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kedsandtubesocks · 6 months ago

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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.

#again I blame baseball season and the recent dodgers game so here we are lol #but seriously thank you so much if you take the time to read me and pitcher Joel think you’re a home run #pitcher!Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #baseball player!joel #joel miller fic #pedrostories #Joel 🤎

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hsficrecommendation · 1 year ago

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Hello Everyone! This is masterlist #4 (June of 2023!) for the all fics I have reblogged on this side blog I hold super close to me. Remember to leave feedback and reblog all the writings below!

Also, a huge thank you to all the writers mentioned, I adore you so very much and I hope you keep writing for yourselves <3

••• JUNE •••

Valentine's Day | Y/N receives a special candy gram on Valentine’s Day. - @nationalharryleague

French Fries | Harry kept glancing at her as he drove. “M’sorry about our date,” he whispered. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” she shrugged and reached over to squeeze his arm while he held the steering wheel. “I had a lovely time.” - @1d1195

Shy | Close | Motherly Love | Don't Leave Me | Mother's Day | ♡ When Harry runs into a perfect stranger at a supermarket, he doesn’t know what to expect. After having been single for over a year and raising Amelia without a mother, dating somebody new feels impossible… that is, until she wins over the heart of his daughter. - @harry-writings

Vogue Beauty Secrets | Actress!Y/N does the Vogue Beauty Secrets video, and Harry decides to help. - @astranva

Gonna be Better in the Morning | Jeff and reader get into a fight and Harry takes Jeff's side. (As always, there is a happy ending with lots of comforts) - @harryhoney-bee

Work of Art | A cute little fluffy artist!Harry piece with a hint of angst! - @nationalharryleague

Update | The Best Present | Harry falls for a mysterious girl from YouTube. - @watchmegetobsessed

When The Levee Breaks | You're a waitress and Harry is being stood up. - @songbirdstyles

Playball | ♡ The reader owns a bakery and hates baseball, but what happens when her town’s bigshot MLB player walks into her bakery and she finds herself catching feelings unaware of his occupation? - @writingsbymarie

The Con Artist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | ♡ You're a wanted criminal and when Harry Styles, the detective on the case, finally catches up to you- he finds it difficult to resist your charms. - @gurugirl

Baby Steps | You’re Harry’s son's therapist, and he isn’t the only one you end up helping. - @enthusiasticharry

Mute | ♡♡ Where Harry doesn’t talk and falls in love with Y/n. - @harry-writings

Score and Smash | In which their university holds an annual boy vs girl football match, the highly anticipated game of the year has arrived and Harry and Y/N hate each other just as equally until Y/N is under Harry.

Quid Pro Quo | Another lawyer!Harry. Technically six years before this piece. Enemies to lovers with plenty of angst! - @talesofstyles

Six Months (Part 23) | ♡ Layla desperately needs a vacation and her Aunt and Uncle come to her rescue. So, at twenty two, she packs her bag and jets off to America. Harry took a break from education and is now a full fledged content creator on OnlyFans. At twenty, he makes more money than almost all of his friends. What ensues when these two meet and realise the windows in their rooms face each other? How will paper airplanes bring them closer together? - @fishnets-fingers

2022 : Masterlist #1 , #2 , #3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. 2023 : Masterlist #1, 2, 3 (June masterlist would be continued in the next list!)

My official writing account in case you'd like to check out my fics too: @0oolookitsme :)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fic rec #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic recommendation #fic rec #harry styles fan fic #harry styles au #harry styles concept

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jayphoenic · 1 year ago

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MLB Alya Cesaire Salt Prompts/Fics Recommendations

A Bakers Daughter by @ladyanput

This doesn't actually have a title

“You’re not walking away from this, Marinette! If you need harrassing Lila like this, you’ll get arrested! Get it in your head! Adrien doesn’t want you! He would never want a baker’s daughter, someone so useless and uninspiring! You’ll never reach great heights, Lila does! Lila has more talent grace in one pinky, than you have in your entire being! You’ll always be a nobody and you need to learn to deal with that.”

All This After a Monkey Tries to Steal Marinette’s Purse by @cornholio4

“Dad, I can explain…” Alya replied while trying to think of an explanation that sounded somewhat believable.

“I sent Marinette to our house to wait for either of us, I want you home within half an hour to take over for the babysitting duties that you were supposed to be doing anyway! I will try and be home shortly to have a talk with you!” Otis told him sternly and Alya looked down sadly having to tell Nino and Adrien that she has to get home with them looking concerned.

FACT CHECK by @spooky-z

“Marinette, aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Act like nothing is wrong. I didn’t know you could be that cold and calculating.” She caught everyone’s attention again, especially Marinette.

Marinette sighed, her elbow resting on the table, she laid her head on her palm. There was an air of boredom around her. Chloe, Sabrina and Nathaniel with unimpressed looks on their faces.

New York Special Salt: Confrontation by @nobodyfamousposts

Adrien was shaking at this point, but forcing himself to remain steady.

“You both knew Marinette liked me. Fine. Sure. Apparently she was having trouble telling me this. That’s okay. You knew she felt this way and was having trouble telling me. I get that.”

He glared.

“What I don’t get is why it was necessary to go THIS far instead of just TELLING me what was going on yourselves?!”

Exposed by @miraculousbelladonna

She is still absolutely going to have words with her bestie later, but she doesn’t think twice about posting the life changing video onto her blog.

All she’s thinking about is how it’s so cool that she’s the one who found Ladybugs identity. It’s so cool that she’s the one who’s revealing it. It’s so cool that her best friend, Marinette, is Ladybug. Her views are going to go through the roof. Television channels are going to be talking about this, they’re going to be calling her and asking to use her footage.

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something-tofightfor · 1 month ago

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On Deck Part 5: Ahead In The Count

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Female Reader Baseball AU

Word Count: 10,857

Rating: NSFW. This is a smut - and a lot of it.

Summary: Once at Jack's place, the two of you clear up a few things about what's going on between you - and to your surprise, it's him leading the conversation. Later, it's Jack that caves first, much to your surprise.

Days later, Jack makes you an offer that you're not expecting - and couldn't possibly refuse.

Author’s notes:

HAPPY MLB POSTSEASON MY TEAM IS CURRENTLY IN THE MIDDLE OF FIGHTING FOR THEIR LIVES IN AN ELIMINATION GAME.

This chapter is a true shift for Jack/Reader, even if neither of them are ready to admit it. I absolutely love writing for these two, and the very very end of this is one of the first scenes I pictured while coming up with this story - even back before I wrote any of the "extras".

(On Deck universe masterlist for all the extras!)

While there are a lot of baseball references within this story, you only need to know the basics to enjoy it and understand what's going on - we're not getting overly technical here.

As always, if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out. Thank you so much for being patient with me; I promise updates on this will be coming more regularly.

“Ahead in the count” can be used to describe either a pitcher or a batter, depending on the situation. This term refers to the number of balls and strikes accumulated during a plate appearance. The player that is ahead in the count has the advantage during that at bat - but the description is fluid, and advantage can change pitch by pitch.

The nerves didn’t set in until you parked your car in his driveway, but the longer you looked at Jack’s townhome, the more you realized that your worries were unfounded. It’s just Jack.

There was a light on over the front porch, well-tended bushes and even a few flowers near the door, which gave it a lived-in look. He told me it was nothing special, but I still didn’t expect normal. That thought got you out of the car, your bag slung over one shoulder, but the moment you stepped into the light on his porch and caught a glimpse of the bright yellow material you were wearing, you were nervous all over again.

You contemplated taking it off before ringing the bell, but Jack didn’t give you the opportunity - as you raised your hand to push the button, you saw the knob twist.

He didn’t speak as the door swung open, but at the look in his eyes - and the way his grin widened - the tension you felt eased again. I like it when he looks at me like that. “You going to make me stand on your porch all night, or actually invite me in?”

Jack took a few more seconds to stare at you and then reached for you with one hand, waiting until you took it to clear his throat. “I want you to c’mon inside, darlin’.” Warmth filled you at that admission, and when you finally stepped over the entryway and into his home, it lingered.

