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waywardsalt · 3 months ago

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finally got around to putting together elden ring builds for the post-ph crew, and tested them out briefly, so here are the builds i came up with and all that! (absolutely a very long post, i had fun explaining a lot of my reasoning)

i'm not going to give them exact stats, just some vague idea of what they'd likely lean towards, and i can't say much to what equip load they have. when i tested these builds out i had 72 endurance. this uses exclusively base-game equipment since i don’t have the dlc and wanted to test these out for myself.

i also don’t use many spells or any incantations so the spell and incantation choices are mostly based on wiki descriptions and whether or not i felt it would fit the character.

some context is that this is with the idea that somehow these four get zapped into the lands between as tarnished, and this is the equipment i think they’d use, disregarding what is needed to access most of this stuff.

i also didn't change my tarnished's appearance for these, not that i think i could accurately replicate these four in elden ring's character creator, anyways, so you get to see my tarnished's face with all of these :)

Link:

His armor is: the highwayman hood, the blue cloth vest, exile gauntlets, and Carian knight greaves.

There's practically no green armor in this game, and what is there isn't really armor and isn’t exactly good protection. I wanted a bit of a balance between just cloth, but also some armor, as well as a headpiece somewhat like the usual hero's cap. The highwayman's hood works well enough, honestly, and I think it fits in well with the blue cloth vest; plus, I can see it being helpful in keeping dust and whatnot out of his eyes. Blue works well enough with Link nowadays, and I do think the blue cloth vest actually fits Link well enough- I doubt he'd want to wear something like a plate breastplate, so a vest like this is good.

The exile gauntlets I feel work well, they're simple and slim with some decent coverage, and the Carian knight graves not only look great with the blue cloth vest, but are also something that I believe fits Link, and the tall boots are likely decently practical in the same vein as the hood.

His weapons I chose are: The Carian knight's sword, with the pulley bow as a secondary weapon, and the Carian knight's shield in his offhand, with the academy glintstone staff as a secondary.

He obviously had to be the good standard sword-and-shield combo fighter, but I went ahead and gave him with Carian sword and shield partially because they look decently similar to what weapons he normally uses, but also because I enjoy the idea of him dabbling in magic along with typical damage types. The Carian sword does a good bit of magic damage along with standard, and the shield guards again both of those types, and the sword's unique ash of war (Carian Grandeur) is a good mix between swordfighting and magic, and actually really good to use in-game. I feel like they suit him well.

For his secondaries, I had to give him a bow, and I feel like the pulley bow is just right, especially with it's special feature of having increased range. I could see him being the one tasked with deactivating faraway traps and hunting the animals of the Lands Between for materials, and even just luring enemies with some normal arrows.

The academy glintstone staff is a solid staff (and the one I personally use), and him using magic is a good way to translate his usual versatility, though I only limited him to five spells, those being:

Loretta's greatbow, giving him what is technically now a second bow, and a pretty good spell for luring and doing some decent magic damage,

Magma shot, a good, simple fire damage spell,

Glintstone Icecrag, a good ice spell, especially for causing frostbite buildup,

Great glintstone shard, a very basic but reliable spell, and is good when cast a few times in succession,

and Thops' barrier, for deflecting magic attacks, and though I've heard it's a mediocre spell, I could see Link getting the timing down and getting some good usage out of it. I tried giving him a decent range of spells, which is a little bit easier said then done considering the actual spell variety and wanting to pick spell that I think suit Link, but I think this is a good lineup.

For talismans, assuming that all four of them have all four talisman slots open, Link gets the silver scarab, the graven-mass talisman, the erdtree's favor +2, and the companion jar.

The silver scarab, raising item discovery is... perfect for Link. It only feels right that he gets a talisman that makes him more likely to get items off enemies. It definitely works, too, while testing, I got way more items out of the gatefront ruins group than I'd ever seen before.

The graven-mass talisman boosts sorcery power, which is certainly perfect for boosting Link's versatility and magic power, simple and useful.

The erdtree’s favor +2 is just an all-around great talisman to use for the hp, mp, and stamina boost, and it feels perfect as something for Link to use, especially to increase his effectiveness and endurance in battle.

And then the companion jar, which goes hand-in-hand with him also being a pot user to further his versatility, and it’s very easy to see him doing the Jar-Bairn side quest. My choices here disregard how the items are obtained, but I could absolutely see Link going out of his way to interact with Jarburg.

Link’s standard fighter, with a balance between offense and defense and physical and magical damage with a slight leaning towards magical, and the main archer who aims to do more damage with archery, and uses pots when needed. He’s probably the one ‘leading the charge’ in that he’s suited for most situations, but isn’t necessarily the most effective in all-out combat- he is the most defensively oriented, however. He’s likely in the mid-to-light equip range, and likely mostly levels Strength and Intelligence to keep his damage up, and focuses a lot on keeping his Vigor up for a good chunk of health.

Linebeck:

His armor is: the black knife armor, the gauntlets, and bandit boots.

The black knife armor is the most important part of the set, not just for it being a nice blue, but because it has the unique effect of completely silencing your movement sounds- perfect for steal and getting in a good number of sneak attacks. It’s light, too, and so are the generally standard gauntlets and bandit boots, all put together for a general… blue rogue kind of look? It’s practicality and some looks and all put around the idea that he’s going to be sneaking around and panic-rolling out of the enemy’s way- so his defenses are a bit lacking in favor of mobility. I do think it’s a good look overall.

His weapons are: A bloody antspur rapier with the poison mist ash of war, the redbranch shortbow as a secondary weapon, and the frozen needle in the offhand.

For Linebeck's build, it was either daggers or rapiers, and the extra damage, range, and great designs for the rapier won out- and I think rapiers suit him well. This specific pair of rapiers are oriented around inflicting ailments, with the frozen needle inflicting frostbite, and the antspur rapier- specifically with the poison mist ash of war and blood upgrade- can inflict scarlet rot, bloodloss, and poison with poison mist active. With the blood upgrade, the scarlet rot buildup suffers, but with the speed of rapiers and just how effective scarlet rot can be, it's a decent trade-off for the ability to do four ailments at once. His role in the Radahn fight is to inflict scarlet rot and then run off to snipe him with the redbranch shortbow, which is a simple ranged option, and helps with further ailment inflicting with ailment arrows.

His damage would probably be pretty decent, especially considering inflicting frostbite and his equipped talismans, but he's mostly going to be heading in with everyone and sticking around until proccing an ailment, and then backing off, especially if poison, rot, or frostbite are inflicted. Plus I think dual rapiers look great and it's very easy to see Linebeck using rapiers.

For talismans, he gets the gold scarab, the assassin's crimson dagger, the dagger talisman, and the blessed dew talisman.

The gold scarab boost rune acquisition by 20%. It's perfect. It's one of my favorite talismans. I can't make an Elden Ring build for Linebeck and NOT give him the money-boosting talisman.

The assassin's crimson dagger restores hp upon successful critical hits, and paired with the silencing effect of the black knife armor, is perfect for someone who's more used to sneaking around and taking down enemies from behind- and it's good for topping off your hp.

The dagger talisman boosts critical damage- so then making sneak attacks all the more effective, and even making any critical hits he manages in fights do much more damage.

And then the blessed dew talisman gives you a very minuscule constant hp regen, about 2 hp per second iirc. It’s incredibly slow, but it's hp regen all the same, good for saving flask uses and good for some health regeneration if you back out of the main fight.

Linebeck's got a big focus on stealth and ailments, with just a bit of health regen tossed in with the talismans to help with survivability. his weapons and offhand options are mainly based around ailments, and besides the bow, he tends to use darts and other throwable items, and is often the one to pick off enemies at the edge of a group while the others go in to the handle the main group. With bosses, he's in the front lines until an ailment is inflicted, and will jump back in either if he's really needed, or if ailments are needed again. For longer bosses, or bosses immune to a few ailments, he would probably find moments to jump in and get a bunch of quick hits in, then back out and wait for another opening. Rapiers are pretty good for quick hits considering that I believe you actually get three attacks from a dual-rapier sprint attack. He’d likely have a focus on Dexterity and Arcane, with some Endurance mixed in for that good running and rolling stamina.

Damien:

His armor is; the sacred crown helm, exile armor, crucible gauntlets, and drake knight greaves.

Picking armor for Damien was a bit of a challenge since he’s still a bit of a work in progress and I usually picture him in generally casual clothes, but I knew I wanted to stick with some red clothing and put together a bit more of a practical sort of outfit. Plus this end result kind of helps me further figure out Damien’s actual design and outfit variations.

I knew I wanted to give him one of the simple footsoldier helmets, and the sacred crown helm won out with the additional detail of the little vine-looking wreath, plus the minor faith boost. It’s a nice little helmet and I think it suits him. The exile armor was considered due to the red cloth around the shoulders, and was properly decided on when I found that the helmet got rid of the cloth covering the bottom half of the face. So it’s a good solid chest piece.

The crucible gauntlets and drake knight greaves work both with color and giving him some more armored extremities, the crucible gauntlets are pretty good heavy armor gauntlets, if the crucible knights themselves are anything to go by, and the drake knight graves seem to have a good bit of practicality with the high boots and armor. It’s all meant to end up somewhere in the medium equip load area, for a balance between defense and speed, and the lighter helmet and chest piece were primarily to even out with the heavier weapons.

The weapons he gets are: the axe of Godrick, the highland axe as a secondary, and the clawmark seal.

The axe of Godrick is a pretty good greataxe with what selection there is, some good damage and a really good ash of war skill with a really good area of effect. It’s fantastic for crowd control when two-handed, and worked pretty well for me when I tested it out without having upgraded it. It’s all in all a great standard axe. The highland axe as a secondary is used partially as a faster one-hand option, and partially for the boost given by its war cry ash of war. The axe of Godrick is almost always what he’d use, but the highland axe is probably better for some specific situations. Damien was always going to end up using axes, and I think these two are pretty good and fitting.

In his other hand is the clawmark seal- scaling with faith and strength and so working well with him relying on strength, and boosting bestial incantations, of which he has one- and he mostly uses support incantations with some minor attack incantations- but he is primarily support, usually backing out of the fight to switch to casting due to usually two-handing the axe of Godrick. He gets six incantations, those being:

Heal, as a very standard heal, mostly just for himself,

Erdtree heal, a heal more intended for group healing,

Golden vow, a group offense and defense buff for a time,

Protection of the erdtree, for increased non-physical defense, which is likely useful for many bosses,

Bestial sling, which is a pretty basic but effective attack incantation, and boosted by the seal he uses, and is probably great in tandem with his axes to break an enemy's poise,

and then Dragonclaw as his final spell, a stronger and closer-up attack spell, likely for individual bosses that are lower on hp.

His offenses are standard and meant to be pretty decent for crowd control and poise-breaking, so his attack spells follow suite, while his support options are based around healing and some basic buffs. I personally do not use buffs or incantations when I play, so I do not know the nuances of a lot of this stuff, but Damien's got a good set of incantations to use.

Damien's set of talismans are the green turtle talisman, the mottled necklace +1, the axe talisman, and the bull-goat's talisman.

The green turtle talisman is a great talisman, simply increasing the speed of stamina regeneration, and it's a fantastic talisman. Very useful with the stamina drained by axe attacks and backing off to cast spells.

The mottled necklace boosts immunity, robustness, and focus, an across-the-board status boost, and I imagine it's useful for being up close with enemies and then staying alive to help with support- even if he doesn't have much in the way of ailment-based support.

The axe talisman is a damage booster, and considering his decent poise, charged attacks are pretty viable for him to be using.

The bull-goat's talisman is standard but very effective in practice (or maybe that's me being used to low poise), as it raises poise, therefore making it harder for you to flinch or be knocked out of an attack. Very helpful with a slower main weapon like the axe of Godrick.

Damien's standard all around, with pretty good damage and likely very helpful with crowd control, usually two-handing the axe for maximum damage and will back off when using incantations. He primarily uses incantations for support, and the offensive incantations are usually saved for bosses or rougher encounters- or sometimes just if he wants to switch things up for fun. He's likely going to focus on Strength and Faith, with some Mind thrown in for most casts.

Bellum:

His armor is: the altered tree sentinel armor, and the malformed dragon gauntlets and greaves.

Chosen partially for the color and because they're all heavy plate armor; meant to emulate a lot of the phantom designs, and for that yellow color, and I wasn't even aware that the malformed dragon gauntlets had a darker color until I was initially putting this together. Heavy armor fits with a desire to survive in battle, plus I think decent mobility in heavy armor suits Bellum; when I tested this out, I was firmly in medium equip load territory, plus it made for a good bit of poise to go with slower weapons. It wasn't too hard to pick out armor for him.

The weapons I felt suit him are: the blasphemous blade, the Marais executioner's sword, with the gravel stone seal as a secondary.

The blasphemous blade was practically necessary, a greatsword with the bonus effect of hp restoration on enemy death, plus the Taker's Flames skill, which also heals hp when it hits an enemy. This is was made me decide on greatswords over colossal weapons, trying to stick a bit with some ideas from the phantoms, plus the hp-leeching effects, plus it’s a pretty good weapon and I think it originally belonging to Rykard also fits pretty well; it’s Bellum’s main weapon unless he switches to the Marais Executioner’s sword for it’s specific skill. That sword is mostly chosen for it’s skill, as well as it’s origins- those bell-bearing hunters are absolute nightmares to deal with- so the two swords are kind of also picked for a sort of intimidation effect. At least the wriggling flesh on the blasphemous blade does the job well enough if someone doesn’t know the origins (which don’t practically matter). He would likely switch to the executioner’s sword for some boss fights, and its skill can be highly damaging to lone enemies- the focus with these two is on heavy damage and hp regen.

The secondary left hand weapon he has is the gravel stone seal, which boost dragon incantations, and so he only uses offense incantations, with a lot of incantations that cover a wide area and some that inflict ailment buildup. Bellum gets five incantations, all attacks (and all maybe emulating the idea that he’s a monster forced to be human in the lands between lol);

Beast claw, a pretty standard but pretty effective ground-level attack,

Unendurable frenzy, a wide range, fiery madness-inflicting incantation that, while only inflicting madness on a select few enemies (and himself) is likely more than useful for crowds and large enemies,

Rotten breath, a dragon communion incantation that is about what it says on the tin, a dragon’s breath attack that inflicts scarlet rot,

Fortissax’s lightning spear, another dragon incantation that summons a pair of lightning spears, with the damage at it’s best up close,

and Aspects of the crucible: tail, a wide-range crucible incantation, and the most fitting of the crucible incantations, I feel.

He has no issue getting up close to bosses, since he can fall back on the honestly insane hp regen he’s afforded by both his main weapon and some of his talismans.

The talismans Bellum gets are; the taker’s cameo, the dragoncrest greatshield talisman, the pearldrake talisman +2, and the godskin swaddling cloth.

The taker’s token has the same passive effect as the blasphemous blade; hp restoration upon enemy death. The fun part is that the taker’s token and the blasphemous blade’s hp regen effects stack with each other.

The dragoncrest greatshield talisman reduces physical damage by 20%, and the pearldrake talisman +2 reduces non-physical damage by about 11%. Covering just about all defenses with these two talismans.

The godskin swaddling cloth allows for additional minor hp restoration upon landing a certain number of melee hits within a short timeframe. This could be harder with greatswords, but with dual greatswords and jumping right into the action, I don’t imagine it’s at all impossible for the talisman’s effect to never trigger. As always, it’s extra effective with a larger number of enemies.

Bellum’s the main damage-dealer with a focus on staying power and lots of hp regen, using the blasphemous blade for regular battles while switching to the executioner’s sword for bosses due to the more aggressive ash of war. His incantations are more often used for crowd control, but are absolutely effect for boss battles, especially when given time to charge them up. He’s all about staying power and straightforward damage-dealing, with some decent poise to back things up despite his checking piece being altered and his lack of a helmet, and all of his incantations are a bit more bestially-inclined. He'd probably focus on Vigor and Strength, with some Faith or Dexterity thrown in for damage-dealing.

Overall, the idea is that the four of them are in the lands between like this, working and running around together, probably fighting over what bosses to go after next and whether or not to head into the catacombs that one of them just spotted. I could see them taking the time to scour the lands between for every little trinket and discussing whether or not to bother with some character's quest. Not too different from actual post-ph stuff, but it's fun to put them in Elden Ring and think on what kinds of equipment to give them and what would suit them.

#salty talks #elden ring #post-ph #ppl checking out the elden ring tag for normal elden ring stuff disregard this dw abt it i have this tagged for my own organization #of these four linebeck's was the most fun to actually use but its mostly bc its the most similar to my usual build #bellum's was kinda cumbersome but god i hated link's i never want to use a shield i almost died testing out link's #which is fuckin saying something at gatefront ruins at level 218 #i didnt test out any of the magic bc. number 1 i have 10 faith. and number two i picked these off fextralife wiki #long post #bellum HAD to use the blasphemous blade its perfect its a big sword that has an hp regen skill and regens hp when you kill something #and has nasty little moving bits of flesh on it. cant see it in the picture ofc but know that in game the red bits wriggle i like it #sorry if the pictures are big btw tbh they look better on mobile #the angle on damien's is awkward bc i wanted to get the whole axe on screen. thats the only reason why his is a little weird #prolly worth mentioning that i didnt alter my stats at all so the 'build' is like the equipment and stuff.#tbh thats probably why my damage with the bellum build suffered bc i have 10 faith and the blasphemous blade scales with faith #anyways listed all equipment and whatnot if anyone wanted the specifics of this stuff #im not great at like. putting together outfits in elden ring i figured out my tarnished's fit early on and stuck with it #theres a very good chance that my own playstyle and experience with the game influenced these like. i do not touch incantations for one #and ive been dual wielding since as soon as i figured it out and got two straight swords #iirc i briefly used rock sling bc you can get that really early but eh #thinking abt it now this also translates pretty well to traditional rpg party roles. standard link with all around decent stats but high #versatility and a lot of options. linebecks more speed and ailment-inflicting based. damien is high standard damage but a much more support #and healing based with a few basic standard damage spells. and bellum is more dedicated offense and defense with a focus on staying power #without any group support or other traits- just high offense high defense #if you wanna know what my tarnished looks like know this is inaccurate bc ive since tweaked her #the hp regen on bellums is wild when i cleared out gatefront like every few seconds id heard the hp steal sound effect it was nuts #no notes on damiens his was was surprisingly easy to get a handle of and is great with crowds #you can probably tell from the way this is written that it took me fucking forever to write up

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chaosoftheages · 5 months ago

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Victim to Purple, escaping Luna's agents with a stolen car: Sorry, but your dad and the man that I love are in the clutches of a psychopath, and we're being chased by her lackeys, so we kinda have to speed up and-*realizes what he just said*-Fuck."

