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tropes-and-tales · 2 days ago

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Lieutenant Steal-Your-Girl, Part II

(Bob Floyd x F!Reader; Jake Seresin x F!Reader)

CW: Light angst (relationship woes); open relationships; smut (oral, F!receiving; PiV, unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count: 4180

AN: This is part of a larger mini-series, found here, and it was requested by several anonymous folk!

AN2: This has not been edited in any way, shape, or form!

Jake has always prided himself on making the right move every time. As a varsity athlete in high school, whether on the football field or basketball court, for example: he always saw the field of play, the players on it. He could always calculate possible outcomes and always made the right choice.

Same for his military career. He didn’t make it to Top Gun as a fluke. He’s the best because he can sense the environment, can feel the strength and speed of the plane under his control. He can crawl into the psyche of his fellow pilots and best them in simulations because he’s sharp and observant.

He always makes the right move.

Until he doesn’t.

Opening up his relationship with you felt like the right move months ago. Jake loves you, truly. He knows he can search for a thousand years and never find a woman as loyal as you. He’ll never find someone so willing to put up with the chaos of his life in active service. Even if he didn’t know it, the other guys would remind him of it: that you’re a rare specimen, that he should have wifed you up years ago.

The thing is—you and Jake have been together for so long. Since you were kids. Since ideas like love and forever were abstract things. Since your future together seemed both a small thing and a thing that would stretch out for an eternity. It was one thing to date you as a teenager, to make lofty promises to you when the biggest decision Jake had to make was which party to attend after the Friday night football game.

It was an entirely different thing now. To go from his small Texas hometown to the world and all its variety and promise. To turn to the hard, often boring work of living together: Jake getting his marching orders, you trailing behind faithfully.

Opening the relationship was for both of you. It’s how Jake justified it to you, how if you both loosened the reins a bit, then when you eventually married, there’d be no lingering doubt. There’d be no question of missing out.

It worked for all those months. Jake got to have his cake and eat it too. He got to explore, got to experience different women…but always came home to you. It was like a pressure valve, just him letting off steam, relieving the pressure that built up from a high-stress position as a pilot.

He encouraged you to do the same. To explore. To have fun. There was a part of him that was turned on by the thought of you with another man, though if Jake were entirely honest with himself, the entire open relationship was mostly for him.

If you sat at the Hard Deck with a dour expression on your face, was that his fault? If you refused to take advantage of the free pass he gave you, was that his problem?

Until you seemingly took advantage of that free pass.

Until you don’t come home one night. Until you breeze in late one morning with a soft smile of your face that Jake hasn’t seen for years. Until you murmur a greeting at him, distracted, then slip into the bathroom for a long shower.

Jake always makes the right move, but as you seemingly wash away some other man under a steaming shower, he realizes that he’s made the absolute worst move.

-----

Who was it?

It’s the question that gnaws at his gut, that makes his jaw ripple with tension as he grinds his teeth together.

The most obvious answer is someone from your job. Jake is away for long stretches, and you have a traditional 9-to-5 job in tech. Your office is tilted heavily in favor of the men; there’s a lot of young guys in your orbit every workday. Some asshole in khakis and a polo shirt, some asshole with a sensible Honda CRV with golf clubs stowed in the back. Some asshole who perhaps goes out to lunch with you, the two of you sharing tacos in the San Diego sunshine, of sending flirty messages through Slack or whatever…

Another possibility? A fellow flyboy, or at least a military asshole. San Diego teems with young, fit men in uniforms, and many of them are looking for a loyal girl to lock down.

Which puts Jake in mind of his fellow Daggers. You accompany him to the Hard Deck nearly every night he goes. You usually sit outside, listening to the surf…but you spend enough time with the rest of his squad.

Is it Coyote, with his killer smile and dimples?

It is Payback with his laid-back charm and easy way of talking?

Could it be Javi and the way he leans in, like he’s unable to resist a woman when he’s chatting her up?

Maybe it’s Bob. Jake had made a joke of it often enough, just for the benefit of tweaking the little nerd and making him go atomic red. Jake loved winding the back-seater up, and every time he asked Bob if he wanted to fuck you, he turned into a stuttering, blushing mess before freaking out and declining.

Rooster and his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirts and ability to draw all eyes on him when he plays the piano? You took piano lessons in high school, and more than once, you’ve perched beside Rooster and added little musical flourishes as he pounded out another Jerry Lee Lewis standard. Jake searches his memory. Didn’t you give Rooster a shy little smile after each performance? Didn’t Rooster throw an arm around your shoulders and pull you against his side after a duet that ended in raucous applause?

And didn’t Rooster pull Jake aside just weeks ago to give him a stern talking-to about how miserable you seem?

