#but never being able to flirt on the job with my wife

[wardencallings]

Little Harding drabble I wrote based on her romanced combat callout. It's a little suggestive but nothing too crazy. Male dwarf warrior Rook and brief Neve/Lucanis mention! Enjoy :)

The ogre charges, but Rook is ready for it. He launches himself upward, thrusting his shield in front of him to deflect the incoming blow. Using the momentum from the collision, he pushes himself upward and into the air, driving his axe into the ogre’s head on his way down. With a roar of pain, the ogre collapses to its knees. Rook removes the axe from the beast’s skull, its dark blood splattering onto his armor. The ogre groans once more, then dies.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” a voice teases from behind him. Harding lowers her bow and smiles at Rook, her cheeks flushed from the fight. The way the sun illuminates her face, her braids slightly undone and messy, the sweat dripping down her temple and onto the embroidered collar of her shirt…Rook is briefly rendered immobile by the sight. His breath catches in his throat when he remembers that she’s his to admire, but he forces himself to recover as smoothly as he can. He isn't so foolish to evade an opportunity to flirt with such beauty, after all.

“Oh, is that why you like me?” Rook asks, leaping off of the ogre and landing gracefully in front of Harding as she returns her bow to her back.

“Well, there are other reasons,” Harding replies, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger. Her blush intensifies until her freckles are almost entirely masked by the rosy color.

“Is that right?” Rook replies. “I wouldn't mind hearing a few of these 'other reasons.'”

As Rook approaches, sauntering slowly toward her, Harding giggles, backing up until her spine presses against the rocks of a nearby cliff. Rook stops just a few inches in front of her. He places a hand on the stony surface behind Harding, leaning in until their faces are almost touching.

“Uh,” Lucanis interjects, wiping the Darkspawn blood off his knife with a handkerchief. He looks at the taint and the couple with the same expression etched on his face: apprehension. “Is this really the time to-”

“Hmm, well I guess I love how attentive you are,” Harding answers, either not hearing or ignoring the Crow -- more likely the former. “You always listen to me, and you make me feel safe. You’re sweet and strong and so handsome. And however rough you are with the monsters we fight, you’re so gentle with me, at least when I want you to be.”

Rook traces a finger up the side of Harding’s neck, landing on her jaw. He tilts her head up so that she’s looking into his eyes. Goosebumps rise on the shorter dwarf’s skin, and her fingers interlock, twitching in anticipation. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself to prevent her lyrium from manifesting and soiling the moment.

“And you are smart and capable and beautiful. I could count all your freckles ten times over and still not tire of looking at you. I’ve never met someone so kind, so resilient, so…you,” Rook replies. There are a few more moments where the pair can't stop looking into each other’s eyes, and then Harding grabs the gold necklace hanging from Rook’s neck, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

“Hello?” Lucanis says, waving a hand. “Hi. Your ally Lucanis here. Remember me? Can we get going?”

Rook wraps his arms around Harding’s waist and fully mends the distance between their bodies. Their hips collide, and Rook's hands move up and down Harding's back, teasing the hem of her shirt with his index fingers each time he finds it. On one such instance, he traces the hem around to Harding's stomach.

Suddenly, Harding pulls back with a wince. 

“What is it?” Rook asks, unable to stifle the fear that wavers his voice.

“I had a close call when that ogre threw his boulder,” Harding admits. She tugs at the bottom of her shirt, right where Rook's fingers had been a moment before, and pulls it up to reveal a bruise across her ribs. 

“Lace,” Rook whispers. He hovers a hand over the wound. “That looks nasty.”

“It isn’t so bad,” she lies, but Rook doesn’t buy it. He can see the tears perched in her eyes, the way she grits her teeth, how she can't look into his eyes anymore.

“You’re a bad liar, love. Some of those ribs are definitely broken. We need to get you to Emmrich.”

“We’re on a mission, Rook,” she protests, and he frowns in response.

He knows if he tells Harding he’s worried about her ability to fight Darkspawn in this condition, she’ll become defensive. He doesn’t want to appear as if he’s underestimating her tenacity or her skill with a bow, but he knows putting his partner in more danger isn’t the correct solution. So, he tries for a different – yet still honest – approach.

“If we keep looking for the Darkspawn nest, I’ll be too worried about you to do any good with my blade. Besides, Davrin will want to be here for this fight. He’ll already be mad at me that we killed some without him.”

Harding chews at her lip, deep in thought. Her gaze bounces from her bruise to Rook. 

“Fine, but I’m going back out in the field as soon as I’m feeling better. Deal?”

“Deal,” Rook replies, relieved. 

“Alright, let’s go then,” she says, but before she can step away from Rook, he carefully scoops her into his arms and presses her against his chest. “Rook!” she shouts, punctuated with a giggle. She wraps her arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly.

“You think I’m going to let you walk home like this? I’ll carry you the whole way home. After all, these muscles aren't just for show, Lace. Lucanis, scout ahead for danger,”

“Mierda,” Lucanis swears, shaking his head in exasperation but following the order. “Are Neve and I this bad?”

[kedsandtubesocks]

game changer

MLB pitcher!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: back from your first semester of grad school your parents lovingly drag you out to celebrate with an old family friend - but what unfolds there (and after) cracks you wide open

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, dad’s friend!Joel, unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but is a drinking aged adult & Joel is in his early 50’s), light use of gendered language, yearning & flirting, some light angst, brief alcohol consumption, masturbation (f), smutty thoughts, heavy makeout, spicy themes, allusions to smut (p in v), Joel’s dirty talk, one use of “good girl,” one light ass smack, reserved but soft!Joel, start of secret relationship, lots of baseball talk

word count: 9.1k (I’m sorry)

a/n: i know, i know another non-typical AU for Joel but I blame my sports girlie heart & baseball season so here we are lol big thank you to @swiftispunk for always putting up with my sports ramblings LMAO im so sorry Han ily, special thanks to @burntheedges @undercoverpena @tightjeansjavi @msjarvis because this truly wouldn’t be here without y’all - you don’t know how much you babes mean to me & I can’t thank y’all enough…now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You barely have any solid memories of Joel Miller, even if he was your dad’s oldest friend. And if you were being honest, you remember his brother Tommy more who smiled so warmly and seemed to radiate warmth.

Now you stand before Joel Miller’s face on the side of the Globe Life field along with the rest of the Texas Rangers professional baseball team.

It’s a cool evening in Arlington. Everyone seems to bask in the weather that feels perfect for a night of baseball.

Home from your first grad school semester, you didn’t think you’d be going to a game. But your parents explained how good the tickets were, and that even if you didn’t care about the game, you could just enjoy the stadium. So with the promise of free food and a nice night out, you were sold.

Now you’re here.

“Yesterday Joel said to head to the side entrance, that’s where we can check in.” Your dad eagerly explains and stunned you simply follow along like a confused duckling.

The sea of jerseys sweeps you into a sports wave until you’re deposited in a new space. Your jaw almost drops.

The VIP suites sit at the very side edge of the field, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen.

The seats are incredible. Everything feels deluxe but comfortable. Someone calls out to your mom, and soon enough the rest of the Miller family approaches.

Tommy’s married now and his wife Maria is lovely, so is their baby. Joel’s daughters, Sarah and Ellie, are older. Time sucker punches you in the gut seeing how much time has passed, but you warmly greet everyone. You realize how long it really has been since you saw any of them.

You greet everyone warmly and appreciate all their surprised welcome seeing you back.

“Joel’s glad y’all were finally able to make it. Been talking about it since yesterday.” Tommy explains.

“Yeah us too! Just worked out that we all could come out and enjoy this with someone back home now.” You mom teases, but it’s warm.

Even though you were cities away, the new workload just kept you so busy.

You’re grateful to be here too. Even though your mind still swirls trying to grasp all of this.

You knew your dad’s friend made it big as a professional baseball player. Joel and his family left Austin to move to Arlington after he signed for the Rangers. So you rarely saw them. But with your mom’s job recently relocating here, your dad talked non stop about maybe seeing more of the games. It never really clicked that your family knew a professional sports athlete. Plus you never cared too much for sports to even look more into it.

Now as the game starts with a wild explosive and electric opening, you feel like you’ve slipped into another reality.

Then Joel’s entrance arrives, and your heart jumps out of your chest. The stadium erupts in a wild frenzy. The music for his arrival is western themed, grand and epic.

“All of this is because the league calls him Cowboy Miller.” Your dad explains.

The nickname was given to him not just because of his very southern twang, but Joel’s cold demeanor on the mound along with his wild style of pitching. All this led to him being deemed a Cowboy.

You understand why.

A serious air of power radiates from Joel while he approaches the mound.

Wearing a jersey with the number two on it, he’s older, more distinguished than the last time you remember him. Grays pepper his beard and the shadow of his baseball cap highlights the wrinkles flowing across his face.

He’s handsome, utterly gorgeous. His shoulders look broad, pure striking mountains, in his white jersey.

It’s like your mind finally registers and settles into the reality he’s a man, a full grown and incredible man.

And he really is incredible.

Even though he’s older for a pitcher, he still possesses dazzling talent. You even clap loudly when he strikes one of the batters out.

Your eyes never leave him. Joel sternly staring down the batter is terrifying. His legs look strong as he whips the ball fast to the home plate. Your eyes can’t help but flicker to his ass when he walks back to the dugout.

He’s gorgeous.

But cold reality crashes into you when your dad brightly yells. Joel is your dad’s friend, and that thought sours the bubbling feelings in your chest.

So you try focusing on the game, which actually turns out to be rather fun. The vibe of the stadium, along with the atmosphere of the game itself, is easy to melt into.

At one point someone gets a hit off Joel and he has to run to cover first. He’s surprisingly fast. Seeing him catch the ball, get the out, is so impressive and hot as fuck.

After that the Rangers switch pitchers.

As he leaves the mound, the stadium cheers at Joel’s exit. Very politely he nods, raising his hand in a quick goodbye to everyone. Then he scans the crowd.

It’s admirable seeing how he instantly finds where his family is. Joel’s roughed face melts soft with a small crooked grin hearing the applause they give him. He even spots your dad proudly cheering.

Joel’s eyes then lock with yours. Still walking towards the dugout, his face stays on you while his focus narrows in a cloudy confusion like he’s trying to recognize you.

Then his eyes go wide as realization sinks in.

You weakly grin back. It’s all you can do before Joel is fully gone from your line sight. Your heart thumps erratically within its cage.

The Rangers unfortunately lose by three. Once the game ends, you decide to swing by the merch store.

“Guess the game made you a fan huh?” You mom perks up noticing you eyeing the jerseys.

You shrug easily with an eased grin.

After this the Rangers have a five game stretch at home.

You only know because after the game you check for all things about the team, about Joel. You haven’t brought yourself to look at any videos of Joel yet. But you did discover from the team's instagram that he has one too.

Early the next morning, still lounging in bed, you scroll through Joel’s instagram page. It seems very professional, like it’s run by a social media manager primarily using it to promote Joel without being too personal.

You’re not paying attention, still a bit too focused on your phone, when a knock comes at the door.

Your face scrunches up confused. Then terror sucker punches you when you see who’s at the door.

No way.

Opening the door Joel stares at you, but this time wearing striking thick black rimmed glasses. They make him incredibly distinguished. Instead of seeming like a professional baseball player you’re reminded of a studious professor. And without a baseball cap on, you’re given sight of his soft glorious curls and the light gray streaks dancing among them.

He’s knockout beautiful.

Of course, you’re still in your mismatched lounge clothes and barely look like you’ve left bed.

He says your name, greeting you with a curt nod. You swiftly greet him with an awkward hello.

“Are you going for like a Clark Kent thing?” You blurt before you can stop yourself.

Joel’s face scrunches up as he sighs.

“Gotta take a break from my contacts s’all.” He admits with a grumpy reply.

But it’s his thick twang, the familiar southern accent - that sweeps you breathless.

“How do they even let you pitch?” You lightly tease, and

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Good to see ya too.” He rumbles, finally greeting you.

Now realizing he’s still standing in your doorway, you let him in.

Joel explains how he wanted to come by, visit your folks, catch up, and thank them for getting to stop by.

You’re the one early thanking him.

“The tickets were incredible. And you did amazing the other night.” You add sincerely.

“Oh, yeah thanks. Glad we won.” Joel nods.

“So they let you just roam around?” You ask slightly stunned still seeing him here in your family kitchen.

Joel scoffs. “Ain’t gotta be at the stadium till later.”

“So, was uh��surprised to see ya at the game.” His tone now reeks of trying to just make small talk.

Weakly you grin back explaining it was a nice change from your days on campus.

“So…back from school, huh.” That awkward thick small talk tone of his gets worse especially as he asks how’s it going and what you’re doing.

For being a talented professional pitcher, right now he simply seems like just some guy…

Just your dad’s pal.

The thought brings a strange acidic taste in your mouth.

You explain school is going good and how you’re here just visiting until the next semester starts up again.

Politely he asks what you’re going to school for. You tell him about your program, explaining all the classes you’re taking and even about the undergrad classes you help TA for.

Joel nods, quiet. You wonder if this sounds boring to a man who professionally plays baseball everyday.

“You’re damn smart.” He then whistles low, and his compliment jumpstarts your heart.

“Haven’t read a book since… shit can’t even remember when.” Joel muses.

“What? They don’t have you take baseball quizzes for pitching?” You joke, but it falls flat. Joel just gives you a dull look.

However his lips twitch faintly, like he’s fighting a grin, and it makes you grin.

“Though, I’ve heard you could maybe work on your slider pitch.” You add.

From the clips you’ve seen and the comments you’ve read, that's the one thing others have commented on, along with how unbearably handsome he is. ESPN even named him one of sports top most eligible bachelors.

“Oh?” Joel’s eyebrows rise up fast. Crossing his hands over his chest, Joel turns towards you more.

“Suddenly you’re a sports analyst now, huh?” The way his voice perks up confidently, matching your edge of playfulness, causes something to get stuck in your throat.

“Y’gonna start telling me how to pitch too? Just like your old man used to.” Joel adds still with that same tone and even chuckles.

But his words slice through you. Swallowing hard, you steel yourself tight.

Thankfully the sound of the front door unlocking arrives. Your parents are home.

“You’re fantastic, Joel. Glad I got to see it live.” You tell him earnestly looking him straight in the eye, as if to stare him down and remind him unwavering you’re a grown adult. Even if you’re in lounge shorts and holey t-shirt, you try holding your head high with as much grace as you can.

With that you head to tell your parents Joel is here then quietly slip back to your room.

Eventually your mom knocks on your door and pops her head in.

“There’s another game tonight. Wanna go?” She offers.

You decline, explaining you want to rest and catch up with a few shows you’ve been neglecting. Thankfully neither of your parents pressure you to join them.

With the house to yourself, you now search for as many videos of Joel you can.

Even slowly starting to understand baseball at a base level, you realize Joel ‘Cowboy’ Miller really is spectacular. You hear about his time playing for The University of Texas and how adored he is by his alma mater.

Then heat crawls up your chest when you see clips of him drenched in sweat, heavily breathing, or even licking his lingers to help with the ball grip.

You quickly turn the videos off before you get yourself worked up.

This has to be just a simple infatuated infestation. You simply need to try to shake it off.

The last home game the Rangers play the Minnesota Twins and Joel isn’t pitching. You again decide to sit this game out. You just have to detox yourself of Joel Miller.

Until you’re invited to a dinner cookout at his home. You thought about maybe playing sick, but with how hungry you are, you see this just as an opportunity to get a nice meal.

Your dad casually mentions Joel’s house has a pool, a nice bonus. He just forgot to mention how huge the Miller house would be.

Though gorgeously grand, it’s still surprisingly cozy. In the backyard you spot Joel at the grill and it makes your head spin. The weathered old burnt orange Texas longhorn shirt he wears looks cozy and casual, sits on him beautifully highlighting his shoulders.

You slip into the pool hoping it will cool you off. But your eyes always find Joel who now laughs with your dad.

Joel’s eyes suddenly flicker to yours, catching you staring red handed. Immediately you sink back into the water.

There’s more people here than expected and you feel a bit out of place. After drying off, you decide to head inside for a drink.

The soft Texas evening illuminates the home in a gentle glow. The music from outside floats in a soft hum making the room feel like it’s underwater.

Ellie told you the house was free for you to roam and from the quick tour she gave, you caught a glimpse of something you want to see more.

So letting yourself maybe take another peek, you walk back to the small alcove carved in the wall. It’s honestly a rather quiet achievement exhibition compared to other grand trophy rooms you’ve imagined.

There are honestly more pictures of Sarah and Ellie, along with Tommy and the rest of the Miller clan, decorating the main hallway of the house. All of it suits Joel.

His UT longhorn jersey is framed on the wall. There are a few awards clustered together, a couple of magazine covers where he looks so dashing in his uniform.

But what makes your heart float are the framed drawings of Joel with a baseball on the mound that range from adorable scribbles to a rather good pencil sketch. These had to be Ellie and Sarah’s work.

“If you’re thinkin’ about stealin’ somethin’ maybe go for the jersey. I can always get another one.”

Joel’s drawl trickles out, and you almost jump out of your skin. Turning to the side he walks to where you are. You hate how exposed you feel just being caught in his gaze and also obviously browsing in his home.

“Nah, I was hoping for a World Series ring to steal and sell but.” You shrug playful, knowing now he’s gone to the Series but never won.

Joel makes a low hissing sound like he’s injured.

“Damn, y’hit low.” He chuckles low.

You grin triumphantly.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get a ring someday.” You say simply.

“Sound sure about that.” He replies.

“Cause it’s true.” You nod. “You’re pretty great.”

Even with your limited knowledge of baseball, it’s easy to see how great he is. Joel is incredibly talented, a shining star stitched in accomplishment. Yet you can tell hasn’t let it go to his head. He’s anchored by his loved ones, and it’s admirable. You even tell him that.

“I…thanks.” He stumbles for a moment, deep dark eyes a bit cloudy as he searches your face with his voice thick and rumbled.

“What game has been your favorite?” You suddenly ask, wanting to know more about him.

His eyebrows furrow and his deep eyes glaze over a bit distant, creating a face of thought that looks adorable.

Then he nods with a soft grin remembering.

“One of the first games the girls gotta go to.” He paints a picture of seeing his daughters, sitting with their uncle Tommy, wearing too large adorable Texas Rangers jerseys.

“One of the best games I ever played.” He adds gently.

He really is a rare beauty of a man with a gilded heart of gold.

“And you? Your folks talk about ya nonstop. Tell me about grad school. And none of that simple ‘it’s good’ crap.” The quick playful mimic he does of your voice makes you laugh warm and bright.

So you tell him about your favorite moments from lecture and the fondness you have for simply embracing subjects you love so much.

Joel stares fully focused on you. You swear his eyes twinkle like stars might be sowed right in his deep earth depths.

He opens his mouth, eager to continue the conversation. Until the kitchen comes alive with more people entering inside. The bubble breaks, but electricity still brews under your skin.

The next day the Rangers have a game at Globe Life Field you go.

Even if Joel isn’t pitching, you want to experience this world he loves so much. You’re however surprised to find Joel is starting.

Your dad explains how one of the pitchers planned for today had to rest. So Joel will simply be the opener before the rest of the bullpen steps in.

Your heart doesn’t rage wildly as it did like seeing him the first time. Now you feel almost drawn to Joel. You focus on his stance on the mound, so disciplined and almost hauntingly serious.

The Arizona Diamondbacks batter hits the ball solid. It flies straight at Joel, and fear sinks its fangs into you.

Until with fast reflexes Cowboy Miller catches the ball eased. You and the stadium erupt wild.

The Rangers win one to four. On the high of the game, you head to the jerseys again in the shop.

“You should get one!” Your mom urges.

Your fingers itch, almost begging you to grab the jersey that says Miller on it. But something continues to hold you back.

On the drive back home, you now see all the great reaction clips and memes of the game. There's a particular one of Joel catching the ball that includes a great western music overlay, like he’s a hero in an old cowboy movie.

Feeling brave, you send the reel to his Instagram profile. You even add underneath the message “now you just gotta work on that slider pitch.”

You send it. Think, hell at worst the poor social media manager will see it and not even give it the time or day. He must get so many messages anyway.

When you get home, you see the message has been read.

But also, a new profile has followed you.

JM_8712

The profile also sent you a message.

JM_8712: ain’t nothing wrong with my slider

No way.

This can’t be who you think it is. You message back saying this possibly can’t be the real Joel Miller because he doesn’t seem like the type to even know how to send a gif.

JM_8712: think ur so funny huh

The account sends a simple gif of someone rolling their eyes.

Then another message flies in.

JM_8712: ur dad get those damn nachos he kept bitchin about with Tommy?

It feels like one of Joel’s changeup pitches knocks you out.

Because it’s really him messaging you. When you even go to double check the blank profile just to make sure, it barely follows more than twenty people and you spot Ellie and Sarah’s accounts among those profiles.

Warmth unfolds from your chest, dangerous and electric. This is Joel’s personal private account.

Unknowingly this all kicks off something you never thought would have ever started. You and Joel start talking.

The messages flow between you and him, back and forth, at first just talking about the games. Then, when the Rangers leave to travel, the messaging increases.

Joel sends you pictures of the places he travels, the food he eats, the vacant stadiums he gets to enjoy.

You devour it all with a greedy eagerness. However it dawns on you that you’re sliding down a slope too slippery to stop.

For the rest of the summer you earnestly check your messages on the app.

One evening, on a stormy delayed game against the Dodgers, your messages don’t send through. The weather is getting worse in Los Angeles.

“They’re gonna reschedule the game. Storm’s not letting up.” Your dad comments glumly.

You just hope Joel is alright.

Instagram finally alerts you of a message and your heart jumps.

Joel.

JM_8712: sorry connections shit

Then he simply sends you his phone number.

You wonder if you’re seeing things.

Trying to keep calm you text the number a simple message asking if he’s alright.

When your text alert chimes, it rattles your brain.

Yeah im good thanks

Then another message follows. It’s a photo from the locker, bags packed like he’s ready to leave.

Looks like room service for tonight

It’s Joel. You’re texting Joel right now.

It feels like a step deeper into a current you never want to leave.

Texting seems to shift the energy between you and him, a transmutation you never could have imagined.

You text Joel good morning and he tells you good night. You and him bond over a love of music. He’s got incredible taste while also complimenting yours. You stay up late on game days when pitched and now feel your throat dry up knowing you’re getting to know the man on the mound.

The desire brewing more for Joel mixes with the summer heat and melts the days away. Soon enough summer dwindles away, and your new semester approaches.

The drive back to your apartment is a good couple of hours. Funny enough Joel is also traveling today for a game. Stopping for gas midway, your phone goes off.

You think at first it must be one of your parents.

But instead it’s Joel.

You scramble to answer.

“Hey,” his voice sounds incredibly richer and deep on the phone.

“Y’doin’ alright?” Joel asks hesitant.

That catches you off guard.

“Oh yeah, just finished putting in gas actually. Why, what’s up?” You relax more into the conversation now curious to why he called asking that.

Joel sighs.

“Sorry I just…your last text uh, it just got me worried.”

