a boobs girl.” Her sentence ended in a pleasured hum when you squeeze her tender flesh.

“What do you mean ?” You asked breathily, her words somehow registering into your mind.

Her smirk widened, pupils dilated as she looked down at you.

“What ? You seriously thought I wouldn’t notice you sneaking peeks at my tits ?” She leaned in, stealing kisses off you as she spoke, “you’re not exactly discreet, baby. I didn’t even liked these tank tops that much until I noticed that you very much loved them.”

A fleeting embarrassment made its way through the fog clouding your brain, “you have amazing boobs, Nat,” you whined, as if that explained every perverted look you had stole of her.

She made a low, appreciative sound in her throat.

“It’s okay, no need to be shy now, sweetheart. They’re all yours,” she encouraged you, arching a little into your touch.

This last sentence shouldn’t have made you shiver as much as it did. You squeezed them a little tighter, loving the weight on your palms. You let out a choked out moan when your thumbs rubbed over her nipples and you couldn’t believe you were feeling this as strongly as if she were the one touching you.

“Fuck,” she breathed out, “keep doing that.”

“You like that ?” You asked, voice shaky and betraying your sheer need to please her.

She hummed as her hips began to slowly grind against yours. The sensation sent a spark of electricity through you as you continued to grope and massage her breasts, your thumbs circling her perky nipples. When you got enough confidence to try and be a bit daring, you slightly pulled on her erect buds, perhaps a bit more forcefully than intended. You were about to apologize but the moan Natasha let out shut you up.

God, What a beautiful sound. One that only sunk you deeper into your daze, with one thought screaming at the forefront of your mind : please her, make her feel good.

Natasha’s hips sped up a bit, shamelessly rutting her clothed pussy against yours and you didn’t even dare to imagine the state of your panties at the moment. You watched, mesmerized, as her eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, one of her hands met yours through the fabric of her tank top, urging you to squeeze harder.

A sudden urge took a hold of you and the words were out of your mouth almost as soon as your mind had thought them.

“Can I take it off ?”

She pretended to think it over for a painfully long, agonizing second.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” she purred before grabbing the hem of her tank top, looking you in the eyes and oh so slowly pulling it off.

Her upper body slowly revealed itself to you, the fabric getting caught on her breasts and giving the slightest bounce when it finally passes over. In one final, swift movement, her top was off, thrown disregarded on your couch.

Natasha sat there, warm and soft above you with her naked breasts right in your face.

“Fuck, Nat, you’re beautiful,” you marveled with transcendent honesty, because there were simply no other words for it.

The tip of her ears visibly reddened and you found it so endearing that a person as confident as her could be flustered by such a simple, but so deeply true, compliment. Emboldened by her reaction, you leaned in, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses along her collarbone. Natasha let out a shaky breath as her grinding resumed, you made your way down, letting your spit coat the swell of her breast. You licked at the valley between her breasts, the scent of her skin filling up your nostrils. God, you felt like a fucking dog in heat.

A moan vibrated in your throat when you finally closed your mouth around one of her nipples.

“Oh shit…” Natasha breathily moaned.

Your tongue swirled around her erect bud as your hand toyed with the other.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so good,” her hand came up behind your head to grab a fistful of your hair, gently holding you in place right where she wanted you.

Sucking on the bud one last time, you switched to her other breast. Your hands tracing down her body, landing on her ass, squeezing her cheeks appreciatively as you helped her grind herself on you. After making her whimper with a graze of your teeth you pulled back to look at her tits, nipples all puffy and swollen from your work and the visual made your pussy ache. No longer the pleasant tingling of being turned on but a true ache, an almost painful one at feeling so pent up and yet so untouched.

Natasha pulled you out of your admiration when she took your hand and guided it down her body, pushing past the waistband of her pants, past the waistband of her underwear and you gasped when your shaky fingers made contact with her core.

Fuck, she was wet. More than that, she was absolutely dripping. And you could feel the dizzying heat radiating off her pussy as your fingertips ghosted over her engorged folds.

“Let’s move to your bedroom, sweetheart,” she seductively whispered, akin to a siren luring you underwater, “there’s not enough space on this couch for what I want to do to you.”

She stood up from your lap, extended a hand out to you. You eagerly took it and almost tumbled to the ground trying to stand on weak knees and shaky legs.

“Careful, baby,” Natasha cooed, her hands grabbing you at the waist, keeping you steady on your feet.

You caught her lips in a sloppy kiss, finding that her mouth hadn’t touch yours in too long.

Stumbling through your apartment, you finally made it to your bedroom. Of course, Natasha had been there numerous times, but this time the context was so special that the vision of her in such an intimate part of your home made you swoon. Still making out, she blindly pushed you towards your bed, your hand coming up to take out her raven hair from her bun. Pulling away, you admired the way her hair framed her face and fell upon her naked breasts as Natasha gently pushed you onto the soft sheets.

Immediately pulling her with you, she landed on top of you with a giggle, and your mouth immediately latched on to one of her nipples again. The sound of her laugh melted into a moan at the contact of your wet, hot mouth.

“Baby, fuck. Sucking my tits so good…”

“Nat,” you called out to her, letting her sensitive bud go, “can we…”

You hesitated on the words and how to articulate the desire and need that was throbbing under your skin. Your whole body was aching for her, in desperate need to feel her close, feel her right there.

“Yeah ?” She encouraged you, eyes dilated but kind and patient as they gazed down at you.

Taking a shaky breath, you tried, “can we do that thing lesbians do ?”

You immediately cringed as soon as the words left your mouth. For fuck’s sake, what even was that ?! That ‘thing lesbians do’ ? God, If Natasha wasn’t walking out on you right now it would be a miracle.

“Gorgeous, can you look at me ?” She gently asked and you hadn’t even realized you had closed your eyes in fear of her reaction.

Very slowly, you peeled your eyes open, immediately landing on her fond expression. A mix of amusement, lust and softness.

“That thing lesbians do,” she slowly repeated, pretending to think about it as you groaned out in embarrassment, “are you talking about tribbing, sweetheart ?”

You were, you absolutely were.

Funnily enough, Natasha had been the one to teach you about tribbing years ago, when you had subtly inquired about lesbian sex. You had been hung up on her words and explanations then and now there was nothing more you wished than to share that with her, be that close to her.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to say anything wise.

Natasha hummed, “yeah ? You wanna rub pussies, baby ? Want to feel my clit on yours, all wet and slippery ?”

“Yes,” you so quickly agreed, her words only deepening your desire to do it, “yes, yes please Nat.”

Begging came to you surprisingly quickly when Natasha was involved, you noticed, and you weren’t sure if it made you more ashamed or turned on.

She hummed again, “I guess that can be arranged,” she teasingly conceded, her head leaning in to place fleeting kisses on your jaw, nipping at your skin and immediately soothing it with her tongue.

Her lips made her way down your neck, and you whimpered when she sucked at a particularly sensitive spot.

“You sound so good, sweetheart,” she praised in the crook of your neck, “so responsive, moaning so sweetly for me.”

When her mouth arrived at the neckline of your t-shirt, she looked up, silently asking for your permission and you almost knocked into her from how fast you sat up to tear it off with shaky hands.

She watched with half lidded eyes as you lied back down on your pillow, waiting for her mouth to set alight your skin again. Her gaze fell upon your naked breasts, not for the first time — she did her own share of peeking in the showers — and she made an appreciative noise in her throat.

“Fuck, look at you, baby. You’re so beautiful,” she marveled, letting her hands scoop up your boobs, “nipples so fucking perky for me…”

“Fuck…” you breathed out when her warm mouth engulfed one of your nipples, the other enduring the pulling and pinching of her fingers.

You were pretty sure your pants were completely soaked through, and there was a part of you that genuinely thought you would actually die if Natasha didn’t make her way down south immediately.

Your hand made its way through her hair, grabbing a fistful of it and gently tugging, trying to ease the loving assault on your nipples that was only worsening the ache in your panties.

“Please can we do it now ? I need you so fucking bad,” you whined out.

Natasha pulled back, gently brushing some hair away from your face that had stuck to your sweaty forehead.

“I know you do, sweetheart.” She purred, letting her nails drag down your stomach, all the way to the waistband on your pants, “ but see you are so used to men going straight to the point, you don’t know what it’s like to take your time,” she spoke, now toying with your zipper as you pathetically whined out again, your hips pushing towards her on their own, she chuckled, “I promise you won’t be complaining in a minute, sweet girl.”

She slowly took off your pants, and were met with the sight of your soaked through panties, clinging to your wet core.

“Oh baby,” she cooed, a hand coming up to pull on one of her nipple, as if to release some tension, “look at you,” she traced a finger down your clothed slit and you violently shuddered.

You made a helpless noise as Natasha continued to probe and poke at your covered core, making more slick leak out of you.

You yelped when she suddenly brought her face to your burning core, her nose touching your clit through your panties as she inhaled, taking in the sweet scent of your arousal. This probably should have made you embarrassed, but you pressed yourself a little closer to her, loving the way she seemed to need you as desperately as you needed her.

“You smell so fucking good, sweetheart. Been dreaming about this for so long.” She groaned, voice a bit raspier than before and you swore you felt the vibration of it in your entire body.

You weren’t sure how this was possible but your legs were already shaking a little bit.

Natasha took off your panties, savoring the way the fabric tried to clung to your wet core. At the same time, she took her own pants and underwear off and you physically clenched in anticipation. Natasha must have seen the hope lighting up your eyes because she chuckled softly.

“Not yet, baby.”

Her hands rubbed your lower stomach before getting down, purposely avoiding your pussy to affectionately squeeze at your inner thighs.

“Just let me get to know this pretty pussy first, yeah ?”

You simply nodded, suddenly feeling the need to obey her every word, please her with your submission. And your heart fluttered at the same time as your empty walls when she smiled, visibly appreciative of your sweet behavior. She leaned in, stealing a gentle kiss from your lips.

“That’s it, Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

“Yes,” you dumbly agreed, voice a bit shaky from the sheer intensity of your arousal.

Natasha squeezed your thighs affectionately, letting her nails trace the shape of your cunt, not even touching your folds, just the outside of it, making your legs twitch from the tickling sensation.

The long awaited first contact made you jolt just before making you moan out embarrassingly loud for such a fleeting touch. Both her thumbs were working your outer lips, gently rubbing the engorged tissues up and down. Natasha scooped up some of the slick that was profusely leaking out of you to bring it back up your core, slathering your pussy with it, she took a second to admire you.

“Your pussy is so pretty baby, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, fuck.”

You saw one of her hands briefly rub in between her legs, as if the sight of you was too much to bear and she desperately needed some relief from it.

“Sweetheart,” she spoke in a breath, “I’m gonna fuck you so good.”

She had a little feral tone in her voice that pushed you deeper into the pleasurable daze you seemed to be in ever since her lips first kissed yours. You watched, legs open wide and leaning on your elbows, mesmerized, as she lowered herself, her back arching so beautifully, pushing up her hips and ass in the air. It strangely felt like an out of body experience, seeing her face purposefully get so close to the most intimate part of you. It was like seeing her get down on her knees for someone else and before some weird disappointment could hit you about realizing this might be all a dream, the sensation of her mouth on your cunt brought you right back within yourself.

Wet warmth immediately engulfed you, pleasure throbbing in your veins, just underneath your skin. And she hadn’t even aimed for your clit, no, not at all. Natasha was busing making out with your shiny folds, kissing your outer and inner lips, licking in between them, and really you didn’t even know you had nerves endings in those places.

“Nat…” you mewled, “that’s so good, so so good…” you slurred out, already drunk on the few crumbs of pleasure she had given you.

