#However I will tell you that my character Kelly

[madds-is-ace-trash]

sad to say, it was my first fanfiction was actually Pokémon fanfiction, it’s most likely been lost in time, because I never actually posted it and I doubt I still have the old notebooks I wrote it in.  it was a lot of self insert fanfiction I wasn’t shipping myself with Asher. Anything it was mostly wouldn’t It be cool if we were best friends!!!!!

I still come up with a lot of self-insert fanfiction sometimes in my head, but I never really post it because I know no one wants to read that crud. as a little boy, I just think I really needed the escapism. I could be anybody I wanted to be and I think because of that I’ve never really learned how to live without it. 

[netherfeildren]

FABLE OF THE DOG : 2. Sugar, Not so Sweet

Series Masterlist; Chapter: 1,

Pairing: Joel Miller x FMC

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Cowboy/Heiress AU; Slowburn(ish); Original Characters; Alcohol Use; Allusions to Attempted Suicide; Discussions of Grief; Daddy Issues; Parental Neglect; Angst and Fluff; Older Man/Younger Woman; Jealousy; Possessive Behavior; Brat Taming; Extremely Bossy Old Man; Past Teenage Crush; Yearning and Longing Galore; A Home is a Place but ALSO a Person!; Found Family

A/N: This is a deeply, deeply unserious chapter, and I make no apologies—I was taken away by whimsy!!!!

Apologies however, for the French people slander, I went on a truly heinous date with a oui oui baguette loser last month. I’m still working through my anger.

Word Count: 13.4K

Read on AO3

2. Sugar, Not so Sweet

They appear at the break of dawn, the young man and the boy. 

“How many heads’ve you got total?” 

Joel appraises him, the fresh-faced look, a boy just crossed over into the cusp of manhood—though he’s large and strong and earnest in the eyes. He’d be a good hire, if not for—

He glances over at the young boy sitting on the bunk’s couch, snickering quietly with Ellie as his brother tries to barter a place for the two of them. 

“Near to thirty large about now. We’re fixin’ to breed, but we’re pushin’ our limitations.”

“So you need hands,” he says eagerly. 

“We do,” Joel returns slowly, chewing on the mint he’d plucked from out front. His stomach is in knots, has been since—days and days and days ago, last night, and so much worse now. There’s a sick heat settled deep that he doesn’t know how he’ll scourge out and quick. 

“Listen, I know it’s unconventional, but—”

“Where’s his parents?” He tips his chin at the boy, and Ellie peers slyly over her shoulder at him. He’ll get hell for this later, he knows, she knows. 

“Our momma’s down south—by way of Odessa. She cowboys during the summer too, and—”

Joel sits up in his seat. “Texas?”

“Come on, Texas,” Tommy slinks behind him, sneaking an arm over his shoulder to thump Joel roughly on the chest. “Just say yes.” He lets out a gruff sound masking a cough, fucking Tommy, and leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ellie rise from the sofa and leave the bunk quietly with a parting pat on the boy's head. 

“You’re from Texas, too?” The young man asks brightly, that look of hope in his eyes that Joel���s about to quash. 

“We’re from Austin,” Tommy says from the coffee pot, his mustache spreading wide over a shit-eating grin. “Southerners way up here, we gotta stay united amongst all these Yanks’,” his brother puts on the drawl heavy, and Joel rolls his eyes. Clown. 

“Listen, Henry,” he says, trying to turn the conversation back to business. He looks at the boy again, the back of the small head bent and silent and something that could, perhaps, be thought of as guilt pulses through him, but to be honest, there’s so much of that moving about Joel’s system right about now, that it’s just one more drop of poison filling his cup. It doesn’t matter. He needs to do what’s right.

For who? He can’t very well tell yet.  

“I’m sure you’re a hard worker, son, and I’d not hesitate to give you a place were we in different circumstances, but I just don’t see how this would work—”

Henry leans forward in his chair too, ready to plead his case, fight for his brother and the generously paying jobs the Kelly’s are famous for. There’s something about the boy newly turned man that reminds Joel of himself. Perhaps during that young and fragile youth of his twenties, when he’d been alone with a newborn baby, trying to figure out the whole world and himself. 

“I know it’s unconventional, but he’s a good kid. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, and it’d only be for the summer, sir. We head back down for the start of the school year. It’s difficult, but it’s harder for my momma to get work with a kid than it is for me.” He trips over his words with the speed at which he’s spitting them at Joel, trying to convince him, and he knows that the fair thing would be to take them in. To give this man a chance the way Joel had been given one so many years ago, the mercy of safe harbor. But he’s got a finite amount of goodness in him now, he’s got to save it all for only one person. There’s none left for anyone else. And Joel doesn't want trouble, he’s got enough of that around here right about now. “He’s got his books and his summer worksheets, and he knows how to manage on his own while I work. I swear, he won’t be in any sort of way. You can—”

And then, amidst the young strangers' rambling plea, Joel's heart falls through his stomach. Here comes that trouble anyways. 

“What’s going on here?” In that soft, lovely voice that haunted his dreams last night. 

All the cowboys rise from their seats at the sound of your presence. 

From over your shoulder, Joel sees Ellie’s face twisted in a grimace at him, the flash of her middle finger and then her tongue. 

“Goddamnit, Ellie,” he growls low. 

You look exhausted, eyes red rimmed and swollen—as if you’d been crying all night, and Joel’s tongue is a swollen, poisoned thing in his mouth—a husk of guilt is all he is. He swallows convulsively, trying to find his words, trying to not scream at the thought of being what’s made you cry, trying not to look down the length of you and failing. Silky sleep shorts end way too high up on the long length of those too pretty thighs, an oversized pullover with Yale emblazoned across the front, a little hole at the neck and a large dark stain marr the front of it. You’ve got on a too big robe, dark and plaid, draped over your shoulders with your hair all a mess. He can see Ellie’s trying to pull it into some semblance of a braid behind your back discreetly while you stare at him with those eyes that, and he’s being damn honest now, fucking terrify him. Those puffy, ridiculous tan boots women wear, the impractical ones that become a sogging mess in the snow or wet despite the fact he understands they’re supposed to be worn in winter, are on your feet, two mismatched socks peek out above the tops. 

He’s pretty sure one of them has bombs with a capital ‘F’ in the tiny centers printed over it. The other, some sort of Easter bunny carrot print. Absolutely ridiculous, and he can’t help it, he notices it all. 

And worst of all, in your grip is that World’s Best Dad mug you’d sent the old fucker for Christmas several years ago, a little holiday fuck you from his best daughter. It’d been one of the years he hadn’t let you come home for the winter break, forced you to spend the holiday alone at that boarding school of yours. The whole ranch had known and whispered about it, and he’d felt embarrassed and offended on your behalf, that they’d all gossiped about the girl you were behind your back when they should’ve respected you for the woman you’d become one day, the one that’d eventually pay all of their earnings. 

And the jackass had the audacity to use the mug all the time afterwards. Joel was pretty sure it’d been his favorite. 

“We were just wrapping up,” Joel says, clearing his throat, finally finding his voice. It’s almost physically painful to look at you directly in the eyes, and the heat of shame and regret claws its way up his throat at the hollow look he sees there. You’re so angry at him, and he deserves it. 

“This is the new Kelly,” Ellie tells Henry, cutting him off, pressing you forward with her hands wrapped around your shoulders. Your shorts are way too short to be in here right now, and Joel feels something else, even hotter than shame, stirring inside him. “If you want work here, this is who you need to talk to. The big boss.”

“Miss Kelly,” Henry says reverently, pulling his cap off to press against his chest. “It’s a mighty fine honor gettin’ to meet you. I was just telling your foreman here,” he motions the cap towards Joel, and he feels like a bear who’s about to rip it out of his grip and stuff it down his throat. Fucking Ellie going and snitching on him. “How me and my brother Henry travel for the summer. I’ve got letters here, I’ve worked at the King before, and have a number your man can call if he needs more references. I’ve got lots of experience and—”

“What will you do with him?” Your gaze is on the little boy, has been the entire time. Joel steps forward and over the back of the couch he sees the kid, Sam, has a comic book in his lap he’s been reading this whole time, while adults who should have no bearing on his life decide what will and will not be for him. “While you work—”

Joel looks back at you, and he knows already what it’ll be. 

Henry’s smile is wide and gleaming, putting on the charm. What he doesn’t see, what Joel does, is that bleak sadness in your gaze that he’d put there himself last night. He needs to speak with you, to explain, to make it right between the two of you. 

“He’s good at entertaining himself. I promise he won’t be in the way or nothin’. He’s got books and summer work, and he’s learning to play the guitar. He won’t be in the way,” Henry says again. 

“What about school?”

“We only travel during the summer. We’re back in Texas for the school year.” And at that, you finally look back at Joel, and his heart shoots from his belly to his throat, ready to be spit up at your feet. 

You watch him for a long searing moment, and there's such sadness there. He doesn’t know what would have been better, what would have been the correct recourse, how to make that look go away. To give you what you want? To do what he thinks is right or what should be right? He’d never thought, never considered anything like this. It’s all too much too fast, and he feels suddenly lost and childlike in the face of you and all you stand for. 

“They stay,” you say only for Joel. 

Henry lets out a whoop of victory, rushing forward to thank you profusely, but Jesse, who’s standing by the door, blocks his rush forward with a hand to his chest before he can get too close to the new boss. You’re for protecting now, above all else, it’s the unspoken word they all suddenly understand keenly. 

You stare solemnly at Joel for only a second longer, those sleep sloped doe eyes, before you’re turning without another word. 

-

“He never did a very good job of hiding the way he treated you, sweetheart. I couldn’t ever respect a man like that.” 

The cricket song is a symphony of sound around the two of you, and you’re suspended for a second, he sees it come on—a rose hued haze, and then blink-of-an-eye donning a look that spells nothing but disaster. He’s thrown off course by it for a single second, that girl fantasy glow, before you’re launching yourself at him, and then it’s nothing but a soft wet mouth, smoked fruit and fired oak, the slick of your tongue against his bottom lip as you kiss him.

You’re kissing him. 

He’s a frozen solid husk, eyes wide open as he stares down at the look on your face—something like agony. The tiny frown between your eyebrows, concentration, and a single diamond tear caught in the web of your lashes, and he can’t help but notice the soft press of your breasts against his chest, you’re not wearing a bra, before he’s shoving you back by the shoulders, scrambling to get as far away from you as quickly as he can.

His back hits the railing before he can get far enough. “What the fuck are you doing?” He spits, but can’t help but lick his tongue along his bottom lip, tasting where you’ve just been. 

His stomach is suddenly hot.

You swallow convulsively, bleary eyed look turning to hurt, pressing your palm to your belly, twisting your fingers in the fabric of your sweater there. “I don’t— I didn’t—” Your eyelashes flutter shut, closing the hurt, confused look away from him for one blessed second. You press your other palm to your forehead, gripping yourself as if you’re trying to hold your very skin together. 

What do you think you’re doing? He enunciates each word like the lash of a whip, and then licks his lips again to soften those same blows for himself. 

Something is about to go inexplicably wrong here. Something already has. A tragedy worse than the death of a father

“I just thought that—” You blink your eyes open and they’re wet, and he’s about to bark at you to not fucking cry or he’ll lose it completely, but he swallows it or loses the thought to madness. He feels incomprehensibly insane, inconceivably triggered. 

This is like nothing he’d ever imagined, and it tilts him on his axis, skews his vision, headlights blinding you in a dead-on collision. 

What are you doing—thinking?

“I— I watched you grow up. I watched you—” You take an anxious step towards him, some word on your lips he can’t even make out because his hearing has gone out, and now he’s all of a sudden deaf in both ears instead of just one. He hardens his voice further. He makes sure you understand. “This is fucking wrong, and you need to get away from me right now,” reversing his movements, taking a threatening step forward, stomping his heavy boot against the floorboards beneath so that you’re jumping, skittering backwards like a frightened little rabbit. 

And Joel, the beast, crushing her beneath his foot. 

You wrap both of your hands around the delicate column of your throat; he imagines you’re holding in your hurt sounds, and it makes him even angrier. 

“Listen to me—” he starts again. 

But you cut him off, shaking your head, the confused sleep-look being blinked away so that now it’s spitting fire that is awake and angry in your gaze. “But you didn’t,” you say. “You barely know me. We’re almost strangers.” A scoff, and then switching again to soft, to girl-like, to hurt: “And I’m all grown up now, Joel.”

“I don’t know what you reckon is happenin’ here between us. Or what you think— what you—” He looks away, can’t bear the sight of it, you, fuck, he spits, again, fuck. “If I gave you the wrong impression, I’m sorry, but—”

Then in a broken little voice grasping for straws, “But we were born on the same day,” and you say it like a question. Like it should mean more. Like, and he realizes it now, like it means the world. 

He turns back to look at you, and he feels full of everything but mercy—too much regret. “And what? What do you think that means? That we’re connected—meant to be?” His voice sounds full of cruelty. “Don’t be delusional. It’s also the day my daughter died. D’you know that?”

A blink. “What?”

“She died on my thirty-fourth birthday.” 

Again. “But… Wh—at?” Broken up word, and your chin does a little wobbling dance, jutting this way and that, and you have a dimple in your cheek that comes out when you’re happy, but also when you’re sad. When you’re about to cry. He sees it now, and starkly. 

He’s ruining something sacred. 

Joel steels himself. “Whatever it is you’ve made up in your mind about us, it’s a fantasy. Something not real that you need to let go of. Are you hearin’ me?”

“I— I think…” You won’t stop blinking, your hands look like they’re about to strangle you, and he steps forward as if to stop you or save you from yourself. “Why didn’t you ever say?”

But instead of saving, “Why would I? Why would I ever tell you that?” He does not want to hurt you, and yet he cannot help it, and Joel wonders if this is how your father felt every time he failed you—like a lesser man. “Wasn’t for you to know—it doesn’t mean the same thing to us.” That day. He makes himself clear: “Whatever child’s fantasy you’re still holding onto, you need to let it go.” 

-

He rushes out of the bunk after you, a growled, you little shit, at Ellie as he passes her. 

“Man, what’d you fuckin’ do?” She calls after him in that tone that tells him that of course she knows what’s happened. You two’ve never been able to keep a single thing from each other. Asshole! She shouts at his back as he catches up to your slowly retreating form. Your movements are sluggish, exhausted. 

He calls your name and tries to moderate his tone from being as aggressive as he feels right now. “We gotta talk.” He follows after you, hot on your heels and then jumping back like a scared mut when you spin around on your ridiculous boot to face him. 

“Speak.” It’s a high-handed tone, that one. One that says he’s the grunt here, and you the queen, that you’d both forgotten it last night, but the battlelines are clearly drawn now. There’ll be no more forgetting. 

And it’s all his fault. 

“You can’t—” His heart thumps and thumps and thumps like a pitiful thing. “You can’t undermine me in front of the boys like that. There’s a reason I was saying no.”

“Which is?”

“That the kid’ll be in the way.”

And you flinch and Joel prays for a gun to the back of the skull. Fucking Christ, but this is difficult.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he gruffs. “You know what I mean. This is hard work we do here. I don’t want the kid gettin’ hurt, I don’t want to be responsible for that. What goes on here is on me. The people who get hurt, it’s all on me, and I take that responsibility damn serious.”

You tilt your head at him in that queer, inspecting way of yours. The one he’d watched you pull like a weapon against your father so many times. He finds he hates it now, detests it, being wielded against himself. You ignore his words, “What was your arrangement here—with him? How did this work with the ranch?”

There has been that thought always, and obviously, of you as something higher, that symbol of the family or the safe haven this place has been for Joel. The not-respect he had for your father, but surely the understanding—you've always been all wrapped up in that. He's at times felt grateful for your existence, perhaps, in ways. That something as good, as better, as you could exist in the same world Joel exists in. Perhaps he’d admired you in ways, even as a young girl, for your goodness, your sincerity. But he finds now, at this look of disdain you’re wearing against him, that he hates the feeling of being less than you, of not being good enough to even stand in your presence. 

He’s done wrong, marred it all in ugliness. He’s put himself in this position somehow, by hurting you, by confusing you, by wanting—

“I do what I need to, what the ranch needs. Whatever decision I need to make, I call it and it’s on me. Monthly reports to him and that was it. He understood that what happens out here is different to what can be told and sometimes you can’t plan for certain shit. He focused on the business, I focus on the ranch.”

By wanting what?

Bringing the mug to your lips, you take a long sip, humming. It’s all a taunt. Joel realizes, suddenly, and with painful clarity, that this has all been a grave miscalculation on his part.

As uncomfortable as it is for even him to admit, you are, and undeservedly, a person used to not being wanted, used to rejection. Joel understands this with the quick fire blink of an eye. And he has, in his shock, or— or… he doesn't know—instantaneous awakening—unintentionally alienated you, made an enemy. 

I see, you murmur quietly coupled with a bitter cough of laughter that doesn’t sound anything like the sweet sound he’s used to hearing from you. Yes, a very bad mistake has been made indeed. “Well, you’re practically king here, aren’t you then? Quite the partnership the two of you had.” You smile wide, all bright teeth. 

The coffee sloshes in the mug held in your unsteady hand, and he worries there’s something stronger in there too. 

“Not at all. I’m just good at what I do.” He shoves fisted hands into his pockets, trying to keep patient. Trying not to throttle you, check your drink for himself. 

“And is this how you’d like to continue going forward? I mind my own business, and you do as you please?”

He shakes his head slow, grinds the pulverized mint between his molars, “I want whatever you think’s best. You’re the Kelly now, after all.” You get a look on your face like you don’t like the sound of that at all, and he turns to spit the greens between his teeth, coughing roughly. 

“Yeah, I’m sure of that,” you say with teeth bared, and then whipping your head away from him as if you can’t bear the sight of him a second longer. The coffee sloshes the other way, splashing against your wrist. He hopes it’s not burning you. “You know, you’ve got some fucking nerve, Joel. You—” 

The robe—all of a sudden, saturated by the dark liquid, it grabs his attention. It’s in a plaid print, expensive looking, like something you’d see an older man wearing. A man’s robe? He cocks his head, “Whose robe is that?” Cutting your tirade short. 

What? You spit, all sass, his stomach burns, turning to look back at him as if he’s gone idiotic, grown a second head.  He feels a little bit like he’s in the process of doing so—wracked with growing pains. “It’s my ex-boyfriend’s. Can you focus, please? I’m trying to have a fight with you right now.” And you scrunch your nose too adorably for him to find anything besides endearing. Certainly not intimidating. 

He grunts, displeased. 

“I know you don’t want to hear it—”

“Then keep it to yourself.” You turn, continuing on your way up to the house, coffee flies with your spin, boyfriend’s robe whipping out in your wake as he follows like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. 

A little desperately, like a dog, too. A begging for scraps imitation game he hadn’t intended to play but feels obligated to now, and by his own doing. 

“But I want to say—about last night…”

You turn on your heel out of nowhere again, and he stumbles to not rush head first into you, to not touch you. 

The look on your face is all heartbreak. “Do you remember—when I was away at school—and I fell off the horse? When I came home with that broken arm and couldn’t get back on and you helped me? Do you remember that, Joel? How you reminded me how I was supposed to do it—”

He coughs, uncomfortable, shifting like that same scared dog. “You remember these things different than I do.” The words feel cowardly spilling from his tongue, but he should be honest. Shouldn’t he?

This is what he should be doing, isn’t it?

“I remember that you were kind. That you cared. That’s what I remember.” Your eyes are glossed again, and now it’s Joel that has to look away. 

-

“I didn’t care. It was my job to serve your father. To do as he’d want me to. It was a responsibility.”

It’s happening again. A tale like any other you’ve too often heard. You know he’s not lying, and yet everything he says feels precariously close to it. 

“Why are you being like this?” And you ask it very practically, like you really want to know, like you’ve asked the same sort of question to the same sort of figure before, and so now you’re extremely well practiced, an expert even. 

“You remember these things differently. Wrong—That’s not how I meant any of it—whatever you’re thinkin’. It was just a kindness.”

“No, but I— but you…” That’s the point, you want to say, a kindness, but the words stick. You look away again, colored in shame, can’t bear the sight of him. “Maybe you’re right,” you whisper with that very remembered kindness of your lonely childhood thrown back in your face now. “Maybe I do.”

“Listen to me—I’d like for things between us to be— I’m not… I don’t now what to fuckin’ say to you.”

“Honey—” Dina calls from the porch, your father’s assistant, now yours by inheritance, you suppose. “We gotta go soon—gotta get you ready.”

“I have things to do with Dina. I don’t have time for you—for this. Do what you want, run it how you like,” the ranch, “But the kid stays. That’s final.”

You won’t look at him again, you decide. You’ll learn to want a new thing. You’ll learn to love a new thing. 

If you had it in you, you’d laugh in his face. 

