#so much. i hate him i hate him!!!!! ... but also i really don't... BUT ALSO I HATE HIM! he's mean and so smug

[nqueso-emergency]

i seriously don’t understand what bucktommy shippers see in tommy though. genuinely. he starts the show as a racist misogynist and is reintroduced as somebody who has literally 0 defining character traits. he treated buck like a child. he didn’t know or care about the people in buck’s life or buck’s interests. you all claim that he’s had character growth since s2 but we never saw any evidence of that so why should we believe he’s changed? like i’m not even trying to hate here and i really don’t gaf about buddie, but seriously why are you guys so obsessed with tommy 😭

What I don't understand is why some people, like you, anon, put the entire "racist and misogynistic" atmosphere of the 118 under Gerrard completely on Tommy.

Yeah. He makes a racist joke towards Chim when he firsts comes into the 118 but no one stands up against it. In fact, people smirk at it. Even Eli. Eli explains the reason the 118 keeps Chim at arms length. I really wish people would actually watch the episode.

And if you want to get technical, we do see growth in Hen begins (time wise, Chim begins is first. Not Hen's) and when Hen shows up, Tommy is much more accepting of new people. In fact, he's interested in Hen until Gerrard opens his mouth, each time ultimately using his authority to intimidate and I know people hate this accusation but Chim never stands up for Hen in front of Gerrard or the others either.

And that's because they all know how difficult it is working under Gerrard.

By Bobby begins, it's clear that Tommy, Sal, Hen, and Chim all get along. And honestly by saying he's had no growth is an insult to both Hen and Chim's judge of character. Do you think they would willingly hang out with someone outside of work who they felt was actually racist and misogynistic?? Hell no. Didn't you watch the stuff with Jonah?? Hen hated him.

As for having no defining character traits, you're very wrong. Tommy shows up. For friends, for the wedding date, for coffee after the disaster date. He includes Eddie in a lot of his interests. He showed up at the hospital for Buck when he got hurt. He never told Buck he was stupid for believing in the curse and he wasn't embarrassed to be in public with Buck covered in boils. He stayed the night with Buck, sleeping on a tiny ass couch just to be near him. He also attended a funeral for a mummified cowboy and even dressed up.

All those things cover the shit you've said that Tommy doesn't do.

He does care for Buck's interests. He does care for the people in Buck's life. He went to a fucking zoom birthday party for Christopher ffs.

Not to mention, Tommy has acknowledged multiple times that he wasn't a good person back then. He even broke up with Buck even though he was clearly falling for Buck (and I believe already has).

Saying you don't care about buddie doesn't give you the right to say you don't see something that others do.

I don't see buddie happening. Never have. But people can still ship them. That's not a problem, and honestly, I'd never ask someone in fandom WHY they like a character or a ship or even a trope.

The issue is when people are obsessed with a character they don't like. That is where we are in the 911 fandom and it's why there's so much hate.

So. Perhaps. You should send this ask to a buddie bnf and ask them why they're so obsessed with Tommy. Especially now that he's broken up with Buck.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

I've been watching random videos on YouTube that keep popping up and the comments and the hate on Lando is so out of proportion, controversial and hypocritical, I saw a comment that he is too active online and was liking hate comments about himself after BrazilGP so I was wondering if you could do a smau where he has a friend that has faced slvtshaming and hate and stayed soft and sweet through all her hard times, and she is always there just grounding him whenever he's too much on his head or isolating himself. Maybe she helps him with his anxiety and makes him see himself through a softer gentle light and she's just really chill and always sees the silver lining, always supports and uplifts everyone and the content that she follows is just girls that go on walks, yoga, reading nooks, shops of handmade stuff like those in cotswolds etc. I don't know if it's too much or uncomfortable for you, but I'd really like to see that if you could. Oh and maybe she's Edinburgh based? Have a nice one! X

peace ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

𓍯 ִֶָ ln x reader ᥫ᭡

𓍯 ִֶָ smau + fluff ᥫ᭡

masterlist ☾☼

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

landonorris

liked by yourusername, mclaren, and 901,573 others

landonorris resetting. thank you for the reminder yourusername

view all 711,900 comments

yourusername Anytime, you big dummy. Did you bring the tea I packed for you? 💨☕ 

user1 y/n's the real MVP. Lando's gonna feel way too zen here! 💙 

user2 We love a supportive friendship. Keep going, mate! Ignore the noise. 🌟

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, lnfour, and 884,012 others

landonorris Not the weekend I hoped for, but we move. Thank you to everyone who sticks by me even on the tough days. 🧡

view all 902,811 comments

user5 Ignore the haters, Lando, you’re doing great!! 💪🏽

user3 How is he liking hate comments about himself? 😒 Weird behavior.

user4 Sometimes people cope in strange ways. Let’s try to give grace. 💛

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

yourusername

liked by landonorris, user10, and 7,421 others

yourusername Anxiety feels like a storm, but it passes if you stay grounded. 🕊️ I remind myself that the world is still soft and beautiful.

view all 3,371 comments

user11 This is the energy I need today. Thank you. 🌱✨

landonorris What if I brought my storm to Edinburgh? Would it pass faster? 👀

yourusername Only if you let me ground you.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 7,005 others

yourusername Grateful moments, little joys, and grounding souls ✨

view all 2,832 comments

user15 Okay, but Lando looks suspiciously calm in that last pic… y/n, teach us your ways! 🖤

landonorris never realised how fun pottery would be! <3

user16 she's literally my inspiration

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

landonorris

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 812,003 others

landonorris Found my peace here. 🕊️ Thanks to yourusername for reminding me the world is softer than I think.

view all 712,032 comments

user18 This is the wholesome content we need. 🧡

yourusername Storms don’t scare me anymore. 😉

landonorris You’re braver than I am.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

hi! thank you so much for reading! i'm not sure if i love this personally, because i don't think i did this justice, but i hope you like it. this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04

[bumblingbabooshka]

Thinking about marriage/women's rights on Vulcan Some may think that T'Pring not being allowed to divorce Spock was because he was going through the pon farr but if she were allowed to divorce him at all she probably would have done that a long time ago, confirmed by T'Pol when she's speaking with Koss, who isn't suffering from the pon farr. She says that he can choose another mate (without invoking a fight it seems: note the difference between a 'mate' and a 'challenger') and after he makes it clear that nothing she says will change his mind about marrying her, she finally threatens to declare a kal-if-fee. It's clear that Vulcan women cannot divorce/refuse to marry a man they've been betrothed to under any circumstances if A) He himself doesn't consent to ending their marriage or B) She doesn't have someone else waiting in the wings to be given to in his stead. Though, if the challenger she selects fails to win the fight, she'll have to marry her betrothed anyway unless (again) he decides he doesn't want her after the challenge. That seems like an incredibly unfair system, heavily biased towards men. SNW is an alternate universe in many obvious respects but most egregiously in that T'Pring has a lot of non-canonical agency over her relationship with Spock. It's interesting to me that Vulcan society has women in many positions of power and treats women as equal to men from what I've seen despite these laws. We don't really see Vulcans exhibiting a misogynistic attitude towards women in general but in TOS (perhaps because of its general writing style but it's still interesting to note) both Sarek and Spock take on patriarchal attitudes specifically regarding wives. Amanda says that 'of course' Sarek commands her because "he is a Vulcan and I am his wife." It's worthwhile in my eyes to note that she specifies 'wife' instead of attributing this attitude to women as a whole. Again, with TOS' writing style it wouldn't be out of place for her to say "he is a man and I am a woman." Spock, while in a pon farr induced irritation, states that it's "undignified for a woman to play servant to a man that isn't hers" - again implying that there's something specific about being a Wife in Vulcan society which is different from being a woman in general and demands subservience to a husband. This could perhaps stem from the extreme sense of ownership that Vulcan law has permitted men to have over women. A woman legally cannot point blank refuse marriage. There is no option which guarantees she won't have to marry her betrothed other than death. When T'Pau speaks of T'Pring she refers to her as being 'property' and Stonn, before being interrupted, states he's made 'the ancient claim' - we don't know what this is because he gets cut off but it's obvious they're both using the language of Vulcan law. Men are permitted true freedom to choose. If a woman wants to choose someone else to be with there is no option available to her other than the kal-if-fee which might result in the death of the one she wants to be with. And, if her lover fails, her husband can still just decide he wants to marry her and she'll be forced to. T'Pring gives two scenarios: One where Spock 'frees' her and one where he doesn't - it's still ultimately his decision which is clear when he ends the conversation with "Stonn, she is yours." This again isn't just because of the pon farr as T'Pol also goes through this. Koss can choose another mate and when the option is talked about there's no implication that this would result in any sort of fight (both by the casualness of its mention and by the fact that there's no formal word for it unlike the kal-if-fee.) Also, the fact that Koss does eventually grant T'Pol a divorce and it's all fine means that T'Pol isn't lawfully required to have another man waiting if her HUSBAND doesn't want her. It's ONLY required if SHE doesn't want her husband. Tradition must take precedence over individual desire UNLESS!!! You're a man. Then it's fine. Like, your parents might not be happy but legally you're golden.

[mikansei]

from the trailblazer's perspective:

we met some weird guy who wears a statue on his head, who was kind of a dick to us, but then we went on a little entomological field trip where he was oddly encouraging. surprisingly nice to us afterward for all that he literally interrogated us first. but herta runs around as a doll and we're plenty weird ourselves, so dr. ratio is whatever, i guess. we probably think of him as "that weirdo who was on the herta space station once," which is an association i'm sure he'd hate - but hey, at least we don't call him "scholar king."

from the trailblazer's perspective:

we met some flashy IPC guy because we accidentally held him up in line at the hotel check-in, himeko tried to negotiate and it turns out he's a professional cutthroat negotiator, but it all worked out and he gave us his fancy room. he also loomed over us with freaky glowing eyes and maybe threatened us, but it was kinda vague and it's not like he really hurt us. well... until he did. the trailblazer gets the opportunity to be verbally sore about that, but the fight didn't really feel like cocolia, like phantylia; like aventurine had gone mad and wanted to take over and/or destroy the world. his grandstanding didn't make any sense to us at the time, though, and fighting him sucked ass. but we lived and - as we found out eventually - so did he.

then the trailblazer boards the radiant feldspar, and we see aventurine's hologram talking with ...boothill? okay. who explicitly says they're working out some kind of shady underhanded deal to find oswaldo schneider which, subtlety thy name is not boothill, but that's none of our business i guess. but aventurine's there(-ish) and alive and not cackling mad, which is an improvement.

then we go into the next room over and see that herta space station weirdo, dr. ratio.

huh???

and the first thing he says to us is "no wonder that gambler likes you so much."

huh???????

everything about this is news to the trailblazer. since when is dr. ratio not only on penacony, but in the dreamscape, aboard the exclusive invitation-only dream cruise ship? since when does he not only know of aventurine, but was apparently on this mission with him? since when does aventurine like us??? we just got done mutually trying to kill each other! his hologram didn't seem sore about it, which is great for us, but doesn't exactly translate into "like!"

why are we hearing this from him and not aventurine? why does he know aventurine's thoughts on us in the first place?

dr. ratio really just shows up, yaps about aventurine unprompted, recommends us reading material, complains about the crowd and then is like "k i'm done here. ur dismissed."

the trailblazer had bigger things to think about but i, the player, do not. the fandom at large may feel like 2.3 fell flat, but the fall of the roman empire is still within the wheelhouse of my roman empire. i never left the radiant feldspar. i am still aboard this fucking ship.

[liketolaugh-writes]

I'm confused about how you read that entire exchange and apparently did not absorb it but I think you maybe need to watch Danny Phantom again.

Yes. I am aware of all of those mentalities. I am aware that a large portion of the DPxDC fandom wants Danny to expect Superman to be Kon's parent (because apparently parenthood is something that can be forced on you and God forbid you feel violated.) I am aware of where Danny gets the grudges that people invent for him (a character that does not hold grudges against anyone except Vlad.) I am aware that there are multiple Flashes and that Danny is equally happy to insult all of them (because talking back to authority is a thing that Danny does. Ever. In his canon.) And I am well aware of how much of the DPxDC fandom likes to portray the Justice League as a bunch of idiots, which... is also not consistent with any of their canons and just, again, comes down to the chip-in-the-shoulder a lot of people seem to carry for heroes these days.

None of that is what I'm addressing. Fandom is built on headcanons and expanded universe, and it's great to build those things! It's great for them to build extra backstory to meld the two universes together, to fill out Danny's kind of flimsy canon, to have Danny already have opinions based on that backstory. You can write all these things if you want. I understand that people enjoy them, and DPxDC has a particularly mutated fanon that people have built over years now. People love these stories!

The part that I am illustrating is that the manner in which it's usually carried out is extremely unlike Danny. See above (far above) characterization notes. But especially, doubly so, for a Danny that grew up knowing and loving the Justice League for most of his childhood, before he had any reason to resent them.

Quite frankly, out of anyone, I would expect Danny - who routinely fights for a town that hated him for half the cartoon, and rescues people that have been cruel to him personally - to understand how terribly difficult it is to be a hero at all. To understand that they work hard to save people every day, that the Flashes time-traveled under great duress and out of pure desperation (as Danny usually does), and to understand that anyone who works around the clock to rescue people is, fundamentally, a good person even when they make mistakes or act out in anger. Repeatedly - with Valerie, with Dora, with Ghost Writer and Dash and Amorpho - Danny is shown to have an intense sense of empathy that lets him forgive people who have acted against him and are not sorry about it.

(And, personally, I think that Danny, having been cloned, would understand how violated Superman felt even if he doesn't agree with how he responded - but that's speculation, I suppose.)

And finally, while I understand the motives writers have for this portrayal (see, again, above notes about fandoms with sweet protagonists that take a lot of shit) the problem is that this vengeful behavior people want him to have is extremely out of character for a boy who:

Apologizes to Dash for something Dash doesn't even know he did (overshadowing him to stick his head in a trash can)

Goes to intentionally let his dad capture him because his dad was having a really bad day

Is the first to suggest a truce the moment he thinks an antagonistic character might be open to it (true of Valerie, Dash, all of his rogues, and occasionally even Vlad)

Once genuinely thought Jazz was beating him up out of anger and responded by apologizing and trying to convince her to calm down

Pretty much only ever just wants people to get along?

I also don't know why you assumed I was basing my entire opinion off drabbles and dialogue snippets, because... no? The stimulus for this entire post was in fact a fic of nearly 10k, which I stopped reading because I was so mortified that Danny kept insulting people that were actively helping him and being considerate and understanding? I don't even read drabbles outside of Tumblr. I prefer longfics, always, and I assure you that I still see all of this pretty regularly. I don't think I've once seen someone imply that Danny holding a grudge is unusual for him.

Why is Danny everyone’s mouthpiece for their random grudges against various superheroes? Why is it SO COMMON for Danny to show up and immediately start chewing people out?

Like. Danny? Mr. ‘My Parents Shoot At Me But It’s Fine’? Mr. ‘Dates The One Ghost Hunter At His School’? Danny ‘Dash Can Shove Me Around I Guess’ Fenton? Holds a bunch of grudges against popular superheroes and tries to punch them at the first available opportunity??

I know it’s become a pretty popular characterization in fandom for Danny to be pretty testy/spiteful, I just don’t really get it

[enbyfvcker]

~ Comfort ~

Logan didn't need comfort. He never had. He remembers all the time he spent living in forests when he just needed to isolate himself for a while. Anything worked for him, really.

Wolverines can sleep pretty much about everywhere. So, the first couple months after he moved in with Wade, he'd just crash on the couch. Sometimes, Wade would awake in the morning to see Logan sprawled on the floor and snorting after probably falling off the couch in his sleep.

He tried many times to convince Logan to sleep with him on his bed, but he always refused. Wade got that couch on a goddamn dumpster, and it couldn't possibly be comfortable to spend nights on.

So yeah, maybe he wanted to have a big gruff Wolverine laying next to him on his bed, but he also cared about him being comfortable.

He wanted it to be a home for Logan, even if it was a really small crack apartment.

Wade googled about Wolverines and how they nest, and he realized that Logan didn't really have much. He didn't have anything, really, since he dragged him here from a whole other universe.

So he would buy pillows, blankets, and plushies for Logan. And the grumpy idiot would pretend to hate the little hello kittys fluffy miniatures, but one day Wade's heart almost fully melted when he woke up in the middle of the night for a midnight snack, and catched Logan sleeping with all the gifts he gave him all around him, wrapped in a blanket with red and yellow heart patterns.

Sometimes Wade would awake hearing grunts and screams, rushing to the living room to see what was wrong only to find Logan trashing in his sleep, probably deep in a really bad nightmare, his body sweaty and brows furrowed. He looked in pain, and it broke Wade's heart. He imagined the terrors Logan was probably reliving in his mind.

When the sun hits Logan's eyes and he opens them, he feels slightly lighter. As if his body's relaxed for what felt like forever. He looks around and doesn't see the usual living room, and he realizes that he's in a bed. Wade's bed. Wade isn't here, but all the blankets, pillows, and plushies are still all around him.

"What the fuck..."

"Morning, peanut!" Wade announced with an excited tone as he entered the room wearing an "Kiss the cook" apron and toasts on a plate along with a mug.

Logan gives him a confused and annoyed look. "Did you- Did you carry me over here in my sleep?" He asks, incredulous. His bones are fucking made of adamantium. He weighs like 300 pounds. And how the fuck did he not wake up?

