#Best Truck stop in San Diego

[roosterforme]

California Autumn | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was drawn to you the minute you moved onto his street. You seemed to bump into one another everywhere, and each time he saw your smile or heard your laugh, he knew he had to ask you out. He wasn't expecting the answer you gave him, just as you weren't expecting to wish he could be the man for you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of accident/death, guardianship of child

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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Early September was brutal in southern California. Each day seemed hotter than the one before it, and even the smallest bit of yard work was enough to leave Bradley sweaty and miserable. He stood in the middle of his front yard, eyes closed, thinking about how beautiful autumn was in Virginia when he was a kid. He leaned against the handle of the rake, picturing a pumpkin patch, a corn maze and all the things he would never find in San Diego.

The sound of something bigger than a car coming down his quiet side street had him cracking his eyes open against the Saturday afternoon sun. A U-Haul lumbered to a stop in front of the house across the street and one door down. The engine settled to silence, and he craned his neck to get a better look. The property had been sitting there with a red and white SOLD sticker over the realty sign for what seemed like months, and now it would appear as though he finally had a new neighbor.

Bradley dropped the rake and had to lunge to grab the handle before it clattered against his stone pathway. The woman who climbed out of the truck, hopping down onto the street in some beat up sneakers, was beautiful. The sun seemed to illuminate her from the inside, and now Bradley was setting the rake down softly as she walked around the truck and slid the back open. It was filled with furniture and boxes, and he watched as an avalanche nearly flowed out as she tried to move one item.

"Shit," he grunted, running across the street as he wiped his dirty hands on the hem of his undershirt. "It looks like you could use a hand," he called out, hoping he wouldn't scare you when he came up behind you just in time to catch a dining chair that was teetering above your head. Then the neatly stacked boxes started to give out as well, and his left hand went to steady them.

You were ducking slightly, preparing for the worst when Bradley realized your back was pressed against his chest. If he moved, there would be a lot of broken furniture to contend with. But then you glanced at him over your shoulder as you stood to your full height, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.

If you looked beautiful from across the street, then you looked stunning up close, trapped between his body and the truck. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he mumbled like an idiot, but he was rewarded by the smile that curled along your lips.

"Hey, you're pretty good at being neighborly," you replied, gesturing to his right hand holding the chair and his left securing the stack of boxes. His heartbeat quickened at the sound of your voice and how close you were as you told him your name and asked which house was his.

"I'm Bradley. The white cottage across the street." He nodded toward his mess of a front yard with his chin. "I moved in about six months ago." 

What he didn't mention was the fact that he often still felt like a bit of an outsider in town, even though he attended all the neighborhood potlucks and still had some blond in his hair from hanging out on the local beaches all summer. At the moment, all he could do was fight the urge to tell you how pretty your eyes were.

"And you like the neighborhood?" you asked, fully facing him now with a smirk on your face.

He shrugged the best he could without moving too much. "I might like it better now."

Your eyes widened a bit before you ducked your head, looking up at him with a surprised smile like you couldn't quite believe what he'd just said. And that's when Bradley heard another vehicle pull up behind him. "That would be my friends. Here to help me unpack."

He wanted to joke that it looked like you needed all the help you could get with your furniture avalanche, but he heard several voices calling your name and rushing over to help. He was invited to stay, but when he was finally able to safely back away without anything falling, he realized four other people were there to help you out.

Your eyes were still focused on his as he started to back away. "I'll see you around?" you asked before chewing on your lip.

"I would count on it," he confirmed, turning back toward his house so you could get settled into yours.

But he did hear one of your friends ask, "Who is he?"

"Bradley," you replied, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "From the white cottage."

--------------------------------

After that first encounter, he saw you everywhere. You were pulling into the parking spot next to his Bronco when he came out of the grocery store. When he asked how you liked your new house, it sparked a conversation about hardwood versus porcelain tile flooring, and Bradley's ice cream was completely melted by the time he got home.

Then there was the day you bumped into him coming out of the salon next to his barber, and he complimented your colorful nails at the same time you told him his haircut looked nice. He blushed, and you smiled before turning toward your car, glancing back at him a little expectantly. 

Then he ran into you at the farmer's market where you were buying vegetables for the upcoming neighborhood potluck. You asked him what he thought you should make.

"Well, I'm the wrong person to ask," he replied, feeling a little lightheaded as his brain begged him to ask you out on a date.

"Why's that?" you asked, placing your hand on your hip while you held up a head of cabbage. "You're a picky eater?"

He shook his head and took a step closer to you. "The exact opposite. I love food. I will eat literally anything that is edible."

Your bright laughter cascaded across his skin as your head tipped back. The expanse of your neck looked smooth and perfect, and Bradley wanted to have your permission to put his lips there. And that was a startling thought since nobody had really caught his attention like this since he was first stationed in San Diego. Nobody made him feel like he was at home in his house before you started waving to him whenever you saw him outside.

"I guess it makes sense that you love food," you told him with a smile. "You're a big boy." Your gaze drifted down along his shoulders and chest before you started to look a little embarrassed. "I... yeah... I think I'll just grab whatever looks good and take it from there. See you on Friday night?"

"Yeah," he grunted as you walked toward an eggplant display. He would see you on Friday night. And he would be prepared ahead of time to ask you out.

----------------------------

"No," you gasped. Bradley recognized your voice and turned around to face you in Mrs. Diaz's kitchen. "That's what you brought to the potluck?" You sounded appalled, but you were clearly smiling as you looked at what he was holding.

"I told you I liked to eat food, not that I knew how to cook anything."

"Bradley," you groaned, shaking your head at the bag of chips and jar of salsa in his hands. "This is bad. Next time, I'll prepare two dishes so you can pretend you made one."

His heart skipped a beat at the idea of handing you things in his kitchen and watching you make something as nice as the lasagna you were holding. "It's useless," he replied with a frown. "After six months of bringing restaurant style tortilla chips and medium salsa, nobody would believe I cooked anything."

Once again, your laughter had him ready to drop what he was holding and reach for you. He had to ask you out tonight. It had been weeks already since you moved in, and you were definitely giving him a green light. He could think of a dozen different restaurants he wanted to take you to, and maybe you'd like the artsy little movie theater.

But he watched you get swept up in conversation after conversation, and then the opportunity slipped away when you ducked away from everyone to answer a call. You had a concerned look on your face with your phone pressed to your cheek, and then you were rushing out of Mrs. Diaz's house and along her front path before you disappeared from view.

Suddenly it was well into October, and he'd barely seen you at all. There were a few mornings that felt cool enough to coax him to buy some pumpkins for his front porch. He thought about taking one over to your house as an excuse to finally ask you out, but he figured you must be pretty busy right now. Maybe work got a little crazy. He tried not to imagine that someone else had asked you out and that was the reason why you were so scarce.

"Damn," he grunted when he drove his Bronco past your house on his way to get some takeout for dinner on a Saturday night. He just couldn't stop thinking about you. Why didn't he ask you out that first day when he saved you from your dining chair? He ran his hand over his face and groaned, parking in front of the restaurant and yanking his keys from the ignition. If he'd just asked you out that day, maybe he'd be picking up twice as much food and sharing it with you tonight.

A minute later, when he turned to leave the restaurant with his bag, he could not believe his luck. You were walking inside. "Hey."

You glanced up, and for the briefest second, you smiled at him like you always used to. "Bradley." But then your smile started to fade away slowly, and he would do anything to bring it back.

His heart was pounding, and his brain was screaming at him, so he squared his shoulders and did the only thing he could do. "Hey, if you're free tomorrow night, I was thinking maybe you and I could get dinner? Or hit up the movie theater on Pomona? The seats are uncomfortable, but they show some indie stuff which could be fun. Or maybe another night might work?"

The air was silent except for the muffled sound of food being prepared in the kitchen behind him. Your eyes looked so sad as you shook your head and pressed your lips together. "No. No, I'm sorry, Bradley."

Well, fuck.

He backed away from you until he bumped into the wall, and then he focused on getting to the door. "Right," he replied after he had a few more feet between your body and his. "Well, I'll see you around the neighborhood."

For the first time since he moved to California, the air outside was too cold. There was an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he glanced over at your car. He shivered miserably as he saw the shadow of someone waiting in your passenger seat. Then he drove home and ate alone in his kitchen before going to bed.

---------------------------------

Bradley tried his best not to think about you. One day last week, when he saw your front door swing open, he waited to step down from his porch so you wouldn't have to wave awkwardly to him. And yesterday, for lack of anything better to do, he bought more pumpkins, and he waited in his driveway to unload them until you carried all of your groceries inside your house. 

Today was Halloween, and he spent over an hour carving some of the pumpkins to look like soccer balls before dressing in his usual costume. Handing candy out to the neighborhood kids and trying to guess what they were dressed as sounded like fun. He was determined to have a good night, even if he did have to angle the folding chair on his porch so he was facing slightly away from your house. He would enjoy himself no matter what.

Bradley lit the candles inside his pumpkins and dropped down into the chair with a bowl of candy as the afternoon sky turned dusky. It didn't take long until a toddler dressed as a witch made an appearance with her dad, and Bradley had a good laugh when she reached for three pieces of candy.

"Trick or treat!" shouted three kids dressed as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

"Where's Raphael?" he asked as they collected their candy. 

Leonardo laughed and said, "Nobody wants to be Raphael. He's the lamest one."

"I would have to agree," Bradley replied, about to help himself to a piece of candy as they started to run to the next house.

But then he saw you. And you weren't alone. You were dressed as a soccer player, complete with knee socks and a soccer ball, and you were accompanied by an approximately ten year old kid who looked a lot like you. He was also dressed as a soccer player, and he smiled at Bradley as he said, "Trick or treat."

Bradley stood up, still holding onto the bowl of candy so the child could make his selection while he got a better look at you. "Hey."

"Hi," you replied immediately, looking from his mustache to the whistle around his neck and back up to his visor. "Are you seriously dressed as Ted Lasso?"

"I always dress as Ted Lasso," he told you, and he was rewarded with a smile that made him want to follow you around the neighborhood like a lost puppy. 

"Of course you do," you said, letting your gaze drift toward the child who was currently looking closely at the soccer ball pumpkins while holding onto a Snickers bar. "Somehow you match with us."

The boy looked up at Bradley and asked, "Did you carve these yourself? They look pretty good."

"Yeah," he replied, wishing he actually had taken the time to drop a pumpkin or two off on your porch. "I have perfected the soccer ball technique, kiddo."

The kid nodded but said, "You need to call it a football."

Bradley found himself agreeing. "You're completely right. It's only proper."

When the kid turned back to explore the rest of the pumpkin display a little more, Bradley took a step closer to you. "I didn't know you had a son," he said softly.

Your eyes were alert, scrutinizing his expression as you said, "His name is Max. He's almost ten."

"He looks like you."

You went silent for a few seconds, fiddling with the soccer ball in your hands. When you finally spoke, you were looking at Bradley's feet. "I knew you didn't know about him. I mean, you did ask me out after all." You laughed even though nothing was funny and finally looked up at his face. Then Max started to walk back the way you and he came, and you followed him. 

Bradley called your name. When you turned back, he said, "To be clear, I would have still asked you out if I'd known."

And then you looked so sad again.

------------------------------

To Bradley's amazement, the weather finally cooled to the perfect temperature in November, but he found he didn't want to be outside as much. It was a shame, because if he stood in the middle of his yard and closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was in Virginia. 

One Friday after work, he cleaned the slightly rotten pumpkins from his porch and dragged his trash bin to the curb. Your front door was open, and he paused to see if you or Max happened to walk past it before heading back inside his empty house.

There was another potluck tonight, but he just didn't even feel like going. He had the usual chips and salsa on his kitchen counter, but he had no desire to socialize with the neighbors. He was about to change into gym shorts and surrender to a cold beer and a basketball game on TV when there was a knock on his door.

When he glanced through the front window, he saw that it was you, and his heart seemed to drag him toward the door. He was turning the knob before he thought better of it, and he was met with your wide eyes and a crock pot in your hands.

"Hi. Bradley."

"Hey." He swallowed hard before he said your name, and your lips turned up into a soft smile. "Is that for the potluck?"

"Yeah," you said, reaching out to hand the crock pot to him. "Well, I actually made it for you to take. Max and I will be bringing lasagna again."

Whatever Bradley was holding smelled so good, his stomach started to growl. "I can't take this. Nobody will believe I made it," he murmured, nudging at the lid with his thumb.

"It's a spicy buffalo dip," you replied, smile growing. "I literally made it with chicken from a can. I'm pretty sure you could trick them into thinking it came from your kitchen. You can even take your tortilla chips, too."

His fingers tightened on the handles when you took a small step closer to him. This was agony, being so close to you when he really wanted to touch you, but knew he couldn't. He whispered your name at the same time you looked up at him and started talking. 

"Max isn't my son. He's my nephew. But I'm his legal guardian now." Bradley's lips parted, but you shook your head and quickly added. "The night of the last potluck, I got a phone call that my brother and his wife were in a car accident. They both died before they reached the hospital. I had to pick Max up from soccer practice that night, and he's been with me ever since."

Tears were welling up in your eyes as Bradley tried to shuffle your crock pot to one hand. He knew how badly this kind of thing hurt from his own childhood. "Shit. I'm really sorry the two of you are going through this. But Max is lucky he has you." When you nodded and shrugged, you looked resigned to the way things were. "I'm also pretty sure Max prefers it when you call it football. Not soccer."

You laughed, maybe in spite of yourself, but Bradley still loved how it sounded. You briefly glanced over your shoulder toward your house and swiped at your tears as you said, "He absolutely does. He also keeps asking me about Ted Lasso across the street and his football pumpkins. I told him you're nice."

Bradley's heart had him dragging his feet closer to you, holding onto the warm pot of buffalo chicken dip for dear life. "Is that so?"

You nodded and stared at Bradley's chest for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. Your lips parted several times before you whispered his name, and he leaned in a bit closer. After a few seconds, he started to step back, but your hand settled lightly on his shoulder, stopping him. Before he could react, you closed the remaining space, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss.

It was over almost as quickly as it started, and Bradley was ready to drop to his knees and beg you for more. But you were rambling now, and he was trying his best to focus. "I wanted you to ask me out so badly. But then everything changed, and I had to tell you no. Max has a lot he still needs to process, and I don't really have time to date someone who just wants to mess around with me."

For the first time in many weeks, Bradley felt lighter than air. He reached out with his free hand and let his knuckles trail gently along your cheek and down to your softly parted lips. "I'm forty years old. I'm kind of over the messing around stage," he promised. And then you were kissing him again.

The three of you walked to Mrs. Diaz's house together that evening. Bradley carried the crock pot, you carried the lasagna, and Max carried the tortilla chips. The conversation was mainly focused on how badly Max wanted to learn how to carve a football pumpkin.

Almost a year later, Bradley was standing in his front yard, smiling at the SOLD sticker placed on a realty sign in front of your house. It made sense to have you and Max move into the white cottage with him, because the porch was bigger. It was the perfect size for an elaborate Halloween display.

----------------------------------

Thanks for reading this angsty yet fuzzy little fic. I hope your Halloween is sweeter than Bradley Bradshaw. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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[theharddeck]

start the new year right (jake seresin x f!reader)

pairing: jake hangman seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: what could be worse than a delayed flight with lost luggage? driving back to san diego with your nemesis. and what could be worse than that? the car breaking down in the middle of the night, on new years eve. and of course, the motel couldn't have a 2BR room available...

word count: 8.2k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: explicit PiV sex, oral sex (f!receiving), bc of who i am as a person overstimulation, not the BEST communication/consent, but everything is consensual! it's just implied; normally i'm better about explicitly asking and confirming

A/N: happy new year, friends! what would my year be, if not ending with me sitting down with a stanley of chamomile and writing more than i've written the whole previous month? hope this new year is gentle to y'all.

Natasha: Hey girl! Just got an alert that your transfer flight was delayed? Are you good?

You: ‘good’ as in ‘safe’, ya

You: ‘good’ as in ‘en route’, not so much. They overbooked the flight and the next one they have available is Wednesday morning

Natasha: nooooooo

You: At least my luggage is on its way to SAN… I’m considering renting a car and just making the drive from Vegas myself

Natasha: I love you and I trust you

Natasha: but an overnight drive by yourself after an already-long day is not the move

You: ugh I know, but i don’t know what else to do

Natasha: …mkay i have a solution but it’s not the one you want

You: let’s have it

Natasha: jake’s flight also rerouted through LAS

You: absolutely not

Nat: you didn’t even hear the actual plan!!

You: if it involves me and hangman, the answer is no

Natasha: it’s just a five hour drive, you can be adults/play nice with each other for five hours

You: when has Hangman ever been an adult about anything

Natasha: fair point

Natasha: but he is also currently texting me saying he’s stranded

Natasha: you know one-way car rentals are stupid expensive

Natasha: and he likes to drive so maybe you could sleep on the way

You: stop being logical

Natasha: i do not want to get a call from the nevada state police when you fall asleep behind the wheel on New Years Eve in the middle of the Mojave

You: good, add a guilt trip to the mix

Natasha: is it working

Me: …

You: it’s working

Natasha: (Ryan Gosling!Ken gif: SUBLIME!) 

