#rangers-are-cool-moved

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

"Mind your footing as you jump. The branches are unusually slippery."

//Ami to Neji - mission Heya

He'd just paused on top of a large oak tree to take a look around. The kind of 'looks' only a Hyuga could give. No sign of human presence as far as he could detect, though he could sense the presence of fish up ahead. It meant they were getting close to the bridge.

When his teammate spoke, his expression relaxed, and Neji cast a look down to the branch on which he stood. He smelled the moss before his eyes even noticed it.

"You've been here before?" He asked calmly, staring up ahead again. "I'd rather not slow down. If necessary, we can take the risks and proceed on the ground."

[fatedroses]

I know I design him with the intention that he becomes an evasion tank, but there's an irony I find very amusing in making his new magitek armor lighter than his original.

[iwanttobepersephone]

Hey do y'all want a sneak peak to a thing I'm making about Halt

[morninkim]

shoutout to expressive helmets on power ranger designs, all my homies love expressive helmets on power ranger designs

[nightmarist]

what i thought i signed up for getting stardew valley: farming and resource game, dating sim, horror undertones (caves, fish, etc)

what i got: getting emotionally attached to a small town life being encroached upon Big Corporation(tm) and its idiosyncratic residents with their backstories

[isenstar777]

Being a monk is cool as hell!

We're playing a campaign influenced by The Last Of Us and had to cross two maps with trolls zombies and orcs (all infected by cordyceps) very very quietly.

With a horse and cart.

So we didn't get far.

The NPC (Joel) told us to run.

The druid turned into a horse and took the bard across the map. I just sprinted. Across two maps in two turns. 120ft per turn. Leapt over a fallen tree and a 20ftwide river

[mourning-again-in-america]

i was not expecting pokemon mystery dungeon blue rescue team to get kinda difficult within five dungeons

it's not been too bad but the difficulty curve came faster than expected and i had to grind to figure out wtf to do

now i'm stocked up on reviver seeds which will help a lot but i'm not looking forward to figuring out when to link my moves within a dungeon

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 , various ! pt two

synopsis: his voice lines about you as his beloved partner

including: boothill, aventurine

side comments: my first voice line fic was well received and for that I thank you all <3 so of course this is for all my boothill and aventurine lovers out there! (including myself for boothill...)

extra: gn reader, angsty and fluffy moments, I genuinely loved writing boothill's, minor spoilers for both favourites: boothill word count: roughly 1000+

care to see the first part? includes dr. ratio, jing yuan, & blade!

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

WHO ARE THEY? I "Out here askin' question huh? Well if you're that curious... then you better listen close."

FIRST MEETINGS? "Met them on a bullet train in a neighbouring star system. Turns out we were chasing after the same fudge-heads. You could've seen them- a sly creature that's who they were, whipping out the most slick sniper I've ever seen. I'd reckon that was one of the most thrilling fights I've ever had: came out with dents all over my arms and a broken gun. Their bullets nearly punched a hole through my cheek... hah!"

GREETINGS? "They may be a load of dormant gunpowder, but they sure are sweet! Full of laughter and courtesy. But I'll let you in on a little secret... ( Name ) likes to walk in, pretty as always- and plant kisses all over my cheek before they even say a word."

PARTINGS? "Being a Galaxy Ranger means never staying in one place. ( Name ) is no Galaxy Ranger... I'd reckon it's better that way."

ABOUT US: SHOES IN THE HOUSE "I can't exactly 'take off my shoes' now can I? But ( Name ) likes to keep the house tidy and I best not anger them... like that one time- anyways, we came up with this whole fudging system just to keep the bottom of my damn boots clean! It's fudging ridiculous! *Chuckles* I can't help it, but ( Name ) is understanding. Even if I trudged through all the grime in the universe- they'd still wipe it all off."

ABOUT US: FAMILY "You see, ( Name ) has this big family. Siblings, cousins, extended cousins, aunts and uncles, you name it. We were on their home planet once, and I finally understood where ( Name's ) knack for puttin' a real good home together came from. Their family lives in the countryside where all you can see are open fields, lush hillsides, free-roaming animals and wildflowers. Consider it a quiet paradise. They even grow their own food for fudging sake! Everythin' made by hand and land. Darlin' nearly coaxed me into joining them for dinner once, but I knew better. Best not spoil the family get-together."

CHAT: HATS N' POSES "Personally, I like my hat and flare the way it damn is. How would fightin' be without it? But of course, your partner has to be a cheeky tease about it."

CHAT: WARMTH " I've seen it in the movies- those fudging 'romcoms'- and read it in books. When it gets cold... I'm no help. Can't do much except reach for a blanket and wrap them up. But even then, metal and skin don't fudging work."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Count me in on a dance sugar plum! Have to admit, darlin' has a fair share of good dance moves. Nothin' like a hard-earned victory being celebrated with a cool glass of whisky and a smooth dance."

ARGUMENTS: "Bitter things that's all they are. Leaves you knocked out cold. Reminds you of all the things you can't take back."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: "Following the hunt ain't an easy task. But someone has to punish the wretched. That's the thing about the hunt- you get cold, hard. Sugar follows another path that doesn't make any fudging sense to me. But that doesn't matter. None of that ever mattered, not to them, not to me or even the hunt. Call it selfish, but I'd like to one day settle down... Just like their family. Out where no one could find us."

WHO ARE THEY? II "They call me their 'sweet lover'. But really it should be me saying that. If anything I am the sweat of their brow- a nuisance at times. But they still love me. They still fudging love me."

EXTRA: IPC ENTRY "Normally, Galaxy Rangers travel alone. However, we have seen the wanted Galaxy ranger- Boothill- be accompanied by someone who appears to be a vagabond follower of Xipe. Despite the information we possess, the relationship between Boothill and his supposed 'partner' is very limited."

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

WHO ARE THEY? I "Fancy meeting you here- oh? A rumor you say? Rumours do have peculiar ways of reaching the ears..."

FIRST MEETINGS? "All business ventures possess their gains and losses. However, I did not expect my pockets- alongside others- to be picked on a night meant to celebrate the Strategic Investment Department. The person who did it played their cards exceptionally well. I applauded them and the subtlety of their skills."

GREETINGS? "Despite their rather cunning nature, ( Name ) is quite kind... shockingly so. I thought their smile was a chip they played for their own meticulous advantage. *Chuckles* I was wrong, there was simply nothing to understand behind that smile."

PARTINGS? "One transaction after another, the universe keeps spinning. Don't keep up, you fall behind. Simple. I don't have to worry about that around them, or at least, for a while, until another wager must be made. Until the peck on the cheek is over."

ABOUT US: LOCKET "( Name ) has a keen eye for trinkets and bought- well stole- a locket for the two of us to share. I keep it with me, a lucky charm if you may."

ABOUT US: NAPPING "Personally, I don't nap. But, ( Name ) is a terrible influence and says I should. I must admit, waking up to them in the afternoon is not a bad way to spend my time."

CHAT: THEVERY "( Name ) is a thief... a good one at that. Oh don't worry, they struck a deal with the IPC. Primarily on their terms because they have been such a nuisance to the IPC. It's rather amusing seeing the IPC chase their own tail. We've definitely shared laughs over it."

CHAT: CONFESSIONS "Who could possibly love something so broken? It's like keeping a clock that won't tick or a deck of cards missing a queen. Sometimes, I wish they didn't care so much. It would be... easier."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Of course, a good game of cards is a fun way to pass the time. *Chuckles* Though, ( Name ) is a terrible player. Not that I mind, I'll guess I'll play the role of 'loser' this time around- best you not tell them."

