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morallyinept · 5 months

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A full character analysis on FRANCISCO 'CATFISH' MORALES from the film TRIPLE FRONTIER.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to learn more about the character. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

FULL CHARACTER STUDY:

Basic Details:

Full Name: Francisco Morales

Nickname(s): Frankie, Catfish, Fish

Appears in: Triple Frontier, 2019 (first appearance on screen seen at approx. 24:04)

Age (if known): Unconfirmed. Late 30's/possible early 40's - exact age unknown

Nationality: Presumed Texan (due to Pope mentioning his cowboy boots, but not officially confirmed, and based off of Frankie's accent)/South American/Latino heritage - appears to be living in Florida

Sexuality: Straight

Family: Mention of a female partner and baby, no mention of wider family

Spouse/Partner: Female, name unknown

Relationship Status: Officially unknown, however Frankie mentions "my lady" so it's possible he's in a relationship with a female. Unconfirmed if engaged or married

Current Living Status: Alive

Languages Spoken: English, Spanish

Education: Not confirmed, however to be in Delta Force, basic high school education and college graduate (B.A. or B.S.) would be required to enlist as a minimum, according to their current enrollment programme requirements. Minimum age is 21 to enlist.

Occupation:

Job Role/Title: Pilot, currently suspended

Special Skill(s): Pilot - flies helicopters, no mention of other aircraft. Combat training in Delta Force, Special Ops (which would include basic training such as artillery, first aid, survival, tactical, and radar and flight for pilots)

Notable Colleague(s): Santiago Pope, Benny & Will Miller, Tom Davis (Delta Force comrades/friends)

Distinguishing Features:

Tattoo(s): Bullseye tattoo on left hand between thumb and forefinger (Pedro's own)

Piercings: None

Scar(s): None notable, however Frankie sustains a gash on his left upper cheek during the film from the helicopter crash, which looks like it could be deep enough to leave a scar, however it's not seen on his cheek at the end of the film

Other Markings: Freckles on neck

Prominent Feature(s): Greying facial scruff, moustache, curled hair

Injuries: Gash on left upper cheek below eye from helicopter crash

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Brown

Frankie's gash on his left cheek:

Personality:

Traits: Smart, sensitive, reasonable

Frankie has a soft, slightly rough cadence to his voice. He speaks mostly with an American accent throughout the film. It's hinted that he is from Texas, so this could be a Texan accent.

He is not above taking charge when needed and shows some leadership skills. It's apparent that Frankie can be easily led into things however, judging by how initially he declines to join the mission, but then when everyone else joins, he quickly agrees, indicating he can quickly fold under pressure.

Frankie also tends to jump the gun, establishing that it's better to shoot the enemy and ask questions later. This is evidenced in the film when he urges Pope to "shoot the driver" and states "I’ll tell you right now, if we get to that beach and Ben isn’t there, I’m fucking killing people," and "I'm taking a shot." He's also the one to shoot a guard first in Lorea's house. He shoots at the farmers, although Tom is the one who shoots them first in that scene, even though Frankie believes it was himself. Frankie also acknowledges his tendency to be quick on the draw when he states: "I was too quick on the trigger. You know it and I know it. I killed those people."

It's also evident Frankie would have some form of PTSD based on how he shoots without blinking/wincing, and how he mentions: "man, I almost forgot why I got out of this business. Shit gets so dark so quick."

It's not confirmed the cause for Frankie's suspension, whether he was smuggling drugs (cocaine) or if he was physically taking drugs himself. However, based on a suspension, in terms of the law, suspended pending a review/investigation means an outcome has not been reached yet, nor has an arrest. This has been left open to interpretation. Also, it appears that Frankie was not under the influence of any narcotics during the film, as he had adept focus and showed no obvious signs of withdrawal/addiction, (however this does not necessarily mean that he might not have one) therefore could be more aligned to a possible smuggling/carrying suspension. "I got busted. It’s not a big deal. Actually, it’s a big deal. Technically it’s a suspension. I’m still under review." Again, this is left unconfirmed, and open to interpretation.

It also appears that whilst Will and Tom are retired from Delta Force, and Pope is now working alone on missions, Frankie is still working in aviation as he is suspended. It's not clear however, if he is still working for the forces in some capacity as a pilot, or whether he is working for a private aviation company as an employee and has been suspended. Again, this is unconfirmed and open to interpretation.

Fashion/Outfits:

Outfit 1 - (Benny MMA fight scene) Blue V-neck t-shirt, brown leather-trimmed jacket, brown belt, blue jeans, navy baseball cap, mention of cowboy boots when Pope points to his feet, but it's not actually seen if Frankie's wearing them in this scene or not

Outfit 2 - (Scoping out Lorea's place) Light burgundy round neck t-shirt, flannel denim-looking overshirt in green, light brown cargo jean pants, brown belt, aviators (in car), navy baseball cap, desert boots

Outfit 3 - (Shipping container scene) Gray round neck t-shirt, light brown cargo jean pants, aviators, navy baseball cap, desert boots

Outfit 4 - (Lorea's house ambush scene & remainder of film) Light brown cargo jean pants, cream/beige pants belt, white round neck t-shirt, salmon pink overshirt, brown tac vest plate, navy baseball cap, desert boots, navy backpack, black tac belt, wine rain jacket (added later)

Outfit 5 - (End scene) Grey stork short-sleeve shirt, blue jeans, flip flops

Accessories: Black carabiner on tac vest plate, notepad, black cable ties, watch on left wrist, spare belts and ammo on tac vest plate, comms mic, aviators, navy Standard Heating Oil baseball cap. Frankie's baseball cap is a direct nod to the film A Most Violent Year, in which Oscar Issac starred as a character working for the fictional oil company, and starred alongside Pedro in Triple Frontier playing Santiago Pope.

Weapons Used:

Weapon(s): (Exact weapons pictured below)

Glock 19 side arm gun, 3rd generation 9x19mm

Norinco type 56-1 AKMS Rifle, 7.62x39mm with shoulder support

Modes of Transport:

Vehicle(s):

Frankie flies a MIL MI-8 1960's Soviet chopper.

Frankie drives a 1995 Toyota Land Cruiser Autana when driving back from the bar & in the shipping container scene

Frankie drives a 2008 Ford E Series from Lorea's house

Frankie drives a Red 1985 Toyota Land Cruiser in the beach scene car chase

Dialogue:

🗨 See Frankie's full dialogue from the film, including deleted scenes.

Further Character Links (if any):

Interview with Pedro about filming for Triple Frontier

Samples of Frankie's Wardrobe - Watch, Stork Shirt, Ralph Lauren Jacket & Khul Rain Jacket info obtained via Styleofpascal IG

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #francisco morales #frankie morales #PPCU #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #frankie morales triple frontier #pedro pascal character analysis

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guardian-angle22 · 5 months

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911 LONE STAR REWATCH 2024 ↳ favorite things I noticed or appreciated more upon rewatch

1.06 Friends Like These

This scene in the firehouse kitchen is so short and yet there’s so much I want to shout out. First up being Paul making a comment that I feel in my bones. I could just tack this onto literally any conversation tbh.

TK and Marjan exchanging a high-five as she exits.

At first you think TK is making this coffee for himself, but then it turns out he’s making it for his dad, he's just drinking a mineral water. He is a sweetheart and I love it. Also this is the 2nd time we see him making coffee for someone else...Coffee as a love language confirmed.

also must appreciate the excellent looks happening here for Paul & TK.

I love this little moment of Owen ribbing into TK like this, again must point out how much I love their bond especially in s1… However, this line is confusing to me in hindsight because it’s TK saying ~some of us will be having only mineral water~ in response to Judd saying they’ll go get beers… but no one in this conversation except Owen knows about his addiction at this point so why would he say that in front of all of them as if they know the context? idk just feels like some clunky writing.

the way Judd tosses this manual away is so fucking dramatic and extra and I love him.

obligatory thirst portion of this recap for workout TK.

I'm now playing a game called "how many horses and firetrucks can I find in the Ryder household?"... the props department was told this is the house of a lifelong firefighter and texan and they said we got u boo.

#911 lone star #911 lone star rewatch 2024 #episode: s01e06 friends like these #my gifs #tk strand #paul strickland #marjan marwani #owen strand #judd ryder #sorry to that man in the last screenshot. i am not calling him a horse by circling half his head i promise #his head is just in the way

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rogerrrroger · 10 months

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As someone from Texas, I can confirm Engie would also be equally batshit crazy, if not more in certain scenarios, than Medic. They are simply fucked up and evil together >:]

Omg real live Texan I wish Americans were real

#warning: dead rat horrible robot thing #art #ask #tf2 #roger's art #tf2 fanart #fanart #team fortress two #team fortress 2 #tf2 medic #tf2 engineer #science party

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tigertales9 · 4 months

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Quick writing update!

The Hard Reset series is supposed to be on hiatus until we get confirmation that Joe's wrist injury is healed. The problem is I can't stop thinking about it. 😩

I got a message from @sofferaddict (Thank you!) that encouraged me to delve a bit more into flashbacks of Joe & reader's relationship while we wait for good news about his wrist injury. That got me thinking, and I decided to write a chapter with a couple of quick flashbacks intertwined with the week 9 (Bills) and week 10 (Texans) games. I was saving those games to include with the week 11 (Ravens) game where he sustained the wrist injury, but I decided to split it so I can squeeze one more chapter out before writing about the injury. I just need a crumb of info that his wrist is okay before I go there. Anyway, the next chapter is about 80% finished, so I hope to get it up in the next few days.

I'm working on a couple other Joe x reader ideas, but they're coming along kind of slow.

As always, thanks for reading! 😘

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

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theclairvoyage · 3 months

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Centrifugation: Chapter 1

plasmadonor!Joel x f!reader

You’re the star phlebotomist at the local plasma center, and the job has been increasingly mundane as of late… until a new and handsome Texan donor comes to the center and changes that, and the rest your life.

Series Masterlist

Series warnings:

AU, M/F, Age gap (20 years)-reader’s YOB is 1995 (purely coincidental lolol), eventual SMUT, blood, needles, & plasma talk (nothing too graphic, I promise!), a bit of blasphemy, criticism of religion, mentions of death, divorce, angst, fluffity fluff fluff, alcohol consumption, violence. Individual chapters will have specific warnings.

