#Truck Driver Vintage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roosterforme · 1 year

Text

Adult Education Part 1 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake ends up sitting in on a college physics lecture purely by accident. He's rewarded with a cute smile and a cheap beer when he defends the professor. But since when is he like Bradshaw, getting turned on by math and college classrooms?

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! It was also written for a request and Rocktober! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"Hey, Bradshaw."

Bradley spun to face Jake in the parking lot, throwing a questioning glance his way. "Hangman?"

"I need a favor."

Jake wanted to laugh at the annoyed look on the other aviator's face, but he really did need Rooster to help him out.

"What favor?" Bradley asked, making a production of checking his watch for the time. It was 5:32. Jake could have told him that without checking his own watch. But once again, being at Bradshaw's mercy had him biting his tongue.

"I need a ride home," Jake informed him, nodding to where that vintage Bronco was parked. "My truck is in the shop."

"Why are you just telling me about this now?"

Jake sighed. "Because I live to annoy you. Can you drop me off at my place or not? It's like a mile from your house."

"I'm not heading straight home," Bradley informed him. "My wife is giving a back to school mini lecture at the college."

"Doesn't she teach calculus?" Jake asked, starting to sweat through his khaki uniform while the two men stood in the hot blacktop. "Why are you going to a college calculus lecture?"

Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, clearly annoyed that he was being held up. "Because my wife is hot, and I want to get laid tonight."

"That's fair," he replied. Bradshaw somehow ended up marrying a dime. And Jake supposed he'd willingly attend some stuffy math lecture as well, if the woman giving it was hot enough.

"Listen, I'm leaving," Bradley said, already backing away. "If you want a ride from me, you'll have to swing by San Diego State for an hour or two first. I can drop you off after the lecture."

Jake looked around, deciding this was going to be his best option. "Yeah, alright. Thanks, Bradshaw."

"Just don't embarrass me," Bradley replied, climbing in the driver's side door. Jake climbed in the Bronco as well and rolled his eyes. Really, in what world would he be the embarrassing one here?

"I'm cool," Jake insisted as they pulled out of the parking spot.

"And please, don't call my wife Dr. Tits."

"Okay, that was one time," Jake said, trying to defend himself. "At the holiday party. And I was very drunk."

"Yeah, well she thinks you're annoying."

"Hmm," Jake hummed, looking out the window. "I'll behave."

They rode the rest of the way in a silence that thankfully wasn't as awkward as it could have been. And when they went walking through the campus side by side, Jake chuckled at all of the college aged girls turning to get a look at them.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted. "It happens every time."

"Hey, some of these girls are cute."

"You're thirty."

"I don't see a problem."

Jake held open the door to the mathematics and science building for Bradley to walk inside, and they were met with clusters of students and professors talking in the long corridor. He followed Bradley into one of the lecture halls on the first floor, and a pang of jealousy shot through him when Bradshaw's wife made a beeline their way with a smile on her face.

"Hey, Sugar," Bradley crooned, and she kissed him so sweetly, Jake had to look away.

"Beer Boy! I can't believe you came."

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Oh, hi Jake," she said, waving to him from where she was tucked under her husband's chin.

"Hi," he replied, feeling kind of bad about calling her Dr. Tits a few weeks ago. "Rooster kindly offered to drive me home after your lecture, since my truck is currently in for repairs."

"You're sweet," she told Bradley before leaning up to kiss him again. But now he had one hand sliding down along her ass, and Jake waved as he walked away.

"Text me when you're done," he muttered, despising the feeling of being the third wheel. It happened more and more as his friends and coworkers started to pair off in serious relationships. He didn't mind being single; it gave him more opportunity to save money for a Cessna, and he didn't have to stop picking up girls from the bar. But he didn't like it when he was expected to stand there and watch everyone else sucking face and saying I love you. "Disgusting."

When he wandered back out into the main hallway, he noticed that it was 6:00 and everyone seemed to be heading into the different lecture halls. So he chose a door at random and ducked inside behind a kid holding a skateboard. If he'd had more time to consider his options, he might have looked for something different to listen to for an hour, but it just so happened he walked in as a physics lecture was starting up.

There was a woman with her back to the room writing her name on the white board. Dr. Jessica Reed. When she turned around, adjusted her glasses and smiled, Jake tripped over a chair leg and sat down a little hard in one of the empty seats. She was beautiful. And now she was looking right at him since he'd made the chair screech a few inches across the floor.

"Sorry," he whispered, wincing in apology. But she just shrugged a little bit and got started.

"Welcome back for the spring semester. I'm Dr. Reed, and this is my second year teaching at San Diego State after earning my PhD in physics from Texas A&M." She paused and gestured to five men sitting in the front row. "Tonight some of my colleagues and I will be talking about propulsion and thrust in relation to aviation and aeronautics."

Now Jake was sitting on the edge of his seat. She went to college in Texas? She knew about aviation? She looked hot in her glasses, skirt and high heels? He was fascinated. She gave a short lecture, pausing to write some formulas on the board in her tidy handwriting, and he was pleased to note that he remembered some of this from his classes at the Naval Academy. He actually remembered a lot of this.

Now she was writing a problem on the board while she said, "Thrust provides the forward motion needed to sustain lift and counteract drag. It is also used to accelerate, gain altitude, and sometimes to maneuver. Propulsion is the act of moving or pushing an object forward. So if an aviator needs to prevent altitude loss because of drag, they would need to know how this formula works."

Jake sat with a smug smile on his face. He did this every day at work. And he already solved her handwritten problem in his head, because he took and aced four semesters of physics himself.

"Can anyone solve for the required thrust?" she asked, adjusting her glasses a little nervously when nobody immediately raised their hand.

Jake glanced from side to side. The college kids either looked lost or too shy to answer, so he slipped his hand into the air.