ARGUMENTS: "What else is there to say? Nothing. That part is the worst."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: HEART OF GOLD "( Name ) steals to give to the poor. It's their motto... I saw them once with a group of kids on a planet in a distant star system. They were giving back to the orphanage- the smiles on the children's faces when given toys, marbles to be exact, were so bright."

WHO ARE THEY? II "In all honesty, I'm not quite sure. However, what I do know is that luck finally worked in my favour... I'll hold onto that for as long as I can."

EXTRA: DR RATIO'S OPINION "The gambler- without hesitation- will bet 'all in' even if it means his own life hangs in the balance. However, amongst the chaos of his bets, there is one person who will drag him back to reality... ( Name ). Aventurine will never gamble nor forfeit the one person who truly understands him. Even I don't fully understand the gambler's crafty nature. I suppose a thief is the only one who can and more importantly, will."

masterlist.

[n0tamused]

Jiyaaaan request coming your way~

While training his soldiers, one of them accidentally calls him 'Dad'. This leads to the reader teasing them but Jiyan teases back by calling them 'Mom' (or the gender neutral for it?)

(Was reading tv tropes and Jiyan had the 'A Father to his Men' tropes in his character tab lol)

A/n: Anon this request was so sweet, thank you sm for sending it in! Jiyan the father of an army fr.. I do hope I executed it well. Enjoy!

Content: Jiyan x F!Reader, fluff and playful stuff, nothing more

The morning sun had long since shifted its axis towards the center of the sky, blazing down through cotton clouds that sailed the azure skies. Below them, in the open fields, west of the main base cacophony sounded, consisting of commands, groans and other sounds of effort as the Midnight Ranger performed their training. And today Jiyan had come to overlook the session himself, although it wouldn’t be the first time. He was often so preoccupied with tasks at the front lines that he didn’t have the time to be leading drills too frequently, but when he did get the chance to do so he would take it. While it wasn’t a full reprieve from the battle, it was still a stark contrast to the grotesque and twisted fates he’d see daily on the battlefield.

Jiyan was noticeably more disheveled by the end, hair messy and hanging in strands and clinging to his sweaty forehead, hands on his hips as his voice rose to meet all ears present. You have just been passing by, helping carry supplies that just came in, and loading old and empty boxes back to be refilled in the city. For once there was no rush that would make your legs ache or your lungs hurt, allowing you all the precious time to bask in the views, the soft chatter and, of course, your dear lover.

The sun caught his figure and formed a golden aura around him, his skin glistening, and you couldn’t help but take a seat at one of many big boxes at the side of the training grounds after you had finished your task. In passing you caught a few looks, and a few smiles of the soldiers you knew from before. They looked much  more lively, despite the rigorous training they just went through. It made your heart warm seeing them in better spirits, wishing nothing more than to see them prevail and be happy. And just as you had recognized a bunch of familiar faces did Jiyan conclude his small speech, about to dismiss everyone with advice of rest hanging on every word. He had spotted you from the start, when you were going by with supplies in arms and soon he’d have a chance to speak to you too, he thought.

“General Jiyan! General Jiyan, a word or two- if I may?” 

It was a voice of one of the new recruits, Jiyan noted as he gazed at the face of the youth, a boy of twenty or so years by the looks of it, and eyes full of curiosity and admiration. He had come up to Jiyan just as he had turned towards you, prompting him to stay rooted in his spot a little longer. A few more young rangers came up behind the recruit, sharing the same curiosity but also being aware of whatever the recruit had on his mind.

“Yes? Is there something you need?” Jiyan questioned, looking at the young man. From his peripheral vision he spotted you moving down from the boxes and joining his side, staying quiet after a short word of greeting towards his Rangers, but your presence felt like a cool breeze under this sun, and he appreciated it all the more.

“I just wanted to say how great today’s training session was, we learned so much more than we did with our drill sergeant” he praised, smiling up at Jiyan all the while, “And I just wanted to ask whether or not you’ll be leading our training session tomorrow as well? Or any other day that is, we would really benefit from your teaching. I mean, you've seen it all for yourself at the front lines!"

The other few with him nodded along, prompting a small smile of pride to form on your face from seeing their fascination with Jiyan. To them he was everything they aspired to be - strong, enduring, tough but not lacking kindness or knowledge. There were times where they were scared to approach him, not knowing how he’d react to their questions, but from observing his interactions with others they warmed up to the idea and plucked all their courage. 

A polite smile curled up on Jiyan’s face as he regarded the youth with gentle golden eyes. His presence as the drill sergeant today wasn’t due to his availability, but a simple coincidence and necessity to fill the shoes of their drill sergeant that had been injured due to Tacet Discords, and Jiyan just happened to be able to be there. “Ah, you have my thanks, rangers. If a replacement for your drill sergeant does not arrive tomorrow and I am not required to be at the front lines, then I will be leading your training tomorrow as well” he told them, which pleased them greatly to hear.  “Although I’m sure Sargent Jin’xi has much more to teach you, something much more important for your sound development in this profession. You cannot take his method lightly. He has seen everything I have, as well. His knowledge is as valuable to your growth, and even more so than mine. You need the good foundation he can give you” He was aware of how confusing or hard it could be to listen to Jin’xi, as the sergeant had quite the eye for details and slow progress in lessons due to his meticulous nature - but that also made him all the better for his station. He was observant and could pluck out bad behavior and mistakes like weeds, and that is better to be done here, than in the middle of battle.

“We know, general, but sergeant Jin’xi is just so hard on us.. sometimes it really seems like he has no limit” one of the women standing behind voiced, earning a look from Jiyan that spoke of his understanding but also his disagreement with the subtle message they were trying to send - please, replace sergeant Jin’xi, or, save us.

“Yeah! One time I accidentally mixed up the weapons in the storage room and he had me do everything on my own again, saying how such mistakes can’t happen on the front lines, how it all means life or death” the first young man said, brushing his fingers through his hair and sighing. “I understand it, but we just got here..” he added and looked at his comrades. 

What was supposed to be a short chit-chat turned swiftly into a gossip galore about Jin’xi. Had Jiyan been any different from the man he was currently, he would’ve scolded them, taken offense at how they spoke about his colleague, but he was in their shoes once, always on edge around the higher ups, and he wished not to bring that same unease to them. He didn’t fail to remind them to not speak like this in front of everyone, and to respect sergeant Jin’xi when he does eventually return, and they gave him their word.

The first young man that approached looked at Jiyan after their discussion, both hands on his hips and looking more relaxed. “We won’t forget that, I promise on my last name! Still, we appreciate your kindness, and one more thing dad- I MEAN- GENERAL!” His entire face crumbled into a look of terror, and all eyes of the group shot to him, looks of surprise and amusement appearing before several of them erupted into laughter after taking a wary glance at Jiyan - who was not offended.

“General Jiyan! Oh god- I apologize, general, I don’t know where that came from-” he stammered, shaking his head and his hands, face flushed from sheer embarrassment. More choked words tumbled out of his mouth, desperate to excuse himself and forget about this. 

Jiyan can’t help but chuckle, the corners of his lips twitching in a failed attempt to hold back his smile. “At ease, recruit. You have not done any crime” he nods at the other, his eyes softening and not showing any sign that he’s about to dish out some punishment - that’d be ridiculous. 

You can’t help but crack a laugh too, covering your lips with your hand as to stifle the sound, but your mirth was evident in your eyes. “Have I missed a chapter? I didn’t know you had kids, general Jiyan” you teased, earning a few shocked but heavily amused looks from the group. Giggles erupted once more, all stifled as they waited for Jiyan to respond to the quip.