FYI – this work contains criticisms of religion and reader is atheist/agnostic. Feel free to scroll if this offends you. If you decide to read, remember that even if you are religious, this is not an attack on you, but rather ideology. And remember the tenets of religious freedom. Everyone has the right to believe – and NOT to believe – in the things you do.

Plasma Center UrbanDict:

Stick = venipuncture

PR = permanent rejection, aka permanent deferral

Reception = where donors have vitals taken to determine if they are suitable to donate

Donor Floor = where the magic happens, baby! Where donation occurs, aka sticks with big 17G needles

Processing = where units of plasma are sampled and frozen

This is my first ever fic! Excited to share all of it with you. I'm new to posting this kind of stuff on Tumblr, so please forgive rookie formatting and whatnot. Hope you enjoy! As of 03/10/24, I have 6 chapters written - I'm juggling my writing with finishing my MPH degree, so my schedule might be a little spotty until mid-May.

Chapter 1

Chapter warnings: blood, needles, & plasma talk, light violence.

WC: 3.7k

Friday, October 15th | 0755

You turn into the parking lot at the plasma center, a little later than your usual 10 minutes early. Your shift is at 8, so you don’t have much time to walk to the center, clock in, grab your coat and face shield and get to work. Thankfully, the parking lot is just across the street. As soon as you step out of your car, downtown Omaha greets you with the familiar scents of cigarette smoke and fall air, along with the sounds of the city buses and commuters chugging along.

It’s a nice morning. Living in Nebraska means you get to experience the peaks and valleys of all four seasons, and during fall, this means the leaves of what few trees are in the downtown area are painted lovely hues of orange, yellow, and even red – if you’re lucky enough to find a scarlet or pin oak tree.

The plasma center parking lot is shared with employees and donors, and it’s packed this morning. Not a great sign. You walk up to the back employee entrance and punch in the code. The keypad beeps and lights up green and you pull open the ages-old, heavy-as-hell door and make your way to the break room.

The donor waiting area is just outside the break room door, and you can tell by how full it is that it’s going to be a long day, confirming your earlier suspicions in the parking lot. Somebody definitely called in, you think. Great. Punching in the same code as before, you enter the break room, throw your stuff in your locker, and clock in.

As soon as you’re on the Donor Floor, donned with your white lab coat, blue nitrile gloves, and face shield, one of your best phlebotomists and good friend Keri approaches, looking flustered as hell.

“Jesus, thank fuck you’re here,” she sighs, taking a deep breath and raising her eyebrows at you. She smooths back her frizzy hair and sets down her face shield on the counter next to you.

“Are we short today, or did corporate send out some bonus texts to half of Omaha?” you say, checking the Donor Queue on the computer. 15 people waiting, average wait time of 43 minutes. Fucking clean up time, I guess.

“Two call-outs, but they’re newbies, so it wouldn’t have mattered, really,” she says. “Definite yes on the bonus texts. Regulars are all pissed off because they didn’t get any.” You roll your eyes and sigh. To get more donors in, the company you work for has been sending bonus texts to donors that haven’t been in in a while, which really ticks off the regular, twice-a-week donors. It’s all about meeting that liters budget.

“Where do you need me? Breaks need to be sent?” you ask her. You’re the lead phlebotomist, but you always check in with whoever opened before you make any decisions. Keri nods. “Send Blake to break, he’s got an open section now and we’ve got to get these wait times down.” You grab your mobile phlebotomy device and head that way.

Each phlebotomist can have a maximum of 6 donors in their section. You see Blake cleaning up the machine from his last disconnect, leaving you an empty section. “You can head to break, I’ll take over here,” you say, helping him wipe down the now-empty donor bed.

“Thanks… really happy that you’re here. It’s been a shit show today,” he says, walking away from the section toward the break room. You groan and head up to the front near the waiting area, grab a chart, and start climbing the mountain.

Thursday, October 15th | 1230

The morning turned out to be an absolute disaster. You quickly filled up your section once you sent Blake to break, apologizing to every donor you sat for the wait times. Most were understanding. There were a few that gave you an eye roll or a shrug. A few left the center, not wanting to be late for work. The fall is generally a busy time at the center, with people seeking extra money for football tailgates and games, college students needing extra money for just about everything, and parents stocking up early on holiday savings.

Thankfully, Keri, you, and the rest of the morning Donor Floor crew knocked the Queue down to 3 donors and wait times down to 10 minutes. Once the last morning break was done, they came over and sent you to your lunch. Delighted, you took off your sweaty coat and hung it up, washed your hands at the sink by the coat rack, and headed to the break room.

Before you’re able to punch in the door code, a deep, velvety voice stops you.

“Uh, miss? Can you point me in the right direction?”

You turn and look in the direction of the voice and see a taller man with dark, silvery-streaked curly hair, tanned skin and pensive brown eyes staring at you. He’s donning a red flannel that squeezes his broad shoulders and ropy arm muscles, and dark wash Levi’s that have the outline of his wallet imprinted in the front right pocket. He’s definitely a blue-collar guy, not unlike a lot of the current donors. Must be a new donor, you think. Damn, he looks good. You feel a little zap in your chest, not unlike the fingerstick donors get during screening.

“Hi! Are you a new donor?” You ask, turning on your customer service voice in hopes of calming your nerves. You step back from the door and walk toward him. He’s got a small white paper slip in hand, which tells you he needs his veins checked, so he must be new.

“Yes ma’am, need someone ‘ta look at my veins. Been here before, but it’s been a long time,” he says, watching you approach him and giving you the once-over. Twice-over. Your pulse quickens. His voice is like icing, dripping with a sweet Southern accent and mushing your insides. You smile and take the paper from him, hoping that you aren’t blushing.

“Roll up your sleeves for me and let’s take a look,” you say, watching him roll up the sleeves of his red flannel. He’s got thick, veiny forearms that are tanned and covered with freckles. He wears a watch on his left wrist that you assume hasn’t been removed in years, judging by the pure white skin peeking underneath. His hands are big and scarred. Definitely works with his hands, you think. He has a small, circle-shaped scar on his right arm near the venipuncture site, so he was telling the truth about donating plasma before. You grab a tourniquet hanging on the cabinet near the chart area, wrap it on his upper arm, and feel. His veins are huge and muscular, and you realize you didn’t need the tourniquet in the first place. Rookie mistake.

“Guess I really don’t need this,” you say, removing the tourniquet and feeling his ropy veins with your index finger. His skin is warm under your clammy finger. He chuckles. “Heard that one before,” he says. You laugh and make eye contact with him, noticing the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his salt and pepper beard. His gaze is amiable and filled with something else you can’t quite pinpoint, and your stomach twists. You look away before you can decipher it.

“I don’t think you’ll have any issues with the stick,” you say, and he laughs. “Are you hydrated? Had a good meal in the last hour or two?” You ask, writing your name on the vein check slip and circling “Pass.” You see the name Joel Miller written at the top.

“Yes ma’am, I do a lot of workin’ outside and with my hands, so I know better,” he says, confirming your earlier assumption. His voice is sending a wave of tingles from your ears to your neck, and you feel goosebumps start to erupt in their pathway.

“Good man, Joel,” you say, noticing him perk up at you saying his name, “Take this back to the front desk and we’ll get you processed as quickly as we can.” He nods, gives you a handsome-as-fuck lopsided smile, and walks back to the front. You head back to the break room and turn to glance at him once more to find that he's already looking at you. Fuck, you think, looking back at the door. Don’t need a hot donor making me feel nervous like this. He’s older than you, but he might be the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen. You can only imagine how homely you look, clad in your scrubs and sweaty from the morning hustle and bustle.

You see every part of humanity at your job: young and old, foreign and domestic, all races and ethnicities, handsome and near homeless. There have been a few men that have caught your eye, and a few that you’ve met up with outside of the center, but none like this one. As tedious and mundane as the job can be, it’s the people that make it exciting, especially attractive ones. Well, hopefully he passes screening so I can see him on the Donor Floor, you think, contemplating what you’re going to get for lunch in the short time that you have.

Thursday, October 15th | 1430

Your break went by too fast. You decided on some fast-food place just across the street from the center. It’s good and cheap, but you know the greasy food is going to put you in a late-afternoon lull. Oh well. After you got back, the lobby was still relatively empty, so you started working on doing the monthly machine cleanings in the meantime.

The plasmapheresis machines are complicated and like everything else in the plasma center, they come with lots of rules and regulations. You’re a seasoned pro, though, so the cleaning and documentation are a breeze. You’re heading over to clean the last of the machines in the third row of the Donor Floor when you see a familiar, handsome head of dark salt-and-pepper curls walk behind Keri to one of the donor beds in the first row. He smiles at you as he lies on the donor bed, and you feel your cheeks heat and curl up into a smile of their own. Get a fucking grip. You’re relieved that Keri is taking care of him, because you’re nervous just seeing him in your work area. You can only imagine how shaky your hands would be with a needle if you were the one sticking him.

While cleaning the machines in the third row, you periodically look over at Joel and Keri. Keri is great with the donors, and it’s evident when you see Joel laughing with her. Each time you look up, he’s either already looking at you or looks up right after you do. You try to play it off like you’re scanning over all the donors, making sure everything is going as it should, but the sweat sheen forming on your face and neck betray you.

You see the light on his machine turn green, indicating he’s been stuck and is running smoothly. You imagine what it would’ve been like to feel his veins again, feeling his warm, tan skin underneath your fingers… and underneath other things, like—

“Oh my god, that man is such a charmer… and asked about you at least three times,” Keri states, snapping you out of your horny daydream. Your eyes widen and you turn so he can’t see your face from where he’s seated.

“Shhh! Keep your voice down!” You hiss, making both of you giggle. “What was he saying?”

“Oh, nothing much, just asking what the cute girl that checked his veins was doing all the way over here,” she smirks. “He used to donate here over 25 years ago when the center first opened up. Can you believe he’s that old? He does NOT look like it.” Odd, you think. He didn’t sound like he was from here when you spoke to him earlier. Wait, did he say I was cute? Blushing at his remark about your appearance, you remember the scar on his arm and think he’s probably telling the truth. “Wow, he looks good. How old is he?” Keri pulls him up on her mobile phlebotomy handheld and you see he was born in 1975. Damn. 20 years older than you.