Have you been in love with him? Probably not in any way that could’ve been called mature, it was the girl-fantasy of a neglected child latching on to a man who’d always seemed nothing but steady and kind.

So you’ll learn to grow up now, no choice left in the matter, let the fantasy go.  

-

Despite your desire for debauchery and the three days of bad behavior you’d promised yourself, you’ve got shit to do. 

An hour after your ridiculous non-conversation with the ridiculous man, you and Dina are stepping back  out into the summer sunshine when your phone rings with a call from another ridiculous man for what promises to surely be another even more ridiculous conversation. 

Jacopo.

You’d met through the friend of a friend at the party of someone or another in Monaco. Come from an Italian mother and a French father, you should’ve known he was going to be an arrogant asshole from the get go, but he’d been beautiful and momentarily distracting—things you knew you didn’t really want but told yourself would suffice. Really, all he was, was boring, the same as everyone else, wanting something from you without having to truly return anything in full. 

Jacopo the jockey—sounds like a goddamn cartoon. 

You liked to call him Jack, like he were the same sort of plebeian he saw all Americans as, and which he absolutely loathed with the sort of passion only an uppity French man could possess. 

In the distance, you can see Joel, Frank and Bill propped up against the corral watching as Jesse runs Ellie atop a gorgeous chestnut Quarter. Sometimes she likes to compete, when she can get Joel to stop complaining about it for a second. 

Dina makes her way towards them, “Tell them we’ll take the Ghibli,” you call after her to which she throws a thumbs up. At the sound of your voice he peers over his shoulder, finding your eyes immediately, catching there—fish on a burning hook. And then turns full around, leaning back to rest his elbows on the iron grate as you take French boys call, settling in to watch you. 

“Hi, Jack, sweetie. How’s it hangin’?”

“I do not know what this means.”

Bore. “What do you want, Jacopo? I’m busy.”

“My love, we must speak. I have heard of your father. You should have call me, I will come to be with you now. Tell me where you are.”

“Why the hell would I want you to come be with me? We broke up. Remember?”

Joel watches you as the French idiot prattles on about how he loves you and how you need him and how the two of you belong together, blah blah. Odious man, you don’t know how you ever let him inside of you. 

Across the lawn, he isn’t looking away, and his gaze burns where it touches. You feel—humiliated, hurt, rejected, so angry it’s a physical ache. 

Not surprised. 

Perhaps in some way, his rejection was what you’d wanted, had been looking for. Perhaps, it was your subconscious search for the easy way out. Because, and really, what else had you thought would happen when you’d thrown yourself at him half drunk? That he’d suddenly stop seeing you as the child he’d known you for always, take you as a woman, want you, fuck you right there on your newly dead father’s front deck?

Ridiculous.

You can’t even think about the birthday—about her. It’s a snipped lifeline, a crushed tether. 

“Cherie, I must tell you I am feeling very neglected now by you. You don’t call. You do not love me no longer, or what is the problem?” More nonsense and really, this fuckin’ guy needs a boot in his ass pronto. 

And the one still watching you—something even worse. He’s got his mangy brown cowboy hat pulled low over his brow, the one for the ranch, not the lovely dark one for escorting orphans to the funerals of dead fathers, and his jaw works the mint leaves you know he’s got between his teeth, slow and steady. You should hiss at him. Instead, your tummy smolders with heat and butterflies.

 Stop looking at me, you horrible man, you want to shout. 

Humming and hawing at the annoying voice coming through the phone, you smooth your palm over the silk of your dress. You’d wanted to look nice today, your first Kelly meeting. You wanted to look better than you feel, which is like shit, quite frankly. 

There are tiny green paisleys patterned over the deep blue of the dress, a shock of dark red maroon for the cashmere knit of the cardigan tied over your shoulders, and a little silken kerchief wrapped around your throat, something from your mother’s things you’d gone through last night after Joel had ordered you to bed with your tail tucked between your legs and tears in your throat. 

Twenty four years later, and your father still had all her things preserved in their bedroom as if she’d only stepped out for the afternoon. A veritable mausoleum right there in your house-not-home. 

You’d never even stood a chance. 

-

He watches you begin to pace across the deck, but the look on your face tells him you aren’t quite listening to whatever it is the person on the phone’s saying to you. 

The gold and silver bangles that slide around your fine boned wrists jingle a song of temptation. Siren song, bird song, death march, something he’d follow with blind eyes, recognize deaf. And heavy gold and jeweled rings along your fingers that shine almost as bright as the spilled silk of your hair. Swathed in shades of jewel, you’re all woman, done up and ready to go out and devastate. 

He doesn’t know how any man could ever look at you and not want you. 

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be the same from here on out. 

“Who’s she talkin’ to?” He asks Dina, tipping his chin over at you. He can hear you raising your voice, something about you fucking French moron, and he doesn’t like the hunch he’s got about who it is.

“Boyfriend,” Dina says while she watches Ellie work the horse with hearts in her eyes. 

“Thought he was an ex.”

She peers up at him suspiciously at that, a queer little smile tipping the corners of her mouth upwards. “Well maybe now that he knows how much she’s worth he’ll be coming back, huh?”

Joel swears all these fuckin’ women are conspiring against him, trying to send him to an early grave. “He steps foot on this ranch, and I’ll shoot him in the goddamn ass.”

She laughs, throwing her head back which inevitably draws Ellie’s attention. “You are literally so dramatic.”

“What’s he bein’ dramatic about now?” Ellie calls from behind, trotting up to the corral edge. 

“Ohhh, nothin’. Just Joel being Joel. Right, old man?” Dina bumps her hip against his and he grunts, refusing to be goaded. He’s not being dramatic, it’s his responsibility to take care of you now, to watch over you. 

That’s all.

“I’m never dramatic,” he tells them very seriously. 

On the porch, the spat reaches a crescendo and they all turn to watch the show. 

Why don’t you shove the whole Eiffel Tower up your ass, you fucking dipshit. And don’t you ever call me again!

“Little girl’s got a mouth on her,” Bill murmurs. 

Ellie lets out a long whistle. Deserved, Dina adds. On the porch, you let out a strangled little screech, stomping the high heel of your boot as if you’ve got half a mind to throw a fit. 

Joel feels hypnotized, speared through the gut.

He wants to know what the ex-boyfriend said. What his name is. Where he’s from and who he is and what he does and how he is and every single thing about him and how it was between the two of you. 

He is suddenly desperate to know everything there is to know about you in a way that makes his throat feel swollen with guilt. In a way he didn’t ever think he’d want from you. 

All the things you keep close, all the small intimacies that make you this person you are now, that’s what he wants. 

You stomp down the steps, making your way towards them, eyes directly on his, and you’re too fucking beautiful for his own good, watching you feels like a sin. 

Makes him feel in danger, like prey. 

“All men should die,” you yell over. 

See. 

“I agree,” Dina says cheerfully.

“You know you can have a baby with the junk in your bones from another woman now,” Ellie adds helpfully.

“The junk in your bones?” Joel says. 

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Yeah, like really we don’t even need you for shit anymore.”

“They should all be put in a hole in the ground in the middle of Nebraska and only be let out when a girl wants to bone.”

“To bone—Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Ellie.”

“I love that idea,” you say, finally coming to stand right before Joel. He swallows hard, stays silent—feels like the cat’s finally caught his tongue. 

“Why Nebraska?” Franks asks, puzzled.

He’s got to stop looking at you, he’s got to get away from the sight of your eyes, feels like the colors of you seem to pulse brighter, and he feels it all like a touch against his skin. He turns to look at Ellie over his shoulder and with a huge, shit-eating grin she says, “Cause who the fuck knows where fuckin’ Nebraska is, huh?” Her eyes flash to you and then quickly back to Joel, winking, cheeky, knowing. He feels the noose tighten.

They’re definitely conspiring against him. 

The three of you cackle—at his expense. 

“Where’re you two headed?” Bill asks with a frown when the three little hyenas settle. 

“She’s got a meeting in Jackson,” Dina tells him. “First part’ll be quick—she’s just gotta kick some pushy jackass to the curb and tell him we’re not leasing mineral rights to him no matter how hard he begs or how much money he throws at us. Then…” she trails off, throwing you a worried glance, but your eyes are on the far off mountains now, and Joel watches a shaky swallow pass through your throat.

“Then we’ve got the will reading,” you say. 

A sharp ache starts up behind Joel’s left eye, all the easygoing laughter of a few moments ago sucked away with a few words and a single reminder. That you’re not the girl you used to be, laughing and playing with Ellie, that your father is dead, that you have a world of responsibility to face now. 

“You shouldn’t have to go all the way into town. They should be comin’ to you here.”

“I want to get out—see his office.”

“S’only been a few days, honey,” Frank says gently. “You should take it easy.”

“Thanks, Frank,” you reach out to squeeze his arm, flush of emotion across the bridge of your nose. “I’m okay, promise.”

Joel takes you in, in full. You’ve got something shimmery swept across the highs of your cheekbones and glossy lips, the fine grain of your skin—pristine like you're made of sugar and everything good in the world. The silky wisps of baby hair at your temples that look softer than anything he’s probably ever touched in his whole life. And you’re so beautiful it almost hurts the eye to look at you, beautiful in a way that makes men cower at the sight, like you’d be the strongest thing in the whole world. But he sees all the rest too. The delicate curves of your shoulders, the fine swoop of your collarbone and the quick-fire beat of your pulse beneath the fragile skin of your throat. There’s fear all around you in a way, a desperate sort of sadness. 

He wishes there was more he could do for you, that he could bear the burden of all this entirely in your stead, that he could be all you need and want him to be without having to sacrifice his soul to give it to you. 

Your eyes flash back to his, and he worries for a second that you can read his mind. 

Behind you, Jesse pulls up with the sleek black of your father’s favorite car. Of course you’d choose this for today, bets you’ll find a way to turn it into a pretzel before the days end. 

“Take Jesse with you,” he says low at your back as you turn for the car. 

You look over your shoulder at him and his spine throbs. “No.”

Following you around the front of the car, he pulls the door open for you. “You’re not moving around alone anymore. He’s going. Jesse—” he whistles, “You’re going into town with Miss Kelly.”

“Yezzir,” he smiles with the sunny easiness only he possesses.  

“Excuse me,” you turn to frown up at him, stomping your foot again, and you’re a little bit of a brat, he’s realizing. “There’s no room in the car for him. He can’t come.”

“He’ll take a truck,” he says, leaving no room for discussion, but then gentles his voice again, “Things are gonna be different now. You’re the Kelly, you can’t go on all gung ho about your new reality. You need taking care of. Can you not fight me on this, please?”

“What I need—”

“Is to be protected.”

You give a delicate little huff through your nose that he finds to be just about the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen in his whole life. “Then it’ll be my choice how and who.”

“It’s easier if you just do as I say.” Grasping, grasping, praying for patience. 

“You overbearing d—”

“You’ll be okay meeting this jackoff? Don’t need me to come with you?”

You glower at him.

“I’m bein’ serious with you. I know you’re capable,” he puts his hands out, palms up in a conceding gesture, “But this is new, and there’s no shame in asking for support.”

At that, you get a confused little pinch between your brows, softest rose shaped mouth he’s ever seen—felt—all pursed up, and he thinks it’s wrong now, trying to be sweet to you after last night, looking at you this way and seeing the things he’s seeing. He should stay away, go away forever, find a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere to bury himself in like you’d said, but he worries now, and quite desperately really, that he won’t ever be able to leave your side again after all this. 

“I have Dina.”

“I know, but—”

“Can you please just… not. I think— I think it’s better if we just steer clear of each other. If I need something,” you look away now, hazy look from last night back in your gaze again, like you’re remembering, like you’re wanting something else he’s not willing, not capable of giving, “I’ll ask for it. Otherwise you can focus on what’s important to you.” 

Gut punch. 

He soldiers on, can’t help it.

“You feelin’ alright?” 

Your eyes flit back to him for a fleeting second and there’s honesty in your gaze now, maybe something extremely vulnerable too, and then shuttering again, looking away again. He’d demand your gaze if he had the right, insist you tell him everything there is to know with just your eyes if you were his. 

But really, he’s got no right to ask anything. 

So instead, “Tell me what’s wrong,” he begs, praying you don’t say him. 

What’s wrong? A laugh and—nothing. Like your father isn’t dead, like he hadn’t hurt you as he had last night, like you’re looking for answers etched into the mountains or the sky. You bring your thumb to your right temple and his own aches in response, digging there for some unseen pain to be gouged out. “Tired—was having bad dreams.” Your voice sounds full of air, and you’ve got a huge emerald on your ring finger, an even larger turquoise stone beside it, other hand is covered in a row of opals—you’re a treasure of a girl, all the way inside and out, and it’s like he’s staring at a work of art, knowing that if he were to touch, it’d all be ruined. Your voice full of air floats in his bad ear and booms out the good one full of forlorn want. 

It feels like you’re the only two people left in the whole of Wyoming, standing here together under the sweet sun, maybe the whole world, and he’s ridden in guilt, wants to tell you he’s sorry again, beg or something, and thinks that God should give you the chance to rewind time when you’ve made someone feel this bad without meaning to. 

You whisper at the Tetons, and he’s all but forgotten, “I feel a little bit like I’m the real nightmare.”

“You couldn’t ever be, sweetheart,” he tells you and means it with his whole heart. 

It’s all agony swimming in your eyes, and if you don’t stop him, he’s going to take you into his arms right here in front of everyone. You need more than protecting, it’s clear, you need caring for, you need loving—the sort of something he can tell you’ve never had in your whole life. 

“Ready to go, honey?” Dina calls from the other side of the car, her canoodling with Ellie finally come to a pause. 

You’re snapped out of your reverie, looking down at your feet, impractical boots again, these ones sexy and tall and not for his admiring, blinking away the wash of heat that’s bloomed across the bridge of your freckled little nose. 

“Did she eat?” He asks Dina over your head.

“Ehhhhh, but I brought a smoothie,” she pulls out a thermos from her large bag and smiles all beaming and large. 

“A smoothie ain’t food. Get something else in town.”

“You're so prepared,” Ellie sighs dreamily beside her. 

“You’re annoying me,” you grouch at him, tossing your bag into the backseat, sliding into the luxuriously leathered interior as he shuts the door gently behind you, bending down to brace his palms against the open window. 

“Drive careful. Call me if you need anything.”

“You’re kinda a helicopter mom. You know that, Joel?” Dina tells him with that sweet smile of hers. 

“Do not entertain his nonsense,” you snap. 

“She’s just grumpy because Vogue France posted a piece on her and the funeral—the heiress to watch, they’ve called her.”

“I don’t know who they think I am—Kendall fucking Roy? This isn’t HBO, it’s my goddamn life.”

“It’s fine, drink your smoothie, here,” Dina soothes. 

“I don’t got a clue what any of that means,” Joel says. “And do up your belt,” frowning at you and pulling away just in time when you speed off with half the admonishment still on his tongue 

-

The bar is loud and sweaty and crowded enough there’s room for your spite, which he knows, is all this night out is. 

The day had gone from terrible to horrible to heinous, and he’s officially reached his limit now. You���d returned from your late morning in Jackson toting a gray cloud that’d settled over the entire ranch and everyone in it. All work had come to a slow and grinding halt, the mood morose, knowing that the lady of the manor was grieving and angry. 

And then a few hours into the evening, you, Ellie, and Dina had spun into the bunk, already giggling on drinks he was certain were too sugary and way too strong to end in anything good. Looking to rile up the boys into heading back to Jackson and finding a bar to terrorize. 

And so here he now finds himself, stepping through the door of The Mushroom, ridiculous name for a bar if anyone asked him, eyes searching for the gleam of your hair, that tiny fucking outfit you’d draped yourself in. You were hunting for trouble, to aggravate him, trying to hurt him with your, you’re not invited, Joel—no one wants you to come.

Angry, angry as a spitting fire. 

He’d felt like shit about himself and your upset for a second, and then had thought: Well, are you going to cowboy up, Joel? Or just lay here and bleed?

Now, there’s something sick in him that wants more of it, to take everything you’ve got to give, to see how far you can go, to push you just a little bit further too.

A masochist, is what he reckons he might actually be.

He finds Ellie’s bent head whispering into Dina’s ear, giggling and dragging her fingertips up the other girls bare arm, and he feels a thump of fondness for the two—happier than he can say that they’ve finally worked it all out after months of their will-they-won’t-they struggle.

Making his way over to them, he catches Frank in the distance, dancing to the countryfied Abba cover of Chiquitita the local band’s currently playing while Bill stands nearby, serious and menacing, keeping anyone from getting too close to his partner. 

No sign of you, and the backs of his knees itch and burn. 

“Where is she?” He demands when he reaches Ellie at their place against the bar. 

“Oh, dude. She’s gonna be soooo pissed.”

“Where, Ellie?”

Get you anything to drink, sugar? The bartender calls and Joel shakes her away, panic thumping in his gut the longer he doesn’t have eyes on you.

Dina knocks her head towards the end of the L-shaped bar, closest to the throng of dancing patrons, and there in the last seat and partially obscured by someone’s shoulder and ridiculously feathered hat, you sit. 

“Who the fuck is that?” 

“Can you please just leave her alone. She needs to blow some steam off.”

“Yeah, Joel, we’re watching her,” Dina adds, always the peacekeeper.

Or blow someone, Ellie adds in a snicker, and he gives her a death glare. “You need to quit the asshole act,” she tells him, purposefully thunking her beer hard enough on the bartop that some of it sloshes over the lip of the bottle onto his hand braced against the edge. 

Real mature. 

“Changed my mind,” he tells the bartender when she heads back their way, “Shot of Jameson.” 

Beside him, Jesse appears, beer in hand as he leans against the bar to watch you also. “That might just be the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my whole life, honest to God,” he sighs wistfully. 

Joel sees red—this is just too much. “Quit fuckin’ lookin’ at her,” he snaps. 

Ellie snickers knowingly, and Frank and Bill join the group, picking up on the topic of conversation. 

“That little girl can drink a grown man under the goddamn table,” Bill says. 

“And looks good as hell doing it too—”

“Eyes off, you little shit,” Joel sends a threatening glance at Jesse again. 

Ellie ignores them both. “He’s a finance bro or some shit—from New York—here to play cowboy dress up with the group he’s with. Nothing I can’t handle, and you need to cool it and leave or have a drink and let her have fun.”

“She’s vulnerable right now, Ellie—”

“Yeah, you would know.”

Joel’s turn to do the ignoring, “And she needs someone to watch her back.”

“I’m fuckin’ watching it, man. You’re so annoying, and I’ll have you know that—” The fucker’s got a thick lock of your long hair trapped between his probably manicured fucking fingers, smoothing it between his thumb and index and then looping it around and around, drawing you in closer.

Joel’s about to start howling.

You’ve done something to him, knocked something askew inside him, and he needs you to set it back to rights. Let him out of this saw trap he’s been caught in. 

The man says something that has you throwing your head back in an overly eager laugh, loud and melodic in the most hypnotizing sort of way, meant to draw the eye or seduce or send his gut to twisting and aching. 

Ellie’s saying something about how you need to have fun, how you need to find yourself, and all Joel can think is that he can be the one to give you that, to help you do all that while still making sure you’re alright, taken care of. 

Over the wannabe cowboy’s shoulder, he sees your eyes land on him, and you give him one of those serenely beautiful smiles he knows means he’s about to lose his fucking mind and cause a scene. 

A provocation of a smile is what it is. 

You cross one long leg over the other, a flash of hot pink his eyes can’t help but flash to beneath the obscene hem of your skirt and lean in to whisper something, glossy lips right at his ear, and a tick starts up below Joel’s left eye. The fuckwit pulls you in closer, and you tip into him, hand on his shoulder—your eyes never leave Joel’s, and then you’re pulling him off the barstool and leading him into the throng of dancing people. He’s desperate to know what the back of your hot pink underwear looks like—string of lace wedged between the cleft of your ass, or silk wrapping around the full cheek like a perfect present? The man pulls you into himself, spinning you around, and you’re made up of blues and purples and pinks, shimmering like something that shouldn’t exist here amongst all the rest of them. Slinky little top made of silk like water and sparkles, your cheeks, flushed with drink or heat, but he’ll tell himself it’s because of him, because you’re still angry at him, thinking of him, and it soothes the tempest that’s brewing in his gut. 

He spins you towards himself, the man Joel’s about to beat senseless, shooting the Jameson without really tasting anything but the insane jealousy souring to irrational fury on his tongue, it pulses in his throat once, twice, and the fucker tugs you into himself again by a handful of your ass in that too short skirt and sticks his tongue in your mouth. Joel slams the glass on the bartop, not seeing red anymore, something like dark spots now, he’s so fucking pissed off. 