Purple, who called it: You ain't fooling nobody, because the entire car heard that.

Victim, now a tomato: God fuck-

#autumn being autumn #adventures in stick city by autumnviolajayy #this came to me while I was writing so I had to scrap my original plan for them but yk what #screw that #this is funnuer #this is also an actual excerpt from chapter 6 while the gang does a high speed chase on the freeway #while Luna just chills at the base like “What the fuck-”#Meanwhile King and the others are hyping the entire thing up

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byoldervine · 8 months ago

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How To (Realistically) Make A Habit Of Writing

To clarify: Works with my autism. WORKS WITH MY AUTISM!!! I’ve been meeting my goals since I made them my New Year’s resolution! Anyway I’m so sick of all those ‘how to’ guides that don’t actually tell you what the process is they’re just like ‘just do it, but don’t burn yourself out, do what’s best for you!’ because you’re not telling me what I’m not supposed to be burning myself out over but okay, so I made my own. Hope this helps

1. Choose your fighter metric. What works better for you as a measurement of your progress; time spent writing or your word count? Personally I get very motivated and encouraged by seeing my word count go up and making a note of where it should be when I’m done, so I measure by that. At the same time, a lot of people are also very discouraged by their word count and it can negatively impact their motivation to write, and in that case you may be better off working from how much time you spend writing rather than where the word count is

2. Choose your starter Pokémon time frame. How often can you write before it starts to feel like a chore or a burden rather than something fun you look forward to? Many people believe that they have to write daily, but for some people this can do more harm than good. Maybe every two or three days? Weekly? Figure out what fits your schedule and go with it

3. Choose your funny third joke goal. Now that you’ve got your chosen time frame to complete your goal in, what’s a reasonable goal to aim to complete within that time frame based on the metric you chose? If your metric is your word count, how much can you reasonably and consistently write within your chosen time frame? If your metric is time spent writing, how much time can you reasonably and consistently spend writing within that time? Maybe 1000 words per week works, or maybe 10 minutes per day? The goal here is to find something that works for you and your own schedule without burning you out

4. Trial and error. Experiment with your new target and adapt it accordingly. Most people can’t consistently write 1667 words per day like you do in NaNoWriMo, so we want to avoid that and aim somewhere more reasonable. If you feel like it’s too much to do in such a short time frame, either give yourself less to do or more time to do it in. If you find yourself begrudgingly writing so often that it constantly feels more like a chore than something fun, maybe consider adapting things. And if you think that you gave yourself too much wiggle room and you could do more than this consistently, give yourself more of a challenge. Everything needs to suit you and your pace and needs

5. Run your own race. Don’t feel like you’re not accomplishing enough in comparison to others or not working fast enough to satisfy some arbitrary feeling of doubt. Everybody works at their own pace and slower work doesn’t mean worse work. You could be on one word per day and you’ll still see consistent results, which is still one word per day more than you could originally count on. All progress is progress, regardless of its speed

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lady-merian · 1 year ago

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The Tiffany Problem

Here it is, all in one convenient post :D a huge thank you to @valiantarcher for beta reading and catching so many errors and offering advice on some rough spots. edit: whoops forgot to tag @inklings-challenge in my excitement

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything quite like it; a storm blowing a tree over and leaving a girl in it’s wake. She had a dazed look about her, and was dressed in the oddest clothes . A short green tunic and long blue trousers. Short boots with dingy white lacing and a flower crown in her shoulder-length nut-brown hair.

It was the flower crown that decided it for me. If not for that, I might’ve thought she was one of old Halsey’s stablehands, following behind me. Oh yes. Come one and all; a knight has been chosen to slay the dragon. Gawk at him while you can. Ha. The king had sent me to my doom, as though he actually believed I might succeed. Possibly he did. King Arlan was something of an optimist. Whatever the reason, the situation with the dragon was getting desperate, and murmurings against the king’s inaction were increasing. A team of knights would’ve been better suited to this task, (if even that would help) but for whatever reason I alone was chosen.

So here we were, my horse and I, not far from Warian Castle. It would’ve been possible for some curious child to have followed me, but I doubted that was the case here.

I hadn’t intended to be out in the rain at all, but it’d come on so suddenly and there was no shelter to be seen. Woodlands are not the safest place to be caught in a storm, but then again they’re not the worst either. Thankfully that was the only tree that fell, and the rain stopped soon after that.

If you believed the old tales, which I didn’t, her appearance was some sort of omen. It was said that a wood-nymph had appeared to king Talvar right before he took the throne, and gave him the sword that’d vanquished his enemies. Rubbish. All of it.

Well, omen or not, there was something odd about this; my horse and I were soaked through, but she was barely damp. If there’d been shelter nearby, I wish I’d have known about it.

The dazed look hadn’t left her, but she blinked up at me. “You don’t look like any of the knights I’ve seen. Who are you?”

Well it was no wood-nymph after all. Just a girl, still of an age to be making flower crowns. The accent alone would’ve been enough to mark her as a foreigner if I hadn’t already guessed that. I, myself, am not well-traveled. Other than a brief sojourn into the neighboring kingdom of Arion, back when old king Gerard was on the throne, I’ve never even left Telurin. So I couldn’t’ve said where she might be from, only that it wasn’t anywhere I knew of.

If she didn’t recognize the device on my shield, the famous leaping stag of House Rioghan, any answer I could give her would be inadequate. Instead I asked some of my own. “Are you lost, lass? Where are your parents?”

Apparently, my voice did the same thing for her as hers did for me. She blinked up at me again, (must have hit her head on one of the tree’s branches as it fell,) and her eyes widened.

“Whoa, you’re one of the professionals!”

Were we speaking two different languages after all?

She dropped into a near perfect courtesy—near perfect because she was not attired properly, and the rough blue trousers were a poor substitute for a flowing skirt.

“I beg your pardon, Sir Knight,” she said, “but no. I’m not lost, my parents are back watching the juggling act and said I could look for the food vendors.”

“Juggling act?” I looked around, but there was only woodland. Was there a stronghold nearby that I didn’t know about? One with a minor lord who was being entertained by a juggling troupe?

“Yes, back ther—“ she half-turned and gestured behind her, but stopped with a gasp at something I couldn’t see. Her hand flew to her mouth.

Wood nymph. Omen. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I brushed the thoughts aside.

“It’s gone! It’s all—“

She turned back to me, and said in a small voice, “I think…I must be lost after all.”

c>={====>

Her name, she said, was Tiffany. And whatever she said about not being hurt, she must have hit her head when that tree fell.

She said all she felt when she stepped through that stone archway (whatever archway she was talking about) was a strong cold wind and then the fallen tree was in front of her. I’d felt the chill in the wind, but it’s autumn. Of course it’s going to be cold. Yet the sleeves of her tunic were cut short, so her arms were indecently bare from elbow to wrist. I’d have some choice words for her parents about that. She shivered in the telling of her tale.

My cloak was much too damp to be of any use in warming her, but the sun was coming out now.

I dismounted and sat in the brightest patch of sun to dry off while she went to inspect the tree. She ended up circling it three times, (Omen. Wood nymph. I shook the thoughts away yet again) before returning to tell me that she didn’t know where she was and had no idea how to get home.

As if my impossible task wasn’t impossible enough, I now had a charge who probably couldn’t even mount a horse, let alone slay a dragon. I couldn’t leave her stranded here, and I couldn’t take her with me.

If I did believe in the old tales, I’d start thinking I was cursed.

“Where do you live?” I asked cautiously. “Carranburn? Or maybe Ellsbridge, or one of the other surrounding villages?”

Please let it be somewhere close by.

I didn’t know if this counted as a prayer. I didn’t know if I was desperate enough for that yet. What was the difference between the God of All, whom the Priests said was everywhere (though invisible,) and the old tales, which I’d long ago realized were myths?

“Never heard of them,” said Tiffany, twisting the stem of a fallen leaf between her fingers. “I’m from New Haven. We came down to Fishers for the Faire.”

I hadn’t heard of any places by those names either. “There isn’t a faire around here,” I said.

“I believe you. But that’s why I’m here.”

“Please don’t speak in riddles.”

c>={====>

She still spoke in riddles, no matter what I told her. Only it wasn’t cryptic conundrums like in the legends, it was chatter that made no sense, with words like “Fone” and “Why Fie”. A small device she carried was not behaving quite as it should, apparently. Whatever her small black rectangle was supposed to do, it was not doing it to her satisfaction. She gave up and placed it back somewhere in the folds of her clothes from whence she had pulled it.

“I figured it wouldn’t work,” she said, “but I had to try.”

“Did you now?”

“Yeah, my mom—er.” She glanced at my face with an odd expression. “I mean my mother is going to worry about me. But then maybe not. Maybe I’ll get back and no time will have passed. Like in the stories.”

“Stories.” It wasn’t a question, so I wasn’t disappointed when she responded with a question of her own.

“So where are we?”

Besides the middle of a forest? Where ought I to begin?

“We are near the townlands of Gwydd.”

A blank look. I sighed.

“In the kingdom of Telurin. Ruled by King Arlan.”

Still no response.

“Those mean nothing to you?”

“No, sir.”

Well in that case she wasn’t likely to have been sent by anyone to prophesy my success or failure, yet I was no closer to understanding what was going on.

She had no more heard of the kingdom of Telurin or king Arlan than I had heard of a place called Fishers or New Haven. Those names seemed to me to indicate a seaside home for the girl, yet she claimed they were inland and she had never even seen the sea.

There was nowhere for her to go but with me—for a time. There might be someone in the next town that could take charge of her, though what I could afford to bargain for her keep I had no idea. Mayhap the Kirik would help a lost girl… I kept my worries to myself, except I did tell her the part about looking for the Kirik at the nearest town. Tiffany agreed to go with me, but at the suggestion of the Kirik she looked puzzled. “Who’s Kirk?”

“Not ‘who,’ lass. ‘What.’ Have you never been?”

She didn’t seem like a heathen, but you never know. I helped her mount, which was necessary even though she actually had ridden before, for Riastrad was no child-sized pony. It was only after I mounted behind and we set off that she asked any more questions.

“So. What is the Kirk?”

“Kirik,” I corrected absently, but other than that I found myself ill-equipped to give a helpful answer. “You ought to ask one of the Elders when we get there.”

“Elders? Is it like a church?”

I rolled the word around in my mind. It wasn’t too dissimilar. It may have been that her accent was the cause of confusion— or rather, mine was.

She interrupted my thoughts. “Do they teach about God there?”

“Yes,” I said slowly. “The God of All. Maker of the world and everything in it.”

She relaxed. “Well, that’s all right then.”

There was something comforting about the fact that He was familiar to her, which was odd considering the fact that I had my own questions about the God of All.

“Where were you going when you found me?” She asked.

“Does it matter? You probably wouldn’t recognize the place.”

“Oh kay why were you traveling?”

By her tone I gathered that “Oh kay” meant “all right” or something similar. Another oddity in her speech, which I dismissed without comment. The land from whence she came seemed backwards enough to me already without me learning any more about it.

“So many questions. And it still doesn’t really matter, because you’re not coming along. It’s too dangerous.”

She sat in silence for a time, which at first I thought was a miracle in itself; then I began to worry I’d been too harsh and thought I ought to explain.

“It’s nothing anyone can help with. I have to kill a dragon, and it’s not—“

“A dragon?” She sat straighter in the saddle. “Those are real?”

I let out a breath. “Of course they’re real, and for some reason I was chosen to stop this one from terrorizing the countryside. So you see my problem.”

“That’s awes—-I mean that’s going to be hard.”

“Hard? It’s impossible. Don’t they have dragons where you come from, lass?”

“Where I come from they’re a myth.”

The idea of something so terribly real being thought of as a mere myth gave me a strange feeling, like someone doubting the sun or the wind if they lived too much indoors.

She shivered a little, whether from the cold (my cloak was still too damp to be of much use in keeping her warm) or from sudden fear I couldn’t tell.

“Next you’ll be telling me it’s always warm where you come from, and that’s why you’re dressed like this without even a cloak to warm you” I said.

Her shoulders shook with sudden laughter. “It’s not always warm, but it was summertime when I woke up this morning. ”

Utter nonsense. I urged Riastrad into a canter as soon as the way through the wood was clear enough, more than eager to hand off my charge to someone else.

The journey to Carranburn didn’t take long, and finding the Kirik was easier still. I spotted it’s tower before we entered the town proper.

We were met at the door by an elder of middling age, with silvering hair. He took one look at us, beamed, and said “We’ve been expecting you.”

c>={====>

A prophecy. About us. What utter nonsense. Over the late supper of bread and wine that was provided for us, Elder Donn, the one who welcomed us, told us of a dream he had a few years ago about a great red dragon destroying everything in it’s wake. At first banishing the idea as nothing more than too rich of a supper before bed, he nevertheless could not forget it and so told Father Beithe, the priest. Six months ago, when the rumors of a dragon in the southern foothills of the Dubhach Mountains first came, and he remembered that dream, he had another. This one involved a knight bearing the device of a white stag, leaping as though it would come off of his shield and come to life.

“And we knew that must be you. There are no others left that bear that device. We knew the King would choose you before he did.”

He went on to explain how shortly after that, he and the priest both had a dream on the same night.

A girl with flowers in her hair, carrying a mysterious white light to match my white stag, and me, carrying a shining lance instead of my sword.

“It must be the Duraidd lance!” Elder Donn exclaimed. His face shone in the soft lamplight.

“Now that is ridiculous. I don’t have any lance with me, let alone that one, and I would not bring a child along. I’ll not risk her safety on the basis of a dream.”

Elder Donn cocked his head to the side as though considering, then said, “Three dreams.”

He seemed at least as ignorant of the dangers of dragons as Tiffany. “I wouldn’t bring her if you’d had a hundred!”

Tiffany cleared her throat. “What’s the Duraidd lance?

I started to say it was a legend, but Elder Donn had a different idea.

“It’s the lance used by Sir Rioghan, the knight that handled the last dragon who attacked Telurin.”

The elder nodded to me. ‘His ancestor.”

Tiffany’s eyes widened as she looked at me.

I clenched my jaw. Whether or not the whole story of the defeat of the great Breunachd was true, my great great grandfather had died from his wounds. His lance, if it still existed, would do me little good. Hoping against hope, I still wanted a way out of this alive.

“It’s said to be displayed in the Kirik of Kynvan, where the dragon’s defeat took place.”

The town was conveniently in my path. I wondered whether Elder Donn knew?

“I cannot bring her along,” I tried again. “Even if the lance is there, it would not guarantee success, and I cannot be responsible for her safety and defeat the beast at the same time. My duty to the king must be my first priority.”

“You would abandon her here?”

Abandon her? That wasn’t fair. “You would refuse to shelter her?”

“Certainly not. If it’s shelter she wants, she could find it here.”

Elder Donn looked to Tiffany, who gave a quick shake of her head.

“I would understand your hesitation if we were asking you to take her to the dragon’s lair, but we are not,” Elder Donn continued. “Nor are we asking you to take full responsibility of her. I myself planned to accompany you as far as she does.”

I frowned. Why would she not want shelter?

Then I turned to her, a horrible idea growing in my mind. During the whole tale from Elder Donn she had sat, wide eyed, not interrupting once. At first I thought it a matter of manners, but that she surely shared my skepticism. Now I wondered. “Do not tell me you believe you should come along!”

Tiffany shrugged. “I don’t see that I can get home by staying here.”

Unspoken was the thought that she had been called here for a purpose, but Elder Donn was thinking it I was sure. They shared a glance between them, and I gave up, outnumbered. I threw my hands in the air in surrender. “You can travel with me as far as the kirik of Kynvan. We can see if the lance is even there, since the town is in my path anyway, but I won’t promise anything beyond that.”

Tiffany brightened at this, where I had hoped she would recognize the seriousness of the situation. She seemed to put more stock in these dreams than I.

c>={====>

The girl is younger than they usually are when they come here, these Travellers from other worlds. The last one was a boy, not too much older than she is now--at least the first time he came. He was one of the few who returned, and it's how one of my theories about the Travellers was proven accurate: time flows differently between worlds. He visited once as a young man, and then, scarcely a year after he had returned to his own world having helped rescue the missing lady Elowyn, he returned years older. Others had been reported to have returned without such vast difference in time. Once with no discernible variance at all. Truly there is no predicting it. The one constant in our records is the mysterious wind, where previously there had been none.

Back to the girl. She calls herself Tiffany. An ekename for Theophania, but when I called her Theophania she looked at me with an utterly bemused expression.

Unlike the last one, she does not need to be convinced of the seriousness of the situation. She expresses no surprise about this being a different world than hers. The God of All rules them both. Listening to her, I ponder for the first time if these two are the only worlds after all. There could be so many, and we have no way of knowing if our infrequent visitors all come from the same one. I make a mental note to look through our chronicler's writings for clues. She has sparked some curiosity in me, Tiffany has. Moreover, she knows not only of the God of All, but of his Son, our Lord and Savior, and his death and resurrection. She knows it all, yet the scriptures say he died but once. How then could it be the same in her world as it is here? Ah, further musings to take to Father Beithe. He shares my curiosity of this other world and the awesome workings of the God of All.

I have told them both what I know. Sir Uriah, the last knight of House Rioghan is at least as skeptical as he is courageous. I expected Tiffany to be the one to be convinced, but the only doubt she has is what this mysterious light could be. I haven't the faintest idea. It is true that I do not even know if the light is to be taken literally. She persists in questioning, and all I can tell her is that it was pure white, more like to a star than the glow of a candle or lantern.

In a collection of garments donated for the poor, I found a serviceable dress for Tiffany as well as a cloak. (Not only will her short tunic and trousers not be warm enough in this weather, none of us want to attract any undue attention and her odd clothing would certainly mark her as a Traveller.) It was only an old woolen dress, of a pale, faded green color, but she was delighted, and put it on over her own clothes and twirled as though it was the finest thing she had ever worn. It even brought a smile to Sir Uriah’s face, though he quickly smothered it. I suspect he does not want to show any sort of approval lest it be taken for encouragement of our plans. He has not taken to the idea of bringing Tiffany so close to danger. I myself would be inclined to send her in the opposite direction if not for the dreams and the certainty that she is meant to accompany him as far as the kirik of Kynvan. Further than that I cannot tell.

