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[gigisimsonmars]

So Much Love in Oklahoma

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.

a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies

also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33

masterlist | twisters masterlist

What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.

(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)

Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.

So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.

It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.

Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.

You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.

"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.

"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"

You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.

"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.

"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.

"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."

With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.

"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"

You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.

If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.

"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.

"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."

I got you.

You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.

You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.

He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.

You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.

And then suddenly - there's nothing.

It disappears within seconds.

There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.

You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.

"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."

He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.

You don't move an inch.

You can't move.

You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.

The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.

"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."

You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.

You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.

And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.

"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.

He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.

You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.

Empty.

"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.

"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."

You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.

You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.

You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.

All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.

"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."

The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.

"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."

"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."

He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.

"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."

He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.

Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-

"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you burt out:

"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"

His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.

"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.

"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?

He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.

"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.

It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.

You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.

Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.

You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.

"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.

"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around her, where were you driving?"

Ah, right, that part.

Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.

"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."

"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.

"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."

You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?

The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.

"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.

"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."

More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.

"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.

He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.

"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.

"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."

You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.

"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."

...

A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.

You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.

"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.

"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.

"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"

He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.

God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.

"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.

"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"

...

Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.

Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.

"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."

She glances down at your bare legs.

"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.

"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.

"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.

You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.

"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.

"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."

Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).

"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."

...

Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.

Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.

In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.

You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.

"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"

"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."

She shakes her head and waves you off.

"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"

...

It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.

"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.

"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.

"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"

"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."

"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."

You have to snort at that.

"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."

...

When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.

"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.

"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.

"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.

"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."

They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".

You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.

But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.

"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.

"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."

"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.

...

The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.

A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.

You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.

"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wrangler's video from a year ago.

"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."

She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.

"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."

"Really, mom?"

You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.

"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.

...

The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.

Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.

It's Tyler.

Tyler Owens.

"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.

You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.

"Hi", you echo.

His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.

Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.

"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.

"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."

Tyler chuckles.

"Seems like a great guy."

"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."

Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.

"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.

"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.

Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.

"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.

"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."

...

Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.

You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.

"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).

He looks almost bashful for a second.

"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."

Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.

"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.

"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."

...

It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.

You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.

"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.

"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."

So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.

"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."

You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.

"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."

You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.

You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.

"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.

"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."

You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.

"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.

"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.

"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.

Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-

You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.

You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.

"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.

"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."

"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."

When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.

"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.

"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.

It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.

And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.

Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.

"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."

"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.

It lasts maybe another two minutes.

"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.

"Thanks", you mutter.

"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.

"She likes you too."

It's the truth.

Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.

"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.

"Yep", you say.

That's it for that conversation.

You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.

"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.

"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."

You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.

You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.

Right into your kiss.

Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.

And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.

[gigisimsonmars]

False Confidence: Chapter 6

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, jealousy, infidelity, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: Oops another one that ran a weee bit long 🫣

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

It’s finally Tuesday and you’ve been trying to calm your nerves all morning. You’ve been disguising it as the same infectious excitement bubbling in your classroom over the fun activities planned for this afternoon. You glance at the clock, twisting a lock of your hair around your finger absently as you wait for your students to come in from recess. You’re meant to be setting things up for the octopus stew on the patio outside your classroom and looking out onto the playground in the distance. The parent volunteers should be here anytime now. You check the pots that you’ve had boiling on a camping stove in the corner of the classroom before you start unwrapping the Tupperware you brought of hotdogs meticulously cut into small octopi. You reach for where you laid the apron you brought from home to start putting it on but your hands don’t find the fabric so you turn and come face to face with Javy.

“Javy!” You yelp in surprise and almost drop the Tupperware in your hands. He holds his hands up in mock surrender, one holding the apron you were searching for. You clutch the box to your chest as you struggle to slow your racing heart.

“Hey there, Roadie. You okay?”

“You scared me!” You say indignantly and you reach for the apron in his hands. “Now give me that,” he pulls his hand back and you frown at him. “Javy, I’m at work right now, I don’t have time for your games.”

“Easy, Beautiful, I’m just trying to help, okay?” He unfurls the apron and holds it out, spinning his finger in silent direction and you sigh before complying. He eases the apron over your head before pulling the strings taut and tying them behind you. “There you go,” he says as you turn back around. “What can I do to help?” he asks and you hand him the Tupperware.

“Open that while I stir,” you direct before you go back to the pots and open two other Tupperware full of chives and olives that you pre-sliced last night.

“Yes ma’am,” Javy says and you hear the pop of the Tupperware lid as you stir the vegetables into the two pots. “What’s with the two pots?” He asks as he comes to stand beside you.

“One’s vegetable broth for the tofu octopi,” you gesture to the last unopened box and Javy moves to open it as well. “The other is chicken stock for the traditional hotdog octopi.” You explain and Javy nods as he passes you the hotdog box and you carefully pour them into their pot.

“Huh, we never had that when I was in kindergarten. It’s cool though, so all the kids can join in.” He says and you smile to yourself as he passes you the tofu octopi. You frown down at them. “What?” he asks.

“I had to improvise a vegetarian substitute on the fly and I have a feeling they're going to fall apart in the soup.” You say, not taking your glare off the octopi in the box. Javy reaches over, placing a hand on the box and you assume he’s just doing that to take a closer look until he twists the box and you squeak in shock as the tofu octopi topple into the broth below. “JAVY!”

“Sometimes you just have to take a chance,” he says and you twist to look at him to see the ghost of a smile on his lips. “You never know if you’re accidentally going to find something amazing.” You swallow, hard and turn back to the soup, pushing one of the ladles in his direction.

“Shut up and stir. You’re on hotdog duty, I can’t have you accidentally crushing the tofu.”

“Yes, chef,” he chirps and you glare at him. “What are the odds I get to kiss the cook?” He asks, smirk widening to show his teeth and you scowl.

“Absolutely none.” You deadpan and go back to your stirring as he chuckles.

Before he can retort the door to your classroom swings open a few of the parent volunteers trickle out and you’re greeting them. A few of them start up idle small talk before one of them turns to Javy.

“I haven’t seen you around here before, whose parent are you?” one of your students’ mother asks and you don’t miss the way her eyes linger a little too long as she sizes up Javy and you feel a twist in your chest as a sour taste fills your mouth. Javy laughs a little too easily for your comfort before he shakes his head.

“No one’s, I’m Roadie’s boyfriend.” He holds out a free hand to shake hers but the mother is dumbfounded.

“No way! That’s crazy!” You flinch slightly at the blatant disbelief in her voice. She takes his hand then and you hate the way your stomach twists as her perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his and you freeze as she pulls him into a hug that lasts a little too long for your comfort, especially given the fact that you know she’s supposedly happily married. When she finally lets go the awkward moment is broken by the arrival of more parents.

“Javy Machado, you have GOT to be kidding me?!” One of the dads looks like he’s just won the lottery. “Man, I’m such a big fan, this is crazy.” Javy shakes his hand goodnaturedly while you mentally scramble to find a way to gain control of the situation. While you don’t have any issues controlling your students, their parents are a completely different beast.

“Just here to help out,” Javy says and the man just shakes his head.

“Is it like a community outreach event or something?”

“Oh no,” Javy says and he scratches the back of his neck, chagrinned. “I’m helping out my girlfriend.” He says and he steps towards you, meeting your eyes before sliding a casual arm around your shoulders as you stir. He taps your arm discreetly three times before he presses a casual kiss to your temple.

“OH.” The dad says, looking between the two of you. “That’s really cool of you man, thanks for coming out.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you glance at your watch. It’s about time for you to collect your kids so you nudge Javy gently.

“Hey, do you think you can take over? I need to grab the kids.”

“Aw, Roadie you trust me?” Javy gives you a saccharine smile and you shake your head.

“Absolutely not,” you turn away from him and call out to one of the other volunteers. “Allison, do you think you can take over here while I get the kids from recess?” She comes over and you hand her your ladle while Javy mock-pouts at you. You roll your eyes as you walk away.

***

Javy wasn’t sure what he expected when he asked to join your class today. It was more of an impulsive thought than anything else and now he has to admit he feels a little out of his depth. Between the dads whispering amongst themselves as they point at him when they think he’s not looking and the moms who keep giggling and the one who keeps blatantly flirting with him, he’s ready to go home. He stirs his pot obediently while making polite small talk with Allison. She can’t be that much older than you and she has a put-together appearance that screams PTA mom and Javy’s definitely intimidated. She doesn’t seem curious about him like the other moms, though, and he’s more than happy to just listen while she rattles on about school politics and some other woman named Felicia who was apparently supposed to be here but backed out at the last moment “like she always does.”

He’s distracted as the sound of a symphony of tiny chatter reaches his ears and he turns to see you leading a chaotic line of little kids towards him. While you always seem to be making yourself smaller when you’ve been around him and other adults, you stand tall as you lead your little group and he’s reminded of a mother duck and her little ducklings. You look positively adorable today, having traded in your usual dresses for a pair of overalls and a scarf in your hair and you’ve got the bright red apron tied over the outfit that makes Javy’s heart warm in a weirdly domestic way.

“Everyone, look who’s here!” You say in a voice that’s bright and full of energy in a way he’s never heard from you and it feels like stepping out of a building into blinding sunlight. The kids squirm excitedly from their line and he can tell their second away from descending on the group of parents. “Can we say thank you to all the lovely people who came to help us today?” You ask, and a chorus of thank yous rises from the kids. You introduce each of the parents and their kids raise their hands excitedly when you ask who they are. When you reach the end of the parents, one of the kids raises their hand and you call on them.

“Yes, Alana, what is it?”

“Ms. Roadie?” Javy’s heart melts as he hears the little girl use your nickname and judging from your expression it’s not an uncommon occurrence. “Who’s he?” She points at Javy and you follow her little finger before you smile.

“Everyone, this is Mr. Machado. He was nice enough to want to come help out today, and he’s a big fan of octopus soup. Can we all say hi to Mr. Machado?”

“Hi, Mr. Machado!” A chorus rises from your students.

“Whose daddy are you?” Alana asks and Javy doesn’t miss the strangled noise that comes out of your mouth and he fights the urge to laugh.

“I’m not anyone’s daddy, Alana. I’m Ms. Roadie’s boyfriend.” He watches twenty-four pairs of eyes widen to the size of saucers.

“Ms. Roadie, you have a boyfriend?!” One of the little boys yells at you and you blink twice before you’re back in teacher mode.

“Yes, yes I do.” You say, giving Javy an apologetic look that’s mixed with panic.

“Are you two going to get married?” A small blonde girl asks and it’s Javy’s turn to choke. You look too stunned to speak and Allison sweeps in, authoritatively clapping her hands.

“Okay, that’s enough questions, why don’t we get started with the octopus stew?” The kids are thankfully distracted enough at the thought of food that you’re both given a reprieve from the question.

***

You exchange a panicked look that you see mirrored in Javy’s eyes. You make your way over to the pots while Allison assumes control and starts leading the students back into the classroom to wait for the stew. “You okay?” He asks and you shake your head.

“This was a bad idea,” you say as you struggle to unwrap the styrofoam bowls and Javy reaches out to take them from you, tearing through the plastic with a flex of his forearm that you catch yourself staring at.

“What was a bad idea?” He asks, casually.

“You, here.” You say, unable to hide how flustered you are by the burden of your ruse and the already heavy burden of the responsibilities of your job.

“And why’s that?” He’s surprisingly calm about it.

“It’s too much. I can’t- I don’t think I can-” You blubber and almost drop the bowl you’re currently filling until Javy takes it from you and places it on the table next to you before taking both your hands in his.

“Hey, hey Meep listen to me. I need you to breathe.” You take a shaky breath and he nods, encouragingly. “There you go, that’s good. It’s going to be okay. I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to tell people here that we’re dating, I should have let you lead and just followed along. But you’ve got this.” He squeezes your hands. “You’re a great teacher and the kids clearly love you. So let's go in there and eat some octopus stew, okay?” You nod, your breathing already stabilizing. “I need to hear you say it, Beautiful.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Louder,” he urges and you frown at him.

“Okay.” You say indignantly and he smiles.

“There she is. Let’s get these bowls filled shall we?” You nod just as the dad who was talking to Javy earlier comes out to start helping shuttle bowls inside for distribution and Javy hands him the first few before he continues to help you fill them.

***

You’ve calmed down by the time the bowls have been filled and distributed and you make your way to the front of the classroom. “Alright, everyone! Now that everyone has some octopus soup, let’s be sure to be careful and blow on it because it can be very hot! But first, why don’t we show our guests what we’ve been learning this week?” The kids cheer and you reach over to pick up your phone and turn on the speaker on your desk. “Is everyone ready to sing?” The music starts and you lead your students in the song. They all sing along and by the last chorus, you realize that Javy’s singing along from where he’s posted supervising one of the tables. He catches your eye and smiles as he sings along.

After the song is done, you leave it playing on repeat as your students dig into the food and you make sure the adult volunteers each get a bowl, ending with Javy. “How is it?” you ask as you pause next to him before making your next round of the classroom.

“I mean, it’s definitely not as good as I remember, probably since it's just hotdogs and olives in chicken stock, but not bad.”

You chuckle, “Don’t forget the chives.”

“How could I ever forget the chives?” He says as he takes a comically large slurp and you bat at his arm.

“Stop that, you’re supposed to be setting a good example.” He raises a hand in surrender.

“Fine, fine,” he pauses, looking around. “Wait, Roadie where’s your bowl?”

“Oh,” you fidget nervously. “There wasn’t enough left over,” you clock his expression and rush to assure him. “It’s fine though, like you said, it’s not exactly fine dining.” You pause your rambling as Javy’s spoon stops by your lips. “J-Javy…” you stammer at his brazen action. “Javy, I can’t I’m at work.”

“Can’t or won’t?” He asks and you feel your cheeks heat. He taps your lips with the spoon.

“Javy’s you’re going to spill!” You say as carefully as you can.

“Then open up, Meep.” You glare at him as you open your mouth and he spoons the soup into it. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Meep?” He says as you swallow.

“I’m going to turn YOU into octopus stew.” You growl quietly at him and he laughs deeply as you walk away.

***

Half an hour later you’re cleaning up alongside the other volunteers as the kids head off to their actual lunch. The last of the parents say their goodbyes to you and then it’s just you and Javy as you tie off a trash bag. “Here, I’ll take that on my way out.” You look up to see Javy holding out a hand to you.”

“Oh, it’s fine, Javy, I’ve got it.” He doesn’t move, however, and that’s how Josie find the two of you when she walks in with her lunch.

“Oh, Javy! I forgot you were going to here today.” She most certainly didn’t since it had been the only thing she wanted to talk about this morning. He gives her a tight-lipped smile in response.

“Josie.” He nods curtly before turning to you, flexing his fingers in your direction in silent request for the trash bag. “I was just about to leave. Roadie give me the bag.” You’re about to protest again when Josie snatches the bag from your grip and practically throws it at Javy.

“Thanks, Javy, that’s so sweet of you.” You swallow hard at the barely disguised animosity between the two of them.

“It’s nothing.” He says tightly before turning back to you. “Roadie, I wanted to invite you to come out tonight. A group of us are going to karaoke tonight and after that rendition of Octopus Stew, you have to join.” Your cheeks flame instantly.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but he’s right. Roadie you should go.” You round on Josie with a surprised look.

“You’re not going?” You ask, and she shakes her head.

“Not on a school night, sorry hon. But the other girls will be there, you should go. They don’t bite.” It’s not the girls biting that you’re worried about but you don’t bring that up.

“Then it’s settled,” Javy says and you whip around back to him. “I’ll text you the address. We usually start getting there around 7, I’ll see you there.” You gape as he hefts the trash bag and heads at the door, turning when he gets there, giving you a wave before he disappears.

You round on Josie. “Jo!”

“Oh, don’t Jo me, Roadie, you should go! Who knows? Maybe you’ll even have fun!” Josie says as she pulls up a chair to your desk and settles down with her lunch.

“I can’t sing in front of people!” You insist as you slump into your chair across from her.

“You sing in front of people every day, hon.” She says and tilts her head at the classroom behind her.

“That’s different,” you pout and she waves her fork at you.

“So just pretend they’re your students. Imagine them as a room full of cute little kindergarteners. If it helps, I’m sure Zam has their actual baby pictures and if she doesn’t she can find them for you.” You shake your head.

“I don’t think I can do it.” You say and you hate how whiny your voice sounds.

“So don’t. No one said you have to sing anything. Just show up, and hang out with everyone. And if it’s awful? Call me and I’ll come and save you.” You go quiet and scrutinize your sandwich while Josie watches you over her pasta salad.

“Why would you do that?” You say, finally.

“Because you’re my friend and I love you?” She says nonchalantly and you pause for longer than you’re comfortable with before you nod and go back to your sandwich.

***

The karaoke place is in a nice part of town and you glare at the full set of street parking spaces in front of the bar. You hate having to parallel park as it is and now you can’t even find a spot. A sharp honk from behind you forces you to keep driving past the front and attempt to find parking as you make the world’s most convoluted loop around the block. Fifteen minutes later, you’re on the verge of tears as yet another car honks angrily at you as you continue your search for your third time around the block. You’re about to just give up and go home when your phone starts to ring and Nat’s name comes up on the screen of your car. You take a deep breath before you tap the screen to answer the call and then Nat’s voice is filling the car.

“Hey, Roadie! Javy said he invited you to come tonight and I wanted to make sure he gave you the address?”

“Y-yeah he did, I just, I’m trying to find a place to park.” You hate how defeated you sound. “Is there some kind of lot I’m supposed to know about because this is my third time around the block and I still can’t find a-” Another car honks behind you and you snap. “STOP HONKING AT ME, I’M TRYING, DAMMIT!” You snap, forgetting that Nat’s still on the line.

“Hold on Roadie, I’m coming, I’ll show you some spots that we usually try when it’s a busy night.” You struggle out an affirmative as you try not to die of embarrassment as you make another loop around and Nat waves from the sidewalk outside the bar when you make it back around. She runs over and slides into the passenger seat and your feet are on the gas, too scared of getting honked at again. Nat directs you down some side streets and lo and behold you finally find a parking spot.

“Thanks,” you murmur, still embarrassed as you climb out of the car and follow Nat back toward the bar.

“Don’t worry about it. People can be such assholes, honestly, there’s no reason to honk over nothing.” She says and gives you a comforting smile that you can’t help but return.

When you get to the bar you’re pleased to find that it’s clean, well-lit, and much nicer than you would have expected. You spot Jake, Bradley, Zam, Mickey, and a few other people you don’t recognize at a table near the back. Jake waves when he sees you and you manage a shy smile before you wave back. “Roadie!” He calls out when you get closer, “glad you could make it!”

“Thanks for having me,” you say, twisting the strap of your purse as Zam scoots over to make space for you next to her. Nat sits on your other side. There are two girls on Zam’s other side that you don’t recognize. The older one looks about your age and she reaches a hand over to you.

“Hi, Roadie! I’m Bugs, the team physician and Jake’s girlfriend. It’s so nice to finally meet you! Jake’s been talking about you, nonstop!” The other girl looks significantly younger than the rest of the group and if you didn’t know better you’d think she was a college student. She tilts her chin in greeting.

“I’m Dragon, the goalie development coach.” You give her a timid nod back. The boy sitting next to her has a sweet face behind round glasses, and he gives you a friendly wave. “I’m Bob, I’m one of the goalies.” He introduces himself and you smile slightly.

“Roadie! My main competition!” Mickey exclaims and you have to giggle at that. You and Mickey trade off on babysitting duty for the Fitch kids so you’ve crossed paths on more than one occasion. Zam laughs as well. “It’s so cool that you came out tonight! What are you thinking of singing?” You curl into yourself a little at that.