You: lol

You: ugh okay text me his number

Natasha: can’t believe that after 8 months stationed at the same base you don’t have his number

Natasha: mkay just sent

Natasha: you have to promise not to kill each other

// 

Three hours later, you were really glad you hadn’t made any promises to Nat that you couldn’t keep. 

Because not only had Jake insisted on renting a truck (“I need the legroom!”), and that you didn’t need to stop in Barstow for gas (“trust me, sugar, I’m an Eagle Scout–I know we can make it to east LA”), the gas-guzzling monstrosity had fizzled out somewhere between exits along the 15.

Now the hood was smoking, there was no way you were getting your security deposit back, and you were just as stranded as you’d been when you first texted Natasha from the airport. 

Only now you were in the middle of the desert, and your phone was almost dead.

Four hours later, you had walked three miles back to the last exit and were checking into a truly shady motel, straight up refusing to talk to Jake because somehow, incomprehensibly, the only room available was one with one (1) king bed. 

Four and a half hours later, you were dripping wet, trying not to shiver because the shower you took to warm yourself up had backfired, since the motel towels were basically handkerchiefs and your wet skin made the room seem extra cold. You hadn’t wanted to wear your airport clothes to bed, but since your luggage was already in San Diego, that left you with just a cropped tee and boyshorts. 

“You okay in there?”

You glared at your reflection in the foggy mirror, since Jake was on the other side of the door.

The audacity of him.

When you’d first met Jake “Hangman” Seresin, you’d been determined to endear yourself to him.

He was a couple years older than you, and pretty close to infamous after that stunt he pulled in eastern Europe a few years ago. He was ruthless and reckless and good enough to get away with both, and you’d hoped that if you befriended him, he could teach you a thing or two during your own time at Top Gun. 

And he was ridiculously beautiful, which maybe – maybe – had your admiration veering slightly into crush territory. But you’d locked that down, determined to view him platonically, and not let that get in the way of any instruction he could give. 

Of course, the first words out of his mouth had been “Honey, you gotta know there’s easier ways to get your MRS degree than to become a naval aviator.”

Your crush and respect had evaporated on the North Island breeze, and it’d been downhill from there.  

You had no idea why, but he had been openly antagonistic at any given moment since then — doubting your competence but disguising it as care for your safety, and tagging a misogynistic “sweetheart” at the end of every condescending sentence. You’d ignored him as much as you could, hoping he’d get that he wasn’t in Dallas anymore, and that shit didn’t fly with you, but that had only egged him on. 

But now you were exhausted, cold, stranded in the middle of the desert, and practically naked to boot, and he had the gall to act like he cared if you lived or died. 

“I’m fine, Hangman,” you said, swinging open the bathroom door and beelining for the bed, hoping you could get to it fast enough that Jake wouldn’t make a comment.

Or before your tits froze off, at least. 

You didn’t look over at him as you dove under the covers, trying your hardest not to think about the last time these sheets had been washed, much less bleached.

Of course, the comforter was tucked into the foot of the bed, and you wrestled with it for a few moments before giving up, and hauling the topsheet up over your body. It was paper thin, but it was a semblance of covering, and you lay stock-still, closing your eyes and hoping sleep would magically deliver you away from this situation. 

A moment later, the bathroom door opened and shut again. 

You could hear the sounds of Jake brushing his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste you had bought from the “concierge” in the lobby (a relic of a man who looked like he did Civil War reenactments for fun, and seemed highly amused by your outrage at the available accommodations). 

You would’ve passed the time on your phone, but the last of your battery had given up the ghost while you were in the shower. 

A minute or two passed, and the bathroom door opened and closed. From behind your closed eyelids, you could hear Jake shuffle over to the lightswitch, and then he stopped. 

You waited. 

He didn’t move. 

“What do you need, Seresin?” you asked, tersely. 

“Are you cold?” 

Your eyes popped open, wincing at the brightness of the lights, still overhead. A quick glance down at your body made your skin heat – your tee was skin tight, and the thin topsheet did little to cover you; you crossed your arms over your chest, hiding your pebbled nipples, continuing to stare at the ceiling and avoid eye contact with Jake. 

“You could turn off the lights,” you muttered. 

Technically, the cold wasn’t his fault. 

But it was his stubbornness that got you here, so that had to count for something. 

“I was just asking–” Jake started, and you interrupted him.

“It’s the desert in December,” you snapped, “yet, for some reason, this motel has the AC on; of course I’m cold.”

As if on cue, the machine in the windowsill rumbled to life. 

You closed your eyes. “Please, just turn off the light.”

The light switch flicked off, and if it were anyone else, you’d have appreciated the immediacy of the response.

But it was Jake, and he didn’t merit any kind of gratitude, so you didn’t say ‘thank you’.

Silence stretched. 

You heard a rustling, and a moment later, you felt something land on your upper body. You flinched, pulling the material away from you on instinct, and identifying it by touch as Jake’s sweatshirt. 

You opened your eyes, peering through the shadows of the room. The curtains were thin (you were sensing a theme here), letting in lights from outdoors, and you found Jake still standing by the door. He was digging through his backpack, clad in a white tank and boxer shorts, apparently also not wanting to wear airport clothes to sleep, but that didn’t explain why he had chucked his sweatshirt at you. 

“What is this?” you asked.

He looked up, shrugged slightly, and went back to rifling through his bag. “I run warm.”

You pursed your lips. “Jake, I–”

“I had a jacket on over it at the airport, okay? Promise, it’s not dirty.”

That hadn’t been what you were going to ask, but you paused all the same. 

You appreciated that he was reassuring you, and you did remember that he’d been in a jean jacket at the airport. You’d noticed it against your better judgment, thinking he looked like an A-List actor as he walked through the airport towards you, all broad shoulders and smiles, like you were friends. 

“Can I have a pillow?” His question interrupted your recollection, and you frowned in his direction. 

You were clearly on half of the bed, Jake could see which pillows were for him to use. Did he expect you not to have one?

You pointed to the pillow you  weren’t using, confused, and he laughed quietly. 

It wasn’t a sound you heard much from him.

Normally Jake laughed like he was proud of himself, reclining in the golden light of the world around him, blessing you all with his presence. This was a different sound, less pretentious, somehow warmer. 

“Yes, I can see it,” he said, his voice still amused. “But I need it over here, for the couch.”

You blinked.

The couch was maybe three feet long, an atrociously patterned aberration that you’d tossed your carryon onto, and not looked twice at. Jake didn’t explain anything further, but there were still only two pillows on the bed, and you couldn’t understand why he seemed to think you didn’t need more context for why he wanted to decorate the couch with one of them. 

“Why?” you asked. 

Again, that quiet chuckle. 

“Because, sweetheart,” he said, and you bristled on instinct, “that’s where I’m sleeping.”

You couldn’t have heard that right. 

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” you said.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” Jake said, stubbornly. 

“That was never up for debate,” you snorted. “Jake, we’re adults. We can share the bed. You’re not going to fit on the couch.”

“I’m an Eagle Scout,” he grumbled. “I can sleep anywhere.”

“Yes, loyal, brave, clean, etc, I’m sure,” you said. “But I’m not sure how helpful you’re going to be tomorrow, when you can’t drive that monstrosity of a truck due to your back spasming from being rolled up on that couch all night.”

You watched through the shadows as Jake stubbornly tried to wedge himself sideways on the couch. Sure enough, his knees were practically bent up to his navel, and even through the darkness, you could see the furrow in his brow. 

“You could drive it,” he said, too obstinate to accept defeat.

“I will not,” you returned, “drive a vehicle that ostentatious.”  

“Says the pilot,” he grumbled.

“Naval aviator,” you shot back. “Jake, it’s an enormous bed. Get over yourself, get into it, and the sooner you settle, the sooner it’ll be morning, and we can leave.”

He deliberated, the mulish man. 

But eventually he pushed himself off the couch, clambering across the room. The bed dipped as he slid into it, and reached down for the comforter, still wedged into the bottom of the bed. You tried not to be annoyed when he yanked it free easily. It was probably just momentum, or that you’d loosened it up for him. While he was rearranging the comforter, you pulled the sweatshirt over your head, and tried to be calm about the situation. 

His sweatshirt was somehow still warm. 

It smelled amazing, like cedar and fancy cologne.

And also sweat, which you tried damn hard to ignore.

It was cozy, and you snuggled into it, and a moment later, Jake settled. Thankfully, the bed was big enough that you didn’t have to touch each other, but that didn’t mean you could ignore that he was there. 

In bed. 

With you. 

You snorted, thinking how much of a dream this would’ve been to you eight months ago, before you met Jake, and he dashed your crush to pieces. 

“What?” Jake grumbled, and maybe it was the proximity, or maybe exhaustion from the day was setting in, because his voice sounded almost gentle. 

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “G’night.”

“Night,” Jake said. 

You rolled onto your side, pulling your feet up under you, and folding your hands under your face, so you didn’t have to touch your skin to the pillow. Of course, that brought the sleeve of the sweatshirt to just under your face, and you were surrounded by the delicious smell of it again. 

It distracted you for a moment. 

Just a moment. 

Then you had to acknowledge that, even with the sweatshirt and the newly-added comforter, your wet hair was no match for the chill of the room. Your legs felt exposed and the sheets felt like they were damp and wet, and you tried your best to ignore it, but soon you were shivering. 

You tried to be still, you did. 

But when you heard the bed shift as Jake turned towards you, you winced into the darkness, unsurprised. 

“Sweetheart…” he started, and you shook your head, refusing to look back over at him. 

“I’ll be fine, I just need to fall asleep.”

Jake let that statement hang for a moment, just long enough for your shivering to start up again. He cleared his throat. 

“Um,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he sounded nervous, “I meant what I said earlier. About running warm.”

This time, you did turn over, trying to read his expression in the shadowy darkness. He looked…open. Like he really was altruistically suggesting sharing body warmth, nothing malicious and none of his normal teasing. 

You were suspicious, but not enough so that you could ignore that it was a better idea than freezing yourself to sleep. 

“You sure?” you asked, and Jake grunted, which you figured was as good a response as any. Actually, it was pretty damn good, because if he sounded eager, you’d be creeped out, and if he was uncertain, you’d feel guilty. But being matter-of-fact about it gave you the courage to scoot across the bed. 

“How do we do this?” you asked, and Jake reached for you. It was an easy movement, natural, enough so that it surprised you when he hesitated before touching you. 

“Can I…?” he trailed off. 

“Sure,” you shrugged, hoping you sounded half as unaffected as he did. This was fine, this was normal. Just a guy who was SO obnoxious that it made you forget how hot he was, suddenly not being obnoxious, and basically punching you in the face with his hotness.   

His hand settled on the small of your back and damn it, he was warm. His touch was soft, gentle, almost nervous, and he pulled you closer to him. You realized you’d expected him to turn you over, press your back to his front so that you’d be spooned, but instead he just wrapped you in his arms. He reached around you to tuck the comforter between you and the mattress, insulating you with his warmth. 

Your head was in his chest, and with his arms bracketed around you, your breath heated up the space between his tank and your face. He’d even managed to slot his arm under your head, so your face still wasn’t on the pillow. 

Cuddling with someone new was usually awkward, a tangle of limbs and expectations, but with Jake, it wasn’t. It was…damn it. It was pretty close to perfect.

“Good?” he asked, and he sounded different, with your cheek on his bicep, and your nose practically pressed against his chest. It was like you could feel his voice, rumbling around you, somehow more comforting for the proximity. 

You nodded, not wanting to hear anything new on your voice if you tried to respond. 

Jake hummed. 

A moment later, you realized his thumb was moving. Nothing major, just a small movement between your shoulder blades, a reassuring stroke. It was a comforting motion, gentle, and it wasn’t long before his warmth and his touch lulled you into a sweet sleep. 

You startled awake to the sound of guns. 

Not guns, fireworks. 

Damn it, it was New Year’s Eve; how had you forgotten? 

Jake stirred too, a deep breath expanding his chest, and leading you to realize his head was resting on top of yours, his chin tucked on top of the crown on your head.

“Is that–” he mumbled and how dare he, honestly, how very dare he, because he sounded great. Fuck him, for that, frankly. 

The situation washed over you, half asleep and fully cognizant of how random it was. You didn’t mean to start, but soon you were laughing, your shoulders shaking. 

“You okay?” Jake asked, a thread of concern in his voice, and that didn’t help any. 

“Just the universe’s sense of humor,” you said. 

You didn’t know how, but you knew he was confused and you should’ve been worried about how you knew that, how you weren’t cold at all, how if you looked up, you’d know what a  sleep-mussed Jake Seresin looked like, but all you could think was that this was so, so stupid. 

You took a long breath, starting to explain. 

“I just can’t believe this is how I’m starting the next year of my life,” you laughed. “Like, I’m fine, right? I’m doing alright on a career path I love, I call San Diego home, I have great friends and I’m doing as good with my family as anyone could be. And where am I on New Year’s? Stranded in a motel off an exit that’s literally not even town, cold enough that a guy who hates me is cuddling me so I can be still enough for him to go to sleep, with a dead phone so none of my friends or family can wish me a happy new year, and I–”

“Wait,” Jake pulled back, and you frowned at the interruption, “why do you think I hate you?”

You stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jake said, having the gall to look confused.   

“Jake,” you said, disbelieving. “You’re literally constantly a jackass to me. You’re constantly undermining me, doubting or heckling. You throw in a – frankly overwhelming – amount of southern charm and expect that to distract from the fact that you’re being outrageously patronizing and—”

Jake kissed you.

You weren’t expecting it, and it was so sudden that it thoroughly cut off your train of thought. All you could do was comprehend fleeting sensations and emotions. Jake’s lips were soft, the pressure of them light and teasing against yours. His arms tightened around you, like he was steadying both of you. In the same way you’d sensed his confusion, now you sensed his apprehension, and an unfamiliar determination. 

Just as quickly, he pulled back. 

“I don’t–” his voice was rough, and he cleared his throat. “Christ, I don’t hate you.”

You licked your lips, annoyed that they had the audacity to tingle in response to him.

You wanted to ask what the hell that was. 

You wanted to ask why he was looking at you like that. 

You wanted to ask what that expression meant but more than anything, you wanted him to kiss you again. 

Your arms were curled up between the two of you, and it took so little effort to curl your fingers in the front of his tank and pull him to you. His mouth was on yours a breath later, and his hand was on your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you properly. 

Of course he was a good kisser. 

Fucking of course he was, he had to be, but it was one thing to know it in an agnostic kind of way, and another to feel his lips pressing into yours. You shivered when his tongue swept over your bottom lip and when you mirrored the motion, something in his chest rumbled, and Jake parted his lips for you. 

He tasted faintly of toothpaste, and he had some kind of chapstick on his lips that was sweet, and you couldn’t get enough of him. His arms were still around you and he was so warm, so broad, and you couldn’t help but press yourself against him. When your arms wound around his neck, Jake broke away from you. You could feel his chest rising and falling quickly, and his hands fell from your back to your waist, as if holding you in place. He turned his head slightly, kissing lazily at the corner of your mouth, down your cheek, to your jawline. 

“That’s not how I wanted to tell you,” he murmured against your skin, and this time when you shivered, you knew it wasn’t from the cold. 

“You still haven’t told me,” you managed, eyelashes fluttering at the teasing brush of his lips, while you tried to look at him.  

To your astonishment and delight, Hangman blushed. 

Sheepish wasn’t an expression you were used to on him, not unlike bashful, but you thought it suited him. He looked like he was gearing up to say something and, curious though you were, you didn’t want to get into that right now. It was late, you were still exhausted, and just a few moments ago, you’d thought he hated you. 

If his expression now was any indication, you and Jake had very different conceptions of flirting. 

“Look,” you said, before he could say whatever he was hyping himself up to say, “this is probably a lot more complicated than either of us were prepared for. So, it’s the New Year…we could start it how we want the year to go.”

Jake’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he smiled softly, a sweet expression on his face. He turned his head to kiss the palm of the hand you had looped around his neck. 

“Cuddling,” he said, at the same time you announced, 

“Orgasms.”

You would never forget the expression on his face. 

Sweetness morphed into amazement, and then quickly into hunger. 

“I can pivot,” he said quickly, and you lifted your chin. 

“You sure?” you teased, “Don’t want to strongarm you into–”

Your sentence ended with a squeal when Jake turned quickly, flopping onto his back, and pulling you on top of him. Your knee was between his thighs and you couldn’t hold back your grin as you looked down at him. Just like with this kiss, he was letting you lead, but being so clear about what he wanted. 

And who were you, to decline?

Kissing him from on top of him felt different, felt amazing. 

You could appreciate how sturdy he was, and when you relaxed slightly, you found yourself straddling his thigh. You’d been a part of plenty of dogfight football scrimmages, and Jake was never one for longer board shorts; you knew exactly how strong his thighs were. But it was one thing to see them on display, and quite another to feel them flexing between your legs. 