Ah, I must put away this chronicle and get some rest. The kirik of Kynvan is roughly a day’s journey from here. We leave with the dawn.

c>={====>

The morning was shrouded in a gloomy fog as we left the kirik. Elder Donn rode a mule, with Tiffany perched on a shaggy pony belonging to one of the inhabitants of the village but which was often lent to the kirik at need.

I was glad they weren’t coming all the way to the Dubhach mountains. If we had to ride hard away from an attack of dragon fire I wouldn’t give a fig for either of their chances.

The gloom had no effect on Tiffany, who prodded Elder Donn for information about the other Travellers he had mentioned to her the night before. I had little to do but listen as she mentioned the stories she had read of similar Travellers. And Elder Donn’s interest as she mentioned one in particular that compared history to a great tree with branches that spread out and went different directions but were rooted in the same place.

“These stories... If you likened history to a tree, with creation as the roots and the crucifixion and resurrection of our Lord as the place where the branches begin to spread, and each branch spread into a different world, it could explain how there could be more than one, and yet would mean Christ died but once as the scriptures say. Extraordinary. It might account for some similarities we’ve noted between worlds. Is something like this possible, do you think?”

Tiffany shrugged. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t explain everything. I liked the sound of it though.”

“But It was not a true story, you say?”

“No,” Tiffany said, “but it got me thinking about it. I guess I’m not the only one that hoped the stories of other worlds could be true.”

“You mean to say none of the tales in your world about other worlds have documented facts?”

“They’re all stories.” She shrugged. “In books. I don’t know of anything like your records. But I do know if I went home and told people about what’s happened here they’d think I was playing a game, or went mad, or hit my head and dreamed it all up. Especially if I mentioned a dragon. So I might be cautious about making a record when I go home.”

“Ahh. Unless you shape it as a story or a dream.” Elder Donn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I believe I see your point.”

Once again, that strange feeling washed over me. Only this time it carried a subtle shift in my perspective. Of course I knew dragons were real, and they were not less real for the fact that she had never met one. I had never met one personally either, but I had evidence that they existed. If her world was as full of doubt as she made it sound, then even such evidence as I had—stories passed down from people who had seen them firsthand, the blackened stones and rubble of Westmore Castle which had never been rebuilt after Breunachd’s attack—would perhaps not suffice. Fires could come from other things than dragon attacks, after all. On the other hand, how was it then that Tiffany was the one who had no trouble believing that the God of All had sent her here for a purpose?

Lost in these thoughts, I paid less attention to their conversation about the nature of time between worlds. They were quite a pair. Maybe the God of All had actually sent her to keep Elder Donn company and offer new information for his scribblings.

As the morning wore away, the fog turned to mist and the mist turned to gold before disappearing entirely.

When we stopped for our noon meal, there was a break in the chatter. Elder Donn brought out some dry traveller’s loaves and hard cheese from the bundles he’d so carefully packed that morning. Tiffany tore her bread in half and stacked the cheese between the two pieces before eating. An unusual custom, which I chose not to inquire about. Elder Donn was another matter, but I paid little heed again as I started to think more seriously about how to convince the others to let me go on alone to the Dubhach mountains, whatever we found in Kynvan.

After our meal we were back to the road.

The wooded country that had opened up around Carranburn, cleared for farmsteads, again gave way to a land where great trees sprang up and the road was darkened by overhanging branches still full of leaves that had not yet fallen. Tiffany’s chatter did not resume for some time, and when it did it was a question directed at me.

“If it was your ancestor who killed the last dragon with the Duraidd lance, why is it displayed somewhere else? Why don’t you have it?”

Of all the questions I should have expected this one.

“My grandfather’s grandfather died soon after the dragon Breunachd did, for the burns he was given by the beast never healed despite the kingdom’s finest healer tending them herself. He was buried there at the Kirik. It was said that his lance somehow survived the flames and was buried in a tomb with him, but that part of the tale is too uncertain.”

“He must’ve been pretty strong,” Tiffany remarked. “To joust with a dragon, I mean.”

There she went again, with words that made no sense. To join it in single combat was of course the very thing I was supposed to do. It puzzled even Elder Donn.

“They say he threw it at Breunachd's open mouth, and it lodged so deep in the beast's throat that it could not be removed until he was dead,” he ventured to say, “yet somehow the shaft was not burned to ash even in Breunachd’s death throes.”

“That was one of the versions I have heard,” I added. “Which is why I say it’s uncertain. It makes no sense.”

“How could he have thrown it?” Tiffany frowned. “A lance is for jousting.”

“For… joining in battle… yes.”

At which point we both accepted that we were not going to understand one another, as an awkward silence followed.

Personally I always thought the story of the lance’s survival was too far fetched, but people love a legend and Sir Rioghan dying so soon after the beast meant the legend needed a bit of help to ease the retelling. Not that the miraculous survival of a piece of wood and metal made it that much better. If it had survived, which was in some doubt.

“What were the other versions you heard?” Elder Donn asked.

“The way my grandfather told it, the lance did lodge in Breunachd’s throat, but its jaws clamped down on the shaft and combined with the flames the wood was consumed. The sharp metal head worked its way deeper into the flesh and the beast died in a great mass of blood and flame.”

I expected—hoped for— a grimace from Tiffany at the description. Let her realize this wasn’t a nice, safe quest. When I glanced her way, however, she looked as calm as before.

“Of course my grandfather wasn’t there,” I continued, “but he says his father was old enough to travel to Kynvan with my great great grandmother to see Sir Rioghan before he died. Now my cousin remembers the tale a little differently: he remembers hearing that the flames traveled the length of the shaft until it glowed too hot to hold but did not burn. Yet the process of working it free from the dragon’s corpse bent the metal into something unusable. Goodness knows how there are so many different versions of the story. If it ever was displayed at the Kirik, I expect we will not find the shining lance you saw in your dream.”

“Is that why you don’t believe in the dreams?” Tiffany asked.

“The why, lass, is more complicated than that. If I saw some sign of the dreams being anything other than—what did you call it, Elder? Too rich a supper before bed?— I might change my mind.”

“I’m here,” Tiffany narrowed her eyes. “Or do you still think I’m from your world and not another?”

Caught, neatly as an animal in a trap. If I said I didn’t believe she came from another world, it was as good as calling her a liar. If I said she did come from another world, I had little basis for believing that and not the rest of the dreams.

It was as if they read my thoughts. Elder Donn chuckled and an impish grin spread across Tiffany’s face.

“There are only three possibilities, you know.”

“Three?”

“Well, yes. I could be lying, or mad, or telling the truth.”

Odd as she sometimes seemed, madness was something I’d stopped considering long ago. “I did think at first you had hit your head,” I admitted, “but there’s no evidence of that. I checked, and you didn’t have a head wound. And since then you have been as sane as I.”

That got a smile out of Elder Donn and a giggle out of her. “Only since then?”

I decided not to tell her about thinking of the wood nymph that supposedly appeared to King Talvar. That might not persuade her of my own sanity, if she knew I had seriously considered it.

“I will grant you that you appeared strangely and I do not know from whence. Does that satisfy you?”

“We’ll have to see about the rest then,” she said.

c>={====>

The first of the refugees came upon us while we were still several leagues from Kynvan. A couple with a young child in her mother’s arms, fleeing with very little more than the clothes on their backs. They did not stop to explain, they scarce acknowledged us at all, even at Elder Donn’s benediction. Shock was written in every line on their faces.

I heard Elder Donn murmur a prayer for them after they passed.

More families, trickled past us, then groups of families, bringing rumors of fires and collapsed buildings and a challenge from a monster. Finally an old woman who seemed to be attached to no one finally took notice of us.

“You should turn the other way, Sir Knight, Elder.” She bobbed her head at each of us in turn. “If not for your sake, then for the girl. This Namhaid is not content to stay in his lair.”

I was going to say that I agreed, Elder Donn and Tiffany should turn back, but Tiffany sat straight up in her saddle.

“He can’t turn back, and I’m not going to. The king chose him to defeat the dragon.”

“What do you mean Namhaid?” Elder Donn broke in.

“That’s what the beast calls himself!” The woman said. “He came, destroyed the Kirik with one blast of fire and a sweep of his great tail, thick as a cedar, and boasted that no one could stand against him. Then he snatched up a maiden and flew back to his lair! But he’ll be back. The sensible ones of us have fled.”

Then the woman was gone, swept along in the tide of people fleeing.

The tide slowed after a time, and all the while I was trying to think of something to say that would convince Elder Donn and Tiffany to flee with them. I could claim to believe the lance would be there, in the rubble of the kirik, I could claim to believe Tiffany had helped enlighten me and given me courage, that the light of Elder Donn’s dream must therefore be symbolic.

No, tempting as it was I wouldn’t lie to her.

May she find her way home. Now this one was a prayer. If you’re there, may she find her way home. And Elder Donn as well. Why should they be caught up in this with me?

“The dragon is not there now,” Tiffany said. “I know you’re still trying to get us to leave you, but I think we should go to the kirik at least.”

It was rather annoying to have her guess so much of my thoughts.

“It was destroyed,” I said. “You heard the woman.”

“I promise if we don’t find anything there I’ll give up, but I can’t go back without us even trying. If we find a way for me to get home before then, I’ll go back without arguing.”

That seemed like an easy way to get her to go back, in a way. Still, I had my doubts. “Even this is a lot of risk.” I looked to Elder Donn. “What do you think? We don’t know when the dragon will return.”

“We don’t know that it will be today,” Elder Donn replied. “As it is, it is getting dark. There will be shelter in town.”

Caught betwixt warring responsibilities. It was getting dark, and upon realizing that, I was ill at ease sending them back along the road so late in the evening even with the fleeing townsfolk. A panic stricken group seemed like little protection from other dangers that might lurk, dragon or no.

I agreed.

It was not yet full dark when we reached the town of Kynvan. An air of melancholy hung over the place. It became apparent that not everyone had left or even planned to leave. Some were obviously stragglers, still loading possessions into carts, but others seemingly had no intent to move on, others still appeared to have been wounded in the dragon’s attack and might have left if they could have.

All around I saw scorched buildings and scorched people, with burns and bandages aplenty. A chill wind was blowing the smoke away westward. Tiffany shivered and pulled her russet cloak tighter around her.

We had to find the Kirik, or what was left of it. Then we had to find somewhere to shelter for the night so I could send Tiffany and Elder Donn back in the morning with a clear conscience.

c>={====>

The main stone building of the kirik had partially collapsed with half of the roof caved in. There was no way I would allow either of them to explore the rubble, and yet if we did not try I could not hope to convince Tiffany to go back with the Elder in the morning. The half that was still standing stood dark and forbidding, with broken glass from the windows scattered along the ground and glinting with the last of the light from the setting sun.

“We should try in the morning,” Elder Donn said. “It’s sure we won’t find it in the dark.”

"Wait!" Tiffany exclaimed. “Light!”

Then, without explaining further, rummaged in the folds of her clothes again and pulled that small black rectangle out. She did something to it, tapping the broad flat center rapidly, muttering about a battery and some nonsense about it having some life left except for service in cells, which she said was dead. The words she used were familiar, yet utterly severed from any meaning that I knew.

“There,” she said proudly, holding it aloft. “Will this help?”

A bright white light streamed from the top and even I felt something stir as I thought of the white light of Elder Donn’s dream--though I also winced away from the brightness that made spots dance in my vision.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think it would be that bright. It’s not, usually.” Her brow furrowed. "I don't think so, anyway."

“All along you had this?” Elder Donn said, wonder in his voice.

“Well, yes, but I didn’t need it till now,” Tiffany replied. “The candles at the kirik were nicer. Can we look for it now?”

I could hardly tear my eyes away from the light, even as it stung my eyes. Far better than a torch would be.

"May I?"

Tiffany shrugged and handed it over. My understanding of it was no better, but at least it was not as though the light was sorcery that required her touch and hers alone. She even showed me what she did to banish the light and command it back again.

I showed it to Elder Donn, who stood transfixed for a moment before confirming what I suspected.

"This is the light from my dream. I am sure of it."

And I believed him. It perplexed me, this certainty. I was still no closer to allowing Tiffany or the elder to explore the rubble, but I was now actually considering what I might find if I was to search for my great grandfather's lance.

"This?" Tiffany was incredulous. "But this is just..."

She stopped. "Oh, Kay, so this is the light. That doesn't mean I can just go back, even if I did know how. You can't keep my phone, I have to stay till you're done with it at least."

I smiled. Without my even trying, she was speaking of going home. Perfect. Though she had a point, we still did not know how to send her home.

"We will speak of this in the morning," I said. "For now, If you will permit me to borrow your light, I will see what can be seen. The ruins may be unstable, and dream come true or not, I do not see that you should be the one to explore them. T'will be a miracle if anything can be found though."

I did not explain to her that I was the closest I had ever been to believing in miracles.

It was a bare quarter of an hour before I returned, bearing only the strange black rectangle but no lance. In that time dusk had crept silently over the town. Most of the fires were out, and the only people out in the open were those still fighting the flames.

"I saw something that might have been it," I said in answer to my companions' visible disappointment, "but could not reach it, with one hand holding the light. Tis half buried in a crevice formed by a collapsed wall."

Tiffany beamed. "You need someone to reach it."

"Or at least hold the light," I said, casting a wry glance her way. "Are you volunteering then?"

The rest of the building did not appear as though it would collapse further, at any rate. And I had the feeling that time was of the essence. Far better, now that I had seen it was stable, to have us all working together.

When we reached the crevice, Tiffany held the light while I strained to reach the long thin object I could see. It remained out of reach, for I could extend my arm but not more than that and the lance, if that is what it was, was further away than it had first appeared. The crevice was not wide enough for my head and shoulders. Elder Donn had shorter arms than I did, and less chance of reaching it. That left Tiffany. Her slight figure would possibly be able to get further. I might not be able to hold the light for her, but if she could crawl in where I could not she might be able to hold it in one hand and pull it out with the other. Before I could even weigh the risks and decide if the crevice itself was stable enough to allow it, a great shadow spread out around us, blotting out all other shadows cast by the ruined walls. A rush of wind scattered dead leaves and bracken and even some of the rubble. Then there was a blast of heat and smoke wreathed around us, right before a horrible booming laughter echoed through the stony corridors.

"What is this? One tough old warrior, encased in a fragile metal shell, one soft kirikman, and the juiciest morsel of all-- I believe I smell a maidchild. Have you come to placate me with the ancient custom of sacrificing the young one? Juicy she may be, but I will require more than that as tribute if you've come to pay your respects."

Tiffany dove into the crevice. I thought--hoped-- she was going to stay there until the danger was past, or better yet I hoped the way had opened for her to return home, but it was not to be: a heartbeat later I heard a grunt and with a heaving gasp she emerged with what might have been the Duraidd lance but was certainly not the shining thing I think Elder Donn had pictured being displayed there. "Here," she gasped. "Looks more like a javelin than a lance to me, but that's what we were seeing."

I didn't have time to sift meaning from her words.

The dragon, Namhaid, I assumed, had not shown himself yet. Not that I was eager for the sight, but knowing the danger was lurking without being able to see it was even worse. Where would he strike first? I took the lance from Tiffany, which seemed awfully light compared with others I have handled, and she took back her light. I would have cautioned her against using it, except the beast already knew where we were. Though perhaps I could change that, at least with regards to Tiffany's whereabouts. It looked as though the ancient tales of maidens given as tribute to stop a dragon's rampages might have been true after all. Or at least Namhaid had heard of them, and worse, developed an appetite.

"Lass, listen to me," I spoke in a whisper, hoping I would have time to say all I must, yet hoping also the dragon would not be able to hear. "Listen. You have done your task, and done it well. I am sure the God of All would have you get home, though it does not look like I will be able to see you to safety myself."

As I spoke, Elder Donn darted to the side with a sharp cry, in time to avoid a massive sweeping claw that sprang out of the darkness between us. I had no time to finish asking Tiffany to go with the elder and find her way to safety. It was all I could do to shield her if possible from that searching claw and another blast of heat and smoke. Most of the wood had been consumed, but something nearby caught fire. A felled beam burned like a torch, illuminating a part of the beast. There was an impression of a serpentine neck, and a flash of jagged teeth as a huge head snapped at the retreating Elder Donn, who was staggering back to us before the flame went out again.

"Are you hurt?" I put my arm out to steady him. So did Tiffany, and as soon as he regained his balance we made a dash deeper into the kirik. I hoped it would slow Namhaid but that he would not become so frustrated that he lashed out at the walls bringing it down upon us.

"I am all right," Elder Donn wheezed as we fled. "Hit the ground hard, but the claw missed.

"That could change if we don't split up," I said. "I want you to take Tiffany and get her deeper into the kirik. Go deep enough, and I don't think his head will fit in there, let alone the rest of him."

Namhaid could not be in two places at once, and I intended to lead him elsewhere.

"Ah, you do not intend to surrender yet, you want to make this interesting."

At the sound of the monstrous voice I turned around and there he was, a dragon with scales the same red-gold color of the flames he had spouted, grinning and showing all his teeth, lazing right in the path we had just come from like an enormous cat. As if to enhance that image he yawned and stretched before speaking again.

"By all means, trap yourselves in there. Make yourselves as comfortable as you like with no provisions. Come out when you are hungry, I will be watching every exit and waiting with an appetite that far outstrips your own. Or..." He paused, as if considering. "You could perhaps try running and hiding somewhere else while I hunt for your mounts. A horse, a pony, and a mule would whet my appetite nicely before I move on to delicacies such as yourselves."

I held the lance with a slackened grip, not wanting to draw his attention to it or for him to regard it as a threat. "Tell us, why should we surrender? None of us wish to hasten our deaths. On the other hand, if you were to allow the child to go free, then we could perhaps come to some agreement."

"Agreement?'" His laugh was a roar. "No one bargains with me, I am Namhaid. Death follows in my wake inevitably like night follows day. Your armor may not agree with my digestion, but neither will it save you. It cannot stop my claws or my teeth, let alone my flame."

All the while I was creeping closer, hoping Tiffany and the Elder had long since disappeared into what was left of the kirik. If I could keep him talking, get close enough to ensure a direct hit to his chest, or (like my great great grandfather) his open mouth, then I might still perish but so would the beast.