Now you’re really curious about what you texted him. It had been half an incomplete response you sent. Even from your side it seemed abrupted and strange.

Sighing, you apologize that you didn’t even realize you had done that. In the rush of wanting to get out on the road you must have just sent the text.

But it suddenly hits you. Joel called because he was worried. That thought rips into you with a ferocious rawness.

“Okay yeah,” Joel says a bit clumsily. “I’ll…let you go.”

“No, it’s okay.” You quickly reassure him. “How’s the traveling going?”

“Good, just finished rewatching one of the inflight movies.”

“Please tell me it was Field of Dreams.” You tease him with the iconic baseball film as you head back on the road. Just now with Joel on the phone.

On speaker, Joel scoffs echoing in your car all around you. You realize this might be a bad decision trying to stay focused driving while also talking to him.

“Funny.” His thick drawl is dry but so softly teasing just below the surface.

“Was some new movie Sarah told me to watch but…fell asleep.” Joel admits low.

Thinking of him asleep on the plane clutches at something warm and deep in you.

Yes you can admit how badly you want Joel, how you picture what his calloused fingers would feel like on you, in you. But you also are finding yourself aching for more now…

Like falling asleep beside him while watching a movie, or sharing a meal with him and teasing him over his dry sense of humor.

It’s dangerous falling deeper like this.

Especially now in a blink you realize you’ve been talking to Joel this entire drive to your apartment.

“Shit sorry.” He realizes it when he sees the time. “Y’should’ve told me to fuck off. Don’t gotta waste your time talkin’ to some old ass like me.”

He rarely comments on his age, and his words sink hard into your gut.

“Trust me… I’m glad I get to talk to you.” You truthfully tell him.

“You’re the one who probably has better things to do than talk to me.” You add slightly dejected. The words even sting your lips.

“Like watching Field of Dreams.” You quickly add some light humor trying to dispel your heartache leaking in.

Joel snorts.

“Definitely would rather chat with you than watch that.” Joel mutters, but his world electrifies your skin.

“I’m flattered knowing I can beat Kevin Costner.” You joke. When he snorts amused, warmth fills you to the brim.

Someone in the distance calls out to Joel, and you know your time with him is limited. It’s confirmed when he sighs.

“Gonna be landing soon. Ya make it to your place okay?” He asks.

“I did, thank you. And thanks for keeping me company on the drive.” You smile to yourself.

“Don’t mention it. Uh, glad you made it back safe.” Joel replies and his words make you melt.

You say his name quick.

“Can you just… Text me when you make it to the hotel?” Just to know he’s safe. It’s simple, but it feels as if the words weigh a ton.

A moment passes.

“Yeah, will do.” Joel agrees.

He doesn’t text you. Instead Joel calls you when he gets to the hotel.

“Saw a full on fuckin’ fight at the airport when we landed.” Joel rambles immediately, and you learn how much of a secret gossip he is. While Joel breaks down all the details of what he saw, you realize he wanted to tell you about this.

A light burst in your chest because you want to tell Joel everything too.

And when your next semester starts, you tell him all you can.

The texting stays but evolves into more frequent phone calls. Joel listens to you with a gruff saint’s patience. He faintly picks up the names of your professors, even the name of your roommate. At one point he even stays on the phone with you when you cook dinner.

Joel calls during the stretch of waiting at the airports, a few times after games. Sometimes he rants about his teammates, sighs about his frustrations when they lose or when he ends up not doing well on the mound.

While every inch in your body still hums for Joel, it’s steady now - like you’re slowly accepting these emotions fully into your bloodstream and part of your existence.

You adore Joel, maybe more than you want to admit.

During a rare night out with your friends from class, feeling nice in your favorite outfit, courage courses through you. After posting a few photos from your night out, you also post a rather nice selfie.

You pray Joel sees it. Then you get a bit tipsy, and it takes all your willpower not to text Joel.

But the alcohol burns in you. Once you’re back at your apartment, in the safety of your room, you pull up your favorite video.

It’s a spring training video the Rangers made of the team preparing for the upcoming season. The video ranged from showing the guys on the field practicing, to them in the weight room.

There’s a nice small segment just on Cowboy Joel Miller. Specifically he’s training with a few weights and when you first saw it, your throat got so dry.

Joel is drenched in sweat. The simple worn navy blue shirt sticks to his body, highlighting the tone of his arms and width of his shoulders. Curls wet with sweat stick to his forehead. His concentrated face is sinful.

But not as hot as the sounds he makes.

The grunts, the soft growls, the exhales he gives lifting the weights… they drench your thoughts with images of him fucking.

You’ve never done this before, never gotten off on his videos. You never wanted to fall this far.

But it’s so hard when your body feels molten, so wet hearing with his groans directly in your ears. Your fingers trail down to relieve the throbbing wet ache between your legs.

Imagining Joel’s sweaty gorgeous body pressed against yours, picturing his thicker fingers in you, getting to taste him on your tongue - you come incredibly fast.

The next morning a text and a somber guilt wait for you.

Joel of course had messaged you.

Looks like you had fun last night

So he did see your pictures. A blistering heat crawls in your throat.

But reality sinks in fast. You got off to Joel. You don’t want to feel guilty. You reason there’s probably others who have maybe done it. But it does quietly eat at you.

So much that you don’t even reply to Joel for the whole day trying to sort your mind out. He’s the one that eventually calls you.

“Y’go out on a date or somethin’?” Joel asks about the night out, and your mind sputters to a halt.

“Oh uh, no. Just went out with some friends in class.”

“Oh.” He replies quick. “Well, looked like fun.”

You agree and thank him.

“But yeah, no dates for me.” You weakly laugh.

“Yeah? Any reason why?” Joel presses.

Because you’re partially head over heels for him, but you can’t admit that yet.

“No one’s asked me recently that’s all.” You reply simply. You’ve done the dating apps, had the headache mess of ghosting and awkward dates.

Joel snorts. “Pretty thing like you? Hard to imagine.”

His words, like a change up ball that drops wildly in the air, disorient you.

“Trust me, it’s real.” You dryly reply.

“And you? You must be seeing some famous celebrity in secret huh?” You teasingly ask.

You’ve seen the ESPN clips of the beautiful reporters flirting with him, cooing at how handsome he is. He probably could snag a supermodel or other famous person.

Joel barks a hollow laugh of a thing.

“No, none of that.” He answers.

“Ain’t not time for that or…mainly…haven’t found anyone who’s got the patience for me.”

Your heart sinks.

“Wait, what do you mean?” You quietly press.

He sighs.

“M’ older, a single dad. My schedule ain’t perfect. And those that have tried to uh… pursue something haven’t always had the best intentions.”

His voice trails off somber. You wonder how many just wanted him for his money or fame.

A grim cloud seems to settle above you.

“You’re a great guy Joel, an incredible one.” You earnestly tell him. “Those who can’t see it don’t deserve you.”

“And I have to say it but…you’re a real catch.” You go for the obvious baseball pun.

Joel’s chuckle is a beautiful low gruff treasure.

“That was bad.” You can almost picture him shaking his head. “But thanks…same uh, same goes for you. You’re smart, gorgeous. Someone will come around to see you’re worth it.”

You’re drowning in his words. They feel too much.

He ends up having to quickly end the call with his manager calling, and you’re thankful for it. Because this blooming rawness in you feels like it’s getting too much, yet not enough.

Joel’s compliments are sincere. But many feelings tangle you up. It hurts, like you’re stuck in a rose bush trying to get comfortable within the thorns.

Then, the universe decides to pull you away from Joel.

Classes kick up and the workload piles on. You’re exhausted. It even gets harder to reply to Joel as swiftly as you did. You even miss a few of his phone calls and don’t even call him back.

The days blur together.

Then, one morning you find a text waiting for you.

hope you’re alright

You want to cradle that message.

When you call Joel, it’s like not a day has passed between you and him. Your heart soars hearing his voice again.

“So uh…” Joel begins cautiously, and you’ve never heard him this nervous almost. “We’ll be heading your way into town soon.”

That’s right.

Caught up in the semester you completely forgot the team would be playing the Astros soon. Excitement immediately rises in you.

“Hope ya can come out and see us. And if ya do, let me know.” Joel suggests and you swear his voice sounds shy.

The minute the conversation ends, you try checking for tickets. But they’re a pretty penny. You jokingly circle the top section, the highest nosebleeds, and text him saying he needs to try and find you from here.

He texts back immediately.

Don’t worry about the tickets. Just head to will call and let them know you’re with me. Got it covered

That might be one of the hottest things you’ve ever read.

Game day can’t approach any faster. Your parents even mention the upcoming game when you call to check up.

“You should try to go!” Your dad urges, eager.

A part of you has wondered if Joel mentioned you to your dad. You’ve kept quiet, not saying a thing about whatever this is with Joel, and you now think so did Joel.

You take a small comfort in that.

When game day does arrive, you head to Minute Maid Park alone. Your closest friend and classmate couldn’t make it, and neither could your roommate. But for some reason, you’re slightly okay with being here by yourself.

At the ticket window, you nervously say that you’re here for Joel. Like if nothing they verify your name, and with an ease slide tickets your way.

Not just any tickets, but seats right by the Rangers dugout.

Still stunned, but now slightly lost, you can’t help but feel stranded in the stadium.

“You okay, sweetie?” A lovely voice comes and when you turn, you find a sweet older motherly woman. She wears a Texas Rangers jersey and another younger woman stands besides her in the same jersey. They both stare at you concerned.

“You lost?” The younger woman asks sympathetically.

It must be that obvious. The motherly older woman politely asks to check your tickets to point you in the right direction. She perks up.

“Aw look at that! You’re sitting close to us! Come on, we’ll show ya around!” She beams warmly.

“Wait, are you sure?” You ask worried.

“Oh of course,” the younger woman reassures you with a smile. “The stadium is so huge and besides, us Rangers fans gotta stick together.”

She then winks, noticing the Rangers shirt you bought and wore for the game.

You find out Malinda, the older woman, is the mother of the first baseman. And the other lady, Casey, is his wife.

Kindly, this sweet family adopts you, guiding you towards the section literally right besides the dugout on the other side of the net.

You’re stunned in shock yet again.

Even though your tickets are a few rows away from the two sweet ladies, they reassure you you’ll be fine sitting with them.

It’s beautiful and comforting.

“So, who are you here for?” Casey asks with a friendly gossip like whisper. “These seats are for friends and family, and I haven’t seen you around before.”

But then she quickly reassures you don’t have to explain if you don't want to.

You with a weak laugh you’re here to see Joel, adding that he’s a family friend. Her eyes go wide.

“Oh wow! And he warmed up today too so he might pitch!” She says excitedly.

Joel had texted you before the line up was confirmed that he would be warming up.

Don’t know if I’m gonna get put in but just in case

Even if he didn’t, you told him you just wanted to be there to support him.

With the Rangers being the visiting team, they bat first. You want to root for the guys to get a hit and get on base, but you also already selfishly want to see Joel.

Three outs come and the Rangers switch to take the field. No sign of Joel.

In fact he doesn’t show up until the fifth inning, and it happens so casually. Joel simply walks out from the dugout and takes your breath away.

The team wears their cobalt blue jerseys and the color flatters Joel marvelously.

It feels like seeing him for the first time all over again but through a deeper lens you can’t explain.

You clap and cheer with pride when he manages to strike out the first batter. Then the second.

Two strikeouts back to back.

Joel told you back in his younger days he struck out seven hitters in a row. Now for him to get two, much less strike out the third batter, is something to applaud and admire. And the Rangers fans here, including yourself, cheer loud when the team heads back for the next inning.

“Cowboy Miller in his golden age.” Someone off to the side whistles appreciatively.

You don’t fight the syrupy fondness swallowing you whole.

“It’s rare that a more…seasoned pitcher like Joel still is relied on,” your new friend Casey explains. “But it’s hard to see why not. Everyone’s been saying like he’s almost found a new groove and still has so much power.”

He’s a force you’re terribly in awe of.

Seeing the whip of how strong his body still pitches the ball with a dizzying speed, how handsome he looks under the baseball cap, you want to savor this as much as you can.

Joel manages to get two more strikes out in the second inning. Then by the seventh they get a hit off him but thankfully, no runs come in. Cowboy Miller ends the inning striking out the final batter. You, and the other Rangers fans present, erupt wild.

He did amazing.

Laser focused, locked in on the game, he doesn’t search the crowd or even glance up and you understand. The game gets intense when the Astros manage to hit a home run in the eight. In the end the Rangers win because of an error.

But it’s still a sweet victory.

You relish and warmly celebrate it with your co cheerleaders for the game that made you feel so welcomed with them. You’re about to head up and leave, start looking for an Uber ride home, when Malinda calls to you.

“Sweetie? Aren’t ya gonna wait with us and greet the guys!?” She asks with warm curious sweetness.

You can’t say no.

The commotion sweeps you into a neon coated excitement. There’s a special area sectioned off, almost in a backstage-like section that connects to the entry way for the visiting teams. You’re surprised at how many others wait here.

The team slowly trickles out of the locker room and into the hallway. You’re hilariously reminded of a class being let out.

Then the world then melts away when Joel walks out. Focused on his phone you almost want to call out to him, but your voice gets caught in your throat.

Putting his phone away Joel finally glances up and spots you.

Even with his baseball cap on, you see his eyes widen for a fraction. Your body reacts on its own moving towards him. But he also walks fiercely towards you.

The world blurs away for a moment and then without even thinking, you’re embracing him.

It happens so naturally you don’t even realize what you did until you blink and it’s like you’ve been thrown into cold water.

Panicking, you’re about to pull away until Joel’s arms slowly wrap around you.

“Good to see ya too.” He says low gruff but you’re taken out by the knees grateful your body doesn’t give out.

He smells of sweat, of the dirt on the field, and something sharply Joel, and it’s wonderful.

Quickly you draw yourself away to proudly tell him how amazing he did. Joel waves you off with a gruff noise as his eyes refuse to meet you, almost bashful.

It’s been so long since you’ve seen him this close, been in the same space as him. And it feels so different.

“Alright, dinner?” Someone says, and when you turn, you’re stunned to see it’s the team manager.

Guess this means you’ll be saying goodbye.

“Headin��� home?” Joel asks when he notices you staying back once everyone funnels outside.

“Uh yeah, gotta grab an Uber first. Didn’t wanna drive down here and deal with Houston traffic along with awful parking during a game.” You joke, and Joel snorts.

“Let me take ya back then.” He offers, and you almost drop your phone.

You scramble out reassuring Joel it’s fine.

“Besides, don’t you have dinner to go to?” And where would he even get a car to take you.

“S’fine. Would rather make sure you get home safe anyway.” He then tells you to hang tight then goes to grab one of the rental cars the team has on ready.

Because of course they do.

Your blood hums wild knowing Joel is taking you home, that you’re going to be alone with him. Even in this glimmering dusted dream you still want to tell Malinda and Casey goodbye and thanks for treating you so kindly.

You wish them well and even welcome their warm goodbye hug.

“Wish you could come to dinner!” Casey frowns.

“Maybe next time.” Her mother in law says bright.

Next time.

“Yes hope to see you at more games.” Casey grins and the possibility bubbles iridescent in you.

With a goodbye to them you wait for Joel. There are still a few others of the wives or girlfriends hanging around while the team sorts out where to go.

You haven’t turned to give them any attention. However something crawls on your skin like you’re hyper aware of being watched.

“Did you see how she hugged him? Probably just using him, poor Joel.” One of them whispers.

“She’s not even that pretty.” Another one giggles.

“Oh then you know he’s maybe just using her then! And if that’s the case then good for Joel.” The other replies with a searing joke that makes your stomach sick.

Joel returns, keys in his hand. “Ready to go?”

You weakly grin back.

You should be basking in this moment of finally getting to be alone with Joel, of getting to see him drive you around. Once in the car he took off his cap allowing you sight of his soft hair. The darkness of the car, the warmth of the city lights flickering by, all coat him glorious. Yet those comments from earlier fester poisonous and sour any hope of enjoying this.

You stay rather quiet while giving him directions to your place.

Joel however is surprisingly talkative.

“So you’ll have to give me recommendations of places to go around here.” His voice even sounds just traces softer, higher almost - like he’s happy being here.

And it kills you.

“Y’seem quiet, you okay?” He notices it of course, ever aware.

“Yeah, just a bit tired. Didn’t know the game would take that much outta me.” You lie.

Eventually you arrive at your apartment complex.

“Your place is nice.” Joel admires as he helps you out of the car like the Texan gentleman he is. He even follows you to your door.

You graciously thank him again for this night and for taking you home.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks again.

You walk a few steps away from him. The night all around is still quiet, feels soupy with how much hangs in you.

You refuse to cry about this, don’t want to get emotional. If anything, you deserve to treat this like an adult.

“Joel…” you start cautiously, already hating the way your voice wavers.

“Yeah?” His voice stays steady, unbothered, but his eyes furrowing say otherwise.

“What…what is this? What are we?” You ask as steady as you can, but your tone continues to crack.

Joel’s eyes brow furrow and his mouth closes, tightening his jaw.

“Just…good friends.” He replies simply, almost cold. “Just showing my pal’s daughter a nice night.”

There it is.

Your soul deflates. So all the times you’ve felt like this might be something, maybe it's just been you wishing it would be.

So salvaging whatever dignity left, you nod.

“Thanks again, Joel.” You reply briskly and return walking towards your door.

He says your name. It stops you dead in your tracks.

“Why? Why d’ya ask that?” He asks, pressing firm and hard.

You turn back to him, and a deep scowl is etched on his face.

“It doesn’t matter.” You answer.

“The fuck does that mean?” He snaps a bit sharp.

“It means what it means.” You fire back.

“Bullshit. Why did you ask that?” Joel growls out firmer.

“Even if I told you, it doesn’t matter.” You repeat.

“Stop sounding like a fuckin’ owl.” His voice rises hard and fast, like a hand slamming on the wall.

It startles you, makes your eyes water and something in you shakes. Mainly because you know this is beginning to taste like the end. The smallest trace of hope is dissipating right before you.

You blink back tears, and immediately Joel’s face falls.

“Honey, I’m sorry-”

Shaking your head, you cut him off. Not even the sweet pet name he effortlessly uses can shake you.

Through gritted teeth you tell him to go.

“Not when you’re this upset.” He urges.

Through tears a sad water laugh escapes you and Joel’s eyes go cloudy.

“I’m realizing…I’ll never be anything to you then just your friend's kid, huh?” Your voice is waterlogged and you can’t fight it.

“You are.” He states simple and straightforward.

You nod, swallowing back the heartache boiling over.

“Can’t be anythin’ more than that.” Joel adds through mutter.

“Why?” You now ask him. Under the amber light of your apartment’s hallway the most frustrated cloudy look hardens his face.

His eyes scan your face then he steps closer towards you

“Don’t act dumb, sweetheart.” His voice rips out low cruel, slightly harsh.

You’re not and you tell him that.

“I…” the words you’ve held locked up so fiercely in your heart now sneak out from their bars to escape.

“I’d give anything to be yours, Joel.” You croak barely realizing you even said that.

He inhales, and his face goes taunt.

You wait for the sharp reply, even brace for it.

Instead Joel swoops in, kisses you wild like a sudden storm, and presses you against the door of your apartment.

Greedily, you claw onto him not wanting to ever let this go, to let him go. Your mouth begs him more to invade and consume. And he does so with a steady hunger.

The clamor into your apartment is messy, but at one point Joel cautiously stops to look around.

“My roommate’s visiting family…” you reassure, kissing his neck and softly under the side of his jaw with delicate cautious lips.

“Just you and me.” You whisper soft.

Joel takes command the minute you lead him to your room.

“Thought about this. Fuck, think about ya all the damn time.” He growls against your neck as he slides your bra off and runs a callous hand over your chest.

“Fucked my fist that first night you went swimmin’ at m’house.” Joel’s words make you whine and then his lips lick against your skin trying to savor you.

“Me too.” You admit through a whimper. “Touched myself thinking of you.”

Joel freezes.

“Tell me,” he says rather calmly, deadly almost.

Your syrupy lust begins fading away when you realize what you said, what he asks for, and what your answer will be.

Your lips and eyes shut close.

Then Joel’s warm breath, like a ghost, crawls against up your chest and tickles against your ear now.

“Come on, honey,” his voice is utterly decadent with a plea. “Tell me, please.”

You swallow hard telling Joel you don't want him to get weirded out.

He hums against your neck already starting to suck a mark against your skin. Your eyes roll back, and the embarrassment is quickly fading away.

“Promise, I’ll be okay.” Joel reassures you with a mumble against your skin.

So with a shaky voice, you weakly admit how you touched yourself to videos of him.

He groans.

“Baby, oh fuck, fuckin - shit.” Joel sputters out hard, like he just got kicked in the gut, and you’re worried until his lips smash into yours.

He devours you.

You’re swept into a tangled dizzying frenzy. Your clothes practically get ripped off as do Joel’s while he clutches onto you and licks into your mouth.

“That’s my girl. Knew you’d be m’good girl.” He says almost drunk and you’re done for.

You fall into the chasm with no hopes of turning back. But you don’t want to.

Joel feels like a god carving open your universe. You want to consume him and want him to consume you. He becomes your center of gravity.

In the aftermath, you’re left basking in Joel’s warmth and never want to leave.

Even though you were in his arms, Joel had to sit up to take a call and now scrolls through his phone. Your fingers trace his beautiful back.

You’re thankful for all the soft lamps you bought that now melt him into a dreamlike glow.

“Joel.”

He hums a gruff gentle noise that says he’s listening.

“I don’t…” you begin softly, then tell him your doubts. You don’t want him to think you’re simply using him for his status or money.

“Joel… you could quit or retire tomorrow and work with your brother as a contractor and I’d still always want you the way I want you.” Your deliciously aching limbs, the soft afterglow, all of it has you speaking soft and freely.

You never wanted Joel because of his fame or even because of the forbidden taste of him being friends with your dad. You wanted Joel for deeper reasons, some that have carved out a chasm in your heart.

You explain this all to him best as you can without rambling or sounding silly.

Joel sighs.

“Y’shouldn’t.” His voice is a hollow rumble. “I’m old, friends with your dad. We shouldn’t be doin’ this.”

Now a bitter venom spills in you.

You glare at his back, how his shoulders slump defeated while you sit up

“I'm an adult, Joel. And if that’s all you’re worried about then sorry it’s a shit reason.” You launch back.

Over his shoulder he glares at you.

“If…” you swallow hard. “If you’re the one who wants to leave, because i’m that young, or you really don't want this or don’t feel what I feel, then fine. At least tell me that.”

“But I care about you. And I want to make this, us, work.” You finish firmly, even with how much emotions clash in your chest.

Joel sighs again. His eyes face turns away now down downcasted.

“Didn’t wanna want you the way I do. You’re so bright, fucking’ smart and so g’damn gorgeous.” He softly admits.

A pause settles between him and you.

“Y’could be with someone younger, less complicated.” Joel admits low.

“Don’t want anyone younger or less complicated. Just want you.” You reassure with a soft steady mutter.

He goes quiet again.

“Used to not get bothered when I started leavin’ away games by myself. With Tommy married and the business booming, then the girls startin’ to have their own lives…I didn’t mind doing this alone.”