"Yes?" she asked, calling on him. "Go ahead."

"2900 meters per second," he answered smoothly, and her face lit up.

"Perfect," she replied, turning back to the board to finish solving for everyone to see. She gave a few closing notes and some information about her class schedule, and when she was finished, she grabbed her notebook from the podium. Jake and a few others in attendance clapped for her as she made her way to the empty seat right in front of him. She smiled at him softly before she sat down.

And then Jake had to endure a very loud, very cranky old man named Dr. Benson Leeland give a similar lecture. But his voice was not conducive to learning, and his handwriting was atrocious. He complained in a passive aggressive tone that Dr. Reed hadn't erased the board for him, and Jake watched her squirm a little awkwardly in the seat in front of him. That was pretty rude of Dr. Leeland.

But now Jake was noticing the way the other physics professors were hanging on every word that this guy was saying. A few even asked for more information. But as Jake studied the sloppy equation he was scribbling on the board, he realized the answer was wrong.

"He doesn't even have the right information," Jake mumbled, squinting at the board.

"No," Jessica Reed whispered, "he really doesn't."

"Is he new here or something?" Jake muttered.

She laughed softly and looked at him over her shoulder. She looked so cute, and her eyes were sparkling with wit and intelligence. "He's had tenure since 1995."

"Jesus," Jake groaned, looking back to the board just in time to see Dr. Leeland cap the dry erase marker.

"Any questions about the problem?" he barked, and once again everyone else in the room looked half asleep. Well, other than the panel of professors in the front who were hanging on his every word.

But Jake raised his hand and said, "Yes. Several."

"Fine," Dr. Leeland growled. "What would you like to know?"

Jake scoffed and stood up as he gestured to the white board. "I'd like to know why your answer is wrong."

The room went silent as Dr. Leeland turned and looked at the board. A few seconds later, he said, "It looks correct to me," but he sounded far less confident now.

"Well it's not. It's off by a thousand. And you need thrust not propulsion to rapidly gain altitude during takeoff," Jake said, and he noticed that Jessica appeared to be holding in her laughter in front of him. "So not only is your math wrong, your equation just doesn't even make any sense."

"I'm sorry, but are you a student here? Did you graduate from this program?" Leeland asked Jake.

"No," he replied with his hands on his hips. "I'm an aviator. And I attended the Naval Academy where the professors taught physics correctly like Dr. Reed."

He could have heard a pin drop, and Jessica was looking back at him from her seat with her lips parted and her eyes wide. Then a smile crept onto her face, and Jake decided that it was so stunning, he'd like to keep it there.

Just as Dr. Leeland started to shuffle around the front of the lecture hall, and another equally geriatric professor took his place at the podium, Jessica stood, clutching her red notebook to her chest. She still looked kind of surprised by him, but pleased nonetheless. And when she was standing this close to him, Jake was having a hard time remembering why he was annoyed a few seconds ago.

When she nodded to the doors at the back of the room and headed toward them, Jake tripped along after her. She slipped silently out into the hallway and he followed her lead. It was cool and quiet out here, and she laughed softly as soon as the door closed softly behind him.

"Sorry, but there's no way I could listen to another lecture after Leeland put his foot in his mouth like that," she told him softly with a smile. "And it seemed like you were probably done, too?"

"That's right. I'm pretty sure I already got to hear the best physics professor give her lecture," Jake said as smoothly as he could. "No sense in staying for whatever the hell that was." He jerked his chin toward the door, and she looked delighted. "He didn't even know what he was talking about."

"Yeah," she agreed, adjusting her glasses and nodding vigorously. "He's been tenured. Since 1995. Welcome to my world."

Jake chuckled, and when he held out his hand, she juggled her notebook and shook it. "I'm Jake Seresin." Her hand was small and sure, and he had to fight the urge to pull her closer.

"Jessica Reed," she replied, pulling her hand from his all too soon.

"I really liked your mini lecture, Dr. Reed," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets.

She laughed and looked at the floor for a beat. "You can call me Jessica." She glanced toward the elevators like maybe she was going to leave, but then she turned back to him and asked, "You feel like grabbing a drink? There's a hellaciously shitty dive bar across the street."

He grinned. "Do they have cheap beer?"

"Oh, yeah. And they give you peanuts and let you throw the shells wherever you want to with reckless abandon," she said before biting her lip. Was she nervous to ask him? She shouldn't be. Jake would have followed her out into oncoming traffic if she said that's what she wanted to do.

"Let's go," he replied, earning himself another smile.

"It's my treat," she said, pushing open the doors and heading out onto the sidewalk with him. "Honestly, a three dollar beer and some stale peanuts is the least you deserve for standing up for me in there."

As they walked side by side toward the corner and the crosswalk, he asked, "So you're the only competent one in your department, Jessica?" Oh, he really liked saying her name. He wondered if she would respond with one of those pretty smiles if he whispered her name in her ear.

"Yes," she replied with conviction as she crossed the street toward the bar called Chippy's. "And I'm also the youngest one, the only female, and the only one without tenure." She pushed open the door, and Jake immediately noticed the crowd of college students and the floor that was simultaneously sticky and slippery from peanut shells.

"Hey, Reedy!" called the bartender, and she waved to him before grabbing the last empty high top with two stools.

Jake smirked. "Are you a regular at Chippy's?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes with a grin as she took a seat.

"If you were in my shoes, you'd need a shitty beer at the end of the day more often than not, too."

And then to Jake's surprise, the older bartender stopped by the table with two beers and a bowl of peanuts. He set them down next to Jessica's red notebook. "Reedy," he said with a wink before looking at Jake like he was already on thin ice.

When he headed back to the bar, Jake sat on the stool opposite hers and watched as she took a sip of her beer. Then she licked her lips, and Jake leaned a little closer.