His huge eye was on me. "Shall I roast you inside of your shell, and claw it off after you burn? Or, hmm.. perhaps I should crush you inside of it? After all, at times I do prefer my meat fresh."

With that last word he lashed out at me, and faster than I could blink the sharp smile vanished into a gaping maw. There was no time to think, barely time to aim. I hurled the lance with all my strength, but the beast closed his jaws too soon and it glanced off his teeth with no visible damage to them. I dove to the side just in time to avoid his snapping jaws, but his neck snaked around following me and nearly caught me before jerking away.

At first I didn't understand why he didn't catch me. I thought maybe he was toying with me as before, until his enraged roar sounded and then I saw a chunk of rubble fall to the ground. He shook his head, dislodging another, smaller chunk of rubble from somewhere around his head. He snapped at me again before I even had time to draw my sword, but a bright light struck him right in the eye, which made him rear back with a hiss. Something seemed wrong with that eye. I didn't have long to wonder if that chunk of rubble had hit it, or how vulnerable his eyes were, or who had thrown it. Elder Donn was pulling me out of reach of his teeth.

I ought to have resisted and used the distraction to find the lance, or if nothing else readied my sword, but it was happening so fast and before I knew it a burst of flame covered the ground where I had been standing, as well as a widening circle around it. The lance was gone. The wooden shaft would never have survived those flames. I felt the heat from where I was, and it was doubtful whether even the head would be of any use after that.

"We have to get to cover," Elder Donn was saying. Tiffany thinks there's an underground space further in, we'll be safe from his fire there. And I think she has an idea." He added this last in before I could protest that I shouldn't be where either of them were. Shouldn't draw the dragon closer to them.

Before the Duraidd lance had been brought up, my plan (if you could call my despairing lack of any other idea a plan) had been to try and catch the dragon napping and at least spy out any potential weaknesses that way, if nothing else. That wasn't going to happen now. I had to work with what I'd seen thus far.

As we ducked through one of the doorways that still had an intact roof above it, I saw that Namhaid had ceased his fiery tantrum for the time being, and was scanning the area, which meant he would be watching for me. Too late to back out now, if I wanted to keep him from discovering where the others had gone. I might as well plan in here as outside.

I was pondering how to use the vulnerability of it's eyes when Elder Donn led me down a set of stairs into a storeroom of some kind. Wooden shelves lined the walls.

"Did you bring him?" Tiffany's whisper came out of the dark, echoing only slightly. It felt like a close space, but didn't sound like one. She didn't wait for an answer before she said, in a wavering voice. "I think I might have found the way home."

As much as I had wanted her to get home, I was unprepared for this. Not that I was having second thoughts, I knew home was the safest place for her and from the moment she had stepped into my care I had chafed at the responsibility, believing as I had that it conflicted with the quest I was on. It was simply so abrupt, and what had been the purpose of the God of All in sending her then? And he had, somehow. I had just begun to be sure of that.

“We don’t know if that was actually the Duraidd lance,” she said. “There’s no way that was a tomb, anyway. So I was exploring down here when I felt a gust of wind from that archway,” she moved her light over a dark arch that looked no different from any other I had seen in the building. The same plain, solid stone. The wall of a tunnel could be seen by the light. Her implication was clear: she believed this was the way home. To me, however, it looked nothing like I would have expected a passage between worlds to look, and everything like an ordinary doorway.

As though sensing my doubt, she added, “it was just like before. The air wasn’t the same as what was around me. It was fresh, and warm; when I came here the first day, the wind I felt was cool and damp when it should have been warm.”

“There is one way to find out,” Elder Donn pointed out.

He likely meant for Tiffany to go through it, but if there was fresh air through that archway it could just as easily lead to the surface—and to the dragon. I would go through it myself before allowing Tiffany to go down that tunnel alone.

I’d hardly completed the thought before something shook the earth and Namhaid’s roar thundered down from somewhere above the beginning of the steps. Stone cracked, and I thought I could see the glow of flames reflecting off the uppermost stone step. The earth shook again and this time there was no mistaking it. Namhaid knew where we were.

I didn’t think twice about my decision. I simply stepped through, pulling Tiffany and the Elder along with me.

c>={====>

The wind gusted as we stepped through the archway, and swirled around us. Bright sunshine overwhelmed my senses, followed by the colors, sounds, and smells of a festival day. There was almost everything I would have expected to see from the fair Tiffany had mentioned coming from, and then some things I ought to have expected, considering this was not the same world as my own. Not a few of the folk who wandered about were attired in the same short tunics and rough blue trousers that Tiffany had first arrived in. Many were in stranger garb than that, though there were also many who were in garments more familiar to me.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, so bright compared with the underground passage from whence we had come, Tiffany motioned us forward. "Follow me," she said. "If we don't stick together, who knows what could happen."

"Tis marvelous," Elder Donn said.

"You haven't seen the half of it," Tiffany muttered. "No time now, follow me."

And we did. I could take in the sights just as easily walking as standing still. We nearly got separated as a group of children with painted faces wandered between us, but Tiffany noticed and held back until they had passed.

“Do you know where you are going?” I asked when we could join her again.

“Sure do. I was there this morning, my time.”

She wove determinedly through the crowds. It was all we could do to keep up.

“Are you going to tell us?” Elder Donn panted. He should have saved his breath, as Tiffany did not answer. Not until we were standing by a traveling blacksmith, giving a demonstration to a crowd of people in outlandish garb. I noticed one girl a little younger than Tiffany with a cloak that had a pin shaped like a lion’s head, a knife at her belt, and a small glass phial at her side. With her there was a young man with the horns of a goat sprouting from his curly head.

“Wait here a minute,” Tiffany said. “I need to check something.”

I objected to this, but she was already gone.

“Cool costumes,” the goat-man said. He nodded to my sword. “Looks authentic. Surprised they didn’t make you peace tie it.”

There didn’t seem to be a suitable response, though he seemed pleasant enough. I inclined my head to show I’d heard him, and glanced to Elder Donn, who shrugged back helplessly. The goat-man had already turned back to watch the smith, and that’s when Tiffany returned in a breathless rush. “Come on.”

She towed us away.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to get you a weapon.”

We ducked around and off to the side of the area where the smith was working. There were many people here as well, but all had their eyes fixed on the tournament that was taking place. Knights with strange names were being announced. They were taking their places, with lances much longer and heavier looking than ones I was used to. From my vantage point, I could not read the devices on their shields, but their colors were easily seen. The more so because their steeds were fully caparisoned. One with the tinctures of azure and argent, the other with or and sable. I watched as they charged one another but Tiffany pulled my attention away before I could see the results.

“We need to get closer. The weapons are all going to be down there.”

She nodded to a rack sitting fairly near the tent of a lord and lady. The lady had given her favor to the knight in azure and argent.

The crowd cheered at something, but I never saw what. We moved to the weapons rack, all of us by unspoken agreement moving and speaking quietly so as not to draw undue attention.

“If you could choose any of these to fight the dragon, which would you take?”

This was her plan?

“I can’t simply take a weapon that doesn’t belong to me, lass. I’ll not turn thief even in such dire straits.”

Tiffany sighed. “I thought you might say that. Listen, I guarantee you if they knew what it was for no one would stop you. If you could convince them you weren’t a lunatic, I mean. Which is why we can’t stop to try. We don’t know how time is passing while we’re here.”

I didn’t have time to parse her words before she added, “Anyway we’re not stealing it, we’re borrowing it.

“Borrowing it without permission.”

“But with every intention of bringing it back.”

Her smile was bright. She assumed it would be possible.

“I think,” I said slowly, not sure how to let her down, “that they would mind very much if one of these weapons was incinerated beyond repair.”

“I plan on returning it in working order,” she said with a grin. “I have another idea. But I can’t really explain it, you’ll just have to trust me.”

‘You are not coming back with me, Theophania. I mean it. It’s too dangerous. Elder, tell her. Please.” I turned a pleading look to Elder Donn, who was looking at the weaponry. He was touching a lance that was much more like what I was accustomed to, the sharp head of which was polished to a shine. It was a thing of beauty, surely a weapon for a hero like my great great grandfather had been.

“This is the one. Take it, Sir Uriah. Take this one. If you doubt you can return it, I will leave the price of it in its place.” He pulled out his money pouch and opened it to reveal several silver pennies.

I hesitated. There was an odd note to his voice. He was like one who walks in his sleep and speaks of what he sees.

Tiffany peered at the coins. “That’s probably way more than enough,” she said. “Is that real silver?”

Elder Donn ignored the question, but the odd tone in his voice was gone when he said, “this is the one I saw in my dream. If I leave the price of a good weapon so that it could be replaced if needed, will you accept it?”

I hesitated. Trusting a dream weapon, untested, made about as much sense as trusting the one we had found at the kirik, and look how that had turned out?

“You’ve seen my world,” Tiffany said. “You have to believe it now.”

“Believe what?”

“That Someone Else was in charge of bringing me to your world. Someone who’s bigger than both.”

I already believed the God of All had sent her. When that had changed, I could not have said. Another denial leapt ready to my tongue, but I wavered. Trust in the lance was not what she was asking of me.

“Please,” Tiffany said. “I don’t know how much time we have!”

She could be right about the time, and with no way of knowing what was happening back home I made another swift decision.

“I will repay you if I can, Elder, but yes. I will take it. Tiffany, if you will show me the way back, I believe your part in this is done.”

Tiffany grinned. “We’ll see.”

At my request, Elder Donn left the entire pouch, despite Tiffany’s protestations that it “really was more than enough.” I would far rather pay double it’s worth if possible since I was unable to give the warrior to whom it belonged the courtesy of a request.

On the way back, she bade us wait by the smithy again. “Just for a minute,” she said. “Don’t move.”

Well, it wasn’t like we had a choice.

When she was gone, Elder Donn said in a low murmur “I will help you persuade her to stay. I believe you are right that her part is done. Surely with both of us in agreement she cannot argue. ”

That was a relief, that I would not have to argue with the two of them. “Thank you, Elder.”

The wait was indeed brief, then she returned carrying something in both arms, wrapped in the folds of her cloak that I could not see, save for a flash of bright scarlet.

After that she plowed through the crowds, and I had little time to wonder about her plan before we made it back to the place we had entered. A different arch, she said, than she had come from. How then did we know it would let us through? I supposed we had no choice but to try.

I stepped closer and a gentle wind swirled past me, around me, as though beckoning. It was just as before. I relaxed and turned to say farewell to Tiffany, and saw the wind tugging at her cloak as well. She clutched the object she was holding tighter to her and dashed through the arch before I could say a word. I reached out to stop her, but when the wind gusted again all I caught was the hem of her cloak. Elder Donn caught hold of me, but we were all pulled through the archway. The wind died abruptly, along with the noise from the faire and the light from a summer day. It was pitch black, and colder, but stuffy. We were back under the kirik.

Elder Donn sniffed the air. “Something is burning.”

No sooner had he said this than something fell above us with a crash. A glow of fire illuminated the wall of stone and revealed the same stairway we had descended earlier, before traveling to Tiffany’s world. The entrance had been enlarged, now rubble covered the steps.

As much as I had hoped we had not returned to the exact same place, we had. And it seemed we were trapped. Unless…

Tiffany shone her light around the room. Behind us, the tunnel which had been a doorway to another world now doubtless led elsewhere, even though it looked the same. Perhaps deeper under the kirik. Perhaps up to the surface. I would have rather been able to find out where it led before sending them into it, but there was no time.

“Elder, take Tiffany down that tunnel.”

Elder Donn gave a single nod. I more than half expected Tiffany to protest, and she did open her mouth to say something, but another crash and burst of flame interrupted her. The earth shook again and something fell down the stairs with a crack.

“Go on,” I said. “If the God of All wills it, I will follow.”

“I’m counting on it, but just in case.”

She set down her bundle and wrapped her arms around my waist.

Then before I could react she picked up her bundle and followed Elder Donn through the archway. I gripped the lance and turned to face the fire.

If the God of All wills it. I had spoken confidently, but the more I thought about my last attempt the more I realized I would have to let Namhaid get a lot closer before I tried another throw. Or would even that work? As the glow of fire faded and Namhaid still did not appear, I realized I had no guarantee of enough light to see by. Tiffany’s light would be useful right now.

The next sound I heard was not a crash, but a rumbling laugh.

“Little warrior, I thought you had hidden. How delightful. Do you think you can stand against me?”

The reflection of flame on the walls had dimmed, but it was enough to see the serpentine shape creeping down through the doorway.

If I could keep him talking, I might stand a chance.

“How could I hope to hide from a powerful creature such as yourself? You would have caught my scent. No, it is better for me to face reality, come what may.”

I edged towards the wall. How keen is a dragon’s night vision?

There was a hiss, and a burst of flame. One of the shelves caught fire and suddenly I didn’t have to worry about light anymore.

Namhaid stretched himself to his full height. By the firelight I could see the armored scales glittering all along his lithe body. Even his chest, though not armored exactly like the rest of him, had a thick, knobby hide. A shot from a ballista might be able to pierce that hide, but not a throw from me.

“Face reality?” Namhaid fairly purred. “Face your death, you mean. Yes, do take a good look at me. That twig you carry will burn as easily as the last one.”

I took another step, but forward this time. “Truly, on my own I have no hope of assailing you. If I ever believed it was possible I would not be so foolish now.”

And yet here I was. Closer, closer.

“You flatter me. What do you hope to gain by it? Not your life, surely. Nor that of the kirikman, or the little maiden. Where are they? Did they leave you to face your death alone?”

“He’s not alone.”

Elder Donn’s voice was accompanied by the brightest light from Tiffany’s device we had yet seen. Namhaid hissed and reared his head away from the light. He opened his jaws. Any moment he would let loose a burst of flame… I had to stop him. This was the opportunity I had been waiting for, except now he writhed too far away and remained in motion. One throw was all I would have, and I was sure Namhaid knew it, the way he moved. Now his tail flashed around, narrowly missing me. Now his wings. Still the light shone brighter, and the beast arced his head up in the air. The flames reached to the ceiling, but as he began to direct them toward us, something white and foamy shot directly into his mouth. I had not noticed Tiffany creeping from the mouth of the tunnel, but the white foam sprayed from the scarlet cylinder she carried. So that was the contraption she had brought from her world.

Namhaid retched and spewed foam but no flames followed.

He roared and lashed out, but she jumped back out of reach.

“Tiffany! To me!”

She ran to me, still holding that scarlet cylinder, and Namhaid’s eyes turned to us.

Aim for the eyes? Or try for the open mouth again?

I wished Elder Donn had seen more in his dream. Where was he? I had lost track of him after Tiffany reappeared.

“No more games, little warrior,” Namhaid rasped. “Lay down your weapons, and I will kill you quickly and that is the best you can hope for.”

If he could have roasted us, I was sure he would have by now. I felt the smallest spark of hope rekindle, but still I could not be secure in my aim with such a small target as his eyes, and he still did not open his mouth wide enough for me to aim down his throat.

I was not about to lower my weapons, but Tiffany caught me off guard when she laughed outright.

“I always wondered if a fire extinguisher would work on a dragon’s fire. It looks like it did. No one at home will believe me though, and that’s a pity.”

If she meant to provoke the dragon it worked. With a roar he leapt at us, jaws wide as though to swallow us whole, or perhaps I’d been wrong about his fire. I took my chance—God of All, guide my aim!—and hurled the lance with all my strength straight into his open mouth. At the same moment Tiffany let loose another stream of foam. I leapt back, dragging Tiffany with me, as his jaws crashed into the place we had been moments before, driving the lance further in.

Namhaid did not move again.

The blade had struck home, and the strength of my throw had been aided by the sheer force and impetuosity of his own attack: between the two, the lance was lodged deep in his head, and now blood pooled from his nostrils instead of the smoke that had so recently been there. I felt an impulse to shield Tiffany from the sight, but she had already turned away and was running to Elder Donn, who we could barely see by the light of the smoldering shelf. He was crawling awkwardly towards Tiffany’s device, which was askew on the ground at a distance from him. The bright light was gone.

“Are you all right?” She asked. “What happened?”

“His tail. Knocked it right out.”

Somewhere in Namhaid’s thrashing when faced with the light, his tail had crashed into the device, knocking it neatly from Elder Donn’s hand. He cradled his wrist as he went on to explain how he had dropped to the ground to avoid that tail knocking his head.

“I fear ‘tis broken,” he said. Then flexed his wrist and winced..

“If it was broken, you couldn’t do that,” I pointed out. “Does it hurt much? It could be sprained.”

“Not this,” Elder Donn said, muffling a laugh. “This stings a bit. I meant the light. It went out when I lost my grip.”

Tiffany hugged him. “That doesn’t matter. You’re safe. I saw you go down and I was worried.”

“Speaking of worried…” I raised my eyebrows at her. The effect may have been lost in the gloom of the fading fire, for she grinned up at me and then scampered to get her device.

The light worked just fine, belying Elder Donn’s concern.

“You should get the lance out while I still have some battery life left,” she said. “That light was really bright, I bet it used a lot and I don’t have a way to charge it.”

Battery life? Charge it? The device had been battered, certainly, but nothing else she said made sense.“You’re speaking nonsense again, young lady.”

But she was already away, the light bobbing a little as she strode towards the dragon’s body.

“Eugh, it’s going to be a mess. We’re gonna have to clean it really well before we can return it, if that’s what you still want to do.”

“Stop changing the subject.” But she did have a point, that there was no need to continue on down here. I went over and tried pulling out the lance. It was wedged in tightly, and there was little room to brace myself to pull, but in the end I managed it. She was right again; it was a mess, and now so was I.

“There’s a well up above ground,” Tiffany said. “We can clean you up there.”

We picked our way over the rubble from the dragon’s rage, and ascended the stairs. The smell of smoke was still on the wind, but the majority of the fires had been extinguished.

I had been about to return to the subject of her putting herself into danger by returning to face Namhaid instead of fleeing with Elder Donn as I had ordered, but the approach of a group of townsfolk, armed with scythes and staves and the like, took priority. At their head was a sturdily built older man in robes much like Elder Donn’s, who carried a large pike of the kind that stopped cavalry charges when men stood together in formation with them.

Upon seeing us emerge, the elder slackened his grip on his pike and rested on it as he might on a staff.

“You’re alive! We saw the beast descend after you and feared the worst.” He took in the mess on the lance and on myself. “The dragon?”

“The beast is dead,” Elder Donn said in a clear ringing voice so as to be heard by the entire group. “Slain by Sir Uriah, an instrument of the God of All, aided by a traveler sent by Him between worlds.

