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jjkpls · 4 years ago

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Mean Yoongi 4 - Finale (M)

> genre : angst (a hell of a lot), smut

> pairing : min yoongi x reader (f)

> total words : 11k+

> warnings/content : takes place post rona quarantine, explicit sexual content (bj, fingering, dirty talk, lowkey cum play), bad writing (it’s been a while, i hope you don’t feel the struggle too much)

> summary : You haven’t talked to Yoongi in so long, now that you’re allowed to see him again, you’re not sure how to do it anymore.

> previous

"Your hair has grown a lot."

I don't say anything. I stare, probably a bit cold, I don't make an effort to answer. There's a lot of things to say but no words seem right. Her attempt sucks anyway. I can tell, from the way she nibbles on her bottom lip, eyes shying away, that she thinks the same.

The moment is filled with tension. The bad kind of tension. She's fidgety, feeling awkward. I feel it too but I'm better at hiding it. I've always been. Sitting back in my chair, observing her attentively, I can't help my insides from twisting on themselves, my heart from squeezing painfully in my chest. She's the same, mostly. With a shadow under the eyes she didn't use to have, a pallor I hate on her cheeks -usually painted that lovely shade of crimson, whenever I'm here to watch, as if the colour exists only for me- a slump in her stance. I wonder what I'm like to her. My hair's changed, as she mentioned. It's quite long, it's grown indeed, and enough for my natural colour to take over my whole head. I am tired, both in body and mind. So much so, I don't find the energy to tease her like I would before. And maybe, that's the biggest thing that's changed about me, and this sole thing is turning me into someone else entirely. I may as well be a whole someone else. Not the man who used to, every now and then, sprinkle glimpses of an awkward grin I've never gotten used to wearing but that I know, she loves. Certainly not the one who teased her with a relationship she could graze but not catch, with my fingers deep in her cunt, using crude and harsh words foreign to my lips straight in her ear, because she secretly loves it. Dancing on her feet, playing with her own fingers, gesticulating and waiting, hoping for an easy way out to manifest somehow. Probably for me to grant it to her because no matter how difficult I make myself to be, I've always been good at that. Dictate and guide how things go between us. I am sweet even if I wouldn't ever admit it aloud and it's been convenient, always, for her. I'm sort of curious to see how it'll go, how it can go if for once, I'm not making any effort for the both of us. I raise from my seat, eyes dropping from her. (She's wearing Converse, I note. This probably because she didn't plan on seeing me.) Hands digging deep in my pockets, I'm not sure I can approach her. These weird, implemented reflexes raise in her too. People don't do it so much any more. Getting close. And I can see her flinch in impulse before her eyes grow big and demanding. "I got tested-" She cuts herself short. It sounds weird. To speak in this deafening silence, she can hear it as much as I can. And to say those words too. She doesn't have to finish the sentence, I get the idea and from the shade of her voice, I can tell her results have turned out negative. Maybe I'm a bit irresponsible. Maybe a bit too desperate. In any case, it makes me scoff, roll my eyes. Staring down at my feet, hair hiding most of my face to her, I have to bite back on my tongue the words that almost roll out. Something about not giving a shit about that, and her being ridiculous. I don't really trust my mouth, I have no idea what would come out of it, therefore I don't speak. My hand reaches forward, bony fingers catching the front of her shirt before I'm dragging her to me. Very naturally, as if it hasn't been months since the last time I've touched her, as if even before that we were used to holding unto each other like that, she melts in my arms. "Why didn't you call?" She could, technically, ask me the same thing: I could have done it. I hope she doesn't ask. I wouldn't know what to say to her. How honest to be. I'd probably say that I was waiting for her to do it first. Which sounds ridiculous, childish as hell but couldn't be more true. I'd say, if I had a different tongue, that wouldn't get tied up anytime deep feelings are involved, that I was worried and terrified and sad, like I had not been in a long while. And all this because she wouldn't call, she wouldn't reach out for me and my heart, probably too profound and too serious, couldn't quite comprehend and certainly not accept her silence. Those months drove me crazy. Literally. I came to ask myself if I didn't make it all up. If the special bound between us had ever really existed or if it was just all projection. "You didn't either." She ends up saying. Clearly, she's as speechless as I am when it comes to explaining months, almost half a year, of pure dumbassery. It's not like it's necessary to explain anyway. She should just know how to tell me that she missed me. And I should know to do it too. She's better at that stuff. Not that good but still better than I am, I think. If she can't do it then I'm not sure I can even try. But today I'm different, as I said. And when she accuses me like she just did, I tense but don't let go. I can hear the way her breath catches in her throat, her shoulders rising to her ear. She's probably expecting me to back away and start cursing at her. I only squeeze further though, sliding my chin along her shoulder so to tuck my neck nicely with hers, humming pure appreciation, when it feels as comfortable and warm as it possibly can. She smells wonderful, she's warm and so willing to let me wrap myself around her. "I wasn't at my best so- I thought I'd just wait for you to call when you would-" I found the courage, apparently, to say all the things that's been heavy on my mind. It's easy when she's this tender. Embodiment of warmth, of welcoming, of loving, I can only be serene, voice low and soft. "But you never did." The only reason I allow myself to reproach the things that technically she can also blame me for, is because I know, that pressed that hard and that close against her, she can feel my heart beating insanely, exposing and telling on me. "You should have!" I don't need to say anything for her to gather that I'm not amused. I unwrap from her, deciding she's being too much of a stubborn brat. I sigh, watching her pointedly not watching me. She yelps and finally grants me her pretty eyes when a pinch to the back of her thigh, right under her ass, scalds her. Here's her "Mean Yoongi", as she so calls me, according to the Snapchat conversation she shares with Taehyung. I see her bite back a smile, her pretty lip flushed when she releases it. "What was that for?" She whines as if it's not fair, rubbing the soreness of her thigh with one hand. I smile mostly with my eyes, deciding to ignore the tears that have gathered in her eyes while I wasn't looking. I back away, taking a stand against the top of my desk, arms crossed tight on my chest. "You deserve way more than that. Lucky for you, I feel lazy." Her gaze follows mine, aimed at the leather sofa. The thing presently empty but virtually filled with the substantial memory of that one fateful time I touched her for the first time, her ass made red by my ministrations. I can't do that today. I'm too soft for now. I still enjoy seeing her squirm, blush and shy away while simultaneously loving thinking about it though. "I could tell you the same, Yoongi. You could have-" I'm losing patience. It's not entirely against her. It's more accurately against us. We're playing the same pointless game. The unnecessarily torturing game of denying, of dismissing. I should probably just drop it, even if it hurts and leaves me with too many pressing interrogations. I might look a bit more serious when I start studying her face with great attention. She's beautiful. I missed seeing her. The mental picture I had kept of her, along with the real ones I'd spent months looking at, didn't do her much justice. She looks somewhat surreal. Prettier than I remember, yet printed with the same aura I recognize. "I told you why already." I whisper to her. My own voice surprises me. It's as if my heart, that's been too hurt, has been left tender, exposed and I'm turned weak even in demeanour. I bet it's confusing for her. It is for me. Feels disarming. "But- what's the point then? If when you're down you don't call-" To that, I don't know what to say. I don't know how to admit to her, if she hasn't guessed it yet, the extend of my inability to seek for what I need, for what makes me feel good, for her who I've wanted and craved for. Of course, I needed her. Of course, I wanted her to be here for me -and be needed and wanted by her. I don't know how to say it though therefore I kiss her. A soft press to the corner of her mouth. I smile, probably looking dumb, when I see her wide eyes blinking, sending one lone tiny tear on her cheekbone. Her cheeks turn red because apparently, she's not immune to me and my kisses anymore, her immediate, strong reactions turning out to be the same as the ones she used to have, in the very, very beginning, when she was so putty, so lenient, such a good girl and also, the shyest and most innocent little thing. She needs some time to accommodate, to say the least. She's barely kissing me back. Simply letting me pepper her mouth with kisses, closing her eyes, hands reaching for my sweatshirt yet not so much giving me back.

After too long of not enough, I need to stop. Because what I think I know might not be so right anymore. Maybe I read things wrong, yet again, and she's not in the same place I stand. After looking at her face, and her eyes, who struggle to dry up and look at me, I ask, "What's wrong?", granting her all of my attention. "Wha- you, what's wrong?" I scoff. She looks like she's about to cry while snarking like a brat. "You're really testing my patience." "You're different. You don't have patience normally." I tilt my head to the side, a tiny smile lifting one corner of my lips. I can't say it's not true. "I thought you wanted me sweeter?" She stares, frowning. Confused, embarrassed and almost upset. I know I'm a weird fucking version of myself right now. The one that hasn't come out a lot these past few years and that she'd certainly never met before. I'm scared she doesn't like it. Maybe she hates it. If she liked me before, there's no reason she'd like that one Yoongi, is there? "I'm just messing with you. I'm tired and-" Gentle fingers wrap around her hands, intimating her to walk forward, forward and close enough for me to close my lips on hers again. "It's been a while." I let her look into my eyes, read the longing and probably the sadness. "Sorry if I'm weird. If you don't like me like that just- bear with me for today, hm?" "I bear with you all the time." Well. That's not even the last thing I expected her to say. Pretty mean for a sweet girl like her. "What does that mean?" She shrugs. She knows but she won't say. She has that pout on her mouth. The tilted one she does whenever something's been said loud and clear in that little head of hers but she's not generous enough to indulge in sharing. I stare, disapprovingly, thumb chastising kindly her cheek. "That's rough." "I don't mean it like that-" "Then what do you mean?" My mouth finds her again for an instant. It's a soft gentle kiss that doesn't hint at anything more. She remains silent. "Cats got your tongue? You usually can't shut up but you're so quiet today." Through her cute pout, she mumbles, "I guess I'm weird too today." My phone buzzes where it lays on my desk. With a quick glance, I can tell it's a text from Namjoon. I don't even need to read it. I can guess it. He's probably calling me an idiot while simultaneously demanding me not to be one.

I heard him earlier, I bet she doesn't know, when he held her hostage by telling that I was awake and that she should go say hi. He held her hostage because she was just passing by. From how loud Taehyung and Jimin were when the front door banged opened, half an hour ago, I could tell they were drunk as hell and she had just planned on dropping them off and leave. And Namjoon, being the good man and even better friend that he is, wouldn't let that happen. How could he when he's seen me all those months in states he probably hoped, back when we were young trainees, that he'd never had to see me again in? It hurt and it still does a little, to imagine that for the first time after so long, after finally being freed from the government harsh but necessary restrictions, she would come so close to me yet consider pass by me, without saying hi, without inquiring if I'm here, even. If it were not for the firm, absolutely non-subtle suggestion coming from Namjoon, she would have done it. She would have left ignoring me. Then she knocked gently on my door, I could tell she was terrified when I opened it and faced her, quiet. And maybe it was pure projection but I felt she wanted to be here. She was scared and embarrassed, didn't know what to say, what to do with herself and me, but she wanted to stay and try to untie this shitty intricate ball of knots. The thing is, it's late. It's super fucking late and I'm reminding when the screen of my phone lights up again to remind me to check the text I just received. She arrived too late at the dorms. We wasted, collectively, too much time not saying much and here we are, standing in the dimly lighted studio, facing each other with too much of an ambiguous tension surrounding us. Everything is unclear. The kisses she would allow me to leave on her lips but not give back to me, tasting lovely but with an aftertaste, a bitter taste of confusion, raising questions as far as their meanings – are they greetings or goodbyes. It's past one in the morning but I'm not ready to let her leave, especially when I don't know what she'd be leaving behind. Anxiety is creeping in my bosom. It's pissing me off. Vainly I bend over, to my side, tapping my finger on my phone to have it lit up. Maybe Namjoon is not just insulting me and has left actual practical advice for me to follow and not fuck this up. "Yoongi?" My ears perk up but I don't look up yet. My eyes are messed up from the exhaustion and I struggle to read. I see keywords: idiot (as expected), asshole, chance, upset. I see the word "love" even, that makes me wince. How can he believe he'd help me by sending me this word when she's standing right in front of me? She called yet she still has not talked further. I shut my phone instantly, worried to have been too lowly engaged to her, to have vexed her in any way, to have been an idiot, precisely what Namjoon threatened me into not being. I raise an interested eyebrow, inviting her to talk and she finally does so, fast and barely audible, "Can I spend the night?" She grimaces. I mean to frown but I realise my face is already squished in a scowl. Maybe her grimacing makes sense. "You mean here, at the dorms?" I ask, forcing my expression to quiet down by a tonne because my shock seems wrongly interpreted by her. That seems to help. She looks at me with her big demanding eyes, the ones I know. The ones that beg, unapologetically for my affection. She nods. "With me or- in the spare room...?" She nods again. "That doesn't answer my question, ___." "Yoongi." Here comes the little brat tone half-whining, half-menacing because she doesn't get her way straight away. How lovely to meet her again. I decide to spare her from any torture, for now, shutting the light off and guiding her, with my hands on her waist, through the dark and out my studio. "Why do you even ask? How many times have I invited you to stay?" I whisper in her ear, adoring the way I feel her tremble against me. "It's different now." She huffs, not the least hiding her annoyance. I can admit things are different now. Sort of feels like a whole different fucking life, if you ask me. I wouldn't have imagined that I needed the world to be taken upon such a devastating global catastrophe for my lover to accept spending one full night with me, for the first time. I don't even see the correlation, honestly. I don't even know why she didn't want to before. I forced myself not to dwell on this question too much. Simply accepting that she wouldn't and that's her right to not want to. But that was weird. "Is it?" My arm reaches before her, turn the handle right because she's left lost and awaiting in the dark. There's a gust of her smell coming to me. The sweet, comforting, familiar and magically charming, addicting scent. There's the click of the knob in the dark, and the door opens up on the hallway's bright lightening. No words are exchanged as I lead her, a hand gently pressed to the bottom of her back, so close to her ass the idea that I could just let it slide down can't leave my agitated mind. Most doors are closed shut, there's no much noise being heard in the whole apartment apart from the occasional high pitched giggles from the two drunk kids in the living room. She's too quiet to be entirely at ease with the situation. I don't even think she's ever come inside my and Seokjin's bedroom. Seokjin.

I wonder how aware she is of the fact that I'm sharing my room with someone else. If she does, she didn't seem to mind when she asked, with her battling lashes and irresistible pout, to spend the night with me. If we do end up making him spend the night elsewhere, he might curse at me or give me the cold shoulder for a minute or two tomorrow, but he'll live. "Is it? Different?" I ask again. We've reached the bedroom and I decide to lock the door for good. If Seokjin were to, perhaps, come to our room to head to bed, he'd be met with a locked door.