Before you and Keri can gush further about Joel, the front door slams shut, echoing throughout the center and catching everyone off-guard. You watch as one of the younger regular donors, Cedric, storms past Reception and the donor waiting area over to the Donor Floor front desk, near where you checked Joel’s veins earlier. He practically spits your name, his brows pinched in a rage.

“Cedric, is everything alright?” You ask, approaching the front desk slowly. The once-noisy Donor Floor is quiet, save for the quiet whirring and clicking of the machines. Donors not wearing headphones are anxiously watching the front desk. You give Cedric the once-over and notice that his arm wrap is soaked with blood, and some of it has gotten on his white shirt and shorts and the floor around him. First rule of donating: Never wear white to a plasma center, dude.

“Does it fucking look alright? My arm wasn’t wrapped right and now I have blood everywhere!” he fumes. The entire Donor Floor is watching, including Joel and poor Blake, who must’ve disconnected Cedric. Blake approaches tentatively, tail between his legs, but you put your hand up to him, saying I’ll take care of this. Blake gives you a thankful nod and tiptoes back to his section.

“Cedric, I’m sorry about that. Come over to the sink and I’ll rewrap it for you,” you say, putting a fresh pair of gloves on. “Keri, can you clean up the blood spots with bleach, please?” You ask. She nods and grabs a Clorox bottle near the front desk, putting her face shield on and quickly walking around Cedric to search for the path of blood droplets. Cedric raises his voice again.

“Not good enough. I need that kid fired for his incompetence!” he points aggressively at Blake, flinging some blood droplets on the arm of your coat and on the front desk.

“Everybody makes mistakes, Cedric. Blake is a great employee. We can fix this. Let’s get you cleaned up, and maybe we can compensate you a little extra on your next donation,” you offer. But Cedric isn’t having it. He rips off the arm wrap and gauze and throws them at you while screaming expletives. The bloodied wrap nearly hits your face shield. Oh, hell no. He’s a long-term donor, so he’s probably clean, but it’s too close for comfort.

“Blake, call Trina and call the cops. Get this guy out of here. Cedric, don’t ever come back to this place,” you calmly instruct, walking backwards to find a biohazard container a safe distance from Cedric, never turning away from him. Trina, your manager, doesn’t put up with this kind of stuff and will make sure he’s permanently deferred.

“Fuck you, bitch!” Cedric yells, sprinting out of the center with two fingers on his free hand holding his venipuncture site, some blood dripping underneath. Once the front door slams shut, you turn around and take off all your PPE and toss it in the biohazard container, saving your nametag and pen. Frustrated and tired, you walk to the sink to wash your hands. Keri and Trina approach you.

“You alright, hon?” Trina asks. She’s a good manager, always looking out for her employees. She used to work on the Donor Floor, so she’s no stranger to these kinds of mishaps. Tensions can be hefty in this area – some donors are desperate for money, some fear needles more than death itself, and some are just grumps. Phlebotomists usually get the brunt of it.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just need to cool off. I told Blake to call the cops.” She nods.

“Go ahead. When the police get here, they’ll want your statement, so I’ll come find you then… I’ll put in the PR now,” she says, giving your arm a supportive squeeze before walking back toward the offices. You give her a pained smile and look to Keri, equally concerned as Trina. “Take your afternoon break, love. I’ll handle everything else,” she says. “Thanks, Ker. I’m gonna step in the freezer to cool off and then I’ll go.” She nods. You head toward Processing, located at the opposite end of the center. Processing has two giant walk-in freezers that always maintain temps of -40ºC – great for keeping fresh plasma frozen solid and an instant cool down.

You step in one of the freezers, shutting the heavy door behind you. You walk over to the fans and stand underneath. The sweat on your neck and back quickly freezes in its downward track, leaving behind a sting that could soon turn to frostbite. It doesn’t take long to cool off here, and anybody staying in for longer than a minute is supposed to put on a heavy coat, gloves, and a ski mask. It’s a popular spot for blistering summer days and after heated interactions like this. Satisfied with the pink blooming on your fingers and the crunch of your frozen, sweaty hair, you step out of the freezer and make your way outside for your break.

Once at the picnic table at the outdoor employee break area, you do a quick scan for Cedric. You can see the trails of blood drops leading to and from his car, and an empty space where his car must’ve been parked. Heaving a sigh of relief, you plop down at the table and massage your temples. Fuck… glad this day is almost over.

“Sweetheart, you alright?” A soothing, Southern voice rings in your ear and you look up, seeing Joel approach from his truck. He says your name, surprising you. Keri must’ve told him it while she was going through the process with him.

You take this moment to return the once-over he gave you earlier. Twice-over. His sleeves are still rolled up and you can see his arm wrap. His jeans crinkle at the hip with each step, his strong, toned quads flexing as each foot contacts the pavement. You can only imagine what he looks like from behind. His cowboy boots are worn, the leather cracking around the toes. He’s probably the type to wear a pair until they crumble to bits. He walks with a quiet bravado, taking long, smooth strides until he reaches you at the table.

You’ve no doubt you look exhausted. Though your sweat has frozen, you can feel how frizzy your hair is, especially around your face. Your eyes sting with fatigue and the skin underneath your eyelids tug downward. Your throat feels dry and tight, like you might cry soon. He must notice because the look in his eyes morphs from concern to anger.

“Hi, Joel,” you state, forcing a smile. “I’m okay. Not my first rodeo,” you wink, giving him a sarcastic “yee-haw” motion. He laughs, but his eyes betray him, still showing anger.

“Mind if I sit?” He motions to the spot across from you.

“No, go ahead, but the cops are on their way and who knows if Cedric will be back,” you caution him. He waves you off.

“That fuckin’ kid don’t scare me, and I saw everythin’ anyway. I can talk to the cops if you ain’t comfortable,” he says. He puts his hands on the backs of yours, and you feel another zap in your chest like you did when you first saw him earlier. You notice now that he doesn’t have a wedding ring.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to. I’m well versed in this department,” you say, feeling the tears reaching their boiling point. You do everything you can to keep them in, but one betrays you and falls down your cheek. Angry that you’re crying in front of Joel, you try to move your hand out from underneath his to wipe the tear, but he beats you to it.

“It’s okay, darlin’. You did the right thing, stickin’ up for your people,” he soothes, his thumb wiping your tear from your face. He moves his hand to cup your jaw and swipes his thumb gently over your cheek. His angry eyes softened back to concerned.

For what feels like an eternity, the two of you stare at each other, exchanging more communication nonverbally than words could ever. He’s looking at each of your eyes back and forth, and you feel yourself start to get embarrassed under his hot stare. You try to turn your head away from his gaze, but his hand stops you. “You’re alright, darlin’, got nothin’ to be ashamed of here,” he says, reading your mind. You bring your hand up from the table to gently grasp his arm as a sign of appreciation. His gaze follows and he swallows loudly.

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a genuine, close-lipped smile. His eyes move to your lips and then quickly dart back to your eyes, like you caught him doing something forbidden. He removes his hands and stands up, walking over to your side. He offers a hand to help you up and you accept, letting him pull you to your feet.

“Sorry your first visit back here was so crazy,” you say, and he laughs. “Hopefully next time it’s not so… exciting.” He moves his hand up to your shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze before dropping it. A tingle rips up your spine.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be.” He gives you that same look that he did earlier, the one where you couldn’t quite figure out what it meant. This time, though, you think you know exactly what it means. Your stomach somersaults.

“I’ll see you soon, darlin’. Hopefully your day gets better,” he says, turning to walk toward his truck. Once he gets to the driver’s side door, he turns to look at you again and pauses. You stand and stare at him, wanting to say something in return, but too overwhelmed by all your emotions. He smiles and gets in the truck, starting it and driving off while watching you with a small wave. You smile as he leaves.

Fuck.

Next Chapter

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #centrifugation #pedro pascal fandom

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katiexpunk · 6 months

Note

Heeeey guurll... 🖤🖤this was actually a dream I had a while ago, that have 'haunted' me since...

Here goed: Joel and reader in a established relationship,Joel has fucked up and needs to say sorry, and how does a man from Texas,say sorry well,this guy cooks for his woman, and while doing it he wears nothing but a cowboy hat, boots an an apron.

Reader has been to work, now returing home, as she enters some sappy country song starts playing, and out of the kitchen comes Joel in his get up and dances for reader and sadly thats where my dream ended,or atleast what I remembered of it

Hope you can use this...I tried to turn it into a fic, but I rubbish at writing.🖤

The Kind of Love We Make | Drabble | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count 1.7K

Authors Note: @darkheartgatita, thanks for sending this ask in. This was such a fun little fluffy drabble to write. Lord have mercy, we all need a little sweet Joel in our lives. I took a few creative liberties with this one. I hope you enjoy it.xx

No major warnings for this one. Just a lot of love and illusions to smut.

Joel's eyes widen as he glances at the date on his phone, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. Your anniversary. How could he have forgotten? He feels a knot tighten in his stomach, a block of lead dragging him down to the depth of the ocean. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

Frantically, he looks around his office, or what he considers an office – it’s just a construction trailer covered in building plans and sawdust – as he tries to come up with a plan of how he’ll make it up to you. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that life has gotten in the way, and this time, it’s overshadowed a crucial date.

His heart sinks as he thinks back to this morning when he had acted like it was any normal day. He had gotten up before you, made you a cup of coffee, and handed it to you with a kiss on your cheek like he always does. He remembers thinking about how cute you look in the morning, no makeup, your hair a mess, clad in only underwear and his shirt. He went off to the gym like usual; muttering something along the lines of “have a good day, babe,” not bothering to add happy anniversary, or I love you so much, no…anything. He curses himself for his stupidity.

Feeling guilty, he decides to channel his Texan charm and show you just how sorry he is. He checks his watch and decides to dip out of work a few hours early to race to a nearby H-E-B, nothing but determined to make things right.

He forms a plan in his mind on the drive there, one that involves a skill he hasn’t used in a while – cooking. He used to cook for you all the time, but with life being the way it is these days, you both mostly rely on takeout or quick meals. He thinks back to when you first started dating and he made you Marry Me Chicken. “Aren’t the women supposed to make this for the men?” you teased, “wanna marry me that bad already, huh, Miller?”

He didn’t admit it to you then, given it was only your fourth date, but he did want to marry you. He knew you were the one he was going to end up spending his forever with practically after your first date, he didn’t need chicken to confirm it.