You wanted to look around but didn’t want to seem nosy, though you didn’t think he would have been upset if you took a peek. Maybe later. “I was surprised to hear from you tonight.” Your fingers were still linked, Jack’s thumb circling over your knuckle. “I figured you’d want to celebrate with the team.”

“Nah.” He pulled you closer, his other hand sliding under one side of your jersey and settling against your hip. “We already did that on the field.” He eyed you again, his gaze sliding downward and then back up, smile never faltering. “Looks much better on you than it did on me.”

“Bullshit.” Your voice was quiet, heart pounding as you tried to convince yourself not to make the first move and appear desperate. “You look handsome as hell out there and you know it, Whiskey.”

That was all it took. Jack tilted his head and leaned in, giving you ample time to stop him. When you didn’t, he kissed you, his grip on your hip tightening at the same time he let go of your hand and brought his to the side of your head, holding you in place.

His mustache tickled your upper lip, but before you could worry too much about it, the kiss ended, Jack clearing his throat as he straightened up. “Y’know, I’m not sure I should have done that.” Your face fell, and Jack noticed immediately, the man muttering your name and pulling you even closer. “Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t ask you if you wanted me to.”

“Jack, I came to your place in the middle of the night, I think that implies that -”

“It doesn’t.” He let go of your hip, sliding his hand around to your lower back while the other one moved over your shoulder and then down your arm. “It tells me you wanted to see me, and nothing else.” It didn’t surprise you that Jack was confirming what you’d hoped to be true about him.

Instead, it made you want him more, your thoughts racing as you tried to reconcile what he was saying with what you thought you knew about him. “I did want to see you.” Biting your lip, you sighed out a long breath. “And I definitely wanted to kiss you.” But. “But I don’t want to read too much into this, Jack. Tonight was really fucking overwhelming and I’m still trying to play catch up.”

“How’d you like the suite?” He grinned then, the expression somewhat cocky. “Nice surprise?”

“Too nice, honestly.” You rested your hands on his hips, realizing for the first time that Jack was already changed for bed - and that he was wearing sweats that hung low on his hips. This man is going to be the end of me. “It was great. The food was amazing and the privacy was perfect. Not having to share a bathroom is -“

“And the view?” He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. “You were right up close to the action.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You frowned, pretending to think. “I guess that was pretty cool, too.” Humming briefly, you finally nodded. “Your teammate? Number 11? His ass looked fuc-“

“I can’t believe you.” He groaned, but you saw the smile he attempted to hide, Jack once again closing the distance between you. “Woundin’ a man’s pride on the day he comes back and …” He trailed off when your mouths met, the kiss brief. “Guess I’ll have to step it up next time since that didn’t impress you.”

He was teasing - and you knew it - but when he backed away, you were struck with panic. What if he thinks I mean it? “Tonight was perfect, Jack.” Closing your eyes, you nodded. “You have nothing to step up. I have no idea how you’d even manage to do that.”

“I can think of a few ways.” He hooked two fingers into your belt loops and tugged, urging you forward. “But since I am a gentleman, I’ll offer you something to drink first.”

“I … actually, yeah.” You bit your lip, nodding. “That would be great.” He seemed surprised but didn’t miss a beat, grinning before he pulled his hands away and turned so that his back was to you.

“Kitchen’s this way.” You followed him down the hallway and into the room. When he flipped the switch on, bathing it in warm light, you inhaled sharply, eyes going wide. “What’s that noise for?”

“I figured this would be a typical bachelor kitchen, not …” You looked around, stopping near the end of the kitchen island and putting your bag down on top of it. “Not look like you actually use it.”

“Oh, I use it.” He looked over his shoulder at you, one hand on the fridge’s handle. “I love to cook. Don’t have as much time for dinner during the season, but …” He opened the door. “I make myself breakfast every morning.” The idea of Jack in the kitchen - and cooking for himself - sent a wave of warmth through you. Another thing I got wrong. “What do you want? I had groceries delivered yesterday but because I’m outta here Sunday, there’s not much. Juice, water, coffee…” He rustled around. “There’s a couple beers, some whiskey.”

“I had a few drinks at the game, so if I’m driving, I probably shouldn’t have another.” You sighed, leaning back against the counter. “Water is alright.”

“Why would you have to drive?” He stood up, two beers in his hands. “I’m not gonna kick you out.” You hadn’t even considered that Jack would want you to stay, even though he’d tried to reassure you the previous time that leaving wasn’t his typical behavior. “So if you want a beer, please have one.”

“I…” Keeping your eyes on him, you made your decision. “OK.”

He opened both bottles swiftly and then made his way to where you stood, handing one over. “No way in Hell I’d expect you to leave in the middle of the night.”

“I just didn’t want to assume.” You took a drink, waiting until Jack did the same. “I overthink shit like this, Jack. Especially since I’m not quite sure what this is or why I’m here.”

“What do you mean?” He frowned, but the expression was more confused than upset. “This?” You hadn’t planned on bringing it up, because you didn’t want to be that woman, but you figured that being clear with him was the best possible call.

“Not this as in “what are we” because that’s ridiculous, but more like …” You took a sip and then shook your head. “More like …if I hear from you when you’re in town, am I allowed to look forward to seeing you? Can I assume that we’re friends, or that I can kiss you hello? ” He took a swig of his beer, eyeing you, but Jack stayed silent. “Because the sex was great, Jack, and if going straight for that’s what you’re looking for when you reach out, I’m into it. But I’d be lying if I told you that I didn’t think we get along well, and that I like the way we greeted each other when I got here.”

“You’re really standing here and askin’ me if …” He set the bottle down and shook his head, moving closer to you. “Darlin’ you can kiss me any damn time you want to when we’re together.” What? He paused, rolling his eyes. “Any time I’m not in uniform, I mean.” Jack laughed, reaching out to grip the counter’s edge on either side of your hips, but then he tilted his head to the side, staring at you. “Can’t just be leanin’ into the crowd and kissin’ people in the stands in front of all those kids, can I?”

“No, I guess you can’t.” You bit your lip, putting your bottle down next to his before reaching up with both arms to wind them around his neck. “But there’s no kids here right now.”

“You’re damn right.” He mumbled the words before your mouths met, and you could feel that he was still smiling, even through the kiss. He rocked his hips against yours as he nipped at your bottom lip, the edges of his teeth catching the plush of it, and when Jack straightened up, the smile was still there. “And to answer the ridiculous question that you never asked, this is …” He shook his head, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. “I don’t know what this is yet, or what it might end up being. But I do know that I like spendin’ time with you. And I also know that even if you hadn’t invited me back to your place last week, I still would have wanted you in that suite and over here with me tonight .”

“Jack, wh-”

“So yeah, you can kiss me when you want to. And we can have sex if that’s alright with you, because I definitely want to. But I need you to know that no, that’s not all that’s gonna be on my mind every time you hear from me.”

It was almost too good to be true.

Jack was basically telling you that he was interested in you - even with the physical aspect of your relationship removed. It was entirely possible that he was playing a game - saying the right things and what he thought you wanted to hear to keep you close. But that doesn’t match up with what he’s done before. That isn’t…

“I like spending time with you too, Jack.” Moving one hand to his cheek, you dragged your thumb over it slowly. “And I know that you won’t have a lot of time for the next month and a half, so I don’t expect…” You trailed off when he moved one hand from the counter to your hip, pushing it beneath the jersey and curling his fingers against the denim of your shorts. “I don’t expect anything.”

“Good.” He smiled, his dimple deepening. “Means I can’t disappoint you then.” You laughed, tilting your head back - and Jack used that to his advantage, leaning in and ducking his head so that he could kiss your neck. The laugh cut off, turning into a quiet moan, and the hand on his face slipped back and into his hair, your fingers tangling in his locks.

He didn’t stop you, continuing to kiss his way across your throat and then down, the touch of his lips sending a shiver through you. “Jack, wait.” You forced the words out, and then exhaled, your breath shaky. “Hold on a second.”

He backed off, confusion on his face. “What’s goin’ on? You alright?”

“Yeah.” You pulled your hands away and then used both of them to support you as you climbed up to sit on the counter, tipping your head to the side as you widened the spread of your legs. “I just figured you could get closer this way.” He grinned at you, both of Jack’s hands back on your hips as he stepped forward and between your knees.

