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daydreamingleclerc · 1 year

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playing cards // mason mount

in which; mason is a regular at the coffee shop you work in, and when he ends up taking you home after a boozy day out with your sister, things escalate.

includes; smut, oral (f, m rec), fingering, protected sex, dom!mason, sub!reader, daddy kink, restraints, choking, squirting, face fucking, swearing, begging, i think that's it.

this is the first bit of mason smut i've written in a long time so please be nice !! this is based on a dream i had, plus... coffee shop au’s are just the best au’s. also this is extremely long, in the ballpark of almost 7,000 words. so go grab a snack or a cuppa <3

mason was a common regular at your workplace. it wasn’t uncommon to see him or his friends coming in for coffee, it was close to their work and a quiet enough place for them to unwind. you always thought he was a very attractive man, although you were convinced, he was way out of your league. you had a bold stint one day not too long after a breakup and went over to ask for his name and in turn he’d asked for yours. you’d been building foundations ever since.

you admired him as best you could through your lashes as you prepared his drink. he kept flickering his eyes up to you whenever you looked away, and there was a thick tension among the two of you that seemed obvious to everyone else in the shop but you.

“how are you today?”

mason opened the conversation, resting his arms on the counter as he stretched out his calves. you smiled over at him, “i’m okay, mason. how are you?” he stood up straight and folded his arms over his torso, flexing the muscles under his shirt and you averted your eyes from him momentarily. he noticed, and cocked his head softly. “i don’t think that was the best thing for me to ask, was it? i saw that you guys got kicked out of the league last night, i'm sorry.”

he shrugged his shoulders and pushed his body closer to the counter to let a few people walk past him to the back of the shop, and he rested his elbow on the corner of the counter. he was so close you could smell his aftershave, and you tried to avoid your reaction at every price.

“it’s okay, these things can’t be helped,” he hummed, and then a cheeky smile came to his face, “i’ve been off sick for the last month, who knows. maybe i could’ve changed the result.”

you laughed, admiring his cheekiness, and silence fell among you as you continued to steam the milk for his drink. another set of regulars said hello to you as they walked past the counter, and you smiled over at them. mason watched as you did a beautiful rosetta on the top of his drink.

“i can’t believe you still want me to put chocolate powder on the top of all my beautiful artwork,” you frowned as you sprinkled an even layer of chocolate powder over his coffee, “it’s not even a cappuccino.”

you cleaned the remains of chocolate powder from the side of the cup and placed it on the counter for him with a teaspoon, “there you go,” you smiled, “i even gave you a spoon to swirl in all your chocolatey desires.”

he laughed and even though he’d had everything he’d ordered, he loitered around for a while longer. “you okay? did you order anything else, am i forgetting anything?”

“no,” he said nonchalantly, “i, uh, i forgot to say that i saw you out the other day, at coppa club.”

“oh yeah? on saturday?” you asked, and he nodded, “my sister’s getting married and saturday was a drunken brunch with the wedding party, whereabouts were you?”

“i was on the opposite side of the road, with my sister and her kids. i knew it was you instantly, i almost... uh, wait. that sounded so much better in my head,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and you laughed out loud, head tipping back. “i just wanted to tell you because i thought you looked very pretty.”

“do i not look pretty everyday, mason?”

he laughed, and opened his mouth to speak, but instead stuck his tongue into his cheek and looked at you with a cheeky smirk.

“so, when’s your sisters wedding?”

“july seventh,” you smiled, “why?”

“just curious,” he rocked back and forth on his feet, “do you have a date?”

“no,” you furrowed your eyebrows but then smiled, “why? are you offering?”

“maybe,” he shrugged, and took his drink by the handle, “i guess i'll just have to play all my cards right, won’t i?”

//////

you were the last person mason expected to notice in the ivy at four pm on a friday, but then again, he was the last person you expected to see. your sister was trying to milk every ounce of her engagement as she could, and so today was a day of shopping for her wedding lingerie and drinking before the big day in a month.

he was sat at an elongated table along the wall, and when he saw you he waved. you waved back, and a blush rose to your cheeks.

“who's he?” your sister asked, wiggling her eyebrows. she never missed a trick.

“who? oh.. nobody, he just comes into work sometimes.”

“he’s cute,” she swirled her straw around in her drink, “you should invite him to the wedding.”

“angelina,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes, “you don’t even know who he is.. i don’t even know who he is. not really. don’t tell me you want me inviting a stranger to your wedding.”

angelina shrugged, already half cut as she finished her drink. she pushed the glass to the edge of the table, and tapped on your glass to hurry you up. “anything's better than that muppet you used to date,” she admitted, “and, this one is actually cute.”

“angelina! will you stop?” you sucked your drink through the straw until you hit the bottom of the glass, and immediately the alcohol went to your head, “first you try and get me to invite a stranger to your wedding and then you insult my taste in men.”

“i didn’t insult your taste in men,” she rolled her eyes, and tapped her fingernails on the marble table. you watched as a waiter went up and spoke to mason, furrowing your eyebrows together when he pointed in your direction, “i just insulted your ex, plus, whoever this stranger is, he’s totally into you.”

“angelina, that’s enough!” you couldn’t help but laugh at your sisters stupid attempts at matchmaking. “he’s a customer at work. that's it, now leave it.”

the two of you continued your conversation, and you were relieved to witness the food arrive. angelina was deep in conversation about the wedding band when a bottle of champagne on ice arrived at the table.

“we didn’t order this.” you gestured to the bottle of champagne, and the waiter smiled.

“this is on the house, ma’am,” he lowered the bucket and pulled at the cork. angelina’s eyebrows wiggled ferociously as the young man filled the flutes and placed the bottle back into the ice bucket, “and this note is for you, looks like you’ve got a secret admirer.”

he handed you the card, with writing scribbled inside of it.

‘bottles on me, thanks for all the coffee. playing all my cards right, MM x’

you looked over at mason’s table and tried to hide the growing smile on your face as best you could. he was sat back on the chair, with one arm outstretched on the table and one lazily draped across the back of his chair. with the arm on the back of the chair, he wiggled his fingers and shot you a wink.

“are you sure he’s just a customer?” angelina asked when she nabbed the card from your hands, “because he seems like a man with raging hormones.”

you snatched the card back from your sister and raised your flute glass up in his direction. mason nodded his head and watched you with dark eyes as you took a sip. “i hope you’re gonna take him home with you tonight,” angelina muttered, “that’s if you make it out tonight.”

“lina! enough,” you took another sip of your champagne, “i’ll thank him once we’ve finished eating, okay?”

your sister nodded her head and the two of you got back to eating and enjoying your free champagne, which was going down very well. time passed, and mason was still sitting in his chair, and your lunch was long finished.

“fuck sake, y/n, why don’t you just suck the man off right here, you’re giving him the eyes.” angelina’s words attracted looks from people sitting around you and you kicked your sisters leg under the table. she laughed, pouring herself another glass of champagne from the ice cold bottle. you were anxious to stand up and walk over, two cocktails and two glasses of champagne down, you weren’t sure whether your legs would be able to hold your weight or if you’d wobble like jelly.

the place had begun to pack out now, and within the next half an hour, a few of angelina’s friends would be arriving before you all made your way to meet angelina’s fiance and his friends at one of the other local pubs. mason shifted when he saw you walking over to him, pushing himself forward and licking his lips eagerly.

“trying to get me drunk, mount?”

he took a sip of his drink. “that depends, y/n.”

“on what?”

“on if you’re actually drunk, sweetheart.”

you blushed heavily when he used the name, and he scooted over on his chair to let you perch so you didn’t get knocked over. your sister spun around in her chair and held the glass up to mason, and took a swig while she held up her thumb. he couldn’t help but laugh.

“i’m not, but my sister clearly is.”

when you turned back to mason after he’d waved back at your sister, he was looking directly at your bra, which was on full show underneath your mesh shirt, with ‘ANGEL’ written in diamante’s. he tried to avert his eyes before he was caught, but you were very quick and certainly not stupid.

“liking what you see?”

he laughed, and this time he was the one blushing.

“i always like what i see if it involves you,” his arm draped over the top of the chair again, and his fingertips skimmed your shoulder. when you tipped your head forward and giggled, his fingers tapped at your cheek softly, “what, darling?”

“you’re embarrassingly good with your words, y’know that?” mason laughed and soon, the pair of you felt like the only people in the room. your sisters friends had begun to join her at the table, and you felt a sense of relief. “do you wanna get out of here?”

mason admired your confidence, and it was then that you just happened to catch a glimpse of a familiar face walking past the table. “aren’t you here with your sister?”

“yeah, i am, but her friends are here now, and i've just seen my scumbag of an ex walk past this table,” your eyes followed him walking down the aisle to a table down the back of the room and his eyes locked on yours, “and i think you can play your cards right and take me home for a few more drinks.”

your confidence shone through, and mason wasn’t a stranger to sexual advances. he also knew that you were a confident lady, but he didn’t know you were this confident. he admired it though, and he’d always wanted the chance to shoot his shot, and now it seemed, you’d beat him to it. he had no choice but to oblige. he glanced over in the direction of your ex boyfriend, and pushed his lips up to your ear.

“go and tell your sister we’re leaving, and i'll take you wherever you want to go, sweetheart.”

//////////

your hands shook as you fumbled with the key to your flat, mason hot on your toes. he'd parked his car in the drive next to your complex – an expensive 22 plate mercedes that looked shiny and effortless next to your beat up 12 plate volkswagen polo.

you could feel his body heat radiating onto your back when you managed to push open the door, and relief flooded your face when you saw mason carrying your bags into the hallway.

he put the bags in the corner next to the shoerack, and your flat seemed eerily quiet. “jordan?” you yelled, hanging on a tense pause as you waited to hear a response from your flat mate. no response came and you breathed a sigh of relief when you realised she was at her girlfriends for the night; after you told her you were going out tonight, she probably knew it would be safer for her to be out of the flat so she couldn’t listen to any of your antics.

“you okay?” mason asked, raising an eyebrow, “who’s jordan?”

“my flat mate,” you replied, hopping up onto the counter. “i think she’s gone to her girlfriends for the night, probably for the best.”