Her tongue explored every inch of your pussy, except your aching clit, that she made a clear point to avoid. You had thought about complaining, whining, begging, but despite your swollen bud feeling neglected, everything just felt so good you didn’t want to take the risk of her stopping.

“Yeah ? You like having your pussy ate by someone who actually knows what they’re doing ?”

“Yes, yes I do, fuck… oh fuck Nat !”

Her tongue had moved to focus on your entrance, not breaching past, but just toying with the overly sensitive tissue that adorned your hole. She was tracing circles, or… were these stars ? Hearts…? Didn’t matter, it felt like being the canvas of the most skilled painter of all time.

“You taste like fucking heaven, baby.” She spoke, wet lips brushing against you with every word.

“Do I ?” You questioned, half delirious, not conscious of the words leaving out your mouth.

She only smirked, her assault on your entrance stoping. Perched on your elbow, the carnal look in her eyes made you clench around nothing.

Wordlessly, she leaned down again, flattened her tongue and licked from the bottom of your hole, through your folds and finally, finally, reached your clit. She licked the underside with a pressure that made you see stars and continued to cover the top of it, the force of her tongue ever so slightly pulling your hood back. Your head fell on your pillows, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out a sound you didn’t know you were capable of making.

Natasha’s lips locked around your clit, sucking on it.

“Yeah, you do.” She confirmed.

She returned to her ministrations. Sucking on your bundle of nerves, giving it kitten licks, very gently letting her teeth graze it… you couldn’t guess what was coming each time and it was driving you wild.

Both your hands found refuge in her jet black hair. Your hips began to move on their own accord, rutting against Natasha’s face.

“Yeah, that’s it, gorgeous. Ride my face, does that feel good ?”

You made an affirmative noise mixed with a desperate moan.

Panting heavier, you could feel the coil in your lower stomach getting tighter and tighter with each pass of her tongue on your clit.

“Yeah ? You need anything baby ?” She questioned, mouth coming off you for a few seconds.

You suddenly realised that you had been calling out her name over and over again, in a desperate need for her to know just how good she was being to you. You wanted to explain it to her, tell her every little thing you were feeling with articulate words, but all that came out was—

“Natasha…”

Yet another drawn out moan of her name. But Natasha seemed delighted, thrilled.

“Yeah I know, sweetheart, I know. Your little pussy is feeling so fucking good right now, isn’t she ?”

Panting heavier, your legs actually began to shake around her head, slowly trying to close in as Natasha kept them firmly wide open.

“Wait— oh fuck, Nat, Nat— fuck I think I’m gonna cum—“

“Such a good girl, just relax and let go for me.”

Standing dangerously close to the edge, every fiber in your body was preparing for the intense crash of hormones, but you pulled on her hair, trying to get her off you.

“Nat, please wait.” You managed through labored breath.

She immediately let up. Her brown, lust dilated eyes immediately filled with worry as she inspected you, looking for any sign of distress on you.

“Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay ?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s just— well I was about to cum.”

Her eyebrows frowned ever so slightly in confusion.

“That… kinda was the goal, sweetheart.” She said in a light chuckle.

“But I wanna do the tribbing thing,” you tried to reason with her.

“I know you do,” she says, voice slipping back into that syrupy, gentle register, “we’re gonna do it after, baby.”

It was your turn to frown now, and it seemed to clicked into Natasha’s mind.

“Do…” she carefully started, “do you think that cumming right now means that it’s over ?”

Even though she tried to be as neutral as possible, you sensed from her tone that what you were implying was stupid.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, you stuttered, “I mean, uh— yeah ? Cumming is like, the end.” You cleared your throat, “and I wanna feel that with you, while we— um trib ? Is that the word ?”

Natasha’s whole expression seemed to melt.

“Oh, baby,” she cooed, empathy dripping from her voice.

Leaning in, she planted a sweet kiss on your cheek, letting her lips linger on your skin.

“You are so fucking sweet. My gorgeous angel, an orgasm is not the end, you don’t have to stop at one. Sex is about feeling good, and as long as you want to keep feeling good, we can keep going as long as we want.”

Her words seemed to open some sort of floodgates within you.

“Really ?”

“Yeah, you know what’s amazing about our bodies ? We don’t have a refractory period, we basically can have as many orgasms as we want.”

The realization settled upon you, and a big smile made its way onto your face with no way to stop it. You practically lurched at her, capturing her lips with yours.

“Please make me come,” you pleaded, vibrating with anticipation.

Natasha smirked, “you’re unreal, sweetheart.”

But she obliged, her mouth returning to your aching clit. It didn’t take long for her to bring you back to the edge, her tongue apparently having learnt over such a short time what exact spots made you cry out louder.

“I want you to soak my face baby,” she rasped against your swollen folds.

The sound of her voice vibrating against you, the feeling of her hair on your skin, the relentless assault of her tongue on your clit and the knowledge that it was Natasha in between your legs making you see stars and that you’d keep seeing many more in the next few hours, the mix of everything made the coil in your stomach snap, more violently than you had ever felt before.

Your legs immediately closed around her head, caging her in. But Natasha wasn’t at all complaining.

She worked you through your high, as she glanced up to watch the beautiful visual you were offering her. Your back arched, tits pushing out towards the ceiling, head thrown back, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open on a soundless moan, as if the air was somehow trapped.

It felt like as if your ears got plugged for a moment, only able to register white noise as waves and waves of pleasure continued to roll through you, and you were completely, but very happily, helpless against it.

After what felt like a forever bliss, you slowly opened your eyes, feeling like your soul was progressively getting back into your body. Your breath was coming in short and shaky, but God did you feel at ease. You didn’t recall your mattress being this comfortable, you wanted to sink down in it and never, ever get up.

The gentle pass of hands on your thighs made you look up, eyes landing on Natasha, her lips wet from your arousal stretched out into a smile of pure adoration. It made your heart swell and your arousal start up again.

Cupping her face your brought her up to you, slamming your lips against yours and she let out a surprised laugh into the kiss.

“Nat, that was… fuck I actually have no words,” you marveled, licking your lips, tasting yourself on her, feeling like letting loose after such an intense climax, “that felt so fucking good, I came so hard.”

“Yeah, you did. Came all over my face like the good girl you are,” she praised, getting some hair away from your sticky forehead.

Letting out a little giggle out of sheer need, you felt yourself get even wetter because of the pet name.

“Are you still up to do the tribbing thing ?” She teasingly used your previous words.

“Fuck yes.” You caught her lips in another kiss, apparently unable to stay too long without kissing her, “rub your pussy on mine, I need it so bad.”

For a second you looked at each other, both startled by your sudden boldness. Before you had the time to cringe or become self conscious, Natasha’s pleased groan hit your ears.

“Lay back down, baby,” she cooed, one hand on your chest gently pushing you down, “I’m gonna fuck you so good.”

Your hands came up to squeeze her breasts passionately, trying to let her know how much you loved the way she talked to you. Opening up your legs wide enough for her hips to slide in, you waited in burning anticipation for the one thing you had spent way too much time fantasizing about for a so called ‘straight girl’.

Both of your gazes were fixed on each other’s core, watching Natasha oh so slowly close the distance and finally, finally putting her wet pussy on yours.

“Fuck,” you exhaled shakily, eyes trained to where you were connected.

The first thing you registered was warmth, overwhelming warmth coming from her core. It was wet, so wet that you didn’t even know which one of your slick was staining the sheets.

“This pussy is so ready for me, sweetheart, so fucking wet.” She rasped as her hips began to move, little back and forth that made her clit buck up against yours.

The friction was… heavenly. Unlike anything you had ever felt before. The pleasure flowing through your veins was electric, and your eyes were desperate to roll to the back of your head but your determination to keep watching Natasha rut herself against your pussy was stronger.

The moans exiting her mouth were like the ones of an angel you thought, if heaven could make sound it would definitely be this one.

“Oh my god, Nat, your pussy feels so fucking good,” you cried out, reaching for her and intertwining your fingers together.

Her hips picked up the pace, the friction of your wet cores resonating loudly in your bedroom.

She had a faraway look in her lust blown eyes as her gaze oscillated between your face and the slight bounce of your boobs.

The way her engorged clit kept catching on yours was bringing you faster than ever before towards the edge, already sensitive from a first mind blowing orgasm.

“Sweetheart, do you know how long I have thought about this ?” She managed through a moan, still going steady on your dripping pussy, “everytime you came back from a shitty date, every time you peeked at my fucking boobs in the shower… fuck.”

Her hips stuttered as she seemed to rub a particularly sensitive spot of her clit with yours.

“Every single time I’ve thought about this, sweetheart. Hearing you moan my name so sweetly for me, finally show you,” she cursed lowly, sounding out of breath for a moment, “you’re not the perfectly straight girl you claim to be.”

Her whole rant was only fueling the pleasure boiling in your veins, it felt like losing your mind to the sweetest torture. You couldn’t respond with anything but a desperate moan. Firmly holding your hips down, she stopped her thrusting motion, switching for a circular one.

“Oh— oh fuck, keep doing that, that feels so good, oh my fucking god Nat !”

“I know,” she moaned back, “I know, I can feel your little clit getting all hard, baby, that’s so fucking hot.”

Your climax was approaching alarmingly fast, chest heaving violently as your whole body clenched in anticipation of the pleasure waves that would soon submerged you.

Her hips kept the same pace, same pressure, same motion that was making you lose your mind, and before you truly realised it, you didn’t just fell over the edge, you were thrown off of it.

Noises from all sort were falling out from your gaping mouth, hips twitching under Natasha’s.

She fucked you through it, never stopping her movements. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Let it all out, fuck, that’s it… shit…”

It was like white noise rigging in your ears and Natasha’s voice was the only thing coming through. When the most intense waves slowly calmed after what felt like ages, the first thing you registered was the sped up movement of Natasha’s hips, then came her moans, almost pornograohic in their high pitched melody.

Realizing she was desperately chasing her own climax, your hands found her ass, helping her rut against you while the beginning of overstimulation was sweetly creeping up on you. She looked so good, and you could feel her pussy getting slicker and slicker on top of yours, the heat coming from her close to feverish.

Natasha looked almost vulnerable, so pretty on top of you, finally chasing her pleasure after bringing you to yours twice. Your hands squeezed the flesh of her ass as the sight in front of you gave a new found confidence to your words.

“Keep going, Nat. You’re doing so great, you look so fucking good,” you praised breathlessly, watching her face scrunch up in bliss at the sound of your voice, “use my pussy to make yourself cum, rub that pretty clit on me.”

“Keep talking, baby,” she begged, eyes scrunched up tight, only the feeling of your pussy and sweet voice registering into her pleasure drunk brain, “please keep talking, don’t stop.”

And who were you to deny her ?

“I’m not stopping, baby, I swear. Keep fucking me, wanna feel you cum on me, Nat, wanna feel you leak all over me.”

Those words seemed to detonate something inside of her, her hips twitched before stopping completely, rendered absolutely helpless by the white hot pleasure slamming into her body.

“Y/N, shit !” She moaned out so beautifully.

You helped her ride her high, your hands on her ass helping her hips move as her pussy was sporadically clenching around nothing, gushing out slick on your own puffy folds. The sight was one you wanted to imprint into your mind just in case it was your only chance of seeing it.

It was only when she came back down that her eyes opened up, immediately landing on yours, her lips quirking up in a small, dazed smile. Catching her breath, she quickly looked down at where your cores were still connected and she let out a low, appreciative sound at the slick mess in between the two of you.

“Baby,” she rasped, coming down to affectionately nudge your nose with hers, “that was so fucking good. God, I wish I had my strap, want to see you cream around my cock so bad.”

The visual she painted in your brain was nothing short of sinful and absolutely delicious, and you whimpered in tired enthusiasm.