Within moments, it seemed the whole town knew. More had stayed than I realized, and many came to thank us. Tiffany looked abashed at the praise they heaped on her. I myself tried to direct more of it away from me and towards the others, (as Elder Donn had taken none of his due credit,) and to the God of All, who had been the guiding hand behind all our success. At some point messengers were sent out to try and catch up to those who had fled to let them know it was safe to return.

They feasted us that evening; a greater celebration surely had not been seen in that town since my grandfather’s grandfather had slain Breunachd. More so since none of us were greatly injured. One of those who had stayed was a healer, who was able to look at Elder Donn’s wrist, which had started to swell, and wrap it with a poultice of knitbone. A light sprain, possibly, which would keep him from chronicling our adventures for a time. (Thus I consented to write my part in it in full as the reader can see, lest anyone forget the true story.) Tiffany and I had escaped unscathed, thanks be to the God of All.

Our mounts had not strayed far. Even in his fright Riastrad would not have run all the way home to his stable, the mule had enough sense to flee only until the danger was past, and the pony had stuck by them.

Housing for the night was easily arranged, but it was late before we were away to our beds. Many plans had to be made. My duty was to return to the king straight away, and I intended for Elder Donn and Tiffany both to accompany me. We would stop at the kirik of Carranburn first, of course, and speak with Father Beithe, but Elder Donn had played no small part in our victory and I would see that recognized, alongside Tiffany and her part. According to Elder Donn it had been long since another Traveller had come to the kingdom. For that alone she would have been welcomed and celebrated by King Arlan, even if she had not been so essential to the success of the quest.

Elder Donn agreed to accompany us, though he plainly cared nothing for the recognition of his part, bent as he was on plying Tiffany with questions about her world and all we had seen there. She would answer just as gladly, which only fueled Elder Donn’s excitement. This went on for some time before I intervened, seeing her stifled yawns. I sent her off to the the healer’s house and the soft cot that awaited her there.

I followed for a ways, as I intended to check on Riastrad before heading to my own bed, but as she neared the doorway she froze and called out to me.

“Do you feel that wind?” she turned again to me.

“Wind?” The night was mostly still. A little stuffy what with the lingering smoke that still rose from ruined and half ruined buildings, even though the fires were out.

At least it was still for me. For her, though I could not feel it, something stirred her cloak and her hair, drawing them towards the doorway.

“I think… it’s time for me to go home,” she said.

Bare hours earlier I would have welcomed that news. Now? After the danger had passed? It seemed unfair to not show her the best our kingdom had to offer as a reward for her part in the dragon’s defeat. If she left now, she would pass right into legend, indistinguishable from the tale of of the wood nymph who had given King Talvar his sword and shown him the key to winning his kingdom.

“I’m sorry for worrying you all that time,” she said, filling the silence that stretched as I tried to think of something to say. “And for not trying to explain my plan.” She shuffled her feet. “Maybe you could’ve made a better one if I’d shown you what the fire extinguisher could do.”

I sighed and shook my head. “I don’t suppose I gave you much reason to expect that I would’ve trusted your plan. And the God of All surely kept you, which was my main concern.”

“Kept us.” Tiffany said.

And it was truer than she realized. I had started out with no real hope for myself. It was only beginning to sink in that it was over, with a far better outcome than I had envisioned. “Indeed.”

A wistful smile crossed her face. “Will you tell Elder Donn I said thank you?”

“Wait. Wait here a moment, don’t go yet. Let me get Elder Donn, it will not take long and he will want to send you off with a blessing.”

She cast a glance back at the doorway, and nibbled at her lower lip, but nodded.

Elder Donn wasn’t far, and when I said that Tiffany needed to say farewell he understood what I meant at once and hastened to follow me back. He still carried the lance in hand, now clean and shining as before, and though I reckoned the kirik would be glad to keep it in memory of the deliverance from Namhaid’s wrath, I thought it best to give Tiffany the chance to return it to its rightful owner.

She wrinkled her forehead when she heard my intent. “What about the silver?”

“Keep it. I will repay Elder Donn. Goodness knows I can’t repay the debt I owe you, as you probably saved my life—even though you ignored my instructions to do it, I’m not so bent on chiding you for it as I was earlier.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said.

“Well, I owe whatever warrior this belongs to his own weapon back, and in truth it still pangs my conscience that we did not ask permission to borrow it first.”

Tiffany grinned. “I keep telling you, slaying a dragon is the coolest thing that weapon has ever done. The owner would be honored. If he knew.”

“Coolest?” Elder Donn asked, puzzled but always willing to expand his knowledge of her dialect.

She waved a hand. “Best. Most awesome. Wrong word, sorry. But I’ll take it back for you if you like. And maybe someday I’ll be able to bring the silver back to you. Of course if I ever get the chance to come back I will.“

She looked up at us, bright-eyed, but smiling so that I nearly missed the tears in the corners of her eyes. She surely remembered what Elder Donn had said about return visits being rare, and already she had returned once. But then, nothing about our people traveling to another world has ever been recorded, and Elder Donn and I had done so. Who could say what else might be possible? Not I, not anymore.

I knelt in front of her. There was one thing I would not have her in doubt of. “Theophania, do not worry about returning the silver, but if you ever can return to see us in less perilous times, I would like that very much. Fare well, wherever you fare.”

“Fare well,” she echoed. Then she put her arms around me, as she had done when I had sent her off down the tunnel. This time, though I was still startled, I had time to return her embrace. She tightened her grip before releasing me and turning to Elder Donn, who was the better prepared for her.

“Oh kay. I really do have to go. I’ll miss you both.”

Elder Donn ceremoniously placed the lance in her hands. “As we will miss you. Go with the blessing of the God of All, and if ever you may return to us you will be most welcome.”

Even holding the lance, she managed a more perfect courtesy than she had when I first met her. Which must have reminded her that she still wore the green wool dress and russet cloak. “Oh!” She unfastened the cloak and handed it to Elder Donn. “I’m sure someone else will need this more than I will.” She fingered the skirt of her dress, a sheepish look on her face. “I left my own clothes back at your kirik,” she told him. “The dress was more comfortable without them, and I did think I’d be coming back. I know they’ll be strange to you, but hopefully they can replace this for someone my size?”

Elder Donn laughed. “We will put them to good use, never fret about it.”

She grinned wide. “Wait till my friends see it. It’s not going to be proof of what happened to me on it’s own, but it’s something that would be hard to explain away.” She smoothed her hair out of her face, which, though I could feel no wind, wind appeared to be tugging at hair and skirts and growing more insistent every moment. She turned to face the doorway, but cast one last look back at us. She said nothing more, but waved a hand and smiled.. Then turned and walked through the doorway. The shadowed darkness of the doorway swallowed her, but for a brief instant I thought I saw bright sunlight beyond and caught a hint of the sounds of a festival day before all was dark and silent again. I knew without a step forward that that doorway would only lead me to the inside of the healer’s house if I stepped through.

“Well,” Elder Donn sighed. “That is a pity that she had to go so soon, don’t you think?”

I did not answer, but I knew that he knew I was also disappointed, rather than relieved that she was no longer my responsibility, as well as grateful that she had come after all. It was the closest he came to telling me he told me so.

Here I end my story. May the God of All use it as he will.

Epilogue.

Sir Uriah agreed to record the whole adventure for us, and so long was it in coming that my wrist was almost fully healed by the time we received it back at the Kirik of Carranburn. He had grumbled a little about his insufficiency for the task, as was his way, but in the end he relented without much pressure. True, I could have dictated what I had seen to another here at the Kirik, but I was not there when Tiffany appeared and that was a key point we wanted for our records, along with the very moment of the dragon’s defeat as I did not get an unobstructed view.

For one who claimed to be unused to the task of the chronicler, Sir Uriah has a good memory and a fair hand with words. (Indeed I dare say he did as well as others who have had more practice and have written of the Travellers, even if those tales may have been written faster—but there he says I am biased because I have seen Namhaid with my own eyes and so his words have only to draw up the memory before my own mind makes up the difference. I will let Father Beithe be the judge.)

Now that my wrist has healed I can add a detail or two that Sir Uriah would not have added even if his tale had extended beyond Tiffany’s departure. The rewards that King Arlan bestowed upon him for his success in delivering the kingdom were great, both riches and honor, but as for the money Sir Uriah sent much of it to the kirik of Kynvan to be used in the repairs and rebuilding of their town. Deep under the rubble of the collapsed side of the kirik, they found the tomb of Sir Rioghan, and in the tomb they found a shining lance. The Duraidd lance had indeed survived, but as the God of All is not bound by the legends men create, it seems to have pleased Him to use something else in the defeat of Namhaid. Kynvan’s priest offered the lance back to Sir Uriah, who keeps it not only as the heirloom it is, but in memory of his own adventure.

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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 19 days ago

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Omg omg, can you please do a daddy!chan oneshot x babygirl!reader (pls make them married) based of when the reader cant take his cock(too big)😩

you can take it. can’t you baby?

pairing: daddy!husband!chan x babygirl!reader

genre: smuuuuuut, no plot. oh you guys.. this is filthy. we are so back.

word count: ~1.5k

warnings: daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, squirting, dirty talk, fluffy silly little bit of aftercare at the end

an: oh my gooooodddd i love requests like this. i love thinking about this. i love the opportunity to write shit like this. inject daddy!chan directly into my bloodstream atp. love love LOVE. need him asap. “big dick chan. big dick chan” we all chant in unison.

masterlist

‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼

“it doesn’t fit again, baby?” he teased. “we just did this last night.” he’s slowly inching his cock inside you, but not having much luck. the stretch is too much for you. “baby’s pussy is just soo tight.. huh?”

you’re nodding, doing your best to answer his question, your mouth hanging open, drool pooling on your tongue. he’s already got you fucked out and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. “s’too much daddy..” you whined. “too— too much.”

“i know, baby. daddy knows.” he cooed, pulling out of you, though he was only head deep. “let’s prep you a little better, yeah?” he brings his hand to your face, squeezing your cheeks in between his fingers. your tongue lolls out of your mouth, spit dripping down to your chin. he takes his middle and ring finger and places them on your tongue. you immediately wrap your lips around the digits, swirling your tongue over his skin.

“there you go, baby. good girl. get em nice and wet.” you moaned around his fingers, the praise shooting right to your core, your pussy dripping onto the sheets. he shoves them deeper into your mouth, down your throat until his knuckles are hitting your teeth and you gag around him. his eyes roll slightly at the sound, struggling to keep his composure when you’re so pliant for him.

he pulls his fingers out, a trail of spit connecting them to your lips as he brings them to your pussy. “let’s try and stretch you out a little, yeah?” he rubs soft circles around your clit, teasing, before he travels lower and plays with your drippy hole. “it’s daddy’s fault for not prepping you better. i just get so excited, baby. i get so excited to feel your little cunt wrapped around me.” he slowly slides his fingers inside, pumping them a few times before spreading his fingers apart, doing his best to stretch your little hole.

“it’s hard for daddy to wait sometimes. i just need my baby so bad.” he speeds up his fingers, curving them to hit the spot he knows you like so much. the sounds coming from your sweet mouth make his cock ache. it’s red and leaking onto his tummy where it rests, not so patiently waiting for its turn. he can feel you starting to flutter around his fingers, your legs beginning to shake. he brings his free hand up to your tummy and gently presses down, making sure you feel everything.

“daddy..” you cry. “gonna cum..” your little fists grip at the sheets, then grip onto his firm bicep, your nails digging into the muscle that’s doing most of the work. “b-big one..” you whine.

big one. he knew what that meant and it only made his cock angrier. “big one, baby? fuck. you haven’t done that since our wedding night. mmm. daddy loves it when you do that. you gonna make a mess, sweet girl?”

you held onto him like he was the only thing left anchoring you to this world, rolling your hips up to meet his thrusting fingers. “fuck. that’s it baby. fuck daddy’s hand. such a perfect girl.”

and then it hit you. it comes in waves, the initial orgasm hitting you, the first little gush of liquid around his fingers and he knows that’s when to pull them out. and once they’re out, that’s when you squirt all over his thighs, his arm, his waiting cock. he’s lucky he doesn’t bust right then. he brings his fingers to your clit, quickly rubbing back and forth, coaxing out any little bit of cum that’s left in you.

you collapse on the bed, completely spent, but ready for more. your hole spasms around nothing, practically begging to be filled. chan hovers over you, placing sweet kisses along your jaw and neck. he lines himself up with your entrance, your warm cum coating his tip. he drags it up and down through your folds, slapping it on your clit a few times. you whimper under him, your body still recovering.

“i think you’re ready now, princess.” he says, the head of his cock poking your hole. “wanna see if you can take it now, baby. daddy knows you can. you can take it, can’t you baby?” he’s babbling as he slowly starts to push in. you still feel the stretch but not as much as last time. “that okay, pretty girl? how’re you doing?” he brushes his fingers across your cheek and your lips. “talk to me, baby. come back.”

you whimper as he sinks deeper and deeper, the stretch feeling so good, his words feeling even better. “s’good daddy.” you mumble. “i can do it. i’m— i’m a good girl, daddy. i can do it. promise.”

he bottoms out, his hips coming in contact with the back of your thighs and he stills, giving you time to adjust and drinking in the feeling of you squeezing him. “that’s right baby. you are a good girl. such a good girl taking all of daddy’s cock. fuck. letting me stretch out this little pussy.”

after a moment, he’s unable to wait any longer and he begins to rock back and forth, his cock dragging your walls in all the right ways. you can feel every inch, every vein, as he slowly pumps in and out of you. savoring the feeling. he looks down at where your bodies are connected (heh connected. get it? sorry.) and he groans at the sight of the creamy ring of cum that surrounds the base of his cock. he’s not going to last.

“fuck.. baby girl..” he throws his head back, his eyes closing as he focuses on the way you feel around him. and you’re focusing on the way he looks above you. his toned stomach flexes with every thrust he makes, sweat dripping down his chest, his black curls clinging to his forehead. his nose and his full parted lips are enough to bring you close to your high again. you tried to make a mental note in your foggy mind to ride his face next time, feel his nose bumping against your clit. maybe squirt in his mouth. you bet he would like that. you clenched around him at the thought, at the visual of his tiny trail of hair that runs from below his belly button to the base of his cock. “you’re squeezing me baby. fuck i’m gonna cum.”

he looks back down at you, dark eyes meeting yours as his thrusts become harsher. skin slapping against skin as he pounds into you. he leans down and wraps his arms around your head, protecting your skull from smacking the headboard as he fucks you. “gonna cum in this little pussy baby. gonna fill you up, yeah?”

you nodded, gripping onto his shoulders as you teetered on the edge of your own bliss. “yes daddy. yes please, cum in me.”

“such a sweet baby.” he grunted. “using words like please. begging for daddy.”

“want your cum. please. please can i have it?”

you were so close. you were sure you would cum with the next words out of his mouth. it didn’t matter what he said, as long as he was the one that said it, you were going to cum.

“can you take it all baby? daddy’s gonna cum but don’t- fuck.. don’t you let any of it escape.”

and you came, your release squirting around his cock, but he refused to pull out. he kept fucking into you, the wet noises loud as they echoed off the walls of your shared bedroom.

“gonna pump this pussy full of cum, baby.” he rasped into your ear, his breath warm, but your skin still breaking out in goosebumps. your nails dug into his back, your head empty, unable to beg him anymore. but that’s okay, he was already cumming in you. his twitching cock dumped his huge load into your aching pussy. and it just kept going and going. “so much cum, baby. fuck. fuck.” he whimpered. “such a good girl. fuck. daddy’s perfect girl.”

his thrusts finally rolled to a stop, his body collapsing next to yours, his breathing heavy against your neck. he kissed your flushed skin. “are you okay, baby?” he asked quietly, his lips brushing against the skin of your neck with his words.

your answering contented sigh told him everything he needed to know. he giggled. “you feel good, princess?” his arm was around your middle, holding you closer to him in an awkward post coital embrace. “feeling a little spacey?”

“mhm.”

he kissed your jaw before pushing himself up on weakened arms and slowly pulling out of you. his cum spilled onto the sheets.

“baby!” he playfully scolded. “i said to not let any of this spill.” his fingers tickled your sides, causing you to squirm and giggle. your squirming caused more of his cum to leak out of you. “baby! you’re letting more out!” he teased as he continued his tickle attack. “oh my gosh and here i thought you were my good girl.”

“i am!” you fought back, pushing his tickling hands away. and he let you.

he looked down at you, his eyes sparkling, literal heart eyes as he stared at you. “i love you.” he said.

“i love you.” you answered.

he leaned forward and pecked your lips before retreating to the bathroom for a warm cloth.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

i really didn’t expect so many people to be so stoked about this post. it made me nervous! lol i hope it lived up to everyone’s expectations. pls let me know your thoughts.

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

@httpdwaekki @bangchansslut6 <33

#emmy answers #stray kids #bang chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan stray kids #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan smut #stray kids bang chan #bang chan x you #stray kids smut

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rafesfawn · 12 days ago

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🪽🧺 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋

𝜗ৎ⋆｡˚ when rafe sees a precious little doll on the side of the road with a broke-down car, how can he resist out of the kindness of his heart offering her a ride? just a ride home, that's all...

or how trailerpark!angel!reader and rafe met!

warnings: use of the nickname pet & little one, reader! is eighteen-nineteen! bit of perv!rafe, barely proofread!

a/n: first time writing a rafe fic/blurb! im so excited, also this is based on this ask and thank you so much for sending something I really appreciated it and I hope u like it mwah! I would say you two meet in like early season 2 (right before the cross storyline) also for the format slight ib to others on here esp @rafesangelita (sorry for the tag!)

this was based off of this ask! which tysm i literally love requests and rafe and trailerpark!angel!reader is my new obsession <3

a small, meaningless kick was made to the tire while you huffed and groaned, putting two hands over your frustrated features as all you wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

“piece of shit,” you mumbled under your breath, kicking the tire once more, but immediately a whimper fell from your lips. the pain shot from your toe up to your spine. making you sniffle and tip-toe in pain. in your denim ruffle skirt, white socks, and pink converse, you sat down on the asphalt, on the side of the road, leaning against the side of your broken-down car.

she wasn’t the best car, but she surely got you around most of the time. most of the time. it was a little volkswagen beetle, light pink in color, covered in so many stickers some wondered if it was passing inspection. it wasn't.

sitting with your head against the car for what felt like hours (it was maybe ten minutes), but spending even that on the side of a main road in kildare island was torture. especially with the beating sun late august provided.

rafe was speeding down the road on the way to play golf and get drunk with topper and kelce. “ah shit, i don’t know, man.” he said into his phone, holding it up with one hand; his voice gruff and confident, topper on the other line. “you really think i won’t kick your ass today huh?” a smirk grew on his already smug expression.

letting out a short chuckle at toppers response, nothing anybody ever said meant more than a laugh to him. or that's what it used to be like anyway, his act wasn't together if anything, it was worse than it'd ever been. his father condemning him to disingenuous "discipline" to forget about the possible death of his golden daughter.