Underneath his words you catch it, his rusting loneliness.

“But then…these past few months…and now today seeing ya waitin’ for me…” he says clipped, like the rest of his words are caught in his throat and he can’t free them yet

Joel turns, and his eyes bore into you.

The silence stays as you stare unflinchingly back at him.

He doesn’t need to say anything else. You don’t think you have to either. Like a magnetic pull, it’s effortless moving towards him. Joel’s warm large calloused hand, seasoned from so many seasons of hard work, of pitching, cradles your face. You kiss him with every inch of your heart.

Even after spending the night, you’re surprised Joel hasn’t left yet. He even comments about figuring out lunch plans with you.

“You have another game today, Cowboy.” You comment.

The term makes his eyebrows rise, and the most coy smirk tugs his face making him look so charming.

“Got today off to rest, ya little shit.” It’s affectionate. “Besides my back ain’t what it use to be and after goin’ more rounds with ya this morning-”

In the middle of your living room you rush to kiss him.

The rest of the day unfolds like a dream drenched and stitched from every domestic fantasy you’ve ever had. Joel stands in your kitchen when you make him a quick lunch and you laugh apologizing that your fridge isn’t MLB diet certified. Joel steals your last saved snack after that joke.

Cuddled snug on the couch with him, you try watching a movie but Joel, so greedy and handsy, ends up fucking your brains out with his tongue.

When dinner rolls around, you order from your favorite local takeout place and Joel pays for everything. You ignore all the work you need to do for the week and don’t care. You’re here at this moment and want to stay crystalized in it for as long as you can.

But tomorrow is the last day before the team leaves to Miami to play the Marlins.

While showering with him, you wrap yourself against Joel’s back already dreading his leave. He seems to sense it too because his hands squeezes yours.

Against your shower wall he glides into you tender and slow, almost trying to draw out every inch of this.

Later that night, you try staying up but the day begins settling in. Your eyes flutter trying to fight sleep.

He mutters your name soft while his fingers run soft against your side.

“Hm?” You answer, trying hard to fight your tired eyes.

“Don’t want ya to think i’m ever using you, honey. You’re not just some young thing keepin’ me company.”

His words are simple, but they erupt so much in you.

Joel had been spooning you from behind, but now you immediately turn around to burrow your face against his chest. You reassure him and his arms tighten around you wonderful chains you wish never break.

But the next morning arrives.

“Gonna come to our last game here?” Joel asks while he packs up.

“Don’t know, I heard you guys still have that really old guy who might be pitching.” You say with a shrug.

His face frowns hard, but Joel moves to playfully smack your ass while you laugh. He quickly draws you in for another kiss.

You have class tomorrow and work you need to jump on, but you go to the game. Joel doesn’t play, but you don’t mind. Getting to hug him goodbye one last night in the shadow of the stadium is worth it.

“Text ya when we get to the airport.” Joel promises, secretly placing a soft kiss on your head.

That night when you get home you order not one, but two Joel Miller jerseys.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Private Practice

Hi guys!

It’s a new one-shot for my series "Lia & The Firefighter", but like the others you can read this one without having read the others.

It's from a request here and I already have another one for this serie and that makes me very happy because I like this one :)

TW : None, I think?

For once, saying goodbye to Lia for your double shift wasn’t too hard. You knew that her and the Arsenal’s women team would come at almost the end of your shift to the fire station. After what happened to Frida during the finale for the ContiCup, Arsenal’s staff decided to organize a formation about first aid.

You have been with Lia for almost three years now, so the team heard about you several times and they all know what you are doing for a living. That’s why they decided to contact your fire station, after asking Lia if she was okay with that.

She was and you were too, of course. You love your job and being able to talk about it is always something you find great. You weren’t in the stand when Frida went down, but you are secretly relieved to know that people around Lia will be more aware of what to do if something happens to your girlfriend while you are not around.

Your shift was pretty calm this time, of course you had emergencies, but nothing was too complicated. You even had time to eat sitting on a chair, which is something you sometimes can’t do.

Before they come, you take a shower and wash your hair, wanting to be as prepared as possible. You help your Commander to prepare the things you will need for the course and write some reports to pass time.

“Y/L/N, they are here!”

You smile while you finish writing your last sentence before getting up from your chair. You know that you won’t be able to kiss Lia like you do when you go home but seeing her when you aren’t supposed to makes you happy.

You, your Commander and two other firefighters are present for the course. The girl and the team are already here when you join them in the hangar, where the trucks are parked.

You can’t help but look at Lia, who is beautiful as always. She calls you cheesy when you swear that you don’t even look at other women since you have her in your life, but it’s true. No one can fight with her. She’s your perfection.

“So, Y/N, which one am I not authorized to flirt with?” teases one of your colleagues.

“No one, if you don’t want to explain to your wife why you have a broken jaw.”

It makes him chuckle, but he stops really quickly when he sees your burning gaze. You are overprotective with Lia, it’s not something new for anyone. You never let her carry anything, you always cook when you can and you insist that she rests when you are both at home, pushing her to lie down on the couch while you are cleaning or doing the laundry.

But since you saved Alessia from that stupid man in a nightclub several months ago, you also started to go out more with them. They slowly became your friends and you have the tendency to protect your friends too. Nothing to do with how you behave with Lia naturally, but Alessia still started to call you her bodyguard since that day.

You address a wink at your girlfriend when she looks back at you, standing between Steph and Leah, before going back to your work face. Arms crossed on your chest, you listen to your Commander talking about how the emergencies are working. You already know that of course. But you are still listening, giving your Captain the attention he deserves from you.

“How do you let her leave the house when she’s dressed like this? She’s so hot” Kyra whispers in Lia’s ear.

Alessia next to her giggles and even if she slaps Kyra’s arm, Steph can’t hide the smile on her face.

You are not wearing all your uniform, only your fire pants and your navy polo, with your black boots.

“Leave her alone” Leah whispers, passing her arm around Lia’s shoulders.

Leah knows how secretive and prudent Lia is about your relationship; you are still a secret for the rest of the world. Only your friends and family know about you. You have to admit that it works perfectly for you too.

“Thanks” Lia mumbles to Leah.

“She’s right, though. This uniform is something else” Leah smirks.

Lia rolls her eyes and smiles too. Even if your job scares her to death sometimes, she’s still proud about you.

After those explanations, your Captain separates the team into three groups. You are assigned to the cardiac massage, while another group will go to theory and the last group will have false emergency scenarios to work on.

You greet the girls with a smile, you know them pretty well now. Caitlin and Katie are in this group, and you can’t help but smile when you realize that they manage to be together for that too. You know that Caitlin is Lia’s ex, of course. But you never had any problem with her, Caitlin always has been respectful and her having her own girlfriend now put an endpoint about any rivalry who might have existed.

Katie is in fact one of the girls you get along with the best. She teases you every time about your relationship with Lia, but she’s very fond of her girlfriend too. So, you don’t hesitate to tease her back and you always have fun together.

But today you are very concentrated, and the girls all have a little reminder about how impressed they were by you. Now they know that your closed face is a barrier to the world and that inside you are as soft as a marshmallow. And that you are wrapped around Lia’s little finger.

The second group includes Kyra with Kim and Steph, and you wonder if they put the young Australian with the two other women to make her behave. She’s in fact very concentrated too and is one of the best at cardiac massage.

“Pretty impressive” you say to Kyra after having checked the consistency of her massage.

“Thanks” she answers proudly before sticking her tongue to Steph.

You roll your eyes and smile, for the first time since you began the course. Seems like she can’t stay serious for too long anyway.

The last group comprises Leah, Alessia but especially Lia. You are eager to have your girlfriend next to you, even if you have to stay professional. Which you do very well to be honest, if the others didn’t know you were dating, no one could have guessed.

“Hi” you smirk at Lia when it’s her turn to do the cardiac massage.

“Hello” she smiles back.

Just like the others, you look at Lia working, telling the things to change when needed. You take on yourself not to look at her with your habitual loving eyes, keeping it professional once again. Even when her perfume tickles your nose and the fact that you could completely let your gaze go on the southern part of her anatomy.

The tiredness you usually feel when you are at the end of your shift isn’t here today either, thanks to your girlfriend and her friends.

After all the girls and the rest of the team have passed, you meet one last time in the hangar. Once again you listen carefully to what your Captain is saying. You just look quickly at the clock on the wall, happy to learn that you only have twenty minutes left before being authorized to go home.

Several minutes later, Arsenal’s team is leaving. Not without having a paper signed by your Captain.

“Wait for me?” you whisper to Lia when the girls come to thank you.

She smiles and nods, before leaving with the others. You look at her leaving, before turning to your colleagues.

“Nice of you to have kept your hand for yourself” one of them teases again.

You frown and open your mouth to answer but your Commander, still in the room, doesn’t hesitate to intervene sharply.

“I think there are still trucks that need to have their equipment updated. It will maybe be more interesting than gossip.”

Your colleague blushes but nods before leaving the hangar. You don’t flinch when your Captain turns in your direction.

“Y/L/N, you’re dismissed.”

You nod and hide a smile, thanking your Captain before leaving. You hurry to change and freshen up a little, before almost running out to find Lia. She’s waiting for you, standing in a corner of the yard. You can’t hide the smile this time, happy to finally have her for you.

“Hi Beautiful” you smile, passing your arms around her waist.

“Hi”

You sigh of well-being by feeling it against you, closing your eyes briefly. You missed her during those last two days, even if you were able to exchange some messages during this time.

“I missed you” you mumble, your face in her hair.

You let her cup your face between both of her hands, looking at you for several seconds before talking. You let her do it. You hated that when you started dating, but now you’re much more comfortable when she does it. It feels like she’s scanning your soul.

“How tired are you?” she finally asks.

“I’m okay. Why?”

“Would you mind showing me around the station?”

You hesitate for some seconds, before nodding and taking her by the hand. Lia never came inside the fire station, even if she has already picked you up from work several times.

“I need to ask my Commander before” you inform Lia while entering the fire station.

You don’t let Lia’s hand go when you enter it, going right to the office where you know you will find him. You wait politely for his authorization to enter after you knock, entering discreetly into his office.

“I was wondering if you would allow me to show Lia the station, my Commander” you ask, standing straight.

He gives a big smile to Lia. He always has loved her; you don’t know why. He even menaces you to kick your ass if you do something bad to her. But there is not a single chance in the world for you to do that. You haven’t told him that way, but Lia is the love of your life.

“Sur. Just be careful not to disturb your colleagues who are still working”

“Of course, Sir. Thank you very much”

You nod and offer him a smile, before grabbing Lia’s hand again to drag her outside the office. You hear him adding something just before you close the door.

“It was a pleasure to see you again, Lia.”

Lia giggles and the sound alone makes you smile. You take her against you to kiss her cheek, now you are alone there is no one to tease you. You can see her smile under your lips. She’s bashful about your relationship, but the tenderness between you is here at any moment of the day.

You take your girlfriend to visit the different rooms of the fire station. On the ground floor there are different garages and a changing room with some bathrooms. On the first floor, there are the different classrooms that Lia already knows because that’s where the Arsenal’s girls have spent their last hours. There is the cafeteria too and what you all call the living room. In this room there is a TV, a baby-foot table and some comfortable couches.

And on the last floor, there are bedrooms, showers and a balcony. It’s where you finish your tour, letting Lia look at the view. It’s not very amazing to be honest, the station is in the city. So, it’s basically buildings and cement.

“So? What do you think?” you ask your girlfriend after some minutes.

You smile when she turns in your direction again. She’s wearing her Arsenal’s outfit, but you love it inside. You can’t explain why you find her in a kit particularly sexy. She’s wearing a jogging today though, but she’s amazing anyway.

“It seems great” Lia smiles. “But I think I understand even more now why you crave a bath when you come home after your shift”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. Having a bathtub was one of your criteria when you were looking for an apartment. You told Lia once and she keeps teasing you about it. But she’s not wrong, you usually go straight for a hot bath when you come home. If Lia can be inside the water with you, it’s just like heaven.

You made her swear to keep your obsession for Lush bath bombs secret, though.

“Are you ready to go home?” you ask Lia.

“I am” she smiles.

She’s the one who takes your hand this time, but you follow her without any doubt. You just go to the changing room to grab your things before going to the parking lot to find your car.

“You are coming to mine, right?” you frown suddenly after having started the car.

“Yes, unless you don’t want me there” Lia smirks.

You don’t even respond, you just snort. If you could, you would probably spend every second of the day with her. And it seems to be a good enough answer for Lia, because your girlfriend only smiles and looks through the window.

A comfortable silence begins after that. And, just when you take a look at your girlfriend, you can only feel relaxed. There’s no place you’d want to be but here. You know you will have an amazing evening, with a bath, a homemade poke bowl just like Lia proposed to cook for you and definitely cuddles in front of the TV.

Once again, you couldn’t ask for more. Or better.

[rafesbowbunny]

𝜗𝜚 bunny!reader has always had a thing for a regular at her bookstore, older!rafe only comes in to see her

c!w; mdni !! older!rafe, dom!rafe, bunny!reader, age-gap (reader is 18+), size kink, rafe gets called 'daddy' a few times, dirty talk, mutual pining obviously, 'unprotected' sex, p in v, creampie, overstimulation (if you squint), cum play, cum eating, oral (f. receiving)

notes; i had such bad writer's block during the making of this so i apologise if this isn't my best work... also its kinda long before the smut but it needed some plot !!

you'd just gotten a job at a new cozy bookstore in town. it was perfect, had rows and rows of every genre of book a person could think of and a lovely little cafe with a cozy area to read in too. you loved working there, and had recently gotten much more comfortable after finally getting the hang of everything.

there were quite a few regulars that would come in for the coffee and a book, lots were mothers with quiet children that would sit down in the children's corner and read, others were just people of all ages that particularly enjoyed sitting in the bookstore for hours.

you were stacking shelves the first time you saw him; tall, gorgeous and smiling slightly under his cute scruffy moustache. he was flicking through the non-fiction books. though he didn't look like someone that read, adorned in workwear and partially grubby clothing, most likely from his blue collar job.

you could tell he was definitely older, around ten years your senior but still so pretty. after that first minor interaction you started seeing him come in a lot more, every other day basically. you'd worked up the courage to say hi to him after a few more times of seeing him and although your face was probably bright red, he smiled wide and started a conversation with you.

after the ice had been broken you would always talk to him when he came into the bookstore, it got to a point where he wasn't even pretending to be interested in the books around him anymore, he obviously had come in there to see you again.

rafe had also started coming in early before work started, he looked so good in his carhartt jacket and big boots, not yet dirty from a days work. he'd make sure you were the one to make his coffee, always mumbling something about you having a secret gift as he grinned, letting his hand linger over yours when he'd take his cup.

the tension between the two of you was palpable, your friends and co-workers would make jokes about how no one needed to read romance books in there anymore, they had a whole story playing out in front of them.

you would always laugh and smile at their comments, smitten over the idea of being with rafe but there was always the lingering thought that it was just friendly flirting. nothing more. he probably had a girlfriend, or a wife or something. he was too old and too gorgeous, why would he actually want anything to do with little old you.

these thoughts had you spiralling significantly on one particular day; what if you were wasting all your time and feelings on this older guy that would never want you? would you ever get over him? would you be alone forever?

you were zoning out - hard - as you slid the last few books of your shift onto the shelf, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw him standing in front of you with a grin.

"sorry, did i give you a fright?" he mumbled, steadying you with his touch, "'thought you'd heard me when i said y'name but there must be s'much goin' on in that head of yours."

you took a breathe and smiled weakly at him, not being able to shake your pessimistic thoughts from seconds before as he stood in front of you, handsome and speaking.

"no, sorry- lots on my mind i guess" you shrugged, fiddling with your fingers. rafe's brow furrowed, he'd seen you stressed and frustrated because of work but never like this, anxious and pensive.

he tilted his head a little, "what's wrong hm?" he softly coaxed, looking deep into your eyes as he reached out and rubbed your arm with his thumb.

you looked up at him through your lashes, "nothing.. nothing really..." you mumbled, chewing your lip a little.

his gaze darkened as he watched you, "something you wanna ask me bunny?"

you shook your head after shuddering at the nickname. a nickname only rafe used with you, it never failed to give you goosebumps down your body and cause your thighs to squeeze together a little, "don't worry.. er, i'm about to close up in a minute - you don't mind walking me to my car do you?"

his pursed lips melted into a smile and he looked up for a second before nodding. you smiled at him before finally putting away the last few things and grabbing the bookstore's keys. rafe followed you out as you left the store and locked the doors from the outside.

"cold tonight hmm" rafe remarked, looking out at the dim parking lot and neighbouring streets as he walked close to you. you hummed in agreement, readjusting the jacket tighter around you.

when you finally reached your car you looked up at him with a longing smile before he tilted his head, grinning at you, "you gonna tell me what you were thinking about earlier?"

you shook your head, nerves chewing at your lip again.

"c'mon, 'm not gonna see you tomorrow, 'ts your day off bunny, can't make me just wonder all this time hm?" he playfully whined, inching his body closer to yours. you were a little stunned by his words.

"you remember my day off's tomorrow?" the nerves were rising in your tummy now, bubbling around and exploding.

he smirked, sliding your hand into his, "course i'd know when the only reason i go into that bookshop isn't there."

"rafe" you gushed, covering your face a little and shaking your head. you couldn't believe your ears, you thought you weren't stupid or anything but here you were, hearing that he wanted you the whole time. "i thought you were just.. i don't know, entertaining the idea of me this whole time..."

his lips parted and brow furrowed as if it was completely incomprehensible that he might've not actually wanted you, "bunny... you must be talking pure shit now because i thought i'd made it obvious i wanted you from the second i'd gotten to know you."

you chewed at your lip, heat pooling in your tummy as he instinctively inched closer to you as he spoke. all you wanted to do now was jump his bones, and you kept glancing down at the bulge in his pants as it became closer and closer to you.

he noticed your wandering eyes and laughed a little, throwing his head back before sliding both hands up your arms carefully, "...so you said you don't have heating huh?"

you nodded, feeling dizzy at the realisation of what he was about to ask you.

he scoffed with a grin, "see, i've got heating at my place that works pretty well, and - bunny, with the way you're looking at me right now, i think we're better off going there."

you smiled, staring up at him through your lashes before nodding and in an instant he'd grabbed your hand, leading you to his truck. the drive was probably fairly quick, but it felt like hours of agony to the both of you as you patiently waited. rafe's hand was possessively gripping your thigh and you felt wetness in your panties thinking about where else his hands would trail to.

it was a blur, stumbling out of his truck and into his house, you barely looked at the place before the two of you, sloppy and all over each other, had made it to his bedroom. your body was on vibrate but he took a second to take his huge jacket and long sleeve shirt off.

you breathed heavily, eyes widening when street light through the window illuminated his toned chest, he was built like a greek god and you nearly moaned at the thought of all that being all over you.

he teasingly peeled your clothes off, article by article, grinning all the way. he could see you twitching and heavily breathing at every movement, it only fuelled him more.

finally you were in nothing but panties and a bra, matching of course, which made rafe's eyes go wild, "jesus, look at you." he breathed, running his hands along the side of your body as you lay under him.

you slid your arms around his neck and tried to pull him in but he grinned at your lack of strength and you frowned playfully, squirming at the lack of action.

"you gonna ask nicely bunny?" his lips were centimetres away from yours, he was really enjoying teasing you now.

"please... please i want you inside me so bad" you whined, pouting and running your hands into his shaggy mullet. he smirked and leaned in, passionately pressing his lips to yours, engulfing you in heat.

your hands pulled at his jeans, ripping down the zipper as you slid a palm across his clothed cock, gasping at his lips over how big you found him to be.

he tugged himself out of his boxers before lowering down to your core, you burned with desire as you watched the greek god looming over you, slowly bully his cock into your weeping hole.

you groaned at the feeling, his cock slowly slipping all the way down, filling you to the hilt. your grip around his neck tightened, along with his hands holding you steady at your hips.

he drilled into you at an unrelenting pace, the sound of his cock diving in and out of your wet pussy causing him to groan gutturally, "uhghh, you like this big cock baby? c'mon, tell me you've been thinking about daddy's cock since you met me hmm"

you eyes were rolling back, the pleasure becoming too much already, "mmmh i think about daddy's cock all the time... oh! fuuuck."

you looked down at your tummy, a clear huge bulge poking everytime rafe drove his dick into you, only making you dizzier. he was just so big.

a creamy line of arousal was thick around the base of rafe's cock, your breath all ragged as he continued to drill into you, toying with your clit to overstimulate you.

you were shaking under him, one hand gripping onto a bicep and the other tugging the sheets beside you. the sheer girth of him was splitting you open, rafe grinned at the yelps escaping your lips with every thrust.

"pussy's swallowing me whole, fuck bunny" he grunted into your lips, launching in for yet another seering kiss while his thrusts became sloppy but deeper. plap-plap-plap filled the room along with your pornographic moans.

"nghh daddy, i'm- oh, g'na cum!" you cried, nails digging into his flesh.

he was panting into your neck, "'know baby, can feel your pussy milking me- fuuuuuck" you felt the rush of your orgasm as rafe's thick white ropes coated your insides. he continued to thrust into you a few more times, watching your pussy swallow all his cum before pulling out.

"such a good bunny, look at that shit.." he mumbled, dragging a finger over your wet whole, playing with and pushing his release back into you. "so wet..."

he dipped his head down, lapping up both your juices that had coated your folds. you twitched from the sensation, still recovering from his cock.

"rafeee- oh god- too sensitive.." you whined, hand laced in his hair. he lifted his head and looked at you with a grin, his moustache gleaming with wetness.

"oh bunny now that i've had you, shit, i'm never letting my little girl go."

[satorulovebot]

so scarlet it was, maroon | chapter two

✧₊⁺ pairing — satoru gojou x journalist!reader

✧₊⁺ chapter summary — satoru comes home to his angry wife and he said some questionable stuff the night before. satoru meets suguru at a bar in shinjuku and they discuss what they should do with their nosy little journalist and they manage to come up with a plan on how they should deal with her, and it doesn't include the most moral of ways.

✧₊⁺ word count — 4.6k

✧₊⁺ warnings — nsfw (minors dni), alcohol use, drug mentions, manipulation, mentions of sex (not with reader)

✧₊⁺ notes — well hello to all my new readers this was very unexpected for me. i started this blog with max 4 readers interacting with my work (i love you btw) and now i have 1k interactions on my ssiwm masterlist which is crazy and anxiety inducing (i’m a wuss if you couldn’t tell). but thank you to my cursed seas babies who voted for the f1 gojo series and i thank them because they brought me here and i wouldn’t have kept writing without them and thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter also short chapter because life longer chapter soon i promise :)

♪ on the floor — jennifer lopez ft. pitbull

series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist

previous chap. tokyo, japan | next chap. (coming coon)

The world around Satoru was hazy when he opened his eyes, barely able to make out the details of the ceiling above him. His head throbbed and pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He let out a groan before rolling over on the couch in a desperate attempt to block out the morning sunlight.

Where was he? Oh, right. His apartment. The couch. Again.