And here you both are, years later, happily married – right?

His heart lurches when he remembers how good he used to be to you, how much effort he used to put into seeing you smile.

He makes a vow to get back to that, starting with tonight.

++++

As he strolls through the aisles, he carefully selects ingredients for the special dinner he has planned. He picks up fresh vegetables, but no broccoli because he knows you hate it, “devil trees” you call them; a prime cut of steak, all the necessary spices, and a bottle of red. And fuck it, you aren’t much of a flower girl, but he decides to throw a dozen roses into the mix, deciding if he’s going to gravel, he’s going to do it right.

Loading the groceries into his truck, his phone vibrates and your picture flashes on the screen. He picks it up, being sure to to call you baby in his greeting. Your conversation is brief, mostly just the normal, when will you be home, what do you want for dinner, etc., but he can tell from the tone in your voice that something is wrong. Normally, he would ask, but in this case, he already knows. He knows it’s his goddamn fault.

He had successfully resisted the urge to apologize on the phone, to beg you for your forgiveness, to confess his sins like a teenager in a chapel with the priest; forgive me, for I have sinned.

No, instead he decides that the surprise he has planned for you tonight will make it all worth it.

It has to.

++++

At home, Joel puts on his favorite country music playlist, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. Clad in only jeans and an apron, a gift from you on a previous anniversary, as he gets to work in the kitchen. His hands move confidently as he chops vegetables, marinates the steak, and prepares a homemade peppercorn sauce that he hopes will make up for his forgetfulness.

As the kitchen fills with an aroma that could make even a Q-tip drool, Joel takes a moment to reflect on your relationship. He thinks about all the wonderful moments you’ve shared over the years, the sound of your sweet laugh, and hell, even the challenges. The guilt he feels only fuels his determination to make this anniversary memorable, despite the initial oversight.

With everything nearly ready, Joel sets the table with care. He lights your favorite candle, the warmth of it casting a soft glow over the dining room. He goes up to your shared bedroom and changes into a nice dress shirt, and takes a deep breath, rehearsing the apology speech he’s crafted in his mind as he does up the final button. He’s in the middle of giving himself a pep talk in the mirror when he hears the familiar sound of your keys in the lock.

You open the door and to your surprise, Joel is standing only feet away from the entrance, dressed up, cowboy hat and all, holding a dozen roses. Your heart nearly jumps out of its chest. He remembered.

As you enter, you notice the dining room table set in the distance and the soft sounds of The Kind of Love We Make by Luke Combs playing softly throughout the house.

“Cmere baby girl,” he coos, his voice soft and thick like caramel, his arms open wide to welcome you into them.

“Joel,” you say, your voice a little broken and your eyes glassy. As you step forward, his broad arms wrap around you, and you melt faster than butter on a hot skillet.

"I know I've been wrapped up in work lately," he says, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back, "and I'm sorry if it seemed like I forgot. I wanted to make it up to you, to remind you how much you mean to me,” he says, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head, being sure to savor the subtle scent of your shampoo.

You wrap your arms around his thick core tighter, and he holds you against him. He feels safe and warm, like home.

“You did all of this for us?” you ask.

He nods, his soft brown eyes filled with sincerity. "I wanted tonight to be special. I've missed us, and I wanted to show you just how much you matter to me.”

You look up at him, tears now pooling in the corners of your eyes, a warmth filling your chest at his honesty. He looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world worth looking at; a one-of-a-kind painting handcrafted just for him. His hand finds your cheek, and the pad of his thumb smears a tear that has spilled over into your skin.

“God, I am such a lucky fucking man. Even when you’re cryin’ you’re beautiful,” he whispers to you. Your world stops, a moment frozen in time, just as it always does when he looks at you like this.

He takes a step back, extending his hand to you, "Care for a dance, sweetheart?" You laugh softly, the tension of the day lifting. You wipe the extra tears from your cheek as you mutter, "Absolutely.”

You place your hand in his, and he leads you in an impromptu dance in the foyer, one hand on your waist, the other wrapped around your palm, holding you close to his firm chest. He holds you like he’ll never let you fall. You’ve always known that; he’s just that type of guy, but right now you know it couldn’t be more true. You gaze up at him as you both sway, hips pressed together, the country song that plays on is the perfect soundtrack to your evening.

We've been burnin' both ends Keepin' the lights on So I've been thinkin' we need A little time alone

Joel twirls you, and you both sway, feeling a renewed sense of connection. He holds you against him, tight enough for you to feel a hardness pressing back against you.

Let's get some candles burnin' And some records turnin' All the lights down low Take it nice and slow The way your body's movin' Keep doin' what you're doin' To me all night long Writin' our love song Girl, I want it, gotta have it Let the passion take us to a higher place Makin' the kind of love we make

Your hand slips to cup the thick outline of him in his pants, and he lets out a groan. His large palm finds the zipper of your dress, and not before long it’s a mess of fabric around your hips.

“My girl is so fucking perfect,” he whispers in your ear, his tongue darting out to lick your lobe. “God damn, I’m such a lucky man,” his lips find yours in a heated kiss, one that leaves you wet and desperate for him. His lips pull away from you momentarily, and his pupils tell you everything you need to know. “You gonna let me show you just how sorry I am?” he asks, nipping at your neck.

“Mhmm” is all you manage to mutter, your head fuzzy from your arousal. He licks a swipe up the valley of your breasts before rising to full height and pulling you towards the steps.

You’re halfway up the steps when you ask, your voice giddy and a little breathless, “Joel, what about dinner? You worked so hard.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a little dessert first, baby.”

END

As a kind reminder, my DM's are open for asks!xx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller drabble #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedro pascal

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meraki-yao · 12 days

Text

RWRB Script: Meraki Thoughts and Notes, ACT II

Part 1

Here we go with the rest of the movie!

Highlight:

Red: Deleted Scenes

Yellow: Different from the movie

Blue: Fun/Interesting Movement Descriptions

Green: Extra Information of character/set

Three deleted scenes! Straight out the gate!

According to the people who went to the early screening, I think either 66 or 67 is a screen of Ellen's female staffers greeting her

One of these deleted montages was Alex on Zoom in a suit and his undies

"Something Wonderful from Henry" I wanna cry

"Trying to chill his excitement" to "going at each other" yeah dude you have no chill when it comes to your man

This is different: In the movie we don't get this; Alex blinks away and gradually sits up, and this is super minor but he just went "wake up, shit shit shit"

So these two lines aren't in the final product. Kinda glad, cause Alex my dear, there is nothing more glaringly obvious that someone is here than you saying "no one is here" before Zahra actually does anything

The entire description of Henry in the closet lmfao: "crimson with embarrassment", "But he is a prince after all"

This is the word/description Sarah was talking about during panels

"barely lucid" yup

What the fuck could have been deleted here? Also it's 87A?? A???

Two more??? What the fuck???

We lost Ellen kissing Alex's temple :(

This line was not in the movie, but confirmation that Oscar was told before the Texas vacation

"Young and tanned and free" my heart-

Another one

Okay I get that when you do a montage you get a bunch of footage and then pick and choose the ones that suit the final product the most but COME ON FOUR??? FOUR???

Confirmation that 1, Henry was wearing Alex's clothes in the bar scene, 2, He was drunk

"He looks like a true Texan" does he? But "completely charmed" awww

"Tiny stage" ... I mean yeah

"his most royal Freddie Mercury" lmfao bet Nick had fun with that

"giving it his all, having the time of his life", "smiles deliriously" 🥹

"with eyes that can only be described as love" Taylor took that line and wrote it into his eyes

One of these is the fireside "Prince with his heart on the outside" monologue

What the fuck is the other one, but which one is it

"He knows it will always matter" Henry :(

"tightens into a grimace of emotional pain" "as if all the joy is draining from his body"

"the faint tendrils of daylight still visible"

so in the movie we just hear one "Henry" and not the rest of the line, kinda prefer it that way

Now this is weird: there's supposed to be a deleted scene of Henry lying on the bed and Alex checking on him, kissing his forehead where 99 is, but we don't have that: then 101 is deleted scene after Henry already left the house?

"Of course he does" 😭

Again, I understand how montages are designed, filmed and edited, but THREE? THREE

I... don't really have words. It speaks for itself.

"stopping at his favourites", "Henry is more peaceful and contented than we've ever seen him", "Alex watches him as if seeing him really for the first time" I wrote that in one fic lmfao

Again the "look that can only be described as love"

"The glowing statues surround and protect them"

"as if trying not to break the spell"

Henry was supposed to stand in place?

Ok this was meant for a shorter Alex, I fucking wonder if they cast TZP, look at the boy's height and went "welp"

"Their hope filling this vast and holy space" I CRY

WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK, I KNOW THE KENSINGTON BREAKFAST IS HERE BUT WHAT THE FUCK, WHY ARE THERE THIS MANY

So in the movie we got Henry trying not to cry, instead of actually crying. Don't really know which one hurts more

"His world imploding" oh my love...

In the movie it was "I need to call him"

We were robbed of a Henry Bea moment :(

Again with the deleted montages!!!

Alex's inner voice lmao

another deleted montage, but this is right before the speech? What would it be???

What a description of Pip lmao

Love the (lecturing) in brackets

Awwwww 🥹

Hang on I reached my limit again fuck

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madamepestilence · 2 months

Text

H5N1: What to know before fear spreads

What is H5N1?

H5N1 is a 1996 strain of the Spanish or Avian Flu first detected in Chinese birds before spreading globally across various avian species. H5N1 is similar to H1N1, but spreads slower and has a much higher mortality rate.

H5N1 may also be referred to as Influenza A. The American Association of Bovine Practitioners has seen fit to rename H5N1 to Bovine Influenza A Virus, or BIAV, and are encouraging others to use the same terminology.

I would not be surprised if the colloquial name among the public becomes Bovine Flu or American Flu in the coming months, and may be referred to as the Chinese Flu by the same folks who took the spark of the SARS-CoV-2 (COVID-19) pandemic as an excuse to be publicly racist to East Asian people without social repercussions.

BIAV is a virus, meaning that it is a (probably) non-living packet of self-replicating infectious material with a high rate of mutation. BIAV is structured similarly to SARS-CoV-2, having a packet of infectious material encased in a spherical shell with a corona, or crown, of proteins that can latch to living cells to inject RNA.