“why’s that?”

mason’s eyebrows quirked up and his lips curled up into a smirk. you wanted to punch him in the face, but you also wanted to feel those lips all over your body.

“you’re here,” you pulled at his jacket’s lapels, and he didn’t stop you. his eyes trailed over your body, admiring your bright eyes and flushed cheeks before situating themselves on your chest, “and you can’t stop staring at my boobs.”

“as pretty as your tits are,” mason’s fingers ran over the sides of your body and up to your neck, where one hand gave a soft, experimental squeeze, “i can’t help but notice the word on your shirt.”

you looked down and remembered that the diamante’s spelled out the word ‘angel’. your eyebrows furrowed, feigning innocence.

“what about the shirt? what’s wrong, are some of the diamante’s missing?”

he squeezed your neck again. “it says you're an angel but judging by the state of the bra underneath and how hard your nipples are, i'd say you're more of a brat,” his thumb pushed at your chin until you looked at him, “does that sound like more of a legitimate scenario for you, princess?”

dryness formed in the back of your throat and all you could do was nod. mason tutted and pulled you closer, “oh, sweetheart. you’re not a very fast learner are you?” his thumb brushed your bottom lip, and you let out a held breath that fanned hot, sweet smelling air into his face, “i need you to use your words.”

you leaned in for a kiss but mason pulled away, waiting patiently for you to speak. you squeaked out a small ‘sorry, daddy’, but mason wasn’t satisfied. “what did you just say?”

“sorry, daddy.”

“you can do better than that,” he leaned in and kissed you. it was hot, tantalizing, everything you’d wanted since the very first time he walked into the café, but it was over far too quickly. “but i'll let you off, because you’re so eager to please.”

he leaned in again, and this time the kiss was perfection. his hand fell to your cheek and you wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing yourself to sink into it deeper. the rhythm was easy to flow with, and his tongue soon slipped past into your mouth, telling you he was just as eager as you were. when you bit down on his lip, he winced and squeezed your thigh with his wandering hand. you inadvertently spread your legs, and allowed his hand to wander to your inner thigh.

he touched you everywhere but the place you wanted, and every time he teased you by skimming his knuckles over your clit, he would bite down on your lip to keep your mewls from escaping.

“what’s up, darling? hm? what do you want?”

“your fingers,” you muttered, a soft pink blush coming to your cheeks. mason smirked and you frowned. “please, mason.”

“oh, good girl, you do know how to use your manners.”

without giving you a warning, he stuffed his hand down the waistband of your flared trousers and found your clit immediately. it was soaked, and if your flares weren’t black, the wet patch that had formed would’ve been insanely obvious. he laughed in pity of you.

“god, you're soaked,” his words drowned out your soft moans, “you’ve imagined this before, haven’t you?”

you were ashamed to admit that he was the only thought you needed to get yourself off.

“yes, mason – fuck, yes, right there!”

he swirled your clit between his thumb, letting his fingers explore your folds as much as he could with the lack of room he had due to your trousers. his slender fingers worked effortlessly to tease you, and you were being driven crazy when he circled your hole but didn’t insert them.

“need your fingers, mason,” you breathed, tugging at the hairs on his head.

“you’ve got my fingers, babygirl. you need to be more specific.”

you pouted and let out a pathetic excuse for a whine. mason laughed in pity again.

“need them – fuck – need them inside of me, daddy, please.”

mason's fingers dipped inside of you and curled in a come hither motion, but paused after one long curl. “like this?” he asked, knowing full well from the sound that escaped your lips that was exactly what you wanted. you nodded, and mason grumbled. “words, baby. words.”

“y-yes daddy,” you hummed, and when he curled them inside of you again you almost melted, “fuck, daddy. thank you daddy.”

“you’re welcome, sweetheart.”

mason's fingers were effortless. he had had so much practice, it could’ve killed you. you pushed yourself further to his fingers, leaving yourself dangling on the very edge of the counter, and your trousers must’ve caught on an uneven bit of side, and a snag had hit the bottom. mason saw this as his perfect opportunity, and continued to pull at the snag until it ripped a hole right across the middle of the crotch, and he smirked.

“mason!”

“i’ll buy you all the trousers in the world tomorrow, right now, please just let me focus on making you cum.”

now, with more space, mason used it to his advantage. he pushed you back so you laid flat on the counter, albeit uncomfortably, and his fingers pushed into you so much deeper, so much easier, stretching you out so deliciously you felt as if you were gonna scream.

he leaned down and flicked your clit with his tongue teasingly, which sent you into overdrive. you cried out, desperately begging him to make you cum. his tongue flicked your clit in tandem with his fingers inside of you, totalling three so far.

“your pussy feels so good clenching around my fingers, darling,” mason left kisses to your pubic bone, “imagine how its gonna feel clenching my dick.”

your orgasm was teetering on the edge, and you could feel yourself beginning to erupt. “mason, ‘m gonna... please.. please can i...”

he hummed against your clit and it triggered one of the biggest and best orgasms you’d ever had. you saw literal stars, and for a minute you feared that you weren’t going to stop seeing those stars. your hand came to mason’s hair and you tugged at it, pulling him off of your clit and bringing yourself back up to a sitting position.

mason’s lips locked on yours and you moaned when you tasted yourself on his tongue. his kiss was hot, effortless, and when you pushed the jacket from his shoulders, he didn’t stop you. his hands roamed across your body, fingers sending goosebumps across your torso as he ran them up under your shirt.

“can i...?” mason asked, fingertips tugging on the hem of the mesh shirt, and you nodded, holding your arms up for him to pull it off, but instead, he tugged at the mesh until it ripped. you let out an agitated groan.

“do you have a kink for ripping women’s clothes or something?”

mason laughed and slipped the broken mesh into the back of his trouser pocket. “the wording on that shirt was bullshit, princess, i was just doing you a favor.”

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders again as you sunk back into a kiss, the embarrassing wet patch underneath you beginning to grow again. mason's hands hoisted your legs onto his waist and when your legs crossed over his lower back, his palms splayed on your bum so he could lift you. lifting you was easy for him, and he never once showed that it wasn’t, and you couldn’t help but get even more turned on by his immense strength.

“where’s the bedroom?” he asked, lips moving from yours down to your neck. he sucked a small red mark onto the skin and when you didn’t answer, he stopped. “i’m talking to you, sweetheart.”

“uh, um.. it's down the hall on the left,” you mumbled, stretching your neck out so he could go back to licking and sucking a mark on the underside of your chin. “i’m not allowed these for work, mason.”

“and yet, you’re begging me for more,” mason kicked open your bedroom door with his foot and pushed you up against the wall where he could continue to suck at your skin, “i might as well write my fucking name on your skin.”

you couldn’t help but grind your crotch on the button of mason’s jeans. there were so many ridges and sensations that you were able to be provided, and you were already sensitive. plus, mason’s dick was hard and the idea of dry humping him in this position made you lose your mind. mason tutted, but didn’t stop you when you grinded down on the very top of his thigh.

“such a dirty fucking girl,” he taunted, “i’ve already given you an orgasm and you’re desperate for another one, hm?”

“y-yes, daddy,” you squeaked, hitting a particularly good spot. you knew you should’ve stopped, but you were so close to cumming again, you really didn’t want to. “please, don’t make me stop. please let me get myself off on you, daddy.”

“using me for your own sexual pleasure, darling,” he hummed, “that’s supposed to be what i was doing with you,” he cooed so effortlessly you were hardly focusing on his words, so caught up in chasing your close orgasm. mason tucked some hair behind your ear, “how can i ever say no when you look so pretty with your eyes rolling back, hm? such a bad little girl.”

mason's words sent shivers down your spine and you could feel the orgasm tinkering inside of you. “mason, please... please let me... ‘m gonna... fuck!” you couldn’t finish your sentence, and words turned into syllables and syllables turned into breaths as you cried out during your second orgasm. mason's hands eased you back to reality, and you unhooked your legs from his waist, standing down on your floor with wobbly thighs.

mason's dick was now rock hard, and he was fighting off every urge to fuck you then and there. you looked so dazed already, so fucked out and he’d hardly even touched you. it made him pity you again.

mason’s hand went to his crotch, and groped at his dick through the material, giving himself a very small moment of relief. you couldn’t help but admire him, and he in turn, adored the way you looked at him with innocent eyes, knowing full well the intentions behind them were anything but.

“gonna help me out here, princess?” mason’s fingers unhooked his button, and you nodded as you got to your knees, and he thought he was going to explode then and there. “this is your doing after all.”

you took over taking off his jeans, pulling them down his legs until they pooled at his feet. his dick looked freer now, springing up in his calvins and he let out a gentle breath of relief at the feeling of no more claustrophobia. mason pushed at the waistband of his boxers until he pushed them down just enough for his dick to spring out, and your eyes widened at the sight before you.

“liking what you see, darling?” he asked, a rather cocky question on his behalf. if you weren’t so desperate to choke on it, you’d have punched him in the face.

“yes,” was all you could say for the time being. it was bigger than you’d anticipated, but it turned you on to know he was packing all this heat.

“don’t keep me waiting, y/n,” mason said sternly, wrapping his fingers around his dick and jacking himself off for a few seconds to yield some relief. “show me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

you did as you were told, scooting closer until you were face to face with his dick, and when you held your tongue out to his head and let it rest there while your fingers wrapped daintily around the base, mason groaned. you never broke eye contact while you began to take him into your mouth, inch by inch.

mason's eyes almost rolled to the back of his head when your nose finally hit his skin. it took you a few attempts to get to this point, and it was slow, and it drove him crazy. his dick twitched as it sat down your throat and you made an inadvertent gagging noise, and as the muscles of your throat contracted around his flesh he groaned, his hands springing to your head to hold it there.

your hands braced around his knees to keep yourself steady, and when he let go of your head and you pulled away, a string of spit connected you to the head of his cock. you broke it off with your tongue and soon, the soft, slow burial of mason’s dick down your throat became faster, sloppy and wet. you got comfier on your knees and brought your hands up to help with what you couldn't fit in your mouth. spit trickled from your bottom lip every time you pulled off his dick and pooled at the spot on the floor between your bodies.