Jake sits in the canteen and picks at his lunch, and he lets his glare settle on the man sitting two tables over. Was Maverick’s pet pilot the man who put that dreamy little smile on your face two days earlier?

*****

Bob hasn’t been able to focus all day. Thank god it’s just been classroom work about the physics of flying and not actual flying.

He picks at his lunch and lets the talk in the canteen fade into the background. He can’t stop thinking about you. About his date with you. About the night he spent with you, and then the morning. About driving you home—the home you share with Jake—and how you turned to him, shy, and brushed a kiss against his blushing cheek before you slid out of his truck and ran inside.

How can he be so happy and so miserable at the same time? To have had that amazing moment with you, and to realize that you can’t be his. Bob glances over at the man himself and sees Jake glaring at Rooster—that old, tired rivalry—and Bob feels jealousy lance through him sharper than a knife.

His mind rapid fires through the date like a slideshow, the images cycling in his mind’s eye as he lifts his fork, chews his food without tasting it. He replays every moment. He replays every word you spoke, parsing through them for some hidden clue.

Bob finds it when he’s eating a buttered roll. He remembers what it felt like to make love to you, and he remembers that he wore no condom, and he remembers your words.

I’m clean, Bobby. I had a test just last month and was clean, so if you don’t want to wear a condom...

He freezes with the piece of bread lifted halfway to his mouth. His mouth gapes open, and he seizes up and doesn’t move as he considers the implications. What you said, and what you really said.

You are in a relationship with Jake, and Jake sees women outside of your relationship. You had an STD test a month ago and felt comfortable enough to tell Bob you were clean.

Ergo, you and Jake have not been intimate in at least a month, which means that perhaps your relationship to the cocky Bagman is not as solid as Jake sells it to the Daggers.

-----

How can Bob be so miserable and so happy at the same time?

It helps when the happiness tips the scales, because that date wasn’t a one-time thing at all. That evening, after Bob had his realization in the canteen, he gets a text from you.

Thank you again for planning such a lovely date. I had the best time, you write.

The smile breaks across his face like the sunrise, and he’s grinning so hard that he doesn’t have a chance to respond before you send a second text.

If you ever would want to hang out again, I’d love that.

That makes him scoff. The soft wording of it, if he ever would want to. As if you haven’t been occupying his thoughts for every waking moment since that date. As if he hasn’t been praying and hoping for just this invitation from you, this toehold for more.

I absolutely would love to hang out with you again, he replies.

You: When?

Bob: Anytime. Sooner the better.

You: Give me a date and time.

Bob: Right now?

It’s a joke, but not really. It’s a joke, but he wants you with him now, wants to soothe the jittery anxiety that comes from having you for a night and then not having you. It’s a joke, but not really, because you respond with three words that make his pulse race and his mouth go dry.

On my way.

It’s a joke, but not really, because half an hour later there’s a knock at his door, and when he opens it, you’re standing there and neither of you say a word because he opens the door wider, and you step through it. You step into his arms, and he enfolds you against him, and then your mouth is on his, his glasses are knocked askew, and he’s half-dragging you as you half-push him back into his bedroom.

There’s no hesitancy this time around; Bob senses no reserve or shyness. He only feels your hunger that matches his own, a ravenous urge that makes this moment sloppy and rushed. Neither of you finesse it—he only pushes the skirt of your dress up and tugs your panties down enough. You only undo his belt, his button and zipper, push his pants and boxers low enough for his cock to spring free.

You both only do enough to clear the obstacles to your mutual goal, and when Bob slots the head of his cock against your entrance, it’s both of you moving as one: him pushing into you, you pulling him into you. The moan you loose at the sensation is echoed by Bob, and it’s only afterwards—sweaty, panting, sated—that you finally actually exchange words.

“I’m glad you reached out,” Bob says. He runs his fingertips up and down your arm, and you nestle closer to him.

Something has changed in you since that first night together. You’re less uncertain. Braver.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you admit simply.

That pulse-racing, dry-mouth feeling returns. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Bob swallows hard. There are a million questions on the tip of his tongue. Where is this going? Where is Jake? What happens next?

Instead, he wraps his arm firmer around you. “Tell you something,” he says.

“What’s that?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you either.”

*****

A month passes. You and Jake even out. Your relationship finds the sort of easy equilibrium that he always wanted with the open thing—or at least, you don’t seem so morose when he has dates with other women. He doesn’t hear you sniffling in bed when he comes home late.

You, though? Jake can’t quite figure out what’s going on with you, and since one of the rules of this thing is a strict “don’t ask, don’t tell,” he can’t know for certain.

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t try.

It’s a rare evening when you both stay in. You make dinner, and the two of you sit and eat. You chat about your respective days, and when the conversation peters out, Jake clears his throat.