Lying down on top of you, she buried her face into the crook of your neck, rubbing your sweat slicked skin affectionately with her nose.

“How are you feeling, baby ?”

“Good, so good,” you slurred, still dazed from the intensity of your orgasm.

She hummed into your skin, and for a moment you both laid there, engulfed in each other’s warmth, basking in the comfortable silence. Then, a thought popped into your head, one you absolutely couldn’t suppress anymore and needed to voice out to Natasha.

“Am I a lesbian ?”

Natasha bursted out laughing.

“Hey,” you half jokingly reprimanded her, “it’s a serious question !”

She calmed down, only slightly. “Sorry,” she managed through her fit of giggles, “sorry, didn’t mean to laugh, sweetheart, it just caught me off guard.”

“So,” you promoted again, “am I a lesbian ?”

Natasha lifted her head, her eyes catching yours, a fond smile replacing her chuckling and a tender look in her eyes.

“I mean, you’re definitely not straight,” she gently teased, stealing a quick kiss off you, “but I can’t tell you if you’re a lesbian, baby, that’s for you to figure out.”

You hummed, deep in thought.

“I mean, I do like men.” You stated, matter of factly, you’ve had bad experiences, yes, but it didn’t mean you were any less attracted to them, whether unfortunately or not.

“You sure do,” she chuckled, visibly remembering how you never hid the way you oggled at Jake when he took his shirt off at the beach. “And by the way,” she added, “you don’t need to figure it out tonight, you can leave the thinking and introspection for tomorrow, we can just cuddle and watch a movie.”

Her words filled you with warmth, and while her patience and reassurance were making your heart swell, they were also making more slick escape from in between your legs.

“And…” you began, a small smirk pulling at your lips, “maybe after some of those cuddles, you could… teach me how to eat you out ? That seems so fun I really want to taste you,” you said, earnest as if you had just had sex for the very first time, feeling like those feelings were entirely new to you.

And, in a sense, they were. Saying you had felt this strongly about any guy would be a terrible lie.

She hummed, “yeah, we can do that.” Her hips slowly began to grind back into yours, and you weren’t sure if she was entirely conscious of the movement.

“And then,” you trailed off, struggling to keep making sense as the pleasure fog was slowly clouding your brain again, meeting you like a new friend you couldn’t wait to get familiar with, “then we could do the tribbing thing again ? And I could fuck you this time.”

She quirked a playful eyebrow at you. “Mmh ? You wanna fuck me, huh ? Wanna have me cry out your name under you, sweet thing ?” Her hips picked up the pace, swollen and puffy clit catching on yours.

Moaning out, you wanted to toy with her a little bit, get her a bit riled up in the hope of getting fucked harder.

“Yeah, then I’ll be able to vouch for you to Jake.”

She frowned, pulled aback by the mention of her squad mate in such an intimate moment.

“What ?”

“You know, that lesbians really do fuck all night.”

She bursted out laughing again, the sound a blessing to your ears, kissing you in the middle of of her laugher fit as you mirrored her, both of your breaths mingling.

And that was when you realised that being with Natasha like that didn’t feel new. It felt exciting, that was for sure, but not in an unfamiliar way. Strangely, it felt like something you’d known all your life, and were just now allowing to finally fully exist. And it hit you as she smiled at you, eyes full of adoration.

It felt like coming home.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Author’s note : guys I genuinely don’t know how to feel about this fic. Let me tell you the smut was supposed to be way longer than that, like it was supposed to keep going but I’ve been writing this fic for too long and I genuinely couldn’t do it anymore😭😭 I’ve been stuck on it for weeks and I just couldn’t stay forever on it, so sorry I hope it’s still okay

Also I know there isn’t a lot of Natasha fans so I don’t know who this will reach but whoever it might be, I hope it was alright !

Thank you guys for reading this absolute mess !💞

“Summerween is crazy,” MJ said idly. Her glass clinked with ice as her lips pursed around it, and Betty’s backyard was blindingly hot—Peter and Betty continued to talk near the long, wooden family table and the sun glinted off the pink umbrella in searing white refractions. 

“How are you finding MIT?” Betty asked, sifting through locks of Peter’s brown hair. At this point, he had rid himself of his neon orange shirt, only donning his navy blue swim-shorts. She sat on his lap, facing the pool with her back to his face, squirting a thick dollop of white sunscreen into his expectant palm, which lay facing towards her, extended beyond her side. As he moved, you noticed how his arms tensed and untensed and hit reflections of the pale blue pool. 

“It’s been really fun,” Peter told her, smearing it all over her back with the same grace as a child in a kitchen. “I’ve made a bunch of new friends. The classes kinda suck but they’re not too hard.” 

Betty nodded and bit her lip. When MJ nudged your shoulder, you were already glancing at her through your sunglasses. The pair of you held back a giggle as you further inspected the amusing situation at hand. Literally. Betty’s back must have been well-protected from the sun after a near five-minute operation of Peter rubbing it into her skin, yet, she still encouraged him to put on some more. You adjusted the string of your gingham bikini and sipped your peach bellini. 

“Not too hard? Peter, you’re a genius,” Betty said, girlishly. She flipped her hair and looked over her shoulder back towards him, eyes low. “I only go to community college.” 

Awkwardly, Peter patted her bicep, and said, with unsure restraint, “everyone has their own journey.” 

“That’s the corniest shit I’ve ever heard,” MJ said. 

“Sh,” you told her. 

“That’s true,” Betty continued, finally stepping off of his lap. She stretched, revealing lines of toned abdomen. Peter noticeably tried not to steal a glance. In the distance, Ned must have jumped into the pool, because a big splash echoed across the water, catching your attention. You shifted on your lounge chair, watching Ned and Gwen. Ned had just thrown Gwen into the pool, and now, she was in his arms, being dragged across the pool, shrieking with laughter. You glanced back at Betty and Peter. Then to MJ. 

“Did you say that Betty and Ned broke up?” you whispered to her. 

 She inhaled the rest of her slushy through her straw. “I thought it was a rumour. I never thought Betty would go for Peter. So soon, too.” 

You nodded at MJ’s words as Betty stepped into the water. Peter stood beside her, hand-in-hers, taking her guidance down the steps. As they descended into the pool, their bodies turned ghostly pale. 

“Shall we go in the pool and continue this investigation?” 

“Should we do that and also get another drink?”

“You’re a genius.” 

After fashioning yourselves new peach bellinis in Betty’s wonderfully expensive blender, MJ walked ahead of you as you entered the water. You looked around at the crowd of drunken twenty-somethings dressed in whatever cheap Summerween attire they could afford—someone had poorly died a neon orange Halloween shirt (Peter had not even bothered to alter his), Flash donned a watermelon hat, and—

“Are you going to the afters tonight?” MJ asked you conversationally, twirling around in the water with ease, holding her drink above it. Her sunhat casted funky shadows onto the gently lapping waves. 

“There’s afters?” you asked, joining her in her twirling. 

“Yeah. Betty’s hosting. This thing’s supposed to be over in like, an hour.” 

“Are you going?”

“Yeah. Are you?” 

“Is it invite-only?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Free drinks?” 

“Probably.” 

A few hours later, you joined MJ on the couch as you and a group of maybe twenty people crowded into Betty’s basement. It smelled like stale beer, cheese, and ham. Flash stood in the corner, verbally sparring with some girl. You and MJ had nearly intervened, too, until Flash stepped away angrily, yelling to the group, “anybody want to play Spin the Bottle?” 

“Are we in middle school, Flash?” MJ yelled. She hoisted the strap of her tank top over her shoulders. Her hair was curly and damp; the basement felt humid, for some reason. You were not sure how MJ was not freezing. 

“Shut up, MJ,” Flash scoffed. “Anybody?” 

Betty sighed. “Gimme another shot.”

Although you were unsure and slightly surprised at how quickly Flash had managed to wrangle and gather and organize the group into a rough suggestion of a circle, you were all equipped with an empty Heineken bottle, sat in the center of the circle-suggestion. 

You shuddered and resented yourself for not bringing a hoodie, like MJ did. Your nipples ached as Flash spun the bottle first - obviously. After some anti-climactic waiting, the bottle landed on Peter. You laughed as Flash shuddered, refusing, and handing the bottle to the person beside him, which was Ned. Ned spun the bottle, and it landed on Betty. After a very restrained yet strangely passionate kiss, they parted, slightly dazed. This time, MJ spun the bottle. It landed on you. With a drunken giggle, she leaned forward, and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

“That doesn’t count,” Flash scoffed. 

“You just want to see us make out,” MJ said, smugly. 

“What are the rules of this game, again?” you asked.

Flash sat back down, muttering. MJ passed the bottle to you, snickering to herself. You did not particularly have any feelings for anybody there, yet, as your hand slipped from the cold glass and sent the bottle into a spiral, your stomach felt weird when it landed on Peter. He sat criss-crossed from across the room, hair tousled, grey shirt slightly wet. Some people laughed, but it was teeth-grindingly quiet as you had to stumble across the room, bend down, fall awkwardly onto your ass, adjust onto your knees, put your arms on his shoulder, thumb the curls at the nape of his neck, and kiss him. 

MJ whooped when you closed your eyes, surprised, trying not to smile. You had not expected Peter to reciprocate, let alone run his hands through his hair, tongue the inside of your lower lip, bite it, and pull away. As you waddled back to your spot across the floor beside MJ, you wiped your lip, ignoring the eye contact and juvenile comments. And how your face felt like flushing. Yet, luckily, everyone else had moved on—Gwen was already spinning the bottle. Why did Peter kiss you like that? You were on the same Decathlon team as him in high school. That was it. He had barely talked to you. Unfortunately, before the game was officially over, you had to kiss a dude named Sven who smelled like damp rags and cologne. As the group settled into the low hum of conversation, Flash yelled, “what about seven minutes in heaven?” 

“Just watch porn, Flash,” Ned said, shaking his head. “We actually respect the people here, you know.” 

“I’m down,” Betty said. Ned looked at Betty. Then sighed. His shoulders slumped as he silently followed the group back over to the empty bottle, sitting back down like it was an ashamed routine. At this point, you were so tipsy that Flash’s words melted into a golden champagne haze. You followed everyone else and spinned the bottle first when MJ had encouraged you to get to it before Flash. You were too busy studying the string of fairy lights that illuminated Gwen’s blonde hair before MJ nudged your side. Hard. 

“Get up,” MJ whispered. 

“What?” you asked. 

“It landed on Peter.” 

“What?” 

“Get inside of that damn closet!” 

Confused, MJ hurried you up, and you stood on your legs like a drunken, baby deer. Flash came up behind you and grabbed your shoulders, facing you towards Peter, who was already standing by the door, staring at something on his knuckles. 

“Alright,” Flash sighed, “you both know the rules.” 

Flash opened the door and a wave of mildew and mothballs hit you before Flash promptly pushed you inside. You had barely registered the sensation of hard plastic beneath your fingertips before Peter was steadying you, pulling you away from the shelf. 

“Is there a light in here?” you asked, trying to open the doorknob. It was locked. 

Peter was feeling up the walls, but based on his defeated sigh, he had not found anything. 

“Do you have your phone?” he asked you.

“It’s in there.” 

“Me too.” 

“Well.” 

“Think we can feel for a chair?” 

You laughed. “I admire your wishful thinking.” 

The storage closet was more like a broom closet, and you wondered why, with Betty’s wealth, her family would construct a room so tiny. Your chest was barely brushing against Peter’s—you were still cold, and your bikini top was colder, so you had elected to take it off and toss it into a grocery bag. When your pearled nipples brushed against his damp chest, you inhaled and ignored the wave of heat that made your face pound. 

“My legs hurt,” he said. 

“Why?” 

“I dunno.” 