“fucking hell,” mason groaned, throwing his head back as you gave him arguably the sloppiest, best head of his life. “you’re such a good girl, hm? so eager to please.”

you nodded as best you could with his dick down your throat, and he groaned again at the garbled sounds that spilled from your mouth when you tried to speak, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. he pulled at his shirt, tugging it up over his torso and pulling it off his body, and you watched as his muscles tightened and contracted.

the wet patch had returned, and you could feel your thighs slick with your own juices.

“stay still, babygirl,” mason groaned, bringing his hands to either side of your head, “your throat is so wet, and you look so beautiful with my dick down your throat, i've just got to fuck your face, just for a minute.”

a garbled ‘ok, daddy’ tumbled from your lips and mason groaned once again. his eyes landed on yours and he held eye contact with you as he began to fuck your throat, and the spluttering and spitting of your throat contracting around him at such a fast pace left him feral. he would be thinking of this moment for months to come.

“fucking hell, that’s it,” mason’s hips thrusted and he threw his head back, relishing in the feeling of your throat, “such a dirty fucking girl, aren’t you? letting me fuck your face like this. i bet you love it, don’t you, baby?”

you tried to answer, but the words only came out mashed and garbled around his dick. mason had to pull out before he came in your mouth, and so, reluctantly, he stopped.

“if you let me fuck your throat like a whore, i can’t imagine how you’re gonna let me fuck your pussy.”

mason pulled you up and you kissed his lips teasingly before bending over the bed and looking back at him over your shoulder.

“why don’t you come and find out, daddy.”

mason thought he was going to explode in that moment, having someone so eager and ready for him left his mind spinning. his whole body felt as though it were jelly in that moment, for some reason he was just itching for you, but he also wanted to take his sweet time.

he stepped out of his jeans and pushed your legs, so you were laying across the bed on your back. you looked ethereal, and he reached down around your back to unhook your bra; in hindsight, it would’ve been much easier for him to do this first, but he needed to see you fully naked, splayed out in front of him.

you pulled your bra off of your arms, and mason watched as he stared at your body in awe. he couldn’t help but suck a nipple into his mouth and draw out delicious sounding moans from your lips, which only spurred him on further.

“mason...” you whimpered, desperate for some sort of relief.

“yes, darling?”

“please,” you felt your throat drying up, “please can you fuck me?”

the pair of you were just as desperate for one another, and mason soon realised that trying to string along the inevitable for at least the first round was impossible. he admired your naked body for a few moments longer, and you in turn admired his naked one too.

“seeing as you asked so nicely,” mason teased, and fumbled with the back pocket of his jeans on the floor, and when he turned back around with the broken mesh in his hands, he smirked at you, “but only if you put your wrists together.”

you did as he asked, and he guided your arms up so they were high over your head and allowed you to spin around and get your head comfortable on the pillows. he tied a knot around your wrists with the mesh fabric and gave it an experimental tug to see if it would hold, which it did.

“do you have anything?” you asked him, and he shook his head. “i’ve got some in that top drawer, you’re gonna have to get them though.”

“probably should’ve asked me the question before i tied you up, sweetheart,” mason couldn’t help but laugh as he fumbled in the drawer for the condoms until he grabbed a few and scattered them across the bed, “ooh, flavoured? aren’t you adventurous.”

“fuck you,” you taunted, and mason leaned down to press his lips to yours, shutting you up.

“good job that’s exactly what i'm about to do, baby.”

he rolled the condom on with no problems and leaned down to press his lips to yours again, one hand on your wrists and another guiding himself to your entrance. you looked so beautiful that he couldn’t help but admire you one last time.

“let me know if it gets too much, okay?”

“okay,” you nodded, and with that, mason pushed his tip inside of you.

a shiver rolled down your spine at the feeling, and he couldn’t help but hold his eyes on yours to see the way they rolled back as he stretched you out. your eyes fluttered softly, and your pupils rolled around to the back of your head multiple times before you came to, and he wasn’t even all the way inside of you yet.

“jesus, you’re still so fucking tight,” mason couldn’t help the words falling from his lips, with every clench of your pussy around him. “even after everything i’ve given you.”

you nodded, unable to speak, and it made him laugh again. the speed of his hips began to increase, and soon you were arching your back and relishing in the feeling of mason’s dick inside of you. your hands were held firmly in place with one of his, it seemed he could sense that you would still try and touch even though they were tied. he was a smart man.

“need you to go faster mason, baby,” you fought for breath underneath him, “want you to go faster, daddy, please.”

his lips attached to your neck and he sucked another mark into the flesh and you arched right up into him as he did so. he loved the way you reacted to his touch, it only spurred him on more. with his free hand, mason hoisted your leg up onto his shoulder, so that not only was he going faster, he was going much deeper now too.

“like this, baby?”

“mhm, fuck,” the new angle had let the tingles swarm in your belly, “just like that daddy, fuck!”

“see, i knew that shirt was a lie, darling. angel's don’t beg for cock the way you do, do they?”

you shook your head, no, desperately clinging onto your orgasm which was fast approaching. mason's arms flexed as you fluttered your eyes open to see one tensed as he held your calve, and one tensed as he held your wrists. he looked so good, sweat had begun to form on his hairline and his tattoos glistened on his torso, it was enough to drive you wild.

his mouth leaned down to one of your nipples and when his teeth sunk into the sensitive flesh you yelped, but then the hand that was on your wrists travelled down to your clit and began to rub soft circles on the bud, and you were so close to cumming you could’ve screamed.

“mason... i... i can feel it,” you mumbled, “mason, please... please can i...”

“you need to ask properly, baby,” the sound of his words vibrated across your chest and ran right through your body. his thrusts were harsher now, his hips moving deeper with every thrust and you weren’t sure you could take anymore. “go on, ask me nicely.”

“please...” you had to compose yourself before asking, “please can i cum, daddy?”

mason grunted at your words and as you clenched around him for extra measure, he knew he couldn’t say no. “since you asked so nicely, little one.”

your orgasm hit quickly, slamming through your body and leaving you with convulsing ramifications. you were so overstimulated that you couldn’t control your body’s actions and when mason pulled out, a trickle of liquid followed. it was embarrassing, and you tried to hide your face but failed due to your tied wrists.

mason tore the condom off and shifted up the bed, so he was kneeling with his dick against your mouth. still laying down, you opened up and let him use your mouth the way he wanted.

“wetting the bed all because i fucked you so well, babygirl, hm? how sweet.”

he tapped your cheek and with every shallow thrust of his dick in your mouth, you gagged around him. he twitched on your tongue and you held it out for him to paint white. he came with a loud, gutteral groan of your name and his juices landed all across your chin and neck.

by the end, your arms were exhausted and you were in desperate need of a nap. mason untied your wrists and found some wipes on your desk and helped clean up your face, to which you thanked him with a kiss.

“can you stay?” you asked, after a long moment of silence. “as much as i've been trying to avoid it, i quite like you and i think it would benefit me if i asked you to stay.”

he smiled, a bright, beaming smile that made your heart flutter. “of course i can,” he lay flat on his back and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, encapsulating you in his warmth. “i quite like you too, y’know.”

“i know, you haven’t been very good at avoiding it,” you turned to look at him as he stared at the surroundings of your bedroom. “so, are you free july seventh?”

his lips upturned into a smile, “why? are you offering?”

“i guess you played your cards right after all.”

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something-tofightfor · 4 months

Text

On Deck Part 1: Hot Corner

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Female Reader Baseball AU

Word Count: 8,117

Rating: M (language, general adult thoughts, etc.)

Summary: Taking your best friend's little brother to a minor leage game to see his favorite player just might lead to a lot of changes in your life.

And you're ready.

Author’s notes:

This story has been in progress for more than two years. I've written about Baseball Jack many times before ... but only the "after". It's time to see how - and where - it all began.

(On Deck universe masterlist for all the extras!)

Thank you to everyone that convinced me to work on this and to keep this pairing going / to flesh them out more. I have had so much fun with this because I have such a love for the MLB (and the men who play in the league) - and I'm so excited to share it.

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

As always, if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out. I hope you enjoy this as much as I am.

Third base is often called the ‘hot corner’ due to the prevalence of right handed hitters - and subsequent on-field action - in the league. The third baseman is typically the infield position player closest to the batter, so to excel in this position, players need to display quick reaction times and exceptional hand-eye coordination.

“We’re going to be late.” He stood next to you, arms crossed over his chest. “We still have to walk to the stadium.”

“Caleb.” You sighed, closing and then locking the car door before sticking your keys into the small bag you’d bought specifically for games. “We’re here. We’re parked. The stadium is right there.” Pointing with one finger, you raised a brow and grinned. “The parking lot is only half full, and we’ve already got seats, so -”

“Yeah, but we’re going to miss warm ups and the pregame.” He rolled his eyes, turning away from you and heading toward the ballpark. “And those are the best parts.”

You agreed, but for a very different reason than the twelve year old you were with.

You’d been to games with him and Erin before. You and your friend sat a few rows back while the pre-teen hurried down to field level, a baseball and a pen clutched in one hand, hoping to meet at least one of the players after they’d finished warming up and stretching.

From your vantage point, the two of you had been free to whisper about the players - pointing out the way their uniforms fit, discussing whether or not their asses were in mid-season form yet, or even commenting on the stretches they chose to warm up with before the game. Typically, you didn’t have a thing for men in uniform - but baseball pants were a different story.

You loved the game, and had been visiting The Distillery - your local team’s home park - since you were a child, attending games with your family and friends and even dates as the years passed. Baseball games were the perfect summer activity no matter who you were with, and that was even true when your company was the younger brother of your best friend… and the game wasn’t a Major League competition.

“She’s got the tickets.” He made the announcement when you reached the gates, the boy pointing back over his shoulder at you. “Two of them.” You smiled at the attendant, sliding your unzipped bag across the table so she could search it, and then returned your eyes to Caleb. He’d already removed his ballcap and the wallet he carried, pushing them forward and stepping through the metal detector.

“He’s excited, hmm?”

“Yeah.” Letting her scan the ticket barcodes, you laughed. “He really is.” Caleb waited for you to follow him through the turnstiles, his hat flipped backwards on his head, and you could see the impatience on his face. “Caleb, do you want to get something to eat before we -”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not yet. Before the game starts, but …” He glanced over his shoulder and you looked down at the field, where the grounds crew were still getting everything ready. “Can we go down there? I want to try and meet him. He’s playing today. They said it on the news.”