One of Jake’s hands was inching under his sweatshirt that you wore, warm fingers spreading across your stomach as you moved over him. 

God, he felt so good, so few layers between his skin and your core, and the pressure of his thigh between your legs was so good. You kissed him again, tongues tangling and teeth clashing, as you ground against his leg. 

When you moved, you felt the hem of his boxers slide against your leg, and sue a girl, you were curious. You shifted slightly, moving your thigh higher, and when you rocked your hips, your thigh brushed against his cock. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake gritted as you moved against him, and you thought maybe you didn’t mind the petname, when he sounded like that. 

You braced yourself on the pillow behind him and moved again. 

It shouldn’t be this hot. 

But it was, he was, and you felt pleasure spooling through you, just from his leg between yours, and his gentle touch against your skin. How he reacted to you, how he moved under you, it was so good, like a promise. 

“Not gonna lie,” Jake said, his voice still rough, “I really like you in my sweatshirt.”

Your mouth fell open when he pushed his hips up to meet you. 

You both stifled a gasp at the motion, the sensation with so few layers between the two of you. Jake’s hands crept higher under your sweatshirt, almost tentative, and you leaned into his touch, encouraging. His hands cupped your breasts, and your head dipped to the side in relief. He made a sound of satisfaction, just enjoying their weight in his hand, then his wrists moved so his thumbs could brush over your nipples. He rolled them, and you felt it in your core, your thighs clenching. 

“Love you in my sweatshirt,” Jake repeated, sounding dazed, “but I wanna to see you without it.”

You leaned back immediately, pulling the sweatshirt over your head. 

You missed the warmth of it immediately, but Jake’s gaze was worth it. His expression bordered on reverence, and he actually licked his lips, looking up at you. You wiggled on his thigh, heat pulsing, needing something from him, your skin prickling under his gaze. 

Jake frowned, the lust in his eyes overtaken by concern. “Too cold?”

You certainly weren’t toasty, but you couldn’t say you cared.

“I would’ve thought you’d have a solution to keep me warm,” you teased, and Jake seemed to accept the challenge. 

The hands that had been on your breasts dropped to the back of your thighs, and a moment later he had pushed you back. You were on your back, feet in the air, and Jake turned you gently on the bed so you were resting on the pillows again. You settled in, expecting him to lower himself between your thighs, and were surprised when instead he reached back for the comforter. 

Maybe you had misunderstood, he didn’t actually want…

He pulled the comforter over his head, over your shoulders, and you blinked disbelieving at a Jake-shaped figure under the blanket, moving to the base of the bed, between your legs. 

You were fairly confident, but that was a lot to ask from someone on a first date, and this wasn’t even that, and you ducked under the comforter as well. 

“Jake, you don’t have to–” you protested, realizing belatedly that there was nowhere near enough light to be able to make meaningful eye contact. 

“You said orgasms, right?” Jake said, his voice full of a familiar smugness. 

He settled at the base of the bed, crouching, and through the darkness, you could tell he was looking in your direction. His hands were intentional on your legs, letting you know where he was, giving you time to tell him if you weren’t okay with something. 

If he was offering, you were beyond okay with this. 

“Right,” you said weakly. 

His hands trailed up your thigh, his warm touch light, and his fingers closed over the band over your boyshorts. You nodded, a sound he heard because your head rubbed against the comforter.  

He kissed your thigh. 

It was a feather light touch, a brush of his mouth against the sensitive skin, but it was so gentle that it reassured you. He kissed your other thigh, then higher, and one of his hands felt up to your stomach, and he pushed, an unsubtle prompt. You lay back against the mattress, nerves and desire warring within you as Jake kissed higher.

You felt a brush of his tongue when he reached the edge of your underwear and your breath caught. 

“Plural?” Jake asked, and it took you a minute to understand his question.  

His fingers pulled at the edge of your boyshorts, peeling them slowly down, his mouth pressing gentle kisses as he revealed more of your body. He was exploring by touch what he couldn’t see, so slow and perfect it was overwhelming. 

“There’s two of us,” you managed, back to his question. “Hence plural.”

Jake laughed, a soft exhale against your skin. He’d bared you to him, and you shifted, like you were seeking his touch. 

“I know this is new for us, sweetheart,” he mumbled, a kiss to your hipbone, then the opposite, “but that’s not how this is going to work.”

You bit your lip, nervous again.

You were new to this with him, and some guys thought oral sex was some kind of prerequisite – check the box, half ass it for thirty seconds, guarantee she’ll let you hit it – but something told you Jake would be different. 

You were panting, anticipation making you breathless. 

You whispered his name and it was like he was waiting for permission, because he leaned into you. His first kiss against your pussy was gentle, just as sweet as those kisses he’d trailed up your thighs. It was so sweet it made you squirm, and Jake chuckled, a sound you felt as his breath ghosted over you. He pulled back long enough to draw an audible breath, then his tongue licked over the whole of your cunt, a long, torturous swipe that had you trembling.  

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, muffled, and your hips bucked. “You’re already wet for me.”

You reached under the comforter, your hands tangling in his hair and Jake hummed his approval before following your prompting back to your pussy. He lapped at you, learning you, and when he trailed up to circle your clit with it, you couldn’t stop the cry that escaped you. 

“That right, honey?” he asked, sounding smug, and he circled your clit with his tongue. You felt a hand slip from your hip to your entrance, rubbing over you as his tongue played with your clit. He kissed you, teased you, and when he pushed a thick finger into you while his lips closed over your clit, you moaned. 

“Feels so good, Jake,” you cried, and you felt him shudder at your voice. 

You heard it too, how wrecked you sounded, and it was his fault. Your hips were pushing up into him, chasing the suction of his mouth, the pull of his fingers. He was only a knuckle or so into you, but his finger was so wide, thicker than your own, and you moaned at the unfamiliar intrusion. 

It was Jake between your legs, Jake’s wicked smile, sharp tongue, capable hands, Jake who was working you with his fingers and mouth. He felt so good, and your body felt like it was humming to a frequency he set. 

You trembled as he sheathed a finger in you, you moaned when he sucked your clit, and when his teeth brushed over your clit, the pleasure coursing through you snapped. Your fingers in his hair tightened, and Jake groaned when you pressed your pussy harder against his face. He groaned like he wanted it, like he craved that reaction, and you came hard.  

He coaxed you through it, gentle and steady as he’d been so far, and as you came down, you pulled slightly at his hair. 

“Jake, that was–” you gasped, and you felt him laugh again. 

“Honey, what part of ‘plural’ is so hard for you to understand?” he asked.

And he pushed another finger into you. 

Your back bowed off the mattress; you were so sensitive and it made everything Jake did to you feel so much more. 

His mouth traveled down to where his fingers were pressing into you, and he curled them into you. You heard an obscene slurping sound, and your eyes rolled back as you realized he was pulling your release out of you, tasting it from his own fingers. 

“Like honey from a honeycomb,” Jake mumbled, his voice thick, and you whimpered at how he sounded. 

A moment later, his lips closed over your clit again, and your head thrashed against the pillow. 

“Jake, I just–” you panted, but he sucked again and you broke off on a moan. “I can’t, I just – fuck, give me a second– oh, that feels so good.”

Jake either didn’t hear you or he wasn’t listening. 

He was following your body, the way your hips were pushing up into him, the way your cunt was clenching down on his fingers, and it was like he was drunk on the taste of you. He suckled on your clit, his tongue laving over you, stoking you higher again. He felt so good, and you were sure you were telling him, but you were fast losing confidence in your ability to form words. 

You lost track of time, there was just pleasure, and the heat from Jake, and the way he was working your body. 

“You gonna come for me again?” Jake coaxed, pulling back to blow a long stream of cool air over your clit. You flinched, you writhed, you would do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop. “I think you can do it, honey, it was so pretty the first time. This pussy is so good, doing such a beautiful job coming for me, tasting delicious and I bet you can do it again…”

Your legs felt limp as he licked over you again, tasting where his fingers fed into you, pumping them and pulling pleasure out of you. His tongue flicked over your clit, a maddening pattern, and when his lips closed, he sucked hard. It was so strong, so unreal, and you shook as you came again. 

“Ah, there it is…That’s so good, sweetheart,” Jake soothed, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or your pussy, and you certainly didn’t know which was hotter. 

He continued to stroke inside of you, his thick fingers pulling you through your orgasm, keeping you grounded, keeping your pleasure coming. 

You weren’t cold anymore. 

In fact, you were burning up, and Jake didn’t seem like he wanted to stop. The moment he felt coherency return to your posture, he dove back in. You genuinely didn’t think you could stand another orgasm from his mouth, and you let go of his hair – he wasn’t listening to you anyways – and flipped back the comforter. 

God damn, he was so hot. 

He looked up from between your thighs, the lower half of his face smeared with your arousal, and he fucking licked his lips, before smiling up at you. His hair was in complete disarray, and you could tell his whole upper body was flushed from overheating, and he looked so smug, so proud, and he had every right to be. 

“C’mere,” you asked, and it was enough. 

Grinning, Jake crawled up the bed, caging you with his arms again. 

He hesitated, unsure what you were okay with, but you kissed him hungrily. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you felt a sort of possessive pride that it’d chased away the cloying sweetness of his chapstick. 

Right now, Jake tasted like yours, and you were obsessed. 

When he realized he could, Jake returned the kiss with enthusiasm, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. 

Your hands smoothed over his back, curling in the hem of his tank and pulling it over his shoulders. Jake wouldn’t separate from your lips to let you pull it over his head and you giggled as he kissed you through it, like an infinity scarf. You felt up his back, hands delighting in the contours of muscles that you’d only admired from a distance, before you caught yourself. 

He was so strong. 

Warm and toned and big, intoxicating to think of him over you. Finally, he ducked his head to chuck off the shirt, and the motion lowered his hips to yours. You both groaned at the brush of his cock between your thighs, and then Jake was kissing you with fresh urgency. You hadn’t seen him yet, though he’d had his face in your pussy, and you reached between the two of you. 

You felt him over his boxers, and Jake broke off the kiss at your touch, his head dropping to your shoulder. It was like he couldn’t contain himself, and his hips pushed into your touch. You explored the shape of him through the thin cotton, your own hips rocking into him on instinct. 

Fuck, he felt big. 

You felt a small bit of wetness near the fat head of him, and you moaned as your thumb rolled over the leaking precum, rubbing his sensitive head. 

“I have a – shit,” Jake broke off, his hips rutting into your touch, and your head fell back. “I have a condom in my wallet.”

“Of course you do,” you teased, and it would’ve been more effective if you didn’t sound so needy about it. 

You turned your head to press a kiss to his cheek, then scooted out of the bed. 

The room felt freezing outside of the bed, but it was refreshing, as you darted over to his backpack. You found his wallet, and the condom inside it, and when you got back to the bed, Jake had only moved to push himself up. He was kneeling in the middle of the bed, and he shifted as he pulled off his boxers. 

“Holy shit, Seresin,” you whispered, not even caring that your voice sounded reverent. 

His cock was beautiful, thick between his thighs, bouncing parallel to the bed. Jake gripped the base of it loosely, like he had to do something while he watched you watching him, and you crawled back to the bed, still staring, kneeling so your knees almost touched his. 

“Can I?” you asked, holding up the condom. “Please, sweetheart,” Jake said, his voice so gruff and gorgeous. You licked your lips and ripped the foil, but hesitated before you pulled it out. 

“I’m clean,” you told him, sitting back on your thighs. “Um, we should still use this, but I just wanted you to know.”

Jake caught your chin between  his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up to him. He kissed you quickly, short and sweet, and there was something unexpected in his eyes when he pulled back. 

“Me too, sugar,” he said, his voice deep. “Thank you.”

You couldn't be sure what he was thanking you for, but you felt like you should be thanking him. For making sure you felt good, for thinking of a condom, for making you feel so cared for. So you tilted your head, reached between you to where he was loosely fisting himself, and replaced his hand with yours. 

You pulled your hand loosely over him, obsessed with the warm feel of him, how thick he was in your hand, how heavy. Jake’s hands hovered like he wasn’t sure where you put them, and they settled on your upper arms, like he needed you to keep his balance. 

It didn’t stop you from leaning down and guiding his tip towards your mouth. 

Jake groaned, a beautiful, strangled sound, and it was lost to you when you first tasted him. 

This wasn’t the proper angle for a proper blow job, and you wanted to feel him, but you were curious, and your tongue lapped at him. His skin was scalding hot, and a pearl of precum beaded at the end of his cock, like an invitation. You licked it into your mouth, moaning at the salty, rich taste of him. 

Jake’s hand fell to the back of your head, not pushing, but like he needed to steady himself. You licked over him, acquainting yourself with him, learning the veins and sensitive spots, knowing you’d want to come back to them later. Too soon, Jake’s hand tightened in your hair. 

You looked up at him, hoping he’d like the picture of you from this angle. His jaw clenched and his eyes fluttered shut, if that was any indication. 

“Need to be inside you,” he ground out, and opened his eyes. “That mouth is so sweet, honey, gonna make this be over too soon. I want to feel that pussy.”

God, you wanted that too. 

You pushed yourself back up, pulled the condom out, and rolled it over his thick length. His thighs were shaking, you noticed, and it filled you with something like tenderness. That he’d get you there twice, then let you play with him, then say “please”, like fucking you was a privilege. 

When your hand reached the base of his dick, condom secured, he surged forward to kiss you. You swayed on the bed, kneeling in the middle of it, his hands cupping your face, yours on his waist. Both pulling, both needing to be closer, and when Jake lowered you back down, you followed his prompting eagerly. 

He settled you back against the pillows, back how you’d been when he’d driven you to the stars with his tongue, but this time his handsome face was right over you. When he settled over you, you closed your eyes against the intensity of the moment. You were both fully naked, and it felt so heavenly to have so much of his skin pressed against yours. He was warm, strong, all around you, and you needed him in you too. 

You spread your legs, letting him rest deeper between your thighs, and whimpering when his hot cock brushed against your stomach, then down. 

“Don’t know how slow I can take this,” Jake said, like he expected you to have a problem with that. 

“I want to feel you,” you told him, honestly. “Please.”

Jake kissed you again, pulling back to press his forehead to yours as he guided his dick between your thighs. 

You’d had two orgasms. 

You’d had his fingers and his tongue loosen you, you were plenty lubricated, but when Jake’s cock pressed against your entrance, you realized it hadn’t been enough. 

“Holy shit, Jake,” you gasped, as his fat head pressed against your pussy, waiting for resistance to melt. 

“Relax, baby,” he whispered hoarsely, “you can do it…You’re doing so good, just a little bit of give, come on…”

You whimpered at the new endearment, but there was no way. You felt needy, cloying. You could fit him, you knew it, but it felt—there.

He eased in, just a breath, and you felt like sobbing. It was so good, so overwhelming, so fucking tight, and you needed the rest of him. 

“Jesus, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake said, he sounded choked, and you loved it. 

“More,” you whimpered. “Please, Jake, want to feel you…you’re so big, I need more, please, please.”

“Honey, you can’t say things like that–” Jake gritted, your words driving his hips forward. 

You could tell he was trying to go slow, but the feeling of him forcing his cock into you had your legs shaking. You wanted it, needed it, and if begging was the way to get it, begging you could do. 

“Want to feel your thick cock, Jake,” you whispered, and he shivered. He was bracing himself against the headboard, and you could feel his arms shaking as he fought to keep from driving into you. “You feel so good, need to feel you so deep…want to come on your cock, please, Jake…come on and fuck me.”

He groaned like he was in pain, as he pressed deeper into you. 

He was trying to go slow, trying to be gentle, but you wanted to be mindless, you wanted your whole being centered around the deep push of his cock. You wiggled your hips, and sighed as he sunk deeper.  

“Thank you,” you breathed, and his hips punched forward again. 

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he muttered, and you would’ve laughed, but you were too overwhelmed. 

This was what you wanted, this was what you knew he could give you. Your hands dropped from his shoulders to your breasts, squeezing and massaging your breasts as he sank into you. You turned your head to look up at him, and found him staring, slack jawed, down at you in awe. 

“You make me feel so good,” you coaxed him. “Please, Jake…fuck me.”

Jake growled, a sound that came from deep in his chest, and his hand fell between you to brush over your clit. 

You jolted at his touch, your hips opening impossibly wider, and a hotter, stronger arousal racing through you than the steady, heavy press of him. Your hips bucked up, and you tweaked your nipples, working yourself up onto his cock rather than pressing him into you. It took a couple more burning minutes, and you were both coated in sweat by the time he was seated in you. 

“Baby…” Jake breathed, his voice a dream and you had to resist the urge to purr. He was so warm, all around you, inside you, it felt like he was grounding you. 

Then he moved.

His first pump had your back arching, your knees jolting up, your eyes flying open. Fuck, how did he reach that part of you, how was there room, how were you–

Jake laughed, a deep, dark sound. 