He urged you forward, guiding your hips to the edge of the countertop - and when you wrapped your legs around his waist, Jack encircled you with his arms, eliminating all of the remaining distance between you.

He kissed you hungrily, and you could feel how much he wanted you - Jack’s desire pressed against your core with only a few thin layers of clothing in the way. It backed up what you’d been talking about, and what he’d said to you, and when you pulled on Jack’s hair and he groaned into your mouth, it was you that smiled against his lips, your legs tightening against the backs of his thighs.

You shifted and then jerked away from Jack with a gasp as one of the beer bottles fell over and rolled into the sink, but he didn’t let you go far. “Jack, it spilled on the -”

“Don’t care.” He kissed you again, shaking his head. “It’s fine.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing it fell over.” You combed through his hair, taking a deep breath. “Otherwise we would have gotten a little carried away here, and since you cook on this counter, I don’t want to …” He laughed, rolling his eyes. “What?”

“You want my opinion? We didn’t get carried away enough on this counter.” That made you laugh, too, but you stopped abruptly at the feeling of Jack’s palm sliding over the top of your bare thigh. His eyes dropped to follow the movement, and yours did, too.

You liked the way his hand touching you looked. You liked the way it felt, too, the tips of his fingers pushing beneath the bottom hem of your shorts and his thumb curling against the inside of your thigh. He squeezed gently, and then said your name, his voice quiet. “Hmm? I’m sorry, I was just distracted.”

“D’you want to move this to my bedroom?” His other hand dropped to your opposite leg. “Protect the integrity of my counter an’ all that?”

That made you laugh, but you nodded without pause. I want that very much. He stepped back, giving you space, and you bit your lip at the sight of his tented sweats, Jack reaching down with one hand to adjust himself through the material. I did that. “Um.” Hopping off of the counter, you gripped the back of your neck. “Do you have a charger down here? My phone’s low, and I -”

“You can plug it in upstairs.” He let out a breath. “I’ll show you.” Jack held out a hand and you took it, letting him lead you forward and out of the kitchen. You picked up your bag on the way, holding onto it with the hand that wasn’t linked with Jack’s.

It was a big deal - he’d told you that he didn’t want any photos or videos of your time together, and yet he was encouraging you to bring the phone with you up and into his bedroom. I’d never take pictures here, though. That’d be an asshole move.

He flipped the light on and then urged you through the doorway. “I’m not sure what you were hoping for, but … here it is.”

You laughed when your eyes landed on the laundry baskets, lowering your head as your fingers tightened against his. “You’ve only been home for two days, how do you have so much laundry?”

“Some’s from last weekend.” He squeezed your hand and then let go. “I’ll throw a load in tomorrow. But if you’re gonna give me shit about the laundry, you can go right back down and out the -”

“No.” You held up your hand. “I’ll stop. But fuck, Jack. I kinda thought you were kidding the other night.”

“Hell no.” He turned to face you, lifting one hand to point at the dresser over your shoulder. “Cord’s over there.” You turned away from him and dug into your bag, pulling out the device and checking to see if the volume was off. After you’d connected the charge cable, you flipped it face down and then set it atop the dresser, putting your bag beside it. Ok. Now it’s just … us.

When you turned to face him again, you saw that Jack was sitting on the end of his bed, knees spread and both feet planted on the floor. “How’s your arm feel?” Stepping forward, you let your arms hang by your sides. “I know I need to be careful, but -”

“Feels good.” He reached out, his hands finding the edges of the jersey’s front and pulling you closer. “Ginger gave me the all clear, and I trust her.” You nodded, biting your lip and reaching out to run your fingers through his hair.

“You want to help me out here, Jack? As much as I like wearing this, I think I’d like to have you take it off of me more.” The neutral expression on his face slowly turned into a sly smile, but instead of Jack easing the material from your body, he pulled his hands back - and then raised them above his head. Wait, what?

“Jack?” You caught the slight hitch in his arm, but chose to ignore it, instead staring into his eyes. “You -”

“You gonna keep me waiting, darlin’?” He winked, poking his tongue into his cheek briefly. “I hope not.” You didn’t want to. Without any further delay, you bent forward enough so that you could grab the shirt and ease it up over his torso.

Every inch of his bared torso was like a gift, and even after the conversation you’d had in his kitchen, you reminded yourself to take note of what you were seeing - to drink in the sight of his tanned skin and freckles, of the way the trail of dark hair disappeared beneath his waistband, of just how broad his upper body was.

His eyes were bright when you removed the shirt entirely, and before you could even let it fall to the floor, his hands were back on you and pushing the heavy material over your arms. “Wait, Jack, don’t let it fall onto the floor!” He mumbled something about how it didn’t matter, and even though you disagreed, you let him remove it, leaving you in your sleeveless shirt and shorts. “If you say so.” You muttered the words, following the way Jack’s gaze moved over your body, his hands going back to your hips. “You’re a real charmer.”

“I know.” He moved one hand in, using two fingers to unbutton your shorts. “Heard that once or twice before.” You stiffened, but Jack shook his head slowly. “Not from who you’re thinkin’ either.” He slid the denim down and over your thighs, his head tilted downward to watch what he was doing. “My teachers.” He sighed, the man’s knuckles against your skin making you shiver. “My Momma.” They fell to the floor and you kicked them to the side, taking a deep breath as Jack looked back up at you. “Janie.”

“Oh, Jack.” Lifting a hand, you covered your mouth with it. He brought her up. It wasn’t me. “I didn’t -”

“No, it’s alright.” He stood, winding both arms around you and pulling you close. “Must be the truth then.” The fact that he’d so brazenly brought up the other woman while you were both in various states of undress was a shock to you - as was the fact that he was comparing the two of you. But it’s not like that. We just talked about this.

“I’m in good company then.” Pressing your palm to his chest, you locked eyes with him. “And hell yeah it’s true, because you literally just charmed my pants off, so…” You weren’t expecting him to laugh. And you also weren’t expecting him to walk you backwards until your back hit the wall, your lips parting in surprise as you sucked in a breath at the contact. “Jack.”

That was all he let you say before his mouth met yours, the kiss hard. You tilted your head and dropped your hands to his hips, the waistband of his sweats bunched against your palms as the bulge beneath them pressed against your thigh again.

When Jack slipped his tongue into your mouth, he accompanied that with a roll of his hips - which you answered with a moan. Being so near him was overwhelming, and when your thoughts wandered they didn’t go far, lingering on the fact that you wanted to touch more of him. I don’t want to stop touching him.

One of your hands slid between his pants and skin, fingertips following the curve of his ass before you squeezed. It was small but firm, and at your touch, Jack groaned, teeth grazing the fullest part of your lower lip. He broke away a few seconds later, kissing his way over your cheek and toward your ear.

Once there, he paused, turning his head enough so that he could press his cheek against yours. What is he doing? “Get in bed.” He spoke slowly, voice quiet. “No reason to rush tonight, so I’m going to take my time with you.”

—

When the two of you separated some time later, you couldn’t tell which of you was breathing harder.

Jack rolled onto his back and brought one hand up to rub at the space between his eyebrows, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You laid on your side, facing him, and didn’t speak - instead letting yourself stare as he tried to catch his breath.

Unlike the first night you’d been together, both of you had approached things with some restraint. He’d kissed his way across your upper chest and then moved down, mouthing against your breasts and belly before peering up and cocking an eyebrow in question.

When you’d asked if his rule was still in place and he’d said yes, you shook your head, hoping that your expression didn’t betray how much you wanted to give him a different answer. He’d been surprised but nodded in agreement, lowering his head and then making his way back up your body to kiss you soundly.

You hadn’t been facing away from him that time, but you also hadn’t quite been in charge like he’d promised. It didn’t bother you, though, especially when Jack slid into you without breaking eye contact and you got to watch the way his eyes flashed, his lips parting in a quiet grunt.

And it bothered you even less when Jack lowered his head to speak into your ear - telling you that he needed to feel you come, that he wanted to make you feel good, that all you had to do was give it to him.

So you did - pulling on his hair and crying out, lips not far from his ear when your body reached its peak and you shuddered beneath him. The sound turned into a low moan of his name, and then Jack came, too, the man stilling inside you briefly before he resumed the thrusts of his hips.