"Okay, so earlier you said you're an aviator?" she asked, looking at his uniform shirt. "You're a naval Lieutenant? Top Gun?"

"That's right," he confirmed, and that smile was back. "Your lecture took me right back to my Physics of Propulsion and Combustion class from about ten years ago."

She cracked open a peanut, and Jake watched her toss the shell to the floor without a care in the world, and he laughed.

"What were you doing in my lecture anyway?" she asked before popping the peanut into her mouth.

Jake suddenly remembered Bradshaw and his wife and his ride home. He'd gotten completely lost in Jessica and managed to forget all about everything else. "I actually came with a friend of mine, but he went to a different lecture. I just picked a door at random, and let me tell you, I'm happy I ended up in your lecture hall."

She pressed her lips together, and he crushed a peanut of his own. "Well, I hope you learned something useful today, Jake."

"I did," he replied, throwing the shell over his shoulder, and Jessica laughed. "I learned that if I'm not nice to the best physics professor at San Diego State, the bartender at Chippy's will kick my ass."

The sound of her laughter as she tipped her head back had Jake entranced. Her neck and collarbones looked soft, like they were made for his lips and fingers to explore. And her clothes were kind of sexy in an academic way. Since when was he like Bradshaw, getting turned on by math and college classrooms?

"Yeah, you better watch your back," she said, cracking into another peanut. "What kind of jet do you fly?"

He had to clear his throat. "F/A-18. Super Hornet."

She moaned softly, and Jake almost dropped his pint glass. "One of my favorites for aerodynamics and combustion studies. I actually just read the most interesting article in the Journal of Propulsion Science about the Super Hornet. It was fascinating, because they touched on-" She froze with a peanut shell in her hand and looked embarrassed. "Sorry."

He wanted her to finish her sentence. He needed her to. She knew about the fucking physics of his aircraft! She was hot as hell! "Keep going," he urged. "Why was it fascinating?"

Jessica licked her lips again and said, "It was fascinating because they touched on the way temperature affects draft and drag."

After that, Jake was completely hooked. He listened to her with rapt attention as she told him a bit more about the article before saying, "I kept the journal. If you ever wanted to borrow it."

"Yes," he replied immediately, leaning even closer to her. "I'd love to borrow it."

"Great," she whispered, adjusting her glasses and finishing her beer. But when she set her glass down, she gasped. "I left my wallet in my office. I was going to treat you to the beer for being so sweet and essentially telling Leeland to go fuck himself earlier."

Jake was the one with his head tipped back in laughter this time. When he met her eyes again, he said, "Oh, you're cute, Jessica. But I was never going to let you pay for the three dollar beers." She giggled and covered her lips with her fingertips, and Jake asked, "You want another pint?"

But then his phone rang, and he muttered, "Sorry," as he dug it out of his pocket.

Bradshaw

He ignored the call. All of the lectures must be over by now. He was probably ready to leave. But Jake wanted to spend the rest of the night sitting in Chippy's with Dr. Jessica Reed, throwing peanut shells on the floor with reckless abandon.

"You have to go?" she asked softly, and Jake thought she looked a little sad at the prospect.

"Yeah," he started before his brain helpfully informed him that he could easily stay longer and just get a cab or an Uber to take him home later.

But when he was about to tell Jessica that he actually wanted to hang out with her longer, she said, "Okay. No worries. I... should get back to my office anyway. Thanks for the beer, Jake."

And then she stood, and he felt instant regret as he left twenty bucks on the table and followed her outside. But his phone was ringing in his hand as she turned toward the math and science building and pushed the button for the crosswalk.

Jake answered Bradley's call with a clipped, "Yeah?"

"Meet us at the Bronco." And then the call went silent.

He watched as Jessica pushed the button for the crosswalk two more times. "Jessica," he started, but she cut him off.

"Thanks again, Jake. Have a great night," she said, running across the street in her high heels. So he ran after her.

"What happened?" he called after her. "Jessica!" But she was already near the doors that would take her inside to her office. She glanced back at him one last time before she walked inside, and he didn't look away until she was completely out of his sight.

"Fuck," he shouted, turning back toward the street where the Bronco was parked. Everything had been going well. Fucking great. Jessica was smart and attractive. Funny, too. And the chemistry was definitely there. He was almost certain he was about to seal the deal with her phone number.

As he rounded the corner, he saw Bradshaw leaning against the Bronco. "There you are," he said, opening the driver's door and sliding the seat forward for Jake to climb in the back.

"Which lecture did you end up attending?" his wife asked as Bradley started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

"Physics," he muttered, still trying to figure out how he managed to fuck up the night. Then he looked at her again. "Hey, do you know anything about Jessica Reed?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. She's nice. Physics professor. Kind of keeps to herself, probably because the rest of her department is comprised of a bunch of old douchebags. She's only been at the school one year longer than me. Why do you ask? Ohhhh," she said knowingly and turned to look at him. "She's a genius, and she's gorgeous."

"Sounds like she's a little bit out of your league, man," Rooster said with a laugh.

Jake raked his fingers through his hair. "More like a lot," he said, fully agreeing with Bradshaw for once.

"Don't act like I'm not out of your league, Beer Boy," his wife said. And then Jake had to endure their little cuddle fest for the rest of the drive while he mentally kicked himself for having no clue how to treat a woman who he wanted to get to know, not just get in his bed.