"Yes, princess. Bridal style and everything. Only the best for my baby girl."

"Wade-" Logan warns through gritted teeth.

"Alright, look, I just couldn't take you looking so uncomfortable anymore. Besides, you got so peaceful after I put you here. You can't really complain."

"I can, and I will. I told you not to bother. I don't give a fuck about comfort."

"Well, I do. Now get a break on being all grumpy, I made you breakfast." Wade offers Logan the plate with toasts and the mug with black coffee, the way he likes it.

He just grunts and accepts it.

The next nights, the lumpy couch remained empty. Logan would slip into the covers with Wade, the pillows and plushies all around them, and Mary Puppins layed on their feet. Wade was wearing a Spider-Man themed pajamas, and Logan was in his boxers and one of Wade's silly shirts with an unicorn printed on it.

"We look like such a happy family!" Wade says in a dreamy tone in the middle of the night, the room dark as he lays face to face with Logan.

"Shut up. Go to sleep." He groans gruffly, eyes closed.

"Sweet dreams, peanut. I know mine will be. You're always in them. God, I had one these days where you d-"

"Go. To. Sleep."

Some mornings, they would wake up tangled, arms over chests, legs over legs, so close they could feel each other breathing. Sometimes, Logan would wake up first, and when he opens his eyes to see them tangled like that as Wade was in deep slumber, he just smirks and closes them again, drifting back to sleep.

After that, he noticed that the frequency of his nightmares was getting lower. But whenever he'd have them, eventually, Wade would always be right there next to him to comfort him back to sleep.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3])

the river flowing. mushrooms and lichens growing from a fallen tree. nicky's other mom is always with them.

agatha clearly loves teaching nicky all she knows about magic, because she is a teacher at heart! and he's literally the first person she gets to pass her knowledge on to, she's relishing every minute of it.

meanwhile poor nicky is just hungry. because the fucker makes him live in the woods.

and I guess she finds it easier to be honest when it's about explaining how magic works.

oh no the way they're whispering is so cute??? and she'll keep calling it her purple long after nicky's death.

and this has been pointed out many times, but when nicky smiles you're sure reminded of how they went out of their way to find a kid who looked like aubrey plaza too

another thing that has been pointed out ad nauseam and it will be repeated again, because it's so good: I cannot heal you, like jen would. I cannot protect you, like alice would. and I cannot divine, like lilia would.

could a real coven have healed nicky, protected him, saved him from his fate? did she kill him sooner than necessary by keeping him cold and starving in the woods? agatha will never know, because despite all her love, she put her own fear over his safety. maybe nicky would have died anyway, but it's still cruel and unfair that he had to spend the little time he had on earth in such a lonely way.

agatha, despite all the mind tricks she plays on herself and on others, is simply too smart to not see that what she's doing is selfish, harmful to nicky, and ultimately futile. this is why she'd rather blame rio, and it's why she can't go to nicky in the afterlife: she can't face her own guilt.

(also, she's afraid she'll find a version of him that can now understand what she did and will hate her for it.) (and I imagine that a grown up nicholas would have had a hard time coming to terms with his childhood too.)

and still. and still. this whole mess of a person doing a terrible job at raising her son? she's also the daughter of an abusive mother who is trying to be better, she is trying to give him what she never had - love, support, knowledge. her selfish choices don't negate all the love and joy she gave him too.

and on top of everything else, nicky is about to freaking die! in modern times we'd say he has a terminal illness, she doesn't know how much time she has left with him. that is an impossible lot to navigate, especially for a person alone and carrying with her so much baggage and trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms. keeping nicky so isolated is the only way she feels like she has an illusion of control over the inevitable.

agatha is not only denying nicky a coven, she's denying herself a community that would have helped her carry this burden, that would have taught and encouraged her to do better, that would have ultimately shared her pain in mourning. isn't that another tragedy within the tragedy? knowing what could have been?

agatha teaches him magic, even though he doesn't have any. maybe he was still too young, maybe he really was just a regular kid. still, she teaches him.

NOT THE DANDELION. i'm about to bite my screen in anguish

sure, sure, the time has come to go. I'm fine, I'm totally fine.

aaaaaand some more scamming!!!

agatha the ham is one of my favorite agathas. but wait, I'll make you sad again now! they're doing this shit because they don't have any money to eat. and nicky is clearly sick, and agatha is still making him do it. because they don't have any money to eat.

meanwhile witches everywhere are getting curious about the Ballad. (doesn't she look a bit like sadie sink?)

for the THIRD TIME a witch notices nicky coughing / how sick he is and offers her coven's help.

nicky looks agatha straight in the eyes and refuses to lure witches to their deaths. he stands up for himself. he disobeys.

and yes, the obvious double meaning: my other mother needs me home.

agatha forgets all her scheming and runs after him in a panic. she is losing control over him. she is losing him.

[okaysonny]

the one where they lose yenna ╎ zack + johan

❤️ @always-lovingly — hope you like it!

ᯓ★ summary: eli bestows zack with the greatest honour: babysitting yenna. nothing will go wrong, right?

ᯓ★ details: fluff, no reader, spoilers for 517 onwards, canon dynamics. (aka zack and johan's relationship is platonic)

ᯓ★ wc: 3.4k - on the longer side...sorry

ᯓ★ A/N: I HATED MAKING THIS!!! comedy is really hard to write + i feel like i waffled too much... made a post about it, but this fic is drawn from s2, ep6 of friends (the one with the baby on the bus)

how did they get ben back with no paperwork/confirmation? idk but it makes my job easier #yes

divider: @thecutestgrotto

"what? you want me to look after zami tomorrow?"

"…her name is yenna" eli smiles at him sheepishly. "and yes. i have to unexpectedly work at the fruit stall. derek got a stomach bug and there's no one to cover for him. plus, the daycares closed on saturdays. would you mind?"

"…eli…i can't believe this…"

of course. eli should've expected this. what eighteen year old wants to spend their saturday babysitting?

"sorry zack. don't worry about it. i'll get someone else to— "

"i can't believe you're trusting me to babysit zam— i mean yenna!" a beam of light is practically shining on him.

eli blinks. he swears he can see zack's eyes well up.

"do you really trust me to? you really think i'm worthy?!"

well, he wasn't expecting that. eli laughs softly, shaking his head. "well…you visit her a lot and you're really great with her. i think you'd do a good job"

zack covers his mouth, trying not to cry in front of the beauty department's only guy. he does visit yenna a lot. how can he not? the fact that the baby he found happened to be eli's daughter…it felt like fate.

he coughs into his hand, composing himself, before looking at eli with determination - the determination of being the best babysitter in the world. "…it would be my honour"

eli smiles softly. he was hesitant in entrusting yenna with someone who misnames her half the time. but now, he doesn't regret it one bit.

"…thanks, zack"

"oh…you really came prepared, huh?"

zack has come prepared. he still owns that baby carrier from before. he also wears something without buttons this time. and he still uses gel, but not too much gel, because the spikes could stab her.

"of course!" he nods enthusiastically. "only the best for zam— yenna! mesh ventilation to ensure maximum comfort!"

eli can't help but chuckle. "that's…very nice of you"

with one hand, eli hands zack a list of instructions and a bag of supplies. his other hand is holding yenna, as adorable as she always is.

"…if anything happens, call me. i'll try make it back as soon as possible" he hesitantly hands yenna over, her little hands grabbing at zack's face.

"ba!" she squeals.

his eyes light up. "zam— yenna!" he cradles her head gently. "don't worry, eli ! she's safe with me!"

he nods, exhaling slowly. he reaches out to stroke her hair fondly. "you have a good time with uncle zack, okay? i'll be back before you know it" he whispers.

eli steps back, checking the time on his phone. "shoot, i need to go. you'll be fine, right?"

zack grins, using yenna's hand to give him a little wave. "yes, yes. go and chop fruit or whatever"

eli waves back and zack watches as his figure slowly gets smaller. he looks down at her, speaking with conviction.

"alright, zami. uncle zack will give you the best day of your life"

"what the hell, man? why'd you bring a baby here?"

okay, so saturday just happened to coincide with his study session. but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

zack hastily covers her ears. "don't swear in front of yenna! this is eli's daughter, y'know?! i'm an uncle on babysitting duty"

johan looks down at yenna with a mix of contempt and confusion, her big eyes staring back at him.

"ba?"

she's holding a baton with the top of a toy wand attached to it. his brows furrow, remembering his fight with eli.

Are you messing with me? What's with the toy?

whoops. in his defense, how was he meant to know?

johan sighs in exasperation and closes his book. "we're not getting anything done if she's here. by the way, don't expect me to help, alright? you're on your own"

"hmph. yenna doesn't want to hear your obscenities anyway" he pats her head protectively.

he rolls his eyes. "yeah, okay"

yenna suddenly starts smacking her baton-wand against the edge of the table, the smile never leaving her face.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

zack stares at the wand, already dented from her relentless attack on the furniture.

"alright yenna, that's enough of that" he says nervously, gently prying it out of her hand. she immediately starts to fuss, her big eyes tearing up.

johan glares at him. "nice job, genius. now she's going to cry"

"hush!" zack snaps. he waves the wand awkwardly in front of yenna’s face. "see, yenna? it's all better!"

yenna, unimpressed, lets out a wail that could rival a siren.

johan groans and presses his fingers to his temples. "you need to get something to keep her quiet. a softer toy maybe"

zack perks up at the suggestion. "hey, we should go to the city! we can grab something real quick!"

"we?"

"yes, we. you're not sitting on your ass while i do this alone" he grumbles.

johan stares at him in disbelief, but yenna’s cries grow louder, and he visibly gives in. “fine. but if she screams on the bus, i'm out”

zack grins, already packing up. he turns to yenna with a cheerful voice. "alright princess, let’s go find you the perfect toy!"

"...gross"

"you're gross" he mumbles, as they make their way to the bus stop.

zack awkwardly adjusts the baby carrier strapped to his chest, yenna wriggling furiously against him.

“why is she squirming so much?” johan asks, sitting in the seat across from him, his arms folded.

“she’s probably uncomfortable” zack shifts the straps again. yenna lets out an irritated whine, kicking her tiny feet against his stomach. “c’mon, work with me here…”

johan leans back. “maybe she can sense you have no idea what you’re doing”

“real helpful, johan. you wanna take over?” he glares at him while holding the carrier steady.

“pass”

“yeah, that’s what i thought” zack adjusts the carrier again, but yenna’s whining only gets louder. people start glancing over, their expressions ranging from amused to annoyed.

“okay, okay. hang on” he sighs in defeat, unbuckling the straps, gently lifting yenna out of the carrier and onto his lap.

“so now you’re happy, huh?” zack mutters. yenna’s only response is a delighted giggle as she smacks his knee with her baton-wand.

“you’re spoiling her” johan comments, deadpan.

“what do you know about babies, johan?”

he shrugs. "if you say so"

yenna, meanwhile, starts squirming again, clearly eager to explore her surroundings.

“you wanna stretch those tiny legs?” zack carefully sets her down on the floor of the bus. she stands unsteadily for a moment, then takes a few steps, laughing as she bangs her toy against the metal pole by their seats.

“...are you seriously letting her walk around here?”

“she needs some freedom!” zack defends himself, his eyes flicking between yenna and johan. "she's only a baby, it’s not like she’s gonna go far"

“...right”

“calm down. i'm watching her!” zack beams confidently, leaning back in his seat while keeping one eye on yenna.

for a moment, the two of them sit in silence, the bus rumbling along as she continues her wobbly exploration of the aisle.

“...y’know, you’re pretty calm for someone who's scared of babies”

johan shoots him a glare. “i’m not scared of babies”

“you totally are! the look on your face when she said ‘ba’ was priceless”

johan’s eyes narrow. “keep talking and i’ll make you ‘ba’ yourself”

they continue bickering, their voices overlapping as yenna toddles around the aisle, occasionally smacking the bus poles with her baton-wand.

the bus screeches to a halt at their stop. zack stands up, slinging the bag full of baby supplies over his shoulder. "alright, this is us"

johan follows closely behind as they get off, stepping onto the bustling city street. the sound of car horns and chatter fill the air, and zack immediately starts scanning the area.

“so” johan drawls, looking around. “what exactly are we looking for? a squeaky duck? a magic wand that doesn’t double as a weapon?”

“something soft, like you said” zack adjusts the straps of the carrier on his shoulder. "i never want to hear that banging noise again"

johan opens his mouth to speak, but pauses. his eyes flick down, then back up to zack, his face suddenly paling.

“...zack?” his voice is unusually tense.

“what?” zack asks distractedly, glancing around for a toy store.

johan's face is laced with panic.

“where’s the baby?”

“what are you talking about? she’s right—”

but she isn't. he glances down at the empty carrier on his shoulders, his voice catching in his throat.

we left her on the bus.

"johan, you rat!" zack snarls. "how could you forget about our child?"

"how the fuck is this my fault? you’re the one babysitting her!" johan snarls back. "and what do you mean our child?"

the argument attracts curious stares from passerby.

zack waves his hand dismissively, his movements frantic. "who cares?!" he yells, sprinting off. "we need to catch that fucking bus!"

zack hears johan groan, but his footsteps quickly follow after, the bus luckily still in sight as it makes a turn.

"it's fine!" zack pants. "we just need to alert the bus driver and it'll be fine!"

they turn around the corner, but stop in their tracks.

they're both flabbergasted as it's joined by two other identical buses on their route, the traffic blocking the vehicles out of sight regardless. something out of a 90's sitcom.

zack's lip begins to tremble. he's a dead man. will he die without knowing mira's touch?

he aggressively shakes his fist at the sky. "OH COMPASSIONATE BUDDHA!!! why have you forsaken me?"

"...what the fuck? relax. let's just..." johan pants, trying to catch his breath. "let's just think, okay? there's gotta be a way to fix this"

they both stand in contemplation.

they can fix this, right?

"thank you! please come again~" eli hands over the bag of fruit cheerfully, waving the customer goodbye.

his smile falters.

strange. he suddenly has a weird feeling.

he shakes his head, shrugging it off. it's probably nothing, he says to himself.

"the transit authority!" zack exclaims, an imaginary light bulb appearing on his head. "the bus drivers' hand all lost property to them. we just need to call and let them know we left a baby! she has to be with them! no idiot would leave a baby on the bus!"

johan nods, both of them blissfully unaware of the irony. "i was gonna say that"

zack scoffs. "sure you were. now, all we need to do is—"

zack's phone rings. he looks at the screen, his eyes widening in horror.

"i-it's eli" he stammers.

a smile tugs on johan's lips, slightly amused. he gestures to the phone. "answer it. it's gonna look suspicious if you don't"

zack glares at him, but doesn't argue. he breathes out slowly before accepting it.

"eli !" his voice is incredibly high pitched. "what's up? shouldn't you be chopping lemons or something?"

"i'm on my break" he laughs. "i just wanted to check in. is everything okay, zack?"

"everything's fine!" he chirps. "me and yenna are having a great time!"

"...that's good. would you mind putting her on the phone? i want to hear her voice" he says gently.

fuck.

johan smirks, not even trying to hide it anymore, watching zack in anticipation.

zack closes his eyes, pausing.

he does the only thing that comes to mind, shoving the phone near johan's mouth. the latter's face drops.

what the hell are you doing? he mouths.

zack covers the phone so eli can't hear.

"act like a baby" he hisses.

"over my dead body"

"just do it, you hobo! or i'll tell your mom you failed english again" he glares.

"...you wouldn't"

"wanna find out?"

"um...zack?" eli speaks up again. "what's going on? is she—"

"...goo goo?" johan squeaks, removing zack's hand from the speaker.

zack winces. he's heard better acting in porn.

radio silence.

"is she okay? she sounds a bit—"

"i think she needs a diaper change! bye eli !" he hangs up quickly.

johan stares daggers at him, his cheeks slightly flushed. "i'm gonna beat your ass"

zack shrugs, googling the number for the transit authority. "you can beat my ass after we find zami"

"...i thought her name was yenna?"

the human resources department is a picture of monotony, the ticking of the clock being the loudest sound in the room. the clerk behind the desk often jokes to himself that he lives in a time loop. every day was the same — forms to file, complaints to process, and the occasional awkward phone call. nothing ever changes, and he's stopped expecting it to.

until today.

the phone on his desk buzzes, cutting through the endless drone of routine.

��transit authority here” the caller begins briskly. “we’ve got a...situation. someone called claiming they left a baby on one of our buses”

the man blinks, the pen in his hand frozen mid-air. “a baby?”

“yeah. a little girl. we’ve got her safe now, but we’re bringing her over to your department, since...you know, you handle these things” the voice sounds exasperated, as if they can’t believe they're saying this either.

he swivels slightly in his chair, still trying to process the information. “so, wait. someone just...left their baby on the bus?”

“that’s what we’ve been told” the caller says with an audible sigh. “the guy on the phone sounded panicked. i told him to go to your building”

"...what kind of idiot leaves their baby on a bus?"

“i’m asking myself the same question”

hanging up the phone, the clerk leans back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief.

this is new.

he glances at the clock, bracing himself for what kind of man would walk through the door.

or men, he should say.

the door to the department bursts open, startling the clerk so badly he nearly knocks over his coffee. his head snaps up, expecting one man, but instead, there were two.

they both look like they just sprinted a marathon. the first, a broad shouldered guy with a baby carrier strapped awkwardly across his chest, is hunched over, gasping for air. his face bore the genuine panic of someone who just lost something irreplaceable.

the second young man follows behind him, his sharp eyes darting around the room, like he’d rather be anywhere else.

the clerk stares at them, dumbfounded, as they both stand there panting. finally, he clears his throat, glancing at the baby carrier. “so… i’m guessing you’re here for the baby?”