“Have you been…taking advantage of the free pass?”

Your eyes slide up to meet his gaze. “We said we wouldn’t talk about it.”

“We said we’d never discuss specifics. This was just a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.”

You arch an eyebrow. You say nothing.

Jake stares at you, tries to read your expression. He weighs the entirety of your relationship. Everything he knows about you, which is a lot. His loyal girl, his ride-or-die. He weighs all of it against this new you who is more at ease with your arrangement, and he concludes that no, you must not be sleeping with anyone else. You probably just came to accept it from him. You probably just see the wisdom in letting him let off steam and explore before he comes back to you and settles down. Your refusal to answer him must just be a way to needle him.

It's the wrong conclusion, but he won’t realize that for a while longer.

-----

Another month passes. The ease continues.

Jake relaxes. That single night months ago must have been an aberration. Another way of needling him. He assumes you spent the night at a girlfriend’s place and just chose to act mysterious about it to make him jealous.

His life finds a blissful rhythm. He has his home with you, and he’s not so blind that he can’t admit how nice you’ve made his life here in San Diego. You give him a warm, cozy place to land after stressful days on base. You give him simplicity, and when he looks across the kitchen table or the couch and sees you there, it makes him feel like he’s been wrapped in a weighted blanket.

Jake’s momma always said he should put a ring on your finger before you left Texas. “Girl like that is hard to find and harder to keep, Jakey,” she used to say.

But Jake’s dad always said he should wait before tying himself to any one woman. “Take it from me, Jake,” he used to say. “Don’t get your high school girlfriend knocked up and marry her at nineteen. Live a little before you commit to the ball-and-chain.”

Jake can see his father’s wisdom now (even though he was the cause of that shotgun wedding at nineteen). This open thing is clarifying what Jake wants for his future. He’s getting all that latent, restless energy out of his system. Each stranger he goes home with, each woman he fucks just brings him that much closer to a future where he puts that ring on your finger and promises to only be with you for the rest of his life.

*****

It’s more than just hooking up.

Bob can’t deny it from his side of things, and he has a feeling that you see it the same as him. The two of you meet up, make love—sometimes frantic, sometimes slow and drawn out—but you also spend time together.

Two blissful months pass from that first date. You and Bob find time in your schedules where there’s overlapping availability. For you, that tends to be when Jake is off on a date or at the Hard Deck conquering another conquest. You and Bob meet up there too, play it cool, pretend to just be the usual friendly acquaintances that you’ve always been…. then once Jake is out the door, the two of you slip out a moment later when it’s clear.

It's all-consuming. Bob has never been in a situation with a woman like this before. He feels mad, feverish, hectic when you aren’t around.

He feels mad, feverish, hectic when you are.

He dreams of you, wakes up hard and aching, wakes up feeling like he’s taken a cannonball to the chest. He holds imaginary conversations with you in his head; he’s driven to near-distraction, and only Nat keeps him in line during his workday.

Even so, more than once, Maverick has caught him daydreaming, and Bob’s paid for it with countless pushups on the tarmac.

But when you’re with him, he can’t get enough. He’s become pushier than he’s ever been with a woman before. Countless times, he fails to get you home before he takes you: he’s fucked you against the lifeguard stand yards away from the Hard Deck, the ceaseless waves covering up the sound of you moaning his name. He’s bent you over the sink of the bar bathroom, met your unflinching stare in the water-spotted mirror as he found a fast and hard rhythm that spoke more to the lack of time you had before the other Daggers missed the two of you. He’s pulled you into his lap in his truck, pushed your panties to the side, pulled you down onto him. He’s knelt at your feet and feasted on your perfect pussy so many times that he wonders how the other pilots—how Jake—doesn’t smell you on him.

You’re ravenous for each other, but there’s also sweet moments. Little mundane moments where your appetites are sated, and you can just be with each other.

The way you run your fingers through his short-cropped hair. The way you rub the pad of your thumb over the little indents on the sides of his nose from his glasses. The way you stretch out like a cat, pleased and lazy after sex, and ask him all about his life. What he was like as a kid, what his family is like.

Sometimes, you ask him where he sees himself in a year, in five years, in a decade.

He never answers those forward-looking questions. He turns them around on you, echoes the questions back to you.

You never answer them either.

It’s like both of you are in a stalemate. Neither of you ever mention Jake by name, and you only occasionally mention him obliquely as him. The two of you operate in a bubble suspended in time, where your past with Jake doesn’t quite exist and where your respective futures are hazy and unclear.

When Bob lies in bed late at night, alone, he knows how he’d answer you if you really pressed him.

Where does he see himself in a year? With you.

Where does he see himself in five years? With you.

Where does he see himself for the rest of his life? With you. Always with you.