"the fuck?" he mutters into the mic, his voice laced with confusion. as he sees up ahead on the road, a pink car broken down, with the most precious thing sitting against it. a pout on the angels soft lips and the most defeated look in her eye. aw, you just fell right into my lap, didn't you? little angel.

your eyes glued on the pavement, your entertainment of watching a little ladybug try to make it to safety in the distance, was shortly interrupted.

a nice black truck coming into view it came to such a short stop it almost took your breath away, the breaks slightly screeching at the haste. a tire replaced the spot the ladybug once was.

you stood brushing the dirt and gravel off the backsides of your pale thighs, left bare by the short fabric of your skirt.

the man stepped out of the truck. he was tall, and the sleeves of his polo looked like they were about to burst at the seams, not able to contain the biceps beneath. his features strong and statue-like, his deep sea eyes hidden behind the curtain bangs that hung over his forehead. a grin that seemed too genuine, too good to be true.

you removed your heart-shaped sunglasses, placing them on top of your head to see him more clearly. your possible savior, but he was anything but.

he stepped a bit closer, seeing the state of her already pretty beaten car, "having some car trouble?" rafe asked as if he wasn't stating the obvious.

you pretended he wasn't either as you nodded, the frown only slight now but still on your lips as your eyes remained looking up into his.

"aw.. poor thing we can't have that, what happened?" his voice, a mockery of sympathy. as he inspected the piece of shit car she loved so much. his care coming from a place of ownership, of burning ache or want.

still, in slight shock, you hadn't answered him, following behind him as he reopened the hood like he owned the car. not even realizing you'd been rude and not replied till he spoke again. "little one, i can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." a heady mix of gentle and firm that made your mouth go dry and your head dizzy.

"oh- it's been on her last limb for like ever, i guess she finally called it quits... right on my way home." you said with a little sad laugh that rafe wanted to bottle the sound of and listen to on repeat. "and I really need to get home," you added fiddling with your fingers in front of you.

a sweet girl all out of options, rafe was so glad he was here to provide her with his help. "tell you what, I'll take you home and come back and fix this thing up for you, huh?" he offered, there goes his saturday plans he presumed. it'd be worth it. he told himself he'd make it worth it, with those shy eyes and the expression you carried like a lost puppy. you'd owe him he'd make sure to get something in return.

just like he figured, you shook your head. never wanting to accept such a grand favor. "I can't ask you to do that, I mean, I don't even know your name." nerves, curiosity, and a glint of something else tinged in your voice, so many wonders in that head as soon as his truck came to a stop for you. why? the only question running through your mind.

"It's rafe, can I help you out now?" his genuine grin turned almost smug at his own remark, brushing that bangs out his face, the effort pointless as they immediately fell back again.

you paused. picking at the already chipped white nail polish on your sore fingertips, a larger-rougher hand covered your own, stopping your movements with that firm gentleness he carried around her. you looked up at him, he was so much closer. the scent of some cologne that probably could pay your rent, and a tinge of smokey wood filled your senses.

"pet?" he questioned with an expecting tilt of his head, calling you that like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your body and mouth responding before giving another second for your brain or anxiety to think it over, you nodded. "can you please give me a ride home?" you hesitantly asked, it felt weird. getting help, and even asking for it felt foreign, he offered it so graciously like it was nothing.

looking down upon her, his grin turned genuine once again, his eyes seemed almost proud it was a soothing balm to her nervous heart. a rosy hue to her cheeks as his palm covered the side of her neck, making a few pats to the flesh before leading her to his truck.

you'd owe him. something he was sure you were ready for.

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sturnsdarling · 3 months ago

Text

I don't know how to forget you

matt and y/n have been best friends their whole life, but after a drunken kiss and a night of tangled limbs, everything is changing.

vibe check: smut throughout (pretty equal sex dynamic, softdombutneedy!matt / subbutdeviant!reader), fluff, (resolved) angst, childhood best friends to idiots to idiots in love, y/n is scared of love (aren't we all), soft!matt, depressed!matt/reader, soppy confessions of love

this is a long one, kids: 12k words.

A/N: I LOVE THEM!! anyways this whole thing is based on one of my favourite songs of all time so if you don't know then get to know. I had so much fun writing this so I hope you love it as much as I do. IDIOTS IN LOVE SUPREMACY🗣 also tysm for over 200 followers you guys are insane

moodboards for this fic

love and cigs, merc

You burst into the house back first, Matts hands clawing at your waist and his lips moving against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues, your arms draped over his shoulders as your hands desperately clung to his messy brown hair.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, one hand coming to your jaw to pull you into him deeper. You both clumsily walked towards his bedroom, Matt leading you backwards with closed eyes, just about missing the couch. Your hands left his hair and found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head with vigour, breaking the kiss for a brief moment before crashing back into each other. Heavy breathing and small moans were the only sound in his house as he attempted to unbutton your shirt, not yet breaking the kiss and fumbling at the tiny circles that kept your body from him. He groaned into the kiss in frustration, biting your lip slightly before tearing your shirt open in one fowl rip. You chuckled into the kiss, Matt followed suit and your back hit the hard wood of his bedroom door, your arm frantically finding the door handle behind you.

When you finally gained entrance, still locked in an all consuming make out session with Matt, you slipped your hands between your bodies and began to untie the knot in his joggers, his whole body twitching at the sensation. Matt broke the kiss, panting, his forehead leaning on yours.

“I thought you said we weren’t gonna do this anymore” He said through frantic breaths, his lips still brushing yours.

“I know what I said” you muttered, finally undoing the bow that acted as the gatekeeper between your hand and his aching length, the swift insertion of your cold hand into his warm boxers acting as a mic drop to your statement as you pulled him into you once more.

“So” Matt pulled away for a brief moment, missing the heat from your plump lips and kissing you before he spoke again, “what’re we doin” he panted.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Matt” you shook your head, wrapping your hand round the back of his head, nearly giving him whiplash at the speed you pull his lips back to yours.

One month earlier

You and Matt had been seeing each other for about six months, it all started as an innocent drunken kiss at a birthday party, that same night ending with you underneath him on his satin sheets, getting pounded into at a rapid rate. You had both decided that, as two consenting adults (your exact words when you propositioned him the idea) you should start sleeping with each other on a regular basis. What was the harm right? The sex was good, you knew each other inside and out, having been friends for basically your whole lives, and you knew that no matter what happened, you’d always love each other unconditionally.

At first it was amazing, the sex was obviously incredible and, outside of the bedroom, basically nothing changed. No one had even noticed a difference between you two, your dynamic already being touchy and somewhat flirty prior to your decision to hook up every so often.

Despite the occasional stolen glance and white knuckled night out from being forced to watch one another get hit on by random strangers at bars, it was honestly really normal, at least it felt that way.

Being with Matt was easy, he was kind and caring, being around him was like being with yourself, there was no bullshit and no expectations. You just, saw each other, truly and completely.

As time went on, the sex became something more, it stopped being about simply acting on an urge and started being about the closeness. The intimacy of it all. You craved him, and he was addicted to you. He stopped flirting back with the girls that pushed themselves against him at bars, and you stopped entertaining the boys that bent over backwards to get your attention. Neither of you had noticed it at first but, no one was interesting anymore. No one understood you like the two of you did, no one even came close. No one could make you laugh like he did, and no one could bring him out of his own head like you could. No one knew your body like him, and vice versa, and soon enough, the sex started to change the way you saw each other.

Instead of seeing Matt, your childhood best friend and the kid that accidentally broke your arm by landing on you at the bottom of a snowy hill when you were kids; you saw Matt, a lingering presence of safety in a crowed room and a blissful night of endless orgasms. Instead of seeing you, the fourth wheel in his little family and the girl that bullied him for being five foot nothing until he was sixteen, he saw you, a beaming ray of light in his life and the sexiest woman he’d ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

The shift didn’t seem to matter, as far as you were both aware, nothing had changed. That was until one night when you were hanging out with Matt as you always did:

You and Matt were half naked, tangled up in one another on his bed, watching gravity falls for the billionth time and enjoying each others company.

You were rested against his headboard, clad in his t-shirt and your underwear, and he was rested in-between your legs, his bare back comfortably wedged between your thighs as his long, plaid pyjama pant covered legs spread over the length of his bed. Matt turned his head to the side, peppering a small kiss on the side of your leg before shifting to lift himself up off his bed, the loss of his warm pressure against you almost painful.

“m’gonna go get a drink, baby, y’want anything?” He said, standing up and hovering next to the bed.

You shook your head, looking up at him, “I’m good, thank you”.

“Okay” he leant down, the weight of his arms making the bed shift under you as he placed a tender kiss on your lips, your mouths slotting together effortlessly.

He walked out the room and the door clicked shut. In your momentary solitude, the game changing realisation infiltrated your brain.

He just called you baby, and not when you were fucking, he called you baby like, like it was your name, like it was the easiest thing to call you in that moment, like it felt right to him so he did it, or even worse, that he didn’t even think about it, like that’s who you are to him.

A sudden wave of panic came over you, the events of the last however many months flashing through your brain. The longing looks, the small jealous comments that went over your head, the lingering touches when you were with your friends, his desperation for you after being apart for any longer than a couple days. All of it started to come together in your mind as one big puzzle of ‘holy fucking shit he has feelings for me, and not just I care about you as a friend but I also wanna fuck you feelings, real feelings’. That wasn’t the scary part though, the scary part was how effortless it felt, to you. How it all just made sense with him, how it was never weird or awkward, how you felt completely safe with him, how you felt genuinely and utterly, loved by him.

Your rapid mind was interrupted by Matt walking back into the room.

“Chris drank all the fuckin’ soda already, kids an addict I swear to god” he said, holding a glass of lemonade.

You chuckled slightly at his remark, your eyes fixated on your fingers as you picked and pulled at the skin of your thumb. Matt fell backwards onto the bed, half his weight on your legs. The pressure suddenly made you uncomfortable and, without really thinking about it, you pulled your legs from under him and tucked them under yourself. The movement made Matt turn up to look at you, finally noticing your weird demeanour. You never pulled away from him, if anything you did the opposite, especially when you were alone. Matts brows furrowed as he turned to lay on his stomach.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked softly, rubbing a gentle finger on your leg.

You shifted under his touch again, which worried him, a lot. He shifted and raised himself up to sit in front of you. He hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your head up.

“What’s the matter?” He questioned, his voice thick with concern.

You shook your head, his baring blue eyes making you feel claustrophobic in your own skin.

“m’fine” you said, attempting to look away from him.

Your energy was jarring, and Matt was utterly confused, what the fuck had happened in the maybe twenty-seconds he had been gone and why were you suddenly acting like you didn’t even want to look at him?

“Y/n/n, I know when you’re lying, what’s wrong?” He said, trying to find your eyes again.

You didn’t reply, only returned to picking at your thumbs. Matt simply stared at you, unable to understand why you were suddenly a tense and anxious ball of energy.

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the silence, your voice coming out in a choked strain.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Matt” your eyes didn’t leave your skin.

Those nine words hit matt like a bus, knocking the wind out of him as his mouth parted in a feeling he could only describe as agony.

“Do what? As in, do this” he said, gesturing to himself and then to you.

You finally raised your head to look at him, a deep sadness hiding behind your emotionless face. “I don’t think it's a good idea, it’s gone on for way longer than either of us expected, and—“ you huffed, “I just can’t do it anymore” you tore your gaze from him, incapable of the decency it took to look him in the eye as you tore his heart from his chest.

“wh—“ Matt muttered, “where the fuck has this come from?” He shook his head, eyes squinting and brows scrunching together.

You didn’t reply, only shifted in your own skin. Your aloofness was like sand paper against Matts skin, he barely recognised you. His mind raced with the endless mind boggling possibilities as to why you didn’t want to be with him anymore, but they all centred into one crippling thought.

“Is there someone else?” He said, his voice dropping an octave.

“No” you said immediately, the ‘there could never be anyone else’ staying tucked between your teeth as your head shot up to look at him.

“So what is then? Did I— did I do something?” His tone faltered, coming out as almost apologetic.

You shook your head, gnawing at the inside of your cheeks, “I just — you — I — ” you couldn’t find the words to make it make sense, because it didn’t, it didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of the walls closing in around you.

“Y/n/n” your name rolled off his tongue like honey, his head shifting on his shoulders towards you slightly, his brows still knit firmly together in confusion that looked a lot like sadness.

“I have to go” you said, unable to look at him for a second longer in fear of bursting into tears.

“Wait—” he said, reaching out for you as you climbed off the bed and picked up your jeans that were sprawled across the floor.

“Matt, I have to go” you cut him off, picking up your things and hurrying out the door, not looking at him for even a split second.

You shut the door behind you and he opened it almost immediately, following you out into his kitchen, watching as you raced down the stairs.

“Y/n” he called out your name, but your pace didn’t falter, and in a flash and a slam of his front door, you were gone.

He stood at the top of the stairs, blinking at the closed door a head of him.

On the sofa, Chris and Nick were staring at him, waiting for him to say something and sharing flitting glances back and forth with one another.

“What the fuck was that about?” Chris said, breaking the deafening silence.

“Is she okay?” Nick followed his brothers questioning.

“I have no idea” Matt said, that simple fact being the only thing he did know.

You threw yourself into your car, slamming the door shut. The sound rang through your ears and the silence that filled the vehicle after was enough to send you tumbling into your sadness. Tears brimmed at your eyes as heavy, fast pants rapidly escaped your nose, you felt awful, you had no idea what you were doing, why did you leave like that? Why didn’t you just talk to him, he’s your best friend, why didn’t you just say something? Anything? What would you even say? I think you’re in love with me and I’m terrified that I love you too? Being with you like this has been the best six months of my life? the thought of losing you makes me feel like I'm dying? Any attempt to try and put how you felt into words made you spiral, and after a pent up moment of burning holes into the black leather of your steering wheel, the flood gates opened.

“Fuck!” you screamed, tears cascading down your face and you hit the wheel with the palm of your hands over and over again.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were drowning in your own mind and had no way of coming to the surface. Your relentless mind was exhausting, and when your hands started to sting from your merciless slaps against the brittle leather, you clutched the wheel, resting your forehead against the material with closed eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with me” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head against the wheel.

You pulled one hand off the wheel and turned the key in the exhaust, starting the car as you lifted your head, taking a deep, calming inhale.

You gripped the wheel once more, turning your head and looking to Matts house, all you wanted was to go back inside, tell him that you’re scared, absolutely fucking terrified of how you feel about him, but you didn't, instead, you clenched your jaw, ripped your gaze from the house and pulled out into the street.

On your drive home through the nearly empty LA highways, your mind raced with the events of the last six months, the orange streetlights periodically illuminating your car. Your playlist blared through the speakers on full volume as your unsuccessful attempt to drown out the sound of your own thoughts was brought to fruition, ‘sex’ by eden started to play, the drums and claps filling your senses as the piano melody took your mind to the last six months.

The longing looks;

You were wrapped in a fluffy towel, your wet hair cascading down your shoulders as you lazily rubbed moisturiser over your clean face in Matts bathroom mirror. The door clicked open, and Matt softly padded into the damp steamy room, cold air following him in. His presence didn’t disturb you, you continued to do your skincare routine as he came up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder and sneaking his long tattooed arms around your waist. Neither of you said anything, you didn’t even look at him. In that moment, his presence was simply an extension of your existence.

As you softly massaged a hydrating serum into your soft skin, Matt couldn’t help but stare at you in the reflection. He loved you like this, your most pure and natural self, skin still littered with drops of water from the shower and your hair forming loose curls as it dried messily over your shoulders.

He watched you intently from his perched position just beside the curve of your neck. He thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and he could never get tired of looking at you. His gaze was heavy on your face, and once you’d finished applying all of your products, you let your eyes flit to his in the mirror, finally locking eyes with him. His mouth instantly curling up into a smile when you shot him a small grin.

“You’re so beautiful” he said, his eye contact never wavering.

Your smile grew and you dropped your head slightly, shaking it with an embarrassed chuckle.

Matt squeezed you tighter to gain your attention again, missing the piercing warmth your eyes gave him. He picked his head up slightly and began to pepper short pecks on your damp, vanilla scented skin. The pecks slowly turned to small open mouth kisses, the warmth of his tongue against your skin sending shivers up your spine and encouraging a pool of wetness to collect between your legs. You let your head hang to the side slightly as he moved his kisses up your neck, stopping as he reached just below your ear. You whined as he pulled away and he laughed slightly, moving his hands to your waist and turning you round to face him.

The base of your spine was pressed against the marble counter top and Matt stared down into you, his hands absentmindedly rubbing circles against the towel that covered you. He effortlessly lifted you up and placed you on the sink, his hands finding your jaw once you landed the short jump.

“I mean it, y’know, I think you might be the prettiest girl in the entire universe” his thumbs pressing into your cheeks as his slender fingers wrapped around the nape of your neck.

His eyes were baring into yours, flitting between the left and right as an uncontrollable smile engulfed your face as you batted your lashes at him, returning his stare with doe eyes that almost made his knees buckle.

“That’s a pretty damning statement, Matthew, I’m not sure I can live up to that title” You quipped, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him against you, aching for friction as you throbbed at his words.

“There’s no question about it, pretty girl, no one even comes close” he said, pushing his jogger clad, growing bulge against your desperate core and pulling your impossibly close to him.

“Let me show you how beautiful you are” he said, just before pulling you into a wet and tender kiss.

You moaned against his lips as Matt ground his hips into yours, his fingers digging into the nape of your neck. He moved his kisses down your jaw, his tongue flat against the bone as he worked his way down your neck and along the top of the white towel that separated his mouth from his favourite part of you. A soft hand came up to the fold in the fabric and tugged at it, causing it to drop from your body and fall onto the cold marble beneath you. The sudden exposure made all the tiny hairs on your body stand on edge as Matt ogled your body, taking you in like it was the first time he was seeing you bare like that, not the hundredth.