"y-yes! the baby...we called about the baby! is she here?" zack heaves.

"...she's here"

zack and johan sigh in relief.

"is one of you the father?"

zack rubs his neck shyly. "ah...well no, but we know her very well. can we collect her?"

the older man crosses his arms. "if neither of you are, you'll need to call one of her parents, so we can confirm guardianship"

fuck.

zack looks at johan in wordless communication. it'll be awkward. it'll be difficult. but they both know what they have to do.

"w-what i meant to say was..." zack slowly wraps an arm around johan's shoulder, cursing his sudden high pitched voice. "we're actually both the fathers"

zack leans his head against johan's, trying to control his trembling lip as he smiles sweetly.

the clerk presses his own lips into a thin line, not looking convinced.

johan sighs and briefly scrunches his nose before laying his hand on top of zack's, leaning into his touch. his smile is incredibly fake and plastered. he's afraid he'll commit murder otherwise.

"mhm..." johan manages to croak out.

radio silence.

if the clerk doesn't believe them, it seems he doesn't care enough to press further. he shrugs, gesturing to the door at the back. "alright. right this way—"

that's all they need to hear before they bolt to the door, flinging it open.

yenna is sitting on a small cot, gripping her beloved baton-wand in one hand. she’s completely unbothered, her big eyes scanning the room with innocent curiosity. she gives the wand a few lazy taps against the cot, unaware of the trouble they had to go through.

the moment zack spots her, he rushes over, scooping her up without hesitation. “yenna! we’re so sorry! your uncles are so sorry” he says, his voice filled with guilt. he hugs her tightly, rocking her gently. “uncle zack won't let this happen again, okay? never, ever”

standing just behind him, johan watches silently. "...you’re so ridiculous" he mutters. but zack knows he doesn't mean it. he knows him too well to not spot the softness in his voice.

he doesn’t look back, too wrapped up in stroking yenna's back. "couldn't care less, mommy's boy"

as zack shifts yenna in his arms, her tiny hand stretches out behind him, her fingers reaching for johan. johan hesitates for a moment, glancing down at her outstretched hand, before gently taking her little fingers in his big ones. the room is quiet, the world around them seeming to pause.

johan’s lips curve into a small, genuine smile, one he doesn’t realise he’s wearing. he gently plays with her fingers, a silent exchange passing between them.

zack glances over his shoulder and freezes when he spots it.

a slow grin spreads across his face. “i knew it!” he blurts out, triumphant. “i knew you secretly felt the same way!”

johan's ears turn faintly pink but he doesn't let go of yenna’s hand. “...shut up”

zack snickers. “you don’t fool me anymore! everyone knows you’re actually a big softie”

johan grits his teeth, his grip not leaving her fingers. "whatever, man"

they don't see the clerk silently watching them through the door, his hand hovering over its knob.

he did think they were lying. they were way too jittery to be convincing.

but the sight of the scene made him stop. the broader one, cradling the baby so protectively and murmuring apologies with a guilt-stricken face.

the other, quieter one, gently holding the baby’s hand with a softness that doesn’t match his standoffish appearance.

it’s a moment so tender, so raw, that the clerk pauses, his hand lowering from the door knob. maybe he was being too narrow-minded.

he shakes his head with a bemused smile and turns away, leaving them to their privacy. as he walks back to his desk, he mutters to himself.

"what a progressive world we live in"

after parting ways with johan, who pats yenna's head for a little too long, he sits on a bench, waiting for eli's return.

"okay zami. you had a good time with uncle zack and uncle johan, alright? nothing crazy happened"

"ba!" she chirps back, as if she understands.

zack nods solemnly. "good"

"zack! hey!"

he sees eli walk over, sally with him.

zack spots eli's jaw tense a little less as he sees yenna safe and sound. she instantly reaches out, squealing at the sight of him.

"there you are..." eli beams, gently carrying her. "did you have a good time with uncle zack?" he says softly.

yenna aggresively shakes the wand in response.

he laughs and then looks up at zack. "so, how was it? did she give you much trouble?"

he waves a hand dismissively. "of course not! cool as a breeze. no problems at all"

"wow" sally grins. "eli, you should have him babysit more often!"

eli smiles, his gaze shifting back to yenna. "yeah...thanks a lot zack. i was worried because you hung up suddenly...i guess i was just being paranoid"

i'm off the hook! zack tries not to appear too excited.

he sighs, looking pleased with himself. "psh. don't worry. just had to focus all my attention on her. i'd never leave her out of my sight"

he nods, removing some lint from her clothes. "yeah, i get it. seriously, thanks a—"

he pauses, his smile suddenly dropping.

"hey zack?"

"...yes?" he looks up in anticipation.

is he gonna promote me as official babysitter?

eli turns yenna around, lifting her dress up slightly to reveal a big, bold PROPERTY OF HUMAN SERVICES stamp.

"what's this?" he asks, his voice a little too sweet.

zack's face drops. he can feel comical sweat beads appearing on his forehead.

"w-well that's uh..." he begins, but the words don't form.

eli silently hands yenna to sally, the grin now wiped clean from her face, being replaced with awkwardness instead.

eli smiles at him as he walks closer, pulling his sleeves up and cracking his knuckles.

"sally? please cover her eyes" he says quietly, his stare never leaving zack.

"wait eli !" he splutters. "let's just talk about this! it was—"

PUNCH

"owww! fuck! okay fine! just watch the hair—"

PUNCH

A/N: posted this on boxing day because zack is a BOXER 💜

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

So, I was waiting until I had some time to really focus on this, because I didn’t want for that to get poor attention and my distracted or hasty reading.

Anyway, at least I got to the end of the first part so here we gooooo.

I really like this little world you've created, I can smell it, taste it, hear it, and I can almost feel the dust clouding my eyes.

The tension between them is so damn intense, oh my God 🥵 And she's like me in many ways I have to say, more than I'd like to admit LOL she's proud, fierce, she never wants to ask anyone for help and may God strike her down if she makes the first move AHAHAHAHAH fuck that, grumble to herself endlessly is so much better, of course, it makes perfect sense 😂😂😂 and I hate, I hate being belittled and treated like I'm stupid that doesn’t notice things as much as she does. She's me, that's it. we’re such dickheads lol reader, I love you and I feel you babe 🫂

Joel is no exception, however, we are all in bad shape when it comes to communication skills 🥲

I loved how she hates it when he treats her like a little girl, the constant teasing, him pretending not to be jealous when in fact he wants nothing more than to possess her.

It’s so good 🥵

I love the way you drew Joel, he's so sexy I could explode and even though the world of cowboys is so far away from me and I don't understand anything about it (a damn thing, really) I found myself immersed in this story and oh my God, the angry way they do it 🥵🥵🥵

I was biting my lip so hard haaaaaa oh god please I need this big sweaty man to fuck me until I feel like putting my pride away Jesus if there's one thing I'm a world champion at it's ignoring people who ignore me for the rest of my life and beyond lol

I also love her father (in my opinion he is more aware than he seems, this man is not telling me the truth heheheheh) and Tommy so boastful and seducer, he’s so damn irresistible🤭

Can’t wait to read the second part, sorry if it takes me longer than expected but it's the holidays and I'm Italian and my relatives are always in the middle 🙄

Until then: you 👏🏻 did 👏🏻 so 👏🏻 fucking 👏🏻 great 👏🏻 my 👏🏻 dear 👏🏻

I’m in awe, really and I love that ♥️

right kind of dream (joel miller x f!reader) part one

wc: 12.5k | other fics | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 | PART TWO HERE

summary: rebuilding your life, chasing cans, and hitchin’ a ride to the rodeo with team roper joel

to my pedrostories secret santa recipient @katiexpunk: this was a challenge for ya gurl to be srs (and it’s not a tentacle gangbang, i lied in ur asks babe i’m srry) i hope i hit the mark on a handful of the prompts though, i had high hopes that i could really challenge myself and deliver some breeding kink cowboy but i fear it’s more of a creampie kink—i hope that still hits, i have horse knowledge, but only rodeo adjacent experience so if any rodeo queens find glaring mistakes pls forgive me — but happy holidays bb, i really hope you enjoy-- EDIT: I MADE IT TOO GIRTHY (or something?? sorry!!) and had to split it into two parts, the second part will be up and linked as asap as possible, and i'll add the full text to ao3 so it'll be in one spot

tags: modern cowboy joel au/ team roper joel and tommy, no sarah, enemies to lovers, dbf lite, choose your own age gap, small town romance, city girl returns to the country, miscommunication, guilty yearnful joel, horsegirl!joel, smut, ridin’ that cowboy bareback as the good lord intended, no beta–mistakes are my fault for writing at 4am 

thanks: to @syd-djarin, @auteurdelabre, @lovely-vamp-princess for support, eyes, ideas, etc.

The sun beats down on the gravel driveway as you pull your truck toward the old house. It looks almost the same as it did the summers you spent here as a kid when it was your grandparents–the peeling white paint on the porch railing, and the barn standing sturdy, but weathered further down the driveway. The fields stretched on as you rolled down the driveway, dotted with occasional wildflowers and critters dashing into the denser brush. 

The air blows warm through the window, same as you remember, but the weight of the memories feels different now. The summers used to feel endless here, the fields seemed endless, as did the sky. It all used to feel so liberating. It’s not an endless summer now. Everything looks smaller and more weathered. 

Except for the shiny white PVC fences on the other side of the driveway and the modern-looking house and barn built on the same soil you used to spend hours patrolling with your pony, Clover. She’d search for the best bits of grass as you laid across her back coming up with stories—some days you were an old-timey cowgirl traveling west or Clover was a wild horse you were training or you were on a quest to a magical kingdom together. 

But now it’s a new home for whoever bought up the parceled land your dad sold to cover the updates on the house when he inherited it. Someone with enough money for a fancy barn and shiny truck. You pull to a stop and hop out of the cab, still scanning the neighbor's property, making your first impression. 

Your dad emerges from the barn, wiping his hands on a faded rag. He gives you a smile and a nod. “About time you showed up,” he calls, his voice warm and teasing. “Thought maybe you had changed your mind.” 

You shake your head softly, rolling your eyes. “Nope. Nothing worth staying in that city for.” 

The gravel crunches under your boots as you round the bed to grab one of your boxes. All your belongings fit into a few boxes. At least, everything that mattered to you, everything that was still you. “Where do you want this?” You wonder how you’re going to manage living in the same house with your dad now that you’re an adult. 

“Just set it inside,” he said, gesturing to the house. “We’ll get you sorted after we have something to eat.” 

As you followed him toward the house, the outline of the neighbor's property loomed large. The barn caught your eye. It was close. A pair of horses stood in the near pasture, swishing their tails in the afternoon heat. The contrast was stark. Where your dad’s place still carried the scrapes and scuffs of decades–theirs looked new and polished. Smug even. Can a house be smug? 

“The neighbors are closer than I thought.” You cross the porch, the nostalgic screen door squeaking as your dad ushers you inside. 

“Don’t mind it. We look out for each other.” He points to the room you stayed in as a kid. “He damn near built the place by himself, and helped me with the new roof on this place.” 

You shoot him a sharp look. “You said you were gonna hire roofers instead of climbing around up there at your age.” He shrugs you off. Always stubborn. Convinced he can do it better and cheaper. Despite the toll on his body. 

“Paid him to help,” he argues, “wasn’t up there by myself. You don’t gotta worry about me like that.” 

You set your box down at the end of the twin-size bed, the room falling quiet for a moment. Your dad stays planted in the doorway, but his brows pinch and lips purse briefly before he lets out a breath. You scan the room, gaze landing on the floorboards, waiting. 

Instead of addressing the elephant in the room, he says, “You hungry?” 

You grin at that, letting out a shaky breath. Your father’s daughter, neither of you likes to dig into your feelings. He taught you to show love through actions, like keeping you fed, taking on hard labor jobs without a complaint, or changing your windshield wipers before the rainy season starts and you’re cursing yours out. 

“Yeah,” you say, brushing past the knot in your chest. “Starving.” 

The rumble of a diesel engine jolts you awake the next morning, the deep growly sound reverberating through the walls like thunder on an otherwise quiet morning. You groaned, stretching and blinking blearily at the pale light filtering in through the old curtains. It was barely dawn yet, which explains the dull headache you’ve got. 

Sleep had been restless. Tangled thoughts, ruminating on what you’d left behind. A failed engagement, the job you hated, the mix of excuses you had rehearsed for why you’d come back. You’d hoped coming here would ease the ache, but just when you were finally falling back asleep—the truck from hell pulled up to the house. 

The engine is already cut off, but now you can hear voices on the porch. Your dad’s, low and steady, just a hum, and another unfamiliar drawl. Whoever it is, they’re carrying on like the rest of the world wasn’t still trying to wake up. 

You drag yourself out of bed, wearing your soft sleep shorts and a thin shirt. The worn fabric clings to your body in places it shouldn’t, but you’re not thinking about being presentable, you aren’t really thinking at all yet. You drag your feet crossing to the kitchen to pour yourself coffee, for a brief moment you miss the coffee shop you used to stop at on the way to your old job, but the familiar roast your dad’s been loyal to has its charm. Like the free coffee at an AA meeting. It’s there and you need something to keep you going. 

You push past the squeaky screen door, stepping out onto the porch. Your dad sits on the worn bench, coffee in hand. Next to him, leaning casually against the railing is a man you don’t recognize. His black Stetson gives him a classic cowboy silhouette, the morning sun catches on the sharp cut of his jaw and the scruff on his cheeks. His plaid shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, his jeans are worn and dusty in a way that speaks to more than just appearances. 

He straightens when he sees you, pulling his hat off with one hand in a fluid, effortless motion. “Mornin’,” he says, voice low and rich. “You must be the daughter. Joel Miller.” 

You take a sip of your coffee. “Morning,” you mutter, voice still thick from sleep. “You always roll up this early, or is today special?” 

Your dad shoots a look at you, but Joel just chuckles softly. 

“Guessin’ you’re not a morning person?”

Your eyes are narrow, defensive. “I’m just fine in the mornings,” you say in a clipped tone that doesn’t support your statement. “Just not when I’m woken up by a jet engine at the asscrack of dawn.” The chill in the brisk morning air causes you to shiver for a moment somehow making you look more irritated. 

Joel glances at your dad with a faint smirk before tipping his hat to you. “Noted.” 

Your dad laughs. “Should’ve heard her when she was ten,” he says leaning back. “Wouldn’t let anyone tell her what to do. Still doesn’t take shit from anyone I guess.” 

“I’m right here,” you mutter, glaring at him.

“Just sayin’,” your dad replies, raising his mug in mock surrender. He turns back to Joel and they resume their conversation about fence posts or something equally riveting. You let your eyes roam as you wake up, drinking the rest of your coffee, tuning in and out of their conversation about their plans for the day. 

The easy camaraderie between the two of them was clear. Like a friendship forged through shared labor and quiet mornings. They flow between their plans for work and that subtle gossiping that men do–convinced it isn’t really gossip–as they share updates about other folks in town and a few of the local businesses. 

“What about you?” Joel asks, turning to you and pulling you out of the fog. “You’re back for a while then?”  

It’s an innocent question, but it grates at you anyway. You stiffen. “Yeah, just taking some time,” you say vaguely. 

Joel raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push for a real answer. You can feel the weight of his curiosity in the air between you. He looks to your dad, who doesn’t elaborate, letting something unspoken pass between them. 

“Well,” Joel drawls, “good timing. Lot of work to do this time of year. If you’re up for it.” 

The comment makes you pull a face. “I’m familiar with hard work,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. 

Joel’s lips quirk again, into something like a smirk this time. “I’m sure you are,” he says with the faintest edge of a challenge. 

He takes a long swig from his stainless steel travel mug, trying to fix his eyes on the horizon. But damn, if it isn’t a challenge to see you standing there, looking every bit like you’d just rolled out of bed. In a shirt too damn thin for a morning like this, leaving too little to the imagination. 

He knew he shouldn’t be noticing something like that, shouldn’t look at you like that–especially not while you’re standing next to your dad. Hell, he shouldn’t want to look at all, but his eyes betray him. Darting for just a moment to your soft curves and the evidence of the chill in the air–the impression of your stiff nipples protruding in the soft fabric. 

Christ. He swallows hard, landing his eyes back on the scowl you wear on your face. You’re his friend's daughter. It just ain’t right. Sweet young thing like you. He battles the devil on his shoulder that reminds him you aren’t a kid. You’re a woman. A grown woman with your own life and clearly your share of grit, if the sharpness in your voice was anything to go by. 

He shifts on his feet, forcing his attention back to your dad who was still chuckling softly at something. Joel didn’t catch the joke, head too full of thoughts about you–or how to not think about you. He could feel the warmth creeping up his neck, unsettling him in front of your dad. 

You and him made loose plans for the day while Joel’s mind continued to wander. He shouldn’t have asked about why you were back. Your answer was vague, brushing him off like it was a privilege he hadn’t earned. For some reason that lodged it in his head further. He wanted to know more, even if he shouldn’t. 

Your dad stood up, stretching and declaring that all of you have work to do. You take that as your cue to head back inside, leaving the screen door swinging behind you. Joel lets out a low breath, shaking his head as he turns back to your dad. 

“She’s a spitfire,” Joel comments, keeping his tone neutral.  