“I-I’m not sure yet.”

“You want first dibs?” Jake asks around the chicken wing he’s currently devouring and your mortification must show on your face because Bradley pipes up.

“He’s kidding, obviously.”

“You just want to go first, Bradshaw,” Jake says good-naturedly while he licks sauce off his fingers. “You wouldn’t guess it, but he’s such a microphone hog.” He says conspiratorially to you even though the whole table can hear and Bradley rolls his eyes, shoving a good-natured elbow in Jake’s direction.

“Where’s Javy?” You ask since he seems to be the only person missing that you’re aware of. Jake frowns at that.

“Good question, he said he was getting beers for everyone, but that was a while ago.” He cranes his head in the direction of the bar, but there are too many people in the way to get a clean line of sight.

“I’ll go look for him,” you offer, and Nat scoots out of the way so you can get out of the booth.

“I’ll come with you,” she says and Zam scoots out behind you as well.

“Make it three, I want cheese fries.” Bradley reaches a hand over the table to grab her wrist.

“Put it on my tab, Honey,” and Mickey makes exaggerated kissing sounds as Zam disengages her wrist from his grip with a smirk.

“I’ll think about it,” she says, sticking her tongue out at him and he frowns slightly before rolling his eyes as Zam links arms with you and drags you towards the bar. The line is long so the three of you join the end of it and still aren’t any closer to being able to see the bar or Javy. Zam squeezes your arm. “I’m so glad you came out, tonight Roadie! We never have enough girls so we’re always outnumbered. This is perfect!” You force a smile as her bubbly personality threatens to overwhelm you. Nat squeezes your other arm.

“It’s nice to have at least one other sane person here.” She says with a wink and Zam gapes at her.

“You did NOT just say that!” She says and Nat shrugs.

“The truth hurts,” and she laughs and you can’t help but join in. You hear the microphone crackle and Bradley has taken up the microphone first. Zam cheers, waving to him and he grins at her before the bar fills with the sound of Jerry Lewis’s “Great Balls of Fire.” He has a good voice and the three of you enjoy the performance as the line creeps forward. Bradley’s finished and Jake’s gone through a frankly impressive rendition of Mamma Mia by ABBA, and now Mickey’s serenading the bar with some sweet-sounding song in Spanish when the bar finally comes into view and your eyes find their target and your feet stop.

Javy’s standing by the bar, a beer in hand with not one but two model-looking girls standing on either side of them. One has a hand on his bicep and you can’t help the way your stomach drops. The other is looking him up and down like he’s a three-course meal and you feel pain lance through you as you see him return the favor.

“What the FUCK?” Zam says next to you and you realize both your companions have also spotted Javy. Nat squeezes your hand tightly but you feel numb. “I’m going to kill him!” Zam exclaims, tightening her grip on your arm.

“Not if I get there first,” Nat says in a scarily calm voice. You swallow, hard, unmoving until Zam starts to pull away, making to head towards Javy. You reach out instinctively, grabbing her arm.

“Wait, wait, Zam don’t!” You try to stop her and she rounds on you, eyes wide in surprise.

“I mean if you want to, be my guest, of course.” You shake your head.

“No, no, I-” you shake your head again. “Just leave it, Zam. It’s not worth it.” She gapes at you and even Nat looks surprised.

“Roadie, that’s your boyfriend over there flirting with not only one but TWO other women? And you want to just leave it alone?”

You swallow hard as traitorous tears threaten to rise to your eyes. “But he’s not, is he? He’s not my anything. So just leave it, and I’ll go home, it’s fine. Seriously.” She frowns at you, pulling her arm free of your grip before crossing them across her chest as she rounds on you.

“Yes, yes he IS your boyfriend. We’re at a a bar, we’re in public, full of people with cameras and social media, so yes Roadie, he’s your boyfriend and that does make this your problem.” You duck your head as your cheeks heat, ashamed.

“Hey, hey, calm down, both of you. Roadie if you don’t want to make a scene then that’s okay, we can take care of this a different way. But just know that if you do want to make one? We’ve got your back.” She gives you a grim smile and you shake your head. “Okay, now let’s be smart about this. Come with me, Zam you stay and get your fries. I’ve got this.” Nat leads you back towards the table and Bradley catches sight of the two of your first. You see his brows furrow at your grim expressions.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He calls and the others turn to look at you and Nat. “Where’s Zam?”

Nat jerks her chin back towards the bar, “she’s getting her fries. Jake we have a problem.” Jake arches a blonde eyebrow before his furrow too at Nat’s steely expression. “Javy’s probably not coming back with those beers anytime soon given that he’s busy flirting with some girls over by the bar.” Jake and Bradley’s jaws tighten at Nat’s words. “You,” Nat jabs a finger at Jake, “need to step the fuck up as a captain and his best friend, because this is unacceptable. Roadie shouldn’t have to clean up after him like he’s a fucking toddler. That wasn’t part of the agreement.” Jake nods, grimly.

“I’ll talk to him, Nat.” He turns to you next, “Roadie are you okay?” You shrug numbly.

“So get him back,” Dragon speaks up and you look over to where she’s scowling in the back of the booth.

“I-I don’t…” You stammer and she shakes her head.

“If you don’t have the words, use someone else’s.” You look confused until Mickey comes back to the table.

“Who’s up next?” He asks, holding out the microphone.

“Roadie,” Dragon says as she slides over Bugs to join you. “Come on, let’s go, Roadie.” You exchange a look with Nat and she follows you and Dragon up to the karaoke kiosk. “Remember,” Dragon says, turning to you. “If you don’t want to be yourself, you don’t have to be. Be someone braver. It helps me.” She says with a shrug and you swallow, nodding as you look through the song list.

***

You’ve started to tremble by the time you climb onto the stage on shaky legs, gripping the microphone like it’s a lifeline. You try to focus on Dragon’s words. You don’t have to be you. Right now you need to play a part, the girlfriend scorned. You think back to Zam and Nat’s righteous anger when they’d seen Javy and close your eyes to concentrate as guitar creeps through the speakers.

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, I'm beggin' of you, please don't take my man.” You open your eyes and focus on how you have a clear view of Javy and the girls. He hasn’t seen you yet and suddenly you feel a rush of power as you watch them from afar. “Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene please don't take him just because you can.” Your voice trembles but in it a way it adds to the mood of the song. It’s then that Javy finally looks up, probably due to your voice not being one of his friends’ and as you lock eyes with him the fear disappears from your mind.

“Your beauty is beyond compare with flaming locks of auburn hair with ivory skin and eyes of emerald green. Your smile is like a breath of spring, your voice is soft like summer rain and I cannot compete with you, Jolene.” You feel your body begin to sway slightly in time with the music as you watch Javy’s lips part in surprise.

“He talks about you in his sleep and there's nothin' I can do to keep from cryin' when he calls your name, Jolene.” You let a single tear that hasn’t dried from your lashes slide down your cheek. “And I can easily understand how you could easily take my man, but you don't know what he means to me, Jolene.” You give a slight shrug of your shoulders as you close your eyes again, letting yourself become the woman in the song.

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you, please don't take my man. Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene please don't take him just because you can.” When you open your eyes again, the two girls who have been flirting with Javy are following his gaze to you and you feel the edge of your lip curl into the slightest hint of a smile.

“You could have your choice of men but I could never love again.” You shake your head every so slightly. “He's the only one for me, Jolene. I had to have this talk with you. My happiness depends on you and whatever you decide to do, Jolene.” You dip your chin slightly and you glance back from the girls to Javy and even from here you can see the guilt shining in his eyes as you go into the last chorus.

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, I'm begging of you, please don't take my man. Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, please don't take him even though you can. Jolene, Jolene.” Your voice is strong now and you grip the microphone like it’s a weapon rather than a support. Applause errupst from the bar, definitely loudest coming from your party’s small table. You see Dragon wolf-whistle and you give a slight curtsy in her direction.

When you step off the stage you hand the microphone off to Zam who looks impressed. “I’m heading home for the night, I have some lesson plans that need finalizing before tomorrow, but thanks for having me.” You give everyone a polite smile and no one moves to stop you as you make your way across the bar. You’re almost to the door when a hand wraps around your upper arm.

“Roadie!” Javy’s voice catches your ear and you turn your head to meet his gaze, cooly. “Wait, listen, I can explain.”

“NO.” The words are firm and he lets go of your arm at your sharp tone. “Fuck you, Javy.” You say coldly and then you turn and walk out of the bar, trying to ignore the bite of pain in your heart as you hear the door swing shut behind you, unobstructed

A/N: Yiiiikes, Javy’s really fucked up this time… how do we think he’s going to make it up to Roadie? Also since I’m the only one who grew up with octopus soup, apparently, here’s the song.

[gigisimsonmars]

for the redditors coming here, this is how we spread news of important events in the world, with a Destiel meme

[gigisimsonmars]

Library kids are going to save the world. 📚

[gigisimsonmars]

😳

[gigisimsonmars]

All Over Me

➪the one where jake can’t resist you after proposing, so much so he declines a night at the hard deck with his friends just so he can go home to you faster.

Warnings: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, swearing, all that good stuff

Word Count: 3.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Darlin’?” Jake calls as soon as he enters the house, his body clad in his khaki uniform. He skipped out on going to the Hard Deck with the other aviators in favor of returning home to you, his newly titled fiancée, instead. He didn’t know why, but ever since you had accepted his proposal in the bed of his truck a couple weeks ago, he couldn’t get enough of you. “Where are you, baby?”

“Kitchen,” you called back, and he smirked to himself as he tossed his keys onto the shelf next to the front door before making his way down the hall. 

You were by the sink when he entered the kitchen, your hands soapy from the dishes you had just finished washing. “Hey, baby,” he grinned as he made his way over to you, biting his lip at your choice of outfit. One of his white button ups covered your top half, and he couldn’t see a trace of shorts peeking out from under it, so he assumed you just had on panties and that was it. 

“Hi,” you smiled at him when he leaned down and wrapped his arms around you from behind. Now that he had you in his arms, he could tell you weren’t wearing a bra either, and the faint impressions of your chest against the shirt had him groaning quietly. 

“Missed you so much today,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck. 

You hummed, leaning back against him. “Yeah? What about me did you miss?”

“Everything,” he answered, placing his palms flat against your stomach. “Your voice, your smile, your laugh.” 

He placed a kiss after each word, grinning at the way you bite your lip. Your face flushed in a deep blush, your body leaning back against his. Jake stroked your stomach through your shirt again, laughing at the way you turned your head away from him. 

“Mmm, missed that, too,” he rasped, leaning down to kiss behind your ear. 

You hummed, tilting your head up. “Do you like coming home to see me in your shirt?”

Jake grunted, reaching out to take your soapy hand in his. “Oh, yeah,” he said, lifting your left hand and placing a kiss to your diamond ring he forced Bradley to help him pick out. “It’s my favorite sight to come home to.” 

You laugh, pressing your back right up against his front and taking his hands in yours. He didn’t care about the soapy water that was now slipping between his fingers as you guided his hands up to your chest, a needy sound escaping your parted lips. 

Jake smirked, his hands instinctively grabbing onto your breasts through his shirt. “Are you being a tease, baby?” He asked, running his lower lip along the curve of your ear. 

“Always,”

He huffed in agreement, tightening his hold on your chest as he pulled you flush against him. “Damn right…always trying to rile me up, huh?”

You shrugged, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “Maybe I missed you, too,” you offered, pressing against his touch. 

Jake laughed, kissing along your jaw. “Yeah? Is my girl feelin’ needy?”

You press your lips together, reaching behind you to grab hold of his hair, dampening the blond strands. “When am I not?”

“Fair question,” he teased, dipping his hands lower until his fingers reached the buttons on your shirt. “You’re always needy for me, huh?”

“Always,” you whispered again, leaning further against him as he started undoing the buttons. 

His lips continue to kiss all over your neck and throat, his fingers making work on the buttons until they’re all undone. “All for me,” he mumbled, sliding his shirt off your body and letting it land on the floor. 

Once the shirt is off, he spins you around and effortlessly lifts you up and onto the counter next to the sink, his lips pressing kisses to your newly exposed skin. “Jake,” you moaned, caressing the sides of his face as you dip your head back, giving him more room. 

Jake groans, nipping marks along your neck. One of his hands reaches up to grip your jaw, angling your head so he could have better access to your neck. “I fuckin’ love the way that sounds,” he moaned, sliding his other hand up to your breast. 

Your breath hitches as his thumb and forefinger gently pinch your nipple, his lips curving upwards as you moan his name again. “Fuck…”

“I love the sounds you make, darlin’,” he hums, removing his hand from your jaw and teasing the edge of your panties. “Makes me wanna hear you scream for me.”

Whimpering, you look up at him with wide eyes, your lip caught between your teeth. You trail your hands down his chest, your fingers playing with the buttons on his uniform shirt as you lean into the touch of his wandering hand. 

“God, the things I want to do to you right now,” he muttered, his fingers slowly starting to rub you through your panties. His mouth began trailing further down, his lips wrapping around your neglected nipple as you trembled against him. “You’re so sensitive, baby.”

He pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, his fingers still rubbing teasing circles against you through the lace that covered your core. “You make me feel so good,” you whisper, tipping your head back against the cupboard. 

Jake groaned quietly, pressing a kiss to the skin below your ear and staying there as he pulled your body right against his. “I wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make for me,” he mumbled as he took your face in both hands and gave a slow roll of his hips. 

You oblige instantly, your lips parting as you let out a low moan. Jake grinned at you, leaning down to press a deep kiss to your lips - one you were all too eager to return. You whimper against his mouth as he grinds against you again, the zipper on his uniform pants rubbing you in the best way.

“God, baby,” he grunted, reaching down to wrap your legs around his waist. “You don’t understand how hard it is to not think about you when I’m at work.”

His words send warm heat waves through you, and you could feel your panties dampen further as you listen to him as best as you could. 

Jake moaned as you tugged on his hair, his eyes closing as he rolled his hips into yours again. “All I can think about is you at home waiting for me,” he continued, one of his hands slipping behind you to grip your ass. He pulls your body against his, guiding you into a slow grind. “I can’t even focus on flying because I would rather be here with you, taking you on every surface in our house.”

“Jake,” you moaned loudly, his words making you clench and pulse around nothing. 

He laughed darkly, leaning in to brush his lips against yours. “You like having me come home like like? All desperate and needy for my future wife?”

Your eyes widened as you nod quickly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing him. “Yes…yes,”

“Of course you do,” he muttered, bringing your hand to his mouth so he could admire your ring again. “You got me wrapped around your pretty fuckin’ finger, baby.” His other hand slowly trails down your body before slipping past the waistline of your panties, and his fingers find your clit instantly. 

You jolt at the sudden pressure, gripping his hair tightly as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Oh, fuck…”

“Good girl,” he praised, dipping down to kiss along your neck, licking at the salty layer of sweat that had already begun forming on your skin. He pressed his middle and ring finger to your clit, slowly circling it as he worked you up. “My pretty girl…so needy for me.”

You blushed, looking at him with barely-open eyes as you pathetically nod in agreement. “Jake, oh, my God,”

He laughed again, sliding his hand further in and slowly sinking his fingers inside you. “You always get so wet for me so quickly, darlin’,” he observed, the slick sound meeting both your ears as he began to fuck his digits in and out of you. His thumb brushed against your clit, making your leg twitch and kick the lower cabinet and your head tip back as he hummed, “Gotta get this pretty pussy ready for me…gotta stretch her out a bit.”

Your eyes rolled back as you held onto his shoulders, his pins digging into your wrist. “Jake…my fucking God, you’re so good,” 

“You’re mine,” he said back, leaning in to kiss you deeply as he fucked you hard with his fingers. He could hardly move his hand from how tightly you were clamping around him, and the feeling went right to his cock. He knew just how fucking good you felt wrapped around him, and he was aching to be buried deep inside you. “Goddamn, baby…you’re so tight.”

A loud moan left your lips as you leaned your head back against the cupboard, your back arching against the cool air that radiated throughout the dark kitchen. The only light source came from the small wall lamp that was above the sink, and it casted a shadow on you that made you look like something straight out of heaven.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, feeling the way your walls clamped down around him, the wet sound growing louder as he had to really put some muscle into working you open. “You’re taking my fingers so well, baby. Gonna take my cock just as well, too, right?”

You bite down on your kiss swollen lip and nod desperately, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “Fuck…fuck,”

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He softly mocked, curling his fingers inside you as your legs began to shake. The way you were so responsive had him growing harder and harder for you, his uniform pants getting tighter as the seconds went on. 

“Yes…” you gasped, holding onto his biceps with a death grip. “I’m so close…please, don’t stop, baby.”

He grunted against the skin of your neck, his tongue poking out to soothe the marks he left on you. “‘M not stopping, baby,” he promised, speeding up the pace of his hand and rubbing your clit harshly with his thumb. “Want you to come for me.”

Your mouth opens in a soft scream, your eyes squeezing shut as you wrap your legs around his waist. “Fuck! Jake…Jake!”

He felt his fingers get coated in your release, the slick sound echoing throughout the kitchen. “There you go, baby,” he cooed, angling his hand so he reached impossibly deeper inside you. “That’s my good girl. Come for me.”

You whimpered and your legs were shaking uncontrollably, your throat feeling raw from how loud he made you with just his hand. “Oh, my God,” you whined as you tried to control your breathing. 

Jake smirked at the state you were in, slowly withdrawing his soaked fingers from you and bringing them up to his mouth. He wordlessly cleaned any evidence of your release from them, letting out a content hum as he pulled them from between his lips. “You’re so sweet, darlin’,” he said, bracing his hands on either side of you on the counter. “You’re so gorgeous.”

You blush and bite down on your lip as your shaky fingers quickly make work of his shirt, unbuttoning it as best as you could. Jake laughed, using one hand to help you out, and the thumb of his other reached up to pull your lip from between your teeth. 

Soon the khaki colored shirt falls open, and he shrugs it off and onto the floor. Your hands quickly strip him of his white undershirt, and he let that fall to the floor as well. Your eyes rake over his chest, your gaze dark and needy. “Jake, you’re so hot,” you say, moreso to yourself. “I’m gonna have the hottest husband.” 

Jake groaned, the thought of being your husband making him grow even harder for you. “I’m not the only hot one, baby,” he murmured, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand to his abs. His own hands reached down to push your soaked panties down your legs. “Look at you, you’re a fuckin’ smoke show.” 

You grin up at him, trailing one hand lower as you unzip his pants. “Imagine what our kids will look like,” 

Jake’s breath hitched as you brought up having kids with him, and he could’ve sworn he almost came from just imagining it. Yeah, it was something he wanted one day, and he definitely wanted it with you. “Oh, baby,” he trailed off as you pushed his pants down to his knees. “Our kids will be fucking beautful, just like you.”

You whimper in appreciation, beginning to palm him through his boxers as his hands instinctively move to grip the edge of the counter to keep himself steady. “Or handsome, like their dad,” you added, pressing your hand firmly against his hardness. 

Jake tilted his head, back a low groan coming from the back of his throat. “Baby,”

“I want you,” came your hushed confession, using both hands to push his boxers down. Your mouth waters as he springs free, his cock hard and aching for you and your body. 

“I want you, too,” he huffed, trying not to show just how much of an effect you had on him as he leaned into your touch. 

You moaned, swiping your thumb across his tip. “Come here,” 

Jake moves towards you, his body settling in between your legs. He lets go of the counter and grabs your hips, pulling you right up against him until there is hardly any space left between you. 