He remembered stumbling into the house at some obscure hour of the night, unaware of how he swayed as he tried to navigate the hallway of his home. Memories of the previous night came rushing back and all of a sudden, a conversation came to him—a memory of the curious face that sat across from him in the dimly lit bar, asking him questions he would usually brush off with a smirk. What was it he had said about her last night? Something about a cute, nosy journalist being at the bar. He could only hope he didn't say that out loud.

“Oh, look who finally decided to wake up." Hana stood above him, her arms crossed, glaring down at him, “How nice of you to finally come home.”

Gojou grunted, pushing himself up, though he instantly regretted it as a wave of nausea hit him. “Morning to you too,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can you keep it down? It feels like I’ve been hit by a damn truck.”

“Maybe that’s because you came home drunk out of your mind, yet again,” Hana snapped. “And stumbling around the house at two in the morning, shouting nonsense about some ‘nosy journalist’? Really, Satoru?”

He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of her words. Oh right, maybe he had gone on a bit too much about that girl at the bar last night, hadn’t he? What was her name? No, she never gave it to him, had she? Or had he just forgotten?

“I wasn’t shouting. And… she was just doing her job, asking questions. It wasn’t anything"

“Just doing her job? Is that what you call it now? Going to bars and flirting with journalists instead of coming home to your wife?”

He groaned, slumping back against the couch. “Hana, I wasn’t flirting with her,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s just a journalist. You know how it is.”

“Oh, I know how it is. I know exactly how it is. You spend every other night at some bar, ‘meeting’ people, and coming home like this.” She gestured at him, sprawled out on the couch, his shirt rumpled and hair a mess, the smell of last night’s whiskey still clinging to him. “And I’m supposed to just sit here and take it? Pretend this is normal?”

“Can we not do this right now?” he muttered. “It’s too early for a lecture.”

“A lecture? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually enjoy making a mess of everything. And let me guess, you were just at the bar for a ‘break’ from everything, right?”

“Yes, actually,” he shot back, finally sitting up. "I needed a break, Hana. Do you know what it’s like? Everyone expects me to be this… perfect person, and I'm not. And then I come home, and it’s more of the same.”

“So you’re the victim here? I’m sorry, but did I ask for this life of constant rumors and watching my husband stumble in drunk, muttering about some cute journalist?”

Did he really say that last night? He couldn’t remember, but if Hana said so… maybe he did.

“That’s not—Hana, it wasn’t like that. She was just… She’s just doing research on me for some project. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“Oh, of course. Just research. Because there’s nothing strange about you going off with some girl who’s practically a stranger and giving her everything she wants to know about your life while leaving me in the dark.”

He looked at her, genuinely surprised by her comment. “Hana,” he started slowly, “I don’t ‘leave you in the dark.’”

“Really? Then tell me, what about all the rumors, Satoru? The ones I have to read about in the papers? The ones I have to brush off every time someone asks if our marriage is ‘really okay.’ Do you have any idea what it’s like having to deal with that?”

Do you think I like having my life dissected by the media, or dealing with every fucking rumor about me? I didn’t ask for this.”

“No,” she shot back, “but you made it worse. Do you ever think about how your actions make me look? Every time you’re out drinking, showing up in those trashy tabloids with someone else, it’s me they look at, like I’m the one who can’t control her husband.”

“So what do you want from me, Hana? An apology? Fine. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I went out. I’m sorry I had a drink. I’m sorry I talked to some journalists. But I can’t pretend to be something I’m not.”

“You can’t pretend? Satoru, you’ve been pretending for years. You’re not fooling anyone but yourself.”

He stared at her, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. “Hana…”

“I can’t keep doing this, Satoru,” she said softly, her voice breaking just a little. “I can’t keep watching you spiral like this, hurting yourself, hurting me. I didn’t marry you so you could destroy yourself.”

Hana let out a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair. “You’re not the only one with limits, Satoru. And I think I’m reaching mine.”

Without another word, Hana turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

“Great job, Satoru,” he muttered to himself, dragging a hand through his hair.

He let his gaze fall around the room, landing on a few framed pictures scattered on the shelves. One photo caught his eye—a photo of his and Hana's engagement party. The two of them had looked so happy, so in love, but that was before he let the fame and pressure eat away at him and his marriage.

“God,” he muttered under his breath. He needed to get out before the walls began to close in on him. The last thing he wanted was to sit around in the empty house alone with his thoughts. Grabbing his jacket from the arm of the couch, he stood up, ignoring the fresh wave of nausea hitting him. With a quick glance down the hallway where Hana had disappeared, he slipped out the front door.

Satoru found Suguru in their usual spot—seated in the corner of a booth in a low-lit bar tucked away in Shinjuku. He was nursing a whiskey and a cigarette between two fingers, rolling the glass, and watching the ice melt. Satoru slid in across from him and ordered himself a whiskey.

“You look like hell,” Suguru said, his mouth twitching into a faint smile as he raised an eyebrow. “Long night?”

Satoru snorted. “You could say that.”

“Ah, the usual, then,” he replied, not even looking up. “Guessing it ended with a headache and Hana kicking you out onto the couch?”

Satoru grimaced, taking the glass of whiskey the server put down in front of him. “Something like that.” He took a long sip, letting the burn trail down his throat. “Or maybe I just wanted a break from the domestic life.”

“Right. Is that why you look like you’ve gone ten rounds with a wall and lost? What happened?”

“Same shit as always,” Satoru muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s pissed I was out last night. Probably more pissed that I came home talking about some journalist.”

“A journalist, huh? She’s probably wondering if she should be jealous.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly help by calling her ‘cute’ and ‘nosy’ in the same sentence. Not my best moment.”

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

"Tell me something I don't know." Satoru leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "This girl… she's doing this project or something on me and TJR. She was in the press booth at the race yesterday and happened to be at the same bar as me after. Seemed a little too interested in getting into my head."

"Maybe she just wants a good story for her project. Or," He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table, "maybe she's looking for more than that. Journalists are like that, especially extra nosy ones. They'll dig until there's nothing left, then still find a way to bring things up."

"She wouldn't be the first," Satoru scoffed.

“What exactly did she ask you about? Anything too close for comfort?”

Satoru swirled the whiskey in his glass, thinking. "To be honest, Suguru, I can't even remember half of what she said because I was too busy staring at her tits."

"Fucking Christ, Satoru. The hell?"

"What? She's got nice tits," he shrugged. "But in all seriousness, I think she was just asking the basics at first… and I might have opened my mouth a little too much."

"Sounds like she's already done her homework. If she's that determined, she's not going to stop at surface-level questions. Do you think she knows about all of it?"

Satoru knew what he was referring to.

“I don’t know, maybe. But if she is, she’s damn good at hiding it.”

“Then maybe you should start doing the same,” Suguru said quietly. Keep her close. See what she knows.”

“You’re saying I should let her in? What the hell do you think she’s going to do if she gets any closer?”

"You don’t have to let her in. Just make her think you are. Play the game, Satoru. You can be charming when you want to be. Distract her, keep her off your trail. If she’s nosy, then give her a story that’ll satisfy her and keep her from digging deeper. You’ve got the upper hand here; use it.”

Satoru thought over Suguru's suggestion, the gears in his mind turning. It wasn’t a terrible idea. It was probably his best option. If he was going to stay ahead, he’d have to play it better than her.

“Alright,” Satoru said, setting his glass down. “I’ll get close. Make her think I’m letting her in, give her just enough to chew on. And if she does know more than she’s letting on, maybe I can find a way to turn it against her.”

“Now you’re thinking like a true strategist. Just remember, don’t let her get under your skin. Journalist's loyalty is to their story, not to their subject."

Suguru's smirk widened, raising his glass in a mock toast. Satoru clinked his glass against his before downing the rest of the whiskey.

You had decided to get a closer look at the in's and out's of how Tokyo Jujutsu Racing worked. And for that, you needed to go to TJR's headquarters. You somehow managed to get your professor to get you inside the place, although it wasn't easy and he said your payment was a good project. The place was sleek and modern, with open spaces and luxury design elements. It was a playground for the rich as much as it was a workplace.

Earlier, you had been asking the staff about Gojou Satoru's training and habits, hoping to get some good information from them. They were surprisingly open to answering your questions, and you got some more information for your project, which was overall great.

Your media pass, which had thankfully been upgraded, hung around your neck as you waited for your tour guide to take you around the place. You decided to roam around for a bit while you waited and that led you down a hallway with team posters and trophies lining the walls.

You were so lost in your observations that you didn’t even realize someone had come up behind you. “Enjoying the view?”

Startled, you turned to find none other than Gojou Satoru leaning casually against the wall. He was dressed in his team's uniform, the red and black accentuating his tall figure, with dark shades covering his eyes.

He was probably high.

“Didn’t think of you as the observant type."

You composed yourself before speaking, “I'm a journalist. I like to know what I’m getting myself into.”

“And you think you’ll figure that out by staring at the walls?”

“Could be. I think they tell you a lot.” You shrugged. "Like how serious the team is about their image. Or how much they care about their past wins and not their current ones. That kind of thing."

“Oh? And what do you make of me, then?”

“Still deciding. I'd like to think you're more than a drunken idiot."

"I see you still remember that, unfortunately."

“That’s what a good journalist does. They remember."

He pushed himself off the wall, straightening up to his full height. “Well, since you’re here to observe, why don’t I give you something more to write about?”

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and motioned for you to follow him. You hurried to keep up, glancing around as he led you through the winding corridors. Eventually, you entered a room with a massive window overlooking the racetrack.

Gojou leaned against the railing, gesturing to the track below. "So, this is where the magic happens. The place where we come to win."

You nodded, taking in the view. “It’s impressive, I’ll give you that. But it takes more than just a fast car to win, doesn’t it?”

"Oh, absolutely. It takes balls of steel, the reflexes of a god, and just the right amount of craziness. All of those, fortunately, I happen to possess.”

“Modesty isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

“Not when you’re the best."

"Right. The best has an attitude I see."

A silence hung in the hair for a few moments as you studied him.

“So, are you planning to spend the rest of your time here psychoanalyzing me?”

“Depends. Are you planning to keep giving me things to analyze?”

“Touche. Guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

At that moment, a team member entered the room, interrupting the moment. "Gojou, they’re ready for you on the track."

Stay here,” he said. “You’ll want a good view of this.”

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving you alone in the observation room. You watched as he made his way down to the track, confident as ever with not a care in the world either.

Cocky Bastard.

You stood in the observation deck for a little before you saw Gojou

You stayed in the observation room, your eyes fixed on the scene below. You saw Gojou greet a few team members, exchange words with his pit crew, and slip into the driver’s seat of his car. 

Gojou maneuvered effortlessly, weaving through turns and accelerating with insane amounts of speed. You couldn’t deny, he was talented and he had clearly worked his ass off to get here as his talent isn’t something that can be taught.

After about forty-five minutes of observing Gojou racing, he brought the car to a halt and hopped out of the driver's seat. You watched him walk into the garage and disappear out of sight, presumably going to speak to his crew.

You couldn’t deny it—there was something magnetic about him.

Your pen scratched against your notepad as you scribbled down every single detail possible.

“Enjoy the show?” he asked, his tall frame standing in the doorway.

“Eh,” you shrugged.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means it was okay you ass. It gave me something for my project but nothing really noteworthy.”

“You’re lucky you know that? Not many people get to see me in action.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Okay? I’m not like many people if you couldn’t tell.”

“Clearly,” he scoffed.

“Do you know you’ve racked up more racked up more fines and close calls than any other driver in the league this season?”

“Look, sweetheart,” he said, voice low, “everyone out there knows I can handle the shit I do out there. Besides…” He trailed off. “People love a driver who’s a bit dangerous. Keeps things exciting.”

You met his eyes, holding his gaze without blinking. “You think the world loves you, huh? Interesting. Because from what I’ve read, people seem split between calling you a genius and calling you a liability.”

“Hm. Is that so? Do you believe that?” he replied.

“Yes, and you would know that if you let me interview you properly.”

“Okay how about this,” he glances down at his watch. “We can meet up in the parking garage here in about an hour and you can ask me anything you want for thirty minutes.”

Wait What?

“Uh… Okay, I think I can make it,” you mumbled.

“Great! See you in an hour sweets.”

The roar of an engine echoed through the underground parking lot, the sharp screeching of tires signaling the arrival of the Gojou. You leaned against the concrete pillar, your arms crossed and your foot tapping impatiently. He was late.

You’d waited over an hour, hoping he’d attend the interview he promised you.

When his sleek black Porsche 911 came into view with his window rolled down, you got even more pissed off than you already were

“Glad you could make it,” you called out, voice tinged with sarcasm.

He stretched, not even acknowledging your tone. “What can I say? Traffic was a nightmare.”

“Sure,” you replied dryly, your patience wearing thin. “We were supposed to meet an hour ago. Some of us value punctuality.”

He pulled off his sunglasses, revealing those piercing blue eyes that could disarm almost anyone. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get another word out, he walked right past you, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Give me a sec,” he waved his hand over his shoulder. “Gotta take care of something.”

“Wait—” you started, but he was already striding off, leaving you standing there, seething.

The seconds ticked by, turning into minutes. Your annoyance morphed into frustration. After waiting a bit longer, you decided enough was enough. If he thought he could blow you off, he was in for a rude awakening.

Determined, you followed the direction he’d gone. The echo of your footsteps bounced off the concrete walls as you weaved through the garage and into the back corridors of the venue.

“Mr. Gojou!” you called out. “This isn’t funny. Where the hell are you?”

You rounded a corner and stopped in your tracks. The faint sound of laughter—his unmistakable laugh—came from behind a partially open supply closet door a few feet ahead. You narrowed your eyes, creeping closer.

At first, you thought maybe he was on the phone. But as you drew nearer, it became painfully clear that this wasn’t a casual conversation.

“Mmm, you’re so bad,” a woman’s voice purred, followed by the unmistakable rustle of fabric.

Your stomach sank. No. He wouldn’t. Not right Now.

Would he?

Against your better judgment, you stepped closer, your movements quieter now. Peeking through the crack in the door, you instantly regretted it.

There he was, pressed against the back wall of the closet, shirt unbuttoned, and his hair disheveled. His hands were tangled in the hair of a woman whose face you couldn’t see, her body pinned against his as they made out with a fervor that bordered on obscene.

Was this seriously how he’d chosen to spend the time he owed you for your interview? The audacity was almost impressive.

You cleared your throat loudly, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the confined space.

The woman gasped, pulling away from him in shock. Gojou, however, turned his head lazily toward you, his expression unreadable. For a split second, there was something in his eyes—a flicker of annoyance, maybe even embarrassment—but it was quickly replaced by his usual, smirk.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite journalist.”

You folded your arms tightly across your chest, glaring at him. “Seriously?”

The woman, clearly flustered, muttered something about leaving and quickly ducked out of the room, her heels clicking against the floor as she disappeared down the hallway.

He sighed, buttoning up his shirt. “What?” he said. “You’ve never seen two consenting adults have a little fun before?”

“Fun?” you snapped. “We had an interview. You made me wait for over an hour before you showed up and then you go and do this?”

He shrugged, unbothered. “You’re the one who followed me. Maybe I would’ve shown up if you’d just stayed put. Plus, I had actually agreed to meet her here before I promised you the interview.”

“You make no fucking sense, do you know that?”

He grinned, running a hand through his hair, which only made it look messier. “I get that a lot.”

“Do you even care how this looks? You’re already under a microscope with all your scandals, and now this?”

“Why do you care so much? You writing a piece on my love life now, too?”

“No, but the media sure as hell is. What does your wife think of this? Of your reputation?”

“Reputation’s overrated,” he said, brushing past you as he headed for the door. “People are gonna think what they want, no matter what I do.”

You turned to watch him leave, your fists clenching at your sides. “Maybe if you gave them less to work with, they’d think better of you,” you called after him.

He paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said, his voice low and tired. “This is who I am. Take it or leave it.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in the empty hallway, your heart pounding and your mind racing.

The sound of footsteps reverberated through the corridor as you leaned against the cold, concrete wall, still processing what had just happened. You were about to leave and write off this night as yet another chapter in the disaster that was Gojou Satoru.

But then, you heard his footsteps return.

“You still here?” he called out, voice echoing through the silence.

You didn’t move. “Should I be?”

He walked towards you, his gait relaxed, almost predatory. “Depends.” He stopped a few feet away, eyes fixed on yours. “You want a story for your project or what?”

You frowned, arms still crossed. “I’ve already seen more than enough tonight.”

 “Come by my garage tomorrow. I’ve got something to show you. Something you can use.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” 

“Fine. Tomorrow. But this better not be another waste of my time.”

“You won’t regret it.”

The smell of motor oil and metal hung in the air the moment you stepped inside the dimly lit garage. The concrete floor was stained with years of grease with tool scattered across the workbench. The garage was big, to say the least, there were rows of high-performance cars lining the walls, their glossy bodies gleaming under the garage's fluorescent lights. It was a bit of a mess inside the garage, as there were different car parts strewn across the garage.

Gojou stood beside it, sleeves rolled up, grease smudged on his forearms. The sight was so out of place.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show up,” he drawled, tossing a wrench onto a nearby workbench with a clatter.

“Neither did I,” you shot back, arms crossed. “So, what’s the big secret? Planning on showing me how you avoid drug tests?”

“Always so sharp. No, this...” He gestured to the car. “This is one of my hobbies.”

You walked closer, eyeing the vintage vehicle with skepticism. “You? Fixing cars? Sounds like a PR stunt.”

He wiped his hands on a rag, smirking. “You think everything I do is a stunt?”

“You haven’t given me a reason to think otherwise.”

“Careful, sweetheart. I might start thinking you’re obsessed with me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Get over yourself. I’m here for my project, not for you.”

He leaned casually against the car, arms crossed over his chest. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

“So, what’s the deal with this thing?”

“It was my dad’s. He used to take me to the track in this.”

“And you think this will make a good addition to my project? What, ‘Gojou Satoru: The Man Behind the Wheel’?”

People love a good redemption arc. Makes me more... relatable.”

You snorted. “You? Relatable? That’s a stretch.”

He pushed off the car, stepping closer again, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe you just haven’t gotten to know me well enough.”

 “Or maybe I’ve seen enough to know exactly who you are.”

His smile faltered, just for a second. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

“I think you’re a mess hiding behind a pretty face and a fast car.”

“You might be the first person who’s ever said that to my face.”

“Good. Someone needed to.”

…

“You know, I could help you relax a bit. Take the edge off.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Seriously? That’s your move? Pathetic.”

He grinned, unbothered by the insult. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

“Actually, I can. And I will.” You turned away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Cold as ever,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I like it.”

“Good for you.” You grabbed your bag, ready to leave. “Thanks for the... insight. I’ll be sure to include ‘Gojou Satoru: Amateur Mechanic’ in my report.”

“You really don’t give a shit, do you?”

You paused at the door, glancing back over your shoulder. “Not about you.”

You barely made it five steps outside the garage before his voice called after you. "Running away already? Thought you were supposed to be fearless."

You stopped, the night air cool against your skin. Turning slowly, you saw him leaning against the garage doorframe.

“I’m not running, Gojou. I’m just done wasting my time.”

"You say that, but here you are. You could've written this off as another scandal of mine or another fall from grace. But you’re still digging. Makes me wonder why."

“Because you’re a story people want. A cautionary tale. People love watching someone like you crash and burn.”

“And here I thought you saw me as more than just some headline.”

“You’re not that special.”

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

“What’s your deal, Gojou? Really,” you asked, voice softer now. “Is this all a game to you?”

“Everyone’s playing a game. I just play it better.”

“And what happens when you lose?”

He stepped closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. “I don’t lose.”

“Everyone loses eventually. Even you.”

“Well then,” he said. “We will see.”

He turned, walking back toward the garage, hands stuffed in his pockets. “You coming or not?”

You frowned. “What?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve got something else to show you. Unless you’re too scared.”

You hesitated, every instinct telling you to walk away. But damn it, you couldn’t. There was something here, something you needed to understand and against your better judgment, you followed him back inside.

Gojou walked over to the workbench, picking up a small, silver object. He held it out to you.

“What’s this?” you asked, eyeing it warily.

He shrugged. “Figure it out. You’re the journalist.”

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“Maybe I’ll let you know the truth. Or maybe I just like fucking with you.” He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

Before you could respond, he walked away, disappearing deeper into the garage. You stood there, the key clutched in your hand. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot. Gojou Satoru was a puzzle, a mess of contradictions and lies. And you were going to unravel him, piece by piece.

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

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[newkatzkafe2023]

All monkey kings x wife!morticia reader, she loves really REALLY passionately and would always bring up scary and insane things as something excitable, i also wanna how they'd react if she said that line:

"Don't torture yourself my love, that's my job~"

You're creepy and you're kooky , mysterious and spooky your All together ooky the Wukong/Addams Family🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶

(Lmk Wukong) Oh my he wouldn't survive with you around him. It's bad enough your super attractive, elegant, and way taller then him but the fact that your flirting and smother him so much leaving him daze and blushing in love. Then you go and say that torturing him is your job........clearly your right because being Around you was torturous to him in a good way.

(HIB Wukong) God he would never tell you but with you around his Insecurities would be of the charts. Granted he was happy to see you after 500 years but sometimes he wonders of he even get somebody like you. Who is calm and gentle with him at best and so damn beautiful you welcome Luier and Silly girl with open arms as you loved the children. Then you tell him not to torture himself because that's your job, well Honestly that sounds pretty good right about now.

(MKR Wukong) He would rather you torture him then having the monk and heaven bother him. At least you would make it somebody he too will enjoy. He loves you because you can be as brutal as him sometimes and take out enemies like no other. Then your always so support and elegant with it as well it's baffles him and makes him love you alot more.

(NR Wukong) He wouldn't be able to do much of anything with you around him🤭😉 he wouldn't focus or function properly with your beautiful sexy ass around him. Wukong would suck up all the love and affection you go for him with all your cuddles and nicknames he would be on cloud 9. Then you tell him that it's your job to torture him gooooddd by all means torture him do whatever you want he's begging you🤤

(Netflix Wukong) Holy crap the amount of sugar mommy jokes people are gonna make in the future. Wukong has known how to handle you sometimes, your like really pretty, mysterious, elegant level-headed, and god knows what else for him. He really loves you and gets a little overwhelmed by your very aura, but you would rather be around him like, wow. He sometimes wonders if this is the torture you were talking about.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🌹☠️

[angelyuji]

yandere bruce wayne headcanons

yandere bruce wayne x gn!reader

warnings: yandere behavior, gross guy bruce wayne, kidnapping, stalking, power imbalance, rich guy uses his rich guy money to manipulate reader, creepy guy being a creepy guy lol (lmk for anything i might've missed i am half-asleep)

im thinking ill write some actual fanfics for him soon, idk what TO write tho...