You found yourself smiling. “I wish we could sit down.” 

In the darkness, you heard and felt Peter shuffle around. You barely had enough space to do a full turn. 

“We could sit with our legs crossed if we angle it right,” he said. 

“Let’s do it,” you said. After what felt like the whole of seven minutes - yet was not, clearly, as you two had not yet been fetched - you were sitting on your knees with your back pressing into what felt like a dollhouse, and Peter was sitting cross-legged beneath you, awkwardly trying to rest his back against the wall of what felt like old toys. You smiled. 

“Think our time’s almost up?” 

“I had hoped figuring this out would take up most of it,” Peter admitted. 

“Me too.” 

Now, your arms were resting over his head, fingers curling over the shelf ledge. If you were to get up, you may step on him. If he were to adjust, he would send you falling. 

“This is a little more uncomfortable,” you told him. 

“I agree,” he said, sadly. Your nipples still hurt from how cold you were. The thought of your hardened nipples so close to his face, to his mouth, made your grip slip—you gasped and Peter grabbed your waist, holding you until you could feel out the ledge again. 

“Sorry,” you breathed. 

“It’s fine,” he said, still holding your waist. His fingers were hot. 

“Your skin is freezing,” he said. Then, as if he was completely unaware of what he was doing, he traced his thumb over the goosebumps on your hipbone. The lace of your thong had ridden up and over the waistband of your low-rise shorts, and as he slowly felt the extent of your coldness, you shivered when his thumb ran over it. 

“It’s cold down here,” you said, trying not to sound winded. 

“Do you want my hoodie?” he offered. 

“Do you have it on?” 

He quieted. “It’s out there.” 

You laughed, softly. He was tapping your hip, now, and you liked it. It was soothing. 

“I’ll warm up eventually,” you whispered. Boldly, you remembered how he kissed you with a little more teeth than something casual. You extended your leg, accidentally kicking his stomach. 

“Watch out,” he said, steadying your hips as you figured out how to sit on his thighs. You were expecting his body temperature to be hot. You were not expecting him to be hard. Involuntarily, you pressed down onto him, and he sucked in a breath. You swore you could see the gleam in his eye, looking up at you, when you sighed and slowly began to grind against him. He squeezed your waist, feeling his way up your body in the cold darkness until he reached your jaw, holding it. 

“What if they walk in? What if we run out of time?” you asked. The faint yellow outline of light seeping in through the cracks in the door made the highlights on Peter’s hair shine when he shook his head slowly. 

“Do you hear that?” he suggested, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“What?” 

“They forgot about us.” 

“What?” 

“Be quiet.” 

You nibbled on your lower lip as heat rushed to your cheeks. You listened. No music. No people. A splash in the distance. Everyone had re-joined the pool. Peter tentatively brushed his lips against your neck. Suddenly, you were too hot. With a deep inhale, you pushed him away. He stared at you as you held his shoulders and rode him over his swim trunks. Slowly, he lifted his chin, and you felt the distance close—heat built up on static before you kissed, a push-pull, a tickling of lips—with your heavy sigh. You had never kissed somebody like this before. All of your one-night-stands were people you had never met. Yet, as you choked down a pleased, tipsy hum, you remembered all the times you had studied together. 

“How’s school been, Pete?” you asked, sighing when he kissed your neck. 

“Been good,” he said, squeezing your hip. “You?” 

“Also good.” 

“That’s good.” 

“Yeah. Try a little more to the left—yes. That feels nice.” 

You felt his teeth graze your skin for a moment as he held back a smile. He was growing harder by the second, and you could not tell if the dampness between you was the swimwear, or you—were you seriously going to sleep with him? In a closet? 

“I can’t hook up with you in a closet, Peter,” you said. Yet, as you spoke, Peter gingerly slid his warm palm beneath your shirt, sending shivers through your spine. When his thumb touched your nipple, experimenting, you began to second-guess it. 

“You’re really pretty,” Peter said, lifting your shirt up—before you could slap him and tell him to pull it down, he suckled on your tits, and your defensively raised hand faltered into a debauched, frantic extension into Peter’s hair, pulling on it. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered, lips parting. He reached a hand between you and thumbed your clit through your jeans. Of course he knew where it was—he was a science nerd. The concept of Peter Parker doing research on a clit was enough to make you laugh, yet, as he unbuttoned your jeans for you and somehow managed to help you hold yourself up enough to take them off, you felt your breath being truly taken away. He slipped a finger beneath the string of your thong and let it snap back against your skin before lifting his thighs to shimmy his trunks down. At this point, you had long forgotten about the crowd of partygoers swimming just a few feet away outside. The godawful yellow light made Peter’s knuckles gleam when he lifted you up, slipping his dick beneath the soft lace. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief; you watched his brow darken in concentration and sucked in a moan. 

“I just showered,” you said, unsure. When Peter laughed and kissed you, pushing your thong to the side, you grinned into his mouth, riding his fingers. 

“No, I think you’re just wet,” he said jokingly when you let out an uncontrolled whimper into his neck. 

“Don’t joke,” you gasped, biting your lip. The pressure of his fingers curling inside of you made your body feel numb. Your hips rolled against his as if it were a routine dance. He thumbed the swell of your ass with one hand and touched you so deeply with the other. Peter then, while still touching you, sucked on your tits. You felt delirious and hot and sweaty and like you smelled like mildew. 

“Peter,” you said; it was all you could say. With your other hand that was not holding onto Peter’s hair for dear life, you spat into it, and began to smear it into his tip. A low, withholding noise came from his chest as you gracefully jerked him off, sliding your fingers over his cock as if it were a fretboard, listening to every minor overtone and chord—when you took your time rubbing his pink tip, he seemed to slow down, and kiss you; when you frantically tugged, he tried not to moan, and had to kiss your neck—

“Can I fuck you, Y/N?” he asked. Your thumbs rested against his forehead, wiping away beads of sweat. He sounded breathless and you could feel his heart hammering. You nodded coyly. You had already decided that he could in high school. You lifted your thighs and held his dick, lining him up. It took all the restraint you had not to sink down onto him. Instead, you lightly run him over your folds, feeling light-headed. 

Peter gripped your hips so hard, you wanted him to do it more. 

“I need to hear you say it,” he said. You could tell his jaw was tense in his voice. 

“I nodded,” you said, sinking down halfway. 

“It’s dark,” he moaned. “I won’t unless you say it to me.” 

“Fuck me, Peter, I want you. Does that get you off—”

He slipped inside of you, catching you off guard. His dick felt like it sat somewhere comfortable yet slightly stuffed in your belly as he took his time, letting you accommodate his girth. Unwillingly, you moaned, arched your back, and rested your hands on his shoulders, tentatively riding him, testing out the swell in your stomach, the pit of pleasure that knotted in your chest; he entered and exited you, slow and wet and decadent. 

“Fuck, Happy Summerween,” he said, through a breathless laugh. 

“You’re such a nerd,” you said fondly, kissing him as he wrapped his arms around your back, fucking up into you at a pace you had never experienced, encouraging long, drawn-out moans from your glossed lips. He held you so tightly you could feel his hammering heartbeat matching yours, his hands shaking with every frantic thrust. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he praised through clenched teeth. You sighed and rolled your head back, tangling your fingers in his hair, indulging in the feeling. You fucked him for what felt like hours—yet, you felt so inebriated around him, it could have only been seven minutes, after all. 

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

author's note:

hope you enjoyed! i have run out of requests in my inbox, so please send some more over to help me get my puny lil brain going!! thank uu:))) bye bye love u!!

"Sam will come and pick us up in like five hours, we could just sleep…" You offered, finishing your beer and perching the empty bottle on the bedside table beside Joaquín's.

"No, come on, how often do we get to hang out anymore, I feel like I never see you, let's play sleepover games. I got all the good sleepver snacks, there's candy, popcorn, chips, the ice cream will be soft soon…" He looked up at you with pleading puppy dog eyes and you couldn't resist.

You could never resist anything to do with Joaquín, he was your achilles heel, your kryptonte, that's how you'd ended up in a motel in the middle of nowhere in the first place. Agreeing to tag along to help on a recon.

"Fine, fine, but just for a bit and I want to nap on the jet, deal?" You held your hand out, pinky finger extended, and Joaquín gripped it with his own, the curl on his forehead bouncing with excitement.

"Pinky promise you can have a nap on the jet. Now, let's play truth or dare!"

"Alright, truth or dare."

"Dare," Joaquín said, his eyes twinkling.

"I dare you to send a mirror pic to Sam."

You'd assumed he'd be embarrassed, but the continuing twinkle in Joaquín's eye made you think it was a poor choice.

"Too easy, I send them to him all the time, show him what he could achieve if he worked harder." He laughed and you kicked out at him from your bed.

"Idiot."

Joaquín rolled onto his back and scrolled through his phone for his preferred picture before announcing none of them would do; he grabbed his basketball shirt and tugged it up to his face.

"What are you —"

Biting the seam to hold it up, Joaquín gave the camera a cheeky wink and a peace sign before letting his shirt go again.

Dry mouthed you searched for your beer to hide behind, heat creeping up your spine at the realisation it was empty and there was nowhere to go.

"There, done. Truth or dare?"

"Uhmmm — dare I guess."

"I dare you to hide a swear word in the mission debrief."

"Fuck, Quino, you're gonna get me fired!"

"Nah, Bucky'll think it's funny…it has to be fuck now you've said it."

"Damn it." You pulled out your tablet and clicked away the mission debief hiding "fuck" at the bottom before setting the text to white. "Right, done. Truth or dare?"

You carried on for a few more rounds, darling Joaquín to steal a soda from the machine outside, showing him your last three DMs in Instagram, until it felt like you might be running out of steam.

And then he said it, the first "truth".

"Truth."

There'd been one thing you'd been dying to know for weeks now.

"Why did you break up with Cindy from the hanger?"

"What?"

"You heard me, you guys were cute and then you dumped her and moped about instead. You never told me why."

"Oh." Joaquín went uncharacteristically quiet. "I — just wasn't feeling it anymore. "

"You weren't feeling it?"

"Yep, now truth or dare."

"You know that was a shit answer, do it properly."

"Ask me something else next time. Truth or dare."

"Truth."

"Why don't you date anyone?"

"That's a stupid truth." Panic welled in your throat, you knew why, you were fairly sure he knew why too.

"Then tell me."

"I just…don't feel it."

"Bullshit I caught you making out with that guy who refuels the engines at th Christmas party, and you danced with whats-her-face from the Halloween trunk and treat. You're honestly telling me you "weren't feeling" any of that? You haven't so much as looked at anyone since...well, since Cindy and I ended things."

"If you weren't feeling it with Cindy, I wasn't feeling it with them." You said decisively.

Joaquín narrowed his eyes undeterred and sat up, making his twin bed creak, "truth."

"Fine," you sat up too, your own bed sagging in the middle, and faced Joaquín head on. "Why don't you date anymore?"

The air in the room felt thick and you swallowed, wishing you hadn't chugged your beer so fast.

"Because I don't want to date and fuck around, the next girl I go out with will be my actual girlfriend."

"How're you gonna get there without daring! I stand by my earlier statement. Idiot!" You tossed a piece of popcorn at him and he caught it in his mouth.

"I already know who it's gonna be, just waiting for the right moment." He shrugged, a confident smile on his face, but you knew him too well to accept it. There was something behind his eyes that looked vulnerable, the way he chewed on the inside of his cheek and tapped on the bedsheets. He was nervous.

"And who is it gonna be?"

"That's another question, it's your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

You were sure he was going to get you to show him your terrible ID picture from last year or eat too many marshmallows, something to take the atmosphere out of the air. Joaquín was always good at reading your moods, cheering you up.