“I still feel like that was real quick.” He sighed, turning his head toward you. “Feel like I could have gone longer.” He narrowed his eyes and wet his lips, one hand resting against his stomach. “Feel like I should have gone longer.”

“Nah.” Scooting closer, you grinned at him. “Makes me feel better about myself if it’s not taking long.” He smiled at that, but stayed quiet. “Are you sure you want me to stay? It’s not that late, and I live close.”

“Yes.” He said your name, and then frowned briefly. “Stay.” You eyed each other for a few seconds, and when you nodded in agreement, he visibly relaxed, both eyes closing. “You can use the bathroom in here, I’ll go out into the hallway.”

He got out of bed before you could say anything, reaching down to grab his sweats and then heading for the door. You watched him go - focused on the way his toned thighs looked in the moonlight, and when he was gone, you rolled forward, pressing your face to his pillow and opening your mouth in a silent scream. I want to stay but I don’t know if it’s a good idea.

You decided that you needed to clean yourself up before you made any decisions, and so you sat up and then got out of the bed, bending over to grab the jersey before striding the few paces into the bathroom.

Once the door was shut behind you, you let out a whoosh of breath and hung your head, fingers gripping the edge of the sink. Shit. You didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, but the night was going well. Your friendship with Jack was leaping forward, and if nothing else, you were sexually compatible. Very much so.

Turning the water on, you eyed the countertop and sucked in a breath at the sight of the rectangular jewelry tray next to the sink. His chain. And the pendant. You’d seen it countless times before in pictures and on TV, and even though you knew it wasn’t yours to touch, you reached for it.

Lifting the jewelry and letting it rest against your palm, you traced over the smooth surface with your other thumb, lips curving up and into a smile. He’d worn it for years and considered it a good luck charm, so the fact that he didn’t have it on at home was a surprise to you. But maybe it’s just a baseball thing. Maybe it’s just one of those superstitions.

With one final smile, you set it down and then returned to the task of cleaning yourself up. It didn’t take too long, but by the time you pulled Jack’s jersey back over your shoulders, you were calmer. I’ve stayed over with hookups before. This is no different. Eyeing yourself in the mirror while you rinsed your mouth out with mouthwash, you smirked at the way the open front hid just enough, and the length of the hem in the back covered your curves.

But when you stepped back into the bedroom, Jack was already there, too, standing with his bare back to you and looking out the window. “Find everything alright?”

“I did.” Biting your lip, you moved closer to where he stood, crossing your arms. “Hope you don’t mind, but I picked up your -”

He spun to face you and you watched the man’s expression change - his eyes going wide before they raked over you, lingering on the strip of skin visible on your torso. “Well goddamn.” He breathed the words out, taking a step forward. “Look at you.”

You wondered if it was something that he’d known was a turn on - and if some small part of him had hoped that the night would end with you in his bedroom wearing only a piece of his baseball uniform. Even if he didn’t, it’s happening now. “That’s how I feel when I see you on the field, Jack.” You moved closer, cocking your head to the side. “So I’m glad you …”

You sucked in a breath as he moved away from the window and toward you, the look in his eyes unreadable. But he’s focused. He’s focused and he … oh. Jack’s kiss was hard, his lips crashing into yours as his hands found their way to your hips again before they slid down and curved to your body. He squeezed, pulling you closer, and you moaned into his mouth, the fingers of one hand resting on the back of his neck and the other gripping his bicep, his skin almost hot to the touch.

Jack kissed you soundly, hands remaining in place until he broke away for air. “You’re drivin’ me wild, darlin’.” His voice was hoarse, Jack clearing his throat before he leaned closer and rested his forehead against yours. “I need know what you taste like.” You trembled at the words - and at the tone he used to speak them. “Please.”

“No.” It almost hurt to deny him, but you forced it out, shaking your head. “It’s not fair if I let you, because -”

“Fuck the rule.” He groaned again, one of his hands sliding inward so that he could curl his fingers against the inside of your thigh. “It’s a stupid ass rule anyway, and -”

“Wait, are you serious?” You leaned back, narrowing your eyes. “Jack, I don’t…” Your heart was pounding, but he didn’t flinch, the man’s head moving up and down as he nodded slowly. He means it. “Ok.” Swallowing hard, you locked eyes with him. “Where do you want me?”

“Bed.” He smirked at you, jerking his head to the side. “Easier on my knees.” It shouldn’t have made you laugh, but it did, and you caught the roll of his eyes before he let go of you and turned back toward the mattress.

“You’re not just saying this, right?” You moved to stand behind him, putting your hand against his back. “You’re not just trying to get me to let you -”

“Hell no.” He turned slowly, lifting both hands to frame your face. “I promise.” He hadn’t given you any reason not to trust him, and so you nodded, turning your head enough so that you could kiss one of his thumbs. “Now get back into my bed.” He curled his fingers briefly and then let you go. “And get comfortable.”

Your heart was pounding, but you did as he requested, bouncing gently against the mattress with each motion as you scooted backwards. Jack stood at the foot of it, just watching, and even though the room was dark, you could see the bulge beneath the sweats again, straining against the material. He hasn’t even touched me, that’s … impressive.

Leaning back against the pillows, you took a deep breath and then opened your mouth to speak - but Jack didn’t let you.

Instead, he climbed in with you, kneeling at your feet before using both hands to ease your legs apart enough for him to move between them. He touched you gently, working his way up your legs with both hands, thumbs circling over your skin - and even when he lowered his head for the first time to press a kiss to your calf, you couldn’t look away.

He was methodical without being slow, Jack’s lips moving over your skin with patience and determination. He lingered near your knees, urging you to bend one leg, and then pressed a kiss there, sucking your skin between his lips briefly before he released it and continued his journey up your body.

The closer he got to your center, the more uneven your breathing became, but Jack gave nothing away. His large hands caressed your skin, fingertips curled over and around your thighs - and then Jack lifted his head, meeting your gaze without blinking.

“You doin’ alright?” His voice was lower than usual, and though it didn’t catch, you heard the desire in it, watching as he wet his lips and then glanced down before saying your name. “You’ve gotta tell me.”

“I… yes.” You nodded twice, reaching down with one hand to run your fingers through his hair. “Better than alright. I’ve … been thinking about this, and -”

“Me too.” He turned his head to the side, dragging his nose along the inside of your thigh. “More than I should be.” You didn’t know exactly what that meant, but you didn’t want to question it. I’ll ask later. “You want me to stop, you tell me, alright?” You nodded, still staring into his eyes. “Hook this leg,” he continued, fingers tightening. “Over my shoulder.” You did that, keeping the other foot on the mattress and grinning as you realized that he’d positioned you so that he could put more weight on his good arm while still keeping you as open as possible. Oh, Jack. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You let out another shaky breath, nodding. “Anything else?”

“Mmmhmm.” His smile widened and then Jack winked at you, taking a deep breath. “Don’t you dare try an’ keep quiet. I want to hear you.” His smile remained at your surprised inhale of breath, but Jack just lowered his head and settled his lips against the crease where your leg met your body.

He didn’t stay there long, though, turning his head inward - and when you felt his mouth move, too, you hummed out your approval and flexed your hips upward a few inches, widening the spread of your legs. He chuckled, the sound drawing your focus until you felt the drag of his tongue across your skin followed by his mouth settling into place between your legs.

You moaned at the feeling - and that spurred Jack on, lips and tongue laving over you while the fingers of one hand held tight to your hip and the others slipped over one thigh and under your body to squeeze the back of it.

You were still sensitive from earlier, but that only added to what you felt, your hips rolling against his mouth as he alternated between flicking his tongue and pursing his lips and sucking. The fingers in his hair tightened, too, and you arched your back, urging Jack even closer, the tip of his nose rubbing against you and making you shudder. But it feels so goddamn good. “Jack, pl… please. Keep going, please k-”

It broke off into a long, loud moan, and you dug your heel into the center of Jack’s back as he used both hands to pull you closer, his groan vibrating against your skin as he circled his tongue against you. He’d hardly had an opportunity to learn your body and what you liked, but he’d had no problem letting it guide him, and even through the haze of pleasure you felt, you hoped that that night wouldn’t be the last time you felt his mouth on you. Because he’s fucking good at this. He’s so fucking -

“I’m gonna come, Jack.” It took you by surprise, your admission tumbling out as the heat gathered in your belly, the fingers in his hair loosening and then releasing him before they moved to your belly and then down. You used them to touch yourself, spreading Jack’s saliva over you - and giving him the opportunity to shift his focus lower.