*****

The Hard Deck is packed. Javi and Nat play pool, and you, Rooster, and Bob watch them as you chat amiably.

Jake feels relaxed. He feels good.

He called his parents over the weekend, and he had a good talk with them. An honest talk, or as honest as one can have with their parents. He described work and how well it was going at Top Gun, how things with you have evened and smoothed out.

He hesitates only a beat before he tells them: he wants to bring you back to Texas for the holidays. He has leave, and you can take the time off too. A big Seresin family Christmas. It has been far too long.

“I thought I might go see her dad,” he mentions too. “Gotta ask him a question.”

At that, his mother squealed over the line, and his father took a moment to clear his throat, then gruffly added that he thought Jake had turned into a fine man, and that he was proud of him.

Jake feels good. It feels right. He glances over at where you stand with Rooster and Bob, the three of you laughing as Javi tries and fails a trick shot. You look relaxed, almost happy, and Jake smiles to see it. Hasn’t this been the ultimate proof that the two of you were meant to be after all? You survived the open relationship, gave him the grace to sow his wild oats, and now—

“You’re hella cool about it, Jake.” The voice interrupts Jake’s thoughts, and when he turns, he sees Fanboy standing beside him.

“Cool about what?”

“Your girl.”

An icy finger of dread drags itself down his spine, but Jake hides it behind an easy smile. “What about my girl?”

Fanboy shrugs and leans against the bar. “I know you had this open thing. I just never saw it play out in a way that wasn’t messy.”

Jake’s smile widens. “She came around in the end. It was just hooking up. She always knew she had my heart.”

“Nah.” Fanboy elbows him lightly in his side. “I mean, you seem really cool with your girl hooking up with the pussy-eating champion of Miramar.”

That icy feeling of dread sinks into his stomach and settles there. “What?”

“I’d be so jealous, man.”

“Wait, what?”

Fanboy nods in your direction where you stand with Rooster and Bob. “You haven’t heard the gossip about him? Yale’s girlfriend’s roommate dated him way back. Nothing but good things to say about him. Said he ate the kitty like a starving kid at an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

Jake has always relied on his lightning-fast reflexes, his quick thinking, but Fanboy’s words move through him like tar. His mind slows down and refuses to grasp the words, and he shakes his head, tries to clear it.

“What?” he breathes out.

“Cafeteria-style, man. Boy’s well-fed is what I’m saying.”

Jake’s eyes find you, then slide over to Rooster. The blond man is saying something that makes you smile—

“Bradley?” Jake says his name and it comes out rough, a growl. “You talking about Bradley?”

Fanboy elbows him again, unaware of the way Jake’s world is tilting off-axis, the ground slipping from beneath his feet.

“Nah. I’m talking about Baby on Board.” Fanboy turns and looks at Jake, takes in the angry flush along his neck, the way his jaw twitches as he clenches his jaw. “I mean, her and Bob, y’know? You knew, right?”

Jake doesn’t answer. He only shifts his gaze a fraction and focuses on Bob. Bob. Of all people, Bob. Jake narrows his eyes and looks at what he has failed to see for months, and he finally notices that you stand an inch closer to the WSO. He finally notices that Bob’s turned his body a degree towards you, the faintest bit of angling.

“How did you find out?” Jake manages to grit out to Fanboy.

“It wasn’t really a secret, man. Harvard…” He trails off, doesn’t finish the sentence.

“Harvard what?”

Fanboy huffs out a breath, clearly uncomfortable. “Harvard…saw them. Once. They were…y’know. Out by the lifeguard station.” He takes a step back and holds up his hands in surrender. “Don’t take it out on us. We all thought it was cool with you. That open thing you have going.”

-----

Part of him doesn’t believe it.

Part of him doesn’t want to believe it.

Part of him—a small, conscience-driven part of him—understands that this is the consequences of his actions. Part of him knows he’s reaping what he sowed.

But part of him doesn’t believe it.

He pulls himself together. He waves off Fanboy, says he’s just joking around, that everything is fine. He goes to the bar and orders a shot. Throws it back. Takes long, deep breaths and composes himself.

He doesn’t believe it, but belief isn’t proof.

Once he’s calm, he makes his way over to you. He takes it slow, casual, and he studies your face when you catch sight of him. You give him a smile, and Jake thinks Fanboy is full of shit.

Jake makes up a lie. He tells you that he’s found a friend for the evening, but he uses his usual oblique wording to soften the blow of it.

“I’m heading out early,” he says. “You good to go home alone?”

Your smile falls a little, but you nod. Rooster, beside you, lets out a displeased grumble.

Bob says nothing at all.