“Go.” Your smile widened, head moving up and down in a nod. “I’m right behind you, kid.”

Caleb took off running toward the stairs that led down toward the third base line, and you followed him slowly, taking your time and eyeing the seating situation. There were people already waiting; a handful of kids and their parents, along with a few women that looked to be your age or a little younger, but there were still plenty of seats open adjacent to the field.

You sat closer than you normally would have, deciding to take a seat in the row directly behind the boy. Just in case. For the next ten minutes, you paid no attention to the field, instead scrolling through social media and waiting, the music pumping through the speakers fading to background noise as you mindlessly browsed and clicked ‘like’ on a few posts.

You also let Erin know that you’d made it to the game, and that Caleb was exactly where he wanted to be. But when you glanced up, ready to take a picture to send to her, you were distracted by the sight of the team taking the field. Caleb was too, the boy bouncing up and down in place as he leaned forward, resting his hands on the low wall in front of him.

You watched for a few minutes - eyeing the players as they did their sprints and stretches, your lips twisting into a small smile at the sight of some of them utilizing their trainers for extra resistance during a few of the exercises. “He’s not here.” Caleb turned back to look at you, disappointment on his face. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Maybe he’ll come out late.” You shrugged, still looking at the field. “You never know, kiddo. You said he’s in the lineup, right?”

“Yeah.” He turned back to the field, leaning forward. “They talked on the radio about how he was coming back today, because they want him to back in Louisville by the end of next week, and -” Caleb stopped mid sentence, straightening up. “There he is!”

You couldn’t help it, your attention snapping in the direction that he was pointing. Sure enough, Jack Daniels and one of the trainers - a woman with short, dark hair and glasses - were taking the field to a low chorus of cheers, many of them coming from the section you were sitting in. There he is.

Despite yourself, you leaned forward to watch him, staring as Jack began his warm up. He started with a few stretches - knee hugs and focusing on his quads, carefully extending and testing his arms, and then bent forward at the waist, the man almost able to press his palms flat against the ground without bending his knees.

You didn’t take your eyes off of him, because like Caleb, one of the reasons you liked going to the Statesman games was looking at Jack Daniels. And there’s so much to look at.

The trainer watched him closely as he continued to warm up, speeding up his movements and then doing a series of static stretches. But when Jack started to do lunges, you actively fought back a groan, settling against the backrest of your seat and chewing on your lower lip. That’s hot as fuck.

He looked healthy, and you were happy to see it, because the truth was that the Statesman needed him to be. “He didn’t warm up yesterday.” You turned your head toward the voice, watching as another woman next to you stared at Jack, her smile wide. “He stretched a little, and took batting practice, but he didn’t warm up.”

“Oh, you were here yesterday, too?” She nodded, and when you glanced back at the field, you saw that Jack and the trainer had switched to more arm exercises, warming up the muscles of his upper body.

“He pinch hit late in the game.” She leaned forward, her smile widening as she watched Jack start arm circles, the trainer standing a few feet away from him with her arms crossed. “So I knew he’d play today. And that’s why I’m here.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Gonna shoot my shot when he comes over here to sign for the kids. Why not, right? We both know he goes for it sometimes.”

The girl was pretty - and definitely dressed to get his attention. She wore one of his t-shirts artfully slashed to show off her cleavage and had her legs on display in a pair of cutoff denim shorts. Good for her. “Yeah, why not.” You smiled, turning your head away from where the players were sprinting into the outfield and back to give her your full attention. “Even if he’ll be back in Louisville pretty soon, you might as well. See what happens.”

“It’s only 40 minutes away.” She shrugged, looking out and pointing at where the man was laying on the field, one knee bent and his other ankle resting against the top of it. The trainer was applying extra resistance, and you hummed in approval as you watched. I wish I was that trainer. “I’d drive there if I needed to.”

Her eagerness didn’t surprise you. Jack was a notably eligible bachelor, and one of the most desirable men on the team. Unlike the others, though, he didn’t often publicly date. But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hook up. And … You returned your attention to the field, watching as he stopped to talk to the woman, pointing at the front of his left shoulder and grinning. And I’m sure he’s got his pick in every city he visits.

“Oh, I think they’re coming over now.”

She adjusted her shirt and you watched her posture change, the woman’s shoulders straightening and her smile widening. Instead of staring at Jack’s strut toward the seats, you looked at Caleb. The boy was buzzing with excitement as he turned toward where the man was headed - about ten people to your left, where a small crowd had gathered. “Do you think he’ll come over?” Caleb said your name, frowning. “There’s not much time, and -”

“He will.” You leaned in, reaching out to touch his arm. “You’re wearing one of his shirts, right? He’s gotta stop for you.” Caleb grinned, turning back toward the field, though he kept his head turned to the left.

You watched Jack then, smiling as he interacted with the fans. He signed autographs and posed for a few pictures, his smile genuine. But you noticed that he was really only focused on the kids and teenagers, spending more than a few seconds with them instead of moving along as quickly as was politely possible the way he did with adults. He took pictures with a few women, the man leaning in but keeping both hands behind his back. He puts his hands on the kids’ shoulders, but doesn’t touch the women… interesting.

“Keep your phone out. I’m gonna need you to take a picture.” Caleb was excited, the boy happier than you ever remembered seeing him. You laughed but did as he asked, leaning to the right and angling the phone so that you could snap a picture of the two of them, though Jack was barely in the frame.

The girl next to you leaned forward when he was only a person or two away, and then seemed to second guess that decision. You bit back a laugh as she stood and climbed over the seats, standing next to Caleb and effectively blocking your view of the man on the field. Gee, thanks.

He finished with the little girl that he’d been speaking to, handing her back a signed baseball and a pen, and then took a step to the side and in front of the woman, saying hello.

Clearly hearing his voice in person shocked you - the man’s accent thick, even in the few words he spoke. You desperately wished that you could see him, but you didn’t want to shift in your seat and draw attention to yourself. I’ll see him when he talks to Caleb.

“I heard you were playing and had to come today.” She leaned forward, fingertips resting against the wall. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah?” He laughed, reaching up to pull his hat off and then set it back down on his head, taking a few seconds to think. You caught a glimpse of the bullseye tattoo on his hand, biting down on your lower lip at the sight. “Well thank you for comin’ out. It’s good to be back on the field.” The woman giggled and then held her phone up, tilting her head to the side.

“Can we get a picture? I’ll tag you in it on Instagram, and -”

“Sure.” You watched as the woman spun around and then leaned backwards, holding her phone up to take a selfie. “Hope it’s a good one.” He smiled, peering at the phone from over her shoulder, and you fought back a roll of your eyes at how wide and practiced her smile was - the woman’s head cocked to the side - and toward his.

When she straightened up, he took a half step toward Caleb, already tipping his head down and toward the boy. But the woman spoke up before he could fully move on, reaching out to touch his arm. “Thank you, Jack. You have no idea how much I -” He flinched - just barely, but you saw it, his shoulder jerking back slightly as her fingertips made contact.

“No problem. Thank you, and enjoy the game.” She stiffened, but you didn’t focus on that. You turned your attention to the boy in front of you - and in turn, Jack, whose face split into a grin, the man’s dimple on display, even beneath the shade from the brim of his hat. “Well hi there. I’m Jack, what’s your name?”

“Caleb.” He leaned forward and you opened your camera app again, your smile widening, too. Caleb’s going to be so excited later. “I had tickets to see you play in Louisville and then you got hurt and I didn’t know if you’d be back this season but then my mom bought me tickets for today after I found out you were going to play again, and so we drove all the way here -”

“Slow down there, big guy.” Jack laughed, giving you a glimpse of his teeth, and then gestured to Caleb’s hand, the boy holding a Sharpie tightly. “You want me to sign somethin’ for you?”

“Yeah. This ticket, please.” Caleb held the marker out, looking up at Jack. “And I’ve got your jersey, but it was too hot to wear it today, so I picked this t-shirt instead.”

“Of course I will.” He nodded, taking the Sharpie and the paper, scrawling his name across the front of it. “Turn around and I’ll sign real big on the number on the back.” Caleb spun around and you were thrilled to see that he was almost delirious with excitement, his eyes wide and his smile nearly splitting his face in two.

“Can I take a picture of you signing for him?” Jack glanced up at the sound of your voice, his smile faltering for a split second and a confused look passing over his features. “I didn’t want to just do it and have the flash go off, and…”

“Go right ahead.” He smiled again, giving you a nod. “Thank you for askin’.” It only took a few seconds for him to sign, but you took multiple pictures, and then as Jack capped the marker, you decided to speak up again, not wanting to make Caleb ask.

“And can I get one of the two of you looking at the camera before he turns around again?’

“You’ve already got your phone out.” Jack smirked at you, and then reached up to tilt the brim of his hat back, showing you more of his face. Holy shit, look at him. “I’m more’n happy to take a picture with my new buddy Caleb.”

You couldn’t help smiling at that, and when Jack settled his hand - the Sharpie poking out from between his fingers - against the boy’s shoulder and squeezed, it widened. “Got it.” You lowered the device, mouthing the words ‘thank you’ at Jack at the same time Caleb spoke them out loud, turning back to face the man.

There were only two more kids to the right of you waiting to talk to Jack, but before moving to them, he hesitated, looking between you and the boy. “Where are you and your mom sitting today, Caleb?” Mom? Do I really look like -

“She’s not my mom, she’s my sister’s friend. And we’re over there.” He pointed at the outfield. “Somewhere.” Why is he asking?

“The section right at the end of the dugout.” Jack pointed, but looked directly at you. “First row. Aisle seats, 23 and 24. They’re mine, and if you want ‘em, today they’re yours.”