But he didn’t, instead chasing your fingers with his mouth and sucking the tips of them between his lips. That made you cry out again, and with one final flick of his tongue against you, you came hard, toes curling into the blankets and your head whipping to the side, mouth open in a wordless gasp.

Jack kept going, his hums and sighs those of a contented man, and when your body finally went limp you took a deep breath and cleared your throat as you touched his temple. “Jack, hey.” He lifted his head enough so that he could look at you, eyes glittering in the low light. “That was fucking great.” It took a few seconds to get the words out, but the smile he gave you in return was well worth the effort. “But come up here.”

Rising onto both elbows, you swung your leg down from his shoulder and caged his body in between them, Jack carefully repositioning his arms so that he could do as you asked. But he didn’t hurry, instead kissing his way slowly up the center of your body and using both hands to expose your skin by pushing the material to the side.

You felt him pressing against you as he moved, Jack’s hips rocking forward and trapping himself between your bodies. “Was worth it.” He mumbled the words against the swell of your chest before sucking a nipple between his lips and releasing it with a pop. “So fuckin’ worth it.” He moved up and grazed your jaw with his teeth before pressing a kiss to the hinge of it. “Not gonna last long,” he rasped into your ear, his hips thrusting against your core again. “Feel that?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, turning your head to the side and using one hand to move his to match. “I feel it, Jack.” It was you that kissed him then, alleviating his need to ask you if it was alright. And it was a deep kiss, Jack’s tongue stroking along yours as you rested one hand on his back and the other one on his hip, fingers dipping below the waistband of his pants. He moaned into your mouth, but then pulled away and looked down at you, his smile crooked.

“You gonna cash in now?”Jack’s brow rose, his tongue swiping slowly over his lower lip. “I wasn’t kiddin’, it won’t take much, and -”

You wanted to. You wanted to tell him to lay on his back and let you return the favor. You wanted to feel him swell and pulse in your hands and against your tongue, to know what he tasted like. But what if that’s not what he wants? You let out a shaky breath and then closed your eyes, sighing.

“It’s your call.” You reopened your eyes and swallowed hard, staring up at him. “That was my plan. But now …” Reaching up, you pushed his hair back from his face, smiling at the way the roots were damp and making the rest of it curl even more than usual. “You tell me what you want. That, or …” Lifting your hips to drag them against his, you saw the way his nostrils flared at the increased pressure, Jack’s jaw twitching while he waited. “Or you can make good on what you promised me the other night and let me take charge.”

“I thought you wanted to…” He frowned for a few seconds, the lines between his brows deepening as his gaze flicked down to your mouth. “Isn’t that what you wanted?

“It is.” Using your thumb, you smoothed the wrinkles at his brow, biting your lip. “But I also don’t want to be quick, y’know? You just told me it probably won’t take much to get you off, and I don’t want …” You lifted your hips, rocking them against his. “I don’t want that to be my first -”

“So I’ve got something to look forward to?” He arched a brow, the smile on his face growing. “Somethin’ to think about while I’m on the road?” You hadn’t thought of that - hadn’t even dreamed that while he was in other cities with hundreds of potential opportunities to take other women to bed, Jack would think about being back in Louisville - and back in bed with you. “This all part of your plan?”

“Yes.” You evened your expression out, hoping that you looked serious. “My master plan. You’ve got me all figured out, hmm?”

“No.” He leaned down, resting his forehead against yours and taking a deep breath. “Not yet.” You kissed him because you didn’t know how else to reply, but even that was short, because there was still a pressing matter to attend to.

“Lay on your back, Jack.” You whispered the words against his lips, nodding. “Relax.” He took your lip between his teeth and tugged, but when he released it he moved off of you and laid down, bending his arm and sliding one hand beneath his head while the other rested on his belly. You sat up, turning to reach for the condoms on the nightstand.

He took one from you wordlessly, but made no move to pull his pants down to put it on - and so you got into position, kneeling next to him and reaching for his waistband with both hands. Wait, though. Diverting one hand, you dropped it to rest against him, Jack’s hips rising to press against your palm. He grunted at the contact, and you curled your fingers around him, nodding. “Fuck.”

He was hard to the touch, and when you moved your hand slowly, stroking him through the soft fabric, you were smiling, too. “Lift your hips again.” He did, and after giving him one final squeeze, you pulled the material down carefully, chuckling when he kicked his pants all the way off. You wanted to touch him again, but Jack didn’t give you the opportunity,

Instead, he opened the foil wrapper and pulled the condom free, using one hand to steady himself while the other rolled it down and over his length. Once it was securely in place he met your eyes and gave you a nod. You could see the excitement in his, the anticipation almost tangible. Ok, here goes nothing.

You rose up, using one hand on his thigh to brace your weight as you moved to straddle his body. “You’re gonna need to tell me if I’m doing this how you like it.” Scooting up, you glanced down to watch as he adjusted his positon, lining himself up with your body. “You good?”

He nodded once and you took a deep breath, sinking down slowly and taking him in, inch by inch. He swore under his breath, his eyes closing, and you hummed at the way he filled you, widening the spread of your legs until you couldn’t take anymore. Fuck, he feels good this way.

Instead of rising up again to sink back down, you rotated your hips and then rolled them a few times, getting comfortable with the position - and letting him do the same. “I could get used to this.” You weren’t sure you’d heard him correctly at first, but when Jack moved his hands to settle them against your hips, he continued. “Seein’ you on top?”

“Oh yeah?” He nodded, eyeing you as you tried desperately to keep from giving yourself away. Is he just saying that? Is he just caught up in this? Does he mean it? “Good.”

You started moving then, up and down, letting him drag slowly through you but never moving enough that there was a chance he’d slip out. Every rise and fall of your hips gave you more confidence, thanks to the way he held you and the way you could feel the muscles in his thighs tensing in anticipation. Watching Jack’s chest rise and fall as you rode him, you wondered what was going through his head - and if he’d say anything to you about it after.

He met your movement with upward thrusts of his own, but to your surprise after only a few minutes, he moved his hands to tug on the jersey you wore, murmuring your name. “Take it off. Let me see you.” You slowed down enough that you didn’t need both hands to balance and let it slide down your arms before tossing it to the side. “Gorgeous.”

His praise gave you confidence, and when you began to truly ride him in earnest, you let yourself get lost in it - in him, and the way he felt beneath you - the way he filled you over and over again, one hand steady on your hip and the other moving over your thigh and side, occasionally squeezing as he grunted out encouragement.

“Hey.” You reached down, flattening one palm against his abdomen as you slowed your movements. “Tell me what I need to do to make -”

“Don’t wanna come yet.” He released a breath, eyes closed. “‘M enjoying this too goddamn much.” He sighed, taking another breath. “You can c’mere though.” His hands slid up your sides and then around to your back, easing your upper body down to press against his. “Like that.” You supported your weight with your forearms on the bed, fingers combing through his hair as Jack’s spread across your skin to hold you in place.

Jack kissed you softly, his lips parted enough that your lower one fit between them, but after a few seconds that changed, his grip tightening at your quiet whine and his lips parting further, tongue pushing forward and into your mouth.

He thrust upward slowly, the new angle hitting a different spot inside of you, and even though neither of you could move as much, you liked the way it felt. Too much, I think. I like it too much. Pushing backwards, you ground down onto him, the grip you had on his hair tightening. “Feels good, Jack.” Breaking the kiss, you turned your head so that your mouth was near his ear. “So fucking good.”

His lips dragged over your cheek and when you dropped your head, letting it rest against his shoulder, he pulled your hips closer, Jack’s rotating before he withdrew a few inches and paused. “So do you.” He took your earlobe between his teeth and tugged, the sharp pain making you gasp. He released it almost immediately though, and when you shot back up into a sitting position, you saw that he was grinning, his eyes bright. “You wanna make me come?”

“Yes.” Moving your hands to press against his chest, you nodded, hips moving slowly. “I do.”