“That's what you wanted, sweetheart?” he asked, and he moved again. You cried out, overwhelmed, perfect.

“This what you were begging for?” Jake grunted, between strokes, “This what you were asking so prettily for, and now you have me, and what’s that, baby, can’t find your words? What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong, not a damn thing, but you couldn’t summon the wherewithal to tell him. All you felt was pleasure, pounding and sweeping, full and as good as eternal. 

“This pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart,” Jake swore, his head lowering to kiss down your neck. He sucked at the skin there savagely, needing a distraction, and you clenched around him, when his lips closed over your pulse point. “Pulling me in, so tight and warm. You look so good around my cock, honey, you wouldn’t believe… Like a dream, like a fucking wet dream, but you’re here, stretched around me, taking me so good…”

You moaned as he found a rhythm.

The headboard was banging against the wall with the strength of his thrusts, and he pounded into you. There was so much he hadn’t said, so much he couldn’t say, but he pushed it into your body, swore it to you. He soothed it over your clit with his thumb, he promised it with his thick, heavy cock inside of you, and you felt yourself falling into it. 

“Please, Jake,” you managed, begging again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything other than take the harsh fucking he was giving you, and craving it, needing it. 

“What’d’ya need, honey,” Jake groaned. “You have me here, so fucking deep, never felt this good, this right—what do you need, baby, tell me, whatever you need.”

Had the room been dark? Surely it’d always been bright light, sparking, blinding. 

Pleasure was rolling over you, suffocating, live-giving and you shook your head, moaning with every thrust of Jake’s hips. The only words you could manage were his name, and please, and it seemed to spur Jake on further. His thumb pressed hard into your clit as his hips sped up, and you felt the wave inside you cresting. 

“You’re close, honey, I can feel it, can feel how hard this cunt wants to come. Are you gonna do it, baby? Milk this cock, make it even tighter around me, want to feel that, need to feel your pussy twitching around me, sugar, please come…”

Your orgasm shattered over you, blinding and perfect. Your throat felt hoarse from your moans, or your breathlessness, but everything heightened. You felt like you were breathing with Jake, felt every hitch and gasp and shudder as he coaxed you through it. You felt like you were suspended in space, like the only thing there was was Jake’s arms around you and his cock within you and you needed, you needed, him to come. 

“Come in me, baby,” you whispered, your voice watery. “Need to feel you, want to feel how you’d fuck me to fill me, please, Jake, it’ll feel so good.”

“Fuck,” Jake shouted hoarsely, his hips thrusting harshly into you. “Oh, sweetheart, you feel too good, you’re so tight around me… I need to come, need to feel– fuck –”

You could feel his thighs shaking, his back tensing, and you turned your head to kiss him as he came. He moaned into your mouth, his whole body jerking as he emptied into the condom. You felt how strong he came, felt how thoroughly it worked through him, and it filled you with pride and satisfaction as he collapsed over you. 

You knew he meant to push himself to your side, but you didn’t let him go. 

You were just as boneless. 

You both lay there, a sticky, sweaty, mess, panting. It was like a dream, a daydream crossed with a fantasy. You were warm, comforted, sated, and the room was still cheap, the motel was still sketchy, but you were suddenly quite alright with this start to the year.  

//

tag list: @cheekymcgrath @laracrofted @callsign-fangirl @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @withahappyrefrain @hangmanssunnies @callsignspark @lewmagoo @mxgyver @sebsxphia @daggerspare-standingby @ryebecca @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanbrainrot @sometimesanalice @wildbornsiren @whoeverineedtobe @clancycucumber230 @javihoney and i think a couple folks have changed their URLS, so please let me know if you still want to be tagged!

[blue-aconite]

two for one || j.h.s

Summary: A visit to the local shelter brings not one, but two surprises.

Warnings: No use of y/n, fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

Pairings: Jake Seresin x reader

Authors Note: Based on these pictures. I saw them and couldn’t get it out of my head. Thanks to my lovely betas @wkndwlff​ & @ryebecca​, you’re the best!

When your boss told you to take Tuesday off, you wasted no time in signing off and putting your work phone on ‘do not disturb.’ You had been logging a lot of overtime lately, brokering a deal with a new business partner and overlooking the expansion of the Boston office. Luckily you could stay in San Diego working remotely with the team from Boston, letting you avoid the time consuming travel across the country. 

You had washed three loads of laundry and cleaned out both the pantry and the fridge. After a quick stop at your favourite deli for lunch, you headed out to the grocery store. You opened up all the windows when you got home, putting away the groceries and then taking on the task of cleaning the condo. You had some time to kill before starting dinner, so you headed outside to relax on your hammock with a book. 

You must have dozed off because the next thing you know, your boyfriend is shaking you awake. “What time is it?” you groaned, stretching your limbs. 

“A little after three. Last class got cancelled, so I figured I’d head home early to surprise my girlfriend. Looks like you’ve been busy today.” You hummed as he pressed a quick kiss to your lips, pulling you up from the hammock.

“I just wanted to get everything done so we could enjoy our weekend off together.” 

Jake wrapped his arms around you, kissing the tip of your nose. “I have a surprise for you.” 

“What?” You looked up at him, a playful smile on his face, eyes vibrant with joy.

“Remember how we talked about getting a dog?” Jake had a childlike excitement surrounding him, that cheeky grin you loved so much in place. 

“Fanboy was showing me pictures of this shelter and I thought that we might go and take a look.” 

You lit up, bouncing on your feet. “Really? Because I know you said you weren’t sure and -,” Jake cut you off, kissing you again.

“Yes sugar, I’m sure. The shelter closes at 6pm, so I figured we’d head there now and we can pick up dinner on our way home.” You were already heading towards his truck before he finished speaking. Jake followed behind, smiling at your childlike glee. “I just gotta change, baby. Then we can go.”

“Aw, baby look.” You gestured to the German Shepherd who was snoozing in the corner. Jake trailed behind you. The shelter was fairly empty, both with people and animals. Lisa, a volunteer, explained that they recently had a “family day” and a lot of the animals had been adopted.

“We’ve really seen an upswing in adoption recently, it’s honestly so great seeing these animals find their forever home.” Lisa spoke with Jake as you wandered around. An odd sight in the back captured your attention and you kneeled down to get a better look. 

Your heart melted as you set your sights upon a tiny dog, all curled up into a ball. What melted it even further is the cat sleeping by its side. They looked so cute, all cuddled up with each other. The tag on the outside told you that their names were Ares and Apollo. You turned around to call on Jake, only for him to be right behind you.

“What’s this?” He asked as he kneeled down next to you. The dog blinked at the two of you sleepily before snuggling its face into the cat’s fur. 

“Look at them baby, they’re so cute.” You gushed, wiggling in your excitement. 

Lisa wandered over to the two of you. “Ah, you’ve found our little makeshift family. They were found together, abandoned in a box by the side of the highway. They’re most likely from the same home. We’ve estimated that they’re both around a year old. We tried to separate them at first, but they were both so unhappy that we just let them be together. It’s made adopting a bit more difficult. Not a lot of people want to take on the responsibility of both. But we’re adamant that they go together.”

Your mind is made up the moment she stops talking and you turn to Jake, pout in place, as you prepare to plead with him. He rolled his eyes at you. “We said one dog darlin’.”

“Yes, I know, but look at them! And they have to be together.” Jake raised an eyebrow, but you were determined. “And! When we’re not home, they won’t be lonely because they’ll have each other! I know we said a dog but I’ve always wanted a cat, too. Please, baby?”

Jake was quiet for a moment, watching the little animals sleep. The dog, Apollo, had a fair coat - white mixed with light brown. The cat, Ares, on the other hand, had pitch black fur. 

“I guess we need to pick up a couple of cat things, too, then.” Jake said, and you squealed, throwing your arms around him. 

You stayed with them as Jake talked to Lisa, getting everything in order for the adoption. The dog yawned as you tickled its belly, almost squishing the cat in the process as he chased your fingers. The cat was more apprehensive but after some ear scratches and treats, it let you pick it up. 

Jake returned with a carrier in hand, letting the dog sniff him before picking him up. “Hey, buddy. You’re gonna come home with us, isn’t that great?”

You packed all the essentials into the truck before thanking Lisa and heading home.

Setting everything up was fairly simple. The litterbox went into the laundry room and Jake scattered various toys and a bed in a corner of the living room. You insisted on getting a water fountain and you set up their bowls in the kitchen. A second bed was placed at the foot of your bed. 

After making a grand showing of the litter box for Ares, and telling them where to eat, you walked around with the little creatures, showing them their new home.

They both warmed up to their new surroundings quite quickly and before you know it, they’re both snoozing off between you and Jake on the couch as you watched the news. 

“Baby?” 

Jake hummed, absentmindedly scratching Ares behind his ears. Apollo is cuddled into your side, tongue sticking out.

“Thank you. I love you.”

Jake lifted his arm and you moved gently, as not to startle Apollo and cuddled into his side. “I love you, too. And to be honest, I don’t think I could have gone home without them. They’re perfect.”

“Hah, I knew it. You loved them as soon as you saw them, too, right?” Jake rolled his eyes, nudging your side.

“Yeah, I did. But one of us have to be responsible.” You giggled, lifting Ares so he could rest in your lap. An idea suddenly struck you and you squished your face against the side of Jake’s arm to stop the laughter. 

Jake nudged you again. “What are you laughing about now?”

You snorted, trying to hide your amusement. “You’re totally gonna be one of those cat dads who said they didn’t want a cat but secretly loves it.” 

He made a noise of protest but stopped as Ares abandoned you and crawled onto Jake’s lap. Apollo was snoozing between the two of you. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You smiled. “I won’t. Besides, it’s good training.”

“For what?” Jake murmured, tickling Apollo’s tummy. 

You found yourself falling in love with him all over as you watched him fawn over the two of them. When you first met him, you had doubted that he would want something serious and settle down. Now, two years later, you couldn’t be more wrong. 

Jake was everything you wanted and more. And as you watched him with the two newest additions to your future, you knew he would make a great dad one day. But for now, you would have to be parents to two little four legged babies and you couldn’t be more happy.

Taglist: @wildbornsiren​ @therebeccaw @imjess-themess @antiquitea @fuckyeahhangman @writercole @hederasgarden @yanna-banana @wkndwlff @bobfloydsbabe @hollandorks @anniesocsandgeneralstore @ereardon @luminousnotmatter @roosterscock @thedroneranger @fandomxpreferences @top-hhun @princessmisery666 @bradshawsbitch​ @princessphilly @a-reader-and-a-writer @green-socks @angstybluejay @seresinhangmanjake @ayorooster​@notroosterbradshaw​ @indynerdgirl @gigisimsonmars @girl-in-the-chairs-void @bradshawbabes @unhinged-btch @horseshoegirl @sadpetalsstuff @bradshawbaby @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @ummjustfics​ @septemberrie​ @somenamewithepineapple​ @seresinsweetie​​ @crescentwolf​ @seresinhangmanjake​ @sylviebell​ @waklman​ @roosterforme​ @rosiahills22​ @dempy​ @i0veless​ @ilovewriting06​ @kmc1989​ @demxters @amortentiadrops @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanscoming​​

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#361

“Hey what’s going on?...  Yeah I recognize you.  You’re the cocksucker who knows how to take care of my fat hog.  You been up here for a while?  You get any loads?  Yeah this place has no cruising during the day.  Ever since they switched my schedule around, I am up here around 7:30 in the morning.  It’s been dead every time I stop.  I now only pull off to take a piss before heading back on the road; it’s the only good spot to do it.  I figured with me leaving the office three hours late that there would be some activity, some hungry boy needing some daddy dick….  Boy, I see you licking your lips.  You’re hungry for dad’s cock.  Aren’t you?  You remember where to go?...  Not, yet.  We are going to do it a little different today.  When you go to the other side of the truck, before you kneel in position, I want you to strip naked.  Naked means everything comes off including your glasses and watch.  Wait with your eyes closed and your mouth open.  I’ve got to make a call….

“...I spoke to dispatch, and I told them that I won’t be able to deliver this camper to them until well after closing.  We got plenty of time.  Keep your mouth open and your eyes shut.  Keep still….  Too bad I don’t have access to the keys to the camper.

“Ahhh. There we go….  I told you I had to take a piss.  It just needed a few moments.  I said keep your mouth open; when it fills, drink it down.  I want you covered in it.  Fuck yeah boy.

“You look natural down there.  Hell yeah.  You are going to smell like a fuck urinal.  My fucking urinal.  Damn!  You are covered!  And don’t you fucking insult me by wiping that off.  It’s to dry there. 

“I remember, you used to eat my ass.  It hasn’t been tongue scrubbed in a long time; most likely you were the last boy to do so.  Get in there.  It’s probably nasty back there.  Work called me in on my day off, and I left the house this morning without showering.  It’s probably real rank back there.

“Oh fuck! Your tongue does not care.  It feels so good.  You know how to treat a man’s asshole right.  Get that tongue in there. 

“Don’t worry.  I’m watching if anyone pulls off the highway.  Your focus should be on sucking yesterday’s sweat and musk from my ass crack. 

“You like eating dad’s hole?  I can tell.  I wish I had one of those toilet seats on legs.  You could slurp my ass for hours….  What?  In your trunk?  You have one in your trunk?...  You really are a whore.  Go get it. 

“No leave your clothes here.  Take your keys, I want to see you go across the lot naked….

“Fuck yeah boy!  Don’t cover your pecker.  Let it swing….

“…Hell yeah.  If it was up to me, you would be kept naked pretty much all the time.  Go on set it up right here on the asphalt.  In fact, I want you to lay in my piss puddle like a good little pig.  You really want my ass don’t you?

“Go on eat.  Tongue fuck me.  And leave your pecker alone.  You are here to satisfy my needs not yours.  In fact, reach up and play with my nips.

“Oh shit, an SUV is pulling in.  Stay put.  They can’t see you.  Fuck.  I knew it; as soon as I sat down…. Don’t move.  They appear to be turning around and pulling out.

“This probably isn’t the best thing to be doing right here.  What’s your schedule like for today?...  What about tomorrow?  So you are wide open.  Wanna ride with me to San Diego?  The company is paying for a motel.  I’ll fuck you all night.  I can cum multiple times. In between I’ll rest by sitting on your face. 

“There’s a 24-hour Walmart at the next exit.  We can store your car there.  Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll drop you off there with a stretched out hole and a belly full of piss and cum.

“You want to?...  Good.  Put that toilet seat on legs in the back.  But first.  I have to say.  I’m a demanding prick with a demanding prick.  I am in full control of both your holes.  I plan on using them without asking you first.  You come with me, you will be agreeing to that.  I don’t know if you remember how I fuck, but I go right to the root on the first thrust.  You better be lubed up and cleaned out.  Are you?... lubed up and cleaned out?  Good, good.  Let’s do this.  Get up…. 

“Where are you going?  Get back here.  Bend over.  Hold on to something.  I am not going to drive five hours all horned up with full balls, especially with a boy’s ass a few feet away from me.  Let’s get you loaded up.

“I thought you said you were lubed up.  Oh well, son, it’s your hole that’s going to bleed, not mine.”

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 3

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This is a repost from my series, False Confidence. It was originally posted in March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You feel the butterflies that have finally settled in your stomach flutter to life again, a jumbled mess as your breath catches. You know it makes sense. His simple request. You’re the one who said you were out of practice. And he’s right, the media caught you with his tongue down your throat. Their not going to be fooled by chaste kisses on the cheek and pecks on the lips. You need to get comfortable around Javy, and while you hadn’t come here with the intention of kissing him tonight, the sooner you rip off the bandaid, the better. “Okay,” you say and you hate how small your voice sounds. Javy gives you a mysterious smile as he leans in. Your heart beats quicker the closer he gets, and your eyes flick down to those full lips of his and you’re so fixated on them that you don’t realize that he’s stopped. When you realize that his lips haven’t moved in quite a while your eyes flick up to his deep brown ones and your cheeks heat at the intensity of his gaze. “What?” You sputter as you do your best not to pull away from his closeness. Your hands are trembling and you can feel discomfort settling in your bones. He leans in closer suddenly, lips barely a breath from yours and his nose brushes yours and you let out an indignant squeak, jumping slightly.

“Relax, Meep.” His voice takes on a lower timbre and you feel a shiver run down your back.

“Meep?” You squeak and he chuckles. You feel the vibration of the air on your lips. He reaches a hand up then, making sure to hold it in front of your gaze for a solid five seconds so you process it before he runs a knuckle across your cheek.

“My overexcited little roadrunner,” he muses. “Always squeaking.” Your brow furrows as you realize what he’s referring to.

“You’d be squeaking if you were surprised too.” You stutter out, irritation seeping into your tone even as anxiety continues to claw at your heart from his closeness.

“Oh, would I?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow playfully and then just as you’re choosing your next words carefully, he closes the gap and presses his lips to yours.