She doesn't answer, still. I'm pretty sure she allows herself that because of how lenient I am with her today. She knows I'm not going to force the words out of her. I sigh calmly, resolved, black eyes patient as they fix her. "Of course, it is. Isn't it to you?" "What is?" Hands raised to the sky, eyebrows high in bewilderment, her confusion, so big it's almost revolt, couldn't be more explicit. "I'm asking because I don't know, ___. You don't talk to me, how am I supposed to know?" "Sorry." She mumbles. Blushing from embarrassment, as she lowers her hands, looks down and sinks on herself. "It's ok." My hand leads hers to my lips, I kiss its back. "Why didn't you call?" "Yoongi, sometimes I just don't know how you feel. No, always- I mean, never, I never know how you feel-" I'm not sure how much she means to hurt my feelings. I'm pretty sure she knows, if the way she seeks for words, not to offense me, is any tell. But she sucks at preserving them. Her words sting like hell. "During- I just- I didn't want to force myself into you if that's not what you wanted, that's all." "And that's not what you wanted? Just hearing me, you didn't want that?" I have to ask. It's probably better talking about her feelings than mine, right now. "Course, I did..." She sulks. "Then why not try? At least for yourself, I don't get you." Maybe resentment of a tortured, sensitized heart is unleashing. I don't want to ever harm her but she's done it, a lot. I don't want to believe it but maybe we've parted too long for a cold, unpenetrable wall not to have taken place between us. At least, provisionally. It can't be that unpenetrable. "I'm sorry." She lowers her head, whispering. Looking all saddened. Guilty. Nervous. And of course, I'm too soft. "You used to force yourself into my life all the fucking time, sneaking in my studio like an affection craving puppy, you didn't care back then but now that I like you, you don't want it anymore." Her eyes blink, shift suddenly up. Wide and alarmed. They scrutinize me sitting on the bed, checking my own nails, pretending to be nonchalant about the bitty bomb I've just dropped. "Wouldn't peg you for the heartbreaker type but ok-" "Don't say stuff like that." "Like what? Stuff that I mean?" I roll my eyes because the moron watches me with an emotion in her gaze, anger, she's menacing me. "It's not funny." "It really isn't." I shake my head along. "I talked with a friend and he said the reason you didn't call is probably that I was messing with you too much, not saying anything you wanted to hear. That you got tired of waiting for me." "Namjoon?" I nod. I had to talk to Namjoon. Because I had to talk about her to someone. Taehyung was simply out of the question. He's her best friend. One of the closest of my own friends. He probably knows me too well, knows I'm not that well-off in my personal life, in my heart and mind to be with his non-biological sister. And Namjoon is kind and loves me a lot, even if we wouldn't talk about that. So much so that it makes him genuinely happy to see me excited about someone. "It's not really- that. I'm just a coward, Yoongi. I didn't know how to talk to you and ask you the things I wanted to and-” She's staring down, at her own fingers pkaying with each others. Cute. “Yeah, I don't know, I didn't know how you felt about me." "I thought I was obvious." She shrugs. She shrugs. It should anger me. I'd have the right to be mad. I was obvious. I've been obnoxious. Letting her mess with me and my stuff because she owns me and therefore, by definition, also everything I have. Letting her in. Filling up all the room, all according to her own whims. "Com'here," I demand, rather gently, spreading my legs and leaning back, hands holding me up. She obediently steps forward, takes her seat on my lap, right where I want her. That's perfect. Everything I needed to obliviate the fact that she hasn't confessed liking me back yet. "What is it you wanted to ask me?" She's hovering over me, slightly taller, should feel superior. But her pretty face is turned down, eyes avoiding mines from shame, staring at her hands toying with the strings of my sweatshirt. The bubble, so intimate, is small, very very small and it's hard to live in it. The air she's breathing is mine, the same way the air I'm breathing is hers, and she must be aware of the way all I'm seeing are the tiny, pretty details of her face. "Yoongi. You really like me?" "Course, I do." My cheeks burn from embarrassment. I kind of hate it but I live for the grin she struggles to hide. "Stupid." Totally free and unnecessary but not unjustified, I deem. "Then can you be my boyfriend? Or like would you- would you like to be?" With a hurried press of my lips to the corner of her mouth, I attempt to hide the grin growing on them. "Took you long enough." I fail miserably as I can't help but smile against her mouth, poorly kissing it. "It doesn't answer my question." She points out. I know it doesn't. I hate how happy and rather emotional I felt just having her ask me to be her boyfriend. Who would have thought I would mind this much? Honestly, I wouldn't have guessed it. I never thought it'd move me that much. But I suppose, I should have known by now, that, that's what she does: she moves me. It's a breathtaking kiss, stolen or given while I press her down on her back, body not hovering but laying on hers, every inch of hers pointedly connected to mine, that shuts the conversation down. It does not have to matter. Now that we've found each other back, we believe again we have all the time in the world. Maybe it's a mistake. The state of our world, these days, tend to suggest we don't, we never know how much time we'll have and what exactly it'll be made of. I didn't actually answer but maybe the answer is so fucking evident, she should trust my lips and my hands and my eyes each time they linger on a part of her they seem to have a liking for. And perhaps, she could just accept me and everything else along and assume rightfully that if I wasn't saying it all, it wasn't because I didn't feel it, didn't want to, didn't have anything to say but because I could not. "The gears in that head of yours are killing the mood," I mumble against her cheek, bothered by her loss of commitment, here again, to make me feel lonely when she's just right fucking here. "What is it?" I ask in a gentle whisper.

Here above her, close enough to still share breath but far enough to see her face, it's impossible to act like a dick. Her eyes are shiny, dripping emotions. I can see them clearly without knowing exactly how to read them. She's held back by so many things but as always a timid mouth won't let them slip. I've yet, after all this time, to decide if I love or hate that about her. She can be so open, in appearance, she's animated, she's enthusiastic, she's bright and welcoming. But at the same time, the corridor she lets you in hides a door at the end that she simply cannot allow to let you slide through. I've caught glimpses of this room when she left the door ajar a few times, mostly when I'm balls deep in and maybe a bit too soft when I whisper sweet words in the shell of her ear. She's mostly a mirror of myself, a better version though. When my eyes can look bored, uninterested and sometimes borderline mean, hers are always soft, always kind. It doesn't matter what or who they are set on. Even when she's upset, when I've said something she didn't like to hear, when she's been teased one too many times by Taehyung or her boss has been a fucking asshole all day long, she'll have her eyebrows cutely dropping down, mimicking anger and failing poorly because the eyes, right under it, are still as tender and bright and beautiful. Right now the door is ajar and from what I can see in her eyes, she looks like she's in love with me. It's pure torture because I know, and I can see that too, that even if it were to be the case she wouldn't say, she wouldn't say the words, not to me, not like that anyway, she couldn't. Perhaps I'm seeing things. Perhaps it's wishful thinking, or worse, my own reflection I catch in her eyes without recognising it. After a few seconds of her deliberately ignoring my question and me not getting impatient because I get to just watch her, I decide it doesn't really matter if she is or not in love with me if she keeps looking at me like that. The illusion so realistic, shocking my heart with delicious waves of electricity, I could live with that. "Yoongi?" And if she keeps saying my name like that, like a whine, like a shy little girl, I'll be spoiled forever. She says my name a lot today, I realise, as my spine is taken by an umpteenth wave of chill. Maybe she missed saying it. I surely missed hearing it. "Yeah?" I'm even more breathless than she is. Hovering above yet hanging from her mouth. I must look desperate to her. Even if this has the potential to tickle me the wrong way, I decide not to mind. It's pointless to fight back innate facts, isn't it? I am desperate for her, have been for fucking months, before even circumstances distanced us, I thought it could even end up killing me at some point. It was bad after a couple of weeks when I realised she'd still not called me. Not even a text or a word passed through Taehyung. Nothing at all and I had the sickening feeling growing in my stomach that it wouldn't change. After making sure she was ok, wherever she was, with whoever or maybe alone, she was fine and she was simply not reaching out for me, the torture really started. I just didn't get it. How could she, the most annoying little bug, stop doing what I thought her to like best, it is to say, bugging me? The last time we saw each other was fantastic. She had left slamming my door but with the pretty shade of infatuation on her cheeks, I had no doubt, even if things were not entirely cleared out yet -because I thought the cat and mouse game was entertaining to her as much as it was to me, and because at the time, we still felt like we had all the time in the world for this and for everything else- that we were good, better than good actually. I was confused, utterly lost. Too coward and too upset to reach out myself. If she wanted to talk to me, she would have done it, wouldn't she? She used to before. "Can you lie down? On your back, I mean." The request makes me raise an eyebrow. "You're always sorta on top of me, and I-" The sentence is never finished. She's embarrassed if the cute button of a mouth she wears along with the stealthy avoiding eyes are any teller. For some reasons, my heart beats faster in my chest in an uncomfortable thumping. Maybe I'm a grumpy old man. A grumpy control freak of an old man who's terrified by the least changement. Because Change to me, in all honesty, sounds horrifying -which sounds ridiculous given chances were bet on changes that ended up bringing the life that I now live, some rollercoaster, made of the worst up and downs sitting on top of the least trustworthy, stable ground. It's scary, feels ominous even when it's just my now-girlfriend sweetly starting to ask, and demand for things in my bed. Maybe I need to chill. Match better the chaos that's inside with the unbothered, emotionless exteriors. All I can think about is how lame her justification sounds given, "I can recall quite a good amount of times when you were on top.", and therefore, freak out about what's really behind her request. She frowns then glares, right in my eyes, at last, and sighs. She's being the snarky little girl who doesn't want to discuss and that's cute. That's adorable because I'm on top and I decide but she thinks she can control, demand from me. And she'd be right. She can ask anything from me. She always could. Rolling my eyes like I don't care, lazily rolling on my back like I'm not nervous as hell to just lay there for her, I watch carefully and savour the way she bites on her smiling lips, ecstatic as she is to have been granted an upperhand over me. She takes the seat she owns on my thighs, a mischievous glint decorating her gaze. "Do you remember our first time?" It does the trick. Her ephemeral sense of confidence flatters and she sinks down a little on herself -conveniently on my crotch-, flushing darkly. "I'm not senile, 'course I remember." Softly, the pads of my fingers press on her covered thighs. My eyes fixed on her lively face. She can't really bear it, they might burn her a little. She tries to flee, falling over, hiding her face in the crook of my neck. Her lips brush my skin, she sighs there, it's a wonderful, dip into her. "Remember the first time?" "I just said yes." She whispers the same way I do. I pinch very lightly the back of her thigh, not to hurt, just to warn her because she has a little edge to her tone. Of course, she'd be so impatient when I find myself able to be patient. "When we met for the first time." She leans back, curious eyes peeking at me. A lock of hair is brushing her cheek, I drag it behind her ear, kissing her lips with my thumb because I'm too lazy and laid too comfortably to try and raise up to her mouth. She frowns for a second before she shrugs. I can see she doesn't get where I'm going with that. If she can't even remember, she surely won't see. "You were in the kitchen with Tae, being loud as hell until I came in and you just stopped talking altogether." She rolls her eyes. "I thought you hated me." "I was just shy." She's a bit vexed that I'm bringing it up. I know that she hates that, when it's pointed out, that she gets shy and embarrassed and timid. I understand because I'm the same. The difference between us is that I hide pretty well my inner turmoil with a mask made of coldness, of confidence or disinterest. "You were, weren't you? Now, look at you..." Her eyes don't quit mine. She knows damn well what I mean. "Sitting on me like you're sitting on a throne." She actually giggles at that, tilts her head to the side, gaze going up to the skies as if she's considering the thought, a blatant giddy feeling of importance and timid pretension written all over. She knows it's right. I'm not sure to what extent she understands how much she owns me but she knows there's something big that's unsaid if she's allowed to just have me like that just from asking -only mildly politely. "Could have imagined that, princess?" She's too honest, shakes her head no. I smile lightly, amused because now that I've raised the question, I realise I couldn't have imagined that either. I didn't like her too much at the beginning. Or to be more precise, she gave me a bad first impression. I'm never good with new people but this girl, it just went wrong. I'd been chanted so many praises about her and when finally, I got to meet her because she was for once hanging out at the dorms when other people than Taehyung and Jimin were here, she shut off as soon as I walked in, for some reasons I didn't get at the time, decided to be unfair and that I was not deserving of her infamous sweetness. The stark contrast between her bright boisterous peals of laughter before I entered the room and heavy mean silence once I'd sat on one of the bar stools made me livid. I thought it'd be the end of it. I wouldn't get to know the person, the "amazing person", I've been told about because I wasn't meriting somehow. And after months of forced proximity, because she kept being invited over, involved with outings, something clicked within her and she became the annoying little brat I've known her to be and just had to grow fond of -because it was easier than to just stay reluctant to her advances and become mad each time she'd come to me. It didn't take too long, if I'm being totally honest, to go from deeply confused vexation to an out of character giddy fondness. I've never said it. Don't really plan on doing it. Even now that I'm feeling all mellow and sappy as fuck. She doesn't need to be told from my mouth anyway. I'm pretty sure Namjoon, if he hasn't had a word about this yet, will do later. And from her ever insistence, her never flattering determination even when I, from self-admission, had been harsh or mean in the way I could have told her off, I suspect she knows, she's always known. Her dizzying smile tastes the sweetest and her annoying voice is addicting, as if dipped in a thick layer of dopamine. And I'm too weak for pretty smiles matching pretty eyes, and for brats harassing me with their affection. Therefore when she starts peeling my shirt off of me and spreading her kisses everywhere she can reach, I don't say anything even though I half-hate it. I hate feeling exposed like that when she's fully clothed and on top of me. I don't really like in general being too naked especially for her knowing what she has for me compared to what I've got for her. And she's touching me, one of her hand pressing my wrist onto the mattress and I know what it means, she doesn't want me to protest or try and touch her. I don't because I want to be good for her, for once, not be an ass and impose everything because she seems to want peculiar things today and I can do that for her. But I adore the way she's humming against my skin, smiling uncontrollably against it and sprinkling the most tender kisses. For once, I'm letting her have her way, and won't thrash and push her over to get the upper hand I prefer to hold, bear with the flush burning my cheeks and speeding my heart. It is nice to have her being so willing to take her time with me, with loving me, as if she really wants me. She's also very much hot precisely where she presses her centre to my cock and my patience, if exceptionally efficient today, has limits. "You-" I'm cut off by a strong shudder born from her tongue swiping along my jaw and the little suckle on my ear that follows. "Undress." I groan once half of my composure found back. "No." The short but firm answer triggers me, without taking a second to think, my hand, the one she hasn't been holding hostage, raises and seizes the back of her thigh meanly. "What do you mean no?" "Yoongi, listen. I think I'm tired of you bossing me around." My eyes grow wide at that. She has the acutely tiny singing edge to her voice, the one that I know well for it rings louder every time she's embarrassed or doesn't feel the most confidence. But she's standing straight and tall on her throne, pressing steadily on my crotch as she slowly explains how this will go, her way. "Now that I come to think of it-" A hard grind stealing a huff from me. "You couldn't even- you couldn't even ask me out properly! I did it! I do everything all the time and you still get to choose? That's not fair." "If I remember correctly I always make sure you come first, don't I? So how unfair is that, princess?" She pouts. Stops moving altogether. I can picture her in a second raise her arms to her chest and cross them tight there, frowning and sulking. The little girl is upset. She's adorable. I suppose she hopes to intimidate me somehow or to make me swoon enough to give in. It does the opposite though. The more she pouts, the brattier she gets, the more she tickles my fancy. And I always want more. She's all the more fun when she's feisty too. "I have something in mind, Yoongi." I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. Hers lower down, condescending, unwilling to give up her position. "I want to take care of you." She says, voice quieter from her prior disdainful approach. The Adam apple seems to double in size in my throat when I try to swallow this time, struggling so much so it's audible. I think I knew. I suspected something the moment she started to stare at me with those eyes. I just thought I could get away somehow, I managed to many times before. She's pretty easy to manipulate, a firm precise press of my fingers, a hot whisper to tease her core and she'd let it go. I'm pretty weak today though and here she is saying words that set me off, reach someplace dusty and far, so far away hidden within me that it feels uncomfortable. The trigger is uncomfortable. It's scary. I don't know what it'll be. I don't know how I'll handle it. I don't know if I ever want to try. Sincerely, the greatest and easiest pleasure I've ever had to indulge in has been hers. In her pleasure and her body. Her orgasms I tasted on my tongue, the ones that hug me tight, have always been the most spectacular. "You don't need to take care of me." I need to take care of you. I'm not sure where it comes from. I've come a long way in my own personal journey, I now know I deserve more than I used to believe I did. Yet I don't, I can't imagine her being the one taking care of me. It needs to be me. I need to spoil her. "You don't like that? When someone... focuses on you?" I think about a lie or a little distractive thing to say. I choose to be frank. If there's a day to be and a moment and a person with whom to be, it must be it. "Not really." "Maybe because you're not used to it. Wouldn't you like that? Because I want to. I thought about it a lot." That's the issue with her. She owns the power. Ultimately she does. Even if she doesn't feel like it, she does. Always. Today it shows in more ways than one. She's so eager, so excited, I don't know how to disappoint her. Reluctant but kindly enough, I ask. "What did you think about?" My mouth is dry as hell. I don't understand how I can be filled with so much anxiety, still. When I feel this old and this wise, and so pleased and spoiled yet, still, terrified. It should just be heaven. I don't get why sometimes the sweetest things have to be so scary to take a bite of. She smiles to herself, satisfied to find me willing to hear her. It's a shadow of promise. I will judge later on if she'll get what she wants or not. For now, I'm just hearing her out. She's sweet and she deserves to express herself. In no time, she meets me centimetres away. She's leaned over, forearms pressing a bit on my chest to keep herself from crashing completely onto me. She's beaming through her eyes, mostly, shining intensely in the dim light as she observes my face from up close. There's the scent of her shampoo, the vanilla coconut mix that I used to be obsessed with, smelling around me even when she wasn't there. It's awfully comforting to have that too sweet smell again, for real this time, teasing my senses and waking up a lovely nostalgia. With the tips of her hair brushing slightly the bare skin of my neck, how am I supposed to refuse anything she asks me. "I realised that we've never- I've never got to- taste you." The last words are not even pronounced out loud. There's the t I read on her teeth biting slightly her pink tongue, the rest of the syllabus she just gives up on and it's for me to read on her lips. Given how obsessed I am with them, the task is not that demanding, her request couldn't be clearer to me. I should be ecstatic, shouldn't I? I'm not. I'm nervous as hell. I don't know what's wrong with me. "That's what you thought about a lot? My dick in your mouth?" She flushes bright pink but doesn't waver. She decided she's a big girl and gets to fantasise about what she wants and she won't be shamed for it, not now that's she's grown the courage to ask aloud. I chuckle humourlessly. "Princess." I can almost see her ears point out at the pet name. She seems to like it. I think I'm keeping it. "You're too pretty to have a dick in your mouth." Her face twists in the loudest mask of indignation and revolt. Straightening her back again to stand tall over me, she looks down on me under her severe set of frown eyebrows. "What does that even-" Her hand falls flat on my chest, meeting the skin hard enough for a sharp slapping sound to resonate in the quiet room. "Yoongi! It doesn't make anyone any less pretty to- what are you even saying? How can you- Why are you diverting? You're always diverting-" She raises her hands to the sky in pure bewilderment. Her face is still contorted in anguish though, I can tell she's not done arguing about this. "I'm telling you I want you in my mouth and you- what do you say to me?" I can't really hold back the cackling laughter erupting straight from my bosom. She's startled by it, upset still but unsure of how serious I am and for some reason, when she stares at me laughing, the tiny shadow of a smile colours the corner of her mouth. The tempting beautiful thing suddenly appears only a few centimetres from my face. She looks down on me with all the seriousness she can gather, eyes squinted tight. "Are you serious, Yoongi? Do you really not like that?" How honest should I be? The ever same existential question. How honest can I be? "Because you- like everything else and I thought you liked going down on me but- do you not like receiving?" Because my own personal question is loud, louder than the soft whisper of her voice, and so much more pressing because finding the answer seems to be more essential, it'd answer her questions and a lot more, the ones she may have but never dare ask. I hope to find the answer or at least a hint of it in her eyes. I don't know any other more evident places where to look for it. My quiet gaze shuts her off a little, I see how she doesn't physically back away but there is something in her eyes wavering and suddenly she looks kind of sad. She might just be disappointed but the effect is immediate, I feel my heart cracks. "I just," I raise for a second just to find some courage on her mouth. "I'm better at giving, it's all. I feel weird just sitting here and taking, it's just weird." It's just hard. "But it's the very principle of Lo-" She cuts herself off before she finishes but too late for me not to make out the last syllable. "Of what?" I ask, a growing crooked grin teasing. I allow myself that because I know that I can't get her there. She might even be more scared than I am. That's funny how I find ease in teasing her in those places yet I know that if we really do get there and start being serious about it, or if she'd dare tease me back, I'd lose my shit. I can hardly handle her calling my name in a whine as if she needs me so much she can't handle me not being a constant part of her. "Do you really not like that? Like not want it?" She asks, eyes boring in mine, looking all serious and grave. I can't disappoint her when she looks at me like that. I don't want to. "I don't want to do anything you wouldn't want or like but-" Gently, the pad of my thumb caresses her soft cheek. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve her. I'm pretty sure there's been a mistake somewhere, an error in the matrix. While I'm not bad, I'm quite good as a person, I'm persuaded that pretty girls with hearts that gentle can't be for me. I can't even tell her how beautiful she is. "Actually no buts. Just, do you want it or not?" How could I say no? When she asks so nicely, so many times to and of course, she looks the way she does. I might be a huge hypocrite. Turning this into her using her charms to get what she wants rather than me accepting to be selfish because it's easier that way. Nonetheless, it's almost reluctantly, with a fat lump in my throat that I let out a tiny, "'Kay." She leans over, eyebrows high. "Was it a yes?" I hum, rolling my eyes a bit. I'm feeling embarrassed, too embarrassed, and she's bouncing on my cock like it's the most exciting news she's heard all year -which might actually be given the circumstances.