Jake leans in and brushes a kiss against your mouth, and you tell him to be careful, and he replies for you to be careful too. Then he turns and leaves the Hard Deck…but when he gets in his truck, he only drives it out of the lot and into the shadows of a nearby cross-street. He has a perfect line of sight to the door of the Hard Deck, but no one would see him unless they knew exactly where in the darkness to look.

It doesn’t take long for Jake to get his proof.

Ten, maybe fifteen minutes after he moves, you leave the Hard Deck too. You’re laughing, your smile is so wide it must hurt your face…and right at your heels stumbling behind you, his hands on your waist as the two of you make your way to the parking lot…

It’s Bob.

#tropes and tales #clear the inbox 2024 #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #top gun maverick

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lila-lou · 2 months ago

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✨Rough around the edges - Pt. 4✨

Summary: Jack's day couldn’t have gotten any worse. Exhausted from a grueling shift under the scorching sun, he just wanted to crash at home with some wings and a football game. But his plans for a quiet night were shattered when the racket from his new neighbor echoed through the walls.

Pairing: Jack x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap

Word Count: 4180

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Jack watched you for a moment, the weight of the evening still hanging heavy in the air. His offer came naturally, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he spoke. “Wanna sleep? You can have my bed if you want”.

You hesitated, the thought of taking his bed making you feel slightly uncomfortable. It wasn’t because of Jack, but rather the intimacy of the moment, the vulnerability of the situation you found yourself in. The idea of sleeping in his room felt too personal, too exposed, but the thought of being alone in his apartment—or worse, back in your own—was far more unsettling.

Looking up at Jack, you noticed the genuine concern in his eyes, the protective instinct that had already come to your rescue once tonight. You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond at first. The warmth of the blanket he had given you felt comforting, and the idea of being close to him made you feel safe.

“Would it be okay if I just stayed here?”, you asked softly, your voice shy. “On the couch… with you?”.

For a moment, Jack looked taken aback by the request. His rough exterior didn’t often allow for moments like this—quiet, tender moments where the lines between protection and care blurred. But he understood what you were asking. It wasn’t just about where you would sleep; it was about feeling safe, about not wanting to be alone after what had just happened.

Jack gave a small nod, his eyes softening further. "Sure”, he said, his voice low. “You can stay right here with me”.

There was no hesitation in his tone, just quiet reassurance. Jack reached over to grab another blanket from the nearby chair and draped it over you, making sure you were comfortable.

Then Jack settled himself on the far edge of the couch, careful to give you as much space as possible. He could feel the tension still lingering in the room—yours, his—and he didn’t want to push it. His hand absentmindedly ran through his hair again, a nervous habit that had come out more than once tonight. He leaned back, trying to relax, but the protective instinct within him kept him alert.

The quiet between you wasn’t uncomfortable, though. In fact, it was comforting—like the calm after a storm. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, and though Jack kept his distance, his presence alone made you feel safe.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Jack’s eyes flicked toward the door now and then, making sure there were no signs of your ex returning. His muscles were still tense, ready to jump into action if anything happened. But the longer the night stretched on, the more the stillness of his apartment soothed both of you.

After some time, you broke the silence, your voice soft, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Jack. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen”.

Jack shook his head, his voice equally quiet but firm. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t drag me into anything. You shouldn’t have to deal with that on your own”.

You glanced at him, your eyes meeting his for a moment, then sniffed quietly, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes, despite your best efforts to hold them back. You almost never cried, but tonight, everything was too overwhelming—the fear, the relief, the weight of the past, and the kindness Jack had shown you. It was all crashing down on you at once.

Jack noticed the change in your breathing, the way you were holding back your tears. He sighed softly, feeling the tension between the need to comfort you and the hesitation that came with crossing a line he wasn’t sure should be crossed.

Without saying a word, Jack shifted closer to you, moving slowly, cautiously. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering before he made the decision. Gently, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side. The gesture was awkward at first, like he wasn’t sure if you’d welcome it, but then you leaned into him, accepting the comfort he was offering.

Once you settled against him, the floodgates opened. The tears came quietly at first, just a few, but the more you relaxed into Jack’s embrace, the harder it became to hold them back. You buried your face into his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence, and let the tears fall.

Jack held you a little tighter, his grip still gentle but firm, his large hand rubbing your arm in slow, soothing circles. He didn’t say anything, just let you cry, knowing that words wouldn’t help right now. His quiet strength was enough.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to be strong for anyone. You didn’t have to hold it all together. Jack wasn’t judging you, wasn’t asking for anything in return—he was just there, a steady presence that made you feel safe in your vulnerability.

After a while, your sobs quieted, the emotional storm beginning to pass. You felt lighter, though your body was exhausted from everything. You pulled back slightly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, embarrassed by your outburst but grateful for Jack’s understanding.