Ellie yelps his name, her and Jesse scrambling after him, but they’re too late and he’s there already, pulling you away, and gently because he might be feeling a little bit like a demon right now, but he knows what you are and how to handle you no matter what—and slams his fist into the fuckers nose, the satisfying crunch of broken bone and a pathetic cry sounds as he hits the sticky bar floor. The people around peer over in nothing more than mild curiosity, this is a cowboy bar after all. 

He watches the man for a second, making sure he stays down, and then turns to look at you and isn’t at all surprised when he finds that look of victory on your face. 

“Ready to go?” Voice all sweet innocence. 

You’re going to kill him. 

Spinning around on the toe of your boot, the hem of your little skirt flutters with your movements and he catches a flash of cheek, mystery of your panties still unsolved. 

“You’re a real dumbass, you know that?” Ellie snarks as they pass the group of them. 

He chooses to ignore that observation. “Don’t stay out too late. And let Bill drive back.”

Following you out into the night, he tries to take control of himself, to lie away the heat he feels sitting heavy in his stomach. 

He wishes he had a mint leaf to pulverize between his molars, he wishes he could pull you over his knee and spank your ass for being such a bad girl. And looming behind you, he knows you’re not even a little bit intimidated by his size as you dance and prance across the parking lot towards his truck.

“I know you’re ticked off because of last night and today, but you can’t lash out just because you’re angry with me.” 

All he gets in response is that head-thrown-back wind chime laughter—the real one, which is something. 

“You need to stop misbehaving,” he breathes down your neck.

“Hmm, I don’t think I will,” you singsong. 

“Are you drunk?” Refusing to be distracted, he’s going to stand strictly on business, he promises himself. 

You spin around again—always catching him off guard and pissing him off—hooking yourself on his shirtfront, pulling yourself into him like you’re trying to dance some fucked up dance he doesn’t know the steps to. 

“Not at all.”

“You need to not be touching me right now,” he warns, the threads of his control dangerously close to snapping, walking you backwards without putting his hands on you. Chest to chest, he feels like he could breathe fire if he really set his mind to it. 

“Yes, sir,” you say sweetly, dragging your palms down his chest and belly before letting him go, skipping ahead of him, humming an off-key rendition of whatever kitschy, poor excuse for a country song they’d been playing at the end in there. 

The even poorer excuse for a skirt bounces along the curve of your ass, driving him fucking mad—he’s goig to have a heart attack, he’s middle aged, he can’t handle this shit anymore—you. 

Stop that, he growls.

“God, you don’t like anything—you’re no fun,” you pout. 

Coming to the truck, he yanks the door open for you. “Get in the damn truck.” And he makes sure to turn away and not ogle your ass as you hop in, his palm hovering in the vicinity of your elbow if you need him. 

The prospect of an hour and a half of the dark drive and the scent of your musky sweet perfume and sweat soaked skin has his heart pounding. When he pulls his door open, you’re turned in your seat expectantly waiting for him, folded knees up on the seat and pink triangle right there to taunt him. 

“Sit right—put on your seatbelt.”

“You’re so bossy.” An exaggerated sigh and your voice is so fucking sassy, a tiny bit of a needy whine threaded through it, he feels his patience snap. 

Grabbing hold of your damp cheeks he squeezes hard enough to force your full mouth into a pout and giving your head a little shake he says, “And you need managing, little girl. Put your fucking belt on, or I’ll put it on for you.”

Eyes all pupil and gone blurry, you lick your lips and he can smell the sweet fruit scent of your breath. He groans, pushing you back—mistake, mistake, putting his hands on you at all—and peels out of the parking lot, and he is not hard in his jeans for you. 

“Are you mad at me?” You ask after several moments of forced silence. 

“No.”

“Not even for last night?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Why not?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it either.”

“Well, now I’ve changed my mind.”

Jesus, he mutters. “There’s nothing to discuss—already told you what I think and how it’s going to be and that’s final. You need to let it go, you hear me?”

You give a little groaning screech through your clenched teeth, turning away from him, still not wearing your goddamn seatbelt, never doing as he says. 

Toeing your boots off roughly, the little skirt hitches high enough on your thighs he catches a glimpse of the smooth glowing skin of your hip, eyes trying to watch the road and your thighs at the same time. 

“You’re horrible,” you say through a grimace, but your voice cracks a little bit at the end, and you’ve still got your face turned away so that he can’t tell if he’s made you cry or not now. 

“Are you cryin’?” He demands.

“No,” you sniffle, wiping your cheek on a lifted shoulder 

“Yes you are, liar.” Fuck—fuck, fuck.

“Well you’re bein’ mean,” you whine, finally turning to look at him again, and you’re all rose glow, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy, lips red as a cherry. 

No man should be tested like this. It’s wrong—unnatural.

He tries to gentle his voice and steady the pounding of his heart, pressing down on the gas, wishing the road would disappear from beneath the tires of the truck and that he could have you home and away from him already. “Not bein’ mean, sweetheart. Just—just…” He sighs, “Goddamnit, just don’t how how to handle you,” he curses, losing the grasp on his gentleness. 

“See—you are angry with me!” A tear slips down your cheek, and Joel’s mouth waters. 

His heart kicks up another notch, hypnotized, “You make me fuckin’ crazy—is that what you wanna hear?”

“Yes.” You turn full in the seat to face him, bent knees against the center console block his view of the apex of your thighs. Fucking Christ. 

“Sit right. You’re flashing your bits,” he tries and fails to focus on the road. 

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause I want you to see them, stupid.”

Jesus. “How much did you have to drink?” 

“Only one High Noon.”

“The hell is that? And quit lookin’ at me like that.”

“Like what?” Your knees shift against each other, and he’s gripping the steering wheel so tight he feels like he could rip it out of the dash. 

“You fuckin’ know like what.”

“Well if you hadn’t been such a cock block earlier, I’d be looking at someone else like this right now.”

And the teasing is too much. The bare legs and the tiny skirt and the hair and the lips and the sound of your voice, the kiss last night replaying in his mind over and over and over again like some lovesick taunt, the look of hurt he’d put on your face and the idea of you bare and slick, taking some other man that isn’t him. It’s too much. 

He jerks the truck roughly onto the road shoulder and into the grass, wheels spinning and gravel flying. Joel—you squeal, being jostled in your seat so that all he can see are soft thighs and pretty tits bouncing in his peripheral. He puts the truck in park, ripping his seat belt off, reaching over to tug you roughly forward by the nape, his fingers twisting in your hair in a hold he knows is too hard for something so delicate, his other hand grips below the bend of one knee squeezing hard. 

“If you think I’m gonna let you spread your legs for anyone fucking else—” he growls.

“Anyone else?” You laugh in his face, eyes spinning with something a little maniacal.

He thought he’d been worried for his soul, that taking you would be the undoing of everything he’d tried so hard to mend back together after Sarah. And really, he had tried so hard—to be good, to be better, to atone for all he’d not done before her, all he’d done after her. He’d tried to make himself into something that was respectful of her memory and the second chance Kelly had given him. 

But right here, and again because anytime he looks at you, is within a mile of your vicinity, it feels like you’re the only two people on the whole goddamn planet, he doesn’t think he really gives a fuck for being good or atoning or souls at all. Not even a little bit. 

He follows your lead from last night and kisses you, is sure to take your tongue this time. Forcing his thumb and forefinger between the line of your molars, he presses down hard enough to hurt the baby soft skin, spreading your jaw open wide so that he can lick into your mouth deep and wet. He wants to scare you, cow you, intimidate you into behaving with this hunger that seems to swallow him whole—remind you that he’s let you have your fun thus far, but the both of you know who’s playing games and who’s not. 

You let out a shocked little gasp onto his tongue, fingers twisting in the fabric over his shoulder, and he tightens his grip under your knee, tugging you just that little bit further forward, and when he pulls back to look at you, spit slick, swollen mouth and wide eyes, tits about to spill out of your top, you push his face away roughly, dragging your nails down the skin of his cheek with a tiny snarling growl. 

Spoiled little brat.

“Don’t be fuckin’ childish,” he snarls back, and pulls you roughly over the console and into his lap. 

“I can’t stand you,” you pant, settling above him, coming in to kiss him again, and he can’t deny it anymore. He’s hard as fuck for you. 

You moan into his mouth, high and throaty at the same time, girlish little sigh at the end that has him gripping your hip tightly, trying to stop himself from thrusting up against you.

“Can you taste him?” You lick his tongue. “He kinda looked like you, didn’t he? That’s why I chose him.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He’s going to stop this now, at any moment. He’s going to push you away and tell you this is wrong and that the two of you can’t do this. 

Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your tits high against his chest and grinding your lace covered little cunt against his cock. 

He groans into your mouth, pushed straight over the edge and free falling, cupping your ass to lift you off of himself a little bit, he just needs a second, before he takes a breath and presses you back down harder, rolling your hips against his lap. Little animal sounds, an ah, ah, ah and an oh, coupled with his mewled name. Cupping the soft of your ass in the palms of his hands, his calluses scrape against silken skin, and you fit him as if he’d dreamt you up just for himself; perfectly lush curves he can squeeze as hard as he wants because you’re not getting away from him now that he’s caught you in his snare. He drags his fingertips up the roundness of your asscheeks, and the mystery’s solved, it’s a thong. Catching the lace between his fingers he pulls the flimsy string upwards and tight against your pussy, a pained moan when he pulls even harder, making sure the fabric digs against your skin.

He knows if he cups you there you’ll be wet for him, for him, no one else but him. Knows he could bend you face first over the console, pull the soaked lace aside and suck on your wet little clit, make you come in his mouth. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. 

Joel, Joel, Joel, you hum in a dream voice. 

He can feel two little dimples at the low of your back, imagines what they’d look like with his thumbs gripped there as your ass takes his cock. 

He can’t say it enough—he feels fucking insane. 

“Touch me,” you beg, sliding and pressing against him, long hair like water slipping all over and against him too. 

Oh my God, he whisper moans when you spread your knees as wide as the seat allows, rocking your hips in short little hitches against the ridge of his cockhead. He knows your little clit is right there, cunt a knot of indescribable heat against him, and you pull your mouth away from his, letting your head fall back, hair a tangled curtain. He drags his nails back down your ass hard enough he hopes he’s leaving marks, leaning forward to lick along the salt tracks of your tears, watching you use him. 

“Do not fucking come,” he orders. He can’t—he can’t watch you do it and not be inside you when it happens, and the two of you absolutely cannot take this that far. 

He pulls your hips up again, forcing your movements still and you huff at him, whining. 

“We gotta stop.”

Noooo. “No, Joel. Please,” you cry, trying to pull yourself towards him—your mouth is so swollen—trying to escape his hold and get what you want for yourself. 

Grasping at the last vestiges of his sanity, “Fuck— No. No more.” He lifts you off his lap and back into your seat, sitting back to press himself against the door and adjusting the throbbing erection in his jeans, so hard it’s making him a little nauseous. If he doesn’t stop, he’s going to stuff his cock inside of you right here and now. He tucks the thick head up under his waistband, trying to find any sort of momentary relief. 

There isn’t enough oxygen in this truck. He needs air, space, to taste you. 

“Fine,” prim little nose in the air. You stretch one leg out across the console to dangle over his groin and let the other drop to the cab floor. “That’s fine—I’ll just take care of it myself then,” you tease provocatively, fingertips dragging up the inside of your thigh.

He shoots forward to stop your movement, gripping your wrist in a vice—baby bird bones beneath his fist, and you moan at his touch like the little wanton he’s coming to realize you are, writhing in your seat. “Don’t you fucking dare. I swear to God I’ll put you over my knee.”

“Jokes on you, I’d like that shit,” you sass back, ripping your wrist out of his hold, little socked foot kicking towards his face. He catches it, holding it in his grip and squeezing. “And I don’t really care if you’re not mad at me because I’m mad at you.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” and the mood changes, smolders into something more serious, more honest.

-

“Why didn’t you go today? The lawyer asked you to—” You’d wanted to find him as soon as you’d gotten home earlier, demand he give you an explanation. Cowardice had won over that desire, and going out to find a drink and a replacement man had seemed the easier alternative. 

“Wasn’t my place.” Spreading his thighs wider in his seat to accommodate himself, he presses his hips forward, and you can make out the heft of his cock beneath his jeans—your belly twists all full of heat and bubbles. 

“Did you know he was leaving you something?”

He laughs a bitter bark of a laugh. “No—never thought—” the words die in his throat and he stares out the window, lost to the memory of your father. “No, I didn’t think he was leaving me anything before I got the call.”

“It’ll make a good nest egg.” 

“Don’t want it.”

He won’t turn to look at you now, and you know that this conversation in the aftermath of touching you shames him. 

“You’re taking it. You don’t have a choice.” His eyes flash fire at you and then flit away. “He had all your banking information, it’s probably already there.”

Fucking Christ, he spits the murmured curse, bracing his elbow against the curve of the steering wheel, cupping his palm over his mouth as if to keep his anger and frustration in. The bulge of his bicep beneath his dark hoodie distracts you for a moment. 

You’d spent enough time watching him over the years that you’d learned all the things you knew he tried to hide in plain sight. That gentleness, that patience, that heart—that he is an inconceivably good and honest man. Things that are ultimately impossible to hide. 

Your eyes flash to the temple where a gristle of scar tissues is slashed across his skin. The meaning behind a scar like that, coupled with his bad ear and his green eyed photograph—it’s hard to hide. People can always tell when you’ve tried to kill yourself, you know. 

Which all goes to say—and you’re quite certain of this—that yes, the two of you are strangers, in ways, but in others, or in your own way, you know this man. You understand his nature. You know he wouldn’t have ever wanted it—that he does not want it and never will. He isn’t the sort of man who’d ever look a million dollars in the eye and feel moved by them. 

His humanity means more to him than his life, you’d heard Tommy say about him once to your father when you’d been an eavesdropping little girl. You hadn’t understood at the time, but now you do. 

The dark pullover and jeans, incongruously boyish, the scuffed boots—he’s so himself and so fucking hot and you want him so, so badly, and looking at him sitting here now, gorgeous, hair mused by your fingers, and your slick smeared across his jeans—you look down at your own twisted fingers in your lap, a little ashamed now too—and you can’t fathom why or how he’d ever look at you and feel moved by the likes of you either. 

You’re ashamed that you’re even angry at him for it at all, resentful of this gift your father has given him when really it is not only resentment, maybe not even truly that at all. More so, it’s a complicated mixing pot of feelings that these two men seem to have always been twisted up into knots together inside of you. Resentful, not because you don’t want him to have it. You want him to have everything he deserves or could ever think to want and more, but perhaps, because this was the final nail in the coffin scrap of proof that your father had cared about him in a very real way that you’d never experienced—in a way that was entirely Oswald Kelly’s own choice and not because of dead mothers or obligation or legacy. 

“It’s good he left it for you,” you say gently and mean it. 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, looks away, from under the cover of his palm says, “S’not fair to you.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with me. This is about you and you deserving this, and I’m glad he gave you your due. He should’ve left more.”

His eyes flutter shut, sighing deeply and shakes his head. “You’ve made me into something I’m not. You need to see that.”

“You’re not some sort of cautionary tale, Joel.”

“You don’t know a thing about it,” voice like he could he angry but is being very careful to remain not. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, the reasons why I came here. You should look at me and see nothin’ worthwhile.”

“My father saw something,” you argue. “You let my father see that something. And I do too, no matter what you say, no matter what you do or how hard you push me away; I’m used to it, and you won’t change my mind.”

He gives you a look like you’re hurting him, like your truths hurt him. “We’re goin’ home. This is enough,” he gruffs, pulling the truck into drive again and peeling out of the grassy knoll. 

Fight dying in your throat, you feel suddenly exhausted, shivering coldly, belly an ember of unsated lust, your orgasm is tight and wet between your legs and you don’t want to argue or impose yourself on him anymore. You don’t want to feel like you’re imposing yourself now when he’d never made you feel like that before. 

The night is a pitch dark blur falling away behind your glazed over eyes, and huddling into yourself against the door, you hide your face away in your shoulder, belly swooping with nausea. 

“You drive too fast, I’m dizzy,” you mumble, and he  immediately slows, foot easing off the gas.

“You gonna puke?”

“Yes, all over your face.”

“I’m serious, darlin’. Need me to stop?”

“No. I just want to be home,” said in as small a voice as you can manage, hoping he won’t catch your words, and soon he’s turning off into the long drive to the house. 

When he pulls to a stop, you scramble to grab your boots before he can say anything else, but he’s unnaturally quick for such a large man, out the door and around the nose of the truck, pulling your own door open before you can even get a single boot on. He pulls them from your grasp, and then tugs you bodily out of your seat, slinging you over his shoulder as if you were some sack of nuisance prone potatoes. You screech, flailing, trying to knee him in the gut, but he bands a strong arm across the backs of your thighs, pinning you in obedient place. “Quit.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” You howl, hitting him repeatedly on the ass, trying to wriggle and make his life as difficult as you possibly can. 

This man has absolutely no consideration or respect or sense of personal space!

Technically, neither do you—but that’s neither here nor there. 

You scream like a hyena, shrill and long and he pinches your ass hard, right at the inner crease of your thigh and ass cheek, too close to your still wet pussy for comfort. “I said quit.”

“Everything alright out here?” You hear Jesse’s voice call from the direction of the bunk, they must’ve beat you two here while you’d been trying to seduce Joel into making you come. 

The snap of Joel’s fingers and then, “Mind your own fucking business.”

“You are so rude.”

He bumps you on his shoulder, jostling you on the soft of your belly and making your cunt go even tighter. You hate him. “Quiet, you.” 

Letting himself in the dark of your house, he makes his way up the stairs while you hang quietly upside down now, a little astounded, a lot turned on by how strong he is, lugging you all the way upstairs without even a change in his breathing. 

But as soon as he steps foot into your bedroom, now set to rights from yesterday’s disaster, you feel the change come on him. The shift and deepening of his breaths, the expanse of his ribs going wide and winglike as he sucks in a big gulp of air. You press your palm flat to the center of his back, feeling the whistle of his breath go in and out of him until he’s slipping you off his shoulder to bounce gently backwards onto your soft bed. 

He stands above you for a quiet moment, and you take in the broad shape of him backlit by the moonlight of your open drapes. He’s huge and imposing cast in this darkness, something out of a dream.

Literally—out of your own teenage fantasy dreams. 

Has anyone in all the world ever wanted someone as badly as you want him?

You can feel the press of his left knee against the inside of your right one, and you wish he’d put it between your thighs, join you on the bed.

“Can I ask you something?” You reach your fingers out and he tangles his hand with yours and it’s a small victory. 

“Yeah.”

“Would you come to my funeral?”

His fingers jolt— “What?”

“If I died.”

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“Tell me that you would—” You tug him forward and he lets himself come, bending over your prone form, braced on one arm and still holding onto your fingers with the other. “—That I wouldn't be alone even there.”

“You’re not alone.”

“Would you?”

“Makes me angry when you say shit like this—as if you don’t believe I’m going to take care of you.” 

“Please tell me, Joel. Promise me—” and you reach up to gently touch the scar across his temple. 

He goes frozen and understanding. “I’d come,” and you know it costs him something to give in to such an imagining and it makes you all the more grateful for it. 

Fingers sliding back into the curls at his temple, silver speckled, you know, you pull him further towards you until he’s close enough to press a softly hot kiss to his mouth. The two of you hold there for a moment, another, another, you can feel the wash of his heavy breathing through his nose, the flutter of his long lashes tangling with yours—you hope he’s searching for you in the dark—and you lift your knee up onto the bed, bending to open yourself to him. 

He pulls back, hand shooting to your jaw to grip you tightly in place, breath ragged, animal being hunted. 

You smile.

“Not gonna fuck you,” he says low.

“Why not?” It’s what you want, you deserve to have what you want. He squeezes your face once, presses another hard, too quick kiss to your mouth and then flips you over onto your belly, turning your skirt up over your ass to expose you. He tugs once on the string of your thong, drawing his finger along the lace wedged between your ass cheeks and then pulls his hand away for a moment before he’s spanking you hard and quick. 

Owwww, you whine, hitching your rump towards him, wanting more despite the sting. He bends his head and bites you even harder at the inner corner of your asscheek, teeth digging hard and long enough to leave a mark. You whine again, high and mewling, trying to escape his meanness and he smacks you again on the other cheek. 

“Go to bed, little girl. I’ll see you in the mornin’.”

And he’s leaving you, broad shouldered form slipping out your bedroom door and leaving you aching and angry to scream into your pillow.

You’re pretty sure you hear his deep laugh before the slam of the door sounds below, and you’re slipping your greedy fingers into the ruined wet of your panties, petting away the ache he’s left. 

-

The late May night is cool, despite the daytime heat, and Ellie shivers in her Carhartt, watching as Joel slips out the back kitchen door of the big house. 