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, leaning up to bump his nose with yours. “I need you.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, bending down to kiss you deeply. “I need you, too.”

He grabs your thigh, hiking your leg up around his hip as he runs the head of his cock along your folds. Your soft moan had him holding back from taking you right then and there, the subtle shake of your legs spurring him on. 

“Hold onto me, baby,” he quietly demanded. “I want your hands on me.”

You quickly grab onto his shoulders as he pushes you further back on the counter, coating himself in your wetness before slowly pushing into you. “Oh, fuck,” you cursed, your face scrunching up as you hold him a bit tighter.

“Goddamn, baby,” he grunted, grabbing the underside of your thigh and pulling your leg tighter around his waist. He moved his hips closer to yours, pushing deeper inside of you until you took all of him. You were stretched impossibly tight around him, your walls pulsating as your arousal allowed him to bottom out. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

Your jaw went slack as you tensed up, your body still a bit sensitive from your previous high. “Oh, my God,” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Yes…”

He slowly pulled out before burying himself back into you, the sweet sound of your core sucking him in making his head feel dizzy. “You feel so good, baby,” he groaned, looking down at the way your walls were firmly gripping him, leaving him covered in your slick. “Fuck.”

You moaned, sliding your hands up and tangling your fingers in his hair. “Fuck me,” you begged, grinding against him as best as you could. “I need you. I need my fiancé.”

Jake growled deeply, reaching down to grab hold of your hips. He gave a sharp thrust, his eyes flickering up to the way your tits bounced at the quick movement. God, if he got this worked up from just hearing you call him your fiancé, he had no idea how he was going to handle it when you called him your husband. “I’ll fuck you, sweet girl,” he promised, rolling his hips into yours and making his cock brush against every inch inside you. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

Your head fell back again and your lips parted as moans freely left your mouth. Jake kisses and sucks along the skin of your neck, fucking into you hard and fast, just the way you both craved it. He was sure he would leave fingerprints onto the smooth skin of your hips, and he knew you would proudly wear them. 

Just like how he would proudly wear the scratch marks you were leaving down his back right now, your nails digging into his skin and surely puncturing a layer or two. And he would gladly deal with all the teasing he’ll get when the guys see them in the locker room tomorrow because he knows he had a better night than they did. 

They got the same old beer and bar games, he got you. Of course he had a better night. 

“Jake,” you moaned loudly, soothing the sting from your nails as you ran your palms up his back. “I love you…I love you.”

Your words became needier with every thrust of his body against yours, your heel digging into his lower back as you stare up at him with a fucked out but fucking stunning expression. “I love you, too,” he swore, leaning into your touch as you reached up and grabbed either side of his face. “I love you so much.”

A quiet moan left your lips and you leaned in to press a kiss to his mouth. “Don’t stop, please,” you begged against his lips.

Jake let out a deep groan, his breath coming out in ragged pants as he said, “I won’t. I can’t…you feel too damn good, baby,”

“Harder,” you whine, meeting his thrusts. “Please.”

Jake grunted, wrapping his arms under your thighs. He quickened his pace, driving himself harder and faster into your sopping core, and the sound had his jaw locking as he stared down at his soaked cock. 

“Fuck,” you cried out, grabbing onto his hair again. “Yes.” 

Jake looked back up at your face, your brows furrowed and your lip caught between your teeth. “Yeah, you like that, baby? You like when I fuck you like this?”

“Yes,” you were slurring your words now. “I love it…”

He grunted again, using his thumb to rub your throbbing clit. “Yeah,” he huffed out. “You’re spoiled, baby. You get it so good, don’t you, sweet girl?”

You nod, clenching down tightly around him. “I’m gonna come, Jake…”

He let out a groan as he leaned in and pressed his sweaty forehead against yours, fucking into you faster than before as he pinched and rubbed your clit. “That’s it, baby. Give it to me…come for me,”

Your hands pulled harder at his hair as you squeezed your eyes shut, your body shaking as you came around him. “Oh, fuck…fuck!”

Your moans, combined with the way you clenched around him, had Jake coming not long after you, his hips faltering as he buried himself deep inside you one last time before pulling out. You whimpered as he used his fingers to push his seed back inside you, your eyes dark and your lips swollen. “You’re so good, darlin’,” he rasped as he pressed kisses along your shoulder. “So damn good.”

A laugh leaves your lips as you loosen your legs from around his waist, instead pulling him closer by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I’m so happy you’re home,” you whispered in his ear. “And I’m so happy I waited to have a shower…you’ve got me all hot and sweaty.”

Jake grinned, lifting you from the counter effortlessly and carrying you towards the bedroom. “Just the way I like you,”

[gigisimsonmars]

yes

do you ever meet a really cool girl and hope she’s gay? not even to date her but as a service to the community 

[gigisimsonmars]

Hilda by Duane Bryers

[gigisimsonmars]

I can never tell which of my posts are going to explode (it is never ones I put work in) but I pray to God this one does

The past few weeks I have seen an explosion in doomerism and defeatism about Trump. Some people seem to have just decided to call the election for him for reasons that don't even make much sense

(He was almost shot and that always helps! Look at Reagan and Teddy Roosevelt! Reagan was already president and incredibly popular, and the shooting happened 2 months into his first term; Roosevelt was shot when he was campaigning in 1912....in an election he lost)

Trump has never been popular, he has never won the popular vote, and he has never had popular support. For the past 3 years, especially post Roe V. Wade, Democrats have increasingly overperformed especially in special elections. There were so many polls predicting 2022 would be a Red Wave, that turned out to be false due to faulty and biased polling. I'm not saying a Dem loss is impossible, but it is a lot less of a sure thing than the doomsayers are making it out to be

How does Trump win? Apathy. Despair. Low Turn Out. While many of the "Trump is guaranteed to win" posters I'm sure are real people who are justifiably scared, I think we underestimate just how many are people at home and abroad, who want a lower turnout, who want Trump to win.

I used to hear a joke growing up that "If voting did anything, they would make it illegal" Well considering how hard Republicans are trying to discourage voting and making it hard to do, it must do something.

Don't despair. Don't panic. Don't retreat. ACT

So what can you do?

Are you registered to vote? 🗳

You can register to vote here! ☑️

Do you know what/ who will be on your ballot? 📄

Do you know your state voting requirements? 📥

Do you know your polling location? 📍

Can you vote early? 🖊

Can you vote by mail? 📬

Do you need disability services for voting? ♿️

Do you need to know your voter’s rights? 🧑🏽‍⚖️

Do you need a ride to register/ vote?

Spread this far and wide. Tell your friends and your family. Make clear to them what is at stake if Trump wins.

Additionally, here are two volunteer organizations that I help out with

Vote Forward - write letters to encourage turnout

Working Family's Party - an organization working to help progressives win in primaries and general elections. I particularly like working in their text bank program. Want to help in a phone bank but don't like talking on the phone? this is perfect as you send texts to encourage support and voting

Spread this far and wide. Tell your friends and your family. Make clear to them what is at stake if Trump wins. Feel free to add other resources and organizations that

[gigisimsonmars]

Covering the Classics Part 19 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Bob is away, Anna can feel his absence everywhere. But nothing beats a perfect reunion. 

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of smut, 18+

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Months later....

Sitting in the coffee shop alone after visiting so many times with Bob truly made Anna sad. She was so used to sipping her coffee while he drank his hot tea, and somehow the scent always clung to his hair for hours afterwards. She'd bury her nose against him when they got home, and he would laugh when she told him he always smelled good.

But now he was gone, and she couldn't do anything about it. She accidentally burned her mouth on her coffee, and after that it tasted disgusting. She got herself a croissant, but they were better when shared. Tears stung her eyes, and she had to take a deep breath and convince herself that it would be over soon. Then she focused her attention on her computer as she worked through some more of the changes she wanted to make to her manuscript.

After three more paragraphs, it was no use. It wasn't even ten o'clock in the morning yet, but she gave up and switched to the notes app on her phone where she had been adding ideas for Jessica's bridal shower and bachelorette party. Physics jokes about the laws of attraction? Designer lingerie shop in LA? Can you make a math equation that looks like a penis?

She would defer to Advanced Calculus for that last item. With a sigh, she was about to close her computer, buy another croissant for Suzanne, and then head out when she saw a new email notification.

"No way," she gasped as she tapped on it and stared at her computer screen.

Sky Writing has posted a new, original work! Click the link below to check out the subscriber that you follow!

Anna's heart started pounding erratically, and her fingertips felt numb. Anticipation and confusion mingled together as she opened the link. It was difficult to read as she tried to take a deep breath, but she wanted to consume Bob's words as quickly as possible.

I can see the dusky outline on the horizon,

But the California coastline isn't enough.

I need to be at home.

I need my bookshelf.

I need my books.

I need your books.

I need my Anna.

I need to see you in the next two minutes,

Because twelve weeks is way too long.

"The next two minutes?" Anna mumbled to herself as she read the last lines over again. "Two minutes?" She was out of her seat immediately, neck craning around the crowded coffee shop, looking in every direction. And that's when she saw him stroll inside in his khaki uniform and silver glasses with the most handsome smile on his face.

"Bob!" she cried out, nearly tripping over her chair as she left her stuff behind to get to him as quickly as she could. He was home. He was home early from his deployment. Communication had been a little spotty, and there was so much she wanted to tell him, but he was finally home.

"Anna," he murmured as she threw herself at him, knocking the wind out of her own lungs. His arms were wrapped around her as soon as her lips met his, and she didn't care if there was a whole shop of people watching them. He was finally home. Somehow he still tasted like tea, and he smelled so good, she buried her nose against his neck as he chuckled.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, kissing him just above his shirt collar.

"Jess told me," he replied easily.

She kissed her way up to his ear as he started to slowly walk her backwards to the small table where she'd been sitting. "Why didn't you call me? I could have picked you up. I missed you so much."

"I just wanted to surprise you," he whispered, claiming her lips again as they stood next to the table.

She looked up at his pretty eyes and said, "This is a wonderful surprise. And I have one of my own."

"What is it?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing the freckles along her cheek and chin as she grinned up at him.

"I'm divorced."

His eyes went wide, and a sound of pure excitement escaped him as he scooped her up into his arms. "You're divorced?"

Anna laughed as she told him, "Finalized ten days ago. Fuck Kevin."

"You drove my truck here? Let's go," Bob said, immediately carrying her toward the exit.

"Wait, I need my stuff!"

"Oh. Right," he replied, suddenly very flustered as he helped her shove her computer and phone into her bag.

"I was planning to get a croissant or something to take to Suzanne," she said as he practically dragged her outside and down the street to his truck.

"Well, I was planning on taking you back to the bookstore to pick out something we could read together tonight, but this is even more important."

Anna ended up with her back pressed against the side of the truck while he unlocked the door, and she pressed her lips to his Adam's apple while she tried to hold onto her bag. She wanted to taste him everywhere. "Going right home actually sounds like a pretty good idea."

"That's exactly where we're going," he promised, tossing her stuff onto the seat before helping her in as well. The six seconds when he was walking around the truck and she couldn't touch him were miserable, but soon enough, he was kissing her while he started the engine. Then she had her fingers wrapped up with his while he started to drive. "I love you, Anna." He kept his eyes on the road as he made his way through Coronado, and she felt warmer than she had in twelve weeks. "I love you, and I would never pressure you to do anything you didn't want to do."

She turned to look at his handsome profile. "I know you wouldn't. That's why I love you so much."

She watched as he swallowed hard before saying, "I know we talked about our future, but it was always kind of ambiguous while we waited for your divorce decree."

"It's not ambiguous anymore!" Anna cheered as they neared his house where she had been living for months. "I'm ready for the future. The future is here. The future is now."

She was all smiles as he parked the truck with an anxious look in his eyes. "You told me you wanted me forever," he whispered, and Anna couldn't figure out why he looked so nervous. 

"Of course I want you forever," she told him once again. She'd made it as clear as she could that she was done running. Kevin and New Jersey and everything that could have broken her but didn't were all left in the past. She was moving on a little bit more every day with Bob and her best friends and her tenure track teaching position at San Diego State. She was unashamedly taking excellent care of herself, and she never stopped Bob when he told her she needed to take a break and that he'd handle something for her. She wasn't going anywhere ever again.

"I want you forever, too. And we can go slow, or we can go fast. Or you can tell me you don't want what I have to give you, and that's okay too."

"What?" she asked, her heart sinking in her chest as he parked and climbed out. She wanted everything Bob had to give, and she wanted to give him everything, too. They even talked about getting married someday after he initially got over his nerves enough to bring up the topic. She had assured him that he was exactly the only person she would do that with after her disastrous first marriage. Why would he think she didn't want what he had to give?

"Bob?" she asked as she climbed out as well and met him on the sidewalk. "Why do you look so concerned?" He didn't respond. He only led her up to the porch and unlocked the door. "Bob!" she complained when he scooped her up and carried her up the stairs, going two at a time until his breath was coming in shorter gasps. Instead of turning toward their bedroom like she expected, he went into the guest room and dropped her onto the futon.

She rarely came in here. It was almost funny that Bob planned on sleeping in this room when he insisted Anna come home with him after Kevin figured out where she lived. And now he was on his hands and knees, crawling under the futon as she asked, "What in the world are you doing?"

He hit his head and grunted in response, but a second later, he emerged with his hair all messed up and something in his hand. "I got you a ring."

"A ring?" she asked, realizing he was holding a small box. A jewelry box. She looked at him where he was kneeling in front of her, cheeks turning pink. "What kind of ring?" she whispered, hopeful yet needing to be sure.

Bob snapped the box open, and all Anna could see was a beautiful diamond. "An engagement ring. But only if you want it. I know you probably need more time. I don't even need an answer right now, I promise," he told her earnestly as she scooted a little closer to him. "You were still married two weeks ago, but I wanted to give it to you now anyway. You can wear it or not wear it. We can wait a while if you want. I just... wanted you to know it's all yours. I'm all yours."

She hadn't worn the rings from Kevin in over a year and a half. She pawned them with no remorse before she left for California. "It has been a very long time since I was really married, Bob." She took the box from his hand and looked at the ring. She couldn't stop smiling, and the tears in her eyes made the diamond look all blurry as she asked, "Do you really want to marry me? I'm a mess."

He grinned at her. "You're really not, Baby. You're smart and beautiful and funny and kind. You're a fighter. Of course I want to marry you."

Without another word, Anna took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. She'd known Bob long enough to be sure that his words were honest. She was willing to throw it all in on Sky Writing. "We can take our time," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him. "There's no need to rush. But I definitely want to wear this ring."

They made a long, luxurious stop in their bed where Anna almost lost her voice from the number of times she called out Bob's name, and then he made her lunch before the two of them made their way to the living room bookshelf. 

"We didn't make it to the bookstore to pick out anything new to read," she mused, brushing all of the colorful spines with her fingers.

"Maybe we could read the first book you ever recommended for me. Together this time," he replied, his hands settling on her hips as his chin rested on her shoulder. 

Anna smiled as she reached for A Room With a View, remembering so well the day she started to fall in love with Bob Floyd. The book still looked practically brand new even though he'd already read it, and she grinned as she said, "I can't wait to dog ear all your pages."

"I will gladly let you."

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

The End! Thank you for reading another adventure in the Sugarverse! I hope you learned that even when you're a mess and barely holding it together, you're still worthy of friendship and love. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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Set Me Alight: Part 10 - Mount Everest

📜All I'm saying for this one is... Natasha had it coming...

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Angst, Yelling, Verbal arguments and fights, standing up for friends, Minor Bob Floyd x Original Female Character, Minor Mickey Garica x Orginal Female Character, Third Person POV, Privacy invasion, Angst, Grace and Cora are done with the BS, missing persons, mentions of a parent passing away from cancer, panic, and bullying.

Thank you, @sarahsmi13s and @tgmreader, for beta-reading this before I posted! I felt the pressure on this one!!!

#6.5k

Part 9 | Masterlist | Part 11

*Grace*

Grace didn't live up to her namesake when she found Mickey and Cora. The couple was lurking near the entrance to the waterfall, wondering what the hell was going on. Grace ran to them rapidly, panic seizing near breaking heart.

"Jake and Maeve are in trouble," she cried as she grabbed Cora's wrist.

Neither Cora nor Mickey said a word, willingly letting Grace drag them away towards the rocky slope. Once they reached the base, Cora finally asked her what she had meant. But Grace paid her no mind, already starting to march up that ridge, rocks and mud be damned.

Unknown to her, Grace hadn't realized she had been openly crying at this point. But it had roused the attention of the rest of the group, who had scattered in the aftermath of the failed proposal. One by one, they shot off from wherever they had been, hoping to figure out why she had suddenly started crying.

Or, for some, relishing in whatever drama was currently unfolding

Grace ditched Cora’s wrist halfway up, instinct pressuring her to let go to get there faster. She nearly slipped in the mud because of it, not that she cared.

Maeve needed someone. Nothing else mattered.

But once Grace reached the top of that ridge, half expecting to find her boyfriend, she let out a haunting cry instead.

She wasn’t there. Jake wasn’t there. And neither was Bob.

She cried out his name. Once and twice, down the riverbank and off into the thick bush. All three of them could have been further off, but to Grace, it only affirmed that something had happened. Mickey and Cora kept trying to get her to explain, but Grace didn’t notice. Her concern for Maeve and Jake morphed into desperate concern for Bob, wondering if he had succumbed to the same fate. 

And it was then Grace sucked in a sharp, desperate breath. She was alone in a group that wouldn’t stand up for Maeve when it mattered. Would they believe her when she thought something had happened to her? To Jake? 

There was also the little fact Natasha had been the only one to come back down from this hill. Grace didn’t think she could bring herself to harm Maeve physically, but after her failed proposal, who's to say she was incapable of holding back her anger? 

Whose to say Maeve tried to apologize, and Natasha shoved it back in her face? Whose to say Natasha was planning to do the same thing to the poor girl she fucked over in her first year of college? 

Everyone made it to the top of the ridge, forming a circle around Grace. Bradley, Javy, and Rueben were the first to follow. They instantly asked Mickey and Cora what was happening, though they had no idea and relied only on what Grace had told them. Then Veronica, Jessica, and Natasha joined, though they remained silent, watching Grace try to count her breath.

Grace’s eyes searched the faces of those who stood around her. To say any single person in the group would believe her if she told them, Grace was almost sure they wouldn’t. At least, not without the weight of Bob’s voice. Ironically, maybe even Jake’s, if he wasn’t missing. 

And even then, with the knowledge she had now, she wasn’t sure anyone would go against Natasha for fear of history repeating itself. 

Standing in the centre of this horrible group, Grace realized she was alone, facing the possibility that she might have to do what she had mentioned to Bob after all. And she wondered if, without him here, she lacked the faith and courage to do so. 

She’d have to do it alone. And Grace was utterly terrified of the fact. 

Bradley stepped forward, reached for her elbow, and asked softly, "Grace, what the hell is going on?"

It was the worst possible thing Bradley could have done.

Grace whipped around violently, yanking her arm from his grasp, spitting out harshly, "Wow, now you all fucking care what's going on!"

Bradley jumped back, his hands in the air like Grace was wielding a gun, finger poised on the trigger. He was horrified - as was everyone else. Grace Mitchell was swearing for the first time they had all known her - Bradley included. And he couldn't help but shudder like ice had shot up his spine.

Never in a million years did he imagine this - his childhood friend, practically his adoptive sister - raising her voice and cussing him out, making him feel unusually vulnerable, like a child who had scraped their knee on the sidewalk.

One person was undeterred by Grace’s reaction. She calmly stepped forward in front of Bradley, softly reaching for Grace's cheeks with both hands. Framing her face, Grace could see nothing but a pair of sheer ice-blue eyes staring back at her. And for a moment, Grace finally felt like she could breathe.

