#Put myself in a torment of like FOUR MONTHS trying to finish these because I hate how they came up every single time. Enjoy!!!

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Bewitched | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.8k

✦ request — can I request a older!Damian wayne×reader where they have feelings for each other but are really stubborn and then while they're on a mission the reader almost gets shot and then confess to one another

✦ warnings — light angst, reader and Damian are hostile towards each other until they’re not, poorly channeled feelings, everyone else is tired™︎, mentions of violence, fluff

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Whoever decided you deserved to be punished with Damian Wayne’s presence must’ve hated you. Probably Tim, he had been the one who gave the leadership of the team to Damian. A sweet gesture between brothers that damned your existence.

You supposed he had been happy, Damian had looked pleased with himself, standing tall with an annoyingly smug look in his face as he spoke to his brother mere meters away from you and the team. Thankfully, he ignored you for the first week until he had to give you orders for a mission.

You had been miserable throughout it all, he made you feel so much disgust you felt you would throw up at any given moment. Not even Wally got the reaction you had, it was too visceral — surely no one hated Damian Wayne and his perfect hair more than you.

Your stomach flipped, just as you thought about it he ventured into the room. You glared at him, and he naturally glared back with an intensity that would’ve intimidated anyone who hadn’t heard him complain about petty things. At least he hated you too. With a scoff, Damian fixed his scarf —the green one that only made his eyes pop— and followed the path toward the elevator.

“Ten bucks you chicken out.” Wally’s voice snapped you out of your fixation on the spot Damian had been glaring at you from. Dragging your eyes to the side where the ginger was standing, you tilted your head in confusion.

Gar chortled, “Just ask Robin out and take us out of our misery.”

Unbelievable! They really thought you could ever grow to even tolerate the brat. “I’d rather shoot myself, thank you very much.”

Just because Rachel and Garfield’s relationship worked, it didn’t mean everyone in the team liked each other. And honestly, Gar was either blind or too optimistic to see Damian and you would kill each other if you were left alone in the same room. Wally would’ve probably liked that.

Wally and Gar shared a look. They did that a lot whenever you interacted with Damian — sometimes it wasn’t an interaction what triggered it, you could ask if Robin would stay at The Tower and they would do it; you could say something about how dumb his hood was and they would do it; you could avoid the gym when he was there and they would do it.

Ignoring them, you announced you would go take a walk to shake off the stress Robin gave you.

“You’re acting like a child,” Wally told you, shaking his head.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Damian was in a horrendous mood. He was being a brat, there was no doubt, but he couldn’t care less.

Titus tried to get his attention, whining and wagging his tail. Damian patted the hound’s head and went back to the book he had been reading. He couldn’t even focus properly, his mind was still reeling out of frustration.

He had come to tolerate Tim a long time ago, Damian now fully saw him as a brother. But Tim seemingly lived to torment him, there was no other explanation as to why he thought it would be a good idea to have him in the same team as you.

He had earned his place as leader, but he didn’t want you around. His gut failed him sparingly, and this time it said he should stay away from you.

Testing you would have been a good idea, perhaps you had mystical powers he wasn’t aware of. That would explain the way his chest tightened when he saw you, you were bewitching him to have a heart attack.

Dropping the book, he patted Titus’ head again before leaving his bedroom. He ran downstairs with an impetuosity he hadn’t felt in months.

Jason’s grunts and the tapping against a keyboard echoed around the Batcave. Damian double checked to make sure no one else was there. Walking directly towards the youngest of his older brothers, he leaned his back against the desk as he stared at Tim.

“Drake, do you have a moment?”

Tim didn’t take his eyes off the screen, “What’s up, Dami?”

He would’ve sneered at the nickname a year ago. Now he ignored it. “Have you tested (L/N)?”

Jason and Tim sighed loudly, tired of hearing him go on and on about you. Everyone in the house avoided Damian whenever he came back from Titan Tower just because of that, it seemed like he was the only one who hadn’t realized what was really going on.

Indulging him, Tim stopped typing and turned to look at his little brother. “Tested her for what?”

“Hidden powers. I believe she is manipulating everyone in the team.”

Tim pursed his lips, humming. It was getting harder and harder not to laugh at Damian’s theories and demeanor. God, if only Dick wasn’t busy! It would’ve been hilarious.

Jason couldn’t help himself, however. Standing from his planking position on the mat, he popped a water bottle open. Bringing it to his lips, he commented, “Maybe it’s time you ask her out.”

“That implies I don’t despise her which is a severely wrong misunderstanding of my character,” Damian stated pridefully.

Leaving the chair to stretch, Tim placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “You’ll learn to like her.”

“I’d rather stab myself and suffer an agonizing death.”

Jason caught the faltering tone in Damian’s voice but decided to keep it to himself. “You’re being childish, demon spawn.”

He opened his mouth to defend himself but was interrupted by Alfred who announced it was time for them to get ready for patrol.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Rachel insisted that it wasn’t hatred what you were feeling. Listening to her might have been wise, but it would mean entertaining the idea that you found Damian attractive. You couldn’t, it didn’t sound real.

You had said “he’s just not ugly” and tried to move on, but no one believed you.

It didn’t matter because you believed it to be true. You had faith in what you were thinking and feeling. The only thing you felt towards him was repulsión and it was mutual, he had been clear the week prior.

The team had tried to prevent you two from fighting, keeping you out of his way. Aware of the reason behind their tiptoeing, you stormed out and confronted him.

His words had affected you a little bit, you couldn’t deny that, but that was only because you had been accused of doing things you weren’t capable of.

You said things you had never imagined uttering to another living being. You had never been a hateful person, but Damian made you react aggressively 100% of the time. He hadn’t been different, you had never heard him say such things — not even when he faced Deathstroke.

The yelling got to the point where Dick, Kory, and Tim were summoned by Victor who didn’t have time to put up with more fights. After complaining about how sloppy you were and how better the team would be without you, Damian had stormed out on the four of you.

Dick and Tim had been unfazed, clearly used to the bratty behavior. You excused yourself and went directly to your bedroom. You didn’t see him until the next mission.

He regretted every time he had complained of a narrator using a variation of witnessing something in slow motion. He now understood exactly what the narrators meant, and he was doing so in the worst way possible.

Damian had never regretted many things, not since he started living with his father at least, but now he could think of multiple comments and gestures.

He needed to calm down. You were okay, everything was fine — you were capable of taking care of yourself, he didn’t have to worry. You hadn’t even been harmed, but he couldn’t shake the image of that bullet missing you by millimeters.

What would have he done if you were shot? It would’ve been his fault for not giving you the proper orders, for thinking you would eventually quit being part of the team and free him of the oppression in his chest and the lightheadedness.

Turning the lights of his bedroom off, he closed the door. The other wooden doors were closed too, Garfield usually slept for an entire day after missions so Damian imagined everyone was trying to be as silent as possible.

Well, your bedroom door was ajar. You were finishing folding the laundry you had left undone before the mission. Damian knocked out of politeness. “Busy?”

“I’ll have the mission report ready in an hour,” you told him, not bothering to grant him your attention. The only reason you were giving him explanations was that he was your team leader. “I just need to make a phone call.”

“Boyfriend needs to know where you are?” His tone was harsher than he intended. Damian hated the way you couldn’t even grace him with a glare now.

You folded the pastel yellow t-shirt on your lap carefully. “Sister, actually.”

“Oh? I wasn’t aware that you had siblings.” You hummed. Damian blurted, “Does that mean you don’t have a boyfriend?”

The insistence made you lift your head to stare at him. He could’ve been mocking you and you wouldn’t have been aware. But he wasn’t, his eyes were dancing over your face in expectancy of an answer.

“I don’t.”

“That’s good.”

Planting a foot on the floor, you shrugged. As you split the stacks of clothes to carry them with more ease, you asked, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

God, there were many things; the fact that you had asked was a win on itself. Damian walked into the bedroom, curiously analyzing the bookshelf. He had only been there once, when he was given a tour of the tower — remembering the unnecessarily mean comment he made about the color of the walls, he winced.

The color was fine, but he had hated the way his heart raced when you opened the door and greeted Tim and him. You had been so polite he didn’t recognize you the first time you rolled your eyes at him. He couldn’t blame you for disliking him, he just wished it was different, that you were in the same position he was and with the same worries that had caused him many sleepless nights.

He opened your closet to then take a stack of clothes from the bed. He liked the way you arranged them, it reminded him of the way his mother used to.

“Leave that, I can do it.”

Shaking his head, Damian silently picked another stack of clothes and like he had done before, stored it in your closet. “You should rest.”

He was scaring you now. Since when did he care about your wellbeing? And since when weren’t you healthy enough to do chores?

“I’m not tired.”

“You were almost shot at.”

Oh, that. You had assumed no one had been paying attention, you didn’t even blame them for that when the battle had been so intense.

“Well, you were almost stabbed but I’m not saying anything.”

“You technically are.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

Damian made a pause. “What if I had been stabbed?” You looked up at him, so innocently confused he had to fight the urge of cupping your full cheeks. “What would you have done?”

Such a great question. Rachel’s voice echoed in your mind — she had been right. She was always right, actually, and you didn’t like it in this instance.

“Does it matter?”

“Sadly.”

“I don’t know,” you confessed. “What I said last week… I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.”

“How come?”

“I didn’t mean anything of what I said either.” He sat on the edge of the bed. Avoiding your eyes, he continued, “I wish— no, that would be a lie too… this isn’t how these things are supposed to go.”

Unsure as to what to say, you decided to remain silent. Only he knew what he wanted to express.

“I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You were more baffled now. “Is there a but?”

“No. I’m afraid there are things I do actually want you to do, though.”

“The report?”

He giggled. Damian Wayne giggled because of something you said. You had never heard a sound that compared with it, there was no point in trying to find something as adorable as a brooding giant giggling because of your perplexed questions.

That was until he said, “I want you to like me. I want you to trust me like you trust West and to talk to me… I want you to tell me about your life, all the things you like and hate.” He let out a scoff, “I know it’s asking too much, but I want you to…”

It shouldn’t have taken him being about to watch you get hurt to realize it. Then again, he wasn’t an expert in emotions. Damian dominated languages, he could talk his way out of almost any situation, he was an expert in many sciences, but emotions had never been his forte.

Emotions were weaknesses where he came from. He wasn’t the child scared of his mother catching him crying out of pain due to a broken arm anymore, but that child still lived inside him. Said child had morphed into a young adult scared of his own self catching him falling in love with the person he least expected.

His fear had come true, and running away from it wouldn’t only be useless but stupid.

Playing with his fingers, he stated, “I want you. That’s it.”

“Me too.” You put your hand on top of both of his.

Damian stared down at your hand for a moment, then turned to look at you. He needed you to be sure of what you were saying, he wouldn’t hold it against you if you couldn’t see past his awful behavior toward you.

You squeezed his fingers. “I mean it.”

Twisting his hand, he pressed his palm on yours. Wiggling his fingers as he intertwined them with yours, thumb brushing the back of your hand, he asked, “Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” you assured, making him grin.

You felt your stomach twist at his gesture. This time you didn’t find the sensation uncomfortable — on the contrary, it was a relief to finally understand it had never meant disgust. Your pride hated it, your mental health was thankful.

Your head drifted closer to his shoulder. The soft material of his sweatshirt invited you to rest it there, and Damian was delighted when you finally did it. He stayed still for a lingering moment, questioning whether he should do it or not — eventually he caved in and kissed the top of your head.

Craning your neck to look at him, now with your cheek pressed on his shoulder, you smiled at him. His eyes lit up as he smiled back, green orbs deviating to your lips.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Kissing you,” he answered truthfully.

Breathing out a small laugh, you said, “do it, then.”

He slowly dropped his lips onto yours, brushing them tentatively at first. You slid your hand off his as you kissed him back, placing it on his other shoulder as you lifted your head without breaking the kiss.

Damian’s arm wrapped around your plump waist, holding your face with his free hand while deepening the kiss. Trailing your hand up to his neck, your thumb traced his jaw while your lips sucked on his bottom lip.

“I still have to call my sister,” you reminded him as he pulled you closer.

Humming, Damian tightened his arm around you to bring you flush against him so you would straddle his lap. “I’m not stopping you, angel. I’m sure you can multitask.”

And so you called home, with an arm around Damian’s neck as your fingers played with his hair and he buried his face in your neck.

The next morning the kitchen was almost empty when you were ready for the day, only Rachel was there already which was how it usually went.

Eventually, the kitchen and therefore the dining room filled. The only one missing was Garfield, but you were used to that after missions. The chatter progressed as it did on a daily basis — Rachel mostly kept to herself unless she had something to say, Victor told Wally to stop talking with his mouth full of food, and Wally disobeyed Victor.

“Good morning.” Damian greeted the team, walking toward the cupboard to retrieve a mug.

Your teammates mumbled greetings. The clattering of silverware against ceramic got louder as they hurried their meal in case Damian and you decided it was a good time to fight.

A warm hand was placed on your hip. You carefully turned around, placing a hot mug in his free hand. “Green with a teaspoon of brown sugar.”

He kissed your forehead, lips still caressing your temple as he spoke, “thank you, beloved.”

Wally’s shocked screech woke Garfield up from his deep slumber two floors up.

[like-the-wings-of-butterflies]

Pamper (Platonic!Queen x Reader)

Summary: The boys bring comfort during that time of the month

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1335

Requested By: @foxinaforestofstars - Hey there! I've spent the last week reading all your Queen fics and I adore your writing! So, I was wondering if I could request something platonic with the dear boys: Reader is on her period and the cramps are so bad she's barely able to move, covered in cold sweat and throwing up and the boys are taking care of her because it hurts them to see reader in pain. Thanks in advance!

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I get severe menstrual pains so much of this is written from my own experiences but I completely understand that it’s different for everyone. Personally I think this is one of my worst fics because I haven’t written anything in well over a month but I’m hoping that this is similar to what you had in mind!

(Also in light of J.K R*****g’s repeated transphobic behaviours and the T***p Administration’s reversal of trans health protections, just a friendly reminder that this blog is a safe space and this post is for everyone who menstruates! Men, women, nonbinary people, literally anyone. I won’t hesitate to destroy terfs on sight :) )

Feedback is always appreciated! ♡

“(Y/N)?” Roger called, letting himself into your apartment with the spare key you kept hidden under the doormat. For midday your kitchen and living room was incredibly dark, the curtains still drawn from the previous night “Sorry for barging in but you didn’t pick up when I called.” He continued, peering around as he quietly made his way to your bedroom. “I was in the area anyway so I just thought I’d check in.”

He couldn’t say what he was expecting, but it sure wasn’t this. There you were, hunched over on the edge of your bed, one hand on your stomach and the other holding your head.

“Shit (Y/N) are you alright?” Roger gasped, snapping into action and running to your pyjama clad form. Kneeling on the floor in front of you, he gently lifted your chin with his fingers when you didn’t respond. Brushing the unkept hair out of your face, he smiled sympathetically at your bloodshot eyes and shimmering skin, a product of the silvery tears and sweat rolling down your face from the searing pain that found itself in your abdomen.

With short quick breaths and a waiver in your voice you whispered “No I’m fine Rog, it’s just that time of the month you know?” You quickly wiped away the emerging tears that were threatening to fall and plastered on the most superficial of smiles, “No need to worry about me, I can take care of myself.”

He stared at you disapprovingly, shaking his head lightly, “I don’t doubt that but I don’t want to leave you here on your own either.”

“Roger I promise you I-“

“Did you want me to call the others?” Roger queried, seemingly unimpressed with your stubbornness by the way he interrupted you, “We can help out if you like?”

Although both of you knew that you didn't have much of a say in the matter, he allowed you to mull over the offer for a moment, reassuringly running his hands up and down your arms. Caving into his persistence, you nodded your head silently and watched as his face lit up with a smile. Quickly, he leant up and placed a quick kiss upon your forehead before lifting himself from the ground.

“I’ll be right back.” He vowed, running off into the living room to call Freddie, John and Brian. Part of you felt that you would be wasting their time and being selfish, but deep down you knew you’d drop everything in an instant if any of them were unwell and needed taking care of. The day would pass by far sooner and their company alone would ease the torment your body was putting you through.

You didn’t realise how excited you were until the remaining three boys bounded through the apartment door. While you expected their bright and energetic selves, you were met hastily with sympathetic and worried eyes upon seeing your bundled up frame. Roger had managed to get you to lie down in the comforts of your bedsheets and you wasted no time in curling yourself up into a nest of sorts, basking in the warmth that it provided.

With all four of them together, they quickly decided that Brian and Roger would go out to gather ingredients for the lunch that you hadn’t yet eaten while John and Freddie stayed to help you out where they could.

You and Freddie weren’t exactly shy when it came to physical affection with one another. You were the kind of friends that found comfort in innocent intimacy, holding hands and cuddling one another being a common occurrence. So when he offered to massage your stomach, you couldn’t accept fast enough. As you lied flat on your back, Freddie sat on the edge of the bed beside you, running his warm hands across your skin and soothing the aches that you fell victim to each and every month.

“Look at the positives my dear,” He mused with a gentle smile, brushing his thumb across your navel, “at least you’re not pregnant.”

“Right now I almost wish I was,” You replied jokingly, a puff of laughter escaping your lips. “I’d do anything if it meant this would stop.”

Right on cue, John manoeuvred his way around your bedroom door with a tray in his hands, “I made you some peppermint tea.” He announced cheerfully, placing the tray onto your bedside table, “Veronica asks for it often when she’s feeling like this, it helps her so I’m hoping it’ll help you too.” He confided, patiently waiting for you to sit up. Freddie wrapped an arm around your waist and gently lifted you so your back was leaning against his chest while John gathered one of the daintily painted teacups and handed it to you. Ever the considerate, he handed a second cup he made to Freddie and then grabbed a third cup he made for himself and clinked it against yours; joining in on Freddie’s and your quiet chatter, so you wouldn’t have to drink alone.

With your mind at ease as a result of the comforting tea and Freddie’s soothing movements, you found your eyes growing heavy and a warm humming sensation settled it’s way into your body. Before long, John and Freddie’s voices grew quieter as you indulged in the rest you so desperately needed.

When you awoke, a bright shade of orange flooded through your bedroom window. Hues of reds and yellows painting the ceiling in the most beautiful display. The pain in your abdomen had long subsided and you instead found yourself in the less sufferable state of deep fatigue. You squinted your eyes with a hand to your face as you adjusted to the light before making out the shillouette of Brian in the corner of the room. He sat perched in the armchair positioned next to the window, a cascade of curls falling around his face as he peered down at the book in his grasp. ‘Steppenwolf’ it read, by Hermann Hesse. Completely engrossed, he didn’t notice you were awake until you let out an audible yawn.

“Evening (Y/N).” He greeted, eyes still glued to his book as he finished off the page.

“Hey Bri.” You smiled back groggily, “I take it the others have left?” You queried, noticing the comfortable silence that enveloped your small flat.

Brian nodded while closing his book and placing it on the nearby table, “Rog had some errands to run, Freddie had an appointment and John has a date with Veronica.”

You nodded softly in response, a sudden wave of guilt washing over you. “Thank you for all taking care of me today. Although I’m so sorry I’ve kept you so long, you really didn’t have to stay.”

“Oh nonsense (Y/N), I wouldn’t want you to wake up in an empty house,” He reasoned, “Besides, we agreed that we wouldn’t leave you alone until you were feeling better.”

How thoughtful they all were, taking time out of their day to tend to you. In a bid to show Brian that you were in fact doing much better, you attempted you lift yourself out of bed and try walking around for the first time that day. However when you stood, a sudden wave of nausea washed over you and gave you the false sense of motion, making you lose your balance. Brian’s arms quickly steadied you and as the room stopped spinning you felt the all too familiar burn of bile rising up your throat.

Noticing you paling face, Brian swiftly walked you to the bathroom and dampened a washcloth to press against your forehead, “Chrissie’s out with her friends tonight so I could stay for a bit longer if you like?”

From the position you were in, knelt over the toilet bowl with tiles digging into your knees, you mustered a sharp nod, “Thank you for putting up with me.”

He laughed lightly in response, rubbing a soothing hand over your shoulder, “We’re here any time you need us.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tags: @kelleypenac @chlobo6 @crazyweirdocalledfriday

(Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

[cowboyshit]

PART THREE OF ?

Previously: one, two Ship: Hangman Adam Page x Female OC (Hazel Baker) x Matt Jackson Summary: Rodeo/Cowboy AU - And just like that, fate has brought Hazel back to none other than Adam Page. Though last time they’d crossed paths he’d seemed eager to be rid of her company, Adam confesses the truth in his feelings for her and admits that he hasn’t forgotten her this entire time they’ve been apart. But now Hazel has serious feelings for Adam’s close friend, Matt... yet even she can’t deny that she has an indescribable connection with Adam that just can’t be ignored. Rating: explicit Length: 30,074 words Warnings: unprotected sex x2, angst, characters being idiots and not communicating their feelings properly... oh also probably some gratuitous horse knowledge no one cares about. you know, the usual.

author’s note: I wanted to get out this next part out as a holiday gift for all you amazing people who have been so encouraging about this series. I honestly can’t tell you how much your comments mean to me and how much pride and joy I feel at every little like or reblog or interaction with this fic series. At the start of 2020 I told myself this would be the year I finally wrote something that got to 50k words. I am proud to say with this installment Starlight is currently at 68k words, surpassing my goal. Hell, maybe it’s taken me an entire year to write it, but still, I did it! Now my next goal for 2021? Actually finish a story for once - this story. I have the outline planned and I can’t begin to explain to all of you how much your support and encouragement keeps me going to get the rest of this story out there. Anyways! Long note out of the way, I just want to sincerely thank you guys for your support of this fic series. It really means the world to me. Oh also - yeah... things are about to get VERY messy in this fic.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about her.

Four months. Sixteen weeks. After barely an evening of talking, if even. After inches away from a kiss, never quite knowing what that touch would have felt like. Something told him – kept telling him – it would have been life-changing. Some nights he was grateful he didn’t know; some nights it tormented his sleep, left him kicking and twisting as he turned this way and that, grunting in irritation as he wished sleep would be a reprieve from her memory.

Prone to worrying, there were times he wondered if he was building her up into something she wasn’t. Maybe she wasn’t as pretty as he remembered her being. A soft, round face; brown eyes that he could almost guarantee must be covered by a film of gold in the sunlight; silky, dark brown hair that made his fingers itch like mad to curl around and comb through; a body that begged for his palms to frame the natural pinch of her hips; a smile that made him catch his breath, that made him feel like the leading man in one of those old romance movies his mama used to watch.

No, she was beautiful, though it wasn’t her physical beauty that clung her to his memory. It was that feeling of being with someone he suddenly wasn’t afraid to talk with, who he willingly found himself opening up to before he remembered he hated opening up to people. The way he couldn’t stop smiling every time their eyes met, as though their souls shared a secret.

Maybe she would have stopped haunting him, were it not nearly every weekend he heard her name. He should have been prepared for the consequence of bowing out to Matt’s interest in her, but he wasn’t. Couldn’t be. Nothing like this had ever happened to him. As Matt talked about her at the rodeos with his brother, with Kenny, it was nothing pointed or directed specifically at Adam. If anything, it seemed Matt forgot altogether there’d been an energy between Hazel and Adam, and Nick seemed to never broach the subject of how close Adam had been with her when he found them.

But sometimes when Matt laughed on the phone with her after a run, and Adam’s fingers tightened on whatever he was holding, Nick would look at him and it almost seemed sympathetic. Maybe Adam was projecting. Maybe he just wanted someone to know the pain he was quietly suffering, not understanding how to see himself through it, adding to the pile of other anxieties and circling thoughts that spun around and around inside his head every day. At any rate, Nick would always side with his brother, time and time again. So why would he feel bad for Adam?

It’ll go away eventually. That’s what he kept telling himself. You’re just lonely. It’d been awhile. He kept to himself, but even he was only human, even he felt an aching need for companionship here and again, however temporary. Go to a bar, get drunk, find someone to hook-up with. You’ll forget about her soon. It would work, but only for a night, and only because he drank enough to forget everything but his name. Sometimes he even forgot that. He’d be left with the lingering feeling of thinking he was some sort of ass, going out and using another person for his personal vice like they were something disposable for him and had no thoughts or feelings of their own. Everyone said he was such a good person, but how could he be when he did things like that?

It’ll go away…

It’ll go away…

It’ll go away…

Then, like magic, there she was. Standing not but four feet in front of him. Breathing the same air as him.

And God, her brown eyes did look softly glittered in gold as the sun hit them. He sucked in a sharp breath and blinked, breaking through the surface from dream into reality.

“Hi,” she said, and her voice was soft. Her eyes danced between his and he would have given anything to know what she was thinking. He wanted to reach out, put his hands on hers and pull her in toward him so he could cover her lips with his and finally know what she tasted like.

“Hello,” he said.

Something shifted in his peripherals and hit him like a splash of cold water. He jerked and glanced to his left, seeing a woman he didn’t recognize watching them with a peculiar expression across her face.

It seemed Hazel did the same.

“Oh!” She gasped, startled, “Adam, this is my friend, Rosie.”

Rosie’s red-painted lips spread into a smile and there seemed a light in her eyes as she walked forward to accept his handshake. “The Adam?” She asked, with a tone that clearly indicated she’d heard about him before. Clearly from Hazel.

 “Uh, I guess that must be me? Adam Page.” He supplied with a small, awkward laugh and hoped his cheeks weren’t too hot. “Rosie, it’s a pleasure.” He glanced from Rosie to Hazel before he’d even slipped his fingers from their cordial handshake. She’d talked about him. What had she said?

Probably that he was an ass, considering their last interaction together.

Somewhere among his racing thoughts he found the manners he’d been raised with. “My friend Adam is over by the arena, if you want to wait with him while I take Hazel to look at the horses and see which one she wants to ride first.” He didn’t need to separate them; Rosie could easily come along with Hazel too.

But he wanted – no, needed – to talk to Hazel alone.

“Your friend's name is Adam too?” Hazel asked, and he heard a brief note of amusement in her tone. “Doesn’t that get a little confusing?”

“Sometimes,” he laughed. “If it makes it easier, you can call him ‘Hey asshole’ too, he’ll probably answer to it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rosie said as he directed her down the path toward the arena, where they’d meet in a moment and then, finally, he and Hazel were alone. He glanced down at her profile and felt the knot in his stomach tighten. He swallowed thick, Adam’s apple bobbing, and cleared his throat a little weakly.

“The horses are this way,” he said, voice trailing off. It clearly wasn’t what he wanted to say, but he was struggling with where to even begin. Maybe he would sort himself out on the walk through the barn to where he’d left the first prospect in crossties. Hazel fell in step beside him and he watched her get distracted taking his property in. Did she like it? He looked around where her eyes were falling and wondered what she was noticing. He loved his home; it was the sanctuary he had built for himself and the one place he felt completely and totally in control.

“I saw Dolly out in the front pasture,” she said, glancing up at him and nearly making him stumble over his boots.

“Yeah! I have her out grazing today, letting her be a little lazy.” He smiled and Hazel smiled too. “Actually,” he started, voice bouncing around with a soft echo as they stepped inside his fourteen-stall main barn. “The first mare you’re going to look at is Dolly’s full-blooded younger sister. She’s about four years younger than Dolly; just turned four this last April.”

“Oh! I can’t wait to see her.” She said, and her voice sounded honest enough that it warmed him somewhere, seeing how taken she was with Dolly. “Your barn is beautiful,” she sighed as they passed the third stall. He’d noticed she’d been peeking in curiously through the black-iron bars to each one they passed to look at the horse inside if there was one.

“Thank you,” he said, and felt himself straighten his posture a little proudly. “I sank most of my first- and second-year’s earnings into getting this whole place redone. Tore down the old barn, paid to have this one constructed. Did the same to the hay barn and the mare hotel and boarding barn out back. Put in a new sprinkler system for the pastures, repaired the fencing, leveled out the arena and trucked in a good dirt-sand blend for it…” He realized he was rambling and cleared his throat. “Sorry, you… probably don’t care about any of that.”

“No!” She said, quickly, and her smile seemed a little shy. “I mean, yes. I do, actually. I’m kind of a nerd for all of this stuff.” She ducked her head and laughed. “When I couldn’t physically be around horses anymore, I found other ways to try and be involved with them, which mainly meant playing online games where you owned virtual horses and virtual stables.”

A grin cracked over his mouth. “Wow, you really are a horse geek, huh?”

Her smile was a full-on beam of sunshine, it was so bright and struck him so warmly. “Shut up,” she said, but it was chased by a laugh. He found himself laughing too.

There were only a few steps left until they would reach the big, open, padded space with a drain and hose hook-up where he’d secured the little gold mare in crossties as he groomed her this morning in preparation. A few more steps until they’d talk about the horse, about riding, he’d see if she wanted to tack up and ride her around the arena before he pointed out the other two and checked if she wanted to ride them, too.

Only a few steps before he may lose his chance to say all those things he wanted – no, needed – to say.

“Hey,” he started, stopping suddenly in his tracks. She stopped a pace later, turning around and frowning up at him. “Look, I know this might not be necessary but, I need to apologize to you.” Those words were hard to get out. They felt thick like molasses on his tongue, but he pushed through anyways. He saw her confusion deepen and explained. “I was an ass to you last time we talked and there was no reason for it.”

“Oh,” she breathed, and suddenly he knew she was there in that place with him. No longer were they tiptoeing around the past, he’d been brave enough to force them to look right at it, because he couldn’t take not addressing it. 

“Hey, look, it’s alright.” She was being nice.

“No, it’s not.” He said, firmly. “I uh… look, I can be a piece of shit sometimes - that’s not an excuse or anything - but the way I talked to you…” He felt like he was fumbling. How was he supposed to apologize without telling her why it was so important that he did? That he couldn’t live another day knowing that was her last impression of him?

He knew she was Matt’s girl… but Matt never had problems getting girls, did he? Couldn’t Adam have this one?

He forced himself to meet her eyes when his nerves wanted him to look anywhere else and the next thing he knew, he was talking and saying things he never would have thought himself brave enough to say.

“I like you, Hazel. I liked you from the minute I saw you talking to Dolly. I liked you so much it scared me. Hell, scares me, even. I haven’t stopped thinking about you, not once. I know that’s crazy to say, we barely know each other, but it’s been runnin’ me in circles and I kept telling myself if fate ever put me back in front of you with the chance to say it, I couldn’t let the moment go. I’m sorry I was such a dick. Matt…” He trailed off.

How was he supposed to explain the man who was one of his closest friends, damn near a brother, was also inadvertently a manufacturer of his personal insecurities? That he knew every flex of Matt’s ego – be it winning another championship or getting the girls at the rodeo to fawn over him – wasn’t a direct attack against his worth, but it still stung like it was.

“Look,” He sucked in a breath and shook his head, “my point is that I really like you, and that sort of scared me, and I got in my head over everything when you and Matt started talking and I took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.”

She was staring at him. He wasn’t sure if it was for a few seconds or three hours, it felt like it must’ve been an eternity. He noticed every change in her expression, the way her brows dipped in and her eyes seemed to get bigger, or how her full, pretty lips pressed together and she seemed to worry at the inner corner of the bottom one. Those lips...

Then he was leaning. Forgetting himself. Forgetting she was Matt’s girl, closing the space between them, and finally… God, finally… putting his mouth on hers.

 **********

He was kissing her.

Hazels eyelids fluttered closed, mouth yielding to his. He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose as she did, and then suddenly their touch was changing. His wide, warm palms found her shoulders and pushed her back until she was pressed against the wood paneling, their kiss never breaking.

A small, needy noise crawled out of her throat, suffocated in their mouths. He must have heard it, though, for how he turned his head and kissed her harder, one hand sliding away from her arm and cupping her breast over her shirt and bra. He squeezed, running his thumb back and forth and making her ache for his touch on her bare body. The clothes between them were suddenly an absolute nuisance; she wanted to feel the tingles spread from every skin-on-skin touch.

He finally broke away from her mouth only to attack her neck with just as much pent up passion, the little coarse blond hairs of his close-shaved beard scratching her skin. Hazel tipped her head back and looked up at the rafters, head spinning with delirious delight. His knee pressed between her legs and they fell apart, easily. He crowded in closer and rubbed what was quickly growing hard and long in his jeans against her thigh.

“Adam,” she groaned, fingers reaching for the hair tie he had securing his curls in a bun, undoing it, burying in to shake the curls loose and holding him against her skin. She encouraged his tasting, fingers curling around the textured strands of his honey blond hair. His tongue swept down the line of the v-neck collar of her soft cotton tee, teeth nipping at her soft, supple cleavage.

Warmth as he slipped his fingers under her shirt, nearly making her jump at the sensation of his calloused fingertips brushing up her bare skin. Those fingers wiggled and pressed greedily beneath the elastic stretch of her bra and he groaned against her skin as his palm fondled her breast, her nipple hardening against his touch as he squeezed. The sound vibrated out of him, his body was so tight, so tense pressed up against her.

She was the one who found sense first, and she wanted to damn herself for it.

“Adam,” she panted, eyes opening fully on the fact that they were in the hall of his barn, his hand up her shirt and his mouth on her skin, his bulge pressed and rubbing her thigh. He didn’t hear her, tongue sweeping over the dip of her clavicle. “Adam, wait,” she said, fingers curling a little tighter in his curls and tugging back to regrettably pull his mouth from her skin.

He blinked passion-fogged eyes at her, a man caught in a trance, then seemed all at once to realize their precarious position. 

“Matt.” He exhaled in a heavy, almost angry breath.

“What?” she blinked. 

“Matt.” He said again, and the look in his dark green-blue eyes seemed to harden.

Fuck, right, Matt. One of his close friends. Her… whatever he was to her. Hazel licked her lips and tasted Adam.

“No,” she said, even knowing that probably should have been more than enough of a reason for them to stop. “Rosie and your friend,” she said, “what if they come looking for us?”

He blinked and that same waking-to-reality look that she’d had crossed his face. She slid her fingers out of his hair. “Damnit,” he muttered the curse under his breath and slipped his palm from her skin, out of her shirt, and she felt so much colder without his touch. He peeled himself away from her, but stood close, chin dipped to that broad chest and eyes full of her.

Kissing him was like… being caught in a whirlwind. Her eyes fell to his mouth and it took everything in her not to tell him fuck it, be quick.

“We’re not dating,” she blurted out to distract herself from how badly she wanted him to turn her around, tug her pants down and have her up against the stall wall.

He frowned. “Uh…”

“Not you and me,” she blinked and refocused on his eyes. “Matt. I’m not dating Matt.”

“Oh,” he said, and she couldn’t infer anything from his tone or expression, so she found herself talking more.

“We’re going to figure things out at the end of the rodeo season.”

He made a noise in his throat to signify he understood and drug his boot a heavy step away from her.

“Adam, I…” she wanted to be as open and vulnerable as he’d been. She wanted to tell him she hadn’t stopped thinking about him, that she watched live streams of his rides and cheered for him. She wanted to tell him that she had never met anyone who affected her the way he did, and she wasn’t sure what to think of that. But things were complicated, and they’d left their friends alone long enough. 

Hazel drew in a breath and shook her head, pushing from the stall wall he’d had her up against and pulling her shirt to set it right. “We should get to the horses.” She chickened out.

“Right,” he agreed, bending to pick up the hair tie she’d dropped, and she wished he wasn’t so difficult to read. What was going on in that head of his? From the way he’d treated her the last time they saw one another she’d have never imagined he felt the way he’d confessed to her. His fingers raked his hair back up and she tried not to pay attention to the shapely muscles in his arms. He caught her eyes and a sheepish grin curled the corners of his lips, staying until his hands had dropped and he nodded ahead.

“Hazel, I’d like to introduce you to Daisy,” he said as they stepped where the walls opened, and a pretty little golden mare was standing patiently in crossties. She perked her ears as they came around and lifted her head, watching them with curious, deep brown eyes.

“Adam, she’s beautiful,” Hazel’s breath hitched as she moved toward her, stretching out her hand so the mare could brush her velvet, whiskered lips over it and inhale her scent. She had a broken white blaze on her face, giving her the appearance of both a star and a blaze, and her coat was slightly darker than her older sister’s. She had no white on her legs like Dolly did and was just a little bit smaller.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said warmly. “I’ve never put Daisy on the barrels, but I think she has the right build for it.”

Hazel nodded, slipping beneath one of the leads so she could run her hand along the mare’s neck, over her wither and down her back. “She has a short back, which is good.” Hazel swept her palm down the mare’s belly and along her underside. “And a long undercarriage, which means she’ll have a wide stretch when she pulls away.” She ran her hand up down her hindquarters and felt how solid and stacked with muscle they were. There was a lot of power in this mare.  “I could definitely see her on the barrels if she decides she has the attitude for them.”

“Yeah?” He seemed just as excited as she was, and when she looked over at him, she saw he was smiling. For a few drawn out seconds they smiled at one another before he cleared his throat and blinked. “Let me go grab some tack and we’ll get her saddled so you can try her out.”

“Okay,” Hazel said, smiling and turning back to the mare as he left for the tack room. Once he was out of her line of sight, she exhaled low, working through the nerves that were storming through her. She lifted her hand and placed her palm on Daisy’s neck. The mare blew a soft breath through her nose and flicked an ear back, pointing it at Hazel. It made Hazel smile, like Daisy was already ready to listen to whatever Hazel needed to talk about.

“You’re a pretty girl,” Hazel murmured and curled her fingers, gently scratching the mare’s neck. She worked her way down to the top of her wither and Daisy stretched her neck out, clearly enjoying the rub. Hazel laughed gently and glanced as Adam came back with a saddle over one arm and the bridle and bit hanging off the horn.

“You two seem to be getting on,” he said with a grin, setting the saddle down and grabbing the bridle, stepping toward Daisy’s head.

“Here,” she offered, “Let me.” She stepped forward to take the bridle, slipping the headstall over Daisy’s ears before unclipping the leads from the halter she was wearing and unbuckling its clasp, slipping it off her face so it could be replaced with the bridle. As she gently offered the bit against the mare’s lips, Adam hefted the saddle and pad up and walked it around to the mare’s other side, swinging it over her back.

“She takes her tack politely,” Hazel commented as Daisy let her slip the bit into her mouth without complaint.

“She’s a well-behaved little lady,” Adam said, pulling the cinch on the saddle and buckling it up. “Especially for a young mare. She might’ve been the easiest horse I’ve ever trained. She has a sound mind, just like her sister.”

With Hazel holding the reins they started walking out of the barn, toward the arena. She glanced over at Adam and smiled when she saw he was looking at her. She looked away, biting into her grin to try and keep it from spreading. Her head was spinning with everything he’d told her; with the taste of him still on her lips; with her body aching, remembering how nice his touch had felt.

When they were out of the stable, she put her boot in the stirrup and swung her leg over, settling in the saddle. He helped her adjust the stirrups to the right length and tilted his head up to look at her, his palm resting on Daisy’s shoulder. The late afternoon sun glittered across his face and shone in his eyes. They looked greener today than blue, pale and soft, like the grass in a meadow, early morning with the fog crawling gently over it.

Hazel gathered the reins in her hands and gave a soft click under her tongue, squeezing her knees and getting Daisy to walk. Adam fell in place, walking beside them as they rounded the bend in the path that led out to a large arena. She could see Rosie standing with a man toward the end of the arena. That must’ve been Adam’s friend. He was lean, with brown hair that rested at shoulder-length, a black cowboy hat tipped back on the top of his head while he’d talked with her. He was smiling as he gestured with his hands, clearly telling Rosie some story, and she could hear Rosie’s sweet giggles from where they stood. They seemed to be enjoying one another’s company.