“The hell is going on with those two?” Jesse says beside her, pulling long on his beer. The litter of yellow cans around them speaks to his mullish whining that he’d not been able to pull tonight. Sometimes he annoys her, but in that sort of endearing little brother way that makes her want to kick his ass and protect him at the same time. 

“Nothin’, they’re fine—just gotta fuck it out.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Naw—just smarter than you, man.”

“They like each other?”

“God, Jesse, you wouldn’t see an obvious thing if it were a tipsy bison barrelin’ towards you full speed in the middle of the day.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he says a little pathetically. Moping men—Ellie really can’t be assed to deal with them all. 

“It’s fine. You don’t need to understand. I do—I see all, I know all. You mere mortals wouldn’t understand.”

“S’kinda weird, no? Them two—him bein’ so much older, her bein’…well, you know— her.”

“Nope. Makes perfect sense—they need each other, you see.”

He shrugs, I guess—“You’re fuckin’ weird, too. You know that?”

She takes a swig of her beer now also, hoping the two idiots she loves most in the world, after Dina of course, figure each other out before the whole ranch has to suffer for it too. 

“Wrong again, Jesse. Wrong again.”

Chapter 3; Little Freak

Netherfeildren’s Masterlist

Updates Blog

[antiquarianfics]

Dark and Bloody Ground

So you violently murdered a man? So what? You did it in the name of love.

a/n: This is super loosely inspired by the song "Dark and Bloody Ground" by Ruston Kelly. Great song if you haven't heard it. Anyway, this is super gory and violent, but it's still a little fluffy... Hope you like it.

warning(s): Profanity, gore, extreme violence, sort of a hostage type situation, only kind of proofed.

note: I do not own Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliate characters.

You do not have permission to steal or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

Blood. Blood everywhere. It’s on the ground, on the body, on your hands, on your face. The scene looks as if a toddler was given a box of crayons—all shades of red—and a coloring sheet. It’s horrific. Blood splattered, crayon scribbled—however you look at it.

Your breathing is erratic, heavy breaths shake your body as your lungs struggle to take in air. You’ve over exerted yourself, but you can’t find even a smidgen of a fuck to give.

There’s a dull ache in your knees where you’re sat on them; you lean back to distribute some weight onto your heels. Once your knees are slightly alleviated, you become more aware of the constant ringing in your ears, the ringing that has been constant since the moment you pulled your weapon. Then, you notice the soreness in your fingers and glance down to where your hands are clenched in fists, your knuckles busted and bruised. Looking around, you see a bloodied knife a few feet away: your gun is still in its holster.

You look up at the bloodbath in front of you—the dead men in front of you.

Did I even pull my gun?

The ringing in your ears is deafening, and you can’t focus on anything other than the carnage. Or, you can’t until you hear Bucky call for you. Wait. Bucky.

The moment your brain processes Bucky’s voice, it’s as if someone hits the fast forward button until your brain catches up with what is actively happening around you. The ringing squeals until it doesn’t; your head swivels until your eyes lock on their target.

“Y/N,” Bucky repeats. “Doll.” He slides next to you on his knees slowly, grimacing slightly as he moves.

Bucky’s eyes are filled with worry, his every movement cautious. He takes in your current state, but he saw the whole thing. He saw you kill the man who lay dead before you. He watched as the deceased attempted to fight back, how he got a few minor licks in, and how it was for naught. Still, though, Bucky is cautious as he looks at you--as he tries to make sure you're okay.

"Oh, baby," you say, voice low and hoarse. You smile softly and raise a hand to cup Bucky's cheek. "Oh, how I've missed you."

Bucky smiles sadly, his own hand reaching up to cup your cheek. "I've missed you, too."

"Are you okay?" You ask, concern palpable.

"I am now. You've got me, Doll."

You nod. "Yeah, I've got you."

Bucky looks around the facility he'd been held prisoner in for weeks. The drab appearance had changed quickly in your fury; he'd never seen you like that before.

—

Bucky coughed as the HYDRA operative kicked him in the gut. In most cases, Bucky would have already killed the guy, but he'd been starved and neglected for days, pumped full of a chemical that lessened the effectiveness of the super soldier serum, and his body thus has been struggling to fight off a nasty infection from a three day old stab wound.

"I'll ask again, Winter Soldier. Where is it?" The man in charge, an unassuming man in a pressed gray suit, asks in an even tone.

"I'll tell 'ya again," Bucky spits, "fuck. you."

"Very well. Again." The man waves his hand carelessly in a 'go ahead' motion.

The HYDRA operative kicks Bucky again. That's when the door to the torture chamber opens, and there you stand with a stolen keycard held to the door.

Your eyes land on Bucky on the ground, then they shift to the operative carrying out the torture, and then they settle on the man in the suit. Bucky knows you see red.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward and hit the button to shut the door behind you, stopping an escape. Then, in a flash, you've thrown your knife into the HYDRA operative's head. The operative drops, his body twitching slightly before stilling, and blood slowly begins to pool from his cracked skull.

The moment the knife leaves your hand, you step forward and swing at the man in the suit. The man side steps, lets out a 'Who do you think you are?' before being silenced by your fist to his jaw. You punch the man again and he stumbles backward; he quickly manages to get his footing and takes a swing at you. He lands a punch to your gut and one to your face, but neither deters you. You pivot around him as he lunges forward and then kick him in the back. The man falls to the ground, manages to turn over onto his back, and he is immediately met by another right hook to the face as you jump on him. You straddle the guy as you repeatedly hit him: you feel as the man's jaw cracks, as his cheekbone splinters. You're vaguely aware when each hit feels less solid, when the man beneath you finally stills. You feel weightless, a bit gone, as you slide off of the man onto your knees, sitting back on your heels.

—

"We gotta get out of here," Bucky says, shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts of you murdering for him.

You nod and stand up with a light groan, grasping Bucky's hand and pulling him up with you. You let him wrap his arm around your shoulders, helping him walk as you make your escape.

—

Hours later, you and Bucky have not said much to one another. When you made it back to the jet, you were more worried about patching Bucky up and getting him something to eat than talking. Then, when he tried to say something, you shushed him and told him to get some rest. Now, though, as you're sitting next to his hospital bed in the med bay, and now that you know he's alright, you finally choose to talk about what happened.

"Bucky?" You say quietly, trying not to disturb him if he's asleep. You're hoping, selfishly, that he is.

"Hmm?" He hums, turning his head slightly and opening his tired eyes to look at you.

"I'm sorry. About today. I, uh. I know that was a lot..."

"Sweetheart, it's okay. You saved me. I should be thanking you; you shouldn't be apologizing."

You give him a tense smile.

"It's just. When I saw what they were doing to you... I saw red, Buck. I was so angry at them for hurting you, and I was scared. I just... I didn't think. But they didn't have to do all those awful things to you."

"I know."

"It makes me sick to think about."

"I know."

"You deserve so much better."

"I know."

You raise an eyebrow, disbelievingly.

"You do?"

"Well, I better. My girl violently killed two men because she thinks so."

You giggle. Despite everything, you giggle. Bucky smiles.

"Anyway," Bucky says, a light tone enveloping his words, "you know what they say."

"What's that?"

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he teases.

"Especially when she has on her killing shoes," you laugh lightly.

"Mhmm. C'mere, Lizzie Borden." He holds out an arm for you as he scoots over to make room. You climb into the small bed with him, tucking yourself away into his embrace.

"I love you," you whisper.

"I love you, too," he replies, pressing a kiss into your hair.

[spncrscasey]

Mine (m.c.)

Fandom/Characters: Chicago Fire - Matt Casey x Fem!Reader, Sylvie Brett, Stella Kidd, Kelly Severide, Blake Gallo, Wallace Boden, Christopher Herrmann, Joe Cruz, Darren Ritter

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You and Matt Casey had been secretly dating for a while, and it had gone smoothly since you worked at different firehouses. However, you were offered a job at 51 which despite seeming like a great idea, only made everything complicated.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, a bit of angst, a bunch of fluff, pet names, mention of anxiety, protective matt, kissing, happy ending

a/n: my first fic!!!!! (on tumblr that is lol) i used to write a lot on another platforms but haven't written for fun in forever (other than for school, ew lol.) so i might be a bit rusty so just yk excuse that until i get back into my flow :) anyways i hope you guys like it <3

For the last three years, you've been working as a paramedic at Firehouse 20 alongside Violet Mikami. During that time, you've come to know Blake Gallo as a result of his on-and-off relationship with her. Although he's a great guy, what made him even greater is the person he introduced you to about a year ago— your boyfriend, Captain Matthew Casey of Firehouse 51.

Where could you possibly start? His mesmerizing, smile and his charming personality drew you in in an instant. You never realized how the occasional encounters, transformed into intimate late-night conversations. And before you knew it, those late-night talks grew into romantic dinners and memorable dates.

After months of both of you dancing around one another, he finally masked up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend. Without a moment's hesitation, you instantly said yes.

Six months have passed since then. Both of you had mutually decided to keep it private for some time in order to prevent any interference with your jobs. The only individuals who had known were your respective Chiefs, just in case something happened.

Your Chief also knew you could handle a busier station such as 51. So, he had just offered you the vacant paramedic position that was left after Foster left for Med School.

Initially, you were excited about the offer because it meant working with your boyfriend. However, now you're uncertain about accepting it as you're not sure how he’d react. While you believe he'd be as thrilled as you are, there's this nagging feeling that it would complicate things.

So you decided to call him.

"Hey Matt," You said once he picked up.

"Hi babe, everything okay? You rarely call me during shift." He replied, voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine." You assure him before nervously adding, "It's just... I have something to run by you...”

"Go ahead sweetheart, what's up?"

"You know how Foster left and ever since then there's been an open paramedic spot at 51 for a while now?"

He hums encouraging you to continue.

"Well, my Chief spoke to Boden and they both agreed that I could fill that spot if I wanted to."

"That's fantastic news!" He said excitedly. "Do you want to?"

You sighed. "I do want to. I think it would be nice to work with you and the experience of working at a busier station? That would benefit me, by a lot. I’d be able to learn so much."

"Then what's there to run by me? This is your decision Y/N." Matt questioned.

"It's your house! I don't want to interfere with the little family you all have built and make things complicated considering we'd be working together while dating and what if they take it the wrong way thinking I only got the spot because I'm with you-"

"Hey! Y/N, sweetheart, breathe." He says cutting off your rambling, trying to calm you down.

"What?" you ask, voice exasperated.

"Baby, no one's going to think anything like that. You're an amazing paramedic and you earned your spot because you're good at your job. Also, no one knows that we're together so they won't suspect a thing. We don't even have to tell them yet if you don't want to.” He said reassuringly before continuing, “And you wouldn't be interfering with anything, I can assure you that we'd all love to have you at 51. This is completely your choice though, so whether you want to transfer over here or not, you have my full support, regardless of what you decide."

You smile at Matt's words. "Thank you." You pause for a moment before resuming happily, "Okay I'm going to go tell Chief that I'm accepting the position! I'll talk to you later Matt."

"That's my girl." He says smiling before hanging up.

You swiftly head to your Chief's office and let him know that you completed the transfer paperwork and are ready to begin at 51 as soon as possible. He nods, smiling, and assures you that he will push the request forward.

It was now Monday. Which also happened to be the same day you started your first shift as the new paramedic of Firehouse 51.

God were you nervous.

You had spoken to Matt multiple times and he continuously reassured you that you had no reason to feel anxious because everyone would adore you. So why were you still panicking?

Matt liked you, Gallo liked you, and so did Boden after the short interview you two had.

You had also heard a lot about each of them through Matt, and they all sounded like wonderful people. So the odds of your new coworkers welcoming you with open arms were pretty high.

Yet despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety that was coursing through your veins, leaving you a nervous wreck.

You let out a sigh, trying to calm your nerves as you approached the Firehouse. You bumped into Gallo on the way which instantly relieved your worries. Seeing a familiar face put your mind at ease, melting your fears away, even if it’s only for a moment.

The two of you engaged in an easy conversation as you walked into the building together.

Upon entering, you spotted a table near the rigs with several individuals seated around it. Gallo eagerly ushered you towards them, quickly introducing everyone.

"Squad, this is Y/N Y/L/N, our new paramedic!" He said as you smiled, waving at them.

Gallo then pointed at a tan, blue-eyed man who was sitting at the head of the table. "That's Lieutenant Kelly Severide. Head of Squad and those are his Squad members."

He quickly got up and shook your hand. "Nice to meet you Y/L/N."

You recognized him now. He was Matt's best friend, they'd been through thick and thin together. It was sweet actually, finally getting to put a face to the name you've been hearing so much about.

Gallo took his time introducing you to the other members of Squad, all of whom greeted you with kindness and respect.

As he slipped into conversation with them, you took the opportunity to excuse yourself and find your partner, Sylvie Brett, who you’d be spending most of your time with.

She stood out easily, being one of only two women in the house. You spotted her in the kitchen, chatting with another girl who you figured must be Stella, Severide's girlfriend. Matt had spoken to you about how amazing they were as a couple, and it always made you happy to hear about them. With a deep breath, you made your way over to them.

"Hi!" You smiled. "I'm the new paramedic here working with... Sylvie Brett?" You ask unsurly, turning your head to glance at the blonde hoping you're right.

"Yes, that's me! Hi!" She answered enthusiastically, hugging you. Matt had mentioned how sweet she was but the embrace still caught you by surprise. Regardless, you hugged her back, accepting the kind gesture. Once you pulled away you waved at the other woman who smiled back at you, introducing herself as Stella Kidd.

After conversing with them for some time and getting to know one another, you headed off to the officer quarters with the hope of seeing your boyfriend.

Once you approached the office that was referred to Matt Casey, you knocked.

"Come in." You heard so you stepped inside, closing the door behind you.

"Hi baby," You said, smiling at him. He looked up from his desk, features softening as he noticed you.

"How's my favorite girl doing?" He asked standing up to give you a brief kiss on the cheek.

"I'm great! Everyone here is so nice and fun to talk to. They've all been so welcoming." You answered excitedly.

"See, I told you everyone would love you. What's there not to?" He asked rhetorically, making you smile as he placed his hands on your waist pulling you in closer. Matt's inability to keep his hands to himself never fails to make you laugh. It was all quickly forgotten though when he drew you in for a more passionate kiss when he noticed that there weren't any prying eyes on you.

As time passed, days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, you had seamlessly become a part of them. Each member of the group welcomed you with open arms, and it felt like you had found your place within the close-knit family they had formed at 51. It seemed like you had found a lasting bond and a sense of belonging with everyone there, envisioning a permanent future among them.

You became good friends with Sylvie and Stella, established a nice mentorship with Hermann, and created a sibling-like bond with Severide.

Most importantly though, to your knowledge, no one had suspected your relationship with Matt.

You wanted to say something, you really did. You didn't want him to think you were ashamed of being with him. But you didn't want the people you had grown so close to to think that you were only offered the position because of your relationship with him; even if you were confident that they weren't the type of people to believe that.

It was an ordinary day. You and Sylvie had just returned from responding to a call— nothing too serious, just tending to a man who had been cut by a broken mirror. Together with Sylvie, you bandaged him up and sent him to Med for stitches, wishing him a speedy recovery.

You were restocking the ambulance when Sylvie spoke up, "So, did you see the way that guy looked at you?"

You almost choked on your spit at her statement, not expecting it. "How did he look at me?"

"Oh c'mon- there were literally hearts in his eyes every time you spoke up while bandaging him!" She exclaimed a bit too loudly making you shush her.

"Who had hearts in his eyes?" Matt chimed in as he walked up to you and Brett, joining your conversation.

"No one," You say brushing him off but Sylvie interjects. "This guy we were helping earlier, he totally had the hots for our new paramedic over here." She said, nudging you with her arm in a teasing manner.

"Oh, did he?" Matt asked in a tone that sounded like he was joking but you could see the way his body tensed.

"It's whatever, nothing serious. It's not like I'm going to go on a date with him." You roll your eyes trying to dismiss the situation.

"You should!" Sylvie replies happily, "You're pretty and single. He wasn't bad on the eyes either, if you know what I mean. Go have some fun girl! Who knows, he could be the love of your life." She adds, winking.

Matt gave a half-hearted smile and walked away without acknowledging Brett, leaving her looking up in confusion. "What was that about?" She asked.

"No idea," You say shortly, despite knowing exactly what was going on.

Matthew Casey was jealous.

It was quite surprising because he had never shown signs of being the jealous type. In the past, if another man approached you in his presence, he would politely ask them to leave you alone, making it clear that you were already taken. Or he’d simply put his arm around you in a protective, not-so-friendly manner, letting everyone know that you were his. It never bothered you. You found it cute, actually.

But this? This was different. He had never acted this way, which concerned you.

After you were done restocking the ambo you made your way to his office, hoping to ease the tension.

You sighed as you knocked, hearing a quick come-in before stepping inside. You noticed he had his head buried in paperwork, not even acknowledging you as you came in.

"Matt, honey, what's wrong?" You asked, worried when he still didn't look up at you. You waited for a moment before continuing once he didn't reply, "Baby talk to me."

He sighs before finally looking into your eyes. His ocean blues never failed to make you weak in the knees. So intimidating but beautiful nevertheless.

"I don't want to keep this a secret any longer." He eventually replied, motioning between the two of you.

"I don't want to either but you know we can't."

"Why can't we?" He said, tone a bit sharp, causing you to flinch for a second.

"Because-" you were cut off by a knock on Matt's door making you straighten up.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there's someone here to see you Y/N." Said Severide as he poked his head into Casey's office letting you know before heading out.

You quickly glance at Matt sighing before leaving his office, silently apologizing. You hated leaving mid conversation but this could be important. You noticed him trailing behind you as you walked out but chose not to comment on it.

Once you were outside, you recognized him as the man you had sent to Med earlier. The same man who had 'the hots' for you apparently, according to Brett.

This was going to be a long conversation.

"Hello!" He said, way too ecstatic for someone who had just been discharged from a hospital.

"Hi there, how are you feeling?" You asked, keeping the conversation polite.

"Better thanks to you, you saved my life."

"Oh, you know, no big deal! Just doing my job."

"Well, I was hoping to take you out on a date as a way of saying thank you." He said with confidence, catching you off guard.

"I'm very flattered sir but you don't need to thank me, let alone take me out on a date. I'm happy to help, love what I do." You say, hoping that gets rid of him.

By now, you were fully aware that most of the members of the firehouse were watching the interaction occur from behind you. Hence why you were aiming to wrap it up as soon as possible.

"No, no, I insist. We'll have a great time together!" He pushes.

"Like I said, thanks for the offer but I'm going to have to decline. Feel better." You say, turning around.

Before you had a chance to walk away, he grabbed your wrist harshly. Pulling you backward, making you lose your balance, and almost causing you to fall.

"Woah woah woah-" "Back off!" You hear the men hurriedly interject pushing him away from you before Matt yells, in a tone that sends shivers down your spine. "Get your hands off of my paramedic before I call the authorities. You have no right to touch her, especially after she said no."

Boden hears the commotion and steps out of his office. "What's going on over here?"

"This man put his hands on Y/N after she rejected him Chief. He was just leaving though weren't, you?" Matt replies, glaring at the man making him quickly walk away.

The second that he was out of sight, everyone turned to you. Stella speaks up, "Are you okay?"

"Don't worry guys, I'm fine." You say looking around at all of them, reassuring them that you're okay. "Thanks for the help. I'm sure he won't be coming back any time soon, especially after the way Casey glared at him." You add chuckling, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere around you.

"You'd almost think you guys were dating with the way he attacked him to defend you," Severide commented casually, using a tone that sounded like he knew something. Which you decided to ignore for the time being.

At the mention of your boyfriend though, you looked up hoping to catch a glimpse of him but noticed he was nowhere to be found which alarmed you.

As the crowd dispersed and engaged in their own conversations, you discreetly slipped away and made your way to visit Matt in his quarters, marking this as your second visit there in the last half hour.

This time though, you didn't even bother knocking and simply walked in.

When he noticed it was you, he quickly stood up concerned, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Oh, I'm alright. Don't worry, it was nothing I hadn't dealt with before in this line of duty, you know how men can be sometimes.” You answered, nonchalantly.

You both stayed quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say. Finally, you decided to break the silence, “I'm sorry, Matt. I don't want to argue with you, so if it'll make you happy, we can go tell them right now.”

He sighed, turning around in his chair to look at you, “Y/N, this isn't just up to me, we’re in this relationship together. We have to make decisions like these as a team. I love you and I want everyone to know that but if you're not taking this seriously and want to go on that date instead then-”

“No! This is serious to me Matt, I love you and you know that.” You cut him off before he's able to finish the sentence. “I have eyes for you and only you, no one else matters to me but you, Matthew Casey.” You add firmly, making sure he understands that.

“Then what’s the issue here?” He asks, tired of the constant back and forth you've been having today.