“Faster.” He swallowed, reaching up to drag one thumb over your peaked nipple, your back arching in response to his touch. “Just move faster and it won’t take long at all.”

Nodding, you bit your lip and then resumed the pace you’d set before, never looking away.

—

You thought about him for days afterward, and even though you tried not to let yourself miss him, it was difficult not to.

You’d woken up to his arm curled around you the following morning, Jack’s sleep-tousled hair hanging over his eye as he’d asked you if you could stay for breakfast. And he’d cooked, the two of you moving through his kitchen together as you got plates and cups out, setting the coffee pot to brew while he stood in front of the stove with a spatula in one hand.

You hadn’t lingered long after finishing your meal, though, because you didn’t want to be that person, or overstay your welcome - and because you wanted to give him time to relax before he had to be back at the stadium.

Jack had seemed surprised, but hadn’t tried to convince you to stay. However, he had made it a point to tell you that everything he’d said the night before was true. He wanted you to reach out whenever you wanted, wanted to keep in touch with you, wanted you to feel comfortable being his friend. “It wasn’t just a line to get you back into my bed,” he’d promised, his arms around you as you said goodbye at his front door. “I’m gonna be gone for ten days starting Sunday, and it’ll be nice to hear from you while I’m on the road.”

He’d been the first one to reach out, sending a text before that night’s game to show you a pair of painted and personalized cleats he was wearing, and that had opened the floodgates.

You hadn’t seen him again before he left, but that didn’t stop you from talking to each other. The communication wasn’t overly flirty, but he seemed interested in getting to know you, one short message at a time.

As you packed on Tuesday to catch a flight from Louisville to New Orleans to meet with your client the following day, you debated over letting Jack know that you were also going to be out of town for a few days, and finally decided to do so, keeping it simple.

May not be able to answer as quickly as I have been on Wednesday and Thursday. Traveling to meet a client, and I’ll be in their office all day both days.

He didn’t respond right away, but when he did, it was with a phone call, his voice bringing a smile to your face, even through the speaker. “A client? Where do you get to go?”

“New Orleans.” You laid back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “For at least two days, maybe three, depending on exactly what they need. I’ll probably fly back home sometime Friday or Saturday so I can work Monday.” He was quiet for a few seconds and then sighed.

“You’re gonna be close, then. We’re in Texas this weekend.” You’d known that, though you hadn’t wanted to be the one to bring it up. “My parents are comin’ to the game on Thursday night. Haven’t seen them in a while, so that’ll be nice.”

“Is it far for them?” You knew where he’d grown up, but didn’t know distances between Texan cities offhand.

“Couple hours. They’re getting a hotel so we can see each other before the game Thursday and then during the day Friday before they go back, but it’s a quick trip for ‘em. I’ll be back when the season’s over, they’re just worried about my arm and my Momma wants to check on me in person.”

“How’s that feeling?” You closed your eyes, wondering if asking was overstepping. “I saw you swing last night, and it looked like you winced once or -”

“You watched the game?” He cut you off, amusement in his voice. “Didn’t you get enough of me last weekend?” Shit.

“I like baseball, Jack. You just so happened to -”

“Bullshit.” He laughed and you did, too. “But no, my arm’s fine. It was actually my lower back that bothered me last night, but me an’ Ginger worked it out between innings. It’s better today.” Good. I’m glad to hear that. “I actually have to get going, though. Team meeting at the stadium in a little while, so we’re all taking the bus over early.”

“Ok.” You sat up, fingers closing around the phone. “I hope you have a good game, Jack. And if I don’t talk to you for a little while, I -”

“Let me know you make it to New Orleans.” He said your name, clearing his throat. “And just because you’re working doesn’t mean you can’t reach out if you want to.” Jack paused. “Shit, that sounds real needy, doesn’t it?”

“Nah.” You wanted to reassure him - because you were thrilled to hear him say it. “And if you really want me to, I will. I just didn’t want to bother you while your parents are there, or while you’re -”

“You’re not bothering me.” He laughed, and even though you couldn’t see him, you had the image of him dragging his fingers through his hair in your mind, the corners of his eyes creased as he smiled. “If you were botherin’ me, I wouldn’t answer. Or call you. Or invite you over to my place in the middle of the night and spend hours in bed with you.”

“Those are all very good points.” You stood, your own smile wide at the memory of those hours. “Go to your meeting. Have a good game. I’ll let you know when I land tomorrow. I’m on an early flight so that I can work when I get there.” He agreed, and even though you knew that you wouldn’t speak to him again that night, you were still energized by the call and the outcome.

The flight the following morning was uncomplicated.

You even managed to nap for a little while on the plane, waking up to an empty seat beside you instead of Jack, like you’d been dreaming about. You waited until you were in the rideshare line to text him, sending a picture of the line of people and a message that said I’m here and I might be for a while.

He didn’t answer until you were almost at the office, and Jack’s reply of that’s a long ass line, holy shit made you laugh out loud in the car. It was nice to hear from him - and on a regular basis - but you knew that you couldn’t get used to how he responded to you, or even how frequently you spoke. Because in a couple months he’ll be back in Texas and he’ll be enjoying that.

The client you met was nowhere near as needy as you’d expected. After only an hour and a half of touring the building, you were able to nail down plans for your stay - and the work you’d be doing, signing the final contract and getting started.

And you worked quickly, both on your own and with the other employees. It led to you walking out the door at 4:05, and making the short trek back to your hotel room to decide what you wanted to do with the rest of your night. You were close enough to the French Quarter that if you’d wanted to, you could have gone out for dinner and drinks, but after taking your shoes off and sitting down on the edge of the bed, you realized just how tired you were.

I’ll take a nap, and then I’ll figure it out. Dragging yourself out of the bed, you put on your pajamas and plugged your phone in, then turned to the window and pulled the curtains all the way shut. You thought about sending a message to Jack but chose not to, instead climbing under the covers and settling in.

You woke up disoriented, groping for your phone and were stunned to see that it was almost 10 pm, and you had two missed texts and a missed call from Jack. “Shit.” Sitting up, you rubbed at your eyes, yawning. You needed to be back at the office at 8:30 am the following morning, so your options were limited - and it meant that you didn’t really have time to go out and explore.

So you ordered room service and then got in the shower while you waited. Once you were clean and redressed for bed, you turned the TV on and flipped through channels, trying to find something to watch. And when the food came, you took a few bites before you reached for your phone, reading what he’d sent to you hours earlier over again.

How’d your first day go?

You must be out and enjoying things. Hope you’re having fun.

He’d tried to call almost an hour later, right around 5 PM his time but hadn’t left a message. After a quick check, you realized that it had been just before he’d taken the field, since that night’s game had a 6:10 start. You wondered if it meant that he was worried since he hadn’t heard from you, or if it was just Jack being Jack.

It didn’t matter, though, because there was no way to know until after the game ended. And he’ll be on his way to the airport immediately, so I can’t even call him then. You ate a little more and then muttered fuck it before texting him back, fingers flying over the screen.

Went great. I’ll be able to finish tomorrow. Took a nap when I got back to my room and I just woke up. UGH. Hope you have a safe flight to Texas.

While you ate and halfway paid attention to the TV, you thought about Jack - and whatever it was that was going on between the two of you.

In the weeks since you’d known him and exchanged numbers, you’d spoken to his just as much as you’d talked to Erin, and more than some of your other friends. That didn’t track for a casual hookup, and even though Jack had assured you that you were friends, too, it still gave you pause. Because getting closer to him, and getting to know him better would make it harder when it inevitably changed between you … and you knew that he was with someone else. If I like him this much already, there’s no way around that feeling.

You were under no assumption that because he’d slept with you a few times, there wouldn’t be anyone else in his bed. It couldn’t matter to you that he’d admitted he’d be thinking of you and looking forward to what you still had to explore together while he was on the road.

Jack was Jack, and had plenty of opportunities to choose someone else to occupy his time. So, if you were going to continue what was going on between you, that was something that you had to be alright with. But am I? Can I be his friend and sleep with him and not care if he’s also sleeping with other people?