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

Give it up, Jake. You're just as bad as Beer Boy. Oh, Jessica, where did you go? I'm kind of torn between leaving this as a one-shot and writing a second part. Big thanks for @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

@blahehblah

@sotalife

@desert-fern

@furiouspiespytaco

@rosiahills22

@daggerspare-standingby

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-joyride

@theharddeck

@withakindheartx

@roosterscockpit

@whatislovevavy

@hangmanbrainrot

@neferpatra

@sehnsuchts-trunken

@child-of-thedevil

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@mygyn

@hoyaharper

@tallyovie

@gennyanydots

@callsign-magnolia

@whisperofsong

@seriouslyseresin

@double-j

@bradshawsbitch

@sugarcoated-lame

@katiebby04

@anotherr-fine-mess

@supernaturaldawning

@chassy21

@tylerjones98

@captainjaspenor

@gigisimsonmars

@fanboyswhore9

@angel-w0nderland

@abaker74

@idontcare-11

@isaebellaa

1K notes · View notes

outlawruben · 3 months

Text

Modern AU headcannons

The Vandermatthews family edition

When John was a teenager he made slime and got it in Dutch’s expensive Persian rug he keeps in the office. (Dutch was LIVID.)

Hosea reads late into the night, which caused Dutch to buy one of those clip on reading lights so he can finally sleep peacefully.

Dutch and Hosea do embarrassing dances in the kitchen/living spaces when the kids are around. Arthur and John cringe hard at this.

John was introduced to Limp Bizkit and his life was forever changed.

Arthur: “GET OUT OF MY ROOM.”

John *In the doorway*: “IM NOT IN YOUR ROOM.”

Arthur: “dinner is ready.”

John: “OKAY.”

Arthur, louder: “OKAY!”

Arthur tans at the beach, John burns

Arthur has straight A’s, John has straight C’s

John will take a (monthly) shower and get the WHOLE floor wet

John’s favorite Christmas was when he got a bass guitar, and Arthur’s favorite was when he got his blue truck.

Arthur sits on Dutch/Hosea’s bed and just spills the tea to Hosea late into the evening (Dutch wants to get ready for bed soon)

Arthur is a PC player, and John is a console player

John has to go to the mall with Arthur when he wants to go alone because “John doesn’t socialize enough”

They both got to choose their bedroom colors, however, John wasn’t allowed to do THE DARKEST black in the store, so his room is a dark grey with a black accent wall. (Arthur’s room is blue)

Branching off of that, Arthur and John could decorate their rooms HOWEVER they wanted, there was no intervention from the dads

Hosea does the “Dad hand” during road trips when the boys have a snack he wants.

Hosea is the designated driver because Dutch has terrible road rage

They live on a pond, in fact Dutch and Hosea argued over it before buying the house, so much so that Hosea threatened a divorce because the ONLY thing he wants is a pond. Dutch folded, and Hosea fishes everyday.

Arthur loved Percy Jackson and John loved Warrior Cats.

Arthur is a cereal eater, and John is a pop-tart eater

The contrast between Arthur’s masterpieces vs John’s doodles are crazy. (They’re both proudly displayed on the front of the fridge no matter what) (yes this is based on their canonical journal entries, sue me)

John and Arthur took those embarrassing Macy’s photoshoots in the early 2000’s that are out on display for everyone to see in the future.

John has an INCREDIBLY embarrassing graduation photo from when he was in his emo phase in high school, and his dads refuse to remove it. (It’s placed next to Arthur’s gleaming grad photo)

Dutch has slippers he wears around the house, and Hosea just wears his socks.

John still doesn’t know how to swim in this AU, Hosea has tried to teach him, but John refuses to get in the water.

They have taxidermy in their house from when Hosea went hunting more often when he was younger.

Somehow Hosea and Dutch’s aesthetics work so well together.

Dutch is very much old money, and maximalist, and Hosea is definitely Vintage and Woodsy (It works together if you saw their house)

You would be convinced that John’s nails were naturally black and chipped from how much he painted them.

Hosea has a “Shop” in the garage like every dad has to have. (It’s full of fishing supplies, paint cans, and other tools ofc)

John’s room is very dark, messy, and covered in posters from every movie/Tv show/video game he’s ever seen/played. Also, making the bed? What’s that?

Arthur’s room is open and airy, with his own mountain murals painted on the walls, a full art desk, and he also doesn’t know what making the bed means.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #arthur morgan #john marston #dutch x hosea #vandermatthews #arthur and john #rdr2 modern au

262 notes · View notes

nadal-designer · 1 year

Text

0 notes

mypastnow · 3 months

Text

#blk&wht photography #vintage photography #vintage truck and driver #south africa #the boys in South Africa #vintage photographer #Photographer: Andrew Kennedy #1988

144 notes · View notes

hometoursandotherstuff · 8 months

Text

1961 motorhome in Portland, Oregon is a rolling time capsule. It's so big it takes diesel fuel and I can't even describe the custom designed interior. $75,000.

Not sure what that is on the tufted door.

Everything is tufted- the walls, ceiling, and furniture.

There's even a tufted bathroom.

And, check out the pink tufted bedroom. It's cozy, though.

Have you ever seen a mini juke box like this?

The tufted driver's compartment looks like a cockpit.

Pilot to co-pilot.

The dining area has a retro lighted picture box.

Full size sofa with side tables.

This thing is a truck.

The back of it looks like a tour bus.

The snazzy rear lights look like something off an old Cadillac.

I don't understand all this, but I guess it's significant. If looks pretty clean and new for a vintage vehicle.

#facebook marketplace #mobile homes #houses #house tours #home tour

245 notes · View notes

allbark-no-bite · 3 months

Text

the night shift.

jake seresin x bradley bradshaw (wc: 3k)

summary: jake’s a cop working the night shift and pulls over a mildly drunk (and very interested) firefighter. chaos ensues.

warnings: mature, *driving while under the influence of alcohol, some sexual references

*if this bothers you, just don’t read, simple as that. you don’t have to come into my inbox to tell me that it bothers you <3

author’s note: i’ve never written anything faster in my entire like. this was so much fun! i came across this post again and couldn’t let it go. all credit to @squiddosss for their amazing artwork

————————————————————————

It's slow nights like these that make Jake question why he prefers the night shift.