Jiyan turns his head to look at you, his eyes boring into yours and questioning your intentions - you can read the thoughts going through your head and your smile only widens in a silent call to a challenge of wits. He didn’t expect you to say something like that, but he could only huff, hiding his amusement under an abrupt guise of confusion.

“Kids?.. Why, I had hoped you’d recognize your own kids, Miss (L/N)” he shot back instantly, making your jaw drop at his rebuttal, a gasp flying past your mouth. “General” you said, accusations plenty heard in your tone as the atmosphere melted into one of jest and play.

Many eyes flickered between you and him, taking in the easy way you conversed with one another.

“Yes? What’s the surprise for? The recruits look up to you too, if you fail to notice. You can confirm with them right now” he is shifting the spotlight to you, and the recruits are quick to jump in too. “It is right, miss. Personally I haven’t been around you for long, no longer than I interacted with the General, but you two are alike, you treat us new ones with a firm but kind hand” a young woman said, smiling at you, and you feel your heart climb into your throat. 

“Can we really be surprised, they’re always together too-” "Aren't they married?" Whispering is heard amidst the group, and Jiyan looks amidst the faces to catch the one that said that but fails to do so, or refuses to weed out the individuals, and his eyes go back to you to catch your response. It’d be a lie to say your relationship with him was a secret, everyone knew there was something deeper between the two of you, something you didn’t show in public due to the war and status, but it was undeniably there. Still, hearing it loud and clear like this was like a splash of cold water. Despite their chatter, the group remained respectful, sweet in their musings.

“Ah, quiet, I do not want to hear it. This is about you, General”

“Ah, don’t run from it now. You’re the one that started this” he commented, rolling his eyes as he folded his arms over his chest. “Anyway, you’re all dismissed. I have a word with.. mother over here. Off you all go. I will see you all in the morning for another training drill. Get some rest” he speaks to the group, gazing upon their faces, only to see how they looked at him with some sort of childhood wonder, and that’s when he realized he must be flushed too. A sheepish smile bloomed on his face. 

“Alright! Awesome-” “Yes, sir!"

“Have a good day, General! And you too, Miss!” 

He watched them leave, bidding them all farewell, and when he turned to face you again he saw you pinching the bridge of your nose, hiding away the biggest smile of the day, the apples of your cheeks redder than before. The Midnight Rangers were undeniably close in connection, having spent so many nights and days huddled together for warmth or laughs or protection, and this small exchange only warmed Jiyan’s heart, to witness how positively they felt around him - and you. 

“Didn’t think we’d become parents so soon. Have we gotten that old already?” Jiyan commented, tone softer in a way he only addressed you when you were alone, and there was no one near the training grounds to hear you.

“Oh, shut up, Jiyan-” you playfully snapped, biting your lip as you looked up at him, stifling a giggle. “You are unbelievable!”

“Hm? Did you expect me to stay quiet today or ignore your quips?” he smiled bigger and you have to admire the little dimples in his cheeks as the smile reaches his eyes, making them squint at you softly.

“I don’t know what I expected, but your response was certainly the last thing I expected” you replied and shook your head, as if that would shake off the redness tinting your skin, imitating him now by crossing your arms. The two of you were looking at each other, wordlessly admiring your red faces while throwing these little quips at one another. 

“Ah.. you’ll get used to it, dearest wife”

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[nvuy]

im like itching for a boothill x single parent romance. LIKE WHAT IF they moved in next to boothill and everyones like "naww dont go near that guy hes scary and shit" but when kid sees boothill they get so intrigued by boothill they try to get close to him every time they see and hes just... scared? or paranoid, so he doesnt let them close. and then one time kid was still asking questions to boothill and stuff, parent was rushing looking for them, they see them, and then goes like "omf sir im so sorry my kid bothered you" and then boothill is like "nah its ok id do anyt- no what i mean we just met its cool btw lmao"

yk that one scene in a goofy movie where max get laughed at on the bleachers and then roxanne comes and picks him up and asks if he’s alright and then max starts babbling absolute gibberish yep

“So, how strong are you, mister?”

Boothill’s fingers are pressed against the girl’s tiny tiny hands. So small and little and squishy, and he seriously contemplated squishing her until she popped. His palm is cold against hers, and she giggles at the difference in size.

“Hmm…” He leans back on his heels in his squatting position in the front garden. He taps his chin in thought. “Don’t gotta clue. Anythin’ you need me to pick up?”

The girl gasps and there’s stars in her eyes. “Can you pick me up?” She stretches out her arms towards him.

He cracks a grin at her and ruffles her hair. “I dunno. You might be a bit heavy.” He’s teasing her, of course, but she pouts.

“At least try.”

“Alright, little lady.” He hooks his arms underneath hers and hoists her up easily, hands locked at her ribs. “How’s that? Good enough for ya?”

She hums thoughtfully, a cheeky smile on her face as she, too, taps her chin. “Now you gotta carry me for the entire day.”

It was his turn to pout. “N’aw. That’s no fair.”

“There you are!” There’s a rustle of footsteps and the jangling of keys to his left that made him stiffen for a moment, before your familiar face comes into view. Your eyes flit from him to your daughter. “I’ve been calling you for lunch.”

Oh, great Heavens.

“Hi, gorg– uh…” The ranger stumbles over his tongue and zips his lips shut when a small smile stretches into your lips. “We were– I was just– uh…”

Your daughter looks upset when Boothill gently places her back down in the grass.

“Just horsin’ ‘round,” he finishes. “I was just passin’ by, y’see? And your lil’ princess chased me down.”

You clear your throat, staring down at your shoes for a moment and trying to hide the heat rising from your neck to your face.

“I’m sorry about her,” you say to him. “She’s, um… hard to control.”

“That’s a good thing,” he whispers down to your daughter. “Means you got a free spirit.” He pokes her in the side and she giggles.

You give him another look and his eyes snap to the left, and a casual tune leaves his lips in the form of a whistle.

You offer a hand to the girl. “I made pasta.”

Your daughter practically barrels into your side, almost knocking you over with how her small arms wrap around your hips—she used to only be able to reach your knees. God, time flies.

Your eyes flit to the ranger once more. “Um… I made a lot so… if you’re hungry…” Your eyes trail down to his stomach before you swallow. “Do you get hungry?”

He studies your face for a moment with a pensive look.

Then, Boothill snorts. “Nah, sugar.”

Your face is burning. “Right. Well, you’re welcome to come in, anyway.”

“Oh, please have lunch with us!” your daughter all but begs. Her hands have now interlocked in front of her in a pleading gesture, and she’s offering him her most intense puppy eyes. “I can show you my room.”

He’s immediately swayed. “Well, it’s hard to say no to a cute thing like you.” He reaches down and pinches her cheek.

He watches you blink, perhaps taken aback for a moment.

He thinks you’re so beautiful, even if the apron you’re wearing is covered in sauce stains.

He almost starts cheering when you visibly perk up. “You’ll join us?”

“’Course! I’d do anythin’ for y–” He stops himself by digging his teeth into his tongue. “I mean… if ya insist.”

He can tell you’re biting the inside of your cheeks to keep yourself from smiling too wide. You pucker your lips and look elsewhere, face dark with blood.

Your daughter is strangely silent. He notices she’s enamoured with a bright blue butterfly floating along one of the bushes nearby.

“Cool.” You can’t think of anything else to really say. You rock on your heels absentmindedly. “I’d like that.”

His smile grows impossibly wider. “Would ya now?” He taps your nose once before he bends down to greet your daughter again. “Lead the way, little lady.”