But he didn't.

He kept watching you with his dark eyes, "I dare you to tell me who you last thought about when you touched yourself."

"Torres!"

"Yes?"

"Well that's basically a truth for a start, and secondly that is — I can't tell you things like that!"

"Why not," he shrugged, "you used to. Before I went out with Cindy, you used to tell me everything."

"God — well, that was before." You were too hot and flustered for this conversation.

"Before what? Before I had a girlfriend? Well I don't anymore. Come on, is it still that guy from that film?"

"No, Jesus, just, pick something else. An actual dare."

"I dare you to get off. Right now. And then I'll hear this name for myself."

"Joaquín!"

"What!?" He gave you a cheeky smile and stole a handful of your popcorn, eating it with obnoxiously exaggerated enjoyment.

"We've been stuck on recon for days. Dare me to get off, I'm dying for it."

"I'm not daring you to jack off." You sank down into your bed, what you wouldn't give to see what he looked like in the throes of pleasure.

"Well, then you've got to tell me who you last thought about." He said, as if he'd won a great political debate.

"No."

"AHH so it's someone we know!"

"No!"

"It's not Sam, you said he was like a dad to you, unless that's a thing…no, no. Bucky? No, you said you did in basic but you got over it when you saw how he eats a burger —"

You grit your teeth, he was so close to finding out the truth, and there was a part of you that wanted it. Then at least this unbearable feeling would be over. It'd be a relief. Even if he'd never want to hang out with you again.

"Who else do we even know?"

"No one, because it is no one else."

"Well, there's — wait what do you mean?"

"Nothing I just meant there's not many people you can know as a superhero team and —"

"Is it me?"

The silence hung painfully between you and then Joaquin moved forward, cupping your cheek and drawing you off your bed and into his arms.

"Is it me, baby?" He'd never used this voice on you before, the soft pillow talk of the man who knew you in every single way but the way you wanted. The caress of his hands so familiar when you were training or fighting, but that felt so new now he was holding you like you were his.

"Joaquin." His name left you like a breath, and then he was kissing you, tugging you fully into his lap and knocking the popcorn onto the floor. You tumbled after him, smiling against his lips.

"I dare you to tell me how you feel." You whispered.

"I love you."

"You love me?"

"Always have carino. I dare you to tell me how you feel."

You wiped your hands on a towel tucked into your apron, catching Penny’s eye just as she slid a beer down to a waiting customer. Penny leaned in as she wiped down the bar, eyes flicking toward the entrance. “They’re here.” She murmured, barely suppressing a grin. You didn’t need to ask who. The sound of boots scuffing the floor and the unmistakable blend of egos and energy meant only one thing: The Dagger Squad, fresh off another brutal day of training.

Maverick must’ve put them through hell, judging by the way Bradley dragged his hand through his hair like he might tear it out. Natasha looked like she was already plotting revenge, and Mickey was slumped against the pool table like gravity had it out for him personally. “They look like death.” You noted, already lining up glasses. Penny smirked. “Except for a certain blonde who’s looking at you like you’re his reward for surviving it.”

You threw her a dry look, but heat bloomed at the back of your neck. “You’re imagining things.” Penny rolled her eyes, nudging you with her elbow. “Oh, sure, I must be also imagining the way you check your lip gloss every time he walks in.” You snorted and turned away to hide your smirk, reaching for the tequila. “God, you’re even worse than Amelia.” Penny raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The squad fanned out across the pool tables, dropping into their usual spots with groans and exaggerated sighs. Bradley clinked his dog tags against the counter like a bell, while Natasha stretched out her shoulders and grumbled something about Maverick trying to kill them. And then, right on cue, Jake Seresin. He swaggered in a few beats behind the rest, as if the doors themselves had waited for his entrance.

His hair was a little messy, his skin kissed by the sun, dog tags catching the low light as they swung against his collarbone. He moved like he owned the room, like he’d fought gravity and won. But you knew better now. He’d fooled you once. That cocky smile, that drawl, that insufferable nickname, Hangman. You’d pegged him for exactly the kind of man who flirted with anything that moved and forgot the names of anyone who didn’t. So you ignored him.

Every night he came in, you barely spared him a glance. And every night, he tried again. But Jake didn’t win you over with charm. He won you with patience. When your car wouldn’t start after a long shift and you were ready to scream into the night, he appeared, hands in his pockets, smile soft. No teasing, no smug remarks. Just a quiet offer to take a look. Thirty minutes later, he had it running again. He didn’t ask for anything in return.

He started walking you to your car after closing, no pressure, no flirting. Just company. And then he started showing up on your off days. Not in uniform. Not with the squad. Just Jake. He’d sit at the bar, nursing a soda or a single beer, and talk to you while you cut garnishes or cleaned glasses. He asked about your family. Your hometown. Whether you liked working nights or if you ever thought about leaving the beach behind.

He never made it about himself, not at first. And when he finally did, it was different. One night, long after the bar had emptied, you found him leaning against the jukebox, staring at the floor like it had personally offended him. “My dad never thought I’d amount to much,” He murmured when you passed him. “Guess part of me still tries to prove him wrong.” You’d stopped in your tracks. That was the moment something cracked. Not in him, in you.

Because behind all that swagger, Jake Seresin was carrying something heavy. Something private. And he trusted you enough to let you see it. That was when you started falling. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t sudden. It was slow. Unavoidable. A creeping warmth that found its way under your skin and settled there. So now, as Jake leaned across the bar, sweat-damp and sun-touched from a long day of dogfights, you didn’t feel annoyance anymore. You felt fear.

Because you’d let him in. Because he wasn’t who you thought he was. Because he looked at you like you were more than just a bartender, and you weren’t sure what to do with that. “Evenin’, darlin’.” His voice dropped low into that familiar Southern drawl, thick like honey and rough at the edges, and it sent goosebumps skittering down your spine before you could stop them. Jake leaned one elbow against the bar, casual as ever, but his presence was anything but forgettable.

Sunlight from the open doors caught in his windswept hair, and sweat still clung to the base of his throat. Those hypnotic green eyes, greener tonight under the warm, flickering lights, swept over your face with the same lazy intensity they always did, as if he were memorizing you every time. You arched a brow, letting your hands stay busy with the shaker. The clink of ice helped mask the fact that your heartbeat had kicked up a notch. “You look like Maverick dragged you through a jet wash.”

Jake’s grin curled slow, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was an edge in them, subtle, but there. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was something else. “He sure as hell tried,” He muttered, rolling his shoulder with a wince that was half hidden. “But it’s nothin’ I can’t handle.” You slid a cold beer across the polished wood without looking up, but your fingers brushed his for half a second longer than they should have.

His hand was warm, calloused and steady, and instead of pulling away, he lingered. Just a breath longer. Just enough to make your skin tingle where he touched you. You hated that it made your pulse skip. Hated it even more that he seemed to know exactly what it did to you. Jake gave you that heartbreaker wink before peeling away to join the others, the beer already raised in a half-salute. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

You watched him walk, shoulders still squared from the cockpit, tags clinking lightly against his chest, and tried not to let your eyes linger too long. Penny had, of course, seen all of it. As she restocked the limes with a knowing look, one perfectly sculpted brow lifted in dry amusement. “You keep looking at him like that,” She murmured, voice low as she tossed a handful of garnishes into a silver tray. “He’s gonna think that you actually like him.”

“He already thinks that.” You rolled your eyes, mostly to distract from the flutter blooming in your chest. “Because you do,” She countered without missing a beat, slicing through a lemon with precision. “Might as well admit it before you combust.” You didn’t answer. Not because she was wrong, but because she wasn’t. And you hated how easily she saw through you. The truth was… you did like him. Too much. In ways you didn’t want to admit out loud.

Jake Seresin had wormed his way past your sarcasm and rolled eyes and cool indifference like it was nothing. And the scariest part? He hadn’t even tried that hard. “I’ll be right back.” You muttered, grabbing five beers from the cooler and sliding them onto a tray with practiced ease. You tucked a cold can of Coca-Cola into the front pocket of your apron, Bob’s usual, always sipped with quiet contentment while the others knocked back drinks like they were on shore leave. Penny caught the gesture and smirked.

“Go get your man.” You didn’t dignify her with a reply. Just rolled your eyes and turned on your heel, weaving between the crowds with practiced grace, the tray balanced effortlessly in your hands. But your stomach flipped all the same, traitorous and fluttering, because the moment your eyes found Jake again, laughing with Bradley. And you weren’t sure how long you could pretend you weren’t. Taking a deep breath, and squaring your shoulders you shook those thoughts from your head.

“You all look like you could use a pick-me-up.” Every head at the table turned toward you, some sluggishly, others like your voice alone had jolted them back to life. “A beer for you,” You chirped, placing the cold glass in front of Mickey, who looked like he’d barely survived the day. His forehead rested on the edge of the table until he forced himself upright. “You’re an angel.” He groaned, already reaching for the glass like it might bring him back from the dead.

“And a Coke for you.” You placed the soda down with a satisfying clink in front of Bob, who was seated slightly off to the side, content with his quiet corner and a half-eaten bowl of peanuts. His cheeks turned pink as he straightened his glasses and smiled shyly. “For my favorite WSOs.” You added with a playful wink. Both men flushed under your gaze and responded with a thank you, in perfect unison.

You kept moving, passing out drinks with ease and affection. Natasha muttered something about you being a godsend as she reached for her beer, lifting it in a silent toast before taking a long, grateful sip. Rooster gave you a wink and a crooked smile that probably worked on half of San Diego, though it never really had an effect on you. Javy nodded with an appreciative grin, and Reuben gave you a friendly fist-bump.

“For my favorite pilots.” You teased, grinning as you finally came to rest beside Natasha. She leaned her head onto your shoulder with a contented sigh, her hair brushing against your cheek. “Marry me.” She mumbled, half-serious, half-drunk on exhaustion. Before you could even talk, a familiar voice, smooth, smug, and laced with that Southern twang, broke the silence. “That’s just cruel,” Jake drawled. “I thought I was your favorite.”

Your head turned before you could stop yourself. And just like that, your heart didn’t just skip a beat, it slammed into your ribs like it was trying to break free. Jake stood at the pool table, cue stick in hand, body bent low as he lined up a shot. His back arched just enough to make your mouth go dry. His biceps flexed as he adjusted his grip, veins prominent, forearms corded with strength. His khakis clung low on his hips, his flight belt hanging lazily from a loop.

He looked ridiculous. Unfair. Like he’d walked straight out of a damn recruiting ad, but dirtier. Infinitely more dangerous. Jake’s head lifted slowly, eyes cutting toward you from beneath those long lashes. The corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk when he caught you looking. Caught staring. “You wound me, sweetheart,” He added, standing to his full height. “All that charm, and I don’t even rank in your top five?”

You masked your thudding heart with a dry laugh. “I said favorite pilots,” You shot back. “Didn’t say anything about most high-maintenance.” The squad erupted in low chuckles, a few of them tossing mock “oofs” in Jake’s direction. Jake only grinned, unbothered, sauntering toward the group with that same easy swagger that made it impossible to tell whether he was teasing or flirting, or both. You forced yourself to look away, turning back toward the tray.

Yet, your stomach was doing somersaults, and the heat creeping up your neck wasn’t from the warm summer air drifting through the doors. You leaned your hip against the edge of the table, tray balanced on one hand, the soft clink of glass against wood fading into the background as you glanced around the table. Everyone looked a little less dead now, drinks in hand, shoulders relaxing bit by bit. “Do I need to talk to Maverick for all of you?” You teased, eyes flicking from one exhausted pilot to the next.