“She is,” your dad agrees, adjusting his hat. “Good to have her back.”  

Joel huffs a small laugh, “S’pose we could use a strong woman around here. Keep us in line.” 

“No doubt she will,” your dad says, clapping him on the shoulder. The whole exchange stuck with Joel though. Something under that edge of yours, something unpolished that has him curious in a way he isn’t used to. He shakes his head knowing it isn’t his place to go digging. 

Your dad starts down the front steps. “Let’s get moving, then.” Joel moves mechanically, boots falling in line with your dad’s, but his mind is half on you—in that t-shirt, with that scowl on your face, and that faraway look that he’d like to unravel. 

You were used to hard work but your muscles weren’t exactly dialed in for the functional conditioning. It was humbling as you found yourself aching and exhausted by the end of the night. However, the fatigue did make it easier to fall asleep once your head hit the pillow instead of spiraling on about your failures until the birds started chirping. 

The next few days gave you a jump start into the rural routine. In bed early, up before the sun. Hot showers before dinner to wash away the layer of sweat and sweet-smelling dust from the pine shavings and hay. You found yourself looking forward to the strong coffee and the cool morning air before you started with your day. 

Your dad, and Joel, learned quickly to let you wake up rather than ask questions as they caught up on their plans before heading out together or splitting up. You didn’t mind listening, but you could feel Joel’s eyes lingering on you now and then. It made your spine straighten, determined to hide the sore muscles in your shoulders from him. If he was waiting to hear a complaint from you it was never gonna come. 

Despite getting more rest and having an endless list of labor to keep you moving–you often found yourself working solo and in silence during the day. A silence that your mind was more than happy to fill. You rehashed memories and dissected those little moments from your relationship with your ex-fiance that you wish you had seen more clearly at the time. 

You’re deep in one of those memories, mindlessly stacking bales of hay onto the trailer for a delivery your dad is making tomorrow when Joel enters the other end of the barn. He leans against the door, arms crossed loosely over his chest, just watching you work. The warm scent of hay fills the air, grounding and everpresent in his life. 

It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a common chore he’d do without thinking twice. But watching you was a whole different story. Your shirt was damp with sweat as you leaned into the work like you’d done it your whole life. You climb up a stack of bales and toss down some from the top of the next row, unaware of his presence. 

He is mesmerized by you. The sharp look on your face like you were mulling over an argument, the fluid movements as you worked, and the determination radiating off of you as you worked at an urgent pace. 

His gaze drifts lower as you climb down and bend to heave another bale onto the flatbed trailer. The muscles in his jaw tense as he lingers on the curve of your back as you bend to grab another. The way your legs shift as you work. The outline of your body in that shirt, the soft grunt you let out as you hoist another bale had him thinking indecent thoughts before he could stop himself. 

Joel drags his hand over his face, fingers brushing his scruffy jaw. Heat burning within him that has nothing to do with the Texas sun transforms into irritation. He was considering copping out and disappearing before you even noticed him when he was outed by the damn barn cats. 

The orange cat comes sprinting towards him, but it’s the black and white one meow-yelling at him down the aisle that catches your attention. A dull thud echoes through the barn as you drop another bale and watch as Joel squats down to give the cats the attention they demand. You watch, catching your breath. He’s gentle with them, murmuring something you can’t hear before he stands and strolls toward you. 

“Afternoon,” he greets you in his deep baritone voice. Joel grabs the two-string bale of hay in front of you and drops it on the trailer with ease, grabbing another before you can interject. 

“I can handle it.” You huff as you resume your task. 

“Never said you couldn’t,” he replies smoothly, setting another down. “Thought it’d go faster with two sets of hands.” 

“I wasn’t in a hurry.” You eye him warily for a moment before slipping into a coordinated dance like it was natural. Tossing the rest that needed to be loaded up into the aisle for him to grab. You work in silence, just the sounds of hay shifting and boots scuffing against the barn floor. 

You break the silence first. “Dad says you and your brother hit the rodeo circuit in the summer. That true?” 

Joel huffs a soft laugh. “True.”

“You compete?”

“Team roping,” he says, his voice warming slightly. “Me and Tommy hit most of the circuits within a day's drive from here. Keeps us outta trouble.”

You roll your eyes. “Hard to picture you in trouble, cowboy.”

Joel’s smirk returned, faint but there. “You’d be surprised, sweetheart.” He matches your playful tone. 

His words linger as you work, stirring something you don’t quite know what to do with. Your mind drifts to the idea of rodeoing, the adrenaline of it, the discipline it demands. You forgot how much you missed it, how much you gave up chasing a life that didn’t pan out the way you hoped. 

Joel shifts beside you, the faint scrape of his boots pulling you back to the present. You glance at him, catching the way his shirt clung slightly to his back, the easy strength in the way he moves.

For a moment, the quiet feels comfortable. Easy. The steady rhythm fills the space. But eventually, Joel speaks again. 

“Your dad said you used to spend summers out here,” he says, in a low and easy tone. 

“Yeah,” you say, a little out of breath from the exertion. “When I was a kid.”

Joel brushes some loose hay off of his shirt. “Guessin’ it’s different now.” 

“Everything’s different now,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him. 

His brow furrows slightly. “What brought you back?” 

You hesitate, not looking him in the eye. You’re searching for an answer in the dust particles caught in a beam of sunlight. “Just needed time to…rebuild.” It’s still vague. 

“You runnin’ from something?” 

You tense at that, before covering it in sarcasm. “I’m not an outlaw,” you jest, earning you a small smile. He doesn’t press further, but you feel his eyes on you, steady, and patient like he’s waiting in case you offer more. 

“It’s not as simple as people make it sound,” you say finally, the words slipping out before can stop them. “Starting over, that is.” You sit on a bale and pull your work gloves off, running the back of your hand over your forehead smearing sweat and dust in a most unsatisfying way. 

“No, it ain’t,” he adds quietly. 

Something in his tone makes your chest tighten, but you ignore the sensation. “What about you? How’d you end up here?” 

“Had to start over myself, I reckon,” he muses, dusting off his hands before sitting down next to you. The words hang in the air, heavier than you expected. He doesn’t look at you, instead, he watches the cats play with a piece of baling twine. “This place made it easier—focusing on getting the house built and getting the business running. Your dad helped too.” 

That catches you off guard. “My dad?” 

Joel nods, finally meeting your eyes. “Just seemed to understand, I guess.” 

You stare at him. You’re disarmed by the softness in his tone. Like there’s more beneath the surface if you ask for it. 

Joel feels the air thicken. He takes in the way your sweat-damp shirt clings to you, and the heavy rise and fall of your chest. For a split second, an image flashes in his mind—your chest heaving for a very different reason, your skin flushed and shining. His throat tightens, and he looks away quickly, cursing himself for letting his thoughts slip. 

The cats weave between your legs, easing the silence. But the air between you still feels charged. Your thighs are nearly touching. The proximity feels overwhelming for some reason and you're suddenly caught up in the details of his profile as he stares down at the floor. The lines at the corner of his eye, his nose, his lips.

He clears his throat and slaps a palm on his thigh. “Well,” he starts, standing up rather abruptly. “Just came by to check-in. See how you’re settling in.” 

“What?” You frown. You miss the grimace that flashes on his face, your eyes drawn to the cats darting away from the two of you. “How I’m settling in?” 

“Yeah, you know…” he gestures vaguely around the barn and your brows furrow and your eyes sharpen at him. Irritation flickers behind your eyes. 

“I told you I’m not afraid of hard work,” you snap, jumping to your feet in front of him. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he grumbles, like you’re misunderstanding him. 

“Did my dad send you to ‘check in’ on me? Or did you want to see if I could keep up?” 

“It ain’t like that.” He says lowly. 

“Right.” You cut, crossing your arms. You’re over this rollercoaster of a conversation. Your eyes catch on the deep crease between his brows and the glint in his dark eyes. Something flares in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s indignation or something else entirely. “Then what is it?”

His jaw tightens, gaze locked with yours. Something unspoken flickers in his expression. But instead of answering, he straightens, stepping back. “Doesn’t matter,” he says curtly. 

Your stomach twists at the coolness of his tone, the connection you just felt snapping like a wire. 

“This was a mistake,” Joel mutters to himself. 

“What was?” you asked, your voice deadly quiet. 

Joel only shakes his head before striding toward the far door. His boots echo on the floor and the cats follow after him like shadows, their tails swishing as they dart out into the sun. Joel pauses in the doorway, glancing back with a look you don’t understand. 

“Don’t work too hard now.” His voice carries easily before he stalks off.

Your thoughts have you spinning. “The fuck is his problem?” you wonder out loud, sharp in the warm air. In the space he left. 

But deep down, you can feel the edge of something else. Something more than frustration, curling low and unwelcome in your chest. The weight of his gaze was still lingering, and try as you might, you can’t ignore the way his presence had pressed into every corner of the barn, or the faint scent of leather and bourbon that still hangs in the air. 

Your routine locks into place, and the days begin to pass in a blur. Joel stops by for coffee and acts like the conversation you had in the barn never happened. The stoic, gruff cowboy thing works just fine with you. Except for the moments you catch him staring at you like he’s trying to find an answer to something he never asked.

If you’re honest, though, despite your hostility, you seem to catch yourself studying him with the same frequency and intensity. You’re loath to admit you catch yourself hung up on his obnoxiously broad shoulders, his arms sculpted from the physically demanding work, and that gravelly morning voice he has before he finishes his coffee.

Aside from whatever Joel’s problem with you is, everything else seems to be falling into place. You catch up on your dad’s list of projects. You pick up a part-time job at the feed store in town, keeping yourself too busy to have idle time and too tired to dwell on the past or the future. You get to know folks in the town while you work at the register.

The town seems smaller than it was when you were a kid, but there’s also a charm in the simplicity that you find comfort in. The regulars keep you up to date on the town gossip, and you’re laughing loudly with your boss, Linda, one day over a joke she’d never admit to teaching you when your neighbor struts up to you with a list in hand for a bulk feed order.

You’re cordial to him and the man at his side who gives you a flirty wink that has you raising your eyebrows in disbelief for a moment before you put it together. “You must be Tommy?”

He grins brightly and offers his hand. “And you must be the neighbor?” You give him your name and a polite smile. Your eyes flick to Joel, taking in his neutral expression. His hands rest in his pockets, but his posture is loose, his broad shoulders back in a way that draws your eye before you can stop yourself.

As you enter the details of their order into the prehistoric computer, Linda chats both of the men up, asking them about their horses and when their next rodeo is.

You give Joel his total and take his payment, trying not to roll your eyes when he doesn’t make eye contact with you. You’re ready for the interaction with him to be over when Linda puts you on the spot.

“This one’s been talking about looking for a project horse of her own.” She nods her head toward you. “You boys have any leads for her?”

You can feel your face heating up as they both look at you. It’s not like it was a secret, but you weren’t planning on making Joel privy to your plans. You still haven’t forgotten the way he said this was a mistake after having one conversation with you. Or the way he is always looking at you. Like you don’t belong here or something.

“I’ll do you one better,” Tommy says. “We’ve got a couple of colts just getting started under saddle. They could use the miles, and they’re real sweet-tempered if you wanna come by during the week.”

“Thanks, Tommy.” You give him a genuine smile. “I’m actually going to take a look at one that’s got potential this weekend. Marilyn from the post office said her cousin’s got a six-year-old quarter horse she’d sell for a steal.”

Joel lets out a dismissive laugh under his breath. “You mean that Hancock gelding? The blue roan?”

“Yeah.” You confirm, slowly growing more confused by the reactions on all of their faces. “Why?”

Linda’s mouth is hanging open like you said the devil was gonna sell you his horse. Tommy gives you a modest smile like you’ve told him two plus two equals eight, but he’s too polite to correct you. Joel’s expression remains unreadable, but the crease between his brows deepens.

“Am I missing something?” you ask, hoping for an explanation. You do not like feeling like you’re being played for a fool. 

“She’d sell that horse for a dime and a handshake,” Linda says. “Her cousin broke her jaw getting bucked off that horse. That’s why he’s been out to pasture ever since.”

You’re quiet for a beat before the familiar challenge and determination wrap around your heart. “Can’t hurt to look,” you say with a shrug.

“Hancocks are notoriously stubborn and broncy,” Joel adds, his tone low and edged with warning.

“They’re also incredibly smart, loyal, and full of try if you earn their trust and ask ‘em the right way,” you shoot back, meeting his eyes for just a moment too long. Why does it always feel like he thinks you’re out of your element? Does he think you’re incompetent? It only strengthens your desire to prove him wrong.

Joel’s mouth presses into a thin line, but his gaze doesn’t waver, and it stirs something uncomfortable low in your chest.

“So I’ve heard,” Tommy cuts the tension simmering between you and Joel. “Offer still stands if he doesn’t work out.”

“Thanks.” You pointedly direct your appreciation to Tommy, not looking back at Joel. “We’ll give you a call when the order’s in.”

They take that as their signal to move along. You think that would be the end of the drama for the day, but Linda’s got one more tidbit in store after the door closes behind the two men.

“God, those two are so hot it’s unbearable,” she sighs. It catches you off guard, and you blink at her. “Too bad they’re cowboy Casanovas.”

“What?” You give her a scrupulous look, shifting on your feet as she leans against the counter.

“Oh, yeah,” Linda says with a knowing smirk. “Every buckle bunny in a three-county radius knows those two. I hear they have a sign-up sheet at the trailer.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head, but the image comes unbidden—Joel, shirtless and panting, sweat glistening on his chest, his jeans slung low on his hips, every muscle taut as he leans over some woman. His gravelly drawl slides through your mind like warm honey as he murmurs something low and dirty, but you can’t make out the words. Your thought derails violently, and you scowl at yourself, heat rushing up your neck, but Linda’s still talking. 

“I’d stand in line for either of ‘em if I were single,” she adds with a shrug.

The image morphs into smug Joel tipping his hat, a self-satisfied grin on his face as some random woman climbs out of his bed. Your throat tightens unexpectedly, and you shove the thought away, scowling at the knot of irritation it leaves behind.

The trailer rocks faintly as you haul it slowly down the driveway toward the barn. Blue shifts inside, and the loud thud of him pawing at the floor, anxious to get out of the small space, echoes loudly in the driveway as you ease to a stop. You cut the engine and hop out of the cab, you can hear your dad’s boots on the porch steps before he’s striding toward you. “You actually brought him home, huh?” 

“You knew I would.” You grin. Your dad unlatches the trailer door and you slip past the divider to untie your new gelding and back him out of the trailer. Blue’s ears flick rapidly and he snorts like a dragon, wary of his unfamiliar surroundings, but you steady him with a calm voice and wait for him to drop his head before coaxing him backward. 

His hooves hit the solid ground and he blows out a sharp breath, shaking his neck to de-stress. “He’s gonna be perfect,” you say, running a hand along his neck. “Just needs someone who knows what they’re doing.” 

Your dad gives you a look that says he knows he couldn’t change your mind if he tried. His gaze flicks over Blue’s body, taking in his confirmation and conditioning, the scar on his back leg, the brand on his flank, and the stocky ranch horse build. “Linda said he’s got a bad reputation.” 

“Linda says a lot of things,” you shoot back, leading Blue toward the barn. “He was misunderstood. Had a rough start, that’s all. That girl who got bucked off never shoulda had him to begin with—not after he’d been out to pasture for so long. She was scared, and he felt it.” 

Your dad hums, the kind of sound that tells you he’s skeptical but not enough to argue. “Well, he’s in good hands now.” 

“And we both know I like a challenge,” you say with a steady voice, edged with something sharper. 

The sound of boots on gravel draws your attention and you glance back to see Joel strolling over from the direction of his property. His hat tipped low as his dark eyes flick between you and Blue. 

“Afternoon,” he calls, steady and smooth. 

Your dad turns and gives him a nod. “Joel.” 

“That the Hancock gelding?” 

“Yeah,” you reply shortly, adjusting Blue’s halter. 

Joel steps closer, his expression unreadable as he studies the gelding. Blue swishes his tail before shifting his weight, resting one back leg like he’s already starting to relax. Joel walks a circle around Blue, before pausing next to your dad. “Well-built,” he comments. “Is he sound?” 

You can barely hold back your eye-roll. “I had Barb meet me at the farm for a pre-purchase exam. Passed with flying colors.” You swallow down your irritation. Once again Joel thinks you’re a fool? That you’d go off and pick up a horse without a vet inspection? Before you give Joel a piece of your mind you take a steadying breath, grounding yourself and whispering into Blue’s ear. “He might doubt both of us but he’ll be eating his fuckin’ words real quick once you and I get started.” With that, you turn away and lead Blue to the barn. 

Joel watches the two of you walk off, resting his hand on his hip. “She got a death wish or somethin’?” he grumbles.

Your dad crosses his arms, both men still watching the barn door where the two of you disappeared. “She’s tougher than she looks. And she’s got more patience than the two of us combined—for animals that is. Lord knows she’ll let us have it just for looking at her sideways.” 

Joel grunts, ignoring the heat crawling up his neck at the thought of you telling him off. “Hope you’re right.” 

“It’ll be good for her to have her own project. Haven’t seen that light in her eyes since she got here. S’about time she started moving on.” Your dad’s words eat at Joel. He still wants to know what you’re trying to rebuild from, but he doesn’t ask. Letting the silence stretch before your dad continues. 

“Plus, she’s got the right touch for it,” your dad drawls, tone laced with pride. “Always drawn to the ones that seem a little rough around the edges.” 