STALKKKERRRR STALEKER SJALKER STALKER!!!

he is a creature of the night so u KNOW he’s watching you from a rooftop next to ur apartment

think of the scene in the batman when he’s watching Selina undress and stuff yeah hes a peeper (hes so fine i love bruce)

my man doesn’t have any superpowers BUT hes literally the freaking batman, he has cameras all over gotham so i promise he has eyes on you at all times

he’ll watch over you and make sure ur not gonna get mugged by some loser with a gun or get caught up in a joker/ivy/freeze/whomever scheme

like hes stalking you

he knows everything abt u too with WE and the Batcomputer (lol) he’ll have all ur personal info on file, ur twitter acc, your Instagram, any social media, literally everything on a separate file that is locked behind multiple passwords and eye scans (especially if we’re looking at bruce with kids like he knows they’d open the file and snoop)

if we’re looking at pattinson!batman/early years, he’s probably gonna write abt u in his diary journal (hes just a silly little guy)

he’ll try to give you a job at wayne enterprises to keep an eye on you as bruce (obvi becuz he cant be batman 24/7) (job depends on your experience and degree) (he’ll want u as a personal assistant or something but depending on your area of expertise… you’re probably not gonna accept lol)

if u do accept for a position as assistant/secretary, he’ll have your desk 3 ft away, he’ll be calling u into his office just to talk, basically like sort of training u to be his wife (get coffee, make lunch/get lunch, invite u to be his plus one for galas) all that jazz, he’ll flirt with u but ur gonna be like “oh that’s just brucie wayne being brucie wayne, but once u get comfortable in ur role, he’ll start making moves like hand on the lower back, pressing against u in any situation possible, he’ll never seem creepy (yet) but it’ll make u slightly uncomfortable considering he’s ur boss.

i can think of 2 possibilities that could occur

1. creepiest boss ever. he’ll order u how to dress to be his assistant/how to dress at galas (skimpy dresses, short skirts, tight pants, tight fitting dress shirts that exposes everything, shit like that), he’ll LEER at u like bruce will purposely drop stuff and make u pick it up so he can watch u bend over. like the worst. you’ll get tired of this behavior and quit and bruce will get angry and kidnap u

2. still creepy but not as bad. more like extravagant gifts, vacations, parties. he’ll still flirt and try to have as much physical contact with u as possible but he knows where to draw the line. you wouldn’t quit cuz yk great pay, okay boss. but like his feelings would get too much to contain and he’ll kidnap u in the end anyway

if i had to diagnose the batmans i care abt id sayyyy 1 is Affleck, 2 is bale, and Pattinson is a mix of both. comic batman has so many different writers and each run has a different personality for him saur depends on the writer lmao

u wouldn’t be able to date cuz of yk…….. WE rules………… but he’ll get tired of that taboo/secret relationship bs pretty quickly and just kidnap u

if u don’t accept a position as an assistant/secretary, he gets it but more than likely, his feelings for u will intensify and he’ll end up taking you to keep at wayne manor

before getting into when ur stuck at wayne manor, lets break down bruce’s thoughts abt u

he has put u on a PEDESTAL

ur amazing, beautiful, gorgeous, u. can. do. no. wrong.

in his mind, ur the light to his darkness

alfred totally enables him and if we’re talking dilf bruce, the kids learn from him so they just assume this is what love is, kidnapping and manipulation

you’d adjust to life at wayne manor (not quickly but yk mf is RICH, ur gonna be treated so well once u understand that u cant leave)

bruce wouldn’t torture u but he’d pavlov u for sure

you would only be given comfort and relief when ur around him/good to him

if ur not good, then he’d probably keep u locked up in the batcave or in any of the many empty rooms at the manor

bruce wayne is the most powerful and influential person, ANDD has THE most powerful people on the planet as his best friends… you’re stuck with him babes

[impsandstars]

Some thoughts on Stolas's growth from the early days vs. Mastermind

I recently saw on twitter someone bring up the parallels between the interaction between Stolas and Blitz in truth seekers and their interaction during the court scene. The tone and Stolas’s demeanor is very similar but with one crucial difference. In mastermind Stolas was putting on an act, pretending to be this elitist, bigoted Goetia, and although I don’t believe Stolas has ever felt or been at the same level as Andrealphus in his distaste and seeing imps as lesser beings, the Stolas in truth seekers feels like a different person. So I wanted to go back to the beginning, now that we have this arc of the book coming to a close and see how Stolas has changed.

The Stolas we meet in season 1 episode 1 is utterly infatuated with Blitz. Blitz (from The Circus episode) was this rugged, no nonsense, pleasure seeking, suave motherfucker that swept Stolas off his feet. Who showed him, for possibly the first time in his life, what real, mutual, consensual pleasure with a man was like and he was hooked. Blitz was also someone that Stolas chose himself, and we also know now how devastatingly lonely Stolas has been.

The man, literally the morning after their first meeting after 25 years, finally finally had the nerve to be like ‘that’s the sound of a fucking divorce!’ to the wife he hates. (I cheer every time. The absolute relief and crazed laughter after he just realized what he had done)

Look at what that lizard did to the man just after one night, no wonder Stolas reached out wanting to keep Blitz in his life.

And so the natural conclusion he came to was to find a way to get the imp back, and to do so permanently, or at least for as long as possible. So was born their transaction. I personally don’t believe Stolas set this up with the understanding of the power dynamic issue. I think it’s a problem that it never crossed his mind, and I’m not saying he gets a pass, but I do understand where it came from. He had a problem: I want to have sex with Blitz more, I don't want to feel so lonely, I want to see more of the man that sparked something to life in me and so he came up with a solution that he felt made the most sense. He gets what he wants and Blitz is able to continue his work. I also have always been intrigued if the main reason Stolas didn’t immediately go get his book back when he realized it was lost was because he wanted it to be a reason to get Blitz back into his life. Which can be romantic….and a bit manipulative too (‘I’ve allowed you to use my book even though it is illegal so do me this favor.’ Oh no Stolas.). There wouldn’t be growth if he didn’t start out with things that needed to be addressed.

As stated by others many times, both of these idiots (affectionate) placed the other on a pedestal (“Where is my knight in shining armor”). Seeing what they wanted to see on a surface level and not really going any deeper. Blitz to Stolas was just this embodiment of freedom and choice, an idea (a prince come to save me), rather than Stolas looking at Blitz as a whole person. We see this in the way that he talks to Blitz in the Loo Loo Land and the Harvest Moon Festival. He pays Blitz to essentially have the chance to flirt with him all day and when Blitz says things like, “save it bitch I’m working,” and “this is work and work only…not here to satisfy your perverted bird needs,” I don’t think Stolas is actually paying attention to his tone or his words and is just like, ‘oooo blitzy is being flirty, hard to get, pushing me away but wanting me.’ Remember this guy lives and breathes soap operas and romance novels which idealize actual relationships and so is reading it how he wants it to be perceived, not how it actually is. Blitz sees this as a job he has to do and Stolas sees this as an opportunity to spend time together. In the Harvest Moon Festival Stolas’s comments of “that sexy one there” and “my darling Blitzyyyyy”, again have negative reactions from Blitz of embarrassment which Stolas seems to not really be aware of, or again reads it as him being “cute”.

It’s not great but personally I do not read it as Stolas intentionally ignoring the way Blitz is responding, I think he is just reacting to everything Blitz does with some very rose tinted glasses.

I believe over time though, after spending time with Blitz during their full moon meetings and on other occasions where they were together, I think Stolas’s feelings began to grow slowly into something real when he allowed himself to actually notice who Blitz was as a person (and realized that he liked these things about him). 

Maybe Blitz wore horse boxers and Stolas got to see them every time he took his pants off, charmed by this little detail. He would see the picture of Loona, Moxxie and Millie as his phone background, realizing that they weren’t just colleagues to him but closer. They would probably talk about random things after they finished for the night. Stolas asking him how his day was and Blitz going into a tangent about their latest client. Blitz would flirt and make corny jokes that would have Stolas rolling over in laughter. Blitz was eager to try new things in the bedroom with him and would (speculating here) clean him up after a long session, hands gentle, eyes averted.

Unfortunately he still didn’t see that the transactional relationship was an issue and was something that was preventing Blitz from seeing what was forming between them as anything different. It kept them together, kept them seeing each other, and Stolas wished to keep that for as long as he could. 

You see more distinctly a change in Stolas at Ozzie’s. He isn’t parading Blitz around, flirting shamelessly with him or making overly sexual comments; he thinks this is a real date. An encounter that people do to get to know each other better, to spend time with someone that they like. His view and feelings for Blitz have changed into something a little more real. He asks about his day, trying to make this suddenly awkward situation better, genuinely wanting to take this seriously. 

Then we get Blitz’s admission and a much needed reality check from Stolas that the consequence of setting this whole thing up without thinking of the implications it had had was coming to fruition. Blitz is setting up a boundary (‘don’t read into this more, it’s only about the book’).

And what does Stolas not do? He doesn’t agree with Blitz that yea this is just transactional, or wave it off as Blitz being ‘cute’ again, or that the only reason they’re still doing this is because he just wants Blitz to fuck him. Because at one point in time it absolutely was. But now? Stolas doesn’t see it that way anymore. (He had heart eyes when he realized Blitz was asking him on a date and put on his best outfit. The boy was falling for him).

So Stolas, seeing, finally, the impact this whole situation has had on Blitz, he goes out of his way to end it, and not only that, but end it in a way that ensures Blitz can still do his job, which Stolas knows is important to not only him but his family. Because he sees Blitz now. Sees the importance of getting Blitz’s side to all of this, because he had assumed they were both on the same page. Episode 1 Stolas I don’t think would be as quick to try to end things if he had been confronted. Again not vindictively, not because he believes Blitz should be happy he gets to fuck a Goetic prince, but because he wanted it so bad. Needed it even.

Seeing Stars and Western Energy are these somewhat weird middle grounds between Ozzie’s and Oops because Stolas goes back to shameless flirting and not really seeing Blitz’s discomfort when he was about to perform on Tv in the former. But in Western Energy his texting to Blitz in the hospital, I feel, does show some of his growth. He knows they are on rocky ground and so gives Blitz the choice to come see him or not. He wants comfort after what has happened to him. He wants to see the person who makes him feel better. 

And, we do get confirmation from Blitz at the start of Full Moon that Stolas hasn’t had them doing their transaction since the night of Ozzie’s (so for a few months?), which means Stolas is taking Blitz feelings about this seriously and having a nice long look at his own side to all of this. He is trying to show Blitz that he now means more to him than just the sex. 

In Full Moon we get a Stolas who is apologetic (although doesn’t actually say sorry :/), explaining (as best he can my poor boy) that he doesn’t want this to continue. Blitz is free now from the tether that Stolas tied around them to keep him in his life. (If you love me let me goooo). He’s being (for the most part since he is kind of doing the 'if you love me you'll say' test) selfless here, allowing Blitz the chance to make up his own mind about being with Stolas (a choice he really didn’t give him in episode 1. Like Stolas, my dude, you called Blitz to set this whole thing up in the middle of being chased and shot at and we know you know that because of the bubble. Yikes, not good there. Blitz probably would have said yes though no matter what the situation he was in because he had a family to take care of). Yes it wasn’t perfect. Stolas still made the decision himself to end it and give Blitz a crystal without prefacing it with some more context, but his intentions were good. ‘I care for you and didn’t realize that what we were doing was being understood differently by the both of us so have this choice now that I didn't give you in the beginning.’

And then we have Mastermind. This is it. The one action that many a romance is built on, ‘I would do anything, even sacrifice myself, to make sure you are safe and alive.’ There is so much complexity to mastermind and Stolas’s actions here but the main one in terms of Stolas’s growth is an understanding (maybe not an entire understanding but one more than he had before) of the class issue inherent in Hell. Episode 1 Stolas would be flabbergasted by it. Stolas plays into it in this episode, acknowledging the power it has to influence the elite lining the courtroom to save Blitz’s life. 

I feel such maturity from Stolas. Going back and watching him in Loo Loo Land is like seeing a completely different person. He is naive and juvenile in the way he talks and presents himself that is so drastically different from the ‘master of my fate’ that we get in Mastermind. 

And it’s beautiful because we’re not done yet. Stolas is a baby bird just thrust into new circumstances with a Blitz fully now on board with the idea of them. Stolas is going to experience a world he has only recently started to understand and I can’t wait for his future growth because it will bring him and Blitz together with a better understanding of each other.

[copinghex]

Delirium | T.S

Summary: Thomas pays a last visit to the woman he always had a thing for | dark!AU and 🔞

A/N: This makes me feel like a nasty hoe, I just wanted to write smut with a Tommy who's obsessed but not violent, if that makes sense 🥴

Warning: Tommy being delusional 

The kitchen felt warmer than it probably was, Tommy's presence scared her, especially in moments they were alone.

Of course, her husband's presence wouldn't make a huge difference, he was a humble civilian and Tommy could pull out a gun on him at any moment. She preferred to meet in public spaces, where she'd be able to call for help.

He sat at the table, sipping on his tea with disturbing peace, as if he was the man of the house.

“Tommy,” she gulped, leaning on the counter far from him, “my husband will be home soon, so if you don't have anything to say-”

‘I thought I gave this house to you,” he interrupted.

“Y-yes, but he lives here too,” 

“Lucky, ain't he?” he nodded, the glassy look in his eyes scared her, “I gave you this place in consideration for you and the baby and he gets to decide who visits,”

“We know how lucky we are for having your sympathy,” 

“Sympathy,” he scoffed.

Lowering her head, she got ready for what seemed to be another one of his episodes. After every single one, she regretted the day she stepped into his family's betting shop looking for a job. After that, she never had peace.

People said after the war Thomas chose to be alone, she saw it differently, he was always surrounded by whores and flirting with the newcomer barmaid. Every now and then, he invited her to dates. Surely he wasn't a man she'd call lonely.

By then, his behavior didn't bother her, Small Heath was full of perverts and womanizers. He was just another one of them until he started to chase her. 

Even with his aunt's insistence for her to give him a chance, she paid him no mind, thinking Polly only favored her so he'd forget the barmaid who was later revealed to be a cop. Also, she heard he had an affair with his secretary and wooed his horse trainer, all while flirting with her and promising the world if she gave in. 

When Thomas got married, she swore things would get better, he'd leave her alone and wouldn't be in the betting shop as often. What an awful prevision. In a matter of weeks, he forbade his employees from dating, although she liked to think it was only because of business, she thought the order was way too strict.

Then the worst phase came, widowed Thomas was clingy, forceful, controlling and manipulative. His sad blue eyes would convince her of anything - or almost anything, the bedroom's part, she left for Lizzie - it was when she realized that for him to forget about her, she had to leave him. A new job should be enough.

One day after she resigned, he knocked on her door, asking all the reasons why she wasn't part of the company anymore and promising he'd stop chasing her. What a fool she was for believing. Thomas didn't stop flirting. He only changed his methods. Every week, she'd find a small - or a huge - gift by her desk.

Years went by and she moved on, Thomas became a permanent hurdle she chose to ignore. Nowadays, they were both married and with children, though sometimes he'd still remind her that if she wanted him, he'd be there.

“...do you want to talk?” she asked, perhaps with the death of his daughter he wanted consolation.

“Do I scare you?”

“No, hm,” she lied, his question surprised her, “a bit, sometimes, but mostly no,” 

“It came to me last night, perhaps I scared you, that's why you never wanted me,” 

“Tommy-”

“Y’know, some nights- many nights,” he wasn't looking at her, with his distant eyes and head low, she knew it'd be better to let him finish his monolog, “you were all I thought about, no shovels, no curses, just you, my wife,” 

“What?” she was shocked, but it didn't matter, he wasn't listening.

“We'd make love every night before going to sleep and I'd find out everything, what you like, what you don't,” he sighed, “and the rest wouldn't fucking matter, it'd be just you and me,” 

Finally, he looked at her waiting for an answer. She, on the other hand, didn't know what to say.

“Tommy, perhaps-” she started, “you know I have much respect for you, but also for Mrs. Shelby and my husband, so perhaps it's time you let go of this infatuation for me,” 

“Is this what you think it is? Infatuation?” 

“I-”

“Sometimes I thought of forcing you,” he confessed, “after everything I gave you it'd be fair, wouldn't it? To take something back, but that was the problem, I never wanted to fuck you, I wanted you to want me, sounds stupid now, eh?” 

“Why did you come here tonight?” after his speech, she was desperate for him to leave. 

“To tell you you'll finally have what you wanted, I won't bother you anymore,” he explained, “I'm sick,”

“With what?” 

“Tuberculoma,” 

All she did was stare, Thomas Shelby, the man who survived poverty, war and a dangerous career choice was killing himself from inside out. The worst part of her was relieved, the best felt bad for him.

“What about your son?” she mumbled.

“He's in good hands,” 

“Well, hm, I'm sorry,”

“Are you?”

Tommy finished his tea in a big gulp. His posture told her his objective wasn't done yet. Of course not, he always had an A on his sleeve.

“There's another reason why I came here tonight,” he admitted, “I'm gonna ask you something in good faith,” 

“Yes?”

“Grant me a last wish, all I ever wanted,” 

“What is it?” she tensed up.

“Sleep with me, as if we were husband and wife,” he pleaded, blown out eyes fixed on her.

“What?! I can't!” 

“Why not?”

“Because I'm married! We both are!” 

“Me? I'm not anymore,” 

“We can't, Tommy,”

“Please, not one has to know,” never in her life, she thought she'd see him beg, “first and last time,”

Again, she was speechless, guilty for considering giving in to him, but wouldn't it be merciful? Before she decided, he walked to her, cupping her face between his hands.

His lips met her cheek, gently kissing her, she barely believed when he started to smell her. For him, it was the best scent he ever felt.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she allowed him to keep going only to see how far he'd go. His palm was warm and easily covered half her face, his kisses went down her neck, different from what she was used to, her husband was sweet, Tommy was intense, drinking her in like a starving man.

He brought her closer, holding her waist with a strong grip. From that distance, she smelled the lingering cologne underneath the cigarette scent. The warmth from his skin gave her unwanted shivers.

Naively, she rested her hands on his back, it was all he needed to lift her to the counter, sitting her down and standing between her legs. As if she got out of trance, she pushed him away.

“Tommy,” she used a leg to create distance, foot well positioned on his chest, “we can't,” 

She expected him to retaliate, his fast breath and dilated eyes made her feel like a prey, he was the predator about to pounce. Instead, he took her foot into his hands, slowly kissing the way up her legs. She had all the time in the world to stop him, but her body froze with his affections.

Once he reached her thigh, Tommy put his head under her skirt, she felt his rough fingers undo her stockings and obliged, lifting her hips for him to pull her panties down. 

With his breath against her cunt, she held tightly to the counter, the surface was cold in her warm hands. He parted her inner lips with his tongue, making her jump slightly.

The foreign feeling brought excitement to her core, weak moans poured from her lips as Tommy sucked her clit.

Lifting her skirt, she ran a hand through his hair, he lowly hummed, burying his face further between her legs before standing up, starting a greedy kiss.

Through the desperate yearning, he was gentle, cupping her face and giving her little pecks every time she ran out of breath. She took his coat off and held onto him, from his waistcoat texture it must've been extremely expensive. 

Touching his thin body, few ribs could be counted even if she'd still consider him strong. Tommy started unbuttoning her dress and she stopped him.

“Like man and wife, you said?”

Excitement built in Tommy's chest, she'd be finally his, the idea got him hard as a rock. With a last peck on his lips, she guided him upstairs, avoiding looking at her family pictures. They made her feel bad.

Through the hallway, he stopped and stared at her daughter's bedroom's door, highlighted by the lilac color contrasting with the rest of white ones, “What's her name again?” 

“Agatha,” 

He sighed, picturing a little girl with her eyes, who'd play near the canal with Ruby, Charlie and Duke. She'd watch them from far, the three sweetest girls he ever met, that sounded like heaven, a heaven he'd never reach.

Pulling him to the guest room, she sat him on the bed, the spare, impersonal mattress that'd be ruined by her infidelity. As she straddled his lap, Tommy spread kisses on her chest, her head fell back from pleasure, body warming up to him.

As tempting as melting into his arms was, she wanted to give him an experience, something slow and intimate, between those four walls there was no unreciprocated love or unfaithfulness, only the two of them. 

She cupped his face and touched their foreheads together, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his waistcoat, “Tell me about your day,” 

“I'm glad it's already over,” he drawled, hands traveling through her back.

“Did you miss me?” she held a giggle at his unnecessary tie clip, he probably urged to show the world he could afford one. 

“I-” he gulped when she put the small golden clip between her lips, ���did,” 

Fully undressing wasn't sexy like in books she'd read before, she had to stand up and got particularly shy while Tommy watched. However, she managed to get a few chuckles while taking the boots off his feet.

“I can tell,” with him brushing on her thigh, she got rid of his clothing and pushed him down the mattress. His eyes shone at the view of her on top of him, hands gripping on her dress as a silent request to take it off.

Playfully, she threw her last piece of clothing at him, a wool stocking far from being sexy. With a small smile, he pulled her back to bed, climbing on top of her in a swift move. His hands grabbed her waist while his face was buried on her neck, between kisses and bites, she could tell he was overwhelmed.

Wrapping her legs around him, she called his name in a whisper, Tommy lifted his head getting face to face with her and for a moment, it'd be foolish to deny he looked beautiful, lips swollen, hazed eyes and blushy cheeks fitting perfectly into his features.

The gray hair growing on his shaved sides caught her attention, a sign of how long he'd been pinning for her. She had seen him go from bookmaker to member of parliament, from a man who always wore the same three fancy suits to a man who could gift a house and yet, to her, Thomas Shelby was nothing but a pretty painting, something to admire, but never to hold dear.  

“What?” he noticed he was being observed.

“Nothing, can't I just look at you?” 

He squinted, lightly squeezing her cheeks together. She tensed up, realizing how vulnerable she was lying naked under him.

“Tom?” she feared some sudden change of demeanor.

His previous kindness suddenly vanished, Tommy kissed her hungrily and her body betrayed her, surrendering completely, urging to become one with him.

A tiny moan was all to be heard when he slid into her, then the bed started to crackle and the impact of his thrusts mixed with their heavy breaths. 

She tried to pull his head to her shoulder in an intimate embrace, he didn't let her, holding her hands above her head, “Want to look at you,”

The admission put a smile on her face, besides everything Tommy was sweet, certainly not like she imagined a gangster would be in bed. 

Between sloppy kisses, he freed one of her hands that she took to his back, his skin was soft, the only bumps were the scars he got in war and business, still, it was nothing she'd consider imperfections, it all added deepness to the artwork he was.

Freeing her other hand, she hugged him closer, the sudden pull disturbed his steady pace and she giggled at the surprised huff he let out.

Tommy Shelby wasn't a man to be vulnerable often, to see him make such noises or show desperate desire was more intimate than all the years she spent with her own husband. She wanted to see more.

The question crossed her lips before she could consider any further consequences, “Do you love me, Tommy?” 

He swallowed, gripping on her legs and pounding into her harder, “I do, fuck, I do, I love you,” 

Squeezing her eyes shut, her back arched from a consuming orgasm. Tommy's name filled the room in loud moans as her nails sank in his back.

After few more thrusts, he poured inside her. Tommy rested his forehead on hers and they breathed heavily. With mind foggy and his gentle caresses on her head, she didn’t hear steps on the other side of the door.

Hard knocks on the door made her freeze inside, Tommy had a tiny smirk on his face while her husband called from outside, “What the fuck is going on in there?!” 