You sigh and sit down on the edge of his bed before replying, “I just- I've become so close to everyone here in the last few weeks and I don't want their opinion of me to change after they find out that you and I are together. I don't want them to think that I'm only here because of you.”

“Baby…” He says in a softer tone, getting out of his seat to come sit next to you.

You don't look at him once he's sat beside you, opting to look at the floor instead.

“Hey, look at me.” He gently says taking your hands in his, grabbing your attention.

You hum as you bring your eyes up to meet his.

When he's sure you're not going to look away, he starts speaking, “Listen to me, everyone here? They're the most amazing and supportive group of people you'll ever meet. They won't dare say anything of the sort because they'd be beyond happy for us. And if they slightly even think about it, I won't hesitate to go all ‘Captain’ on them.” He says, making you chuckle.

“Besides, I don't want idiots like that guy who can't take no for an answer, hurting you again for a nonexistent chance of taking you out.” He adds.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his, and after a moment passes, you mutter a simple, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Matt questions.

“Yeah, okay, let’s tell them.” You reply, nodding enthusiastically.

“I want everyone to know that this handsome man right here,” You say pointing at his chest with a teasing tone, “Is of the market and mine only.”

“Yeah?” He grins.

“Mhm,” You say with an even bigger smile, before leaning in to press your lips against his.

As your lips finally touch, a wave of stillness washes over you. It feels as though the entire world has come to a halt and all that exists is the shared connection between the two of you. At that moment, nothing else matters except for the feeling of his lips against yours.

His delicate hand caresses your face, making you smile into the kiss as you pull him in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. There's no need to hide your love for each other anymore, allowing your affection for one another to be expressed freely without the fear of secrecy. The rush of emotion flowing through you is intoxicating and God, it is an exhilarating feeling, one that you had never felt before.

Before the kiss could progress any further, you heard cheering outside making you pull away. You glance out the window to understand what the fuss is about when you notice that the blinds were left open, meaning that all of 51 just saw you kissing Matt.

Your cheeks flush with warmth, causing you to bury your face in Matt's shoulder as he laughs at your reaction. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer in a tight embrace.

You look up at him, mouthing an ‘I love you,’

He whispers back, “I love you too.”

He quickly leans in for one more peck against your lips, before bracing himself for all the questions you're about to receive once you head outside.

“You guys were betting on us?” You asked amused, raising your eyebrows at the exchange of money happening right in front of your eyes.

“Well, what were we supposed to do!?” Cruz exclaimed defensively, earning a giggle from you.

“I mean, we all knew you guys were head over heels for each other, that was obvious. We just didn't realize you had been together prior to all of this.” Added Ritter, shrugging.

“I can speak for everyone though when I say that we are all very happy for you two.” Said Herrmann, making everyone nod in agreement.

As soon as the initial stage of shock died down, Stella and Sylvie rushed over to you, enveloping you in a group hug, requesting all the juicy details. While Kelly simply gave Matt a supportive pat on the back, smiling at his best friend.

Soon, the questions regarding your relationship began pouring in. Matt drew you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist as he answered each of them one by one. You rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes briefly, basking in the serenity.

And at last, you found yourself finally feeling at ease. Your family knew, and they were happy for you. Which is all you could ask for.

[lousirs]

UD headcanons no one asked for!

my motivation has gone to get the milk and has not come back since, SO HEY! who wants to hear some random headcanons that have been microwaving in my head for the past year???

this is going to be a long one...

stuff under the cut vvv

Lou is the kinda guy to only pack nice looking outfits on a holiday. Do they suit the occasion? Probably not. But he wants to look the part every where he goes, even if he's wearing a suit during the middle of summer

He would also be the guy to complain that it's too cold, even though he was told to pack up layers of clothes for a hiking trip, and didn't. But when someone tries to give him a coat, he says "I don't need that, I'm fine!" even though he looks like he's going to freeze over.

He takes the coat not too soon after

On the other hand, either Nolan or Ox would overpack for a trip. Ox because he is basically the fatherly figure of the group, and wants to make sure that everyone has enough food, water, and layers of clothing for the trip. Oh, and he brings a first aid kit as well. Nolan however does it because "What if I didn't pack enough?? What if I need this oddly specific thing??" and packs more than he needs to

Speaking of Ox, he always came off as a character who really enjoys camping and exploring, ya know? He seems like the leader of a scout group who loves to sing campfire songs and tell spooky stories that no one believes. (him and Rhidian would get along well)

LITERALLY NO ONE TALKS ABOUT LUCKYBAT AND OX'S DYNAMIC AND IT'S DRIVING ME WILD. Hello?? A withdrawn and somewhat jaded mayor who is protective of those he's close to with his intelligent, caring and concerned assistant?? That sounds interesting!

I'm sure LuckyBat knows more than anyone else (besides Lou) of what Ox went through. Perhaps he didn't know about the Institute, but he knew ox went through some stuff outside Uglyville. Perhaps that's why he's so cautious to go into the pipe.

(And perhaps the reason why he decides to go to learn new stuff was for the sake of finding out what Ox doesn't speak about?)

Back to the Prettydolls, I always found it interesting that Nolan was able to run the gauntlet despite being imperfect, although Moxy and Mandy, two other imperfect dolls, were thrown into recycling. Why was Nolan allowed to run the gauntlet, huh Lou? Didn't you say that any unideal looking doll goes to recycling, Lou????

Personally, I like to think that Lou allowed Nolan to do training and was like "Haha watch this idiot fail". And turns out Nolan was really good at it (flashbacks to Nolan being buff in the novel). Lou is flabbergasted.

...Either that or Lou just allowed him to run the gauntlet to watch him fail immediately because "Haha funny" and also "Haha imperfects can't win. Suck it loser~"

Kitty is jealous of Mandy's makeup skills, and often copies her because of it, too embarrassed to ask for advice because she needs to learn on her own. After Lou gets overthrown, Kitty and Mandy help each other out on their makeup and hair

Tuesday is the girl to think that "Yeah I'm smiling, but inside I'm crying" is the deepest thing to ever exist. Kitty bullies her for it.

Also, Tuesday cry-sings "I'm a mess" by Bebe Rexha after Lou denied her 1244th love confession. She will try again tomorrow

Because Kelly Clarkson was pop-rock for a while, I like to imagine that Moxy had a rock-n-roll rebellious phase, and still has a few characteristics from that era of her life

During the scene where Lou is going up the gauntlet lift with everyone else, he is constantly moving about. Winking at Mandy to fake confidence, adjusting his suit...etc. I always saw this has him being nervous, because you know, he's about to expose himself for being a prototype after this gauntlet stuff is over. So I like to think that he fiddles around with his suit when he's nervous. Mainly readjusting the sleeves, tightening his ascot tie and flicking out his collar. Also pulling out loose threads, if there is any.

I thought for the longest time that when Lou's hair got slightly messier, it showed him being more genuine. There is one god damn strand on his fringe that goes from being in place to hanging out, and I thought it showed him losing his façade, very very subtly.

This might be a hot take but I always saw Loundy (Mandy/Lou) as being friends/lovers to enemies. Think about it: Lou and Mandy seemed to have some sort of connection, Mandy (in my opinion) basically being Lou's assistant, similar to the spy girls. She began thinking he was perfect, and they formed a (seemingly) close bond. But over time, as Lou's desperation for perfection increased, her opinion of him soured, and she realised he isn't as perfect as she thought. She kept the negative thoughts to herself, though. Who would believe her? The perfect doll with the flawless looks and endless talents, topped off with a charming personality... Why would he be unhinged? How would he be unhinged?

You know that line Mandy says to Lou at the gauntlet? "You know, Lou.. When I first got here, I thought you were perfect. I couldn't find a single thing wrong with you. But, I can see a lot better now." perhaps that wasn't just talking about the events of the film, as it probably implies. Maybe she knows how terrible he's been for a long time...

That's all I got for now, I may doodle some of these if motivation comes back, who knows..

[theglassofmiddleearth]

I'm Always Funny. You're Just Not Smart Enough To Keep Up. (Teaser!)

Max Verstappen X reader

Danny Ricciardo X reader platonic.

Not sure if anyone here is an F1 fan but I've recently gotten into F1 and I've started writing a small fanfiction of Max Verstappen Fake relationship Au! Please tell me if you like this and want the rest of it! Enjoy~

Max had just broken up with his long time girlfriend Kelly Piquet. 

They had disagreed on their future plans and had decided it would be better to part ways. It was an amicable split and Max still visited Penelope. However, the media wasn’t kind to him, not that it usually was.

Fans were in a roar over the split calling him all sorts of names for the past seven months.

It wasn’t too bad until the sponsors started to look a bit concerned over the state of the media.

Y/N, being a small town girl from Perth Australia, knew Daniel Ricciardo from when she was younger. His sister Michelle would babysit Y/N from time to time and that's how she came to meet the ever enthusiastic personality that was Daniel.

Daniel, alongside Michelle, had been like an older sibling to Y/N. He would always visit her or text her to catch her up on his state of affairs. 

After his ill-fated departure from Mclaren, to which Y/N was still fuming over. He had spent two months back in Australia, lounging around before Y/N and Michelle told him to get back into what he really loved.

Sure enough, Daniel returned to RedBull as a reserve driver alongside his old teammate Max Verstappeh and Sergio “Checo” Perez.

It was at this point Max had been receiving scalding comments and the Public Relations (PR) Manager had decided it would be a good idea for Max to date someone new with good media presence. Someone who the fans were bound to like.