It's nice but confusing.

Does she like me that much or is she just really into giving heads? Suddenly I have flashbacks of all those times she got on her knees to fetch something from a low hanging shelf, or under the coffee table. I just thought, innocently, that she had no sense of adulthood and she didn't realise, that once adults are grown they don't get on their knees like children, looking up to you talking like it's not weird at all. Like it's not suggestive at all. Like if I were just to ask nicely she'd probably say yes and I'd be the opening of a pants' fly away from sitting comfortably on her tongue. I can't lie and say that I've never thought about it. Evidently. I have. Probably each and every time she's done that little supposedly innocent thing, and then, a few other times in between. She's giddy when she leans even further, sliding off to the side of my lips when she tries to smooch them. She's even giddier when she crawls down my body, hoping to the side so that she can start unfastening my belt and jeans. She's giddy but quiet when she starts pulling my pants off of me. She's feeling timid, I can read it on her cheeks, but she can't possibly be as much as I am. I don't think I've ever had her undress me like that, in the open, when the light is too bright for comfort and her eyes so focused on me. Now that I come to think of it, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been naked with her. And it's never been like that. With her not fucked out enough to not pay so much attention. With her eyes roaming over me, and every now and then glimpses to my face, gaze smiling and tender. The gaze doesn't leave me as her tiny hand tentatively reaches for my covered shaft. It still remains there, attached, for the longest time, while her fingers pressingly roam over it. I twitch under the touch, heart pounding harder, full of anticipation and anxiety. "Don't drag this shit forever." Maybe I could be nicer. Maybe I could show more patience -if I hadn't been so challenged all evening, I'd probably have some left but clearly, I don't. Maybe I could be less of an ass, I could precisely be the sweet, lovely boyfriend she deserves when she's moments and centimetres away from swallowing me down her throat. Probably I should make more efforts. Or learn how and when to make them. I'm probably not the most practical right now. Being rough when I should be sweet and sweet when she needs me to push her a bit. "But I wanna take my time." She says that with a smile on her pink lips, not vexed at all. And here she proves once again that maybe I don't know shit about her and women in general. Because when I feel like she should get offended or at least aggravated, she just takes me in and finds something that she likes in my insufferable self. I simply bite on my lip, pensive. Doesn't say much to her but she sees it and translates it a way that fits me well. A lazy blink later, I have the ghost of a new kiss on the corner of my mouth and then her lips tightly wrapped around my tip, concealing the fresh breeze of air that her undressing me completely brought. It's undefinable, the sensation of her hot wetness wrapped around me. She doesn't waste a second, visibly having changed her mind about taking her time, trying to have me as far as she can. Bobbing her head and sucking me in with so much enthusiasm, I have red flushing my cheeks when I hear the sounds that she makes, wondering if I seem as desperate, as voluntary, as messy when I do eat her cunt - and the rash comes directly from the blatant, easy answer: a big fat yes. Of course, it would feel that good. When her pussy feels like some Heaven, naturally her mouth would have me like that. In no time, my cock is rock hard and balls tight and ready to blow. It's been months since I've felt this good and even then, I didn't have that treatment. Having someone and her, at that, giving so much of herself, I see the way she tries to catch back some air, frowning because I'm pretty sure her jaw is hurting a bit, jerking me off fast to compensate the lack of warmth and her pretty, pretty eyes, smiling at me, doing the most. My thighs are tensing, my right leg keeps jerking upward uncontrollably, fists holding tight onto the sheets, overwhelmed. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve this. And maybe I'm going to doubt the universe placing this stupid princess on my way even more now that I've had her been so good to me, by just being herself, especially given that she's turned out to be an expert and a passionate at sucking my cock. "Fuck" Here goes my tip hitting the back of her throat again. And her hands, soft and encouraging, playing with my balls, pad of her thumb pressing sometimes between my perineum. "S-stop, I need to-" "You'll fuck me later, come in my mouth." She demands, breathlessly, diving back in before I even get to protest. "You can't say shit like that." I whiningly stutter, she's brought fucking tears to my eyes. I see blurry as I stare at the ceiling, vainly trying to hold back my climax. It makes her chuckle a bit, hum something I can't possibly understand with her mouth full and bells ringing in my ears, all I capture is the vibration it sends to my whole shaft, tickling along my spine, making me bent it embarrassingly. "Really wan'you to come-" She mumbles, lips making out with my tip in the process. "Then swallow me down." It comes out before I plan on it, before I mean to say it, through gritted teeth. She slides down my length, taking me in, like my every word is her command. The unexpected rush of pleasure, like an electric shock, seizes my hand which jumps to her head and decides to stay there, fingers fighting against the very weak remain of my brain cells to grab and clench and tear the head of hair they laid on. It's when I meet the back one more time and she decides to swallow down just then that I reach it, spilling down her throat, growling aloud without meaning too, spurring few words I probably wouldn't say to her if my mind wasn't so cloudy. I'm somewhere else. Body empty of any tension and I realize that a blowjob is exactly all I needed all those months. I haven't felt this relaxed and satiated and satisfied in so long, I feel dizzy and a bit lost. Even my own bed feels foreign, maybe it's just because she's on it. Smiling down on me with her small fingers painting shape on my skin and her pretty smile kissing my chest. She kisses her way up, leaving a path of warm sprouts, takes her time right on my drumming heart, smooches my cheeks with a tiny giggle that blooms probably from the red dots I assume are on them. She looks down on me, eyes sparkly and lips stuck in an upward curve. I see her hesitating. She's unsure of something I don't get because she just blew my mind off. My fingers knead gently the flesh of her thighs, inviting her to speak if there's something she needs to say. Her soft finger presses on my lips and she raises an eyebrow. "I don't know if I can kiss you..." "Why?" I ask, probably a bit too abruptly because I'm stupid right now and I don't understand under what circumstances she couldn't press her mouth to mine. She rolls her eyes evidently, scoffs and finally points at my crotch then her mouth, flushed all over her cheeks, when she sees me still struggling to understand. "Course you can. You always can." She shrugs, eyes fleeing away. I kiss her hard on the mouth, the hand buried in her hair pressing her further onto me. I consider vaguely how gross she might believe me to be when really, I'm just a bit too whipped for her and cum, no matter if it's mine or hers and shockingly enough I realise anyone else's too, I don't fucking care, any of her kisses are kisses that I want to consume. I roll her over on the bed and kiss her harder, licking and sucking her tongue until she's just wide eyes glinting up to me. "You can always kiss me." She nods, swollen lips tilting up. She doesn't find me too gross, it seems. Good. "And thanks." One kiss. "Was really nice." She tries to bite back her grin but fails, tittering even as I pinch lightly the side of her waist. "Was it nice for you?" I kiss the side of her jaw, smiling against her as I continue, purring close to her ear, "Just like you imagined?" I can feel her frustration before she even expresses it by raising a fist ready to punch me. It makes me chuckle. That's what she deserves for putting me in this situation anyway. I can't be the only one embarrassed, especially when I made an effort to content her -even if to content her was to content me but it doesn't matter. When my hand slides so naturally down her stomach, fingers strumming teasingly along the hem of her pants, the nagging and the arguing should be postponed for now. "You're an-" I slide easily under her clothes, palm cupping perfectly her cunt, it cuts her off. She gasps, eyes growing wide as they stare off at the ceiling, biting on her lip. "I'm what?" "Nothing." She grunts between tight jaws, both mad and horny and that's just too funny. I'm enjoying this immensely, torturing her kindly, while my fingers dip in her soaked heat, with her lips centimetres away so that I can kiss them as much as I want. She responds to all of my kisses. Tense her neck every time I part away for a second to take a look at what I'm doing, at her overall form, her laying in my bed with her twitching legs parting to give me more access. "I'm nothing? That's mean." "Yoongi, not now." I catch the curse she doesn't spit in my face before she gets to swallow it back down. The prospect that things should be cleared out now and that this will happen again, and again, and again until the day she decides she's tired of me drives me wild with excitement. It means I'll get to push her buttons and piss her off enough she'll curse at me the way she rarely ever does Taehyung when he's reaching her very limits of patience. Maybe I'm a bit gross, at least a bit freaky, if the idea of her mad beyond herself, calling me names yet simultaneously letting me play with her body like that turns me on so much. "When if not now, princess?" She pulsates around my fingers at that. It has to be the name. How lovely. How adorable. So adorable I can't help but grin giddily, effectively hiding my face in the crook of her neck so she doesn't catch me when I do. "You're so close already." "Shut up." "All worked up just from having my cock in your mouth." She groans, closes her eyes tight as if she's trying to focus all her attention on my fingers fucking her. "So easy to please, I'm a lucky bastard, am I not?" I keep mumbling next to her ear because I don't care what she pretends, I know she loves hearing me and I can bet with great confidence on what she loves to hear me say. "Having a girlfriend like you-" "Oh my Go- Yoongi-" "Come for your man." So easy to please. I know I'm not reaching the spot she likes best because her fucking pants are in the way. I've learned that the stretching is something she enjoys thoroughly and from how tense and on edge she got herself, my three fingers are doing wonders, dragging the ring along with every thrust. But I'm sure, I know, what's triggering her. She's too much like me. Probably worse than me. So desperate to feel the love, and here she is, coming around my fingers but mainly around my words when I'm just calling her mine. It takes her ages to come back to her senses, to stop desperately drinking my love straight from my mouth, and for her sweet cunt to stop kissing the tip of my fingers and let me slip them out. She's fucked out when she's back. Hair I barely touched all over the fucking place, eyelids heavy, mouth red and swollen, eyebrows low and eyes wet the way they get when the pleasure is so good she becomes a bit too soft and sensible and sometimes a tear or two escape. I get to clean her up a bit, rearranged her clothes and then realise that she's actually spending the night with me so I might as well get her pants off, throw my own pants away and put some shorts on, turn off the lights, and catch her in the most comfortable spooning session I've personally ever had before I feel her alert and with me entirely. "You okay?" She nods her head, blinking a few times more than necessary when she watches me raise my fingers to my mouth and mechanically lick them clean. In a whisper, after too long of laying quietly in the dark -apart from the angry stomping going on in the hallway along with mumbled curses that can only come from Seokjin and that we both decide to ignore- she timidly asks, "So we're dating, Min Yoongi?" "We've always been dating, dumbass." Which is not exactly true, not exactly false. To me, anyway, if she'd ever come to decide that the whole thing was just a fling then, it would have been just that. But I'm pretty sure she's always liked me as much as I have and even if I never expressed it clearly, I don't just fuck around like that. Especially with girls as sweet as her. And I don't really get that words define what we are anyway. Nothing changes now that I've said that. Maybe she's happier with the situation and that's all I want therefore I can give them to her, but honestly, yeah, to me we've always been each other's. "You're an asshole." "I'm your asshole." I don't know if she can hear my grin but the exasperated sigh suggests she does. "That's- gross." She still kisses my cheek and then my chest, huddling to my side, humming to herself when my arms wrapped around her squeeze a little harder. She's warm and soft and all mine, and when the realisation hits, that just a few hours ago she was infinitely far away from me, and now she's here in my arms, in my bed, (kind of) officially just mine to please and enjoy, my heart swells. That's all I've needed.

A/N: Guess what, it’s one of my new year resolutions to STOP taking a break from writing and this blog. *clown*

I hope it wasn’t too bad, too stiff. I meant to give this couple a nice ending because I got attached to them as quite a lot of you have. Hopefully, you’re not disappointed and sorry if it was so angsty but I guess, my heart felt a bit heavy writing it. SOZ

I'm already working on another story I’m really excited about and inspired for. I’ll try to have it release very soon.