For the moment, you thought you could. For the moment, you would, because you were having fun getting to know Jack, even in the limited ways you’d had the opportunity to so far. It was a dangerous game you were playing, and you knew that you’d likely need to reevaluate things as your friendship progressed. But admitting it is the hard part.

You checked the score of the game - The Statesman were losing by one in the 8th - and then opened your laptop, spending some time going over what you’d be doing the following day. You also checked potential flights home on Friday and Saturday. There were multiple options for you, and you decided to hold off on booking until you were certain that nothing else would come up, lengthening your stay.

It was after 11:30 when you finished, and even though you’d just woken up, you decided it was time to get back to sleep, since you had to wake up early enough to get ready for work. But Jack had other plans, and his name lit up your phone’s screen just as you got comfortable in bed.

“Takin’ naps in the middle of the day?” He bypassed the greeting and went straight into questioning, his voice quiet but full of amusement. “You’re gonna be up all night now.”

“Actually, no. I’m back in bed.” You stretched, rolling onto your back and staring up at the ceiling. “I sleep really well in hotel beds for some reason, so even though I’ll probably be done with work tomorrow, I might wait to fly back home until Friday or Saturday, since I’ve got the room until -”

“You’re gonna be done tomorrow?” You heard some noise, which was likely Jack shuffling the phone from one hand to the other. “That’s quick.” You caught him up on what the scope of work was, explaining that it hadn’t been as complex as you’d imagined and he hummed while you spoke, but didn’t speak.

“Are you excited to see your parents?” You decided to ask something personal, figuring it was a good opportunity to change the focus from you to him. “And did you guys end up winning tonight? I checked and saw you were down by one.”

“We lost. Their pitching was fuckin’ great tonight. It’s fine, though. And hell yeah. They’re bringing brisket and all the fixins for all of us, so the entire team’s excited. But I haven’t seen ‘em in so long that even if they weren’t, I’d be just as happy.”

It was something else about him that you’d learned almost by accident - that his parents were still just as involved as they had been when he was young, and that their cooking was good enough that it got an entire baseball team amped up.

“You’ll have to tell me how it is.” You paused. “Take a picture, or -”

“Well, about that.” He cleared his throat and then the line went quiet for a few seconds. About what? “You could try it yourself, if you wanted to.”

“What?” Gripping the phone tighter, you sat up, eyes narrowed. “How?”

“It’s a short flight from where you are to where I’ll be, and …” He swore, and your heartbeat raced as you realized what he was suggesting. There’s no way this is happening. “And I’ve got a room all weekend for the series. You could come to the games, or just do whatever while I’m gone, but I’ve … I’ve been thinkin’ about you all week that I’ve been gone, and… I’d like you to come out.”

“Jack, that …” You wanted to say yes - wanted to scream it into the phone and the dark room, but instead you forced yourself to remain calm, taking two steadying breaths before you opened your mouth again. “You really want me to fly to Texas and spend the weekend with you?”

“Sure do.” He cleared his throat. “My parents will have my tickets tomorrow night, and then if they decide to stay Friday, they’ll have them, too, but I can still get you in no problem.” You stayed quiet, thinking, and Jack went on, his words rushed. “This was a stupid idea. I don’t know what I was thinkin’, I just figured since you were just going to go home and didn’t have any plans, I -”

“I need to look at flights home on Sunday, and see if I can aff-”

“I’ll fly you home.” He scoffed. “‘Course I will. I wouldn’t expect you to pay for somethin’ I suggested. I’d pay for you to come out here, too, if you wanted me to.” All of this for someone you’re casually sleeping with? This makes no sense. “Is this … something you’d even want? Fuck, I don’t know if I’m bein’ an asshole.”

It felt wrong to let him flounder, but to be truthful, you were stunned that he’d made the offer, especially when he would be home in the middle of the following week and could just see you then. You thought back to what you’d been considering only minutes earlier about the nature of your relationship with him, and gave yourself a few seconds to think.

It was him initiating the invitation, just like it had been him to invite you to his home. It was him making the most effort to contact you - and the repeated attempts to reach you earlier that night backed up the fact that he had been thinking of you. He wouldn’t string me along just to get laid. He doesn’t need to.

“You’re not an asshole, Jack.” Biting your lip, you reached for your laptop and opened it, navigating to Google Flights. Just to see. “I want to see you, too. I just wasn’t expecting this.”

“Neither was I.” He sighed. “Not at all.” You heard noise on the other end of the line and wondered where exactly Jack was… until again, he answered a question you didn’t ask. “We’re gonna be takin’ off soon, so if you want to sleep on it and let me know tomorrow, you can. But the offer’s open. There’s only one bed in my hotel room, but -”

“Only one bed?” You gasped, hoping that your sarcasm translated over the line. “Oh no, Jack. How would we ever figure that out?” He laughed, the sound a relief to you, and then you continued, feeling a little more settled. “There are two afternoon flights that will get me there tomorrow. There are open seats on both, and if I take my stuff with me to the office, I can go straight to the airport. I should be done by 2, and that’ll be cutting it close for the earlier flight, but …”

“So you’re going to come?” You heard his voice change, anxiousness turning into relief, and at the sound of it, you knew you’d made the right decision. “I’ll leave a note at the front desk that they can give you a key to my room, and I’ll let you know what room I’m in as soon as I check in, if that works.”

“Jack, I have no idea if I’ll be able to make the game. If the flight’s delayed, or if I get delayed, or -”

“Don’t worry about that. You’ll have a ticket waitin’, but if you can’t be there tomorrow, I’ll see you when I get back to my room afterward.” He paused, and then said your name. “I’m glad you said yes.”

“Me too.” Sighing, you covered your face with one hand and then said goodnight, telling him to enjoy his flight and get some rest.

When you hung up, you sat motionless for a few seconds, and then without pause, reached for your laptop again to begin the process of booking a plane ticket to Texas - giving yourself no time to second guess it.

---

#jack daniels #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #agent whiskey x female reader #baseball jack #jack daniels baseball au #kingsman #kingsman: tgs #kingsman the golden circle #jack daniels masterlist #pedro pascal masterlist #on deck #on deck masterlist

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verfound · 2 months ago

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FIC: "The Dorm" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list? We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

Read on Ao3

Prompt 22: Dorm

Luka wasn’t sure who was banging on his door at…seven o’clock on a Sunday morning, but he had Words for whoever the hell it was. Colorful words he had learned at entirely too young an age from the Captain that he probably shouldn’t use in polite company, but it was seven o-fucking-clock in the fucking morning on a fucking Sunday, and he wasn’t feeling very polite.

The banging continued, and Luka groaned as he scrubbed at his face. He finally reached the door and yanked it open, ready to chew out whoever the hell was on the other side.

He swore to God, if it was Dingo…

Except it wasn’t.

It was Tom.

Still wearing a flour-dusted apron and looking…kind of desperate.

What the fuck…?

“Luka!” he cried, his smile as wide as ever but filled with too much nervous energy. He looked like…well, Marinette stressing the night before a big project was due. “So glad you’re up! Can I come in?”

“…I was not up,” Luka said, numbly, as he blinked at the man. “Just because I’m ‘up’ now doesn’t mean I was ‘up’ when you…Tom. Tom. Do you realize what time it is?”

“I would have come earlier, but Sabine seemed to think you’d still be asleep,” Tom said, and a strangled laugh was startled out of Luka. And Tom HADN’T? Hadn’t he known him long enough to know better? On a SUNDAY? “Please, son. It’s important. I have a huge favor to ask you. It’s about Marinette.”

Luka was suddenly very ‘up’.

…awake!

Alert!

Not…God-fucking-dammit he needed some coffee…

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “Is Marinette all right?”

“Luka. Son,” Tom started, wringing his hands anxiously in front of him, “have you seen her dorm???”

– V –

The problem had started about a month ago, when Marinette was first looking into student housing. Technically she lived close enough to ESMOD that she could commute from her home at the bakery, but it had been important to her to live away from home while she was studying. After so many years fighting Hawkmoth, she had wanted that freedom. That independence.

Luka could understand that.

Her mother could understand that.

Her father, on the other hand…Tom had always been protective of his little girl. And that was fine, usually. He just loved her fiercely and unapologetically. It was one of the things Luka loved about him.

It was also one of the things Marinette was finding particularly…well. Smothering. At the moment. And she desperately wanted the chance to live on her own.