Adam put a boot up on the bottom panel of the arena fence and leaned his forearms on the top. He nodded to the inside of the arena. “Go ahead, see how you two get on.”

Hazel smiled and added a little more pressure with her knees, asking for a trot. Daisy obliged, moving into the bouncy gait as they made their way inside the arena. Everything slipped away as Hazel started to ride. She focused on the way the horse responded to her, heart lifting at how easy and eager Daisy seemed to take commands despite them not knowing one another. A small pull on the reins and weight added to her other side had the mare switching leads and leaning in where requested, which was a good sign that she’d be easy to train to curl around a barrel. Hazel squeezed her knees again and clicked her tongue, bringing the little mare up to a lope and then to a gallop. They circled around the wide arena three times, and Hazel felt like Daisy could have kept going. By the time she sat her weight back in the saddle and pulled up the reins she was grinning ear to ear.

“You two look good out there,” Adam called out from where he stood. Rosie and his friend, the other Adam, had made their way down the fence line to join him as she rode.

Hazel grinned as she gently rubbed Daisy’s neck, a little warm to the touch. She got the mare walking again to help cool her down. “She responds amazingly.”

 “I’ve never had too much of a problem on her,” Adam remarked from where he was leaning. “Think she’ll do alright on barrels?”

Hazel didn’t even have to think before she nodded and said, “Yeah! She’s quick, and when I asked her to change lead, she did it with ease.” Hazel pulled the reins and stopped her near the fence line where everyone was standing. “She’s small, and fast. I wasn’t even pushing her as hard as I could. I could tell she had a little more give in her.” Hazel glanced over at Rosie. “What do you think of her, Rosie?”

“She’s beautiful,” Rosie said, reaching out to gently scratch the little mare’s forehead. “What do you think of her?”

Hazel looked at the three expectant faces looking up at her and grinned. “Honestly? I think I’m in love with her.” Her eyes slid to Adam’s and he smiled so bright and open she felt like her heart skipped in her chest.

“You sure you don’t want to try out the other two?”

“You tell me,” she said, shifting in the saddle as the leather gently creaked. She let Daisy have her head, reins going slack as she dropped her arms.

“Gunner has a bit of a stubborn streak and will fight you for fun until you get him to mind his manners. I’m sure he’d make a fast little barrel horse and probably love doing it, but he isn’t going to mind you as easily as she does.” He reached over the fence and fondly patted Daisy’s neck, fingers ruffling her cream-white mane. “The other one I had thought for you to try is Cat. He’s a bit more docile than Gunner, but he’s young and doesn’t have as much experience under the saddle. I barely started him a few months ago. Out of the three, I think you’re going to like this girl best.”

Hazel nodded, grinning. “I think I agree.” Elation in her chest. “I’d love to buy her.”

Adam’s grin matched hers. “I’d love to sell her to you. Come on, let’s get her cooled down and we’ll figure out getting her a vet check before we transport her to your property.”

She nodded and pressed with her inside knee, pulling the reins wide, guiding Daisy to turn around and walk toward the open entrance of the arena. Hazel couldn’t believe it. The little pretty golden mare she was riding was hers. Or, going to be, once all the paperwork was finalized and so on. Finally, she had a horse again. Tears pricked hot in her eyes and she gave her head a little shake, thankful she was too far from the group for them to see. She blinked them out of her eyes and laughed softly, leaning to rub her palm along Daisy’s neck before giving her a few firm pats. “We’re going to have a lot of fun together, Daisy.” She promised the mare in a whisper, still smiling when she rode around the bend in the path and met up with everyone near the barn.

She pulled her boot from the stirrup and swung her leg over the mare’s back, dismounting with a soft little thud into the dirt below. Pulling the reins over Daisy’s head, she fell in step with Adam as he led them back into the barn. Rosie and the other Adam (Hazel still thought that was amusing) walked along with them, which meant they weren’t going to get a chance to be alone again. Hazel’s eyes darted to Adam’s, they met, and both their lips curled into smiles.

They stopped in the wide hall of the barn; Rosie being shown around by Adam’s friend since she hadn’t seen the inside of it. He seemed happy to introduce her to the horses and she could hear Rosie’s compliments on how beautiful each horse was that they passed. She smiled over at Adam.

“Your friend is sweet.”

“Cole?” Adam snorted, but she could tell it was good humored. “He has y’all fooled.”

She laughed and Adam reached out for the reins, which Hazel handed over. She wasn’t sure if he purposefully moved his hand or not, but his fingers bumped into hers and slid slowly across her skin as she released them. Hazel took a breath and turned to gently give Daisy a few more scratches, grateful for the distraction. Adam let the reins drop, and she was pleasantly surprised to see Daisy simply stood by, not trying to wander off once she had the freedom to do so.

“Is she registered?”

“Yeah, AQHA. The name on her papers is Dun n Daisy Dukes.”

Hazel laughed. “That’s adorable.”

“Thank you, I was pretty proud of myself for that one.” Adam was grinning as he pulled the heavy saddle from her back and set it out of the way, propping it and the saddle blanket up against the nearby stall wall.

“She and Dolly must have some Hollywood Dun It in their bloodlines I’m guessing?”

“They do,” Adam sounded surprised she knew. 

“Remember? I’m a horse geek.” Hazel smiled. “I know the prominent AQHA stallions and I know it’s tradition to register their names with something carrying over from their parents. If Daisy is registered as Dun n Daisy Dukes and Dolly is registered as Lil Dun Dolly, I’d imagine they carried the Hollywood Dun It in their names.”

Adam whistled low, his brows lifting. “Well damn, if you know AQHA studs that well, you’ll be happy to know they’ve got Flit Bar lines on their dam’s side. Fire Water Flit is their great grandsire.”

At that, Hazel’s eyes widened. Fire Water Flit and his sire Flit Bar were two very prominent barrel racing studs. Their offspring had gone on to win a ridiculous amount of barrel racing championships. “Okay, you could have led with that and I probably would have been sold on her.” Their soft laughs joined together as Adam patted Dee’s neck and gathered the reins of the bridle up again, starting to walk her toward her stable.

“How soon do you think the vet check will be?” She asked, then added, “Not that I’m trying to rush you. I’m just excited.”

“Understandable.” He smiled at her. “My vet’s pretty good, I should be able to get her out here this week. Unless you have a vet you would rather I use?”

“No, I trust you.”

“Okay, I’ll text you as soon as I know what day she’s available to come out. Do you have a trailer?”

“I don’t,” Hazel frowned. “I guess I could rent one.”

“Don’t bother,” Adam waved his hand, “I can bring her to you.”

“Are you sure? That’s a six-hour drive.”

“I’d like to see her off to her new home”

Rosie and his friend were making their way back toward them as they put Daisy up in her stall. Adam unclipped the buckles of her bridle and slipped it over her head, stepping out and sliding the door behind him before he latched it shut.

“Okay,” Hazel agreed, and realized almost immediately this meant Adam would be coming to her house. Should she have someone over with her that day? How could she be both excited and terrified with how he made her feel? What would Matt think? Sure, he’d said they weren’t dating, but that didn’t mean her feelings for him vanished into thin air. If the two of them didn’t know one another, it might be a different story, but with Adam and Matt being friends she wasn’t certain that was a sort of drama she should invite into her life.

“We’re all set then. When the vet finds her sound, we’ll discuss a price.”

“Okay!” She grinned and looked through the black iron bars at the cute little gold mare in the stall. “I can’t believe this little beauty might be mine soon. I really do adore her, Adam.”

“I can tell.” There was a warmth in his voice and when she glanced up at him, saw he was watching her, and his eyes matched his tone. “She likes you too.” There was something in his expression that made her breath catch.

Rosie’s giggles drifted near, and when Hazel turned to look, she saw the other pair were doubling back around. Her eyes slipped back to Adam’s just as his did, and it seemed they had an unspoken moment of realizing there was still so much to say, but time had run out. Hazel decided then and there if things worked out and Adam was going to bring Daisy to her, she wouldn’t have anyone at the house. She’d meet him alone.

She felt excited.

She felt guilty.

“Hazel, you gotta give this girl some tune-up on her riding. I think she’s got a cowgirl heart.” Adam’s friend was grinning as the pair came near enough for him to talk. Hazel glanced over at them, seeing up close the blue of his eyes that seemed almost merry with how bright they were, looking down at Rosie. Rosie had a pink blush in her fair cheeks and a wide smile on her cherry-red lipstick painted lips. Hazel had to fight to keep from smiling too obviously. They were adorable, and Rosie was clearly into him.

“I think you might be right.” Hazel agreed with a smile. There was a sudden buzz in her pocket, and she blinked, tugging her phone out and glancing at the screen. The notification banner showed her she’d gotten a text from Matt. 

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗

Hey, when do you think you’ll be home tonight?

Hazel started to type out a reply after she’d glanced at the clock and calculated how long they’d be driving and when they might leave here. Adam’s friend took over the conversation as she went quiet, asking Adam about one of his mares and pulling him away from watching her closely.

TEXT TO: MATT 💗

Not until 10PM or so it looks like. We just put the mare up, so I’ll probably be leaving back home soon. Why???

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗

FaceTime? I want to see you when you talk about the horse you saw today. I want to see that smile. ❤️

A fond smile crept across her lips and a sweet ache hit her chest. Their communication had felt off when they talked last weekend when she’d told him about finishing the stable. Since then, they’d texted and even talked, but every time they did, Hazel had felt like there was something lingering in the air between them. Eventually she’d written it off as her paranoia that he’d been upset she’d hired a company to finish the barn without telling him. Once she’d told him she was going to look at a horse, he’d gotten excited for her. Now he wanted to FaceTime so he could see her smile when she talked about the horse she saw.

TEXT TO: MATT 💗

Yeah, okay! I’ll let you know when I get in. I have to drop Rosie off at home first. Can’t wait to tell you about the mare!

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗

I can’t wait to hear all about her. Talk to you later 😘

TEXT TO: MATT 💗

Okay 😊 😘

Hazel glanced up from her phone to see everyone talking about the horses. However, when she slid her phone back into her pocket, Adam immediately glanced her way. Her smile felt nervous and she hoped it didn’t look it before she glanced over at Rosie and smiled.

“You driving home tonight?” Adam asked as the conversation slowed to a stop.

“Yeah, which means we should probably get on the road soon.” The slight hint of regret that chased her tone wasn’t forced as she slid her eyes back to his.

“Aww, that’s too bad,” his friend drawled, “I’ve enjoyed the company.” 

Rosie, beside him, blushed.

“Much better than Page’s, that’s for sure.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “I don’t see how you couldn’t like my company, Cole. You talk about a hundred miles a minute; I’d be lucky to get a word in edgewise the entire time you’re here.”

“He does talk a lot, doesn’t he?” Rosie said, playfully thoughtful as she squinted up at Cole. Teasing.

He gasped in offense as he looked at her with surprise, and her giggles shortly followed. Hazel was smiling; Adam was too. Their eyes met and their smiles softened. There was no talking over what’d happened between them earlier in the barn. She’d escaped having to tell her feelings.

Hazel knew that wasn’t fair to him, especially after he’d bared his heart so openly to her.

“You drive safe, alright?” Adam said softly, Rosie and his friend were occupied with their teasing and laughter as they headed out of the barn back toward Hazel’s truck. He reached to gently rest his hand on her lower back as they turned to follow their friends out of the barn. His palm fell away and he cleared his throat. 

“Yeah,” she said, trailing off as her steps seemed to drag. His did too.

“I’ll try and get my vet out to look her over soon. When she’s clear we can talk details. I’m really glad you liked her.”

They stopped right outside the barn and turned toward one another. 

“I really do.” She said on an exhale, smile spreading across her face.

“I’m glad you’re riding again, too. Especially barrels; what you’re passionate about.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. Behind her she heard the truck start up and, glancing over her shoulder, saw Rosie in the driver’s seat, window rolled down as she talked to Cole, who was leaning on the truck door and giving a wide, charming, happy grin up at her. Hazel looked forward again, up at Adam. “I’ll… talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” he said, and his gaze dropped to her lips. He took a slight breath and looked back at her eyes. Hazel felt flush. She licked her lips and swallowed against the sudden jump in her pulse. “Goodbye, Hazel. I’m…” his blond brows pinched. “I’m happy it was you today.”

“I’m happy it was you, too.” She said, sotto voce. 

“You better go on before they get suspicious.” He said with a wry smile, nodding toward their friends.

“Yeah, I guess I better… bye Adam.”

“Bye darlin’.” He breathed a regretful sigh, eyes meeting hers. She had a feeling all he’d wanted to do was grab her up against him and kiss her dizzy like they’d done earlier. 

She wanted him to do that too.

Instead, Hazel gave her a little half-wave and turned around to walk to the passenger side of her truck, climbing in the cab and buckling up as Cole nodded and said goodbye to Rosie, stepping back so they could take off. Hazel watched Adam’s figure grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until they drove too far down the drive to see him. She sighed, shoulders dropping.

“Okay,” Rosie said as they stopped before turning on the main road, “we have six hours, and I have a lot to tell you, but you need to tell me everything about what happened when you and Adam were alone.”

Hazel groaned and pressed her hands over her eyes, dragging them down and blinking at Rosie. “Things just got really fucking complicated, that’s what happened.”

Rosie turned onto the main road to begin their drive and Hazel told her everything that had happened and everything Adam had confessed.

“When he was kissing me, I completely forgot about Matt. It wasn’t until Adam brought him up when we stopped that I suddenly remembered. I feel awful.”

“What are you going to do about Matt?” Rosie asked curiously.

“I don’t know. We’re not actually dating, right? Matt made that pretty clear. He doesn’t want to talk about it until the rodeo season is over in December. So… I’m technically single? But they’re friends. They know each other. Closely!”

“And what happens in December if Matt says he wants to exclusively date you? Or what happens before December if Adam tells you he’d exclusively date you now?”

Hazel swallowed and shook her head slowly. “I honestly don’t know.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt again, Hazel. Cause you know if either of those men hurt you, I’ll whoop them.”

Despite the fact Rosie was a sweetheart through and through, Hazel did not doubt her ability to become a tough little firecracker in her defense. It made Hazel laugh as she nodded. “I know you will. That’s why I love you.” The girls shared a smile before Hazel continued. “I know it isn’t the smart thing to do, but I think I’m just going to keep letting the cards fall where they do. I’ll have to tell Matt tonight the mare is Adam’s, and maybe I’ll just tell him what happened.”

“And if he gets upset and doesn’t want to talk to you anymore?”

“Well,” she had a sinking feeling in her gut, “I guess that’s his fault for not wanting to try being with me when I offered. Or my fault for kissing Adam? I don’t know.”

“I’ll leave my phone ringer on when I sleep tonight if you need an emergency best friend conversation.”

“A true friend,” Hazel said fondly. “Which I’m not being, speaking of… you still need to tell me about Mr. Handsome Cowboy you were flirting up a storm with.”

Rosie grinned and even though it was dark in the cab, Hazel swore she could see a little blush in her cheeks.

“Oh, the other Adam?”

“Mhm,” Hazel said, grinning.

“He’s a flirt.” She rolled her eyes. “I saw right through him within five minutes of us talking. But… he’s cute. He got really excited to tell me about bull riding when I told him I’d never watched it. Didn’t make me feel dumb for not knowing, you know?”

“Yeah,” Hazel said, smiling. 

“He asked me for my number.”

“He did?!” 

“Yeah! When he was leanin’ on the truck and you were talking to your Adam.”

“And? Did you give it to him?”

“No.”

“What? Why?” Hazel sat up and frowned at Rosie.

“He’s pry a womanizer. Doesn’t actually care about me, you know? Just flirts with any girl he sees.”

“He didn’t flirt with me,” Hazel pointed out.

“That’s because any fool with eyes could see the hearts Adam had in his eyes every time he looked at you.”

She flushed at that.

“I don’t know. He was cute but, I definitely felt like that attraction wasn’t as authentic for him as it was for me, you know?”

Hazel hummed under her breath. “I don’t know about that, he looked pretty into you as far as I could see. Hey, maybe you’ll get a chance to see him again in the future, given that I’m apparently seeing Adam again.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t mind seeing him again. He is really damn cute.”

“He is,” Hazel agreed with a laugh.

They arrived at Rosie’s house first and, after a goodbye and a hug, Hazel climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled her phone out while she was still parked. She yawned and clicked through to the text messages between her and Matt.

TEXT TO: MATT 💗

Just dropped Rosie off, I’ll be home in about twenty minutes!

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗

Sounds good babe.

She smiled and clicked to black the screen out, tossing it gently into the passenger’s seat and pulling the truck out of the driveway. How was she going to tell him about what happened between her and Adam?

“I should just be forward,” she muttered out loud to herself, frowning at the road in front of her. “I should just tell him like, look, Matt, you remember when Adam and I came up to the fire when we first met? I had almost kissed Adam earlier that night and I do have feelings for him. Today he told me he has feelings for me, and we kissed.” She swallowed and exhaled.

“Jesus, I can’t tell him that. Hey, Matt, turns out the horse is Adam’s, you know, one of your super close friends? Also turns out he and I have intense feelings for one another, and we made out and he touched my boob! Okay see ya later bye!”

Hazel choked on a laugh that was followed by a groan and a heavy sigh.

“Hazel, you idiot.” She scolded herself under her breath, turning her truck into her drive. She rolled to a stop and parked, turning the key in the ignition to shut the engine off and sit in the silence of the cab as she glanced at her unlit house.

She’d pick Carson and Callahan up tomorrow from the pet sitter’s, it was too late to get them now. It’d be weird to spend the night completely alone in the house. Hazel swallowed against that feeling and grabbed her bag, climbing out of the truck and locking it behind her as she pulled her house key free and jogged up the porch steps. Hopefully she’d be tired by the time she and Matt got done talking and be able to just go right to sleep. She had traveled for twelve hours and ridden, after all.

Hazel pushed the door open and locked it behind her, tossing the keys onto the catch-all that sat on the little table in the foyer, entering her house and flipping lights on as she walked through. Her purse was discarded on the couch and she tugged her phone from her pocket, tapping a message to Matt as she wandered into her room.

 TEXT TO: MATT 💗

Home! Let me shower really quick. Give me twenty? 😊

She underhand tossed the phone onto her bed and bent to tug her boots off, straightening as she pulled her shirt over her head and went for her bra. A sigh of relief followed unclasping the back-strap and she shrugged out of it as she went for the drawer full of big, soft, comfortable shirts to sleep in. She tugged the lavender one free and opened another drawer to grab a pair of white little sleep-shorts. Holding them in one hand she pulled her jeans and panties off, leaving a trail of discarded clothes as she made for her bathroom.

Hazel showered quick and the warm water felt like a luxury against her muscles that’d likely be sore tomorrow. She shut her mind free of the confusing thoughts circling it and the anxiety of what would happen when she told Matt what’d happened with Adam, or how she was going to broach that topic at all. It was refreshing to dry off and feel clean, too, and she closed her eyes as she towel dried her hair, enjoying it for a moment. 

When she opened her eyes, she could see her reflection looking back at her and shook her head, laughing dryly to herself. “Six months ago, I swore I was never going to date again, now here I am getting caught between two men.” No, that had definitely never been the plan. Hazel rolled her eyes at herself and set the towel aside, grabbing for her pajamas and tugging them on. 

Was it unfair for her to try and casually be with them both, unknowingly, for a moment? If she told Adam she wasn’t ready to be exclusive with him because she still didn’t know whether she and Matt were going to agree to date in December, would he be okay with that? Would he still want to see her, when she told him she’d like to explore their feelings? Could she tell Matt? Was it wrong for her not to include him? If Adam knew and she knew, it wasn’t fair that Matt didn’t know the whole picture, too.

Question upon question were piling up. She shook her head and grabbed her phone, stomach turning as she walked out of her room toward the kitchen for a water. Her phone started to ring just as she got to the fridge. Balancing the phone in one hand she slid to answer the call, smiling as Matt popped up on the screen.

“Hey!” She said.

“There you are,” he said, and grinned. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“It’s been awhile since we’ve FaceTimed,” she agreed, opening a nearby cabinet to grab a glass and get water from the spout on the fridge.

“It has,” he said. “So? How was the horse?”

Hazel laughed, but it was chased by nerves. “Yeah, about that. The ranch was actually-” and right before she could say it was Adam’s, her doorbell rang. “What the hell?” She muttered, setting the water down and looking toward the door.

“Who’s at your house this late?” Matt asked.

“I don’t know.” It was just hitting 11:00PM. “Maybe Rosie left something in my truck.” 

She walked quietly until stopping before the door, pressing up on the tips of her toes to look through the peephole. She gasped at who she saw and wrenched the door open, heartbeat jumping.

“Matt?! What the hell are you doing here?!”

He grinned, ending their FaceTime call as he tucked his phone back into the pocket of his wranglers. “I was in the neighborhood. Come here, I haven’t held you in weeks.” The last time they’d seen one another had been when he’d left the first time. Since then, their talks had been strictly by phone.

Matt pulled her into his arms, and she melted against him, heart sighing to remember what it felt like to have his touch. He was warm against the fall chill at their backs. His thumb pressed gently under her chin and he pushed her face up to look at him while he dipped and slipped his lips across hers. Hazel sighed into the kiss, turning her head to find a better position.

They pulled slowly apart, and she shook her head, still unable to believe he was actually here, on her porch, holding her. “Wait, I thought you had a rodeo you came home from today.”

“I did.” He said and tipped his head toward the inside of her house. “C’mon, let's get off the porch.”

He bent to pick up the straps to a lightly packed black duffel bag and followed her inside. “Right after I put my horse up, I texted Nick asking him to feed for me tonight and in the morning, packed an overnight bag, unhitched my trailer and started the drive up here.”

Hazel closed the door behind her and turned around to face him just as Matt set the duffle bag down and turned toward her. “Why?”

He reached out, either palm sliding warm over her hips. He pulled her in to him, chin to chest as his dark brown eyes softened on her face. “Because I missed you. Because when you were first planning to buy a horse from Bob, I knew his ranch was only a couple hours away from mine, and I was going to show up there and surprise you.” 

“I was going to surprise you!” Hazel said, grinning. “I was going to show up on your porch with an overnight bag after I looked at the horse.” A realization hit and her brows rose as she glanced down at his bag, then back at him. “Hey, you stole my idea.”

Matt laughed and reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Once you weren’t going to Bob’s and were instead going the opposite direction, I realized that meant I didn’t know when I was going to be able to see you next. I didn’t like that, so here I am.”

Hazel laughed behind closed lips and shook her head. “Here you are.”

Matt dipped his head and pushed his lips against hers again. Hazel once again melted into him, and let her body be walked back until she was against the door. Her lips opened for him and his tongue took the invitation, sliding in along hers. The longer they kissed the hungrier they became. Matt’s hand chased up the curve of her hip, up her side and framed her breast. He pinched her nipple over her shirt, softly pulling, making it a hard, needy peak as she gasped into his mouth. He grinned, chuckling before he kissed her again and smoothed his palm over her breast before moving to tease her other nipple in the same way.

She and Matt hadn’t seen one another in weeks, which led to them forgetting about everything and stumbling through the house, stopping to kiss and touch and giggle and moan here and there as they went. Eventually they made it to her room - his shirt was gone, she’d tugged it off down the hallway, and his hair was down and loose around his shoulders - and Matt didn’t let up. He moved with her clear until the back of her knees pressed against the bed, her fingers on his warm, bare chest, running up and then down over his arms. She felt the curve of muscle as he flexed beneath her touch and her lips, against his, lifted into a smile.

He pulled his mouth off hers. “Climb on the bed,” his breath was low, warm against her kiss-swollen lips, his voice rough with need, “And take these clothes off.” His fingers pried at the soft lavender tee she was wearing, tugging pointedly at the hem. With one more urgent kiss against her lips, he finally stepped away, hands falling quickly to the big, shiny buckle on his belt. As she tugged her shirt over her head, he popped the belt open on his jeans and tugged the zipper down quick. His fingers hooked in the denim and he hesitated, just briefly, eyes ravenously black as they fell to her bare breasts. His lips fell apart and she ached for him, for the familiar sweet sting of his beard burn he left after he kissed and sucked at her nipples.

He tugged his jeans down and she wiggled her body atop the sheets, pulling and maneuvering to free herself from her sleep shorts and discarding them without care. He stepped out of his boots and jeans, leaving the pile on the floor as he reached down to take off his socks. He’d undressed in a hurry up until this point, straightening and pinching his fingers in the elastic band of his black boxer-briefs. Hazel’s eyes dropped and saw the thick, defined shape of his hard cock straining against the dark fabric. She wet her lips in anticipation and pushed her heels into the bed, sliding her now-naked body up the sheets and toward the pillows. Matt pulled his boxer-briefs free, cock springing, tip leaking, veins fat and full along its length.

She inhaled as he climbed onto the mattress, her body weight leaning into each dip his knees made as they pressed down. His wide, calloused hands gripped over her knees, pushing her thighs apart as he knelt between them. His cock slipped over her and he sucked in a breath, exhaling it slowly. His hips pushed down, then tilted in, and his cock pried between her lips and slid right in, she was so wet. Hazel gasped on the same breath he did, their eyes locking.

That was the only still moment between them. Their lovemaking turned as wild as it was the first night they were finally able to be together, their bodies stumbling to catch up to all the connecting their hearts had been doing. They were a mess of moans and grunts, of sweat-slick skin sliding on sweat-slick skin, of panted breaths and feverish kisses. Matt pushed up to his knees, hands gripping into her hips, and held her up as he thrust hard and fast, in and out of her, fucking her into her shoulders. Hazel moaned and arched toward his thrusts, opening her eyes to look up the stretch of her naked body to where he was sweating, tense and hungry over her.

Her eyes rolled back in her skull as he dipped his hips and pushed up, stroking a sensitive spot deep inside between her legs. It sent jolts down her thighs and her joints locked, stiff, toes curling in the air and fingers digging into the sheets. Her mouth stuttered on a gasp and hung, caught open. Matt grinned, just barely - doing so was an effort when he was pushing all his energy elsewhere - and the dark of his eyes seemed just a shade darker as he thrust harder, more pointed in that same way he’d gotten her a moment before. Over and over the head of his cock teased that sensitive little spot until she was careening, gasping on her cries, clamping her muscles tight and clenching her jaw in anticipation of- “MATT!” - the crash.

He came down with her, a boulder of uncontrolled muscle crashing in on her as his own body went rigid, balls likely sucked tight to the base of his cock as it pulsed inside her and her own orgasm grabbed it tight. He made a stuttered grunt that seemed like it was supposed to be her name, or maybe a warning, but his throat couldn’t move enough to work words. She felt the warmth inside her as he came, the last ripples of her orgasm pulling at every last drop of him buried so deep inside her.

Matt lay almost an uncomfortable, still weight on top of her as the last of the pleasure ebbed away and their minds pulled from the fog. Their skin stuck, warm and sweaty, his breaths crowding over her. But Hazel’s body was too worn out, she couldn’t be bothered enough to push him away. And some part of her enjoyed it, in a way, that she could finally have him so close that his physical weight might be uncomfortable. Every other night he was just a voice. Just a moving picture.

“Sorry,” he murmured, breathing in an exhausted chuckle, arms shaking as he slowly peeled himself off of her.

“It’s okay,” she said in the same low tone, eyes sliding to meet hers once there was enough space for them to.

Carefully, still sensitive and half-hard, Matt slipped his cock from between her legs. He winced, just barely as the head slipped out, spent and slick with both their cum. He maneuvered to lay his body down beside her on the bed, exhaling a large breath. Hazel grinned and turned over, curling into him almost immediately as he lifted an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. She looked up at him as he tipped his bearded chin downward and met her eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” She was marveling, still. They’d rushed so quickly to be together, her mind had to catch itself back up.

“I missed you,” he said. His hand lifted so the tips of his fingers could smooth her frizzy hair, setting the pieces right that had stuck to her cheeks.

“I missed you, too.” She said. Her heartbeat hit a little harder, fear slipping into her veins at what she knew was showing brightly in her eyes that she tried so hard not to let go of. Vulnerability. Was he going to tell her he’d thought about what she’d said, and maybe they should look into being together exclusively? (She tried to ignore that this time, she felt three emotions altogether, all equally as potent: excitement, fear, and hesitance) 

Hazel waited for whatever he was going to say, but Matt didn’t speak. He smoothed his hand back down her shoulder and smiled, then leaned his head back on the pillow. His eyelids drifted closed, long eyelashes gently brushing the tops of his cheeks. His breathing relaxed and he seemed to sink calmly into the mattress.

Then she realized no profound confession was going to come from him. This surprise visit of Matt’s was just a one-off thing. Hazel tried to tell herself she wasn’t disappointed. He likely sensed like she did there’d been something wrong between them and he came to put himself between her legs and fuck her until she lost her mind. He’d curl his arm around her and tuck her into him like he was doing now and she’d remember how warm and safe it felt. 

But clearly he wasn’t going to tell her why he had become so distant after she finished the barn.

Maybe that was for the best, Hazel thought as she laid her head against his chest and let herself close her eyes and enjoy that he was there and warm and real in her bed with her. And she let herself remember that his smell would linger for a day or two in her sheets to be there as she drifted off to sleep. She wasn’t even sure she could commit to Matt, not after the connection she’d felt with Adam earlier.

Adam.

Her eyes opened quickly. She’d forgotten all about telling Matt about Adam. A sinking feeling hit the pit of her gut. She was too much of a coward to tell him to his face, when he’d driven all the way over here to surprise her. Especially now, naked, muscles sore from their desperate lovemaking. Hazel moved slowly and shushed him when he grunted and cracked an eye open, assuring him she was just going to the restroom. As her feet hit the plush carpet and he dozed off again, she wondered how she could get angry at him for skirting around things hanging between them when she couldn’t even show him the same courtesy.

**********

“Morning sleepyhead.” Matt whispered softly from where he was bent over her, standing on the other side of the bed, gently rubbing her shoulder. Hazel groaned, and something paper crinkled as he moved. “Look,” he beckoned, and she slowly pulled the comforter down to see a little bag with her store logo printed on it.

“Rosie says good morning. I went and got us coffee and breakfast, come on.” He gently tapped her ass over the comforter she was wrapped in and she groaned in complaint, tucking back into her warm cocoon. He laughed. “Come on, you have coffee to drink, food to eat, and a horse to tell me about.” His voice was fading as he walked out of the room and down the hall.

A horse to tell him about.

Adam’s horse.

Adam.

Matt showing up on her doorstep.

Adam and Matt being friends.

The way she felt when she was with Adam.

The way she felt when she was with Matt.

One day she would look back and maybe realize this was the exact moment, at 7:06AM on an otherwise normal Monday morning, with her body sore from the long drive and horseback riding and phenomenal sex, that she’d first made a connection that would become something paramount later on. But at present she was too tired and too worried about all that would go wrong to even consider what could be, let alone what couldn’t be controlled.

Hazel slid out of bed, wearing her sleep shorts and baggy shirt she’d tugged back on after getting ready for bed. She padded barefoot into the restroom, freshening up with only the amount of effort it took to splash her face, brush her teeth, and run a quick brush through her hair. She yawned as she turned away from her reflection and knew the warm cup of coffee would be a godsend this morning.

“There she is,” Matt said warmly, and she looked over at him - he was in his usual around-the-house attire of a cotton t-shirt of one of the brands that sponsored him and a comfortable pair of sweatpants. He’d swept his hair up into a bun, she remembered it down, jerking around his shoulders with each ram of his cock inside her. She licked her lips and set herself quickly down on the chair across from him, putting the reminder out of her head.

“My body feels so beat up, I don’t know how you travel like this and then perform every single week.” She complained as she wrapped her hands around the sleeve of the thermos he’d taken to get her coffee in.

“Aw, it’s not so bad. Eventually you just figure your body is supposed to feel all of those aches. You just kind of forget what it was like when you weren’t in pain.” He grinned as he lifted his coffee to his lips, winked and took a sip.

Hazel breathed out a laugh and rolled her eyes, taking her first sip of coffee and closing her eyes as she enjoyed how wonderful it was. She took another sip before the bag rustled and, looking, she saw Matt was opening it.

“Rosie had just pulled some lemon poppyseed muffins out of the oven before I rolled up. I grabbed a couple.” He reached in and placed one on a napkin for her, sliding it toward her spot on the table. He grabbed another one for himself and set his phone aside, it looked like he’d been reading a news article. Matt saw her glance at it. “Checking how everyone did at the other rodeos this weekend.” He grinned and shrugged as he picked at the muffin wrapper, peeling it away. “Trying to estimate what our scores are at and how good Nick and I have to be this weekend.”

“It never stops, huh?” Hazel said, but she didn’t say it sadly. It was more like she was marveling. He just kept pushing himself toward that dream, toward proving to everyone that he was as good as he said he was. It was admirable, even if it got in the way of something she wanted. That dream was there before her, anyways.

“Nope,” he said, and a sigh seemed to chase his words before he caught himself and plugged his mouth up with a chunk of baked goods. She did the same and he finally asked after he took a swig of coffee, “So, come on. Tell me about the horse.”

Hazel laughed, and she sipped her coffee to stall time.

“Funnily enough, it’s Adam’s.” She said, and her eyes shot to him as she kept the cup near her lips. She wondered if he’d ever caught on to any of it that first night they’d talked by the fire, when the energy between her and Adam had felt like it was practically shooting sparks.

“Adam?” He frowned and popped another bite into his mouth, chewing carefully. “Adam who?”

“Page.”

“Oh!” He laughed, clearly surprised. Delighted, even. So, he didn’t have any clue. “When did you find that out?”

“When I got there,” Hazel admitted. “I got so excited about going to see a horse I didn’t even ask for the guy’s name before I showed up, and then it turned out to be him.”

“Of course, you could only think about the horse.” Matt was grinning. “Which of his is it?”

“Daisy!” Hazel said it with excited breath, unable from sitting a little higher in her seat. It was easy to forget about Adam when she thought about the mare she might own soon.

“Daisy’s a beautiful little filly,” Matt said, frowning with thought. “That’s the little gold one that’s related to his mare Dolly, right?”

“Yeah, full sisters.”

“That’s right. Dolly is a sound horse. Last year at the NFR my horse hurt himself at the rodeo; he spooked when an attendant’s dog acted out and kicked, missed the dog and hit the trailer. It gashed up his leg and I didn’t want to run him, even patching it up. Didn’t want to take the risk. Adam always trailers in Dolly in case he decides to pick-up, and she’s a solid little ranch mare even if she’s not just for head roping. He let me ride her and Nick and I pulled second place when we otherwise would have had to drop out and severely hurt our rankings.”

“Wow,” Hazel exhaled, both marveling at the mare and at Adam’s quick thinking to make sure his friends wouldn’t miss their chances.

“Yeah,” Matt nodded and took another swallow of coffee and bite of muffin before adding, “if that little mare is anything like her sister, you’re going to have yourself a damn good horse.”

Hazel grinned. “I really think she’s something else. I haven’t felt that way when I’ve gotten on a horse since my first horse, Shorty.”

“Shorty?” Matt asked, smiling.

“He was a horse that a friend of my stepfather’s owned over at a dairy. He was the third horse I ever rode, a stocky little bay gelding with a little star on his forehead. He was playful and silly and would get a little pushy if I didn’t mind him, so he taught me a lot. He was also the first horse I ever rode barrels on.”

“Really?” Matt asked, leaning his forearms on the table and watching her.

“Yep! The dairy farmer’s daughter used to be a barrel racer, but she went off to college. Shorty was her horse. She came home for Christmas break and we went over for a little Christmas party and she asked me if I was the girl who was keeping Shorty company when she was gone. I was probably nine or ten at the time,” Hazel tilted her head, remembering that night well. “She asked me if I’d ever seen barrel racing and I said no, so she took me into her old room and showed me all the trophies and ribbons she and Shorty had won, and all the framed pictures she had. She taught me how to run the patterns that weekend and gave me books she’d learned from too.”

“Wow,” Matt said, smiling. “That’s awesome.”

“It really was! I felt that same connection to Daisy that I did when I used to ride Shorty.”

“You know, I think that might be the first time you’ve ever told me anything about your childhood.” He commented softly.

Hazel blinked. In truth, she’d been so happy to talk about Daisy she hadn’t even realized the story was tumbling out. She glanced down at her coffee mug, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not something I like to think about often.”

“I know,” he said. When she met his eyes, she saw they were warm and wanted to offer comfort. “Come on,” he broke the tension for her, and she was secretly grateful he didn’t press, or keep the silence hanging long enough she felt she had to talk about it. She wasn’t ready. “We still need to go pick up the clowns-” Carson and Callahan “-and you need to show me that barn in person.”

Hazel smiled as she stood up, grabbing the thermos as he took up the empty muffin wrappers and slid the crumbs off the table, throwing them in the trash on their way back to the bedroom to shower and dress. He wrapped an arm around her as she passed him and forced a pause in their walk to place a quick, soft kiss against her temple. An extra touch of comfort. Hazel’s heart warmed as their eyes met, her smile softening.

Matt had stayed most of the day with her. When Hazel finally saw him off it was in the late afternoon, and they tried their best not to talk about how badly they’d miss one another, though the words slipped out anyways. After she watched his truck back down her drive and take off down the road, Hazel loaded Carson and Callahan into her truck and went to relieve Rosie from managing the coffee shop. 

The dogs were always welcome at the shop, though they mostly slept and played in the manager’s office, only occasionally coming out when beckoned by a customer who asked if they could pet them. Hazel loved having a place she could bring her pups along with her if she wanted and was always delighted when someone seemed genuinely enthused to play with them. Some customers brought their dogs by, too, and they’d go out on the white-picket fence enclosed patio to play and have a little fun.

As she let Carson and Callahan inside and the little bell chimed as the door swung closed, she noticed a beautiful painting on the wall; a mountain landscape set in soft, lavender tones. “Oh wow! Is that a new one?”

“It is!” Rosie beamed, clearly happy Hazel had noticed.

“Rosie, it’s gorgeous!” Hazel said, turning to appreciate her friend’s artistic talents. “You really outdid yourself.” She stepped a little closer to it and smiled, looking at the little details that drew her eyes the longer she admired it.

“Thank you sugar,” Rosie said with a wink and couldn’t calm the width of her smile as she practically beamed under the compliment. “But,” her expression turned a little more pointed as Hazel glanced over at her, “Don’t think buttering me up is going to get you out of telling me what happened with Matt last night.”

Hazel laughed. “I wasn’t trying to get out of it! But aren’t you exhausted? You’ve been here since the crack of dawn and we didn’t exactly get to bed early last night.”

Rosie waved her hand dismissively as the pair turned and made for the office. Two of their part-time staff members were on hand to help serve the steady flow of customers coming in and out for a little treat and something warm to drink in the steadily cooling late-fall weather. It gave them the perfect opportunity to slip into the office, closing the door behind them for privacy. Rosie waited until they’d sat, offering Callahan a few scratches behind the ear as he walked over and plopped down in front of her, clearly expecting some love.

“I didn’t tell him what happened with Adam.” Hazel exhaled in a rush, then groaned and shook her head. “I couldn’t. Or, I didn’t want to. I don’t know. It was just so good to be with him again, you know?”

Rosie looked at her with sympathy. “I know, sweetheart. But letting it go on like this is just gonna lead to more heartache when things finally do come out. Adam’s still going to be bringing the horse, right?”

“Yeah,” Hazel said, worrying at her bottom lip and shaking her head. She knew clinging to the excuse that they hadn’t discussed anything was a cheap way out. She knew the right thing would have been to at least clue Matt into her having feelings for Adam, but she couldn’t do it. “So long as she passes her vet check, which I'm sure she will.”

Which meant Adam would be trailering her in. Which meant she would be alone with Adam. She knew she should feel guilty, not excited.