“One sec,” you mumble, digging in your pockets.

You fumble for your ring of keys before you throw them quite badly at the cyborg. He manages to catch them well enough, fingers frozen over the steel.

Huh?

“It’s, um… the purple key. For the front door.”

Sure enough, one of the keys was coated in a deep purple.

Your daughter has already begun sprinting towards the front door. You’re half keeping a close eye on her through your peripherals, but your gaze wanders from her to watch him closely.

“I have a spare so… you can have it,” you continue slowly. Was this… too forward?

Boothill eyes you for a moment. A hand moves to his hips.

Then, in a flash, he pulls the purple key off of the ring it’s attached to and gently tosses it back at you. You struggle to catch them, but you manage with shaky hands and stuff them back into your pocket.

“‘Ppreciate it, pretty thing. You know just how to make a man swoon.”

He blows you a kiss with the steel to his lips and then tips his hat. He catches up with your daughter in no time, sweeping her off her feet and letting her slot the key in the lock to open the door.

You realise when he’s staring at you, one hand holding your own front door open expectantly, that you’re standing out in your front garden gawking at him like an idiot.

You quickly follow him inside, and he closes the door behind you. He’s quick to swing an arm around your waist when you guide him into the kitchen.

[kedsandtubesocks]

game changer

MLB pitcher!Joel Miller x F!Reader

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

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

word count: 9.1k (I’m sorry)

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

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

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

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

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

Now you’re here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You understand why.

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

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

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

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

And he really is incredible.

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

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

He’s gorgeous.

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

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

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

After that the Rangers switch pitchers.

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

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

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

Then his eyes go wide as realization sinks in.

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

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

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

You shrug easily with an eased grin.

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

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

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

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

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

No way.

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

He’s knockout beautiful.

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

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

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

Joel’s face scrunches up as he sighs.

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

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

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

Joel rolls his eyes.

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

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

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

You’re the one early thanking him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just your dad’s pal.

The thought brings a strange acidic taste in your mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, y’hit low.” He chuckles low.

You grin triumphantly.

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

“Sound sure about that.” He replies.

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

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

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

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

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

Then he nods with a soft grin remembering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should get one!” Your mom urges.

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

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

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

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

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

But also, a new profile has followed you.

JM_8712

The profile also sent you a message.

JM_8712: ain’t nothing wrong with my slider

No way.

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

JM_8712: think ur so funny huh

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

Then another message flies in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just hope Joel is alright.

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

Joel.

JM_8712: sorry connections shit

Then he simply sends you his phone number.

You wonder if you’re seeing things.

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

When your text alert chimes, it rattles your brain.

Yeah im good thanks

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

Looks like room service for tonight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But instead it’s Joel.

You scramble to answer.

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

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

That catches you off guard.

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

Joel sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s dangerous falling deeper like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel snorts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You say his name quick.

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

A moment passes.

“Yeah, will do.” Joel agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not as hot as the sounds he makes.

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

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

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

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

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

Joel of course had messaged you.

Looks like you had fun last night

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

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

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

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

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

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

You agree and thank him.

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

“Yeah? Any reason why?” Joel presses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel barks a hollow laugh of a thing.

“No, none of that.” He answers.

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

Your heart sinks.

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

He sighs.

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

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

A grim cloud seems to settle above you.

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

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

Joel’s chuckle is a beautiful low gruff treasure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The days blur together.

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

hope you’re alright

You want to cradle that message.

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

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

That’s right.

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

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

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

He texts back immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

You take a small comfort in that.

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

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

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

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

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

“You lost?” The younger woman asks sympathetically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re stunned in shock yet again.

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

It’s beautiful and comforting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two strikeouts back to back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He did amazing.

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

But it’s still a sweet victory.

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

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

You can’t say no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guess this means you’ll be saying goodbye.

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

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

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

You scramble out reassuring Joel it’s fine.

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

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

Because of course they do.

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

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

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

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

Next time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You weakly grin back.

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

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

Joel however is surprisingly talkative.

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

And it kills you.

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

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

Eventually you arrive at your apartment complex.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it is.

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

So salvaging whatever dignity left, you nod.

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

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

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

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

“It doesn’t matter.” You answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey, I’m sorry-”

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

Through gritted teeth you tell him to go.

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

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

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

“You are.” He states simple and straightforward.

You nod, swallowing back the heartache boiling over.

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

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

His eyes scan your face then he steps closer towards you

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

You’re not and you tell him that.

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

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

He inhales, and his face goes taunt.

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

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

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

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

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

“Just you and me.” You whisper soft.

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

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

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

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

Joel freezes.

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

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

Your lips and eyes shut close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He groans.

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

He devours you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joel.”

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

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

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

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

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

Joel sighs.

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

Now a bitter venom spills in you.

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

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

Over his shoulder he glares at you.

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

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

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

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

A pause settles between him and you.

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

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

He goes quiet again.

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

Underneath his words you catch it, his rusting loneliness.

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

Joel turns, and his eyes bore into you.

The silence stays as you stare unflinchingly back at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the next morning arrives.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n- 3.5k: boothill comes back to you for a tune up, but instead of his body, it's his heart that needs tending to after you scare the hell out of him [minor boothill story spoilers if you're not caught up on that jazz, but nothing major!]

warning(s)!: boothill is implied to have an artificial tech!eye and he takes it out (not descriptive tho!)

the last time boothill saw you, he was in for a cooling agent refill. it was also during that last visit when he saw that you had fixed up the small robot he had picked up on a distant planet and brought back as a gift. with your affinity for tinkering with things, he knew you'd like it. and he wasn't wrong.

it's been a month, maybe, and while that shouldn't be considered a very long time away considering his goal steeped in revenge would eventually require him to be gone for far longer- or even not come back at all- he damn missed you.

that, and the censor inside his eye has been on the fritz and well... if he can't see, he can't exactly shoot straight. he didn't need to be discharging bullets like a psychopath- he's a galaxy ranger, not some low-ringed IPC lacky who's a bit too trigger happy.

luckily, his eye wasn’t so fudged up that he couldn't see at all. the world around him was all blurs if he moves to quickly, but given the time to adjust, he's able to more or less make out what was in front of him. just don’t ask him to read anything... not that he was stellar in that department to begin with. it's like the crosshair infused with his artificial eye was out of focus or something.

boothill knows the path to your shop- that acts also as your home- like the back of his hand. someone could pluck his eye right out of his head, yet he'd still navigate his way to where you are. it was one of the few roads he has taken time and time again. he hope's it'll stay a place he can keep coming back to in health or otherwise.

stepping off his small, single-man ship after landing it near the junkyard you usually dig around in, he stumbles out of it onto the ground with a censored curse. he wishes he could land the thing closer to your shop, but he had once come in with too much a gusto and scorched a section of your lawn. once was all you needed to prohibit him from landing anywhere near the building again.

the walk from junkyard to the shop wasn't a treacherous one, hardly even a workout. still, the back of his neck just at his hair line breaks out into a cold sweat. it isn't brought on by exertion, but by the engraved instinct that something... wasn't right. something in his gut was telling him something was wrong.

boothill's learned to trust his gut.

his leisurely pace picks up to a more urgent gait and he can smell the 'something wrong' before his unfocused eye can try and see it.

it smells like smoke.

his steps falter at the disgustingly familiar scent- the smell that brings back memories he forces himself remember. memories that push him towards his goal of revenge- his goal in finding oswaldo. memories of his ruined home. he swallows thickly but it does nothing for his throat that's sudden too dry.

boothill hated fire. he's hated fire since his original name died with his family... with his daughter. since he chose to become "boothill" altogether he's abhorred fire.

he's familiar with fire. with its destruction. with its color. with its smell and heat and ruthlessness. its lack of mercy and greedy nature to swallow up anything in its path that can scorch.

the billows of smoke he could barely make out once his long, mechanical legs took him running to your shop could only be explained by fire. where was it? was it large? contained? were you inside? were you hurt? the cowboy didn't see any flames from outside, so it must not be that bad yet. you're fine. you're fine. you have to be.

all formality is left at his heels when he barges through your shop's doors. there's not much smoke in front of the shop when he enters.