If you’ve come this far, THANK YOU immensely. I LOVE you.

I hope all of you and your loved ones are doing fine. My best wishes for this new year. Let’s meet here more often.

#ksmutclub #btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts scenario #my writing

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thathopelessromantic · 3 years ago

Text

your hand in mine

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Rating: Teen+ (for blood/injuries and minor language) Pairing: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yagi Toshinori | All Might (EraserMight) Note: Part of the EMMB 2021

The difference a year makes

A developing relationship told in seasons

AO3: (X) Companion Playlist: (X)

Summer

My love, he caught me crying Freedom can die so hard When you have a broken heart -God in Jeans, Ryan Beatty

Shouta is determined to ignore the sounds coming through the adjoining wall to his apartment. But it’s hard. There was an adjustment period to living in the apartments on campus, to stay close to the students in case of another attack. In his old apartment, the hours he kept were so erratic he rarely, if ever, ran into his neighbors. Now he knows all of them, some to a degree he never needed to know a coworker. And aside from the occasional hero work, they kept essentially the same hours. So even through the walls of the apartment, there’s usually the buzz of life around him – friends and co-workers settling down after a long day, cooking, cleaning. There was an adjustment period to being so aware of the people around him, but he thought he had well…adjusted.

He’s reconsidering that position now.

He’d like to blame it on the neighbor in question. Yagi, All Might, made so much noise as All Might, announcing his every arrival and departure with a booming voice or the crushing of some man-made structure not meant to withstand the superpowered strength of a 225 kg giant using it as a landing pad or springboard. But Yagi Toshinori as himself, at least while alone, seemed to make up for all the noise he made as his alter ego by being eerily quiet. Shouta had gotten so accustomed to hearing silence from the apartment to his right he thought it was empty. Originally, he thought it just made sense for All Might to take it for show like all the other teachers, but actually spend his time at his real home, some lavish penthouse in the Might Tower or something equally as ridiculous and extravagant. Though now that he was retired, and essentially quirkless, that trip from Tokyo to Musutafu was probably a little harder to manage every morning. Still, it seemed silly for the previous number one hero to be slumming it in glorified student dorms with the rest of them.

But Shouta was wrong about that fact too, just as he had been with many of his assumptions about the old hero. He had spent the last few months reassessing most of his assumptions about All Might, but he tended to fall back into old habits without evidence to the contrary. When a violent crash came from the otherwise silent apartment a few weeks prior, he rushed in, assuming an intruder. Instead he found Yagi in the middle of a starkly decorated living room amongst the splintered pieces of a coffee table he had fallen through. Yagi had insisted it was an accident, and an unusual one at that, and begged him to leave the subject. Shouta agreed with little argument, helping him clean up the mess, and going back to his apartment without much fuss. But he before he even realized it, Shouta found himself listening for signs of life in the adjacent apartment after that.

Occasionally he could pick up the sound of running water or the quiet beep of an oven timer or microwave. Very rarely, a quiet radio or TV station would drift through the walls. Most of the sounds would easily get lost in the bustle of every day life between a dozen or so heroes coming and going, or could have been mistaken for someone else’s noise, so it wasn’t a surprise that Shouta had missed the fact that it came from All Might’s apartment. But once he knew to listen for it, he couldn’t seem to stop listening for it.

It wasn’t…worry, exactly, that had him keeping tabs on Yagi, but he couldn’t find another word for it. He just couldn’t stop wondering how long Yagi had lived there before he realized. Couldn’t stop thinking about how dark, how cold, how empty the apartment was when he burst in before. Shouta wouldn’t have thought he ever considered what All Might’s house might have looked like until he saw how the retired hero was living and it struck him distinctly as wrong.

The coughing he hears tonight cuts over the quiet music Yagi has playing and he wonders if he normally plays it to cover the sound of his coughs before he banishes the thought from his mind. He has a week’s worth of lessons to plan still and papers to grade and what Yagi chooses to do in his own apartment is none of his business. And he is an adult who is perfectly capable of taking care of himself and doesn’t need Shouta of all people fretting over him. But all of Shouta’s logical reasons for why he should ignore the sounds coming through their shared wall can’t seem to stop him from hesitating at every harsh sound, from looking to the door and considering going over every time a coughing fit lasts more than a minute or so.

Eventually, Yagi seems to settle for the night and the coughing fits interrupt the slow music less and less. Finally able to focus on his work instead of his neighbor, Shouta lets the quiet sounds from his apartment fade into the chorus of background noise. So when, almost an hour later, there’s a new coughing fit followed by a large crack of something on the other side of the wall, Shouta is on his feet and moving to the door before he realizes what he’s doing.

He freezes in the hallway, staring at the closed door of Yagi’s apartment. No one else came to investigate the sounds, which seems strange to Shouta. It seems…impossible that no one else heard that and he knows for a fact their other neighbors on this floor are not particularly good at minding their business. But no one else comes to see what’s happening, so Shouta stands in the hall staring at the door feeling torn between an obligation to check on Yagi and a nervous, clawing sensation that makes him want to turn and never step foot back inside All Might’s apartment.

The coughing and some other muffled sounds continue through the door and eventually Shouta’s sense of obligation to help wins out because he knocks on the door, calling for All Might. No one answers.

Shouta knocks again, harder, but still after a few minutes he gets no response. Finally, he tries the handle.

The door swings open easily, unlocked.

Shouta has a lecture building in his head on the basic safety of locking your doors as he steps through the doorway. Like the last time, All Might’s apartment is dark. There’s a single pair of shoes in the entrance way that leads to the empty kitchen. The table pushed to the side of the room is identical to the one in Shouta’s apartment, but whereas his is covered in bills and homework in need of grading, All Might’s is empty. Only a single chair sits at the table meant to seat four.

Shouta steps through the kitchen into the living room, calling for All Might. He can hear someone coughing, and swearing as he gets close enough to make out the muffled talking, but still no one replies. The table Yagi had fallen through weeks before still hasn’t been replaced, so the only thing in the living room now is a large couch that looks virtually unused and Yagi’s briefcase on the floor besides it. Moonlight pours into the room from the glass balcony doors painting the room a cold blue despite the summer heat. Shouta can almost imagine the room, cold and dusty, the single piece of furniture covered in a sheet, it’s previous occupant gone, without enough of a fingerprint to even be forgotten within the space.

Shouta shakes the thought from his head and moves further into the apartment. Finally, down the hall to the two bedrooms, he sees light seeping into the hallway from the open bathroom door.

“All Might? It’s Aizawa. I heard a crash. I was just coming to-” Shouta feels the words catch in his throat as he takes in the sight before him. The laminate countertop and sink basin are broken in half, and water soaks the floor of the bathroom from a burst pipe under the sink. There is no mirror on the wall above the sink, which strikes Shouta as odd in the moment, though it is perhaps the least weird thing happening in the bathroom in that moment. All Might…Yagi stands in the middle of the room, the bottom of his pants are soaked with water. His hands, clutched in fists at his sides, are bloody, though if its from breaking the skin against the sink or from wiping at the blood dripping from his mouth, Shouta isn’t sure. The blood there is smeared across the bottom half of his face, the deep red staining his clenched teeth and seeping through the cracks in thin, dry lips that hold back his coughs. There’s a furious, wild look in his eye as the curses Yagi was spewing die on his lips and Shouta isn’t sure if he looks more ready to yell or cry.

But through all of that, it’s the bright red, gnarled scar on the side of Yagi’s chest that seems to be eating him from the inside that makes Shouta take a step back in shock. Yagi’s baggy clothes hid most of his form like this, even with his more updated wardrobe fitting him better. But the crater in his chest mangles his form. Even if he was standing up straight, if he even can fully stand straight with that much scar tissue stretched across his torso, it was obvious the scar had made his chest uneven, like it was slowly collapsing into itself, ribs and organs giving way to nothingness.

How many years had he lived like this? How many years had he worked like this?

“Aizawa,” Yagi grinds out hoarsely, the single word sounding like gravel in his abused throat.

It pulls Shouta out of his shock regardless, and he takes a few steps closer, as if they could both forget his broken composure. “I’m sorry for coming in unannounced. I heard the…crash. But there was no answer and your door was unlocked.”

Yagi stares at him for a long time and Shouta isn’t sure if it is because he doesn’t know what else to say, or just that he can’t bring himself to say anything else.

“Can I…help with anything?” Shouta finally asks.

Yagi pops his jaw a few times before he tries to speak again. “If you could…call someone…about the water…”

“Of course,” Shouta starts to pull out his cell, hoping he remembered to keep the stupid thing charged for once, when Yagi starts to speak again.

“Could you also…grab some towels…and a…a change of clothes?”

Shouta looks up but Yagi isn’t looking at him anymore. Just staring hard at the wall in front of him as if it had personally caused all of this. Shouta looks down again at the slowly-flooding room and wonders if Yagi even owns enough towels to make a difference.

“In the closet in the bedroom?” Shouta guesses.

Yagi nods once, stiffly.

Shouta takes the opportunity to flee for a moment gratefully. He calls Nezu and the maintenance number they had all been given when they moved in as he goes to the bedroom to rummage through the closet. He doesn’t turn the light on in the bedroom, he’s not sure why he doesn’t want to, maybe just to afford Yagi even a sliver more of privacy after tonight. But it doesn’t make a difference. The moon is full tonight and enough light comes through the open window to show that nothing is in the room except for an unnaturally large bed, the dark plain sheets slipping to the ground, and a bedside table covered in enough pill bottles to fill a small pharmacy.

There are only two more full-sized towels in the closet and a single hand towel, so Shouta just grabs all three. He’s not sure the clothes matter that much, so he just grabs the first pair of pants he sees that don’t look like slacks and a t-shirt.

He returns to the bathroom. The water is still steadily pouring in and there is no way the three thin towels will make much of a difference, if any. Still, Yagi takes them from him, dropping the two full-sized towels onto the ground. He uses the hand towel to wipe off his arms and chest first, though dry it doesn’t do much to help the blood that seems to be everywhere.

Uncaring of Shouta standing there, Yagi undoes the belt that keeps his jeans on his body and they drop to join the already-soaked towels and the stained lump between his legs Shouta thinks might have been his shirt. Yagi steps out of them, gingerly walking through the water until he joins Shouta in the hallway. He drops the hand towel to the ground, mopping up what water had already begun to leak out of the room. Shouta doesn’t mean to stare, but like every other part of him, Yagi’s legs are unbearably thin, nothing but skin and bone and scar tissue, the pale pink and white lines crisscrossing over his calves and thighs like a roadmap.

Yagi holds out a hand for the clothes. Shouta realizes his mistake in not looking carefully a moment later as he pulls on the jeans and dark t-shirt obviously meant for All Might’s pre-retirement body. Shouta feels an apology on the tip of his tongue, but Yagi barely blinks at the ill-fitting clothes. He wraps a fist around the waist band of the pants to keep them up and shuffles past Shouta into the dark living room.

Shouta follows hesitantly behind him. “Nezu said he would be here soon,” Shouta says as Yagi falls miserably onto the couch. He drops his head to rest on the back of the couch and sighs, exhausted. Despite his open, splayed position, Yagi’s body is still tense, coiled tight like he’s ready for a fight at any moment.

“Can I do anything else?” Shouta asks.

Yagi licks his lips. “A glass of water would be appreciated.”

Shouta nods, heading into the kitchen. He turns the light on above the stove for something to see by, but he worries the overhead light would be too harsh in this odd darkness. He finds a glass easily enough, Yagi only has things in two cupboards. He opens the fridge, but it’s empty. Not empty like Shouta’s is “empty,” as in home to just a water pitcher, some old condiments, and his latest package of jelly pouches, but completely and entirely empty. Shouta closes and opens the door again as if it would change the contents of the fridge. He opens the freezer above, just to check, but expecting more of the same. There Yagi has an ice pack and ice tray with two ice cubes left.

Shouta fills the glass at the sink and returns to the living room. Yagi’s position hasn’t changed at all, though he turns his head to watch Shouta reenter the room. He sits up to accept the glass once Shouta is closer, and at that distance Shouta can see there are cuts across his knuckles. They don’t seem to be actively bleeding any more, but they’re not a pretty sight regardless.

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

Yagi takes a drink before he answers Shouta. “Under the sink in the kitchen.”

Shouta turns back around to retrieve it. He also finds a dry dish cloth in a drawer that he dampens at the sink. He’s wringing the towel out when there’s a quiet knock at the door before it swings open. Nezu stands on the other side with a plumber.

Shouta bows his head in hello. “Principal.”

“Aizawa-sensei!” Nezu replies brightly. “Thank you for being such a dutiful neighbor and checking on All Might.”

Shouta follows Nezu and the plumber back into the living room. The small principal shows the plumber to the bathroom, waving off Shouta’s offer to show them the way, before he returns and stops at the couch. His head just barely rises above Yagi’s knee as he looks at him in concern.

“How are you, Toshinori?”

Shouta freezes at the familiarity in his tone. Yagi’s expression changes ever so slightly as he looks down at Nezu.

“I’ve survived much worse than this, old friend.”

Nezu laughs off the comment, good naturedly, but the laugh sounds hollow even to Shouta. “Yes, well I suppose that’s true.” Nezu reaches over and pats Yagi’s knee. “I’ll let Aizawa-sensei here clean you up a little while I look at the damage, hm?”

He scurries off back down the hall before either hero can argue. That had been Shouta’s plan, even before Nezu announced it, but now he hesitates, frozen and staring at the old hero before him. The towel he brought drips slowly but steadily down his hand and onto the floor. He’s not sure Yagi wants his help, and normally he would prioritize the man’s injuries over his personal hang-ups in the moment, but he already feels as if he’s intruded too much into the man’s space, into his privacy.

So Yagi breaks the silence, holding out a bloodied hand towards him. “I can clean up the blood,” he offers.

“I’m not worried about a little blood,” Shouta snaps, unthinkingly. Irritated back into movement, he sets the first aid kit on the ground besides the couch and grabs Yagi’s outstretched hand. Mindful of the open wounds, he wipes at the blood furthest away first, where it dripped past his hand and down his wrist before drying in dark, cracking trails.

Yagi’s eyes glint for a moment and Shouta thinks he almost looks amused.

Shouta has to rinse out the towel twice before he’s finished with both of Yagi’s hands. The wounds on his left knuckles started bleeding again as he washed his hands, but thankfully it was a slow, sluggish bleed that didn’t go far. Satisfied with his work there, Shouta starts to drop the towel but Yagi’s hand darts out catching it before it can hit the floor. Shouta stops, surprised by the quick movement, as Yagi looks for the cleanest spot on the towel before wiping at his own face.

Shouta watches for a moment before he remembers himself and busies himself with going through the first aid kit. In comparison to the rest of Yagi’s apartment, it’s surprisingly well stocked. Yagi drops the bloodied towel uncaringly onto the couch cushion besides him as Shouta pulls out some antibiotic ointment, a gauze wrap, and some clasps.

When he looks up, Yagi is watching him curiously, like he’s still trying to figure out Shouta’s bizarre behavior. And there’s still blood around his mouth. Shouta sets the supplies aside, picking the towel back up. He steps between Yagi’s long legs, carefully holding his chin in place.

“You could just tell me I missed a spot,” Yagi reminds him quietly as Shouta wipes gently around his mouth.

“This is just more efficient,” Shouta says harshly. He tries to look only at the bottom half of Yagi’s face where there’s still blood, but he can feel his bright eyes boring into him.

Finally, Yagi says, “You haven’t asked.”

Shouta’s hand clenches around his chin, a reflex, a flinch, before he forces himself to relax. He looks up finally meeting Yagi’s eyes. The bright blue sears him in the dark. “It’s none of my business.”

“You can ask, Aizawa.” Yagi replies and it’s the use of his name that gets him. They’re All Might and Eraserhead to each other. Co-workers. That’s all they were supposed to be, ever. But Shouta’s aware Yagi’s slowly become Yagi more than he is All Might to him, and even if he leaves now, doesn’t ask any more, insists on knowing nothing else, he now knows something big about All Might that he imagines very few know. He can’t unlearn this secret, so he might as well have the whole story.