Because Cora Kazansky's eyes had a softness to them that only Grace could perceive.

"Grace?" she asked softly.

Grace whimpered, uncaring who was around her. "They aren't here. He's not here. It's too quiet, Cora. Jake and Maeve should be tearing into one another, but they aren't... and... and..."

She had to take a pause, sucking in another deep breath before she choked over her vocal cords. " Somebody saw them, and Nat came up here, but only Nat came back down... so Bob went up, and now..."

Cora interrupted her before she could continue rambling, flexing her hands and shaking Grace's head slightly. "It's okay, Grace. We will find them. We won't leave this park until we do."

Grace laughed softly in her head. It was such an optimistic thing to say. It wouldn’t be that easy. 

And as if to prove her entire point to Bob and the whole reason she panicked in the first place, Natasha's voice and words followed like clockwork. “She walked off upset when I last saw her, back here, towards the falls. I’m sure she’s okay, Grace.”

“What about Jake?” Mickey suddenly asked. “Where is he then?”

Bradley scratched the back of his head. “He ah… might have tried to go after Maeve.”

All eyes shot to Bradley. “What?” he shrugged. “He found me after… and apologized. He’s been trying to work on fixing things with Maeve… I might have encouraged him to go find her.”

"You forgave him for that?" Natasha's voice was sharp.

Bradley squinted his eyes at her. "Why wouldn't I? He apologized. And meant it." 

Something appeared in Natasha's eyes that made Grace's stomach uneasy. Even as they narrowed and Natasha pressed her lips into a fine line, Grace couldn't help but wonder if Bradley had unknowingly struck a nerve.

"So Jake is likely with Maeve?” Cora asked, then turned to face Grace. “And they are in trouble.”

Grace nodded. "Think about it, Cora. The way those two have always gone at it? We'd hear them." 

Cora's brow furrowed. She couldn't deny Grace was right. 

“Oh, come on, Grace. We all know Maeve is a bit… Melodramatic…” Natasha remarked. “They are probably off in the forest shitting on each other, and sooner than later, they’ll come back with their tails between their legs.” 

Jessica and Veronica laughed, and Grace couldn’t hide how she stiffened. But Cora… Cora looked like she was actively struggling to hold back her anger. And Grace knew, at that moment, she should never have assumed she had been alone in the first place. 

“Melodramatic?” Cora hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “Are you seriously shitting me right now? Do you even know why you followed Grace up onto this ridge? Were you just going to stand around and make nasty ass comments about her? Or were you waiting for the right moment to ask what the fuck happened to your supposed best friend? What happened to Jake? Even Bob ?” 

Bradley watched Natasha anxiously for her reply, wondering why Natasha seemed so eager to dismiss her best friend. Looking at the bigger picture, if something did happen to Maeve and Jake, the proposal didn’t matter. He could always try again. 

Grace stepped forward, silently taking Cora’s hand in support. Cora’s grip could have rivalled her own, nearby bent on cutting off her circulation. Her voice was steady and cold when she said, “You were the only one to come down from this hill. Maeve didn't. Jake didn't either. Who's to say you didn't do something to her, huh?!"

Natasha shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her jaw clenching tightly. She called out defensively, “I didn’t do shit to her! I told her how her actions made me feel! She stormed off and told me she didn’t want to see me again!"

Grace scoffed, murmuring to herself under her breath. "That’s debatable."

There was a pause. Natasha opened her mouth, firmly stating, "I’m probably right! She’s on a walk, stewing over what she did. She’ll come back. She always does!"

That was Grace's breaking point. The cry crawled its way out of her throat, the gut-wrenching, frustrated sound making her curl her spine and tilt her head back with force as if she had been possessed. The desperate shout reverberated against the trees, the ground, and the stones, a disturbance more profound than anything else the forest had encountered that afternoon.

And it had encountered more than its fair share already.

Her voice croaked into silence, only for her eyes to single out the person she had deemed responsible for this entire fucking mess. Even Jessica and Veronica had the decency to step back from her target, leaving Natasha alone to face the wrath of Grace's upcoming remarks.

"You are a shitty ass friend, Natasha Trace!"

And like a stack of lined-up dominoes, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, Reuben, and Javy stiffened hard.

"I'm not a shitty friend!" She gasped. Grace was even more pissed off at Natasha's reaction, looking confused and upset over why she'd ever say such a thing in the first place. She didn't even let Natasha speak before the following words flew out of her mouth. "Nobody talks about it! Nobody dares utter a word about how you treat her, use her, walk over her?"

"Grace..." Bradley cautioned. The fallout over this would be massive, and even if they didn’t have all the facts, Bradley knew no matter what, there was no going back to the way things had been. While he had questioned Natasha's treatment of Maeve, this was neither the time nor place to handle this.

But Grace was too far gone to care about hurting her childhood friend’s feelings. She whipped up her hand, a single pointed finger shoved at eye level between them. Bradley shut up, though fear coursed through his stomach at the realization Grace would not let this go.

"Why the hell would you treat your supposed best friend the way you have?" Grace roared. "Why would you force two people together who hate each other all to watch you get engaged?! Why wouldn’t you tell her Jake was coming along?!”

There was a stunned silence that pressed down on everyone like a heavyweight. Natasha’s eyes widened, and her mouth still opened and closed like a fish to form words, though no sound came out.

“I’ve kept my mouth shut for too long because Bob asked me, but I can’t. I just fucking can’t anymore.”

Mickey stepped forward, his hands reaching out towards Grace. “Grace, you should…”

“No!” she shouted. “This needs to be said! Who the fuck cares what happens in the aftermath!”

Natasha finally found her voice, but it was weak and trembling. Grace, in her fury, couldn't tell if she was being sincere. "I thought they could handle it and figure their shit out for this. I thought this mattered enough..."

Grace recognizes what Natasha left out instantly. ' *I thought they could figure out their shit for me.'*

“You thought they could figure out their shit for you? Of course, your engagement mattered!" Grace shot back. "Why do you think they agreed to come along in the fucking first place? Why do you believe Maeve agreed, even knowing she’d forcibly be spending a week out here with Jake? You mattered to her, and you know it!” 

Natasha's face crumpled, tears welling up in her eyes. “They ruined everything! They couldn't shut up for one day or a week and just be civil! They had to make it all about them!"

Grace didn't soften; she couldn't. Not after all the times she stood by and kept her mouth shut. “What did you expect, Natasha? You forced them together, knowing they hate each other. You punished Maeve for surviving in the only way she knew how. And you never once tried hard enough to figure out what the hell happened between those two?!” 

Grace’s breath hitched as she tried to steady herself. 

“A good friend would have ensured she felt safe coming out here! A good friend would have grabbed Jake by the ear and laid into him! A good friend would have helped her try to work through her feelings. A good friend wouldn’t sit back and watch the chaos ensue when they have two hands and a heart to shoulder the burden! A good friend would say fuck the chaos! I'll burn in those flames with you!"

Natasha cried out. “What about me? Don’t I deserve to be happy too?!” 

Grace’s entire body shook with a mix of rage and anguish, her voice raw and piercing once more as she screamed, “It’s not always about you!” 

The intensity of her words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and unyielding. But Grace pushed on. 

"Maeve has been drowning the entire trip, drowning between making sure you saw none of her struggles and handling Jake. You've been too busy with twit one and two to realize it!"

"Wow, thanks, Grace," one of them barked.

Grace didn't look at them when she spat, "Trust me, I'm not losing sleep over the loss of the two of you."

The group fell silent, and no one dared to interrupt Grace as she continued. Natasha's eyes darted around, looking for support, but found only cold, unyielding stares.

 "Maeve never said a damn thing about what happened between her and Jake to you. How would she rather endure someone she hates for your friendship than tell you why? Did you ever stop for one second and wonder why?!”

 Natasha swallowed hard, her throat working visibly as she tried to push down the lump.

"You weren't the one who held her hand when Jake challenged her, or who heard her crying in her sleep in the tent beside her, or who offered to get someone to bandage her wrist after she got hurt!"

Mickey kicked a rock beside his foot, the stone skittering on the hard ground. "I can't even take credit for that," he said.

"Mick..." Cora warned gently. "Now isn't..."

"What?" he shrugged. "I can't. Jake asked me to check her wrist. I didn't even think to, and you didn't either."

Cora dropped her chin to her chest. "You didn't, Cora," he stressed before turning to the whole group. "None of us did. And the one person who did ask, Maeve, doesn't get along with him. What does that say about us?"

He turned towards Nat. "What does that say about her supposed best friend?"

Everyone shuffled uncomfortably, eyes darting to the ground or finding sudden interest in the surrounding trees. No one wanted to be the first to break the following silence, heavy with unspoken thoughts and fears. The shared belief resonated through the group that everything would be worse if they did.

A panicked shout of Grace's name took care of that for them, startling them all.

Bob tore from the bushes, half covered in spiky burs and small pieces of broken wood. He was panting hard, his arms bleeding with scratches and mud, and his legs not faring much better.

Grace cried out his name the second she saw him, bolting from where she stood, nearly tripping in relief. She slammed herself into his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him, ensuring not a single inch was between them.

Bob returned her hug, shushing comforting words into her hair. “I’m here, Grace. I’m okay. I’m fine.” 

He wrapped a single arm around her body, looped up above her shoulder but down below her opposite arm, mindful of the mud and his wounds. Not that anyone noticed his injured state.

Everyone was too busy staring at his other hand, hanging lowly at his side, for Maeve’s map was tightly in his grasp, covered in dirt, damp, and practically ripped to shreds.

Mickey was closest, reaching for it only to hold the pieces with dangling fingers. The battered pieces of paper turned in his grasp, revealing three single gaping lines through the centre. It spun a few times before he declared, "These were made with claw marks."

"Claw marks?!" Bradley exclaimed, urged by Mickey's statement to rush forward. But inspecting the marks and the threads barely holding it together, he was horrified to see something else marking the page.

As soon as he had taken those steps closer, he stumbled back with a gasp. "That's a bear's footprint."

"A bear?!" Jessica and Veronica's voices overlapped, the shrieking making Cora and Grace roll their eyes.

Releasing Grace, Bob took the map back from Mickey, turning over to find what Bradley had seen. Nestled in the corner, streaked with mud and at the end of the claw marks, a collection of oblong and rounded marks, with the largest pad imprint dominating the centre only to extend beyond the page.

Bob saw bear tracks when he reached the end of Maeve and Jake's trail, the two of them having chased each other off into the dense forest. He hadn't thought much of it. Not until he saw the mud-stained rocks and the map six inches deep in the mud. He had panicked, grabbed the piece of paper and tore back through the bush, each step filling him with dread.

"Where did you..."

"There was a cliff just off the break in the treeline," Bob offered to Bradley.

"A cliff?" Bradley asked, his eyes wide. Bob could only nod in reply, his Adam's apple rolling in his throat as he swallowed.

"Did you .... look?" Mickey asked with caution. “Was there…”

Bob nodded and then shook his head, offering a quiet "They weren't there."

If anyone had let out a sigh of relief, nobody heard it. As if a gunshot had gone off to signal the start of a race, voices immediately launched into different explanations of what could have possibly happened. 

Someone shouted Maeve lost the map. 

Jake was elsewhere and coming back. 

Both of them got lost. Separately. Or together. 

Either one was on a walk. 

The bear came around long after they had been there.

If someone could say it, it was said aloud. The only thing anyone refused to entertain was the possibility of either one ending up dead. 

Grace and Bob remained quiet, hand in hand amongst the competing voices. Bradley was hurling something at Jessica. Mickey was hurling something at Veronica. Even Cora was fueling the fire by trying to get Natasha to admit she didn’t care about what happened to Maeve. 

One thing was obvious, though - they already believed they were right. No new information or confirmation from Bob, who found evidence of their whereabouts, would have been enough to stop them. Their need to be right had long won out over why they had been arguing in the first place.

Grace wondered if this was how Maeve felt and why she hadn’t told anyone about Jake. Given the chance, they probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.

There was a pause in the fighting, and somebody gave a high-pitched scoff. Everyone turned towards the sound and faced the brunette standing next to Natasha. Cora and Grace closed their eyes, almost bracing for whatever vapid comment would come hurling out her mouth next. 

Nothing could have prepared Grace for the reality of it, though. Jessica flicked one of her manicured nails off the other, seemingly sending a speck of dirt into the air. 

“Is no one going to point out the obvious? She probably ran off just to get attention, expecting Jake to chase after her. It's no coincidence she's named after a fly—always buzzing around him, thinking their ridiculous love-hate game will make him fall for her. Honestly, it's pathetic."

Grace’s hand tightened into a fist, her knuckles cracking under the force. Already on thin ice and running off embers, she was ready to throw that first punch despite knowing she shouldn’t. She opened her mouth, lips poised around the words ‘You bitch’ as she swung her hand back, ready to strike. 

But Cora, ever so calmly, stopped her. Grabbing Grace’s elbows from behind, she pulled her off her path. The words stalled on Grace's lips as she was tugged behind Cora's body, her friend already taking her place.

Where Grace had stepped forward in a fury, Cora’s attempt was more reserved, though no less scary. She slithered forward like a snake; her head tilted at such an angle that it looked like she was stalking her prey. Her blue eyes, wide and clear, never blinked or twitched, serving as what would have been poisonous teeth primed to strike. And with her hands carefully held behind her back, it was clear Cora had no intentions of holding back whatever truthful venom needed to be shared.

She didn’t even try to hide the hatred in her voice. "What the fuck is your point? Why the hell would you need to say that out loud or in general? Hmm?"

Not expecting the sudden calm, aggressive onslaught, Jessica stumbled back two steps, her back hitting a thorny bush. She squealed the sharp prick of the thorns against her skin through her thin shirt, making her jump forward and right back into Cora's path.

Something clattered to the ground, and both girls followed the sound. Jessica's bright pink phone lay upright in the dirt, the screen black except for a bright red dot and a counter slowly ticking away the seconds on opposing ends of the screen. When Cora lifted her head, eyes wide with wild fury, Jessica's face turned a shade paler.

Cora was not surprised in the slightest. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. She bent down, scooping up the phone before Jessica could even bend down to get it.

“Give it back!” Jessica screamed, trying to swipe at Cora’s hand. But Cora merely lifted her hand out of reach, sending Jessica a nasty glare. “You were recording me without my permission. I have every right to get rid of it!”

Bringing the phone back down, Cora stopped the recording only to realize Jessica's phone was unlocked. She had seen those two at the falls and heard what they had bitched into their cameras. It hadn’t struck her then, Maeve not reacting to less than apparent remarks, but it did strike her now, the idea that maybe these two had more than anyone truly realized. 

Without hesitation, she pressed on the window in the bottom corner, opening Jessica’s album. She began scrolling through the content, her anger deepening when she saw the extent of Jessica's recordings—videos and audio clips of everyone. But most of all, there were recordings of interactions with Maeve. And Cora knew, without a doubt, they only had them with the intent to manufacture them later.

Cora’s face hardened. “You've been recording all of us, haven't you? All our conversations, private conversations... and Maeve. You've been targeting her the most!"

Jessica opened her mouth to protest, her eyes darting around as she searched for an escape. She quickly snarled out, "You can't tell me Midge acts the way she does for shits and giggles?"

It was clear Cora was dead set on nailing these two to a wall when she followed up with, "Do you act the way you do for shits and giggles? Cause let me inform you, Maeve's - and yes, her name is Maeve, use it- actions aren't constructed around gaining attention. Or manipulation!"

Jessica's defiance flickered, but she stayed silent. Cora took a step closer, her voice steady and cold. "You realize talking or spreading shit about another person says more about you than it does about the person you're talking about, right? No matter how you frame it, it just shows how insecure and malicious you are, trying to twist everything to fit your narrative."

Cora looked down at the phone, her mind already made up. "If people wanted their private lives plastered all over the internet rooted in someone else's fucked up opinion, they would do it themselves! But you?"

With her anger boiling over, Cora navigated towards the phone's settings and found the factory reset button. "This ends now," she growled. She hit the button with a sharp jab, watching as the phone started wiping itself clean.

Jessica lunged forward, trying to grab her phone. "You can't do that! That's my phone, you psycho!"

Cora stepped backwards, holding her hand high and out of reach. "Watch me."

Turning her head to her hand in the air, Cora watched as the phone’s screen went dark momentarily, then flickered back to life. A logo appeared, followed by a progress bar slowly moving across the screen. She tossed it back to Jessica with a controlled flick of her wrist.

“There you go. Must be tough, watching all that potential disappear right in front of you, with nothing else left to hide behind.”

But there were two in this equation, and Cora would be damned if she didn’t acknowledge Veronica was probably in on this too. Cora's gaze snapped to her, instantly feeling suspicious.

"And what about you, Veronica? You've been quiet through all this. Were you doing the same thing? Recording us behind our backs?"

Veronica took a step back, her face flushing. "I... I didn't..."

Cora's voice cut through her stammering. "Give me your phone."

Veronica hesitated, glancing at Jessica, who was silently pleading for her not to give in. She spared a glance at Javy, hoping he’d step in and stand up for her. But both he and Rueben remained silent, neither saying a word. Javy had his arms crossed, a frown marking his usually calm face, while Rueben’s jaw was set, his eyes throwing daggers at Jessica.

The intensity of Cora’s anger left Veronica feeling like she had no choice. With trembling hands, she unlocked and handed over her phone like a child caught red-handed by a stern parent.

Cora quickly navigated through Veronica's phone, and her suspicion was confirmed when she found similar recordings. "Unbelievable," she muttered. She repeated the process, resetting Veronica's phone and deleting all the content she could find.

"I have half a mind to throw them over the side of the waterfall, but I'm not that fucking heartless to leave you without help should you get lost."

"God, you're such a bitch," Veronica sniped. But Cora merely smiled, tossing her phone back, uncaring if she caught it.

"Why would that concern me? My daddy didn't raise me to take shit from the opinions of someone who doesn't like it when they stand up for themselves or others. I should have done it from the start, but I shouldn't have been scared to walk alone."

Veronica's eyes narrowed, her mouth twisting into a cruel smirk. “If your 'daddy' had been around more, maybe you wouldn't have turned out to be such a mess.”

A flicker of pain crossed Cora's brow. She steadied herself, taking a deep breath before she lifted her chin, staring her down. "My dad passed away from cancer, Veronica. And it's not something I'd wish for anyone to experience. Taking cheap shots because you're mad is low, even for someone like you."

If Natasha sucked in a sharp breath at Cora’s words, nobody heard nor saw it.

Veronica’s smirk faltered, her brow furrowing as the realization hit. The usual venom in her eyes was replaced with a spark of irritation at being backed into a corner with no response. She went after the girl with the parent who passed away from cancer. Any remark she could fathom wouldn't gain her any sympathy from those here. Not even Natasha. 

 So, she shifted her gaze to the ground as if it would magically enable her to bury herself six feet under as if a turtle was retreating into its shell. Some shell it was, for Javy and Reuben shook their heads, having stood slightly apart from the group as everything unfolded. 

Reuben’s voice was deathly quiet when he asked, “Were you really going to do that all to Maeve?”

Veronica stuttered a reply, sputtering nonsense about how Maeve had it coming, that she and Jessica were in the right. Meave had treated them horribly and was anything but less than accommodating. 

 Unfortunately for them, Cora wasn't done, not by a long shot.

 "Oh really?  Then you really should be more careful about who is listening to you go on to Natasha about "just how horrible" Maeve has been when the two of you were gaslighting yourselves into thinking you weren't at fault for your horrible remarks to her!"