Bradley groaned loud enough to turn heads. “Please do. Tell him we're human. Or at least that some of us are.” Natasha scoffed, lifting her beer toward her mouth with a half-glare, half-laugh. “We were human. Until Mr. Hotshot over there decided he could outfly Mav.” All eyes slid toward Jake. “Okay, whoa. Let’s not point fingers here.” He was already making a face. “You tried to buzz Maverick,” Mickey interjected, half-leaning across the table with animated hands. “In a tight turn. In a no-fly zone.”

“And missed.” Reuben added between mouthfuls of peanuts, a smug grin spreading across his face. Jake raised both hands, feigning innocence with the precision of someone who’d practiced. “I wasn’t trying to buzz him. I was maneuvering. Strategically.” Javy snorted covering it up with a cough as he received a glare from Jake. “And we all got punished for it,” Bob chimed in quietly, lifting his Coke as if to toast to their shared suffering. “One hundred push-ups.” You winced at his words, that sounded brutal.

“In flight suits.” Reuben groaned, rubbing his shoulder like the soreness was still setting in. You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter, the image forming vividly in your mind, Jake, cocky as ever, probably smirking even as Maverick made them drop. The others glaring daggers at him while dripping sweat onto the tarmac. Jake, of course, leaned into the attention with no shame. “You’re welcome, push-ups build character.” He grinned, sliding into the empty chair beside you with smooth ease.

You barely had time to register the motion before his arm draped over the back of your chair, knuckles grazing your shoulder. “You’re lucky they didn’t bury you under the tarmac.” Natasha muttered, but her lips twitched. Jake leaned a little closer, the heat of his body now radiating into your side. His voice dropped a note, low and velvety. “You know, I think I could use a little personal motivation to recover from today.” Your breath caught before you could control it.

His fingers brushed lightly against the bare skin of your upper arm as they “accidentally” adjusted across the tables edge. You turned toward him, ready to make some smart remark, maybe put him back in his place before he got too cocky again, but your gaze collided with his, and just like that… you froze. His eyes weren’t just green, they were alive with something deeper. Mischief, sure. But behind it, a flicker of something that made your stomach swoop. Like he wasn’t just teasing you tonight. He was waiting.

“Jake—”

“Y/N!” Your name snapped through the air like a whip, pulling you back to earth. You turned sharply toward the bar where Penny stood, waving a bar rag like a battle flag. “Bus just pulled up, I need you.” You groaned under your breath but moved fast, peeling yourself away from the table. Jake’s arm slid off your shoulders with a warmth that lingered longer than it should have, his fingers brushing your back as you stood. The moment broke, but not before you caught the small smirk tugging at his lips.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Try not to cause anymore trouble while I’m gone.” You grabbed the empty tray and backed away from the table, shaking your head. “No promises, sweetheart!” He called after you, voice lazy, teasing. But his eyes, they lingered. Watching you like a man who knew the exact altitude you’d started falling. You spun on your heel and disappeared behind the bar, pulse still hammering, trying to remind yourself that you were here to work.

But even as Penny tossed you a bar towel and pointed toward the flood of sailors crowding toward the taps, all you could think about was the warmth of Jake’s body next to yours, and how dangerously easy it would be to let yourself fall. Thankfully, the flood of newcomers provided the perfect excuse to busy your hands and bury your thoughts. You moved, mixing cocktails with quick flicks of the wrist, pouring beers until foam kissed the rim, sliding credit cards back with a polite nod and a practiced smile.

Every small task became a wall, something to hide behind. Something to keep your mind off of Jake. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. As the crowd dwindled and the bar quieted into a low murmur, the shield began to crack. The last round of locals had migrated toward the dartboard. The jukebox slowed to soft rock. A few scattered voices still rose in laughter near the back where the Dagger Squad remained, sunburnt, beer-drowsy and content.

You peeled off your apron with a sigh and glanced at Penny, who gave you a reassuring nod and a knowing smile, motioning for you to take a breath, take a break. Your feet moved before your heart could object. You stepped out from behind the bar, every movement purposeful, steady, because if you hesitated, you knew the ache lingering just beneath your ribs might crawl up into your throat and give you away. You smoothed a hand down your shirt and walked toward the group, fully prepared to ask if they wanted one more round before last call. But then you heard it.

Jake’s voice.

Clear. Familiar. Cruel. Coated with disgust. “I just cannot stand her.” The words stopped you mid-step, your sneakers suddenly glued to the hardwood floor. The air left your lungs in one cold rush, and your feet carried you just far enough to place yourself behind the wooden beam beside the jukebox, half-hidden in the low light, half-ashamed for eavesdropping, but too frozen to move. “She walks around following me like a puppy, flirting, even her voice is annoying.”

Your pulse thudded in your ears, louder than the low hum of music, louder than the clatter of a dropped glass in the far corner. His voice cut straight through you, each syllable like a shard of glass. “She just doesn’t get the hint. I’m not interested in girls like her.” The blood drained from your face. You knew it. God, deep down, you always knew it. Jake Seresin was never going to want someone like you.

You’d seen the women he flirted with, tall, perfectly made-up, curves in all the right places, confident, playful, bright in the way that lit up a whole room. You? You were just the bartender. The convenience. The friend. The joke. The girl with rough hands from long shifts. The girl who hid behind sarcasm because confidence never came easy. The girl who, despite everything, had let herself believe, hope, that the way Jake looked at you sometimes meant something real. A dull ache bloomed in your chest. You pressed your hand against it like that would stop it from spreading.

At least now you knew. At least now the daydream could die. Now you could stop pretending. You swallowed down the lump clawing its way up your throat, nails digging into your palm as you pivoted, quick, silent and fast, back toward the bar. You didn’t even bother pretending to smile. Didn’t care who saw your glassy eyes or the way your breath came out shaky as you ripped the apron from its hook and slung it over the counter.

Penny turned, concern flickering across her face clearly noticing the entire shift in your demeanor, but you simply waved her off with a weak motion and a whispered goodbye. Not trusting your voice to hold steady. Not trusting her not to ask. If she so much as asked if you were okay, you’d break. You were out the door before Jake could even glance up. Before he could offer that sweet, mocking drawl. Before he could try to walk you to your car like he always did, like it meant something. Your heart couldn't take it. Not now. Not after that.

Back at the bar, Jake still reclined in the chair, nursing the same beer he hadn’t touched in ten minutes, finishing his train of thought with a huff. “I just hope Mav doesn’t put her on our training rotation again,” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve told her time and time again I’m not interested,” He continued with a groan. “She just doesn’t get the hint that she’s not my type.” Mickey nearly choked on his drink.

“Yeah, Hangman, we all know what girl is your type.” He grinned, elbowing Bob. Bradley leaned in, all smugness and raised brows. “The pretty bartender you make eyes at every time she’s near? The one you nearly punched me over for breathing near last week?” Jake froze. Bradley tilted his beer toward him, that smirk spreading. “The one you pretend not to care about, then sulk like a teenager when she walks away with anyone else?” Javy whistled. “Dude, just admit it. You’re into her. Bad.”

Jake ran a hand over his face, jaw tightening. “Shut up before she hears you.” But as he turned to glance toward the bar, expecting to find you rolling your eyes behind the counter, maybe catching his gaze just long enough to blush, his brows drew together. You weren’t there. Your station was empty. No apron. No sarcastic smile. No parting wave. Just… gone. His chest tightened without reason. You never left without saying goodnight.

A flicker of unease passed through him, but the others were still laughing, throwing teasing comments like darts, unaware of the sudden shift in his expression. He forced a grin, let the moment pass. But something inside him knew. Something felt wrong. And you, already halfway down the boardwalk with tears blurring your vision, didn’t get to hear the rest. Didn’t get to hear the way his voice softened when he talked about you.

You were cautious, careful, even. Every move you made around him became intentional. Guarded. Since that night, since the moment his words gutted you like a blade between the ribs, you’d started pulling away. Not all at once. No. That would’ve been too obvious. And despite the ache still lodged in your chest like a stone, you refused to let Jake, or anyone else, see you unravel. Instead, it was subtle. Gradual. A slow withdrawal masked as busyness, exhaustion, distraction.

When Jake came to the bar now, you didn’t linger. You took his order without looking him in the eye, handed him his beer with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. No teasing remark. No small talk. Just efficient, impersonal service. The kind you gave to strangers. The kind you gave to men you didn’t want to know. And you definitely didn’t allow his touch to linger, not that he’d had much chance.

Gone were the moments where his fingers brushed yours over a glass, or the way his hand would rest at the small of your back when you passed too close. You kept distance now. Measured it. Maintained it like it was a lifeline. You didn’t let him close. And Jake? He noticed. At first, it was subtle confusion. A longer-than-usual pause when you walked away. A look that lingered too long as you joked with Bob or nudged Natasha’s shoulder with a grin that used to be his.

Then it turned into something else, hesitation, maybe even hurt, though if it was, he didn’t show it outright. Luckily, or maybe tragically, the squad had been kept busy by Maverick all week. Long hours on the tarmac. Briefings that dragged past sunset. Extra sims, surprise drills, and mock dogfights that left them sore, sweating, and barely able to keep their eyes open when they dragged themselves into the Hard Deck each night. It gave you an excuse.

To work the bar, serve the drinks, and disappear behind orders before Jake could try and ask what was wrong. It was easier this way. Safer. You told yourself it would fade, the sting, the weight in your chest, the memory of hearing her voice is annoying and I’m not interested in girls like her whispered in that same drawl that used to melt you. But it didn’t fade. It stayed. Like smoke in your lungs.

You heard it in the silence after your shift when the beach was quiet and the waves were the only sound. You felt it in the ache behind your ribs when someone mentioned his name in passing. You even dreamed about it, twisting memories into warped versions where his words echoed again and again, his face turned away from you, laughter in his throat while you stood invisible behind the jukebox. You hated how much it hurt.

You hated that it still mattered.

The fifth night after it happened, the bar was quieter than usual, just a slow Thursday, a break between storms. You were stacking clean glasses behind the bar when Jake walked in alone. No squad. No backup. Just him. He looked tired. Disheveled in a way that felt different than post-training exhaustion. Like he hadn’t been sleeping much. His hair was messier than usual, shirt a little wrinkled, tags tucked into his collar like they were suddenly too heavy to wear out in the open.

You felt his eyes on you the second he stepped through the door. You didn’t look up. You couldn’t. He approached the bar slower than normal, his boots echoing too loudly in the now-quiet space. You busied yourself with organizing lemons. Limes. Anything not him. He stopped a few feet short of the bar. Didn’t speak. Not right away. Finally, his voice broke the silence, low, cautious, unsure. “You alright?” You kept your gaze focused on the citrus you were already over-slicing. “Fine.”

“You’ve been distant.” He murmured, like he was still trying to piece it together. “Did I do something?” You shrugged. Cool. Detached. “Just tired, Jake.” A lie. But he didn’t push. He just studied you, jaw working slightly like he was chewing on whatever thoughts were flooding in. “Right,” He said eventually, voice quieter. “Of course.” You turned to put the knife down, finally meeting his eyes for a split second. And it nearly undid you.

Because Jake wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t cocky. He looked…confused. A little wounded. The way someone does when they’ve lost their grip on something they didn’t even know they were holding. But you couldn’t tell him the truth. You couldn’t admit that the thing you’d overheard, the words that weren’t meant for your ears, had unraveled you completely. Because what if you were the only one who misunderstood?

What if, worse… you hadn't? So you turned away. Left him standing there with his fingers curled slightly over the edge of the bar, like he wasn’t sure whether to stay or walk away. Jake didn’t push. He never did. But that didn’t mean he didn’t notice. And tonight, you knew he’d felt it, that little bit of space you’d suddenly started putting between the two of you. Because if he kept getting closer, you wouldn’t just fall.

You’d crash.