“How long will that take?”

“A few days, maybe? It depends on when the vet can get out there and then when Adam has the time to drive her up.”

Rosie hummed under her breath and then smiled. “She is really pretty.”

“Isn’t she?” Hazel couldn’t ignore how her heart lifted just to think of the little golden mare and how she couldn’t wait to hopefully begin training her on the barrels.

Rosie asked a few more questions about the mare, and Hazel was all too happy to answer. It was much, much easier to gush about her potential new horse than it was to go in anxiety-ridden circles about the potential mess she was making between herself, Matt, and Adam. She went on about a barrel saddle she’d had her eye on buying, light oil color with hand-painted floral details, turquoise and clear crystal embellishments. There was a matching headstall and breast collar to the entire set. Hazel pulled it up on her phone and passed it over, smiling as Rosie marveled at how pretty it was and how well the turquoise would look against Daisy’s golden coat.

It was exciting to talk about these things again. To think the mornings of tugging on her boots and making her way to the stall to feed were just on the horizon. Hazel could barely contain her excitement. All she needed now was to hear from Adam again, and she hoped it would be soon. Both because she wanted to know if she could really begin dreaming of everything she and her new little mare would do and because she could daydream about seeing him again. 

Across from her, Rosie lifted her hand to cover a yawn. Hazel smiled sympathetically and clapped her palms against her thighs, pushing up to her feet.

“Come on,” Hazel said, reaching to pull Rosie up out of her chair. “Your friendship duties are officially over. I know you’re tired out of your mind, so I’m sending you home.” She tugged her out of the office and stopped them in the middle of the shop, despite Rosie’s arguments that she wasn’t that tired, and would be more than happy to keep on talking.

“Go on, get home safe.” Hazel nodded over Rosie’s shoulder to the door.

“Alright, alright,” Rosie said, conceding at last. “But remember,” her tone brought Hazel’s eyes to meet hers. “If you need me, I’m always just a phone call away.”

Hazel’s lips curled upward as she reached to gently grasp Rosie’s hand. “Thank you.” Rosie nodded and turned, waving and giving her goodbye to their staff working behind the counter and once she was gone, Hazel returned to the office to pick up where Rosie’s work had left off.

Two hours into spreadsheets and schedules and budgets that had her eyes wanting to cross, Hazel’s phone buzzed.

TEXT FROM: Adam

Daisy passed her vet check with flying colors.

Hazel’s brows shot up as excitement rushed through her. She couldn’t grab her phone up to reply fast enough.

TEXT TO: Adam

Yay!!!!! I know you’re already helping me out by driving her up to mine since I don’t have a trailer yet, but is it wrong of me to ask how soon you’re able to? I’m just so eager to have her.

TEXT FROM: Adam

Not wrong at all. I’m happy she’s clearly going to a good home. If I could bring her up Friday and leave Dolly with her overnight, you’d be doing me a favor. I have a rodeo about seven hours further north of you on Saturday. I could drive six hours to yours, put Dolly up and that’ll give Daisy some company for the first night in a new place. Then I’ll just stay at a hotel and come back in the morning, load Dolly up and finish my drive to the rodeo.

Hazel read and reread the message. There was nothing wrong with him leaving Dolly overnight and she did like the idea that Daisy would have something and someone familiar on her first night at her new home. But she knew, before she even began typing the message, her reply was going to make it all kinds of wrong.

TEXT TO: Adam

That’s no problem at all! If you want to save money on a hotel, I have a guest bedroom. If it wouldn’t be weird for you. I am still kind of with Matt.

TEXT FROM: Adam

Kind of with… but not dating, right?

Her pulse jumped, but her stomach turned. She sucked in a breath.

TEXT TO: Adam

Yeah…

TEXT FROM: Adam

It’d help me out to not have to pay for a hotel room, so if it wouldn’t be weird for you, I’d appreciate the offer. I’ll keep my hands to myself, if that’s what you want.

She didn’t want that and they both knew it. With a sigh, she glanced over at Carson, who was stretched out on the dog bed in the office. He perked his ears at her as their eyes met.

“I don’t know what I’m doing either, bud.” She said and glanced back down at her phone.

TEXT TO: Adam

Guest bedroom it is. See you Friday. 

She set her phone down and, elbows on the desk, leaned her face into her hands and closed her eyes. This wasn’t fair to Matt. Beside her, Hazel’s phone buzzed. Another text message, probably from Adam. She cracked her eyes open and almost choked on a laugh. Speak of the devil.

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗

Almost home! Just a few more hours. Call you when I get there?

She glanced at the time, and figured she’d be just locking up and getting home when he was finally ready to call.

TEXT TO: MATT 💗

Sounds great babe. Drive safe! 

Another heavy exhale and she set her phone down, glancing back at Carson who was still watching her from where he was laying. He thumped his tail and Hazel smiled flatly. 

“You’re supposed to protect me from things that hurt me, you know that, right?”

He pulled up to his feet, tail wagging increasingly harder the closer to her got, sitting in front of her knees and pushing his head onto her lap. He looked up at her with big brown puppy dog eyes and Hazel sighed, shaking her head and scratching him behind his floppy, soft golden ears.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You can’t protect me from myself. It isn’t your fault.”

Hazel gave him a final little scratch behind the ears and gently pushed him from her lap, turning in the office chair to pick up work again. When she’d done enough scheduling and inventorying and planning to make her want to rake her eyes out, she joined the staff working until closing and helped them behind the counter, checking in with townsfolk she was familiar with and thanking them for coming by. It was nicer than sitting alone in the office with only her thoughts to turn her around and around. Here, conversation stole her attention and left it with nothing to focus on but familiar faces and pleasantry.

The sky became pitch black as the night stretched ever closer, the sun having set a few hours prior. Hazel waved her employees goodnight and locked up, getting Carson and Callahan loaded into the backseat of her truck’s cab before climbing up into the driver’s seat. She was alone with only her thoughts again, but was quick to flip on the radio, deciding if she sang along to her favorite songs it’d be enough to preoccupy her on the drive home.

It was, of course, temporary.

Soon enough she was pulling into the driveway, killing the engine and glancing down at the time on her phone. Matt would likely be calling in just a few minutes. Hazel tucked her phone into her pocket and slid out of the truck, taking Callahan and Carson up to the front door and giving a quick smile over at the still-empty barn. She let her heart lift with excitement, thinking of that cute little golden mare who’d occupy it soon enough.

As soon as she’d lightly tossed her keys into the catch-all on the hallway table, her phone started to ring. When she pulled it out of her pocket, she was relieved to see it was a normal call and not FaceTime. She slid to answer and held it up to her ear.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey you!” He sounded happy. Hazel bit at her bottom lip.

“How was the drive home?”

“Not bad,” he groaned, and she heard a sound like he’d collapsed onto his bed, the sheets and mattress giving way beneath his weight. “Mmm,” he murmured tiredly, “wish you were here though.” A sigh through his nose. “I wasn’t ready to let you go after just one day.”

“I wasn’t ready for you to, either.” A pinch of sadness weighed down her tone. Hazel didn’t understand how she could feel how she felt about him, but also feel the way she felt about Adam both at the same time. It didn’t seem fair. Or reasonable. She knew what it was like to be cheated on, and she didn’t want to be the kind of person that’d bring that sort of pain to someone she cared about. But again, she found herself confused and wondering… was it cheating if they weren’t technically together?

“Sorry,” he said, picking up on the long pause of silence between them. “I didn’t mean to get mopey and be a downer on the conversation.”

“No, no,” she slowly lowered onto the couch, peering off across the room but seeing none of it. She was picturing him, instead. “You don’t need to apologize.” She took a small pause. “Hey, Matt?”

“Hm?”

“Can I say something that might make the conversation even more of a downer?” Her chest felt tight.

“I… guess. What’s wrong?” His voice sounded sharper than it did before. She’d broken through the exhaustion of a long day’s drive and now he was alert.

“I know we said we weren’t going to talk about dating until after this rodeo season was over in December,” she started, “but something’s changed and I just need to know if you really see us as exclusively dating - the real thing - after this season is done.”

“I… What do you mean, something’s changed? What changed?”

She could hear a touch of anger in his voice.

No, wait. Not anger. 

Worry.

“Matt,” she sighed and closed her eyes, reaching to pinch the bridge of her nose. “What happens next rodeo season?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what happens if during the off-season you decide you have enough time to date, but then the rodeo season starts up again in the spring and you feel like you can’t be around again?”

There was a long pause. Longer than normal.

“Hazel, I…” He trailed off. Every second of silence made her chest ache a little tighter and a little tighter. “I don’t know.”

She exhaled and hated the way her eyes were stinging. “You don’t think we could do it? The long-distance thing?”

“What’s changed, Hazel? I was just there with you yesterday and everything was perfect. Why are you suddenly asking me all of this?”

“I met someone.” It was out of her mouth before she had a second chance to think. Before she could point out there shouldn’t be any difference if they wanted to try dating now or a few months from now. The rodeo and their distance were always going to be there, so why not try and work through it now if that’s what he really wanted?

“You met someone.” He laughed, but there was no humor to it. Now she could hear a little bit of anger.

“Matt, nothing’s happened.” That was a lie. Hazel swallowed against her rising guilt. “I just want to know where we stand. I care about you, Matt.”

I love you, she wanted to say, but she was too terrified to say those three little words and then hear him tell her he didn’t feel the same.

“I care about you too!”

“Do you?” The words practically leapt out of her, pushed by the pain she was feeling. “Because if you cared about me, I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to just try dating, Matt. We’re adults, we can figure out trips to see one another.” 

Suddenly this conversation was steamrolling into a fight.

“I already told you I don’t have time to focus on a relationship the way I’d want to. I don’t want to hurt you when I have to pick the rodeo over you.”

“You already are.” Picking the rodeo over her or hurting her? 

Hazel didn’t specify.

The pause was long again. He exhaled a sharp breath, but still didn’t speak. It stretched on a little longer.

“Are you going to say anything?” She asked, hearing how small her voice was.

“I don’t know what to say.”

She swallowed back against the lump in her throat and tried her hardest to keep from crying but felt the slip of a tear down her cheek just a moment after. Careful to stay as quiet as possible so he wouldn’t hear her crying, she reached for a tissue on the coffee table and carefully pressed it against her eyes, looking up at the ceiling and doing her best to not let any more fall or any shaking breaths leave her lips.

“Well,” she tried once she felt like she could get her voice. She could hear the faint roughness of emotion laid over it but tried to keep her tone level. “I guess I should go then.”

“Hazel, we can’t leave it like this. We can’t hang up like this.”

She hated that she could hear the hurt in his voice. He was hurting her. Why wouldn’t he answer her? Why wouldn’t he try? Wouldn’t it make sense, if they were going to date exclusively, to try during the most hectic time of the year to see if they had what it takes to get through the tough stuff? Didn’t that just mean that somewhere, in the back of his mind, he didn’t really want to be with her as much as he thought he did?

“I don’t know what to say.” She echoed his words back to him, to hurt him too, but she didn’t feel particularly good about it. It just hurt her more. She heard another breath rush out of his lungs.

He cursed under his breath. “Hazel, I care about you, okay? I wouldn’t have driven all that way to surprise you if I didn’t.”

“I know,” Hazel closed her eyes tight, hoping that’d continue to keep the tears at bay. “But you don’t want to date right now?”

“The NFR is just two months away,” he said quietly. “Can’t we just wait to talk about this until then? Maybe there’ll be a rodeo close enough for you to come out and stay the weekend with me? I think I have one this weekend that’s about seven hours away from you.”

“I’d have to talk to Rosie and see if she could cover the shop for me,” she trailed off and then shook her head, remembering, “No, wait. I can’t. I’m getting my horse on Friday.”

“Oh… I think the other ones are all out-of-state. Wyoming and Montana until we head to Vegas for the NFR.” He paused and when he spoke next, she could tell he was trying to make his voice lighter, trying to patch them up and pull them away from that sad place they’d been in. “But hey! You didn’t tell me your horse passed the vet check. That’s exciting!”

Her heart was too heavy to lift, even for that. It felt like a cheap way to distract her from what they’d been talking about.

“Yeah, it is.” She looked up at her ceiling. “I need to go... I have to be up early so I can open the shop.”

“Okay,” he said, but she heard the hesitation in the pause that followed. They still hadn’t soothed what wounds they’d both opened, and now neither of them knew how to. If they hung up, the sting would have no choice but to linger. “I’ll text you tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye, Hazel.”

“Bye, Matt.”

She pulled her phone slowly away, blinked at his name and the seconds trickling by the timestamp on their phone call. The screen blurred as her eyes filled with tears. She clicked the red circle to hang-up before they started to fall.

***********

A loud, long groan pushed with effort from his chest, barely muffled behind closed lips, his jaw clenched tight. His work-glove covered hands curled around the handles of the hay hooks buried at either side of the fifty-pound bale of alfalfa hay and he hoisted it upward, biceps bulging against his sun-tanned skin with the effort. He turned his body and swung the bale up onto the stack in his hay barn which he’d parked the trailer beside to unload.

The work kept him occupied and pushed the frustrations that’d plagued him through a sleepless night. Some bales that he lifted, he practically screamed through, but it was only against the thoughts that’d been circling endlessly around in his head and spreading an ache in his chest. He kept trying to shake it off. Each time he tugged the hay hooks from the bale and stabbed them aggressively into the next to be unloaded, he hoped some of that tension would ease out of his body. Maybe he’d exhaust himself enough that he’d just lay back right there on the scratchy hay and pass out and wouldn’t be able to think anymore.

Sweat dripped down his temple and he paused, stretching upright with the hooks left in the bale, reaching to wipe it away with the back of his hand before it hit his eyes. His other hand swiped the black cowboy hat from his head and he fanned himself briefly with the brim, stirring the few wisps of brown hair that’d untucked from his low bun as he worked. He realized it felt loose and dropped his hat onto the hay bale, reaching up to secure it again. His arms burned with a familiar, comfortable ache and he knew he’d have no hope but to fall into a deep sleep tonight.

“I thought you were going to wait until I was over to unload!” Nick’s familiar voice called up from a short distance away, and Matt dropped his hands slow, reaching to pick up his hat and wiping the little flakes of alfalfa that’d stuck to it. He stuck it low on his brow before he turned to look at his brother, who’d now reached the flatbed and was peering up at him with a frown, long fingers pinching his narrow hips.

“I needed to do something.” He said, voice strained as he realized how thirsty he was. He tugged off his gloves, hands warm, and tossed them gently onto the next hay bale he was supposed to move.

Nick’s frown deepened. He turned to where Matt had left his bottle of water and chucked it underhand up to him. “What’s going on?”

Matt twisted the cap off and looked over at his younger brother, pushing a sigh out of his nose and dropping his shoulders. “I fucked things up with Hazel.” He tipped the bottle back and took a swallow, using it as an opportunity to avoid meeting Nick’s eyes.

“What? How?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed and licked the residue water from his lips. That was a lie, he did know. He also knew that all he had to do was tell Nick the conversation verbatim, and Nick would know too.

Nick didn’t press or say anything. He pushed up on the flatbed trailer, where there was space for his boots to firmly land on the secured wood-beams that made the bed. Matt had already managed to clear a decent amount of bales on his own, but he was feeling the exhaustion at having overexerted himself because of it.

Another sigh.

“She met someone else, Nick.”

Nick’s brows lifted. He tugged his gloves from the back pocket of his Wranglers and pulled them onto his hands, stepping into Matt’s space as Matt took a few steps to the side. Setting the bottle of water aside he reached for his gloves, tugging them on as he considered what happened on the phone with Hazel the night prior.

As Nick grabbed the handle of the hook on the left side, Matt grabbed the right. They maneuvered the bale onto the pile being stacked in the hay storage and when Matt tugged the hook free, he spoke.

“She told me something had changed, and then asked me what happens next rodeo season.” He blinked, a frown pushing his dark brows together. His arm swung as he buried the metal hook into the next bale. “I-”a grunt broke between his words “-asked her what had changed and she told me she met someone.” He tried to say it as if it didn’t tap on one of those very fears that’d worried him about them dating.

“So she doesn’t want to talk anymore?” Nick asked, hoisting his side up as Matt followed suit and they stacked the next bale.

“No,” Matt shook his head. “She didn’t say that. But we got…” he glanced down at the toes of his boots, gaze distant as he remembered lying on his bed, heart pounding so fast and hard in his chest he felt sick, fingers curled so tight around his phone they ached and his knuckles were white.

I don’t want to hurt you when I have to pick the rodeo over you.

You already are.

His eyes rolled up to the sky as he tipped his head back. A dry laugh left him on an exhale, but there was no humor in it. “We got into a fight. A real one.” His head tipped back forward and his eyes slid to Nick’s. “I can’t remember the last time I was with a girl long enough to have fought with her.”

“Girls yell at you all the time,” Nick said, swinging the curved hook into his side of the bale.

A grin curled the edge of Matt’s mouth beneath his mustache. “Shut up,” he said half-heartedly, stabbing his hook into the hay and hoisting the weight upward as Nick did too. Once they’d swung the bale onto the stack and released the hooks, Matt shrugged. “That doesn’t count. That’s them yelling at me about how I’m a no-good scoundrel who’s only love is rodeo gold, that’s not us fighting.”

“You’ve never stuck around long enough to fight with them.” Nick said it casually, but Matt felt himself tense.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have time for this bullshit.” He spat it out with a little more venom than he’d intended, gesturing vaguely. “My focus has always been on our career, and that’s no different now. Where am I supposed to fit a relationship in with a woman who lives a whole day’s drive away?”

Matt stabbed the hook into his bale, but Nick didn’t do his. Straightening upright, Matt looked at his brother and saw Nick was watching him with an almost sympathetic look across his face. Matt hated how much it cut through him, how it immediately tugged away the anger that was keeping him safe from feeling how hurt he was. His eyes dropped away from Nick’s.

“You sort of already are, Matt.”

Matt glanced up and saw Nick was still steadily watching him. For all of Matt’s anxious ticks and nervous energy, Nick was calm and still, far more collected of the two. Nick pulled his glove off and scratched at the light scruff on his chin as his brows pinched inward and he narrowed his eyes in thought.

“Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you play your normal games with the rodeo girls.” Nick’s eyes slid to Matt and his brows lifted beneath the brim of his baseball cap, pushing the brim just slightly up his forehead. “I think the last time was when you met her.”

Matt shrugged and turned away, as though that would hide what having those truths laid out bare in front of him made him feel, and how scared he was to feel those feelings. “Come on,” he said, encouraging Nick to put his work gloves back on and help hoist the hay. “She already met someone else. It was only a matter of time anyways. She deserves someone who’s going to be there for her more than I can be. Who isn’t going to hurt her like I have.”

Nick was slow to put his glove on, but didn’t talk until he’d picked his hook back up and secured it into the bale. “For all we’ve known each other - and it has been quite some time,” he pushed through gritted teeth as they hoisted the hay up onto the stack and tugged his hook free, “I’ve never known you to be a quitter. Especially if it’s not something your heart wants.”

**********

“Okay, I don’t think she’s paying attention to us.”

“No, I don’t think she is. She hasn’t looked over since we said her name an entire minute ago.”

“So we could say whatever we want about her and she wouldn’t hear it?”

“Probably.” A little snickering followed, but just like the question Andrea had asked her a moment ago, Hazel heard none of it. Her foot was bouncing beside the chair as her eyes pinned to the semi-busy afternoon crowds down main street outside her’s and Rosie’s coffee shop. She was sitting at one of the window seats, across from her was Rosie and Andrea, as the three girls had a little get-together one of the few nights Andrea had a chance to leave her siblings behind and had no shift at either of the jobs she worked.

They’d caught up on what had happened between Hazel and Matt and the fact that she hadn’t heard from him since their fight on Monday. She hadn’t tried to text or call him back, and he hadn’t tried to text or call her.

“Does this mean you guys are over?” Andrea had asked, frowning.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Hazel didn’t want to say yes, though that’s certainly what it felt like.

“Hey! Hazel! Hello!” Andrea’s voice was suddenly loud, and it made her jump as her wide-eyes swung back to find her friends staring at her with matching grins.

“Sorry,” she said, “did you ask me something?”

“Yeah, about five minutes ago!”

“Sorry!” Hazel laughed and shook her head.

“It’s okay,” Rosie laughed, “we know you can’t think of anything but Daisy.”

Adam would be sending her a message as soon as he was an hour outside town. It would give her time to leave the shop, drive home and do another check to make sure everything was ready for the mare. Or, mares, since Dolly would be staying the night too. As would her handler.

Hazel was trying not to think about that too much, along with making the egregious mistake of assuming she could be reasonable and keep her hands off of him and stay in her room and not do anything to further complicate her love life. Instead, she was putting all her focus and attention on the arrival of her new horse. It wasn’t too hard to do, given how excited she was about being a horse owner again, and how much she couldn’t wait to run Daisy on the barrels. It was like a piece of her had reawoken, something that she thought she’d lost long, long ago.

“I can’t wait,” Hazel confessed, looking between her friends and beaming. “I can’t wait for you to meet her Andrea, she’s an absolute sweetheart.”

“She really is,” Rosie agreed.

“Don’t be surprised if Grace starts asking for a sleepover at Auntie Hazel’s,” Andrea said. Grace was her youngest sibling at seven years-old, and the only girl. “She’s in that horse-crazy phase of her young girl years.”

“Ah,” Hazel said, nodding, “a phase I know all too well. Some of us never grow out of it.” Their light laughter was broken by Hazel’s phone chiming and lighting up where it sat on the table in front of her. She squealed to see Adam’s name and was quick to open his message. “Looks like it’s time for me to head home and check everything over.” She said, smiling back up at her friends.

“Adam’s close?” Rosie asked.

“Yep,” Hazel pushed the chair back as she stood, “I’ll send you guys some videos of her settling in!” 

The girls said their goodbyes and Hazel rounded up Carson and Callahan, loading them in her truck before she headed for home. She couldn’t get there fast enough, even knowing Adam was still an entire hour out. Her giddiness made her realize twice she was speeding, and she’d exhale with a laugh as she eased the foot off the pedal and slowed her truck down. She felt like a kid at Christmas, all the excitement inside her pouring out in what felt like a permanent smile that’d been on her face all day.

The following hour passed surprisingly quickly as she did a check around the barn and turnout paddocks, filled two stalls with a little over a foot of soft sawdust flakes, and got the water buckets filled before flipping the automatic fill nozzles on. Hazel had just swung the back door toward the turnout paddock open when she heard the rumble of the truck’s engine and glanced to see Adam pulling his horse trailer up the drive.

Wiping her hands on her jeans she darted out of the barn and half-jogged to where he slowly pulled the truck to a stop. 

“Hey!” She called as he climbed out of the cab.

“Hello again,” he said warmly, and opened his arms to envelope her in a friendly hug. Hazel didn’t hesitate, and something in her softened to have his arms around her and his scent - whatever shampoo and conditioner he used, horses, leather, and the faint spearmint from the gum he’d been chewing - in her nose, her lungs as she dragged a deep enough breath for it. He must’ve sensed something, because as she snuggled in close, Adam’s hands flattened on her back, holding her closer into his front. 

Hazel buried her face against him, and let the pain she’d been feeling that past week slip away, second by second that he held her. His arms shifted, he pulled her back just enough to lift his thick fingers to her chin, guiding it up so their eyes could meet. The way concern looked on his face made her heart ache.

“You alright?” He asked, his green eyes jumping between hers.

“Yeah,” she exhaled and nodded. “I’m okay.” 

The hand that’d been holding her chin reached to cup her cheek. His thumb skimmed across her skin. “Alright.” He said. He wouldn’t press, wouldn’t make her tell him why she’d needed to hold him so tightly. 

“Want to introduce your girl to her new home?” He tilted his head toward the trailer, blond curls gently shifting with the movement.

“Yes!” She practically jumped in his arms and was only remiss for a second when their embrace broke.

As Adam went to unhitch the back of the trailer, Hazel popped the side door, speaking softly to the golden mares as she stepped inside the trailer. She ran a gentle hand along Daisy’s haunches and down her spin, shifting between them to where her lead was securely knotted. Quick work undid the nylon and Hazel gently turned her, leading her out of the trailer. “Welcome home, Daisy,” she said as they walked down the ramp and onto the gravel driveway outside.

Daisy lifted her nose in the air, nostrils flaring as she sucked in deep, fresh breaths of all the new smells. She jerked her head lightly on the lead - not enough to disturb Hazel’s grasp, though it tightened all the same - and looked around, ears pointing forward, attentive. Hazel smiled and rubbed her free hand down Daisy’s warm, strong neck. “What do you see, girl?” She asked her, starting to walk, Daisy more than happy to fall in step with her.

As Hazel showed her around the yard, Adam unloaded Dolly, who was clearly happy to be able to uncramp her legs from the trailer.

“Let’s turn them out in the arena,” Hazel suggested, nodding toward it. “They can stretch their legs and get some energy out.” She could tell when Daisy had turned and seen her sister that her excitement had mounted and the clips of her hooves hit a little more rapidly as she swung her hips, moving restlessly. It’d be good to let them burn this off.

Adam nodded and started toward the arena, Dolly glancing around as he led her toward the gate. Hazel followed in tow with Daisy, who seemed confident and happy following her older sister. Adam popped the latch and pushed it open on the hinge, walking Dolly in a few steps over the soft sand-dirt blend arena. He reached up to unclip her lead as Hazel led Daisy in behind them, reaching to do the same before Daisy could get too excited about her sister already trotting a few paces out. The lead unclipped, Daisy tossed her head and pulled her legs up in a high-knee trot, cream-white tail flagging out behind her muscled haunches.

Adam joined Hazel, standing side by side with her as they both held their horse’s respective leads, smiling and watching the mares in the arena.

As Daisy approached Dolly, Dolly lifted her head and kicked out her heels playfully, picking up the pace to egg her younger sister into a chase. The two uncramped their muscles from the six-hour long travel in the trailer, and worked through their energy at being in a completely new place with new smells. Dolly was used to traveling and her confident nature would help ease Daisy into this place too, making it more something to be intrigued by than fearful of. It was a good thing Adam had a rodeo and needed to bring Dolly, too. Hazel watched both golden mares stop at the other end of the arena and glance out toward the foothills, side by side as they pointed their ears over the fence and listened to whatever caught their attention.

“She looks right at home here,” Adam said, and it drew Hazel’s eyes toward him.

“She does.” She agreed with a smile.

“Want to give these girls a break? Show me around your barn?” He offered.

“Sure,” Hazel agreed with a smile, and turned to walk back toward the arena gate they’d gently closed after releasing the mares. They hung the leads on the fencepost, since they wouldn’t need them until they were ready to put the mare’s up for the night, and exited. Adam latched the arena gate and waved a hand at Dolly and Daisy, who’d glanced over to curiously watch them make their exit.

“It’s definitely nowhere near as fancy as yours,” she started, not wanting his expectations through the roof as she led him across the yard toward it.

“Well, you’re also not a multi-year bronc bustin’ rodeo champion with a ranch horse breeding business on the side.”

“Fair point,” she laughed as he raised his brows and fixed her with a pointed, green-eyed stare. He grinned shortly after, and her eyes lingered over how handsome happiness looked on him. It made his cheeks perfectly round and pinchable, with a brightness in his green eyes that nearly made them shine blue.

They reached the little three stall barn and Hazel tried to temper her smile as she walked him around, showed him the stalls and their swing out doors to the small turn-outs, the little tack room that doubled as a feed room and an all-purpose room, too. No wide wash-stalls with cross-ties here. It was a humble little stable but, like Adam said, it wasn’t like she was raising a whole herd of horses or in the business of it,  no matter how much she’d love to be.

Still, Hazel was proud of it. She had built the frame with her own two hands, even if a company had finished it, furnished it and given it some pretty little upgrades she might not have put the time into herself. 

“I like it,” he said, his nod shifting the blond curls resting on his broad, muscled shoulders.

“Yeah?” She asked, smiling up at him.

“Yeah! I can see it’s new, no little dents from the day-to-day, can still smell the fresh paint, everything is shiny and unlived in but, it feels like…” he paused, “feels like it’ll be a home. It’s warm; it has heart.”

Hazel laughed softly.

“What?” He asked.

“Sometimes I feel like you’ve got a poet’s soul, cowboy.”

“Aw,” he grunted, and she was pleased to see just a little bit of red in his cheeks as he smiled. “I normally don’t talk this much to people.” He said, then sighed. “Well, I do. I can talk my way into looking comfortable in any size crowd so well, people will think I must be a natural. Truth is, most of the time I’m around people, I’m terrified as hell. What if I say the wrong thing? Is it wrong that I really don’t care that Kenny’s playing a new video game? Am I acting like I do enough so I don’t come off rude as he talks to me about it? Am I maybe being a little spoiled, not wanting to talk to my friend about something he likes or is it okay that I don’t want to? Am I a good person?” He rattled off the questions with a good-humored exaggeration of his worried persona until she was biting down hard into her smile as he did. 

Hazel shook her head and reached out to touch his forearm. He brought his eyes to hers, and his posture relaxed. One of his free hands reached up to cup her face.

“But with you, I feel like I can say exactly what I want to say, and I want you to accept and understand me so bad, and then you do. Or you say something I’ve been thinking, but haven’t managed to put together to make sense of it yet. You just…” he exhaled, and she felt the warmth of it over her lips. He’d sank down closer to her, as if every word pulled them in like magnets. “You scare me, Hazel, but you make me feel more like me than I’ve ever been comfortable with before.” 

And their lips met, her answer a muffled whine, sweet and heartfelt against his tongue. He inhaled sharp, and his hand slipped from her face to pinch into her waist, his other hand flanking her other side. He squeezed hard, harder than he’d meant to as a muscle jumped in his blond hair-dusted forearms and his hold relaxed, just a little. His thick, tall body bullied her back to the wall where she went willingly, just like before.

Her back flattened and his body was quick to push warm and needy against her front. A perfectly placed knee guided her legs apart so he could shuffle in a step closer, pushing the bulge growing between her legs against her thigh. They fell into where they were a week ago in his barn as if no time had passed or location had changed. Adam’s hand pushed up her shirt, calloused hands grazing her soft tummy as they moved upward. His greedy fingers slipped under her bra until they found her left nipple, squeezing it and giving it a slight pull - just enough to make her moan into his mouth and his grin to smear across their kiss.

Hazel pulled her head away to look at him and saw how dark his eyes were. He almost looked like a man possessed, so hungry for her, with so many emotions flooding the surface. She could feel nothing but loved beneath a gaze like that, and with how low her heart had been all week, it was more than she could ask for.

Adam released her left nipple and slipped to cup her right breast instead, wiggling to offer it the same treatment, pushing his mouth hot against hers to muffle another little yelp of pleasure-pain that pulled from her throat when he pinched it. Her hips moved restlessly against him, rubbing his growing, jean-clad cock on her thigh and herself on his sturdy, large thigh. It shoved the stitching of her jeans against her thin little panties, and she gasped shakily when their mouths moved apart.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling away to get a good look down at her. His eyes jumped over her face and he smiled, almost in wonder. “C’mere, I want to see you.” His voice husky, gentle. Adam took his fingers out from where he was stretching the elastic of her bra and out of her shirt, pinching the hem instead. He slipped it up her body, eyes meeting hers to make sure it was what she wanted.

Hazel didn’t hesitate. With their eyes locked, she took her shirt from his grasp and ripped it quickly over her head. When his eyes fell greedy to her cleavage she wasted no time twisting an arm behind her back, grasping her bra’s clasp and twisting to pop it free. Adam’s eyes jumped to hers, then back down as she peeled the material away and dropped it at his feet in the barn aisle next to her shirt.

“God damn, Hazel,” he whispered in a hot breath as one hand lifted to lightly hold the weight of her bare breast, his eyes falling from hers, to it. The pad of his thumb skimmed over her teased hard, sensitive nipple and she inhaled a sharp breath. His head of golden curls bent so his mouth could engulf her breast and the flat of his wide tongue could flick back and forth across her little pink nipple.

Hazel bent her head back, eyes on the wood-beams above. Adam’s warm mouth worshipped one breast, then moved to the other to offer it the same treatment. His fingers crawled down to her jeans and tested the loops before turning in toward the button. He slipped it free then lifted his head, and his eyes - dark with need - met hers. The brief moment of pause in the chaos. The one chance to say “Are you sure?” without actually saying the words. As if there was any chance she’d want to go back now. As if there was any chance they could rein in the coming storm their passion felt like it would be.

She nodded, just barely, and a grin curved Adam’s mouth. The zipper of her jeans tugged down with a loud, quick zip, but before he could tug them down, she was prying at the hem of his shirt and pushing it up his thick, warm torso.

“Fair’s fair,” she said as he bent in and tasted the skin of her neck. “I’m shirtless, so you have to be too.”

She could feel his grin against her skin, and he was still smiling as he took his thick fingers off her jeans and stepped back just enough to have the room to strip. “Didn’t realize we had rules,” he teased as he pulled the material up his body and let it fall carelessly to the floor beside them. Hazel’s eyes swept down his handsome face to that broad chest, down the subtle curve of his belly where just an inch of fat hung over his tooled leather belt, and the big, shiny buckle bit into it.

“I like my rule,” she said, reaching to put her hands on his biceps and sliding them up his shoulders. 

“I didn’t say it was a bad rule,” he leaned in to put his mouth in the hollow dip of her neck and taste the skin down to her collar bone. His short beard scratched at her as his kisses turned a little more feverish, and his fingers once again wiggled their way toward her jeans.

This time Hazel didn’t stop him and after only a brief hesitation he tugged the stiff material of her jeans down her hips and thighs, kneeling in front of her and helping her out of her boots. A shiver ran over her body - nearly nude spare her thin, teal panties - as he straightened over her.

“Cold?” He asked in a low voice, and crowded his warm body closer. One of his hands framed her face, his fingertips tracing her jaw. He brought her eyes up to his and gently ran the flat of his thumb over the shape of her lips.

“No,” she whispered as he pulled his hand away. “I just feel… exposed.”

He paused for a minute, glancing over his shoulder toward the open end of the small stable, then back at her. “It’s just us, darlin’.”

“I know, but it’s been a long time since I was in a barn with a cowboy, naked and about to be fucked up against the wall.” 

Adam grinned. “Would it make you feel better if I was just as naked as you?”

“Absolutely.” The word was out of her mouth before she even had time to playfully pretend to think about it. Her eagerness made his grin spread, and he nodded his head before he stepped back and his thumb played at his belt. Her eyes fell down to it just as he tugged it’s clasp free, then left the belt open and dangling as he went for the button on his jeans. Hazel saw it then - the lump that’d grown along his thigh in his Wranglers - and sucked in a sharp breath as he undid the button and tugged the zipper down. He groaned in relief as he released the pressure from his filling cock, and her eyes jerked up to his face to see the way that relief looked there.

Adam’s eyes rolled forward and he pushed his jeans down, one hand flattening on the wall by her head to balance his body as he stepped out of his jeans and boots. He was left looking down at her, his chest rising and falling, green eyes so dark they were nearly black as they pooled over her face. She wondered if his heart was beating as fast as hers was. Surely it was.

His body shifted as he lowered before her, his palms skimming the shape of her body as he knelt. He tilted his head back, gold curls spilling over his broad back, and looked up at her as she tipped her chin to her chest to look down at him. His hands slipped around her hips and into the fat of her ass, squeezing and pushing her toward his face. It brought his Roman nose against her pantyline, and he pushed it harder, exhaling a warm breath over the thin material before he kissed it over her clit. Shivers ran through her body again. Her hands landed on his firm shoulders.

Adam pressed his mouth more firmly against her panties, his tongue testing the material, teasing them as he pushed it between her lips but didn’t give either of them the satisfaction of actually tasting her. The tip swirled around her clit, inspiring more shivers down her thighs. She stuttered on a gasp as she leaned her head back and pushed her hips a little more eagerly toward him. As his mouth teased them both by tasting her through her panties, his fingers released the fat of her ass he’d gripped hard into (likely leaving prints of his hand in her skin) and crawled up toward the elastic of her panties. They curled and he slid them down, pulling his head back enough to pull them free, and she could fill his heavy, thick warm breath against her bare skin.

He leaned in slowly, and that warmth filled more and more of the crevices between her legs and then, languid, he pressed and slipped his tongue from the bottom of her pussy lips to the top, then swirled around and teased her clit. Hazel half-moaned, half-whined as her eyes rolled back and her hips pushed eagerly forward. Adam’s calloused palms slipped back to her ass and held her against his mouth as his feasting became more fervent. His tongue plunged between her folds, his lips latched to her sensitive, raised clit. His fingers gripped, released, and regripped the fat of her ass, pressing the prints of his hands in her skin. He released her clit only for the clever tip of his tongue to flick it back and forth in short, quick strokes, enough to make her take quicker, sharper breaths and release louder, needier moans. Her thighs trembled and he groaned against her pussy, vibrating where she was sensitive and a wet mess of cum and saliva. He held her even more firmly against his mouth and her eyes rolled back, lips hanging open but no sound coming out as she held her breath and reached the inevitable edge…

His tongue slipped off her clit and he pulled back. The air was cold against her pussy. Hazel released a shaking, confused breath and dropped her chin, eyes looking down as he looked up, kneeling between her legs. One of his blond brows was arched, lines wrinkling his forehead. He had a lazy grin, and she nearly felt dizzy when she saw how wet his lips and the beard around them was.

“Oh no, darlin,” he murmured, his voice husky and low as he slowly rose to be that warm shadow over her. “The first time I get you to cum,” his fingers were on her arms, gripping and rubbing up before dipping in and fondling her breasts. His thumbs swiped her raised, needy nipples, “my cock is going to be inside you.” He leaned and pushed his mouth against hers and as their tongues tangled, she tasted herself on him. As he broke their kiss and leaned in to leave a trail along her jaw, his nose in her hair and breath on her ear, he whispered, “I just needed to taste you first.”

One of his hands stayed on her hips, the other reached to shove his boxer-briefs down his hairy thighs. She felt his cock tap her thigh as it sprang free, but didn’t have much time to reflect on how long or thick it’d felt, or even glance down between their bodies to peek. Adam was already shuffling in and, gripping his arms underneath her ass, lifting her up off her feet. Hazel squealed in surprise, her legs forced around his hips as he bullied her back against the wall and used it for further support. She could feel the strength in his biceps as her hands landed on their curve, the muscle tense underneath. Her eyes flew to his and the moment their pupils locked, he slid her down smooth and wet on his cock.

A low moan crawled slowly out of his mouth, pushed inch by inch the more of his cock he sank inside her. Hazel held her breath, feeling the way his girth stretched her, until she was sat sac-deep on top of him. “Adam,” she whined, their gaze had broken when his eyes rolled back in pleasure and they snapped forward - black, not green - and met hers.

“God, Hazel,” his words were tight, his breath stuttered. He readjusted the grip on her body and lifted her up, then sank her back down. His hips pushed in as he carefully lowered her on top of him, enjoying each and every thrust. His eyes rolled back as he shuddered.

Hazel’s hands slid up his arms and around his neck, helping him as his hands gripped the back of her thighs. It was getting harder with sweat smearing over their skin and sticking them together. Her legs jerked with every thrust as they started to grow in speed at an almost reckless pace. He poured moans into her ear, pressing hot breaths into her hair. Those dirty sounds lifted into the tall beam ceiling of the stable and poured out of the open doors at the end of the walkway.

He pressed a kiss against her temple and then stilled, cock buried to the sac inside her. Hazel groaned - God, the way his thick girth stretched her - and rolled her eyes forward, chest heaving with the deep breaths she had to take. 

“I’m going to move us, alright?” He asked in her ear between heavy gasps of his own that stirred her hair.