"But she was!" Jessica pouted. 

Bob leaned over to peer behind Bradley almost comedically, eyeing Veronica. "Never thought you'd get out of the studio,' 'Sold any of your paintings yet?', 'Just thought I'd check in on your little hobby,'" he mocked. "Each one you struck at her until you elbowed her and caused all her brushes and paints to tumble out of her bag!" 

All eyes shot to Veronica: Javy is the hardest of them all. Nat's eyes, however, widened in shock. 

"Maeve has always said if you throw shit at her, she'd throw it right back. You honestly can't expect her not to defend herself,"  Grace snapped. "Trust me, she's capable of far worse than what she did to you. She’s done worse to Jake." 

"What, you mean that video they took for all their followers at the falls?” Cora added. “Shit talking about Maeve without mentioning her name? What did Jessica say, Mickey?"

Mickey's reply was instant. "It's just so petty, right?" he mocked her nasally voice, though he failed miserably. " But I'm the bigger person, and I wouldn't stop at that level." 

Rueben cussed, throwing his head back on his shoulders. "I can’t believe it, Jake was right." 

Natasha's eyes widened when Bob asked him what he meant. 

"I thought he was being an ass and flaunting it. But the morning after Maeve hurt her wrist when he went after Jessica, he whispered in my ear he thought Jess was trying to make a move on him…I guess he was right." 

Jessica blushed. Hard. And what could Ruben do next but close his eyes and shake his head? He didn’t want to believe Jake and had spent the rest of the trip trying to ignore his words. But with everything being revealed here and now, he felt utterly stupid. He had been blind to all of it. The nasty remarks, the advances on Jake. His girlfriend and her best friend bullying Maeve right under his nose.

"I'm not okay with how you treat people, Jess. How… how you’ve been treating me."

“Either you, Ronnie.” Javy pitched in, making her stare at him in shock. "You are just as bad. Why didn't I see this sooner, either?"

Veronica and Jessica shrank under their boyfriend's disappointed glares. Grace could only focus on Natasha, who had remained silent the entire time. Something was turning in her head—something that was clearly bothering her about the whole exchange. Grace wasn’t a vindictive person. She wasn’t even this forward. But she hoped, here and now, Natasha had seen the damage she had wrought and would want to change. 

But Natasha never owned up to it or apologized, neither did Jessica nor Veronica, though Grace honestly did not expect them to.

It was Mickey who finally broke the silence. His mind worked a mile a minute to piece together all the facts, trying to distract himself from all the fighting and tension. His words come tumbling out of his mouth of their own accord, his second nature of helping those in need his driving force. 

"The map was on the cliff, and there were prints—human or bear or both—but one set walking away, not two...." He paused, his eyes glazing over. "There's a high chance they went over. And survived."

"If they didn't, they probably would be back with us."

Bob didn't dare spare another glance at the rest of the group when he made that remark, but he did turn his head to Grace. Her eyes were already pleading with him. She didn't need to, for Bob already had the same ask on his mind.

Bob gave her a nod, letting the damaged map in his other hand drop to the ground. "Grace and I are going after them. Whether you want to join or not that's up to you. But Maeve deserves more than whatever the fuck all of you have been doing to her."

Grace silently joined him, threading her fingers through Bob's once at his side. Yet, she could only watch as the entire group stared at the ground.

“I’ll do it.”

Everyone saw Bradley stepping forward, standing before Bob and Grace. “They’re here because of me. Because they are my friends… and… I owe it to Maeve.”

Mickey and Cora shared a quick look, their eyes travelling in sync to how they gripped each other's hands. They wordlessly joined the other three, keeping the same gait and foot forward, not needing to say anything. It was clear from the moment they followed Grace that they were in this from the get-go.

"What would you like us to do?" Javy asked, gesturing to himself and then to Rueben. Then, in a silent message, his gaze extended toward the two girls holding each other in silent support at the edge of the group. Grace and Cora could see the silent message hidden in his words.

'How can we help and deal with these two at the same time?'

Anyone looking at those two knew of their upcoming fate, soon-to-be pallbearers of the title Ex-Girlfriends. Yet, Grace had a different thought emerge in her mind, which had her unable to separate them from the famous lines of a T.S. Elliot poem. 

Seeing them huddled together, holding on to each other and having witnessed them hanging on to each other’s actions by every thread they could find, they still believed they were not at fault. Vile threats and horrible words were being held back by something, though Grace couldn’t figure out what it was, nor did she want to. 

But those famous last lines flashed across her mind once again. 

This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but a whimper.

She didn't tear her eyes away when she answered his question; her response was solely directed at Jessica and Veronica. As the words flew out of her mouth without a second thought, she prayed this would be the last time they saw their faces. And that while she would forget about them, she hoped they would never forget what they had done to Maeve.

"I think it's best you and your little sick kicks go with Javy and Rueben and find a park ranger or return to the entrance and let them know what happened."

Rueben adjusted the straps of his bags when he asked, "What should we tell them when we say you went off after them?"

Bob shrugged his shoulders as if to say make something up. "Last I heard, getting lost in a national park isn't illegal."

But there singled out among the group left Natasha. She had been strangely quiet, watching everything with Jessica and Veronica unfold. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her body, and on the verge of tears, she was struggling to breathe.

Only Bradley was the one to approach her, though Grace couldn’t hide her wince when Bradley didn’t reach out to touch her. Not even once.

When Natasha’s eyes locked on Bradley’s, he didn’t even return her glance or lift his head. Her voice was strangled when she asked, “Does everyone hate me that much?”

Bradley didn’t hesitate. “Not Maeve. Not Really.”

She bit down on her lip, a breath escaping through her teeth. His reply made everything that much worse.

"It's the right thing to do. It'd be stupid not to acknowledge it, Nat. We dragged them out here," Bradley tried to encourage her.

A voice inside Bob's head screamed liar—Jake willingly came when he realized Maeve would be here. He wasn't dragged. Bradley was trying to share the blame. But even if he had some part to play, most of the burden didn't lie with him - and everyone who mattered knew that fact.

"If I am the first person to admit it, then so be it," Bradley continued. "We should have never come out here in the first place. It was selfish... and the ruined proposal? That one is on us, not them."

Natasha took a sharp, trembling breath, holding it longer than necessary. Her lungs strained against the effort, and she didn't realize why she resisted the urge to breathe until the need overwhelmed her. And even then, when she let it out and was forced to take that much-needed breath, her lungs ached under the strain.

"Did I somehow kill them both?"

Bradley didn't miss a beat when he offered, not unkindly, "If you did, then you have to live with it for the rest of your life."

Natasha winced at that, though Bradley didn't notice, staring down at his hands as he spoke. "But I intend to try to fix this while we can... if we still can."

She gulped, turning her head to stare at the ground, already turning green at his words. She nodded once—one single firm jut of her chin that had everyone suddenly preparing to set off into the bush. Natasha still tried to reach for Bradley, but he had already turned around to grab something from Rueben.

And it was then and there that Bradley's words hit her.

"Not Maeve."

But not not him.

She tried not to give into the weakness behind her knees at that.

So, she followed him without a word, without glancing up from the ground—not even when he offered to carry a bag of food gathered from the cooler or when Mickey offered to take Bob's pack so he could focus on the path ahead. Standing together, Cora and Grace didn't even spare Natasha a glance. The way their bodies were angled made it obvious she was not welcomed in the slightest.

It left Natasha lurking at the back of the forming group, the same place you had been for the past two days, the irony not lost on her.

Javy and Rueben said their goodbyes, leading Jessica and Veronica back down the hill without a word. And in that very moment, a determined boy scout led a firefighter, a nurse, a professional Quarterback, an altruistic protector, and a human being with a debatable guilty conscience out into the Washington wilderness to rescue their friends.

Yet, they knew that setting out into that forest, even if they found both of them alive and well, wouldn't be enough to mend the years of damage that had already been done.

"Let's go," Bob called out firmly. "They're either in trouble or, knowing those two, about to kill each other— Hell, it's probably both."

This isn't the last we see of this group <3

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Lucky ☘️

[gigisimsonmars]

cant stop thinking about this video

[gigisimsonmars]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You want a field trip to North Island for your class, and Bradley is determined to deliver. He loves how you decide to show him some gratitude. He'd love it even more if you stayed and never left.

Warnings: Fluff, language, unprotected sex, oral sex, smut, Bradley in love, 18+

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley's alarm really pissed him off on Thursday morning. First of all, it went off an hour earlier than it usually did. And second, he had been sound asleep with your body tucked right up against him and his fingers laced with yours. When you began to stir as well, he kissed your ear and started to pull away from you. 

"I'm sorry, Baby," he murmured, voice laced with sleep and something intimate that he never remembered treating anyone else to. "Go back to sleep."

You rolled over so you were facing him, and your lips found his immediately. You kissed him softly as your fingers pulled through his hair, and he wanted more than anything to stay here with you all day. "I can't go back to sleep," you whispered. "Not when I get to spend a few extra minutes with you."

In the very short time you and he had been officially in a relationship, he had let himself indulge in the idea that you'd be around forever. That you wouldn't change your mind about him. That you'd love him and let him love you back, like equal partners. And right now all he wanted to do was keep holding you while he also couldn't wait to get to work and try to start sweet talking his superior officers.

"I can't be late today, Gorgeous. Not if I'm going to try my best to make a field trip for your class happen."

Your eyes lit up and you squeaked softly. "You're right. Get the fuck out of here."

He laughed and then groaned. "It shouldn't be sexy when you have a potty mouth." He gave you one long kiss before finally pulling away so he could get ready for work.

"I'll make you breakfast," you whispered, climbing out of bed completely naked before reaching for his discarded sweatshirt on the floor. It was yours now in his mind, and he couldn't wait until it and you were both permanent fixtures in his bedroom. That was going to have to wait a bit though unless you brought it up first. He'd already dropped the idea that he wanted to marry you in front of your class.

"You don't need to make me anything," he said as he started to pull on his clean flight suit, but you were already walking out of the room. 

Bradley finished getting ready as quickly as he could in your tiny bathroom, and when he made his way to your equally miniscule kitchen with his overnight bag, you were spreading cream cheese on a bagel and filling a purple travel mug that said #1 Teacher with coffee. "I'll see you tomorrow night?" he asked before taking a bite out of the bagel when you held it up for him.

"I mean... yes, I'll come right to your house from work tomorrow, but you'll see me before that." When he raised an eyebrow while he chewed, you shrugged and added, "I was planning on sending you a dirty picture while I get dressed."

Now both of his eyebrows were raised. "Yeah? How dirty we talking?"

All you said in response was, "I trust you to keep my job intact," before you kissed him and ushered him toward your door with his breakfast. "Go to work, and you'll find out soon. I love you."

"I love you, too, Gorgeous."

He would never get enough of your pretty face. He thought about it while he fought traffic going into San Diego and while crossing the bay bridge toward North Island. This drive sucked, but he'd do it every morning if it meant he got to spend the night in your bed with you. He also wanted to ask you to sleep over at his place during the week so you could test out traffic heading north.

When he finally parked on base, he didn't have to imagine your face any longer. He got to look at it in the picture you sent him twenty minutes ago. Along with your tits. Exchanging photos had always been a huge part of getting to know you while he was deployed, and he was delighted to find that the tradition continued.

"Oh my god," he groaned, needing to sit in his Bronco for a few extra minutes while he enjoyed the photo before ultimately saving it to his phone. Then he texted you back with a smirk before heading to the locker room.

Damn, Gorgeous. What I wouldn't give to spend a week in bed with that face and those tits.

Of course a honeymoon would be the perfect opportunity for that sort of thing. He dropped his bag off in his locker and made his way out to the hangar, running his hand over his face as he tried to push that thought to the back of his mind. As soon as he spotted Maverick, he made a beeline in his direction.

"Rooster," he greeted, barely glancing up from the clipboard he was holding. Bradley knew it was such a longshot, but he had to just go for it at this point.

"Hey, Mav, you have a minute?"He glanced up over his aviators and said, "Always. What can I do for you?" Bradley cleared his throat and tried to make sure he sounded as relaxed as possible. "

I was wondering if a fourth grade class could visit base for a field trip one day? Do a tour of the hangars and the tarmac? Maybe sit in a cockpit? Just an educational trip for some kids who are studying aviation."

There was a brief pause before Maverick asked, "Are you sleeping with a teacher?"

Bradley groaned, head tipped back as he rubbed his eyes and tried not to laugh. "Yeah. She's my girlfriend though, so it's a bit more involved than that."

Maverick sighed. "If I give you special permission for this, then everyone is going to want me to do the same for them. You know that." Bradley started nodding in defeat when Maverick took his sunglasses off and asked, "How many kids are we talking?"

"Eighteen," he replied immediately, straightening his back like he was standing at attention.

"Which school?"

"Mira Mesa Elementary."

Maverick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me see what I can do. Now get your helmet on and get to work."

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

You were finishing your lunch at your desk, about to send Bradley a text, when your phone rang in your hand. He was calling you in the middle of the day which was definitely odd.

"Bradley."

"Hey, Gorgeous," came his voice along with a ton of background noise. "Any chance you can bring your class for a field trip next week?"

Surely you misheard.

"Next week? You already got it approved?"

"Yeah." The deep, raspy rumble of his voice made you shiver. "Next Thursday work for you?"

You were on your feet, doing a little dance as you said, "You got it approved! I'll make it work. I'll type up permission slips right now. I'll call everyone's legal guardian tonight if I have to. We'll be there!"

"Perfect. Email me your complete class list so I can get visitor badges printed."

"Okay," you told him, glancing around like you didn't know where to start. "Right."

"I love you, Baby. Talk later."

He ended the call without another word, and you tucked your phone away before running a lap around your classroom. You wanted to go gloat to all of the other fourth grade teachers, but you wouldn't. You were absolutely certain that this only worked out because you were in a relationship with Bradley, so instead you got to work on the permission slips.

By Friday afternoon, your kids were beyond excited about their upcoming trip to North Island. You had secured eighteen permission slips, three chaperones and a school bus to take everyone down to Coronado next week. But today, you'd be driving there yourself to see Bradley. The traffic after work didn't even bother you as you drove to his house with both your overnight bag and your work bag. You had some quizzes to grade, but he promised you he didn't mind if you brought them along.

When you parked in front of his house, you grabbed your things and ran up to the front door which swung open before you could even knock.

"I just got home," he said with a laugh in his sexy khaki uniform and boots. "I was thinking about giving you a key in case you beat me here one of these days. Oh, shit."

You set your bags down just inside his front door and then had your hands tugging down his pants zipper before you leaned up to kiss him. As you pulled his cock free, you whispered, "I just wanted to thank you again."

You bunched Bradley's shirt up around his abs and dropped to your knees while the front door was still open, and he grunted before quickly closing it. "You don't have to thank me," he rasped as you kissed his cock, and he started to grow hard.

As you ran your nose along his length, you glanced up at him and asked, "You don't want me to give you a blowjob?"

His pupils were wide as he shook his head. "Could you imagine a world in which I didn't want you to give me a blowjob? Because I definitely couldn't."

You laughed and parted your lips. "Then let me say thank you, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

His big hand settled on the back of your head, giving you an eager push, and you took him deep as he groaned, "It's my pleasure, Baby. In so many ways."

He was velvety soft and warm, fully hard now, and you gagged as he bottomed out. You let your tongue glide slowly along his length until you pulled him free, saliva already dripping down to his balls. Then you took a deep breath and let him push you again, bobbing your head as your eyes watered. His balls were heavy in your hand, and your mouth watered more as you thought about tasting him.

When you looked up at his handsome face with your mouth full of his cock, he stroked your cheek with his free hand. "So gorgeous. So perfect." He was flushed pink, and you vaguely thought for a second about how funny it would be if Vanessa showed up right now to see this happening.

You let your hands settle on his hips, and you bobbed your head until he was tapping the back of your throat again. Bradley's sharp gasp just made you go harder, and his fingers digging gently into your hair made you go faster. "Fuck," he whispered, eyes glued on your lips as you let him pop free. You licked a swirl around his tip before going deep and sucking until your cheeks were hollow, and you could feel him throbbing with need.

"I'm really close," he crooned as you squeezed his hip. You listened to him panting as you stroked his balls with your thumb, and then you sputtered when he came. You swallowed him down as you wrapped your fingers around his base and jerked him off until he had his hand braced on the wall for support. Every drop of his cum was swallowed down, and you kissed his cock when he was finished.

"Come here," he whispered, reaching for you before doing anything else, and as you stood, he scooped you into his arms. His lips collided with yours, and you sighed as he tasted himself in your mouth. "That was hot."

Bradley's nose bumped yours as he kissed you harder and started to walk you further into his house. "We could always do it again later," you whispered with a laugh as you ran your fingers along the sheen of sweat along his hairline.

"I have other plans for you for later," he promised, voice deep and dark.

"Tell me," you whispered, but he shook his head.

"You'll find out after I cook dinner."

"Can I have a hint?"

He glanced to the side and nodded as you walked through the living room with him. "Another couch date. Kind of."

"I love couch dates."

"I love you."

Bradley made you a grilled cheese sandwich, and he made two for himself, and you stood in his kitchen with him while you ate and sipped a beer. He didn't even bother to finish zipping up his khakis after tucking himself away, and he kept you in his grasp as he told you all about what he wanted to share with your class during the field trip.

"I can take them on a tour of the hangar," he murmured, kissing your cheek. "Let them listen in on air traffic control. Do you think they'd want to sit in my cockpit?"

"Bradley," you said with a laugh. "Of course they would want to! I want to!"

"Yeah?" he asked, running his mustache along your neck. "Maybe you can sit on my lap in my cockpit? I could show you my throttle."

Your face felt warm as you whispered, "You'll get me a lifetime ban from North Island."

"Can't have that," he said solemnly, shaking his head. "When you're on summer break, I'm going to want you to come visit me at work all the time."

Butterflies erupted in your belly as you pictured yourself in six months. Visiting him at work would be incredible. You could stop by with a coffee like he had done for you, and maybe you could take one for Natasha as well. But you were also thinking about how he casually announced to your class that he intended to marry you in the not so distant future.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and felt the front of his unzipped pants through the fabric of your shirt. "I'm not driving back and forth to Coronado every day during my break, Bradley."

He smiled at you and said, "Understood. You can just spend the night as much as you want. I'm right by the beach, so you can sunbathe all day until I'm done working, and then I'll take you out to Salvatore's or cook dinner for you."

"Or we can just hang out on the couch," you whispered, your lips brushing his.

"Speaking of the couch..."

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

"Harder."

Your voice filled the living room along with your little grunts and moans as Bradley held your hips in place. You were bent over the arm of the couch with your ass up in the air, fingers digging into the cushions while he fucked you. For as sweet as you were, he loved you like this just as much. Loud and needy for him.

The sound of his body slapping against yours was already obscene, but if you wanted it harder, he'd let you have it. He was yours in every sense of the word, and he would make sure you knew it. "Does that feel good?" he crooned, watching your pussy grip his cock. "It looks fantastic," he grunted.

Your response was unintelligible but enthusiastic, so he kept going until he was close and your legs were shaking. The blowjob you gave him earlier seemed to take the edge off, because as soon as he started rubbing soft circles on your clit, you came for him, but he wasn't quite there yet. He slowed his pace down, let himself enjoy the feel of you shaking and squeezing him. He could have probably gone longer, but then you turned and looked up at him over your shoulder.

"That was so good," you said with a shaky voice, "I saw stars."

"Oh hell." He came inside you as you chewed on your lip and looked at him like you'd never get enough. "Come here." You stood with your back pressed against him while he was still buried deep. "You want to snuggle?"