[leverage-ot3]

okay I’ve seen a lot of posts about sterling just being crowley and. guys. the implications just hear me out 😭😭😭

bending lore slightly here BUT let’s say crowley’s body was once inhabited by a human and crowley is possessing the body (maybe he kills the initial inhabitant bc he doesn’t care)

but he still has the guy’s memories. he doesn’t bother keeping up appearances with his ‘ex wife’ because he is too busy building up his hell empire. BUT for some reason he can’t quite identify, he still feels something towards his ‘daughter’. he lets the divorce happen and doesn’t feel the need (or desire) to fight for custody, but he can never quite forget her, to cast her out of his mind for good

some hijinks ensue with the leverage team. it’s mostly because even a grind culture demon wants some off time every once in a while, and for him the insurance investigator stuff is more of a hobby. interacting with the leverage crew is very low stakes for him, and honestly, quite amusing. they aren’t on his level power-wise, but that ford character gives him the mental exercise he hasn’t experienced in, well, he can’t even remember

he can feel their frustration and anger when they learn he has become employed by interpol and feeds off it. it’s great, and relaxing in a way he is never able to achieve while conducting hell-related business

one year he gets wind that olivia is in a really bad situation associated with his ‘ex wife’s’ new husband. he’s selling vital hardware to terrorists, and while that might actually be the kind of chaos he would normally support or be entertained by as the king of hell, something feels wrong about letting olivia stay anywhere near that man

he calls upon the body’s adversaries. he wouldn’t admit it, even under duress, BUT he feels slightly fond of them. nate for the three dimensional chess they play, sophie for her ability to charm and disguise, parker for her chaos and slightly unsettling nature (it’s the autism swag and being bad with human interaction but he doesn’t know that lol), hardison for his unapologetic intelligence and eliot for his hardened violent past and take-no-shit persona (he’s fun to tease)

they perform exactly as he expected, right into his carefully crafted plan. and then olivia is under his care and things get more complicated. he keeps her FAR, FAR away from anything related to the supernatural (heh). no one can find out about her, ESPECIALLY not those imbecile hunter brothers (if for nothing else than the embarrassment in revealing he has a weak spot)

not sure how to work it into this post but I also want to add that somewhere along the way he develops feelings for nate and sophie. the frame up job is near and dear to my heart and you can’t convince me that isn’t fighting as flirting behavior. his interpol persona is more of a side hustle so to speak, but he finds it fun (relaxing, even) to fill that role. there aren’t any obligations of other demons, bothersome hunters, or anything like that. nate and sophie are low stakes, except, they aren’t, really. they make him feel things he can’t ever really remember feeling. his heart beats fast when sophie sat in his lap and cradled his face, his hands sweat when nate gives him that certain smug look. he’s exasperated by the way they can run circles around him like no one else has ever before. they annoy him and get under his skin in a way no one else can and it’s infuriating. but also not, at the same time. maybe he likes it

and then the long goodbye job happens

hear me out and suspend your belief here for a second, because I can’t remember if crowley supernaturally knows when ppl die/are dead or not.

so nate is in interpol custody and the interviewer is obviously out of her depth. (most people are, when it comes to nathan ford.) he walks in and pours the man a drink, but he’s fuming. somewhere along the way he came to care about the team. hell and suffering is literally in his (official) job description, but he can admit (only to himself) that he admires what they do. it’s not for him, not anything close to where his passions and interests lie, but he respects their drive and purpose. he is also aware enough to acknowledge that they are a family, a group of misfits that never belonged quite anywhere except to each other.

and nate fucking blew it up, ruined it, because his vice is being so obsessed with the end game that he is apparently willing to let his team, his family, the people that anchor him to reality, die because the ends supposedly justify the means.

not this time. not to sterling crowley

he is enraged. he can admit within the confines of his mind that he cares for nate, for sophie, even for the other three (though nate and sophie have somehow made it a hierarchy where they are more important to him. which he will dissect later in private. maybe.)

nate let them die, he let sophie die, and for what? the black book? hell below, crowley would have made things easier somehow, if he knew that this was where nate’s sights had lied. he would have prevented this somehow. he wants to have prevented this. he doesn’t want any of them dead and is too afraid to check and verify because that would make it real. the idea of sophie (or any of them) somehow making it to hell instead of heaven would probably break something in him he might not be able to reapir fully.

he yells at nate- he’s angry. hellfire burning in his heart because everything is ruined. the deaths aside (however hard it is to set them aside in his mind), nate will not recover from this, not ever. this will be the start of the end, he is sure. a miserable, guilt-ridden existence where he drinks himself to death and nothing will save him. it plays out in crowley’s mind in a thousand different ways that are beyond painful to conceptualize, even in theory.

the story starts to unravel and there is a game afoot. a solemn, miserable, infuriating game because the con is still in session because parker is alive and in the building- which sets another fire alight in his chest. ‘parker even know you got hardison killed?’ he rages for her grief when she finds out. he knows it will double when she finds out eliot has perished, too, because he isn’t fucking blind.

but nate is a brilliant man, lest he forget too quickly. they are all alive, and somehow still the entire crew slips through his fingers. he’s not even angry (he never would have been- he doesn’t actually try too hard to catch them. it’s about the game, not the consequences). he lets them keep the black book because he’s fucking exhausted and honestly, they more than earned it.

‘now we’re even. tell sophie to drive carefully’. they will never be even, not really. crowley would never admit or agree that being human is the superior state of being, but that have made him feel human in a way he doesn’t actually mind. they keep him on his toes and match him in a way unique to them, they remind him that there are other things than the realm of hell. not necessarily bigger than hell, but maybe just as important in a different sense.

watching the van drive away, something inside him settles. when he walked into the interrogation room that day he thought this was the beginning of the end. it’s not the end at all, not an end to anything. it’s a continuation of their story. maybe, he thinks, a beginning to a new era in it

[thewriterallie]

Rough

Content preview: fem!reader x Nanami, porn with plot, stablished relationship, creampie, hair pulling, face fucking (reader), cum eating, spitting, slight choking, fingering, anal fingering, spanking, big dick Nanami, Nanami gets mean but it's a softie, kinda of brat tamer, AU where reader is a sorcerer too, getting hit up by a stranger, pet names, mating press, doggy/backshots?, no beta read we die like true heroes, self-insert. 3.2K words.

Notes at the end.

MDNI.

You’re surprised he’s been able to behave, to appear so calm all night long, the only sign that you’re getting into him it’s the occasional frown that appears in his forehead, how the hand on your waist gets tighter as you continue your teasing and the low murmur at your ear about how he’s going to deal with you later.

Both of you knew that this was going to be such a night like that with the way you both looked, he being irresistible with the white shirt that hugged his back and big arms, the black suit that was tailored for him and combined with black shoes, he was danger and it was impossible to contain yourself when he rolled up the sleeves that shoed his veiny arm and hands that only remined you of the actions that occurred just a couple of nights ago. You also looked so tempting with the black dress that hugged all the curves, the little straps and low cut in the front and lower at the back that covered up most of the hickeys and marks he left behind, high heels only accentuating your figure.

The plan for the occasion was relatively simply: arrive, talk, eat and leave. A simple after work reunion with his coworkers, show them how Kento is not only great at job but in his private life with such a pretty thing as yourself; he never considered you as his, but he was proud to be with you, being engaged and living in such a nice apartment at one of the most expensive parts of Tokyo.

He couldn’t help to be thankful for everything that has happened after you started dating and how everything seems to be going just perfect, in his life, at work and dealing with the curses. Only problems started just before you got out of the car and enter the garden where his coworkers were.

“We’re here, darling. Let me open the door for you.” and when he did it and offered you his hand you grabbed it and pull it towards you. “You look so good Ken, such a shame you didn’t fill me up before getting here, I’m going to be needy all night.” You said before kissing him, stopping him from whatever he was going to say, “Let’s get going, you don’t want to be late, baby.”

And that was just the beginning, he saw your teasing coming during the drive with the way you looked at him and rubbed your thighs together but decided to ignore it, assuming you would contain yourself for later, even when was used to your actions he was surprised it was so early.

Nanami expected your teasing and wasn’t hard to maintain his façade when you started rubbing your ass against his crotch in the elevator, when you whisper him how badly you wanted him after he was greeted by his boss; you noticed he started to break while you were sitting and started to rub his thigh, every rub dangerously higher every time, he had to grab your wrist, when you started to sip your drink and looked at him with such doll eyes that he whisper you to behave or you wouldn’t leave soon. He is a capable man and can resist your games all night long if wanted but the thing that made him snap was one of his lower coworkers that had the nerve to flirt with you.

“You look pretty” the man said and tried to get closer to you, you thanked and ignored him, hugging your fiancé by the waist harder, if it wasn’t obvious that you came here together “I didn’t knew Mr. Nanami had such a gorgeous girl with him, have you two been together for long?” he tried again while looking at your exposed chest. “Yes, she’s my wife” Kento said before hugged you.

“Well, if you ever find yourself needing for someone you can call me” he said and extended a business card that was received by Kento jealousy irradiating from his body, he put it at the back pocket of his trousers, his other hand squeezing your hip so tight you were sure it was showing how veiny and strong it was, you both excused yourselves from the man and took a walk at the most abandoned part of the garden.

“The audacity! how could he? Does he don’t know his place?” you yelped and Kento took your face with both hands, looking right at your eyes. “But you’re mine, right? Only mine” he said above your lips proceeding to kiss you, a light but small kiss, you tried to deepen it, but he took a step back “I think it’s time to go now.”

After saying your goodbyes, the drive home was quiet, Kento is a usually a quiet man, but you knew he was jealous with the way he was clenching the steering wheel, if he wasn’t a calm man, you’re sure he could’ve beat the man up, not a chance he would’ve stand against your fiancé. What was he thinking? Did the night was absolutely ruined by a stupid man? You decided to keep your questions to yourself and wait, unknowingly that will be answered within the doors of the ascensor closed.

He caged you in, back at the wall and your neck in his hand making you look at him from below with an confused expression, he used the thumb of his other hand to caress your bottom lip and said “You are really pretty indeed, my love, who could’ve know you were able to tempt so many people in the room at the same time” “But I didn’t do-“ he cut you in and introduced the same thumb in your mouth, pressing your tongue down and squeezing your neck a little “But you don’t know the power you hold, my dear, I’m afraid you’re a danger even to yourself” he said before removing the thumb and kissing you, pushing you even closer to the wall, opening your mouth to deepen the kiss and allowing his tongue in, clashing with yours, his hands lowered and started to caress your exposed back, curious fingers playing with the fabric that laid just a couple centimeters up your ass, his hips rubbing against you body, strong arms lifting you and holding your thighs for stability, sensitive parts only separated by some layers of cloth, your hands touching his chest and arms, not being able to be away from him even for a moment, needy moves of your pelvis rubbing against his crotch and you could feel how his erection throbbed against you.

Teeth almost clanking with each other and one of his hands grabbed you by the hair when you started to bite and suck his bottom lip “Naughty girl we have here aren’t you?” before you could muster a word the doors where open and showed your apartment, he shifted and carry you on his shoulders, not faced by your weight, spanking you when you moved too much while he was trying to open the door “You’re not making your punishment easier, baby.” He walked through your home and went right to the master bedroom, he tossed you at the bed and removed your heels, kissing your ankle and started going up your leg, strong hands being so delicate with your dress while scrunching it up just to your panties.

He licked the delicate fabric that separated your awaiting sex and his tongue, hot breath giving you goose bumps, you’re aching with desire, wanting nothing but feel him, however he wants, just feel him but he has other ideas.

He sits you up and removes your dress, almost yanking it, without a bra on he quickly starts biting your breasts, rough hands pinching and squeezing hard enough to have you arching your back and mewling, your hand tries to grab his hair and push yourself to him but that didn’t set well with him “No, baby, you had your fun at the party remember? Being all dressed up and gaining looks from everyone, I must remind you who you belong to”.

Easily manhandled by him you’re shifted and your abdomen resting on the side of the bed, your ass on his thighs while he caress it and before you know it he starts spanking you and you moan “You’ll have to count, pretty, or this will go all night”. He continues and doesn’t massage your sensitive skin, “I still can’t hear you” “Ah- three” you cry but he lands his hand again, harder “From the beginning”.

“One” you try again, it’s now that the softens the red cheek before hitting again “two” you continue, every spank it’s now continued by a small caress and slowly you reach to ten, your juices staining your panties and almost dripping over your thighs. “You did well pretty thing, but this isn’t over” and spank your awaiting pussy even harder, you give something between a cry and a moan before making you kneel between his legs.

“Take my pants off” he demands and while you put your hands to work he’s removing his tie, unbuttoning the first buttons of his shirt showing his chiseled chest, when you’re done he grabs you softly by the hair “Such a pretty face, but we need to put you to do something useful” and you do, if you do it well he will fuck you soon, you think.

You spit in your hand and grab his shaft eagerly and start working from the base up, aligning it to your drooling mouth, you show your tongue and give kitten licks to the tip before kissing it, he grunts, slowly entering your mouth you bob your head to get more of him every time, one hand stroking what’s not in your mouth and the other one massaging his balls, you occasionally get off him and start sucking them too briefly and continue trying to get all of him inside your pretty lips.

Nanami is a complete man in all senses, in this case he has a nice penis, almost 25 centimeters when hard and 5 at girth, not easy to take, not in your tight pussy or small mouth, he knows that too and that’s why he always try to go your way, but right now filled with jealousy and lust he isn’t going to give you the lead so he push your head all the way down, making you gag and you instinctively put your hands on his thighs, trying to breathe, now he has the control and sets the pace, breathing is a challenge and you try to relax your throat and inhale deeply before you start bobbing again faster and deeper than what you normally are able to.

Your hands are the only thing levelling you right now and Kento starts pounding from below, his hands still on your head and even when you’re about to tap out you restrain to, his moans are music to your ears “Fuck, fuck baby you- you feel so… so good” he pants.

You can’t stop right now, not when you look up through your lashes and get the view, his chest heaving and a light layer of sweat appearing at his forehead, eyebrows frowned and mouth agape, his Adams apple going up and down with every breath “Keep going, juuuust like that” he looks below and know he’s close when he sees your state, glazy eyes, looking at him, mouth full, slight mascara running with some tears down your cheeks, drool scaping your lips.

He can feel his balls tighten and starts pounding harder, your nails clawing his thighs and leaving poorly red marks, his hands grab your hair and push faster, you hollow your cheeks and start moaning, your knees hurting from the position “o-oh, fuuuck” he pants “Take. It. All.” He moans with every thrust and empties himself down your throat, you can feel his member trembling inside your mouth and swallowing all that you can, vision blurry from tears that you didn’t knew were coming down.

When he finally stops, he releases your head and you take a long breathe, trying to gain so composure, both of you heaving rapidly “Don’t waste anything I gave you” Kento says, and his finger collect some sperm that came out of your mouth and you lick it.

He helps you get up and finally removes your soaked panties, he kisses you while long and rough fingers touch your soft lower lips playing with your entrance, he inserts his index and he curls it against a sensitive spot before introducing the middle finger, playing with your sweet pussy he can feel how you clench around him, thumb almost circling around your puffy needy clit “Please” you whine and start moving your hips to match his fingers “We are not done, my love” he whispers over your lips and helps you get to bed.

In all fours with your feet almost dangling from the bed, Nanami situates himself between your legs, opening them even further with his, semi hard cock rubbing your needy hole. You whine and start moving, trying to feel some friction but a rough hand lands on your now red cheek “Keep still” he demands and you look behind to see him finally undressing himself, you notice the tie close to you but forget it when he starts stroking his dick, tip playing dangerously close to your clit, he moves it up and down your slit, making himself harder when seeing your hole clenching against nothing.

“Kento, please, I need you” you cry and collect all power you have to stop yourself from grinding against him. Nanami is pleased enough and decides to put one hand on your waist, making you arch your back even farther, he slaps the other cheek and spits on your lower lips before starting to enter “A-ah” you both gasp when the mushroom tip gets in.

You expect him to go easy on you since you haven’t been properly prepped, but tonight he’s been meaner than usual and he thrust deep, almost entering fully. “Fuck” you cry, and your hands clench the sheets hard, you feel so full, almost to a breaking point. “Be pretty for me” he grunts before pulling almost out, he spanks you even harder you’re sure this one will leave marks and thrust rougher, deeper, he’s fully in.

You can feel him in your throat, he’s “So deep” you mewl and throw your head down, pleasure and pain being overwhelming, and he’s also in the same state, watching you back arched and how well you take him makes him moan your name in such a deep tone that has you clenching against his shaft.

Kento can’t wait any longer and starts moving faster, he’s still hitting those same spots and you can’t help but cry and moan louder and harder, his palms landing every now and then against your sensitive skin, your mind feels dizzy between the immense pleasure and slight pain that he’s causing you.

He shifts and moves closer to you, his chest against your back, heat and sweat irradiating between both bodies, his lips landing on your neck, biting and sucking the conjecture of neck and shoulder, moans leaving both of your mouths and you can’t help but bring one of your hands against his hair, he almost allows it, but with one thrust that hits the special spot that makes you seeing starts you yank his hair and he grunts.

He likes it when you’re rough with him but right now that action makes him remove form yourself and leaving you whiny and empty “Now, who told you you could do that?” he doesn’t expect and answer and yet you try “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t meant to, please” you cry and look behind you before him takes your arms from behind and tie them up with the soft fabric of his leopard tie “You need to learn how to behave, sweetie”.

With shoulders and head resting at the mattress your ass is up and your hands rest at the lower of your back, Nanami positions himself again at your entrance and enter without a notice, he’s going slow, every thrust is agonizing, it’s like he’s trying to make you feel every centimeter of his cock, his breathing is what appears to be calm and you try to look at him, the slow pace making you crazy you moan his name in a way that every other man will drop to his knees including him but he’s having such a good time the doesn’t mind.

You see how he spits on your other entrance and try to pry his middle finger in it just to later spank you and toying with the hole again, all this while moving faster, pounding you deeper and your mind gets hazy when his finger finally gets in.

Feeling overwhelmed you unconsciously move farther, hips getting away from him and Kento notices, he chuckles a little bit and with his legs he opens even further yours and you feel so full. He grabs you by the hips and pull you back to him, not wanting to let you go. You moan and when his pace starts to get harder and you move again, now one of his hands snakes in and grabs your neck, hard.

He helps you get on your knees and chokes you slightly “Don’t run from this, pretty, it’s all for you” he pants against your ear and start biting your neck, you moan and his other hand goes towards your needy clit and starts circling it faster, pressing it so hard you might almost cum right there.

“Please Ken, make me cum, only you can make me cum” you moan so pretty he decides to untie you and change positions, on your back, he holds your legs and puts them over his shoulders, now folded you feel him even deeper, on your stomach.

“You’re so pretty like this, baby” he moans and reaches up to you, kissing you, and now you can properly touch him, your hands caress his strong arms and go to his broad back, scratching all the way because you feel like might combust. “You’re doing good, love, you take me so well” and that makes you moan and clench around him continuously, you’re close, dangerously close.

“Ken, ah, I’m going to cum, Ken, fuck, please, please” you start whining and Nanami kisses you, he’s just as lost as you in pleasure “Let me feel you, baby, cum on my cock” he pleads and start thrusting harder, mind full by nothing but making you cum first before releasing himself so he starts rubbing your clit again, harder, pressing down so good it only takes some flicks on it to drive you so close to the edge and make you cum yet you contain for one reason.

“Fuuck, Ken, I-I’m” you try, and he hushes you with his lips, he moves a little farther and opens your mouth to spit in it and when you moan “Please Ken, cum inside me, please I need it so bad” he lost all train of thought and moves just by instinct, and you lift just slightly your hips his cock hits such a sweet spot that makes you cum instantly, you moan and look so prettily that Kento comes with you as well, filling you so deeply that makes you squirm.

Both of you panting so hard and Nanami doesn’t stop, keeps moving to extend both of your climaxes, until you bit his shoulder and shiver form the overstimulation, “You’re too good for me, baby” he pants and rests his forehead on yours, lips barely millimeters away, “I love you, Kento” you chuckle slightly when he finally stops moving, he kisses you slightly again and smiles at your lips “Love you too, darling.”

He pulls out and see in awe how your pussy tries to keep it all inside and he slides his fingers just enough to have you squirming, he lays next to you and hugs you, staying like this for a couple minutes, gaining your breath back before helping you to go to the shower and clean you up.

Notes: Last epidose and how they animated Nanami made FERAL, I would like to have my hair pulled by Kento the way he pulled Haruta, MAPPA did justiced to my man, I had to write something.

I felt like it had a rush ending but it's like 3 in the morning and I have been writing for almost 4 hours and my mind is tired. Will probably read and change stuff later.

thewriterallie©, 2023.

[misses-steal-ya-girl]

What’s the riskiest sexual thing you've ever done?

When I was 16, I babysat for my stepdad's sister and her husband. They came home midnigtish and were a little tipsy. The wife went to bed shortly after coming home, but her husband stayed up chilled w me. I was low-key excited because he was hot, and I always wanted to flirt with him, but him n I were NEVER alone.

He apologized for not being able to take me home and told me I could sleep in the spare-room, he'd just have to put sheets on the bed. I told him not to bother, just put them on the bed, and I'd do it. We went into the room, and he was getting the TV set up for me, so I decided to start making the bed. While I was putting the bedspread on, I made sure to bend over as far as I could so my ass cheeks would hang out the bottom of my dress. And instead of going to the opposite side to put the other half on, I climbed across the bed and slowly struggled on all fours to get the last corner.

I wasn't sure if he was watching me or not, but when I turned around, he was standing there smiling and said something like, "I've never seen anyone put a bedspread on like that. There's a much easier way. I'm curious now to see how you put a sheet on."

I wasn't sure if he was picking on me and really thought I didn't know how to do it or if he was enjoying watching me and was wanting a show. I told him to hush and went to grab the remote out of his hand, and my hand "accidentally" brushed against the front part of his pants. And that's when I knew that he was enjoying watching me. His dick wasn't hard, but it was getting there.

So I decided to "pretend" like I needed his advice on boy stuff. I started telling him how my boyfriend is complaining about how I suck dick, and he wants to fuck my face, but I'm not into that. I really like sucking him off, but I prefer to go slow and hard. There's something about wrapping my mouth around all his hardness, but he's not happy with that. And how I'm really worried he's going to cheat.

The husband told me that if he cheats, he's stupid and that he hasn't gotten a blow job from his wife in years.

I asked him if he's ever cheated before because he wasn't satisfied. His answer was no. Not because he didn't want to. He's always thought about being with someone else, but because he's never had the chance.

I got up and cracked the door and asked him, "Does your wife wake easily?" I then walked over to where he was sitting on the bed and straddled his lap and whispered, "Here's your chance." This man grabbed my hips and rammed my body down on his crotch.

And let me tell you, he was HARD!

He asked me what exactly I wanted to do. And I said "him". I lifted my body up off of his and told him to pull his cock out. He unzipped his pants and pulled his dick out. I lowered myself back down on his lap softly grinding on his erect dick. (My panties were still on). I asked him if it's OK if I took my panties off. He said, "yes, but just your panties. Just incase if the wife wakes up, you won't have to get dressed."