Hazel nodded, and held a little tighter around his neck, pulling her body toward his as he grunted and moved her off the support of the wall. His cock slipped out of her in the shuffle and she squeezed, instinctively, missing the feeling of him filling her. Using his strong grip, with her legs hanging over his hips, he turned her toward the stalls, moving for the half-door that was still hanging open. It was the last stall she’d bedded down with over a foot of soft, fresh sawdust bedding, and that’s what he slowly lowered her down into, following on his knees. Hazel was amazed at his strength and control, her hands sliding from around his neck and palms pressing down the muscles in his arms.

Adam threw a shadow over her, smiling a lop-sided grin as he pressed his hips toward hers and pried her pussy lips apart with the head of his cock. With a grunt he slid down and pushed in, stretching her around him without enough time passed to grant either of them any sort of sanity. This is where they were now, making love in the stable, only the two of them and no one there to interrupt.

Their eyes locked for a few intimate strokes, her kiss-swollen lips stuck open, with soft little cries falling out of them each time he shoved the head of his cock deep inside her. Leaning down over her, Adam put his weight in one forearm, freeing the other hand to chase down their bodies. His fingers found that already teased little red button and twitched across it as he continued to fill her with his cock. Whether he meant to sync the strokes of his fingers with that of his cock or not, he was soon driving her wild, making her press her head into the give of the stall bedding and her fingers to grab a tight hold on him, wherever she could grab.

“Oh, God, Adam!” she managed to get out between sharp inhales, her brow knitting tight together as the pressure built nearly unbearably high inside her. She was so close...

“MmmHazel,” he groaned near her ear, pleasure undeniable in his stuck-together words. A low breath and then he exhaled a gentle command, “Cum for me, darlin’.”

Another circle of his fingers over her clit, a quick shove in of his cock, and a surprised cry was all that could fly out of her lips before her eyes were rolling and stars burst behind them. Her thighs trembled and clapped his, pressed up under her as they were. Her muscles pulled tight on him, her little cries and the way her fingernails bit into his shoulders more and more evidence to the way he’d driven her wild.

A gentleman, he slowed his thrusts through her pulses, gently rocking with each and clenching his jaw, clearly straining to keep himself from losing it inside her. He slowly pulled his fingers away from her sensitive little button and buried his hand into the gentle give of the sawdust by her head. Hazel’s eyes opened up dazedly on the golden curly haired cowboy above her, and saw his slow, proud smile crawl across his lips. If she wasn’t so out of it, she might’ve grabbed a handful of sawdust to chuck at him for how confident and cocky he looked right then.

“Jesus it took everything not to cum with you,” he murmured, his hips pulling back, then pressing in and starting to slowly fuck her again as he bent and pushed his lips against hers.

“Why didn’t you?” She barely had a voice when their mouths broke apart.

“I’ve been dreaming about being inside you-” he paused to groan as a particular slow stroke of his cock pressing deep inside her felt good “-for months now. Call me greedy, but,” another kiss, and he breathed the last of his words tight across her mouth as he slowly pulled his hips back, “I wanted a little bit more.”

Despite her entire body feeling like it was made out of jelly, Hazel had to agree. She wasn’t ready for their lovemaking to be over, either. Even if she didn’t know how she was even going to manage to stand once they were finally through. Adam readjusted himself, pushing his weight into his hands so he could sit upright between her legs. His palms settled on her wide hips and pinched, pulling her slowly, inch-by-inch off his girth, then tugging her back up. Hazel appreciated the new position, able to look up her naked body at Adam sweating, straining, and grunting as he pulled her up and down his cock. Every thrust made her breasts jerk and she watched his hungry eyes jump from where they were joined, watching his cock buried inside her, to her breasts instead and appreciate how each quick thrust made them move.

One of his hands left her hip and flattened on her soft midsection, thumb settling over her clit. As he circled it, Hazel groaned. She wasn’t sure she could get worked up enough for another orgasm so soon, that last one had been so strong. “Adam…”

That lop-sided grin barely tugged across his mouth again and his thumb left her alone just enough to gently press into her wet, just barely able to wiggle in there with his cock already stretching her. She moaned and he pulled it out quick, returning to her already teased clit. He swept her wet over it, teasing her as he started pounding his cock a little harder and a little faster into her. This time the stroking didn’t match the driving of his hips, but even when she would have sworn he must be close to cumming, he held off, instead continuing to tease her and draw her toward yet another orgasm. Hazel could do absolutely nothing to keep the dam from breaking.

“Adam!” She cried out and jerked over him, her skin slapping his. 

He grunted, still plunging in and out of her, tearing his hand away from her clit. Adam fell back over her, driving his cock inside her in quick, fast thrusts. Only a few inches were pulled out before he was shoved back in, all while she cried and came and twitched, eyes rolled back. She was too sensitive through her orgasm for his fast fucking, and it was just making her cum harder. He grunted, shoved himself sac-deep inside her, and then stilled to stone. 

It didn’t and couldn’t matter the way he had her scrunched and fucked into the layers of sawdust - they were both happy victims to their muscles seizing in their body and electricity rushing through their nerves. Hazel felt the warmth of his cum shooting hard up into her enough to make her cry out when it did. He flooded her cunt, filled her up, and then was a shuddering, almost too-warm weight above her just barely leaning off from crushing her underneath him as they caught their breath.

The last few minutes of their fucking had been so fast-paced, lost in her orgasm, that Hazel’s mind took a few minutes to catch back up. It seemed he did too. 

“That was…” he sighed, blinked and let his green eyes find her face. One of his hands reached up to delicately pluck the sawdust out of her hair, then pushed the lock from where it’d stuck to her face with sweat. His calloused palm fell to gently holding her cheek and Hazel smiled tiredly up at him. She felt at peace. Adam leaned down and softly laid a kiss against her forehead, then slowly one on each cheek, the tip of her nose, and then her lips. He didn’t deepen their kiss, but let it linger in a way that cherished the touch. Only when he broke away from her mouth and their eyes met did he finish the sentence he’d started a little bit ago. “Amazing.”

“Mhmm,” she murmured agreement and leaned up to steal another short kiss, still not able to have enough of him. When their lips broke he sank down, a warmth atop her, and they relaxed again in their joined company for a few quiet minutes. Her fingers traced random circles on his shoulder blades, and he was careful where to lay his weight so he didn’t smother her. He kissed her temple, and gently breathed against her ear. In the distance they heard one of the horses snort.

“We should probably get up and go shower,” he suggested, but didn’t bother moving his body off of her or even pull his slowly wilting cock from where it was still lodged between her legs. “We smell like sweat and sawdust and sex.”

“Sweat, sawdust, and sex. It has a nice ring to it.” She said, but couldn’t help but agree. The longer they lingered in the stall the more the pleasure that’d filled her head was slipping away and the more she could feel the slight uncomfortableness creeping in. The sweat and sawdust now made her skin feel a bit itchy, and she couldn’t deny that she’d appreciate a shower to clean herself of it. “But you’re right,” she sighed and lifted a hand (noticing how many little flakes were stuck on her arm and smiling) to gently run through his blond curls, “a shower would feel nice if I could get up.”

“Come on, come on,” he grunted, slowly pulling himself up from her and gently pulling his still-sensitive cock from between her legs. He reached a hand down to her once he’d stood and lifted her up. A grin split over his face at the shape of her body pressed into the bedding, as did the fact that most of her backside was covered in it. Sweeping a quick hand down her skin he helped shake most of it off, and though she was thoroughly exhausted and satisfied, the caresses of his work-calloused hands still inspired pleasurable shivers.

They gathered their clothes that’d been discarded in the walkway outside the stable, then giggled as they ran like children, hand-in-hand and naked as the day they were born across the yard and into the house.

“Thank God I don’t have any close enough neighbors!” Hazel laughed breathlessly once they were safely inside.

“I bet they would’ve appreciated the sight,” humor in his voice that matched the sparkle in his eyes, Adam was still grinning as he leaned to place a sweet kiss on her forehead, then gently smacked her bare ass with an open palm.

She rolled her eyes, but was still grinning too. 

It was strange that even though this was the first time Adam was in her home, it felt as though he’d been coming here for years. They walked down the hall and to her room, setting their clothes in the laundry basket, then moving for the master bath. Approaching the shower, Hazel turned the handle to start the water, sticking a hand under the stream to test the temperature.

“I wish I wasn’t leaving so early in the morning.” He said, coming up behind her. His hands settled like gentle weights on her hips and he held her there as they waited for the water to warm.

Hazel turned her head to look over at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “Me neither.” She sighed.

“I could always stay…”

“What about the rodeo?”

Adam rolled his eyes and tugged at her hips, pulling her and turning her around to face him. His arms wrapped lazily around her and he tilted his head, chin to chest as he locked his eyes with hers. A slight frown worried its way across his brow. “I’m already guaranteed a spot in the NFR, I can afford to miss a rodeo.”

She didn’t want to compare him to Matt, she didn’t want to do that when it wasn’t fair to do to Matt… but something in her heart that had been hurt by everything that happened between her and Matt lifted at the honesty in Adam’s tone. Still, as amazing as it was to have him, just thinking of Matt threatened to spread a crack across the dam that held back thoughts she couldn’t afford to let loose while Adam was here. As sure as she was that she and Matt were over, Adam was still his friend and was in his life. Regardless of her relationship with Matt, Adam still had one with him, and they’d complicated that by being together.

Why did the man who spoke to her heart in ways she’d never experienced have to be so close to the man she’d fallen in love with? Why couldn’t he have been some stranger she could run away with and not have to face any problems or think of all the ways she could have handled the situation better?

“You already paid the registry fees and trucked Dolly here,” she said with a smile she didn’t quite feel, but hoped he’d buy. “Go to your rodeo, we can pick another weekend to get together.” Then, she added, “Besides, I want to spend time bonding with my new horse.”

At that, Adam smiled. “Alright, alright.” His thumb gently massaged her hip and he bent to place a sweet kiss on her lips, then again on her forehead. He was full of sweet, sentimental touches. It was as if he had to make up for every moment he wasn’t able to offer romantic affection those months and months they hadn’t gotten to be with one another. Was he making up for lost time? Or could he simply not help but keep reaching for her while she was there in arm’s reach?

“The water’s probably warm enough now,” she murmured, still stuck in the warmth in his soft, green eyes.

“C’mon then darlin’,” he sighed and pulled his arms off of her so she could turn around and step into the shower. “Let’s get cleaned up, put the horses up and get something to eat.”

“Mm, that sounds like a perfect idea,” she agreed as the warm jets of water hit her and began to take the dirt and sweat off her body.

They wouldn’t have much time that evening to spend together. Adam needed to leave before the crack of dawn in order to get to the grounds with enough time to register, unload Dolly in the pens and check which bronc he’d be riding and then prepare accordingly. The way the pair of them functioned together honestly astonished Hazel somewhat. They were in such tandem, it felt like this was the hundredth time Adam had stayed the evening with her at her house.

After dinner they cuddled up on the couch with what little time they had, Carson and Callahan lying in their beds and the television on low on a repeat of a show neither of them were paying much mind to. Instead, Hazel and Adam had taken to giggling and talking among each other, teasing each other as they flowed with ease from topic to topic, avoiding anything too deep or painful and simply enjoying one another’s company. Hazel remembered how Adam had told her it was like she was able to say the things he was thinking before he said them and early on, she realized she felt the same way about him. It was like something in their minds just… clicked.

Like they were always meant to be. They had that inexplicable bond. That once in a lifetime sort of thing that couldn’t be forced. It just was.

Eventually as the night wound down she was lying on his chest, dozing softly off to sleep. On the coffee table a phone started to vibrate with an incoming call. Her phone, in fact, lying face down. It gently moved as the vibrations disturbed it from where it sat.

“You’re getting a call, darlin’.” His soft voice gently ushered. He ran a wide palm up and down her arm to rouse her from falling asleep.

“Mmm,” she sank deeper and kept her eyes shut. It was too warm and peaceful here in his arms to pull herself free. “If it’s important they’ll leave a message.”

He chuckled and she felt it rumble in his chest.

“Well, let’s at least head off to bed then. I have to be up in…” he groaned as he reached to get his phone and check the time, “Ugh. Four hours.”

She made a small noise of complaint that she’d have to move, but let him gently encourage her upward so he could slip out from under her. He leaned in and pulled her up to her feet, reaching to grab her phone and setting it in her hand. Hazel grabbed it as she rubbed her eyes and yawned, clicking the power off on the television and stumbling toward the bedroom. Callahan and Carson hopped up to follow, tails wagging, clearly happy it was bedtime.

Adam flipped her comforters back as they went into the room and only once she was securely snuggled up, phone set face-down on the nightstand nearby did he begin flicking off lights and making a careful path toward the other side of the bed. Carson and Callahan jumped shamelessly up and curled in tight little balls at the end of the bed, warming her feet. She thought of shooing them to their beds on the floor, but Adam babytalked them as he got into bed and leaned to give them both scratches behind the ear as he told them goodnight and finally slipped in beside her. It made her smile and then his warm arm came around her waist and he slid her across the bed toward him.

“Goodnight Hazel,” he whispered against her ear, placing another kiss tenderly on her temple. Hazel hoped that soft, loving touch stayed through her dreams to encourage the very kindest of them and that she’d still feel it when she awoke the next morning.

Hours later - though she wasn’t entirely aware of the time - she was stirred awake by Adam’s soft voice. He wasn’t even in bed with her anymore, but standing bedside, bent over and gently brushing her hair out of her face as he talked to her in hushed tones.

“I have to get going.” Regret colored his tone and through the mental fog brought on by sleep, she barely managed to make a soft, disagreeing groan. It made him chuckle and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. He stayed near enough that she could feel his next breaths warm across her face. “I know, I know. I wish I didn’t need to go either. I’ll call you when I get to the rodeo grounds.”

“Mmkay,” Hazel agreed sleepily, and then groaned. “Daisy needs breakfast…” It was only four in the morning and she could probably wait for a few more hours, but if Adam was going to be taking Dolly out of the stable a flake of hay to keep Daisy distracted at being alone might be kind of nice.

“You just stay sleeping,” Adam hushed her and tucked her in a little more under the blankets, giving her shoulder a soft rub. “I’ll see that Daisy has food and her water bucket is cleaned out before I take off, okay?”

“Mm… mhm.” Her eyelids were already closing despite wanting to keep them open to look at what she could see of him in the dark pre-dawn light of her room.

“Alright,” he laughed and kissed her forehead again. “I’ll call you later darlin’.”

“Mmkay…” she mumbled again into her pillow. “Be safe.”

“I will, promise.”

She listened to the sound of his boots fading away down the hall, then the door jingle before it softly shut and then silence. She meant to listen to every single sound she could catch, even the far away ones out the window. She wanted to hear clear up to the rumble of the truck starting and the sound of tires on gravel, but before she knew it she was already drifting back to sleep. The sheets still smelled like him and she wrapped her arms around the pillow he’d been using and tucked it in close to her body, pressing her face into it and feeling the way her body relaxed with the next breath she took before sleep had her again.

When she awoke she felt confused. “Adam?” She muttered groggily, inhaling and smelling him before she cracked her eyelids open and looked down at the pillow she was still holding on to. She frowned, reaching to rub the sleep from her eyes before the hushed morning came back to her of Adam getting dressed as quietly as he could and giving her a quick goodbye kiss. A smile melted across her lips, thinking of the evening they’d shared. It wasn’t even the sex she thought of first - though that was certainly worth remembering - but the hours after when they’d just shared each other’s company. Even when they hadn’t been talking, Hazel had felt so complete with him.

She shook her head and laughed breathlessly. How long had it been since she’d felt that open with another man? Matt… She sucked in her breath and opened her eyes a little wider. 

She felt open with Matt and comfortable with him, and when he was with her she felt warm and safe and cared for. But those were the good times, not all these painful conversations and lack thereof that had followed. No, the times she was soft and honest with him and he was with her were what she missed. Or when they could be in-person together, or those late night calls where neither of them wanted to hang up and they just started talking about everything and anything, swapping stories and growing closer. Those days the cocky front of Matt Jackson, Rodeo Champion, slipped away and she saw the gentle, caring, sensitive man underneath. Her heart ached swiftly enough that she felt the need to catch her breath. She missed those phone calls. She missed Matt.

Tears stung in her eyes and she cleared her throat and blinked them away. What right did she have to cry? How could she lie here and miss Matt when Adam had been a warm body in her bed not three hours prior?

Rolling over she reached toward her nightstand to grab her phone, turning it over so the screen would light up and show her what time it was. Notification banners for things she’d missed - mainly social media mentions - popped up, as did one for a missed call. She’d nearly forgotten late last night when she’d been just about to fall asleep on Adam that he’d said she was getting a call.

Missed Call: Matt 💗

Her heart sank and she nearly dropped her phone.

New Voicemail: Matt 💗

Hazel stared at the little red bubble indicating the missed message. Every piece of wonderful paradise the last twenty-four hours had been evaporated almost immediately, taken over by guilt. Was he calling to apologize while she was wrapped up peacefully in the arms of one of his closest friends? Attempting to stop her anxious spiral of thoughts, she realized she could be overthinking. The call could be Matt telling her it was time they talked, that he’d taken the week to think about what they’d said and had decided she was right, he just wasn’t ever going to be ready for a relationship. It could be him deciding they needed to give each other a proper goodbye instead of ghosting each other.

Tears burned in her eyes and she told herself again that she had no right to them or to the way her heart felt like it was being slowly, painfully squeezed. She’d spent the night before with her legs wrapped around one of his closest friends, moaning as he filled her with his cum. How could she now be heartbroken over the thought of Matt calling to tell her they should talk and end it all?

But what if… what if he was calling to apologize? What if he was calling to tell her he’d taken the week to think about it and realized he was being foolish and she was right and there was no reason they shouldn’t be in a relationship now?

There was only going to be one way to know what Matt had been wanting to say. 

She looked at the unplayed message, still looking up at her with it’s little red bubble. Her finger hovered over to bring the voicemail screen up where she could begin to play it and found she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t hit play. Not when every breath still drug touches of Adam into her lungs and she could hear his moans fresh in her ears.

**********

“Hey, Adam! When did you get in?” Nick’s voice carried over the crowd as Adam stopped in step, turning to glance over his shoulder as he watched his friend’s approach. He turned to face him and shrugged.

“A little after eleven. I hit the registry table and got caught up talking with Kenny. Haven’t even unloaded Dolly yet.”

“Well that’s good news,” Nick smiled his characteristic large, happy, easy-going grin. He was wearing a dark brown carhartt jacket over his button-up and it reminded Adam he wanted to go back to his truck to grab his. The days were getting chillier and chillier the closer to the winter months they drew.

“Why’s it good news?”

“We kept one of the pens clear by our boys so Dolly would have familiar company. Matt’s been sitting on the fence this morning keeping anyone else from claiming it.”

“I appreciate that.” Adam said with a grin, though he had to fight to keep it through a sudden surge of discomfort that crawled through him at the mention of Matt. He immediately thought of Hazel.

“It’s no problem. I’ll show you where we’re at so you can bring Dolly over. Come on.”

Adam and Nick fell in step beside one another.

“It’s been good for Matt to have something to keep his mind occupied anyways. He’s been getting into conversations with anyone who stops by to see if the pen is clear or not.”

“Oh?” Adam said idly. In truth he didn’t want to know why Matt needed to keep his mind occupied. He had a sneaking suspicion he at least knew somewhat what it might be about.

“Yeah.” Nick said, and there seemed something briefly heavy in the sigh that followed. “But we’re right over here.” He pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket and waved over to where his and Matt’s roping geldings were lounging in one of the temporarily set-up white pipe-fence pens. Beside them was another one, empty and ready for Adam’s mare.

“Hey, Matt, look who I found wandering around the parking lot.” Nick called out as he leaned up against the gate. Immediately his gelding shuffled close, pressing its muzzle into his jacket and whuffing big, warm breaths that made the man giggle. Nick scratched the horse's forehead, ruffling its mane. Adam looked from Nick to Matt or, tried to, but found it was actually hard for him to look at Matt.

His lips pulled in a thin smile he hoped still looked polite and he glanced away. He tried not to notice how troubled Matt’s face looked before he smiled and nodded.

“Morning, Adam. Glad you got here safe.”

“Thanks,” he said and glanced at his boots. “I uh, better go get Dolly.” He said with another tight grin to Nick, hoping no one picked up on how badly he suddenly needed to get away.

As he made for where he’d parked the trailer he found himself getting angry for feeling guilty. Matt never had any trouble with women for as long as Adam had known him. Every rodeo they pulled into it seemed Matt had some pretty little thing hanging off of him and giggling by the end of the night. Adam could be just as lucky too, but all those cute girls with their pretty smiles and admiring stares never really caught his attention. They made him feel nervous and oftentimes the attraction felt empty. 

Then came Hazel, the first woman to make him actually care about something other than his career. Why did Matt have to have eyes for her to? She was beautiful, sure, but she was so much more than that. It wasn’t fair that Matt got to hold on to her like she was something he’d cherish when he got to have any girl he wanted with ease. Plus, he clearly wasn’t doing a good job taking care of her. Adam had felt the way she clung hard onto him when he’d first showed up at her house. And if the tables had been turned and Hazel had asked him if they could date he never would have bookmarked that conversation for later. 

Because the moment Adam had looked in her eyes he’d seen the eyes their future kids would have. The first time their lips had touched he’d sworn he’d heard church bells and the cheers of their loved ones filling the church he married her in.

Adam was sure if he could get Hazel to see how deep their connection was by the time Matt and her talked after the NFR she’d be more in love with him and would tell Matt they wouldn’t work. It was a shitty plan and a shitty thing to do as Matt’s so-called friend, but Adam’s loneliness had made him into something he wasn’t entirely proud of. So be it. He was tired of letting life pass him up because he wanted to do the right thing. No one else seemed to be so worried about doing what was right and they were getting what they wanted. It was finally time for Adam to get what he wanted.

Yet here he was, suffering guilt he hadn’t foreseen. Adam sucked hard at the back of his teeth as he popped the trailer door, carefully unloading Dolly. He rubbed her neck and sighed, deciding he’d do his best to put it all out of his mind that weekend and not act on it. He’d already texted Hazel early on to let her know he’d gotten there safely, and smiled when he got her message back telling him good luck and she’d be watching the live feed of his ride later on.

“That’s what I’ll focus on, eh girl?” He asked Dolly as they made their way toward the pens, her shod hooves gently clipping the dirt and gravel parking lot. Instead of spending his day worrying about how Matt would feel if he found out Adam had slept with Hazel, he’d think about her behind one of the few cameras pointed at the ring. He’d think about her sitting on her couch, cheering him on with her dogs getting hyper at her yelling and starting up a good-natured ruckus.

It made him smile just picturing it.

**********

The rodeo weekend turned out to be a moderate success. He and Nick had run well enough to maintain their leadership spot heading into the NFR, though he’d been distracted and hadn’t done what he knew to be his best. This would be one of the nights he would have talked down about his run just to listen to his friends encourage him with everything he’d done right, or even take their advice if they noticed what he’d missed. He’d refuse to tell them it was because he was preoccupied, but he knew he didn’t need to tell his brother that. After their first run had been less than fluid, Nick’s only words to Matt had been: She hasn’t called yet?

And Matt had felt like he was letting Nick down by having his personal life affect their scores. Still, it wasn’t as if he could help himself. Every waking second was full of Hazel. It was almost torture. He saw her out of the corner of his eyes in the crowd and felt his heart leap and sink all at the same time as he whipped his head to see if he could catch her, only to realize it was someone who just vaguely resembled her.

It’d been wrong to wait an entire week to contact her, but he’d been… Well… He’d been scared. He’d never felt the way he felt for another woman like he did Hazel. He liked women, but not enough to let them take any place in his life beside the rodeo. With Hazel? He was actually considering it. Hell, the way she occupied his mind that weekend she might as well have been there sharing the days with him. 

He’d thought of calling her all week, but the more time passed that she didn’t call him left him wondering if he was making a mistake. He couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that she said he was already hurting her, and how awful that made him feel to know. He didn’t like hurting the people he cared about - the people he loved - even if he hadn’t meant to do so. Maybe her not calling him was supposed to be his hint that she was over what they’d been doing? Maybe it was too late? Maybe he’d already lost her...

But two days ago, late Friday night, he’d finally got up the courage to call her. He’d missed her, and as his heart pounded in his throat and his body felt shaky he listened to the call ring and ring and ring… then click over to voicemail.

When she hadn’t called back right away he assumed she was already asleep and he’d hear from her the next day. Saturday stretched on and on, every time his phone buzzed he jumped thinking it was her, only to feel his heart sink when it wasn’t. He hadn’t been able to sleep. Matt couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this way.

By the end of the second day his patience was worn thin. Hurt was quickly turning to anger, especially when he was so adapted to pushing away these feelings in the first place. She wasn’t even going to call him just to tell him she didn’t want to see him anymore? After all they’d been through? This was why he didn’t date. This was why he didn’t let anything go beyond a night with a pretty girl at a rodeo. This was all the stuff he didn’t want to take his focus away from what was important. This was why he let himself have fun and kissed the women who fawned over him after the show, but didn’t bother to keep their names in his phone.

The fact that his and Nick’s runs had been subpar just proved all those points he’d been telling himself all along. He really didn’t need this kind of bullshit.

Not even a text message?

Neurotic, he did what he’d been doing all weekend and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, clicking his and Hazel’s last text messages, seeing they were still the old message, then over to the call log to see he still hadn’t missed any calls from her. Still nothing. 

“Hey there, handsome.”

He frowned at the screen, not hearing the voice that’d been practically right in front of him.

“Hellooo?”

His brown eyes jumped over the top of his phone and down at the cute little cowgirl standing in front of him. She had short brown hair tucked under her cowgirl hat and pretty blue-green eyes that glimmered up at him. If his mind wasn’t so preoccupied by Hazel, he might’ve immediately realized that this girl was damn gorgeous and she was looking up at him with a look he knew all too well.

“Sorry,” he laughed dryly and clicked his phone screen back to black, shoving it into his jeans.

“Expecting a call?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Y-” He cleared his throat. “No.”

“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes like she was trying to decide if she believed him or not. “You sure you’re not waiting on a call? Maybe from a wife or- well… -” His fingers tingled as she gently grasped his hand and turned it, seeing no ring. “A girlfriend?”

She was bold, he’d give her that.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” The words almost hurt to get out when they used to be so smooth to say.

“Really?” She asked, half surprised, half pleased. “Hard to believe a handsome cowboy like you is single. I saw how good you handled that rope earlier…” She’d gently stroked her finger over the back of his right hand she’d been holding. She gave it a little squeeze before she let it go, a small curl of the edge of her lips speaking to a kind of mischief he was usually all too eager to pursue.

“That’s nothing,” he laughed dryly, “That wasn’t my best performance. You should see how good I normally am.” A little bitter sting at his runs this weekend. He knew he was better than that.

“Oh?” She leaned in a little and he could smell her. Vanilla. Sunshine, despite the fact that it was late Sunday night and there were stars twinkling in the sky above. Nothing like Hazel’s warm caramel coffee and fresh baked goods, which he attributed her smelling like because of her coffee shop. He felt a pang of sadness that the woman hanging on his front didn’t smell like Hazel, then decided that was better and took a deeper breath. The more of her he breathed in, the less of Hazel he’d remember.

That’s what he needed right now. This. To remember who he was and why he did this - slept with pretty women at rodeos and didn’t get attached to them - instead of dating. They didn’t know one another, but he felt like the woman he was talking to understood exactly what she was getting into. Or maybe he just wanted to tell himself that so he didn’t feel guilty about what he was going to do next.

Matt turned his hand so he could hold hers instead of her holding his, then he ran his touch up her arm and slipped his warm, calloused palm on her round cheek. He tilted her face toward his and gave her a smile he knew made most girls weak in the knees.

“What’s your name?” The pad of his thumb skimmed her lower lip and his mouth broke gently apart as his eyes fell to trace the touch. She had the prettiest lips… 

“Josie.” She murmured, his thumb staying with the movement.

“Josie,” he repeated, and his smile deepened. “That’s pretty.”

It was getting easier and easier to forget his pain… or so he kept telling himself. Matt leaned in and slipped his thumb away, holding her face as his lips brushed hers. Guilt twisted in his stomach as, behind his closed eyelids, he suddenly saw Hazel’s face and it felt strange, not tasting Hazel as he kissed this woman he didn’t know.

But she leaned up, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck to pull him down closer and their mouths opened, tongues slipping along each other’s and he remembered to stop thinking about Hazel. He kissed Josie harder, dropping his hand to her hip and pulling her tighter against his body. He liked to feel it bounce off his. Surely the more and more turned on he got the more he’d stop thinking about Hazel anyways. He needed to. Hazel had clearly forgotten about him so he needed to forget about her.

She had probably spent the last week with that other guy she’d met. That's why she hadn’t called him back. She was already off with someone else who could be there for her. His fear had become reality.

Matt’s fingers squeezed tighter on Josie’s hips and her excited squeal melted warm in his mouth. A hiss of a laugh out of his nose and he turned them around, flattening her back on the fencepost as he bent his head and kissed her closer. He had to be kissing her hard enough that the coarse hair of his beard was scratching her skin. Her hat had been knocked back and off at their feet, but neither seemed to want to stop long enough to grab it. Matt’s hands slipped from around her hips and dug into the fat of her ass, pressing her even closer to his front. He grunted as she rubbed her leg on his thigh.

“What the fuck is this?” A sudden voice threw ice water over the heat that was stirring up between them.

Matt leaped off her as though touching her burned his hands, turning with wild eyes to see Adam having come around the corner and stopping short, staring at them both. His eyes left Josie and focused on Matt. Why did he look so angry?

“Mind your own business Adam, what the hell do you think this is?” Matt growled and made a conscious decision to step closer to Josie. He didn’t want her to think she’d done anything wrong, so he put a hand back on her hip and pulled her close to him.

“You’re…” Adam shook his head and laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“I’m what?” Now he slipped away from holding onto Josie, turning toward his friend with a frown digging hard across his brow. All the emotions stirred up inside him were leading him somewhere he knew he shouldn’t be. It was like a runaway train and he was helpless to stop it. “Finish your fucking sentence if you’re going to bother interrupting me.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable.” Adam glanced at the woman next to him, then back at Matt. “What about Hazel?”

“What about Hazel, Adam?” Matt scoffed and took a step toward him. “Where do you get off commenting on my relationship? You don’t even know Hazel, and whatever is going on between her and I is between her and I, you understand?”

They’d drawn in close enough that they were nearly standing nose to nose. Matt had never seen Adam this worked up and it made him even angrier to see it. Since when did Adam have any say in Matt’s relationships?

Or maybe it was because everything Adam was saying was a tangible culmination of the guilt he’d been trying to ignore.

Of course, the fact that he’d feel guilt just made him angrier. Hadn’t he said enough when he’d called her? If she’d listened to his voicemail and chosen not to call him that was all the answer he needed. He didn’t need to sit around moping over it. He was a grown adult, Hazel was a grown adult and even though they’d apparently chosen a messy way to end their almost-relationship, it was clearly over.

So again, what gave Adam any right to comment on it? What right did Adam have to be angry with Matt, anyways?

The tense moments crept by in seconds that felt drawn out into minutes.

Adam shook his head and broke eye-contact first, looking down between them as he smiled and sucked at the back of his teeth. “Whatever, Matt.” He turned and walked away and Matt let him, even though his fist was curled at his side and some rage-fueled part of his brain told him it would have felt good to hit Adam for that look. For trying to make him feel guilty for something he didn’t know or understand.

The quiet permeated the small area as Adam left and Matt half expected when he turned around he’d find Josie had made her exit, deciding her attempt to get a hook-up with him wasn’t worth all this personal drama. He couldn’t blame her, really.

“So, who’s Hazel?”

He was surprised when she spoke up, though his shoulders tensed.

“She’s…” he turned and looked at Josie, who had her brow cocked as she looked at him. At some point she’d bent to pick her hat up and dusted it off before setting it back on her head. “It doesn’t matter who she is.” He tried not to pay attention to the little sting on his heart to say it. “She’s not here.”

“I am.” Josie said boldly with a smile, drawing in closer to him.

“Yeah.” Matt turned to face her fully again and put the anger in Adam’s eyes out of his mind along with all the uncertainties and emotions that came with thinking about Hazel. “You are.”

He leaned down and put his mouth back on hers, deciding he was ready to just forget everything and go back to his old ways. It may not have given him the wholeness he’d felt with Hazel, but it hadn’t given him this kind of pain, either.

**********

TEXT FROM: Rosie

Have you listened to it yet?

Hazel read the message on her phone after tugging it from her jeans. She’d just untacked and cooled Daisy down from their ride, giving her a good rub down before she turned her loose in the arena. Hazel bit at her lip and replied.

TEXT TO: Rosie

Not yet…

She knew she needed to. Late Friday evening Matt had called and left a voicemail on her phone which she’d seen Saturday morning after Adam left. She knew she’d needed to listen to it, but every time she clicked her voicemails and prepared herself, she chickened out. She and Adam had talked a little in text and once on the phone, but she hadn’t told him about the missed call. It already seemed wrong enough that Adam knew about her deal with Matt and everything else, but Matt had been kept completely in the dark through the whole thing.

She hadn’t told Adam she’d tuned in to the rodeo’s live stream early enough to catch the tag roping to watch Matt’s runs, either.

Now it was Tuesday afternoon, with the sunset just a few short hours away. Hazel needed to do the adult thing and listen to the message. If it was Matt saying his goodbyes then she needed to accept the reality that was dealt to her that things were really over between them. She and Adam could begin figuring out how they’d eventually be together and maybe, in time, her heart wouldn’t hurt every time she saw or heard from Matt. 

TEXT FROM: Rosie

Babe…

Hazel sighed.

TEXT TO: Rosie

I know, I know.

Rosie had told her days ago to listen to it and had even gone as far as to offer to listen to it for her. Hazel had appreciated it, but she knew she needed to listen to it herself.

She also knew it was wrong of her to have taken this long. She just wasn’t ready to feel the full brunt of the heartbreak she hadn’t anticipated. She hadn’t even meant to fall in love in the first place.

She almost laughed then, realizing that she’d never even told him she was in love with him and now they were probably through.

Hazel drew a breath and leaned on the arena fence, trying not to think about the day she, Matt, his brother and all their friends had all come together to build it. She shook her head and clicked her phone off her text message conversation with Rosie and to her voicemail screen. Right there on top was his unread message, still waiting for her as it had been for days. Hazel clicked it and felt her stomach drop, lifting to hold the phone to her ear.

“Hey, Hazel? It’s Matt. Listen… I…” His voice was heavy. He sighed. “I know our last call didn’t go great and I know me not calling or texting you hasn’t helped. To tell you the truth I’ve been… I’ve been freaked out. I don’t do good when I’m… well, I’m not used to being scared like this. I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but Hazel, I care about you more than I’ve cared about someone in - hell - forever. I care about you like I care about Nick, except not like - he’s my brother and you… well. You get it. Look, I know I’m not making much sense and I’m having trouble figuring out what I’m trying to say. I had it all in my head and kept practicing what I wanted to tell you this whole week. The thing is, Hazel, I think there’s a chance I’m…” He trailed off and her heart beat so fast she felt sick. “Well… I know I don’t have any right to keep asking you to hang on, and I know you’re right, there’s no difference if we date now or if we date later but… I want to do this thing right, you know? When we… Hell...if we decided to be more official. I want to be there for you full-time, not when I’m preoccupied with the rodeo season. Does that make sense? Maybe it doesn’t… I don’t know. I just… all I know is that I miss you, Hazel, and I can’t stop thinking about our last call. Just… listen… if you still want us to maybe work toward something, give me a call back, alright? I know I’m not perfect and I know I’m pretty terrible at this relationship thing and I know you met someone else and I keep thinking it’s pry better for you to have someone who can take care of you right while I keep making all these mistakes but… damnit, Hazel.” His voice had gotten tight and she realized he was fighting off tears. “I think I’m… I think I’m falling in love with you and that scares the shit out of me. You don’t owe me anything, you don’t even have to call me back, but I really, really hope you will.”

The message clicked and Matt’s voice was gone.

Hazel took a sharp, shaky breath that tasted like tears. The vision of Dolly standing in the far corner of the arena blurred as more tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks, cold as they slipped and fell one after the other to the dirt below.

[gusu-emilu]

seven nights to turn: author's meta

Symbolism & Parallels

Time to be self-indulgent. Am I significant enough to be posting about my own fic lore? Probably not, but here I am. Blame @eldritch-elrics and @qi-ling for telling me I was allowed to do this.

I also want to journal for myself about this story before I forget my thoughts months later. A little fic diary, if you will.

I'm going to talk about the meanings of:

counting nights and days

pruning plants

branding and insignia

kneeling

Counting Nights and Days

Jiang Cheng's state of mind in Chapter 1 is very different from Chapter 4. In the beginning of the story, he is bitter and restless. His memories haunt him. He counts time by nights—has for years—because the nights are harder to make it through.

By the end of the story, he is openly grateful in his narration for Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling's safety, and he has gone from calling himself selfish to giving to Wen Ning out of something more than just guilt. The shift from counting nights to counting days reflects this.

I also played with this concept in the titles and section headers. As a refresher, the chapter titles are 1) from first to fifth night, 2) from sixth to seventh night, 3) turn, 4) from first to fifth day. And of course, the story is called Seven Nights to Turn.

Jiang Cheng "turns" in multiple ways. The surface level turn is from counting nights to days. The emotional turn is how his perception of Wen Ning changes. The physical turn involves kneeling...and I'll talk about that soon.

Wen Ning also has a turn of his own, as he realizes that he isn't as repulsive as he thinks, that he isn't as responsible for the past as he thinks, that Jiang Cheng didn't give him the talismans and tea for the reason he thinks. That he is allowed to express negative emotions once in a while. He can have some catharsis by confessing things to Jiang Cheng that he feels like he can't say to Wei Wuxian or Lan Sizhui. And at the very end of the story, he "turns" to travel to Tanzhou and meet Song Lan, starting a new direction in his life as he can begin to heal and grow on his own. Before coming back to Lotus Pier, of course *wink wink*

Now for the section headers. If you didn't translate them while reading, I'll do that now. Until the "turn," the nights are marked 第一晚 (First Night), 第二晚 (Second Night), etc., and the days are marked 白天 (Daytime). Wen Ning's POV in Chapter 2, aka his breakdown, is marked 未知 (Unknown), because the reader can decide for themselves when that scene happens. It also represents that Wen Ning feels lost in that moment. After the "turn," the night is marked 晚上 (Nighttime), and the days are marked 第一天 (First Day), 第二天 (Second Day), etc. So, the shift from counting nights to days happens on several levels.

Pruning Plants

In Chapter 3, after Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning reach some form of peace, if not a full reconciliation, they sit at the tea table in Wen Ning's cabin, talking about their families or sitting in silence. Wen Ning brings over one of his plants to prune while they sit together.

Snipping away the leaves represents how, throughout the entire story, they bring up moments from the past and find a way to release them. Before they were able to reconcile enough to sit at Wen Ning's tea table (without Jiang Cheng wanting to flip it over), they had to go through explosive confrontations about the past. But finally, some of those grievances are addressed. They can trim away those leaves, and new shoots can grow, because at last they are talking without animosity and beginning to bond.

Trimming away a few leaves doesn't change the plant. Its base is still the same. They can't change or fix anything, but they can make what they have a little less messy.

Actually, I was originally going to have Wen Ning show Jiang Cheng how to prune the plant, and they would trim it together. Now I'm regretting not doing that lol.

Branding and Insignia

I'm just going to pull quotes for this one to show everything in one place. Half of these ideas came from my beta @lady-of-the-lotus.