Image source with interactive model: ViralZone - H5N1 subtype

What is the history of BIAV?

In 1996 and 1997, an outbreak of BIAV occurred among poultry and infected 18 people in Hong Kong, 6 of which died. This seemingly isolated incident then infected ~860 people with a >50% death rate.

At the time, BIAV was known as Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza, or HPAI, and killed nearly 100% of chickens within a 48 hour period.

From 2003 to 2005, continual outbreaks occurred in China and other East Asian countries, before spreading to Cambodia, the Netherlands, Thailand, and Vietnam.

From 2014 to 2016, it began being detected in American fowl, as well as mutating the H5N6 (lethal in birds, no human to human transmission) and H5N8 (largely spread through turkeys, ducks had immunity) viruses.

BIAV has since evolved into a clade known as 2.3.4.4b, and was first detected in 2021 in wild American birds. This then caused outbreaks in 2022 among wild and domesticated birds (such as chickens) alike, but was largely being overshadowed by the pressing SARS-CoV-2 pandemic at the time.

From 2022 to 2023, it was observed to be spreading among various mammals, including humans. Now, in 2024, we're having the most concerning rapid outbreak of BIAV since 2003.

BIAV is known to spread from mammal to mammal, particularly between cows and humans. BIAV may also be spread from cow to cow (highly likely, but not confirmed - this is likely the reason the virus has spread to Idaho from Texan cattle), and is known to be lethal to domestic cats and birds within 48 hours.

How does BIAV spread?

BIAV spreads through fomites - direct contact with infected animals or infected surfaces and then touching parts of your face or other orifices - as well as through airborne particulates, which may be inhaled and enter the sinuses and lungs.

BIAV is known to spread through:

Asymptomatic Ducks, geese, swans, various shorebirds

Symptomatic, may be lethal Foxes, bears, seals, sea lions, polar bears, domestic cats, dogs, minks, goats, cows, (potentially human to human, but unconfirmed - there have only been 8 potential human to human cases in 2024).

How can I protect against BIAV?

As BIAV is a type of Influenza A, existing protocols should do fine.

Current recommendations are to wash your hands vigorously after interacting with birds (I would also recommend doing this with mammals), avoid touching your face or other open orifices, and wear N95 masks.

Avoid sick or dead animals entirely - I would also recommend reporting them to your local Animal Control or veterinary centre and warning them about the infection risk. People who work with animals are recommended to also wear full PPE such as N95 masks, eye protection, gloves, and partake in vigorous hand washing.

If you suspect you've caught BIAV, seek medical attention immediately. Existing medications such as oseltamivir phosphate, zanamivir, peramivir, and baloxavir marboxil can reduce BIAV's ability to replicate.

Standard flu shots will not protect against BIAV. Remember - symptoms of BIAV may not manifest for between 2 to 8 days, and potentially infected people should be monitored for at least 10 days.

How far has BIAV spread?

BIAV is currently a global virus, though the current infection location of note is the United States.

Image Key: Dark red - Countries with humans, poultry and wild birds killed by H5N1 Deep red - Countries with poultry or wild birds killed by H5N1 and has reported human cases of H5N1 Light red - Countries with poultry or wild birds killed by H5N1

Image source: Wikipedia - Influenza A virus subtype H5N1 - File: Global spread of H5N1 map

Image source: Metro.co.uk - Map shows where bird flu is spreading in US amid new warning - File: The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s H5N1 bird flu detections map across the United States

Should I be afraid?

You needn't be afraid, just prepared. BIAV has a concerningly high lethality, but this ironically culls its spread somewhat.

In the event human to human transmission of BIAV is confirmed, this will likely mainly affect marginalized communities, poor people, and homeless people, who are likely to have less access to medical care, and a higher likelihood of working in jobs that require frequent close human contact, such as fast food or retail jobs.

Given the response to SARS-CoV-2, corporations - and probably the government - may shove a proper response under the rug and refuse to participate in a full quarantine, which may leave people forced to go to work in dangerous conditions.

If this does spread into an epidemic or pandemic, given our extensive knowledge about Influenza, and the US having a backup vaccine for a prior strain of H5N1, a vaccine should be able to be developed relatively quickly and would hopefully be deployed freely without charge - we won't have to worry about a situation like The Stand.

Wash your hands, keep clean, avoid large social gatherings where possible, wear an N95 mask if you can afford them (Remember: Cloth masks are the least protective, but are better than nothing. If you can't afford N95 masks, I recommend wearing a well-fitted cloth mask with a disposable face mask over it to prevent pneumonia from moisture buildup in the disposable mask), support the disabled, poor, and homeless, and stay educated.

We can do better this time.

Further things to check out:

YouTube: MedCram - H5N1 Cattle Outbreak: Background and Currently Known Facts (ft. Roger Seheult, M.D.)

Wikipedia - Influenza A virus subtype H5N1

Maine.gov - Avian Influenza and People

CDC.gov - Technical Report: Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza A(H5N1) Viruses

Wikipedia - H5N1 genetic structure

realagriculture - Influenza infection in cattle gets new name: Bovine Influenza A Virus (BIAV)

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Text

Minimal Losses // Jake Seresin

Chapter three // Protect Your Own

Summary: Jake spends the night and enjoys an even better morning only to come face to face in real time just how easily you can be overlooked. Defending your honour.

Warnings: SMUT! female receiving oral. Jake Seresin x female reader. Criminal Minds crossover.

Word Count: 4.5k

Author Note: Don’t forget this series is set in the same universe as NCIS // Bradley Bradshaw MASTERLIST

“You snore—“ It was the way Jake's morning tone sounded in your ear that had your heart fluttering in your chest. “Don’t even try to deny it.” You couldn’t help chuckle through your nose as your lips curled into a soft smirk. His Texan drawl was way more prominent in the early hours of the morning.

“You talk in your sleep.” You retaliated. Pushing back into Hangman as he tightened his arms around your waist, you back flush against his chest as morning wood pressed heavily into the curve of your ass. “You have underlying father issues.” You hadn’t even opened your eyes and you were already profiling Jake. He smirked into your neck as he peppered butterfly-like kisses against the supple skin of the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “You were mumbling about him in your sleep.”

“Not usually the pillow talk I’m used to but it’ll have to do.” Jake was quick to manoeuvre himself on top of you. His muscular arms on either side of your shoulders as he hovered over you. “Tell me more about myself?” In the change of position the blanket that had been covering your chest had fallen down, exposing your tits in the process.

“Go on, profile me.” As Jake ducked his head to wrap his lips around your nipples. Sucking gently as a gasped escaped your slightly parted lips.

“You have commitment issues—“ That was an easy one to pick. Jake raised his eyebrows as you looked up at you with a mouthful of your breast and hummed in confirmation. “You don’t love easily.” Okay, that one was a little tougher. You let your hands card through Jake's golden locks as he changed breasts. Paying some much needed attention to your other breast. “You find it really hard to let others know you care.”

“Because I don’t.” It wasn't true in the slightest bit, Jake cared about those he was close to. His family, his friends, he just showed it in different ways. He wouldn't come out and tell Natasha Phoenix Trance he cared about her, but he'd never let her leave the Hard Deck unattended. He wouldn't tell Rober Bob Floyd that he cared, but he’d definitely go out of his way to be his wingman on a night out if he saw the shyer than most backseater blushing bashfully at one of the bartenders. He cared, he just wouldn't say it.

“Is that the hill you’re willing to die on?” You softly moaned in Jake's ear as his lips trailed up from the valley of your breasts up to your neck before making his way back to your lips. Loving up every inch of you in the early hours of the morning. “Because if so, you’ll die a less than noble death Hangman.”

“Tell me more about myself.” He was relentless in his assault, soft and completely committed to making you feel like the only woman he’d ever laid his hands on. You were a smart enough girl to know Jake Seresin had been around the block a few times, but what you did know was that Jake was usually a one and done guy–he didn't do second dates, if you'd call burgers and banging a second date. “You’re a smart girl, got me all figured out huh?”

“Easy to figure out when you're an open book.” You tried to tease as Jake slowly but sure made his way down your torso, leaving soft kisses in his wake as he slipped between your legs under the covers. “Jake–”

“Love how you say my name.” It was like music to his ear, a symphony made just for him. With butterfly-like kisses trailing down your inner thigh, Jake turned his attention to your core–heat radiating as you hook your legs over his shoulders. “And I've always had a sweet tooth.” He smirked before blowing cool air against your sensitive bundle of nerves, bolting you down to the bed with one hand on your lower abdomen as you jolted from the sensation. “Needy little thing aren't you?”

“Please–” You whined before Jake licked a single stripe up your core, collecting all your nectar. “Ohh–” Jake could feel himself throbbing in his boxer briefs, deciding to grind his hips down against your mattress as he began to slowly eat you out. “Oh my gosh–” Coaxing you out of your somewhat reserved shell with every passing moment he paid attention to your core. “Jake ohhh myy–ahhh.”

“Feel good does it?” It was his way of reminding you he very much enjoyed foreplay, that giving head was just as good as receiving it. That it wasn't always about the destination, but the journey it took to get there. “Come on, don't hold back from me–I know you can give me more.” Jake was urging you to break free from the shell you used to protect yourself, his tone was soft and comforting as he removed his hand from your lower abdomen as slowly interested just one finger between your folds. “You don’t ever have to hide from me, tell me how it feels baby.” The term of endearment fell easily from Jake's lips as he continued to dive between your legs. Pumping his single digit in a harmonious rhythm as your rips bucked up to meet the hilt of his finger–fucking yourself. “You gotta tell me how it feels gorgeous.”

“Feels–” Shy, you were so utterly shy when it came to vocalising exactly what you felt and exactly what you wanted during sex. It had never been something you were inherently good at nor felt entirely comfortable doing. But Jake? He brought out a side in you that had remained dormant until he made it his life mission to get to know you when he’d seen you all by your lonesome reading at one of the booths at the Hard Deck. “Feels amazing, pl–please keep going.”

“Wasn't planning on stopping until your cum is dripping down my chin.” The way he spoke to you in such a manor made the coil inside you tighten. Noone had ever spoken to you like Jake did, with such intent and such passion. “But what if I were to do this, huh?” Another digit was added into the mix, stretching you out as your hands flew to Jake's hair. Pulling on the golden mess of bed hair that looked so good, invoking a sudden hiss to escape Jake's mouth before he was back at work sucking against your clit. Working you towards your orgasm.