"you're so fuckin' sexy" he uttered, shaking his head in disbelief at the sight of your still slightly wet skin glistening for him.

You rested back on the palms of your hands and spread your legs wider for him, giving him a full view of your pretty pussy that was already slick to the touch. A hungry grunt left his throat at the sight of you baring yourself to him, and without hesitation, Matt dropped to his knees and hooked your legs over his shoulders, pressing bruises into the soft, squishy skin.

You squealed slightly as he tugged at your thighs, bringing your throbbing core only centimetres away from his face. He licked his lips like an animal spotting its prey and leaned forward, pressing a soft and sloppy kiss onto your clit. your back arched into the pressure of his tongue against you as he started lapping at your soaked core, moaning at the taste of you on his lips. Your fingers raked through his hair and tugged at the root, pushing him further into you as your hips involuntarily bucked into his face, grinding against his mouth as he worked his tongue over your weeping pussy.

His hand snaked its way down your leg, his blunt fingernails scratching down your skin as he brought his digits to to just below his chin, rubbing small circles at your entrance with the tip of his long finger, teasing your walls as they clenched around nothing, desperate for him to give you what he knows you want.

"mhph, Matt, please" you whined with furrowed brows, hips slowly grinding against his face.

Matt looked up at you with smiling, prideful eyes, dipping his middle finger into your soaked hole just enough to elicit a broken moan from your throat. As your walls loosened their grip around his finger, he slipped his ring finger inside, pushing them both in to the knuckle as he sucked on your clit, eyes still baring up into you as your head hung loose on your neck.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, but his pace on your clit was fierce, as if he was attempting to suck the air from your lungs out from of your pussy.

Your high was fast approaching, and your whole body began to tense above him, your legs unintentionally closing shut around his head. Matt didn't care, he wanted you to close him in, keep him there for the rest of time so he could make you cum all over his face over and over again until you felt as if you could pass out from exhaustion.

His fingers began to curl up into that blissful sweet spot, your stomach tensed in response and he knew you were close to coming undone. He slurped and lapped at your folds, his tongue dipping between them to catch the very centre of your clit, toying with the nub as he relentlessly filled your walls with his long fingers.

"Oh, fuck, Matt" the pressure of his tongue against you was euphoric, and a wave of tingles covered every inch of your body.

Your walls were a vice around his fingers and, with a tantalising suck on your sensitive nub, you released warm cum all over his hand. You shook above him, your vision going blurry as he continued to devour you, bringing you to a white hot level of ecstasy that left you a blubbering, whimpering mess on the bathroom counter.

When your legs stopped tensing and hung lazily over his shoulders, Matt pulled his fingers from you, licking them clean just before placing a soft peck on your puffy clit. The feeling made you jolt and he chuckled, his warm breath acting as a soothing wind to your sensitive pussy.

Matt got to his feet, his hands instantly gripping at your thighs to wrap you around him once again. He kissed you like he was a man eating his last meal, the taste of yourself still heavy on his tongue as it pressed and pushed against yours.

"taste that, pretty girl? you're beautiful even down to the sweetness of your perfect pussy" He pulled away from you, to say just before biting down on your parted bottom lip

The small, jealous comments that went over your head;

You, the boys and a few of your mutual friends were in a bar somewhere in downtown LA. Your hands were pressed against the wood of the bar as you waited to be served, the crowds of people surrounding you making you somewhat invisible to the bartender who, famously served all the influencers first and annoyingly ignored anyone who didn’t have a brand deal or over a million followers.

“Hey gorgeous” an unfamiliar voice disturbed your failed attempt to order a round for your table.

You looked to the side, and were met with the glaring stare and bitten lip of yet another guy who wanted to buy you a drink and disappoint you sexually.

“Hi” you said, turning your attention away from him just as fast as he caught it.

“Can I just say, you’re the hottest chick in this whole bar” he rested a sweaty hand on your shoulder.

You shrugged off his touch and looked back to him, “thanks” you said quickly, instantly skeeved out by the feeling of his hand on your skin.

“Let me buy you a drink” he said in what seemed like his attempt at a seductive tone, bringing his hand back up to you and pushing your hair off your shoulder, letting it fall down your back.

“I’m good, dude, I’m just trying to get a round for me and my friends” you shifted away from him.

He edged closer to you, running his fingers down your arm and grasping at your hand,

“I can get the round, I’ve got money like that, baby”

The name made you feel physically sick, and before you could open your mouth to tell him to kindly fuck off, the comforting sound of Matts voice rang through your ears.

“You good, y/n/n?” He said, coming up next to you and wrapping a tight hand around your waist, pulling you into him, his eyes never leaving the meathead trying to touch his girl.

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy said, instantly squaring up to Matt.

“S’not important, dude, jus’ leave her alone, yeah?” He said, shifting slightly towards the guy, his hand never leaving your waist.

“What are you, her boyfriend or something?” He laughed, pressing firm fingers into Matts shoulder.

Matt chucked at the attempt to rile him up, pulling his arm from your waist and planting himself directly in front of the dickhead that just pushed his shoulder.

Your hand pressed against his chest, bringing him back down to reality as he looked down into your soft, sparkle covered eyes.

“Don’t” you said, applying a warm pressure to his sternum.

His jaw clenched as his heart rate slowed, the feeling of your hand against his chest a soothing balm to the burning rage that had ignited in him.

“Fuck off, dude, m’not interested in whatever you think you’re gonna get out of this” you said, pushing Matt behind you and giving the creep the dirtiest look you could muster up.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “whatever, bitch, you’re ugly as fuck anyway” he said as he sulked away.

“Oh, I’m gonna break his fuckin’ jaw” Matt said, attempting to slip out from behind you and follow the guy through the bar.

“Matt” you said, grabbing his hand, “leave it” you said, pulling him back to you, catching his eye-line, “I’m fine, okay? He’s irrelevant”.

He stood a few feet away from you with a clenched jaw, his hand still in yours as you glared at him. He rolled his eyes and returned to your side.

“Kids just asking to get his shit rocked” he huffed, resting a protective hand on the base of your spine.

“I'm sure someone will knock him out at some point” you said, a smirk forming on your face as you returned your attention to the bar tender.

“I could have blinded him just for talking to you” he muttered, watching as the same guy sauntered over to other helpless victim.

“Fuckin’ idiot thinks he has a chance in hell, tryna hold your hand and shit” he scoffed, “dickhead” Matt spat, finally tearing his eyes off the guy.

You peered up at Matt and he met your gaze, a soft smile forming on his lips at the sight of you. You chuckled and shook your head, and just as you were about to tell him how sexy he is when he’s angry, you were interrupted by the bartender.

“What can I get for you?”

The lingering touches when you were with your friends;

You were all hanging out at the boys’ house, watching films and talking about nothing, and everything. You were perched on the sofa, both of your legs tucked under yourself as you lazily scrolled on your phone. Matt was next to you, his legs in a wide man-spread as his back rested against the plush sofa cushions. His arm was rested against the back of the couch behind you, a comfortable warmth engulfing you just enough to not rouse any suspicion.

His fingers absentmindedly traced he curve of your bare shoulder as he joked with Nate and Chris, all three of them laughing about something you weren’t listening to.

“Y/n/n” Nick said from the kitchen, bringing your attention away from your phone, “can you come help me with this, I’m so fucking confused” he said, holding a cookie ingredient box in his hands, reading the back with furrowed brows.

You looked over Matts shoulder towards the kitchen and let out a short chuckle, “Yeah, sure”. You shifted, and placed your feet on the floor, using Matts leg to help you up from your comfortable position on the sofa.

The pressure of your hand against his leg went straight to his crotch, and as if on instinct, his hand met yours on his thigh for a moment as you pushed yourself up. You turned to look down at him over your shoulder as your hand slipped from under his, he looked at you like you were the only person in the room and you returned the favour, padding away from him and facing your attention towards Nick, who was standing, baffled in the kitchen over the instructions that ‘made no fucking sense’.

His desperation for you after being apart for any longer than a couple days;

“Fuck, angel, I missed your pussy so fuckin’ much” Matt grunted into your neck as he pounded into you, slow and hard, sucking on the curve of your jaw and occasionally biting down on your soft skin.

Your moaned at his words, legs wrapped tight around him with your feet locked at his waist, your hands clawed at his back as he stretched you out, the sensation of him relentlessly hammering into you completely overwhelming your senses. The weight of his body against yours was blissful, his warm skin pressed against yours as you kissed and sucked at his shoulder, desperate to feel every part of him against every part of you. His hands were pressing bruises into every inch of your skin, the feeling of you clenching around him sending him into ecstasy as he thrust in and out of your sopping pussy.

“Y’so fuckin’ perfect, literally perfect, this pussy was made f’me, made jus’ f’me” he was rambling, desperate to let you know how much he had missed you.

“Mphm, Matt, don’t stop, please, don’t stop” you whined as he hit that gummy spot deep inside you, his dick nestling perfectly inside your slick walls.

“Keep saying my name like that, please baby, say it again f'me” He said, craning his neck up to look down at you, his eyes fluttery at the heavenly feeling of being completely surrounded by you.

“Matt” you moaned, throwing your head back as he thrust deeper inside of you, the soft pressure of the top of his pelvis periodically pressing against your puffy clit.

Matt groaned, dipping his head down to capture your neck in a tingling bite, just before soothing the sting with a warm and flat tongue.

“Ugh, Matt” you whimpered, squeezing your legs tighter round him, your hands finding his sweaty curls.

Matt near enough growled into your skin, picking up his pace as he hungrily fucked you with unwavering force into his bed. The sting of your fingers pulling his hair, coupled with the pulsating heat of your throbbing pussy sent him over the edge. With a loud grunt and stuttering hips, he came harder than he had in weeks, his vision going blurry as he nestled himself further into the crook of your neck, biting down on the fleshy meat of your shoulder. He slowed his pace completely, slowly fucking his cum into you until he felt paralysed by your warmth.

“Jesus Christ” he uttered into your hair.

You peppered kisses along his broad shoulder and up his neck, biting at his earlobe, earning an involuntary buck of his hips into your cum soaked hole. He begrudgingly pulled out of you, his soft dick hanging down between his legs as he fell down on top of you, his crushing body weight making you sink into the mattress. Your hands played with his hair as he caught his breath, head rested on your bare chest and hands rubbing at your boiling skin.

“Take it you missed me then?” You muttered, enamoured with his tired and fucked out frame lazily pressed against you.

He simply nodded against your skin, bringing a large hand up to palm the curve of your breast. “S’much” he said, just before taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking on it with vigour.

You giggled at the sensation, shifting under him slightly as he pressed his already hardening dick against your thigh.

“Matt” You laughed, squirming under his touch.

In one swift movement, he flipped you both over so that you were ontop of him, your wet pussy pressed against the base of his sticky cock.

“Need more, princess, now, please” Matt said, a spread hand coming up your spine and he brought you down to him. His hand gripped the back of your neck as he kissed you like he was starved of your touch.

“m’never gonna get enough a’you” He moaned into the kiss, the feeling of your folds brushing up and down his stiff cock sending him into heavenly overstimulation.

The final beat of the song brought you back to reality,

and before you realised it, you were back at your apartment, pulling into your parking lot and making your way up to your empty home.

Your apartment was covered with Matt; a spare pair of his dirty, beat up airforces sat next to your messy array shoes by the front door, dried out flowers in jars were scattered around your whole apartment, all ones he had gotten you for birthdays or special achievements, or just because he saw them and thought of you. His jackets were hung up on your hooks, and his shirts were thrown lazily into your laundry baskets. Cards and notes were littered on your fridge and window sills, all just little messages he’d leave you throughout your entire friendship, even before you started sleeping together.

You kicked off your shoes and padded over to the fridge to get some water, old photos and memories stared back at you. Your fingers wrapped around the handle of the door, but your arm didn’t budge, your attention was fixated on the array of photos stuck to the fridge.

You had a photo of you and the boys when you were younger, your mum had found it when she was clearing out some old stuff and you simply had to steal it from her albums. There was another photo that Nick had taken at some party you don’t really remember and then there were two photos of you and Matt. One of them was a photo booth picture from some influencer thing he dragged you to, and the other was from your birthday last year. Just below the pictures, Matt had stuck a note under the floral magnet, you had no idea when he did it and honestly didn’t even notice it until that very moment. The note read, ‘hi, you’re pretty, have a nice day’ in what looked like his best attempt to have neat hand writing.

You glanced over the photo from your birthday, it was just after you guys had started seeing each other, and the boys had decided celebrating your birthday away from LA was non negotiable, so you all went home to Boston and had a proper family birthday. It was perfect, and for that short week, everything in your life felt like it was finally falling into place. Tears began to prick at your puffy eyes once more as you stared at the picture, his strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, a cheesy grin spread across your face as he made one of his usual silly faces for the lens of Nicks camera.

Your heart sunk in your chest, and for the first time since you met Matt all those years ago, you felt completely alone. You had done the one thing you were the most afraid of being done to you; you had walked out on him, without even stopping to tell him why. You had acted like everything you hated, and the shame you felt, coupled with a deep sadness and a looming feeling of heavy regret were all only exacerbated by the fact that, the only person you wanted to speak to about how you were feeling, was Matt.

Back at his house, Matt was in his living room, sat across from his brothers, his elbows rested on his wide knees as his head hung on his neck, resting in his palms.

“You and y/n have been… fucking?” Chris said, fully spread across the sofa as he stared at Matt in bewilderment.

“Don’t say it like that, Chris” Nick hit Chris on the chest, turning back to Matt and perching his head on his hand, looking at him with soft features that reassured Matt that he was listening, “carry on, Matt” he said.

“It um— it started about six months ago, after Quens’ birthday party, d’you remember?” He said, brushing his hair out his face with a huff.

“Oh, yeah, I remember that, you guys ended up kissing during that weird card game, right?” Nick said, recounting his hazy memories from the party.

Matt nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, “We ended up sleeping together that night, I brought her back here and she snuck out in the morning before you guys woke up”

“You sneaky motherfucker, if this whole situation wasn’t depressing as fuck I’d be so proud of you dude.” Chris leant forward and grabbed Matts shoulder, shaking him slightly and beaming at him, trying to coax a smile out of him.

A lazy smile creeped its way onto Matts face as Chris patted his back, that alone was enough to let him know that behind his sad eyes, Matt was still in there somewhere.

“Wait, so, what happened? Why did she suddenly decide that she doesn’t want to see you anymore?” Nick pushed, just as confused as his younger brother.

“I’ve got no fuckin’ idea, one minute we were fine, just chilling and watching gravity falls, and the next, she won’t even look at me” Matt sighed, his voice cracking as he spoke. He threw himself back onto the sofa and rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands, groaning and trying not to cry.

Chris and Nick shared a worried look, furrowed brows and concerned eyes pouring into each other as they both returned their attention to Matt, who was still shifting in his skin, the most worked up they’ve seen him in, well, in six months actually.

“Hey, kid, it’s gonna be okay, okay?” Chris placed a comforting hand on Matts knee, squeezing it slightly, “we’ve known her for like literally forever, whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll figure it out and come back”

“Yeah” Nick said, moving to sit on the other side of Matt, “maybe she’s just having a moment or something? You know how she gets sometimes” he reassured Matt with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’m just—she jus’—I just don’t understand” Matt shook his head, hands raking down his face as frustrated tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“Hey” Chris said gently, his voice wavering at the sight of Matt nearly crying, “Its okay, bro, you’ll figure it out, and besides even if you never get to fuck her again, I’m sure you’ll always be best friends”

“Chris” Nick said quietly through gritted teeth, his hand gently rubbing Matts shoulder as he shot Chris a glaring look.

“What?” Chris replied, innocently, not understanding what he said wrong.

Matts head rolled against the back of the sofa, he let out a small chuckle and shook his head, a groan slipping from his lips, “I don’t care if I never get to sleep with her again dude, I jus’—“ he sighed, “I think I’m in love with her” he closed his eyes and squeezed his back teeth together, clenching his jaw as a throttling wave of sadness came over him, “and now I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to tell her”

In the month between you walking out and you both crashing back into each other,

you didn’t see Matt or the boys once. You completely isolated yourself, refusing to even think about what had happened. The night you came home, after hours of crying in the shower and wanting the world to swallow you hole, you decided that simply forgetting it ever happened was the best plan of action. If it never happened, then it didn’t need to matter. But it did happen, and it did matter and you became a shell of yourself, existing on auto pilot everyday.

All you did was work and sleep, your social life becoming quickly non existent without the boys to coax you into actually leaving the house. You stopped replying to anyones messages in the first week, turning off all notifications and letting the little red bubble get longer and longer as the messages piled up in your phone. Everyday you managed to get yourself out of bed was a miracle, and if you showered and brushed your hair, it should have counted as an eighth wonder of the world. Your life had become an agonising picture coloured by shades of grey, all of the colour being stripped from your world when you slammed the door in your best friends face.

You couldn’t understand why you couldn’t just call him, tell him that you were sorry, that you freaked out and acted like a fucking idiot, and that all you’ve ever wanted is for him to be around forever, in whatever shape that may take. You loved him, you had loved him since you were a child, but having sex with him, and being his in those fleeting moments of passion made you fall in love with him, and the thought of that made you feel like you were driving down the highway on the wrong side, cars flying towards you at a hundred miles per hour as someone blindfolded you and told you to keep driving. But not because of him, he was perfect. He was one of the only people in the world who you really trusted, who you knew you could always rely on no matter what and no questions asked. It was because of you, something inside of you felt broken, and you had no idea how to fix it.

Matt wasn’t doing any better;

Unless he had to film or take a meeting, he barely left his room. He pushed away any attempt from his brothers to talk about you or what had happened since the night he told them about the two of you, not wanting to be reminded of the agonising feeling that had wedged itself between his ribs since the night you left.

His temper was shorter than ever, constantly snapping at one of the boys for tiny things and losing his shit every time a minor inconvenience happened. His parents got word of the fact that you two had stopped talking and tried to be there for him, your mum too, but he pushed everyone away. No one had the ability to crawl inside his brain and plant flowers in his weeds like you did, and he knew that, so he didn’t see the point in letting anyone even try.

After a certain point he stopped talking to everyone, only interacting with Chris or Nick when he really needed to and ignoring all the calls from Nate, his parents or Justin. He just wanted to be left alone, because at least then his reality would reflect how he felt. You had left a gaping hole in his life and slowly but surely, he was falling deeper and deeper into the dark abyss of that hole, letting the heavy sadness consume him with reluctant acceptance.