That is exactly where Y/N came in. She had been featured on Daniel's social media before and made small cameo’s on RedBull and Mclaren videos, wishing Danny luck in his races or even supporting him in person.  

~~~~~~

Max walked alongside Y/N at a brisk pace. They were wading through the crowd of press just before the paddock and after the car park. Y/N was slightly uncomfortable with the firm grip that Max had on her hand but refrained from speaking up. He, after all, was paying her salary, so to speak. 

“Smile,” Max grunted out. Nodding at the press and giving half smiles in a seemingly out of character style. 

Y/N, who was already smiling hissed through her teeth.

“The hell you think I'm doin’ mate?” She then turned slightly away to wave at the photographers,

“Morning! Hope you’re all well rested! Make sure to drink enough water too!” She called out to the mass of people. Y/N understood that these people had to make a living and if you were nicer to them, they were bound to return the favour, although that was easier said than done.

Verstappen kept a pleasant expression as he continued to walk past people, signing hats along the way. 

“When can we stop this damn circus act?” He hissed into her ear, his voice sounding like the grind of gravel. 

“Whenever your PR Manager lets us.” She replied, her smile unfaltering as she kept walking beside him.

“This is all a stupid waste of money and time.” He grumbled under his breath. “This whole relationship thing and the sponsors.” Y/N cocked her head knowingly and replied,

"You need those sponsors and so does RedBull. Anyways, don’t give me a hard time because of it, yeah? I’m just doing my job to the best of my ability.” It wasn't as if she didn't want the money, however she also did it to help out Danny. Apparently the situation had made Max a little crabby.

Max sighed, “You have no idea who many different people we have to play happy couple for to satisfy the sponsors.” to which Y/N smirked and retorted with.

“I dunno, maybe the whole world, Mr Formula 1 World Champion?” Max rolled his eyes dismissively, effectively losing his facade.

“Do you know how much the sponsors pay me to keep you around? Don’t smart mouth me man.” He spat out, scowling and crossing his arms defensively. He pointed at the camera’s who had now turned back to you at the suddenly escalating conversation as moths were drawn to light.

Luckily they hadn’t heard the conversation, only seen the wild gestures that Max had thrown out in exasperation. 

Y/N, being the quick thinker she was, gently patted his shoulder and stepped closer to him,

“Calm down mate, they’re looking at us. Let’s just get inside the paddock yeah? Then we can argue when we get to the motor home.” She whispered slowly, hoping to ease his stress.

“Whatever, " Verstappen muttered, his voice ever harsh and monotonous.

He led her by the small of her back past the photographers and past the gates and into the paddock. He kept you firmly by his side while remaining silent. It seemed like he wasn’t going to talk until they were both tucked into a private building. Or as private as it would get.

As they briskly walked by, they passed some children who were staring in awe at Max. Y/N smiled at the children and tugged on his short sleeve gently.

“Max, give them an autograph! Look, they're so cute. This one’s wearing a mini version of your race suit!” She exclaimed, clearly taken by the children who were bubbling with energy.

Max, as a result of Y/N’s excitement, stopped walking and looked over at her with his signature grim expression before seeing the children. His eyes shifted and his expression became light hearted and almost charming.

“Yeah, alright I’ll sign a few things for you guys.” He grinned at the kids that had gathered around began thanking him incredulously in adoration as their favourite Formula one driver signed their shirts and caps.

Max suddenly turned to Y/N with a small smile,

“Here,” he said, handing her a sharpie, “You should sign one too. They’ll like it.” Y/N shook her head, shy from the sudden attention. 

“But I’m not famous like you. They don’t know me.” She turned to the children, sheepish, waiting for them to collectively agree. Yet, to her surprise one of the younger girls reached out to hug her and exclaimed,

“I know you! You’re Max’s girlfriend! My older brother says you’re pretty!” The little girl beamed up at her and pointed at an older male of similar facial structure who was blushing.

Y/N laughed in surprise and smiled brightly at the young girl.

“Hey love! Would you like me to sign your shirt?” She kneeled down to face the girl and all the younger kids. The children that were now surrounding you went crazy, screaming “Yes!” and “Please!”

They held out their belongings for her to sign, clearly overjoyed. She laughed in delight while Max looked on, while chatting to other young fans.

Y/N gave each of them a hug before signing their shirts.

“Oh and here!” She took out a large ziplock bag that was filled to the brim with friendship bracelets she had made for the fans.

“Take these! There’s enough for all of you.” She ruffled the closest childs hair. Max watched in amusement as the children who were absolutely beside themselves, trying on their new bracelets.

“You’re good with the fans,” he said, actually sounding genuine and kind for once. Y/N shook her head, smiling and waving at the children still as they walked away.

“Nah, I just love the kids. I want them to have good memories that build into hope and motivation.” She looked at Max and gave him a small smile.

“That’s very kind of you.” Verstappen replied, sounding surprisingly sincere. They both walked towards the motorhouse and as they reached the entrance Max opened the door for Y/N and signalled for her to enter.

Y/N walked through, thanking him on the way and waved hello while passing all the staff and volunteers of the Red Bull team.

The pair made their way, through all the greetings and then into Max’s room where Max closed the door behind them both and then turned to face Y/N.

“Alright, no more fake smiles or pleasantries. He sighed, “Do you know how long we’re stuck with this whole fake relationship thing?” He asked while plopping down onto his bed, unceremoniously to which Y/N shook her head. She herself was unsure.

“Nope. I was hired for a year-long contract but it wasn’t definitive,” She sighed and sat down on his chair and spun to face him.

“I think it wouldn’t be too bad for us to be friends Max.” She sat forward with her elbows on her knees.

“It’s not like we’re attracted to each other. It would make life easier if we got along, no?" Max stared at her, inquisitive.

“Friends.” He said slowly, almost as if tasting the word before he tilted his head to say,

“Friends don't usually get paid to be with one another.” Max raised his eyebrows.

“But, I guess being friends wouldn't be too bad. It’s not like anything would happen between us anyways.” Y/N nodded and chuckled, 

“I mean, I get paid to pretend to be your girlfriend. We could totally do it from afar y’know?” she shrugged, smiling.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Max said sarcastically. 

“I’ll just yell ‘I love you’ through a megaphone at you from a distance and we’ll keep it going that way.” He smirked mischievously, crossing his arms to which Y/N burst into laughter in sheer surprise. 

“Right! That would get all the fans roaring.” She chuckled loudly, enjoying his dry humour.  She gave him a genuine smile before asking, 

“You’re really funny when you want to be huh?”

Verstappen rolled his eyes with a subtle upturn in lips at your amusement. Y/N had an instinct that he was proud of the reaction he got out of her.

“I’m funny all the time.” He retorted, “You’re just not smart enough to pick up on it.” He said with a cocky smile.

 

~~

AND THATS THE TEASER! please comment if you'd like the rest!? Thank You for reading!

[dailycass-cain]

It's been A LONG TIME, but I feel I am so gonna have to catch up on my thoughts with Birds of Prey. So tonight I'm gonna do a three-parter.

Tonight, part 1 will cover #9-10. So let's start with my thoughts on the two issues.

Starting off, this issue means a bit to me three-fold as #1 it occurred during the character's anniversary month.

#2 Artist Jonathan Case once again draws the character (having gone to town with the character in Batgirls #14).

#3 said GORGEOUS AAPI variant cover by Phillip Tan and Elmer Santos. I remember seeing Tan's Cass at a C2E2 a few years ago and nabbing the print (for myself and a friend). He always drew a nice Cass, and I'm glad AT LAST he drew an official one.

As for the issue itself, it's a nice beginning piece to the new arc as the Birds are basically lost trying to find Babs, along with figuring out their new surroundings.

For the special costume given to Cass this issue. I saw an article via Screenrant going into detail on how edgy this suit gives off.

I agree it does, but also to a degree of how maybe she views herself internally. Though of all the unique designs, I'm quite curious on how the artists throughout this arc corresponded with writer Kelly Thompson on the unique looks to each Bird.

Regardless the "Victorian Era" Birds as I view this issue give a very Gothic style and lend to the twists and turns this issue has.

Which, leads into one of the major moments Cass gets in the issue.

The first is a move hyped on the covers during the first arc: Barda launching Cass via a fastball special.

The moment had me squeeing as we get our first tag team move of the two and I hope there is MOAR from them besides the old classic (which you can't go wrong with).

The Birds rescue Babs, and for the briefest of moments everything "seems" right, but well Thompson remembers something OTHER writers kind of neglect with Cass.

In that, she can tell when someone is not truly themselves and is a walking lie detector.

It's a brief, but if "you're in the know" of the character, yeah Cass would easily see via a few steps of body language and behavior that Babs wasn't really Babs.

It's a character quirk that a lot of writers usually overlook coughs some Batman writers coughs.

Again, Dinah trusts Cass 100% with her insight (as the series has already established) and attacks "Babs" and we get out fight in the issue: the Birds vs. this mangled Bat Babs creature.

This issue also feels like the closest meta Thompson has regarding the whole Babs as Batgirl in the issue too. If you take in the fact that her costume has a rather "classic" look to it. And well...

And that leads me to the only downer of the issue because like the Birds themselves, as the reader we are left clueless as they are as to whom or what is behind all of this.

However, for this "one and done" different look. I'll give it being something totally different and again this series trying something new (akin to what we've gotten in the first arc).

Case's art is still stunning, and though more minimalist (compared to his Batgirls issues) still packs a punch. The costumes and crazy demon she-bat Babs still pops in my head.

I just wish we got more information other than the teases for the issue, but this is an unfolding story and like the Birds I'm here for the ride.

Birds of Prey #10 continues this wacky out-of-this-world adventure this time with a 50s twist that has the same dark edge of the prior issue. So what about the Cass within? Well...

Again, another artist of Batgirls helps with the issue as we get Robbi Rodriguez (who's been drawing A LOT of Cass granting 2016 me a wish) and Gavin Guidry on art duties.

Their art compliments the setting within the issue with this 50s to 60s style with a dark undertone (like the prior issue).

So the issue begins with the newest suits we get a '66 version of Cass. The suit itself uses a bit of what we got with the '66 bat costumes but we get Cass bits to it. The bat symbol. The belt. Oh hey! A domino mask! How Black Bat of this suit!

I do love the look, and for a "66' Batgirl" look for Cass checks all the boxes making it different from Babs' look.

Though I have to admit it's weird that Babs herself looks a lot more like her short-lived Sean Murphy bat ears look than something more to her '66.

We also get A LOT of exposition in the issue of what's going on, why someone is targeting Babs, and HOW this is happening.

And it works for me given well we need that info dump and this does feel like the part where we NEEDED this. Even if it does feel like a slight retread of Megaera from the first arc.

However, with one tiny bat twist…

The big fight for this issue is the Birds vs. a corrupted Barda. And oh dear me she is utterly terrifying. But like I said we get a twist, and it is SOOOOO Cass-characterization perfection.

Instead of a brutal fight between the two new friends we get Cass trying to reason to Barda, knowing the New God can beat this on her own.

The moment between the two is just SOOO Cass. Akin to so many stuff with the character in the past. Thompson just GETS Cassandra Cain as a character.🥺

If there's any really nitpick of this issue I have is this issue felt so quick. Like we get so much info, Possessed-Barda, Cass does Cass thing, and that's it. I kind of wish we got more but I get we're sprinkling the Sin and Vixen stuff for later.

But man, Barda/Cass are just the anchor of this series period. Their friendship is something I always wanted and this series hasn't disappointed. I can't wait when Thompson repays this with Barda coming to Cass's aide or does this.

I KNOW THIS IS COMING.

I just wonder WHEN and if I'll have tissues for this moment when Barda unleashes hell or shows this compassion to free Cass from whatever bind.

But yeah Birds of Prey has been my favorite book of the early half of the month, with Tec always complimenting it for the back half.

[sibylsleaves]

I'm just wondering where the Taylor posts are with women explicitly saying that they see themselves in her and being told that if they are like her they're horrible people? Or being dismissed? Or being told that fandom isn't about them? Even when their gender/sexuality is the driving force behind 90% of fandom?

Y'know, since all things are equal.

ok, i'm going to answer this even though it's clearly not in good faith but it's a good example of completely missing my point.

Under a cut for my mutuals who do not want to be subjected to Discourse (i feel you...i really do...)

I don't have a problem with people hating Taylor Kelly. My point is that fandom hated on her, and honestly almost ALL of Buck/Eddie's love interests in the past. and that people made harmless jokes about them and no one had an issue with it. we were all on the same page that they were jokes, and that it was ok to hate this character because she was kind of mean, or did some bad stuff in the past, or treated your faves badly, or the actress was homophobic, or she was in the way of the main ship, or whatever.

now people are doing the same thing to the new Buck's love interest, Tommy. and they are being told they are bad and wrong and terrible homophobes for making the EXACT same jokes and head canons and interpretations of every micro-expression. and the reason they are bad and wrong and terrible homophobes is because now there are people in the fandom who like that character and like that ship.

and look, it's a great thing that men in this fandom see themselves in Tommy and enjoy the relationship. But not everyone does or will and they aren't doing anything wrong by hating him/the ship. or joking about hating him. or interpreting every scene with him in the worst possible light. and if you genuinely feel attacked and threatened by this then I'm very sorry, but not everything that makes you uncomfortable is something that is objectively morally wrong and must be stopped. And I will also say, I don't see everything or even a large chunk of everything that goes on in fandom so i'm sure some of it really IS that bad. and certainly some of the Taylor hate was too! This is why god (tumblr) invented the block button.

And sincerely, I'm sorry if you're having your first experience with a fandom hating on a character who you identify with, but no one (or at least the VAST majority of fandom) is hating on Tommy because he's a gay man. And perhaps you might reflect on the millions of women, and especially women of color, who have had their faves relentlessly and virulently hated on explicitly because of their gender and race in every fandom ever since the beginning of time.

And I'm not trying to say there aren't any truly toxic contingents of this fandom. I'm certain there are. However, they're pretty easy to filter/block out. You know how I know this? Because I do not see them.

I do NOT agree with anyone telling people they are horrible for liking Tommy or shipping BuckTommy and I never will. Just like i do not agree with anyone telling people they are horrible for NOT liking Tommy. Or Taylor. Or Abby. or Ana. Or literally whoever. (Although if you hate Chimney i will not fuck with you. but we all have a right to our own terrible & arbitrary opinions!)

And finally, fandom is not about any one person or group. it is about the show and the fanfic and the edits and the fanart and the headcanons and all of us spending our free time sitting here talking about it for some fucking reason!!!

[chrliekclly]

if you ever want to talk about your thoughts on joyce .. Peeks over the corner of your blog. i love talking and hearing ppls thoughts on joyce sooo much even if they're different from my own!! and your analysis and stuff is always so well thought out

i hope u dont mind if i answer this publicly to take advantage of th request nd get my ideas out ther (also tyvm im happy u like my insane takes on these idiots, iv ben thinking abt them for almost 10 years)

i said a lot here so gnna 'read more' it

iv ben building trans charlie n my head fr, like i said, nearly 10 years. i used to view him as cis bcuz i always try to take as much frm th source material as i can wen i craft my HCs nd i had v personal (stupid) hangups insofar as him explicitly referring to his junk multiple times nd bottom surgery simply not being on my radar as a naive littl trans idiot deep in th sauce tht transmen oftn fall into w phallo being viewed so so poorly

evn still i leaned towards transmasc charlie nd always lovd moments tht let me imagine, for a moment, it being true, like his discomfort w taking off his shirt [hundred dollar baby, charlie kelly: king of the rats, the gang exploits the mortgage crisis, young charlie and mac deleted scenes, etc etc etc], or bonnie yelling abt ppl stealing her "charlie-girl" [the waitress is getting married] which i lovd to see as her accidentally misgendering him while drunk off her ass.

having grown out of my phallo issues (nd if ur reading this and u still view phallo super poorly, please do some research and grow too), ive in recent years fully subscribed to transmasc/nb charlie, and view his timeline something like this:

baby -> elementary: charlie refers to himself as a boy, doesnt "come out," simply has no idea he's afab. bonnie lets him dress however he wants and refers to him as asked. when charlie gets confused about his genitals, bonnie says his dick will grow in later lol, makes charlie wear a dress in public restrooms and tells him its just a game

middle: puberty hits and charlie gets confused and scared. bonnie puts him on blockers w.o explaining them ("my mom used to vaccinate me like every month" [the gang gets quarantined]) charlie goes on content and oblivious. STP acquired because hes "a late bloomer" and his dicks still not growing in?? weird. confides this in mac once, but he doesn't understand.

high: charlie finally registers that he's trans after forgetting theres a health class 1 day and not being able to skip it. throws him for a loop a bit but he becomes actively invested in his goals. he gets to start T and wants to have surgeries. "what guy hasnt done some extensive research on his own genitalia?" [mac is a serial killer]

college (aged): able to surgically transition (ty medicare) and continues on with life as we kno him now

joyce, imo, fits neatly into these views.

as a transmasc nb who came out young nd prefers to be seen as just A Guy by strangers, i grew up v vehemently against anything girly that might get me misgendered, but th more i began to 'pass,' th more @ home n my body i felt, th more and more comfortable i am w femininity, th more i wdnt mind putting on a dress, as long as th general public wd see me as "a man in women's clothes." n my mind, i prescribe something not exactly th same but v similar to charlie.

i see charlie "i dont really identify" kelly as afab and nb. i see joyce as a "character" he originally created to distance himself from the dysphoria of putting on a dress as a young trans boy, but that became part of him as the hard lines he drew in the sand as a child became blurry with age and self acceptance. charlie's comfort with himself allows joyce to evolve into a more solid persona, one he enjoys embodying and allowing to become a permanent facet of who he is. he's ok with being referred to as either. they're both him.

so maybe joyce comes out a bit more outside of the bathroom now.

[crowngamer901]

My Splatoon OCs' GrandFest outfits: The Concepts and the Final Models

(I’m looking at the last three with the names and I’m realizing how bad my hand-writing looks lol)

(Also I have no clue how long of a post Tumblr will allow me to make so this may be broken up into multiple posts/reblogs)

So a while back, everyone was designing GrandFest outfits for their OCs. Me, being a Blender user, was like "WHOA THAT'S SUCH A COOL IDEA I WANT TO JOIN IN!!!!" but obviously I have no modeling-from-scratch skills yet. The only thing I know how to do in Blender is how to attach Splatoon 2 clothing to a Splatoon 3 model and how to use Edit Mode to cut away pieces from a model.

BUT I WAS DETERMINED TO DO SOMETHING REGARDLESS OF MY ART SKILLS

So I quickly rendered the first render with Autumn (who wears a custom hairstyle of Haircut + Megalobraid here), Jewel, Derek, Monica, and Hunter - my agents - with the intent of just making outfits for them. I saved the aforementioned render to my iPad, opened Procreate, and began drawing. I wasn’t really going for any kind of theme for any of the outfits, and wanted to do some really custom clothing that didn’t exist in-game. I did, however, take inspiration from some of the clothing that already existed but that was about it.

It took two days to finish (as you can tell by Jewel and Derek having one date and Autumn, Monica, and Hunter having a different date) but it was fun! So fun, in fact, that I decided to make more outfits. 10 MORE OUTFITS, IN FACT. But that comes later, as one day I got bored and decided to actually attempt to model the outfits in Blender! And that was also fun! Yeah, it took the whole day but more importantly it was fun! So fun, in fact, that it only pushed me to make those 10 more outfits. So now we have everyone else’s outfit concepts (with actual existing clothing in mind), and the resulting Blender versions.

BEHOLD!

Jewel/Agent 3 (with a bonus bald pic showing her earrings)

Derek/Agent 5 and Kelly, with their matching rings (I LOVE THIS SHIP SO MUCH)

Found family brother-sister duo of I-Wei and Priscilla

Autumn/Agent 4 (with her usual hair) and Monica/Agent 8 with matching glasses

Hunter/Neo Agent 3 and Stitches, the two shortest characters in the line-up

Alecs, Kimberly, Ezra, and Morgan

And last but not least, Jeremy and Kaden

(Everyone's expressions in these screenshots match the ones I picked for the drawings)

I am SO HYPED to actually render everyone in their outfits but first I gotta go texture the GrandFest venues *cries*

Happy to answer any questions you might have about their outfits (like what clothing I used for everyone)

[whumprecs]

I've been telling friends about one of my favorite shows, Magnificent Seven, from late 90's, which was also probably my first foray into fandom. I don't even know why I or even how I found fanfic back in 1998 - but I did, and I have loved them ever since. But it's not just the show that I love, it is the fandom. Maybe because it was almost all older women, or maybe people were just nicer back then - there were no ship wars. None. Not even a thing. 99% of the fandom is genfic A++++ Found Family, but the ones who did ship characters together Shipped and Let Ship. Nobody bothered anybody. And there were like 7 or 8 widespread AU's that everyone agreed on - there was the OG Old West where the show was set, but then there was the WILDLY popular (to the point I thought THAT was the actual premise for the show, and 10 year old me was very shocked to find it was a western) ATF AU where the characters were federal agents. There was Lil Britches, which had several of the characters are children and the rest are adults, there's Star Trek and Star Wars, and them as private detectives, WWII soldiers, etc. The lists are endless. And none of them are bad.

And almost every single one of them is whumpy as fuck.

So I'm going to recommend my favorites:

The South Wind Series by Beth aka Midge

Replaced by Heather F

Pied Piper by Kelly A

Rough Beginnings by Shawna

The Devil's Bargain by Sue Necessary

Aftermath by BMP

Black and White by Violette

Abandoned by Jean

Ezra, In Between by MAC

Tuesday's Child: Lessons of Grace by Joy K

Run Like Hell by Beth aka Midge

Don't Know From Adam by Jordan Mckenzie

Bearing the Pain by Angela B (crossover with Big Valley)

All Things Considered by Nilah H

I could list pretty much every one I've ever read - I don't actually know that I read an M7 fic I didn't care for. However, almost all of these listed authors have more than one fic (some have a LOT more). So if you like them, more are easier to find. I haven't actually looked to see what's available on Ao3 or even ffn.net - because neither site existed when the fandom was in its heyday and everyone had their own web page for posting.

[mylittleredgirl]

m*a*s*h reaction post released from my drafts!! i don't know why i have been worried about making a Good Post when legitimately everything that could ever be said about this show has been said.

so i will SHARE MY THOUGHTS ABOUT SEASON THREE currently in progress:

ooooh war got a sweet budget increase in the off-season. pyrotechnics! helicopters! ACTIONNN BAYBEEEE

i'm falling more in love with everyone, details to follow

top of the list: trapper my bestie has been promoted to trapper my legit fictional crush 💕

don't get me wrong, in real life i would slap his face, but i'm with hot lips on this one. the hair, the smile, every time he takes off his shirt... take me to the supply tent or lose me forever

HOWEVER, i happened to notice that he is not on the header pic on hulu* and none of you talk about him so i must regretfully conclude that he will eventually leave the show

DON'T TELL ME WHEN

anyway i am cherishing him as one cherishes an old dog not long for this world

*speaking of hulu: i have now joined the henry blake appreciation society thanks to this One Weird Trick (reupping my hulu account for a month because i lost my shit after the dvds cut out at the climax of an episode AGAIN)

i went back to rewatch the episodes that didn't play on the dvds, and turns out a lot of them were henry eps (including the trial of henry blake and the one where he is waiting for news about his new baby...) (and also the one where he fell in love with a cheerleader but you can’t win ‘em all)

just in time to appreciate that scene in "o.r." where he tells hawkeye he doesn't want to be discharged so that he can keep doing real doctoring 🥺

"o.r." had so many good character bits!! even frank got some depth?? or at least an explanation for why he's Like That...

other eps i liked:

"iron guts kelly" -- felt like a follow-up to the one last season where hot lips got wasted and broke up with frank and then hawkeye and trapper had to sober her up, which i also loved! "we hate her but she's OURS to hate" is such a good character dynamic.

also lmao every time she cheats on frank, GET YOURS GIRL 😘

the frank/margaret thing is strangely compelling actually? it's like an inverse ship for real. will-they-or-won't-they but for breaking up. same energy though, like i'm glued to the screen rooting for them to fight instead of kiss.

"check-up" i was sooooo brave you guys making peace with the situation BUT THEN TRAPPER STAYED!!! i feel like my crush has been given a stay of execution

i don't know if i ship it per se but i really hope he and margaret hook up exactly once and literally everyone regrets it

i've seen some more episodes and have more thoughts but i need to lie down a lot first

oh one more thing:

i realize "m*a*s*h actors amazing" is not breaking news, but i'm specifically obsessed right now with how they are always interacting with props. i don't even mean the o.r. tools or scripted things, but how in every scene they're doing comedy while also moving crap around, pouring things, drinking, shaving, changing clothes, handing (or THROWING) things to each other, just making a mess all the time while still hitting their lines and comic beats. it's a master class in whatever that is.

anyway it's so good!!! more to come 💕

[throatofdelusionincarnate]

Would.

Hi Scarlet Hollow nation, I’m being completely normal about Dr. Joan Kelly I promise (I’m lying)

I want to make it clear that I don’t condone her actions. She is a horrible woman who caused irreversible trauma to her son and she should be held accountable for it. People do insane things when they are scared and I think that’s especially true for her. I know a lot of people are like “If Reese was my son I would figure out coping methods to prevent him from becoming a monster.” And sure! Maybe you would! But logically, I think watching your virgin birth child’s bones crack and reform would psychologically fuck you up. ESPECIALLY when it mainly happens when he’s mad. Like!! Imagine telling your son no to staying up late and he morphs into a creature that can easily overpower you and kill you because he’s unreasonably pissed. We don’t know what Reese was like in those three other instances. While he’s generally just kinda depressed now, we’ve seen first hand how his emotions take over when he’s angry.