Joel doesn’t respond right away. His eyes narrow on the horizon, but his gaze flicks back to where you walked off, the sway of your hips lingering longer than it should. The deeply twisted interpretation of your dad’s words messing with his mind. 

In the barn, Blue seems less concerned about getting the lay of the land now that there’s food in front of him. He munches greedily, tearing hay out of the net tied in the stall. You’re buzzing with a mix of emotions, already imagining the next steps for the two of you. 

Your thoughts fall back on Joel and your dad, their low voices carrying faintly in the warm air. You can picture Joel still standing there, one hand on his hip, eyes fixed on you, that infuriatingly unreadable look expression he always has. 

Your chest tightens, heat rising in your cheeks as you lean against the stall door. You hate how Joel looks at you like that. Like he’s waiting for you to fuck up. To prove him right. Like he’s already decided you’re in over your head. 

“He doesn’t know me,” you mutter under your breath, “doesn’t know you,” you tell Blue, “doesn’t know shit.” 

Blue snorts softly, and you take that as his agreement, a smile tugging at your lips. 

Days blur into a steady rhythm—early mornings with Blue, afternoons at the feed store, and long evenings under the arena lights. Each ride sharpens your connection with him, his turns growing tighter, his strides more confident. Progress comes in small, steady victories, each one lighting a spark of hope in your chest.

One afternoon, when the sun hangs low in the sky, painting the fields with warm hues of orange and gold. From his spot near the fence of his own property, Joel leans one arm against the top rail, his black felt Stetson shading his eyes. Across the way, you’re working with Blue in the makeshift round pen. 

Joel can tell from the way you hold yourself that you’re tired. Your shoulders seem stiff and your jaw tense. But you don’t stop. Your voice carries in the breeze, warm and steady as you encourage Blue to make another pass. 

The horse resists, throwing his head and stomping at the ground, but you don’t flinch. You give him the space to settle before asking again. Joel’s lips twitch, with a hint of a smile. You’ve got grit. 

He can’t shake the feeling that you’re working off more than just the horse’s rough edges. You move with purpose and focus, but with a weight that doesn’t seem entirely about Blue. 

From where Joel stands, he can’t make out every detail, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from lingering. You draw his attention with a pull that he can’t resist. Against his better judgment. He traces the line of your spine as you step forward, the way your hips shift when you pivot. He knows better than to look, knows it’s wrong, but he can’t stop himself. 

Blue gives in, his steps evening out as he settles into a steady rhythm circling you. Joel watches as you slow him to a halt. The tension in your posture releases and you reach out with ease and satisfaction to stroke Blue’s neck. 

That invisible pull between you draws your eyes to where Joel is standing. Your face hardens when you catch him observing your training session. He gives you a nod before pushing off the rail and heading into the barn. 

He catches glimpses of you working together in the mornings and evenings. He tries to stop himself from watching, but it’s useless. He catches himself inadvertently timing out his schedule to be able to keep an eye on you. Tells himself he wants to be sure someone’s keeping an eye on you in case something goes wrong. Or that he’s curious about your progress. 

He can admit he admires your perseverance and the skill you have. He would never admit the way he finds himself waking up hard and aching thinking about you and what it’d feel like to have your hips rocking on his lap instead of a saddle, your tits bouncing in his face, and your sweet blissed out smile. And when trudges up the steps of your porch in the mornings to see if your dad needs anything from town—he prays neither of you can see the remnants of his sins in his eyes. 

He can’t stop himself from trying to talk to you, though. One morning he asks straight up, “How’s the project horse coming along?” He tries to sound casual, averting his eyes as he sips his coffee. 

Your smile flickers, equal parts excitement and hesitation flashing across your face. “Good,” you say after a beat, sitting on the wooden bench. “He learns quick, got good stamina and drive.” 

Joel hums, tilting his head slightly. “He give you any trouble?” 

Your jaw tenses, though you try to hide it. “Nothing I can’t handle,” you reply, tightly. 

Joel nods. “Good,” he says simply, but he still looks at you, like there’s something else weighing on his mind. 

Your dad clears his throat, breaking the tension. “She’s got him started on the pattern already.” 

“You gonna run barrels?” Joel asks, curiosity sneaking into his eyes. 

“That’s the plan.” 

Joel hums, taking a long pause. “You wanna run him in a real arena? Bring him over to get some practice in with the right kind of footing and see what he’s really got for a motor?” 

Your eyes narrow and your shoulders tighten, straining with disbelief. A real arena? It’s like nothing you do is ever good enough for him. “We’re getting along just fine as is, thanks.” The words are dripping with venom as you slip back into the house letting the screendoor slam shut behind you. 

Joel’s brows furrow. “Didn’t mean no harm, by it,” he says to your dad. “My mistake,” he adds gruffly. 

Your dad looks a bit miffed at the sharpness of your rejection but gives Joel a shrug back. “She’s always gotta do it her own way.” 

The conversation with Joel sticks in your mind. You’re still chewing it over that evening as you run Blue through some drills, working on his lead changes and corners. When you finally bring him down to walk to cool down you hear the sound of hooves hitting the dirt across the field. Sharp and rhythmic. You walk Blue along the fence line. Pausing when you catch sight of Joel and Tommy in their outdoor arena. 

Their horses move like extensions of their bodies. You loosen the reins, letting Blue’s head sway with every step as you stay transfixed on the two men. Tommy’s bay gelding moves with a quick, snappy stride. His hindquarters tucked under him as he spins on a dime at Tommy’s commend. You can feel the thrill and see Tommy’s grin from where you sit. It’s infectious. You roll your eyes as he tosses his rope catching the dummy steer in a single fluid motion. 

You make another lap before you let yourself study Joel. 

He’s riding his big red mare, her muscles rippling in the sun as she powers forward at a lope. Joel’s hand is steady on the reins, his posture relaxed but exact. Every movement he makes is calculated, and deliberate, yet to an untrained eye seems completely natural and fluid. Like he and his horse were born to do it. He barely shifts to ask the mare to pivot. Her body arcs beautifully, bending around his leg as they make a sharp turn toward the roping dummy. 

You’ve seen good riders before, but there’s something different about the way works. He doesn’t just ride—he leads. Every muscle he moves is a quiet conversation between him and his horse. It’s seamless and controlled. And damn if it isn’t mesmerizing. 

He leans forward slightly, and your mouth goes dry watching his arm flexing as he tosses the rope with precision. His red mare halts instantly, kicking up dirt around her hooves. Joel adjusts his hat with a smooth motion, you can see the focus on his face. Serious and competitive.

You swallow hard as you change directions, still walking on a loose rein very aware that Blue’s sweat is long dried by now. You feel warmth burning in your core that has nothing to do with your tired muscles. He looks good out there. Too good. The kind of good that makes you think about things you shouldn’t be thinking about. Your eyes drift, taking in the way his jeans hug his thighs, the line of his back as he shifts in the saddle. You imagine his hands, thick, precise fingers. Something coils hot and tight within you. You shake your head at yourself. You are not having those thoughts about Joel Miller who thinks you don’t know your ass from your elbow. You swing your leg over the back of the saddle dropping to your feet. Loosening your cinch and still trying to shake your thoughts out of your mind when you hear Tommy hollering at you. 

“Watch and learn, neighbor!” Tommy calls, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You glance up, cheeks burning as Tommy tips his hat your way with his charismatic grin. Joel follows his gaze, dark eyes locking on you for a moment. Tommy gives you a demonstration of his prowess with the rope–as if you hadn’t been watching–but, Joel says nothing before turning his mare and heading in the opposite direction. 

His cool look sends a shiver down your spine. 

You walk back to the barn, and the sound of their horses fades behind you, but that image of Joel sears into your mind. His commanding and maddeningly attractive exhibition just stoked a fire you’re desperate to ignore. 

You have the same stubborn streak as your father and you’d be damned if you’re gonna cave and ask Joel to use his facility. You find a summer barrel series in a nearby town with low entry fees that runs weekly. You start hauling Blue out to get some experience. At first, his runs are clumsy, but as you get your miles in, his turns get tighter, his confidence grows, and your times get quicker. And you quickly feel like the two of you are ready to enter your first rodeo. The air smells like dirt and livestock, as you unload your horse and tie him to the side of your trailer. There’s a hum from the generators, buzzing conversations, and the occasional whinny of a horse or thud as one paws at the dirt. You had made a point not to ask if Joel and Tommy would be attending, but you catch his familiar shoulders tapering to his slim waist, with one boot on the lowest rung of the fence a few yards ahead when you head toward the warmup pen before your division gets called. He isn’t even facing your direction but you instinctively square your shoulders and raise your chin. You wonder if he’s just here to see if you’re going to fail. Or maybe he’s just watching to earn some other woman’s favor. 

Something ugly simmers in your blood and your chest feels tight. You attribute it to irritation, refusing to acknowledge any alternate reasons. You’re going to prove him wrong. 

You’re still staring at him when he turns to say something to the man standing next to him. You grit your teeth. Superstitious–as every cowboy is–his usual salt and pepper scruff is neatly trimmed, he’s got on a pair of deep blue Wranglers–nicer than you figure he owned, and a crisp long-sleeve pearl snap. Dressed to earn Lady Luck’s favor. 

The devil on your shoulder whispers a thought in Linda’s teasing voice. He doesn’t need to do all that to get lucky. You take a deep breath and peel yourself away from the sight. You’re here to focus on Blue, not your asshole neighbor and his conquests. Despite trying to let go of your issues with Joel, a scowl stays plastered on your face throughout your warmup. Blue picks up on your distraction and he’s a little hot, as you head him toward the alleyway when it’s time for your run. Against your will, your eyes search for Joel. A wash of heat floods your veins when you find him already watching you. He mouths good luck at you and you can only manage a curt smile before you’re pushing Blue to a lope, making one tight circle before you cross the start. The sound of his hooves pounding into the dirt matches the blood pounding in your ears. The burst of adrenaline is instant. The run isn’t perfect. He breaks his stride around the second barrel and you lose time nudging him back into rhythm, but you finish the pattern without knocking anything over. The announcer calls your time as you slow to a trot, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. It’s such a blur you don’t think to look for Joel. You don’t think about him at all until you’re untacking Blue at your trailer, brushing sweat marks from his coat when movement near another horse trailer catches your eye. Joel stands close to a woman with long, shiny dark hair. She flashes a wide smile, leaning toward him and resting a hand lightly on his arm. The sight makes you grimace. You shove down the feeling. “None of our business,” you mutter to Blue as you keep brushing. But, your eyes flick back despite yourself. She tilts her head, laughing at something he says, or doesn’t say, you can’t tell. He stands stiffly, hands in his pockets. You can’t see his face from your angle.

The woman reaches to touch him again, and you feel a headache brewing in the back of your skull. Joel glances away from her, landing in your direction for the shortest moment, before his weight shifts and he takes a small step back. You scowl again, tossing your brush back into the tack room shelf with more force than necessary making Blue toss his head. Your heart thuds louder than it should and you run a hand over Blue’s cheek, murmuring softly to calm both him and yourself. When you glance back, the woman is still talking, but Joel’s looking at you again. His dark eyes are sharp under the brim of his hat. He nods, barely noticeable, before turning away from the woman entirely. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to take another deep breath before loading Blue back into the trailer to head out. You weren’t sticking around to watch any of the other events. Especially not the team roping. 

You smile when you pull onto the highway though. You count the day as a success and feel ready to enter a bigger rodeo. The idea makes you glow. Finally feeling like you’re getting back to your true self. You feel like a new woman compared to the version of you that showed packed up her truck desperate to put miles between your ex-fiance and your corporate nightmare.

“It’s not that bad,” you argue, crossing your arms as your dad leans against the truck with a skeptical look. “The hell it’s not,” he replies, gesturing toward the trailer. “That’s floor is one step away from dropping your horse onto the damn highway.” You sigh, dragging a hand over your face. “I know,” you grumble lowly, disappointment sinking in your stomach. “I was just hoping you’d see something I didn’t.” “Sorry kid,” your dad says. “S’fine. I’ll figure something out. Or just eat the entry fees I paid.” “Or,” he says pointedly, “you could ask Joel.” You glare at him, fire burning in your chest. “I don’t need his charity.” “Ain’t charity,” he interrupts your sour attitude with a gruff tone. “He’s practically family. Don’t let your pride get in the way of your goals.” The words stick, heavy and uncomfortable. You’ve got half a mind to keep arguing. Joel might be your dad’s best friend, but he’s nothing like family to you. But before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re dragging yourself up the steps of Joel’s front porch. 

You realize as your boot hits the last step that you’ve never been to his place. He always offers to have you and your dad over for a whiskey or for a fire out back, but you always brush him off. You see why your dad takes him up on it though. It’s beautifully made with stunning wooden chairs and a bench for seating. You’d consider complimenting him on his craftsmanship if you weren’t already dreading what you’re about to say. Joel opens the door, his hat already in hand like he’d been expecting you. “Somethin’ wrong?” “Yeah,” you admit, trying not to hesitate. “Uh, trailer’s shot,” you point your thumb in the direction of your dad’s place. “Was wondering if you’d have room in your trailer to haul Blue with your horses.” 

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches. The gleam in his eye makes you want to say never mind. You brace for a smart-ass remark. “‘Course,” he replies. You blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of it. “Of course?” 

He leans back into the house to grab something, then he’s handing you his keys. “Load your tack up tonight, and get your bags in the living quarters.” “No need,” you shake your head, leaving him holding the keys between you. “I’ve got the truck. And a tent.” 

Joel leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. You pointedly avoid how his sleeves strain around his biceps. “You’re ridin’ with us. Not riskin’ that truck dyin’ on the highway.” You glare, lips pressed into a thin line. Of course, you’ve got a trailer with a busted floor and a truck with more miles than you’d like to admit on it—while, Joel, has a shiny truck from this decade and a horse trailer with a tack room and living quarters. Probably has AC and everything. You catch the glint in his eye, realizing you’re the one asking for a favor and you steel yourself, reminding yourself to bite your tongue.

“Fine,” you grit out, holding your hand out for the keys.

The truck hums beneath you, the steady vibration doing nothing to ease the thick tension in the cab. Tommy’s passed out in the back seat, his hat tipped low over his face, leaving you alone with Joel and the steady drone of the country ballad playing through the speakers.

“You always listen to this?” you ask, breaking the silence as you reach toward the radio.

Joel glances at you, one hand resting casually on the wheel. “Somethin’ wrong with it?”

“Didn’t know you were a ‘sad songs for sad cowboys’ kind of guy,” you mutter, flicking through stations before he can answer.

Joel doesn’t stop you, but when you pause on something irritatingly upbeat, his hand moves toward the knob just as yours does.

Your fingers brush his, and the contact jolts through you like a live wire.

You pull back instinctively, your breath catching as your heart slams against your ribs. Joel pauses for half a second before retreating, his knuckles tightening faintly on the wheel.

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Joel stares ahead, his jaw clenching as his thoughts spiral. He knew telling you to ride with him was playing with fire. But he can’t stay away from the heat. You glance out the window, pretending the spark you felt wasn’t real. It’s just Joel, always better than you, always an ass. The charged silence stretches on though, every shift of his hand on the wheel drawing your attention. Every shallow breath reminds you of his proximity. 

“This’ll do,” you say tightly. Joel huffs softly, but says nothing, keeping his eyes pointed straight ahead. Neither of you speaks again for the rest of the drive, but the weight of the accidental touch remains, thick and suffocating. The rodeo grounds are already alive with motion by the time you’re parked and unloading the horses. The evening sun casts an amber glow over the circus of trucks, tents, and trailers. You help get the portable fence set up and the horses settled before the three of you head off to check in at the visitor's tent and get your meal tickets. 

The smell of barbecue wafts through the air and you get in line to fill your plate. Folks chat eagerly. Tommy strikes up an easy conversation with a group of riders near the picnic tables. You watch as some folks head back to their campsites, hesitating on whether you want to do the same or find a table. Joel passes you and sits at a nearby table and before you can debate any longer a voice interrupts your thoughts. “Long travel day?” the wiry cowboy drawls, tipping his hat and gesturing to the bench next to him. “Take a seat.” 

You give him a quizzical look, but you’re hungry enough to take the opportunity to sit and eat. 

“Name’s Cody.” He introduces himself while you eat. He tells you he’s a bull rider. Asks if you’re runnin’ barrels tomorrow. He’s chatty with a smooth and easy voice and a playful look on his youthful face. You answer his questions, politely, suddenly keenly aware of Joel’s gaze boring into the back of your head. It makes your spine prickle with something you can’t name. The heat of his stare burns into you, fierce and unwavering, making every laugh at Cody’s jokes feel like defiance. Cody continues on and you find it easy to listen to his stories, but you can’t help feeling compelled to glance over your shoulder betraying the distraction you’re trying to ignore. Cody points out some of the other riders he knows and invites you to come hang out at their campsite and have a drink. You’re still searching for the right words when you catch sight of Joel walking swiftly past your table. He mutters something to Tommy–who seems to be proving Linda’s rumors true with a woman wrapped around his arm and batting her lashes at him–and stalks off. Your stomach twists as you watch him go, irritation flaring hot and fast. “The fuck is his problem?” you mutter under your breath, turning back to your plate. Cody shrugs, clearly oblivious. “Who knows? Anyway—” But you’ve already tuned him out, your eyes following the path Joel struts down before he disappears.