"y/n! are you in here!" you don't respond to his shouts. "fudge!" god, boothill wishes he could properly curse right now. screw his synthesia beacon to hell.

the dim lights make it harder to navigate the area around him with the addition of his already busted vision, but just like the path leading him here- boothill is familiar with the inside of your home. he could walk it blindfolded and deaf.

boothill follows his nose. the smell of smoke got stronger the further back into the shop he goes. the ranger starts hearing commotion along with his narrowing down of where the fire was coming from.

clanging. some bangs. you're coughing. you're cursing.

boothill pushes open the metal door that leads into the main workshop with his shoulder. the room is always filled with all sorts of scrap metals, wiring, wielding tools, normal tools, and all sorts of other gadgets and knobs that he's sure you keep cluttered in different drawers and corners.

the smoke he saw outside floods the workshop, filtering out through the windows you had thrown open and up the chimney you don't ever use unless you need to melt down metal. the grey, sooty gas lingers high towards the ceiling. wafting around his head as soon as he enters the workshop, causing him to choke on it before his mechanical insides whirl into filtering it all out of his system.

sometimes being mostly robotic had it's perks. not choking to death on smog was always a plus.

"sugar!" he calls that familiar endearment over all the noise you're causing. the normally sweet, yet playful, nickname he's been calling you since he discovered your unbelievable sweet tooth feels sour coming out of his mouth this time. your coughing is muffled, and he can only assume it's because you're covering your mouth with a cloth or something. you better be, he hisses internally to himself.

"boothill?!" your shock is as muffled as your cough. "hold- gahk! son of a- hold on a second!" he can hear you rushing around the shop's concrete floor. "ore, did you get to the switch!" you direct your attention away from the unanticipated arrival of boothill. instead, you steer it towards the aforementioned, small robot you refurbished into new, mech-life. you had named it ore after the piece of unknown gem used as his power source.

small beeps of affirmation filter through the soot and smoke and you cough three more times into the cloth you're holding over your mouth and nose.

"flick it left!" you instruct ore. another set of beeps before the shop is bombarded with a force that's almost enough to knock boothill off his feet. the smoke was gathered quickly into a vacuum of air that soon collected all of it up then sequency shot it up and out the of chimney.

the room was basically clear now. all that's left after ore flips the switch back to the right to halt at vacuum assault is the mist of remnants that would soon find their way out the windows you intend to keep open for a good, long while.

you lower the rag from your mouth that had been used to keep smoke from invading your lungs and grimace at it. you had been previously using that rag to wipe oil from a machine you were working on. the very same machine that you had kicked a bit too roughly, causing some faulty wiring inside to shift and ignite. that bucket of broken bits was what led to this predicament in the first place!

finally, you look towards boothill. you hardly get a chance to acknowledge him properly since the moment you turn towards the doors he had come through; he was already at you.

crossing the room with urgent, quick strides, his metal arms clad in his cropped jacket and hanging red scarf wrap around your shoulders. one of his hands push against the back of your head and he doesn't care if the threads of your hair tangle into the groves of his fingers. his chin drips to rest his cheek against your crown.

his head dips so low, cheek and face pushing against your head so closely that the brim of his cowboy hat dents against your skull before falling off to the floor. it falls upside down with a soft thwomp and he can't seem to care.

"hey," you whisper in shock as you curl your arms upwards, bringing your hands to rest concerningly against his shoulders. his scarf was soft against your palm. your fingers thread through parts of his long, white and black hair that rest over his hunched back.

you've never seen him like this. not ever. you were certain that if he were completely human with a full body of flesh and blood, he'd be shaking like a leave. "boothill," you call, trying to get him to hear you.

he doesn't answer you. not verbally.

boothill shakes his head in two small shakes, somehow pushing his cheek further against the top of your head. he was taking deep breaths, taking in the smell of oil and rust and work that you always seem to be coated in. the arm around your shoulders holds you hostage and the one behind your head doesn't let your face pull even a single inch away from his neck where he keeps you.

his eye is still blurry and he still can't see properly. he needs to keep you against his body so his censors can make sure you're alive.

boothill can't 'feel' anything anymore from the neck down. the metal frame he calls his body is just that- metal. a shell that doesn't allow him to feel pain externally. so, he needs to anchor your body to him, so that all his internal do-dads can verify to his malfunction vision that you were okay.

you don't know how long boothill keeps you still like this. you don't keep track of the time. ore beeps confused and concerned once it finds its way back to the nearest tabletop closest to both of you. it's digital face with two oval, pixeled eyes that slice in half like a cartoon character's paint the expression clearly. there's even a small dash of pixeled sweat at the corner of it's 'face' that shows just how distressed it is.

eventually, boothill uncurls his arms from you, and you wince at the small strands of your hair that do end up snagged in his hands and knuckles. when you finally get away enough, you look up at him.

his face is down turned and anxious. there's a cold sweat on his cheek that's come from his hairline and slides past his ear (did he still have sweat glands?). he looks empty without his hat on, even though you should be good and well used to the sight. he often gives it to you to wear when he comes by- for whatever reason.

looking at him longer, you notice something off. with squinted eyes, you reach up and touch his cheek.

"hey, is your eye-" the cowboy jolts at the feel of your hand against his flesh and you wonder if he's sensitive to skin-to-skin contact since this small space is all he has left to experience the sensation. you go to pull your hand away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

boothill feels you pull away and quickly stops you. his metal palm that's still warm with the heat of your body pushes against the back of your hand as he leans his face into your warm, soft palm. his bullet earring is cool against the tip of your fingers that he isn't engulfing with his hand. the eye you're so used to looking at shuts at the sensation.

"boothill?" you try again now that you've both had time to calm down. you really have never seen him act like this way. was this really the same haughty, galaxy ranger who waltzes in every few months or so because he keeps jamming his arm gun, or running low on coolant, or just to bug you?

"the fire," he says. you look behind you at the scorched pile of metal that was the sole perpetrator for the whole kit and caboodle. "are you hurt?" the synthetic twinge to his voice is more noticeable when he speaks lowly you notice.

you shake your head before answering. "no. i'm okay."

"swear it." he doesn't ask.

"i swear i'm not hurt. i didn't even inhale all that much smoke." your thumb skates under his eye as he reopens it. you almost go to your toes to look closer at it. it looks different than usual. like something about it is... wrong? "is your eye okay?"

"what caused the fire?" he completely ignores your question in lieu of his own and if he wasn't so distraught right now, you would've let him have a piece of your mind. but you don't. you can circle back around to his eye once he feels satisfied.

"an old rig i found in the junk yard. i thought if i could fix it up, it'd make a decent heater for the winter months. but, i messed it up and it blew up in my face." you pout at the loss of a project since you weren't willing to go through another fire 101 lesson any time soon. you'd dissembled the hunk of junk and place it back in the junkyard where you found it.