The first time you’d ever been kissed you were in the bed of Andrew St. James’s truck. You’d felt completely alone even with dozens of cars and trucks parked around you. The movie playing up on the giant screen was background noise as Andrew’s lips pressed against yours. Your lips were slightly parted in surprised pleasure. It had all felt so surreal, being curled against him as you experienced a first that you’d awaited giddily your entire life. Even in your wildest dreams you’d never imagined that it could be like that. Even when Andrew had invited you to the movie, butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the idea. Even when you’d nervously picked out the soft yellow sundress that you knew you’d get chilly in with the cool spring evening air, dancing through your bedroom full of whimsy and hope.

Javy tastes like blueberries. The tartness of the berries scattered through the loaf that the two of you had just indulged in making your lips tingle as he eases you into the kiss. This kiss was different from yesterday. While yesterday’s kiss had been hungry and desperate, this one was soft, delicate, and simple. A press of lips against lips and you can almost smell the rust and grass from your first kiss. It’s sweet, and you almost convince yourself that it’s real but the tart taste keeps you grounded in bittersweet reality. When he pulls away, he studies your face curiously and you struggle not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. He leans in before you can react and kisses you again. You start, surprised and he’s pulling away before you can adjust to the feeling. You scowl at him and he chuckles.

“What was that for?”

“You need to not tense up so much when I kiss you. Right now you’re practically jumping out of your skin, Meep.” You feel your lips pout even as you know that he’s right but you can’t focus on that when he dips his head to kiss the pout on your lips. You’re expecting it this time and you barely tense under the quick touch. “Good girl,” Javy praises you as he pulls away again, pressing a quick peck to your cheek and you jolt, surprised by the change in direction. He gives you a look of faux disappointment. “Come on Roadie, loosen up for me.” You feel your cheeks heating rapidly under his constant attention and the anticipation of the next kiss. You’re not expecting when he reaches a hand up and cups your cheek and then your cheeks are heating even more in embarrassment at the realization that he can probably feel their heat. He stokes the apple of your cheek with a calloused thumb and you shiver involuntarily. “I told you Roadie, I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“Prove it.” You’re as surprised as he is by the bite in your words, but the proximity and flurry of kisses have your brain in a tizzy. You’re overstimulated and exhausted and you don’t have the energy for Javy’s antics right now. His eyes widen before he sits back, his hand falling away from your face and you take a shaky breath as your heart rate tries its best to settle. His expression is unreadable as he nods.

“You’re right.” His gaze is steely as it meets yours. “I will.” Like it’s that simple. You’re too tired to push him so you just nod back.

“We need rules,” you hate how tired your voice sounds and you reach for your glass of water, sipping and hoping the cool liquid will give you the energy that you need. “If this is going to work, we need to be on the same page about what’s okay and what’s not.” Javy nods again, eyes calm and earnest.

“That’s good with me, what did you have in mind?” He asks and you fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you think.

“No sex.” You say after a moment, words firm so he knows you’re serious.

“No sex, got it, Roadie.” You nod absently as you think harder.

“I need at least a week’s notice if you need me to come to an event, whether that’s a game or something else. My job will always come first. I’m not missing school for this, I’m not leaving my kids out to dry.” He nods again.

“That’s only fair. I’ll talk to Zam and work out a schedule of some kind and get that to you as soon as possible.

“Next, if I’m going to be coming to your events, I need you to come to some of mine.” You’re nervous about asking this but Josie’s voice in your head reminds you that this is supposed to be mutually beneficial.

“It’s only fair,” he says casually. “As long as I’m in town, I’ll be there. You can get me a schedule too, but just give me a basic idea now if you can.”

You think for a long moment before you answer. “You need to make a few appearances at the school to really sell it to the administration. There’s a faculty banquet in April. If you’re here, you’d probably be expected to attend.”

“Consider it done.” He says easily. Something else is itching at the back of your mind so you steel yourself and ask before you lose your nerve.

“Career day,” you sputter and Javy arches an eyebrow at you and you clear your throat. “It’s not a requirement per se but I think the kids would really enjoy meeting a real hockey player.” His eyes soften and you give him a shy smile.

“Yeah, Roadie, I’d love to come to Career Day.” He smiles back as you relax in relief. He waits for you to continue but you’re drawing a blank as to what comes next so he speaks up. “You need to figure out how to relax around me. If there’s something I can do to help, I will, but it’s going to come down to you.” You nod, embarrassment sending heat to your cheeks.

“I know it’s not always going to be possible, but if you could ask or give me a heads up when you’re going to kiss me, that might help?” You say after a long moment. He considers your words thoughtfully.

“What if we had a signal?” He asks and your brow furrows.

“What kind of signal?” You ask warily. He reaches out a hand for yours and you tentatively surrender one. He takes it in his absurdly warm palm, and then he brushes two fingers over the inside of your wrist before tapping three times.

“How’s that?” He asks. You glance down at your linked hands. It’s subtle enough. It could work. You nod, slowly and Javy smiles.

“Yeah, that could work.” You whisper and he releases your hand. You study your hand when it comes back to your lap like you’ll see some kind of mark of his touch. Like a piece of him will linger.

“One last thing,” he says and you look up from your lap and he waggles his eyebrows playfully. “You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.” You barely suppress a derisive snort as you scowl at him. It just makes him laugh and the sound takes your breath away. If his smile is the sun, his laugh is its rays. You feel your nerves melt away as the sound fills your ears and spreads warmth throughout your body from head to toe. He pauses his laughing to fix you with a firm look even as his eyes dance with mirth. “I mean it, Roadie, no falling in love with me.” You roll your eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about that.” You won’t be the fool twice. You know better this time.

***

The next morning as you’re walking into school when your phone buzzes and you open it to see a message from Big Sexy ;), “I know you’ll probably be teaching so you can’t watch, but just so you know, the press conference is at 8 this morning. Speak now or forever hold your peace.” He’s giving you an out. While you appreciate it, you didn’t let him kiss you in his kitchen to lose your nerve now and you type back a quick negative response before steeling yourself and making a beeline for your classroom. You don’t feel like fielding Jeremy’s questions before the press conference. You’ll let someone else control the narrative. You’ve settled in and you’re going over your lesson plan when Josie knocks on the edge of your doorway and you look up, waving her in. She perches on the edge of her desk, studying your expression carefully.

“Reuben said they're holding the press conference this morning. How are you feeling?” You shrug.

“He’s not my real boyfriend. I don’t really feel anything.” Josie gives you a skeptical look.

“You know Jeremy and the others are going to start hounding you the second they find out, don’t you?” You sigh, then, taking a moment to take a long sip from your coffee mug.

“If they hound me that means they buy the story and that’s what we want, right? Sure, I’m not exactly looking forward to it, but there’s not much you can do to disprove an official statement from one of the parties, especially the one with everything to lose.” Josie regards you skeptically and you know she doesn’t buy your cool as she leaves the classroom and while you’re more nervous than ever you can’t focus on that right now. Any minute your students will be arriving and you need to be ready for them. They need you right now.

***

By the time lunch rolls around you’ve forgotten all about the press conference so when you step into the teacher’s lounge and Jeremy automatically calls out to you, you’re taken by surprise.

“Damn Roadie, you’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” You turn to see a smirk pulling at his lips as he regards you. “How on earth did you manage to land yourself a big bad NHL player boyfriend?” You ignore the subtle dig in his words as you struggle to clear your mind. You’d gone over your cover story with Javy last night until you were almost convinced it was true yourself. You take a breath to center yourself before you answer Jeremy.

“We met at Thanksgiving, I went with Josie to the Dogfighters’ Thanksgiving dinner.”

“That right, Josie?” You turn to see Josie standing just inside the doorway, a cool look on her face.

“Yeah, friends and family were invited so I invited Roadie since she didn’t have anywhere else to go.” You wince at her words. That part of the story is true. Josie HAD invited you except you’d turned her down and had spent the holiday curled up on your couch watching old movies and eating spaghetti and turkey meatballs followed by ice cream straight from the carton. In hindsight, you’re glad you hadn’t gone since Josie had arrived back at school on Monday recounting the chaos that had ensued at the event. None of your colleagues knew that, however. “Oh hey, this is a pleasant surprise.” You’re jerked out of your thoughts and you turn back to Josie as Javy appears in the doorway, carrying a bouquet of flowers and a takeout bag. You do your best to school your expression of surprise at the unexpected visit. You’re sure some of it seems believable enough, though as you unglue your feet from the floor and cross over to where Josie’s ushering Javy into the teacher’s lounge as the other teachers gape. You shuffle over to him, a nervous smile plastered on your face. You will your voice not to shake as you greet him.

“Javy! I didn’t know you were coming by today?” You hide your wince at the light accusation in your tone and try to compensate by carefully pushing up slightly on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. The gesture feels strange and his skin is warm under your lips. The skin pulls under your touch as Javy smiles and when you pull away you see the mirth dancing in his eyes as leans down to reciprocate the action, smooth lips pressing to your heated cheeks.

“Hey beautiful, thought I’d come by and surprise you.” You try to ignore the way your stomach flutters at the term of endearment as it falls easily from his tongue. “I thought we could have lunch together?” He holds up the paper bag in his hand and you nod, trying to make your earnestness to escape the prying eyes of your colleagues seem lovestruck in nature.

“Sure, baby.” The word feels strange and foreign in your tongue and you have to hold back from grimacing in discomfort. “We can eat in my classroom,” you nod towards the hallway and Javy takes your lead. Once you’re in the empty hallway, the kids all herded into the lunchroom for the next hour, you glance at him to see him grinning at you. You roll your eyes and lead him to your classroom. You hold the door for him as he enters before leading him to your desk. You realize quickly that yours is the only adult-sized chair in the room but Javy seems unfazed as he sets the flowers and bag on your desk and snags one of the tiny chairs from the nearest cluster of desks. You don’t manage to stifle your giggle as he folds his giant body into the tiny chair and his eyebrows raise, the corners of his mouth crinkling at your reaction. You feel your cheeks heat as you take your seat across the desk from him. He’s tall enough that he manages to reach the height of your desk well enough and he starts to unpack the paper bag, the smell of Thai food hitting your nostrils.

“So…” he says as he passes you a foil-wrapped packet that smells simply heavenly, “how’s your morning been, BABY.” He smirks and your cheeks heat even more as you duck your head to escape the humor dancing in his eyes.

“I panicked, okay.” You sputter as you focus on keeping the noodles in the foil from spilling across your desk as you break the chopsticks that Javy passes to you. He chuckles.

“Well practice makes perfect, I guess.” He digs into his food and the two of you eat in silence for a moment before you can’t hold your question in, anymore.

“What are you doing here?” You ask and hate how blunt it sounds.

Javy raises an eyebrow at you as he finishes chewing. “I figured after this morning’s announcement, there would be damage control to do, so I figured I’d get ahead of it. What better way to sell a fake relationship than to bring my girlfriend lunch?” He shrugs. “Plus I figured you could use the backup. People are bound to have questions and actions speak louder than words.” You nod, taking another bite of your food.

“Well, thanks,” you say, trying to fight off the awkwardness as he waves you off.

“This is much better than eating in the conference room with dozens of sweaty guys, believe me.” He looks around your room, taking in the bright decorations and your students’ art hung on the wall. “So, do you teach art too?” He asks.

You shrug. “It’s kindergarten, I teach everything.”

“Damn, Roadie,” Javy looks genuinely impressed. “Even math?”

“I mean, math for Kindergartners usually just consists of counting, shapes, and basic addition and subtraction but yeah,” you giggle a little as he laughs.

“Right, I almost forgot. But that’s still important, though, they need that to be able to do the rest.” He says, giving you a pointed look and you smile shyly.

“That’s why I love it so much,” you admit. “You get to make such a big impact on these kids’ lives.”

“It’s a big responsibility,” he points out.

“It’s a privilege.” You say, a soft smile on your lips and he gives you a look that you can almost convince yourself is pride.

The two of you fall back into silence as you eat until Javy speaks up again. “Do you still make octopus stew in kindergarten?” You can’t help the laugh that jumps out of your throat. Javy regards you curiously as you nod through your laughter.

“Yeah… yeah we still make octopus stew. We’re actually doing that next week.” His eyes brighten and you hesitate before you offer. “You could come if you wanted to? I mean just for the octopus stew part? We usually ask a couple of parents to come help out since there’s cooking involved, we could use the extra hands.” You can’t help the nerves that blossom in your stomach but Javy’s wide grin makes them worth it.

“I’d love to,” he beams before his brow furrows. “What day is it? We’re leaving on a road trip next Wednesday.” His face falls slightly and you can’t help the pang of sympathy that laces through you. You’ve seen it on Reuben’s face before. The realization that his job is stealing yet another special moment from him. He’s missed class plays, dance recitals, and more and it doesn’t get easier.

“Octopus Stew is on Tuesday,” you say with a soft smile, mentally running through the emails you’re going to need to send to the parents volunteering to successfully move around your lesson plans. The grin on Javy’s face is like the sun and you can’t help but feel relief, knowing that your slightly selfish plan is going to be worth it.

“Perfect, I’ll be there!” He announces and you can’t help the smile that his excitement brings to your lips. “By the way, are you doing anything after work today? The rest of the guys really want to meet you, and I thought maybe you could swing by the arena?” You hesitate and his gaze softens. “They’re not all assholes, I promise, you just got stuck with me.” You feel your cheeks heat at that.

“S-sure I can be there,” you murmur and he reaches a hand over, brushing your fingers with his. Somehow you don’t flinch away from his touch. “I’ll be there.” You say with more conviction and he squeezes your fingers gently.

You hear the bell go off in the hallway and glance at the clock, surprised. The moment is broken and you hurry to clear up your lunch trash. Javy stands, taking your lead, and carefully returns his chair to its desk. He holds out a hand to take the lunch trash and you pass it to him, appreciatively. Your eyes fall on the flowers, they’re a simple but bright bouquet of seasonals. “Thanks for the flowers, by the way,” you say and Javy turns to look at them from where he’s almost at the doorway.

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me. You’re my girlfriend, after all, flowers are a given. Do you have a vase?” He glances around the room, looking for one. You shake your head.

“Not here, no. I have some at home but I’ll probably get something plastic for the classroom in case of accidents.” Javy nods, his eyes thoughtful.

“Noted, I’ll bring a vase next time. I’ll see you this evening, Roadie.” He’s gone before you can comprehend his words and a soft smile graces your lips as you gather your lesson plans for the afternoon before heading down the empty hallway to pick up your students from the lunchroom, Javy long gone.

[ereardon]

Friends Don't || Chapter 6

Summary: Bob Floyd has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly agreed to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late? 

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC [Reid] 

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, angst, mention of doctors and illness, fighting, hospitals, OBGYN scene

WC: 3.4K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

By the time you were nine, you had met so many “friends” of your mother’s that you stopped listening to their names, if they even bothered to acknowledge you at all. Somehow they all showed up in various stages of dress in the kitchen when you were eating your breakfast before school. There were the ones that wore only tattered boxers and wife beater tanks. There was the one who actually stole the toast you were making on his way out the door. There was the one who sat down with you and did the crossword and asked how old you were and what your name was, only to never be seen again. 

Mostly, they were simply ghosts. There for a moment, gone the next. That was how your mother liked them. Practically useless and only for one night.

You told yourself that you wouldn’t turn out like her. You studied and you left that tiny slice of hell in Appalachia and you never looked back. You went to college. You met Bob. You got a job. You traveled anywhere and everywhere they would send you at the drop of a hat.  

And yet, somehow you had turned out just like her. You might be sitting in a bedroom in San Diego near the beach. But a thousand miles away, in a house with a cracked roof, your mother was sitting in a room not too dissimilar from the one you were in, fighting the same demons.

You had promised yourself you wouldn’t live the way she did. That you wouldn’t sabotage any chance of happiness because you were too scared to keep someone around long enough for them to realize you had nothing to offer except your body. 

***

You weren’t sure where to go. 

You had given up your Brooklyn apartment. Going home wasn’t an option. You hadn’t been back there in more than five years. 

Usually, when you weren’t sure where to go, the first thing you did was call Bob. 

That was no longer an option. 

He left two days after the fight for a three week mission. The two of you stood in the foyer, looking at each other. You had only been there for one deployment, early in his career. You remember sitting on the steps of Bob’s Newport apartment and crying so hard when he left that someone shouted at you from an upstairs window to shut up. 

Bob was wearing his green flight suit, his bags packed into his truck. He had on a pair of aviator sunglasses, so you couldn’t see his familiar blue eyes. But even without being able to see his eyes, you knew what he was thinking. With Bob, you always knew. 

“I’ll see you when I get back,” Bob said quietly, one hand on the door handle. 

You looked at him. “I won’t be here.” 

“Honey,” he whispered softly. “Please, let’s not be like this.” 

“Be safe,” you said, stepping forward, pressing your lips to his soft, familiar cheek. Bob’s hand found your waist naturally, fingers tightening, continuing to hold you even when you pulled back. 

“Always,” he murmured. 

You took a step back, Bob’s hand falling from your waist down to his side. 