“Oh god oh god, yes! Ohhhhh Jake, please don't stop!” You were too far gone to be worrying about what Jake thought of you, all you cared about was chasing the high he was coaxing you towards, curling his fingers into your velvet walls as his tongue flicked and lips sucked around your clit. Sensitive and throbbing. “I'm gonna cum–” It was his sign to continue doing exactly what he was doing. Never faulting for a damn second no matter how much his jaw ached or how badly he wanted to relieve himself.``Please–oh my gosh oh my gosh–” The best form of encouragement was always praise, in Jake's mind anyway. If you were close he’d keep going until you were there. “Oh sugar! Ahhh I’m cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cumming! ahhh–” again, it was the best sound, an orchestra strung together just for him. Your fingers carded between Jake's hair as you tugged a litter hard, riding your high. “Ohhh–”

Jake had never tasted something so sweet before, something so addictive. He couldn't get enough of the way you were grinding your hips against his face in search of more relief. Your orgasm hitting you like a tsunami that had been building and building under the pressure of Jake's tongue.

“God, where have you been all my life?” Jake sighed as he made his way up your body, his lips tasting of yourself as he placed a gentle kiss against your lips.

“Probably in school.” You taunted having remembered how taken aback Jake had been when you told him you’d been a child prodigy. “You're like ten years older than me.” with a slack jaw, Jake looked at you like you’d just called him a fossil.

“I'm thirty three sweetheart, not that old.”

“I'm twenty six, it's still a very considerable age difference if you do the maths.” It was as instant and as comfortable as ever as Jake laid his head between the valley of your breasts, letting you combs your nails through his hair. “I think I see some greys coming through pops.”

“Oh okay you can cut that shit off right now Kas.” Jake stared up at you from his place on your chest. “We should probably get ready for work huh?”

“You wanna shower with me before you—“ You cut yourself off in the middle of your thought process. “Wait, you’re going straight from here to work? You don’t have any clothes?”

“Got a spare suit in my locker.” Jake was quick to sooth your concern. “Gonna have to pass on the offer as much as I’d like to.” Groaning as he pushed himself up onto his knees, you drank in the sight of his torso. Chiselled to perfection. “Like what you see?” Wiggling his eyebrows, Jake swore that bashful smile you wore was his favourite, he loved to taunt and he loved to tease. “I’ll pack you a few extra barf bags under your seat.” Jake sighed as he hopped off your bed, searching for his clothes as you eyed him off. Holding yourself up on your elbows. “We’re doing advanced dog fighting manoeuvring sometime today and I don’t feel like being your target.”

“You’ll probably miss out if I can help it.” Pushing the sheets to the side as you let your legs fall over the side of your bed. “You have to come sign some paperwork down at the precinct before you liaise with the NCIS and the FBI, you know—in case you die or something.”

“Should I bring my badge?” Slipping into his sweatpants, Jake sent you a Cheshire like grin. “I’m kidding.” He teased as he stood up, kissing your cheek. “I already know the answer was one hundred percent yes.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

It was the luck of the drawer and you most certainly had not been lucky. You hadn’t been able to time your trip to the precinct with Jake at the same time you were scheduled for more flight training. Your run time was only an hour long but god it felt like an eternity.

“So, Kasper—what’s it like flying with Hangman?” Coyote's voice came through strong on the comms. Unlike yesterday when the only people in the sky had been people completely privy to your situation, today you were amongst a mixed goodie bag of pilots.

“Uh, yeah it’s interesting—my last front seater was a lot more reserved, didn’t like to push the envelope as much as Ja—“ You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence before Jake was inverting the super hornet just for fun, because he could.

“Uh I’m sorry lieutenant Jackson what was that?” You couldn’t see Jake's smirk but you could hear it as he dropped a little unexpectedly, causing you to squeal for a brief moment until he reoriented. “Thought I heard you talking smack back there.” He didn’t have to turn around to know all the colour from your body had drained. Your stomach had gone haywire and before you knew it? You were filling one of those emergency vomit bags.

“Poor girl’s suffering more than any of us ever had to damn.” Coyote chuckled as he heard you emptying the contents of your stomach, it wasn’t as bad as yesterday though. “Come on man, take it easy on her she’s had enough—“

“Jake, my nose is bleeding.” It was the way you said it that had Jake wiping the smile from his face in an instant. “I think I need to—“ You didn’t even need to finish your sentence before Hangman was radioing in.

“This is Hangman and Kasper, we’re requesting an early landing—Kasper here’s sprung a leak.” Range control granted permission to land and you’d never been more thankful.

“Fuck if it’s that easy, I’ve gotta take a crap can I request permission to land early?” The difference between Coyote and Hangman were two very prominent things that led to the answers they received. One being Jake was privy to all aspects of this mission, he was your partner as much as he was your front seater. And two? He’d already managed to rack up an extra fifty hours of flight time which meant he truly didn’t need to worry about an early landing. Coyote however, was neither privy nor had additional hours banked. He shouldn’t have been as disappointed as he was when he received a negative back from range control.

“I’m assuming you’re here for Y/n and Lieutenant Seresin?” Admiral Bates didn’t have to turn his head as he addressed Agent Bradshaw upon her arrival. He could recognise her footsteps.

“How’s she holding up?” She asked inquisitively as her eyes caught sight of Jake coming down the tarmac helping to guide you as you held your head back trying to stop the Fossett that your nose had become.

“For someone impersonating a naval aviator I pray she’s better at her own job than the one she’s trying to pass herself off as.”

“What did you do to her!” Jake would have put his hands up In defence as the heavy pregnant better half of the bradshaw bunch came at him like a steam train—but he kept them on you, guiding you instead. “Jake, I need her in one piece, you can’t be thrashing her around for the fun of it!” It was the slap to the back of the head that really had you laughing.

“Okay Woah!” Jake huffed. “One, don’t hit me like that and two, I didn’t know her nose was gonna bleed like this!” Helping you sit down on a vacant chair before darting off to grab the convenient box of tissues sitting underneath the whiteboard Mav used to draw really bad graphics. “God did they even ask if you were afraid of flying before you signed on to do this?”

“We did—“ Agent Bradshaw chuckled to herself as you stuffed tissues into your nose. “Her answer was she flew jet blue, and that was good enough for me to not put DiNozzo in a plane with you.”

“I’m fine, just give me a minute and I’ll be golden.” Sighing you kept your head back. “I’m really just hoping I don’t have to get on a plane while aboard.”

“Considering you're losing about a litre of blood out your nose Dr, I’m sure we can make some adjustments to the arrangements to ensure minimal flight time.” Agent Bradshaw cooed as he rubbed her belly softly. “I need you both at the precinct once you're cleaned up, Jake has paperwork to sign and the rest of your team to meet.” Jake raised his brows in disbelief when Rooster's wife had called you Dr. “Have either of you seen my husband anywhere?”

“Can’t say I have ma’am.” You groaned as you felt like the bleeding was slowing down. “But yeah, we’ll go over now.” Agent Bradshaw didn’t stick around too long after that, she left in search of her husband. “God, I’m not cut out for this—“ Your glasses seemed pointless to be wearing right now, ripping them off your face in a huff you folded them into the pocket of your flight suit. Jake's eyes trailed down to where your name tag was—it read Jackson as if that was your real name.

“Why did Gibbs call you Dr?” Jake questioned as he kneeled before you, helping to clean your face from the blood that had started to dry. “What haven’t you told me? I know you’re some sort of prodigy, but still? You’re too young to have gone to medical school.”

“PHD’s Hangman, three of them.” It wasn’t that you weren’t going to tell him, it’s just whenever people found out they treated you differently.

“You really are some sort of genius aren’t you?” Jake's eyes never faulted as he helped clean you up. It was a nice change to the recoil most men gave you when they found out you were indefinitely brilliant minded.

“Uh, I don’t necessarily believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified—“ You tried to explain as you fort of getting lost in Jake's eyes. “But I do have an IQ of one hundred and eighty seven and an eidetic memory which means I can read over twenty thousand words per minute.” Silence, Jake Seresin stared at you in utter silence before he cleared his throat.

“Yeah well not to blow my own horn or anything but I was the top of my maths class all through college.” He beamed, it brought out such an addictive laugh from you. Jake swore then and there he’d do just about anything to hear your laugh. “Still pretty good at it too—“

“So you’re a maths kid then? Is that what you’re telling me, Hangman?” The way you looked at him, Jake could barely keep it together. It was the way you wanted to see him for all that he was and not just who he thought people wanted him to be. You valued his identity—something he’d always struggled to identify. Something he’d always been torn over.

He was undeniably falling fast and falling hard. Jake had never known this feeling before—it was uncharacteristic for him to want to spend all his waking moments with someone. Usually the type to turn and hightail it out of the situation when he sensed it getting too serious. But with you? Well—

“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone because I’ll never live it down.”

You were just different. Uniquely you.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

It wasn't a far drive from the Miramar base to the precinct. In total it was about a fifteen minute drive. In the time it had taken you to get from point A to point B Jake had gone through the entire content of your centre console and your glove compartment. Picking your brain about your obscure collection of CD’s, ranging from Taylor Swift to ACDC.

“You're going to mess up my system, stop snooping!” Jake had been flicking through your carefully organised CD case, alphabetical and numerical order based on last name and date of release. To you it made perfect sense as to where everything sat neatly tucked into the sleeves. To Jake it made no sense at all. “Are you right there just going through all my stuff?”

“Why do you have all these if you have a bluetooth system?” Jake asked as he turned his attention to you, slightly turning in the passenger's seat–watching as you drove with your hands a ten and two. “Seems pointless, you know Spotify exists right?”

“Do you not collect anything?” Jake didn't feel like it was the appropriate time to bring up the collection of baseball cards he had in a couple of boxes at his parents place, just deciding it was better off to act the fool instead of putting his childhood desire to have the biggest collection to date on the backburner. “My CD collection should be none of your concern—“

��Just curious, I mean, I guess it’s not as bad as the collection of gum wrappers you’ve got going on in your centre console.” You didn’t dignify Jake with a response, you simply decided to roll your eyes and huff a small sigh as you pulled up to the check in gate. “Oh, I’ll get my badge!” Jake beamed as he shuffled around to fish the NCIS badge Agent Bradshaw had given him—it carried no weight but still, Jake seemed fixated on it. Craning your head as you rolled down your window you raised a single eyebrow.