The days blurred. Long shifts, short sleep, aching feet, and a heart you couldn’t seem to quiet. You kept your rhythm sharp, precise, like it was armor. You showed up, moved through the motions, mixed drinks, gave smiles, told stories to sailors who needed a little kindness. And avoided Jake Seresin like he was a fault line waiting to break beneath your feet. You weren’t cold. Just distant. Detached in a way that made you feel like you were watching your life from the outside in.

It didn’t go unnoticed. Late one night, the bar winding down into a lazy hum, Penny passed you a glass of water and leaned her elbows onto the bar. You felt her gaze before she spoke, quiet, steady, knowing. “You alright, Y/N?” You didn’t look at her. Just nodded, wiping down a spill that didn’t need wiping. “I’m fine.” It was clipped. Dismissive. Enough to signal that the door was closed. You had mastered the lies and excuses, yet Penny wasn’t stupid.

She knew you like the back of her hand. She watched you for a few seconds longer, watched the way your eyes didn’t meet hers, the way your fingers trembled slightly when you reached for the towel. She gave a tiny, imperceptible sigh, then pushed away without pressing no matter how much she wanted to know what was wrong with you. Safe to say, you were grateful for it. Because if she had asked again, your walls might’ve just cracked.

Jake wasn’t doing any better. After your "talk", if you could even call it that, he’d been a wreck. Not the kind anyone outside the Dagger Squad would immediately notice. No, Jake Seresin still smiled at the rookies. Still strutted across the tarmac with his usual confidence, boots scuffing against the concrete, sunglasses low on his nose like he didn’t have a care in the world. But those who knew him best could see the cracks forming.

The way he flinched when your name was mentioned. The way he scanned the bar every time he walked into the Hard Deck, hoping, praying, that this would be the night you looked at him like you used to, eyes soft, smirk tucked behind your lip, leaning on the bar like you were daring him to flirt first. But that look never came. And it was driving him insane. Even in the air, his escape, his safe place, he felt off. Slower. Sloppy in a way that set off alarm bells in every seasoned pilot’s gut.

His reaction times were lagging, the sharp, lethal precision that earned him the call sign Hangman dulled under the weight of something heavier than G-forces. Natasha had picked up on it immediately. “You’re flying like you’ve got a piano strapped to your back,” She muttered through comms one afternoon after a sim run went sideways. “The hell’s going on with you?” Jake’s jaw had locked so tight, he didn’t even answer. Back on the ground, it was no better.

Bradley had cornered him near the locker room the next morning. “You’re off, you look like you haven’t slept in weeks.” He told him bluntly. Jake ran a hand through his hair, matted from the helmet. “I’m fine.” Even he didn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “You’re not.” Jake simply shrugged. “Let it go, Rooster.” But they didn’t. Not really. They just watched. Waited. Wondered what the hell had happened that turned cocky, unshakable Jake Seresin into a man unraveling from the inside out.

What they didn’t know, what he wouldn’t dare say aloud, was that it was you. The problem was you, or more accurately, the way you’d slipped through his fingers before he even realized how tightly he’d been trying to hold on. He didn’t understand it. How things had gone from warm glances and shared touches and that night where you had almost let something real slip between you… to now. To this cold distance. Where you wouldn’t so much as look at him unless it was absolutely necessary. And the worst part?

He didn’t know what he’d done.

The nights dragged on like this. Jake would come in with the squad, sit down like nothing was wrong, but the light in his eyes was gone. His jokes were duller. His smirk half-hearted. Even his beer sat untouched longer than usual, condensation dripping down the bottle as he watched you move around the bar like a ghost he couldn’t reach. Sometimes, he’d almost say something. His hand would twitch, or he’d lean half out of his seat, like he was on the verge of getting up.

Of walking over. Of fixing it. But you never gave him the chance. You never looked long enough to invite it. A deep, sinking pull in his gut. Like something was breaking open inside him and he didn’t know how to stop it. And so the distance remained, a thick, aching thing that hovered between you both, invisible to everyone else but suffocating just the same. Neither of you said a word. Neither of you walked away. But neither of you dared to move closer, either.

And it was killing you both.

Four days later, the Hard Deck was full, buzzing with heat and voices and that low, salty tension that clung to late summer nights on the coast. Dagger Squad was there, scattered across their usual pool table. Jake wasn’t with them yet. And for once, you were thankful. You could breathe without feeling his eyes track your every move. Or so you thought. You were behind the bar when you saw her walk in. Tall. Glossy.

Designer jeans that clung perfectly to her long legs and a strappy black tank that dipped low in the back. Blonde hair curled, nails perfect, and a walk like she owned every pair of eyes in the room. You recognized her instantly, one of the women you’d seen Jake flirt with a few times before. Only this time… she wasn’t looking at you. She was looking for him. And then, like a movie in slow motion, Jake walked in. He hadn’t seen her yet.

He was laughing with Bradley, dragging a hand through his hair, unaware of the way her eyes locked on him like a target. She moved toward him with purpose, lips already curling into a smile, like she knew he’d be hers the second he looked up. Your chest constricted so sharply it almost knocked the air out of your lungs. You turned away fast, heart hammering like you’d been punched. God. You were such an idiot. What were you expecting? That he’d pine over you?

That he’d choose you over someone like that? You braced your hands on the edge of the bar, the stainless steel biting into your palms. Don’t cry. Don’t cry here. Not in front of him. You grabbed two beers off the counter, trying to ground yourself in the moment. If she was what he wanted… fine. You weren’t going to compete for someone who’d already made their choice. But you could prove that he didn’t affect you anymore. At least, not on the surface.

So when you saw Bradley standing alone near the dartboard, you moved toward him without thinking, hips swaying just a touch more than usual, the corner of your mouth lifting in a practiced smirk. “Hey, Bradshaw,” You breathed as you passed him a beer, your fingers brushing his arm as you leaned close. “You winning?” He blinked, caught off guard by the softness in your tone, then chuckled low in his throat, catching on quickly. “I am now.” You laughed, light and teasing, and let your hand linger just long enough to be seen.

It wasn’t real. Not really. But it didn’t have to be. Not when Jake was watching. Because he was watching. Across the room, Jake's head snapped around the second he heard your voice. He’d been leaning against the bar, cornered by a girl with glossy lips and a laugh that grated on his nerves. She was touching his chest, twirling her straw between her fingers like a goddamn prop, but he hadn’t registered a single word she’d been saying.

Not since he walked in and saw you glowing in that golden Hard Deck light, laughing with everyone but him. But now? Now you were touching Rooster? His jaw clenched. There it was, that look. That flicker of heat buried deep in his eyes, something possessive and raw curling beneath his cool exterior. He was trying to keep it contained. Failing. You’d been giving him nothing but distance all week. Cold shoulders. Professional smiles.

And now you were here, cozying up to Bradley fucking Bradshaw, touching his arm like it meant something. Jake barely acknowledged the girl in front of him. Didn’t even glance her way when she laughed again, too loud, too fake. He stepped away like she wasn’t even there, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he moved. Fast. Direct. Heat rolling off him like the pavement in July. You tried to stay cool. Calm. Unbothered. But the second you felt him behind you, everything inside you began to splinter.

His shadow fell over you before his voice did, low and rough, like he was holding back something sharp. “Can we please talk?” No drawl. No swagger. Just those four words, spoken low enough for only you to hear. You turned slowly, lifting your gaze to meet his. And what you saw there made your throat go dry. His jaw was tight, lips pressed together like he couldn’t trust what might come out next. His breathing was shallow.

His chest rose and fell like he’d just finished a sprint. And his eyes, God, those eyes, were burning. Not with arrogance. Not even with anger. But with desperation. Desperation and hurt. Something cracked in your resolve. You'd spent days convincing yourself you didn’t care. That you were over it. Over him. That whatever you thought was between you had been imagined, one-sided. Stupid. But the way he was looking at you now? There was nothing one-sided about it. You hesitated. Your mouth didn’t move. But your heart answered for you.

You nodded.

And Jake exhaled like it was the first real breath he’d taken in days. Wordlessly, he led you outside to the back patio where the air was cooler, salt-stung and quieter than the inside. The string lights overhead glowed gold against the dark, and the music became just a dull vibration through the wood beneath your feet. Jake stopped near the railing, raking a hand through his hair like he didn’t know whether to speak or scream. His chest rose, then fell, like the effort to stay composed was costing him something.

“What the hell’s going on with you?” His voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t even demanding. It was tired, frayed around the edges. You folded your arms across your chest, forcing your spine straight, your eyes sharp. “Nothing.” Jake scoffed. Harsh. Humorless. “Bullshit.” He stepped forward. “You’ve been avoiding me for days. You won't even look at me anymore.” You turned your face away, blinking too fast. The ache in your throat burned. “Maybe I’ve just been busy.” He exhaled through his nose, slower this time. “Did I do something?”

You wanted to scream. To shove the words into his chest and make him feel what you’d been carrying since that night. But fear twisted around your tongue like barbed wire. So you said nothing. Jake took a step closer. Slower now. Careful. Like you were something on the edge of shattering. And you hated it, hated how much you wanted him to reach out. To touch you. To say something that made it all make sense. “I—I heard what you said,” You whispered, voice thin and raw. His brow furrowed.

“That night. After training.” You swallowed hard. “You were talking to the squad. You said you weren’t interested. That I wasn’t your type.” A bitter laugh escaped your throat, hollow and trembling. “God, it’s my fault, really. I was stupid enough to believe that Jake Hangman Seresin, serial flirt, legendary pain in the ass, would ever want someone like me… when he could have Malibu Barbie throwing herself at him.” The words spilled out before you could catch them. Sharp. Bare. Bleeding.

Jake flinched. Confusion flashed first, wide-eyed, disoriented, then understanding slammed into him like a punch to the gut. “No,” He breathed, face paling, panic crashing behind his eyes. “You thought I was talking about you?” Your silence was answer enough. He stumbled back half a step, hands dragging down his face. Like he needed to wipe the guilt from his skin just to breathe. “Jesus Christ, Y/N.” His voice cracked. Rough. Gutted. “I wasn’t talking about you. God, no. I didn’t even know you were there.”

“Doesn’t matter.” You looked away, arms tightening around yourself like armor. “It does matter,” He snapped, voice raw. “You think I could ever, ever, talk about you like that?” His voice faltered, and he ran a shaking hand through his hair again, pacing once before turning back. “You think I’d look at you and say your voice is annoying? That I’m not interested? Are you serious?” You finally met his gaze, and what he saw nearly dropped him to his knees.

You weren’t angry. You were hurt. Really hurt. “I don’t think you meant to,” You whispered. “But you don't see me. You never do.” Jake looked like he’d been hit. The silence stretched, tangled between you, trembling and thick. Then he stepped closer. One step. Then another. His voice came softer now. Hoarse. Frightened. “I see you.” You shook your head. “I see you,” He repeated, louder this time, like if he said it enough it would finally reach you. “More than anyone ever has. And it scares the hell out of me.”

Your lips parted. A sound escaped, half-breath, half-sob, and the first tear slipped free before you could stop it. You turned your face away, but his hand lifted, gently brushing the drop from your cheek like it hurt him to see it. He hesitated, fingers twitching near yours, unsure if he was allowed. Then, with a breathless whisper, “Darlin’… I don’t want Malibu Barbie in there,” You blinked brows drawing in confusion. His hand hovered near yours, trembling.

“I want you. The girl who makes Bob blush. The one who doesn’t back down when I flirt, who gives it right back. Who knows when I’m lying through my teeth even when I don’t.” He reached again, this time slower, curling his hand around yours like it was sacred. Like letting go would ruin him. To his surprise, you let him. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. His fingers threaded through yours like they belonged there, like they’d always belonged there. And God help you… they did.