“What? Jack, that -”

“I’ve gotta go.” He nodded, looking at Caleb and grinning, and then back at you, his smile softening. “Enjoy the game.” He didn’t say anything else before he stepped down the field and then stopped to talk to the other kids waiting. What the fuck just … “That was so cool!” Caleb spun back to look at you, his eyes wide. “He signed my shirt and took a picture with me and now we get to sit in his seats, and -”

“Caleb.” You took a breath, still trying to process what had happened in the previous few minutes. “I don’t -”

“We’re going to sit in them, right?” You didn’t know how to answer him. Should we? You sighed and then looked to your right, watching as Jack signed a baseball and handed it back to a little girl before laughing with an older man that was with her. “I mean he told us to, and -”

“I definitely would.” The girl next to you spoke up, and when you looked over, you saw that she was jealous, her eyes narrowed as they looked you over. “Do you know him? Is that -”

“I’ve never spoken to that man before just now.” You shrugged, unsure of what else to say. “I have no idea what … or why, or …” You would have been lying if you’d said that no part of you was a little smug at the fact that he’d offered the seats to you and not to her, but you didn’t want to be that woman. “He must have liked you, Caleb.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” She rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Whatever. I’ll just see him after the game at the players’ parking lot.” She stood then, but didn’t say anything else before she spun away from you and headed down the row and toward the aisle.

Caleb watched her go, his head tilted to one side.“What crawled up her butt?” You snorted at his question but there was no way you could give him an actual answer - so you gave him a partial one.

“She’s probably just sad that you get to have a great view of the game tonight, kiddo.” With a sigh, you stood up, sliding your phone back into your bag and zipping it. You looked at Jack, watching as he said goodbye to the last of the fans and then headed for the dugout.

But he didn’t go straight there - instead, he stopped and spoke to one of the security guards, pointing at the stands. Oh, he’s… And then you were stunned when both men looked back in your direction, Jack raising one arm to point at you while nodding. The security guard caught your eye and nodded too, and you then watched as Jack gently smacked him on the arm and smiled again, finally turning away to disappear back into the dugout.

“Can we go and see the seats? And can I get french fries? Will you send the picture to my mom? And Erin? And -” He was excited - and you couldn’t blame him - but you still laughed, gesturing for Caleb to follow you down the row and toward the opposite aisle, closer to your new seats.

“Yeah. We’ll do all that. Let’s go.”

There was plenty of room for the two of you to walk to where Jack had indicated, and when you got close, the same security guard that Jack had spoken to stepped forward, gesturing with one hand. “You’re right here tonight.”

You thanked him, letting Caleb choose which seat he wanted, and when you dropped into the remaining one, you pulled your phone out again as the boy leaned forward, resting his elbows on the back of the wall in front of him.

You had just enough time to send off a few quick texts to Erin - the pictures of Caleb and Jack, as well as one that you took from the seat and a message that said we got upgraded, I’ll explain later before the National Anthem started.

You rose to your feet again, keeping your eyes on the field. Once the music faded and the announcer began to give the starting lineups, you were excited, your smile just as wide as Caleb’s.

And when they announced Jack and the man trotted out onto the field to even more cheers from the crowd, you clapped along with them, pulse quickening. I love watching him play.

He and the shortstop tossed a ball back and forth a few times while the pitcher made his way from the bullpen, and the grin never left the dark haired man’s face. By the time the ump signaled the start of the game, he was settled in place and standing a little behind the bag, knees spread and both hands resting on his thighs.

It took a few batters for him to see any action, and when you heard the crack of the bat, Jack sprung into motion, moving toward second and bending over to scoop the ball off the infield before tossing it to first for the out.

You cheered just as loudly as Caleb did, clapping your hands without looking away from the field - but you weren’t expecting to catch Jack’s eye when he turned to move back into place at third… and you definitely weren’t expecting him to grin at the sight of you.

The moment was over quickly, and as the players ran off the field after the third out, you turned to Caleb, clearing your throat. “You said you wanted fries?”

—

You made it back to your seats just in time to watch the bottom of the second, both of you carrying a drink and a snack. Jack was batting 8th, so there was a good chance he wouldn’t hit until the next inning, giving you time to eat before he headed to the plate.

You also checked your messages, a series of exclamation points from Erin and a thumbs up from her mother the only two you had waiting. You showed Caleb, the boy laughing and then scrolling up to look at the picture of him and Jack, his smile so broad that you thought it must have hurt.

There were no seats in front of you, which meant that you had an unobstructed view when the man finally headed to the plate, the familiar sound of his walkup music - Hungry Like The Wolf - blaring through the stadium’s speakers. Here we go. C’mon, Jack.

He took a few practice swings and you were relieved to see that he didn’t wince or hesitate. His swing looked comfortable, and when you leaned forward, resting your hands on your knees, you nodded as he took another, pointing the bat outward before settling it on his shoulder and waiting.

He swung at the first two pitches, making contact on the second one and hitting a long foul down the first base line. But Jack ended up walking, taking his place on first and then getting into position as the catcher stepped to the plate.

You watched him closely - taking in the way the dark blue jersey fit him, the V of upper chest skin - and a peek of the gold chain he wore - visible thanks to two of the buttons being undone, his socks pulled high to accentuate his muscled calves. He always looks fucking great.

You knew it meant nothing that he’d offered you and Caleb his seats that day - that he’d just done it to be nice. But you would have been lying to yourself if you said that it didn’t make you feel good, Jack’s momentary attention a confidence boost, especially after the reception he’d given the woman next to you.

The batter hit a single, and when Jack advanced to second and stopped, you cheered again, the man clapping his hands and shouting something that you couldn’t hear at his teammate. But it was all for nothing, because the following player popped out, ending the inning.

Jack trotted across the field and toward the dugout, the disappointment on his face evident - but again, when he saw you he smiled, the expression only there briefly … though you certainly didn’t miss it.

As you settled back against the seat, halfway listening to Caleb as he recounted team stats, you wondered why Jack was making so much of an effort when nothing would come of it. You thought of the woman’s comment about the players lot, wondering just how likely it was that you’d be able to meet him if you went, too. But not with Caleb here.

The night would be a good memory at least - for both you and the boy, and that would have to be enough.

By the time Jack stepped to the plate, you were more than ready. The setting sun shaded the sky in hues of orange and purple, the stadium’s lights brightening up the field. Your eyes flicked from where Jack stood to the scoreboard, scanning over the information about him that was displayed there and lingering on the giant image of his smiling face.

But when you heard the groan of the crowd, your attention snapped back to home plate, where Jack was arguing with the umpire over the previous call, his head shaking back and forth. He stepped back into the box, but you could see his irritation, though it didn’t last for long.

He swung on the next pitch and made contact again, sending the ball straight through between first and second. It rolled halfway into the outfield before anyone got to it, and you got to your feet and cheered, the sound signaling that a run scored loud through the speakers. Not only had he gotten his first hit after the injury, but he’d batted someone in, giving the Cavalry the lead.

And when the next player swung hard, sending the ball up and out and over the center field wall, the stadium erupted - Jack raising his arm and pumping his fist as he rounded third, before stopping to wait for his teammate to make it home. They celebrated for a few seconds and then off the field, and you slung an arm around Caleb as both of you cheered, too.

They took a three run lead into the next inning, and then handled their business, setting the batters down 1-2-3 thanks to a double play that Jack initiated. You could see his confidence in every movement; his body remembering exactly what he needed to do to be successful on the field even after weeks away. And he’s good at it, too. That makes a difference.

Caleb left the seats to fill up his cup from the fountain at the top of your section, and by the time he came back the game had started again. It was a productive inning. You spent more of it on your feet than sitting, joining the crowd in cheering as the Cavalry scored three more runs. But when Jack’s turn to bat came, you realized what the celebration meant.

“They took him out.” You looked down at Caleb, watching as he frowned. “They’ve got such a lead, that it’s better to rest him, and …”

“That’s stupid.” Caleb crossed his arms, sighing. “He only batted twice.” You agreed, but you also weren’t the manager of a baseball team. You figured he had a better idea of what the right strategy was when it came to Jack’s rehab … even if it did disappoint you that you wouldn’t get to see him at the plate or on the field again.

The rest of the game went by quickly, and though they gave up a few runs, your team ended up winning handily. Caleb requested to stay and watch the on-field celebration after, and as the players lined up for high fives and handshakes before leaving for the locker room, you focused, too. Maybe he’ll come back out for a second.

It was stupid and you knew it, but the moment the field emptied, it meant that the night - and the experience in Jack’s seats - was over… and you didn’t want it to be.

He took his place in line - still wearing his uniform but without his hat - and you watched as he greeted the other players, smiling and laughing with them as they interacted. You couldn’t hear him, but you could tell he was happy, and that made you smile, too. Maybe he really will be back in Louisville by next week.

The handshakes ended, and when Jack headed back toward the dugout, he didn’t look in your direction again - until right before he made it to the top of the steps.

It was then that he stopped, eyeing the seats until he saw the two of you. You tried not to react, but Caleb didn’t hide his response; the boy raising his hand and waving wildly. Jack laughed at the sight of it, lifting one of his hands in a wave, too.

You thought that was it, but then his head turned just enough that he made direct eye contact with you.

Even from the distance, you could see one side of his mouth lift into a half smile as he nodded, raising one hand and touching the tips of his fingers to his temple before tipping them toward you. Your smile grew and you nodded in return, but before you could do anything else, Jack disappeared into the dugout, leaving the two of you standing in front of the seats.

Well that was something. Biting your lip and letting out a breath through your nose, you turned your attention toward Caleb, saying his name. “Alright, kiddo. We’re going to go to the bathroom before we head out, because I am not stopping twenty minutes into the drive to let you pee.”

—

You’d expected Caleb to talk your ear off the entire drive home. Instead, he fell asleep before you made it back to the highway, leaving you with your thoughts on the drive back.

And you would have been lying if you said that most of those thoughts weren’t of Jack.

The interaction with him had been limited, sure. But it had been meaningful in more than one way, for both you and Caleb. He had a cool story that he could tell his friends, and pictures that he could show them. You’d look back on the way his gaze on you had felt and remember the thrill of being on the receiving end of one of his bright smiles.

You didn’t know him any more than any other person that had ever seen him play or interacted with him briefly, but that didn’t matter. Even if you never spoke to him again, and never saw him in any capacity aside from on the field, you’d have that night as a memory. And a damn good one.

After dropping Caleb off and promising Erin a recap the following day, you drove the short distance to your house and parked in the driveway, turning the car off and enjoying the silence for a few seconds before unbuckling your seatbelt.