And don’t come at me. I know that Reese becoming a monster is a metaphor for neurodivergence and mental illness! I also love his character and could write a novel on him because I think he’s great! However, within the physical world of Scarlet Hollow, he literally transforms into like an 8 foot tall monster who can unhinge his jaw and murder people. While from our perspective, it may be something to examine and find the symbolism in, from the Scarlet Hollow perspective he is akin to a massive predator with magical powers.

I just think it’s important to recognize that Joan is also a victim of the horrible town of Scarlet Hollow. The methods which she uses to survive are NOT ok. Again, i want to make it clear that I DONT condone her poisoning her son. Still, I can see why she felt the need to do what she did. She is a complicated character, as are all of the Scarlet Hollow NPCs.

Back to being silly now! I also like her because she’s hot and I would let her commit acts of medical malpractice on me <3

[demiesworld]

Can you write this?

Modern day Hantengu Quad Squad. College AU. The brothers are all in different classes but all are thirsting over the same girl who’s in some of their classes. They each try flirting with her, and she thinks she’s being hit in by the same guy numerous times.

【♛ demie: i like this idea it's super cute. idk if you listen to rnb songs, but this reminded me of the song "same girl" by usher & r. kelly.】

𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞?! [kny]

anime: demon slayer

characters: sekido, karaku, aizetsu, urogi, akaza (mentioned), douma (mentioned), kokushibou (mentioned), rengoku (mentioned), & muzan (mentioned)

contents: swearing, suggestive content, college!au, human!clones, afab!reader, reader uses she/her pronouns.

notes: the hantengu brothers are all 22 years of age. everyone mentioned in this is described as being human. yes i made the infinity castle as infinity academy bc why tf not? also i do not understand how japanese schools operate, formally, so i am trying my best to keep this as accurate as possible. peep the hints i throw in before each brother is revealed :)

click here for more quad squad series!

You are a new transfer student at the Infinity Academy and today was your very first day at your new school. You were a student at your current school's rival, Kimetsu Academy, however due to some unresolved complications with them, you had transferred over to Infinity Academy. So far you thought the new school was quite captivating especially with its students that attended it. You met the top three popular seniors of the academy, Kokushibou, Douma, and Akaza. They were assigned by the head of the school, Muzan Kibutsuji, to give you a tour of the buildings.

Kokushibou you could describe as an alluring young male. He had shoulder-length wispy black hair that changed into red at the tips. His piercing eyes were the similar to the color of your mother's favorite wine sangria. You in addition admired his beauty for his smooth ivory skin. In short, you thought of him as being virtually handsome.

Douma, on the other hand, possessed a captivating semblance that you couldn't discern. You didn't know if it was because of his physical looks or the charismatic pull he had. Either way, you were for the time being amazed with the young man. He towered above you, as did most men do, and would look at you with those what you would call prism irises. You were unable to call them a specific color since they appeared to shift from hazel to blue to green and you swore you saw them change into a shade of purple. His platinum colored hair was a standout too.

Akaza appeared to be a delinquent and bad news in your opinion, at least before you learned more about him. While he was shorter than Kokushibou and Douma, he made up for it in his muscular build. He had pale blue colored eyes that you initially thought were false contacts. The black denim vest he was wearing with ripped out sleeves exposed three thick black stripes on each forearm. Not only that he had vibrant fuschia-dyed hair complemented by matching color wispy eyelashes.

Your impression of Kokushibou was being quite reserved and reticent while he along with his upperclassmen showed you around. Though he did speak up when either of the two men gave you false or wrong information about things. He would also reprimand the two from bickering and causing a scene in front of you. In the midst of the tour, Kokushibou had to leave early due to a class he was required to attend as the teacher's assistant.

Then there was Douma who you thought of as suspicious with his outlandish stories that he was telling you. You didn't believe any of them. You perceived his personality as being apathetic, immature, yet positively gravitating due to his charm and approachable demeanor. Had it not been for his backhanded comment about your school attire you would have showed an interest in him.

Lastly was Akaza, or as Douma revealed to you Hakuji. He promptly told you to only call him Akaza whenever you'd see him. He was certainly the most tolerable out of the trio. Douma had told you that Akaza was a former student at Kimetsu Academy, like you, before he transferred to Infinity Academy during his second year. When you asked Akaza why he had switched schools so suddenly, after Akaza had fought with Douma over revealing it to you, he briefly stated it was because of his behavior. Which he didn't want to elaborate to you, and you didn't want to continue after that.

They were a pretty interesting trio.

As soon as your little tour with the three upperclassmen had ended, you were escorted by Akaza to your homeroom class. Douma left you two alone because he had "better and important" things to do. Which you two were thankful for, because Douma was exasperating. Akaza let you know that since you were a sophomore your classes would be held in a different building than theirs, and you wouldn't be seeing much of them after today. You told him you would be fine and watched him leave before walking into your homeroom.

You were greeted by an almost empty classroom, which you understood because you showed up just five minutes early before the bell even rang. There were a few students that sat in desks and were occupied with either their phones, doodling in notebooks, or talking in small groups. Plenty of empty chairs as well. You walked over to an empty desk, placing your backpack on the top of the desk.

The small group of students had stopped talking amongst each other to give you quick glances. You heard them being silent and gave them a side-eye glare, but didn't acknowledge their presence.

Just then a male student with shoulder-length wavy black hair and the finest of sun-kissed skin strolled through the threshold of the classroom. As he entered, he lifted a hand up to tap against the top frame of the door. He had his bag slung over his right shoulder, his arm unintentionally flexing his muscles because of the secure grip he had. A wide toothy beam was on his face as he went over to the teacher's desk and started to shuffle through the papers that were neatly aligned.

"Come on, I know you fucking graded my shit already teach'," the boy murmured to himself while continuing his aggressive search for whatever it was.

At that moment the homeroom teacher walked in holding a stack of papers in his hands. When he saw the male student at his desk, messing with his graded assignments, he sternly exclaims, "Hantengu!" The student flinches when he hears his surname being yelled and turned on his heel to face the teacher when he warns, "Get away from my desk, now."

The young male held a hand up in surrender and said, "Relax teach' I was just looking for my test from yesterday." He took a step away from the desk when the teacher was coming towards it.

"Your test isn't even on my desk, boy. I knew you would try to find it, so I hid it from you." The teacher took a seat at his chair and glared daggers at the guy. "You're gonna have to wait till fourth period, now go sit down."

After clicking his tongue then making a muttered comment about waiting till the end of the day, the male student turned his back to the teacher to go to his desk. Which was the same spot that he'd sit in during his fourth period class, and the spot you were now occupying. He stopped in his tracks when he saw his currently filled in seat. His eyes had a gleeful gander when he saw you there. He had to admit you were pretty damn cute in the black pleated skirt, black thigh-high socks, white low top sneakers, a nice snug cream collared shirt, and beige cardigan.

A sly smile came on his lips, "Well damn," he said aloud, the young male went over to sit in the empty desk behind you. When he walked past he made a flirtatious comment, "It's not even my birthday, but I got a nice piece of cake sittin' in my seat."

You turned around in the chair to face him with a pointed glare, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, sweet cheeks," He responds to you with a grin on his handsome face. "You must be new here then, because usually people don't sit in my seat."

Instead of antagonizing him about the nickname he just gave you, you crossed your legs and folded your arms to your chest. "And why don't people sit in your seat? I don't see a name on it."

He points up to the air vent that's directly above your head. "I get hot pretty quick, so I like to be 'neath the air vent right here." He puts his hands behind his head, reclining in the chair and facing up at the ceiling. "But you're fine sittin' right there, sweet cheeks, because after all," he lowers his head to look at you with a grin. "You're keepin' my seat warm 'nd I like the view."

You were flabbergasted by his attitude, but you couldn't hide the smile that was twitching on your face. You uncrossed your arms and leaned forward in the direction of this gleeful student. You ask, "What's your name Mr. Hantengu?" You use his surname as a way to tease him.

He rolled his eyes at you playfully and cracks into a smile when he hears your laughter. He likes it. "Don't call me that." He says, then adds, "My name is Urogi. What 'bout yours sweet cheeks?"

You tell him your name at the same time the bell rings the loud piercing dinging muffling your voice. Urogi was about to ask you to repeat yourself, but you turn around in your seat and face away from him. He pouts when he doesn't get to see your face anymore.

During the homeroom teacher going over the code of conduct, the academy's upcoming events, and other things that you weren't quite familiar with. You felt a tap on your shoulder and looked over it to see Urogi smiling at you.

You mouthed the word, "What?"

He murmurs, "I ain't bring a pencil with me today do you have one?"

What kind of student doesn't bring a pencil out of all things to school? Apparently Urogi does since he doesn't have one and is asking you for a spare. You were about to tell him "no" but he gave you a pleading stare. You fell for it and begin to dig through your own backpack for a spare pencil.

"I can't believe you just show up to school of all places without a pencil. Talk about being unprepared." You quip before handing him a pink mechanical pencil.

Urogi says as he grabbed the pencil, "Hey for your information, I do bring pencils to school," He then adds, "I just forgot to put my school stuff in my backpack this morning."

"Why were they not in there?" You wondered with a slight chuckle. You found Urogi to be quite the comical person, he was like a character in your opinion.

"I use my backpack as a gym bag." He said bluntly then presses down on the eraser to eject the lead. It was then he finally noticed that the pencil you had given him was pink. "What the- why the hell did you give me a pink pencil?"

"It was the only one I had in my bag," You lied. You actually had a pencil case with tons of other colors in your bag. You just thought of a masculine man like Urogi walking around with a pink pencil would be silly.

Urogi goes to argue with you about it, but you turn your back to him and ignore him during the rest of the class period. As soon as the class comes to an end, you are gathering your things and standing up from your seat. Urogi is doing the same as you.

"Well," you sigh, "I guess this is where we part ways, Mr. Hantengu." You sling your backpack over your shoulder mimicking Urogi's posture.

Urogi chastises you, "I told you not to call me that," He then rolls his eyes at how you're copying him. "You're such a little tease."

You cover a giggle with your hand then walk away from him. Urogi stood there for a moment just to watch you walk. Your hips rotating with every step you took. He knew that this school year with you would be fun. Especially since you were a new piece of eye candy. One that he hoped to snag a date with.

You read what class was next on your schedule and you let out a groan when you saw it was calculus. Of course it had to be that. You absolutely despised calculus since it was a difficult subject for you. The walk to your designated class room was dragged on because you weren't keen on attending it. But you had to, or else you'll be in trouble on your first day at this new academy.

You crossed through the threshold of the classroom's door and made a bee-line to an empty seat. The desks were aligned into three rows of five. In the upper right corner of the room beside the closed curtained window was a head of black wavy hair laying on top of a navy blue backpack. You opt to take a seat next to the person on their right.

From the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of the person's face. You furrow your eyebrows confusedly when you saw that it was Urogi sitting there next to you. If you remember correctly, you did leave the homeroom class before him. Though when you went to get a good look at their face you saw that his features were a bit softer. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully too. His lips were slightly parted as light snores came from him. It didn't make sense to you because Urogi was definitely wide awake and talkative during homeroom class.

You then had a hunch he was doing this to annoy you. You did had the impression that Urogi was a playful individual. So without a second thought you took a hold of the backpack and snatched it from underneath his head. With a thud his head hit the table and he jolted up in his seat.

"I'm awake!" He yelped, and then looked at his surroundings. He looks to his left, and then to his right. He sees you holding his backpack in your grasp and surprisingly he asks you in a soft voice, "I-I didn't sleep during the whole class again did I? Oh... that's so embarrassing." he covers his face with his hands.

You snicker at his confusion, and you revealed, "You didn't sleep through the whole class. You still have like three minutes before the class begins." You return to him back his backpack.

He takes the backpack and slides it in between his legs underneath the desk. "Oh... well I guess that is nice to hear." He sighs, and griped, "I just wish the school day would be over already. The fact that my first period class is this is absolutely dreadful."

You snort, "You and me both buddy."

There was something odd about Urogi. He was lacking that cheerful strong tone and instead had a somber soft voice. You didn't point it out though. You just assumed that maybe calculus was as much as his least favorite subject as it was yours. Then again calculus class couldn't possibly change a whole person's attitude right? ...Or could it?

You ignore the now sorrowful Urogi and go to focus on your attention on the class beginning. The teacher saw that you were a new student and asked that you introduce yourself to the class. To which you did, you stated your name and the previous school you had came from. Some people raised eyebrows when they heard you say you originated from Kimetsu Academy. Their rival school.

In calculus class, the teacher had given each student including you, a worksheet with formulas to answer. Once the teacher told you all that this worksheet would be timed and based on how many correct answers you got you had all started on it. The teacher did mention that a classmate could help a classmate.

You saw "Urogi" reaching into his backpack and take out a wooden pencil. You narrow your eyes at him and sneer, "You're such a liar." He turned his head to you with a bewildered expression and you continued, "I gave you a pencil during homeroom when you had one this whole time!"

He had a frown on his face as he answered you, "You did not... give me a pencil."

You curled your lips at the male and turned your attention to the worksheet that you needed to complete. He stared at you still confused. As far as Aizetsu knew, he never met you and didn't see you in his homeroom class at all. He looks down at the worksheet he was given; the formulas on the page was intimidating to him. He winced when he saw the numbers on the page slowly shift and jump around. He brought a hand up to his hair, and started pulling at his locks.

You could hear some grunting come from the man beside you. You gave him a side-eye while he was reading the piece of paper almost fearfully. His teeth were clenched, eyebrows furrowed, and a frown was on his lips. He looked pitiful compared to the charismatic man he was earlier.

While you weren't entirely good at calculus, you did recognize the formulas shown to you and could do them. You figured that Urogi struggled worse than you. A part of you wanted to just ignore him and let him suffer, however that sympathetic conscious you had seemed to overpower.

You sighed reluctantly as you scoot your desk closer to him and slam a hand on his paper. "Which one are you having problems with?" You questioned. Aizetsu glanced at you and you looked down at his paper. You emphasized, "You didn't even fill the first one out?"

He flinches, "Please don't yell at me," he then adds in a soft murmur, "I already get yelled at enough from Sekido."

You don't catch what he says rather you help him with his worksheet while at the same time completing yours. You only assisted him with the problems that you were familiar with and left him with the rest of the questions.

"Thank you..." he says softly to you, "For helping me with this. I have a learning disorder and things like this are hard for me."

You want to just pull him in for a hug and tell him it would be okay. To give him comfort. For him to reveal to you of his learning disability, you thought it was peculiar since you don't know him very well. However you chose to again ignore it. You suck your teeth and dismissively wave a hand to him. "No need to thank me. I just didn't want to see you struggle by yourself."

Aizetsu was surprised by your honesty and your kindness. It was normal for most people to reject helping him with calculus. The teacher would offer help the best they could however they couldn't just do it all of the time. Thus that left Aizetsu struggling with answering the equations all on his own. It was people like you who made him think that maybe there are nice people out there. You were admirable.

He lets a smile grow on his face, "Well you are rather kind."

You brush away the butterflies that you get in your stomach. He was admittedly cute the way he was acting with you now. You scoot your chair away from his desk to give him room. Soon enough the class ended, putting an end to both of your disdain for it. The bell rang signifying the conclusion, and you start to gather your things.

"E-Excuse me... I was wondering if maybe you'd... well... would you be interested in tutoring me with this?"

You look over your shoulder to see him standing there looking hopefully at you. Your eyes look him up and down, and Aizetsu felt as though you were going to ridicule him. He shifts his feet nervously, anticipating for you to reject his request. You surprise him again when you tell him yes.

"You will?" He asks.

You nod your head and respond, "I will give you my phone number so we can set up a time and place where we can do it." You take out a strip of paper from your backpack and write down your phone number along with your name to give to him.

Aizetsu delicately takes the paper away from you with a shy yet appreciative smile on his face. He goes to speak, but you interject, "That doesn't give you the right to bombard me with messages. Do you understand?" You point a finger at him.

He shake his head and stammers, "I-I won't do that to you. I promise."

You just grunt then walk away from him. He watches as you exit the classroom as he stands there holding onto the piece of paper written with your phone number on it. This was new for him. He had never achieved in getting a girl's phone number by himself before. He'd had to rely on Urogi or his older brothers for that. Aizetsu neatly folded the paper into a square and safely put it into the zipper pocket of his backpack.

As you were in the hallways of the building you read which class was up next for you. General chemistry. Nice another class that you definitely struggled in. Chemistry to you was similar to math. It involved numbers, letters, and most importantly you were dealing with elements. You roll your eyes, following the map to the classroom. The room was located on the third floor, so you had to walk up three flights of stairs just to get there. That was just strange. Who would keep a chemistry class on the top floor of a building? Didn't they know a thing about fires?

You cross through the threshold of the door into your second period class. As you take a seat at a vacant desk you see that there is a backpack with a leaf keychain sitting beside you. You hear the sound of a man laughing, and look at where it's originating from. You see him again. What the fuck? Does he have like every class with you or something? He's apparently laughing at something a girl is saying to him and for some reason this irks you.

You won't admit that you're jealous that "Urogi" is showing another girl attention. You refuse to. Your pride is way too high. Plus you've decided that he is no longer worth your time.

He says good bye to the girl at the classroom door before going over to the seat that is next to yours. Just great. You managed to sit beside him out of all people, and now you couldn't move because the other seats were being filled up. Looks like you'll have to endure his presence during this class. Hopefully this will be your last time seeing him for the day.

Karaku shakes hands with his male classmates, and winks at the female students. He knew he was a total flirt, but he didn't actively pursue a woman. In his belief, the right one would fall right into his lap when the time is right. That's why when girls would come up to him with love letters and confessions he would have to turn them down. He was popular among the women. Even the female teachers had somewhat of an attraction to him.

He was an handsome young man. He had long wavy black hair, tan skin, and a body that people described as being sculpted by the Greek gods. Plus he was the tallest out of all of his brothers. He stood at a towering 6"2' packed with beefy muscles. His smile was what brought out his looks since he had canines. Just recently he had gotten a tongue piercing to amplify his charm.

The young tan male took a seat next to you, not paying you attention and went out to take out his notebook for Chemistry class. This agitated you and you sneered, "You should give me back my pencil and my phone number you damn jerk."

Karaku thought you were talking to someone else and didn't respond to you. Although when you say, "Hey you asshole, I'm talking to you." he looked at you from the corner of his eye.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes you can," you snapped, "I want my phone number and my pencil that I loaned you. If you're such a big hot shot around here then you don't need any part of my help with tutoring." You stuck out your open palm up hand expectantly.

He thought this was just a game to test him. He played along and leaned in close to your face, "What if I don't want to give it away? I think I earned the right to keep it."

You start to fume and you groan frustratedly into your backpack. He just chuckles at your reaction, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back in his chair. Karaku didn't know who you were, but there was something about your attitude that attracted him. You were feisty and he liked that. Most girls would throw themselves at him, but you didn't do that.

Albeit he was confused about why you were hassling him about a pencil and phone number. He never met you until now!

The chemistry teacher began teaching the class and showing you all how to add compounds. As you were listening to the lesson, Karaku nudged you with his elbow. He asks in a whisper, "You never told me your name stranger."

"You already know my name you idiot. We're in the same homeroom and first period!"

"No I don't. I don't even remember you."

Did this guy fall on his head or something? Was he dropped at birth? Also why in the hell did he keep changing clothes? Why was his voice changing was he going through puberty again?

For the second time, you guessed it was, that day you were flabbergasted. You knew that Urogi knew who you were, and he kept playing around with your mind like this. If you knew he was a pathological liar with apparently a short-term memory you would have avoided being interested in him. You wouldn't have loaned him your pencil and given him your phone number out of the kindness of your heart.

You snarl, "I want for you to remember this. If I ever see your face again, things for you are going to get nasty."

"Ooh~" He then remarks, "I never would have guessed a pretty thang like you would be into that." His eyes openly ogle at your figure. "Then again that skirt and those thigh-highs you're wearing tell me everything I need to know."

Your face heats up as you lean away from him. Following that you implore, "What do you mean by that?" your voice trembling just slightly.

Karaku has this sly toothy grin on his face. You could see the sharp teeth he had as well as the brief flicker of his tongue piercing. In a low smoky voice he answered, "Easy access."

Throughout the rest of the duration of class you focus your attention onto the lessons the teacher was showing you. You didn't say another word to the man that was sitting beside you. Even as he was unknowingly flicking out his tongue when he was fixated on writing notes into his book. You could smell his cologne and he smelled so good. He smelled like a roasted peach and honey. Your eyes glance at the prominent veins in his hands and arm. His fingers were long and nimble.

No you couldn't be finding him sexy. You were pissed at him!

Karaku takes a deep breath then releases it, his strong firm chest rising and falling in the fitted two tone henley shirt he wore. He slithers out his tongue and thoughtlessly wiggles it around. You were just so happened to be watching him, and he just so happened to see you from the corner of his eye. When your eyes met, you jolt and look away meanwhile he just smirked and scooted his chair closer to yours.

"Listen pretty girl, if you just want a chance with me all you have to do is ask. I will definitely make it worth your while." He places his hand on your knee, what a bold move on his part.

Though you don't buy into his act. Urogi can be a pathological liar with short-term memory loss and a damned flirtatious pervert all his life if he wanted to. You, on the other hand, was not going to be a victim to his charades.

You swat the hand that was on your knee with yours. You threatened him, "You touch me like that again, and I will suffocate you."

Karaku thought you set yourself up for what he had to say next because what you just said to him was an open door. For him to respond, "Suffocate me? Let's be honest babe, if you suffocate me with those thighs of yours, I think I'll die a happy man."

Abruptly, the teacher told you all to begin packing your things as the next bell was going to ring soon. You start to do just that. Anything to get away from Urogi and his advances. To refrain from seeing his handsome face and hearing his painfully deep sensual voice. You hop out of your chair at the same time the bell does go off. In a rush you dash out of the chemistry classroom and dart down the staircase to get to the second floor of the building. You were panting by the time you made it there. You reach into your bag to grab your schedule and your third class before your lunch break started was global history.

This was a class you could enjoy. As it talked about what you knew best which was in fact historical events from many countries. This would be your last class before your lunch break. You could do this. You read the map and luckily the classroom was located on the second floor. Great. You didn't have to be running a marathon up and down stairs.

You make your way to the classroom, you felt drained already and the day wasn't completely over yet. You begin to wonder if maybe Douma was as insufferable as Urogi. Sure, the senior student did make that backhanded comment earlier about your outfit. However, his personality was nothing in comparison to Urogi. Who, in fact, must have split personalities! Because how can someone go from being happy to sad to a flirty bastard? Also the nerve, the audacity he had to touch you on your knee like that during chemistry class! How rude.

Once again you remind yourself that this is just the third period before your lunch break. As you enter the classroom you greet the teacher that is sitting at the desk with a friendly nod and wave. You inform them that you were a new student to the school. They welcome you and ask if you were comfortable with introducing yourself when class begins. You agree to it, and then go to find yourself a seat. Unlike this time you take a seat in the center of the room rather than in a corner.