He wonders if Wen Ning is trying to leave a mark of his own, to carve another scar, to sear a brand of the lost Wen Clan into his skin. (Chapter One)

Jiang Cheng thinks about receiving another permanent mark of the Wen Clan during the hate sex...

A pendant in the window casts a sun-shaped shadow on his face; a faint circle, spoked and distorted. He doesn’t look in the mirror again after that. (Chapter Two)

And the morning after, there's the mark of the Wen Clan, if only in his imagination. Yet another thing to haunt him.

Wen Ning saw. Saw the guqin brush, with its red handle, its black rim and golden tassel. The exact colors of the Wen insignia. (Chapter Two)

But by the end of that chapter, Jiang Cheng begins to empathize with Wen Ning and come to terms with his guilt, and he consciously selects a symbol of the Wen Clan to give to Lan Sizhui as a gift.

The design on the bottom of the cup has burned the red outline of a lotus flower into his skin. (Chapter Four)

By now, Jiang Cheng understands how much Wen Ning sacrificed and suffered, and he wishes he could take away the pain. He heals the burn wound, removing the brand of the Jiang Clan from Wen Ning's skin, and later thanks Wen Ning for saving his family.

As he follows the path of the veins, he realizes how endless they are. Jiang Cheng’s own scars have a clear start. A clear finish. Where does Wen Ning’s suffering end? (Chapter Four)

Wen Ning's black marks are the brand of death.

The rest of the scar/vein symbolism is pretty clear in the story, I think, so I won't discuss it much beyond that.

Kneeling and Parallels

Here's the physical "turn." I didn't intend for this to happen while writing, but it actually has a connection to a scene in CQL.

One of the most emotional scenes in The Untamed is in Episode 36, after Wei Wuxian pulls the nails out of Wen Ning's head to restore his consciousness. Wen Ning, overcome with guilt, kneels at Wei Wuxian's feet. Then Wei Wuxian kneels.

This is a beautiful moment in their relationship. Ningxian (you can interpret that romantically or platonically) always has this...slightly uncomfortable power dynamic? as much as I love them, but in that scene Wei Wuxian physically shows how much he appreciates Wen Ning. That he is sorry. That they are both indebted to each other, but the past wasn't Wen Ning's fault, and they are equals as they kneel in front of each other.

Back to Seven Nights, where there is a lot of kneeling going on, and the meanings are a bit similar.

This story was a challenge to tell mostly from Jiang Cheng's POV, because there is so much in Wen Ning's head that I couldn't put on the page since Jiang Cheng just doesn't know what he's thinking. The reader gets to learn about Wen Ning through Jiang Cheng's eyes, and speculate about the rest of what they don't learn.

But during the hate sex scene, it's significant that Wen Ning is the one kneeling. Despite how much resentment he holds toward Jiang Cheng, he still feels guilty! (He really isn't to blame, but he feels like he is.) He killed Jin Zixuan! That caused Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli to die! He's a corpse, what is he doing touching someone? Expecting that Jiang Cheng would've reached out to him to make peace? Wen Ning is very confused about how he feels about Jiang Cheng, has a complicated relationship with his own humanity and self-confidence, and that leaves him kneeling even when getting revenge.

There's also the attraction element, of course, the classic trope of "enemy sexy," but we're not talking about that right now lol

The next time somebody kneels, it's Jiang Cheng. His guilt toward Wen Ning used to do nothing but torment him. Now he is taking action, physically showing the change in their relationship, kneeling at Wen Ning's feet and healing his hand. The talismans and tea in the first chapter were nice (if misguided) gestures, but he didn't kneel to present those, did he? The sentiment in the first chapter is very different from his treatment of Wen Ning in the last chapter. He understands Wen Ning much better. Admits to himself that he cares about Wen Ning as a person. He's not just caught up in the concept of "unfinished business." He's not held back by his ego.

And then we come full circle, an inverse of the hate sex in the first chapter. This time Jiang Cheng drinks the tea, kneels, and gets to work. And Wen Ning orders him to, which I find very satisfying.

But once he finishes...Wen Ning kneels, too.

They go through both versions of the power structure, and by the end they are stripped, raw, honest, kneeling in front of each other and wrapped in each other's arms. They both had to knock down barriers to get to this point, and it broke them both a little in the process, but now they can start again and move on to something more hopeful.

Just to be clear, this was not planned from the beginning. Wen Ning was never even going to go to Lotus Pier. And once I decided to add that chapter, I only decided to add sex to it a week before posting. So this just kind of happened on its own.

...And I think that's it. I wish this story was longer lol. Seven Nights was supposed to be a 6k oneshot, turned into a near-30k multichap, and I still want to write more. T.T

I might post again about planning/conception for the fic, another diary entry so I don't forget what was going on in my head months or years later when I look back at this story. Idk. Anyway, thanks for reading!

[winchester-purgatory]

Summary: Sam finally proposes to Jess

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo

Square Field: Christmas proposal

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Jessica Moore

Word Count: 1703

Warnings: None needed 

The alarm went off, blaring and beeping, echoing in their bedroom, stirring Sam from his sleep. He groaned, but didn’t move, still tired.

He and Jess had gone to bed late last night due to an office party at the law firm where he interns. It was kinda boring, most employees being in their forties and up, but Jess was there to make it better - and report about the two employees she caught having a drunken affair on her way to the bathroom. He even had managed to win one of the prizes of the night, a bottle of expensive whiskey, which he'll give to Dean as an additional Christmas present, not being a whiskey drinker.

As tempting as it was to hit snooze, he already hit it two times which meant it was around 10 o'clock.

''Make it stop,'' Jess sleepily complained from behind him, facing the opposite side of the alarm clock. She tried to tug at the comforter in hopes to hide underneath and block the loud noise, but it was hogged by Sam's weight, being a blanket hogger. ‘’Sam!’’

Forcing his eyes open, he reached out to turn the alarm off, making them both sigh in relief. This alarm might do a good job at waking them from a deep sleep, but its sound is damn annoying when it’s a day off.

Sam rolled over and kissed her shoulder tenderly, wrapping his arms around her, not ready to leave the bed yet. The blonde hummed, leaning into her lover's touch. ‘’Five more minutes,’’ she mumbled, eyes still closed.

A chuckle rumbled from Sam’s chest. Okay. Five more minutes.

‘’I’m so glad we got out of hosting the Christmas dinner - again. No need to wake up early and stress with the food or setting everything up,’’ Jess declared, feeling very cosy.

''This apartment is way too small for a Christmas gathering anyway. Where would the guests sit? We don't even have a proper dinner table.''

‘’We could put Cas and Charlie in the living room and Dean and Claudia on the balcony. The patio set should still be there,'' Jess suggested with amusement.

‘’I can already hear him complaining about the snow falling into his beer or that his ass is starting to feel numb from sitting on the metal chairs in the cold.’’ Sam chuckled, imagining the scene perfectly. ‘’It’s better at Dean’s place. He always gets way too drunk and I wouldn’t see Claudia hauling him in the car and to their house. He'd crush her with his dead weight.’’

Although they've been living together for four years, slow mornings like this were rare. Morning where they could sleep in, be lazy in bed and cuddle. They always had to rush to get to class or work - and sometimes even on the weekend on Jess' end, a perk of being a nurse.

Whenever it would happen, they liked to cherish every minute and sometimes even have breakfast in bed. It was a guilty pleasure.

Not today though, as ringtone went off, blaring through the bedroom.

''Ugh, it's mine.'' Jess detached herself from Sam to grab her phone on the right nightstand, checking at the caller ID. ''It's my mother,'' she announced with mild annoyance, a picture of her and her mom at her 40th birthday taking the whole screen as it kept ringing.

Their laughter was cut short when a ringtone went off, blaring through the bedroom.

''Ugh, it's mine.'' Jess detached herself from Sam to grab her phone on the right nightstand, checking at the caller ID. ''It's my mother,'' she announced with mild annoyance, a picture of her and her mom at her 50th birthday taking the whole screen as it kept ringing.

That interruption was the signal that morning cuddles were officially over and they should get started with their day. ‘’I’ll go shower while you talk to her.’’ Sam got up, fetching some clean clothes from the top of the dresser.

''I'll join you if you finish before you,'' Jess said with a smile and a wink before answering her phone. ''Hi, Mom, how's the preparations going? Has Dad started early on the eggnog again?''

Sam looked down and smiled. How did he get so lucky?

.

When Sam returned to the bedroom, Jess was finished with her call. She had opened the curtains and snow was falling outside, dusting a light coat of white in the streets.

She pouted, seeing him half dressed with a towel over his hair. ‘’Already? I was about to join you.’’

''Sorry... How's your mom?'' he asked while dry toweling his hair.

''She's doing good. She's pretty disappointed we won't be joining them for Christmas this year - again. Plane tickets are just so expensive during this time of the year and, no offense babe, but your car wouldn't last the trip.''

Sam chuckled, throwing the towel in the laundry basket. ''It's okay. I know it's crap. Dean reminds me every single time he sees my car and its damaged bumper.''

''She wishes us a jolly christmas eve...and not-so-subtly asked if she has a wedding to plan.'' Jess huffed a laugh, still hearing the echoes of her mother wondering how they weren't engaged after being together for five years. ''At least she didn't ask if I was pregnant.''

''Maybe she does.''

''What? Sam, I’m not pregnant. I’d know if I were-’’

‘’No! Not that.’’ He shook his head. ‘’The part about planning a wedding.’’

‘’I think you skipped a step here: we need to be engaged first.’’

‘’Let’s do it now.’’

‘’Sam-’’

‘’I'm dead serious, Jess! I've been thinking about it for a couple months already. I even got a ring...''

Jess' eyebrows pulled into a confused frown, trying to process all this new information. ''What?'' she asked, eyes rapidly filling with various emotions.

Sam stood and went to their closet, fetching the old box filled with memories from his years at college from the back, and pulled out the blue velvet box where the ring was perfectly resting. He opened the small box and stared at the dainty, simple band with diamond in the middle and nodded. It's time.

His palms were getting sweaty as he returned to the bed, feeling nervous. He wasn't nervous about Jess possibly saying no. He knew she'd say yes, she already made that clear. It's just that Jess deserved the best and Sam wanted the proposal to be perfect. He was afraid of messing up and getting his on-the-moment speech wrong.

Sensing his nervosity, Jess took his hand and tugged him back on the bed. She looked up at him and smiled, sparkles of joy already in her eyes even though he hadn't popped the question and she hadn't seen the ring yet. The beaming look on her face told him this was the rightest thing he'll ever do. He was gonna marry this girl.

''Jess. Since I got that ring, I kept practicing how to present the question and trying to find the right way to propose, the right moment, but I think this is it.’’

10 o’clock on Christmas Eve morning wasn’t your typical ‘perfect’ proposal, but Sam didn’t want to wait anymore. Dean had suggested he’d do it tonight at his place, but Sam didn’t like the idea of a crowd - even his closest friends and brother - watching them. He liked privacy and, what’s more private than between your four bedroom walls? 

‘’This might sound cheesy and overused in proposal speeches, but I wouldn't be who I am today without you. When we met, I was in a bad place. I had gotten into a really bad fight with my father about my future and moved all the way to california to follow my dream. I was miserable and lonely, but there you were in that diner, golden curls and sparkling blue eyes, serving coffee to pay off your tuition. I came to this diner every day for weeks although I was short on money solely so I could see you.'' Sam paused, realizing how stalker-ish his behaviour sounded. ''Unlike the guy at table seven, I wasn't there to ogle your body in your waitress uniform. I was there for the bright smile on your face and to hear your laugh because it was the only thing that would brighten my dark grey sky.''

The blonde reached out and squeezed Sam's hand, remembering the tough times. Freedom hadn’t tasted sweet the first couple months. It was very dark and lonely and difficult on every end. Sam had been long tormented by his past, always thinking about his brother and father he left behind, the absence of support from them.

‘’I remember when I first brought you to my dorm. Collin couldn’t believe I caught a girl like you, so...out of my league. The nerd doesn’t get the hot girl in our world,’’ he said in an attempt to make a joke. ‘’It’s been the two of us since college. Can it be the two of us forever now? You pull me out of my comfort zone and make me do things I would never do on my own without forcing me into anything. You motivate me when my hopes are down, you make me smile when I feel down, make me feel special when I feel alone and misunderstood. You were my home when I had no home to go to. You’re the first girl I loved.’’

There had been girls before Jess. Amy Pond when he was twelve. It didn’t last long, barely over a month, but it still counted. Penelope Svenson, the girl from the café in his hometown. They never went past the first date. She was too self-centered for him. And Rachel Nave, his prom date, who hooked up with his brother on prom night. Thanks Dean. 

Looking back, those relationships were insignificant. 

‘’Remember the night I reserved us a table at this fancy restaurant? I had been saving for weeks to take you there on our anniversary, But when the day came, I couldn’t get myself out of bed and had to cancel. You showed up to my dorm, all dressed up and excited for our date. I felt so bad. I thought you'd be upset and slam the door on your way out, but you just smiled and said we'd go another time. You even stayed in my dorm and we cuddled and watched movies on my busted laptop. That’s when I knew you were the one for me.''

A small frown creased on the blonde’s forehead, remembering that night in Sam’s crusty dorm perfectly. ‘’Sam, that was over four years ago.’’

He looked down and nodded. ‘’I know. You stayed when others would’ve left and that meant a lot to me. It showed me you weren’t only with me for the good and that I could be fully myself with you - no holding back.’’ Sam paused, the velvet box feeling warm and kinda sticky in his clammy hands. ''Jessica Lee Moore, will you marry me?’’

[eddieeatsass]

A Certainty of the Universe

Summary: Eddie and Richie had been flitting around their sexual tension for years, but now that they're rooming together they're finding it increasingly harder to ignore it. One accidental sext ends up being the inopportune ice-breaker they needed all along. Pairing: Reddie Rating: E Warnings: Smut, explicit language

Read on AO3

Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier had been college roommates for five months and counting. Their first year at college, Eddie lived with a randomly selected student named Stanley Uris; a tall Jewish boy with cleaning habits that were happily on par with Eddie’s standards. They were a good fit, and soon became good friends as well. They would probably still be rooming together if it weren’t for Richie’s roommate, Bill Denbrough. Richie had been lucky enough to get paired up with one of their oldest friends, but after Eddie introduced his roommate to the pair, any hope of living with Stan for an extra year went out the window. Stan and Bill began dating and got serious pretty quickly. So when second year came around, they decided to live together, leaving Richie and Eddie to either fend for themselves in the roommate system or move in together.

They, of course, chose the later. Despite having glaringly different personalities and hygiene habits, they were best friends, and figured that could carry them through any bumps they might have while living together. One bump that neither of them anticipated, however, was years of sexual tension coming to a head. It became increasingly harder for Eddie to ignore when Richie pranced around their room in low slung sweat pants, the clear outline of something tantalizingly off-limits staring Eddie down. Likewise, Richie had to suffer watching Eddie’s toned thighs squeezed into shorts so short it should be illegal, forcing himself to shut his eyes anytime Eddie bent over, for fear of combusting on the spot.

This unspoken tension led them both to seek release elsewhere. Richie began going to parties more frequently, often sleeping over at whoever’s house he’d slept with that night. Eddie preferred a more controlled approach, downloading Grindr and spending most nights teasing whatever poor sap popped into his inbox.

Eddie had met a few interesting guys on the app, going as far as to meet two of them in person, but nothing much came of the encounters. He stayed in touch with one of them, a tall slender boy named Ricky. The two of them would call on each other when they got too pent up.

Tonight was one of those nights. It was nearly the end of the semester and Eddie had just finished writing a paper and sending it off to his professor. He felt the familiar restless stir of exhaustion clouding his judgement just slightly, just enough to make the idea of putting on whatever movie he could find and cuddling up to Richie sound like a good one.

He glanced over at his clock, which indicated that Richie wouldn’t be home from his class for an hour. Eddie groaned, irritated that he wouldn’t be able to torment his love-struck brain for another 60 minutes. So, to kill the time, Eddie did what any horny young adult would do.

He began palming himself through the stiff jeans he’d been wearing all day, quickly shucking them to the ground and ridding himself of his pink polo as well. Once more comfortable, he was able to get a better grip on his length through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs, starting with teasingly slow movements that set his nerve endings on fire.

Once he’d stroked himself to full hardness, he got an idea. Reaching for his phone, he opened a conversation with Ricky and started typing out a message.

Thinking of you. Pretending your huge hands are wrapped around me, your warm mouth taking me apart.

He opened the camera and snapped a quick picture of his erection straining against his briefs, a noticeable wet spot front and center where his head was leaking pre-cum against the fabric.

After attaching the picture, he sent the message, setting his phone aside so he could pull his briefs off and finally get a hand on his aching cock.

It took less than a minute for him to receive a reply.

fuck fuck fuck holy fuck 

Eddie should have noticed that Ricky wasn’t typing the way he usually did. He also should have noticed that the contact name said “Richie”, and not Ricky”… But he was too fatigued, his tired inhibitions lowered just enough to make the conscious mistake and ignore it.

Stroking himself with one hand, he fumbled to type with his other.

That all you have to say? He taunted, following up with another two messages. You don’t want to tell me what to do with myself? He sent, followed by another picture, this one much less restricted.

jesus fucking christ eddie don’t stop touching that gorgeous cock of yours. show me a little more. have you stretched yourself out? The reply read.

Eddie flushed as his arousal took over. Keeping one hand glued to his phone, the hand stroking him ventured lower to his puckered hole. He fingered himself regularly, so pushing one digit in to the knuckle right away was easy. He worked himself for a while before finally being able to push in a second finger. After that he wasted no time in angling his camera to snap a picture of his filled asshole, sending it off as requested.

The reply came immediately, as if Ricky had been watching his phone intently. oh baby, that’s cute but you’re gonna need to add a couple more fingers to take me.

Eddie remembered Ricky being about average size, so he chuckled to himself at the boy’s cockiness but chalked it up to dirty talk. And besides, it was working. Eddie’s cock twitched at the idea of being filled with something so big he’d need four fingers just to get himself ready. He decided to play along.

Why don’t you come over here and stretch me out yourself?

The reply took longer this time. In the meanwhile, Eddie grabbed the lube from his dresser, retracting his hand to coat his fingers generously before lining himself back up and plunging those same two fingers deep into himself. He fucked down onto his hand, picturing himself bouncing on Ricky’s cock. Lacing his fingers into that long black hair, staring into those deep blue eyes that reminded him so much of-

His phone buzzed with an incoming message, and Eddie nearly knocked it off the bed as he scrambled to grab it.

fuck i’ll be there in 5 i’m leaving class early

Eddie stared down at his phone with confusion. Ricky didn’t go to the same college as Eddie, how was he going to get to him so fast? He was at least a fifteen-minute drive away. He shrugged it off, not really caring how long it took him to get there as long as it meant Eddie was getting laid.

With the promise of sex in his near future, Eddie slowed his mannerisms, opting for measured, languid strokes on his cock and teasing twists of his fingers. He’d brush his prostate every so often, hissing at the contact, but forcing himself to ease off.

Suddenly he heard a key in his door. He frantically began grasping for his sheets in a desperate attempt to at least cover himself up before Richie came barging in. “Holy fuck, spaghetti man! Were you trying to give me a heart attack in class?” Richie barreled through the door, tripping as he struggled to get his jacket and his shoulder bag off at the same time. He was completely out of breath, his curls falling into his eyes but also sticking up in dishevelment as if he had been touching it too much.

Eddie stared at him bewildered, clutching his sheets to his body in a vice grip as his brain swam to try and piece things together.

“I mean, listen I’m all about public sex, but public boners are another thing.” Richie continued as his breath evened out. He hopped side to side while trying to get his shoes off and nearly fell over himself in the process.

“Ask me to bend you over a desk in the middle of class, I’m there for ya babe. But jacking one out by myself under a desk? Definitely not as sexy.”

Richie had gotten himself down to his boxers in an impressive amount of time, the grin never leaving his face even as he rambled through his nerves.

Finally, the pieces fell into place. Eddie glanced at his phone, still face up and open to his conversation with, yep there it was, Richie. 

At Eddie’s obvious hesitation, Richie’s face became somber.

“Do you not want to do this anymore? Fuck - did I - was it something- god one sec, I can just put my pants back on and-” Richie’s voice had gone back to frantic, but what had been excitement had now shifted to guilt. Eddie found his chest clenching at the idea that Richie might think Eddie didn’t want to sleep with him, because, god that was absolutely not the case. It may not have been the plan from the start, but seeing Richie in his underwear, thinking back to the texts that he now knew were sent by Richie, it had him speaking before he could think twice.

“No! No, I- I want to. I just needed a minute.”

Richie turned back around from where he’d been leaning down to gather his clothes, his shoulders visibly loosened but he stayed in place, wanting to give Eddie his space.

After a few deep breaths, Eddie was able to fully grasp the situation unfolding before him. And instead of the intense panic he thought he’d be feeling, he felt overwhelming exhilaration at the prospect of what was about to happen. With one last shaky breath, he spoke. “So, you wanna put that trash mouth to good use or what?”

Richie shot over to him in an instant, hovering over him so nothing but the thin sheet and Richie’s boxers separated them. Eddie could feel the heat from Richie’s body, feel the tickle of his breath against his skin, but nothing compared to the look in Richie’s eyes as he gazed down at him. Eddie could feel it in his bones.

Richie seemed to be feeling the same excited thrum, glancing from Eddie’s deep eyes to his plush lips and back again. It was clear he wasn’t sure how to approach this, I mean, is there an algorithm for kissing your best friend for the first time?

Eddie took pity on Richie’s obvious hesitation, reaching his hands out and fisting them in Richie’s hair to pull him forward. Their lips slotted together eagerly, and any lingering reservations melted away.

Their mouths opened to one another welcomingly, encouraging a deepening of the kiss with tongues and teeth.

Richie settled his hands on Eddie’s chest, just above the edge of the sheet that Eddie had used to cover himself. His fingers grazed at hardened nipples and Eddie keened in response.

“You like that?” Richie inquired between kisses, repeating his movements on both of Eddie’s pink buds.

“Hnnnng- yes, fuck.” Eddie moaned, grabbing Richie’s lower lip between his teeth and nibbling.

Their actions were playful, a lead up to the main event, but they indulged in the feeling of one another for as long as they could. They explored new expanses of body, got to know one another in the most intimate of ways, until Eddie could describe exactly how Richie tasted and Richie could recreate the sounds of Eddie’s moans perfectly.

Wriggling bodies had led to Eddie’s sheet moving downwards, inch by inch, letting their warm bodies connected in new places over and over. It was when it finally lowered that last inch, and Richie felt warm wetness smear on his stomach, that he finally let out his first groan.

It was guttural, filling the room with desire. He peered down the length of their torsos, seeing just the tip of Eddie’s pink cock peeking out at him. Pre-cum was smeared across the head, and it stretched across to Richie's own stomach in a thin line.

Richie threw his head back, an intentional whine leaving his lips to convey just what Eddie was doing to him.

“Good god Kaspbrak, I’m about three seconds away from cumming in my pants like a middle schooler.”

Eddie’s face flushed, the idea of Richie cumming in his pants not all that unenticing. But he also wanted to get fucked, get to see and feel that infamous cock Richie always boasted about.

As if reading Eddie’s mind, Richie began switching their positions.

“I’ve got an idea.”

Eddie went along with it, leaving himself pliant so Richie could adjust him however he’d like.

They ended up sprawled across the bed, Richie on his back, pulling Eddie up over his chest with his legs spread on either side of his head. Eddie was facing away from him, having to crane his neck to look over his shoulder just to watch the way Richie took him in. With slow, steady hands, Richie parted Eddie’s cheeks, a groan leaving his throat as he let his head drop back against his pillow.

“Do you know how many times I’ve pictured this?” Richie punctuated his thought by kneading Eddie’s cheeks. “Every time you wear those tight little red shorts, it’s like you’re on full display for me but I can’t touch you. I’d lay awake at night, fantasizing about what you’d taste like, how you’d feel clenching around my tongue, writhing above my body.”

Eddie’s body responded to the words like a command, beginning to writhe in his spot on its own accord.

“Mmm Richie…” Eddie’s hands tried to find purchase, desperate to center himself before Richie’s words alone took him away. He settled for leaning forward slightly and bracing himself against Richie’s chest, strong and stable and grounding. That feeling was fleeting as Richie began placing open mouthed kisses across Eddie’s thighs, cheeks, and then settling over his heat. The first flick of his tongue sent Eddie soaring, unimaginable warmth spreading through his body.

Eddie ground down involuntarily, chasing the fire that was igniting his bones. He received enthusiastic licks in return, and the feeling of Richie humming in delirium beneath him.

“You taste just as sweet as I imagined.” Richie purred.

Eddie decided he also wanted to taste Richie. In fact, he wanted so much more than that; he wanted to absolutely devour him, strip him of everything he was until all Eddie could taste, see, hear, feel was RichieRichieRichie.

He knew Richie had meant for this to be a cool down period, so he could catch his bearings before fucking Eddie as mind-numbingly as he’d promised. But Eddie was so close, just a thin layer of fabric separating him from what he wanted.

Eddie reached forward and palmed at the bulge straining for freedom. He felt bad for it, all it wanted to do was play, and Eddie was so willing to indulge it.

“Eddie…” Richie warned from behind him.

Eddie didn’t listen. He slipped Richie’s cock out of hole of his boxers, ignoring the barrage of cautions from Richie.

Eddie regarded Richie’s cock, veins straining against flushed skin, head beading with pre-cum, bobbing against his stomach every time Eddie did something that particularly wound him up. It was right there, a mere three feet away. All Eddie had to do was lower his head, reach out and lick a hot stripe against it…

“Oh fuuuuuck-” Richie growl rang through the room as Eddie enveloped him in his warm mouth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Eds.”

Richie had stilled his movements in favor of recalling every swear word he’d ever learned, but Eddie didn’t mind. The interruption gave him time to focus, swirling his tongue around the head of Richie’s cock tantalizingly. Emboldened by Richie’s vocal praise, Eddie sunk down as far as he could, letting his chin rest against Richie’s abdomen for a moment before pulling back up and then repeating the action. After a while of deep-throating him, Eddie felt Richie’s tongue prodding back at his hole. His moan was muffled by the intrusion in his throat, but it only aided the vigor with which Richie began attacking him.

 What had been languid licks before had now turned into determined laps, as if Richie was searching for treasure and it was buried inside Eddie. Richie introduced a finger easily, slipping into the last knuckle and crooking it upwards as he licked around his digit. Eddie’s knees buckled as Richie found the treasure he was looking for and began stroking it mercilessly.

“Richieeee!” Eddie wailed as he pulled away from his cock, a line of spit connecting the two.

He heard a dark chuckle escape Richie, but otherwise there was no indication he’d even heard Eddie’s cry. He continued to rub at the spot that made Eddie see stars, only stopping momentarily to add another finger. Richie’s fingers were bigger than Eddie’s, longer too. They were able to reach places inside him that Eddie simply couldn’t. Two of Richie’s fingers easily felt like three of Eddie’s, stretching him open with a delicious burn only soothed by Richie’s tongue.

He felt himself quickly approaching the point of release and tried to pull away. “Stop, ‘Chee, I-I’m gonna, an’ I don’t wan’to yet- Richie p-please.” Eddie slurred, trying to get the message across through the frenzy of his mind.

Thankfully Richie stopped a moment later, keeping his lips moving down Eddie’s thighs while stilling his fingers completely.

“Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, huh?” Richie teased.

Eddie was panting heavily enough to warrant a soothing hand down his back. Memories of Richie using that same tactic to soothe Eddie during Freshman year when he’d have panic attacks flooded his mind. Even back then Eddie wanted him so badly, but he was so quick to push away his desires before even acknowledging them.

“Richie, I want you.” Eddie said, voicing his thoughts. “I need you.” He was scrambling around now, trying to face Richie as his heart led his limbs. “I need you, I need you, I need you.” Eddie’s voice was insistent, it held desperation and lust, but they both heard the longing in there too.

“Hey, hey.” Richie grabbed Eddie’s face, stopping his near frantic movements. “You have me.”

Their eyes bore into each other, mapping years of untold confessions.

“Then prove it.” Eddie begged.

It took a beat for Richie to nod, but then he was peppering kisses all over Eddie’s chest, flipping them over so Eddie was the one with his back flush against the mattress. Eddie wasted no time before running his fingers through Richie’s mop of hair, combing it back from his face so he could watch as he gazed up at him with fire burning in his eyes. When Richie reached Eddie’s hips, he began leaving love bites in his trail, moving lower until he had Eddie’s legs thrown over his shoulders and two fingers deep inside him, repeating their ministrations from before. He took Eddie’s cock into his mouth as he pushed a third finger in, trying to distract Eddie from the mild stretch. He worked Eddie open while exploring his cock with his mouth, finding out that Eddie would jump a little every time he flicked his tongue against his frenulum.

When Richie finally deemed Eddie stretched enough to take him, his actions slowed down. He climbed up Eddie’s body with intent, stopping only to push his boxers down his legs and kick them off the bed. Fixing his eyes on Eddie’s, he lined himself up with Eddie’s heat, the head of his cock receiving kisses from Eddie’s hole trying to clench around nothing. Suddenly the fever they’d been working through had dropped and Richie found himself flooded with nerves.

What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he couldn’t please Eddie? What if it all went to shit, and he not only lost any chance he had with Eddie, but their friendship too? Years of emotions came crashing into his chest like a sinking ship against the storm’s eye, his mind spiraling.

The feeling of Eddie’s hand on his brought him back to the moment. He realized with a frown that his hands were shaking. Eddie was gazing at him with an unreadable expression.

“Sorry partner,” Richie tried to joke, taking on an awful rendition of a southern accent. “Got distracted by this here beautiful behind!” He tried to smack Eddie’s ass but Eddie’s hold on his hand held him back.

Eddie sighed as he propped himself up on his elbows. “What’s wrong, Richie?” He asked in a voice that’s intimacy sent another pang straight to Richie’s heart.

“Whaddayamean?” Richie shot back with a shrug and a grin that didn’t meet his eyes.

They held each other’s gaze for a few challenging moments before Richie let his posture fall, along with his façade.

“I’m scared I won’t be enough for you.” He whispered, heart clenching around his vulnerability. They both knew Richie wasn’t just referring to this moment, the promise of more an underlying theme in everything they’d been doing.

Eddie lifted his hand to Richie’s cheek, cradling his world in his palm. His smile was warm and gentle, nonthreatening in its existence, an immediate cure to Richie’s hammering heartbeat.

“You’ll always be enough...” Eddie murmured, matching Richie’s quiet tone. “Always have been enough.” He added calculatingly, watching Richie’s face for signs that he’d said too much, gone too deep, despite them both knowing how true the sentiment was. Eddie Kaspbrak was in love with Richie Tozier, and Richie Tozier was in love with Eddie Kaspbrak. It was a certainty the universe had known for years.

Eddie thought he saw a glisten in Richie’s eyes, but it was blinked away swiftly. Richie leaned in, capturing Eddie’s lips in a tender lock.

“Thanks Eds.” Richie whispered against his mouth before pushing forward just slightly, letting the head of his cock breach Eddie’s opening.

Eddie’s responding moan was unexpected, surprising them both. Eddie couldn’t remember the last time, or any time, that he’d felt like this. He could feel Richie pulsing inside him, warmth just beginning to fill his channel, and already it was overwhelmingly comforting.

Sex had been a lot of things for Eddie; pleasure, relief, a means to pass the time. Never had it been soothing, like a breath of fresh air, like a warm hug from your best friend.

Eddie instinctively wrapped himself around Richie, ankles locking behind his back and arms behind his neck. He couldn’t let Richie pull out, couldn’t let him leave Eddie feeling empty again now that he knew what it meant to feel whole.

“More.” Eddie begged, trying to pull Richie closer with all his limbs.

“Okay, okay I’ve got you, don’t worry.” Richie tried soothingly, noticing the change in Eddie’s composure. Richie let himself be led by the pull, sinking deeper into Eddie until he was seated fully inside.

A sudden puff of air against the crown of his head signaled that Eddie had been holding his breath.

“Hey,” Richie pulled back slightly, cupping Eddie’s cheek so he could keep his gaze fixed. “I need you to breath for me.”

Eddie nodded compliantly, taking in a few steady breaths and relaxing around Richie. His arms and legs still clung to him like a koala, but the grip was loosening, becoming less frantic.

“I’m gonna start moving now, okay?”

Eddie nodded, adjusting himself on the bed so Richie had a better angle to pull back from.

And just like that, a languid rhythm was set.

Every drag of Richie’s cock made Eddie’s heart race, his belly filling with lava that threatened to overflow.

Richie was bigger than anyone Eddie had ever been with, and he hated to admit that he knew he’d feel an ache in his muscles tomorrow, even with Richie’s attempted softness.

So, if he was going to feel it regardless…

“Come on Richie, that all you got?” Eddie prodded, swiveling his hips for emphasis.

Richie’s eyes flashed with determination, always one to be easily provoked with a challenge.

“You want more?” Richie’s voice was lower suddenly, the kind of low that gritted through his throat and right into the twitch of Eddie’s cock.

Richie grabbed Eddie’s legs, unhooking them from around his waist and pinning them next to Eddie’s head in an instant. The result had Eddie folded in half, his lower back no longer touching the mattress. He thanked whatever god blessed him with such flexibility because if it was any other person in his position, he thinks they might’ve snapped.

The new position gave Richie full control over Eddie, holding him in place and pulling out slowly, watching as his cock stretched the skin of Eddie’s tight hole before thrusting back in roughly.

Eddie screamed as Richie hit his prostate dead on.

“This what you want?” Richie asked, repeating the slow pull and hard thrust.

“Faster.” Eddie begged, letting his eyes shut as tears collected in the corners.

Richie obliged, but only marginally, the pace still not fast enough.

“Richie, faster.” Eddie insisted.

Once again, Richie picked up his pace just slightly, leaving Eddie scrambling for more.

“Richie, please, I need-” Eddie couldn’t finish his sentence, the wind knocked out of him as Richie began ramming into him in earnest.

“Hmm, this what you want baby? You want to be fucked?”

Eddie felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head, the tears spilling freely now that Richie was hitting his prostate with every thrust. The moans were being knocked out of him consistently now, getting increasingly louder as Eddie approached the edge.

Richie had already been ready to combust the moment he’d felt Eddie’s cock against his skin, had been even closer when Eddie had introduced the warmth of his mouth, and now he was tight rope walking above his release, one wrong move and he’d be cutting things short.

But his resolve to make this good for Eddie kept him going, kept his muscles clenched and his mind focused. However even the most determined individuals have their breaking point, so when Eddie began whimpering that he was close, Richie almost cried in relief.

He was quick to grasp Eddie’s cock, pumping it in succession with his thrusts. The combination of stimulation left Eddie no time before he was cumming in streaks across both their chests, his mouth forming a little O as all noise was knocked from his lungs.

Richie came along with him, spilling into Eddie in quick bursts that left his legs trembling.

Their bodies deflated along with their cocks, softening into one another as their breaths evened out. Richie pulled out eventually, watching a trail of cum follow him out of Eddie’s body.

Richie was tempted to lick him clean, but if he was honest, he was far too spent to be instigating any more activity. So instead he opted to grab a tissue and wipe them up as best he could, deciding they would shower off the rest later.

Eddie watched him with smile crinkled eyes as he crawled back into bed, turning to face Eddie with a matching smile of his own.

“So uh, any time you wanna sext me again, you know, feel free to.” Richie joked through a dry throat, his words cracking slightly.

Eddie snuggled in closer, resting his head on Richie’s bicep and letting his eyes close from fatigue.

“Mmm.” He hummed sleepily.

“Unless, you know, you’ve got other options.” Richie added, the joke falling flat as the insecurity eased into his voice.

“No one else comes to mind.” Eddie promised sincerely.

And it was true, now that he had what he’d always wanted, no one else would ever compare.

[cilldaracailin]

A Kind Of Magic

Here is the next part :) 

9

“Encourage, lift and strengthen one another. For the positive energy spread to one will be felt by us all. For we are connected, one and all.”

Taron woke up cosy, the duvet pulled right up to his chin as he lay on his right side.

“Ugh ow.” He groaned. Sleeping on his right side was uncomfortable and painful on his sore arm and ribs and he had been avoiding it, mostly choosing to lay on his back, or left side. He slowly rolled to his back, cringing as he did so, feeling an unpleasant sensation of prickling torment for a few seconds, until his body settled. He looked to his left to see it was just him in the bed, Robyn’s chosen side empty, the duvet neatly pulled up to the pillow. He figured she was the reason he felt so warm and snug under the duvet but he was bothered by the fact that she wasn’t there sleeping. Taron knew without a doubt that Robyn was running on fumes and although she had willingly allowed him in emotionally, he wished he could help her rest and actually sleep.

He reached over to the bedside locker and picked up his phone. Blinking at the bright light as he unlocked the screen checking the time and the day more importantly. He didn’t want to see that he had slept another full day.

“Saturday.” He sighed a relief and even more so when he saw it was actually early morning. Just before ten but frowned when he saw another missed call from Richard. He had completely forgotten to call him back yesterday but he knew Richard would understand when he phoned him and explained why.

As tempting at it was to roll over and snuggle back into the pillow, Taron drew back the duvet cover enjoying the fresh air that the air conditioning circulated around the room and eased himself out of the bed. He didn’t feel as stiff as he did yesterday but was quite tender and sensitive from laying on his hurt side during the night.

He stood up carefully and wandered out in search of Robyn and found her standing at the island in her kitchen, cutting some fruit on a chopping board.

“Good morning.” She said brightly as he sleepily walked in to kitchen.

Robyn was quickly adding a new Taron to her mind as this half awake, messy haired Taron was definitely her favourite yet and she was trying very hard to use this new image of Taron to replace the ones that plagued her dreams last night. His mam had made an appearance too, throwing picture after picture of her son at her, telling her she had killed her child. Robyn had woken up startled at one am, after four hours sleep and just lay in the bed, again watching Taron as he slept. She got up from the bed around four and cleaned her apartment from top to bottom, including the bathroom. At nine she had a quick shower, plaited her hair in two French braids and threw on another pair of demin shorts, a Hawaiian patterned string top along with her blue converse. She opened the doors of the apartment letting the beautiful morning air and sunshine in and had set the garden up for the day pulling out two sun loungers from the garden shed, putting the cushions on the chair swing and plugging in the small water fountain too. She then started her usual weekend morning breakfast routine of making waffles, while listening to music. She was in the middle of cutting up the fruit to go with the waffles when Taron walked into the kitchen.

“Mornin’.” He replied as he stopped and gave her a hug from behind, placing a kiss on her cheek, before moving to lean against the sink.

“Sleep well?” She asked him, hoping he didn’t see the easy blush that rose to her cheeks from his little kiss. She adored how easy Taron was with his affection.

“Yeah. That bed is magnificent. Don’t think I beat my record though.”

“No but close to it. Eleven hours.”

“And how many did you get?” He asked

“A few.” She replied.

“A few?” He probed as he moved to stand beside her. “How many qualifies as a few?”

“Four?” She answered honestly.

“Nightmares?”

“Staring your lovely mam this time.” Robyn knew she couldn’t lie to Taron. He would see through her in an instant.

“Jesus Robyn. My mam?”

She stopped cutting the strawberries and turned to him. “I know your mam would never do what she did in my dream and if it makes it any better, it was four hours uninterrupted. That hasn’t happened for me in a while.”

Taron sighed. He felt guilty for sleeping so soundly when his host struggled so much. “What did you do once you woke?”

Robyn put the strawberries she had cut in a bowl and moved onto the mango beside her. “I cleaned the apartment.”