"Always," you whispered as he peppered kisses to your shoulder. And then the two of you ended up on the couch, and it was sweet again as you curled up mostly on top of him while he drew shapes on your palm.

And that's how the whole weekend was. On Saturday, the two of you spent a few windswept hours on the beach, wrapped in a blanket together, talking and laughing. But after the sun set and the sky turned that pretty pretty color that looked both blue and orange at the same time, your lips found his.

"Gorgeous," he groaned, hands on your thighs, feeling your warmth through your jeans.

"I love you," came your immediate response, and Bradley could barely contain himself. He wanted everything with you, but he was afraid of moving any faster than this already pretty blistering pace. But even thinking about the nights this week when he'd have to fall asleep without you and wake up alone were creeping into the back of his mind.

He pressed his forehead to yours and whispered, "I love you too, Gorgeous. And I'm just going to say this one time, and then I'll let you bring it up again if you feel like it."When he paused, you said, "Okay," in a soft voice, and he took a deep breath.

"If we ever reach a point where you think you want to move in with me, that would make me very happy. You already have a key now, but if you want it to be even more permanent, I would love that."

"Oh," you gasped, and he suddenly wished he hadn't said anything about it. "My lease ends in January."

"January," he repeated, like it was a word he was unfamiliar with.

"Mmhmm. In about two months." You kissed his cheek and wrapped his hand up in yours. "That seems reasonable, don't you think?"

Bradley let you push his shoulder playfully until he was laying on his back, and then you were in his arms just like you were on the first date. "Yeah, that seems reasonable," he whispered as the sound of your soft laughter mingled with the crashing waves.

"At least give me a chance to test out the commute to work," you said with a kiss.

"I'm not in a hurry, Gorgeous. I'm just in love."

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

You didn't get home from Bradley's house on Sunday night until almost eleven, but you couldn't bring yourself to complain about it. He helped you grade your quizzes, and he read over your lesson plans like it was a bestselling novel. Then he made you a snack after dinner and went over the plans for the field trip.

"I'll take care of everything this week," he had promised. "I'll get visitor's badges for everyone, and you'll just need to go through the security checkpoints when you arrive. Your kids will have a blast. Just wait until they get to watch Marty work on an engine rebuild."

"The kids are going to lose their minds when they see your Super Hornet," you had promised. "And I will, too. I was already falling for you when you sent me the cockpit photos, and now I'm head over heels."

After that, Bradley carefully folded up your lesson plans and put them in your bag while you tried to hide your smile. And that's why you got home so late. Because the two of you couldn't keep your hands off each other for more than a minute.

But it made for a long Monday. And your Tuesday wasn't much better. By Wednesday, even the phone calls and texts with Bradley were barely enough to keep you going. You hated thinking about his next deployment, but it was always at the back of your mind. He wanted you to move in with him, but even his beautiful house in Coronado wouldn't save you from feeling devastatingly lonely the next time he was on an aircraft carrier. Nothing would.

He told you he wanted to drive up and spend the night with you on Wednesday, but he was yawning nonstop over the phone, and you knew he would have to get up earlier if he came up to your apartment. "You sound as exhausted as I feel, and I'm going to see you in the morning anyway," you told him as you curled up in your bed." Actually all nineteen of us are going to see you in the morning."

"I love my pen pals," he said with a laugh. Then he repeated your words from so many weeks ago. "Do you still want me to kiss you as soon as I see you?"

"Bradley," you moaned, rolling onto your side. You were melting, and he wasn't even here. "I always want that."

"Good, because I don't think I could... Oh shit!" he shouted, and it sounded like he dropped his phone.

"What's wrong?" you asked, jolting up in your bed. "Bradley?"

"No, no, no," came his voice, but you could tell he wasn't right next to his phone speaker. He actually sounded scared, but you couldn't fathom what could possibly be going on, and then he said, "There's a fucking spider on my bedroom wall!"

"Oh," you replied, letting out the breath you'd been holding.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?! Why aren't you here?!"

"Bradley, just squish it with some paper towels," you told him, trying not to laugh at his panicked voice.

"You want me to take my eyes off this fucking thing to go to the kitchen? I don't think so!"

You pressed your lips together and composed yourself before asking, "How big is it?"

"It's huge! The size of a quarter!" he shouted. "It's moving!"

"Bradley, pick up one of your boots or a shoe and smash it," you told him as calmly as you could. "You can do this."

"Okay. Okay, right. Yeah," he said, and his voice sounded even more distant. "I can do this." There was a terribly loud thump, and then he said, "I hate this so much."

"Is it dead?" you asked cautiously.

"Yeah, but I'm too scared to sleep in here now. What if its family shows up for revenge in the middle of the night?"

You snorted and collapsed back onto your pillow. "That seems a little dramatic."

"Does it?" he asked. "Because this is something you should be taking care of for me. I'll take care of anything else, but this one thing is on you, Baby."

You started to pull your shirt off as you asked, "Would you feel better if I sent you another dirty photo?"

"I would feel a lot better if you sent me a dirty photo," he said, and now you could tell he was smiling.

"Hmm... you think you'll be able to get some sleep if I do?" you asked, tossing your shirt aside.

"A full eight hours."

You held your phone up, smiled sweetly, and snapped a picture. "Let me know when you get it," you said as you texted it to him.

A few seconds later, you giggled as he groaned. "Got it. You look like perfection, and I love adding these to my top secret folder," he muttered. "Thank you."

Now you were yawning as you pulled your sheet up to your chin. "You're welcome. I'll see you in ten hours. I love you."

"Love you, Baby."

-------------------------- You thought you were prepared for the field trip to North Island. You had bus snacks, and responsible chaperones. You had copies of all of the required paperwork that the Navy insisted you fill out ahead of time in a folder. You even had a list of all of your kids for the guard station officer which Bradley reminded you to bring. But nothing could have actually prepared you for the excitement that all nineteen of you clearly felt when the school bus pulled up to the gates with the airstrip directly in front of you.

"Whoa!" said Jayden, trying to hang out the window for a better view. "There's a jet taking off!"

All of your kids scrambled to the right side of the bus to get a better look, and you did too. The aftermath of the takeoff was loud, and you signaled for everyone to cover their ears as they all watched the aircraft soar into the sun.

"Do you think that was Lieutenant Bradshaw?" Nia asked excitedly as your heart raced.

"No," you replied as you watched the jet fly off into the distance. "He said he would meet us after we parked in the visitors lot." When the bus started moving up to the guards, you waved your hand for everyone to sit down again. "But if you're all really well behaved, I'm sure there will be some surprises for us today!"

When it was your turn to talk to the guards, you climbed out of the bus and handed over all of your paperwork. They double and triple checked everything. As they looked at your school ID and driver's license, one of them said, "This location requires top clearances. We hardly ever see field trip groups. Someone on base must really like you."

You thought about Bradley and his kisses and his couch and how he wanted you there to share his bed and always take care of the spiders. "Yeah, that's pretty accurate," you told him with a smile, and he handed you a bundle of lanyards. Hanging from each one was a visitor's pass for each of your students as well as four for you and the chaperones. "Thank you."

Even as you handed each kid their pass and told them they needed to wear them at all times, your heart raced in anticipation. They were all looking back at you with wide-eyed excitement; these were the faces of kids who had learned a lot in your classroom already this year. They were as eager to learn more about aviation today as they were months ago, and you were so happy that Bradley had been a big part of this whole experience.

As the bus driver parked, you saw your boyfriend through the window, standing tall next to the building. He was in his flight suit, and his back was ramrod straight. There were two other officers with him, and they had even more pins on their uniforms than you remembered seeing on his. You needed to reel in your expectations, especially in front of the men who you assumed were Bradley's bosses. But when you smiled, Bradley smiled back. And when you led your students down the steps and over to the sidewalk, his posture relaxed.

"Welcome to North Island," he told your kids with a grin. Then he looped one arm around your waist, pulled you close, and kissed you in front of everyone. "I can't wait to show you everything."

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

The field trip of my dreams! Okay, so we are definitely going to see Marty at work, but what else should the kids get to experience? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[gigisimsonmars]

TAKE A BITE

- your best friends challenge you to bring the hottest guy at the bar home, and you can’t manage to say no. (jake “hangman” seresin x fem!reader, random original female characters for plot purposes, ⚠️ alcohol, 18+!! adult content, p in v, jake being a sweetheart for once, I’M BEGGING PLEASE BE 18)

word count: 3,033

a/n - dipping my toe into the adult writing scene for once 😚 i have no idea if this is good or not bc my only experience is one commission i did a long time ago and a half-finished fic from a year ago, so i hope it’s satisfactory. jake is also an unexpected visitor but everyone has their moments <3

“So…” Kaiya drawls, drawing along the rim of her condensation-covered glass, “because no one here seems to want to put themselves out there,” there’s a pointed glance at you, “I propose a challenge.”

Sandy squints at her suspiciously. Kaiya always comes up with the most outrageous schemes, usually drawing in you and the rest of your friend group. “What are you thinking?” She asks.

Kaiya’s manicured nail taps on the table. “We each pick a guy, one that individual thinks is the hottest at the bar— first come first serve, of course. And then we take them home. Anyone that’s successful gets next week’s drinks paid for by the rest of us.”

You roll your eyes. She’s a looker, for sure, which is likely the only reason she proposed something like this. She could get with any guy in a hundred mile radius with her luscious black curls and babydoll cheeks. “Are you sure you aren’t just doing this because you don’t want to pay for yourself?”

Kaiya puts one hand to her mouth, eyes widened in comical horror. “I would never! I just want what’s best for my dear friends.” She exclaims, batting her eyes. Sandy laughs in her own charming way. Sandy is cute, sweet. She’d also have no problem taking her pick.

“I want that one.” Kaiya says, pointing at a tall man with shortly cropped curls. From the looks of it, he’s exactly her type; confident, quick-witted, and evidently skilled as he nails a dart throw.

Sandy pretends to squint around the bar before throwing a thumb over her freckled shoulder. “Buzz cut. I like that in a man.” You peer around her, taking in a nice-looking guy with tanned skin.

“And you?” Kaiya asks, reaching out to thumb at the strap of your top. Her small look of concern makes you remember why you’re her friend in the first place.

She’s always looking out for you, always finding opportunities for you to shine when she is so obviously the star. After you broke up with your boyfriend for some unsavory reasons, she resumed her role as your rock. Even now, she wants you to get over what’s in the past. You curse yourself for even considering that she was being selfish.

You look around the crowded bar, eyes scanning over heaps of mildly attractive Navy and civilian men. You’re about to just pick the closest one before your gaze stops on a person who almost immediately takes your breath away. He’s exactly, exactly what you pictured your dream guy to look like.

Kaiya follows your line of sight and smiles. “Let’s get them, tigers.”

“Alright,” You say, standing as your chair creaks from under you, “I’ll take a bite.”

You lean against the cool counter of the bar, smiling at the bartender. The man you picked out has a beer in his hand and a certain swagger in how he scopes out the room. “Could I have one of those, please?” You ask the woman behind the bar, looking pointedly at the guy. She looks at you with a knowing smile, handing you the drink.

“You have good taste.” Your pick says, his voice heavy with a drawl. His green eyes glance down at the drink in your hand, then up to your face. You swear you almost see him lick his lips.

“So do you.” You respond simply. “What’s your name?”

“Jake, but if one of those idiots asks, it’s Hangman.” He nods over to a group of men by the pool table. In a passing flash, you notice the two your friends picked out mingling. How could this one squad have so many attractive people? “I saw you with your friends a bit ago. I have to say, though, you’re more my type. Not that they aren’t nice girls.”

You take a sip of your drink, eyebrows quirked. His arms are basically bulging out of his Navy attire, and you struggle to keep your eyes off of them. Decidedly, you try teasing him, pushing the boundaries of flirting. “You’re my type too. More than the one with the mustache, but he’s not so bad.”

His smile crinkles his eyes, and you think you might swoon. This is good, you tell yourself. It feels good. It’s a bit awkward, with just the slightest bit of tension, but you’re warming up; you just got out of a relationship for god’s sake.

“Trust me, sugar, however good you think he is, I’m better.” He punctuates his sentence with a wink.

You’re drop dead gorgeous, he thinks. Jake meets gorgeous women every day, but not one has made his heart beat just as fast. When you smile up at him through your lashes, he’s done for. Locked, loaded, and done for.

“You’re that confident, hm?” You muse, setting your beer down on the counter. It took a great deal of complacency to not throw yourself at him and wrap yourself in his large hands. He swipes a bead of water off of your bottle, and you think all sorts of things. His fingers dripping, his face hot and sweaty, his hair messed up… you almost melt at the idea. “I think you’re going to have to prove it.”

He holds an arm out to you, and you graciously accept. “I’ll prove it in a million ways, pretty girl. Dance with me and see for yourself.”

Jake leads you to a small area by the jukebox. His palms skim over your waist, pulling you closer but still leaving you aching for more. A song starts playing, one you don’t recognize, but he seems to know exactly how to move to it.

If you’re being totally honest, he’s a really good dancer. And it’s so hot, unbearably so. He doesn’t step on your feet, and he leads your every step without being overpowering. Every song, you seem to get closer and closer until your chest is basically pressed right up against his, and he can still move gracefully.

“How’s this for proof?” He whispers, lips grazing over the shell of your ear. “Rooster’s got moves, but he isn’t half as good as me.”

You push back on his chest gently, raising your eyebrows. “Now I’m starting to think this is just a ploy to get him jealous. Does mustache man get on your nerves that much?” You grin as he takes your hands in his. He rolls his eyes.

“I got the cutest girl in the room all to myself. Who wouldn’t be jealous? The only ploy here is the one where I try and get you to come home with me.”

Your teeth find purchase in your bottom lip, trying to hide your ever-growing smile. You might be getting free drinks more than once. “Buy me a drink and we’ll see how that works out.”

To his credit, Jake seems completely okay with getting to know you before heading out. The conversation is engaging, studded with flirting and genuine curiosity. It’s like he’s hanging on to every word you say, truly attempting to form any sort of connection. Most guys wouldn’t make this effort for a one night stand, especially not someone who looks like they could have a new one every night.

To say he’s beyond saving is an understatement in Jake’s opinion. With every second that goes by, you’re sounding more and more like his dream girl. You like his beer, his favorite place to eat, and you share a few of his hobbies. It’s like a match made in heaven.

As the night progresses, guilt starts eating at the hem of your shirt. The drinks are running low, and the sky is growing dim, and the opportunity to fulfill your challenge is opening up more with every second that ticks by. Do you really want this amazing guy to be a bet?

He stands to leave, offering a hand to help you slip off your bar stool. “Shall we?”

Your hesitation makes him falter just a bit. Jake would be okay with waiting, if he was being honest. Yeah, he’s been semi hard the entire time you ran your finger up and down your drink absentmindedly, but he could take you out on a real date first. One where you stare at him with those pretty eyes and smile your captivating smile.

The feeling takes over as you take in his willingness. “I have something to admit.” You murmur, almost too quiet to pick up over the din of the bar. Luckily for you, he has great hearing.

“Lay it on me, sweet thing. I can take it.” He grins. Your hands find the edges of your shorts and play with the little string on the seam that you’ve been meaning to cut for a few days now.

“I made a stupid agreement with my friends that if I took home the guy I thought was the hottest at the bar, then they’d pay for my drinks next time.” You blurt out. His eyes widen slightly, sending a pang of anxiety through you, before his lips curl up into a smile.

He takes your arms and wraps them around his shoulders, spinning you towards the entrance of the bar. “Well, we wouldn’t want a nice girl like you to pay for her own drinks, huh?”

You arrive at your small house and fumble with the lock while Jake presses hot kisses to your neck. You’re biting back a whimper as the door finally swings open, walking short, hurried steps into the bedroom. His hands are all over you, burning like fire. They’re gripping at your shirt, your waist, the column of your throat, your upper thigh— anywhere he can get ahold of. You pull off your shirt as the back of your knees hit the soft mattress.

Before you can blink, Jake has taken off his shirt too, and his hands are kneading the bottom of your breasts, beneath your lacy bra. “You sure?” He asks. You nod vigorously, unhooking your straps with your fingers, but he just looks down disapprovingly. “With your words, baby.”

“Yes.” You breathe. With that confirmation, he wastes no time.

Your clothes are tossed to some unknown corner of your room. You couldn’t care less about where they ended up, not when Jake is running his fingers over your hardening nipples.

He ghosts over them with just enough pressure to get you cursing. He’s hardly done anything and you can still feel a wetness gathering between your legs. When he moves up, taking your left nipple in his mouth, his bare thigh pressing between yours, a gasp escapes your mouth.

“That good?” He asks. His low voice sends vibrations up your chest, and you utter a quiet confirmation. He pays some attention to your other breast as you practically grind against his thigh, desperate for any sort of friction where you need it most.

He gives you a playful sigh, looking down at your writhing body. You look gorgeous, and knowing that his slight touches are enough to make you squirm is the ego boost of the century. Your eyelashes give a slight flutter at his next words. “Patience. I’ll give you what you want eventually, don’t worry.” His hand slips down and squeezes your thigh encouragingly.

“Now, Jake, please.” You almost whine. It’s embarrassing how well he seems to figure out your body. Even now, he’s kissing his way down your neck, finding every place that heightens your growing arousal. You hook your legs around his waist and rest your arms on the sides of his neck. “I want what I want now.”

It’s amazing how quickly your words travel to his dick. Jake’s roaringly hard, and you can feel it pressing against your inner thigh. You rub your legs up and down, teasing, drawing the most beautiful groan out of his open mouth. You’re going to be the death of him, he thinks.

“You drive a hard bargain, darlin’, and I’m not one to refuse.”

His hands travel down your body, taking time to caress your sides and send shivers up your spine. When he finally reaches the puddle under you, he quirks his eyebrows. “That excited?”

You roll your eyes at him, even though all he can see is the slightest movement of your face. “Get on with it, cowboy.”

He chuckles and places a small kiss on your hipbone. “Yes ma’am.”

He slips one finger inside you, pulling a soft noise from your swollen lips. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts. “Might take you a bit to get used to me.” He curls the finger gently, and you see stars as it brushes up against the spot inside of you that you can’t reach yourself. He’s bigger, stronger, longer, wider. A second finger joins the first, the digits stretching you deliciously.

A pressure begins to build in your stomach as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing gentle circles. Ah, fuck, he knows what he’s doing. Your hips buck up slightly on top of your mattress, pressing your core into the palm of his hand. “Please.” You squeak.

He frowns, but his pupils are blown up in pure ecstasy. “Well excuse me for trying to give you a good time.” His free hand moves to pinch the curve of your ass lightly. You sit up fully and trail your nails down his back, reveling in the shiver it draws from him. With one smooth motion, you take his cock in your hand and give him a small stroke that has him jolting in his place.

“We can both have a good time if you would put on a condom and fuck me already.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop and consider how needy they sound. They seem to work, though, as he smirks at you and guides your hand up and down his length.

“I’m guessing your dresser drawer is ready for stuff like this?” He asks. You feel your face grow warmer at exactly how right he is as you slide the drawer open and grab one. “Ah, you’ve even got my size. What a responsible girl you are.” His voice comes out as a half laugh, and you try to stifle your own laughter with the palm of your hand.

“I like to be prepared.”

“Might as well throw the smaller ones away after tonight. You’ll only want mine when I’m done with you.” He’s so cocky it’s funny instead of off-putting. You hand him the condom and he rolls it over himself. He has a right to be cocky, you think, with a body like that. All taught muscle and chest hair. When he brings his hand up to the back of your neck to lower you down on your bed, your heart gives a mighty flutter.