“What happened…to your side?”

“My first fight with All For One was six years ago,” Yagi starts and it takes all of Shouta’s self control not to react. Six years. “I crushed his head and damaged his body, originally I believe to an extent that he could not recover, though, obviously, I was wrong.” Yagi makes an odd, self-deprecating smile. “In return, after the fight I lost my stomach and part of my left lung, among some other irreparable damage to my respiratory system. I could still fight, but I was weakened considerably…it limited the amount of time I could use my quirk. And eventually left me like this.”

“…Why?” Shouta isn’t entirely sure what he’s asking until Yagi tilts his head and looks at him as if the answer is the most obvious one in the world.

“I’m…I was a hero. It was my job. I couldn’t retire yet.”

Shouta feels some kind of emotion welling up in his chest, choking him, as he looks at the weathered hands he’s bandaging and thinks of all they’ve done. All they did while withstanding this immense pain and loss. But he doesn’t know how to articulate that. Doesn’t know how to say thank you in a way that matters, in a way that he’ll even believe. So instead he says, “You’re an idiot.”

Yagi’s head drops back against the couch and he laughs. Not the same, booming laugh of All Might, but something somehow familiar and comforting all the same.

“Thank you, Aizawa,” Yagi says.

Shouta isn’t sure exactly what Yagi is thanking him for, but he can’t quite bring himself to ask.

Fall

Please don’t be afraid I will always be here I will cry your tears Share your sweet, sad fears Please don’t look away Take my hand in your hand Come and rest my dear I will always be here -Always Be Here, Ha Jin

Eri clutches tightly to Shouta, one small hand twisted in the capture weapon around his neck while the other holds the front of his jumpsuit. Her head is tucked against his shoulder, hiding her face from the world, but even through the layers of his clothes he can feel how she’s burning up. Her quirk had started acting up the night before, after a nightmare she hasn’t wanted to talk about. Shouta was able to stop it quickly enough, thankfully, but she’s been sick since he woke her from the nightmare and he’s running out of ideas for what to do.

She’s so impossibly light in his arms, and clutches so desperately to him, he can’t help but wonder how many times she had actually been held and cared for like a young child should be before she came to live with him. If she had been comforted at all the last time she was sick like this. And the thought makes him hold her a little tighter, a little closer to him.

He felt a little bad to disturb her when he picked her up and carried her from bed, but he needed help. And he couldn’t leave her alone. The hallway is quiet, most of his coworkers taking advantage of the last few hours of their weekend to relax, so he realizes it might be a long shot for someone to be home to help, but he knocks on Yagi’s door anyways.

It only takes a moment before Yagi answers. His bright greeting trails off when he sees Eri, Shouta’s own haggard appearance probably not helping matters.

“Hello, Aizawa, little Eri-chan,” Yagi says quietly.

Eri twists in his arms and for a moment, Shouta is worried this was a terrible idea. When they first met, Yagi’s size and appearance had made Eri a little nervous. She’s gotten better with him, and with people all around, but even when she hasn’t been battling a fever and a nightmare, she has bad days when everything is too strange or just too much for her to handle. But instead of getting more upset, Eri turns just enough to peek up at Yagi from behind a thick curtain of hair. She waves meekly to him once.

“She’s been sick since last night, and nothing I’ve done has gotten her fever down,” Shouta says instead of a greeting. “Could you look after her for a little while I get Recov-”

Before Shouta can finish his question, Eri’s arms tighten around him and she shakes her head, kicking weakly against him.

Yagi smiles softly, stepping back to open the door wider. “Why don’t you both come in, and I’ll see if I can’t get ahold of Recovery Girl another way.”

Yagi leads them through the kitchen to the living room. There’s an old standing record player pushed against the wall playing something soft and low. The rest of Yagi’s décor has been updated, as well. There’s a new table in the middle of the room with a cup of tea and some papers, as well as a thick book full of brightly colored tabs. The couch, where he gestures for Shouta to sit with Eri, now has a shocking number of pillows piled on it and a few brightly colored blankets thrown over the back. Yagi makes sure they’re both comfortable, or as comfortable as they can be, before he goes to call Recovery Girl. Shouta can just barely make out the low timbre of his voice in the other room as he talks.

“Yagi is going to get a doctor to come check on you, but she’s a friend, nothing to be afraid of.” Shouta tells Eri quietly, brushing back her hair. It’s damp with sweat and sticks to her in messy clumps. “Do you remember Recovery Girl?”

After a moment, Eri nods against him.

Yagi returns before Shouta can ask something else, his phone pressed against his chest as he crouches down besides the couch. He looks between them.

“Recovery Girl wanted to know if there was anything else besides her fever?”

“Her quirk started up after a nightmare, that’s when it started. And she hasn’t been able to keep anything down.”

As Shouta finishes talking, Eri signs to him. Pressed against Shouta as she is, it takes him a moment to realize what she’s trying to do.

Almost immediately after they were (pretty) sure they weren’t going to lose their jobs at U.A., Hizashi pitched a fit that sign language was still not a required part of the curriculum for hero students, protesting and appealing to school boards and other pro heroes until things changed and people saw the sense in heroes being able to communicate, not only silently with themselves if there was a need, but with any deaf, hard of hearing, or nonverbal civilians a hero might interact with during a job, and hero programs across the country slowly began adding it to the curriculum.

Shortly after Eri came to live with him fulltime, they began to teach her sign language as well, not only so that she might be able to communicate with Hizashi no matter what, but also because they quickly realized sometimes she had bad days and talking, holding full conversations was just too much for her to handle. Even just simple signs like “yes,” “no,” “food,” and “drink,” made navigating those bad days a thousand times easier.

Shouta tilts his head as she signs again, hoping to see enough of the movement to interpret for Yagi when he picks the phone back up and says, “She says her chest hurts. Aizawa said it started after a nightmare that triggered her quirk and that she hasn’t been able to keep anything down.”

Shouta blinks a few times in surprise, but Yagi doesn’t acknowledge him. He nods a few times while Recovery Girl talks on the other end. Eventually, he thanks her and ends the call.

“Recovery Girl said to try and make her as comfortable as possible, and to try and get some food into her, but I don’t have any medicine safe enough for someone so young, so she’ll bring some by soon.”

“Thank you.”

Yagi smiles softly at Shouta’s quiet thanks. He rises to his feet, muttering mostly to himself, a habit Shouta is sure he’s picked up from Midoriya, about what he has on hand to help Eri feel better. He leans down to brush a comforting hand over Eri’s head. His hand is giant against her tiny body, but she leans into the touch rather than shying away. Yagi hesitates, and for a moment, Shouta thinks he’s going to get a similar, gentle touch before Yagi steps away, promising to return in a moment.

Shouta repositions himself on the couch so they can recline, but Eri still refuses to let go of him, and eventually he has to accept letting Yagi take care of them. Yagi helps replace a cooling patch on Eri’s forehead, wiping down her face and neck with a soft washcloth as best he can. He asks Eri a few times if she wants something to eat, or if anything sounds good to her, but her sleepy, subdued signing in reply doesn’t give him much of an answer. Yagi, thankfully, takes it all in stride, running another gentle hand over her back.

“That’s alright. I happen to be an expert now at making yummy things, even when food doesn’t sound good. Do you trust me?”

And for the first time in almost two days, Shouta hears Eri’s quiet voice again in a soft “yes.”

Yagi shares a triumphant smile with Shouta before he offers a pinky to Eri. “I’ll cook you something that makes you feel better in no time, okay?”

Eri reaches out to complete the pinky-promise, her tiny finger barely able to bend around his.

Shouta doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up again. He’s disoriented for a moment, trying to remember where he is and why he isn’t in his own home. He’s used to dozing off in random places, stealing a few minutes of sleep where he can, but falling deeply, completely asleep in somewhere other than home feels...wrong. The quiet record still playing in the corner is what brings him back. Yagi’s apartment. Eri isn’t lying against his chest any more, but when he sits up, looking for her, he sees Yagi on the opposite end of the couch, the small girl cradled against his chest, fast asleep. His eyes are closed, but he rubs slow circles over her back, humming quietly along with the music, so Shouta knows he’s awake.

“How is she?”

To his credit, Yagi doesn’t startle at Shouta’s sudden question. “A little cooler.” He nods to a bowl on the table. “She managed to keep down about half a serving of porridge and some water. Chiyo…Recovery Girl just left a little while ago.”

“You could have woken me.”

“You looked like you could use some rest. I’m sure you’ve been up with her the whole time.”

Shouta doesn’t bother to acknowledge that, he’s right, of course. “I didn’t know you knew sign.”

Yagi looks away, considering. “When I was still…new, I was trying to help a young woman who was trapped, but she was deaf and couldn’t understand me, barely recognized me. I think I scared her more than I helped her at first,” he admits with a laugh. “I realized there was something I had overlooked in my drive to help people, people I had overlooked, and I wanted to rectify that.” He finally turns to look at Shouta. “I’m not fluent, I let my skills…atrophy a little these last few years, and even before I didn’t dedicate as much time as I could have. But parts of the body, pain or injuries, those were important for me to learn…and easier to remember.”

“…if you ever wanted to brush up on your skills, I could help you.”

Yagi laughs quietly. “Always the sensei, Aizawa.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I appreciate the offer. I would love to work on it more with you.”

Shouta doesn’t know why the word choice makes him feel suddenly flustered, but he has to look away, willing his quirk not to activate at his strange embarrassment.

“You’re good with her,” he says, changing the subject instead of acknowledging it.

Yagi doesn’t reply for a while and when Shouta looks to him again, he could swear it looks like the other man is blushing. Yagi’s expression is incredibly fond as he looks down at the sleeping girl, thankfully undisturbed by their conversation.

“I was worried I frightened her.”

“You did, at first.” Shouta confirms. There’s no point in beating around the bush. “She just needed time to get to know you better. To know she could trust you.”

Shouta isn’t oblivious to how easily his statement could be applied to himself and his relationship with Yagi. If Yagi’s expression is anything to go by, he’s also aware of the similarities between them, but he has the decency not to call him out on it.

Winter

I was a wolf, dear, apart from the pack But you answered my call in the dead of the night And told me you had my back, oh I can’t do this alone anymore Cause I’m not good on my own anymore -I Was An Island, Allison Weiss

“You know more about Midoriya’s quirk than you’re letting on.”

It’s an accusation. For that matter, it’s an accusation based on little more than a hunch. But the way Yagi freezes up, immediately, tensed like he’s deciding between fight or flight right there just about confirms all of Shouta’s suspicions. Or, at least, most of them.

“Ai-Aizawa, I didn’t see you there…” Yagi mumbles, slowly turning to face him.

Shouta crosses his arms and waits.

“Was there a…question?” Yagi asks eventually, when he can’t seem to take squirming under Shouta’s intense glare any longer.

“What is going on with Midoriya’s quirk?”

Yagi glances at something behind Shouta’s head, as if looking for an escape, but Shouta could definitely catch him if he tried to make a break for it past him, and he knows no one followed them into the lounge. Yagi wrings his hands nervously in front of him. Shouta knows he wants to go check on Midoriya, but he’s hoping that sense of urgency will speed up this conversation. It’s been a long time coming now, and Shouta is getting some answers.

“I can assure you, Aizawa, I didn’t know young Midoriya’s quirk could…or would produce something like that.”

Shouta leans against a desk. “I’m not buying it. You know something.”

Finally, Yagi seems to grow tired of being on the opposite side of the interrogation because there’s a fire in his eyes that hasn’t been there in a while, that Shouta realizes he…missed seeing there, as Yagi advances on him across the room.

“Where was this concern for him when his quirk was going out of control during the lesson today?”

Shouta brushes off the accusation. The second time Midoriya’s quirk had acted up, it was Yagi, after all, who insisted they let the students keep going. “We both know his explanation about power just overwhelming him is bullshit. We’ve seen what happens to Midoriya’s body when his quirk is overpowered and it’s not whatever that was.”

Yagi’s hands clench in fists at his sides and he looks away from Shouta, clenching his jaw. He reminds Shouta a little of the Yagi from a few months ago, the wild-eyed frustration welling up inside him to a breaking point. He’s just missing the blood and flooding bathroom.

Some part of Shouta feels a little guilty, intentionally pushing Yagi near to a breaking point, but this has been going on for far too long. Shouta had been prepared to send Midoriya home from day one, and from day one Midoriya, and Yagi, had been trying to convince him not to.

“Could it be you see the potential in Midoriya, as well?” All Might had asked Shouta after the first class training exercise, when Midoriya proved he could use his quirk without completely incapacitating himself for the rest of the fight. Shouta had wanted to brush the comment off, but the ‘as well’ echoed around in his head for days. How did All Might know anything about this one, random, incoming first-year? And why was he so invested in him? Why did he care about Shouta seeing his potential?

After that, it was impossible to miss the odd behavior between the two. They were constantly together, darting around corners and whispering in the backs of rooms, having lunch together when Midoriya should have been spending more time socializing with his classmates.

Even the other teachers began to notice something. He still remembers the first time someone had joked during a night out about the two being related. Yagi had almost choked on his drink, while Hizashi laughed, drunkenly, gleefully telling them about the conversation he had overheard from students that Todoroki apparently once accused Midoriya of being All Might’s secret lovechild.

If it was one or the other – some odd behavior or similar quirks – Shouta thinks he would be able to brush it off, put it out of his mind, but too many things keep adding up to there being a connection between the two of them. He just can’t, for the life of him, figure out what that connection is.

“I can’t help if I don’t know the whole story,” Shouta finally changes tactics, hoping he can appeal to some part of Yagi. “You’re both keeping secrets, badly, but Midoriya has been struggling with his quirk since he started at U.A. If there’s something about his quirk…” Shouta sighs, frustrated. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Silence stretches on between them. Shouta is starting to brainstorm a new approach when Yagi seems to deflate in front of him, body sagging against the desks beside them. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends of his bangs in a nervous tick.

Finally, finally, he says, “What happened at the training exercise today was a surprise to me too. I didn’t know it could happen…I…I have a theory, now, but until it happened today, I never even would have thought it was possible.”

Shouta lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relieved. “I can work with a theory.”

“I think it was someone else’s quirk.”

What?

If Midoriya had a quirk like Monoma and could somehow “borrow” other’s abilities, it could maybe explain similarities between his quirk and All Might’s power before he retired, but no one in either of the hero course classes had a quirk anything like what Midoriya had displayed today. There was no way he could have borrowed that from anyone recently. And before now, Shouta would have been out of other explanations past that. Now, he thinks about the Nomus they’ve interacted with, the…monsters made up of different quirks, and of Shirakumo and Kurogiri. And he feels a little sick to his stomach at the possible implications.

“What? How would Midoriya have someone else’s quirk? Whose quirk would he have?”

Yagi makes a complicated expression. “Someone from a long time ago.” He says.

Shouta isn’t sure if he wants to pull out his own hair or shake the older man for such an unbelievably unhelp answer.

“Yagi,” Shouta hasn’t figured out what he even wants to say yet, but just his name is enough to finally make Yagi look at him.

“Young Midoirya’s quirk is registered as ‘Super-Power’ in public records, but the true name of his quirk is ‘One for All.’ It’s a quirk that can be cultivated and passed on to someone else. And it was my quirk until I gave it to him when he was fourteen.”

Shouta is half convinced he’s in a dream. “You…gave him your quirk?”

Yagi nods. “Just as my master gave it to me before I started at U.A.”

“So before…”

“Midoriya was quirkless.”

Well that at least explained a few of his, and Bakugo’s, weird behaviors at the beginning of the year. Not everything, by any means, but enough.

Shouta realizes this is another secret he can’t unlearn, only this is one he walked into knowingly. He knew he was pushing for something serious, something to be guarded the same way Yagi hid his injury. It was the only thing that made sense, the pieces fall into place perfectly, filling all the holes in his and Midoriya’s pasts.

Shouta hates to ask the next question, he’s not sure it’s entirely relevant, but he needs all the information he can get to start making sense of things. Yagi seems to know what he wants to ask next, however, because he offers more information before Shouta can figure out how to word what he wants to say next.