“Not for my benefit I hope.” He said quickly.

“No, just my usual Saturday clean. I want to get back into some sort a routine like I had before I moved to Florida even with you here and you are not in my way and you are not imposing on me Taron.” She said knowing he was going to apologise for turning up unannounced. “I enjoy having the company and you know I am very glad you are here.”

Taron stole a piece of strawberry from the bowl and skipped around the island as she went to tap his hand away. “I need to take my pain killers with food. What are you making?” He asked picking up his bottles of pain killers, knowing he had to take them twice a day, morning and evening.

“Waffles.” Answered Robyn as she cut around the stone in the mango.

“Waffles?” He stopped and looked at her. “Seriously?”

“It actually is my normal Saturday breakfast. It is not because you are here. I mix it up between waffles and pancakes every weekend. I just fancied waffles this morning.”

“Let me guess, you have a waffle maker.” Taron left his tablets on the counter and walked around to get a glass from the press he knew they were in and filled it with water from the fridge.

“It was actually a present from my friend Claire. I didn’t buy it myself. It is not something I would ever buy for myself but seeing as how I have it, I make use of it, only on the weekends though.”

“Waffles for breakfast and key lime pie for tea last night.” Grinned Taron as he took his painkillers, but Robyn saw his face change once he drank the rest of the water. “My trainer is going to have some job to get me back in shape when I am back filming but not because of you Robyn. I don’t mean it like that.” Taron quickly corrected himself. “I mean because I can’t train or move much. I am going to be such a pudding by the time I am back ready to film.”

“Don’t even Taron.” Said Robyn and Taron was taken back by the annoyance in her voice and looked at her to see a serious look of irritation on her face. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.” She stopped slicing the mango and put down the knife. “No one should talk about themselves like that. This is why I like working with children. They don’t judge. They just see you for who you are and don’t care about what you look like. I wish the world could be seen through the eyes of a child.” Robyn walked around to stand beside Taron. “I thought you didn’t care about that Hollywood shit.”

“Well I don’t but…”

“Exactly but it gets to you and I know it gets to you but it shouldn’t. Want my honest truth?” Taron nodded. He very much valued Robyn’s opinion and words. “As a woman, if I had a choice between Eggsy and Eddie, I would choose Eddie.”

“Really?” He questioned.

“Yes really. I, as a fan of your work, watched interviews of your time of promoting Eddie the Eagle.” Robyn pointed to herself. “Huge Hugh Jackman fan. Anyway, I could easily see how uncomfortable you were every time someone mentioned your physical transformation and it shouldn’t even have been a question asked or commented on. Same for your portrayal as Elton too. It shouldn’t matter and as someone who has struggled with their own body confidence, I know how it feels. Nobody should be judged by how they look but because the world we live in, is one of a shallow photoshop society where magazines and television decide and depict how a man or woman should look, it makes those of us who don’t fit that certain look feel worthless and unattractive. I would choose Eddie over Eggsy any day because that is what is real. I don’t want you thinking that you can’t have something sweet because it will turn you into a so-called pudding. I happen to like pudding and thinking about shit like that fucks with your mind and brings you spiralling down a horrible rabbit hole. You are perfect, whether you are a pudding or a rice cake.”

“A rice cake?” Taron looked at Robyn titling his head.

“It’s the first thing that came to my mind that could compare to pudding but seriously Taron. Don’t starve yourself from something you want because of what is going to happen two months or so down the line. Shouldn’t what happened to us last week, make us even more aware that life is short and we should eat the God damn pudding. This is why I hate the pressure of having to look a certain way, or being judged for how you look because it…”

“Is what inside that counts.” Finished Taron.

“Yes it bloody is and it makes me angry to hear you talk like that. You are beautiful Taron inside and out.”

“Just like you.” Confirmed Taron. “Yes you.” He repeated when he saw that same doubt in Robyn’s eyes that he had felt in his less than two minutes ago. “I wouldn’t have said it in your office if I didn’t believe it and you cannot lecture me on my body confidence and not let me return the favour.”

“Thank you. It has taken me a long time to be comfortable in my own skin but I won’t listen to you bring yourself down like that. Nothing wrong with a little bit of pudding Taron. I told you I preferred Eddie and you are in an Irish house and Irish people feed their guests so I won’t hear you say it again and you will eat everything that is put in front of you and there is nothing stopping us from taking small walks every day and it will help to build your strength back up and the baking has really only been happening because I can’t sleep. I am actually really good during the week. I would go for an hour walk every day after work and I rarely get take out and normally cook nice healthy things and…”

Taron threw his arms around Robyn, stopping her mid-sentence pulling her close for another one of their hugs that said so much without using any words. “Thank you.” He said simply. Taron felt a sudden surge of self-confidence and assurance that he hadn’t felt in a long time and he was completely touched by Robyn’s words and the fact the she noticed how uncomfortable he was when others hadn’t. It was so refreshing to hear Robyn speak so positive about what he considered his faults and he very much appreciated her encouraging words.  “And thanks for putting the knife down before you scolded me. I thought you were going to stab me there for a minute.”

“Well I might still do if you talk about yourself like that again.”

“Luckily you can patch me back up too afterwards.”

Laughter filled the kitchen as they broke the hug. “So, waffles?” Asked Robyn.

“Waffles.” Agreed Taron.

“They come with fruit too.” She said as she walked back around to where she had been chopping the fruit.

“I am just going to have a quick shower and change. Looks like another beautiful day out there.”

“Yeah it’s going to be a scorcher. Figured we could just sit in the garden and listen to music and not do much else.”

“Yes please.”

“Go shower. I shall continue waffling.”

Taron headed back to the bedroom and pulled the duvet up the bed up so it was fully made. He went into the closet and carefully lifted his bag into the bed, straining with the effort and routed through for his wash bag. Grabbing it, he walked into the bathroom and after he had closed the door, saw that Robyn had replaced the towels he had used the day before with fresh red ones. He was actually surprised with the colour of the towels considering Robyn’s apartment was filled with cool blue tones but when he felt the softness of the towel, he knew why she had bought the red ones.

He enjoyed the rainfall shower just as much the second time but didn’t take as long as his muscles weren’t as tense as before. Looking in the mirror he saw something in his face he hadn’t seen for a long time and it was a brightness in his eyes and an almost need to constantly smile and he enjoyed feeling like that again. Routing through his wash bag, he pulled out his razor and made quick work of shaving off his seven-day beard, feeling fresher afterwards. He had to take extra care on the right side of his face but managed to get a clean shave that he was happy with. Running his hands through his damp hair, he walked back into Robyn’s room and changed into a pair of white shorts and a blue flower print t-shirt, just buttoning the bottom two buttons. Not bothering with shoes again, Taron walked back into the kitchen to see Robyn whisking some batter in a bowl with a whisk by hand.

“Need any help?” He asked.

“I am all good.” Replied Robyn and she turned to look at him. “Hey you shaved and you stole my outfit choice.”

Robyn stood with her right hand on her hip and stared at Taron. He looked like he had gotten a new lease of life after his time in the bathroom. His eyes shone with happiness that she had never seen in person before and although his clean-shaven profile highlighted the bruising on his face more, he looked so much more content in himself.

“I stole your outfit choice?” He asked puzzled.

“Yeah, I was dressed before you so I get to rock the Hawaiian vibe.”

Taron then realised what she meant, looking to her patterned top, then to his and grinned. “The print is different though.”

“I like print on you.” Robyn tuned back to whisking the batter in her glass bowl. “It really suits you but you still stole my style for the day.”

Taron laughed. He loved it when Robyn was in this wonderful giddy mood and it made her whole face light up when she laughed with him. “I am sure I can do something to help you.” He insisted.

“In the press to your left, under the hob is the waffle maker. You can take it out for me and plug it on the hob.”

Taron set up the red waffle maker as Robyn had asked. “Does it annoy you that this is red and does not match any of the décor of your home?”

“Dear God yes and that is why Claire bought it for me because she knew it would bug the hell out of me.” Robyn moved the bowl of batter over to where Taron was standing. “But it makes good waffles.” She pulled a ladle from the jar behind the hob and waited for the light to turn green.

“How many piercings do you have?”

“What?”

“I never noticed all the earrings that you had before.”

Robyn turned to him as he leant against the sink. “Yeah I went through a phase in my twenties where I got one new piercing a year. I have ten, waiting to get my eleventh and because my hair is tied back, they are more obvious plus I wear the tiniest studs.”

“Can you have that many working with children? Wouldn’t they pull them out?”

“Actually no. It’s not something that is an issue, not where I work anyway and mine are quite reserved and small studs. The kids like to count them and four are stars so I mean, I am teaching them shapes through my earrings.”

“Which one is your favourite and which one hurt the most.” He asked taking a closer look at her right ear which had the most, small crystal studs in unusual places on her ear.

“My third lobes hurt the most and my favourite is a toss up between the tragus and rook.” Robyn pointed at the piercings as she named them. “They just stay in all the time. I never take them out and I rarely change the actual jewellery. Once they are in, they are in.”

“I have one.” Taron touched his right ear where his empty piercing was. “Just one but it was for my role as Elton. I only put it back in when I was going to Florida. I haven’t been wearing it because of Kingsman. Actually, Doctor Hart had to get the nurse to take it out before the CT scan. She gave it to Richard to mind for me and I just haven’t put it back in yet. I don’t even know where it is.”

“Well if you want a replacement, I have plenty of spares.” The light on the waffle machine turned green and beeped. Robyn turned around and lifted the lid. She poured a ladle of batter into each section and closed the lid. “I have already set the table up outside for us if that’s ok.”

“Yep sounds good.”

“Do you want some tea again or I have some juice in the fridge or I could pull out the coffee maker. I have one, just don’t use it very often.”

“I am going to stick with juice I think.” Taron walked to the fridge and pulled the door open. “Ok so pineapple, orange or tropical?” He asked.

“I like to mix orange and pineapple together.”

“Excellent.” Taron grabbed the two cartons of juice and took them from the door and placed them on the island behind him. He then got two glasses and filled both with half pineapple and half orange, while Robyn pulled two plates out and dished two waffles onto each, making sure she plugged out the waffle maker when she was done.

Taron carried the glasses and Robyn the plates and together they walked out to the garden to the table where they had their eggs the previous night.  Robyn had remembered the cutlery this time and she had a large bowl filled with fruit and some American pancake syrup on the table. “Breakfast of champions.” Smiled Taron as he sat down on the same chair he had been in the night before, Robyn sitting next to him. “You really do this every weekend?” He asked as Robyn handed him the bowl of fruit, a mix of strawberries, mango, raspberries and blueberries that looked very inviting and colourful.

“Yep. Sometimes Claire comes over too but it’s more like a brunch with her rather than a breakfast and we add eggs, sausages and rashers too and if I have any potatoes left over from Fridays dinner, we would chop them up and toss them in as well.”

Taron could hear his stomach rumbling as he spooned some fruit onto his plate. “Sounds like my kind of brunch.”

“There is this little restaurant here that does this amazing breakfast. I will bring you just so can you taste this dish they make called hash – poaches eggs, potatoes, caramelised onion, rashers and hollandaise.”

“Stop it.” Taron paused mid pour of some syrup on the waffles.

“It’s so good.”

“This is so good. Thanks Robyn.” He handed her the bottle of syrup.

“I was making it anyway so it’s just as easy to make for two.”

“Robyn I know I have said it before but you just make me feel so relaxed and calm and I don’t think you actually understand apart from being at home, how hard it is for me to find a place that does that, especially after what happened in the 7/11.”

“You are always welcome here Taron. When you need a break, just call me. Remember how you said I was kind of stuck in your world?” Taron nodded as he chewed. “Well you are very quickly sticking to mine too.”

“Hey, if your world always comes with waffles for breakfast, I am there.”

A natural comfortable silence found the two as they ate their breakfast, the music filtering out to the garden from the sitting room, both enjoying the peace of the morning around them.

“When we are finished breakfast, would you mind putting the small dressing on my shoulder?” Asked Robyn as she sat back in her chair with her glass. “I didn’t do it myself this morning because I knew you had offered to help me.”

“Of course I will.” Taron was about to ask Robyn if she would help him when another voice interrupted him.

“Robyn? Robyn are you up? I can hear the music from the front door.”

Robyn almost dropped her glass, coughing as her drink went down the wrong way, wiping her mouth as juice dribbled down her chin, Taron taking her glass from her hand before it fell onto the deck.

“Robyn, you ok?” He asked as he gentled patted her back.

“Ugh shit. Yes I am but shit. I am just going to say sorry now ok?”

Taron frowned. “Sorry for what?”

“Ahh Robyn! There you are. I figured you would be up but I am surprised you are not sunning yourself already. It’s such a beautiful… Oh who is this?”

Taron watched as Robyn’s hands went to her face, a look of pure embarrassment filling her pretty features.

“Hi mam.”

Robyn got up from her chair to stand, Taron’s hand falling from her back as she moved to greet the lady who had just walked into her back garden. She was slightly shorter than Robyn, with short dark blonde hair, wearing shorts and a white pattern t-shirt with palm leaves on it.

“Hey Robyn.” Robyn’s mam walked over to the table where Taron and her were enjoying their breakfast. “I didn’t realise you had a visitor, a male visitor.” She added, Robyn immediately rolling her eyes to her mother.

“Mam, this is Taron.” Robyn turned to look him, giving him what he hoped was a very apologetic look. “Taron, this is Lizzie, my mother.”

Taron got to his feet to greet Robyn’s mam wincing as he stood, his right side still feeing raw after laying on it all night, his left hand going to his ribs. Robyn noticed the expression of pain on his face and moved closer to him, her hand on his shoulder “Go slow. You’re still hurt.”

He nodded to her and then moved the few steps to greet their visitor. “It is so lovely to meet you Lizzie.” Taron could see the shock on Lizzie’s face as she realised who he was, her blue eyes staring at him, the same shape and colour as Robyn’s.

“Taron as in Robyn’s Taron from the store in Florida?”

He smirked “Yeah I guess you could call me Robyn’s Taron.”

Robyn nearly fell to wooden deck with embarrassment as her mam finally put two and two together and grasped who Taron was.

“I usually just go by Taron though.” He added, taking a look to Robyn who was sitting on the arm rest of the chair looking absolutely mortified, finally shaking Lizzie’s hand.

“Ah wow, hi. It’s nice to meet you too.” Lizzie shook Taron’s hand, taking a look to her daughter. “You didn’t tell me Taron came to see you.”

“Guess it slipped my mind.” Replied Robyn.

“Slipped your mind?”

“Yeah, just slipped.”

Lizzie gave her daughter a very disapproving look, one that Taron saw clearly. “Well I am very glad to meet you Taron, especially after what you and Robyn have been through. Such a frightening experience for you both.”

Taron moved back so he stood beside Robyn on her left and took her hand in his. “Yes, it was but having Robyn there made it much easier for me.” He gave her hand a gently pat. “I kind of turned up unexpected and Robyn has been nothing but a gracious host.” Taron looked to Lizzie. “It’s thanks to your daughter that I am standing here. She is a truly remarkable woman and I am very blessed that she was willing to help a complete stranger.”

“She has her moments.” Smiled Lizzie, watching he held tightly onto Robyn’s hand. She thought her daughter looked tired until she took in the appearance of the man who stood beside her. Painful looking bruises and grazes spoilt his handsome face, stitches were visible on his right arm and with the few buttons open at the top of his shirt, Lizzie could clearly see where her daughter had performed the lifesaving actions that meant he was standing in front of her but more than that, she could see the connection the two had, how they were turned to each other probably without even knowing they were doing so.

Lizzie was extremely proud of her daughter if not a little angry at her for leaving Florida so quickly. She had told Robyn she should have stayed until Taron woke up, that what had happened between the two of them was so much more important than her job but Robyn being Robyn, ignored her emotions and went head first back into work.

She was stunned to see the man whose Robyn spoke so fondly of now sitting in her daughters back garden, eating breakfast with her. However, she was also glad in a way as she saw how distant Robyn had been since she got home and was very worried about how she was reacting to what had happened to her, in that she wasn’t at all, keeping her feelings to herself. It concerned Lizzie knowing that even as her mother she couldn’t help her daughter and she had no idea of the trauma that she had been through, so seeing Taron in front her gave her some hope that he might be able to break through the thick barriers that her daughter had built. She could see that maybe already he had done so as he held Robyn’s hand in hers. “My Robyn tends to get stuck in when she needs to. Gets in her trouble sometimes too but she always has everyone’s best interest at heart.”

Taron agreed. “Yes she does and I know I am very grateful for it.”

“So how long have you come to stay for?” Asked Lizzie but seeing the look exchanged between Robyn and Taron, knew that conversation hadn’t happened yet.

“Taron knows he is welcome to stay for as long as he would like.” Robyn gave his hand a little squeeze.

“I haven’t actually thought that far to be honest.” Answered Taron. “But if Robyn is happy to let me stay for as long as I like and keeps feeding me waffles for breakfast, I might not leave.”

“Right it’s porridge and water from now on!” Laughed Robyn, enjoying how Taron chuckled along with her.

“What is your shift next week Robyn?” Asked Lizzie.

“I am opening again. The new girl is on the early shift so Emma wants me there to help train her in and get used to opening the creche.”

“Great. You and Taron must come over for dinner then next week then.”

“Wait what?” Robyn looked to her mam.

“Yes yes. I want both of you over for dinner next week. The weather is supposed to stay like this until the middle of next week so let’s say Tuesday? Your dad will be thrilled to start up the BBQ.”

“Mam I think Taron would like to use this time to rest and relax after what happened and not sit through an interrogation of questions.”

“Actually…” Started Taron looking to Robyn. “I would love to have dinner with your family. I know how much your family means to you and you know how much mine means to me, so if we could, I would very much like to get to know yours.”

Robyn could see the genuine look of interest in his eyes and turned back to her mam. “What time?”

“Say seven? It will give you time to get home and ready to come over and we won’t ask too many questions Robyn. We will limit it to ten each.”

“Oh dear God.” Sighed Robyn, Taron and Lizzie both laughing at her reaction.

“Ok great. Your dad will be delighted. Now I shall leave you to your breakfast. It was lovely meeting you Taron.”

“You too Lizzie.”

“Robyn come and hug your mother.”

Robyn let go of Taron’s hand and gave her mam a hug. “He’s cute.” She whispered into her daughters’ ear. “And you’re doing a very wonderful thing looking after him. He looks like he needs it.” Robyn gave her a mam an extra squeeze.

“Taron, you too love.” Robyn moved back and let Taron take her place, Lizzie being extra careful as she hugged him. “Look after my daughter for me.” She felt Taron give the slightest of nods before she let him go. “Right well, if you need anything you know where I am Robyn.”

“Thanks mam.”

Lizzie left the way she came with a wave, Robyn sitting on the arm of her chair again, while Taron stood in front of her.

“I like your mam. She’s very like you and parents were made to embarrass their children. I think it’s just natural law.”

“I am so sorry she just invited us to dinner like that. You did not have to feel obliged to go.”

“I don’t feel obliged. I want to go. I would really like to get to know your family better Robyn and also, thank you for saying I can stay for as long as I would like.”

“I just hope you know what you have walked yourself into and don’t look to me for help when the questions get awkward and you are welcome.” Robyn stood up. “Let’s get this cleaned up and then I am claiming a sun lounger for the rest of the day.”

[lostadrianda]

The house of wolves

Part I

*версия на русском языке по ссылке:

https://ficbook.net/readfic/8551009

There are dark times. I thought that the death of my parents was the worst thing I would ever see in my life. But now it's so bad… I have to admit that it's worse.

Smoke from the fire rises into the sky, twisting and dragging sparks with it. An axe clatters, and a tree falls with a crunch, breaking neighboring branches. I have almost no life left in me. Almost nothing is inside. People are scurrying around. The camp is growing in front of our eyes, turning from a temporary to our permanent campsite. I look at it, trying to figure out what’s going on. I'm not used to being in camps. The detachments held out successfully for four years in the Dominiana, where we took over the houses, and everything went well. But recently we were forced out of those lands, and the Sly Fox moved all of us to the Islands. It seems to be logical decision. But on the Islands we are not welcome. We could have gone to the south to sparsely populated areas and stayed there. However, we did not do this. But why?

I was the only one who seemed to be asking questions. I don't know. I didn't have much contact with anyone from the camp. I glance at the people sitting next to me. Their faces are dry and earthy. Only the reddish glare of the fire is on them. And their eyes are fixed. You always had to keep in mind that those were wolves around you, not people. They look alike, they even show humanity from time to time. It's all a lie. And if there is any kindness in someone, it will soon be beaten out of them. It's the only way around here. I am among the enemy, I am in their ranks. I help put up new tents. But I have a feeling that I will soon be finished with. It's about time. But the Sly Fox keeps stalling. I think he understands how much this torments me. That's why he keeps me close to him. He's not stupid, no. Therefore, his decisions are not discussed.

It's funny that the Fox has committed so many crimes, but if somebody asks to show the main bastard, everyone will point the finger at me. I betrayed my family. Not native, adopted. Yes, they are all dead now, too. I guess my life didn't work out. But I didn't betray anyone. When the door was kicked in and twenty men entered with the Fox at their head, it was all over. There was nothing I could do about it, no matter how much I think about it. I pretended that I always hated my new parents. And I joined the side of the enemy. I should have given my sister time to escape. I didn't expect much more. I didn't think about anything. I didn't think I'd have to break into houses like this with the others. That now I will always hear the sound of those black boots wherever I go. I didn't think I'd have to run around in the woods. I didn’t know I'd be stuck with them for five years. I thought they would kill me that night, in the same house, as soon as they realized what I had done. But they did not understand or pretended not to understand. They still look askance. And I'm not allowed to be absolutely free. The Sly Fox sometimes calls me, asks questions, and I answer, but I keep waiting for the punishment to come. And he lets me go. During all this time, not a single suspicion was expressed. And he's smart. And there is nothing left for me, I am in his hands, always in his sight, even if he is watching me with a hundred other people's eyes, wolf eyes. He is always somewhere above me, behind me. All the time my life is suspended, and I know it.

My only hope is that my sister will return. I have nothing else left. Everything is so empty. And I’m doing something wrong. I close my eyes so that I don't see anything, so that I don't understand what is happening to me. Because as soon as I start thinking, it turns me inside out. When I forget myself, I gather wood for a fire, go with others and scout the area around the camp, draw some maps. And everything seems to be as it should be. I make an obedient and silent employee, everyone is happy, I do not interfere with anyone. The whole body shakes, as if with a strong chill, and no fire warms. So something inside is resisting. It remembers, and remembers well, that the Sly Fox is the enemy. That he killed a lot of people. But he's good, he's built everything right. He's got an army of about three thousand men, and they all look at him and catch every word. Only one person I've ever known, only one person in my entire life, could stand up to him. And this is my sister. Isn’t it funny, huh? As I remember her, thin, fragile, as I look at the Fox… I can't believe it. But that’s true. Her playful dark eyes flashed with such power sometimes that I was willing to believe that she would overcome anyone. And every time I look at the Fox, I always look at the scar on his cheek. My sister left this for him as a souvenir.

But I haven't heard from her in five years. It's too long to wait, you know? A person waits, waits for a week, a month, maybe a year… And then begins to live, throwing a veil of oblivion over the past. Only I never started again. The air balloon ends sooner or later, you know? And I'm still trying to grab the mask and breathe, breathe. Nothing is inside. In the camp, when people talk about her, all they say is that she must have been dead for a long time. I wished they say something else, even nonsense. Nooo. There are no other options in anyone's mind. Only my brains resist. Things can't be that bad. No matter how much life beats me, I won't believe it. It can't be that bad.

Smoke from the fire gets in my nose. It's getting colder, the earth is blowing in autumn, and the leaves are not the same as before. I rub my flushed hands together. The Islands don't like us. We are like an ulcer on their body. We tried to move deeper into the mountains and fortify ourselves. Fifty of our men were killed in two days. A couple of detachments remained in the dense forests at the foot of the mountain, while the rest were scattered along the coasts hiding. We choose places so that we are not found for as long as possible. And it’s strange that the Fox ordered us to fortify ourselves here. But let hell be with it.

The sky has been cloudy all the time we've been here. Today, for the first time, I see the sun shining. Even now you can't see the sky — it's all white, with darker clouds floating across it. The horizon is dark-blue, grim, colliding with an even darker, colder sea. I look into the distance and for the first time I think that my sister must be dead. It scares so much. It's like I'm no longer a human being and I'm becoming a wolf, like all those people around me. That’s really scary. For some reason everything turns to be meaningless. No, I won't give them my soul. They took everything from me, but they won't get it. I will believe till the end. I will resist until I lose my mind. Why am I sitting now here with them, as if I really took their side?

It makes me feel sick. I kept hiding in their ranks and waiting for my sister to break out. Five years have passed. Time flies quickly, terribly, the further away, the more ghostly. I forget how it all happened, I forget why it happened, I forget what a mistake we made. I still think that I did everything right. I acted as I should. As well as I could. But for some reason, it all turned out to be really bad.

If I am the only one left here, who is still fighting, who still remembers that there were better, brighter times, if my sister is dead, and no one is fighting without her, isn't it time for me to get up? Isn't it time to remember who I was and how I was brought up, and what was on my mind before I got bogged down in this mire? I'm biting my lip nervously, they are already looking at me with suspicion.

What a coward I have become! Just thinking makes my temples sweat. I’m used to waiting for a miracle, but as soon as I imagined that I had to act myself, I shrank from fear and wanted to hide away. If only they didn't touch me, if only, if only... I did not to experience new horrors. You don't like me, do you? Despise? Look at me, all that is left of me is my skin, hanging on my bones! These wolves, damn them, have broken me so badly that none of my old friends would recognize me. But what good are these friends: they're either dead or they're first in line to take my head off.

I stand up from the log I've been sitting on all this time and feel my legs go numb. They are frozen to the bones. I stand still to stretch them a little. The two men sitting next to me look at me lazily.

— Where are you going? – Their cracked lips move, yellow teeth appear in between them. Those men probably don't like camp life either. And how long this will continue, no one knows.

— I'll go up to the river. There's one place I don't understand, I want to look at it.

— Don't run into anyone. We don't need you to bring the villagers here.

I nod. I don't get into fights, I don't get involved. Everything I have inside, I keep inside, and it’s a habit that has covered me like armor. I walk past the tents, from campfire to campfire, and turn onto the path that leads higher. I climb up and look back. Lights, trampled paths, people. I'm sick to death of such views. The further away from them, the better it is. I know I'll be back anyway. It's sickening. But the closer I get to them, the more I can learn about the outside world. I'm still waiting for news. At least one piece of news about my sister would be great. No one else will tell me. Only sitting by the fire I learn something new. Everyone in the outside world that I strive for hates me so much that they won't hesitate when they see me. They’ll kill me instantly. Here in the squads, I'm just one of hundreds. To the outside world, I stand in one line with the Fox. And he is happy for this — to keep a traitorous son and show everyone that even I recognized his power.

[this-is-freeridge]

The Air Between Us

Chapter Eighteen: Mari deals with the aftermath of her attack.

Warning: this fic deals with dark themes, including but not limited to teen pregnancy, rape, drug abuse, murder, abortion, underage drinking and underage sex. Read at your own risk.

Find all the other chapters here.

Read the better-edited and revised version here.

With a cry that bordered on a scream, Mari threw her phone to the side, pressed the palm of her non-injured arm to the floor and, using all the strength she could muster, she pushed herself up. It took everything she had just to stand; her legs shook and her left arm fell limp at her side and she could feel the side of her face starting to swell.

She didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay here, to curl up on the cold floor and hug her knees to her chest and she wanted to sob.

She didn’t want to move, but there was more than her own health at stake; something she’s ashamed to admit she hadn’t considered when she decided to take out all her anger at the world and, for once, fight back. Her phone was all but dead, and she needed to get to a hospital. Help wasn’t on its way, so this was just another thing on the long list of things she had to do herself, no matter how much it hurt.

Her legs buckled with every step she took, but she pushed through the pain shooting through her bones and the burning sensation in her side and the dizziness threatening to take her out. Though it took everything she had, every last ounce of will, she made it outside where she collapsed against the building and opened her mouth to gasp in the fresh air, as though it were her first time being able to breathe.

And to Mari, it was; it was breathing again for the first time. It was the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins as she realised she was grateful to be alive.

Actively attempting to slow her breathing, she crouched and cradled her dislocated arm, leaning her right shoulder against the wall. She needed a moment. She needed to catch her breath and find what remained of her willpower before she forced herself back up again.

Somewhere in the distance, there was a voice; the same familiar voice she had heard inside. Her breath caught in her throat, slow breathing now coming out in sharp ragged puffs. She couldn’t see them, not in the dark with only the moon and the headlights of a metallic green muscle car, but she could make out the shapes well enough.

First, she saw a man, a little taller than her, if she had to wager a guess, in what looked like a denim jacket. One hand on his hip, the other resting against the roof of the car as he propped himself up and talked animatedly at the boy sitting in the back seat of the car.

The boy in the black hoodie and green bandana.

The boy who had held a gun to her head.

She swallowed the bitter fear on her tongue. Sweet rage filled her bones and warmed her blood.

The boy in the hoodie brought a hand up and the bandana came off in one swift motion. She wished she could see his face. She wished she could burn it into her memory, remember every detail, so she would have someone to hate, someone to blame for the way she felt; powerless and weak. But she knew she had been feeling like that long before tonight, and she couldn’t see anything beyond the dreadlocks that fell past his face.

The boy shuffled into the back of the car and the man was closing the car door and smacking his hand against the roof and then, the green low-rider was speeding away. Mari was stuck; unable to escape if caught and definitely not strong enough to fight back. The man had turned and was heading towards her before she could think up her next move.

And, as he swaggered steadily closer, he was illuminated by a dim street light. Mari released a shuddering breath, feeling almost relieved yet there was something, a nagging feeling at the back of her mind, reminding her she wasn’t out of the woods. She wasn’t safe yet.

He seemed to notice her too as he frowned a little, glanced around and broke into a jog.

“What are you still doing here?” He hissed, sounding a little more incredulous than angry.

Her hands shook, goosebumps prickled her skin as Easy headed closer, closer. Was this it; the end? She didn’t see much, she definitely didn’t see the boy, but could she convince him that? Would she get the chance to try before he put a bullet in her head?

Did she care?

She would miss Oscar, she knew that much. (Well, as much as you can miss someone from beyond the grave.) And she would miss the Martinezes, even Geny.

But they would all move on.

Ruben wasn’t around enough to miss her. Geny barely liked her and Abuelita was rarely around when she was. The twins wouldn’t understand, Mari was off at college, Ruby had his friends and Oscar...

It wasn’t serious, Mari told herself. He would find someone else; someone tall and pretty and emotionally available. Someone who could treat him the way he deserved to be treated, someone who could make him smile that dimpled smile, the one she loved so much, without even trying.

And then there was the baby. She had barely even thought of what she was going to do with it, though in her defence, she thought, she had found out a mere twenty-four hours ago. But she had to decide; she had to get a handle on the situation before it blew up - before anyone else found out.

Mari couldn’t help but think, maybe it would be better if it all just...stopped. At least it would be easier that way.

It would be a lie to say she hadn’t thought about it before, that the thoughts didn’t crawl out of the shadows in the darkest parts of her mind and torment her late at night when she was all alone, or when Oscar was snoring beside her.

But she was weak. She had always been weak and she couldn’t do it; guilt swallowed her whole each time she even considered It. What would they say if she failed? What would they say if she succeeded?

Yet, as she sat beaten and bruised before someone who had not only the means but the motive to end it all now, she wondered if it was all still worth fighting for.

Despite her entire body screaming in protest, she pushed herself up, meeting him eye to eye.

“What?” She asked, and then as if daring him, “Here to finish the job?”

Mari swore he rolled his eyes, but maybe she was a little delusional from getting a gun to the face.

“Here to make sure you’re okay,” her eyes narrowed in wary questioning. He continued, “Let me take you to the hospital,”

“What do you want?”

“Come on, ma, I told you. I just wanna make sure you’re alright,”

“Why do you ca-” her words broke into a wail as pain shot through her side and she doubled over, hand tightening on her dislocated arm to hold it in place.

This time he definitely rolled his eyes.

He walked to a shiny black car that was parked in the shadows and held the door open, “Just get in the car,”

But Mari was stubborn, and she was sick of always needing to be saved.

“I’m fine,” she said, “I can do it myself,”

“You sure about that?” He asked, thick eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, “because it looks like you just pissed yourself,”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart hammered as fear caught her in a vice grip. Trying not to choke on the lump in her throat, she spared a glance down. Bile rose in her throat when she saw the dark patch between her thighs.

“That’s not-” she rasped, but she wasn’t able to say any more. To admit what was happening would mean acceptance and she just wasn’t ready for that yet. “I need to get to a hospital,"

. : ♱ : .

Easy ran at least three red lights to get her to the hospital. He said it was because he didn’t want her to ruin his leather seats, despite the crease in his brow hinting at genuine concern. Hitting the brakes hard enough to leave tire marks when they finally reached the hospital, Easy wasted no time in getting her into a wheelchair and through the doors to the ER.

Mari was already sobbing, by this point. In part due to the aching feeling that started at her thighs and had spread quickly to the rest of the body, but for the most part due to the sheer fact that it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Shit, she couldn’t help but think this wasn’t supposed to happen at all. But it was happening, and it was happening now; three months earlier than anticipated.

Easy rang the reception bell more times than necessary to “get some damn help over here!”

In the back of her mind, she vaguely registered a nurse rushing through the doors and taking her from Easy, but it was hard to focus on anything beyond the faint buzzing that the world had become. Her mind had tuned out until everything was white noise; everything except her thoughts, screaming in high definition I can’t do this!

Everything had been taken from her; her body by Doyle, her freedom by this baby and her choice whether or not to have it by an unnamed, irresponsible kid who wanted to prove he was tough enough to be a Prophet.

She was supposed to have time. If anything, she was at least supposed to have two weeks left to decide if she wanted to keep it and now that choice, like every other one she foolishly believed she had, was taken from her too.

Her body ached as the nurse took her hand and gently guided her to her feet. The moment her weight shifted a sharp, stabbing pain shot through her, from her thighs to her back and she doubled over with a pained cry.

The nurse laid a tender hand on her shoulder and guided her slowly aside.

“I know it hurts, sweetie, I just need you on this bed,” she said, her soft and nurturing voice helping to calm Mari if only a little. “Can you do that for me?”

Through tears, Mari nodded and shuffled until the back of her thighs hit the edge of the hospital bed. One hand found purchase on the edge of the bed as the other hung limply at her side. Easy stepped forward to help as it took all her strength to push herself up onto the bed.

The back of the bed started to raise and Mari tried not to yell out at the pain in her lower abdomen as she was moved into a sitting position.

“Look,” Easy said, coming to her side so he was in her line of vision, “you’re in good hands now, ma. I think I should head off,”

In a panic at the mere prospect of being here alone, Mari’s hands shot out and grabbed at his arm.

“No, please don’t go!” she begged.

Easy let out a heavy, borderline-resigned sigh, “I shouldn’t be here,”

Mari knew he shouldn’t, knew he wasn’t who she wanted here. Oscar was supposed to be there, by her side, when this happened (or didn’t happen, not that she had much of a choice now).

She had asked him just last night, as they lay tangled in his sheets. He had asked what she thought she was going to do and Mari told him in all honesty that she had no idea, but either way she had wanted him there. Of course, he agreed; he would do anything for her.

The nurse moved further to the end of the bed and, despite Mari’s tear-blurred vision, she let out a sigh of relief when she saw that it was Latisha. At least there was another, more familiar face here. For just a second Mari didn’t feel quite so helpless.

“Is he family?” Latisha asked. Mari shook her head. “Baby daddy?”

“No! Uh-uh,” Easy shook his head ferociously and glanced around as though Oscar would appear at the mere suggestion of the Prophet touching her.

“Then I’m afraid he can’t come any further,” she said, speaking solely to Mari before turning to the man, one brow raised in suspicion, “you can wait here until she’s allowed visitors. We might have some questions for you about how you found her,”

And then Latisha was pushing her through the large double doors and Easy was out of sight, out of mind.

“Mari?” Doctor O’Connor called as she rushed forward, tying a mask to her face in her haste, “What happened? I was just with her yesterday!”

“I- ah!” whatever Mari was about to say was cut off as she howled out, throwing her head back and giving a choked sob.

“Alright, Mari,” Doctor O’Connor’s voice was calmer now, steadier, “I need you to lift your knees up, can you do that for me?”

She only sobbed harder, but she nodded and although she did her best to obey, Latisha came around to help as Mari’s whole body had stiffened in pain.

“That’s it,” Latisha smiled and wasted no time pushing Mari further down the hall and into a private room at the end of a ward labelled MATERNITY.

All at once, the wind was knocked out of her and Mari only had one thought: I can’t do this.

“This baby is very premature,” Doctor O’Connor said, “almost three months, so your body is under a lot of pressure right now, okay? It’s rushing this labor; you’re at stage two already so Mari, I’m gonna need you to push for me. Can you do that?”

She couldn’t.

She couldn’t.

She couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t be a mother.

Where would the kid live? What would she do with her life? She may not have known exactly what her aspirations were but she knew they were more than raising a kid.

And what about Oscar? How would he react to this? Right now he was the only thing grounding her, making her feel like she was normal. Like she wasn’t so horribly fucked up. There was no way she could cope with losing him. He said he was okay with this but he was supposed to have time, too.

He wouldn’t want her after this, she was sure of it. Finally, she had found someone who didn’t repulse her when they touched; someone who made a tantalising fire burn in her core with just a look. Someone who made her feel brand new. She wouldn’t be the same after this; she was already battered and bruised and now she was about to give birth. He wouldn’t want her.

She was going to lose him.

Frantically, she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, as though she could stop this all happening through sheer force of will.

“No! No, I can’t! I can’t do it! I can’t, please don’t make me!” Sobs racked her body, her voice was hoarse, her face swollen and her shoulder still dislocated. She just wanted it to end; that boy should’ve done her a favour and killed her when he’d had the chance.

As if it would make a difference, she continued to plead, “Please, please don’t make me! I was supposed to have time- I was supposed to choose! This isn’t fair!”

A soft hand landed on hers. It squeezed just a little, just enough so that Mari felt she was safe to take a breath, and then, voice thick with sympathy (though Mari would argue it bordered on pity) Latisha said, “Honey, none of this is fair. And I know it’s hard, and you don’t think you’re strong enough, but you are.”

Red-rimmed, tear-stung eyes glanced up at the nurse, then across at the doctor who was standing between her legs like something out of a horror movie and despite her fear and the aching that throbbed down to her bones and the knowledge that she would never be the same, that Oscar would never look at her again with such unrestrained want, Mari nodded.

She had expected it to hurt more, but when she started to push the pain in her abdomen eased, as though her body was thanking her.

But it was taxing. Latisha still had hold of her hand, but Mari had to do this part herself and her body had already been through so much trauma, it was hard to muster the strength.

“That’s it,” Doctor O’Connor encouraged, “you’re doing great,”

And then her mind drifted to Oscar, the way it did every time life was becoming too much, every time she needed an escape.

Desperate for a distraction, something to soothe her racing heart and frantic nerves, her mind traced every detail of him. She remembered dark chocolate eyes gazing into her own and the way his violent hands felt against her palm, or gliding over her back or sliding up her thighs. She thought of the weight of him on top of her, the way his body — strong, hardened — felt beneath her own. 