You joined Cody and his friend for one drink, hoping it would ease your nerves. He had a kind group, a little rough around the edges, but tough as nails like you’d expect bull riders to be. They kept your mind distracted with their wild stories, but you decided to head back to the trailer before anyone got drunk and stupid. The walk back to the trailer feels longer than it should, every step weighed down by something stirring within you, something that has you on edge. You check on the horses before pulling the door open and climbing into the living quarters. The cool night air hasn’t soothed the heat that’s been simmering within you since dinner—or since that moment in the truck if you’re honest. You toe off your boots before looking up to see Joel, leaning against the wall, his jaw set tight, and his eyes sharp as they snap to yours.

“Where’s Tommy?” you ask, realizing it’s just the two of you in the small space. “Reckon he’ll be out til the sun's up,” Joel says in a quiet, low tone. “Alright,” you nod. Another point goes to Linda for that one, you figure. Joel’s jaw remains set in that infuriatingly unreadable way that seems to be his signature look. The dim light in the trailer casts sharp shadows across his face that darken his gaze. “You enjoy yourself? With your new friend?” he asks, his voice raw, edged with something you can’t place. You stop short, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse me?” He steps closer, reaching past you to hang his hat on the hook by the door. “Took your time gettin’ back.” He says, his eyes flick over you, dark and assessing. You’re acutely aware of the scent of the campfire on your shirt and beer on your lips. It swirls with his leather and bourbon musk like they were designed to enhance each other. His words sink in, cutting and daring. “What’s your point?” “Did you fuck him?” The bluntness of it knocks the breath out of you. Your mouth falls open. Shock and fury battling for control as you glare at him. “What did you just say to me?” “You heard me, sweetheart,” Joel says, his voice calm but razor-sharp. “Just wondering if that cowboy got what he was after.” It takes everything in you not to slap him across the face. “What the fuck,” you hiss, stepping closer, your fists clenched at your sides, “makes you think you’ve got the right to ask me that, Joel?” 

He shrugs his shoulders, but his expression remains cold. “Lookin’ out for you. Your dad’d kill me if I didn’t.” You laugh bitterly. “Bullshit.” His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. Silence fanning the flames within you. “You aren’t my dad,” you snap, voice trembling with rage. “And you sure as hell don’t get to tell me who I can or can’t fuck.” Joel’s eyes narrow, his shoulders stiffening as he steps even closer. “That’s not what I—” “Save it,” you cut him off, word sharp as a whip. “I don’t know why you think I’m so weak or clueless all the time. Like I can’t handle myself. Like I’m some kid you’ve gotta babysit.” 

Joel’s expression hardens, his dark eyes flash with something that looks like hurt beneath his anger. “That’s what you think I see?” his words come out like a dangerous growl. “That’s how you’ve acted toward me since day one,” you fire back, stepping toe-to-toe with him. “If you don’t respect me, Joel, just stay out of my business.” His chest rises and falls sharply, his breath warm against your skin as the air between you thickens. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” he barks, voice tight with frustration. “Explain it to me then,” you challenge. Shaking with the force of everything you’ve been holding back. “Or stay away from me if I’m such a thorn in your side.” He works his jaw, and for a moment you’re glued to the corded muscle in his neck and the exposed golden brown skin of his chest. He glares at you, making no move to back off. His voice drops sinfully low and quiet. “You really wanna know?” “Yeah,” you breathe, heart pounding like it’s trying to break through your ribcage. “I do.” His hand moves fast, gripping your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to make your breath catch. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he accuses in a rough and uneven voice. You blink. “What?” “You heard me,” he rumbles, dark eyes locked on yours. “From the first day, you showed up here, lookin’ at me like you had somethin’ to prove.” Anger burns in your veins. “How does that make me your problem?” His grip tightens, his body presses closer. “You ain’t my problem,” he mutters. Guilt twists into his words, “Shouldn’t even be lookin’ at you like this. S’wrong.” He swallows thickly, only sharpening the edge in his voice. “But I can’t stop thinkin’ about you, and it’s pissin’ me off.” His confession hits you like a brick over the head. The trailer is silent, but the sound of the blood rushing in your ears, and your ragged exhale seems deafening. 

“Then stop,” you challenge, voice trembling with defiance. “If it’s so wrong, just leave me alone.” Joel’s eyes darken, his other hand settles on your hip, fingers digging into you. “Can’t,” he says,  voice so thick with frustration, it sounds like it hurts. “Don’t think I want to.” 

Silence stretches and time feels thick and warped. Your ragged breaths fill the space. His eyes search for a reason to stop, but he finds none. 

You don’t get a chance to reply before he drops your wrist to wrap a large hand around your jaw, pulling you into a feverish kiss. Nothing gentle about it. It’s raw and desperate, equal parts frustration and hunger. Your fingers curl into his shirt as if you could pull him any closer, even as your teeth scrape over his bottom lip, in a sharp, biting challenge that makes him groan low in his throat. He angles your face so he can kiss you deeper, harder, until your knees feel like they might give out. Your mind goes blank, flashing white with anger and need. All you can process is the hot slip of his tongue against yours and the sharp bristle of his facial hair against your tender lips. Your back hits the cool metal wall of the trailer before you realize your feet had even moved. Joel’s hips press into yours, pinning you against his body–solid and unrelenting. His lips trail down your jaw to your neck, the edge of his teeth scraping at your skin. The rasp of his stubble sends sparks to your core, and you dig your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. Pulling him toward you, needing him in a way that verges on painful. He lifts his mouth, breathing hotly against your damp neck. “This what you want?” he says, his tone matching the burning desperation coursing through you. “You want me to fuck it outta you? Til you can’t keep runnin’ your mouth at me?” “Shut up,” you snap, but the way your body arches into him betrays the hostility in your voice and the subtle stretch makes you keenly aware of how wet and needy you are already. He makes a low, guttural noise in his throat that makes your cunt throb. His hand slides down to grip your thigh, hitching it around his waist as he grinds into you. The hard ridge of his cock pressing into you makes you gasp. The sound you make sends heat ripping through him like wildfire. We can’t, he thinks, but the words die on his tongue. The thought of how wrong this is flashes in his mind, but it’s drowned out by the way you’re looking at him. The way your nails dig into his shoulders as you pull him closer, your breath hot and shaky against his cheek. He can’t think. He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to. Not when you’re so soft and warm and furious beneath him. He’s helpless. His hand slips under your shirt, rough fingers brushing over soft skin, leaving a searing trail that grounds you as your mind spins. He pushes your shirt up, baring you to the dim light of the trailer. Time slips back into the warped, syrupy dimension as you absorb the unbidden lust and awe in his eyes. You’re the one exposed, but you feel like you’re seeing something just as naked in his face. Time catches up and you pull your shirt the rest of the way over your head, committing to sin wordlessly. You shiver at the sudden contrast between the heat radiating off of his body and the cool air hitting your flesh. “Joel,” you gasp, your head tipping back as his mouth closes over your nipple like a wet furnace. His teeth graze the sensitive skin causing you to spew breathy curses over the top of his head. They only spur him on. He sucks hard enough that you tug him off you by his hair, but he only switches to your breast, delivering the same delicious punishment as his fingers roll and pinch at the wet, puffy, flesh he abandons. 

It’s like he can predict your needs before your mind can, biting down harshly enough to pull you away from the angry, hissing thoughts and keep you desperate to stay lost in the physical sensations. He palms the full weight of your tits, gliding his thumbs over both, slick and shining with his saliva. He presses them together before releasing them. “Goddamn,” he murmurs, taken by the way they bounce more perfectly than he could’ve imagined. It’s wrong to have you topless and panting beneath him, but his name falls so sweetly from your lips that it doesn’t matter. The heavy-lidded look you have makes him feel confirmed. When you moan lowly as the pain melts into pleasure when he kneads your soft, slippery skin, his cock aches and weeps for you. He needs more. He needs everything. Needs to wreck you, to see you so fucked out the only thing you can say is his name. 

It’s an exquisite brand of torture. 

You hate how good this feels, how badly you want him to keep going. To show you every move he knows. To break you down with his hands and mouth. You should push him away, tell him to fuck off. But your body doesn’t want that. You don’t want that. You roll your hips against his, begging wordlessly for more, as you tug at his hair hard enough to pull a throaty groan from deep within him. The sound he makes nearly has you short-circuiting, but he doesn’t give you the respite to fall apart. His hands are everywhere, frenzied like he’s losing control. Hasn’t he already lost it? You wonder distantly. Slowly, you realize he’s littering dirty little threats and filthy promises into your warm flesh. You hate the way his words make you shiver, how much you crave every pledge he makes. “You’re gonna feel me for days, sweetheart,” he husks hotly, just behind your ear. It’s a commitment you unwittingly pray he keeps. Some part buried deep within you blooms at the idea of feeling every memory of his touch as you go about your day tomorrow. “Get to it then,” you snap, hands reaching for his belt with urgency. Joel doesn’t need any more encouragement. His hand slips between your legs, teasing you through the soaked fabric of your underwear, and the sound you make at the pressure—the breathless, needy, whimper—makes him forget how to breathe. All he knows is that he needs to hear it again while he fucks into your soft, warm cunt. 

He wrenches your jeans open and works them down your thighs as you tear at his shirt buttons. He’s barely able to let you go long enough to pull his shirt off; watching you kick your pants off the rest of the way makes him nearly trip over himself. 

The air between your naked chests is sticky and warm. He dips his hand beneath the hem of your underwear, fingertips gliding over the soft hair on your mound making his eyes roll back. 

The edges of your vision blurs when he prods two big fingers between your slick lips, but you’re glued to the way his dark eyes are nearly black now. He looks every bit possessed by a beast, and fuck if you aren’t driven by the sick desire to make him snap. 

“You like having me touch you like this, don’t you?” His voice drips with need underscored by the slick sounds coming from between your legs. 

“No.” You rasp, as you grind your clit against his palm. He pumps two fingers inside of you, curling them just right to make you moan. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he drawls, thick like honey. You grip the muscle flexing in his arm to steady yourself. His concentration and competence makes your walls flutter around his fingers. 

“You’re gonna come for me, right here.” He declares. 

You shake your head. “I’m not—fuck—I won’t.” 

“You will,” he interrupts. Dark and calm. His pace quickens, fingers focused on the spot inside you that makes you a mindless wreck. His thumb draws circles around your clit. 

“Can feel how close you are.” Your hips rock and your muscles all pull taut. “If you’d quit fuckin’ fighting me.” He somehow crowds even closer to you. You feel like you’re about to snap when he pulls his hand away, leaving you feeling empty and ragged. “But you’re too fuckin’ stubborn, ain’t you?” 

“Joel,” you whine, angry and devastated. “I hate you.” 

You grip the back of his neck with one hand, and both of you watch as he finally takes himself out of his jeans. 

The view makes you salivate. 

Everything about Joel is rugged and masculine. The muscles carved into his arms and chest. The trail of dark hair leading down his stomach that thickens around his base. The deep flushed color of his thick cock. The ragged inhale he makes when he presses the blunt tip against the drenched fabric that clings to your swollen folds. 

“Say it,” he growls, rubbing along your barely clothed seam. 

“I hate you,” you whisper unconvincingly, digging your nails into the back of his neck and arching off of the wall. 

“Tell me you want it.” You can’t tell if it’s a remain or a plea. This strain in his voice and the muscles tensing across his broad frame make you tremble.

“I don’t.” You lie. You snake one hand down your body, peeling your ruined panties to the side so he can slot his tip at your dripping entrance. You tilt forward, impatiently, stretching around him just enough to override your filter. 

“Oh, fuck,” you start. Unable to stop the stream of whispered curses from rolling off your tongue. 

“Yeah,” Joel rasps, inching deeper inside of your tight, warm walls. He feeds himself into you slowly, the overwhelming fullness as you adjust makes your thighs shake. He pulls out and you whine, unable to say a word before he’s moving, dipping you onto the thin trailer mattress and slipping your underwear down your legs. 

“Gonna fuck you full,” he mutters. You spread your legs, making room for him to settle above you. He draws his cock back through your lips, coating himself in your arousal before driving into you with a powerful stroke. 

Your lips part, sucking in air as he sets a pace. He fills you deeper than you’ve ever felt, relentlessly making room for himself as he saws in and out of you. It’s powerful and primal, but refined by his athleticism. Fluid rolling hips and his strong core make you see stars as he fucks into you.

“That’s right,” he rasps above you, and you realize he’s responding to you. 

“So good,” you’re murmuring, “so full.” 

“Taking it like you were made for it,” he says to himself. The intensity of your tight, warm pussy coaxing him deeper makes him spill his thoughts. Unfiltered. 

He sets a pace, slow and deliberate at first, each stroke filling you completely before pulling back, leaving you desperate for more. The friction is maddening, plunging his length into your sensitive walls as he pins you beneath his hard body.   

“You feel that?” His breath is hot against your neck. “Feel how deep I am? How I’m splittin’ you open?”  

You nod frantically, your nails digging into his shoulders as you whimper his name.  

Joel’s control falters at the sound of it, his hips snapping harder, faster, as his desperation takes over. “Thought about this,” he rasps, his voice hoarse. “Fuckin’ hell, I’ve thought about this too damn much. But you’re better than I ever imagined.”  

His confession sends a jolt through you, but you’re too far gone to process it, your body tightening around him as pleasure builds again, sharper and hotter than before.  

“Joel, please.”  

“Fuck,” he chokes the word out, his pace faltering for a split second before he slams into you harder, deeper. “Say that again.”  

“Please,” you whisper, your voice breaking as your release breaks through you, leaving you gasping and cursing.  

Joel’s hips snap erratically, pinning you into the mattress with a tight grip, as he buries his cock as deep as he can inside of you. 

“Gonna fill you up,” he mutters, his voice ragged. “Every drop, sweetheart.” Make you mine, he barely keeps the last thought in his head. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chant as your body jolts with each collision with his. 

“Fuck,” Joel mutters, cock driving deeper and swelling at your words. “That’s it. Take it all, sweetheart.”  

Your release hits again, your body trembling violently. Or maybe it never stopped—he only drew it out of you in waves. 

Joel curses low, his hips slamming into yours one last time before you feel him pulsing inside of you, hot and thick. 

When he pulls back, his eyes linger on the mess between your thighs. “Look at that,” he mutters, his voice low and reverent. His wide hands slide up the back of your thighs, bending your knees to your chest so he can watch the mix of your releases glistening and dripping from you. 

He takes one hand and drags it through the mess, pushing it back up inside of you. You squirm, sensitive to the touch, but fixated on whatever is burning behind his eyes. 

You wait for him to say something characteristically Joel. To dismiss you as naive, to rub it in that he broke you down. That he had you crying his name. That you shouldn’t have done that. 

But it never comes. You’re convinced he was trying to put you in your place. To give you another reminder that he thinks you’re useless and clueless. You’re too wrapped up in the thoughts to speak or move. He doesn’t say anything at all which nearly makes it worse. Instead, he pins you under a heavy arm, holding you against him until you both doze off. Succumbing to exhaustion.

-> PART TWO

dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🤠🤎

tagging the usual babes in case you want some cowboy!joel for christmas too:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @magneticecstasy

@indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist

@94namkooksworld

[miimo96]

Things I Do and DON'T wanna see in Sonic 4

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD FOR SONIC 3⚠️ DO NOT READ yet

With the introduction to Sonic 4 being Announced, here something's I wanna see happen in the 4th Sonic movie, now keep in mind these are just things I wanna SEE happen in the 4th movie and not that I know they're GOING to happen, it's just something I think Paramount/ SEGA should decide to do if Sonic 4 is going to be PEAK

1 thing I would absolutely love to see adapted into the Sonic films is the inclusion of rail grinding, Since it's obvious that we're going to be getting a metal Sonic storyline and therefore possibly a time travel one, I think seeing Rail grinding in probably an Apocalyptic future setting would be absolutely an amazing thing to see in live action, especially since it's pretty much a staple in Sonic games and hasn't really been adapted yet. Another thing I would love to see is the inclusion of the iconic Soap shoes, since this movie was basically taking inspiration from Sonic A2, not including the soap shoes was surprisingly a shock to me, especially since they're so iconic in that game, However I understood their reasoning probably being that they're not just in style anymore and therefore wouldn't really be serving a purpose, other than just being fan service, HOWEVER, if they were to include them in the 4th movie being that we're probably going to be seeing a possible Apocalyptic setting, then seeing Rail grinding and Soap shoes would definitely be a possible thing, especially since the Soap shoes would Definitely fit in with the overall futuristic vibe

Next up is Sonic and Amy's relationship, tbh I HONESTLY do not want her to just be solely obsessed with Sonic, I get that's her character and all but there are so many different ways you can go about it, With how she's been characterized recently, I think she'll be more than just that but I really hope they actually go that route and change her, as much as I hate the show, I really love how she's depicted in Sonic Boom, her design is beautiful, her voice is on point, and her relationship with Sonic is just so damn cute because she's not just a damsel and is actually an effing fighter and leader, Also 1 more thing I whole heartily want to see, is Sonic to just be awkward around amy and actually have him experience/ fall in love for once, most Sonic games and shows like to keep him closed off from amy and kinda deny his feelings for her, i think it would be cool if they would break away from that trope and actually have him acknowledge his feelings for her instead, Maybe that's just because I'm such a huge Sonamy shipper and have been since the beginning but it's whatever lol

Finally one thing I DON'T want to see them do again for this film is bring back Dr eggman, I feel like This will be the absolute perfect opportunity to determine weather or not the Sonic movies are ONLY Successful because of Jim Carey. if they decide to not bring back robotnik and actually decide to focus on a whole New villain and are still able to succeed in the box office, then this will undoubtedly PROVE that the Sonic films are the BEST way to do a video game adaptation and were meant to be successful with or without Jim Carey, because let's be real, if it wasn't for Jim Carey's performance then the Sonic movies wouldn't be doing as nearly as good as they are now, that isn't to say they're BAD cuz they're NOT, it's just to say that they wouldn't do as good or as well if it wasn't for robotnik. Going forward without Robotnik I think would be a Great way to test the franchise and not only give a New Villain a chance to shine, but would also prove to Paramount, that they can still COOK with or without Carey, in my opinion, having Metal Sonic be the Main Villain of the next movie would not only give you the chance to adapt other Sonic villains in a unique way, but I think probably make THIS ONE the SCARIEST villain of all time, especially with Metal/NEO Sonic.