“I was also quirkless before being given One for All,” Yagi admits. “I think it’s partially what enamored me to Midoriya. I saw something of myself in the young boy.”

And that’s perhaps the least surprising thing Shouta’s heard today. You’d have to be oblivious to miss the similarities between the two, even with their quirk taken out of the equation.

“So you knew what would happen to him until he gained control?”

Yagi grimaces at the question, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Not exactly. The quirk naturally has an effect on the body, because you aren’t born with adaptations to it, but it is also just a lot to handle. If you aren’t properly trained and prepared for it, it could, theoretically…blow the user’s body apart from the inside. But after my training, I had no problem accessing one hundred percent of the power. Meanwhile…well, you’ve seen what happens to young Midoriya when he uses one hundred percent, even now.”

Shouta closes his eyes for a moment and takes a few deep, calming breaths. There is still so much more information he needs about Yagi and Midoriya and their quirk, now is not the time for him to blow up over that particular detail. Later, definitely, but not now.

When he opens his eyes again, Yagi is glancing nervously between him and the clock on the wall. “Aizawa,” he says, and it half sounds like a plea. “I know you must have more questions, but-”

“You want to go check on Midoriya.” Obviously. “I’m coming with you.”

Yagi gives a wryly smile. “I thought as much.”

He leads Shouta to a private office down the hall. The door opens to reveal Midoriya and Bakugo waiting for them. Bakugo’s presence is a surprise, but if he shares the same feeling he doesn’t show it. Midoriya, on the other hand, jumps to his feet when he sees the two teachers, looking between them nervously until Yagi holds up a pacifying hand.

“It’s alright, young Midoriya. Aizawa knows now.”

Midoriya continues to react to things in ways that confuse Shouta, rather than relaxing or appearing relieved, he makes a complicated expression, wringing his hands together nervously as he retakes his seat.

Bakugo scoffs, slouching even further in his seat.

“I’m surprised it took you two dumbasses this long to ask for his help. Obviously you were hopeless on your own.”

“Yes, well…” Yagi trails off with an awkward cough, a bright blush high on his cheeks as he fusses with something on the other side of the room.

Shouta sees the two boys exchange a look on the couch, and it’s obvious if they didn’t already know, they definitely now know that Yagi was not the one doing any asking.

It feels like hours have passed by the time they dismiss the boys back to the dorms. Shouta’s head is still spinning with all the new information he learned, and all the theories about the quirk and how it’s developing. He’s a little in awe of, and a little frightened for, Midoriya if he is already unlocking more of One for All than All Might ever did. He can’t even imagine how strong of a hero he might become, but it’s obvious, now, what a toll that kind of power, that kind of secret, took on Yagi and he’s concerned about how it might, or might already be, affecting Midoriya.

It’s quiet between them for a long time after the students have left while they both dwell on everything that had been discussed tonight.

Finally, Shouta breaks the silence. “I know you had no reason to trust me with a huge secret about yourself, but you could have come up with some kind of…lie about Midoriya, so I could have helped you both earlier.”

Yagi laughs humorlessly besides him. “I still don’t think I could have come up with a convincing enough lie, or one that you wouldn’t have seen through immediately.” He looks down at his hands. “Even then, I don’t know if I could have brought myself to come to you for help.’

Shouta’s first instinct is to ask why, but he’s not an idiot. He’s well aware he didn’t make the start of the year easy for Midoriya or Yagi.

“I know that’s shameful,” Yagi continues, quieter. “To have too much pride to ask you for help with a student-”

“Yagi,” Shouta interrupts, seriously. “There’s a lot you handled…badly, or just plain wrong, with Midoriya. But I was an asshole to you when we started working together. I made snap judgements about you. And, frankly, teaching is hard. I was clueless when I first started. I should have tried to help you more.” Shouta sighs, taking a deep breath. This apology has been a long time coming, but still it’s hard to get it all out at once. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you in the beginning, and…I’m sorry for making this harder for the both you without realizing it.”

Yagi stares at him, astonished. Obviously when this revelation first happened in the teacher’s lounge, the last thing he ever anticipated happening was Shouta apologizing. But it needed to happen the same as this secret needed to come out. They were supposed to be partners when it came to teaching this class, and it would just keep getting harder to do that with so much unsaid between them.

“I…Thank, thank you.”

Shouta has to look away, he can’t bring himself to see whatever expression accompanies such raw emotion. And he forces down the guilt that wonders why such a simple apology brings about such a reaction. It won’t do him any good to dwell on the past, he just has to do better in the future. They both do.

“What’s important now is that going forward we’ll figure these things out, together.”

Yagi nods, sounding more than a little mystified as he agrees, “Together.”

Spring

Oh, be here when I sleep When I dream, when the devils meet Oh, be here when I wake up When I wake up, when I wake up Whatever makes you stay Whatever makes yu smile Whatever makes you come and be with me a while -Whatever Makes You Mine, John Van Deusen

Shouta has every intention of going straight for his own dorm and passing out after his patrol. It’s late enough that Eri should be asleep and he doesn’t need to wake her just to carry her a few feet down the hall to her own room in his apartment. But as he’s swinging by the building, he can’t help but notice the light is still on in Toshinori’s room. Surprised that Toshinori would still be awake at this hour, Shouta drops down onto his balcony, peering in through the glass door. The small living room is dark and he can only make out the faintest shapes with the campus lights behind him. Shouta debates with himself for a moment before he lets himself in through the sliding door.

Eri’s coloring books and crayons are spread out across the small coffee table besides what Shouta is pretty sure are Toshinori’s unfinished grades. Part of him wishes Toshinori would encourage Eri to clean up after herself a little more, but he knows that’s a losing battle with Toshinori. They both like to see the young girl more comfortable in her living spaces, and Toshinori is too soft on her to impart any real discipline. And when Shouta thinks of the first time he saw Toshinori’s apartment, the cold, empty space that barely seemed worthy of being called a home, he understands why Toshinori waves him off of trying to clean up. “I like the mess,” Toshinori admitted once with a laugh. “It makes it feel lived in.”

Shouta leaves the mess in the living room as it is and goes to the spare room first. Eri is fast asleep in the extra bed. Even just a twin mattress seems giant with the small girl curled up near the top of it, surrounded on all sides by pillows and stuffed animals. He recognizes a few she must have brought with her from his apartment, but the rest are ones just for Toshinori’s. The night light Toshinori got for the nights she stays over casts small stars across the room. A few of them shine against her pale hair.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Shouta continues down the hall towards Toshinori’s room. The door is cracked, an open invitation for Eri to come in if she needs something, and it leaves a sliver of light across the hallway floor. Shouta knocks on the open door, but Toshinori never replies. Confused, Shouta pushes the door open the rest of the way.

He finds Toshinori sleeping more soundly than he’s ever known the ex-hero to be in the time they’ve known each other. He's sprawled on top of the duvet, head below the pillows and one foot hanging off the bed. In a loose t-shirt and faded blue jeans, it doesn’t look remotely comfortable, and yet he looks so peaceful, Shouta is hesitant to wake him. For once his sleep doesn’t seem to be interrupted by wracking coughs or twisted nightmares.

Shouta rummages, as politely as possible, through the closet for a blanket. He drapes it carefully over Toshinori, making sure it falls over the foot hanging off the bed, and around his bare arms. Shouta swears it seems like his hands are moving on their own as he brushes Toshinori’s wild bangs away from his face.

The man beneath him stirs, and Shouta freezes, hand still curled to tuck Toshinori’s bangs behind his ear. Bright blue eyes blink open, but there’s something unfamiliar and hazy as they flit over Shouta’s face. A slow smile spills across Toshinori’s lips and it’s the softest smile Shouta’s ever seen on him.

“Shouta!” Toshinori says in a sleepy whisper that makes something in Shouta’s chest squeeze. Toshinori must still be asleep. That didn’t explain everything perhaps, like the use of his given name or that dreamy smile, but God it certainly left fewer questions for all of that than if he was awake. “What are you doing here?”

“Just giving you another blanket. Go back to sleep.” Shouta snaps quickly, pulling his hands back.

Toshinori catches his wrist before he can move too far. “Thank you for taking care of me,” he says with another one of those gut-twisting smiles. “You should rest too.”

Toshinori shifts on the mattress, not that there wasn’t already plenty of room - the bed was unreasonably large even if Toshinori’s unreasonably long body didn’t fit quite right - and tugs gently on his arm. Shouta had every intention of arguing with him on the matter, so he has absolutely no idea what possesses him to listen to Toshinori and lie down besides him.

Satisfied, and perhaps even a little smug, Toshinori pulls part of the blanket to drape over Shouta’s shoulders as well.

“Okay, go back to sleep now.” Shouta insists stiffly, already making a plan of escape for once Toshinori is unconscious again.

Instead, Toshinori reaches out, cradling Shouta’s face in one of his large hands. Shouta feels his entire body freeze, he’s not even entirely sure he’s breathing, as Toshinori touches him ever so gently. A thumb runs carefully under his eye, as if Toshinori could sweep away the bags there with a single touch.

“I know this is just a dream,” Toshinori says softly, his fingers feather light as they trace over Shouta’s skin. “But I hope the real you can feel just a little more rested for it.”

“I’m…I’m sure I will.” Shouta swallows thickly. “So don’t worry so much and sleep.”

Toshinori finally, finally, takes his hand back and Shouta can breathe a little easier. He snuggles deeper into the blanket, closing his eyes.

“Good night, Shouta.”

Shouta doesn’t dare speak again until he knows he is fully asleep. Carefully extracting himself from the blanket, he folds it back over the sleeping man on the bed.

“Good night, Toshinori.”

Shouta moves on autopilot back to his own dorm, not even fully sure of the path he takes or who he might have passed on the way. His mind is still in Toshinori’s room, in bed beside him. He lied to Toshinori. There’s absolutely no way the “real him” was getting any rest tonight. Not with the memory of his gentle touch and soft smile still fresh in his memory.

Shouta only just barely registers the whistle from behind him as he unlocks his door. Turning around, he finds Hizashi standing in his open doorway across the hall. With a teasing grin, Hizashi makes a show of looking at his (watch-less) wrist to check the time and whistling again. Hizashi is far too…awake for someone in a robe and bunny slippers at three in the morning, Shouta decides.

“Coming home so late, Shou? And in the same jumpsuit from yesterday? What were you up to, hm?”

“I’m always in the same jumpsuit.” Shouta mutters, already regretting acknowledging him.

Hizashi slides up next to him, leaning against the wall to look him in the eye. “And the late hour? The sneaking in?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Shouta still curses the day Kayama taught him that.

“I work late hours. And not all of us can make as much as noise as you do.” Shouta pushes open his door and takes a step in, hoping, despite what all prior experience has taught him, that Hizashi will take a hint.

“But you weren’t still working, were you? You were with a certain someone-”

“Go to bed, Mic.” Shouta interrupts as he feels his quirk activate, shutting his door before the blond can push any further. He can hear Hizashi’s laughter even through the closed door.

He waves at his face, willing the heat to leave his cheeks and for his stupid quirk to deactivate and stop giving him away with glowing eyes and floating hair like some damn anime character. How could he be more embarrassed being caught coming home from, what, tucking Toshinori into bed, than he would have been from an actual walk of shame?

Summer

I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well I just want to learn how, somehow, to be loved mysel Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you without any strings attached -Two, Sleeping at Last

The evening air is cooling down, a reprieve from the last few sweltering summer days as Shouta steps outside the dorm. He isn’t sure when he got so good at understanding Toshinori or predicting his behavior, but he already knows where to find him when he realizes the old hero is missing after the class dinner. And sure enough, he finds him on the bench outside the dorm. The setting sun sets his light hair aglow.

Toshinori seems to hear him coming because he turns around to watch Shouta before he says anything.

“It’s not that cold out tonight, Aizawa-sensei,” Toshinori says instead of a greeting. “You can’t scold me for being out in the cold this time.”

Shouta rolls his eyes at the accusation as he approaches the bench. “Not everything out of my mouth is a scolding.”

Toshinori stares hard at him for a moment, and Shouta can’t meet his eyes when Toshinori replies, strangely quiet, with “I know.”

Toshinori shifts further down the bench, making room for Shouta to sit besides him. Silence settles between them as they sit together, watching the vibrant pink of the sky slowly be overtaken with a pale violet.

“The first time I found you out here, you told me you had decided to live again,” Shouta says, breaking the quiet between them.

“Why are you bringing that up again?” Toshinori asks, almost in a whine, turning away from Shouta for a moment as if embarrassed. It feels so long ago that they had that conversation, when they agreed to train Eri together, though its become more like co-parenting, and when they both truly bared some of their souls to each other, but Shouta remembers it all so clearly. Especially Toshinori’s first confession.

He’d seen the hints of it before, the emptiness of Toshinori’s apartment, his baggy clothes that didn’t fit his new life, the causal dismissals of himself and his health. But that confession brought all those strange quirks about the number one hero into jarring clarity, painting a coherent picture of the life he had that Shouta was willfully ignorant of before. His new dedication to life is so obvious in comparison. The person on the bench besides him is not the same one Shouta started working with a year ago.

“You seem just as serious now,” he admits. “I’m wondering what other new revelations you’ve come to.”

Shouta doesn’t expect Toshinori to reply at all, let alone clue him in on any of those new revelations if he has come to them. Toshinori doesn’t owe him anything, let alone an insight to his most intimate thoughts, but after a long moment, Toshinori takes a deep breath as if preparing for a large declaration.

Instead he looks down at his hands and says softly, “I’ve been thinking about a lot recently but I’m still confused and torn about most of it.” Toshinori pauses for a moment and Shouta knows there is so much more that isn’t being said. But he doesn’t know how to help Toshinori say it, if that’s even what he really needs from him, so he just reaches for him instead. His hand against Toshinori’s is dwarfed in a way he doesn’t think he will ever get used to. But even bony and thin as they are now, the skin scarred and knuckles crooked from repeated breaks, not unlike his student’s, those hands still feel safe to Shouta. Those hands helped him carry the weight of the world for all those years and they show the strain that weight left on him. But they are still gentle. Their touch is soft enough to wipe the tears from Eri’s cheeks after her latest nightmare. Their touch is tender enough to ruffle their students’ hair and send their worries away without leaving behind any of that weight.

Toshinori’s hands are safe, and Shouta can’t help but wonder who held them when he was young and helped make them that way. Who taught him to use such strength and gentleness in tandem.

“You don’t have to have all the answers,” Shouta finally says. “I know sometimes it feels like we have to, when the students are counting on us, nothing feels more like a failure than having to admit you don’t know, but you don’t have to have all the answers. Especially not right now, not here with me.”

Toshinori looks up from their hands. His expression is raw and open, but also incredibly soft and fond, and Shouta doesn’t feel capable enough to be on the receiving end of such a look.

“I’m still confused and torn,” Toshinori starts again, softer this time. “But one thing that I know for sure, is I’m tired of listening to my anxieties and worries. I’m tired of doing my best to ignore all the things I’ve wanted. I’ve decided I want to just follow my heart, but to do that I will have to be a little selfish, so…I’m sorry.”

Shouta thinks if anyone deserves a chance to be selfish, if anyone has earned that, it’s Toshinori. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Yagi. You can be a little selfish sometimes.”

“Then…can I love you, Shouta?”

#bnha #mha #erasermight #emmb2021 #embb2021 #aizawa shouta #yagi toshinori #all might #fic #rita writes #fluff #hurt/comfort #6.29.21

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anonymous0writer · 4 years ago

Text

Crush II JJ Maybank

Author: @anonymous0writer

Warning: Swearing. Alcohol use. Mostly just fluff

Requested: Yes!

“JJ songfic request - Crush by Cigarettes After Sex. 💛 thanks for writing these, I LOVE songfics.”

A/N: This was so fun, and I love this song so much now. Sjsj Thank you anon!

Song lyrics look like this

I wanna line my walls with photographs you sent Of you lying in your swimsuit on the bed

Your phone chimed, lighting up the covers of your bed. You picked it up, knowing exactly who it was. Your boyfriend was trying on bathing suits and was giving you a virtual fashion show. In reality, you two were supposed to go to the beach with the rest of the crew in an hour, and JJ wanted your opinion on what bathing suit to wear. He was just making fun of you and how you texted him or asked his opinion on your clothes all the time.