He should be here. He should be holding her hand and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. He should be running a hand through her hair and reminding how strong she is. He should be here, telling her proud he is and how much he lo-

“Stop!” Doctor O’Connor called suddenly, “Stop! Something’s wrong. I can’t get a good enough look…Latisha, put her under; I’m going to have to do an emergency C-section,”

Before Mari even had the chance to protest, to be scared, Latisha was hovering over her with a gas mask.

The last thing she thought of before everything went black was a pair of dark chocolate eyes gazing into her own.

. : ♱ : .

There was a throbbing in her shoulder when she finally came to.

Although she felt far from relaxed, she kept her eyes closed just a little longer, yearning for a few minutes more where she didn’t have to think about what’d happened; didn’t have to worry about where to go from here. But she couldn’t ignore reality forever, as much as she wished otherwise, and regretfully, her eyes fluttered open.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Easy’s soft voice sounded from her bedside. She thought he had left.

Her voice was thick with sleep as she asked: “What are you still doing here?”

“I left for a while; then I came back. Wanted to make sure you’re okay,”

“But why?”

Easy shrugged and offered an almost-smile.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter, y’know?” He glanced around, eyes sweeping the room before he added, “I ain’t sticking around; I don’t want no beef with Oscar, so I plan to be gone when he turns up,”

“I don’t- “ she cut herself off and glanced down at her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to admit it, because it hurt, but it was the truth. “I don’t even know if he’ll be here,”

The words came out in a whisper. It was hard to think about, let alone voice, the fact that she may have to go through this entire ordeal alone. Her family didn’t know, and she wasn’t ready for them to find out, but Oscar knew. Oscar already knew and he supported her and he wasn’t here and she couldn’t tell him.

“Why not?” His brow furrowed, “I saw the way he looked at you, ma. He wouldn’t miss this,”

She knew that. Deep down somewhere, she knew the way he looked at her, but it filled her body with warmth to hear it from someone else.

Still, the situation hadn’t changed.

“My phone’s dead,” she explained, “I can’t tell him what’s happened,”

Easy didn’t say anything for a minute, just shoved his hand in his pocket. Mari thought he was getting ready to leave, and she was preparing herself for isolation once more, and then he pulled out a smartphone and was handing it to her.

“So call him. Just don’t mention me or my boy and we’re good,”

What other choice did she have but to agree to those terms? She needed to speak to Oscar, needed him to be here.

Oscar had made her memorise his number early on in their friendship, just in case of emergencies. Her hands shook as she dialled the number and pressed the phone to her ear and she waited for him to pick up.

Usually, she didn’t have to wait long. Usually, he picked up at the sight of her name, before the first ring. This time, it rang once and then-

“I’m busy; leave a message, hombre,”

Straight to voicemail.

Mari frowned at the phone, unable to shake her thoughts that: this isn’t normal, something is wrong. But maybe he was just busy, Santos business that he didn’t want to involve her in. After only a brief pause where she considered trying again, she handed the phone back to the Prophet.

“He’s busy,” she said, “I’ll use a hospital phone or something to call him later,”

Easy pocketed the phone and gave her a nod.

“Look after yourself,” he said, turning on his heel to leave. He paused and shot a look back at her only to say, “Oscar’s a lucky man,”

And then he was gone.

The moment she was alone, Mari felt the tears sting in her eyes. She was tired of crying; the skin around her eyes was red and tender and the thought alone of crying any more was enough to make her hurt. She just wanted to sleep, to not be awake and forced to deal with this. To not feel so alone.

Eyelids heavy, she let them close and felt something close to peace. And then there was a knock on the door.

It was hard to open her eyes again, and even harder for her vision to adjust again to the light, but she was grateful that it was only Latisha.

“Hey,” she said with a warm smile, “it’s good to see you awake,”

If she had the energy, Mari would’ve rolled her eyes. “Wish I could say the same,"

Latisha said nothing else as she walked over to her bedside and started changing the IV fluid that was attached to the inner crook of her elbow. If Mari could go the rest of her life without another needle in her arm, she could die happy.

Mari had thought that she couldn’t feel any worse; she really did. But then she noticed another tube, one that was thin and yellow and started somewhere between her legs and ran all the way down the side of the bed to a drainage bag filled with-

She felt sick, helpless. She felt her stomach turn and her face grow hot.

“How long does that have to stay in?” She asked, her voice paper-thin, as the nurse exchanged the full bag for an empty one.

“The catheter is usually removed after a day or two, though everyone is different. It’s going to take some time for your body to adjust to the changes after the surgery,”

The next few minutes passed in silence as Latisha made note of her vitals and Mari wished once again that this would all be over.

When Latisha spoke again, Mari almost jumped at the sudden noise.

“It’s a boy,” she said. Mari’s heart clenched and her stomach twisted. “You can’t hold him yet; he was born far too early so he’s in the NICU on life support. But I can bring you to him if you want?”

“No,” the reply was instant, but Mari didn’t have to think about it. All she could think about, all she could feel, was the dull ache in her muscles and the sting from the needle that was stopping the use of her arm and the tube that reminded her she had no control of her body. She had no space in her mind or her heart for that baby; not when she needed someone to blame and he was the easiest target. “I don’t want to see him,”

Latisha didn’t push, something Mari appreciated. The two shared a short, understanding silence, and then the nurse asked: “What about your family?”

Mari blinked and looked at her for the first time since she arrived.

“What?”

“The hospital called your dad, Ruben,” she explained.

Latisha was soft and sweet and so nurturing; she only meant well. Mari didn’t want to be upset with her, not when Latisha was the only familiar face she had, but she couldn’t seem to stop the venom seeping out of her heart and into her words as she snapped, “Why?”

The woman brushed a strand of tight curls away from her face and behind her ear before placing one hand on a cocked hip.

“Because you just had emergency an emergency c-section, Mari, a procedure that’s dangerous to both you and the baby,” she let out a deep sigh. Her eyes lost their sternness and the corners of her lips twitched into a pitiful smile. A soft hand came to rest on Mari’s forearm as she continued, “The hospital has a duty of care, and no one should be alone in this,”

Despite her kind words and the even kinder intention behind them, Mari yanked her arm out of the nurse’s grip as a tear slid down her cheek. Before any more could fall, Mari turned her head away; she wanted to roll to her side but her body refused to follow, muscles weak and attached to far too many machines.

“Send them home,” she said.

“Mari-”

“I’m not ready. Send them home,”

Taglist: @robinsdolan @lostgirl219 @kseniainneverland @ravengreystone @weediskindabad @moistdollerbills @javoqetal @kenzie44469 @goddessate @blackdepressoexpresso @classyputa @babygirl-htx @wonderlandlovelove @cacapoodlepoo @agent-femmefatale​ @elliesshitofablog @daydreamer0307 @lucyfuh @harduy @elizabeth-santana-98 @lonelyyblues

[morallygreyprompts]

A new hero is watched over by the ghost of a former hero who died in action. They discover the ghost and how and why they died, and the two get into as normal a cohabitation as they can, but everything is shot to hell when the villain finds out.

Ask 67

I have been so excited to write this one up. I hope you like what I’ve written up for you. For the sake of simplicity, I’ll just call that former Hero Ghost.

Hero liked sitting on top of a building, under the old advertising board that hadn’t been changed in so long. They’d dangle their feet over the edge and run their thumb across Ghost’s old necklace as they did every night. They sat reflecting, trying to think of new avenues they could take to find their killer. For the last few months, there had been nothing to go on. The city had mourned and within days it was like they had been forgotten. But Hero refused to stop, refused to forget. How could they? They were the ones who found them shoved in an alleyway like nothing more than rubbish. Ghost’s death had been slow and painful and they deserved justice for that. Even thinking about it made Hero have to scrub the tears out of their eyes.

Hero was so lost to grim thoughts that they didn’t even realise that one of the pieces of paper on the board was coming away until they heard a great rip. Before they could react they felt a sharp yank at their neck, dragging them backwards, further onto the roof. The paper fell where Hero had been sitting and then fell, triggering a car alarm far below them.

For a moment Hero was frozen into place, staring at the spot they had been sitting at, trying to register what had happened. The necklace. Hero took it off quickly and left it on the floor, scrambling back from it. “What the hell?” they exclaimed.

The necklace began to shake slightly on the concrete. Hero tried to stomp on it, only for the necklace to scoot along the ground and dodge the strike.

“Please. Do not. Panic. I am trying to be as unspooky as possible here. You’ve just sort of forced my hand, that’s all,” a voice said. Hero could have sworn it came from the pendant.Hero blinked hard, they didn’t speak, didn’t move. They couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“Okay, here we go. Just… try to keep an open mind here, okay?”What looked like smoke slithered out of the necklace, slowly taking form until Hero was face to face with Ghost.

Hero fainted.

When Hero pulled themselves together, they were met with the same illusion. Illusion, no, it became very clear to Hero that this was no illusion. Ghost was really here. Pale, translucent, but thankfully not looking like how Hero had found their body.

“Oh please. Do get a grip. You’re meant to be a bit braver than that,” Ghost remarked.“I’m seeing things,” Hero murmured. “Please say I’m just seeing things. I’m stressed, that this-”“This is very real,” Ghost said. “And it’s your lucky day. I’m your new personal protector against evil, congratulations!”

Hero looked about ready to faint again but instead, they gulped back their panic. “Who was it?” they asked. “That… y’know?”“Killed me?” Ghost guessed, raising a non-existent eyebrow, or did it exist? Hero tried not to think too hard about it. “I don’t want to tell you that, because I know you’ll go after them.”

“And rightly so!” Hero protested. “You deserve some sort of recompense for what they did.”“No, because look what happened to me. Come on, I’ve spoken with you for like five minutes, including fainting time, and already you’re dredging up ghosts- heh, ghosts… But seriously, I’m not here for that.”

Ghost moved closer to Hero. Hero scooted back on the floor ever so slightly. “I realised no Hero should be going it alone. I came back to make sure you’re not alone. So you’ve got yourself a new super-duper partner to protect you from any murderous villains, and also dangerous advertising boards. Are you understanding this or just staring at me in shock still?”

Hero looked away, “I’m listening.”“Good, so will you do me a favour and pick up that necklace again. Where it goes, I go, so I’d rather you didn’t leave me behind anywhere either.”With hands shaking, Hero picked up the necklace. It felt abnormally cool in their hand.

“Put it on. Showing myself like this is making me really tired out. Don’t take it off, okay? I’ll show myself again soon. In the meanwhile, I’ll be floating about while I’m invisible.”

Hero nodded slowly, their thoughts weren’t keeping up with what they were experiencing. As Hero slipped the necklace over their head, they remembered the pain it caused them only minutes ago when Ghost had saved them.

“Thank you,” Hero said, but when they looked up, Ghost was already gone.

______

Hero heard a bell ring behind them when they were finishing eating their supper. They turned to see Ghost was writing on the blackboard.I’m getting a bad feeling.“What about?” Hero asked. I’m not sure. It’s like dread, like something bad is going to happen, I can feel it.

The radio cackled to life just as Hero finished reading what Ghost had written. They listened hard. Villain was at the bank, they had hostages.Hero frowned. “Keep your eyes open for me. I’ll bear it in mind, but that’s a call I have to answer. You coming?”

A moment of hesitation, then Ghost drew a Y on the board for yes. Hero held up the necklace, waited a moment, and then left.

Villain was not messing about. They had four members of staff at gunpoint. The only person in the whole city they were willing to talk to was Hero. With great care, they knocked on the door. Villain came over to see them, gun in hand. They opened the door.

“What do you want, [Villain]? Let these people go.”“Why don’t you come on inside? We can talk about things then.”Hero hesitated, but then did as they were asked. They could feel their necklace pressing against their chest that slightest bit harder than usual- as if it were trying to hide.

It came as surprise when they weren’t searched, weren’t patted down for weapons. Villain really did feel that in control.“So what are your terms?” Hero said again.“Always were the kind to get straight down to business.” Villain smiled like a serpent. “In truth, [Hero], I know your secret. And I want it.”

Hero could feel their heartbeat pounding against the necklace. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”“Actually, you do. I know that [Ghost] is with you. A spirit, doing their best to protect you.”Hero stepped back and clenched their fist. “You’re not getting that.”Villain sighed. Instantly their henchmen brought their weapons up the hostages’ heads. “Need I say more?”

“No,“ Ghost exclaimed through the necklace.

Words wouldn’t come to them. They couldn’t give up [Ghost], they couldn’t! They were a friend, they weren’t a bargaining tool.They couldn’t stop the necklace from rising up from their chest, revealing itself from under Hero’s clothing. Villain grinned.

“I see we have a deal, [Ghost],” they called out into the room. “Ever the hero, even when you’re dead.”

“[Ghost],” Hero’s voice wavered. They couldn’t say no and stop them from saving these people, but self- sacrifice was not a better option. If possession was one of Ghosts abilities then maybe this could be avoided, but it simply was not. This was a matter of giving up the necklace, Ghost, or innocents would die.

With Ghost’s reassurance of revealing the pendant, Hero slipped it off. “I’m sorry,” Hero whispered. They held it out for Villain to snatch away.Villain laughed, it echoed around the old marble room and into the high ceilings. The guards lowered their weapons and gestured for the people to leave. They did so, running as fast as tied hands would allow. Villain’s cruel laughter didn’t fully cease until the hostages had gone. “Excellent! I got to torture and kill you in life, and now I can torment you in death. Oh, [Ghost], we were just meant to be!”

The realisation struck Hero like a knife. Villain, it was Villain who had killed Ghost all those months ago, and Hero had just handed them right back over to them.Hero lunged at Villain with a bellow of anger. But Villain was too good for them. They dodged the attack and cracked the gun off their head. Hero crumpled to the ground unconscious.

[dand3n]

The Phoenix and The Dragon

Durram Avci was born in 2E 836 to a Dunmer father and an Avci mother. He grew up in the port city of Taneth growing up in the royal court with his many cousins. His father, Vedran Tharys was a former House Brother of House Redoran and an accomplished warrior in the city of Blacklight. 

Durram was taught Dunmer and Redguard swordplay which allowed him to fight with powerful and precise strikes. Battle strategy became apart of his teachings when rumors of the Colovian Warlord gaining large amounts of power became common in the docks of Taneth.

By the time Durram was sixteen the Tiber Wars has begun and Taneth was preparing itself. Durram fought with Taneth’s forces that served under the High King Thassad II against the Imperial Legions. They found many victories until the King died and the old arguments between Crowns and Forebears began again.

When Durram heard of arguing in the capital while he and his men were fighting on the front lines against the Nords and Bretons he grew disgusted with politics of his countrymen. Records state that he sent a letter to both Crown and Forebear leaders that showed his disgust and contempt for them.

To the Lords and Ladies of Hammerfell,

I, Durram Avci, find your bickering to be the most stupid and foolish thing to have happened to our great people since whoever believed it a good idea to trust the Bretons to not betray us during the siege of Orsinium.

While you argue in Sentinel and in Stros M’kai my soldiers are fighting against a foreign enemy that threatens us as no other has before. I have seen men being trampled by horses and shot full of arrows until they looked like a pincushion. 

I don't care if the new King were a Crown, a Forebear, hell they could be a sand roach for all I care. But I refuse to have my homeland to fall to Tiber Septim and his Red Legions. The mute bastard will have to face me himself before I kneel.

When the letter reached both parties it is said that Prince A’tor laughed for the first time since his father died while the Forebears dismissed the letter.

Durram did get his wish to meet the Cyrodiilic Emperor when Tiber Septim’s army pushed them back from their camps in the mountains all the way back to Skaven. Durram stood on the city walls alongside his men one night when suddenly two men levivated up onto the walls. 

“We come here seeking Durram Avci would any of you men know him.” The smaller of the two men said.

“I am the man you seek, now speak quickly or lose your heads.”

The second man let out a dry laugh and whispered something to his companion.

“My lord is happy to see that man who has been tormenting his armies is just like the stories.”

“So the Voiceless Dragon has come himself. Tell me why I shouldn’t cut you down here and now ?” 

Tiber snapped his fingers and his companion shot two fire bolts at Durram’s soldiers killing them instantly.

“Because you are now all alone here boy, Zurin could kill you before you could call for help. Now is there somewhere we could speak civilly?”

Durram glared at the two before gesturing to one of the nearby watchtowers. The three men entered and sat around a table within the tower.

It is was Tiber who broke the silence with a smile, “It took my spies months before they had any real information on you my friend. For the son of a noble house, you are a recluse.”

“Aye my family prefers it that way.” 

“A wise family you have there. It seems my future subjects will be a hassle. Your cousin’s ships have been harrassing my fleets for weeks but thankfully my friends in Hammerfall have been helpful as of late.”

“The Forebears if I’m correct.”

“Yes, your countrymen have given me more progress than all of my legions put together.”

“Hurry up Septim I wish to be rid of you soon.”

Tiber rubbed his throat before tapping Zurin on his shoulder.  The Imperial battlemage reached into his cloak to take out a red vial handing it off to Tiber. The Nord drank the entire vile before rubbing his throat revealing a red scar. 

“Know this my friend, I am Talos of Atmora. Emperor of Tamriel, Chosen of Akatosh, and Dragonborn. By tomorrow morning your Prince will be dead and the rest of his Crown loyalists will know a dragon’s fury. Kneel before me now and I will name you High King of Hammerfell and General of one of my legions.” 

Durram stared at the two men. Zurin’s eyes watched him carefully as if calculating his every movement. 

Durram rose from his seat and stared into the Emperor’s eyes. Flames danced in their eyes, one belonged to a dragon and the other to a phoenix.

“I will kneel the day the old Yokuda rises from the sea, I will become your puppet king the day the Ansei of old return, and I will become general the Left-handed Elves come to our shores. Until that day leave my sight Tiber Septim.” 

Tiber and Zurin looked at each other before the battlemage sighed while the emperor grinned.

“You refuse one of the most powerful men on Nirn and act as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. Normally I would have a man’s head removed from his shoulders for a such a thing but you my friend reminded me of myself during my days under Cuhlecain. We speak again until then goodbye Durram Avci.” 

That would be the last time Durram would see Tiber until many years after the war. 

Tiber was correct the next day Skaven was hit with the news of the Battle at Stros M’kai. Within a month Hammerfell was under Imperial control. Durram headed for Stros M’kai where he stayed hidden working alongside the Restless League killing Imperial soldiers and dignitaries that came to the island. When the Treaty was signed between the Empire and the Redguards, Durram returned to Taneth before leaving for Morrowind. He joined as a mercenary fighting in skirmishes against the legion. 

When the Armistice came to the public he stayed in Blacklight for a year working as the city’s guard captain. In Blacklight he fought alongside the Redorans against wild Nords that came from the Velothi mountains and daedra that wander the countryside.

It wasn’t until the Queen Barenziah came to Blacklight did Durram finally leave the Redoran capital. The General Symmanchus and The Queen offered the veteran soldier a place amongst her personal guard. Durram at first refused but after some coaxing and a meeting between Durram and Tiber Septim for the twentieth anniversary of the Tamelieric Empire.

When the Mournhold procession arrived in the Imperial City they were greeted by the royal family. Tiber Septim was in his seventies while Durram was in his late fifties. Durram stayed within the crowd of servants and acted as if he was a normal servant. When night came Symmanchus brought him to the upper levels of the White Gold Tower where three Blades members waited.

“The Emperor will see you now. Hand over all weapons and please put on this bracelet while in his presence.” Durram compiled and handed over his ebony sword and placed the bracelet on which caused him to feel suddenly drained.

“A Silence enchantment incase you try anything.” The four left Symmanchus at the entrance to the upper level before stopping in the Imperial Library. As they entered the sprawling room there in the center sat the Emperor with two blades standing behind him.

Tiber’s hair was pure white a stark contrast to the golden mane he had on the night they met.

“It has been a long time hasn’t boy.”

“Aye it has.”

“I hear you were a key part in the Stros M’kai Uprising all those years ago.”

“I just killed a couple of your men. It was Cyrus who killed your Dunmer assassin and Richton.”

“Ashame truly both were valuable assists during the war.”

Durram grunted as a servant came from the shadows with a pitcher of wine and two goblets. The Redguard and the Emperor spoke on length about their time apart like old friends. Tiber confirmed some rumors that Durram had heard in the past few years.

When they finally finished the sun was creeping up on them. 

“I have a gift for you.” Tiber clapped your hands and a Blade came forward with a Akaviri katana in hand.

“Its slightly different from the other swords my Blades wield.”

Durram removed the katana from its scabbard to reveal a ebony blade with red daedric runes inscribed on it.

“The Phoenix rises against all.” Durram whispered as he put the sword. 

“Why ?” Tiber smiled and rose from his seat. The Blades in the room all gathered around him and escorted him towards the exit.

“A dragon needs a challenge less they become complacent. You refuse to kneel even now you have my respect. Goodbye Durram Avci.”

Durram left shortly after him and met with Symmanchus who walked with him in silence back to their rooms.

Tiber would die a few years later and would be succeeded by his grandson Pelagius. With the Dragon dead and his heirs now ruling Tamriel, Durram married a Crown woman who he settled down with in his home city of Taneth.

The bloodlines of Tiber and Durram would work closely together during the later years of the Third Era in the form of Uriel Septim VII and his many champions.

[olivewritessometimes]

Bittersweet Blue Sin (1/2)(Corrupted!Lance)

lust ləst/ noun 0. 1. 
very strong sexual desire.

~•~

Lance suddenly gets corrupted by one of the Dark inter reality creatures, he suddenly begins to slowly start becoming less of usual self and more seductive and lustful.

How will he be able to break free from this deadly sin?

-------------

I have a friend, and her name is @che1sea-xiao-long. (Everyone go like her posts! She’s awesome!) You may remember a while ago when I made that post about a Dark!Lance fic I was working on. A while ago, I was searching through the Dark!Lance tag on Tumblr for inspiration, and found the prompt listed above. I liked it, then continued searching. The prompt in particular didn’t have many notes, so the next day, I got a message from her saying she noticed I liked her post, so I replied asking if I could write a fic about it. She said yes, but I got a little carried away, so I had to split it into two parts. Here’s Part 1! Link to Part 2 will go here once it’s posted.

Side note: Che1sea, thank you so so SOOOOOOOOOOOO much for letting me write this! I had a load of fun imagining the scenes myself, and I hope you’ll like it too!

--------------

  “Only one more to go,” said Sam, as medics wheeled the unconscious Altean away.

  Around a month ago, they had discovered the dark being inside the mind of Tavo, one of the six Alteans they’d rescued, and Shiro had ordered they remove all of the beings from their minds to prevent Honerva from mentally injuring them.

  So far, they had removed the beings from five out of six Alteans; they had finally stopped refusing to let Allura reach into their minds to pull them out.

  Gradually, they had all started changing their minds after being tormented nonstop by Honerva, and the last Altean was to have Allura remove the being from her mind the next day.

  As Lance watched through the window, Allura, controlling the creature between her palms, brought it towards the containment unit the medics had left in the room.

  She lowered one hand inside it, still holding control of it, and grabbed the lid to the unit with her other.

  In a movement faster than lightning, she pulled her hand out of the unit, and slammed the lid down, trapping the creature.

  After screwing the lid on as tight as she could, she stood up with a smile, and gave a thumbs-up to the window, signalling that it was secure.

  Lance breathed a sigh of relief. He could hardly stand it whenever Allura performed an extraction, because it put her in horrible danger every time.

  “Okay, we’re clear,” Sam mumbled to himself, pressing a few buttons.

  The door opened with a shh noise, and Allura stepped through, instantly being wrapped in a large hug from Lance.

  “You know this is really dangerous, right?” he mumbled into her hair. “You already have one of the things inside you, and another could kill you.”

  “Yes, I do,” she replied. “But we’re doing it for the Alteans. They need the help.”

  “Right,” he said, pulling away from her.

  Taking his hand in hers, Allura turned to Sam.

  “The containment unit is secure,” she said.

  “Thank you, Allura,” he replied, standing. “Oh, and before I forget: Shiro wanted you both on the bridge.”

  “Thanks, Sam,” said Lance, leading Allura to the door.

   No one else except for Shiro, Coran, and the crew members whose stations were on the bridge were there when they arrived.

  When the door slid shut, Shiro turned around, and upon seeing them, his face lit up.

  “I was wondering when Sam would send you up,” he chuckled. 

  “He did as soon as we were done,” replied Allura.

  “We have something to show you, and we want your opinions on it,” began Shiro. “We’ve already shown Hunk, Pidge, and Keith, and we were waiting for a time where you could both come and see it. Pull it up on the screen.”

  The screen flashed into life, and a video feed appeared on it.

  It displayed how the hangars for the Lions would work when the IGF-ATLAS was in its humanoid form.

  When the ATLAS was first built by Sam, they hadn’t planned that it could transform, so the hangars were on the giant robot’s legs, facing downwards, which was an awkward angle to launch from.

  “We were thinking of how annoying it normally is to launch when the ATLAS is like this, so Slav came up with an idea,” continued Shiro. “We could-”

  “We could have them rotate the Lion’s positions so they will launch the same way they did in the Castle of Lions!” shouted Slav, appearing from seemingly nowhere.

  “Where did you even come from?!” cried a startled Coran.

  “From below you.” Slav shrugged his shoulders, and pointed at the screen. “Now, let me show you how it will work.”

  The screen started demonstrating Slav’s plan, but Lance was hardly paying attention.

  All he was mainly thinking of was how dangerous the extractions were. For Allura, for the Altean, for the medics in the room, for pretty much everyone, if it escaped.

  But that wouldn’t happen, he told himself.  Allura wouldn’t let it.

  The next day brought upon the same series of events.

  Lance woke up, got dressed, headed to the dining hall, had breakfast with his teammates, then headed to the medical bay with Allura to prepare for the last extraction.

  Just like the day, the extraction went as they all did.

  The medics brought the Altean’s bed into the sealed room, followed by Allura, who was carrying the containment unit which would hold the inter-reality being. They injected the Altean with something that knocked him out painlessly and instantly. Then, they stood to the side while Allura pressed her hands to the Altean’s temples.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, but her grip on the Altean’s head remained gentle.

  Slowly, and carefully, she lifted her hands up, and the being was dragged out of his head.

  The medics grabbed the Altean’s bed and took him away, and Allura finished up the operation.

  Just like the previous few times, she lowered it in, and quickly trapped it.

  She stood up to give the all-clear signal, but instead put a hand to her forehead, and held her other hand out for balance.

  She looked like she was about to faint.

  Is she alright? Lance asked himself.

  When she began to seem unable to hold herself upright, he turned to Sam.

  “Sam, let me in there.” He had a determined look on his face as he gestured to the door.

  “U-uh, Lance, I can’t exactly do that-”

  “Sam, let me in there.” He had a fierce tone to his voice as he gestured to the door again, masking his worry for Allura with anger.

  “Lance, I can’t let you in there,” Sam tried again. “If she didn’t close it all the way, the being could infect one of you and kill you.”

  “That’s exactly why I have to go in there,” Lance retorted, calmer this time. “If the being infects her, it could kill her. I have to make sure she’s alright.”

  “Lance, it’s safer to have the medics be sent in there, with their special suits to protect them,” Sam reasoned. “You’ve got nothing to protect you. You’d be putting yourself in horrible dange-woah Lance what are you doing?!?”

  Lance had made his Bayard appear in the form of a sword, and was hefting it towards the door.

  “Protecting my girlfriend,” he answered, then sliced the keypad keeping the door from sliding open in half.

  The door slid open, and he rushed inside, just as Allura was beginning to collapse. 

  He caught her in his arms, and slowly lowered her to the ground, taking care that she didn’t hit her head.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and a look of confusion dawned upon her face.

  “Lance? What are you doing in the extraction chamber?” she asked.

  Just then, a group of medics burst into the room, heading for Allura.

  One of them gently lead Lance away from Allura, to the corner of the room, while the others unfolded a stretcher, and slowly shifted her onto it.

  “What’s wrong with Allura?” Lance asked, trying to look at the scene over the medic’s shoulder, but he kept moving his head in the way.

  “She will be fine,” the medic answered. “She’s just exhausted. We’ll bring her to the medical bay so she can rest up, and then she’ll be right as rain.”

  The medic was wearing a mask, so Lance couldn’t see his face, but he had a feeling that he was giving him a cheery smile to make him feel better.

  “You just wait here. She’ll be fine, we promise.” The medic crossed the room to the stretcher, grabbed a hold, and then they all lifted Allura out of the room.

  Through the window, Lance could see Sam following the parade of medics.

  Alone in the room, one would have thought it would be completely quiet, but it wasn’t.

  There was a soft bom, bom, bom noise that was starting to drive Lance insane.

  He looked around to see what was making the noise, and his eyes fell upon the containment unit, from which the being was trying to get out by ramming itself against the wall.

  He sighed, and kicked the unit into the corner.

  Crack.

  Oh, no, Lance thought to himself, but it was too late.

  He could only watch as the creature took advantage of the crack in the glass, and hit itself against it until the unit burst open.

  He dashed to the door, but the medics had closed it after they had left, and since he’d broken the keypad on the other side, it was sealed shut.

  “Help!” he cried, banging on the door. “The creature is loose! Guys, help! Help! The creature, it-”

  His cries were cut short, as he felt a stinging sensation in his backside.

  It felt as though someone was stabbing him with an electrified sword, and some subconscious part of his mind knew that the being was infecting him.

  “Help,” he cried out again, weaker this time.

  His banging slowed, growing softer and fainter, until it stopped entirely.

  He slumped to the floor, trying to keep his eyes open, but it was getting near impossible.

  “Help,” he tried, one last time, barely audible to even himself. “The creature…”

  He slowly drifted into unconsciousness.

  Keith was sitting in the mission briefing room, waiting for the meeting to start.

  There were a few other people in the room as well, including three of the four MFE pilots, Hunk, the Holts, a few crew members, Coran, and Shiro, who had called the meeting.

  He glanced around for Allura, since she was normally one of the earliest people when meetings like this were called, but then remembered what had happened.

  News traveled fast on the ATLAS, and word of Allura fainting had reached him pretty quickly.

  Not to be rude or anything, but he wasn’t worried about her. It was tiring work, and he’d expected her to pass out from exhaustion sooner or later.

  Besides, knowing Allura, it would only be a matter of time before she was back on her feet. She was tough like that.

  Who he was really worried about was Lance. Keith knew how sensitive he was when people close to him are hurt, and Allura was his girlfriend. Surely, he must be stressing out right now.

  Well, speak of the devil, thought Keith as Lance walked into the room at that very second.

  But upon closer inspection, Keith became confused.

  Lance didn’t seem worried or stressed at all, which was very surprising to Keith.

  In fact, Keith could swear he saw the remnants of a smirk on his face as he took his seat.

  What’s he so happy about? Keith wondered. His girlfriend is in the medical bay, and he’s normally sensitive about loved ones being hurt. What’s up with him?

  A few minutes later, the meeting began, but Keith hardly paid any attention. It was just suggestions for the lion’s hangars, nothing important.

  What he did pay attention to though, was how differently Lance was acting.

  He didn’t seem upset at all, despite Allura passing out and being brought to the medical bay.

  So what had happened that was making Lance so happy? Or what was keeping him from worrying about Allura?

  Before he knew it, the meeting was over, and people were starting to file out of the room.

  Keith stood up, and started heading for the door, but a voice made him stop.

  “Hey, Keith! Wait up!”

  That was Lance, unmistakably. That was the voice he’d grown accustomed to calling him ‘Mullet’ over the past few years. The voice that would throw insults at him, which he would retort to, causing endless banter between the two.

  The voice he wished would call his name the way it did Allura’s.

  He knew it would never happen, though. He didn’t even know if Lance liked boys. Keith doubted he did.

  Which is why he was surprised when Lance grabbed his shoulders and slammed him against the wall.

  Seeing Keith’s shocked expression, Lance began to smirk.

  His hands started roaming around Keith’s body; down his arms, across his back, finally finding a resting place on his hips. 

  The closer Lance got, the more worried Keith was.

  What-why-what is happening? Thoughts like these and many others raced through Keith’s head.

  Lance immediately caught on to what Keith was thinking, and leaned close enough to whisper in his ear.

  “Scared, Kitten?”

  A few minutes later, Lance finally backed off.

  Without Lance’s hands holding him against the wall, Keith slumped to the floor, with a hand pressed to his head.

  The room seemed to be spinning around him; he was finding it hard to breathe; confusion was taking over his mind; his vision was blurry; and to top it all off, Lance was still there.

  He crouched down so he could look Keith in the eye.

  “Don’t tell anyone about this, okay Kitten?” His voice was sweet, as if nothing had happened.

  Keith wanted to retort, but his mind was too scrambled to think of anything to say.

  Instead, his eyes welled up, and he brought his hands to his face to cover them.

  “Not as tough as you seem, huh Kitten?” Lance stood up, and walked towards the door.

  “See you soon, Kitten!” he called as he left.

  Keith sat for many minutes against the wall in the mission briefing room, trying to comprehend what the hell just happened.

  His mind was still fairly muddled, leaving him unable to come to any proper conclusions.

  Overwhelmed, confused, and bewildered, Keith was hardly able to stutter out a quiet, ‘What?’

[lunaschild2016]

Close To You - [Eric/Devi] Part 2

Rated: M

Title and inspiration from Close To You by Maxi Priest

Summary: Devi and Eric’s story continues, but this time we see things from Eric’s eyes. It was her belief in him that sparked them finally coming together, but where did it really start for Eric? The life of a childhood sweetheart, conspiracies, and the fate of the city all hung over his head. He didn’t need to be wondering how to get close to the tiny amity with fire in her eyes and a mouth to match. He didn’t need to worry and wonder about how he could find a way to just be close to her.

@kenzieam  @pathybo  @jaihardy @every-jai @ericdauntless@beautifulramblingbrains @bookgirlthings @jojuarez26@oddsnendsfanfics @offroadinjandals @singingpeople@iammarylastar @irasancti @captstefanbrandt @clublulu333@fuckthatfeeling @tigpooh67 @ex-bookjunky  @jughead-wuz-here wuz-here @badassbaker @beanzjellly @beltz2016@meganbee15 @affabletimelady @scorpio2009 @gylisaa@geekybeyondallreason @violetsonthelam @kyloswarstars@emmysrandomthoughts @kgurew @beltzboys2015-blog@slytherin-princess-25273 @whatwouldbuffydo666@jaiboomer11 @holamor @wealwayskeepfighting @original46 @blakefc @xtheserpentx @artisthedgehog

Part 2

The buzzing of the tattoo gun is hypnotic. Combined with the sensation that the needle piercing my skin brings, I’m drifting into another zone. My head is laid back against the leather headrest and my eyes are half-closed. It’s a state of relaxation that seems ridiculous considering what’s being done to my skin at the moment. But that’s exactly what this is for me. 

Relaxing.

I hadn’t believed Ronin, a Dauntless-born that I’ve made friends with when he claimed that tattoos are addicting. His skin is already riddled with them and he seems to be the most tatted up guy among the bunch of Dauntless-born in our year. So, I just thought that particular opinion wasn’t common going by that information. 

I scoffed at my friend the same way I had at Jules when she teased me about being covered in ink from head to toe the next time she saw me. Now I’m not sure they weren’t right about that. 

The thing is, out of everything that Dauntless has on offer to help me unwind, this is the one place that I’ve truly been able to. 

Drinking is all well and good, but I don’t drink to get shit faced. Besides most of the crap they have here for mass consumption, and what us lowly initiates can afford, could strip paint it’s so strong. 

Hooking up seems to be another favorite way to pass the time here. I would’ve thought initiates would find slim pickings for that, but apparently, we’re all considered fresh meat. It’s not like my body isn’t all for it but my head is all kinds of messed up right now and getting involved with anything like that isn’t a priority for me.

The first couple of weeks here I had more difficulty with learning how to deal with this after my usual glares and silent treatment had no effect. Until Ronin came along and was happy to take any action off my hands that I didn’t want. I definitely got some shit from him about that, but I played it off as me being too focused on finishing initiation and getting first rank. I guess that was believable enough because he stopped giving me shit as much and seemed to pass the word around. I stopped having so many women coming onto me. 

The other forms of blowing off some steam were all found in the bars and entailed either dancing or fighting. One, I wouldn’t be caught dead doing, and the other isn’t something I’m allowed to do.

Entertainment fights are off-limits to all initiates from actually fighting in. I can watch them all I want, but what’s the fucking point of that? So, the only real kind of release I wanted at the moment is denied to me.

Which brings me to the tattoos. 

I hadn’t planned on getting anything done, tattoos or piercings, until I’m actually a member. I kept to that plan for the first month and a half that I’ve been here so far. But as of three weeks ago, that got shot to hell.

That’s all my little one’s fault. 

Devi.

Against all odds, predictions, and everything going against her, the girl’s still here. Still here tormenting me, but she doesn’t have a clue about that. Honestly, I doubt she even knows I exist. That fact still hasn’t stopped me from watching her. That’s how I knew that she now spends every day after training until just before lights out at the tattoo parlor. And that’s what also drew me here for the first time.

Really, I’m not sure when it started for her. Devi seems to be even better at slinking around unseen than fucking Four. While Four has at least has made friends with a Dauntless-born in our class named Zeke Pedrad, Devi talks to nobody and no one talks to her either, at least not in a pleasant kind of way.

The first week here she kept silent, even when the others started in on her, but as time went on her keeping silent went away. Now she doesn’t hesitate to give them back as good as they’re giving her. She might not win many physical fights, but I’ve seen her cut a few of the girls to pieces with her words before she storms away, looking like she’s barely able to hold herself back from getting physical. 

I know, since I know what’s really going on with her that some of her fight and loss of temper is from her withdrawal. A common side effect of detoxing is mood changes, but I’m guessing with what she was on and for how long she was on it, it’s even worse. Everything that I've been able to find out about that shit is bad news.

I got access to a tablet shortly after my brother letting me know what’s going on with her. I couldn’t help myself. 

Ronin’s got a brother who works in a high enough position that he’s given a tablet and managed to borrow it for me for a few days. Enough time for me to pull up any information I could find on the most commonly used serums in Amity. They have two main serums and several others that used but not as frequently. All of them are mood and behavior-altering, but Peace serum is the worst of the lot since it’s actually a combination of a few of them.

Out of all the substances that Erudite has come in contact with, peace serum has been the most damaging and dangerous to break a person from. Which is kind of fucking ironic considering that Amity is all about doing no harm and all that other hippie nonsense.

The serum is composed of several different serums in higher dosages and it forces the person to be calm and happy, as well as being very open to suggestions. Any negative thoughts or feelings are pushed away completely, and they don’t have to cope with those things either. Devi was on a lifetime of the shit. A lifetime of never having a bad or negative feeling means that she also never learned to cope with any of that. 

Things learned and experienced during puberty were completely suppressed and that can’t be a cakewalk for her to suddenly be feeling all at once. I don’t blame her one bit for keeping far away from anyone and everyone. It doesn’t help that the other initiates’ behavior has actually gotten worse when she does have to be around them. 

I think it pisses them off and offends them that she isn’t just hanging on by the skin of her teeth, but actually improving. Devi is a fighter, through and through even if physically she doesn’t look it. She’s shit at fights, there’s no doubt about that. More times than not she has to be helped or carried off the mat, bleeding and hurt. 

That’s been complete fucking hell to watch when it happens.

I still have a few more weeks of fights before the end of the first stage. Thank fuck we aren’t expected to fight every day. They do at least space them out and alternate activities to allow our bodies to recover a bit. But I’m counting down the days until the second stage starts and we won’t be expected to do much more than making sure we’re keeping up with workouts while we are doing whatever else they have planned for us.

So far, I haven’t had the match up I dread most, being put against Devi. Internally I’ve been hoping like hell that luck will hold out and I don’t get put against her. Based on a few things I overheard when Amar was talking with a couple of the leaders on the day they deigned to make an appearance and check on us, I think there’s a good chance I won’t have to. 