A Villain with No emotion, No motive, no remorse, No DEEPER meaning other than simply having the "I Want to KILL YOU" mindset and is just STRAIGHT UP Evil is something haven't seen done in a Long time, tbh you can probably make him the Ultron of the Sonic universe and have him JUST be evil and it wouldn't bother us at all as long as you write him well, Plus robotnik LITERALLY had the greatest character arc in this film, from wanting to take over the world, to ending up being the one who saves it, yeah it doesn't get better than that. I Guarantee you that if Robotnik DOESN'T come back and we Actually get a new Villain that will be the BEST move for the Sonic films as a whole and I think will have the chance to ACTUALLY expand on more of his cast from here out, anyway those are just my thoughts but whaddya think?

[serge-starr]

If you hate Donald Trump and Elon Musk like I do, I need your advice, please read this

Red text - Why I hate them

Blue text - My problem

Green text - Why it's a problem/why I need advice

Genuinely, do I even really have to explain why I hate Trump? Is it not ovious enough? He is one of the most evil people ever known and there is NO SUCH THING as a "good trump supporter". THEY'RE ALL BAD. He is openly a misogynist and talks about women so poorly. He talks about them like they're s-x objects and says that women deserve punishment if they get abortions. He's been accused of SA by DOZENS, literally DOZENS of women. He even sexualises his own daughter and says that he would date her if they weren't related. Furthermore, he's cheated on all of his wives.

And what else? He is racist. Straight up, he is literally just racist. AND transphobic. He also openly admires dictators and said that he wants to become one himself. He said that he wants an army just like (Germany mustache guy)'s. He has a friend called Nicholas Fuentes who also has openly said that he admires (Germany mustache guy), is a Holocaust denier and said, I quote, "your body, my choice" and "there will never be a female president". Trump has unfair tax policies that only benefit rich people and fuck over the middle and lower class. I struggle to explain this and why it upsets me to my parents because my parents don't care about politics or understand me as a person. Even if they did they wouldn't have the same views as me. They're conservative and I'm alternative.

So my problem is that my Mother says that all politicians are narcissists. I tried to reason with her and explain that politicians might just be people who stand for something and want to make change. She said that all politicians are power hungry and all they want is money and fame. I told her that I was passionate about politics and I cared about it a lot. She said that I shouldn't care about politics. I tested her standards and told her "what if I want to work in politics? Does that make ME a narcissist? Or does it not apply to me because I'm your child?" My Mum said that I would never make it as a politician because I'm too soft.

My Dad on the other hand, has bought a tesla, for multiple reasons. Firstly because they're good for the environment, and also because he liked the car's design/functions and he liked that he didn't have to pay for gas. I have begged my parents multiple times to not take me anywhere in that car (we have other cars). My Dad asked me to explain why and I told him that it went against my beliefs to go in the car. The company of tesla is partially owned by Elon Musk who is the richest man in the world and oh my God he is an ASSHOLE. He has so much fucking money that he doesn't even need and once he literally prevented money from being donated to a charity for children's cancer. He is the definition of a priviledged asshole. And of course he's a fucking Trump supporter. My parents believe that I'm being unreasonable but I don't think they understand how much it truly upsets me. At this point, it's not even political opinions, it's a political fact. I don't support Donald or Elon, I never have, and I never will. It is not justifiable to support them.

I need your advice because my Mum has continuously forced me to get in that car and take me places with it, like school, my art club, to town or literally just anywhere. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of people seeing me get out of it at school. It's embarassing. My parents don't understand. My Dad said that if I don't want to get in the tesla then I can just stop going to art club and other places. He asked me to explain why I hated the tesla and I told him it was difficult to explain.

What if people at my school think I'm a trump supporter? Look, I'm always one who doesn't care what other people think, but that's only if I'M BEING AUTHENTIC AND MY TRUE SELF. That tesla is not me, it's not my thing and it never will be. I hate going in that car. I hate its size, I hate its design, I hate its company, I hate everything about it. I'm sick of worrying that my friends and classmates think I'm a priviledged asshole. I wish my parents had a sense of reality and would just understand this.

Please, if you have any kind of solution, tell me. And don't say something like "Oh just try explaining to your parents how you feel and why you're uncomfortbale". DUDE I'VE TRIED THAT 9892423 TIMESSS. THEY WON'T LISTEN. THEY DON'T GET IT.

Who can I call? Who can I reach out to? Who can I ask for help? WTF DO I DO???!?!

That's all! Thanks for reading

[changbinsboobs]

Who in Skz goes out clubbing?

Hello guys im back🌝

Aaannnnddd the answers will probably shock you. Def shocked me 👁️👄👁️

Chan - yes occasionally on the regular. Like if the phase is tight i see him going weekly or something, but always with a group of friends and always for fun, social interactions etc. Not to get drunk, pick up women and be a lil rascal.

Lee Know - no he prefers his solitude and peace and quite. Also the night is dark for a reason he says, when its dark you should be home sleeping. Instead of doing other stuff.

Changbin - feels socially pressured. If he goes he goes against his will. I feel like he may be in circles with very social people who like s bit wilder things than him, and even tho that's not so much his thing he wants to make his friends happy and spend time with them so he goes every once in a while but i don't see him staying long or being active, u probably wouldn't even notice he's there. Its really not his thing.

Hyunjin - he goes but rarely and its intentional. Like he doesn't go there just to let some steam of or just because someone invited him. He has to have a reason to go and a mission to fulfill. I see him going more to social networking partys. (The other guys probably too, like i don't see idols like them going to regular clubs😂). But for hyunjin i see when he goes out partying its something like an after party or a private party involving certain important people etc. He goes to things like this to put himself out there, make himself be seen, win opportunities, get acquainted with people that could be helpful to him etc. It's more like a job to him than leisure.

Han - Im seeing two polar opposites, struggled, something addiction. So if i have to string everything that im picking together i would say he either hates it and u CAN'T force him under any circumstances to go - or he suddenly loves it and get so addicted to it you can't keep him out if the "club". But that energy's really heavy and not nice at all. Reminds me of someone with a gambling problem - that type of addictive.

Felix - isn't up to his values, he has better things to do than that. I see him having went in the past while he was still "undeveloped" (his words not mine if y'all crazy felix fans come at me again im blocking ur asses IMMEDIATELY🫵🏻😤) bubnoe that he's ~mature~ stuff like thats not up to his standard. Seriously tho idk when that shift happened exactly but in the time frame of 6 months (since around i started my acc and have been reading on him) his energy has changed sooooo soooo much. I think he's going through a phase of discovering himself and building his own sense of self. As someone who can definitely relate and would say is already on the other side, i think his transformation/ rebirth hasn't really finished. Let me explain - in the past his energy felt really really strong but u couldn't see/dense it probably it was very mellow, unused, unseen by himself even, it was very very weird seeing someone with that much power not having it utilized. It felt unsettling (now i think i understand why but thats a topic for another time). He didn't really have a sense of self, was very easily swayed, influenced, and didn't really know much about himself or the world, he just felt like a little newborn and went along with the flow not really having a steering wheel i his hands he just sat on other peoples boats and floated on it and let himself be taken by wherever others brought him. This however is not the case anymore - he has his own boat, and now thinks that having a boat means the work is done and he has found his sense of self and knows who he is etc. But thats just the first step, the actual work/journey begins now. He has to learn how his boat works, learn to navigate tides, to know his surroundings to interact with other boaters (idk what they're called). U get where im going at? And oftentimes with people that have been denied their power, freedom and sense of self, and finally come to a point where they reclaim those they switch to a polar opposite of what they were before because that past self is what others were, not u, so the brain makes u go the opposite way to find urself. I see felix being in THAT stage. His energy once very fluid & accepting, suddenly feels very rigid and convinced of certain beliefs and values, he doesn't seem to have the ground to be so convinced in yk. Because that switch is so sudden. So yeah in short i believe he's on a journey of discovering himself and now he's experiencing the stage of the "other side". Eventually he'll come to a crash out, live the consequences from the breakdown and within the healing period he'll actually find his true sense of self and begin from then nurturing that seed and "growing himself" more and more as time goes. Thats my prediction.

Seungmin - loves them 👁️👄👁️ it's really his thing i think he's a hidden charmer. Like ... an actual actual charmer a casanova, a don juan. Those a mainly directed to seducing women tho, i don't see him having that reputation, he's just overall charming and can attract lots of people, feels good in that energy can entertain and just overall he's made for parties and clubbing apparently. It gives him energy & confidence.

I.N - loves clubbing too and does it quite often. Like i see him whenever he can he goes out could be as often as every night or every other night. Definitely a couple times a week. There's not much else to pick up on here, idk why he öikes it so much or what he does when he goes out but yeah he does it often.

[unfriendlies]

if you remember. garam rolled his eyes and let out a long quiet breath as if to say of course he remembered. though he couldn't exactly recall what the two talked about, if they really even talked at all, but he could remember what happened. to an extent, anyways. his demeanor shifted drastically once angel told him how he knew garam had a hardon. he felt the blood rush from his head, a sort of panicked numbness settling in his hands as he gripped as tightly as he could onto the blanket that still left his legs concealed. he felt it, angel actually felt his dick pressing against him. this was so embarrassing, definitely not how garam imagined the first contact would go. but at least he hadn't tried to push further, he had the common sense at the time to do his best to hide the fact. "i must have fallen asleep after that, too. when i've been drinking, don't ever let me go past just kissing... okay?" he was really worried, mostly about the fact that he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop if angel had given him any sort of leeway. he'd never been the type to keep going or push for more when somebody denied him but knowing the feelings between them were mutual, he feared that, being drunk, he would forget about what angel has been through and pressure him into going further. garam also... just really did not want their first time to happen while he was under the influence. he wanted to be able to remember every single second of it, he wanted to enjoy every feeling instead of those feelings being controlled by alcohol. when angel began talking about their fight last night, all garam wanted was to pull away from him but he feared that angel would think it was an act done out of rejection when that was far from the true reason. garam felt so guilty for what he'd said, ashamed of the accusations he made. the smaller man just sat there, his grip on angel's hand tightening for a moment before his whole body relaxed. it was good to hear that angel was seeking professional help for what he'd been through, garam would have felt worse knowing that angel was suffering in silence, by himself. he knew he wasn't very good with dealing with his emotions, he often jumped into things too quickly and latched on to anybody that showed an interest in him. that's partially why they were both in the predicament they were in, because garam lived with rose colored glasses permanently attached to his face. he didn't want to see the obvious red flags, he chose to believe there was good in everybody. "it was my fault," he admitted, turning his body to face angel. "i said things that i knew would hurt you because i was... i was jealous. you kissed somebody else and i saw, i didn't like it. i kept bringing darius up because i do want to be friends with him, too, so you don't feel like you have to choose between us. i wasn't lying but that wasn't the only reason." garam looked away from angel, obviously ashamed of himself at this point. "you deserve someone so much better than me, someone who actually sees you and who picks you first, someone who doesn't use you. i've brought you so much trouble and i hate myself for it. i'm afraid of what might happen to you if you do choose me." garam continued, looking back to angel once again. "he went to my apartment after he hit me, i knew that he'd go there so that's why i came here instead of going back home. i'm sure he got mad that i wasn't answering, he has a key so he probably just let himself right in. it looked like a bomb exploded in there when i went to grab my things. he knows i'm here, you really aren't safe as long as i'm with you." he didn't even want to think about what could happen if axel managed to get inside while they were home, while they were sleeping, or showering. completely vulnerable. "i should have brought my bat with me."

At the mention of his drinking, Angel averted his eyes. He didn’t want to tell the man he had gotten sick. That watching him leave was the hardest thing of that night. He didn’t want to explain those couple of hours. Then he would have to lie. He couldn’t tell Garam his ex was there, not knowing how he would react. Things finally seem to be working out for them. Watching Garam spiral was hilarious to Angel. His grin turned into full-on laughing until he saw how serious Garam’s face was. “No, no, you didn’t do anything like that.” He cleared his throat, trying to stop his giggles. “We kissed more than once, if you remember. The last kiss, I pulled you against me. I could feel it twitching until you pulled away”, Angel admitted, leaning closer to Garam so their faces were inches apart. He soon noticed that Garam was serious. He truly thought he did something. Angel felt his smile would have hinted. However, the man was going through a lot. Angel wanted to be understanding. He tried once more to use his humor to calm his best friend. Angel smiled and pinched the man’s cheek, “I’m not mad. Would you stop, I’m okay. You didn’t do anything to cross any lines. You were adorable last night, if I’m being honest with you. After our kiss, I fell asleep. I can only assume you did as well,” the taller man said, the distance between them once more. Letting out a deep sigh, he tucked his wild strands behind the ears. “Since we are on the topic. You apologized to me last night. And I think I owed you a proper apology.” Angel was looking away from Garam now. Still sitting on the edge of the bed. Lowering his leg to turn his back, he was nervous. As confident as he thought himself to be, saying how he truly felt was difficult. Being the friend was his comfort space. Angel took a deep breath and pushed himself off the bed. He quickly walked over to sit right beside Garam and took his hand before he lost his nerve. “The things I said to you weren’t fair. My anger should be placed elsewhere. I really care for you, Garam. And yes. I did drink last night…” Angel paused as he tried to decide how much he should tell. “I drank too much and got sick. Most of it was out of my system by the time you got home.” part of that was the truth. “I don’t know what I can handle or what I can’t. I’m not even sure about what I want. But what I am sure about is you, Garam. My promise is the same as yours. I promise to take good care of you. But please be patient with me. If I pull away, please try and understand it’s not you. I’m seeing someone about what happened.” Angel admitted as he watched Garam’s face. He was rambling, worried that if he stopped talking, he might lose his nerve. “We meet once a week. I want you to know that I’m trying to be okay. Not just for me. But for us. That kiss showed me that our feelings aren’t just fillers for what’s going on. This is real.” the taller man squeezed his best friend’s hands, hoping he didn’t put his foot in his mouth. He didn’t want any fights between them again. If his little speech went well, they would be on their way to eat pancakes in no time.

[mjbarrosart]

My Dragon Prince Boards season 7, episode 705, part 1

It's time to talk about my boards for episode 705 of the last season of The Dragon Prince. I did a lot of stuff in this episode, so instead of going in order, I'll divide my work differently for this one, we will talk by group of sequences and not in order of appearance.

Let's start with the sunfire elf side of the plot. As a lot of you know, most of my work in this show was related to the Sunfire elves, and to be honest Janai and Amaya are two of my favorite characters of the show, so every chance to work with them is always a bless.

I did all the scenes of Karim talking with Amaya in this episode. It is hard to explain how I feel about Karim, he is such an idiot, but I am also kinda fond of him because I spent so many hours working on him thinking about his mannerism and motivations. I am fond of him, but I also hate him, hahahaha.

There is not a lot to say about this sequences, they are pretty straight forward. While I can understand why Karim hates humans so much, that doesn't mean he is right about it, and this hate is starting to feel like pettiness, and well fits him, he is a really petty man.

Let! Green! Say! Ass! hahahaha. Its always funny to board this kind of little jokes. I love Green and Amaya dynamics, they are such good friends, and I love how Green is always making sure that Amaya's bluntness is not coming out as "rude". But sometimes I feel he should just translate directly what Amaya is saying, because I don't think Karim deserves special considerations, haha.

That little speech Karim does about how he and Amaya are not the same was interesting to board for me. I wanted him to feel aggressive and menacing, even if his hands were tied. Like he was trying to intimidate Amaya, but she will not bend, she can see thru his BS. I wanted him to trespass into Amaya's personal space, portrait him as the bully he is. He says that his faith comes from knowledge, while the truth is that he leads using fear. Such a pathetic little man.

Another instance where is wish the rigs where able to translate between the expressions from the boards. I wanted him to spit his words trough his teeth when he says "humans are vermin, a plague", like his mouth is full of poison and hate.

But the Amaya, who is mostly motivated by making sure that Janai doesn't regrets the decision of killing her brother, does the right thing and reminds him of the fact that Miyana is pregnant, that there is a future worth to live for. Karim shows some doubts, so Amaya leaves and Miyana enters the stage.

I feel kinda bad for Miyana. I mean she deserves the punishment she got, at the end of the day she betrayed her people. But I feel bad for her, because I think that she honestly loves Karim. Imagine loving such a foolish man. And Karim can not learn a lesson, he keeps being an idiot. He is offered a second chance to be with his family, but the only thing he can see in Miyana is that she is carrying "his heir", and Miyana is right of being offended by that. But she wants to believe that he will made the right choice. And maybe for a minute Karim ponders it. I wanted him to loot vulnerable and maybe open in the final shot, so I made him kneel close to Miyana, laying his head on her belly, close to his child. We know how this will end for him, but for a moment there is maybe hope that he will change... no?