He looked at you, dejected. “I love you, Reid. I’ll talk to you soon, OK?” 

You nodded. “You should get going. Or else the boat might leave without you.” 

Bob pulled open the door, giving you one last look, before heading out down the steps toward his truck. 

You pressed the door shut, sliding down against the wood, your butt slamming down onto the floor. You couldn’t bear to watch him drive away. 

***

“It’s a good thing you’re getting this checked out,” the doctor said, rolling on her stool to the shelf on her right, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Always better to be safe.” 

You laid back on the exam table, bare legs shaky in the stirrups. 

“Can you scoot down for me please?” she asked and you wiggled down toward the end of the table, feeling the thin waxy paper beneath you tugging, threatening to rip. “Perfect.” 

You stopped, feeling the air hit your exposed center. 

“Going to feel a pinch,” she said and you closed your eyes, feeling the metal of the speculum as it spread you open. You cursed whoever invented it in your head silently. You had always thought it looked like some kind of demonic shoe stretcher. 

For a few moments, the room was silent. And then there was blinding, searing pain as she punched a hole in your literal cervix. You gasped.

“OK, you can sit up,” she said. “I’m going to send this off to pathology. I’ll give you a call when the test results come in.” The doctor leaned forward, putting her hand on yours. Somehow in between cutting out a piece of your internal flesh and bagging it for the lab she had managed to peel off her soiled gloves. “Do your best not to worry, OK? Not until we get the results. Most of the time, symptoms like this are nothing to be concerned about.” 

You nodded and she left the room, leaving you to dig your panties out from the pile of clothing on the chair. 

A week later, your phone rang. You were sitting at a cafe in Dumbo when Mount Sinai’s contact flashed on the small screen. 

You lifted the phone to your ear. “Hello?” 

“Ms. Coleman?” There was a pause on the other end of the line. “The doctor was hoping you could come in today to discuss the results of your biopsy.” 

You frowned. “Today? Is that bad?” 

There was another pause. “We’re open until six. It’s important that you come today.” 

You agreed, ending the call with a shaky hand and putting the phone face-down on the wooden table. 

The first thing that popped into your head was how devastated Bob was going to be when you told him. 

***

The house was quiet. Bradley called three times. Once when they first got to the location, which he couldn’t tell you about. A second time at the end of the first week. A third time in the middle of the second week. Each time, he gave you a verbal update on how Bob was doing. 

Each time, you left the call feeling worse. 

Your things were packed. You had a lead from a former colleague on a beach house in Santa Barbara. One thing about moving to San Diego was it had reminded you of how much you liked California. 

You had just gotten home from pilates, wearing a cropped sports bra and a pair of matching biker shorts when your phone rang. You dug around in your purse that sat slumped on the countertop. 

“Shit, shit,” you muttered, digging in the endless depths of the bag. “Finally.” You pulled it out and swiped right without looking at the caller ID. 

“Hello?” 

“Reid?” It was Bradley. 

“Hey,” you said, leaning down and putting it on speaker phone as you unloaded the bag of groceries on the counter. “How’s it going?” 

“Reid, honey, there’s been an accident.” 

You froze. The blood rushing through your veins stopped. Your fingers dug into the countertop, keeping you standing. 

“Reid, are you there?” 

You felt your breath catch in your throat. “I’m here.” 

“We’re at the hospital on base,” Bradley said quietly. “You should come.” 

A tear slid down your cheek. “Can I talk to him?” 

“I’ll explain when you get here,” Bradley replied. 

“Is he OK?” 

There was a pause. You could hear commotion in the background. “Reid?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Come now.” 

You burst through the hospital doors. Everywhere you turned, there were people in Navy uniforms. Doctors in scrubs. Nurses with frowns on their faces. You felt like your lungs were on fire. You weren’t sure where you had parked, or if you had run every red light between Bob’s house and the hospital and you were only vaguely aware that you had forgotten to put on a sweater so you were running across the linoleum floor in a pair of Hokas and a tiny blue sports bra. 

“How can I help you?” A nurse looked up at you from where she sat at a curved desk. 

“Lieutenant Robert Floyd.” The words spilled out of your mouth in an avalanche. 

“Relation?” 

What were you to Bob? Best friend? Roommate? Family? The girl whose bed he sometimes slept in? You grimaced. “I’m his emergency contact.” 

The nurse nodded, clicking her mouse. “Lieutenant Floyd was brought in an hour ago. He’s in critical care.” She looked up. “You can wait in the waiting room at the end of the hall.” 

“Is he, is he OK?” you asked, voice shaking. 

The nurse gave you a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, the doctor will have to walk you through Lieutenant Floyd’s injuries, ma’am. Just take a seat. Someone will be out shortly to update you.” 

She pointed down the hall toward a room that was encased in glass walls. You floated down the hallway, opening the door and struggling with its weight. 

A tanned arm pulled it open and you looked up. 

Bradley. 

You were in his arms in an instant. The familiar pink peppercorn smell, mixed with jet fuel, flooding your nose. He was everywhere, all at once. But you still felt empty, even in his embrace. 

He pulled back, his handsome face drawn and tired. 

“Come here,” he whispered, steering you by the shoulders to a nearby chair. You watched as five pairs of eyes landed on you. Phoenix. Hangman. Fanboy. Payback. And an unfamiliar aviator. He was older than the rest, and shorter. But he had an air of importance around him. Wisdom. “This is Mav,” Bradley said, watching your eyes as you fixated on the additional person in the group. “He’s our team leader.” 

“And Rooster’s uncle,” Fanboy chipped in. 

“I didn’t know you had an uncle,” you murmured. 

Bradley gave you a thin smile. “Lots we still don’t know about each other sweetheart. That’s OK.” 

“Have you seen him?” you asked, craning your neck around, looking at the room. It was just the seven of you in a corner. 

They shook their heads. Phoenix laid one hand on your knee. “Reid. He’s going to get through this.” 

“I didn’t say it,” you whispered. “I was mad, so I didn’t say it.” 

“Say what?” 

“He said he loved me before he left. We always say I love you before he leaves.” A tear tumbled down your cheek. “And this time, I was mad. I was trying to prove a point. So when he said it, I didn’t say it back.” You put your head in your hands. “What if I don’t get the chance to tell him?” 

Phoenix squeezed your knee. “You’ll get the chance.” 

“Family of Lieutenant Robert Floyd?”

Seven pairs of eyes turned to the doctor standing in the doorway. You stood up, Bradley hovering next to you like you were about to fall. “Yes.” Your voice was thin, weak. 

The doctor nodded. “Come this way ma’am.” 

You looked around. 

“Do you want us to come with you?” Jake asked quietly. 

You shook your head. “No, um, I think I need to go alone.” 

Bradley squeezed your bare arm. “We’ll be right here, OK?” 

You nodded, following the doctor out of the room and into the hallway. The doctor led you down a winding hallway, the flickering overhead lights adding to the surrealism that you felt in that moment. 

He paused outside of a closed door. “Lieutenant Floyd sustained a brain injury from the accident,” he said. You gasped. “We won’t know the extent until he wakes up.” 

“So he’s in a coma?” you asked. 

The doctor nodded. “He has a broken leg, he came in with a collapsed lung, and he’s currently in a coma.” 

“Oh, my God,” you whispered. 

He turned the handle to the door. “I’ll leave you with him.” 

Inside the room was dim. You stepped forward. Bob laid on the hospital bed in the middle of the room. He looked small. He was so tall, and you always saw him as so strong. But there, in the bed, he looked feeble. 

He looked the way you felt inside. 

His glasses sat perched on the rolling table next to the window. You picked them up. There was a small crack on one of the lenses. 

The room was quiet, save for the machines. This time there was no intubation, just a tangle of IVs and a heart monitor. You sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing your hand over his hair softly, running your finger down his cheek. 

“I love you, too,” you whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I was holding out because I was mad, and that was wrong of me. I don’t know if you know this, Bobby, but I’m kind of a bitch.” 

No response. You hadn’t expected one, but the reality that he was there, but he also wasn’t, was difficult to wrap your head around. 

You kicked off your shoes, and gently eased onto the bed, curling yourself around Bob’s side, careful to make sure that all of the IV wires were on the opposite side. You slung one arm across his abdomen, resting your head on his upper arm. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen,” you whispered. “You’re the one who sticks around, Bobby. You’re the dependable one, remember? I need you.” You squeezed your eyes shut, tears spilling out, soaking the coarse white cotton sheets between your body and Bob’s. “I fucking need you, honey. Now more than ever.” 

You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until you heard voices whispering around you. You opened your eyes in a small sliver. Jake, Phoenix and Bradley stood near the doorway in a huddle, whispering in hushed tones. 

“We can’t let her stay here like that,” Phoenix said. “She’s gotta go home. Shower. Eat. It’s not healthy.” 

“Just leave her be,” Jake said and both aviators turned to him in surprise. “What? I’m a nice person. Besides, what harm could it do to leave her another hour? Doctor said he could wake up any minute. How do you think he would feel if he wakes up and she’s not here?” 

“Seresin is right.” This time, Phoenix turned to Bradley in shock. “Floyd would tear this entire place apart if he woke up and she wasn’t next to him. I’ll go to their house and get her some stuff. Change of clothes. Something to eat. I’m sure the nurses will get a cot or something.” 

“His glasses.” 

The three of them turned. You had your eyes open, but they were focused on nothing. Just staring, blankly, at the wall. 

“He needs his spare glasses. He keeps them in the top drawer of his bathroom. Green case.” 

Bradley stepped closer, approaching the side of the bed. He reached out with one hand, touching your shoulder, and you moved away on instinct, crawling closer to Bob, practically laying yourself on top of him. 

Bradley retreated. 

“OK, honey. I’ll get his glasses.” 

“And a book,” you whispered. “Whatever is on his nightstand.” 

Bradley nodded. “What can I get you?” 

You closed your eyes. “I don’t want anything.” 

“Reid—”

“No,” you snapped. “Just leave. Please. I want to be alone with Bobby.” 

You heard footsteps and the door closing and you opened your eyes, expecting peace. But Jake Seresin sat in a chair on the opposite side of the bed, one ankle crossed over the other knee. 

You rolled your eyes. “Leave, Hangman.” 

“He’s my friend, too,” Jake said. 

“You pick on him. He told me.” 

Jake nodded. “Yeah. And I’m sorry about that. Just like I know you’re sorry about the fact that you two were fighting before we left.” 

You sat up. “How did you know about that?” 

“Floyd over here told me.” 

“Why would he tell you that?” 

“Because we’re friends,” Jake said. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” 

You looked down at Bob, brushing your fingers over his forearm, slipping your fingers into his. “Does he hate me?” 

“He couldn’t hate you if he tried.” 

A salty stream of tears started to fall and you didn’t even bother to try and stop them. “I hate myself right now.” 

“That’s not what he wanted.” 

You blinked before raising your eyes to Jake. For the first time, he looked genuine. Like he truly, actually cared about the conversation the two of you were having. 

“He wanted to take it back.” 

“Take what back?” 

“Telling you to leave.” 

You shook your head. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.” Jake smiled. “Does that seem like something I would do?” 

You looked at him, and despite everything, found yourself smiling along. “No, I guess not.” 

Jake stood up. “He’s going to be OK.” He approached the bed, and to your surprise, patted Bob’s unresponsive shoulder in a familiar, friendly way. “See you later, Floyd. Don’t make your girl here wait too long for you to wake up.” He smiled down at you and then he was gone, slipping out the door into the hallway and it was just you and Bob in the stillness of the hospital room, the quiet hum of machines, the sterile smell in the air. 

You laid back down, head on the pillow near Bob’s, fingers trailing softly across his arm and chest. “I miss the way things used to be,” you whispered to him. “It was so much more simple when it was just you and me. Back in college. Before you left for the Navy.” You sighed, tracing your fingers up through his hair. “Before I fucked everything up.” 

It was quiet. Too quiet. You missed the soft way that Bob snored in his sleep. You missed the way he hummed along as you were talking, small reassurances. You missed his goofy, crooked smile. You missed the way he held your hand sometimes when you drove long distances together, content in the silence. 

You missed him, even though he was right beneath your fingertips. 

***

Jake stepped into the elevator, pushing his hands into his pockets. It had been a day and a half since Bob was admitted. Everyone had gone home at some point except for you. Last time Jake checked, you were asleep on the cot that a nurse had rolled into Bob’s room. 

He wasn’t paying attention, so when the elevator doors opened, Jake stepped forward, only to find himself face to face with you. 

“Shit,” he said, blinking. “Sorry. Is this the fifth floor?” 

You frowned and stepped inside. “Going to see Bob?” you asked, ignoring his question, pressing the five button for the fifth floor. 

Jake looked out as the doors slowly closed. It was an unfamiliar floor, with a different layout than where they had Bob. 

There was a small plaque sign on the wall in front of the elevator banks. 

Oncology. 

He turned to you. “What were you doing on that floor?” 

You shrugged. “Went looking for better coffee. Thought there might be a cart or something.” 

You kept your eyes turned straight ahead. Jake’s eyes roamed over your body, stopping at your hand where it was shaking next to your thigh. 

The door dinged and opened. You glared at him. “What are you looking at?” you snapped, stepping out onto the fifth floor. 

Jake followed you out into the hallway, heading for the waiting room. Phoenix and Bradley were huddled in the corner, deep in conversation. You were about to reach for the glass door when Jake’s arm caught yours. 

You whipped around. “Hangman? What the fuck?” 

“Why were you really on the oncology floor?” he whispered. 

You shrugged his hand off. “Like I said, I was looking for coffee.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“And you think I care whether or not you believe me?” You scoffed at him, opening the glass door. Bradley and Phoenix looked up. Bradley stood up and gathered you into a hug and you melted into him. “Any update?” you asked. 

Phoenix shook her head. “Not yet.” 

The glass door skidded open and all eyes turned. A tall doctor in blue scrubs looked around. “Reid Coleman?” 

You dropped your arms from where you had been holding Bradley and turned, tension filling every crevice in your body. “That’s me.” 

The doctor smiled. “Lieutenant Floyd is asking for you.” 

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[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Starrrrr, my babe! Congrats on your 100 followers, that is amazing! You are amazing! IT'S ALL SO AMAZING! Happy squirrel and fellow CCS here. My request---Bradley (because DUH, it's me!), and a fluffy “You’re beautiful, you know that right?” moment because I'm feral over the idea of this man speaking these words to me. <3

Meer, my darling! Here's the fluffy Bradley Bradshaw fic you requested! Enjoy! This "You’re beautiful, you know that right?" moment is brought to you by the 1966 Ford Bronco MT drove in his first TG:M scene! 🥰 😘

The Mechanic

Cars. You love them. You also hate that you love them as much as you do. You’d taken over your grandfather’s small auto repair shop three years ago when the stress was too much for his body. Since then, you’ve been finding grease in places grease definitely should not be while slowly building your reputation amongst the car collectors in the greater San Diego area. You’re half under a mint-green Chevrolet Bel Air when you hear a car roll up into the shop’s lot. The engine sounds pretty good and you can hear the faint strands of music pouring out of the cab before it stops. Whoever it is will talk to your Grandad first.

Despite his ailing bones, and his trust in your abilities, your Grandad had still wanted to be involved with the shop. So the two of you had compromised. You’d do the work while your Grandad ran the front of the house. That way he could still talk to your customers about their vehicles without stressing himself out by trying to move heavy car parts. And, your grandma had shared in secret a few weeks after the arrangement started, that it got him out of the house and out of her hair!

It helped too, that your Grandad still had all of his contacts in the collectible car community. They were a godsend when you were looking for rare parts. The Bel Air, for instance that you’re under? You’d needed to source and build the entire engine from scratch and restore the exterior. The beautiful car had been rusting away in an old barn for years before the owners unearthed it and decided it needed to be restored. It was finally nearly complete and the engine purred like a kitten now that you’ve gotten it all hooked up. You are completing your final checks on the undercarriage when you feel a knock against your work boot. 

You roll out from under the truck to see your Grandad and what has to be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“Hey, kiddo. This here is Bradley Bradshaw. He’s got a 1966 Ford Bronco which he’d like to get fully restored. Bradley, this is my granddaughter. She does the actual hard work around this place.”

Your eyes widen as you look at him. He’s wearing a garish Hawaiian print shirt over a white singlet, slim-fitting jeans and boots. He’s got a pair of aviators hanging from the neck and his arms are crossed against his chest, biceps bulging alluringly. He’s so clean that it has you reaching for the rag scrunched into your pocket so you can wipe as much grease from your hands as possible. 

You proffer your slightly cleaner hand at him with a sigh, introducing yourself by name this time.

“It’s nice to meet you. A ‘66 Bronco?” You whistle through your teeth at the thought. “Do you have it here with you? I’d love to take a look under the hood first. Then we can discuss what you’d like restored and how.”

“Sure. I drove it here today.” His voice is smooth and a little raspy. If you weren’t covered in grease and other unmentionable vehicle fluids you’d have swooned into his arms.