"so that's what is was," he sighs. hearing your explanation, his shoulders deflate, and you swear you hear his body hiss out tension. "dadgummit," he curses. "scared me shirtless. don't do that, sugar." he was calming down. thank goodness.

"sorry about that," you chuckle humorlessly, "i wasn't expecting you, so i'm sorry you had to see that."

you don't know much about boothill's past. he's told you bits and pieces, but you've never take the initiative to actively pry into it. you can tell it hurts him to recall, so you just leave it be. you know he doesn't like fire. he hates the ipc- some guy named oswaldo you think it was? he lost his family on his home planet. that's the extent of the man before 'boothill' you know for the most part.

but you were able to put two and two together. the idea of someone dying and homes being scorched must scare him.

you pull you hand from his cheek and raise it so your fingers invade the right side of his hairline. the black curtain of bangs shift with your movement as you comb through the treases once, then twice before dropping your hand again. his bangs return to their black cloaking nature to his face's right side.

"it's all okay now. isn't that right, ore?" you look over your shoulder to your small assistant robot. its concerned expression it has been favoring shifts into jolted delight as its square head nods with a series of affirmative beeps. a bright green, pixelated thumbs-up pops up on its face before disappearing into curved eyes that blink open reassuringly.

you take both of boothill's arms gently and lead him to the small sofa that's full of mismatched patches of fabric from all the patching up and repairing it's needed over the years. you let him sink into the cushions first before following, you knee touching his.

your hands find themselves in your lap, finally disconnected from boothill and he's just about sad over it. but, he was calming down. and he didn't need to cling to you like that- honestly, he's almost embarrassed over it. acting like a scared dog like that? god, he wishes he could overheat into a full system meltdown.

"feeling better?" you ask. he takes a deep breath and can taste the lingering smoke in the air. still, he nods.

"yeah," he sighs. "yeah, i am." the sound of small metal taps rush around before coming closer. looking down, ore had taken it upon itself to jump from the worktable to the floor. grabbing the brim of boothill's fallen hat, it began the mission of dragging it all the way back to its rightful owner. ore's digital eyes curve up again when boothill and you look down at it from the sofa.

you chuckle before leaning down and offering your hand with your palm up. ore steps backwards up your fingers, dragging the hat that is five times its size and hanging onto the brim as you lift it and the hat into the air. ore offers the hat back to boothill with a smile he can see better now that the little guy is closer to eye level.

the galaxy ranger accepts his hat back, flipping it over and dusting the top of it off. he didn't need his eye to work to know it was probably covered in dust from ore dragging it across the concrete floor you most certainly haven't swept yet.

"thanks, lil buddy." ore chirps happily at the praise.

you lift your arm to let ore rest on your shoulder where it takes the small carabiner you fashioned onto a small guard you wear in the shop and clasps it to his back. you made this so the robot wouldn't constantly be falling off your shoulder since it often makes itself comfortable there.

"so," you clear your throat, "about your eye." you try and get down to business now that the situation has passed. "does it need refocused?"

"sure does." if memory serves, you have a machine for autofocusing equipment around here somewhere. you lean over the back of the sofa, snagging your laptop you keep behind it on a roll away desk that way it doesn't get harmed by all your other tools or dirty by a strong pump of oil or something.

you unclasp ore from your shoulder carabiner. "could you go and find the adjustment scanner? i think it's in the toolbox drawer, top right. if not there, try two rows over." ore chirps and slides down your arm to your lap, then down your leg to the floor.

boothill can't see but can hear the little metal steps run off across the room.

"how does it get onto your tables?" he's asking partially to fill the silence, but also because he's genuinely curious. "figured you'd be cartin' the fella around everywhere."

"i usually do," you admit. "but, i did install small pully lifts with extra wiring and metal pieces i had laying around." you open your laptop and open the screen to unlock the device. "once on one of the metal pieces, ore can pull himself up manually with the designated wire."

the man chuckles at the image of you macgyvering something like that up. "you're dang cute," he chides. he can imagine you sitting on the floor, eyes squinted and leaning in so far, your spine would scream while installing those things. you don't respond. you usually don't to his passing words of flirtatious intention. whether deliberately or obliviously, he doesn't know.

soon, ore returns and hands you the piece of tech you need. hooking the scanner into your laptop, boothill can hear it whirring as the fan of your laptop kicks on to prevent any overheated crashes.

"alright," you let ore back on your shoulder and the robot hooks itself on safely via that carabiner. "let's see what's wrong."

you stare at boothill's unfocused eye. boothill looks back at the blurry image of you. you huff after a solid fifteen seconds of still silence.

"if you expect me to pop your eye out myself, guess again cowboy."

for the first time since he got there, boothill barks in laughter. oh what a mental sight that would be! it's slightly horrifying to picture having the person he's so infatuated with pluck out his eyeball thought.

boothill turns his back, a series of hisses and deep breaths later, he turns around and with his empty eye socket closed, offers you the tech eye he was installed with when he underwent his initial cyborg transformation.

it took 20 minutes and some light jabs from you- 'how did you uncalibrate it this badly?'- before the scans show a recalibrated and refocused eye. you hand it back to him before he's reconnecting it with his socket. the wires hiss and attach into place nicely.

"now that's better!" he cheers when he blinks and is able to see clearly again. he looks at you for the first real time in a month and he's never been happier to see the soot covering your nose and cheeks. oh, you're too cute.

the hat he's kept on his lap the whole process is relocated to your head the moment he could see your face and recognize it again. it plops over your skull and you sigh as- once again, he's making you wear his oh so precious hat.

"if i ask," -you flick the brim of his hat on your head- "will you tell me why you insist i wear this thing every time you're here?"

"nope," he pops his p before lifting his arms to rest his elbows on the back of your sofa. finally getting comfortable. he stares up at your ceiling. "it's a secret."

the fire made a sooty mess up there. it'll be a bitch to clean no doubt.

the hatless cowboy chuckles to himself as he hears you huff with an eyeroll. "naturally."

a/n pt.2: okay wow. this got a bit outta control. whoops? also, i didn't want to gender Ore so hopefully reading the lil guy as 'it' isn't as confusing as i think lol

[yorutsuki]

「 ✦ Frustrated Pleasures ✦ 」 (SMUT +18)

Boothill x reader

↳ How did it all end up like this? You, on his bed, spread and a senseless fuck doll. The once sly and cool demeanored ranger to a hot, sweaty and panting mess—yearning to get his frustrations out.

[ gender neutral reader; they/them ]

Warnings: Sex, degration, slapping, overstimulation.

Tags: @volliix

──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────

Your sweet moans filled Boothill's ears like music while skin to skin contact filled the roams empty silence.

"God {Y/N}.." He panted, thrusting back in. His cock dissapearing once more into your overstimulated hole—making your nerves feel a overwhelming rippling sensation of pleasure.

Just a while ago, Boothill was as sly and neutral as he always has been and now? He was mercilessly ravaging you like a dog in heat.

Just how did that happen?

Acheron.

Simple as that, you mentioned her name once and just like that, here you were, spread upon the mattress and fucked senselessly by the Galaxy Ranger.

"B-Boothill, s' too much !" You whined out, clawing into the pillow even harder as his shaft touched your sensitive spot perfectly. "Did I say you...can speak, you fucking slut..." He hissed between breaths and thrust, slapping your ass.

Your breath hitched at the painful pleasure from the contact yet ultimately tried your best keeping quiet.

"This.." He grunted, fastening and hardening his pace. "-is what you deserve, ya?" He chuckled before tugging your hair, it acting as a leash of sorts. You moaned out a sob of yes's. "Good fucking slut." He praised with a chuckle, letting go of your hair, moving one hand to your hips and the other to your wrists, pinning them above your head to the pillow.