“Sorry”, you whispered again, your voice shaky. “I don’t usually… I don’t cry like that”.

Jack gave you a small, reassuring smile. “None of that. It’s okay”.

You nodded, still a little unsure of how to process everything. The exhaustion was starting to hit harder now, your body craving rest after the emotional toll of the night.

Jack, sensing your fatigue, kept his arm around you but shifted slightly to help you get more comfortable. “Try to get some sleep”, he said gently. “I’m not going anywhere”.

You nodded again, feeling the exhaustion pulling you under.

Jack’s hand continued to move gently along your bare arm, his touch steady and soothing. The rhythm of his fingers brushing against your skin helped to calm your racing thoughts, lulling you further into a state of relaxation. The exhaustion was slowly winning, and your body began to feel heavy, but there was something comforting about Jack’s presence—about his quiet, unspoken care.

After a long moment, you mumbled softly, your voice barely audible in the quiet room. “Your hands… they’re so rough”.

Jack’s movements paused for a split second, as if caught off guard by your comment. He glanced down at his hand, the one tracing slow circles on your arm, and then back to you. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though there was a hint of self-consciousness in his eyes.

“Yeah”, he muttered, his voice low. “Comes with the territory, I guess. Working with my hands all these years”.

“Keep going… please”, you whispered, your voice even softer now as sleep tugged at the edges of your consciousness. You nudged Jack’s hand gently with your shoulder, a small but meaningful gesture, letting him know that his touch brought comfort in a way you hadn’t expected.

Jack hesitated for a moment, his rough hand still resting on your arm. He hadn’t expected you to ask for more, and for a second, he wasn’t sure if continuing would cross a line. But then he looked down at you, your eyes half-closed, your body relaxed against his. It wasn’t about anything more than offering you the solace you clearly needed, and that was something he could give.

His hand began moving again, this time with more intent, the slow circles and gentle strokes staying in rhythm, grounding you as you lay there. The silence between you wasn’t heavy; instead, it was full of quiet understanding. .

You exhaled deeply, your body completely relaxing under his touch. It wasn’t just the physical comfort—it was the feeling of not being alone, of having someone care enough to stay with you when you needed it the most.

“Thanks, Jack”, you murmured, barely audible now as your exhaustion took over fully.

Jack gave a small nod, even though you couldn’t see it. “You’re welcome”, he replied quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. He continued the comforting motion of his hand until he felt your breathing even out, signaling that you had finally drifted off to sleep.

Jack stayed there, not moving, not wanting to disturb the peace you had found. As the night deepened, he kept watch over you, knowing that for tonight, at least, you could rest safely.

As the night wore on, Jack sat still, his gaze drifting between you and the quiet surroundings of his apartment. The soft rise and fall of your breathing was the only sound breaking the stillness. He kept his hand on your arm, not moving, simply letting you sleep, aware of how much trust you had placed in him tonight.

The weight of the evening still lingered in his mind—the fear in your eyes when he found you, the relief that had come when he’d stepped in. Jack didn’t often find himself in situations like this, but something about you had stirred his protective instincts in a way that surprised him. He didn’t usually let people in, and he certainly hadn’t planned to find himself sitting here, offering comfort in the middle of the night to someone who, not long ago, had been little more than a distant neighbor.

But things had shifted. He could feel it.

Glancing down at you, Jack noticed how peaceful you looked now, your face relaxed in sleep. It was a stark contrast to the tension you had carried earlier, and for the first time that night, he allowed himself to relax a little too. Knowing that you felt safe enough to fall asleep beside him made something settle deep inside of him. It felt right, even if it was unexpected.

Jack leaned back against the couch, his own exhaustion starting to creep in. He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring—whether your ex would come back, whether you’d still feel comfortable with him after everything that had happened—but for now, none of that mattered. What mattered was that you were safe, here in his apartment, resting peacefully after a night filled with too much chaos.

With a deep breath, Jack closed his eyes for a moment, deciding he would stay awake a little longer just to make sure you stayed undisturbed.

The next morning, Jack woke up slowly, blinking against the soft light filtering through the curtains. It took him a moment to realize where he was, and why there was a weight resting against him. His back was spread out across the couch, and as his senses came back, he realized that at some point during the night, you had shifted. Now, you were lying completely on top of him, your head resting on his chest, one arm draped across him, your legs tangled with his.

Jack’s arms were wrapped around you, holding you close as if it was the most natural thing in the world. For a moment, he froze, unsure of how to process the situation. He hadn’t planned to fall asleep, let alone end up in such an intimate position with you. But despite the surprise of it, he felt strangely at peace.

You were still fast asleep, your breaths soft and steady against him.

However, as he adjusted his position slightly to get more comfortable, he became aware of an involuntary physical response—morning arousal. His face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and concern as he felt the unmistakable pressure.