I took off my panties and dropped to knees. I started sucking his dick slowly, rotating from using my hand, to my mouth, to my hand and my mouth. Picking up my pace when I hear him lightly moan. His hand is now in my hair and his hips are thrusting upwards so he can get his cock as far down my throat as possible. He then stops. Pulls my face out of his lap and asks if he's allowed to have sex with me.

I bend over, lift my dress and put my ass in the air. He slowly slides his dick in, and goes as deep as he can. He stays like that for a few seconds. Slides his dick back out and then pulls my ass back down towards his lap, slips his dick back in. Wraps his arm around the front of me and starts rubbing my clit as he's pumping his dick in and out of me. Whispering in my ear, "you feel what you do to my cock. He likes you. He wants you to squeeze your little hole all around him. Tighten that horny pussy all around him. I bet you've fucked your precious pussy thinking about him. Mmm...stop moving. He wants to feel you while I rub your clit. He can't believe how wet you are. Oh, yes, you like it when I do little pumps in you. Just like that. Oh she's gonna cum, isn't she? Yes, that's it baby, fuck yourself on my dick. Fuck yea, cum on it. Give me that cum."

-the whole ordeal lasted maybe 15 minutes and the wife never woke up.

[seresinsbabe]

Some Strings Attached 3

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem!reader

Synopsis: It was supposed to be a quick fuck. No strings attached. That was all. But six weeks later when you’re staring at two pink lines you realize there were some strings attached. And now you have no idea how to find the father because you only know his first name.

Warnings: Mentions of abortion, drinking, this chapter is a bit angsty

Word Count: 1.7k

THIS BLOG AND ITS FICS ARE 18+! MINORS DNI!

I do not consent to having any of my work shared on any other platform. If you see any rendition of my works on another site know that it has been posted without my permission.

You had never left Jake’s mind. Even when he was flying you were there, the woman he’d hooked up with on a whim in the back of his truck. In some far corner until he was on the ground and then you were back on the forefront. 

Which was unusual for Jake. He was more than content leading the bachelor lifestyle. It was easier with his job. Deployments sucked and he was more than sure it would only be that much harder if he knew he had someone waiting at home on him. Javy told him he was missing out. That sure, it sucked being away from your lover but knowing he had someone waiting on him to get home made coming home that much sweeter. 

It wasn’t like Jake didn’t have anyone waiting on him to get home. He had his family, his sisters and their kids and his parents. That was all he really needed or at least that was all he thought he needed. He liked his life. He liked not having someone nitpicking at his every move. Not having someone getting mad if he left his boxers on the floor or forgot to put the toilet seat down. 

He was almost certain that whatever infatuation he had with you he could get out of his system with a couple of hookups. That the only reason he couldn’t get you out of his mind was because he hadn’t been able to properly fuck you.

When he saw you in the store he was certain that was his chance. He’d get your number, flirt a little and then you’d meet up at his place or yours and then he’d have you screaming his name. Just as he did with every other woman he’d been with. Of course any excitement in seeing you again had quickly disappeared when he’d heard that word.

Pregnant. 

You were pregnant and it was his. Or so you said. You didn’t come across as the type to irresponsibly have sex with multiple men, but then again he didn’t really know you. What he did know was that a child was not in the books for him. Jake didn’t have any responsibilities outside of work and bills. Hell, he didn’t even have pets or plants because he wasn’t around enough to properly care for them. A child? That was a whole different ball game. 

Maybe he did feel a little bad about the way he’d gone about it, but could anyone blame him? It was sprung on him in the fucking vitamin aisle of a grocery store. He had only gone because Javy’s wife told him to bring something to the cookout and he couldn’t show up with nothing other than beer. Or at least not again. Last time he had promised to bring potato salad and dropped the ball on that. 

The guilt of how he’d reacted to you finally started to settle in as soon as he pulled into Javy’s driveway. How long he’d sat there just staring at the dashboard of his truck he wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t until someone tapped their knuckles against the window that he finally got out of his own head. Jake turned to find Bob standing there, his wife and her prominent baby bump standing next to him looking equally concerned. 

“You good man?” Bob asked when Jake finally stepped out of the truck. Jake took a heavy sigh as he grabbed the beer and macaroni salad from the back seat. For a moment he pictured a car seat securely nestled on the same spot and pudgy little hands reaching up to pull on a toy attached to the handle. The Texan quickly shook his head and turned back to Bob who now looked even more concerned.

“I’ll uh…talk about it later.” He nodded his head in the direction of the backyard gate. “Let’s enjoy the cookout right now, yeah?” Jake wanted to quickly change the subject. It wasn’t what he wanted to talk about right now, or at all really but he knew he would have to at some point. Honestly, who better to help him talk through it than his work family.

When he finally brought the topic up the sun was getting ready to go down and they were all situated around the in ground fire pit Jake had helped Javy build. He didn’t have to look to know everyone was looking at him with incredibly disappointed faces. The gravity of the situation and the way he’d reacted was hitting him full force.

“I don’t know what to do.” Jake finally relented, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. His green eyes stared directly into the flames before glancing up at Elyssa, Javy’s wife, when she spoke.

“Man up and apologize.” The tone of her voice was one Jake only heard when he was scolding her kids. “This baby is a result of your actions just as much as it is hers. If you don’t want the responsibility that’s on you, but when she does exactly what she told you she would and doesn’t let you in that baby’s life it’s no one’s fault but your own.” Elyssa shifted in her seat as she spoke, moving a sleeping toddler from one position to the other.

Jake knew she was right. He needed to apologize, but before he did he needed to figure out if this was what he wanted. He’d grown so used to not having to care for anyone but himself. Sure, he flew million dollar jets, but a baby seems exponentially harder.

“What if I’m not a good dad?” The words tumbled out like vomit. “I mean…I didn’t have the best role model.” That was putting it lightly. Seresin Senior was an ass. Verbally and mentally abusive to his entire family, even a bit physically, and a fucking drunk. Nothing Jake had ever done satisfied his father. Not when he made varsity on the football team or joined the Navy, made into TOPGUN. None of it. He’d spent his whole life trying to appease his father when he knew it would never happen.

Jake didn’t want to end up like his father, even if he’d already done so much more with his life than his dad ever had. Still, he was scared he would end up just like him. That wasn’t the childhood he wanted for anyone, let alone his own children.

“Then prove you’re not him by doing what’s right.” This time it was Bob speaking up. “I get that you’re scared, but think about how much more scared she is. It’s her body that’s changing, she’s the one that will be pushing this baby out, breastfeeding. She could be doing this entire thing alone and scared. How is that fair?” Jake almost wanted to ask how it was fair to ask him to be forced into this, but no one was forcing him.

You’d given him the option, but you’d made it abundantly clear that if he didn’t want this, he didn’t get to come back. Just as Elyssa had said – this was just as much Jake’s fault as it was yours. He could have said no to sex without the condom. He could have even, at the very least, pulled out but he didn’t. The blame couldn’t land solely on you.

He stared back into the fire. Nodding his head after a good minute. “Alright, yeah you guys are right.” He hated admitting that he was wrong and that someone might know more than him, but this was one time even his ego had to take a step back.

Reaching behind him he pulled out the ultrasound photo that he’d shoved in his back pocket. He had almost thrown it away, but that annoying little voice in the back of his head had convinced him to keep it. Scanning the photo his eyes took in everything on that glossy square. Your name, how many weeks along you were, the measurements. How could they measure something so small? The baby was nothing but a blip pointed out by a white arrow. 

Flipping the image over he read the scribbles on the back. All your information written in dainty half script. His thumb ran over it and then he flipped it back over. All the ways he could fuck up that little spec were running through his mind. Putting doubt in his head that he was actually capable of doing this. 

Later that night Jake laid in bed, staring at his phone screen as it lit up the dark room. He’d typed, deleted and retyped his message to you over and over again. At first he had just laid it all out in the message. Bared his soul, but then he quickly realized that seemed like a little much given the way he’d acted in the store. So then he deleted it and just typed ‘Hey’. That was quickly discarded. He couldn’t text you like you were one of his hookups. Even if that was kind of exactly what you had been, but now you were  much more than that. Finally he settled on something simple.

After proofreading the message a time or two he finally sent it and then immediately put his phone on do not disturb. Otherwise he’d lay there the rest of the night waiting to hear the text tone. As if you were even up at this time of night. 

His mind wasted no time conjuring up images of the two of you. Ones where you were a happy, nuclear family. The exact opposite of what he’d grown up with. Images where he’d help a very pregnant you up like he watched Bob help his own wife up. And ones where he collected your sleeping child while you followed behind with their blanket and the sticky sippy cup they’d been drinking out of. It was wild considering he had no clue if that’s the course things would run between the two of you. Would it make things easier? Sure, but that didn’t mean it would happen. 

Just because you were having a child together didn’t mean you would fall in love.

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[chronic-ghost]

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

rating: M (just for language)

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 5619

summary: you're a human lie detector-- so you tell the handsome man at the Jim Bo’s Burger Barn at 3AM. Too bad you're too drunk to catch up to his lies.

warnings: language, references to drugs/cartels, drinking, smoking, this one is pretty tame, no use of y/n

a/n: this is my Poker Face adjacent fic and inspired by the scene where Javi so innocently flirts with that american wife in the lounge. might become a series but not quite sure yet. lemme know which direction I should take this, if I should take it anywhere at all!

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You attract trouble.

You attract trouble like you put on your nicest dress, did your hair, fixed up your tits, and doused yourself in trouble-pheromones. Like you found trouble curled up on the side of the road, sad and alone like a lost dog, and you gave it a cookie and now it swings around your ankles, always moments away from knocking you on your ass. Except it’s not a dog, it’s a chimpanzee that’s finally snapped and it’s pissed–  it’s beating on the bars of its cage, it’s yowling, howling, it’s coming after you to eat off your goddamn face and–

Okay, back up a bit. 

You have a thing that gets you into trouble. No, not like a self-destructive habit or a weird twitch. It’s not drugs or alcohol or even a dumbass ex. It’s this thing you’ve always been able to do, always known, and because of your big mouth, it’s always gotten you into hot water with the wrong people.

You know when someone is lying. Don’t ask how. It’s a thing. But you know, without a shadow of a doubt, if what’s coming out of someone’s mouth is the God’s honest truth or total and utter bullshit.

You know when someone is lying and generally, folks don’t really appreciate it when you a) catch them on a lie and b) call them out on it. You and your big mouth.

Okay, that’s two things that get you into trouble, but it’s primarily the lying thing and the mouth thing is more or less a fun bonus. Used for good or evil, or whatever. 

The point – the point is – you know when someone is lying. Every single time. So, sure, the audience may say, it’s a weird quirk, kinda bizarre, may or may not be difficult to prove, but trouble? Real actual trouble? How could you possibly get into chimpanzee-face-eating trouble with just this little thing?

Well, rather easy actually. If you don’t have any particular skills, that is. If you barely finished high school, and street smarts was the only kind of smarts they were selling the day your mom smacked you on the ass and told you to find your way in the world. It was hard keeping a job too. Minimum wage living is terrible, especially when the customers lie to you, or to each other, or to their children. Even worse when management lies about why there’s no cash payout this month or why they’re late with this month’s checks. Getting by is fucking hard as shit, but when you know there’s something wrong being done and you’ve got this big fucking mouth, well, you’ve never been one to not court trouble. 

Maybe trouble is easier to find because you like to wave and flirt with it when you drive by. Give a little wink.

You work here, you work there. Nothing serious. Always temporary. And then, one day, during your shift as a maid at the Economy 99 on route 10, the elderly night guard asks if you’ve ever played poker. 

Nah, you say. Go Fish, that’s really your game. 

So he offers to teach you, along with a few of the other maids and staff waiting around for someone to blow chunks in the swimming pool because you always managed to find the really classy places. 

Okay, so you barely finished high school, you don’t have real marketable skills, you’ve got a big mouth and you’re not afraid to use it and –

– and –

You’re really fucking good at poker. 

And who here would like to venture a guess as to why?

You always know when someone is lying and what is poker if not Advance Bullshit for Adults? Fuckin’ Astronomical Physics for Liars and Dumbasses. Hell, you gotta fuckin’ PhD in Bovine Excrement and it’s time you graduated to the big leagues. Sayonara community college, hello Stanford for Assholes.

Okay, maybe that’s just regular Stanford. 

You learn to hustle too. Lose a few rounds so they don’t catch onto you and can’t accuse you of anything as you wipe their clocks clean. You change your name too, in different towns, in different back alley poker halls, because unfortunately the poker and casino community in this place is too small.

This place being all of the United States. 

You can’t exactly go online and work your literal magic– you gotta at least see or hear the person to know if they’re lying. Bluffing over pixels just isn’t the same. Isn’t sexy enough. 

So, with your big mouth and exceptional poker skills, you go hunting off the coast. It was an invite only poker tournament in Florida. You hadn’t managed to burn your ‘Marlene Green’ identify just yet and she was fucking crushing it up and down the east coast. You barely blinked at the ten grand buy-in– baby money, suckers ducks, little Tikes casino royale.

This was also the last one, you told yourself. One for all the marbles. 

Because the thing about disreputable poker halls, they tend to be filled with unpleasant, disreputable, very angry characters that, like a chimpanzee, will rip your face off and eat it if they think they’ve been cheated. 

Exit strategy. Mama always said you gotta have an exit strategy. Well, Mama said a lot of things and the actual literal exit strategy was Monterey Marina with a gorgeous trawler for sale. Older than shit, but damn that baby could purr. You were gonna take the money, offer up stone-cold cash (no questions asked), and sail off into the sunset. Or, well, sunrise because you were definitely getting the fuck out of Florida. 

But here it comes, the real kick in the goddamn teeth, the real screw in the rack. This is where your mouth and your talent– gift, power, is this a fucking superhero movie?– whatever– tended to get all mishmashed with one other thing that always– and you mean always– got you in the hot seat. Got you in Trouble, with a capital T, that rhymes with P and stands for pool hall – breathing down your neck. 

You alway had shitdumb, bad, fucking luck. 

So it’s not some lowtime, grumpy townies you piss off when you win the pot, it turns out its members of a goddamn drug cartel! And they are PISSED.

P-I-S-S-E-D

You don’t wanna ask the barrel of their guns if they’re going to kill you because you don’t actually want to be sure of their answer, so you’ve got your hands up, thinking this is definitely it– I’ve played my last hand, I’ve sunk my last boat, I’ve cursed my last fuck– when police sirens go off. It’s not a relief, but a distraction.

You’ve got a big mouth, wacky abilities, and reflexes like someone who’s been running their whole life. You smash a bottle against the back of the head of the blonde one closest to you, flip the table– chips and bullets go flying– and with the case holding the winnings still in your hands, you sprint out the back door. 

To your lovely Chevy Camaro waiting for you. 

And you drive.

“And I drive and I drive and I drive, all the way down to this lovely little diner in . . .” 

You swivel on the red seat, nearly knocking over the five little plastic bottles of Crown Royal on the counter that is making your head thick and puffy. You squint at the sign that boasts the best burgers in – “Texas, yes, thank you, Texas! Lone Star State. The most hated state, of all fifty of them, for Wile E Coyote. His nemesis. His haunting. His apocalypse now . . .” 

The man seated next to you, the same man who’s been there for an hour, quietly listening to you drunkenly ramble at the counter of Jim Bo’s Burger Barn, smirks. His mustache twitches.

“Why is it the Wile E Coyote’s least favorite state?”

Your mouth drops at him. You slouch as though indignant about his very question. “Roadrunner, duh, state bird of the Lone Star State. That and blue bonnets. I mean, the flower. Blue bonnets are the state bird and the road runner is the state flower of the Looney Star State . . . wait . . .”

He laughs, softly, his elbows under him as he leans forward on the counter, his brown jacket looking like it smells amazing. Drunker than you meant to be, you eye him from his classic cowboy boots, up his hips, and to the edges of that lovely brown jacket as it hangs around his waist. He has the prettiest eyes. 

“You were saying something about driving here?” He asks, very much aware of your shameless staring. “Do you still have that money?”

“Sure, sure,” you mutter and turn back to your chocolate milkshake that’s pretty much just chocolate soup at this point. You snatch up a remaining fry from your long gone burger and swirl it in the soup. “Got the keys and the money locked up tight. I worry more about someone fucking with my baby more than the money, you know. Lots of sentimental value in that car. ‘Is where I lost my virginity.”

At that, the man sputters on his coffee, his third of the night. Black, almost as dark as his hair. 

You sigh, frowning into your lumpy, ice-creamy soup. “So hard to get laid when you’re running for your life.” 

You swivel back to him as he’s patting his jacket dry of coffee. “Wait. You.”

“Me what?” You think his cheeks warm pink for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing out here at 3AM, listening to me babble endlessly? You don’t look shifty, but maybe you are.” 

He smirks again and tosses his napkins into the now empty coffee mug. 

“I’m Javi,” he says in a deep, soothing voice as he extends his hand across to you. You take it, with the proper amount of trepidation. “And I’m on my way to see my niece in Flagstaff.” 

You click your tongue and withdraw your hand, disappointed. “Bullshit.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I mean, your name is definitely Javi.” You pick up your own coffee mug and see that it’s unfortunately empty. You pick out some fleck that’s fallen into it. “Well, almost – is that short for something? – but you are definitely not on your way to see your niece in Flagstaff. Does she not live in Flagstaff or . . . do you not even have a niece?” You gasp, mouth agape. He has the decency to look uneasy. His eyes narrow at you. You scoff. “That is fucked up, hombre. Starting off a conversation with a lie is not a good way to make a friend.” 

“Why do you think I’m lying?” 

You roll your eyes, the coffee cup dangling loosely in your fingers. “We’ve been over this, my dude. See the court documents. Jeez, how hard is it to order a refill at three in the morning? Paragraph B, Subsection I’m really fucking good at poker. I don’t think, I know. I have this thing, always had, and when people lie to me, I . . . wriggle. Squirm. Not exactly ‘spoiled lunch meat’ but not ‘just clocked a hottie from across the bar and I like their vibes’ either.” 

He watches as the waitress, glaring, comes over and refills your mug. You immediately dive into five packets of sugar, shredding them like a racoon with a bag of popcorn. 

“But I don’t take it too personally,” you continue, flicking the sugar packet to make sure every single crystal falls into the cup. “People lie all the time. About stupid shit too. I don’t think they even mean to do it. It just happens.”

“Does it bother you? That people lie?” 

“Eh. Once upon a time. But fuck, if you could hear the bullshit firehose that comes outta people’s mouths on the daily, you’d stop shaking it off too, if you know what I mean.” Satisfied that you’d be able to see through both time and space with your sugar high, you take a sip. Needs milk. You reach across his plate, wobbling on the edge of the seat, his chest inches from your forearm, and snag the little tin milk pitcher. Your cup becomes more milk than coffee. “People lie for the best of reasons, mostly. Or at least, best for them. Either to save hurting someone else's feelings or their own. We humans don’t like pain, generally, as a rule. But rules are meant to be broken, I suppose.”

Javi, or as close to his real name as you’re going to get, is quiet. That tends to be more of his natural state, given that he had barely said two words while you recounted the past few weeks to him whether he wanted it or not. You sip your coffee again, delighted to have found the right balance of sugar, milk, and burnt coffee, when he taps the rim of his mug with his nail. 

 “I do have a niece, but she lives in Austin. Haven’t seen her in a while, actually, but I want to.” 

“Oh, yeah?” That was all true. You bend forward, eyes trying to watch him as you sip the delicate, hovering brown line that threatens to spill over the edge of the cup. “What’s stopping you from seeing her?” 

“Work.” 

Well, that was fucking ominous. 

“Wait. Fuck. What do you do for a living?” 

Javi slides off the seat and turns those slim hips towards you and, like a fucking idiot, you just now register the bulk at his waist. 

You whimper. Of course the one nice person who wanted to spare you a second glance was from the cartel. They found you. Somehow they tracked you down to the middle of nowhere, which was exactly what you wanted when you still had your life ahead of you. But now it seemed like a terrible fucking idea because there was no one around to at least make sure Baby Girl Camaro went to a good home. 

“Ah, fuck. Fuck! That’s a gun. Fuck, you’re gonna kill me right here in this goddamn diner,” you whine and put your head on the counter, hands covering the back as if you were preparing for a tornado. 

He sighs. “I’m not going to kill you.” 

Truth. 

“Then what do you want with me?” You glare at him, bleary-eyed. “Because the whole cover as a kindly stranger with baby cow eyes is officially fucking blown, my guy.” 

“Let’s go outside and – wait, what? Baby cow eyes? What the hell does that mean?” 

“What? You’ve never watched Dr. Pole? TV veterinarian?” You unwind from your prone position and frown at him. “He takes care of those little baby cows, lookin’ up at their mama with those big, sweet, gentle, loving brown eyes. Cutest thing in the world. Almost made me wanna give up beef for a whole two minutes. But seriously, dude, there’s this hamburger joint in Miami that makes you just wanna lick the juices right off your fingers– hey!” 

He grabs you by the upper arms and, as casually as a kidnapping can go, hauls you out of the diner. The bell above the door rings joyfully as he pulls you through. 

The reality of your situation hits you like a sixteen-wheeler truck and tears spring up in your eyes as panic bites into your spine. His grip is like iron around your bicep. 

“Dude, I’m so sorry I rambled on like that but I swear I didn’t know who you were. Please, please don’t kill me – o-o-or hurt me. Please don’t take me back to the cartel. You can have the money, I swear, j-j-just take it–,”

His eyes widen and immediately lets you go. The neon sign and lights of the diner behind him blur his face in shadow. You wipe at your eyes. 

“Lady, look, if you’re gonna survive on the run from the Cali Cartel, you can’t be telling your whole life story to anyone who asks.” He’s got his hands on his hips as if disappointed with you. You pout with your bottom lip out.

“Wasn’t telling just anyone. Was telling you.” You cross your arms and sniff, suddenly rather embarrassed to be crying in front of a man so genuinely hot it makes you go a little cross-eyed. Well, it was either him or the whiskey. TBD. “Not that I’m encouraging you or anything, but if you don’t kill me, aren’t your cartel bosses gonna be pissed?” 

“I don’t work for the cartel. I work for the DEA.” 

If crying was embarrassing, you are going to be fucking traumatized if you puked all over his cowboy boots.

“Aw shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.” You press your knuckles into your eyes, groaning. You wander backwards. Your head starts to spin and so do you. “The fucking government is after me? Holy shit, this is not good.” 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

You frown and spin back around. He looks exasperated. 

“Well, how many words does it take to read me my Miranda rights?” You tick off the words on your fingers as you speak them aloud. “You. Have. The. Right. To. Remain. Silent. Anything – is that one word or two? – You. Say–,”

“Jesus Christ–,” He claps his wide hand over yours, squishing your tally between his palms. “Are you always like this or just because you’re drunk?” 

“I’m a delight, pal, okay?” You scowl up at him. “I am a barrel full of monkeys at all times. I am a waterslide with chocolate and whipped cream, okay? I am a–,”

His hands leap to your shoulders. His touch is gentle like he knows he shouldn’t scare you but he’s considering throwing you into oncoming traffic. 