“Great! Bring it to the lift to the right. And we’ll get her hooked and take a look.” You’re smiling your best customer service smile and trying your best to hide the way you’re drooling at the sight of his ass when your Grandad elbows you.

“Kiddo. Keep your eyes on the prize. He’s a good man. But only once you’ve fixed the car. You know the first rule.” His voice is gruff and chiding as he squeezes your fingers.

“Yeah, gramps, don’t get distracted by the clients.” Your voice in turn is dismayed and small at the admonishment.

Neither of you can calm your joy when he pulls the car up to the lift, though. It’s a gorgeous machine, cobalt blue paint glistening in the late afternoon sun. 

“She’s beautiful, kiddo. Have fun!” Waving over his head, your grandfather retreats to the air conditioned office again.

“He’s right.” Your voice is reverent as you trace the sleek curves of the car. “Can I pop the hood, Bradshaw?”

At his nod, you prop the hood open, and take a look at the engine. It’s in way better repair than you would have expected. There are a few parts here and there which don’t look like originals, but on the whole, your auditory assessment from earlier holds up. This is a well taken care of car.

“Not bad, Bradshaw. Most of this engine is original?” You’re completely in mechanic mode as you grab a clipboard and start jotting down notes.

“Yeah, this car was my dad’s. He bought it before I was born and kept it in mint condition until he died. My mom took over at that point and then when I could drive, I did the same. Obviously she’s needed a couple of replacements and ‘66 Bronco parts in good condition are hard to find.” His face is soft and sad as he looks down at the engine. This car is important to him. You’re already resolved to track down as many parts as you can. And that’s what you and Bradley Bradshaw agree to; you’ll restore the Bronco and track down as many original parts as you can.

It takes you upwards of a year to finish the project. You’ve never felt so connected to a vehicle or its history. It’s become normal for Bradley Bradshaw to pop into the shop on his days off and to just hang out by the Bronco chatting with you as you and your staff work away. It’s harder and harder for you to keep your Grandad’s first rule. But you’re not distracted. You’re falling head over heels for the gorgeous, sweet, bear of a man with such an attachment to an old truck. 

Things boil to a fever pitch the day you finally fit in the final part of the car. Bradley Bradshaw has been on a ship for the better part of the past 3 months. Your chats about the Bronco have been taking place over video call and you’re not expecting to see him for two weeks. You’re just about to close the hood and start her up when you hear a voice that makes your heart skip a beat.

“That’s one beautiful car, doll.” You can feel the heat in your face at the endearment as you whip around. Sure enough, it’s Bradley Bradshaw clad in his khaki uniform.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? Want to start her up?” Your smile is soft as you see the joy in his face as you toss him the keys. He’s grinning boyish and sweetly at you as he hefts his body into the front seat and turns the key. Your breath is bated as you hear the engine turn over before it finally catches. Your gasp of relief at the purring motor is shadowed only by the whoop of pure glee that pours from his mouth.

“Doll! You did it! My dad’s car! It’s perfect!” You’re smiling too when he bounces up to you and holds his hand out. You can sense an unbridled energy coursing through his veins at the thought of taking the car for a spin. But things are quiet between you as he settles the bill in the office and you go about freeing the car from your work area. It’s not until he’s pulled out into the parking lot that you hear his voice again.

“Hey, doll! Now that I’m no longer a client, I need to tell you something.” His eyes glimmer in the sunlight as he looks at you. “You’re beautiful, you know that right? Let me take you out to dinner?”

“I’m covered in grease right now, Bradshaw! If you think I’m beautiful now, let me know what you think when I’m all cleaned up!” Your voice is teasing as he winks at you.

“I’ll think you’re absolutely beautiful no matter what. The Bronco and I will pick you up on Friday at 6 pm. No grease included. Bye, doll!”

Your smile is giddy and disbelieving as you watch the most gorgeous car you've ever worked on and its owner drive off into the sunset. Friday night is going to be a lot of fun.  

Want to request something for my 100 Follower Celebration? The guidelines are here! Please leave me a request in my inbox with your ask!

- XOXO Star

[starset21]

Sincerely, Yours

Standard disclaimer: I only own my original characters, I've done some research but there will likely be Navy/military inaccuracies, and I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under @.itswildflower Warnings: N/A Summary: Ria goes back home for an afternoon Looking for previous chapters? Sincerely, Yours Masterlist  

Chapter 4:

Ria arrived at her family’s San Diego home a little after 11 a.m. the next day. The door was opened before she could even get halfway up the driveway, her german shepherd dog was running for her, with Mari standing in the doorway. Ria grinned as she greeted her pup with lots of affection. Once he was settled she walked the rest of the way with him on her heels. “Sorry Ria, he just bolted as soon as he heard your truck door,” the thirteen-year-old told her. “It’s alright Mari, Atlas wouldn’t have gone any further than me,” she told the girl as she brought her in for a hug. “Ma, I’m home,” she called out, hanging her keys on the designated hook. Two sets of footsteps were heard coming down the stairs. Sarah Kazansky smiled as she walked into the main foyer, opening her arms for a hug. Ria obliged and wrapped her own arms around her mother and squeezed tightly. “My oldest baby is home, safe and sound,” she murmured, drawing back to look at her. Indira Kazanksy, coined Ria at a young age, the oldest Kazansky child at 29, knew how much those words meant to her family after her twin Everett or just Rhett for short was KIA. Her mother had tried so hard to convince Ria to pursue something with her engineering degree instead of aviation. Neither of the twins would listen. Their father had taken them to base one too many times when they were younger and they had both gotten bit by the aviation bug, though Rhett had gravitated towards weapons systems, much to their uncle Slider’s joy, Ria had a natural talent for piloting that both her father and Maverick did their best to nurture when she was young. She was then enveloped in a hug by 17-year-old Junior. The middle child. “Hey kiddo, how’s school?” she greeted, patting his back. “It’s good,” he told her, bending down to pat Atlas on the head. “Thanks for looking after him, Tj,” she told him. “We all know I’m his favorite, after you of course sis,” he teased. “Dad up in his office?” she asked. Her mother nodded and gave her a sad smile before heading into the kitchen while Tj and Mari went to go play some soccer in the backyard.

Atlas followed on her heels as she headed upstairs to her father’s office. She passed her room, and Mari’s before stopping at the door to the study and knocking. She heard the automated voice say come in. Tom Kazanksy was diagnosed with throat cancer 6 years ago. He had beaten it and gone into remission but it’s come back, and now it’s much more severe, leaving him in pain when he tried to speak. “Hey Dad, How’re you feeling?” she asked as she pushed the door open. Just fine, he signed. The entire Kazansky household had learned sign language as soon as it had gotten painful for Tom to speak much more than a few words the first time around with cancer so he wouldn’t have to rely on computers, phones, or notebooks to hold conversations with the family. Ria frowned. I don’t want to talk about it, he added as she took a seat in the comfortable leather chair across from him looking at the various photos on the walls like her and Rhett’s senior portraits, Junior and Mari’s school pictures, pictures of the whole family, their academy graduation, and even their wing-pinning ceremony when he pinned the wings on her chest as Slider pinned them on her twin. “Fine, what do you want to talk about?” she asked turning her attention to him fully. Atlas curled up at her feet and stared up at her with his adoring brown eyes. How’s training? “It’s fine, I got tone on Mav during the dogfighting exercises.” That’s my girl. Ria smiled but her father could see that something was weighing on her heavily. What is it? “It’s training for a suicide mission at this point Dad, and we don’t even have all the details yet. I don’t know if we’re ready for this,” she admitted. You’ll be ready when the time comes. Her dad coughed causing her to look back at him, he had stood up and walked around his desk so he was next to her, and Ria stood too causing Atlas to stand, wanting to get a few pats on the head from the older man. He coughed a few times more before clearing his throat. “I’m so proud of you Ria, you’ll get the job done and you’ll come home to us.” Water rimmed Ria���s eyes, though she didn’t allow them to fall. “You’re not supposed to be talking Dad.” Tom shook his head and opened his arms to her and she stepped into them, allowing his embrace to take her back in time to when she was little and the safest place in the world was in his arms and she then allowed a few tears to fall. He held his daughter tightly until she stopped crying then promptly signed at her to go get cleaned up and to go play some soccer with Mari, as she had been dying for some real competition. Ria offered him a wary smile and a nod before leaving his office, Atlas again at her heels.

Mari was giggling as TJ chased Ria, who had just stolen the ball from him, and ran towards her. “C’mon Mari, shoot!” She cheered as she passed the ball to the younger girl. She scored and Ria rushed over to her, picking her up and spinning her around, eliciting more giggles from the girl, Atlas barking happily as he followed them around. Meanwhile, Sarah is opening the door again. “Maverick,” Sarah greets, pulling him into a hug. Maverick glances out the back door to see Ice’s kids playing soccer and laughing, all with wide grins on their faces. That’s good, after the week they’ve had he was glad to see Ria relaxing with family. Sarah wrings her hands together. Maverick noticed and frowned. “It’s come back?” he asked. “No one knows but the family. There’s nothing else they can do. Speaking is painful,” Sarah tells him and Maverick softens. “Sarah, I’m so sorry,” he said. Sarah nods towards the staircase, “he’s upstairs.” Maverick made the trek up the stairs and he knocked as a courtesy before opening the door, hearing him coughing. “Admiral.” Ice turned to him, gesturing to the old chair that was against the wall. “How’s my wingman?” Mav asks as he takes a seat. Ice smiles before leaning over and typing. I want to talk about work. Maverick shakes his head. “Please don’t worry about me, what can I do for you?” he asks. Ice points at the screen again and Maverick chuckles. “All right,” he sighed. “Well, Rooster’s still angry with me about what I did. I thought eventually he would understand why. I hoped he’d forgive me.” Ice nodded and leaned forward typing, There’s still time. Maverick shook his head. “The mission is less than three weeks away. The kid’s not ready. None of them are.” Ice’s fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment until he typed out, Then teach them. “They don’t want what I have to give.” Ice waved him off. “Ice, please, don’t ask me to send someone else to die. Please don’t… Don’t ask me to send them. Send me,” Maverick practically begged. It’s time to let go. Maverick’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he thought about how he was going to respond. “I don’t know how.” Ice pursued his lips. Maverick sighed. “I’m not a teacher, Ice. I’m a fighter pilot. A naval aviator. It’s not what I am. It’s who I am. How do I teach that?” he asked. “And even if I could teach it, it’s not what Bradley wants. It’s not what the Navy wants. That’s why they canned me the last time. The only reason I’m here is you. If I send them on this mission, they might never come home. And if I don’t send him, he’ll never forgive me. Either way, I could lose him, forever.” The ‘It’s time to let go’ on the computer blinked at him. Maverick sighed. “I know… I know.” Ice exhaled deeply before clearing his throat with a few coughs. “The Navy needs Maverick. The kid needs Maverick. That’s why I fought for you. That’s why you’re still here,” he said hoarsely. The two men embrace. “Thank you, Ice, for everything,” he said after a moment. “One last thing. Who’s the better pilot? You or me?” Ice asks, a soft smile on his face. “This is a nice moment. Let’s not ruin it,” Maverick replies with a chuckle. 

[maryamparmansandiego]

San Diego's Top Truck Accident Attorneys Explain Common Trucking Incidents

Understanding Different Types of Truck Accidents: Legal Insights for San Diego Residents

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Original Source: https://www.avrek.com/blog/understanding-different-types-of-truck-accidents-legal-insights-for-san-diego-residents/

[trucknet]

[roosterforme]

So Fresh, So Clean | Rooster x Reader

Summary: At first, Bradley is mortified when the guys force him to stop at a carwash featuring bikini clad women from a college softball team. But when he meets you there, he starts to think he should thank his friends instead.

Warnings: Fluff and swearing

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

I wrote this for a request and for @wicked-remarks Summer Festival! Check out my masterlist for more!

"Dude, stop at In-N-Out. I'm starving," Payback whined from the passenger seat as Bradley zipped down the road in his Bronco.

"Nah, just stop at Starbucks," Jake argued from the backseat. "I need more caffeine."

"We're going to be late," Bradley groaned, passing the fifth fast food place while Payback whined and pointed out the window. 

"We told Nat we'd be there around noon," Coyote said from the back. "I mean, if we stopped for food, we could grab something for her too."

Bradley rubbed his hand over his face, wondering why he had agreed to drive all of these idiots. "Guys, if I stop, I'm only stopping once. Then straight to the beach. So decide what you want."

Then Coyote started stuttering at the same time Payback said, "Holy shit! Pull over! Pull over!" Bradley looked where Payback was pointing, and then he saw a sign that said University of San Diego Softball along with a car wash and a lot of scantily clad women.

"Fuck caffeine. We're stopping here!" Jake said, practically climbing into the front seat. "Come on, Rooster!" He started trying to grab the steering wheel, and Bradley had to smack his arm away.

"Seriously!" Bradley yelled. "Stop reaching for the steering wheel!" He slowed down as all three of his passengers started loudly begging him. "You want to look at a bunch of college girls who couldn't care less about you more than you want burgers?"

"Hell yes!" Payback sang as Bradley put his turn signal on and pulled into the parking lot where the collegiate softball team was holding a very popular looking car wash. There were so many cars lined up, and a lot of men milling around. Bradley parked next to a pickup truck and eyed the women in wet tee shirts and bathing suits while Jake pounded on the back of his seat. 

"They are practically naked! Get out so I can get out!" Jake whined.

"Chill!" Bradley said, loud enough that he had the attention of all three of them. "You guys need to be on your best behavior. I'm not kidding!"

"Look at them," Coyote said, pulling his sunglasses lower on his nose and whistling. "These girls are hot."

Bradley groaned. "Yes, I see them. And don't call them girls. They're women. And please don't touch any of them. Oh my god, I'm already so embarrassed."

"Let's go," Payback said, opening his door. "Time to flirt."

"They don't want to flirt with you," Bradley muttered. "You're thirty five."

"I dunno about that," Jake drawled, fixing his hair. "That redhead looks like she might like a daddy."

"Oh my fucking Lord, we are going to get kicked out of a fundraiser," Bradley groaned as he climbed out of his door and was nearly trampled by Jake.

"Relax man, I'm about to pay for your car to get washed," he said, shoving Bradley out of the way to get over to the redhead holding a hose. "Hey, sweetheart, my name's Jake...."

Bradley headed in the opposite direction, cradling his forehead in his hand. The last thing he wanted was to try to chat up some nineteen year old. He was almost thirty seven, for fuck's sake. But if they wanted to humiliate themselves, that was fine with him. But it didn't mean he needed to watch.

He thought he had found a nice spot to stand and wait while listening to a car stereo blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. He was out of the way of the guys who were being roped in to helping the girls wash cars now. Jake's shirt was mysteriously missing, and Payback was spraying the hose while a few of the girls screamed.  

"Grown ass men," Bradley muttered, pushing his aviators up higher on his nose.

He heard soft laughter and turned to see you standing next to him. And of course you were gorgeous. And young. And looking up at him with a smirk that he should not have found adorable. 

"Yeah, well, the deans at the college are always amazed by how much money our car wash fundraisers make every summer," you said, smiling at him. He found himself smiling back. 

"My friends almost made me wreck trying to get me to pull over, so I guess that does make sense," Bradley replied with a nod. You were the only one on the team who was still dry, and he could see the straps of your bathing suit tied above the collar of your USD Softball tee shirt. You had on some tiny denim shorts and flip flops, and Bradley bit back a groan and forced himself to look away from you. 

"Your friends look like a bit of a handful," you told him. Bradley was treated to the sight of Coyote dancing to the music in the spray of the water. 

"Just show them women in bathing suits, and this is what they turn into." You were laughing and gaping up at him, as Bradley quickly added, "They're harmless though! I promise! Your teammates have nothing to worry about! They just like to flirt."

"Teammates?" you asked, head cocked to one side.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, really trying so hard not to look directly at you. Fuck, this was getting difficult. He could tell that your bathing suit was red through your snug fitting white tee shirt, and now he was looking at your chest. He pinched the bridge of his nose over his sunglasses and rolled his shoulders, trying to focus on the dirt being rinsed off a filthy car. "Your teammates? Uh, are you a senior? Or team captain or something?"

Your laughter rang out as you said, "No, not exactly."

"Oh. Uh, what position do you play?" He knew he was rambling now. Really, he should just get out of here. 

"I used to play third base."

And now Bradley was biting his knuckle, because he was thinking about getting to third base with you, unzipping those little shorts in the backseat of his Bronco and slipping his hand inside. "Oh god," he swallowed hard. He was worse than the rest of the guys who were currently covered in soapy water and surrounded by softball players. 

"I'm their coach."

Bradley froze, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. "You're the coach? The softball coach?"

"Yeah. They're not my teammates."

Bradley turned to face you and let his eyes drift down your body and back up to your face. You did look a little older than twenty two. And that's probably why you weren't actively washing the cars. He must have been staring for too long, because you were smirking again as you held out your hand and introduced yourself. "Head coach of USD women's softball."