He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and focused. Jack’s mind raced, trying to figure out how to handle the situation without disturbing you. He carefully shifted once more to adjust his body slightly, attempting to minimize any accidental contact, and then focused on keeping his movements slow and controlled.

But as he did, you shifted slightly in your sleep. The movement brought you even closer, and you inadvertently pressed against him more firmly. The situation became even more delicate as you slowly began to wake, blinking your eyes open.

For a brief moment, you seemed disoriented, and the close proximity between you and Jack was evident. You stirred against him, your face brushing against his chest, and Jack could feel your warm breath on his skin.

Jack’s heart raced as he tried to remain as still as possible, hoping that your groggy state would prevent you from fully realizing the awkwardness of the situation. He continued to hold you gently, his mind racing.

You finally opened your eyes fully, taking in the sight of Jack’s chest and the realization of how close you were. Confusion flickered across your face as you tried to piece together the events of the previous night and your current position.

As you became more aware of your surroundings, the reality of the situation slowly started to dawn on you. The warmth and closeness you were experiencing suddenly felt different, and you realized the intimate nature of your position against Jack. You could feel the pressure of his erection against you, and it added a new layer of complexity to the already charged moment.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, and you quickly tried to shift away, but Jack’s arm was still around you, and you found yourself tangled in the blanket and his embrace. You glanced up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of confusion and mortification.

Jack’s face reddened as well, and he immediately became aware of how the situation must look and feel. He tried to give you some space, carefully pulling his arm away, and spoke softly, his voice tinged with awkwardness but also concern.

“Sorry about that”, he said, his tone gentle and apologetic. “I didn’t mean for things to get… this close”.

You nodded, still feeling a bit dazed. “It’s okay. I just… didn’t realize”.

Jack took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “Let’s get you sorted out. Do you want some coffee or anything? I’ll make us something”.

You nodded again, grateful for the change in focus and the chance to distance yourself from the situation. As Jack got up and moved to the kitchen, you took a moment to collect yourself, feeling a mix of emotions—gratitude for his kindness and awkwardness over the intimate encounter.

Jack moved quickly toward the kitchen, adjusting himself discreetly as he reached for the coffee machine. His movements were stiff, not just from the night on the couch but from the lingering awkwardness of the situation. You could see the tiredness etched in his face—the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged just a little. He hadn’t gotten much sleep, that was clear.

You bit your lip, your eyes trailing after him as he worked, watching the way his muscles moved under his shirt with every subtle motion. Despite everything that had happened, there was something captivating about him—his quiet strength, the way he handled things without making you feel judged or uncomfortable. He seemed to carry the weight of his own burdens, but last night, he had taken on yours too.

You leaned back against the couch, pulling the blanket around you tighter as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. Your mind replayed the events of the night before—the fear, the relief of Jack’s presence, and now this strange new layer of intimacy that had emerged between you two.

Jack grabbed two mugs from the cabinet, filling them both with fresh coffee before turning back toward you. He caught you watching him, and for a brief moment, your eyes locked. There was an unspoken understanding in the air—a recognition of the closeness you had shared, the line you had both walked without meaning to.

He handed you a mug, his fingers brushing yours briefly before he sat down beside you on the couch with his own cup. He let out a deep yawn, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned back, clearly exhausted. The weight of the long night, the emotional tension, and the lack of sleep were all catching up to him.

“Rough night, huh?”, you said softly, taking a sip of the coffee and feeling the warmth spread through you. You glanced at Jack, your eyes lingering on the lines of weariness etched into his face. He looked like someone who had taken on more than he should, yet still refused to let anyone else carry the weight.

Jack chuckled, though it was more of a tired exhale. “Yeah, you could say that”. He took a long drink from his mug, savoring the coffee as if it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing completely. “Not exactly how I expected to spend the night”.

You nodded, feeling a mixture of guilt and gratitude swell inside you. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen”, you said quietly, your fingers tracing the rim of your mug. “You didn’t have to… stay with me. But I’m really glad you did”.

Jack looked at you, his expression softening. “I wasn’t going to leave you alone. You needed someone, and I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay”.

There was something so genuine in his words, and it struck you just how deeply he cared—even if he tried to hide it behind his tough exterior. Jack wasn’t the type to make grand gestures or express his feelings openly, but his actions spoke louder than anything else.

You smiled softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Well, thank you. For everything”.

Jack gave a small nod, his tired eyes meeting yours. “Anytime”.

The quiet stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it was a moment of understanding, where the two of you seemed to acknowledge the shift in your relationship without needing to say anything out loud. There was no rush to define it, no pressure to figure out what came next. It just was.