The gravel of the lonely backroad crunches beneath the tires of his cruiser as he makes the curve and slowly pulls to a stop. The sirens on his cruiser give one last whoop before he shuts them off. The back of the beat up vintage blue Bronco gleams in the shine of his headlights. He sighs and shifts the car into park before he tips his radio towards his mouth and mumbles his whereabouts, informing Javy that he's making a traffic stop.

"10-4. Keep me updated."

He climbs out of the cruiser and makes his way towards the vehicle, keeping one thumb tucked into the front of his belt, fingers ready to reach for his gun in an instant. The diver hadn't given him any trouble thus far other than what he had pulled him over for— swerving all over the road, but Jake had been trained to err on the side of caution. He runs his finger tips over the tail light as he passes it by, a habit he had picked up from working alone.

For being such an old model, the car is in pretty decent shape. It has what appears to be brand new tires and the powder blue paint job has been restored to perfection. It was obviously well cared for. He wonders briefly the story behind it being as he doubts you could buy such a car these days. This was the kind of car that you handed down.

The window rolls down just as Jake approaches it.

"How's it goin' Officer?"

Jake blinks.

The driver is a younger guy, probably close to his own age— Jake likes to think that thirty-one is still plenty young— with shoulders so broad that it's a wonder he even fits in the front seat. His skin is a dark olive, which is pretty typical for someone who lives around here, but what catches Jake's attention the most is the perfectly groomed mustache the guy is sporting on his upper lip. It's thick and matches the caramel color of his otherwise brunette head of hair.

"Is there something wrong?"

The guy smiles and his dusty rose lips frame his perfectly aligned white teeth.

Jake tells himself it's his job to notice these kinds of things.

Jake clears his throat and leans in to peer into the cab of the truck, doing his best to avoid the lingering stare of the guy's warm hazel eyes. When he's satisfied that there's nothing worthy of his immediate attention in the car, Jake focuses back on him.

"Can I get your license and registration?"

It takes him a moment of fumbling around in his glove box and then his pocket, but he hands both documents over. The guy watches him so intently while Jake reads over them that it almost makes him uncomfortable, and he's glad for the excuse to look away.

"You had much to drink tonight, Bradley?" Jake asks as his eyes skim over the name. Bradley Peter Bradshaw. He almost laughs. If Jake didn't know better, he'd think it was a fake.

Jake knows the answer before he asks it but he figures he'll give him the benefit of the doubt for now. He doesn't necessarily reek of alcohol but Jake can defiantly pick up the fermented smell of yeast on his breath. If the guy hadn't been staring at him so intently and Jake could look at him for longer than two seconds, he's sure his pupils would be dilated as well.

"Just a little, Officer. I'm sobered up now."

Jake has to hold back his disbelieving snort. If he had a dime for every time he heard that, he'd be rich. "Well, Bradley. I find that a little hard to believe. You were all over this back road here. You know you're only supposed to drive on the right side, right?"

Bradley's mouth twitches, as if he found Jake's comment more amusing rather than condescending. "I didn't, but I'll sure take your word for it."

Jake, on the other hand, doesn't share his humor. "You seem like a funny guy, Bradley. But unfortunately, I don't find drunk driving to be very funny."

And then his eyes land on the emblem on Bradley's navy blue t-shirt—N.I.F.D. —the one his swollen biceps are nearly bursting out of.

"You work for North Island Fire Department?"

Jake watches as Bradley's slightly drunk grin widens. "I sure do."

Jake hands him back his license and the rest of his paperwork. "I've got a couple friends down at the station. You know Trace, Fitch?"

If his pupils weren't already blown wide, Jake would say they lit up in recognition. "Yeah, actually. Natasha is the one who got me the job there. I just finished a deployment out in the Pacific."

It's then that Jake notices the dog tags looped around his thick neck and hidden beneath his shirt. "You're enlisted," Jake says aloud, and then to conceal his surprise follows with, "I was too."

That's the kind of thing that you do when you're eighteen and more scared of not living than dying. If anything it was exciting. Anything that meant getting the hell out of Texas was exciting. He misses it now, but at the time when he was standing alone in that recruiters office, he didn't think for a moment that he would. He felt like a man.

The navy made him a man, is what his daddy said. It was probably one of the only times the old bastard ever told him he was proud of him, and the only time he didn't feel bad for making his mama cry.

The reason he got out was for the reason most do. You realize you don't stay twenty forever and life doesn't wait around until you figure that out. He didn't want to retire one day and have nothing to come home to but an empty apartment. San Diego seemed as good of a place to settle down as any.

Javy's voice crackles through on the radio strapped to his chest, breaking up their conversation.

"Unit-16. Checking in on your traffic stop. You need back-up?"

He hadn't realized they'd been talking so long. Jake mentally reprimands himself for getting distracted and picks up the radio while pressing it to his mouth. "This is Unit-16. No back-up necessary. Over."

"10-4. Over."

Jake releases the radio and looks back up to Bradley. Get back on task, Jake. Bradley smiles coyly at him. Jesus, focus, Jake.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to step out the vehicle."

The hopeful look in Bradley's big hazel eyes falters.

"Look, Officer uh— " The Bradley leans towards his open window so that he can squint at the gold engraved name plate on Jake's uniform. "—Seresin." Jake watches as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before he cocks his head a little to the side and smiles, looking up at Jake. "You look good."

Oh. Oh.

That's what this is all about.

It's then that Jake realizes that this guy has been flirting him the entire time. He'll admit it's not the first time someone's hit on him while on the clock. Jake is aware he's an attractive guy, it's just that this is the first time he's been tasked with turning down at very handsome, drunk stranger. But drunk or not, the compliment makes his cheeks burn. Jake prays that the red and blue lights of his cruiser are enough to conceal the way his face flushes.