“Prove it.” You say, for the second time that night. He gives you a look that says he’s going to prove it more than once, over and over until you’re begging him to keep proving it, then a bit more after that.

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his tip pressing into your warm entrance. As he pushes forwards slowly, teasingly, you’re suddenly aware of just how big he is. Bigger than anyone you’ve ever felt, and despite how wet you’ve become, it’s a lot to handle. You wince as his length stretches you, waiting for the feeling to shift from uncomfortable to ungodly good.

“You bit off more than you can chew, didn’t you?” Jake teases. “We can stop if you want, just say the word.”

Your steady voice challenges him as you try to pull it together. “Keep going. I can take it.”

He doesn’t know how, but Jake gets impossibly harder. He indulges you, though, leaving small kisses on your cheeks to distract you from the pinching pain. Once he’s completely bottomed out, you breathe a sigh of relief. Then, of course, you notice that it feels good. Really good.

He’s pressed right up against a spot that has you seeing stars, and when he moves, slowly at first, the drag forces a moan from deep in your throat. You feel so full, so complete. His pace picks up, and you close your eyes.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good.” He praises, voice strained. The movement of his hips is delicious. Smooth, quick, deep. When his fingers find his way to your clit, you almost finish right then and there.

You’re panting, breath coming out in hot waves against the nape of Jake’s neck. He shivers at the feeling, pressing closer to you to soak in more of that warmth. “Jake, I’m- I’m gonna…” you trail off, closing your mouth as another whimper tries to sneak out.

“Go for it, sweetness. Let me hear that pretty voice.”

With one, two, three more strokes, you feel the knot within you beginning to unravel. Your nails rake down his sides, one of his hands is gripping your waist and the other is firmly attached to your bundle of nerves, and his mouth is suddenly on yours, muffling your noises. It’s overwhelming. With one sharp gasp, you clench down hard and come undone.

Jake follows soon after as he pulls out with a groan. The sound falls heavily on your blissed-out ears.

You sit up, taking his face in your hand. “You’ve proved it. Oh, and I’m officially tonight’s lucky winner.” You say with a beaming smile. He scoffs lightly.

“You were a winner the minute you stepped into that bar.” He winks at you as your hand moves down to rest on his collarbone. “Just let me join in on your winnings when you cash out.”

“In your dreams, cowboy. The most you’ll get is a beer or two before my friends take their cards away.”

He blows a little air out of the side of his mouth before collapsing onto your bed like he owns it, pulling you into his arms. “I’ll take what I can get if it means I can see you again.”

You sigh happily, snuggling into his chest. “Is that a promise?”

“Sure is. The Hard Deck, next Friday. Bring your friends and we’ll figure it out from there.”

Taglist: @seitmai

[gigisimsonmars]

The first episode of our shearing saga ended with Poldine being freed and happily running towards her family (who, let me remind you, had abandoned her and refused to provide any emotional support during her first ever shearing.)

I followed her, hoping to snap pictures of a heartwarming family reunion. Which didn't happen. Poldine's mum and grandma mostly looked perplexed.

Then horrified.

Poldine was, understandably, driven to existential despair by her mother's reaction to her new haircut.

Needless to say, when I tried to catch Pampérigouste to shear her, it was next to impossible. She knew what awaited her and wouldn't go anywhere near me, even when I made the Muesli Whistle (which usually draws a Pavlovian response out of her), even when I threw a handful of actual muesli in her direction to attract her. If anything she looked vexed that I could think she was no smarter than a pigeon.

But I have a PhD in catching Pampe. I decided to try something I'd never tried before: lie in wait by the watering hole like a hyena. You see, there's a gate near the water trough that can open all the way in either direction, and I figured I could simply trap my llama between the gate and a tree.

I waited, I waited, and eventually, finally, Pampe got thirsty.

Once she was trapped behind the gate it was very easy to halter her, and then she grumpily followed me to the corral, where I tied her to a post to shear her.

As soon as I switched on the electric shears, she freaked out. She reared up like a wild stallion, started foaming at the mouth, desperately pulling on the rope, it was awful! I tried to turn on the shears some distance away then get progressively closer when she got used to the noise, but she didn't get used to the noise. I tried to sing her favourite protest song over the noise, I tried everything; she kept acting like I was an exorcist and she was possessed by a swarm of demons. Eventually I thought I should just start shearing and get it over with as quickly as possible.

Pampe was so good with the llama shearer two years ago! She was perfectly calm and relaxed! She didn't care at all about the noise of the shears even when they were right behind her ears!! What is the explanation for this?

(when I expressed surprise at her good behaviour with the shearer back then, someone said she reminded them of the type of brat who's well-behaved with their teacher at school but insufferable with their parents)

Pampoldine stayed right next to her mum the whole time her ordeal lasted. Poldine, you are too good for this world.

These are my only two photos of Pampe being shorn, because my photographer was busy trying to soothe her by petting her, or distract her by offering her a hazel branch to eat. At some point Pampe tried to lie down and play dead, which made shearing her neck complicated, so my photographer was promoted (or demoted?) to Llama Scaffolding—she had to lean against Pampe with all her weight to prevent her from lying down. The last time I'd seen a llama play dead was when Pyrgus was sent away, which was pretty heartbreaking...

(Pampe possibly expected to receive the same amount of sympathy, but we had to remind her that Pyrgus was a child being separated from his mother forever while she was an adult getting a haircut.)

Since I sheared her as fast as I could, Pampe looks worse than her daughter—much less smooth, with some remaining woolly spots here and there that I wasn't able to go back to because she kept shaking her head, kicking her feet, squirming and generally acting like she was being tortured. It's now clear to me that she was only well-behaved last time out of spite, because I'd warned the shearer that I had one Difficult Llama. I sort of already suspected it at the time:

Please note that as soon as I released her, all the fuss and drama ended. In an instant. I thought she was going to jump away from me when I took off her halter, and run like hell, or stand there shaking from stress, but no—she ate a few hazel leaves from the branch (no longer panting, no longer drooling) then scratched her neck with her back hoof looking very composed, then trotted away lightly and happily.

[gigisimsonmars]

not to be insensitive but some of the salem witch trials were so funny bitches like “i saw her at the devils sacrament!!!” girl… what were YOU doing at the devils sacrament 👀

[gigisimsonmars]

False Confidence: Chapter 5

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, panic attack, blood, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: I’ve been so excited to share this one, I may have gotten a wee bit carried away, though

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You try not to make your displeasure obvious as you scowl at your reflection in the full-length mirror; fighting the urge to tug at the neckline of the black dress currently hugging every inch of your body. “This is too much, it has to be.” You complain and Josie gives you a sharp look from where she’s smoothing the bottom of the dress.

“Oh sweetie, if you think this is too much, they’re going to eat you alive.”

“They?”

“Javy’s little fan club,” she says, giving you a knowing look before grimacing. You match the gesture, trying once again to reconcile with your reflection in the mirror. You don’t look like yourself. That much is clear. Your hair is down and Josie’s pinned back sections in some style that she promises will flatter your face but you don’t quite see it. You fight another grimace as you glance at your chest. The dress is low cut, perhaps not enough to be truly risqué but you tend to favor higher, more modest necklines. Still, you’ve never had your breasts on display like this and it takes all your self-control not to cover your chest. You remind yourself that you’re not you tonight. Tonight you’re a pawn in a game, a commodity that’s being traded in exchange for keeping your job. You take a shaky breath as you glance at your painted face. It’s caked in makeup much thicker than you normally wear. Your lips are painted a sinful ruby red that makes you feel more dirty than beautiful. Your nails are painted to match and you grip your wrist tightly to keep from picking at the fresh paint.

“Hey,” you’re torn from your self-scrutiny by Josie and she’s looking at you, concerned. “Roadie, are you okay?” Her voice is a lot softer and you’re about to ask why she’s so concerned when you catch the sparkle of unshed tears in your eyes in the mirror. You swallow hard, willing them away before they ruin your makeup that Josie’s worked so hard on. You nod, not trusting your voice as you feel a lump form in your throat. “Hey, hey it’s okay,” Josie stands up then and pulls you into a hug. “I know it’s hard, sweetie, I know.” She rubs soothing circles into your back as you tremble in her arms before she speaks up, voice thick with regret. “I hate that you’re so unhappy. I’m so sorry I even suggested this.” You shake your head against her shoulder.

“I-it was my choice. You didn’t force me to do anything.” You take a shaking breath and hate how wet it feels as you feel a pressure in your nose as the tears rise unbidden to your eyes again. You squeeze your eyes shut to keep them in and picture your class. Your students that you love so much. This is for them. You can do this. “I can do this.” You say and while your voice still shakes you feel Josie squeeze you in solidarity.

She pulls back to look at you, a sad smile on her face. “Tell you what? Get through this and we’ll have a girls' night this weekend. Just stay in, hang out on the couch, and watch a movie in our pajamas.” You give her a weak smile at the thought of that. You’d do anything to be in your pajamas right now. You heave a sigh, avoiding your reflection in the mirror as you head for the door.

***

You regret everything. Sure, the dress makes you feel exposed. Sure, the makeup makes you feel cheap. But none of those are even close to the horror show that’s proving to be these heels. You wobble across the lobby of Javy’s apartment building, terror keeping you in its clutches as you stumble to the nearest chair. You dig your freshly manicured into the back, struggling to rearrange your ankles into an upright position.

“Roadie?” You look up from where you’re glaring holes into the back of the chair to see Javy staring at you with concern. You give him a lopsided smile as you do your best to right yourself. “You look beautiful,” he says and you feel your cheeks heat at the offhand compliment as you try to wipe your sweaty palms off on the dress that’s not an absorbent material at all. You straighten to the best of your ability and head towards him, shoes forgotten and the sudden movement combined with the deathtraps on your feet immediately throws you off balance and you stumble with a squeak of surprise. Warm hands wrap around your bare arms, righting you and you find yourself face to face with warm brown eyes as you instinctively brace your hands against Javy’s broad chest. Your lips are barely a breath away from his and his eyes are as wide as yours. You feel his body heat radiating off his skin and warming you to your very bones.

“Hi,” you breathe the words against his mouth and you’re not sure if you hallucinate the way his gaze flicks to your full red lips, parted in surprise.

“Hi,” he breathes back and you swallow, sucking in the air he’s released like it’s a lifeline, the only thing keeping you upright. You’re instantly aware of his hands on your arms and you stumble backward, his hands not moving an inch as you feel them strain against you as he carefully helps you balance on your heels. You glare down at the traitorous footwear and you hear Javy chuckle softly and it coaxes your gaze to his. He squeezes your arms in his grip gently, a playful smile on his lips even as his eyes betray his concern. “Meep, what on earth are you doing in those shoes?” You scowl at him even as your heart hammers against your ribs.

“Josie insisted on them,” you grumble before muttering under your breath, “even if I can’t walk five steps in them.”

“Does Josie have some vested interest in you spraining an ankle that I should know about?” He asks as he loosens his grip on you, hands still hovering above your skin in case he needs to intervene again. You realize then that your hands are fisted in the silky fabric of his dress shirt and you loosen them, cheeks heating as you tentatively release the material, shifting your weight back to your feet.

“Not that I know of, but I can ask,” you answer, rambling as you focus on staying upright. Your legs wobble like a baby deer and Javy regards you thoughtfully before he shifts, removing his hands from your arms before offering you one of his.

“Here, hold onto me, I’ll help keep you balanced.” You hesitate before linking your arm with his and he pulls you close, tucking you into his side and practically holding you up against him.

“Oh,” you whisper in surprise and he chuckles at your reaction.

“I’ve got you, Roadie.” He says and you’re surprised to find that you believe him. You let him lead you across the lobby and you find that your legs don’t shake nearly as much with him to support you.

When you get to the doors an attendant is waiting with a fancy sports car idling in the drive. Javy takes the keys from him and you try your best to ignore the way his gaze brazenly moves over you, his eyes feeling almost greasy in the way they linger on various parts of your body. You feel dirty and you haven’t even done anything. Nausea churns your stomach and you’re struggling to fight it down when Javy’s firm voice cuts through your thoughts. “Jonathan, if you don’t get your filthy eyes off my girlfriend, I know plenty of people that would kill for your job.” His voice is full of barely-concealed rage but it doesn’t frighten you. You feel gratitude fill your veins as Jonathan sputters, face going crimson as he averts his gaze, chagrined. He murmurs a half-hearted apology to Javy but Javy shakes his head. “Don’t apologize to me, apologize to her.” He dips his chin towards you.

Jonathan’s face somehow manages to go even more red as he turns to face you, gaze darting everywhere but your face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.” You’re too shaken to do more than nod in acknowledgment and then Javy’s leading you around to the passenger side of the sleek black sports car. He helps you in before going back around to the driver's seat.

The two of you fall silent as he pulls out of the driveway of the apartment building and you shift in the low seat of the sports car. Javy’s grip on the wheel is as firm as the line that his lips are pressed in. You’re rearranging the unfamiliar fabric of your dress when you unconsciously give into your earlier temptation to tug at the neckline of your dress, willing the fabric to magically stretch to cover the exposed skin at the top of your chest that makes your stomach twist in knots. When the car stops at a red light, Javy slides his suit jacket off and then tosses it gently into your lap and you blink at him, surprised. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road but you guess he feels the weight of your stare.

“You can cover up if you want to.” He explains and you feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment. You take the jacket and fight the shame warring with your discomfort as you slide the jacket over your shoulders. It’s big, fair enough considering how broad Javy’s shoulders are but that’s lost on you as you’re suddenly enveloped by the heady scent of his cologne. The sharp, spicy notes cut through the musk and tickle your nose.

“Doesn’t this ruin the whole point of the dress?” You say after what you’re sure has been way too long as you come back to your senses.

Javy’s brow furrows, his fingers tightening on the wheel, angry at something you can’t see. “I would argue it sells the whole ruse even more. There’s nothing more intimate than my girl wearing my jacket.” You suppress the need to point out that you’re sure that there are plenty of things more intimate than that but you suppose he’s right and you do feel more comfortable now that you’re safely covered by the fabric.

***

Javy has half a mind to throttle Josie Fitch the next time he sees her. He sneaks a look at you when he stops at the next light. You seem content in the silence that stretches between the two of you and if he’s honest it’s the most relaxed that he’s seen you all day and he selfishly wants to let that last as long as possible. What was Josie thinking dressing you up like that? Sure, you look beautiful. He tries not to think too hard about the way you’d knocked the breath clear from his lungs when he first saw you in the lobby. There’s nothing indecent about the dress, it’s elegant and perfect for the restaurant he’s picked out for tonight. It hugs your curves perfectly, and he can’t help but feel his mouth go dry at the memory of the way the neckline accentuates your breasts, teasing him with just the skin at the tops and a peek at your cleavage. Your makeup just serves to underscore your natural beauty but the bold red lip is a little much.

None of that matters, though, when he can see how clearly uncomfortable you are. You look like an innocent lamb trussed up for slaughter. It makes rage run cold through his veins. The point of dressing up like this should be to bolster your confidence not tear it to shreds and his heart clenches as he sees you squirm, uncomfortable in your own skin. You’re naturally skittish and nervous but this is different. Even when you’ve picked at the hem of your blouses or dresses in the past it was more of a nervous tick, a side effect of being forced to exist. This is different. What was Josie thinking, suggesting this? He manages to fight down his anger, not wanting it to seep into his words for you to misconstrue before he speaks.

“Roadie,” he says, choosing his words carefully, and out of the corner of his eye he sees you turn to him. “I think you should get some new dresses. Some that YOU’RE comfortable in.” He chances a glance at you and you're staring at him, perfect lips parted in soft surprise that matches your wide eyes. He fights the urge to smile. It’s his favorite look on you and it makes him want to pull the car over and kiss it off you. The car behind him honks, jolting him back to the present and he collects his thoughts. “Nat could go with you if you want? She’s been hounding me about getting to spend some time with you. I promise you she’s not pushy.” You’re silent for a moment before you finally speak up.

“That would be nice,” he hears you hesitate and waits patiently for you to continue. “Are you sure it’s okay?” He’s about to ask you to clarify but you continue. “I mean aren’t I supposed to dress a certain way?” He feels his stomach twist with rage and disgust.

“Meep, you never have to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.” He fights to keep his voice even. “You’re my fake girlfriend, not a doll.”

***

You wonder if you’re imagining the way Javy is vehemently defending your sense of comfort. All that disappears, though, when the words “fake girlfriend” pass his lips. It’s like he’s doused you with a bucket of ice water. You stiffen as you remember why you’re really here. Javy sweetness mixed with the headiness from being ensconced in his jacket and scent almost had you forgetting that this is just an elaborate act. When you get to the restaurant there’ll be a crowd of reporters that Zam sent anonymous tips, waiting to capture exclusive photos of you and Javy. You’re just here to play a part. You have to smile, pretend to hide from the cameras, and seem absolutely completely in love with Javy Machado. All in a good night’s work, right?

You realize that Javy’s waiting for you to answer but the moment is broken and you’re back down in reality. You heave a heavy sigh. “As nice as that is, I can’t exactly afford to get a whole new wardrobe right now, especially the kind of clothes I need for these sorts of events.” You’re on a teacher’s salary after all, and you spend any extra money on your art.

Javy doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s fair, I’ll pay for them.” Your jaw drops and your eyes bug out of your head. “Call it a part of the agreement. It’s not your fault that your demands don’t come with a dress code so I’ll take care of the clothes and whatever else you need. I’ll give Nat my credit card.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you stammer, still wrapping your head around his cavalier attitude towards this whole situation.

“You didn’t. I offered.”

“Well, I don’t accept!” You squawk indignantly.

“I wasn’t asking, Beautiful.” Your argument is cut short as Javy pulls up to the valet booth of the restaurant and you glance out the window at the soft mood lighting glinting out the windows of the impressive-looking building.

He folds himself out of the car that’s honestly too small for a hockey player but you have a feeling size didn’t factor much into the purchasing decision. Your door clicks open and Javy holds out his hand to you. You make sure to swing your legs out first and plant them firmly before you give Javy your hand and let him pull you to your feet. He links your arm in his immediately, steadying you as he guides you around the car. His body is shielding yours at first so you don’t notice them but then the flashing of lenses almost blinds you as the press that’s been camped waiting for the two of you start to cross the small space to the door of the restaurant. You curl instinctively away from the cameras and into Javy and he just pulls you close. You almost miss the quick tap of his fingers against your wrist before he presses his lips to the top of your head. You feel warmth spread through your body from the point of contact and you suppress a shudder.

Javy doesn’t seem keen on pandering to the press beyond your presence and the chaste kiss and he ushers you through the door of the restaurant. The inside is warm and elegant and you’re suddenly glad that you’re dressed like you are. The hostess guides the two of you across the dining room and Javy politely asks that she not seat the two of you by any windows and you feel a rush of gratitude at his thoughtfulness even if it feels counterproductive to the goal of the night. Javy pulls out your chair for you and you take a seat, pulling Javy’s jacket tighter around your shoulders in the cool air of the restaurant. You busy yourself with the money to distract from the nerves gnawing at your stomach.

“It’s just dinner.” You look up when Javy speaks up. He’s gazing at you over the top of his menu. “Just think about it that way. It’s just dinner. I’m not asking you to sit in my lap and feed me chocolate cake. We’re just two people getting dinner.” Despite your skepticism, you can feel Javy’s voice somehow easing your anxiety. “Oh but I do have one request," he says and you flick your eyes back up to his, a question hidden in them and he gives you a firm look. “Order whatever you want. There’s no one in here that you have to prove anything to.” You feel your cheeks heat and you’re saved from having to answer by a waitress coming to take your drink order. Javy greets her before turning back to you. “What kind of wine do you like? Or do you prefer cocktails?”