You moaned out as you felt a deep knot form in the bit of your stomach. "S-shit..you cummin' already?" He panted. You only whinned in response.

He chuckled once more, going faster n' harder, slamming his cock deep into your needy hole—earning a deep moan from you as the knot got tighter.

"I'm gonna-!" You hissed out as your eyes rolled back but felt the pit of your stomach drop as you felt him pull away, leaving your hole throbbing in desperation for the pleasuring feeling once more.

"W-why, p-please I was—I was so close..!" You whined, trying to move your hips for friction. "P-please-!" You were shut up with a small slap to the cheek. "Shut the fuck up." Boothill seethed, "get on your stomach." He demanded, his tone cold and sweaty.

Obliging, you rolled over before you letting a yelp out as you felt cold metal hands lift your hips up. Without warning, you moaned a grunt as you felt him enter back in, filling the empty feeling once more. Without hesitation, he started moving his hips at a quick pace—the knot returning once more.

As he moved he chuckled into your neck. "Your going to be my little fuck doll—rid all of my frustrations, into your little cunt, yeah?" He breathed out, grunting at just the thought.

"F-fuck im close, you are too huh darlin'?" He panted. You could barely comprehend his words. All you could do was weakly nod asyour jaw parted from the pleasure.

"Hell..then fucking cum." He demanded, his pace going faster with every thrust. He could feel you clenched desperately around him to relieve the aching feeling.

"Oh God-!" "If you think God's going to be here, your a mistaken fool." Boothill commented with a chuckle. Before you could even process words, your body seized as you moaned loudly, cumming around his cock—your walls fluttering in a rhythmic pace.

"There we go.." He grinned before fastering his pace to reach his edge—overstimulating you in the process.

"Yes, fuck, fuck, fuck...!" He grunted loudly as he emptied his load within you. His thrusts slowing down until he was emptied out.

Only the sounds of your beating hearts and fast needy breathes filled the room. You were exhausted, your energy had depleted immensely and your lungs still worked to catch their much needed air.

Unfortunately for you, the galaxy ranger was no where near done—his frustration still lingering like new.

Your eyes widened in terror as you felt him roll you over once more before lifting your lower half up to meet with his still hardened length. "Didn't I say you'd be my frustration dumpster?"

..........

A/N: What the hell did I just write.

...

Ok before any miscommunication occurs; yes, i'm a minor. Yes, it does say +18. This fic was supposed to be a little thing to prove to my friend that smut isn't that hard to write and to get clout; a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do 😔 (This is my first time writing smut-) It may not be the best but it isn't the worst..I think-.

This is the only smut fic i'll be doing on this page until I say otherwise. You can think i'm a hypocrite for making this, but any harsh and negative comments will be deleted as I have already explained why this exists. If you need me to explain further, i'll answer questions.

[vore-stories57]

Halloween Party

(A Vore Story)

It was late October, and me and my good friend, who I’ll just call V, were getting ready for a Halloween party. It was a big event that one of the charity organizations in town did every year to raise money, and I loved going to it. I especially loved the costume contest part, and I was excited because V created a very cool costume for us. He was going to be the big bad wolf, and I was going as little red riding hood. I was honestly excited because I was going with V, but it would also my first time in a dress, which also made me excited.

Eventually, we got to the party, and the moment we walked in, everyone had their eyes on us. I was honestly a little overwhelmed, but thankfully, V was by my side. We eventually at one point sat down at a table, and I rested my head against his chest. He chuckled and said he had a surprise for me when the competition began. I asked him what it was, and he said I would have to wait and see. I asked him if I would like it, and he chuckled and said I would have to wait and see.

Just as V said that, a fireman came in the stage and said it was time for the competition, and he said that everyone who wanted to participate should line up together. Me and V immediately went up to the line and signed in, then go in line. We were 2nd in line behind a group of 5 people, all of which were dressed like a power ranger. As they got up in front of everyone, my hopes for the winning the competition declined very fast. I guess V could sense that I was disappointed, and he pulled me closer to him, which made me feel better. After a few moments, they left, then it was our turn.

I then walked on the stage when it was our turn, and showed off the outfit, which I thought was very cute. As I did, V walked on in his costume, then he looked at everyone and said he wanted to perform a trick, and everyone in the firehouse looked at us. I then turned to V to ask him what he was planning, and he hadn’t discussed anything with me, but just as I went to ask, he grabbed my shoulders, lifted me up, and shoved me down his throat. I was scared and surprised, but I barely had any time to react. As I slid down his throat, I punched and kicked, but there was nothing I could do.

Within a few moments, I had landed inside V’s stomach. I felt the acid all around me, and I began to scream for help. Outside of the stomach, V had taken a bow in the front of the audience and went off stage. Once he was off, he could finally hear me screaming from within his body. I asked him why he was trying to kill me, and he said that he really needed to get the prize, and he chuckled and said that he always had thought that I looked tasty, so he was just taking advantage of an opportunity. I began to squirm inside his body, begging him to please let me go, but it was no use, and knew it.

V eventually found a seat and sat down, letting his squirming belly rest on the chair. After a few minutes of trying to escape, I realized there was no hope. I knew I was done for, and I was going to just become more fat on my friend’s body. I curled up and just waited. Soon enough, the judges had finished the costume contest, and had started the scoring process. As they scored every costume, V sensed me not moving, so he squished his stomach and asked me if I died yet, and I pushed back and said I was still alive. He then chuckled and said good, then he said he wanted me alive if we won.

After some time, the judges came to the front and announced the winners, and he had gotten first place. V jumped up, which made the acid in his stomach go everywhere, including my eye. It burned so bad, I started to cry a little. V then ran up the front and got the check, then thanked the judges for the award. He then went back to his seat and sat down. He could hear me crying from inside his stomach, and he asked me if I was in pain, and I yelled that his acid got into my eye. He simply slapped his belly and said that I should get used to it, because that was my life for however long I had left.

I then asked V if he ever saw me as a friend, and he chuckled and said he saw me as a friend and meal combo. He was just waiting for the perfect moment to swallow me. He then said that he did feel somewhat bad about digesting me, but now that he won, I was nothing more than a piece of meat inside him. I was speechless, but there was nothing I could do.

After about an hour, my clothes had turned to rags where the acid was. I could feel my skin becoming soft, and it felt odd. V eventually decided to head back home, which was about a 20 minute walk. As he walked, he asked me if I was still alive, and I said yeah, and he chuckled and said good, then he told me that I should squirm some more. I asked him what would happen if I didn’t squirm, and he said he would drink a bunch of beer and fill his belly to the brim. I instantly got worried, so I kicked and punched some more. With easy movement on his stomach walls, he moaned with pleasure.

Eventually, we got back to V’s place. He sat down on the couch and asked me how I was still doing inside him, and I suddenly felt very weak. I told him this, and he chuckled and said I didn’t have much time left. I could feel my legs melting away, and I guess the fumes inside his stomach were starting to get to me. I then begged him to please let me out, and he said that even if he did, I would be in pain due to the lack of skin and muscle. He then patted his stomach and told me to just relax.

After about another hour, I was dizzy, and I knew I was almost done. Eventually, I passed out, and my body went limp inside V’s body. Throughout the next few hours, my body was broken down and absorbed by his stomach. I added to his belly, ass, thighs, and arms.

After a few days, V looked at himself in the mirror, pleased with his new body. He chuckled looking at himself, then patted his belly and said I made a good meal.