“Just . . . show me the case of money you stole,” he begs with his baby cow eyes, “alright? Let’s start there.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “If I do, what’s to keep you from knocking me out and throwing me in the trunk?” 

“I’m not going to do that.”

No tingle. You purse your lips and wiggle out from under his palms. “Say it. Say, I’m not going to knock you out and throw you in the trunk and steal all of your money.” 

“It’s not exactly your money, is it?”

“Say it!”

“Fine!” He says, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m not going to knock you out and throw you in the trunk and steal all of your money.” 

Still nothing. No tingle. Well, no tingle about him lying anyway. 

“You passed the test. Now come here.” 

Hesitantly, he nudges towards you, those thick eyebrows dipping down as if expecting you to pull a bazooka out of your bra.

“C’mere, c’mere. Good.” You clap a hand on his shoulder and lean into him. You shift your weight onto one leg and wiggle off your other boot. You get a whiff of his cologne – dark, woodsy, a little too much, as if to cover for a lack of deodorant. “Now, as you so annoyingly identified earlier, I have had a little, insy-tintsy bit to drink, and if I tried to take off my shoe by myself, I would, as the kids say, eat shit. And once you’ve fallen on your ass in front of one cop, you’ve fallen on your ass in front of them all.”

His warm hands find your waist, steadying you, just as you pop your heel out of your boot. “I’m not a cop,” he grumbles.

“And I’m not a walking lie detector.” You shake your boot and your car keys tinkle as they hit the dirt. “Ah, ha! Got ‘em.”

You shake them in front of his baby cow eyes, grinning, before spinning back to your car and popping the trunk, hopping as you went to slide your boot back on. 

“Do you work out?” You ask as he rounds the edge. Half of you is buried in the trunk, feet in the air. 

“Uh, yeah, when I can. Why?”

“What do you bench?”

“256. Why?” 

“Oh, then this should be easy for you.”

You groan, struggling with something and he dives to help you – and his knees buckle. 

“Why the hell do you have a tire for a sixteen wheeler in your trunk?”

“Same reason you’re sweating, toots. Heavy as fuck and hard to move. But now that we have . . .”

You pull out a slim silver case. You pop the handles and sigh.

You haven’t moved a single bill since that night. You haven’t even breathed on it, as if doing so would set off a series of alarms, bells, and whistles.

“So small for so much trouble,” you whisper as he crowds in next to you. “Fifty thousand dollars. Make or break a life. Well, at least, a life like mine.” 

Javi makes a face. “Should be one hundred, but those fuckers switched it out.” 

“Wait, how do you know that?” 

He sighs and slams the lid of the trunk shut. You snatch up the case before he does and hold it tight to your chest. Javi stands there for a moment, with his hand on Baby’s trunk, head down, thinking.

“Look, I want to help you . . . and I can. But you’ve gotta start being honest with me. How did you really get into that poker game?”

“What do you mean?”

He crosses his arms, frowning. “That little party trick you do. The human lie detector thing. What is it? How did you know Veracruz had that shit hand?”

“Uh, because I asked him and he said he didn’t have a shit hand, and I knew he was lying.” 

“Yeah, that. How did you know he was lying?”

“I just did.”

“Bullshit.” 

“That’s my line!” You glare up at him, very much aware of his height and very much aware how hot he is. “I’m not lying to you. I just know when people are lying. If you believe it, I’ll know.” 

Javi rolls his eyes. “That’s not a real thing people can do. Have you done forensic work before? Studied body language somewhere?” 

You scoff and step back, showing off your black fringe vest, dirty jeans, and combat boots. “Do I look like I’ve studied anything anywhere ever? Where would I even have gotten the money to go study somewhere? Oh right, the forensic fairy, just beating the shit outta people with a bag of cash.” 

He puts his hands on his hips and you match him because you can do the scary cop thing too. It’s not that hard. 

“I broke my arm when I was seven on a bike ride.” 

“True.” 

“I had a dog named Benji.” 

“Dog’s right, but not named Benji.” You grin, rubbing your hands together, then putting them on your thighs. “C’mon, gimme something you’ve never told anyone. This is exciting. Your mustache does this little twitch thing when I’m right.” 

“When I was twelve, I cheated off my friend’s math test.” 

You frown, dropping your shoulders. “That’s your big secret? Whoof, buddy, and here I thought the big scary man gunning for me was mean and lean, when he’s actually just an All-American—,”

“I need your help to arrest the men who are trying to kill you.” 

Your mouth snaps shut so fast your teeth click.

“That’s what all of this is about.” He crosses his arms and leans against Baby. “Aren’t you curious how I found you so fast? Faster than the cartel who's been on your ass for two weeks now?” 

“I’d like to think it was just kismet that we found each other,” you grumble. “Serendipity. Movie magic. Lady Luck doing me a fuckin’ solid for once.”

“That case has a tracker in it. We had a plant in that game who was supposed to win, but not before he could distribute the cash out in the pot. We’d be able to follow them back to their stashes and track their movements.” He bit his lip, disapprovingly. “And then you showed up. Cleaned their fucking clocks like it was nothing. Had their goddamn numbers from minute one and none of us could figure it out. Steve was probably relieved when you knocked him out with that bottle.”

“Oh, shit, the blonde was your partner?” You grimace. “My bad, dude, my bad. Is he, uh, okay?”

Javi nods, eyes distant, as if subtly trying to work something out in his brain. Like testing to see if you could read minds or something. “He’ll be fine. His wife Connie is thrilled to have him home for a few weeks.” 

“Ah. And that means you pulled the shit straw to go after the girl who ran off with all your government money . . .” It was finally all coming together. “Shit, should I add your wife to the list of people I’ve pissed off? I can’t imagine she’s thrilled about any of this.”

His jaw works, as if he was chewing on something, eyes dark, before he pulls a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket. He holds one out to you.

You stay where you are, hesitant. 

“C’mon, don’t tell me you’re not a smoker.” He spins an unlit cigarette between his fingers. “I don’t bite.”

You scowl and trudge forward. You snatch the cigarette from his thick fingers and wait your turn for the lighter.

“What gave it away? I haven’t had a smoke in hours.” 

The shadow of the flame flickered in his palm as he held out the lighter close to your lips, his hand blocking the wind. His brown eyes looked black in the absence of light. 

“Chain-smoking and playing poker with idiots is a combo deal. Two vices for the price of one.”

“Ha. Ha.”

You match his lean against Baby’s trunk, the pair of you watching the occasional car or truck go by on the interstate in the distance. The paper crinkles when you suck in the smoke. God, there really is nothing like the first bite of a cigarette. 

“So, what’s the play here?” You ask, after a moment. “You have the money. Why do you need me?” 

“You won’t have to worry about kindly strangers with baby cow eyes for starters.” You scowl at him. Maybe it’s the orange light of the flame, but you swear you see a twinkle in his eyes. “But you tell me. You seem smart. What would the government want with you?”

He likes a chase, you realize. He likes to play, to tease. He likes to be in control. Something inside you knots up, threatening goosebumps on your skin, but you shake it back. Down, girl. 

You take a sip from your cigarette, thinking. 

There is nothing else around except the highway and this diner. Seemed like such a good idea at the time. Who’d ever find your ass all the way out here? You lick the bottom of your lip before pulling it between your teeth.

“I’m your only witness to the mountains of coke being produced out in the open when they brought us in. Everyone else at that table was cartel or DEA. You want me to testify. 

He nods slowly. If he was impressed, he didn’t show it.

“We didn’t know who the hell you were when you showed up and planned to arrest you before everything went tits up.” He taps the ash onto the gray dirt and you watch his fingers. “If you do this, you’re out from under the cartel. We can give you a new identity, and you can start grifting again across America. All of this’ll be a bad dream.”

He flicks the butt of his cigarette into the dark, just at the edge of the light from the neon sign. You follow suit a second later. The keys to Baby are still in your pocket. 

“And if I don’t? If I don’t do this, then what?” 

His answer is a single arched eyebrow.

You dart to the left, trying to get around him, but he’s there first, arms outstretched like he’s guarding a goal. He frowns at you. Seriously? 

You lunge again, this time to the right, and he’s again in front. 

Your brow sweating, you hook your foot onto Baby’s trunk, desperately trying to scramble over the top. You get about halfway up before those annoyingly large hands snatch you around the waist and haul you off the car.

“Would you stop it?” He plops you down between his solid chest and the car door. This close to him, air temporarily leaves your lungs. “I’m being honest when I say I’m here to help you.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Am I lying?” Again, that beautiful eyebrow of disapproval. 

“No, but I’ve officially decided you’re shifty.” 

He shakes his head and steps back, allowing blood flow to return to your brain. 

“Is this what you want for your life? Driving from small town to small town, picking up bullshit jobs, sleeping in shit beds, when there’s so much more you could do? You’re smart, resourceful, funny, weirdly agile . . . but you wanna spend your life hiding from the world.” 

There’s something hot and sharp in your throat.

“It’s what I’m good at,” you croak. 

His expression softens. The gravel crackles beneath his boots as he comes closer. Javi, the DEA officer, has temporarily left the building. In his place, this Javi is smoothed out, dulled, not all jagged edges and razor burns. Maybe tastes sweeter than day-old coffee and stale cigarettes. You want to tell him there’s nothing wrong with either– you happily take both– but seeing him unguarded, even for a moment, threatens to topple you over. There’s a light in his eyes when he takes in your face. Your eyes. Your nose. Your mouth. 

He looks . . . hopeful. 

One hesitant finger brushes away a stray strand of hair from your forehead.

Do not tremble. Do not tremble. Do not do it, I swear, ladies, keep it together!

“I bet you are,” he says softly. Jesus Christ, his hands are so big up close. “I bet you are good at a lot of things. You seem like the type who could genuinely surprise me. And I think you might surprise yourself one day.” 

You grimace, deeply, deeply regretful. 

“Yeah,” you mutter glumly. “I do surprise people a lot, actually. Unfortunately, you didn’t seem to be listening.”

“Wha–,”

From your other pocket in your vest, you yank out a one-time-use stun gun and stab his thigh through his jeans. Fifty-thousand volts lights up his entire body, arched, and tensed, before the grown man collapses at your feet. 

Unconscious, Javi hits the ground so hard you squeal, landing on his face and no doubt earning a nasty bruise. 

“Exit strategy, dude! Always gotta have an exit strategy. But I’m so, so sorry!” Grabbing his deadweight shoulder, you roll him onto his back and try to get him in a comfortable position. There’s dust in his mustache. .You fold his hands onto his chest like he was casually napping. 

Then because you were in fact the nicest or stupidest person on the planet, you dig your arms under his and pull him out of the parking lot. It would be a true sin if he got run over and anything happened to that beautiful face. Huffing, you drop him off by the bike rack. “I’m sorry. You are so gorgeous but I gotta get outta here and I can’t have you following me. This hurts me way more than it hurts you.”

You bend down and rifle through his jacket. You find what you’re looking for and take his phone out of his pocket. Old, probably a burner. With a shake, you crack off the battery and throw it on the ground. The crunch is loud beneath your heel. That should give you some more time. Can’t haul you back to HeadQuarters if he can’t call them.

This close to him, you can see the bags beneath his eyes. You remember he didn’t eat the entire time he sat with you in the diner. He didn’t respond to your question about a wife. Guilt clangs into your ribs. Slowly, you loosely brush your fingers through his hair. It’s soft, curls around his neck and ears. He looks like he needs sleep. 

You had been blasting across state lines, hardly eating, barely sleeping, restless and fearful. Maybe he had been too.  

“God, I am such a fucking idiot.” You grimace as you see a ripe purple bump growing on his cheek. “I am so sorry and I am so going to hell for this.”

Over the road to the highway, the dawn rises, purple and pink and heavy.

Baby purrs, when you start the engine, welcoming and warm. Where to today, Mama?

Jim Croce’s twang eases out of the radio as you adjust your mirror and see his long legs still out by the concrete. Somebody would find him soon enough.

Uptown got its hustlers

The bowery got it's bums

42nd street got big Jim Walker

He's a pool shootin' son of a gun

Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come

But he stronger than a country hoss

You shake your head, guilt gnawing at your gut. Baby roars as you pull out onto the road and up onto the highway. Into the burning dawn.

What was it that he said? 

And when the bad folks all get together at night

You know they all call big Jim boss, just because

He called you funny. Resourceful. Full of potential. And smart. He thought you were smart.

Liar, liar. 

And they say

You don't tug on superman's cape

You don't spit into the wind

You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger

And you don't mess around with Jim

[gordontheengineswifenirmal]

Interpreting struggle and other people

Yesterday, I found out arsehat (my ex)’s best friend committed suicide a week or two ago. Our aunt and uncle said it was because his wife nagged him. Let me tell you, aside from being not do subtly sexist, this is a lazy excuse. It’s usually not JUST because someone nagged you. If it were that easy, nagging would be a legally punishable crime. Cheating on a partner is a worse crime, and folks don’t usually break the law for it. No no.

Let me tell you - when you are emotionally struggling, anything can eventually set you off. I know this all too well. I was there. I tried to kill meself when I was 19. It’s not the proudest moment, to say the least. It was necessary though. It helped refocus and learn to become stronger. This isn’t true for everyone, especially when they aren’t as tempered to deal with struggle.

Apparently this man had what appeared to be ab idyllic life - he was a multimillionaire. He had a wife, kids. You may ask why would he do such a thing then? Because we may think he had everything, but we must not assume. He obviously did not have happiness. He struggled with internal issues that he was unable to confront. There could be many reasons for this - cultural, societal, even physical. Maybe he was in perfect health. Maybe he got a diagnosis he was just unable to come to terms with. We don’t know. Maybe his job caused stress. Maybe family pressures contributed. Maybe all of these things….or maybe….none of them.

Whilst this is surely NOT exclusive to those who are wealthy, as even poor folks can be raised with this mentality - being privileged and entitled makes you weak. You are delusional from the start, and it makes reasoning that much more challenging.

I’ve had a lot of people jump to conclusions about me instead of trying to actually listen and understand. Challenge ur own thinking. I recently shared a series of incidents that occurred in past months.

I’m in me 40’s. Months ago, I was harassed by a teenager on Reddit. He made extremely vulgar, detailed sexual comments about me. He got others to hang up and spread rumours. Why? Because i defended another, innocent young person who he was harassing. Recently, i was banned in a discord group for trains because a minor posted very sexually suggestive images of anime schoolgirls with their breasts on display photoshopped into train pics. A mod defended this, going so far as to ask if I ‘wore a fucking tent’. At the same time, this mod claimed I’d make inappropriate jokes. I made jokes that were no worse than anyone else, and never flirted with anyone, never posted pornographic images. The mod and the kid are closer in age to each other, and the mod had prior bias towards me. He’s had it out for me ever since I had joined. The harasser had apparently been in the discord before I joined, and spread lies about me before I was even there. I had no idea.

The person I recounted this to blamed me. They acted like I was the villain. They listened to what they wanted to hear only. This is not appropriate communication. You need to listen to the entire story, even if it’s not comfortable. Don’t judge based on bias or prejudice. It misleads you, it’s foolish. Even worse, it’s toxic. It can hurt others.

Perhaps, if that man had an outlet he was able to trust, it could have saved him. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, some people are unable to open up. I get that. However, I am well aware that there are multiple sides to a story, and when we are conditioned to too much comfort, it clouds our ability to deal with things - both regarding ourselves and others. Living a comfortable life, and then suddenly (or not so suddenly) having to deal with struggle can be devastating. When we choose to victim blame, that only makes it worse. Be a bit more ware of how what you say and do effects others. You never know how it can impact someone else.

Also, Henry never died in the tunnel. He does get laid in there tho. He’s a big handsome steam engine, what can I say?

[howredemptionwaswon]

“Mrs. Adler? When did you decide that Mr. Adler was ‘The One’ for you?”

There wasn't a single day that passed that Sadie didn't think about her Jakey. Every little thing reminded her of him, be it a song being sung or a random object they once shared a laugh over. Her love for Jake consumed her existence even after his death.

She rarely had anyone from the group approach her to inquire about her late husband. Initially, Abigail was the one who checked on her the most, followed by occasional inquiries from Arthur. Eventually, conversations about Jake gradually diminished. It was somewhat bittersweet for Karen that now, after all this time, she was the one asking about him. The way the question was posed made her believe there was an underlying motive behind it. It was clear within the group that she and Sean were growing extremely close, which wasn't necessarily a negative thing. However, she struggled with finding a way to tell Karen what she wanted to hear without tearing at her own heartstrings.

" Pullin' out the big questions are ya? " Sadie questioned, then proceeded to find a chair and sit down. This was bound to take some time and effort. " I don't know how you can sum somethin' like that into words. It's just somethin' you feel. " So this already wasn't starting out the greatest. " My Jake and I, we were like best friends. We brought the good out in each other and a day just came when I couldn't picture havin' a life he warn't a part of. That's when I knew. " Karen found a chair for herself and sat down next to Sadie, eager to listen to her explanation. She remembered the days gone by, when poor Mrs. Adler was a new widow, openly grieving for the loss of her husband at the hands of those damned O'Driscoll Boys. It seemed like she would never recover, but gradually, she did, and hell, she became a spitfire in her own right. She ditched the skirt for trousers and became more vocal and bloodthirsty.

"Best friends, huh?" Karen mused. "Back when you were brought into our gang, you probably saw me wanting to throttle Sean more than anything."

He was loud, obnoxious, annoying - sometimes he'd be sleeping during guard duty, or whittling when he should be doing chores, flirting with the girls at camp, or telling silly stores at the campfire with the boys… but behind all that, there was a certain charm about the Irishman that kept her anchored to him. When he was almost killed during a botched job at Rhodes, she realized how much she cared deeply for him, and never wanted to leave his side. The group splitting away from Dutch, and being able to live their own lives, helped her focus on the fact that, well, she loved him. Sean was the only man she could truly care for.

"If Tilly and Mary-Beth were here, they'd be teasin' me 'til the cows came home," Karen remarked, and it was followed with a snort. "Here I am, sounding all… romantic about Sean of all people, when they were the ones always going on about their fantasies about their hopes and dream weddings. You know, women's rights, women voting - hell, I'd just settle for being married to Sean, taking his last name, and makin' him happy as his wife, if he'd let me. But Mrs. Adler, would it be crazy if I were to ask him to marry me?"

Sadie believed that her love for Jake was unparalleled. Overcoming the pain of his death was a lengthy process, and even now, it occasionally brings her sorrow. However, through their relationship, she learned that love is not limited; it has the capacity to develop and transform with time. It taught her that the heart possesses an extraordinary capability to expand and accommodate new individuals who leave a lasting impact on our lives. Each day got a little easier than the day before.

Sadie knowingly grinned. " Yeah I saw, but I also saw through it. It's easy to see the signs when you've been in that situation before. Hell, I think Arthur and I were the first ta notice there was a little more going on with the two of ya. "

Sadie had expressed her gratitude towards the individuals in their small, tight-knit circle. Each person played a unique role in helping her overcome her past and regain her strength. Arthur's heroic act of rescuing her from the O'Driscoll Boys created a debt that she knew she could never fully repay. Nevertheless, she vowed to stand by his side and assist him in any way possible. This commitment extended to everyone in their group. She had managed to endure, and maybe someday she would have the chance to experience love once more. Whether that day ever arrived or not, she found solace in simply witnessing the abundance of joy from the others surrounding her.

" Don't worry yourself too much about what they'd think. Look at it this way, while they're stuck fantasizing you've got the real deal. " Sadie reached over and patted her on the knee. Her next question however had Sadie's brow raising. " I mean while it's always been custom for the man to ask the woman, if it's something you really want I don't see no harm in it. I say go for it cause we ain't exactly traditional folk here. "

Mrs. Adler had a point. They weren't the most traditional folk. Rules be damned. They were lucky to stay one step ahead of the Pinkertons. Danger lurked around every corner, and Karen didn't want to live another day with this nagging regret.

"Damn it all," she huffed, tugging at the edge of her blouse. "You're right. I need to do this. After all, we only tell each other we love one 'nother when we're drunk. This has to count for real, but without the booze."

Karen reached over and offered the other blonde a warm hug. "Thank you so much, darlin'!"

She couldn't imagine going through what Mrs. Adler had: losing a husband the way she had at the hands of the O'Driscoll Boys. Lord knows what would've happened if she lost Sean in any way, shape, or form. But she wouldn't think that. Right now, she was going to find something to propose to Sean with.

She searched about the area for jewelry that would be suitable for the likes of Sean. He wasn't a man who was into jewelry at all. If anything, he was into whittling, but she'd yet to see him carve anything. Too bad she didn't see a ring anywhere that happened to be carved out of wood.

With a disappointing growl, Karen swiftly returned to Sadie, and asked, "You mind helping me find something to propose to Sean with? I'm too impatient to wait around. I got the words I wanna say, but I don't want to go to him empty-handed."

Sadie chuckled, amused by Karen's sudden burst of determination. " Well, ain't that just like you, Karen. Always ready to charge ahead. Alright, let's see what we can rustle up for that Irish fool of yours. " She stood up, brushing off her trousers. " Knowing Sean, he'd probably be happy with a bottle cap if it came from you. "

The two women set off, scanning the ranch for anything that might serve as a makeshift engagement token. After coming up empty handed something dawned on Sadie and her eyes lit up. " Hold on a minute, come with me. " She said, while leading Karen to her room. Once inside Sadie reached for something tucked away in her bedside table drawer. She pulled out a small wooden box, its surface worn smooth by time. Opening it carefully, she revealed a simple silver band inside. " This was Jake's father's ring, " Sadie explained, her voice soft with memory. " Jake always meant to wear it, but his fingers were too big. Maybe it's meant for Sean. "

Sadie moved over to Karen. " And before you even say you can’t take this… " She pressed the ring into Karen's palm. " It's been sitting here gathering dust. Jake would've wanted it to be used for something good, something that brings happiness. He would want you to have it and I want you to have it. The ring or gift isn't going to mean as much to him as what you say to say does. So keep that in mind. And if you find something else between now an then, give him both. "

Karen's mouth was agape when the ring was given to her. It was truly an honor to be blessed with a gift bestowed with such memories. She didn't feel worthy! But clearly she was, otherwise, Sadie wouldn't have gone through the trouble with helping her.

"My goodness, Mrs. Adler," she said in a teary voice. "I… I don't know what to say…!"

She sniffled, hating how emotional she quickly became. Karen was normally one of the toughest of the gals, but when it came to situations closest to the heart she was quick to fall apart when nobody was looking, or beer was involved--mostly the latter. Sadie's words struck deep in Karen's heart, that she swiftly gave the other woman a fierce hug, even patting her on the back.

"Oh, thank you so much, it means the world to me!"

After a couple more sniffles, Karen sighed heavily, and pulled away. She used the back of her hand to dab away her eyes. After clearing her throat, she said, "Now, I'm going to put this ring in a safe place. I'll plan on how and when to propose to that silly boy. I promise it's gonna be soon, so ya'll won't be waitin' long to hear an announcement from us!"

Karen smiled at Sadie, waved, before she turned around and dashed off to head back to finish the rest of her chores.