They were discussing fights and how everyone is doing. I heard one of them ask Amar about the Amity girl in a condescending tone, probably expecting to get a few laughs at how poorly she’s doing or at least some kind of smart-ass comment back from Amar in agreement of how unsuited she is for Dauntless. 

What he got instead was what I felt deep inside of me that night I carried her to the clinic.

‘If all of our people had as much fire as that girl does, then there would be nothing stopping our faction. That little girl might not look it, but I tell you she’s all Dauntless.’

She’s a true Dauntless and it shows, which is why I think the others are so hacked off at her. The tiny girl from the faction of peace lovers is making all of them look like fools with how they grumble and complain or try to worm their way out of their next match after being on the receiving end of a beating.

Not Devi though.

She leaves that mat a bloody mess and turns back up for her next fight with a fierce look on her face and little fists clenched at her sides. She doesn’t blink, no matter how unevenly matched the fights are, and she refuses to concede even when she’s being pulverized. 

I can’t count how many times I’ve watched her refuse to tap out and have to be knocked out instead, or a trainer call the match before some real or permanent damage can be done.

Amar let both Max and Oliver know this very fact. Then I heard them discussing future pairings. Max had been all for seeing how she would do against a higher-ranked fighter and would’ve pushed for that happening until Amar let him know that one of her previous matches was against Four. That satisfied their bloodlust but it only inflamed mine against the stiff. 

He was all apologies and reluctant looks before the fight, but once he got in there he didn’t seem to have any problem landing more than a few punches that made her bleed. Then there had been how he finished her off by locking her in a hold until she passed out all while she struggled and screamed her rage at him before finally the fire in her eyes dimmed and she was out.

That image fucking haunts me and I’ll never forgive either of them for it, but the stiff especially. I’ve just been waiting to get a little payback when my time comes to face off against him. 

For some reason, all of the leaders seem hesitant to make that happen right now. I’m not sure if it’s because there’s obvious enmity on my side or what, but it’s been pissing me off that the one match I’m looking forward to most isn’t happening.

“Let’s take a break. I need a smoke.” Bud, the tattoo artist currently working on me grumbles out drawing my attention back to what I’m in the middle of.

“Okay,” I say with a shrug and remain in the chair while Bud puts the gun up and clears a few things before moving off towards the back and behind a curtain that Tori, the other tattoo artist just disappeared behind in a hurry. 

I watch him for a second wondering why he’s going to the backroom for his smoke break when the other times he usually goes to stand outside of the parlor. With another shrug of dismissal, I look down and inspect the work done so far. 

I now have two tattoos and after Bud comes back it’ll be three. The first is the smallest and is about the size of my fist. The placement for that one is at the top of my spine and is a riff of the Erudite symbol combined with the Eye of Horus in an all-black tribal style of tattoo. 

The two I’m getting worked on right now cover the forearm on both of my arms and are a combination of black and rust color. I wanted something geometric and found a maze design on their wall of art so that is mainly what the design is made up of, broken only by the interjection of various symbols. 

The design for all of my tattoos have been me telling Bud and Tori what I wanted and then them coming up with something. Tori suggested I stick with using things that look like the Egyptian symbol from my first tattoo for the ones on my arms, so that’s what we did. Bud let me use his tablet and I spent a little bit of time searching the archives on the network. I eventually found some others I liked but from other old-world cultures. They all run along the same lines of meaning that the Eye of Horus has. Strength, Power, Health, and Wisdom. There are a few others that I put on there that are things I hope to work towards. I let my fingers trace the arm Bud has done so far, checking out how the reimagined design melds into the tribal style. 

Sounds from the back area distract me and pique my curiosity, especially when I clearly heard a particular name being mentioned. It has me easing out of the chair and sliding towards the curtained off area. I didn’t step through but I stayed close and pretended to be looking at some of the flash on the wall there.

“She should go get checked out in the clinic at the very least.” 

“She’s not going to do that anymore than she’s going to report the attack, Bud. I don’t blame her with the way shit’s been going around here. They're not going to do anything to the girls that did this and she says it would just make her more of a target with the other initiates.”

“Maybe I should go find them and have a few words with them then.”

“Don’t go doing anything stupid. Besides, Devi says she gave them as good as she got. You just go back out there and finish with that nose’s tattoo. I don’t feel comfortable having him in the shop longer than is needed. ”

“Still don’t trust him?” 

“I don’t trust anyone, Bud. Especially someone from that faction. Not after George.”

There is rustling behind the curtain and I know I won’t make it back to the chair, so I slide further down the wall and think about the shit I’ve just heard while I try to look like I’m just checking out the art on the wall.

Bud comes out just seconds later, looks at the chair and sees me not in it then swings his eyes around to find me. He narrows his eyes for just a second before he smirks and motions with his head towards the chair and turns to walk towards it himself.

I follow behind him casually and work to keep my composure. It’s a hard thing to do when I just want to leave here and go find whoever the cowards are that hurt Devi. Luckily, Bud doesn’t seem to realize where my mind is headed right now and he doesn’t press to talk.

He finishes my arm, seeming to work much faster than normal because before I know it, he’s wiping it clean and about to start smoothing the lotion that will prevent scabbing and heal the area.

“There you go, all finished.” He pronounces with a nod then turns to start cleaning up his gun.

I sit there inspecting the work and contemplating saying something or not to him but think better of it. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I find the girls and I don’t know Bud to trust him either.

I don’t spare another glance at him as I take care of paying for today’s session then walk out into the compound. 

                                                      ****************

Jocelyn and Portia.

I should have known it would be those two. They were complete bitches in Erudite and Dauntless just seems to have enhanced that. They’ve been the worst of the girls and relentless in their insults towards Devi. 

It took some investigating and me bribing Ronin to get access to the cameras but I was able to find out that Devi was attacked sometime after we were dismissed on Friday, which was shortly after lunch, and just after dinner. With there being no training scheduled for Saturday or Sunday, the initiates all scattered and it took scanning camera feeds to track everyone down. Not that the piss poor quality of most of the cameras made it easy but at least I was able to narrow down the likely suspects and eliminate them as I was able to pick them up. The only two I couldn’t find were Jocelyn and Portia. I was able to confirm with Candice in the clinic that they stumbled in late Friday evening.

Technically we aren’t supposed to be sleeping anywhere but the dorm. Leadership doesn’t really care enough to have anyone enforce that rule. So the Dauntless-born will generally go back to wherever they were living before initiation started or with friends. The transfers either found members to bunk in with or stumbled in for a few hours sleep before heading back out to party again.

I’ve had a lot of time to figure out what to do but what I decided on is nowhere near where I started at. Especially when Devi made an appearance at lunch yesterday, Saturday. 

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t already been injured pretty badly from her last fight. With what she got during that fight and then the attack, I get why Bud was insisting she go to the clinic to get checked out. It took every bit of restraint and a few long hours of staring off into the Chasm to calm down instead of hunting them and throwing them into those raging waters. 

The entire time, I heard Eli and Jules in my head, cautioning me to play it smart and not lose my cool. Warning me not to do something that would put my position here at risk, to not put Devi at risk, any further than we already are.

It’s been two days since they attacked Devi and one since I found out it was them. I’ve been biding my time and last night, after those two were returning to the dorm from wherever they holed up at, I happened to run into them and shared a few words.

So, how did I get even with those two cowards? By promising to make their lives absolute fucking nightmares. By using every Erudite tactic to mess with their minds that I know. To have them jumping at shadows afraid to even breathe wrong around me for fear that the veiled threats I’ve made will be carried out. 

You see, those two were in Erudite with me and they at least know or suspect my involvement with Jeanine. Even if they don’t know about that, they at least know my personal reputation. I wasn’t known as a very nice guy to people that I found beneath me. I’ve made it clear that they are very beneath me and not fit to be at Dauntless, and one way or another, Dauntless will weed out the weak. 

Now, I wait. And I will reinforce that message as many times as it takes for them to cut their losses and get out while their ahead, before the little conscious I have fades altogether.  

This isn’t about Devi. This about what I can allow in my faction and what I can’t. 

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

                                                          ****************

“I know you did something to them.” The tone is low and is probably supposed to be threatening, but I just find it irritating and ridiculous.

I knew there was a reason the damn stiff has been sticking to my side for the last few days. I’ve been waiting for him to get the balls to actually confront me on it. I didn’t think he would, but of course, he picks just before we’re about to face off against each other in our fight to start something.

I don’t respond, instead, I just try and focus on what’s ahead of me. Besides, it seems like my tactic of ignoring him seems to be grating and riling him up a little.

Maybe I can get him unfocused enough.

It seems to work because I can tell Four is losing all that carefully bottled up anger he likes to pretend isn’t inside of him before he launches into his next accusations. 

That he saw how I was always hounding and sniffing around Jocelyn and Portia.

Hounding and sniffing? Really stiff? 

I barely ‘ran’ into them a few times while they were traveling along some fairly dark and unstable hallways. It’s not my fault they weren’t watching where they were running to, even if they were trying to avoid me at the time.

He saw all those looks I kept giving the two girls and knows I was up to something with them.

No shit Sherlock, you’ve already covered that, move along. 

At this point, I’m amused and probably doing a piss poor job keeping that from showing. Not so much at his words but how flustered he seems to be getting about it all.

He starts throwing out insults at me, calling me names that he thinks will offend me but honestly, how am I supposed to get offended at someone calling me a ruthless bastard? That’s a fucking compliment in my book. 

When that doesn’t work he changes things up and goes for an accusation that has me losing all my cool, all my amusement, and it just pisses me off even further that I’m letting him get to me. 

His accusation that assaulted them shreds the last of my restraint.

This was very fucking fortunate timing because it was about then that Amar called us both onto the mat. 

I think I hear Amar saying something low enough where just the two of us can hear as we both glared at each other hatefully. I think he might be trying to tell us to keep things clean but there so fucking chance of that. 

Number boy wanted to get dirty and I’m all too eager to oblige.

[afsanaas]

𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒂 𝑬𝒉𝒔𝒂𝒏...

Hello everyone, I’ve reached out to a lot of guys to plot so I figured it would be best to provide from background on Sana! Here is her very much extended bio (I had to force myself to condense things down for my application cause I realized just how long it was considering I’m adapting her from a previous character of mine). ALSO quick apology for the use of gif icons, there are not a lot of resources for Kriti available so I made a bunch of her gifs a while back and they are all icons so I’m a little stuck in that regard!

tw: emotional abuse, miscarriage, mention of death in the family

UPBRINGING

The daughter of two Muslim Indian immigrants, Sana was four years old when she came to the US. Chasing the American dream in hopes of building a better life her father had already been in Jersey when he married her mother, working on putting down roots, and gaining citizenship before he was able to have his wife and daughter move over with him. Though they made a home in the US, her parents never quite embraced America, or it’s culture. They kept themselves closed off from integration in the community they lived in, opting to only associate with other Indian muslims they either knew from back home or shared some kind of distant connection with.

The cultural barriers aside, they saw their religion as something that set them apart from others we well, never realizing that they have come to this country for the chance to gain acceptance, and to escape religious persecution. It wasn’t that they never experience bigotry, but the fact that they also experiences immense love and support from their neighbors but yet refused to embrace these positives that always bothered Sana.

It was because of this her life was always a struggle between who she was becoming, and who her parents wanted her to be. They failed to see that while they may not consider themselves to be American, she did. English was her first language, all her friends at school were people from different ethnic backgrounds, her diverse education meant she understood the fundamental need for acceptance.

As she grew older and really began to understand herself, she realized that she didn’t believe in their god, she simply didn’t believe in any god. She found the cultural norms her family followed to be oppressive, and at times suffocating yet there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Her family, and extended family, and family friends were so deeply entangled in her life that were she to say anything at all, just like that everyone she knew and cared for would distance themselves from her. She’d be ostracized, so really the only choice she has as a young adult was to keep on pretending.

No matter how much of herself she had to hide from those who were the closest to her, no matter how much doing so hurt her. She didn’t realize it at the time but she was spiraling into this endless pit of depression and anxiety.

EDUCATION

One thing her parents did value highly like most parents was the value of education. Her parents were not given the opportunities to be well educated and that’s why they brought their kids to America so that they would have those opportunities. So doing well was an expected, and school was after all her only reprieve so she put her all into it. She was a natural leader in school, involved in many extracurriculars, academic related as well as track and field, she was the first person to raise her hand in class if she knew something, and also if she required clarification not letting anyones opinion of her get in the way of her learning. As well as she did in high school it wasn’t a surprise she was able to get nearly a full ride to the college of her choice. However her choice did have to be within the approved radius of her parents choosing. Northwestern, up in Evanston was a stretch for them, but after weeks of pleading, and bargaining they agreed but only after getting her to agree to allow them to start looking for marriage prospects for her. This was something she knew was coming and had been dreading but at the time she figured it was just a matter of saying yes to get to go to the school of her dreams.

ARRANGED MARRIAGE

Never had she thought saying yes would mean they’d find someone for her in less than a year of her starting college. He was a friend of a friends son, a computer software engineer doing well for himself, living in Lincoln Park. For her parents it was perfect match, it was a family they knew well, and a guy who was financially stable, not more than a decade older than her even just twenty seven while she was barely twenty. He and his family seemed open minded, and were willing to allow her to continue to pursue her degree even after marriage, how could it be anymore perfect? And like every other thing she’s ever wanted in her life, the choice was out of her hands because it was a choice of choosing herself and her own happiness over her family. Not able to leave behind her family she reluctantly agreed after meeting the guy a couple of times. He seemed fine, there was no spark there but he seemed kind, and understanding she could definitely do worse she told herself.

Unfortunately what she failed to realized before agreeing to it all was a marriage among her community was not between a man and a woman but the two families, so very intimately involved in all their business. The plan had been to live with his parents for one year before finding their own place and building their own home, however a couple months in she could tell that was not happening. Slowly everything became harder, she felt suffocated in her relationship and under the burden of responsibilities that had fallen on her shoulders all while she was desperately trying to keep up with college, already having had to take a three quarter sabbatical. Everyday was a struggle, whether that be with her husband, her mother in law, or her bratty sister in law. She was emotionally and soon physically becoming so strained that it showed on her face, something her mother in law never failed to point out to her.

The worst thing to have happened at that point in her life was for her to become pregnant. And even worst for her husband under the instance of his mother to have tampered with her birth control (that his mother had never been happy she was taking). The pregnancy was they last straw for her however, she could not get an abortion or rather they would not let her. It was like she was trapped in a sick soap opera a cycle of abuse she had no way of escaping. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone when she miscarried, from how stressed and unhealthy she’d become in this period, no joy in her at all from the child growing inside of her. Of course she was tormented endlessly for it, her MIL having succeeded in placing a permanent wedge in her marriage, and leaving her completely isolated in her own home.

DIVORCE

Slowly she mustered up the courage then to return to college after the two years that had been wasted, it was this act of reclaiming control of her life that eventually gave her courage to get out of that toxic marriage against the will of everyone in her life. They all wanted her to compromise, give it time, try harder, but she was done trying to suppress herself for the benefit of others. She not only got her divorce but also dragged his ass to court, something no woman in her community had ever done. She get penance for her emotional trauma she suffered while in the marriage, the court ruling in her favor and ordering him to pay for the rest of her college expenses. This gave her some peace to focus her energy in earning a livable wage to support herself, she was not going to be returning to her parents home, or depending on anyone else for that matter. Soon everything was back on track she was living by herself in the city completing her bachelors and then going on to law school.

PLANS DERAILED ONCE AGAIN

Finally living her life on her own terms deciding what kind of person she wanted to be, figuring out what she believed in. College was fairly easy without any distractions holding her back. What she didn’t expect two years into law school was that her father would get a heart attack caused by her little sister getting pregnant out of wedlock. Already a heart patient who’d suffered from two minor strokes prior to this incident his heart gave out when this happened. And she found herself picking up the pieces of a family that had caused her so much pain and set her on a path of misery. After fathers passing she not only assumed the responsibility of caring after her mother and two sisters, but also the financial burden he left behind in the form of the money he’d borrowed from a crime family. 

ENTER RAFAL KOVALI

The stress of the thousands of dollars she’d inherited in debt was crippling for her, she was barely making ends meet and finishing school. It was a point in life when she was quite done with being in constant struggle to stay afloat, she wanted nothing more than a reprieve from it all. She wanted to get ahead of it, not someday, not in a few years, but now. It was then that she met Rafal Kovali, not a knight in shining armour by any stretch of the imagination but a king in his own right with midas’ touch, someone with more than enough means to lift her out of the toxic cycle of debt and despair she was trapped in.

Even despite her less than gracious introduction to him when she hadn’t a clue who he was by some miracle he seemed to be drawn to her, her beauty a factor but also her spirited nature.  She was tough, she’d had to be growing up against the odds with no one in her corner, she’d done the whole demure dignified thing and it had gotten her nowhere, she was done letting life fuck her. She knew he was a powerful man, and once she learned to what extent she decided to make her bed and sleep in it, metaphorically speaking. Her association with the Kovali has provided her for the first time some sense of security and stability, and though she realizes what a fine line she’s walking for the time being she’s willing to gamble with the odds if it means staying afloat, and staying ahead one more day.

Sana does not love the man, sleeping with him is as transactional for her as it was sleeping with her ex-husband. She realizes what that might make her, but growing up with little to no ownership of her body or her own self worth, her current situation is almost empowering. She’s given up on notions of romance she might have had as a teenage girl, she’d put those sentiments to rest the moment she signed her marriage contract years ago. Nor does she feel entirely awful about sleeping with a married man, was it anyone else she most likely would have. As pragmatic as she is she did her research and she knows enough about him and his wife to know they are not good people, in some screwed up way she’s rationalized with herself that their morally reproachable deeds obsolve her from holding any guilt for what she’s doing.

PUTTING UP HIGH WALLS

Given her struggles with herself and nearly every close relationship she’s ever had, Sana has now put up some very high walls around herself. Not allowing anything or anyone to penetrate them and bring her back to the places she’s worked so hard to escape from. She refuses to feel that lost and helpless against another person ever again. While being guarded and protecting herself is something that’s keeping her safe, it’s also holding her back from truly enjoying the freedom she finally has to be herself unapologetically, and keeping her closed off from anyone that might want to get close to her for the right reasons.

ADDITIONAL PLOTS FOR EXPLORATION

No Stopping The Heart -  Sana is very practical about most things, especially so after the end of emotionally trying marriage she’s given up on any notions of romance and a picture perfect life. While her relationship with Rafal is simply advantageous to her, she is not a disloyal person even in a relationship such as theirs. I would be interesting for her to fall for someone else. Currently she is gambling with her life something she is well aware and accepting of. Gambling with her heart however is going to be a much hard pill for her to swallow.

$470.000 Down  -  The precise amount of debt her father had collected, being uninsured and having a major surgery the first time around had been a huge burden and he’d had no choice but to borrow the money to pay for it when the debt collectors began to get particularly nasty, though it was trading one evil for another. And while Rafal may have settled that for her, she very much still sees herself indebted to him.

[junkyardlynx]

Pt. 12

The pale sun bled through rusted holes in the sheet metal, luminous shafts of light falling into the somewhat dilapidated building. I awoke slowly, my body sore and drained. It took me a minute to register the softness and warmth pressed firmly against my cheek and nose. 

I was hunched over the table where I’d performed my impromptu auto-surgery, back bent and crooked at an awkward angle, but my head was lightly held against Sarisa’s stomach. Her diaphragm rose and fell in smooth, gentle motions, tempting me back to sleep. I succumbed, nuzzling my nose against the thin fabric of her t-shirt. They really needed to make women’s clothes thicker and more hardy. I’m sure she got ripped off for this. 

As I closed my eyes, ready to sleep just a little more, my thoughts drifted back to myself and the current situation. Seems like wakefulness would keep it’s hold on me for now. My own magic was heavily depleted and my body was sluggish in healing it’s wounds. Well, wound. The really big one I made myself. Though it was at a pace quicker than the average man’s, it was still too slow for my liking. I estimated that without a font of power, a leyline, or a collection of materials to consume, it’d take me roughly three days to be back in top shape. 

I hated this weakness that permeated my cold limbs. I was reasonably sure that if she wasn’t holding my head, I’d be shivering uncontrollably. Every cell in my body screamed for rest and rejuvenation, but it wasn’t really an option. Someone had engineered this path for us, and even if they didn’t expect us to survive, they’d probably have a contingency plan in place. Like some sort of assassin sent to eliminate us or something. 

Somehow, it was hard to care. 

Part of me wanted to give up.

I’d lost my comfortable every day life AND the exciting sorcerer’s path before me in a single day. My existence was the catalyst for some dark awakening of an incalculable threat. I couldn’t even keep Sarisa safe. All I had after that was this anger in my heart, this smoldering fury that replaced my heartbeat. I remembered how I reveled in the kill, when I bit and tore like an animal.

This time, I really did shudder. I felt Sarisa move a little underneath me, clinging to my head in her sleep like a favorite pillow. I didn’t move away.  

I didn’t wanna be like that. I didn’t want to be a killer. I was cavalier about violence when it came to those that instigated it, but there was a line I never crossed. Even in my most cruel and cold moments, I never flat-out enjoyed it. Yesterday wasn’t the first time I killed. It wasn’t something new to me. To live with magic was to live with death and destruction. It was to know the cause of things like “unexplained disappearances” and “freak accidents”. You learned to shut out the guilt and the torment and the unending grief at taking the life of another living being in self-defense.

You learned to defend yourself or you died. 

I learned.

I was thirteen when I took my first life. 

My dad and I were on a “trip” over summer break, training up in the mountains. The Ural Mountains, to be precise. The whole trip had been a spur of the moment idea, brought to life when I came into my father’s sanctum to ask where we were going for my next stage of training. My father had been reading a book titled  Гибель тургруппы Дятлова, which I would learn read something along the lines of “Death of the Dyatlov Tourists.” Apparently, the incident took place sometime in 1959 and involved a group of hikers dying mysterious deaths on the Мёртвая вершина, which apparently meant “Dead Mountain.” I couldn’t read Cyrillic and didn’t speak Russian, but I spent the flight on my father’s tablet, looking up everything I could about the incident. It said that the mountain was named because of the lack of hunting game, but to me, it always seemed like an oddly morbid choice. Surely there were other features to name a mountain after.

We had set up camp in the same area as the Dyatlov group had, though we had a far easier time because, well. None of their group members could levitate or conjure fireballs. Or they chose not to for the challenge, I don’t know. I was thirteen. Anyway. My father established a cozy base camp (complete with an extremely large and fantastically orange outpost tent) and set up a small sanctum, indicating that this was where we’d be spending my entire summer break. I was overtly excited, having read the embellished accounts of what happened in this area in detail. I guess I thought I’d be the one to figure out what had really happened and blast whatever it was back to hell. Sarisa tried the same thing with me when I got home because it turned out she missed me and spent the summer trying to get Thomas to go looking for me. Almost succeeded, if not for the fact that they were turned away at the ticket gate because her mother found out about the purchase on her card. Anyway. 

I was enjoying my first mug of coffee before it happened. My actual first mug of coffee. We’d just finished elemental channeling and dad decided I deserved a little gift for my progress. Honestly, it sucked, but I loved my dad and all his weird habits, so I drank it. I snuck a little more sugar and creamer in every time he’d take a break from his research on the area to get up to check something outside, though. 

I found out what he was checking for when a blast of lightning tore a hole through our tent’s door and opened the top up to the sky. It was followed by a series of loud shouts in Russian. Emirus clicked his tongue and looked at me over his mug that said “#1 Wizard Daddy”. 

“A warning shot is it? Ah, my boy, this is a lesson for you! Never discharge deadly magic as a mere threat. If you shoot something that can kill, you aim to kill!”

In retrospect my father’s words probably should have chilled me, but in that moment, they excited me. My dad was a giddy kid and that infected me. I was thirteen and pretty sure I was invincible. 

Dad put on what he’d affectionately call his “war face” and took the dramatic entrance, levitating himself out of the hole in the tent not with pure magic power, but with static discharge. Lances of thunder crackled off his body and he regarded our guests with sheer contempt. Pointing a finger at a wire of a man in full snow gear, probably in his late thirties to early forties, my father spoke.

Dad looked a lot like Dracula from those Castlevania games, now that I think about it. I’d stepped outside with my hot mug in my hands, sipping it and watching the proceedings. I felt strangely detached from it all, like I knew nothing was going to happen. 

“I’m trying to teach my son about an important piece of recent history! What business does the Russian government have with us? We were enjoying a sensible moment of father-son bonding.”

I still can’t believe to this day that he regarded a commando unit of Russian sorcerers like he was the one being inconvenienced. I mean, I can, but who does that? My dad, I guess.

“Emirus Culaine, you and yours have trespassed upon land under the governance of the Russian konfederatsiya koldunov. All outside investigation and exploration of the Dyatlov Pass must be processed by said confederacy of sorcerers.”

“Oh, you didn’t get the request? I put it in months ago. I had this planned for a while, you see.” 

My father, still dramatically crackling like a god of thunder in the air, scratched his chin. Holy shit dad, I can tell you’re lying. They probably can too.

“We have no records of this. I will have to ask you to vacate the premises immediately and turn over any research materials you may have produced in this time.”

As the commander spoke, I regarded the soldiers that had begun to take up firing positions around the camp. A sixth sense - honed by training with my father in perilous conditions - was screaming for me to take cover. I could almost feel the killing intent washing off of them as they raised their weapons. Some drew rifles, some drew magical foci, the others drew melee weapons. Instead, I spoke. Maybe I could get them to leave if I used my childlike innocence or whatever?

“Hey dad, didn’t you leave that one grimoire back at the hotel in Ivdel? It read like...koldunov gibel dyatlov...a?” I hastily conjured up a lie, using the very few Russian words I’d heard recently in an attempt to make up a book title. I’m pretty sure what I said was approaching nonsense, but the commander snapped his attention to me like I was the true target all along. I think he just realized I was there, actually.

Oh man, I messed up, huh?

“Kill the sorcerer, apprehend the child. He will suffice.”

Everything was kind of a blur after those words. Kill? Like, my dad? You guys are dumb. Knowing I could still end up an accidental victim caused me to dive back into the tent, conjuring up a shell of ice to hide under. It seemed like ice magic always came way more easily to me than any other. Dad said I got it from my mom. 

Bolts of lightning discharged from my father’s floating form, striking down a full third of the assailants before they could react. Bullets whizzed through the air but the static energy radiating off Emirus seemed to deflect all of them. Spells were turned away just as easily, causing the four basic elements to crash into the snowdrifts and mountain crags. I briefly wondered about avalanches before shaking my head, hiding under my ice shell for cover.

I thought it was safe once all the sound had stopped. Fires burned, crackling on the shattered bodies of the soldiers, all reduced to piles of scorched meat by my father’s power. I’d seen bodies before in our necromantic studies, but... the smell reminded me of bacon, and my stomach turned over. I emptied my first cup of coffee into the snow, breakfast soon following. Everything seemed less and less real. 

A lot of kids think their dad is the coolest or strongest or the best at Mario Kart or whatever, but in my case, my dad really was the strongest. He proved it. He staked his claim on his existence by destroying anything that threatened it with unrelenting power. The beautiful and hazy idea of my father as “the strongest” was suddenly a concrete and scary fact. 

He was the strongest because the breadth and scope of his existence wouldn’t allow anything that opposed him to exist.

I wobbled a bit, bent over in the snow, drool and spittle leaking from my lips. I heard something crunching in the snow and assumed it was dad. My body slackened in relief.

“I’m okay, dad. Sorry, I ju-”

A horrific wail pierced the lightly falling snow of the afternoon as the thing crunching the wet snow behind me flung itself on top of me. A caricature of a man, wiry and thin with most of his features melted or scorched off, grappled for my throat, shattered and broken teeth gnashing fruitlessly. I shrieked as a bloody froth fell on my face and his blistered fingers tightened around my throat. I clawed at his hands desperately, even has he whispered hoarsely.

“Dyatlov...it’s mine it’s mine it’s mine it’s mine...it must...remain fed..ah, it’s mine, it’s mine it’s mine....it’s mine...”

As my vision darkened, a voice seemed to whisper to me in my own head. Soft and comforting, musical, simultaneously chilling and warm, majestic. Feminine and masculine. It reminded me of my mother’s voice, but I knew it wasn’t. It seemed to dance around the blackness in my eyes, like it had a form I simply couldn’t see.

Snow child, why do you not brush this nuisance off?

Because I can’t, I replied.

Snow child, why do you lie in the face of death?

Because I’m afraid, I replied.

Snow child, why are you afraid?

Because...I don’t want to kill somebody, I replied.

Snow child, is your existence worth this little?

I just don’t want to kill people, I cried.

Snow child, is your father’s retaliation wrong?

I just don’t want anyone else to die, I cried.

Snow child, this man is killing you.

Am I supposed to kill him, then? I cried.

Snow child, you live in the embrace of death. Embrace it in turn.

Will I be forgiven? I begged.

There is nothing to forgive, son of snow.

I’m not sure how long the conversation in my head lasted, but it couldn’t have been more than a second. It was like all the power in my veins turned to ice and rippled outwards. The hands around my neck went slack, and when my vision returned, I had jammed a thin blade of ice through the commander’s melted and gashed forehead.

We returned early. My father said that he’d found out all he needed to know about Dyatlov Pass and that we’d return one day to set things right. At first, I thought he meant with the Russian magical authorities, but I realized he meant with the Pass itself. After all, the commander had spoken of something that needed to be fed, and my father had acted in self defense.

When I returned home, my mother found me right away. Her embrace was warm, her skin as cool as it ever was. Her red eyes dripping tears and her short black hair even more disheveled than usual, she pulled me close.. She must have really missed me, I thought. Sorry, mom. I did something wrong, but I feel like it’ll be okay somehow. I won’t be weak again.

Now that I think back on it, I think she knew something inside of me had changed. Something had awoken that she’d hoped would sleep a little longer, if not forever.

I modeled myself after my father. I defended myself voraciously, actively, coldly. I closed my heart off to the pain that resonated inside of it when I took a life to preserve my own. I drowned the guilt in laughter and the comfort of friends. I turned a blind eye to the injustice wrought by forgetting the dead.

That seemed to be coming to an end, though. Seems like I’d realized that somewhere along the way, I’d started to enjoy those attempts on my life. I’d enjoyed proving my existence the superior one and it broke my own heart. I wonder if my dad wrestled with this? Probably. He was old - all great sorcerers were capable of stopping their own aging and reversing senescence, so I thought nothing of my parents and their ages. They’d probably both grappled with this issue. 

I wonder if they felt as I did, though. I wonder if they would forgive me.

It was only when I woke that I realized I had been been asleep at all, much less dreaming of my childhood. Sarisa’s fingers were in my hair again, and she looked at me with a distressed smile.

“You okay? You’re crying.”

“Yeah, I was just dreaming of playing Knights of the Old Republic 3 and realized it’s never happening.”

“Idiot.” 

She tugged my hair and I winced, both at the slight jolt of pain and the realization that I was still absolutely disgusting. I wanted to ask her to get her fingers out of my hair, but the comfort her actions brought kept me pitifully silent.

We dozed together in the late morning sun for a few moments, talking about nothing in particular. When I went to raise my head off her stomach, she gently but firmly guided it back down. Told me it comforted her as much as it comforted me. I decided to talk about what happened last night and where to go from here.

I was in the middle of recounting what happened with Amduisas as a change in the air alerted me to danger. That sixth sense I’d developed prodigiously over the years screamed at me that someone unknown was close. Something wavering on the thin edge of hostility.

“Sarisa-”

“Yeah, we have a visitor.”

[hazeleyedfloozy]

Work of Art. Part 1.

Heyyyyy friends so i haven’t written in a really long while because my life has been a real shit show. But now that it’s getting back to normal; I’m gonna try to write again. This a John Deacon x OC because I need me some COMFORT. And if I can’t have it I’ll write about instead. OKAY BYE. 

Warnings: Mentions of death, drunk driving, anxiety. Funerals, loss, angst angst angsty angst. 

Bouquets of flowers cluttered the dining table, counter space and foyer of the now very empty home. The smell of wilting plants invaded her lungs as she attempted to pour a bowl of cereal.

It had been five days since the funeral.  Two weeks since the accident. And what seem like an endless amount nights since her entire life fell apart. The walls were still hung with treasured photographs of the lives that had been so selfishly taken. A loving, somewhat dysfunctional family torn apart over such a stupid decision.

If I ever have the opportunity, I’ll kill him myself. That was the only phrase that ran through her head over the past week and a half.

Her parents and younger brother had been involved in a car accident, her parents killed instantly from impact. Thankfully, her brother was only banged up slightly; a broken rib and concussion. The accident was caused by a drunk driver; slamming into the Ford Cortina that had been so deeply loved by the family.

She’d heard so many people. So many voices complementing how well she was taking all of this. How strong she was for her brother; still an adolescent. How well she was keeping everything together. She could only nod and whisper a small “thank you” ; careful to not express any real emotions.

Her brother had returned to classes today; and she attempted to return to work that morning. Unable to reach the front door without a considerable amount of difficulty, her boss had recommended she take another week off.

She promised him she’d be back tomorrow morning; them both knowing full well that probably wasn’t the case.

What made matters worse; is that her childhood best friend; the love of her life… was nowhere to be found. John Deacon had become her best friend after a dare on the playground had gone sour; both too nervous to kiss the other on the lips. (The then eleven year olds promised they’d wait until they were ready. That day never came.)  Unable to form a full sentence for the first few days following the accident; she didn’t bother calling him. When Brian (the lead guitarist from his band) phoned to acknowledge his condolences; even offering to come home early from the tour to be there for her… and yet he still didn’t bother to even write. She’d wanted to feel angry. To feel upset. To be heartbroken over the fact that her best friend couldn’t make it to her parent’s joint funeral.

It was a celebration of life, really. She didn’t want people reliving her trauma for hours on end; it was enough to experience it in cinemascope every moment of every day.

The doorbell rang; jolting her out of the trance she was in. Dropping a Lily she’d picked from one of the many arrangements that had been sent to the house over the past few weeks. She was growing bored of them, really.

Knowing it was either another floral arrangement or takeaway from a concerned neighbor; she opened the door slowly.

It was neither.

John stood in front on the other side of the door frame; a single red rose outstretched to her. Her mouth dropped a bit; blinking furiously at the long haired, handsome man. His eyes met hers softly; him recognizing the pain hiding in them so effortlessly. The guard and shield did not have to be present around John. She’d been bullied, almost tormented through their years of school. For her height, untamable curly auburn hair, and freckles cascading over every free patch of skin. She’d been through the worst (or what she thought was the worst) with him. She’d been through the best next to him, too. The success of his band; her graduation from art school and subsequent portfolio showing at a fancy, London hotel. When the band really started to grow; she’d been put to the wayside. (Or so it felt that way.) The last time they’d had an actual conversation on the telephone was on her birthday, eight months ago. He’d tried to protect her from the media, from obnoxious names in the music industry who’d made fun of the lass when she’d left a party at Freddie’s one evening. He vowed to never let them hurt her again; thus distancing himself from her completely. (Even if it meant breaking his own heart in the process)

“Niamh… you look… tired.” He spoke softly, breaking the awkward silence with a knife.

“Did Brian send you?” Niamh asked flatly, letting him stand in the entryway of the house.

“Freddie mentioned it… actually.”

“Of course he did. As if the four bouquets and takeaway twice a week wasn’t enough.” Niamh rolled her eyes, attempting to quite literally shut the shy bassist out of her home.

“Niamh! You can ignore me all you want. But I’m just here to try and make sure you’re keeping yourself well. The band is concerned.” He rushed out; hoping the words would hit her ears before the door latched shut.

“And why should they be? Loss is a part of life. All of you know this.”

“They’re hoping you’ll come out on tour with us.”

“As if I don’t have a life here? As if I don’t have a brother that is LITERALLY my responsibility, John?! But of course you don’t know any of that because you’ve pushed me out of your life.”

“Life gets busy… I just…”

“You didn’t want the public to know about me. About your friendship with the ugly, freckle faced girl from a crappy part of London.” Niamh croaked.

Rain started to fall against the shutters of the once beloved home; now filled with distant memories and painful reminders of all that was lost. She motioned from him to come inside.

“I was trying to protect you, love.”

“Protect me from what, John? That’s not a fucking excuse.” She whispered tearfully, slamming the door shut. The impact of the noise making John’s shoulders jump.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.. love.”

“That’s the last thing I need to hear right now.” Niamh wrapped her arms around herself, keeping her guard up higher than usual.

“What do you need to hear? What can I do, Niamh?”

The cold, frigid exterior she kept was melting away as her heart began process what was actually happening. Her childhood best friend standing in her in her living room; the backdrop of childhood paintings and vacation photos spread across every single each of wall.

“I do believe this oil painting was created right after our first album was released.” John giggled softly, his hand brushing against the artwork.

“You never quite learned to not touch the masterpieces, hm?” Niamh joked.

The only masterpiece I want to touch is you. He thought to himself. He’d harbored feelings for Niamh longer than any one human should; unable to let her go. Unable to get the fire haired, ferocious woman out of his head. Whenever Freddie would sing the haunting lyrics of “Love of my Life.” in concerts and gigs, he’d think of the girl he’d always dreamt of kissing. The girl he knew he would spend the rest of his life pining for.

But I’d rather spend one hundred years pining after you; than losing you because of a puppy dog crush. He’d tell himself as Freddie finished out the beloved song.

“I hung all of these a couple of nights ago when I couldn’t sleep. It makes them seem closer somehow.” Niamh’s eyes filed with hot tears. She grabbed ahold of the pencil silhouette she’d done of John about one year before Queen experienced their first surge of success.

“I meant to always give you this… but… I never did because I felt like you were here with me… even when you were…”

“Countries away?”

She nodded softly.

“I miss you, Niamh. I want you in my life forever.”

“Then why did you leave in the first place John?!” She screeched, her voice almost hoarse. A hand flew over her trembling lips; stifling a sob.

“I’m so sorry… please… let me back in… anything I can do… I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t even know what I need right now.”

“Well I’ll stay until we figure it out. Together. We can have a fresh start. Together.”

She could only nod; the sobs controlling her entire being. He felt his heart shatter as he watched his best friend in such a state of misery. To see the strong, beautiful woman he’d fallen so deeply in love with, so broken and in a state of mourning. She turned to face him; her broken eyes filled with such exhaustion. Instinctively; he wrapped her in his arms. It was an awkward angle; as she quite literally towered over him at 6’4.

“As much as I enjoy holding you, I do believe this isn’t comfortable for either of us.” He suggested, nudging her side. She tipped her head back, laughing the hoarse laugh he’d treasured all of these years.

“Lets get you to bed.” He whispered, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. She agreed, her body so exhausted from almost two weeks worth of little to no sleep.

Softly climbing the stairs; she’d taken the lead, wanting to retreat to her comforting bed.

He smiled at her room; unchanged since the last time he’d come to visit. The same photo from a summer night was placed on her nightstand. He had decided to play “leapfrog” only to have Niamh’s younger brother capture it on film. Gently pulling the quilts over her (what seemed tiny when she was in such a state of disbelief and heartache) frame; he kissed her forehead. Grabbing an extra pillow and blanket from the linen closet; he plopped himself down on the floor of her childhood bedroom. “The floor cannot be comfortable. You’re not seventeen anymore.”

“Still used to…”

“My Mum threatening to call your Mum if you tried any ‘funny business’ when you crashed here?” Niamh laughed.

“Come up here. It’s fine, really.” She convinced him. Thanking the gods above that he wouldn’t wake up with a stiff back; he settled in beside her.

“It feels good to have you home.” She whispered, before letting her eyes droop shut.

“Home.”