Ignoring him, Jake grabs the door handle of the Bronco and tugs it open. "C'mon, pal. Outta the car."

A little begrudgingly, Bradley slowly steps out of the car. Jake doesn't miss the way he grabs onto the door to steady himself.

Now that he's out of the car and in the beam of his headlights, Jake gets a good look at him. Bradley is over six feet of lean tan muscle. His long legs are encased in blue jeans that fit a bit too snug around his narrow waist, but from there he only gets wider all the way up to his shoulders. He's got some height on Jake and if he weren't in shape himself, Jake would probably be a little intimidated.

Jake steps up to him. "Go ahead and turn around for me. Put your hands flat on the hood."

For a moment Jake thinks he isn't going to listen, but then Bradley smirks a little and does as he's told. "Normally I'd ask you to buy me dinner first, but whatever you say, Officer."

This time Jake is glad that he's turned around. He steps forward and uses one of his feet to knock Bradley's legs a little further apart so that he can pat him down. He's not surprised to find that there's nothing on him, but he always has to check.

"Are you always this forward, Bradley? Or just when you're drunk?"

"No, sir," Bradley promises him, refusing to flinch even as Jake's hands come dangerously close to his crotch. "Just when the officer is nice to look at."

Jake pulls away as Bradley turns around. He specifically remembers telling him to keep his hands flat on the cruiser but Jake is getting the impression that Bradley doing something that could hurt either one of them isn't something he needs to worry about so he lets it go. Typically a stupid decision but he trusts his gut.

Bradley leans back just slightly to prop himself up against the car and crosses his arms in front of his chest while giving Jake a smile. His big brown eyes are warm and dopey, his smile impish.

"You gonna cut me some slack?" he asks.

Habitually, Jake curls his fingers through the front of his belt. The familiar weight of his kevlar vest is heavy and comforting and somehow he finds that it settles his fluttering heart in his chest.

"You know it's considered an offense to flirt with an officer?" Jake tells him, trying to remain professional and stand his ground. If his eyes drop to observe the way the other man's pecks fill out his t-shirt, that's his business.

Bradley smiles, ducking his head a little abashedly. Jake doesn't miss the way his teeth release the pout of his bottom lip. "Does that apply to when you're off duty as well?"

Jake pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek to keep from smiling. It's not funny, and he shouldn't be flattered by the advances of a drunk stranger but he is. And maybe he does have some sympathy for the guy. He knows what it's like coming back to the states and trying to adjust back to civilian life. But that doesn't mean that he's above the law.

"Bradley," he begins, his voice firm but sympathetic. "You know you can't be driving around like this. As much as I'd like to, I can't let you go."

As far as he's concerned, Bradley doesn't seem to be hearing him at all.

"Y'know, of all the places I imagined myself being handcuffed, none of them were in the back of a cop car."

"Jesus Christ," Jake mutters, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Really, he has no words. "Okay, that's enough," he announces, giving up on getting Bradley to actually take this seriously. "Turn around for me."

Smiling as if feeling a little too pleased with himself, Bradley obediently shuffles around so that Jake can then walk up behind him and clasp his wrists together. He uses his other hand to retrieve his cuffs from his belt and clips them on.

They're a little tight but that's only because Bradley's broad shoulders prevent his wrists from fully meeting, his shoulder blades seemingly obstructed by the wide expanse of his back.

Jake is definitely not staring.

If the cuffs are uncomfortable, Bradley doesn't say anything, and Jake walks him by one of his elbows to the cruiser.

"Watch your head," Jake instructs him as he opens the door for Bradley to step in. It's a tight fit but somehow he manages, scooting over the seat until he's sat in the middle, his long legs spread to either side in order to accommodate them. The denim of his jeans strain at the awkwardness of the angle and gives Jake a front row view of the bugle of his crotch.

Jake clears his throat, looking away. If it were for the fact that he was drunk, Jake would say he's doing it on purpose.

Before Jake can shut the door and leave with what little is left of his self preservation, Bradley's voice stops him.

"Wait, what about my car?"

When Jake leans down to poke his head into the backseat of the cruiser, the look on Bradley's face is actually concerned. That's a first, Jake thinks. "I'll call someone to tow it. It'll be impounded until you can come and pick it up from the station." When the worry on Bradley's face only increases, his mustache emphasizing the action, he follows with, "They'll take good care of it for you, I promise."

Bradley's eyes flicker to the old Bronco anxiously. "It's just that it's my dad's car. He, um, he died when I was a kid. So, y'know..." he explains, trailing off.

Of fucking course it is.

Jake sighs, hangs his head in defeat for a second, and then looks back into the car at Bradley. "Look, I'll make a deal with you. Promise me we won't meet like this again and I won't have them tow your car. You can just come get it in the morning."

Bradley grins. "Well I'd certainly like to meet you under different circumstances."

Jake slams the door shut.

The drive back into town is quiet. When he glances at the clock on his dashboard, he realizes he only has about an hour left to his shift. As he pulls into the little suburban neighborhood, having memorized the address on Bradley's license, he glances into the backseat through his rear view mirror.

At first he thinks that Bradley's knocked out in the backseat, head lulled back as he breathes slow and steady, but then he sees the whites of his hazel eyes illuminated by the occasional red and blue flash of his overhead lights. Their gazes meet through the mirror and the corner of Bradleys mouth lifts up in a half drunk smile. Jake shifts his gaze away to instead peer at the numbers on the houses. Finally he finds the address he's looking for and slows the cruiser as he pulls into the driveway.

He brings the car to a stop and slides out of the driver's seat, walking around the car to open up the side door. Bradley stares at him quizzically from the backseat.

"C'mon, hop out before I change my mind," Jake prompts, gesturing with his head for Bradley to get a move on. The tall brunette climbs out with as much ease as one can muster in a pair of handcuffs before he's once again standing face to face with Jake.