You giggled and opened up the text. It was JJ, sun kissed skin and abs on full display in royal blue trunks. You grinned.

You: Looks great babe!

JJ: I’m not sure about it… let me try on five others. ;)

You rolled your eyes at the dig. You did not act like that. Usually you were only debating between two or three. Not seven. But JJ was a tease in everything he did, and you had to admit, this new game of his wasn’t bad. Afterall, you get countless pictures of your shirtless boyfriend making funny faces.

You admired the rest of his flood of photos, and secretly wished you could put them on your wall. The wall behind you was filled with polaroids of you and Kie dancing or laughing. Or you and John B. making silly faces, while the ones with you and Pope were doing funny poses. But there were a plethora of ones of the five of you, hugging, talking, dancing. And of course, ones of you and JJ. Or just JJ- those were your favorite. JJ would always be hugging you, or kissing you. One was of JJ holding mistletoe over your head and kissing you. Another one was of you thrown over JJ’s shoulder and laughing wildly. Your photo wall was everything to you, and a perfect look inside your life with the Pogues. But you’d love to put up photos of JJ shirtless and posing for you. Sure you snuck a couple photos of him at the beach, or in your bed, or just shirtless while mowing a lawn, but you couldn’t get enough of it. Of him.

Can't live without your love inside me now I'll find a way to slip into your skin somehow

You sat yourself next to your boyfriend, the couch dipping with your movements. His arm automatically went around your shoulders and tugged you close. You giggled, but sank into his warmth, breathing in his scent. JJ smelled of salt water and the faint touch of weed. You kissed his cheek as you wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, burying your head in his chest.

JJ was talking to John B. about either the new boat his dad got, or the job a Kook just hired him for. You didn’t pay attention, instead listening to the beat of his heart, calm and content in his chest. You slid your hands under his shirt, needing to feel his hot skin against your calm.

JJ glanced down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. He kissed your hair and continued talking to his best friend. After their conversation trailed off, he leaned down to your ear.

“You okay, baby?”

You hummed in response, moving so you straddled him. He hugged you tight, slightly worried something was wrong and had upset you. He brushed your hair back, kissing your forehead.

“You sure, sweet girl?”

“I’m okay, J. I just wanted to love you,” You mumbled against his shirt as you curled tighter into him. To you, close was never close enough. You wanted to be touching his skin twenty four seven, and hold him all the time. You need his love like a choked man needing air.

“I love you.” You said, leaning back to look at him in the eyes. You couldn’t help but melt a little at the sight of his pale eyes. They were one of your favorite features of your boyfriend. His beautiful cerulean eyes.

“I love you more, baby.” JJ leans his forehead against yours, smiling.

I wanna fuck your love slow Catch my heart, go swim Feel your lips crush Hold you here my loveliest friend

You whimpered, relaxing on the bed as you came down from your high. Your skin was slick with sweat, and your hair stuck to your forehead as you took deep breaths. The boy next to you snuggled into your side, blonde hair tickling the underside of your jaw. You smiled at the feeling and reached up to run your fingertips lightly through his locks. He hummed in pleasure at the sensation.

He kissed the junction of your neck and shoulder, lips curving into a soft smile against your skin.

“That was really good.”

You hummed. “Amazing, actually.”

The tips of JJ’s fingers trailed over the bare skin above your hip, tracing small patterns. He tugged your closer, lips caressing your soft skin in long kisses. You closed your eyes, relishing in the ghost of the orgasm still hovering over you. You held the surfer in your arms, kissing his hair and tangling your fingers into the pale strands.

His hands continued trailing across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You giggled at the feeling, thinking you could lay here forever. Forever with JJ in your arms, his hands tracing things onto your skin and your fingers finding home in his hair. This moment was perfect, and it was everything you needed. This was all you needed. JJ was all you needed.

I love to watch you when you're trying on your clothes And now you're all I think about when I'm alone

You tipped your head back as you laughed, joy lighting up your face as you twirled in the mirror.

“J, I could be a dancer!” You called, doing a ballet routine you barely remembered from when you were six and your mom made you take a couple lessons. You giggled and came to a halt as you looked at the boy in front of you.

He was admiring your beauty, and how happy you looked twirling for him. He grinned.

“It looks good on you baby.”

“You said that about the last two!” You cried, but glad he liked the dresses. A smile was etched onto your face as JJ smirked.

“Because it’s true. You looked in everything,” He arched a brow. “Though you’d look better without it…”

Heat rushed to your cheeks though after two years, you were used to the constant teasing and flirting and dirty jokes. You shook your head and ducked behind the curtain of the changing room. Before disappearing completely, you peeked out of the pattern curtain and grinned.

“You’re no help, you know that, Maybank?”

“You love it.” He replied, waiting as you changed and came out dressed in a silky, light blue dress. The straps were spaghetti and the color made your tan skin glow. You were in love with the dress, but you twirled for your boyfriend to get his opinion on it.

“How about this one?” You asked, smiling softly as the boy picked you up and spun you. You laughed, gripping his shoulders.

“This is the one.” JJ confirmed as he set you down. He curled his arms around your waist as you both peered into the mirror.

“You think?” You asked, debating over the three other dresses in your mind. This one was your favorite, but the others were good and more versatile. JJ rested his chin on your shoulder and smiled. He kissed your cheek and admired you.

“Definitely a keeper.” He decided.

But he wasn’t looking at the dress. Or even the mirror. He was looking straight at you.

Can't wait to feel your love inside me now We'll have a drink or two and we'll go to your house

JJ’s arm snaked around your torso as you perched yourself on his lap, beer in hand. You smiled down at him and continued your conversation with Kiara as JJ held you.

The small kegger you five threw at the Boneyard had boomed. And now, the whole stretch of beach was packed with drunk teenagers, tourists and even some Kooks. Someone, you still don’t know who, dragged another kegger onto the beach, doubling the amount of cheap alcohol along with the intake of it. So you and the rest of your tight-knit crew had gotten progressively more drunk as the night wore on.

And as the night wore on, JJ got more touchy. He was always a touchy boyfriend, but his hands played with the hem of your shirt and his lips were attached to your neck. His hands slid onto your stomach, making you gasp slightly at the cold touch of his fingers against your torso.

“JJ,” You spoke, pushing the boy's hands away once Kie left to find John B. and Pope had gone to refill drinks.

“I want you so bad right now, Y/N.” He whispered against your skin, another kiss caressing your skin.

“J, not now.” You giggled as his cold nose pressed against your neck. You felt his lips curve into a smile. “In a bit, yeah? When we get back to my house.”

Your voice dropped lower as Pope came back, red solo cups filled to the brim for you and your boyfriend. Pope would fill up the cups for you, but he’d never drink. Even though he was pretty shit at driving, he was always the designated driver. You smiled and offered a thanks as you wrapped your hand around the cup.

You continued to sit on your boyfriend's lap, talking and drinking with your friends. But you had to admit. You couldn’t wait until the party broke up and you went home. You couldn’t wait until JJ fucked you so hard you couldn’t form a thought.

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grimmjowkurosakidrake · 4 years ago

Text

Fluttering down, fluttering love

Summary: Post Gaiden, Sasuke finds Sakura in the middle of an ill fated mission.

Length: 3501 words

Relationships: Sasuke Uchiha/Sakura Uchiha, Sasuke Uchiha/Sakura Haruno

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: NSFW

Disclaimer: This fic is a commision for the really kind @talesandwonder but really, the idea was so good that I couldn’t stop writting XD

If you want to commission me or any of the other wonderfull writers of @witcheswritings don’t hesitate to DM us!

Sakura will never stop being in awe of the sheer amount of safe places the Uchiha hold around the five great shinobi countries. There’s something to be said about a clan who expanded so far outside of their territory; Building strongholds, secret caves, and cabins deep in the woods around almost every single shinobi populated (or even unpopulated) territory.

This is where Sakura feels somehow estranged from the Uchiha clan. She’s never been outside of Konoha in a mission and thought about making arrangements so her daughter or other relatives could find solace outside the village.

She often thinks about taking Sarada on dates at her favorite dango place, she usually has a camera ready for any important moment in her life.

But she rarely thinks about helping her on missions, just like her own parents rarely talked with her about her own missions, back when she was a genin.

She’s not like Sasuke.

After marrying him, the Uchiha disclosed an entire map of the five great shinobi countries to her. It was an old thing, dusty and well loved, obviously a family heirloom passed to the boy only by merit alone of being the last Uchiha.

“The blue dots are safe places,” Sasuke told her, on a spring night in one of those lucky moments of their journey together when they could spend the night in an inn, change their clothes and take well needed bath. “The red ones are settlements of people who will help you when they see the Uchiha symbol on your back.” He murmured placing a steady hand on the newly embroidered mark on the back of her red shirt. “No questions asked,” he finished, whispering against her ear.

This information was supposed to be for her ears only, so she could be safe anywhere without worrying about being on enemy territory.

Because she was an Uchiha and the Uchiha kept their own safe.

It’s all thanks to this conversation that when she and Sasuke find themselves in need of hiding from their enemies, with her husband heavy and passed out on her shoulders as she tries to drag them both through the heavy rain and into the small cabin well hidden in the depths of the woods north of the land of water. Sakura doesn’t waste any time trying to find a hidden spot.

She already has every spot on the Uchiha map committed to memory.

The cabin is small, completely furnished but not properly stocked, the door is locked too, and Sakura doesn’t have enough chakra to hold her husband and break the door at the same time.

She’s strong enough, thought.

The medic-nin ends up kicking the door open, Sasuke barely wakes up at this, still in a feverish state but awake enough to smirk at his wife’s show of strength.

“Aren’t you glad that we found each other, wife?” Asks the shinobi, holding onto Sakura’s shoulder, trying to stand by himself but failing miserably as his wounded legs fail him.

They’re both drenched to the bone, sweat, blood and rain water mixing in dangerous concoction, putting them at risk of catching a cold, on top of everything.

“Yes,” She chuckles, kissing the side of his head before dragging Sasuke to the dusty, old bed waiting for them at the center of the small cabin. “I always love to reunite with you while being surrounded by rouge ninja, dear.”

She allows the dark haired man to sit on the bed as she limps and closes the door, struggling to perform a simple sealing jutsu on the entrance.

She’s almost completely depleted of chakra, having been fighting for more than an hour alone with more than forty rouge shinobi without a moment to breath or heal herself.

She has burn wounds all over her right arm and leg, her own left leg sensitive from two separated stab wounds courtesy of her enemies.

She hasn’t been able to heal herself properly, not with every single shinobi on her tail and well aware of her identity, with each one of them attacking her at the same time.

Sacrificing their bodies and their lives for the chance of taking down one of Konoha’s three neo sannin.

They obviously knew every single detail about her.

Sakura Haruno can heal herself from almost anything in less than ten seconds, her inhuman strength only paralleled by her quick strategizing in battle, and her chakra control a feat most shinobi twice her age could only dream for.

Sakura Haruno, also. Would rarely mortally wound an enemy unless pushed to her limit. A deadly weapon with almost no body count to show for it.

When Sasuke found her, she was down to almost thirty men but he had his own tail of rouge shinobi behind him.

He was already wounded when they found each other in the middle of their own fights. Sasuke, luckily, was not being followed by more than five shinobi and his chakra reserves weren’t low by any means.

He was never one to have mercy on his enemies. As the last of his clan (his family), and a former international criminal, Sasuke Uchiha was not one to rule out murder if it meant saving himself or his loved ones.

With a sigh, Sakura reaches the bed and helps her husband out of his cape and bloody clothes.

He’s bleeding from his right thigh from a katana wound in the form of an almost clean slash across it. He’s probably poisoned if the almost blueish complexion around the three needles still attached to his left shoulder have anything to say about it.

He also has a nasty bruise by the side of his face that could end up developing in a concussion if not treated immediately.

Overall, his injuries are definitely more pressing than her own and even if they weren’t, Sakura would never treat her own husband after herself. Rules of a medic-nin be dammed.

Sasuke of course, would love to object. “You should treat yourself first, Sakura.” He admonishes her as she makes a quick job of removing the needles attached to the shinobi’s shoulders. “My injuries can wait.”

“You’ve been poisoned, dear.” She points out as if it weren’t already obvious, “You definitely can’t wait treatment.”

Sasuke huffs as she opens her poison’s scroll, carefully removing the poison with the aid of a concoction she had stored away on a small vial. “I’m immune to most poisons,” he reminds Sakura, grunting as she injects him with one of her standard antidotes.

“That would make two of us,” she smirks, green soothing chakra oozing off her hands as she makes a quick job of healing the wound on his thigh.

When Sakura is almost ready with the both of them, just finishing with applying some salve on the burns on her arms, Sasuke speaks up. “You shouldn’t have come alone,” he growls from where he’s laying on the bed, still too sore from his injuries and blood lost to help her. “The borders near Rain are still full of rogue shinobi.” He adds, glaring at a blind spot near her. “No matter what Naruto or the other Kage say, the shinobi world is not a place of peace.”

Sakura is strong, but she’s human, a mortal just like him and even Naruto. But more than anything she’s kind. Completely different from anyone of their team. Where everyone at team seven decided to kill for a living, she choose to give life.

If she just killed those men, Sakura would not have been in any trouble, but his wife will never kill anyone if she feels that she doesn’t have to, most of the time she’s reluctant to even mortally wound her enemies.

For what she’s told him, even the death of what he considers a virtual monster: Sasori. Affected her as if the puppet she fought was a living, feeling person.

She felt for him, on his last seconds, cried for him after his death, and learned from him as much as she learned from his grandmother.

She’s a medical ninja at heart, stronger than most, but as far as Sasuke is concerned, Sakura should never have mission alone near the borders of a shinobi village whose culture still revolves around murder and senseless violence.

Sakura huffs, kneeling in front of the fireplace where there’s still some wood from who knows when, it’s a little bit green around the edges so it will be difficult to star a decent fire, but she can do it.

Deeply inhaling and accumulating her chakra at the top of her lungs, Sakura allows herself into breathing the fire her husband passed onto her as if she was his own blood. It was difficult to learn at first; she has to admit. Sakura is not compatible with fire ninjutsu, not even with air ninjutsu.

But people like Kakashi do exist and even if she can’t create a great fireball justsu of the monumental size Sasuke has achieved after years of training. She’s still able to produce enough fire to ignite the fireplace.

“It was supposed to be a recognizance mission,” Mutters the pink haired kunoichi, moving the wood around with the fire iron. “I was not even aware that the place was filled to the brim with rogue ninja.” She sighs, leaving the warmth of the fire to sit alongside her husband on the bed. “If someone told me that there would be shinobi around I would have concealed myself.”

Silently she touches her own hair, then, her forehead, tracing the small diamond tattoo that she earned with years of storing chakra even when her life was at risk.

“I’m not the most discreet looking kunoichi around.” She mutters.

Sasuke sits up on the bed, moving himself so he can be as near her as possible, then, almost in a wary way, the shinobi lifts his only arm, caressing her pink hair with great care.

“The borders of Rain had been invaded for more than a month.” Growls the Uchiha patriarch, not angry at her, of course not.

He’s angry with his Hokage, his best friend.

Naruto must have been aware of this fact. Sasuke somehow manages to be in more contact with the Hokage than with his own daughter and wife.

Even if he promised them to be around more often, to be more in contact with them.

After his short detour in Konoha, when he had an ill fated meeting with a Sarada that didn’t recognise him just like he didn’t recognise her. Sasuke quickly came back to the road, asking Naruto to take better care of Sarada, and informing him that he would be coming back more frequently, if only to start training his daughter as she deserves.

But this past month, Sasuke has only been able to keep correspondence with the Hokage, too apprehensive about his falcons being intercepted by the enemy for him to reach out to Sakura.

It seems that Naruto didn’t have any reserves about exposing their ex teammate to the rogue ninja as himself.

“I’ll have a talk with Naruto.” Finally, concludes Sakura, resting her head on his shoulder. Even if she’s at least a little bit mad with herself for having to be saved by her husband once more. She knows that Naruto didn’t give her enough information.