Despite his temper and moping about, his brothers never stopped trying;

A soft tap rattled his door, and a few seconds after, it creaked open, letting in a slither of light into his dark bedroom.

“Matt? We’re gonna go get wing stop, d’you wanna come?” Chris said softly, peering his head through the crack in the door.

Matt didn’t respond, he was tucked up to his neck in his duvet in his dark room, the only light in the room being that of his low brightness computer screen playing an array of depressing songs on loop and the light that Chris had welcomed in when he opened the door.

“Matt, dude, you haven’t left your room in days, you gotta eat something” Chris sighed, his refusal to accept this new version of Matt apparent.

Matt simply turned away from the door, turning his back to Chris in a silent ‘fuckin’ leave me alone’. Chris huffed, shaking his head and clicking the door shut.

Nothing was working, and they had no idea if he was ever going to be okay again. Normally, he would mope about for a couple days and then be back to his usual silly, kind self. But this was different, he seemed completely void of anything that made Matt, Matt.

Nick was fed up of his behaviour, and despite Chris’ constant battle with him over ‘just giving it time’, Nick knew, as his older brother and best friend, that it had all gone too far. So he took matters into his own hands.

That night, Nick got an uber to your apartment,

knowing it was your day off work and that you were almost definitely in the same position as Matt; not leaving your house or talking to anyone.

The uber pulled up next to your apartment block and he got out the car, striding up the stairs to the entrance and relentlessly pounded against your front door. The sound made you jump in your skin, pulling your attention away from the last episode of season two of gravity falls, a show that hadn’t left your tv in weeks. When you didn’t answer the door to the first round of banging, it started again and you reluctantly pushed yourself off your sofa and walked over to the door as it vibrated on its hinges.

“Okay, okay, m’coming, Jesus Chris” you groaned.

When you opened the door, you were met with a face you hadn’t seen in weeks.

“Nick?” Your face dropped in confusion.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, y/n/n” he started sounding off immediately, pushing himself into your apartment.

“wha—“ you started to speak, but were immediately cut off.

“In what universe is it okay to just go completely ghost on your best fucking friend? What the fuck were you thinking? Matt has been in a shit state since you ran out that night and I’m fuckin’ sick of it! He’s angry at everyone, he’s nearly gotten in actual fights with me and Chris about a thousand times and he’s even stopped talking to our parents. Our parents y/n.” Nicks face was nearly bright red with anger as he paced around your apartment.

“Nick, I—“ you folded your arms over your chest, his words hitting you like bullets of reality.

“No. I’m not finished.” He held his hand up to stop you speaking, “I don’t know what the fuck happened between the two of you, but you need to sort it out, because I can’t sit here and watch this all unfold anymore. I think what you fail to remember, is that despite the fact that you were fucking him, he was also supposed to be your best friend. We all were. When you walked out on him, you also walked out on me and Chris. You left us all high and dry without a single explanation and zero entrance back into your life to try and figure out what the fuck happened.” Nick finished his rant and took a deep inhale, his first real breath since he stepped foot in your apartment.

The apartment was silent for a moment, you not knowing whether or not he was finished. “Can I speak now?”

“G’head” Nick replied, raising a hand, gesturing you to say your part.

“I’m sorry that I walked out.” You said, it being the only thing you could think to say in that moment, “I didn’t know he was going through all of that” you said, averting your gaze to the floor.

Nick chuckled in disbelief, “cut the shit, y/n/n” he said, “you know what he’s like, probably better than anyone. You know because you’re exactly the same, I mean, look at you, you look like shit” he said, not holding back, then again, when did he ever.

You looked back up at him and couldn’t help but chuckle as his insult, “What are you talking about? M’fine” you shrugged.

“Yeah sure you are, kid” Nick rolled his eyes, taking a few steps forward and lingering just in front of you.

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, and honestly I don’t really care. But I do care about him, and I care about you, and I know that this is killing you as much as its killing him. so just stop being a fucking idiot and go tell him that you love him, because I’m tired of his stinking fuckin’ attitude and I miss you, I miss my best friend, we all do, Matt more than anyone” he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his warm skin pulling a single brick from the dam that had all your crippling emotions stuffed behind it.

Tears brimmed at your eyes and Nick sighed, bringing you into an all encompassing hug, holding your head against his chest as you sobbed into him. He held you like that for a while, letting you cry in his arms as he cooed and rubbed the back of your head in the gentle embrace you were wrapped in. When you finally stopped shaking, you pulled away from him, wiping your tears and looked up at him through wet lashes.

“What if he hates me?” You sniffled, your voice still shaky.

Nick shook his head with a breathy laugh out his nose, “I don’t think he could hate you even if he wanted to, you’re everything to him”

You and Nick shared another hug before he said he had to go and meet everyone in the city, asking you if you wanted to come and not pressing when you shook your head no, telling him you just needed to be alone. He left and you were alone again, your mind now racing with everything he had said, his words giving you the reality check you needed.

Back at the boys' house,

Matt was padding around the kitchen, he had left his room about ten minutes after he heard the front door click shut and he knew he was alone. As he shuffled around in the cupboards looking for a bowl for his hundredth meal of instant noodles, the front door slammed shut, and a burning annoyance filled his entire body. Chris came bounding up the stairs, seemingly in a hurry, but stopped in his tracks at the sight of Matt, actually out of his bedroom.

“Oh, you’re up, I jus’ came back ‘cause I forgot my wallet” he said, grabbing his wallet off the table.

Matt didn’t respond, he didn’t even acknowledge Chris’ presence.

Chris went to leave, rolling his eyes and not even attempting to bother trying anymore but, in true Chris fashion, he was determined to find his brother inside this strange ghost that had infiltrated his home.

“Look, dude, I know you’re hurting, trust me I get it but, you can’t keep letting this bring you down forever. There has to be a point were you realise that this isn’t healthy” He sighed, walking back to stand next to the table. “I know you love her, and I know that this whole situation is killing you, but maybe if you jus —“ he sighed, “maybe if you jus fuckin’ speak to her then you can sort all of this out, she can come back and everything can be normal again, ‘cause, its hard as fuck seeing you like this man and, even though I don’t love her like you do, I miss her too, she’s been around forever and it feels like we're a table missing a fuckin’ leg or some shit so, jus’ speak to her. what’s the harm in just trying, y’know?”

Matt, with his back still to Chris, shifted where he stood slightly, opening his mouth to reply but swallowed his words.

Chris sighed and shook his head, turning on the balls of his feet and running down the stairs. The slam of the front door echoed through the house, and Matt was soon left with the deafening silence left by Chris’ absence.

His brothers words ran laps around his mind, he knew he was right, this couldn’t go on forever, and he should just speak to you, but how was he even supposed to begin to try? Was he supposed to just show up at your apartment, tell you how he was dying inside, how this past month had been the hardest of his entire life and that he had missed you every single second of every day that passed painstakingly slowly? Was he supposed to just show up at your home, grab you by the face and tell you that he loved you and that he never wanted to be without you ever again? As the rapid thoughts bounced like pinballs against the walls of his skull, he realised that, that was exactly what he was going to do.

He slammed the cupboard door shut and strode over to the table, picking his keys up and near enough sprinting down the stairs, not even stopping to put shoes on as he pulled the front door open and stepped out in front of his house.

As he stepped out into his front yard, his heart fell down into his stomach at the sight of your shadowy frame, standing just a few feet from his front door, arms crossed over your pyjama top clad chest. He was paralysed, he didn’t know if he was dreaming or, if somewhere between the kitchen and the door he fell over and cracked his head open.

“Y/n” he choked out, it being the only thing he could muster up in that moment.

“Hi” you said in a small voice, a shy smile finding your lips at the sound of him saying your name.

Matt couldn’t move, feeling as though the ground had grown hands that had wrapped themselves around his ankles. You made the first move, taking a step into the light, the orange street lamp illuminating your features. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you, your beautiful face in his sights again after what felt like an eternity.

You walked closer to him, warmth radiated off him as he stared down at you with a slightly parted mouth. Neither of you spoke, you had no idea what to say, you just stared into each other for that long moment, the world shifting on its axis around you as suddenly, face to face like this, you felt like the only two people in the entire universe. Your eyes flitted between his, your lips periodically getting caught between your teeth as you tried to think of something, anything to say.

Matts eyes explored your face, as if he was memorising every inch of it incase it was the last time he was seeing you, incase this wasn’t real and he was asleep in his dark room. His gaze flitted to your plump lips and it sent a twinge up your spine, and without thinking, you latched your hands round the back of his head and pulled him down into you in a feverish, desperate kiss. He returned the kiss almost immediately, his hands slipping round your waist and pulling you into him in a frenzied attempt to feel you close to him again.

“I thought you said we weren’t gonna do this anymore” He said through frantic breaths, his lips still brushing yours.

“So” Matt pulled away for a brief moment, missing the heat from your plump lips and kissing you before he spoke again, “what’re we doin” he panted.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Matt” you shook your head, wrapping your hand round the back of his head, nearly giving him whiplash at the speed you pull his lips back to yours.

He kissed you back hungrily, groaning into your mouth as he pushed you backwards onto his bed. You hit the bed with a small whimper as his mouth detached from yours, his tongue flattening against your neck, then your chest, then your stomach and then back up the way he came.

Your hands latched onto his curls as your back arched at the sensation of his mouth against you for the first time in what felt like forever. He moaned against your skin, grinding his hard cock into your desperate core, your clothes creating a frustrating amount of friction between the two of you.

He bucked his hips into yours, your legs tightening around his waist with every thrust. You were desperate, and he was starved of you. His large came to your open shirt and pushed it down over your shoulder, his perfect teeth clamping down on your soft skin. His mouth found the curve of your tit, pulling the lacy fabric of your bralette down to expose your hardened nipple to him. With one hand on your waist, and his mouth latched around your nipple, Matt groaned into your skin. Your head rolled back at the sensation of his warm tongue on you, your whole body felt like it was on fire as his touch became feverish.

"Matt, please, please, I need it, I need you" you whined, you weren't sure what you were begging for but the pleads spilled from your mouth almost on instinct.

Matt removed his mouth from you and tugged at your shirt, you shifted slightly to assist him as he threw it across the room. He palmed the flesh of your half exposed tits, growing frustrated at the sight of the baby blue lace of your bralette that kept him from seeing you completely. With one swift rip, he tore the flimsy fabric open at the seams, leaving it in scraps on his mattress. The vision of your heaving chest incited something animalistic in him and he instantly dove down, latching his mouth around you once more.

The moan that left your throat was guttural, your back arching off the bed as his hand slipped down between the two of you, skipping the teasing and heading straight for your throbbing clit. The tip of his middle finger found your nub instantly and without hesitation, he set an agonising pace, rubbing blissful circles over it as his tongue continued to work your nipple. He moved his hand down, swiping his ring and middle through your sopping wet folds. Your toes curled at the feeling and with that, Matt inserted his long fingers into your tight hole.

The feeling of you clenching around his fingers made his stomach tense, a deep, hungry moan leaving his mouth and vibrating around your tit. Your thighs clenched around his wrist, he brought his knee to yours and pushed your legs open with brute force, pinning you open for him as he made his way down your skin with wet and sloppy kisses. As he moved, he pulled down your pyjama bottoms and panties, the cold air peppering goosebumps all over your skin as he slowly exposed you to him.

You were completely bare, spread out on his bed. He got to his feet, knees resting on the edge of the bed as he gawked down at you, his chest heaving in anticipation at the sight of you like this for him, something he thought he'd never see again.

"are you sure y'wanna do this?" he said, removing his hands from you completely.

"Matt, you're the only thing I've ever been sure about in my entire life" you panted, sitting up, placing your hand on his chest and leaning up into him.

His fingers pressed against your core once more, attaching his lips to yours as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

"I've missed you, so fuckin' much" Matt confessed into the kiss, pushing you further up the bed as he crawled between your open legs.

Your hands came to the waistband of his joggers and pushed them down with desperation, moaning into the messy kiss as he thrust his slender fingers in and out of you at a tormenting pace. You wrapped your hand around his cock and he bucked into your touch, chasing the feeling of you pumping him. He broke the kiss with a breathy whine, head dropping to the crook of your neck as he assisted you in lining his throbbing length up with your sopping hole. He pulled his fingers from you and rubbed small circles over your clit, you pressed his leaking tip against your hole.

Matt moaned your name, the feeling of your wet pussy so close to being around him making his vision go blurry.

His hand came to your face, pressing bruises into your cheek as he shifted you both to lay on your sides, facing each other. He moved his hand down, lifting your leg and hooked it over his waist, pulling you into him with such force that a short squeal left your lips. You continued pumping him, rubbing his tip through your folds, when you brushed him back over your hole, Matt bucked his hips, the sting of him stretching you out for a brief second inciting throaty moans from the both of you.

Once he had a taste, he was lost in it, and Matt pushed himself inside of you again, this time allowing himself to bottom out in your gummy, soaked walls. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, your forehead pressing against his as he breathed desperate moans into your open mouth.

"Jesus christ you feel so fuckin' good" Matt whined, thrusting into you with one hand tucked between your face and his pillow, and the other on your thigh, the pressure of his touch sure to leave bruises behind.

He was bottoming out completely as your pussy milked him, clenching around his hard cock, and you felt as if you could cum from the sensation of his touches alone. Your whole body was tingling, every inch of your skin on fire with pure bliss as he fucked up into you at a steady pace.

"Matt, go faster, please" You whimpered, clawing at the back of his neck, tugging at the messy curls that gathered there.

He didn't need to be told twice, with a low growl, Matt set a rapid pace, fucking into you like it was the last thing he would ever do. Your moans were pornographic, the sting of his skin slapping against yours, coupled with the blissful stretch of your pussy around his cock sending you into a deep state of euphoria.

Matt grunted repeatedly, moaning your name over and over again as he fucked into you desperately. His moans made your ears ring, you brought a hand down in between you both and collected some of the juices that leaked from your pussy onto his cock, moving your fingers up to rub rapid circles across your puffy clit.

Matt grunted at the sight, his grip on your skin turning to blunt nailed scratches as he hardened his thrusts, pounding into you relentlessly as you worked your clit.

"keep doing that, angel, keep doing that for me, you feel so fucking good clenching around me like this, jesus christ, you're so fucking sexy when you touch yourself for me" he was rambling, completely consumed by the sight of you, the feeling of you milking his cock bringing him closer and closer to his release.

"fuck, Matt, m'gonna cum, m'gonna cum" you cried out, tears pricking at your eyes as he fucked into you at a rapid pace. the sensation of his merciless grip on your skin coupled with the stimulation of your throbbing clit making you see stars.

"cum for me, angel, cum f'me, I'm right there with you, m'right there with you" his words were almost incoherent.

The sound of him telling you to cum was enough to send you tumbling down into ecstasy, and he was right behind you. The vice grip your clenching pussy had around his cock was incredible, and wet sounds of your cum releasing all over his length filled the air as his pace became sloppy, chasing his high as he stuttered inside of you.

"Fuck, Matt" you cried out, and the sound of you crying out his name sent him over the edge.

He released threads of ropy cum into your gaping hole, fucking his seed into you as his movements began to slow.

Your breathless pants filled the room as you both came down from your highs, foreheads pressed against each others, sharing oxygen as your leg remained wrapped around his waist. His hand caressed the side of your face, pushing your hair out the way to look at your pretty, fucked out face.

When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you and the feeling of his eyes baring into yours made your skin hot.

“Hi” you smiled.

“Hey” He cheesed back, rubbing small circles on your warm cheeks.

After a brief moment of loving stares, reality set in, and you remembered the agonising events that led you to being here, tangled up with him like this. The dark circles around Matts eyes that mimicked your own broke your heart, and in that moment, you couldn't bare the thought of never being away from him ever again.

“I um—I’m really sorry, Matt.” Your smile dropped into a sincere, pleading expression.

“You don’t have to apologise to me, y/n” Matt shook his head against the pillow.

“No, I —“ you sat up, resting on your elbow to look down at him. His hand on your cheek didn’t falter and you pressed your head into his touch with closed eyes, “I do. I’m so fucking sorry, Matt. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I—I just freaked out because you called me baby and I —“ your rambling was cut off by his voice.

“Wait” he said, shifting to rest against his headboard, letting his hand drift down the soft skin of your arm, “all of this, was because I called you baby?” He asked through a short, baffled laugh.

You nodded, some what embarrassed, sitting up completely in front of him, taking his large hand in yours and toying with the rings on his fingers.

“But, I called you baby all the time” Matt chuckled, grasping your hand in his and gaining your attention back to his soft eyes.

“I know, it just— it freaked me out because I think I realised in that moment that I was in love with you and, I just didn’t know how to handle that” you looked away from him again, the weight of your confession making your voice crack.

Matts ears began to ring, “You’re in love with me?” He questioned, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him.

You locked eyes with him again, he looked so soft, his kind eyes almost sparkling with happiness at your words, “yeah, I'm in love you, Matt” you nodded, “I am, and I — I tried to ignore it, I tried to push it down and forget about it but, I couldn’t, I don’t know how to forget you”

Matt didn’t say anything, he felt as though all the words in the English language were ripped from his brain as you told him you loved him for the second time. He simply starred at you in awe, your hand firm in his grip.

“Can you say something, please” you said, your eyes flitting away from his for a second before returning to their prior position.

“Y/n/n, I— I’ve been in love with you since we were ten years old” the words spilled from his mouth, a wave of utter relief washing over him at the feeling of finally admitting a fact he’s known for half his life.

“You have?” Your expression was pleading as your eyes widened at his confession.

“I’ve loved you more and more everyday I’ve known you, I just didn’t realise it until that night when— when we kissed” He said, sitting up and lingering inches away from your face. He brought his hand back up to your face, “You don’t know how to forget me?” He chuckled, “I couldn’t ever forget you, even if I tried, even if I wanted to” his lips brushing over yours softly as you breathed into his parted mouth.

You didn’t respond with words, instead, you pressed your lips against his with such force that it sent him back down to his satin pillow.

You were terrified, and completely enamoured by him. You loved him more than you'd ever thought possible and he loved you just the same. And despite the fact that the idea of being loved, truly loved, scared you beyond belief, you no longer felt like you were drowning. Because you knew that no matter what happened, Matt would always be there to dive into the rocky waters and pull you to the surface.

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