Like routine, the classroom fills up with students and you think to yourself that you won't be seeing Urogi again. You were wrong. After you had introduced yourself to the class, the teacher shortly announced there would be an assignment you all had to do in pairs. You watch as student after student found the other half to their assignment. Meanwhile you were left alone. Your eyes scan the classroom for anyone, and then you froze.

What the absolute fuck?

There he was again! He changed clothes again, and this time he didn't look to pleased to see you either. He had this scowl on his face when your eyes met his. Your mind was racing with thoughts as to why he could be so pissed off with you.

Was he angry that you rejected his advances? No, no one should look at a person as if they hated every fiber of their being like this. The way he was glaring at you seemed like he wanted to destroy you. Or was this another trick he wanted to play with you since you were after all the new student to this academy? You convince yourself that that must be it. Urogi was behaving like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, simply because you were just a new student. One minute he's a happy clam next he's a sheepish fool then he's a flirty perverted bastard, and now he was a bitter man. You come to the conclusion, that maybe it was tradition for new students to suffer pranks from him.

You weren't going to be sucker for his shenanigans.

You match the energy that "Urogi" was giving you now. Your face also changed from a look of fear to one of annoyance.

"Are you just going to stare at me all day?" He grumbled.

You shrug your shoulders walking over to the empty seat beside him and tossing your backpack onto the surface of the desk. "I don't know, Hantengu, are you going to keep following me around like a damn fly?"

Sekido didn't know how you knew of his surname, but then again he and his brothers were quite the popular guys at Infinity Academy. He suspected that you must be one of Urogi's or Karaku's little playthings. Though you had guts to call him out of his name as other students didn't do that to him. Let alone talk to him because of his callous and blunt personality.

"What the hell are you talking about woman?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Don't play dumb with me you jerk. First I give you a pencil when you already had one, then you keep my phone number, and you had the balls to feel on me during the last class we had together." You let out a scoff, "You're a real piece of work."

The male next to you grunted, "You're either on drugs or you lost your mind. I'm just going to assume you've lost your fucking mind, because who do you think you are talking to me like that?"

"Who do you think you are you psychopath!" You shout in a hushed tone.

Sekido growls, "I'm going to ignore you. This is just childish and pointless arguing with an imbecile like you. I'm better than that."

You now conclude that Douma was more tolerable than "Urogi" was.

The two of you sit in silence in the classroom, just working on the assignment that the teacher had given you. This was a stressful first day at a new school for you. You let out an exhausted sigh as you rub your temple, feeling a headache like no other swelling in your head. From the corner of his eye, Sekido noticed your pained expression and uncomfortable posture next to him. His eyes drift down to his backpack resting beside his feet and he remembers that he carries headache relievers whenever a migraine of his comes around. Even though you and him don't know each other, and most definitely got off on the wrong foot, Sekido's sympathetic heart couldn't bear to see you in discomfort.

You were startled when something was slammed down on the desk in front of you. A large veiny hand covering a small object before it moved away to reveal a white pill container. The brand on it was one you recognized as being used to relieve headaches. You turn your head to "Urogi" next to you, a look of shock on your face.

He curled his lips at you and folded his arms across his chest. "Take it or leave it." He grumbles.

You wanted to just sass him for speaking to you rudely, but then again you did have a headache and while he was being an asshole to you. He was generous enough to let you take a pill to get rid of your headache. So you did the smart choice of opening the pill bottle and poured two red tablets into your hand.

"Let me guess you don't even have anything to drink either?" Sekido asked you, and he grunts when you look at him with a sheepish smile. Coming to the rescue once more, he takes out a room-temperature bottle of water out of his backpack and not-so-delicately placed it on the table in front of you. "You're welcome." He said.

You took the pills along with the water and handed the pill container back to him. You were going to return the water bottle as well, but he immediately told you, "Are you dumb or something? I don't need that back! You keep it!"

"I didn't even touch it with my lips-"

"Doesn't matter. I gave it to you, so keep it." Sekido huffs.

You murmur a timid, "Okay," and take a sip of the water. Afterwards, Sekido seizes your worksheet and looks at it. You go to take it away from him, but he holds a hand out to your face pushing you away. His narrowed eyes reading over the questions you had completed. He growls as he squeezes the sheet of paper in his hand.

He hisses, "This... the answers you've written for these questions are wrong." He tosses the paper back in front of you and scoots his chair closer to yours. He points a finger at one of the odd numbered questions you answered. "It's 1918 when the Spanish flu devastated Japan, not 1819. And this, is not the correct emperor of Japan during the Taisho era. The emperor was Yoshihito Taisho. It's literally in the name, damn it."

As he was continuing to show you the correct answers, you sat there gawking at him and was admiring him. While you did have to admit "Urogi" was handsome, but with how close he was to you now you could see the small details he had on his face. Long thick eyelashes, pointed nose, bold eyebrows and a stronger chiseled jawline that flexed each moment he clenched his jaw. Not to forget he had gorgeous tan skin. You could smell a light hint of cinnamon emanating from him.

You were so lost in staring at him that you didn't see him stop lecturing you until he snapped his fingers in front of your face. "Huh?" you sounded.

Sekido frowns, "Did you not listen to a word I said? I corrected your work for you, woman."

Your eyes look down to the crumpled sheet of paper that was now covered in red corrective marks and then back to him. Shockingly, at least to Sekido, you kindly smile at him and say, "Thank you for your help."

He grunts, "I'm helping you out because I don't want to get a bad grade on this assignment."

"You know you don't have to make excuses and reasons to justify your actions. If you're doing a kind act out of the kindness of your heart, then an explanation isn't needed." You then add, "I guess I should say I'm sorry for acting mean towards you too today. I didn't mean to yell and insult you like that. I was irritated because you took away a pencil, my phone number, and flirted with me during our last few classes."

Sekido's eyebrows raised and he whispers, "Last few classes?"

You either ignore it or you don't hear it. Either way you continue, "So you can keep my phone number and my pencil if you really want it that badly. Though I think pink makes you look silly, Urogi." You giggle.

'Urogi?' He thinks.

The bell rings signifying the end of the third period class and your lunch break. You gather up your belongings and wave goodbye to "Urogi" before you exit the classroom. Sekido feels butterflies in his stomach as he watches you walk away. While you were in his eyes a hothead for arguing with him, he knew you had a soft side and now he believes that he has one too. He gathers his things and makes his way to the cafeteria.

On his way there he grouped up with his brothers in the hallway. Each of them looked to be in a good mood. Shockingly, Aizetsu was smiling as he walked with a perk in his steps. Sekido grunts as he lead the other three to the cafeteria.

"...You should have seen her Karaku, I think you really would have liked her. She had the prettiest sparkling eyes. Her body is a literal work of art. Like Leonardo Dicaprio made it himself." Urogi told his identical twin, his arms folded behind his head as they walked.

Aizetsu interjected, "I think you meant Leonardo Da Vinci, Urogi."

"Whatever 'Zetsu. Why do you look so happy anyways? You're usually in a more sour mood like Sekido." Urogi grins when he hears the eldest brother huff and sees distance himself from their group.

The blue-eyed quadruplet softly says, "Hm, well... I-I got a girl's p-phone number?"

"What?!" Karaku and Urogi both exclaim.

Karaku points a finger at Aizetsu, "You? You got a girl's phone number and without our help? How?!"

Urogi snickers, "I bet he probably paid to get her number."

"Y-You're wrong! She gave her number to me and I didn't even have to ask her."

Karaku awes, "No way..." he smirks proudly at his younger brother and folds his arms across his broad chest, "Well I'll be damned Aizetsu. Looks like you do have that dawg in you."

Urogi disagrees, "He don't have shit. I betya' he's lyin' and this is all in his scrambled head."

While the three of them bicker with each other, Sekido calmly piles food on his tray at the buffet bar. His brothers follow suit, but still carried on with their conversation.

"Was she in one of your classes Aizetsu?" asked Urogi while he took a bowl of beef curry onto his plate.

Aizetsu nods his head and hums, "Yes. She was in my first period class this morning. When she woke me up, she claimed that I stole her pencil during homeroom class, but I don't even remember seeing her in there." He places a scoop of rice on his tray.

Karaku implies with a grin, "You're always sleeping during your morning classes so I bet 10 out of 10 you were asleep."

"I only sleep during my first period class Karaku."

As the four of them were done getting their food, Urogi turned to Aizetsu and asked, "If she's right here in this cafeteria point her out."

The second youngest of the brothers looked out into the crowd of people in the cafeteria. Aizetsu's eyes searched for you in the midst of the room. His lengthy time it was taking to find you made his brothers suspicious of his claim.

"Aizetsu," Sekido growls, "If you think this is funny-"

"There! There she is! That's her!" Aizetsu shouted excitedly, and he pointed his finger in your direction.

The brothers all look to where he's pointing and yes. It was you. The girl from Urogi's homeroom class. The girl from Karaku's chemistry class. The girl from Sekido's global history class. It was you. A girl that gave their pathetic brother Aizetsu their number.

"Her?" Urogi exclaims.

"Her?" Karaku questions.

"Her." Aizetsu sighs.

None of the brothers, beside from Sekido, could have figured out what was going on. The eldest of the quadruplets knew. Now he understoof why you yelled at him during global history class. You were in Urogi's homeroom when you gave him a pencil, saw Aizetsu in your first period when you gave him your phone number, then met Karaku in second when he was flirting with you, and lastly you met him and you assumed Sekido was all three men combined. You most likely didn't come to the fact that they were all quadruplets. This all made sense to Sekido now, why you called him Urogi before you departed earlier.

This was going to be great because not only did his younger brothers have a crush on you, so did he! He just didn't want to admit it. Sekido scoffs and turns his head away from your direction. His brother, Aizetsu, carries his tray with him while he shuffles to your empty table. His three brothers following closely behind him.

Aizetsu greets you, "H-Hi Y/N."

You look up from scrolling on your phone and to Aizetsu standing there not noticing the other men behind him. "Oh it's you again... and you changed back to your first period's clothes."

He frowns at your words, "I've been wearing this all day."

That's when you say with a snide, "Uhh...no you have not? Each class we were in you would change your clothes and act like a totally different person."

That's when the other brothers emerged from behind Aizetsu and they were looking at you pointedly. You finally notice them and your heart pounds when you see that every "Urogi" from your classes was its own person. There's "Urogi" from homeroom, the "Urogi" from chemistry, and the "Urogi" from global history. You stand up from your seat and pointed a shaky finger at all four of them. You could feel your heart drop into your stomach.

"W-What... so there's four of you Urogi?"

The real Urogi shrugged his shoulders and wiggles his hand while saying, "Eh... yes and no. Yes because they are all my older brothers and we're quadruplets. No, because they're all nothin' compared to the original." He grins.

Karaku adds, "And our names are all not Urogi. I'm Karaku." He delicately takes a hold of your hand placing a gentle kiss on the top of it. A sly smile on his lips, "It's nice to meet you."

The blue-eyed sibling introduced himself, "I'm Aizetsu,"

Then Sekido grunted, "Sekido."

You break out into a nervous fit of laughter as you stood there with your hand still in Karaku's hold. You blurted, "Ahaha! You've got to be joking! I don't want to believe it, but it's right here in front of me. S-So you're all brothers?!"

Karaku chuckles, "You got that right babe!"

Suddenly you could feel yourself getting weak and your skin becoming clammy. Sekido sensed it first because he told Karaku, since he was still holding your hand, to catch you before you fell. You did. You fell right into Karaku's arms, unconscious after the reveal of Urogi just being a quadruplet. The brothers, mainly Aizetsu and Urogi, fret over what to do with you. Sekido ordered them all to go to the nurse's office with you being carried in Karaku's arms. Urogi was jealous that he got to do it and not him.

He was also irritated that he found out, while you were unconscious, all of his brothers had an interest in you. All of them, including Sekido, which was strange to Urogi because he thought Sekido was virtually unsociable. It just wasn't fair, it wasn't right. He had met you first, and he had first dibs on you. Had they ever heard of the bro code? Apparently not.

"Oh I feel terrible that she's like this because of us. Do you think she's ever going to wake up? Poor thing." Aizetsu was worried for your wellbeing as he stood the closest to the cot you laid in and stroking your hair.

Urogi clenches his fist at Aizetsu and snarls, "You get your hand off of her! Don't touch her like that! She's mine!"

As soon as he heard that, Karaku objected, "Sorry to burst your bubble Urogi and 'Zetsu, but she's mine." He then adds, "She would want to be with a real man, not with a little kid."

"We're the same age you idiot!" Urogi yells at him.

"Didn't Sekido mention that she said you were inappropriately touching on her during class?" Aizetsu recalls and then he continues, "I think she is deserving of someone who will be gentle with her rather than an inconsiderate pervert." He side-eyes his older brother.

"Why you-"

Sekido interrupts Karaku by hitting him with a backpack. Then he repeats the action to Urogi and Aizetsu. Aizetsu whines in protest since he didn't actually get hostile like the other two. Sekido growls at for them to shut up and pointed out that you were waking up on the bed. They all turned their attention to your figure, stirring on the bed and your eyelids fluttering. You opened your eyes to see the four of them surrounding you on the bed.

You let out a sigh and cover your eyes with your arm. You lament, "How long was I out?"

"Ten minutes." Sekido answered you.

"...So you're all quadruplets?" You changed the topic and go to sit up, but Aizetsu told you to just take it easy. Your eyes look at each one of them for the first time and see that they did had their differences. You see that Aizetsu had blue eyes, Karaku's eyes were like a green color, Urogi's eyes were hazel almost golden, and Sekido had a red undertone in his dark eyes. Urogi and Karaku looked the most similar so you assume they were identical twins.

Karaku responds to your question, "Yeah we're quadruplets, but me and Urogi here are identical twins. The rest of us are fraternal."

You nod your head then sit up on the bed again. You feel slightly better than before. "So..." You heard Urogi say, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Just as they were going to chastise him, you promptly replied with a happy smile, "Yes, I do have a boyfriend!"

"What?!" The quadruplets exclaim.

"He goes to Kimetsu Academy, though, he doesn't go to this school of course. I plan on seeing him after my day is over." You explain to them while getting out of the bed and grabbing your backpack. "You can keep my number, Aizetsu, if you ever need help with calculus."

The brothers are appalled to find out that you had a boyfriend. This whole time you were a taken woman. They watch you leave and then decide to go about their day. It was hurtful for them to have to respect your relationship despite being so enamored with you. It was also even more painful when they discovered that afternoon your boyfriend was none other than Kyojuro Rengoku.

What a pity.

notes: this is finally finished! omg this took me forever to do. i thought i was going to have to deny this request but i think it came out pretty good! and do you guys like the new layout for the hantengu quad squad series? lol made by yours truly. leave feedback and reblog please lovelies!

© 2023 demiesworld. pls do not plagarize or repost on other sites without permission.

[littlerosetrove]

The point of this post is to explain why I, personally, enjoy Buck/Tommy. I’m not trying to convince or persuade anyone to feel as I do. And in that same vein, whoever reads this, if you read this all the way until the end and you’re still neutral or still dislike Buck/Tommy, honestly that’s fine. However, please do not comment or reblog to try to dissuade me from my enjoyment. If by the end of this post, whoever you are, still feels unsure about Buck/Tommy, truly that’s fine, but I’m not the person to talk to about your unease or hesitancy, okay? 

All right. 

I’ll state it up front that, yes, Buck/Tommy did happen a bit quickly. I agree, but it doesn’t really bother me. Allow me to explain and elaborate. I’ll be jumping around talking about Buck, Buck/Tommy and just Tommy, so bare with me.

For starters, I’m just happy to see Buck so giddy, excited, and happy about a love interest. The last time we’ve seen Buck remotely like this was with Abby. So it’s just a refreshing thing to witness and frankly for Buck to experience. Once Buck got past admitting, “oh yeah, my date was with a guy,” Buck was so excited to talk about Tommy with Maddie, someone very important to him. As well, I don’t think any previous love interests have looked so charmed and smitten with Buck the way Tommy does. On that note. Tommy has seen Buck be goofy, jealous, inquisitive, awkward, nervous, sweet, honest, a little bit of a mess, and still thought, “yeah, I’m attracted to this one.” <3

Now I fully recognize that Buck is not suddenly fixed by having gone on one official date with Tommy. Certainly not. Buck most definitely still has plenty of issues to work through, and on some level, probably always will because - just look at his past. Now I don’t know how long Buck is going to be with Tommy, but I don’t think there’s any inherent harm in Buck, even with his issues, dating Tommy for a little while. I don’t see it as Buck doing some kind of irrevocable damage to himself or Tommy if they just date for a bit. Yes, at some point Buck should be on his own and do some self reflection (which he struggles with), but until then? I’d just like to see Buck continue to be excited to get to know Tommy, and work on figuring out how he feels about his uncovered queerness. 

Tommy is a breath of fresh air in many ways to me. A big thing is that he already had a connection to the 118. He’s a firefighter and also air rescue, thus can understand and click with Buck on a major and important level. Abby was a first responder, yes, but she too like all other past love interests of Buck’s were still pretty much disconnected from Buck’s friends, family, and his job. They were almost always separate. Then we can add on the fact that Tommy is friends with Eddie, which is another big connecting point for Buck and Buck and Tommy in general. Hell, Tommy has already met Christopher who already appears to like Tommy, too. The only previous girlfriend of Bucks that met Christopher was Taylor Kelly of all people, and I doubt Chris and Taylor interacted all that much since Eddie and Buck were there as buffers. Plus that dinner was for Eddie’s sake more than anyone else. To be clear about Bucks previous relationships, Abby was an interesting character that I liked, but I was certainly not impressed with her ghosting Buck and then not really apologizing for that. Ali was perfectly fine, but she was barely there, so there was no time or reason to get attached. Taylor Kelly is the only one I hate and do I really need to explain why? Natalia was fine I guess. She was hardly developed, so I certainly never got attached to her. We never understood why she liked Buck beyond him dying. She was also very much a “no homo” insert, but that’s just me. In addition, the only compelling relationship Buck has had up to this point was with Abby. There was nothing to grasp onto for Ali or Natalia, and please tell me what was compelling or fun to watch about Taylor and Buck being in an unhealthy and miserable relationship. Idk, maybe if I’d watched season 4 live, I might have felt a little more open towards Taylor and Buck and their friendship, but I kinda doubt it. When I did watch it all I could think of was, “why does Buck want to be friends with Taylor Kelly of all people so bad?” But anyway. Tommy is the first love interest of Bucks that I actually like, without any hesitation. He’s just a good guy, and a little bit silly (fake mouth static you’ll always be famous). Though some people ignore it, Tommy did change in season 2. Yes he started out as a jerk, someone just going with the bad flow of the firehouse (and to protect himself), but he did change from that. I think in his last episode of season 2 it shows him being on much better terms with Hen and Chimney. They threw him a “moving to Harbor” party! In present times? Tommy’s clearly more at ease, confident, friendly, charming, sweet, has shown vulnerability, is honest, social, mature, and helped Hen and Chimney at the drop of a hat - at the risk of being suspended or fired - to save Athena and Bobby. I’m sure I can list off more traits and interesting attributes, but you get it. To me Tommy already has a lot of personality and I do look forward to discovering and learning more about him. And that’s an important thing, that I’m interested in Tommy as a character. I’m not trying to be a dick, but I couldn’t say the same for most of Buck’s previous love interests (nor Eddie’s). 

And sure Buck needed some nudging from Eddie to not give up on Tommy, but he did actively reach out to and meet up with Tommy, and was honest about where he is in all this, you know? That’s a key thing, Buck being more active. He passively fell into every other relationship he’s been in. That’s not me dismissing those relationships, because Buck did learn something from each. I’m pointing out an important difference. Buck, before Tommy kissed him at the loft and when they met up at the cafe, has been quite open and honest with Tommy. At least on screen, idk when Buck has been quite this upfront about stuff at the start of things, so to speak, with a love interest. That’s progress for Buck. Perhaps not massive, but it’s not nothing. 

Like. Buck just discovered a whole new and big part of himself. He discovered this missing piece of him that’s eluded him for so long (basically his whole life). He’s going to be messy about it. But just because he’s going to be a bit off balance about it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t date someone (re: Tommy) right now. Tommy is aware that this is all new for Buck (side note: here’s a link to a post that talks about the nuance of Tommy, while gentle with Buck, was a bit annoyed at the end of their date and wanted to leave, which was fair and valid. it’s a good read). At the same time, as I mentioned early on in the post, I also think that yeah, at some point Buck does need to be on his own to do some much needed self reflection. Until then, damn, I just want him to try out this sweet thing he has going with Tommy. 

And yeah, I just think Buck and Tommy are cute together. I do think they have chemistry (which was lacking/absent in some of Bucks previous relationships). I’m intrigued by the potential they have together, even knowing they’re not meant for something long term, and that’s okay. Even for a short time they still can have a good and happy time. And in my ideal world, they’ll remain friends when they part ways.  

If I had to attempt to sum this all up… I find Tommy interesting on his own, and I like what I’ve seen with Buck and Tommy together. I’m thrilled to see Buck so into and smitten with Tommy, since we haven’t seen Buck like this since Abby. Buck and Tommy are cute and refreshing to watch. Plus, I want to see Tommy stick around and not just for Buck, but because of his friendship with Eddie, and to see him continue to? properly? reconnect with Chimney, Hen, and Bobby. 

If you read till the end, thanks! Even now I feel like I probably missed explaining something haha.

[5uwabbit]

"Testing testing..The mic seems well! What a nice morning to greet everyone, Welcome to Altru inc!"

“What are you looking at? Did you finish loitering around? We have a mission to do."

“That’s Kellie??”

Kincaid background is unknown (secret) but he actually have some sort of educational background. He’s still has a skill in spotting talents out of the ordinary. The first time he met Kat she was just a troublesome kid breaking a vending machine. What impresses him more was how her parents didn’t give her an output for this? This is wasting talent!! Anyways.. when her parents were giving her a lecture for doing unforeseen robotics, he told them she would be a genius in tech. By chance, Kat was already in the best school in the area, where Kincaid is in. He now actively sponsors her. (Then they all moved to Almia in via student exchange)

Of course, given that it is an exchange program Kincaid has to keep her in check. Unfortunately, Kat is the “well now I’m not doing it now that you told me type”. So she’s giving him trouble.

Kellie was also from Fiore. He’s the son of a very popular whatever.. just think they have big influence here. He was already in Kincaid class and of course.. Kincaid is trying to get him on board with this plan. However the biggest struggle is literally convincing the boy since he’s Very. Very. unmotivated. He’s a natural social genius yet doesn’t like any interaction that doesn’t interest him.

Kellie only followed Kincaid when he mentioned they’re taking him to ranger school. Kincaid here actually works as a supervisor because Kellie has actual work in Altru including and they know Kincaid from the inside, putting trust on him. He always lived a carefree lived and his motivation is way too vague to tell. (Kincaid thinks he’s actually more at risk of drifting away from their group than Kat is)

Both Kat and Kellie were separate project. He didn’t plan for them to meet. They first began interacting in Almia Ranger School. Kat actually wonders why Kincaid needed Kellie because of course “Kincaid doesn’t really need anyone else doesn’t he?” (This leads to her investigating the organization as a whole, realizing that it’s much bigger than just robotics privileges). However instead of breaking away this strenghtened both of the two bonds.

Kat: I know your evil plans old blondie

Kincaid: what (oh sh-)

Kat: I agree

Kincaid: (huh?)

After this the two have full transparency. Anyways.. Kat realized Kellie’s background and was more like okay we’re coworkers. “I guess Kellie does play a good role in the plan..” Although…. it was kind of unexpected given Kellie were more of the “carefree type”. They got closer later on. Kat thinks Kellie should rebel more because why aren’t you extorting Kincaid more. We in this together dude!

Dear god please do not. Inspire Kellie to be like you.

-Kincaid

Also Kat suspected Kellie had relation to Kincaid at first because “He isn’t the troublesome type but still here anyway”. (Referring to some sorta detention)

Kellie knew right of the bat that Kat and Kincaid were actually allies to each other by sheer observation alone. Even when both the Professor and Kat literally seems like they only got beef with each other (This is why Isa doesn’t suspect that Kat and Kincaid is in the same faction). There will be more children dramas between R!Rhythmi, R!Keith, R!Ponte and Isa but that’s a topic for another stuff..

(Note: I put name differences for easy filtering, it also provides nice detail)

TAGGING

If I said R!Kate that means it’s Kat, R!Kate=Kat

Kate -> Kat

Kellyn -> Kellie

Isaac -> Isa

Mr. Kincaid -> Prof. Kinz (Still spelled Kincaid but again, easy filtering)

I have yet to make name diff for some :p I would love if you try to hyperanalyses who is swapped with who whether in personality or jobs. Who mirrors who designs LOL.

My take in Reverse Universe is like

Sometimes they are completely opposing themselves. Sometimes two characters swaps personality or/and jobs. Sometimes they remain the same as ever but something is off.