He took your smaller hand in his. "My name is Bradley, and I'm really hoping you're going to tell me you're like twenty eight years old?"

"I'm thirty," you said slowly, still holding his hand and looking at him with a confused smile. 

"Even better," he said, smiling happily and pulling you a little closer by your hand. "So, you played third base? Which school?"

"University of Oregon."

"Shit. You must be good."

"I'm very good," you told him, and Bradley squeezed your hand a little tighter. 

"I'll bet you are."

"Do you play?" you asked, really sizing him up now. 

"Yeah, just on a Navy rec league. But I'm very good, too."

"Bet I can guess which position you play," you told him before you bit your lip, and Bradley swore he was never going to let go of your hand. 

"Okay. Go ahead and guess."

"But...if I'm right, you owe me a drink," you said coyly.

Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "Then you better fucking get this right."

With a bright laugh, you told him, "You look like a shortstop."

"Damn. You are good."

"I'm right?" you asked, and he nodded. "You owe me a drink."

Bradley took his sunglasses off with his left hand, and your smile grew. "Listen, as soon as you told me you're not a student, I was absolutely going to ask you out. So all you did was make it easier for me."

You pressed your lips together in pleasure, and it was so adorable. "You're still holding my hand."

"I know," he confirmed with a nod. "When are you free? Tomorrow?"

You licked your lips. "I'm coaching a game tomorrow, Bradley. You know, since I'm not a student."

He smirked at the way you were sassing him before asking, "Is it home or away?"

"Home. At USD."

"You gonna invite me to watch?" he asked, and you looked so damn pleased with yourself now. 

"Would you be coming just to ogle the players?" you asked, nodding toward the soaking wet women who were now spraying the hose at Payback. "You know they wear their uniforms to the games instead of bathing suits, right?"

He narrowed his eyes and glared at you playfully. "It's much more likely that I'd be ogling their coach."

"Oh, I like that," you told him. "You can come then. And we can get that drink afterwards?"

"Absolutely," Bradley said, and he finally released your hand as he added, "Can I get your number?"

"Mmhmm." 

He retrieved his phone from his pocket, unlocked it and handed it to you. He watched you enter your contact information, and then you handed it back to him, letting your fingers linger on his. "Text me later today, and I'll send you a ticket to the game."

"Sounds good, coach. I can't wait."

You glanced to the side and then met his eyes again. "It looks like your car's done. And your friends look like an actual disaster."

Bradley groaned as he saw the three of them getting the soap hosed off so they could leave. "Yeah, let me go babysit them for the afternoon. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, you will." And then you put your hand on his chest and kissed his cheek before you turned away to help one of your players who was calling for your attention. 

Bradley tucked his phone away and watched you as he made his way toward the Bronco. You waved to him and he smiled back before turning to assess his three sopping wet friends. 

"Rooster, you idiot!" Coyote said, dripping water on the pavement. "You just stood there like a lump, man."

"We got phone numbers," Jake drawled, holding his wet phone while Bradley snorted. 

"Yeah, we did," Payback said, high fiving Jake. "And we're going to meet up with Sylvia and Taylor later tonight at a bar on their campus."

Bradley just shook his head. "Wring out your shirts and get in the Bronco. Nat's already going to kill us, I hope you know that."

"Worth it," the three of them said in unison. And while Bradley waited for them to dry off a bit, he sent you a text. 

Can't wait for tomorrow.

And right before he pulled out of the parking lot, you wrote back.

XOXO

And there was a ticket to the USD softball game for tomorrow afternoon attached. 

"Hey, what the fuck?" Jake said as Bradley drove down the road toward the beach. He had his phone to his ear as he added, "Taylor gave me a bogus phone number!"

Payback scrambled to unlock his phone, and a second later, he had it on speaker. "Oops, it looks like the person who gave you this number is not actually interested in you! Better luck next time!"

"Damn," Coyote said, completely crestfallen. "Sylvia gave us a bogus number, too."

"I spent fifty bucks to get this thing washed for nothing!" Jake complained, gesturing around the Bronco.

"I can't believe we all struck out today," Payback whined. "We should have just stopped at In-N-Out."

Bradley bit his lip and shook with silent laughter. "Yeah, you all struck out. What a shame." But he was already thinking about where he was going to take you out for a second date.

-----------------------------

The way Rooster flirts, just holy shit. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

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[robyns-writing-world]

Out and About!

howdy howdy! today was super busy, I went to San Diego with my mom so she could do a job there around 9 or 10 am and then we went to Little Italy there for lunch and gelato, when we came back home we hopped into my dad's truck to go get my new phone set up, then we got our old truck appraised, went for a snack and drinks, and then went to the store to get my new mattress and things for the week! my calves have been sore all day from walking around on my own for almost 2 hours yesterday too so today I've just been tired!

I'm writing this early since I don't know if I'm gonna pass out early or not since I can feel it creeping up on me. however! I finished setting up my new phone today so that all my apps that were on my previous phone are on my new phone now! I got logged into everything and now I don't have to stress about my phone not charging correctly! I can't wait to decide what stickers to put on it :]

my car is also fixed! at least so the mechanic says, I had to leave it in Arizona since it majorly overheated and probably would've started smoking on us if we hadn't stopped at a mechanic. I'll be going back out this weekend with my family so that we can get our old truck and my car! we'll be selling my car to my best friend's boyfriend too so that'll be nice, less cars to take back! in return my parents are getting me an electric bike or an electric scooter, that way I can still get around when I need to!

I think that's about all for today, I don't feel like rambling much since I'm tired. stay safe friend! <3

~Robyn 8/8/24

[casspurrjoybell-25]

November - Chapter 13

*Warning Adult Content*

- Cooper -

Once They were down Hurricane Ridge Road and back on Highway 101, Oliver reached over and took Cooper’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

The older man couldn't stop smiling.

All he'd ever wanted was a man in his truck, holding his hand as they drove home after a day outside.

Cooper was completely content and happier than he'd been in months.

In just a few minutes, Oliver's grip on his hand loosened and he looked over to see him asleep in the passenger's seat.

It was a long drive, so Cooper didn't blame him.

Cooper let him sleep until they pulled into his driveway and gently shook him awake when he turned off the truck.

"We're home."

Oliver sat up straighter, blinking and rubbing one hand over his forehead.

"Sorry for falling asleep. I should have stayed awake to keep you company."

"Don't worry about it. I'm used to driving for hours on my own."

Oliver followed Cooper inside and when the older man turned around after locking the door, the young man was standing right in front of him.

"Hey," Oliver says, putting his arms around Cooper’s neck.

"Thank you for today."

Oliver reaches up and kisses Cooper, his lips barely brushing the older man’s mouth.

Cooper wraps his arms all the way around his waist and nuzzled Oliver’s nose with his own.

"Always. I love hanging out with you and showing you all the best parts of my state."

Oliver kissed him again, pressing his smaller body against Cooper’s larger frame but then breaks the kiss and pulls away to yawn.

"Sorry."

"You're tired," Cooper says."And this is probably a sign that we should take things slow."

"I don't want to take things slow but slow would be the smart thing to do."

"You're not just a hook-up for me," Cooper confesses.

"If this was just about sex, there wouldn't have been this hesitation and doubting. One of us would have flat out asked the other the moment Brad was out of the picture. But I think we know there's something more here or at least I think there is," he adds, knowing his cheeks were turning pink.

"I think so too. You're someone I want to see again, after this trip ends," Oliver smiles and then kisses Cooper one more time.

"Goodnight, Cooper."

"Goodnight Oliver."

Cooper watches him trudge into the guest bedroom and then he goes into his own bedroom and gets ready to sleep.

Even though he was the only one in his bedroom, Cooper smiles the entire time.

‘Oliver liked me too. I could finally treat him like someone I was dating, instead of just as a friend.’

Cooper had only been laying down for a few minutes when he heard a knock on his bedroom door.

"Come in," Cooper called.

When Oliver cracked open the door and peeked inside, Cooper turned on one of the lamps beside his bed.

"Do you need something?"

"I know we're supposed to be taking things slow but I don't want to be alone tonight. Can I stay in here with you?" he asks, his big brown eyes imploring Cooper’s to say yes.

"Of course you can," Cooper says, scooting over in his bed and pulling the blanket back.

Oliver slides into his king-sized bed.

"Thanks. I know you probably don't want to hear this but I'm still feeling sad about Brad and I haven't slept very well since the break-up."

"It was only a few days ago," Cooper said softly.

"I don't blame you for feeling sad. I didn't expect you to get over it anytime soon."

Oliver gave the older man a small smile.

"You're helping. I'm not dwelling on it as much as I would be if I was back in San Diego."

"Good. Let me know if there's anything else I can do."

"Thanks, Cooper. You've been perfect already. I mean, a week ago I didn't even know you, but you've helped me out so much."

"I'm not perfect but I'll take the compliment."

Oliver yawned again and settled on his side of the bed, far away from Cooper, who figured he was trying to keep his distance so they could take things slow but the older man wanted him closer.

Cooper hoped he wasn't about to overstep with his next actions.

"What are you doing all the way over there?" heasked Oliver.

“Sleeping.”

Cooper holds one of his arms up, opening up a space against his chest.

"Get over here."

Oliver moved across the sheets and into Cooper’s arms, putting his head under the older man’s chin and shoving his face into his chest.

"You're okay with this?" Oliver asked, his voice muffled.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Oliver turned his head slightly.

"Brad didn't like to cuddle. He didn't sleep well if I was laying on him or even against him."

"Well, he's a weirdo. You're very cuddly and I don't know who would turn that down."

"You're the cuddly one," Oliver murmured.

"Nice and soft, like a pillow."

Cooper chuckles.

"I'm happy to be your pillow."

Oliver made a contented noise and a few seconds later, his deep, even breathing, fills the room.

Cooper get the sense that they will both sleep well tonight.

- Oliver -

Oliver woke up to something tickling his face.

Confused, he opened his eyes, trying to figure out what was going on.

He was in a strange bedroom but he quickly remembered last night.

Cooper.

It was Cooper's beard that was tickling his face.

Oliver was still laying against the other man’s side with his face beneath his chin.

He smelled slightly like soap with a hint of pine and Oliver pressed his face into his neck, gently nuzzling it.

Cooper's arms tightened around him.

"So. You’re awake," he asks, his voice rumbling in Oliver’s chest and the young man nods.

"This is really nice."

"It is," Cooper agrees, slowly rubbing Oliver’s back.

"Did you sleep any better? You seemed like you were out to it."

"I didn't wake up at all. Being next to you helped."

Oliver’s feet bumped into Cooper’s under the blanket and the young man slides his against the other man’s, happy to have contact with him in any way possible.

"You still want to go to the Quinault Rainforest today?" Cooper asks.

"Yep," Oliver says, shifting again, now trying to rotate his hips away from Cooper so he wouldn't feel him getting hard.

"But if we're going to do that, I should get out of bed. It's about to become too tempting to not leave the bed at all."

"I know what you mean," Cooper replied, a small smile on his face.

"Cuddling is about to turn into more if we don't separate."

Oliver laughed and pulled away from Cooper to sit up.

"Exactly."

After going back to the guest bedroom and taking a cold shower, Cooper and Oliver ate a quick breakfast and then set off for the Quinault Rainforest.

The drive was a little over an hour long and they listened to Cooper's CDs and Oliver took in all of the scenery.

It was so easy to be with Cooper and Oliver’s trip was going a lot better now that the younger man was with someone who was actually enthusiastic about the places they were seeing.

"What's the plan?" Oliver asks, as Cooper turned off the highway.

"I know there's a giant tree here, right?"

"A Sitka spruce. The world's biggest. Then we'll continue on the loop drive, see Merriman Falls and stop at the Maple Glade Rain Forest Trail."

"Sounds awesome. Did you and your family come here a lot too?"

Cooper nods.

"The Hoh Rainforest gets a ton of attention but I love this area. I do this drive sometimes when I'm having a rough day or need to clear my head."

Oliver reaches over and squeezed Cooper’s hand.

"I'm looking forward to it."

When we got to the parking area for the Sitka spruce and started down the trail, Cooper reached over and took Oliver’s hand, not letting go at all until they get to the tree.

It was a great feeling to have a guy want to hold your hand instead of dropping it after a few seconds like Brad would do.

Cooper's hand was big and warm and every so often, he would stroke his thumb along the back of Oliver’s hand.

Once the tree came into view, Oliver stopped in his tracks.

"Whoa. That is enormous,” he says, stepping closer.

"The roots alone are bigger than my body. They're bigger than your body."

Cooper laughs.

"Go stand up on the roots close to the trunk. I'll get your picture."

Everything they saw was incredible.

Merriman Falls was surrounded by moss and lush vegetation and the loop drive took them along the Quinault River as it twisted through the landscape.

Mountains were a constant backdrop, with low clouds drifting through the trees.

The road narrowed and turned to gravel on the north side of the river.

Ferns and moss lined the road and trees towered on both sides.

Cooper pulled the truck to the side and got a picture of Oliver standing in the middle of the road, his arms stretched wide.

Their last stop wasthe Maple Glade Rain Forest Trail and Cooper held Oliver’s hand again as they strolled along.

"This is just as impressive as the Hall of Mosses Trail in the Hoh Rainforest," Oliver says.

"It's seriously so beautiful with the moss draped over everything. I love it."

Cooper beamed.

"I'm glad you do. When most people hear the word'rainforest' they think of tropical rainforests like the Amazon. It seems like people don't think about temperate rainforests like these."

Oliver stopped on the trail and turned towards Cooper, taking both of his larger hands in his.

"Thank you for showing me this. It's perfect, especially being here with you."

Oliver leans up and kissed Cooper who wrapped his arms around the young ma’s tiny waist and kisses him back.

‘He is an amazing kisser and it would be easy to get lost in the moment but we were both conscious of being in public.’

There weren't many people on the trail but they still encountered a few families and older couples every once in a while.

Oliver couldn't help but think about what it would be like to have Cooper as a boyfriend.

The whole time they were here, Cooper had been constantly touching Oliver, whether it was a hand on his lower back or his hip or holding his hand or stealing quick kisses when no one was around.

Oliver felt valued and treasured almost and it was a great feeling.

Cooper's touches were also building anticipation for what was inevitable.

Oliver knew that when they got back to Cooper’s house, they were going to end up in bed together.

Oliver yearned to feel his bare skin against his and see what he looked like underneath the flannel.

He wanted Cooper’s muscular ass in his hands and his body on top of his.

The red pick-up came into view as they reached the end of the trail.

"Is there anything else you want to see or do or do you just want to go home?" Cooper asks.

Oliver gently squeezed the other man’s side and steps closer.

"Let's go home."

Cooper grins at him and Oliver could tell he knew exactly what he wanted.

[foodsture1]

The Best Food Truck Parks for Families

Food truck parks are an excellent alternative for families seeking out for a fun and reasonable feasting experience. With an assortment of food trucks to select from, you're beyond doubt to discover something everybody will appreciate. And with a bounty of open space, kids can run around and play while you eat.

Here are many of the most excellent nourishment truck parks for families:

The Outing in Austin, Texas, could be a prevalent spot for families. With nine distinctive food trucks, there's something for everybody. Additionally, the stop incorporates a play area, routing tables, and a canine stop. The Yard in Denver, Colorado, is another fantastic alternative for families. The stop has over 20 food trucks, as well as a larger, cultivate, a play area, and a sand volleyball court.

The San Diego, California, could be a dog-friendly truck stop with various alternatives, counting vegetarian and gluten-free options. The park, too, incorporates a play area, a sprinkle cushion, and a bocce ball court.

The Yard Milkshake Bar & food Truck Stop in Atlanta, Georgia, could be a fantastic put to require kids who cherish milkshakes. The stop has over 10 food trucks and a full-service milkshake bar. There's moreover a play area and bounty of open space for kids to run around.

The Cannery Food Truck Stop in Sacramento, California, maybe a historic stop found in a previous cannery. The halt has over 20 food trucks, as well as a larger, cultivate, a play area, and a puppy stop.

When choosing a food truck stop for your family, it's essential to consider taking after few points

The diversity of food trucks. It would be best if you formed beyond any doubt there are multiple alternatives to select from, so everybody in your family can discover something they like.

The facilities. A few food truck parks have play areas, sprinkle cushions or kid-friendly atmospheres.

The Environment. A few food truck parks are more enthusiastic and swarmed, whereas others are chilled and family-friendly. The area. If traveling with children, select a food truck stop near other attractions or exercises.

Here are a few extra tips for going to a nourishment truck stop together with your family:

Arrive early. Food truck parks can get crowded, especially at the end of the week. If you need to induce a great spot then, reach early.

Get ready to stand in the queue. Food trucks can get active, so be placed to hold up in line for your delicious cuisines.

Let your kids discover. Food truck parks are extraordinary for kids to research and run around. Fair make, beyond any doubt, they remain close and don't meander off.

Have fun! Food truck parks are an extraordinary way to spend time with your family. So chill and have quality time with your near and dear ones.

[kiasorentoinsantaana]

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