Student housing was usually reserved for international students or special cases, so she had had to start looking for nearby flats to share with fellow students. Juleka and Rose were moving in together and would have offered a spare room, but their own respective universities were far enough away that it made commuting just a bit trickier, and Marinette hadn’t been willing to risk exposing the Miracle Box using Kaalki for transport every day.

“You could portal your scooter,” Luka had suggested, shrugging, but she had just rolled her eyes and nudged his ribs with her elbow.

“Kaalki would throw a fit,” she insisted, “and it’s still too risky. Yeah, Hawkmoth…Gabriel’s in prison now, but the city is still tense. Gabriel had his Miraculous too long for Paris to not be. Ladybug is still needed, at least for now, and I can’t just go tossing portals all over the place. You know better, Luka.”

He did, and he usually respected and supported her decisions when it came to the Miracle Box - she was the Guardian, after all – but he was still…concerned. The places she had been looking at weren’t…well. He would rather her risk a portal and live with his sister, where he knew she’d be safe, than stay at half the places she’d looked at.

He had never really thought Paris was so…dangerous. Before.

She had eventually found a place, although it wasn’t…it didn’t…they all had concerns. To put it nicely.

“…why don’cha have her move in with you?” Dingo had asked him when she had first brought them over. Well. She had invited him, but he had been with Dingo when he’d gotten her call, and Dingo had refused to buzz off. Something about how he ‘hadn’t seen his baby girl in months, Lulu – stop hogging her!’ Or something.

“I can’t do that, Ding,” he had sighed. “She’s not…we’re not…”

He wasn’t quite sure what they were anymore. Less than what he wanted but more than what he’d ever hoped for. Asking her to move in felt like it would tip that delicate balance, but he wasn’t sure in which direction. He wasn’t sure he could live with it, if she said no.

“You barely live here,” Dingo had sniffed. “She could keep your bed warm for you while you’re on the road.”

He had said it with an impressive waggle of his eyebrows. It was almost a shame Luka had had to shove him into an alley (and a pile of overripe garbage bags tossed next to a dumpster) as they passed.

(He had resumed the argument the day before, when they’d helped Marinette move in, and had kept it up well into the night – which was part of why Luka was so cranky that Sunday morning.)

Still. The place was…fine. It was fine. For a first flat. A ‘dorm’. Her roommates were…all right. He was trusting her, and she had looked so happy as she’d showed off her room with the kinda-sorta-maybe broken window (it was just the lock, not the glass, and Luka wasn’t sure how he felt about that) that he couldn’t just…declare it a shithole and insist she find somewhere else. Somewhere like his flat, with its locking windows and running water.

“It’s a work in progress,” she had conceded when she’d seen their expressions, “but it’s home! I’ll make it work!”

Which is what led him to Sunday morning, barely awake after staying out with Dingo until entirely too late (early) Saturday Night and listening to Marinette’s father rant in his living room.

“Make it work?” Tom parroted, staring at Luka with wide eyes. Apparently he had tried to surprise her with a ‘First Day Breakfast’ – but she had still been asleep, still wiped from the day before, and he had left her coffee soaking into the welcome mat when one of her neighbors had come out of his own door and asked if Tom was the new dealer. “She’s going to make it work?! Luka, you’ve seen the place – she’s going to get herself murdered!”

“She can handle herself,” Luka had offered, even though he very much had the same concerns. Still. It was Marinette’s choice, and he was trying to respect that. “She’s going to pick up some pepper spray. She knows how to hold her keys.”

“Oh, yes, because that will make it all right when some ruffian mugs her on her way home from the library!” Tom scoffed, still fuming. He stalked over to the couch and sat down on the crates Luka used a coffee table directly across from Luka. “Luka. Son. I need you to do something for me. For Marinette.”

“Anything,” Luka said automatically, without hesitation, because of course he would. If it was for Marinette.

“I need you to ask her to move in with you,” Tom said, and Luka froze.

Well.

He almost froze.

He was pretty sure his eyes bugged out and his mouth dropped open. Then he froze.

“She will, Luka. If you ask. I’ve already tried to convince her – Dingo’s already tried,” Tom said, shaking his head. And Luka was surprised by that, because Dingo hadn’t said anything and…he actually hadn’t realized Tom knew who Dingo was. He hadn’t thought they’d met. There must have been some kind of look on his face, because Tom rolled his eyes and smiled at him. “It was adorable that he thought letting his hair down and removing the shades would fool us. I give him points for trying, though.”

“…I don’t think I want to know,” Luka sighed, shaking his head. “Look. Tom. I can’t –”

“You can, Luka,” Tom said, frowning. “She’ll say yes. If it’s you. If you ask. She won’t ask you herself – believe me, I’ve tried to convince her to – but if you ask her…”

“…you told her to ask me?” he asked, sitting up a bit straighter and blinking at him. “You…you’d be ok with it? Her living here? Us living…together?”

“Luka,” Tom said, giving him a Look that Luka was ninety percent sure was supposed to mean something, but he was still a little too caught up on Tom’s fine with us living together to pick up on it. “Son. Please.”

He pushed something into Luka’s hand, and he looked down to see it was his phone. He had forgotten he had left it on the coffee table the night…earlier that morning. There were a few notifications on the screen – from Marinette, he saw, from the night before. Quickly reading through them, he noted they all sounded too…falsely cheerful to be really convincing.

“She hasn’t even unpacked yet, Luka,” Tom said. “We could have her settled in by this afternoon. I’ll close the bakery, and we’ll use the van.”

…his building didn’t have rats.

It would be nice to spend more time with Sass again.

It would be really nice, having all that extra time with Marinette…

Juleka had never complained about having him as a bunkmate, either – well. Nothing too serious, at least, and he didn’t loiter in the stairwell selling questionable substances. Most of her complaints stemmed from being his sister.

“…go get the van,” he sighed, massaging his temples. “I’ll call her.”

When he showed up at her door fifteen minutes later – without calling, because it had gone straight to voicemail (like his would have, if she had tried calling him at seven o’clock on a fucking Sunday morning) – she was already up. He had an entire speech about how he had a spare room within a reasonable walking distance to her school and the bakery and how important things like dependable plumbing and pest control are and the dangers of questionable doo-wop groups prepared, but when she flung the door open and stood there, panting, with…a kitchen knife held in her hand like she was ready to attack someone?

What the shit?

But she stood there, knife in hand and a look of terrified panic on her face, and he’d barely gotten her name out – never mind his speech – before she threw the knife behind her and flung her arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly as she started sobbing.

“Please, Luka, I can’t stay here there are rats bigger than Sass please let me live with you,” she gasped in a rush. Her ‘roommate’ – the stoner with the septum piercing that had called Marinette by a different name every time he’d been over – was sitting on the couch behind them, and she rolled her eyes before turning back to the television and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘pussy’ in their direction. “I swear the unit the landlord showed me wasn’t this bad, and it was so cheap, but I never thought…I didn’t want to overstep, but I hate this place, and I haven’t even been here a whole day but the shower was brown, Luka, and I didn’t sleep because of the screaming and the rat –”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” he said, rubbing her back. “Mari. It’s ok. I wanted to ask, but you…it’s ok. Tom’s getting the van. We’ll have you out before noon. It’s ok.”

She was still crying when she looked up at him, but there was a hesitant smile on her face that was enough to break his heart. He brushed her bangs back and kissed her forehead, and when she sucked in a breath and her hand fisted in his shirt…it was a little too easy, when he started to pull away and saw how wide and blue her eyes were, staring up at him like that…her hand twisted in his shirt to pull him closer, and he wasn’t kissing her forehead that time.

“…come on,” he said, his voice soft and low when the finally separated. He swallowed, his eyes flicking back down to her lips for a moment before returning to her eyes. Her smile felt easier, and it was too easy to steal another quick kiss. “Let’s get you home.”

#miraculous ladybug #luka couffaine #tom dupain #marinette dupain-cheng #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #ml fic #ver fic #lbsc lukanette month 2024 #prompt: dorm #bad living arrangements #moving out #moving in together #marinette moves into a shithole #nobody's ok with it #luka knows #idek guys #spot the gilmore influence

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