You squirm uncomfortably as you ponder the words you need to say. Glancing at the prices on the drink menu solidifies your resolve, however. “I, uh, I don’t drink.” You murmur, not taking your eyes off Javy as you manage to get the words out. To his credit, Javy just nods before ordering water for both of you. “You didn’t have to do that,” you blurt once the waitress has made her way back to the kitchen. “I don’t mind if you drink, you don’t have to have water for my sake.” Javy just arches an eyebrow at you as he arranges his napkin in his lap.

“Meep, I’m driving. I wasn’t planning to drink.” You feel your cheeks heat.

“Oh, right.” You stammer lamely and he gives you a soft smile.

“But thanks for letting me know you don’t drink.” He says and you cock your head to the side, confused. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally make you uncomfortable by ordering you something you’re not going to be comfortable drinking.”

“Well that and it definitely saves money.” You remark before your cheeks heat more as you realize the man across from you is in a completely different tax bracket than you. “Sorry, I just, uh, I forgot.”

Javy gives you a casual shrug. “I wasn’t born into this, Beautiful, believe it or not, I do remember what money means.”

“Oh,” you stammer, embarrassed all over again.

“After my first year in the NHL, I bought my mom a new house,” he says and the smile on his face is wistful and you can see he’s lost in the memory. “She gave up a lot for me to be able to play hockey. It’s an expensive sport that we didn’t necessarily have the money to be able to afford, but she found a way to make it work. I wanted to be able to thank her for that. It’s not always the case with sports, you know? That the investment pays off. I just got lucky enough that I got to go from being the most expensive kid in my family to being the one who can take care of everyone else. It feels good, like it wasn’t all for nothing, you know?” You nod along, content to listen to Javy talk. Everything he’s saying feels genuine and you can’t help the curiosity that tickles your brain.

“You said you’re from Louisiana, right?” Javy nods. “How’d you start playing hockey then?” He chuckles at that.

“Hockey’s not the most welcome sport in Louisiana, that’s true. There’s only one minor league that’s still holding on these days, but back when I was growing up there were a few and my uncle took me and my sisters to a game once when we visited him for the weekend. I fell in love with the sport instantly, much to my mom’s disappointment. My uncle, though, saw how excited I was about it so he started to take me to the mall to skate and then he found local rinks that had open skates, and he kept taking me to games. He would go to the library and read books and watch old games to try to figure out how he could train me without having to pay for lessons. I guess it worked because then he helped my mom get me into a tryout for some fancy middle school that had a hockey team and I got in on a hockey scholarship. Once I had my foot in the door I didn’t want to lose my chance. Thankfully I was able to use gear provided by the school for a while but once I got to high school I got odd jobs so I could afford the gear I needed to play. All the other guys on my team all had second rec leagues that they played for outside school on top of the school teams but that’s all I had so I put all my effort in there, hoping I’d get scouted to play in college. I got a scouting offer from the University of Arizona my senior year of high school and ended up going there on a full-ride and now I’m here.” He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without my mom and uncle. I’ll always be thankful for what they did for me.”

“You’re still close with them, then?” You ask and his expression clouds. “My uncle passed away from cancer when I was in college. He never married, never had kids of his own.”

“Javy, I'm so sorry.” You swallow hard, but you’re interrupted by the waitress coming back to take your orders. You take a long sip of your water while Javy orders before you order without looking at the menu. You’d been committing it to memory all afternoon since Javy texted you the name and you immediately checked out the menu online. Once the waitress retreats again you speak. “Do you miss him?” You ask tentatively.

He nods. “He was the closest thing I had to a dad. Mine was never in the picture. Neither my mom nor my uncle ever talked about him either so I just stopped asking. Plus, I had my uncle and that was enough. I just wish he’d been able to see me make it, you know? I would have loved to have him there at the draft and then at my first NHL game. He gives you a wistful smile as he sips his water. But I’m still close with my mom and my sisters, so I’m grateful to have that.” You nod in understanding.

“Do they live here or are they back in Louisiana?”

“They’re back in New Orleans, but I try to get back home to them in the off-season and they come to visit sometimes during the season. Sometimes they’ll come to the away games in Dallas with Jake’s folks.

“You and Jake are close, right? I saw the photo of you guys in college.” You clarify. Javy’s face lights up and it makes you pause and you watch the joy and fondness fill his eyes.

“He’s my best friend,” Javy says with a laugh. “We were teammates and roommates in college. He’s basically my brother at this point.”

“Have you been on the same teams since then?” You ask and Javy shakes his head, a melancholy smile twisting his lips.

“We were at first, we both got drafted to the Coyotes and everything was perfect. Sure it's nerve-wracking to finally be in the NHL and playing at a professional level but it never felt that way with Jake there. It felt like we were still in college like nothing had changed at all, and that was good for our game, you know? We played like it was natural because it really felt like it was. Jake’s always been the star, though,” you see sadness creep into his eyes and your heart aches in response. “He was improving at an insane rate, and people could tell. Jake’s a natural leader, though, and he was always trying to pull me up to his level. It’s what makes him such a good captain. And then he outgrew us, and got traded to Dallas.” Javy shakes his head. “I never blamed him for taking his shot. Professional hockey takes a lot out of you and without a good support system it can crush you if you’re not careful. Jake got the chance to go home, or as close as he could get to it, and man if I could have a chance like that I probably would have gone too.”

“That doesn’t make it easier.” You say and he turns to you like he’s just remembered you’re there.

“It doesn’t,” he says, trailing off. It’s quiet between the two of you for a long moment before he speaks again. “Eventually I got traded to, and I went to San Jose and it wasn’t terrible. I dragged Nat out to California with me and we had our fun. But when I got the offer to come to San Diego, to start something new, it felt like it was time to go.”

“And you’d get to play with Jake again,” you pipe up and Javy laughs before shaking his head.

“I had no idea Jake was coming to San Diego when I signed the contract.” You blink, surprised. Your brow furrows in confusion.

“So Jake followed you?” Javy has a sad look in his eyes as he shakes his head again.

“Not quite that either.” He sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I forgot.” Your brow furrows in confusion. “That you don’t know everything.” He clarifies. “Most of it is public knowledge at this point so I just assume everyone knows already.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, trying again to smooth your sweaty palms over the nonabsorbent fabric of your dress and then settling for playing with your fingers.

“No, no you don’t have to apologize.” He waves you off with a firm shake of his head. “It’s nice, not having someone know every single thing about me before I tell them. I think I forgot what that’s like.”

“Oh,” you feel your cheeks heat as the waitress arrives with your food.

***

Dinner passes without incident and you slowly feel yourself getting used to Javy. He seems to be content doing most of the talking and you’re content to listen. The food is delicious and about halfway through the meal a jazz band strikes up some soft music providing a cozy backdrop. You notice Javy tapping his toes under the table. “Do you like jazz?” You ask.

“Beautiful, I’m from New Orleans, I LOVE jazz. More than love, it’s in my blood, mon amour.” You flush under the terms of endearment that normally you’d blame on alcohol except for the fact that Javy’s continued to join you by drinking water all night.

“I didn’t want to assume,” you whisper and he smiles, widely.

“Well, you assumed correctly. Come. Dance with me, Beautiful.” Javy extends his hand to you and your eyes go wide like a deer in the headlights.

“I-I can’t,” you stammer and Javy shakes his head, insistent. “Javy there’s no one else dancing,” you insist, glancing around the room at the other groups dining around you. Sure there’s a small space in front of the band that could serve as a dance floor if necessary but no one seems keen on utilizing it.

“Come on, Beautiful. Dance with me.” Javy says again, standing from the table and your eyes widen in terror.

“I told you, Javy, I can’t. Even if I wanted to, I can’t in these shoes.”

“So take them off,” you give him a look of pure horror.

“Javy, PLEASE. Please don’t make me.” You beg, terror gripping your nerves and you see something you can’t identify pass across Javy’s face before he nods and stands up straight.

“I’ll let you off the hook tonight, Beautiful, but I’ll get you to dance with me yet.” With that, he turns away from the table and your heart sinks in fear. Is he leaving? Without you? Certainly not, he hasn’t paid the bill yet. You reach out without thinking but Javy’s already moving across the room over to where the band is playing. You see him lean over to speak with them before he slips one of the microphones arranged around the musicians out of its stand and moves into the center of the would-be dance floor as the band starts playing again.

“I'm just a gigolo. Everywhere I go, people know the part I'm playing.” Javy begins to croon into the microphone and you notice a few patrons look up from their dinner as your face flushes even hotter. He’s not a bad singer, rough and unrefined but it suits the light jazz tune. “Paid for every dance, selling each romance. Oh, what they're saying. There will come day when youth will pass away. What will they say about me? When the end comes I know, they'll say just a gigolo. Life goes on without me.”

Your face heats as you process the words he’s singing. His expression is part sultry and part fun as he delivers the words.

After he repeats the verse he’s just sung the tune starts to pick up. “'Cause I ain't got nobody. Nobody cares for me. 'Cause nobody cares for me. I'm so sad and lonely. Sad and lonely, sad and lonely. Won't some sweet mama come and take a chance with me? 'Cause I ain't so bad.” He scats slightly as he sings and you can’t help the way your lips part slightly in surprised admiration. He reaches a hand in your direction, urging you to join him as the music transitions into a more instrumental section. The jazz is in full swing now and you feel the music as well as Javy calling to you in a way you’ve never experienced before. The sad lyrics contrasted with the upbeat tune fill your heart with a familiar melancholy that’s usually reserved for quiet nights alone spent working on your art and you think maybe that’s what makes you stand on wobbly feet and carefully make your way to where Javy’s swaying with the microphone and crooning and scatting into it. His eyes light up when he sees you coming and makes sure to meet you at the edge of the dance floor before gently taking your weight off your unsteady feet as he eases you into his arms.

He’s ditched the microphone at some point and a member of the band has taken up the vocals but he croons the words into your ear as he gently sways with you. He makes sure to keep the steps simple enough for you to keep up in your heels. Suddenly you’re at your senior prom all over again, in Andrew’s arms instead of Javy’s and then you’re tripping over your feet as your daydream bursts and you're grabbing at Javy’s silky shirt for purchase as his arms shift to keep you from falling.

“Easy, Meep, you okay?” He says and you see him searching your face. You nod, not trusting your voice until you clear your throat.

“I think I’m all danced out.” You whisper and he nods, gently guiding you back to the table where a giant slice of chocolate cake is waiting for the two of you.

“Here, Meep, eat some cake.” He says as he pulls out your chair for you. You nod absently, and while on any other day, you’d probably have loved the decadent desert but it tastes like dirt in your mouth as try to finish it quickly. “Meep, are you okay?” You don’t answer as you try not to empty your entire water glass in one go. “Roadie,” Javy says, reaching a hand out to touch your arm but you flinch away from the touch and he instantly pulls away, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“I’m sorry, I just. I’m not feeling very well. I think I’m ready to go home.” You whisper, head down and eyes focussed on your worrying hands.

“Okay. Okay, let’s get you home then.” You hear Javy flag down the waitress and pay the bill before he’s gently pulling your chair out and helping you to your feet, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders. “Meep,” he whispers to you as the two of you make your way to the door. “There’s going to be paparazzi outside, I’ll do the best to get us through there as fast as possible but I want you to have a heads up. I’m going to kiss you so they can get their shot and get out of our way, okay?” You nod, numbly, struggling considerably to plaster what you hope is an amorous smile on your face.

Javy doesn’t look convinced but he tucks you into his side nonetheless. Even Javy’s warning doesn’t fully prepare you for the onslaught of flashing lights when you exit the restaurant and you curl into Javy and he pulls you closer in response. He guides you to the car that’s been pulled up and he opens the door, tapping your wrist three times quickly before he kisses you. You’re still not entirely used to the feeling of kissing him but the door bumps your leg and you stumble. You throw your arms around Javy’s neck to catch yourself accidentally deepening the kiss and Javy slides a warm hand to hold your back against him before he pulls away, a concerned look in his eyes as he helps you fold yourself into the cramped interior of the car.

You tug Javy’s jacket further around you as you wait for Javy to come around to the driver’s side, trying to fold into yourself but as you tug the fabric closer, the scent of his cologne floods your nose, but this time it feels like a smokey snake, forcing itself down your throat and choking you. You shove it away, pushing the fabric down your shoulders as the night air chills your skin, urging you to pull the jacket back up. Instead, you wrap your arms around yourself as Javy opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat. Your eyes are locked on the console in front of you as you will the drive to be over as you hear the rumble of the engine coming to life.

“Meep?” You hear Javy calling out to you, concern in his voice as he pulls away from the restaurant. You don’t answer as you climb deeper into yourself. “Roadie?” His voice calls again but it sounds farther away this time. You still don’t answer, tugging on your arms, trying to get smaller and smaller as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to escape the moving car. You don’t realize the car has stopped until you feel the hands on your arms. Javy’s calling your name but you don’t answer. He must lean closer because your throat is once again violated by the scent of his cologne and you’re moving on instinct as you shove him away. You’re moving like you’re fighting through water as you shove at the seatbelt and fumble with the door to the car as you struggle to get out.

As the night air whips your hair around, you stumble, colliding with a cement partition. The salty air is like a shock to your system and your eyes shoot open as you come face to face with the blackness of the ocean. Your hands shoot forward to grab the partition before you can topple over it and you sink to the asphalt as the adrenaline leaves your body like it's been punched out alongside your breath. You don’t register Javy calling for you until he’s crouched in front of you, your terror reflected in his eyes, his hands shaking in time with yours as they cup your cheeks, searching your face. The world comes back into focus and you hear the rush of cars mere feet away on the highway as you realize Javy’s parked on the shoulder.

“Hey, hey, Roadie you okay?” Javy’s voice is shaking along with the rest of him. You nod, or at least you try to. Before you can stop him, he’s pulling you against him and you can feel the thunder of his heart through your chests pressed together. He releases you as quickly as he hugs you like it’s the product of an instinct he couldn’t suppress and then he’s taking more measured yet still shaky breaths.

“Javy?” you don’t recognize the voice that comes out of your mouth. He looks up and his deep brown eyes bore into you with a kind of cautious curiosity. “Can you take me home, please?” That seems to sober him up and he stands, offering you a hand to pull you up after him. You take it after pausing to fumble with your outfit for a moment. When you stand on your feet, you feel more stable than you have all night. Javy starts to lead you back to the car but you pause, turning back to the roiling ocean behind you and you toss the heels over the edge of the partition. The asphalt is rough under your feet but you feel grounded.

***

Javy can’t help the pride that slips onto his face as he watches you toss Josie Fitch’s overpriced deathtraps over the edge of the highway, down into the ocean below. His heart stopped when you’d practically dashed out of the parked car but from the terror he’d just seen in your eyes it seemed like maybe even you hadn’t been aware of your actions. Something in the restaurant had set you off, he just can’t figure out what. You’d been alright since you’d gotten settled there, you’d even worked up the courage to dance with him, and then just as quickly as it had come, some kind of invisible wall had gone up in your eyes and you’d shut him out.

He knows he shouldn’t care but he wants to know why. More than he’s wanted to know anything in his life before. He carefully leads you back to the car, worrying about your bare feet on this disgusting stretch of shoulder but you don’t seem concerned. You seem to have come back to yourself but you’re silent as he helps you fold yourself back into the car before he crouches down beside you. You give him a puzzled look as he holds out a hand to you so he reaches gently out for your feet. You start in surprise when his fingers brush your bare ankle but don’t pull away so he wraps his fingers around the soft skin and gently eases your foot into his grip. He examines the bottom, looking for any sort of injury, sweeping at the dusty skin, brushing aside dirt and small pebbles of asphalt clinging to your skin. Your first foot seems fine so he moves on to the other one. His lips pinch into a thin line as he reveals the underside and his eyes catch on a tiny piece of glass stuck in your skin. “Shit,” he mutters and you shift above him.

“What?” He hates how weak and scared your voice sounds.

“Easy, Beautiful, stay still for me for a second?” He looks up in time to see you nod. He shifts to reach for the glove compartment, popping it open. He pulls out a leather case and a pair of socks. Jake’s always so insistent on impromptu bowling outings that he keeps an extra pair of socks in all three of his cars. The leather case is from Nat’s insistence on being prepared for emergencies and for the first time he’s glad for her insistence as he unzips it. He takes out the first aid kid, first ripping open an alcohol swab and cleaning the area around the glass before he pinches it between his fingers and tugs it free. Your foot twitches as he hears the hiss of your breath. He tosses the offending shard somewhere behind him as he looks up just in time to see your teeth digging into the plump skin of your lower lip and liquid dancing at your lash line as your eyes meet his. “This will sting for just a second, okay?” He asks and you nod as he rips open another swab and swipes over the cut that’s starting to dribble blood. You hiss again and then he’s putting a bandaid over the cut. He rubs the top of your foot gently. “There we go, Meep, all done.” He reaches for the socks then, and gently eases one over each of your bare feet. Their slightly too big but it’s endearing. He stands then, wiping his hands on his pants. “Let’s get you home, Meep.” You nod silently.

***

Your foot throbs slightly in the background of your mind as you lean your head against the window. Javy’s socks are too big and a little scratchy but you don’t mind. You know throwing your shoes was stupid but Javy hasn’t said anything about it. You’re exhausted from the panic attack and the adrenaline of almost taking the tumble off the side of the road. You just want to be home. You don’t notice that you’ve drifted off until Javy’s gently shaking your shoulder to let you know that you’re here. But when you blink awake blearily you realize you aren’t at Javy’s apartment where you parked your car but instead, you’re in front of your apartment building. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you’re suddenly very aware of the stark difference between your dumpy suburban complex and Javy’s sleek luxury apartment building.

“I texted Josie and asked for your address and she said she’d pick you up tomorrow morning and drop you off at my place to pick up your car tomorrow,” Javy explains and you nod numbly.

“Thanks,” the word falls lamely off your lips. Javy climbs out of the car and comes around to help you out on your side. You give him an awkward tight-lipped smile as you fumble in the tiny clutch Josie lent you for your keys. “I’ve got it from here,” you assure him as you start to step away from him towards your building. The idea of Javy seeing your apartment right now is mortifying.

“Beautiful, if you think I’m not walking you to your door, you have another thing coming.” You’re exhausted so maybe that’s why your walls fall away as your brow tightens in irritation.

“I said I’m fine.” You frown slightly at him and he just crosses his arms over his chest.

“You’re hurt, you’re actively limping,” you glance down to see where your posture has shifted instinctively to favor your uninjured foot, “and it’s late. I’m walking you to your door. Either you can let me help or I can carry you, your choice.”

Your jaw drops at his brazen threat. “You don’t know what unit I live in.” You cross your arms across your chest and tilt your chin out, letting your anxiety and exhaustion channel into stubbornness.

“I’ll take that bet,” Javy says, grinning lazily at you. “Come on, Meep, let’s just go.”

“Fine,” you mutter and lead the way to your door, refusing Javy’s offer of a hand to steady you, favoring the railing of the stairs as you climb up to your floor. When you reach your door, you make sure to unlock it in front of Javy before you turn to him. “Goodnight, Javy. I’ll see you on Tuesday.” He nods, accepting your clear lack of an invitation to come in.

“See you, Roadie.” You watch him walk back down the hallway towards the stairs before you duck inside and lock the door behind you.

A/N: That was a LOADED chapter, but octopus soup day is up next!!! The song Javy sang was Just a Gigolo/ I Ain’t Got Nobody by Louis Prima, I was thinking about it one day and thought it would be a hilarious addition to the fic.