Your house was quiet and dark as you moved through it, leaving your shoes and bag by the front door and grabbing your phone before heading upstairs. You tossed that onto your bed and went into the bathroom, scrubbing your face and changing into your pajamas before staring at your reflection in the mirror.

You’d been single for six months, and though you’d talked to a few men through the same dating app Erin had used to meet Troy, none of the conversations had led anywhere past the first awkward meetings. It wasn’t that the men weren’t interested, it was you that was selective, opting not to waste your time with anyone that reminded you of the time you’d spent with your most recent ex.

You knew that you were being picky, but you were content with that knowledge, even if it meant a longer period of being on your own before you found the right person. And Jack couldn’t ever be the right person. You wrinkled your nose while you brushed your teeth, still watching yourself in the mirror. Because he’s been consistently single for his entire career.

Jack kept much of his personal life private, but Janie was the exception to that.

And after climbing into bed and plugging your phone in, you searched their names, refreshing your memory of the story that you’d become familiar with when The Statesman had first drafted Jack.

They’d been high school sweethearts, opting to go to college together. He was going to play ball and major in engineering, and her chosen field was communications. It was clear from all of the pictures of the two of them you found that though they were young, they were in love.

Everything had gone well for the first few months; Jack and Janie settled in on campus, started classes and began making friends. They’d come home together for Christmas, and Jack was set to begin baseball in January with the rest of the team.

But only a few weeks into the pre-season, the unthinkable happened: Janie stopped at a convenience store to buy coffee on her way to meet her study group off campus while Jack was at a team workout, and was caught in the middle of a robbery. She hadn’t even made it to the hospital, and Jack had considered quitting the team due to his grief.

Her parents had convinced him otherwise - reminding him that he’d worked hard for years to get to where he was, and that she wouldn’t have wanted him to give up on his dreams on her account. His parents had agreed, though there were interviews where they admitted that they would have understood if he’d chosen to take a break or even quit outright.

And Jack had taken a few weeks off, but was ready to go on opening day, dedicating his season to Janie and her family. He was a skilled player, there was no question about it, but the coverage of a D1 athlete losing his girlfriend in such a shocking manner helped draw attention to the man and his performance, and it hadn’t taken him long to grab the attention of scouts.

He’d had some attention in high school, too, though nothing had panned out - aside from the offer of a partial athletic scholarship. That all changed in his sophomore year when everyone really took notice of his exceptionally high fielding percentage and his infectious enthusiasm toward his teammates.

Jack declared for the draft that was to take place a month after finishing his junior year - only days after his 21st birthday, and The Statesman had taken him with the fourth overall pick in the first round.

The rest was history.

He’d played with The Cavalry for almost four seasons before getting his first call-up, and though it had been toward the end of the regular season, Jack had received an invite to Spring Training the following year … and he’d never gone back.

In his second season with The Statesman, he’d been named the starting shortstop, making a name for himself with both his agility and personality. His teammates loved him. The community loved him. The cameras loved him, and in the five seasons he’d played in his original position, he earned two gold gloves and got voted into the All-Star Game once.

But he was injury prone, and after careful consideration, they moved Jack from shortstop to third base. It was an adjustment period for everyone involved, though after a few years of playing the position, it seemed almost natural for him, and there were fewer injuries.

Until earlier that season, anyway, when Jack had misjudged a slide into second and jammed his shoulder, spraining a muscle and knocking him out of all baseball activities for weeks. He’d gone on the 60 day injured list, though you’d seen him at more than a few games in the dugout before he’d headed down to rehab with The Cavalry.

He was lucky he hadn’t needed surgery, and even luckier that there’d been no complications with his healing. According to the newest articles you read as you scrolled online that night, Caleb was correct and the team was aiming to have Jack re-activated by the following weekend so that he could finish the final 7 weeks of the season in the majors. Which is where he deserves to be.

You sighed and rolled onto your side, eyes still on the screen - and on a picture of Jack that had been taken a week or two earlier during a Statesman season ticket holder event. He was grinning from behind the bar, one hand holding a glass and the other pulling on a tap to pour someone a drink.

“Enough.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand. Doing a deep dive on Jack wasn’t going to change anything, even if it was keeping you occupied as you wound down for the night.

But before you put the phone down and rolled in the opposite direction, you couldn’t help opening his instagram page and checking his tagged photos, just to see if the woman from next to you had posted the picture like she said she would.

There were countless pictures of Jack in his uniform posted - everything from on-field screenshots to pictures of him with his teammates and family - but those were dotted with more personal ones; people tagging him in photos of themselves, edited photos, or photos of Jack alone that had been taken from other sources. You didn’t have far to scroll before you found the picture of Jack and the woman, tapping it with one finger to make it bigger.

She’d put more than one filter on it, smoothing out her features and his, and when you zoomed in on it, you wrinkled your nose. Why would you filter him? He doesn’t need it. Even with the filtering, you could see the bored look in Jack’s eyes, his smile small and tight. Not like it was with Caleb.

She’d captioned the picture with a black and a yellow heart bracketing the number 7, and it already had more than a few likes. She also had a story, and even though you knew that she’d be able to see who viewed it, you didn’t care, hesitating for only a second before tapping on it.

The girl - whose name was Brittany - had posted a few times throughout the game; pictures from in her seat, a video of Jack walking up to the plate, her grinning at the camera at the end of the game with the scoreboard behind her… but the final story post was clearly a picture of a parking lot with a tall fence around it, and what looked like a security guard in the corner. She went to the lot.

You sighed, backing out of the story - and her profile - and going back to Jack’s, eyes lingering on his account’s picture. You followed him, and had for years - liking and commenting on the pictures he posted as well as tagging him and the other players in the occasional ones you’d taken at games. He’d never replied or acknowledged them in any way, though.

And he won’t, you admitted to yourself as you closed out of the app and opened your alarm, making sure that it was set. “Good luck, Jack.” Closing your eyes after setting the device down on your bedside table, you rolled away from it and got comfortable. As you settled in, you let your thoughts wander back to earlier - to the way Jack’s eyes had warmed when he’d smiled at you, and the way his smile had widened when he saw you and Caleb sitting in his seats.

You would have been lying if you’d said that the memories didn’t make you feel good. It didn’t matter that he’d likely smiled at hundreds of others in the same way. He’d made the night special for you and for Caleb, and that was the important thing.

It didn’t take you long to fall asleep - and Jack followed you into your dreams… which you didn’t mind at all.

—

You didn’t have a meeting until 10:30 the following morning and so you slept in a little, taking a shower and getting dressed before you even checked your messages.

There were a few from Erin, asking for details, and you promised you’d reach out once you had a break. But before then, you needed to focus and settled in in front of your laptop, clicking open your first email of the day. Back at it.

You worked steadily until almost 1 PM, checking things off of your to-do list and scheduling a second consultation with the same client for the end of the following week. You typically worked virtually - and had since your uncle had hired you a few years prior - but there were occasional accounts that required your presence in person. And this one’s going to be one of them.

That wasn’t an issue. Their offices were located in New Orleans, and you were looking forward to potentially spending a few paid days in the city. But we’ll see.

While you waited for your lunch to heat, you called Erin, your friend picking up on the second ring and groaning into your ear. “Whatever happened yesterday must have been incredible because Caleb hasn’t shut up since he woke up this morning.”

“It was pretty great, Erin,” Taking a seat at your kitchen table, you laughed. “I sent him the pictures, did he -”

“He’s already set the one of him and Jack as his phone background. And he’s been bugging me to take him to get them printed.” You weren’t surprised; Caleb loved baseball, and the opportunity that he’d had at the game the previous night had likely meant the world to him. “So how did that happen? He just offered you the tickets?”

“Pretty much. He stopped to sign for Caleb, and just out of nowhere, asked where we were sitting.” You wet your lips, laughing. “And then once he knew we were in the outfield seats, he just … pointed at the dugout and told us that we could sit in his instead.”

“He offered them to Caleb? Or to -”

“Well… sort of.” You stood, looking out your back window. “He asked your brother where we were sitting but he was looking at me when he offered the tickets…” You pulled your food out of the microwave and set it down to cool. “And then when we were in the seats, he made eye contact with me a couple times, but -”

“How hot is he up close?” You snorted, but she continued. “Because that picture of him and Caleb? That man’s hand is -”

“Really hot.” Humming in agreement, you reached for a fork. “And he seemed really nice, too. Paid more attention to the kids than to the adults. There was this girl sitting next to us and she was clearly trying to catch his eye, but he barely looked at her.” You figured that he was a professional and wouldn’t have done anything to jeopardize his reputation while on the field - and in front of younger fans. But still. She made it obvious. “He was polite, but he was just … going through the motions.”

She hummed again, the sound non-committal as you took your first bite. “But not with you. And not with Caleb.” No, I guess not. “You should post those pictures and tag him.”

“Erin, I’m not trying to -”

“No, just hear me out. Maybe he’ll see them. And maybe he’ll remember you. And maybe he’ll -”

“Erin, come on. That’s a fantasy. I’m sure he’s got a million people tagging him every day. He won’t even see it if I do.”

“You never know. It can’t hurt.” She said your name, the tone teasing. “And since Caleb’s account is private since he’s twelve, it makes sense you’d post ‘em for him. He really had a lot of fun with you. He’s already asking if you want to go to a game again.”

“Yeah. There’s still a little over a month left this season, so I’m sure we can figure out a weekend to see the Statesman. I’ll third wheel with you and Troy.” She laughed at that, agreeing. “I’m going to go, though. I need to eat. I have to run and analyze metrics for two campaigns this afternoon, and it’s going to take forever.”

You hung up soon after, but as you ate, you contemplated what she’d said about posting the pictures. It was really no different than any of the other games you’d been to or posted about. You’d taken pictures that weren’t of Jack, and those could go up, too. Why not post the one of him and Caleb? It’s a good picture.

After sending the final email for the day, you shut your laptop and changed into more comfortable clothes before stretching out on the couch. You needed to go to the store, but figured it could wait til later … and you had pictures to post.

You chose five of them - one of the field from the concourse, one of the scoreboard, a picture from the seats, and then two of Jack and Caleb - one while he was signing and the other of them looking at the camera, which you made the main image. Choosing a caption was harder than picking the pictures themselves, but you finally opted for something extremely neutral: First @The_Cavalry game of the season. Great game, even better seats, and @CalebOnBase got to meet his favorite player.