[mayullla]

Yandere Tighnari 🌺🦋

Title: A Little Chocolate Test

Character(s): Tighnari (Genshin Impact) Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, Fem!reader, dubious consent, dubious/non con use of aphrodisiacs, yandere themes, yan Tighnari, 1k words

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

You didn't remember clearly how you got here. There was a heat in your stomach as you looked lovingly at the man in front of you. You had always had a crush on this person for a long time. His cool hand gently held your face as you leaned towards him, in a daze. If he did not hold you in his arms, you feared you would have already slumped to the dirt floor, lacking energy to move, unable to make clear, solid thoughts.

"One more." Something touched your mouth. A familiar smell of chocolate, somewhat melted, left marks on the gloves of the man that you liked while also leaving some on your lips. "Come on, open up your mouth. You can do it."

It was difficult to do, yet you followed, weak to his words. Your face was already hot, not from the humidity, but because of the boiling that you felt within you, worsened under his stare as he looked down at you. His eyes looked at you like you were something to be studied, examining you made you feel like you were naked under him. You felt exposed, embarrassment seeping into your veins, wanting no more than to hide.

"Hmmm, so this is what happens when you eat those chocolates. I must say you are quite knowledgeable with your work. Where did you find out that this plant had aphrodisiac properties?" He asked you, mumbling half of the time. You groaned, head unable to concentrate on his words, yet your body was still so sensitive to his voice.

"Hmmm, I guess it would be hard to get an answer right now," Tighnari mumbled to himself, moving your hair away from your face. Both of you were on a fallen tree in the middle of the forest. In the middle of nowhere, you barely remembered that Tighnari had sent the other forest rangers away, but you could not remember the reason.

You didn't know when they would come back, as your attention was still on him. He was the one you had a crush on for the longest time. You were once both students in the same Darshan Amurta. You always had an interest in biology, unique plants, and fungus, and you wanted to learn and know more when you saw him.

For the longest time, it had always been an innocent crush. It was difficult to get closer to him when everyone always crowded around him, wanting to get his opinion on something or learn a little more. Even if you had a chance, your tongue was tied, and it was difficult to hold a conversation with him long enough for something to happen.

When he graduated, you could only watch from afar, smiling with a little sadness in your heart as he left. You thought that was the end, as you watched him leave from afar, thinking it was the last time you would ever have the chance to grow closer to him.

Your mind was too muddled to continue thinking, and you were too drugged to remember anything as he helped you push the next chocolate into your mouth, muttering to himself that he was curious about something. How did you end up in his arms? How did this happen?

"You know, I wasn't surprised when I smelled the chocolates on you when you arrived. I heard that you had been curious about the concept of chocolate being a natural aphrodisiac." You were having a difficult time breathing, feverish, yet just for a moment, you were lucid enough to realize that you were leaning on your crush's arms. When did he move you closer to him?

"Ah- No, no. Don't do that. You are too dazed right now; you will fall and hurt yourself." Tighnari huffed a sigh as he brought you closer to him while pushing another small bit of chocolate past your lips when you somehow finished the last one. You groaned again, moaning in suffering of this craving of lust. The light touches of Tighnari sent chills down your spine, yet at the same time, a torment for you who wanted more, yet as drool fell from your lips, unable to coherently make words except grunts, too dazed to form sentences.

"You have always been a romantic, even when we went to the academy. I sometimes caught you daydreaming and in a daze. It was quite cute, to be honest with you." None of his words were registering in your mind; you were too limp in his arms. "I was always curious as to what you were thinking; imagine my surprise when I heard you guys talking about me." He chuckled as if reminded by something, probably something that was supposed to be meant for only you and your friend. "It was disappointing to leave the academy, I must say, when I know that you were still there. But what to do, I was needed somewhere else... I guess you would not hear me now."

You moaned in complaint when he tried to move you again, unable to move as much as you tried to run away from his hands that you thought were trying to pull you away from him. His laughter as he told you that it was okay, his tail moving to curl around you. "Hmmm, you are quite cute like this too." His voice so close made you flustered, yet instead of recognizing your pain and lust, he laughed his hand stroking your back making it even more unbearable for you.

He was teasing you.

"I was curious as to how much you have done with your research on this chocolate. Seems like it is still a work in progress… but I actually quite prefer this outcome." You didn't realize your hand was held by him, fingers interlocked with each other, yours too weak to move anymore as he brought your hand near his lips. You didn't see the chocolate mark near his lips as he kissed the back of your hand. "Don't worry, I will take care of you."

[typhros]

fhr/los diablos dashboard simulator

👾moddeddubstep78 Follow

fuck my stupid baka life Marshal Steel just fucking crushed my car AGAIN

#thank god my insurance covers rangers related accidents

rangershqofficial-deactivated Follow

just a reminder to everyone that we don't give a fuck about your health insurance

#THEY GOT OP?????? #FUCK THAT'S WHERE I GOT ALL MY PICTURES OF CHARGE

💉 booooooooost Follow

just a reminder that people fearmongering about boosting are fundamentally antivaxxers!!!!

#not to mention classist as fuck #i will not be elaborating none of you motherfuckers can read #stop sending me anon hate

🛒 unmoddedunbothered Follow

tell me why i just saw someone claim that it's classist and an "antivaxx mentality" to spread actual information about the outcomes of the boost drug

#linking the study again #this is getting ridiculous at this point #and YES it is a valid study!!!! 8 people is literally a normal amount to have

❓ rangerspolls Follow

❓ rangerspolls

GUYS STOP ASKING ME WHERE CHARGE IS. THERE IS AN OVERSATURATION OF CHARGE I'M LITERALLY LEAVING CHARGE OUT OF ONE (1) THING

#ALSO WHO THE FUCK IS VOTING SIDESTEP #THEY LITERALLY WEAR A FULL BODY SUIT AND MASK. HOT BASED ON WHAT??

🚶‍♂️ mrnormalguy Follow

omw to work and i just watched that one guy from the rangers fall on top of the car behind me. only in los diablos fr

🕴 aspiringnonsuperhero Follow

about to stick a fork in my new mod

🕴 aspiringnonsuperhero

hopital

💞 circuitheartbeats Follow

By Your Electric Love (marchal charge x reader)

summary: you get injured in one of the new villain's rampages and marchal charge finds you trapped under some rubble. charge takes you home to tend your wounds and you learn....... the secret under the mask.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: dom!charge, pet names (babygirl), f!reader, swearing, unprotected... >w<

(a/n-- thank u all for 1k follows!!! ^u^)

(story under cut ->)

#los diablos rangers #charge #rangers x reader #charge x reader #charge x f!reader #guys this one was sooooooo hot i kept blushing while i tried to finish it #i hope you like it #1k

💥 dailyblast Follow

can you guys stop fucking tagging your rangers x reader fic with official rangers tags. every time i come on this goddamn website and see the tag is trending i try to check and see what happened and it's just that one guy who can't even spell charge's OLD (!!!!) title right

#it's marshal with an s #by the way a fucking gala was robbed

🩺 ethicalscientist Follow

does anyone think it's a little suspicious that the new villain targeted sidestep's exhibit of all people? like. with all due respect they're dead and were not that important while alive. does anyone think this person might be related to them in some way?

🧬 unethicalscientist Follow

my guy did you not catch that their villain name is anathema

🐸 bugboy2 Follow

stop saying boosts and mods are cool. they're literally tools of the government and a a drug that originated with fucking DIET CULTURE that kill more people than they save. why are we glamorizing this

🍆 bleepbloop78 Follow

stop saying boosts and mods are cool. my brother literally got super fart powers when he boosted himself and i had to move house. why are we glamorizing this