“Did you actually bring it?”

“Yeah! Why wouldn’t I? It's the best thing ever.” It was the laughter that filled the car for a brief moment that almost had you forgetting what you had brought Jake here to do, but most importantly who he was here to meet.

“You’re an idiot.” Shaking your head, you turned your attention back to the guard at the gate. He was waiting for you to present yourself. Flipping open your credentials, you handed them over. “Hi, Special Agent Y/n Y/l/n—I’m here with Lieutenant Jake Seresin here to see Aaron Hotchner and Dr. Spencer Reid—“ You’d gotten an email only yesterday confirming that your team would be trickling in as of today, Hotch and Spencer had been the first to fly in.

“Do you have another form of ID ma’am?” The officer sitting in the little booth asked as he held onto your FBI credentials.

“Um—“ You really weren’t expecting him to ask for anything else, reaching down to grab your purse that sat at Jake's feet. “I have my licence and registration? Would that do?”

“Have you got a clarence request?” Jake frowned as he leaned over your centre console to get a better view at the guy giving you a hard time. “That would be preferable—“

“Is there a problem—“ Jake tried to read the guy's name on the badge he wore on his shirt, but he couldn’t quite get a read on it. “Pal?”

“No sir, no problem here so long as miss Y/l/n here can provide the proper documentation.”

“Proper Documentation?” You questioned. “I just handed you my federally issued and national recognised badge and credentials, I don’t understand why providing a clearance request would be more beneficial.” Without skipping a beat the officer holding your badge hostage responded with a tone you hadn’t heard since being in North Island.

“Well ma’am, what are the chances you’d have two fake documents upon your persons.” Believe it or not? This hadn’t been and certainly wouldn’t be the last time you’d been stopped by security. It was always your age, it was always your goddamn age. “I find it hard to believe someone born in nineteen ninety six is a federal agent of this Clarence level—next time you wanna fake an ID, perhaps start smaller and work your way up, like a licence or library card.” Shrugging you off with a menacing smile, he tossed your badge back into your lap through your window. “Better luck next time, main office hours are eight till eight, you’ll find the admin building around the front.”

“Oh—wait but!!” Before you could defend yourself the window to the guards booth had been slammed shut. “Unbelievable.”

“That guy couldn’t hit water if he fell out of a goddamn boat Kas—“ Jake groaned as he unclipped his seatbelt. “Wait here.” Before you could register what was happening, Jake was out of the car and taking prominent strides around the bonnet of your car. “Hey!” Tapping his knuckle against the glass, Jake's eyes were wide and full of rage. “You wanna explain where you get off disrespecting a federal agent like that?” You’d later find out the guards name was Blake, he hadn’t even opened his window far enough for Jake to get a finger in before he was mouthing off again.

“If she can provide me with the proper documentation that she is who she says she is I can open the booth—until then she’ll have to go through the proper procedures at reception like the rest of—“

“Listen here dickhead, Special Agent Kas here could probably decipher things about you just by the smell of the shit on the bottom of your shoe—you really wanna get on her bad side?” Jake wasn’t having it, slamming his hand against the glass hard enough to nearly pop it off the hinges it ran across. “You might want to rethink your decision to degrade her to a fake, because once we get in there so help me god I won’t let you forget the day you ended your own career as a glorified hall monitor.”

“Jake! Jesus—it’s fine I’ll just call Hotch and he can sort this out yeah?” You were out of the car in seconds. Your hand on Jake's chest, you could feel his heart beating out of his chest. “It’s alright—“

“Nothing about this is alright! This guy is totally out of line Kas how are you being so calm about this?”

“Because believe it or not this isn’t the first time something like this has happened—“ Jake's face had softened instantly when you told him that. What had you even meant by that, although obviously he couldn’t process it. “It's just something that happens alright, I don’t need you with an assault and battery charge on your record because of me, at ease Lieutenant.”

“I’m calling security if you don’t move your car, miss, there’s another car waiting to pass.” Blake piped up as Jake turned to glare at him.

“You gonna call your own number? Thought you were security?” While Jake went at it with Blake defending your honour, you noticed the all too familiar, unruly, mop of hair attached to the tall but handsome man getting out from behind the wheel of the car now parked behind you.

“Everything okay here Agent Kas?” Spencer shouted as you waved him over with a sigh. With a slight amount of haist, Spencer was by your side in no time, flashing his credentials to Blake who went a nice shade of red. “What’s wrong? I went out for like five minutes, why are you blocking the entryway?”

“Uh, well I was trying to pass but apparently I’m an impostor.”

“According to who?” Spencer asked as Jake scoffed, looking down as he mumbled and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Larry Daley here said her credentials are bogus.”

“Oh is that so?” Spencer laughed softly as he placed his own badge back into his pocket, still holding a coffee he’d brought from the really nice cafe down the street. “So I should just leave you here then right? Dr.? Or should I tell officer Blake here that you’re legitimately a federal agent who’s time is valuable and that you deserve to be treated with the same level of respect he’d give any one who flashed him a federal bureau of investigation’s badge?” Spencer wasn’t addressing you anymore, his attention and stone state had shifted to Blake who’d lost the ability to breathe. “Open the gate—“

“Yes sir—“ Blake was quick in the draw for someone who was about to lose his job. You just let out a sigh of disappointment in yourself as you introduced Jake.

“Spencer this is Jake, uh—Seresin, he’s my partner for the Lexington.” You felt Jake take you in under his arm, drawing you close to his side as he stuck his other hand out for Spencer to shake. “Hangman, this is special agent Dr. Spencer Reid.” Raising a brow as you introduced your teammate, Jake laughed into the heavens above momentarily.

“You're both Drs?” Spencer smirked at Jake before letting go of his hand, noticing how comfortable you seemed around him. Something he had never seen before, your guard down. Deciding to take a jab while you weren’t paying attention.

“For a while there it was just me, and before you ask? Yes—I had the title first.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags // @auroraboreallisfine @buckythewintersquirrel @a-lil-bit-nuts@bookaholics-stuff @ilovewhalesharks444 @a-serene-place-to-be@alexsisrebekah @rhirhikingston @caitsymichelle13 @twsssmlmaa@chaoticversion @topguncultleader @averyhotchner @emma8895eb

#minimal losses // jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin series #hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #hangman x you

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thebahwrites · 1 year

Photo

Based on @beezelarts ‘Hangman may be mildly Dyslexic’ hc poll and @reiverreturns ‘Hangman is a dyslexic menace so that’s where the callsign comes from’ hc

TRYST TRUCK TRUST

“I ain’t stupid.”

It takes Javy a moment to understand what the blond boy is saying, as they’re sitting across from each other in the boy’s bedroom. He honestly hadn’t thought much when the indication of tutoring a Seresin kid came along — it was good money, he wasn’t so sure if it’d be easy but at the very least, worth the shot.

“Sorry?” He asks with a slow blink, staring back at Jake. High School Football Team Captain Quarterback Texan All American Boy Extraordinaire Jake Seresin, in all of his blond golden boy glory, green eyed and sitting there in his F-18 Hornet Schematics t-shirt with thick rimmed black glasses that looked a little like he was one of those stereotypical popular kids trying to look the part of a nerd cosplay.

Not like it bothered Javy, he’d been on the team just two years ago, too. The two of them weren’t so removed from each other’s timelines, Jake just happened to be a Sophomore where Javy had just graduated.

“I ain’t stupid.” Jake repeats himself and frustration is almost palpable in the words; they’ve been there for an hour already while Javy was going over the guy’s assignments and grades to try and see what exactly he’d been struggling with. It was all a mismatched collection of A pluses, C minuses and F’s that honestly made no sense for a guy with all the money in the world.

“Yeah, I hear you.” Javy confirms with a nod before Jake repeats himself, he can see the mixed feelings bubbling under the boy’s surface. Picking up on his assignments, then carding through the other subject’s folders; math and science and physics, Seresin was killing it but apparently not where reading was concerned. “I don’t think you are.” There’s an inkling to him that makes Javy think the blond might have heard he was stupid at least a few good times, enough to internalize it.

“Okay, good.” Jake’s answer is closed off, cagey, giving off the energy of someone who’s trying so hard to save face while also self-doubting like mad. Now, Javy had come here to teach a rich brat he assumed was just fucking around during classes and leave; he wasn’t expecting to find a guy who was genuinely trying and failing.

“...do me a favor and read this passage for me.” He points out at one of the reading assignments reports, handing it over to the guy, Jake nods. And then he takes precisely five minutes (Javy checks on his watch) until he clears his throat. “Out loud, please.”

Green eyes stare back, blinking in quick succession before he spots a tinge on pink at the tips of the boy’s ears, obviously ashamed even though he tries not to look startled. “Oh, right, sorry.” Noted, clear instructions.

It takes another minute for Jake to pick up and read the passage, hesitantly. “I love your daughter fondly, dearly, disin– disin– disinterd– fuck!” It’s almost like watching someone repeatedly run into a wall they can’t walk past and Javy feels bad, so he reaches forward to cover the passage, eyes keeping on Jake’s face, checking for changes.

“Disinterestedly.” He offers, calmly, trying not to sound patronizing and somehow wary the guy would simply throw a tantrum or something if he did so.

“Disinterestedly.” Jake repeats, half annoyed, eyebrow lifted in a mild challenge as if inviting Javy to mock him back. Instead, Javy gives the blond boy a long, puzzled look, letting the gears inside his own brain turn before he speaks again.

“I’m not–”

“Stupid, I know, I seriously don’t think you are.” Javy almost rushes to say because he can see the way Jake is chewing the inside of his own mouth. “So...trust me to help you?”

Jake stares back. Javy stares back.

“Yeah, alright.”