You tagged the picture - adding Jack and The Statesman’s accounts - and thought about adding one of Jack’s walk up songs to the post. No. That looks too desperate. So you posted it without, taking one final look at the images - and lingering on Jack’s smile - before you checked the Cavalry’s account to see if they’d posted that night’s lineup.

Jack was starting again, but instead of being in at 3rd, he was the designated hitter. So he’ll get to bat, but can save his arm. It made sense, and you figured that if all went well, he’d only play in a game or two more before being called back up to the majors. And he’ll be back here. It made you smile, and the expression widened when you got a comment on the post from Caleb - four baseballs and the thumbs up emoji.

You’d done your part, and that was that. Caleb could see that you’d posted the photos, and if by chance Jack saw the tag, he’d also see that you appreciated the seats he’d allowed you to sit in. With one final look at the pictures, you nodded and then sat up, sighing.

“Alright. Grocery shopping’s not going to do itself.”

—

You were stunned the next afternoon when you got an alert that The Cavalry tagged you in a story, and didn’t even try to hold back your grin when you saw that they’d reposted your pictures. You got a comment from their account a few seconds later - Glad you had a great time, thanks for coming! - the words accompanied by a blue heart and a baseball.

After sending the link to Erin so that she could show her brother, you set your phone down, returning to the work you were doing. You stayed busy throughout the rest of the day, and even though your phone kept lighting up with new alerts - strangers liking the pictures and commenting on your post, it didn’t break your focus.

And by the following day, things were pretty much back to normal. The story was gone, strangers weren’t still finding your profile, and you’d opted to work for most of Saturday morning to get ahead, which meant that you could take Monday off. And I can take a nap. I haven’t been able to do that in weeks.

You pulled the drapes shut and then climbed into bed, the darkened room helping you to relax much faster than you anticipated. There was no need to set an alarm, and so you didn’t, figuring that you’d wake up on your own when you got hungry… which you did, just after 6 PM. Maybe I’ll order food. I don’t feel like cooking.

You stretched, pointing your toes, and then reached for your phone, mentally flipping through restaurant options. But you froze with the device in front of your face as the screen lit up, eyes zeroing in on the alert in the center of it.

Whiskey_Jack7 liked your post

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

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metalljellyphish · 28 days

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I must say. Werewolf Stan is kinda tall from what I saw on your Werewolf tail wagging art

Did he get a growth spurt when he got cursed or was he always that tall?

Yee, he got taller and his beast form is even taller which is totally fun for Kyle, who's been taller than most everyone one he knows for his ridiculously long life (I ballpark him in general to 6'2"-ish in my high school AU with Stan being just a few inches under him, elf version might be a little taller though)

#south park #south park stick of truth #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #sp style #south park style #ask box #south park stick of truth au #stan marshwalker #elf king kyle

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ragnarokhound · 2 months

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hiii im working through all your jaytim week stuff bc i had to be in a wedding that week and i missed it 😭 i WILL leave an annoying amount of comments on ao3 but for now i just wanna say that i love the baseball au fic so bad. i don’t know a single thing about sports but i worked a summer job at the ballpark for a couple years and now whenever the weather gets hot i miss the vibes so bad and i CANNOT stop thinking about Them. do you have any more thoughts or rants or really just any crumbs from this au bc it’s delicious ty

AAHHH OMG I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE WEDDING and you have said the magic words because BOY DO I

I love baseball au!! I am actually very pleased with and proud of baseball au!! In my heart, baseball au has a massive rivals-to-lovers slow burn plot that I simply did not have the time to write OTL so instead for jaytim week, we got the scene that I would have reread over and over again if it had been a book I read in high school lmao

My notes this is a fucking outline how did that happen on baseball au:

Jason was the ace pitcher for the Gotham Knights for a few years running, taking over that mantle from Dick Grayson after he traded to the Bludhaven team. Jason was much more aggressive compared to Dick, and he was a two-way player - he could hit well enough to not need a designated hitter when it was his turn to go to bat, and that versatility made him unpredictable and a threat.

Unfortunately, after a big argument with Bruce about the game, he was hit with a hard injury during the playoffs one year. Everyone said it would be career ending. Bruce said to prepare himself for the worst. Jason takes a year off to recover and doesn't speak to Bruce the whole fucking time.

Enter Tim Drake.

Drake is a rookie, a nobody no one's ever heard of, but he's an excellent pitcher. He's got a million tricks and keeps a cool head. He can read the other team to filth and is ready to change tactics at the drop of a hat.

Word is that he bullied his way into the GM's office and demanded a tryout; Bruce was gonna throw him out. But then he saw him pitch. He was hired on the spot.

They started Drake as a relief pitcher, but it quickly became apparent that he was wasted there. He's switched to starter. They don't make it all the way to the Series that year, but it was pretty fucking close and in large part due to Drake. Not bad for a rookie.

Jason hates him on principle.

Apparently, Jason still has a spot on the team. But they've bumped him down from starter to relief. He knows it's necessary, that his injury still needs babying, but he's still not happy with Bruce. He hates it-- and the games he's relieving for Drake? He hates them most of all. He can't stand the guy.

(He's better than Jason.)

(And he won't quit staring.)

Drake doesn't actively antagonize Jason when training starts. Actually, for the most part, he tries to stay out of Jason's way, watching him quietly from the sidelines while Jason tests his frustrating new limits. But Jason's not about to let Bruce's new golden boy off that easy.

(He's almost surprised by the bite hiding behind those bangs. How fast those watching eyes can narrow in acidic consideration before he tears Jason a new one. He takes vicious satisfaction in seeing Drake sink down to Jason's level. And Drake needs a fucking haircut, but far be it from Jason to give this asshole tips.)

Their synergy is garbage in the first half of the season. Jason prides himself in his game, but when they're sharing the pitch, it throws everything out of whack. They butt heads over everything, and they get hyper competitive; half the time, they're not playing against the other team, they're playing against each other.

By the third game its plain they can't be paired together. Either Drake or Jason fuck up on the mound because one of them was doing something (For Jason, Drake's creepy, unblinking stare is enough to piss Jason off; for Drake, Jason's discovered he can get a rise out of him just by raising an eyebrow at the right time, as if to say really? That's what you're going with?) and the coaches (Babs) have just about had it with them.

They're switched to play on different days when possible, and given stern looks and reminders not to fuck up on the days they have to play together. It grinds Jason's gears, but he sucks it up because he's a fucking adult and his career is on the line. Maybe Drake can do the same.

Things start to change, though Jason can never quite remember when. Maybe they needed the space or whatever, maybe Jason needed to go drinking with Roy and just dump about Drake and Bruce and all of it and hear Roy's drunken two cents, maybe the game against Bludhaven meant seeing Dick and being forced to hear his two cents; maybe he needed to run into Drake at the coffeeshop a block away from the stadium one morning and see him bleary-eyed and clearly hungover. Maybe seeing him outside of the job, his gaze wandering out the window and not fixed on Jason for once, willing to shit-talk Bruce (and to a lesser degree, Dick), shifted something in Jason's brain a little to the left. Maybe it made Drake into a different person, and maybe Tim is someone Jason doesn't actually know that much about. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

They start to improve. They have to play more games together when one of their alts wrecks his ankle, but Jason is still pretty fresh compared to everyone else after being babied all season, and his injury hardly bothers him these days. Tim still flusters Jason at the mound sometimes, but it's not for the same reason. He doesn't know what the reason is yet, but he knows it's not the same. The prickle on the back of his neck that says Tim is watching isn't a precursor to anger, or spite. It's something else.

(And so what if Jason finds himself sticking around after practice days? So what if Tim catches him once, working on his swing, and he offers to pitch for him? So what if Jason suddenly knows he wants to find out how that crooked smile tastes, and threatens to break his bat on it instead? So what if Tim laughs at him like he was joking, because they joke now, and it makes Jason's stomach churn, makes him sick with wanting? So fucking what?)

Bruce even talks to him after a game, all fatherly concern and judgment, wanting to know if it's going to be a problem for him and Tim to be playing together. If he can trust Jason not to jeopardize the game over personal disagreements. Jason doesn't know how to explain it to him and he also doesn't fucking want to. He tells him no, it won't be a fucking problem.

It freaks him out. He backslides, hard. Tim had been warming up to him, but he's obviously surprised about getting the cold shoulder. Surprised and pissed.

He corners Jason in the locker room after a game Jason nearly lost them, a loss that would have shut them out of the Series this year for good. Jason's been closing every game he plays, but Tim had to be sent back in to clean up after his piss-poor showing. He lays into Jason. He reads him to filth. He correctly diagnoses the source of Jason's insecurities and his beef with Bruce that's older than basically any of his other problems, and basically tells him to quit yanking the team-- and Tim-- around. He storms out with the last word, and Jason fumes with his head in his hands.

(Apparently, Tim looked up to Jason, once upon a time. Apparently, Tim was a fan before he was a colleague, a rival; a friend. Apparently he'd been nervous but excited at first to meet Jason in person, to get to talk to one of his heroes. Jason feels like a heel.)

They don't talk after that except to play the game. Tim is professionally distant, doesn't stare at Jason the way he used to, the way he was starting to. The roles reverse-- one week later, he's the one who stares at Tim, watches him take the mound during the game that will decide their fate, decide if they'll go to the Series this year or not, with an awful, burning need bubbling in his chest for Tim to look back at him just once.

When Jason takes the mound for him, Tim glances at him. It's brief, but he nods at Jason, a dare in his eyes that Jason wants to take. It loosens his lungs and lets him breathe for the rest of the game. He plays the best he has all season. And Jason knows the reason.

They win the Series. Bruce offers to put Jason back as a starter next year, but Jason declines and does one more year as a relief pitcher. He's done taking stupid risks with his body, with his career, and he knows if he goes back now he risks a flare up. If he's gonna show Tim up, he's gotta give himself his best chance.