My next scene in this episode is one I am really fond of. Is the one when Terry says that the only person who can stop Claudia is her mom, and Soren is really against that idea.

First, is always fun to have a moment with Terry. I have really small ones during my work in the show, so this one was a blast. Second, I got to have another emotional Soren moment, and that is always nice, because Sores in my boy.

The back and forth of this conversation is pretty straight forward too. What was important for me was what will be the moment that will make Soren change his mind, and support the idea. So I decided to use Corvus for this.

Soren is struggling with the idea of bringing her mother back, even if that means they will have a real shot making Claudia stop. Corvus see his pain, and touch his shoulder. We talked before on how touching is a love language between this two, they don't need tons of words. Corvus is saying "I know that it's hard, but I am here with you". On my boards I had him giving Soren a little nod, they removed that for the final shot, and I think is ok. The nod is not necessary, Soren understand what Corvus means. With his support Soren can do it.

So he gathers strength and gives the drawing to Ezran. I like that in the animation stage they kept Corvus hand all the time on his shoulder. For Soren the idea of facing his mom is one full of pain and conflicted feelings, but he doesn't need to face it alone, he has Corvus at his side (as a partner, friend, soulmate, brother, whatever you see them being).

I love them so much...

The second part of this post is about the last sequence I did for this episode, it is a small one, but one that you could say... brings a "surprise"!

I will posted right away, so stay tuned!

[bibibbon]

Am I the only one who thinks that Izuku's admiration for Bakugou reminds me of Stockholm Syndrome? It's not normal for someone to have admiration for someone who did so much harm to them. What's your opinion?

Nope, anon, you aren't the only one. A lot of people can be found with a similar opinion if you check the anti bakugo tag or any variation of that tag.

I and many other people have talked about the toxicity of bakugo and izuku's relationship, and I recommend reading @sapphic-agent analysis on those two.

I have said this before in a previous post, but I am pretty certain that izuku after the bakugo vs izuku fight part 2 was supposed to finally ditch bakugo and abandon those feelings of pure admiration and start focusing on himself and healing. Izuku's vision of the perfect bakugo was supposed to break away the minute he entered UA and saw class 1A members like asui criticising bakugo for his horrible personality. However, that doesn't happen, and I think that's because hori changed his mind while writing the manga, which ultimately done more harm than good, as we can tell.

In the end, in a shallow way to try and address izuku's issues of self worth and mental burden caused by bakugo and societal treatment we get the supposed redeemed abuser (who really didn't do much in redeeming himself if iam being honest) telling izuku that he needs to start prioritising himself and to stop giving everyone special treatment. I suppose you can interpret izuku not wanting to work with bakugo as a small win, but that's literally it, in my opinion. I also think that it's a bit funny that SOME people were a bit mad at izuku declining the offer which shows just how much horikoshi has shoehorned bakugo into the plot to make him and izuku stick to one another that the thought of them not working together is unfathomable.

If I am being honest, do we really see izuku give special treatment to people?!?! Or is that supposed special treatment literally just Izuku being a decent human being who is doing his job from the heart and actually wanting to help people?

Apologies this got a bit ranty in the end!

[lilybecca1]

My analysis on Midoriya and why I think he has undiagnosed BPD

Throughout Izuku's childhood, he was always seen as weird, off-putting, an outsider to social norms. Being left out, being seen as "different" is very common amongst people, especially kids, with undiagnosed disorders. So let's jump straight into it. What is BPD and how does it develop? (Contains manga spoilers)

Here are a few summaries amongst many that I have found (also, I'm not a psychologist or a healthcare professional, these are all just based on my own observations):

BPD, short for Borderline Personality Disorder, is a severe mental health condition characterized by a pervasive and challenging pattern of symptoms including emotional dysregulation, unstable self-identity, fear of abandonment, intense and unstable interpersonal relationships, impulsivity, and self-harming behaviors.

People with borderline personality disorder (BPD) experience extreme emotions. Once a powerful emotion is triggered, it is very hard for them to calm down. Because of this, they often have unstable relationships. They also engage in self-destructive behavior.

Researchers think that BPD is caused by a combination of factors, including:

Stressful or traumatic life events (for example, emotional abuse, neglect, often having felt afraid, upset, unsupported or invalidated),

And genetic factors.

Symptoms may include:

A strong fear of abandonment. This includes going to extreme measures so you're not separated or rejected, even if these fears are made up.

A pattern of unstable, intense relationships, such as believing someone is perfect one moment and then suddenly believing the person doesn't care enough or is cruel.

Quick changes in how you see yourself. This includes shifting goals and values, as well as seeing yourself as bad or as if you don't exist.

Periods of stress-related paranoia and loss of contact with reality.

Self-injury

Wide mood swings that last from a few hours to a few days. These mood swings can include periods of being very happy, irritable or anxious, or feeling shame.

Ongoing feelings of emptiness.

Inappropriate, strong anger, such as losing your temper often, being sarcastic or bitter, or physically fighting.

Now, let's get into it.

BPD, like all disorders, isn't the same for every person. Symptoms and the intensity of these symptoms can vary. It can make some people's life and relationships really difficult, but others can go on for years undiagnosed living a completely happy life without even knowing there's anything wrong. Midoriya's case, in my opinion, is the latter. These symptoms don't surface that obviously in him, but I believe, in different circumstances (queue those Villain Deku and traumatized Deku fics) these symptoms and behaviours could actually turn into much bigger problems and affect his life in a much more impactful way. But, in any case, let's analyze these symptoms and how they may have surfaced in him throughout the manga.

Of course, I decided to turn to TikTok as well and watch some actual explanations and experiences from people who actually have been diagnosed with this disorder in order to understand BPD on a more subjective level, not just objective. And what I have found turned out to be very interesting.

People with BPD often develop a very emotionally attached connection with one specific person in their life, which is their "Favorite person". This person can be anything including a friend, family, therapist, partner, etc. This is a person that someone with BPD can become dependent on. They often view them as a person who's perfect and can do nothing wrong. They might overshare, and expect availability from that person at all times. The dependence on this person goes beyond just adoration, because they are idolizing them to the point where it's all consuming. A person with BPD can switch from absolute adoration one moment to absolute hate the next. They might have trouble with boundaries, sometimes even having zero boundaries when it comes to that person. Their life constantly revolves around that person and the favorite person's identity becomes their own, and they can feel literal physical pain when losing that person. You see where I'm getting at?

I believe Midoriya has developed this dependency and attachment towards one particular person, can you guess who?

Yep, Bakugo Katsuki

Midoriya views Kacchan as perfect, as the embodiment of the image of victory. It's like he blindly ignores Katsuki's bad traits and the things he has done to him, and he idealizes him to the point that Katsuki became his symbol of victory. So much so that he himself has absorbed this identity that he built around Katsuki, for example during battles, which we see during the moments he clearly imitates Bakugo and mirrors him. Izuku "ILoveKacchan'sPersonalSpace" Midoriya basically has zero boundaries when it comes to Katsuki, I mean y'all let's not forget he basically stalked him and even knows what body part Katsuki washes first in the shower. Not to mention he gives zero fucks about boundaries when he butts into Bakugo's emotions even though Bakugo has clearly tried setting boundaries for almost their whole time knowing each other. Deku has also overshared with Katsuki(and only Katsuki), when he told him about OFA even though it was literally meant to be the one secret that he should have kept to himself. His life has always revolved around Bakugo to the point he cannot keep himself away from him.

And talk about experiencing physical pain when losing the favorite person...remember when Bakugo was kidnapped? Yeah, remember that kinda cringe and second hand embarrassing, absolutely animalistic scream that Midoriya let out? Yeah, well..... And then when he actually lost Katsuki, when he saw his dead body. Izuku lost control of his quirks in the middle of a freaking battle, LITERALLY started choking on Blackwhip and screaming in pain, and Blackwhip turned into a heart pierced by three swords that symbolizes intense and extreme physical and emotional pain. Need I say more? No.

And if you think Midoriya isn't capable of extreme hate too, ahhahaha, you're wrong. He can fr switch from absolutely adoring his Kacchan to planning how he's gonna rip off his legs in his diary. Yeah, I haven't forgotten about that one, Izuku.

So, it's very clear that Bakugo is Midoriya's FP and that he has developed this unhealthy, borderline toxic dependency towards him. But let's break down his character even further.

People with BPD tend to engage in self-harming and dangerous activities impulsively, diving in without thinking, in order to feel something. Well, we can tick that one too. Problem child number 1 is known to do and jump into things impulsively without thinking, even if it causes self-injury. In fact, he sometimes engages these self-destructive behaviours on purpose, like all those times when he broke his own bones over and over again. All this just so he can make Todoroki use his right side. Seriously, Deku. Yes, they are training to be heroes, but noone in the class is as reckless and impulsive as Izuku.

Which actually brings me to my next point, which is people with BPD objectifying themselves for validation, going insane lengths just to prove their own self-worth, never having a clear sense of self and seeing themselves as bad or as if they don't exist. I have talked about this in a previous theory of mine too, which you can read here. Midoriya Izuku does not have a clear sense of self. He mirrors others around him, behaving according to the mood and expectations of others. He has no sense of self, because he has built his identity around wanting to be a hero. To him, he is only worth something if he reaches that goal, that dream. Meaning he has no self worth or identity unless he does as he is expected to do, aka be a hero and put everyone else before himself, sacrificing his own needs, and in worse cases his own well-being. He basically objectifies his own self and turns himself into a simple puppet, a Deku, an empty vessel that can hold OFA and his dream of being a hero. To himself, he is nothing more than an object that's meant to be sacrificed if it's needed.

Now, let's continue with: emotional dysregulation, extreme mood swings, and inappropriate, strong anger, such as losing your temper often, being sarcastic or bitter, or physically fighting.

Well, first let's talk about something that's called "splitting". BPD is a disorder that causes extreme mood swings, making the person go one second from feeling happy and fine, to the next second feeling complete, pure rage. There is a fine line between these two moods, and it's very easy to fall over the edge. For some people, it can happen multiple times a day and could last from minutes to hours to even days, and for others, it can happen very rarely, it depends on how severe the symptoms are for each person. One thing in common though, is that splitting occurs when a specific memory, trauma or emotion gets triggered.

There are different types of splits, one of them being Rage split. Rage splits usually come with sudden outbursts of anger that seemingly come out of nowhere. When it occurs, the person might feel a tightness in their chest, their vision might narrow. They might experience a burning sensation in their chest as if their heart is trying to escape. This overwhelming emotion of anger can cause them to become infuriated with someone or something for no apparent reason. These episodes can cause impulsive actions, inappropriate speech and violent behaviour. It's almost like a cathartic release of emotion, and oftentimes the person doesn't remember the event fully, or only remembers it as a blur.

Now let's compare Midoriya's rage and outbursts and how they could be considered as splitting.

Scenario One: Izuku screaming his ass off saying GIVE ME MY KACCHAN BACK, charging at the obviously overpowered villains with two broken arms. Now, we can all agree that this was pretty out of character for him, and everyone was like Okay wtf. So the threat of losing Katsuki(which also directly correlates to his fear of abandonment) triggered him and made him impulsively and recklessly run towards the villains, even though he was completely defenseless.

Scenario Two: "Monoma, you b*tch". Midoriya literally unlocking a NEW QUIRK cause Monoma was talking shit about his FP, causing violent behaviour from him, getting tunnel vision, being completely OUT of it to the point they had to use Shinso's quirk to make him snap out of the episode. And now, this wasn't just about some rando insulting Bakugo. In my theory I explained how Monoma insulting Bakugo was essentially Monoma insulting Izuku's own values and identity. Because he has absorbed Bakugo's ideals, his values, his desire to win. Monoma talking shit about him felt like he just insulted who Izuku was as a person, as if he jabbed at the very essence of Izuku's dream, of his ideals. THAT was why it triggered him so bad.

Scenario Three: Midoriya vs Shigaraki 1. FP got stabbed, Midoriya immediately saw red and ran straight into the villain's hand without thinking about the consequences. He almost rage quit y'all. He raged so hard he bit the goddamn tendril like a freaking dog. He disassociated so hard he got tunnel vision and his eyes actually lit ablaze. Bruh.

Scenario There'stoomuchtokeepcount: Midoriya vs Shigaraki 2. Aka Deku AFK-ing in the middle of a freaking war and being like I'm out, y'all on your own now, after seeing FP's dead body. Tightness in his chest, unable to breathe, vision narrowed, in fact, completely blocked because of Smokescreen. A burning sensation in his chest as if his heart wanted to escape = Three of Swords. A cathartic release of emotion as his quirks released and gotten out of control. His biggest rage split moment right there.

But, rage isn't the only type of splitting that can occur. Another type is Isolation split.

Isolation splits usually stem from a deep-seated fear of abandonment. You may find yourself feeling unwelcome and unwanted, even in familiar environments such as school. You might have an urge to push people away, and often cut yourself off from others. For some, this means aggressively cutting people out of their lives for no apparent reason, for others, it might be a more subtle withdrawal from social groups and conversations. All the while hoping that someone will notice and ask them how they are doing. It might also include suppressing anger into anxiety, guilt, or self-hatred, identity dysmorphia, self-sabotaging relationships to be in control, stress-related paranoia, loss of contact with reality, and on-going feelings of emptiness.

Reminds me of a certain Vigilante Arc.

Isolation splits usually stem from fear of abandonment. In Izuku's case, why did he leave UA? Well, on the surface level, it was to protect his classmates from harm. But on a deeper level..

During his Vigilante Arc, he felt like he had to carry the burden of OFA all by himself. He felt like this responsibility that he carried made him a burden for others, including Katsuki, his friends, his family, and All Might. He feared that they would also realize this and feel like he's a burden, so he pushed them away, cut himself off, and left before they could leave him behind. Of course, this is not the truth, but this is what he believed. His feelings of anxiety towards the possibility of losing them in the war, his guilt of being a burden, his self-sabotaging is what made him believe that he is unwanted, unwelcome. During splits, the person views everything as either black or white, no in-between. Either all good, or all bad. He wanted to feel in control by leaving them behind for "their sake", almost maniacally insistent on being alone, like in the scene where All Might wanted to check on him and give him some food, but Deku ultimately ended up pushing him away and leaving him on the ground too.

During these episodes, people with BPD cannot logically think the situation through, they don't understand that their intense paranoia and belief that everyone hates them is just the reflection of their own feelings. During this episode, this Vigilante Arc(the episode didn't last for the entire arc, but there were probably higher and lower moments instead) he lost contact with reality and lived in a state of constant paranoia and a feeling of emptiness. He believed it was for the "better", but deep inside, that child inside of him just wanted someone to save him, to pull him back and not let go. Deep down he was just a child who just wanted some reassurance and to be validated. Like in his letter to Katsuki. Although we didn't see the whole letter, there were snippets of "Help me", and "thanks for everything" in it, reflecting Izuku's own feelings of "Please love me" and how even though he said he wanted to be alone, deep down he just wanted Katsuki to save him, to be there by his side.

Lastly, another symptom of BPD that can occur, albeit rarely, is the idolization, devaluation and ghosting of certain people, specifically the Favorite Person. This might just, technically, explain the ending of the manga and Chapter 431. Midoriya subconsciously idolized Katsuki his whole life seeing him as perfect. But as we all know, nobody is perfect. Midoriya had always viewed Kacchan as his image of victory, as someone who cannot lose. Yet, he has. The very person who he believed could never ever lose died on the battlefield. The person who believed was the strongest broke down crying in front of him saying he wants to be on his heels for the rest of his life. And what was Izuku's reaction?

Stop crying, this isn't like you.

Midoriya progressively went through the devaluation of Bakugo Katsuki's character, of his Favorite Person. Now, this is just a theory, because devaluation doesn't necessarily mean anything bad. It just means that he had stopped blindly idolizing Katsuki and realized that he is just a human too.

But in some cases of BPD, devaluation also comes with losing interest. Of finding a new favorite person who they see as their new "idol". Or to put it simply, Uraraka. Now, I don't want to go into more details because I am still very much hurt from Chapter 431, but we have seen an obvious ignorance, almost ghosting from Izuku's side towards Katsuki, something that is completely the opposite of how he would have acted before the war. Instead, he is looking at Ochaco as if she was his hero, and he sees her as a person that he wants to get to know more, to get closer to. Leaving Bakugo behind.

I spy an untreated BPD right there. But how could this disorder have developed in Midoriya? Well, it can be due to either genetics, or a series of traumatic events during childhood, for example emotional abuse, neglect, and going through feelings like being afraid, upset, unsupported or unvalidated.

Well emotional abuse came from the bullying. Neglect came from his father leaving. Being afraid was also because of the bullying and Bakugo. He felt unsupported by his own mother when it came to his dream of becoming a hero after being diagnosed quirkless. And he felt unvalidated his whole life simply because he didn't have a quirk. So yeah. I'm pretty sure these were all reasons that he has developed BPD, although not a severe case. If he actually turned into a villain and never got into UA, I imagine these symptoms could have worsened, making him extremely irritable, prone to snapping and having emotional outbursts and having an even more toxic codependency in his relationships.

I'm not saying that BPD is anything bad, I also have a friend who has BPD and it doesn't make you a bad person, people with BPD just simply experience emotions more intensely than others.

So yeah, I hope you guys enjoyed this analysis, and of course, let me know what you guys think!