After a few minutes, Jack stretched his legs out in front of him and yawned again, this time not bothering to cover it up. “I think I’m going to need about a gallon of coffee to get through the day”, he said with a smirk.

You chuckled, the sound light and easy. “You and me both”.

After finishing your coffee, you stood up and stretched, feeling the stiffness from the night slowly easing from your muscles. The stretch caused your shirt to ride up slightly, exposing a hint of your midriff. Jack, who had been nursing his coffee and trying to shake off the last of his fatigue, couldn’t help but glance up.

His eyes caught the brief glimpse of skin before he quickly looked away, feeling a twinge of awkwardness. He took a long sip from his mug, trying to focus on anything other than the sight he had just seen.

“I guess I’ll go back to my apartment”, you mumbled softly and glanced at Jack, who was already standing up, setting his mug down before walking toward you.

He offered a quiet nod, and without a word, he followed you to the door, his footsteps heavy with the same unspoken understanding that had been hanging between you since morning. Jack opened the door for you, his presence still grounding, but there was a slight tension in the air—an uncertainty about where this connection would lead.

As you stood at the threshold, you hesitated, looking up at him for a moment. Jack’s tired eyes softened when they met yours, and you could feel the gratitude welling up in your chest. He had been there for you without question, and while you knew the situation had changed things between you both, it felt too soon to know exactly how.

In a moment of impulse, you leaned up slowly, your heart pounding softly in your chest as you pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his cheek. Jack stilled, his breath catching slightly at the unexpected touch. It wasn’t a romantic gesture, but something tender and filled with quiet thanks.

“Thank you, Jack”, you mumbled, your voice barely a whisper as you pulled away, stepping back and keeping your gaze lowered, feeling the warmth of the small moment between you two.

Jack didn’t respond right away. There was a weight to his hesitation, something unspoken, as if Jack was carefully choosing what to say next. His eyes shifted slightly, glancing away for a moment before he took a breath and met your gaze again.

“Well, maybe you can thank me with a beer sometime”, he mumbled, his voice quiet but laced with a hint of something more. He scratched the back of his neck, clearly unsure of himself in this unfamiliar territory. “You know, if you want to. We could, uh… go out, grab a drink. Nothing serious”.

His words hung in the air, both casual and loaded with more meaning than either of you expected. Jack’s heart raced slightly, wondering if he had crossed a line, but he kept his expression neutral, not wanting to make the situation more awkward.

You blinked, a little surprised by the offer, but a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. The thought of going out with Jack—outside of the circumstances that had brought you so close—was unexpected, but it felt right. There was something comforting about the idea of getting to know him better, outside of the context of the night before.

“Yeah”, you said softly, nodding. “I’d like that. A beer sounds good”.

Jack seemed to relax at your response, a small grin replacing the uncertainty that had been lingering in his eyes. “Alright then. Whenever you’re ready, just let me know”.

You smiled back, feeling a strange mix of relief and excitement. The heaviness of the night was still there, but the thought of spending more time with Jack—outside of the intensity of last night—made everything seem lighter.

“I will”, you replied, giving him one last glance before turning to head back to your apartment.

As you walked away, the door clicking softly behind you, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, things were about to shift in a way neither of you had expected.

Jack stood at the door, his mind racing. He took a deep breath, leaning against the doorframe, trying to collect his thoughts. He had spent the entire night and morning fighting against the pull he felt toward you, trying to convince himself it was just the circumstances—your vulnerability, his protective instincts—but it was more than that. And after waking up with you so close, your body against his, he couldn't ignore it anymore.

There was an undeniable attraction between you, one that had been simmering beneath the surface since the night at the bar. Jack had tried to push it away, telling himself you were too young, that it wasn’t right. But this morning had changed things. The intimacy of the moment had shattered whatever distance he had been trying to maintain. He knew he had crossed a line by asking you out, and yet, part of him couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Jack rubbed a hand across his face, feeling the weight of the decision he had just made. He had told himself that he would keep things simple, stay distant, but now that door had been cracked open. And once that door was open, there was no going back.

The age difference between you two wasn’t insignificant, and he had spent enough time thinking about the complications it could bring. But there was something about you—something real and raw—that made him feel like it might be worth taking the risk.

He sighed heavily, closing the door and walking back toward the kitchen. As he poured himself another cup of coffee, he thought about the conversation you’d just had, the way your eyes softened when you smiled at him. There was a chance here, and he didn’t know where it would lead, but for the first time in a long time, Jack felt like it might be worth exploring.

His mind drifted back to how it felt waking up with you in his arms, your warmth seeping into him, and the way your kiss on his cheek had lingered longer than it should have. He had tried to be the strong, stoic protector, but deep down, there was more to it—something he couldn’t deny anymore.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 5

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