He's on the downside of his drunken stupor, more sleepy than buzzed if his drooping eyelids are anything to go by. His mustache lifts as he smiles down at Jake. It's still ridiculous looking but it makes more sense now that Jake knows his occupation. It's the only type of facial hair that's considered to be within regs.

Jake clears his throat. "You want me to take those off?" he asks, motioning towards the cuffs holding Bradley's hands behind his back.

"I might do something stupid if you do."

Jake freezes. "What?"

Before he knows it Bradley's kissing him. He connects their mouths with surprising ease. It's so smooth and he moves relatively quickly for someone who's mildly intoxicated that Jake doesn't even see it coming. Between Jake's surprise and Bradley's lack of hands, they're a bit top heavy and Jake has to fist the front of Bradley's t-shirt, his back hitting the side of the cruiser, to keep them from toppling over.

Bradley's mouth is warm, his lips pliant and soft, but he's firm in the kiss, unrelenting in the way that Jake couldn't have pulled away even if he wanted to.

He doesn't want to— he does— but he doesn't want to.

When he comes to his senses, Jake flattens a palm against Bradley's chest and shoves him away. Immediately his chest aches at the distance. He stands there, still half shocked, with his palm holding Bradley away at arm's length.

Really, he's not too sure what to do in this situation.

Bradley’s hazel eyes shine in amusement. He doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Again Jake clears his throat. "Ahem— um, glad you got that out of your system," he says with a pat to Bradley's chest. And before anything else can occur, he swiftly steps around the other man and uncuffs his wrists.

Bradley groans in relief, bringing his hands in front of him to rub at his sore wrists. “I think your bondage play needs some work. Not that I’m complaining—”

“Go inside. Get some sleep, Bradley.”

Taking the not so subtle hint, Bradley straightens and fixes Jake with a mocking salute before he turns and makes him way to the front porch. He watches as Bradley unlocks the front door and turns to give him one last look before he steps inside.

“Until next time, Officer Seresin.”

Jake just shakes his head in disapproval, but he can’t disguise his smile. “There better not be a next time,” he calls up the driveway.

He doesn’t pull out the driveway until Bradley’s shut the door and he sees the porch lights flicker off.

Maybe he does like the night shift.

97 notes · View notes

kittykatthatbitesback · 6 months

Note

Hey! I love your beach head canons, and I would love to see your take on the Hazbin Hotel characters on a road trip/maybe a trip to a theme park? I feel like that would be cute lol.

Yes of course! This sounds so fun but I decided to make it a road trip to wherever the reader decides (Theme park, wherever)! This actually works perfectly as a prequel/sequel to my Beach Trip! Headcanons I've posted. Hope you enjoy!

Hazbin Hotel Road Trip! Headcanons

Characters: Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Angeldust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Vox, Lucifer, Adam, and Cherri Bomb

Charlie ��🫶

Originally wanted to be the one to drive, but Vaggie figured her inclination to be distracted by anything on the side of the road would cause everyone to crash, so Vaggie refused to let her drive at any point

Doesn’t even have her license so she wouldn’t be able to drive anyways so

“Ugh fine! Well, then, I call shotgun!!”

Went from Princess of Hell to passenger princess hehe

Was upset at not driving but got over it quickly as realizing she enjoys the view more than driving

“Oh my gosh look at those deer! Wait there’s more over there! Wait. Did we just drive past the rest area, I need to pee again!!”

Constantly nags the driver by chitchatting to them, regardless if they’re listening

A bad habit of hers is playfully hitting others when Charlie talks, but she forgets to not do this when driving

A couple of minor accidents nearly occur but she is unfazed

Is so pumped and asks to stop and look at any roadside attraction

It begins to become a bit annoying after a while

Vaggie ❌🥀

Is the one who drives for the most part on this road trip

Is a bit grumbly because she was woken up so early by an eager Charlie to go on this trip and needs her beauty sleep

Is the only one who can handle Charlie’s constant nagging and pushing, and is also the only one with a license out of the whole group, so logically the ex-Angel is the one who drives

Only pays attention to the road and not Charlie unfortunately for maximum safety

Is sipping on a large Circle K cup that she filled with Monster Energy prior to the trip

This just barely wakes her enough to watch the road

Has a bit of road rage but these guys are from Hell, what can you expect

Refuses to waste gas so only stops for gas when the car is literally empty

Empty like everyone else had to get out of the car and push it to the nearest gas station that was three miles away, empty

“Come on guys, we’re almost there.” She’ll say smugly sipping her Monster from within the car in the AC

Alastor 🦌📻

Was invited on this road trip, but ended up driving on his own to their destination

Yes, he doesn’t have a license, but he’s the Radio Demon he does what he pleases

Mainly decided to drive separately so that he could listen to his radio in peace without complaints or extra unnecessary noise

Is listening to jazz, and keeps on repeating the songs: “Fly Me to the Moon” and “Sing, Sing, Sing”

Also prefers to be alone, he vibes better that way and is more in his element

Drives the coolest, red, vintage pick up truck ever

All the girls and guys at the stop lights are just fawning over him but the Radio Demon can’t see anything past the road in his shades

Drives super fast and only stops for gas, which considering the age of his truck, ends up happening often

Angeldust 🕷️❤️‍🔥

Wanted to get one of those party buses with the strip poles inside but now has to make do with the crew’s giant van

Enough space to do lines of coke so it’s okay

Obviously snuck in drugs and alcohol, this is a given, it’s Angeldust come on

“I call aux!!” and plays his playlist titled Cunty B*tch

It’s a bunch of Ayesha Erotica, Kesha, Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, etc.

Screams all of the songs at the top of his lungs while hanging out of the window

“HE MIGHT NOT LOOK LIKE HE GETS BITCHES, BUT HONEY THAT DICK WAS ELEVEN INCHES!”