Cue the fic. (They absolutely fuck in the dugout btw. Tim asks with his hands already on Jason's skin-- "Can I touch you?" Tim asks with his mouth already on Jason-- "Can I--")

So i hit the character limit but TAH DAH thats bb au <3

#basically bruce and jason's beef and jason's insecurities are the actual villains. jason just convinces himself it was tim at first lol #this was just gonna be some short little notes to let you know what was cooking behind the scenes. i swear. heehee hoohoo anyway #THANK YOU OMG i'm so excited to hear what you think <33 i also know nothing about sports but i did a silly amount of googling for this fic #greenmatter34 #asked and answered #jaytim #my writing #not!fic #jaytim baseball au

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theamityelf · 3 months

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I’ve been thinking of talent swap AUs and I was wondering if there were any talents you would like to see Makoto have? And like if that varies from ship to ship? Like way back you have that post of different Makoto soulmate AUs with different ships, so that but with talent swaps.

On the top of my head, an Ultimate Neuroscientist Makoto would be interested with Hineagi or Kamuegi. Like Makoto is a minute replacement on the Kamukura project and either encounters pre-op Hajime (and maybe tries to save Hajime’s memories along with giving him talents I don’t know) OR meets Kamukura (and it’s the classic treats Izuru as a human rather than an experiment tropes but Makoto is a scientist here)

Oooh, first of all, there's one relevant post I made a little bit ago where I said that Ultimate Rule-Breaker would be a cool fit for him, since we know he will defy the establishment to protect other people.

But your specific idea of matching it to specific ships like in my soulmate AU's post is really cool, so let's give it a try, lol! I don't want to threaten his just-a-guy-ness, but it could be cool to try to use the alternate ultimate to lean into certain particular dynamics of each ship. It really seems to come down to "Is it more fun to do opposites or to coordinate?"

Kamuegi:

Here, I really want to retain the sense of "He isn't super skilled; he's just a really decent guy." A part of me wants to go "Ultimate Therapist" or somewhere in that ballpark, specifically because it justifies Hope's Peak's scientists having arranged for them to be around each other, but I think it's a little important to me that he's not a therapist. It feels like it takes away from his Power of Friendship thing if he's a therapist. Not knocking therapy! It's just maybe not best for the ship. I think the best thing he can offer Izuru is an appreciation for the world around him, so something like "Ultimate Bird-Watcher", like in that other post, or "Ultimate Stargazer," or just something in the ballpark of "person whose skill comes from enjoying things and dedicating himself to that enjoyment". Canon Makoto seems to more have that with people, but for this AU, I think the highly social aspect of Makoto's personality can receive less emphasis. I think for now I'm going to go with "Ultimate Storm-Chaser", because that combines a few cool things. It's an enjoyment of the natural world, it's a kind of wild side that we don't usually get to see a lot from Makoto, it characterizes the whole Naegi family in a pretty fun way (like, I'm just picturing them in a station wagon or van, following storms since Makoto and Komaru were little kids), and it's a thing where Makoto's clumsiness and Izuru's protection can put them in cool situations. And Makoto can still get some heroics in, saving people who are in the path of natural disasters. (I'm picturing the standard screaming child in a disaster movie.)

Naegami:

Oh boy, where to start for this one? I'm not going to act like Ultimate Secretary didn't cross my mind first, but I think the appeal of AU's where he actually becomes Byakuya's secretary isn't usually the idea that he'll be superhumanly good at it. Next, the idea of them being placed at odds by their titles comes to mind. Like, maybe the Togami Corporation is up to some harmful practices and Makoto is the Ultimate Environmentalist, or the Ultimate Activist, and he tries to appeal to Byakuya's better nature, and also it's really funny to think "The Ultimate Environmentalist saves the planet by accidentally romancing the most influential CEO." Boy, I started this point planning to say "but instead", but now I've kind of talked myself into this one. I think I like this dynamic?? Makoto just trying to reason with him, Byakuya reading him as some wide-eyed idealist at first, but Makoto is able to parry everything he says, and they have a Vibe, and then they're dating, and Byakuya really likes him, but if he actually makes the changes that Makoto is passionate about, he's worried Makoto will leave him because a part of him has thought that Makoto was just using him the whole time.

(Also, hey, it's me from after I finished the rest of this post. Yeah, the answer I give for Naezono also applies here.)

Naegiri:

I am pretty charmed by the idea of him being something that stands at odds with Ultimate Detective, like Ultimate Accomplice (and there are a lot of ways he could be someone who deliberately or accidentally keeps people from getting in trouble while she's trying to find out the truth no matter what), but it seems more aligned with the spirit of the ship if he gets something that pairs well with detective, like "Ultimate Lip-Reader". That one would probably involve a lot of him tagging along on the field with her, offering his thoughts and insights and telling her what people are saying in silent security footage. Alternatively, any Ultimate where she's doing the field work as a detective and he's doing the office and/or people-facing side is cool, so "Ultimate Secretary" would actually be pretty great for this ship. (That one fic, Smile at the Mouth of Despair, had him doing file work and stuff, and I kind of love that; it's what I'm visualizing for this point. I like him sorting files and taking calls.)

Komaegi:

Is "Ultimate Friend" cheating? Yeah, that's cheating. I kind of like Ultimate Survivalist, maybe, where people expect him to be really strong and cool, but he's just a somewhat clumsy little guy who just happens to regularly dodge heavy projectiles and happen to have the exact thing he needs in his backpack. (This could include him knowing aikido, since we all love Aikido Makoto, lol.) The way this would intersect with Nagito is, in any given plane crash or house fire or explosion, Makoto theoretically should be safe and able to help Nagito out. I say theoretically because there is a part of me that thinks Nagito's luck would have to kill the Ultimate Survivalist. I don't always subscribe to the theory that his luck does the least likely thing (whether it's good or bad), but I do think that an Ultimate Survivalist, even if the talent works exactly like Makoto's normal luck, would be tempting fate just by being called that.

Honestly, while I said that the highly social aspect of Makoto's character didn't need to be emphasized for Izuru, I feel it definitely does for Nagito, hence the "Ultimate Friend" idea. But I'm thinking maybe a service role that Makoto can have a decidedly healthy approach to, like Ultimate Barista? Is there a word for someone who picks up litter? Because I love the idea of Makoto's Ultimate being focused on cleaning up after people, but him having an overall more generous and friendly outlook on them than Nagito. Maybe Makoto is the Ultimate Custodian, and a lot of people expect him to resent people who drop trash, but he's more, "I'm glad I can help out. Sometimes people are busy or make mistakes, and I'm glad I can keep our shared spaces clean. I meet a lot of interesting people! For example..."

A talent that positions him to know when something's off with Nagito even if he doesn't say anything, like "Ultimate Body Language Expert", would theoretically be cool, because it would allow for Makoto to comfort him when he really needs it, but that also feels a little bit like cheating, lol.

(Him being the Lucky Student, Ultimate Hope, or talentless honestly work best for Nagito, in my opinion, but these are still fun dynamics to explore.)

Naenami:

Oooh, maybe Ultimate Game-Breaker? This is kind of a fusion of bad luck and gamer, where he will reliably find the bug in any game always. Maybe too similar. I think what I'm picturing for them right now is Makoto having a YouTube channel or Twitch channel where he talks about stuff he likes. Like, maybe a CinemaWins kind of thing, but unscripted, where he's actually rambling to the camera. That way, we get a dynamic where Chiaki makes Let's Plays and Makoto makes just general positive vlog content. They try out a new game together, and Makoto is raving about how cool it is and Chiaki's like, "It's fun. The crafting mechanic is a little buggy, and they didn't really integrate it into any storyline. Yeah, it's a pretty good new release." I'm going to say he mostly vlogs, so I can call him Ultimate Positivity Vlogger instead of having to find a way word all of that in one Ultimate title, lol.

Naezono:

Ultimate Stage Hand or Light Technician could be fun. Maybe Ultimate Celebrity Interviewer, and they have one conversation that is just so incredible that she never stops thinking about it. He has a way of really making the people he interviews feel seen and cared about, and that's just so unusual in the entertainment industry that Sayaka falls head over heels. (He doesn't know he has this effect.)

Naekusaba:

Ooh, I'm feeling something in the ballpark of Ultimate Bookkeeper, or just any collection-type Ultimate. Something unassuming in the eyes of pretty much everyone. Here's why: Making him a passionate collector of [something] means we can have Mukuro often shyly gifting him one of [that thing] that she found while she was out doing soldier stuff. He gets to nervously ask, "You didn't kill someone for that, did you?" and she gets to lie, "No, I bought it," or "No, I found it." Also, it means maybe one day Mukuro knocks on his door bleeding, injured, with nowhere else to go, being followed by enemies, and Makoto hides her in his home which is full of collected things and enemy soldiers show up at his house like "Have you seen [description of Mukuro]?" and he's like, "No, I'm here alone. No one's been here." And the enemy soldiers barge in anyway to search the place, but in all his collected things, they can't find Mukuro, so they leave and he brings her some food and water and does his best to bandage her up (or she just stitches up her own wound), and she notices that he has a little bruise or scratch from when the enemy soldiers pushed him aside to search the place, and she's so sorry she brought danger to his door.

Naejunko:

I think Ultimate Hope is already perfect for that one. Alternatively, though, something like "Ultimate World Ender" or some similar thing positioning him as potentially usable to her. It would follow the same rules as "Ultimate Rule-Breaker", though, where the whole point is that he prioritizes others' wellbeing over any establishment, so it would be a situation where Junko tries to make use of his talent for destroying organizations from within (because that's the essence of his talent, here; he's really good at dismantling organizations), but it doesn't work because he's not just out there destroying things; his priority is to help people, and he was titled the way he was because those running the establishments that do harm were seeing him from their own perspectives. Junko can't get the Ultimate World Ender (or whatever else his title is) to end the world, and he's actually a pretty big inconvenience for her.

Or "Ultimate Barista" again. She's talking about her despair plans with Mukuro in some cafe, and Makoto brings them their coffee or tea, like, "Are you guys writing a book?" and casually weighs in on "plot elements" that interest or confuse him, accidentally helping Junko make her plan better. She keeps inviting him to their table for more artistic feedback, and he's having a great time talking with them. They become regulars, and he memorizes Mukuro's order and, even though Junko always orders something different, he seems to somehow intuit the kinds of flavors she enjoys and makes great recommendations. She's in love.

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