#abt: my writing #jake hangman seresin #javy coyote machado #top gun maverick ficlet #tgm hc #top gun fic #macheresin #or #serechado #if you squint???#idk #can be romantic or platonic #go off!#long post #based on me tutoring my brother!#who's dyslexic!#i kinda wanted to go into a lot more detail but #here's something sweet?#coyote x hangman

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unactivewaspsfics · 1 year

Text

The Southern Charm

A/N: I'm trying new formatting… Idk what works with me JUST yet so if this is the only post with this kind of formatting, you know :D I will say depending on how interested I am I may make a part two… Who knows lmao <;33 also I WAS gonna post this at 12 am but the demons won and I am posting it at like 9 >:D

Pairing: Cole Cassidy x NB!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance, SFW

CW: Pet names, flirting, minor cussing, and kissing?! (😦)

Word Count: 1,090 or so

Summary:

While you are traveling to visit family who begged you to come down, you decide to take a pit-stop break at a small Texan town on Route 66. This was your first stop in any considerable amount time but it has a lot of southern charm, and one cowboy you grab your eye is ALL southern and lots, and I mean lots, of charm. I guess you can say you two went on a date too.

You grabbed your bags as you waited for the train to finally pause on its tracks and for the conductor to confirm everyone can leave. It had been a super long train ride, not being helped at all by the dizzy feeling of motion sickness you had mid-train ride. While gathering your things, you sighed. How long was it to go from South Carolina to California? You thought while looking out the window.

Desert. A town surrounded by sand, dead trees, and cacti. What a great first look at Texas. Although, you couldn't really complain. It was time to stretch your legs and sleep on an actual bed... If there is a motel here, you weren’t one-hundred percent sure what was even in this town. I mean, there has to be a place to eat, especially since you were starving. What food could be there? Fries maybe... or even grilled cheese... you are in texas so there has to be barbeque.

You were interrupted by your thoughts by the train conductor speaking. “Everyone is now free to leave! There is a restaurant for your hungry folks, a nearby motel, a gas station, and of course the train station! The next train will be here tomorrow morning heading more south..”

His voice started fading from your ears as you stood up, trying to move through the slightly crowded hallway. You held onto your bag tightly, so as to not lose what you have, as you pushed through groups of people. Before you knew it, you were outside in the Texas sun. It was decent, not too hot and not too windy.

“Now... where is…” you asked yourself while walking out of the train station to locate the restaurant. “Oh, there it is!” you said happily, fixing your bag before starting to walk to the restaurant. You had no idea last time you had a full meal, I mean yeah you brought snacks for the train but that couldn't be counted as a meal. You looked around at the people in this town and you were very out of place. People here wore old western clothes. Boots, cowboy hats, and some had lassos on their belts. It was like you were in an actual western movie.

While looking at everyone, you caught the eye of a certain cowboy. He wore a red poncho with a brown hat and lots of facial hair. He also has a lot of metal on him. ‘He must get hot in all of that... And his hand is also robotic?’ you asked yourself as he started to walk your way. Your eyes raised up to the man's face, a slight nervousness coming up. You weren't nervous because of his good looks, but because he saw you looking at him. He started to walk to you, a southern chuckle emerging from his lips as he finished the cigar he was smoking, throwing it on the ground and stomping on it.

You fixed your posture and put up a nervous grin, hoping he wouldn't yell at you for staring.. Although it would be acceptable, I mean, you would do the same. “Someone seems to like our town,” he said in a teasing tone while you looked up at him nervously. “Sorry I was staring, I’ve never been here before and I just am surprised everyone here wears cowboy hats and stuff” you explained as the Cowboy laughed slightly more.

“You've never been here before? Well may I welcome such an attractive person like yourself to this little town I call home?” he asked, bowing with open arms for a moment before standing up and placing his hand on the holster of his gun. You were taken aback by how flirtatious he was being right now, I mean, calling you attractive in less than a minute of meeting? You gave a nervous laugh while covering your face slightly. “It’s an honor to be here, Mister…?” you asked, lowering your hand as you started to process how hungry you actually were. “Cole, Cole Cassidy at your service,” he replied, tilting the brim of his hat to you. “Sorry for the conversation change but I haven’t eaten an actual meal in fucking forever- is that café any good?” you asked, pointing to the only restaurant in sight.

“The Panorama Diner? Oh yeah, it’s good… As good as a place in the middle of nowhere can be” he laughed, turning his body to the diner. “Hey, do you wanna eat with me? I’ll pay for your meal if you agree, stunning traveler” he half-joked, starting to walk to the diner. Obviously, you agreed, I mean, free food and the ability to go on an unofficial date with a handsome cowboy, it’s a win-win! “It would be an honor to be on a date with someone who has all the southern charm in the world” you replied, quickening your pace to catch up with Cole.

“So, where are you going up to? Arizona? Washington? Or are you here to stay in this little town with little ol’ me?” Cole asked with a raised eyebrow, leaning towards you before leaning back to normal. You laughed, fixing the bag around your body. “Despite the fact I would love to stay here with you, I have to go to California to visit family!” you replied with a laugh, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Damn, looks like you have a whole lotta more ways to go, but I ain’t the one to question why someone goes places” he laughed, his smile growing slightly as you two stepped up the stairs of the Diner.

The Diner didn’t look that bad, and I mean it was busy so it had to be good. “Oh, by the way,” he stopped in front of the door to look at you. “I may be a little bit popular here, so if you see people looking at you they aren’t in awe of how breathtaking you look, they just are wondering why you were chosen to go out with me” he jokingly said, nudging your arm with his elbow before laughing. Cole opened the door and motioned for you to go inside first. You stepped in, the smell of food overwhelming your nose, the coolness of the building that contrasted the outside dryness, and the talk of the people was the best thing ever to your right now.

The two of you walked in and seated yourselves, Cole grabbed a menu as the two of you were heading to a booth next to a window. You sat opposite each other. Cole handed you a menu and you glanced over it, all the food options looked so good. “Hey- what do you always get here?” you asked as Cole looked up from his hand resting on the table. “I get the pie, but if you want a good meal,” he began, leaning over the table and pointing to the ‘Texan Charmer’ which was a burger and fries. “Now that's what I normally get” He laughed looking up at you. You met eyes with him as he leaned back down with a growing smile. “I think I’ll get that, and maybe an apple pie after. If you say it's good it has to be, right?” you jokingly asked him as he laughed. “I mean, if I say something is good in any sense, it’s one hundred percent true,” he half-joked, causing you to give a small chuckle.

Cole raised his hand up to have a waitress, the only waitress, come over and take the orders of both of you. This gave both of you time to talk and get to know each other. “So, why did you ask me out to go eat?” you asked, leaning on the table a bit towards Cole. “Well- Unlike everyone else on that train you were alone and caught my eye,” He said, a bit nervously, clearing his throat. “And I didn’t want anyone else to try anything on ya, since there are few gangs and stuff here” he explained, looking away from you. “Wow that- that’s sweet of you, it’s honestly a surprise,” you laughed, causing Cole to grumble a bit as the food was brought and placed on the tablet with your drinks.

You looked at the food in awe after thanking the waitress. “This smells so good,” you stated, grabbing some fries and putting them in your mouth. “Everything here is a homemade, fun fact!” he replied, grabbing a fry with his robotic arm. “Hey, that’s mine!” you jokingly said while leaning over to get it back. “And who's paying for your food again?” he asked in a teasing tone, raising his hand slightly out of reach. You reached for the fry one more time before leaning back with a fake annoyed look. “Hey, don’t worry buttercup,” he started, eating the stolen fry. “You have plenty more fries to eat on that plate of yours... In the meantime though,” he changed the subject to his food, his apple pie.

The two of you ate in general silence, only talking or commenting on the food once or twice. “Is that pie any good?” you asked cole with a raised eyebrow, already finished your burger and most of your fries. “Best I've ever had actually,” he laughed, taking another bite with his fork. “If you want a bite just ask, I’m... I’m not hungry anymore,” he said, looking away from you as he pushed the pie and his fork toward you. “No way am I eating this myself, especially when I can share it with a handsome cowboy like yourself,” you flirted, sticking your tongue out at him as he chuckled. “Fine then, guess I can’t miss the opportunity to eat with someone as stuntin’ like yourself, darlin’,” he replied, his southern accent coming through in that sentence.

So, as stated, the two of you shared the desert together. You were more flustered than he was, never really sharing food like that with a stranger- or more of a new friend. Crush maybe? You didn’t know what was the right thing to call him as of current. After he had paid for both of your meals, you two decided to head out. You had to get a motel room so he decided to walk with you. It was sundown, so you assumed Cole wanted to be ‘protective’ of you. It was slightly comforting. As you walked Cole lit a cigar.

“So, how long did ya say you were staying here?” he asked you, putting the cigar in his mouth. “Just until the next train comes here,” you replied, taking a step closer to Cole, finding comfort in him the more you two hung out together. “I think the next train will be here tomorrow afternoon,” you added. Cole nodded silently as you spoke, taking the cigar out of his mouth for a moment to have fresh air before putting it back. “Hey- will you at least see me before you leave?” he asked nervously, clearing his throat. “I would- I want to exchange numbers... In case you wanna come to visit” he said, changing his demeanor from nervous to flirtatious. “Or if you wanna spend the night at my place, you're free too.” You laughed, nodding your head as you leaned your whole upper body on him as you two walked to the motel.

“Despite the fact I would love to spend the night with you, maybe another day” you replied, opening the door to the motel check-in. Cole dropped his cigar and stomped it out as you asked for a one-night motel room. It was pretty quick to get you one, which you were glad for. Cole followed you to your hotel room, watching as you unlocked the door and threw your bag in real quickly.

“Well, Darlin’... It was nice spending the day with you. Tomorrow I'll stop by to say goodbye, yeah?” he asked, cupping your cheek with a chuckle. You smiled, grabbing his face with your hands and leaning his face towards you, the smell of cigar almost making you lean back. “I guess i will be waiting then” you smiled, leaning your face forward and giving him a cheek kiss, moving your hands as he stood slightly shocked, and a bit offended you didn’t kiss him on the lips. But I mean, you can’t have him be too eager, now can you?

You walked into the motel, turning to Cole with a grin.

“See you tomorrow, Darlin’!”

#cole cassidy #cole cassidy x reader #cole cassidy overwatch #overwatch 2 x reader #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #cole overwatch x reader #cole cassidy oneshot #overwatch oneshot #overwatch 2 #sorry for adding his old name after this I just want more people to see this..#I dont support calling him his old name and I am so sorry so so so sorry #overwatch mccree #mccree x reader #jesse mcree

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