You were silent for a long time. Then, finally, so quiet it almost wasn’t real, you spoke pushing past the lump in your throat. “I thought I wasn’t enough.” Jake’s heart cracked clean in two. “You’re everything,” He whispered. “Everything, Y/N." Jake’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand like he couldn’t stop touching you now that you’d let him. His gaze was locked on yours, open in a way you’d never seen before, no walls, no smirk, no cocky bravado. Just Jake. Real. Unfiltered. Bleeding.

“I’ve been gone for you since the day you rolled your eyes at me instead of blushing.” You blinked, caught off guard. He huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh if it weren’t so wrecked. “I flirted. God, I poured it on. You remember? That night I tried to buy you a drink and you told me to grow up and learn how to pour my own?” A reluctant smile tugged at your mouth. “You called me a heartbreaker.” You whispered recalling the moment as if it were yesterday. “Because you were,” He whispered, voice cracking just slightly.

“You are.” You swallowed, hard, but he didn’t stop. “I kept telling myself I just liked the chase. That I could move on. That you were just another pretty face behind the bar, except—” He shook his head, jaw tightening. “You’re not.” Your brows knit, but you didn’t look away. “I told you about my dad.” Jake’s voice dropped, softer now. “I didn’t even realize I’d done it until after. I’ve never talked about him. Not to anyone. Not like that.” The memory came back instantly. That night after last call, lights dimmed, your elbows resting on the bar between you.

He’d looked so tired, so open. You’d asked one small question, something about his hometown, and suddenly he was talking about Texas and silence and a man who never really told his son he was proud. Jake stared at you now, breathing hard like he was barely holding himself together. “You didn’t say anything when I told you. You just… listened.” He looked down, eyes catching on your joined hands. “You let me be someone I don’t let anyone see.” He swallowed. “I noticed everything about you, Y/N.” Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

“I know you hate wearing your hair down when you’re working because it sticks to your lip gloss and drives you crazy. I know you pretend to be annoyed when Bob leaves peanut shells on the bar, but you never actually throw them away until after he leaves, because you don’t want to make him feel bad.” Your eyes stung. His voice was reverent now, like he was listing truths he’d memorized like scripture. “I know you tie your apron the same way every night, double knot on the left, even though you’re right-handed,"

"You hum when you count cash. You clench your jaw when you’re about to cry and you never cry in front of people, and—” He exhaled, blinking fast. “I know how it felt. That night you sat beside me after training, shoulder to shoulder, not talking much.” He was close now. Closer than before. “I replay that night more than I want to admit,” Jake murmured. “The way your knee brushed mine and you didn’t move it. The way you leaned into me without even realizing it. I wanted to grab your hand so bad, but I was scared it’d ruin it. Scared you’d pull away.”

You hadn’t realized your breath had hitched until he reached up, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m not scared now.” You were blinking back tears. “I was falling for you then,” He breathed, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw. “And I’ve just kept falling. Every damn day. Even when you stopped talking to me. Even when it felt like you were slipping through my fingers and I didn’t know why.” His voice dropped to something trembling and soft. “You’re it for me, Y/N."

"The real thing. No games. No stupid lines. Just you.” You opened your mouth and closed it. Shaking your head, just slightly. “But I’m not your type.” You whispered, voice thick with emotion. Jake smiled, and it wrecked you. “Darlin’,” He coaxed, stepping even closer, pressing your joined hands gently against his chest. “You are every type I didn’t know I needed. You’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted to stay for.” Your heart was a drumbeat in your throat. Jake leaned in, breath warm and uneven between you.

“I want late nights on this patio with you. I want to sit on your kitchen counter while you complain about your day and steal your snacks. I want you in my bed. In my arms. In my life. All of it. You.” The tears spilled freely now. “I don’t want Malibu Barbie, or any of those girls who laugh at jokes I didn’t even tell. I want the girl who saw straight through me before I even knew who I was.” Your fingers clutched his shirt now, knuckles white. Jake leaned his forehead gently against yours, voice barely a whisper now.

“I love you, Y/N.”

The words hung there, raw, open, real. And for the first time in weeks, the ache in your chest lifted. Because he meant it. And he’d never looked more terrified… or more certain. Your breath caught. There it was, laid bare between you. His heart, stripped and beating in your hands. Jake Seresin, the man everyone thought was untouchable, cocky, invincible was standing here, terrified. Loving you with everything he had. For the first time in weeks, the fear that had been curling like smoke in your chest started to ease.

But it didn’t vanish. Because you were still scared. Not of him. Of you. Of how badly you wanted this. How deeply you felt it. How vulnerable it made you to need someone this much. You lifted your head slowly, his forehead still resting lightly against yours, your breaths mingling in the salt-tinged air. “I love you too Jake.” You whispered, and it cracked something open inside both of you. His eyes squeezed shut as he let out a slow, unsteady breath, like he’d been drowning, and those words were the air he’d needed for weeks.

“But I’m scared,” You admitted, your voice trembling, fingers still clutching his shirt. “Scared that this is just a moment. That you’ll wake up one day and realize I’m not what you want. That I’ll never be enough.” Jake opened his eyes, and the look on his face made your chest cave in. There was no hesitation. No uncertainty. Just devotion. He cupped your face like you were something fragile but precious, like he was honored just to hold you. “Y/N…” He breathed, stepping even closer, until your body was flush against his.

“I’m gonna spend every damn second we have proving just how wrong that voice in your head is. Every second.” You blinked fast, your heart pounding against your ribs like it was trying to reach him. “I’ll show you,” He whispered, thumb sweeping along your cheek. “Not just once. Not just tonight. Every day. I’ll show you in the mornings, when you’re grumpy and still half-asleep and stealing the covers. I’ll show you when you’re mad at me, and I’ll deserve it, but I’ll still be there, because I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed the corner of your mouth, just barely.

Like he didn’t want to overwhelm you, only remind you he was there. “I’ll show you when things get hard. When I have a bad day, and you have worse, and we’re tired and angry and still choosing each other anyway. That’s love, darlin’. And I’ve got it bad for you.” Your breath hitched, and your hands came up to grip his forearms. “I’ll prove it in every single look, every word, every time I hold your hand or brush your hair behind your ear or make you laugh after a long shift,” He murmured.

“I’ll remind you that you’re it for me. You’ve always been it.” The tears returned, but this time they came softer. You looked at him through the blur, voice nearly lost. “What if I fall even harder?” Jake smiled, gently resting his forehead against yours again. “Then I’ll be there to catch you. Every damn time.” You didn’t mean to lean in first. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, wild with devotion, soft with fear. Maybe it was the way he said you’re everything like it was the simplest truth in the world.

Maybe it was just that you couldn’t take it anymore, the aching distance, the space you’d both been tiptoeing around for too long. But suddenly your lips were on his. It was slow, searching. Like you were both discovering what it meant to be held this close by someone who knew you, who had seen you, in the mess, in the fear, in the fire, and chose you anyway. Jake let out a broken breath against your mouth.

Like he’d been waiting for this moment longer than he wanted to admit, and kissed you like it might kill him not to. It started slow, trembling. His hands cradled your face with aching reverence, thumbs trembling slightly against your cheekbones. But the second your fingers curled into his shirt and your lips parted on a gasp, everything between you snapped, weeks of tension combusting all at once. He kissed you harder. Hungrier.

One hand slid into your hair, curling into your ponytail, while the other held your waist like he needed you closer. Like he couldn’t bear another second of space between you. His mouth moved against yours with heat and purpose, lips molding, tongue brushing yours, breath hitching as your bodies pressed together like magnets pulled tight. You whimpered softly against his mouth when he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, the sound swallowed by him as if he’d been starving for it.

He tasted like mint and beer and Jake, home, somehow, even in the chaos of it. Your teeth grazed, breath catching. Then your tongues slid together again and it was messy and warm and real. His hand fisted gently in your hair. You pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, dizzy from how easily your body molded to his, how his chest rose and fell in stuttering exhales, like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. He kissed you like it was a promise.

And you kissed him like it was the first breath after drowning. Jake finally broke the kiss, gasping softly, but only just enough to press his forehead back to yours, breath mingling, both of you shaking. “Believe me now?” Jake grinned, the edges of his mouth still curved from that kiss, the one you were still trying to catch your breath from. He leaned in, nudging your nose with his playfully. Your lips twitched into a smile, still dazed. “It’s hard not to after a kiss like that.”

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound warm and rich, before dipping his head to press one last, lingering kiss to your lips, this one slower, softer, like a promise more than punctuation. “Come on,” He murmured against your mouth, hand already sliding into yours. “I want to show off my girl.” Your heart fluttered hard in your chest, giddy and unsteady. His girl. You could definitely get used to that. The two of you walked back toward the patio doors hand-in-hand, the cool ocean breeze still trailing behind you.

Jake was practically glowing, his grin wide, his shoulders relaxed in a way they hadn’t been in weeks. You could feel his thumb tracing slow circles against your knuckles as you walked, grounding you in the surrealness of the moment. As you stepped into the warm buzz of the Hard Deck, the shift in the room was instant. Bradley let out a long, low whistle, raising his beer. “Well, finally.” You flushed instantly, heat crawling up your neck as Natasha gave you a knowing grin from across the table.

Jake didn’t even hesitate. Still beaming, he strolled right up to the squad’s table, pulled out an empty chair, and dropped into it without letting go of your hand. Before you could react, he tugged you gently down into his lap. You gasped, startled by the sudden PDA, hands bracing against his chest as he held you there, one arm wrapped around your waist like a vice, the other resting lazily on your thigh. His body was warm beneath you, solid and steady, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to hide.

Now that he had you, really had you, Jake Seresin clearly had absolutely no intention of letting go. The squad erupted in cheers and teasing jeers, beers clinking, boots scuffing against the wooden floor. But then something caught your eye. You watched, wide-eyed, as Mickey, Reuben, and Javy each reached into their wallets and started sliding bills across the table, straight into the waiting hands of Natasha and Bradley. “Hold on,” Jake barked, brows shooting up. “You assholes had a bet going?”

“Please. We’ve been placing bets since the second she didn’t slap you the first night.” Natasha leaned back smugly, counting her winnings with all the grace of a champion poker player. “I thought I heard someone say ‘by Valentine’s Day or bust.’” You muttered, staring at Bradley as he fanned out a crisp stack of twenties. Jake turned, brows raised in mock betrayal. “Bob.” You looked toward the quietest member of the group, who was sheepishly sliding a twenty toward Natasha, cheeks flaming.

“Not you too!” You gasped dramatically. “I-It was obvious.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “We were all just waiting for the two of you to stop being blind and realize you were already in love.” Mickey stayed matter-of-factly. Jake groaned, shaking his head with a dramatic flair. “Unbelievable.” But then he turned, eyes softening as he looked at you. “Well you’re right about one thing Fanboy, damn straight I love her.” He declared, suddenly and loudly.

His words were loud enough to carry over the music, his drawl curling around the words like honey. The table lost it, laughter exploding around you, but all you could do was stare at him, your cheeks burning, your heart thundering in your chest as he tugged you tighter into him, pressing his lips to your temple, warm and unashamed. And just over Jake’s shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the blonde from earlier, the one who’d been leaning against him when your heart had first started to break.

Her mouth twisted, her eyes narrowed. She scoffed, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the bar without so much as a backward glance. Only, Jake didn’t even see her leave. Because his focus was entirely on you. Not some bottle blonde who he didn’t know the name of. As you leaned back into his chest, the smell of salt and citrus and something utterly Jake wrapped around you like a memory, you realized you weren’t afraid anymore. Not of falling. Not of love. Not with him holding you like this, like he’d waited a lifetime to.