Husk has to pull him inside but he’s just having the time of his life

Loud as Hell but provides the entertainment, and Vaggie appreciates his music taste

Has to get Vaggie to pull over and proceeds to violently throw up all the alcohol he chugged earlier on the side of the highway as Cherri films laughing from inside the van

Immediately falls asleep after this embarrassing moment as the aftermath of his “fun” takes a toll on him

Husk 🐈‍⬛🥃

Was planning to catch up on missed hours of sleep by dozing through this entire trip, but Angeldust made this quite hard

Is wrapped up in a blanket, eye mask on, earplugs in, headphones on, neck pillow propped, and stuffed toy snuggled (HE SLEEPS WITH A STUFFED TOY OMG)

It’s a miniature Pegasus he named after his favorite drink: Whiskey

Angeldust, Cherri, and Adam won’t stop making fun of him the entire trip

This, plus Angeldust’s music, Charlie’s nonstop talking causes Husk to EXPLODE

“IF YOU ALL DONT SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR A SECOND!”

But his geared-up sleep ware makes him look a bit goofy as he shouts this, so everyone instead bursts out laughing

The feline just grumbles to himself as he decides to just stare out the window depressingly for the rest of the ride

Gets bored and ends up practicing Poker and Solitaire with the cards he brought

Is also keeping an eye on Angeldust who at first was off the wall

Once Angeldust passes out, Husk covers him with his blanket so he’s not cold (aww)

Sir Pentious 🐍🥚

Actually was the one who designed and crafted the van

The original van wasn’t big enough for the whole crew after Cherri decided to join in last minute, so of course the snake is going to build an ENTIRE new vehicle for his Cherri Bomb <3

Engineered the van for maximum comfort and refused Angeldust’s pleads for strip poles inside; “Thossse would be ssso uneccesssary!”

Instead, he included luxurious feet space, and AC and heater system throughout the whole van, seats with massaging for backs and feet, mini TVs on the back of each seat, and a fancy mini fridge for food

Also built miniature seats for his Egg Bois with built-in heating pads in case they get too cold in the AC

These Egg Bois have a really specific temperature range they can survive in, so those same heating pads were engineered by Sir Pentious to also work as cooling pads

“Anything for my babiesss”

Came extra prepared and was the only one to bring snacks and drinks to put in the cooler

Is constantly offering Cherri a water or coke whenever she is “looking a bit dehydrated”

Which happens to be every 2 minutes according to him

Is trying so hard to flex on her the fact that he built the van

“Ssssoo Cherri, how are you enjoying the back masssssage? I programmed it to perfectly meet the needsss of a beautiful lady like you”

Bro with 0 rizz somehow ends up charming her

Vox 🖥️⚡️

This TV ignores the mini TVs Sir Pentious built arguing they’re “not of top Vox quality”

Tries to hijack them to prove his point, but Sir Pentious is smarter than that and even his mini TVs are Vox-resistant

Ego bruised, now tries to hijack the radio to turn off Angeldust’s loud ass music, but Sir Pentious ALSO came prepared for that

Sir Pentious even shaped his seat and headrest to fit Vox’s big ass TV head perfectly, so Vox isn’t able to complain about anything

Now an upset Vox is left to sit in silence for most of the trip

Will chime in occasionally to the conversations but you can tell his pride was hurt

Spends his hours of silence to brainstorm ways to defeat Alastor

Lucifer 🪽🐤

Brought his rubber duckies to play house with them on the ride

To everyone’s surprise, knows all the lyrics to all of Angeldust’s songs

“What! I enjoy these too!” Proceeds to lip sync them in the most fruity way

Is Lucifer straight or gay? Bi? No one knows.

Is definitely that one person in a car ride to try to start a game of “100 bottles of beer on a wall” or the game of concentration

LIVES for these games

“20 questions” is his favorite

Tries to get everyone involved and yells at Husk once he sees he’s playing his own game of Poker

Husk suggests that Lucifer should play the silent game

Will try to convince the others to play by reciting them old dad jokes

This does not work

Adam 🎸🤘

Will definitely pig out on all of those snack Sir Pentious brought

“YO WHERE THE FUCK IS THE BEER”

Forces Vaggie to stop at a gas station 5 minutes into the trip to buy 3 twelve packs of beer

Is absolutely in his happy place with the massage chair, vast feet space, TV playing “Too Hot to Handle”, chips, and beer

Is the only one who manages to trash his space with wrappers, spills, and crumbs

Does not give a fuck

Has his window down, sunglasses on, and wind blowing in his face while he just yells

Shouts and catcalls to every hot chick they pass by

Brought an air horn to do that more efficiently while on the highway

Is seated next to Vox so is taunting and teasing him about the whole incident earlier

“Hmm not so tough anymore huh? Even these mini TVs are doing a better job than you!”

Is a bit of a menace

Cherri Bomb 🍒💣

Only joined last minute for the trip because she thought it would be lame at first

But Angeldust promised to bring along drugs and alcohol so she agreed

Made a certain snake sooo happy that she decided to come

Is constantly nagged by him throughout this whole trip but she has grown used to it

She even starts to think it’s cute how much he cares

Has to stop to go pee so often because of all the beverages Sir Pentious keeps offering her

Doesn’t wait for a rest area, will pop a squat on the side of the road

Sings along with Angeldust (and Lucifer??) to all the songs

Actually she’s the one who made the playlist and shared it with Angeldust ;)

“Ooh ooh skip this one, the next one’s even better!”

Brought an Erotica novel to read (she usually just skips to the good parts)

Is glad to be sitting next to Angeldust but still films him as he throws up so that they can joke about it later

Passes time with him playing, Fuck, Marry, Kill

She ends up answering Fuck to all the options

168 notes · View notes