Sasuke has been giving him information for over a month, without sending falcons to even her, Naruto should have at least told Sakura to conceal herself.

“That will make it two of us,” he mutters, holding her tight from across her waist. “I can’t believe that idiot.”

“I should have been prepared anyway,” Sighs Sakura, accepting the warm comfort of her husband’s reassuring weight so close to her. “I know the peace treaty doesn’t mean anything more than politics, that I shouldn’t go out of Konoha without concealing myself.”

“It’s not your fault.” Mutters her husband, kissing the side of her head, “You fought with your life for that treaty to be made. You are war a hero, there’s no one more prepared than you.”

“That can’t be true,” she smiles kindly at him.

Sasuke is well known across the shinobi world for being cool and almost, borderline cruel. There’s been more people than Sakura can count warning her about the former criminal. But he is kind to her, he is kind to his daughter.

Sometimes maybe too kind.

There’s something to be said about a merciless murderer who’s able to feel love, who’s capable of kindness.

There’s a lot to be said about the woman who falls in love with him. Always ready to love everyone but herself.

Sasuke sighs “I’ll speak with Naruto.” He concedes, there’s not a lot to be argued when Sakura feels that she has something to prove. “There were at least five A-rank shinobi in the group you fought alone, it’s not your fault when you didn’t even know that you were supposed to fight.”

“You’ve never needed to be briefed before entering enemy’s territory.” She mutters, “you’re always prepared, and so are Kakashi and Sai.”

“You are a medical ninja.” He reminds her, “no matter your rank, you’re always supposed to be part of a team. Especially when dealing with so many powerful ninjas around the area.”

Sakura smiles “Sasuke-kun…” she sighs.

“We will talk with Naruto.” He smiles at her reassuring, “he needs to be reminded of his duties as our Hokage.”

“How did I get so lucky?” Asks Sakura facing him. he smiles at her words as she lifts her hand, carefully moving the hair covering his left eye. “Ino would never believe me,” she laughs.

“Don’t go out ruining my reputation.” He kisses the side of her lips. “I won’t start being nice to anyone out there. Just you.”

Sakura smiles, kissing his closed mouth as he moves away from her face. He grunts but answers the kiss in kind when she holds the back of his neck with one hand and buries her fingers on his hair with the other.

She moans a little when Sasuke licks her bottom lip, and eagerly gives entrance. It’s only when he bites her lower lip that she separates from him.

“You’re hurt, dear.” Admonishes Sakura moaning as Sasuke kisses her neck, licking a long strip from her clavicle to her chiselled jaw.

Sasuke only smirks as an answer. “You’re a really good doctor, wife.” He growls, biting the lobe of her ear.

He plays with the hem of the mesh crop top she wears underneath her qipao long shirt, drumming his fingers against the center of her chest from underneath it, waiting for her to act, as he kisses her deeply.

She barely hesitates before moving him aside with a gentle push on his own naked chest, making a quick job of taking off her top.

He smirks holding her by the waist when she gingerly sits on his lap. “I am a good doctor.” She whispers in his ear, caressing the prominent bulge on his boxers with a firm, steady hand.

Sasuke groans at the feeling, urgently kissing the top of her breasts with wet, open mouthed kisses, lifting his hips and uselessly trying to rut against her hand as she presses her thumb against his already erect cock. “Sakura.” He groans, playfully biting her right nipple.

“What?” She smiles, slowly caresing the sides of his memeber, playing with the head of his cock where a wet patch is already staining his underwear.

There’s a heated glint in her green eyes, clearly amused by his neediness. By the way he groans when she moves away from him in order to take off his boxers.

“Don’t tease.” He growls holding her neck, then her waist again. Forcing her body underneath him.

“I’m not.” She pouts, lifting her back from the bed when her husband trails barely there kisses from her quivering throat to her stomach.

He easily takes off her pants whith Sakura’s help as she lifts her hips and opens her legs at each side of him.

The lace and silk boy shorts she usually wears undermath her mission clothes are already wet when he kisses the underside of her tights, it doesn’t mean Sasuke will stop there.

Sighing deeply, Sasuke licks a long stripe across her entire clothed sex, holding her clit on the inside of his mouth until she’s burring her fingers on his head and interlacing her legs behind his neck, the talons of her feet digging on his spine.

She hastily removes her fingers from his head to take off her underwear herself. This is what he’s been waiting for.

For Sakura to forget his own pleasure in favor of hers. To overlook him completely as she grips him by the neck and holds his face against her pussy. Forcing him there as Sasuke licks her insides, moving his tongue inside of her core in quick, broad thrusts.

There’s no forcing him, Sasuke loves being here; in between her legs as she moans and demands for more. But the feeling of her manicured nails digging on his scalp, the pain on his back as her legs kick against his skin.

That is the feeling that keeps him rutting against the bed, gasping for breath as he’s not able to hold his owns growls and moans of pleasure at the edging feeling of the barely there pressure of the bed against his cock.

Sakura comes for the first time like this, thrusting hips against her husband’s face, screaming with Sasuke’s mouth holding her clit as his tongue flicks around it without stopping. Not even when she let’s go of his hair or when her juices drip from his neck jaw to his collarbones.

Even when her body falls heavily on the bed, Sasuke lazily kisses her labia to his heart’s content, enjoying her little tremors and gasping moans of over-sensitivity.

“Sasuke-kun…” Sighs Sakura breathlessly holding his jaw. “Stop.” She commands when he tries to fight her grasp on him. “You’re still hurt, honey.” Coos her wife incorporating on the bed and caressing his lower lip with her thumb.

Her voice is soothing but her eyes are burning as she forces him on his back. She kisses him sweetly when her hands grip his cock.

Sasuke can’t help but moan from the depths of his throat as she slowly lowers herself on his member, enjoying the burn and the feeling of finally being full after so much time apart.

With a triumphant groan, Sakura’s hips align with his own “Sakura.” He groans, griping her waist as she bends over him, her breasts pressing against his chest, her knees bending at the sides of his hips.

“It feels so good.” Moans Sakura, her arms resting at the sides of his face, her hips moving without a warning. “I’ve missed this,” she moans against his open mouth.

Slowly, her hands move to the sides of his neck, her tongue peaking out of her open, red lips making his own mouth open up on instinct, gasping when they meet in the middle.

Her hands move to his chest, using him as leverage to rise heavily onto his hips, setting a breathless pace over him. “You’re...” gasps Sasuke, his hands moving to her core, his thumb running small, quick circles on her clit. “So tight,” he moans moving his hips alongside Sakura’s, “so warm.”

There’s warmth coiling at the bottom of his stomach, pressure on his entire chest and his hands moves erratically on her clit. “Sakura!” he screams, unsteadily thrusting into her even when he knows that he should pull out.

She doesn’t respond, her body falling on top of him as her inner walls constrict against his cock and her legs close against him. Sasuke holds her with one arm, embracing her through her moans and quivering espasmodict thrust of oversensitivity, thrusting mindlessly inside her, before coming.

“Sasuke-kun!” Moans Sakura one last time, his grip on her entire body and the warm feeling of her husband filling her, too much for her to remain silent.

There’s a mess of fluids in between them as they cuddle breathless in bed, Sakura’s pink hair tickling the top of his nose.

************......... ************ ************......... ************ ************......... ************ ************......... ************ ************......... ************

The morning after, Sasuke finds Sakura drinking tea with a warm cup of coffee resting by her side. She’s naked from the waist down, her qipao shirt open and resting over her shoulders.

“When are you coming back to Konoha?” He asks, taking the coffee and kissing the top of her head.

“Sarada is on a mission for two weeks.” She answers, smirking “You think we can take down this invasion by then?”

Her smirk is almost feral with confidence, her eyes sharp, just like they were yesterday when she had him on the palm of her hands.

This is the woman he married, Sasuke thinks as he grabs his Katana from the mess of clothes they left las night.

A warrior to her core; confident and strong.

#Sasuke Uchiha #sakura uchiha #Sakura Haruno #naruto fanfiction #sasusaku #sasusaku fic #post gaiden #commission #commisionwork #taking commisions #nsft text

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sithsecrets · 4 years ago

Text

beside one another | part 2 | din djarin x reader

part 2 to this little story! i’m a sucker for “there was only one bed,” but i’m an even bigger sucker for “sleeping together without sleeping together.”

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Part 2

2.9k words

Mentions: None really? There’s no smut!

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Mando doesn’t come lay down beside you that first night after you leave Cantonica, and it’s not looking like tonight will go any better. It’s… disheartening, to say the least, but you’re not entirely sure he doesn’t want to.

Everything was good the morning after the two of you slept together. The baby woke up in a fantastic mood, and Mando was able to capture his quarry with ease. The ride back to the Crest was a quiet one, but you still enjoyed it.

It was like everything went to shit the minute you set foot in the ship.

The quarry kicked up a fuss with Mando in the back of the hull, and the noise upset the baby. You and Mando managed to handle everything, and takeoff went off without a hitch. But then Mando got a comm from Greef Karga, and the two of them spent a long time talking in the cockpit about a new high-value quarry. Greef said he would give Mando the puck if he came to Nevarro by the next day, and Mando of course agreed. The two of you were headed that way anyway, and why wouldn’t he rush to pick up such an expensive assignment?

Flying through hyperspace, you made yourself and the baby ready for bed just a couple of hours later. Mando took his dinner in the cockpit while you showered, and it was like the two of you were completely out of sync after that, you winding down while he was just getting started.

You lingered by your little bed for a while, the baby sleeping soundly in his pram, but Mando hardly seemed to notice. He was busy doing this and that, tracking all throughout the hull. Finally, you not-so-subtly announced that you were going to sleep, and it was enough to make him pause for about half a second.

“I’m going to look over some of my weapons and do some maintenance on my armor before I turn in. Let me know if I’m being too loud.”

You tried not to look completely defeated, though it felt like your heart crumbled to ash in your chest.

“Alright,” was all that you’d said to that, and it took everything in your not to cry as you mustered up a smile.

After overthinking the last thirty-six hours for the better part of forty-five minutes you finally did fall asleep. You woke up just before the Crest broke atmosphere, and now you’re trekking through the bazaar with the baby on your hip, on your way to the meeting. Personally, you don’t think your attendance is necessary, but Mando feels otherwise. The way he talks, everybody wants to see you and the baby, but you’re not sure that’s true.

Hearing the Child’s squeals of delight and Greef playfully tosses him up in the air brightens your mood a little bit, and you’re less gloomy as you slide into the booth beside Mando. As per usual, they get right down to business, discussing the ramifications of taking this assignment. The quarry’s worth a fortune, but he’s hiding out on Hoth of all places. It’ll be a long journey over there, and the weather will be absolutely shit once you arrive. There’s not much in the way of a proper city on that shithole, save for a few small outposts, so you’ll need to stock up before you leave Nevarro. Despite all of this, Mando still says yes, and you don’t blame him— the price is just too good to pass up.

You barely have a second to breathe before Mando’s hauling you back to the ship, already listing off things that need to be done. The first thing you do is survey what clothes you, him, and the baby have, plucking at fabrics, checking for defects in the garments. You and the baby will be fine inside the ship, but Mando will be out in the elements. You mend a few of his thicker shirts and decide that those will get him through until he can find lodging.

The baby sits by as you inventory virtually everything else on the ship as well. Food, medical supplies, blankets— nothing is too trivial. Mando hangs back as you prepare for a massive shopping trip, saying that he has to visit the Armorer before he leaves. You’re distracted while he’s talking, but you do take him up on his offer to take the Child along with him.

By the time you’re done eating and bathing late that evening, you’re ready to fall asleep on your feet. Mando gets the baby down for the night, and though you’d love nothing more than to snuggle up next to him, beskar and all, you don’t have the energy for games. He’s a grown man— if he wants to lie down with you, he will.

… He doesn’t. Or at least you don’t think he does.

To be frank, you’re not even sure Mando sleeps at all that night. He wakes you up after seven or eight hours, telling you that the Crest will make landing on Hoth soon. The baby’s already been changed into his warmest outfit, so all you have to do is get yourself dressed. You pull on a couple of extra layers and then go about your usual morning routine, nibbling on some breakfast and entertaining the Child until the Crest breaks atmosphere.

You’re actually on Hoth for all of about fifteen minutes before Mando moves to leave, and only as he’s walking out the door do you realize what he’s about to do. It’s not like you’ve been angry with him these past few days or anything, but…

“Mando,” you blurt, catching him just before he opens the side door. He turns to you, and you’re suddenly wonder if beskar is a good insulator. “…Will you let me know you’re safe every so often? Just whenever you can?”

He nods, simply staring at you for one long moment.

“I’ll be back soon.”

And then Mando’s gone, exiting the Crest in a gust of icy wind that cuts you to the bone. The anxiety sets in almost immediately, clawing its way up inside your chest. There’s nothing for you to do now except wait, and you think that’s the worst part about all of this.

It feels like it takes an eternity, but two days do pass. You spend most of your time talking to the baby and tidying up, washing a few loads of clothes, wiping down a surface or five. You also worry about Mando, you worry about him a lot, but it’s the kind of concern that plays in the back of your mind like a song on loop.

Finally, just before you fall asleep that second night, Mando sends you a comm. You bolt straight up in bed to answer it, almost overwhelmed by the wave of relief that courses through you at the sound of his voice. Mando seems tired but otherwise okay, telling you that he’s at an outpost several klicks away. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, taking great comfort in the fact that he’ll be sleeping in a warm bed.

“You’ll hear from me again soon,” and then it’s radio silence for three straight days.

Out of menial tasks to do, you try to sleep the days away, lounging in bed for hours at a time. The Child seems to be content with this, napping on and off and playing quietly when he is awake. Your head swims with images of what Mando could be up to, and few of them serve to comfort you. You’re not sure what about this mission has you so worked up, but you are, agonizing over every little scenario and circumstance. It’s the weather, you think, and the fact that this planet is so desolate. If he gets hungry or tired, there’s so few places for him to seek refuge. More than anything, though, your heart seizes at the very notion of Mando being cold. Something about that thought upsets you more than all the others, and it’s the hardest to shake once it enters your head.

The comm crackles to life again on day six, and you nearly burst into tears when you hear the message.

“I’ll be home in fifteen minutes.”

Just like the first time, a virtual tsunami of white-hot relief washes over your entire body. Every muscle in your body suddenly twitches to life, and it’s as if you were never sedentary in the first place. You fix a quick dinner, something hot and easy to gulp down, and then you throw two blankets and a change of clothes for Mando into the ship’s little dryer. There’s no harm done if he doesn’t want them, but you think it would be better to be safe than sorry.

Not even two minutes after you’re done with these chores, the back hatch creaks open, two sets of footsteps clanging against the metal. The quarry is surprisingly calm, speaking in a level, even tone even as Mando tells him to step into the carbonite chamber. You hear the freezing mechanisms engage, and then the Mandalorian is coming down the little hall and right to you.

Frost clings to every bit of him, the curves of his armor glittering under the artificial light. Even still, Mando looks good, he looks strong— you see no obvious signs of injury, and nothing about his stance or demeanor indicates that he’s in any pain. Still, you worry, so you ask if he’s alright, hiking the baby up on your hip.

“I’m fine,” Mando affirms, nodding slowly. “You?”

“Me and the baby are great,” you say at once, because you are. “Better now that you’re back.”

Mando nods again, and not for the first time since you met him do you wish you could see the expression on his face.

“You ready to get off this fucking planet?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Yes, Mando, I’m ready to get off this planet.”

An amused huff through the vocoder, and then Mando’s headed for the ladder. You find a comfortable, stable place to sit, bracing yourself as the thrusters rumble to life. The ship lurches, and then you’re climbing up up up through Hoth’s atmosphere, headed most likely for Nevarro.

Mando’s gone for maybe ten minutes total, but he comes down with an empty bowl nonetheless, confirming that he did indeed eat his dinner. The baby clings to his father from then on, though Mando doesn’t seem to mind, holding the little bug on his hip as he does a bit of quick unpacking. You’re content to watch the two of them together for a while, something warm blooming in your chest every time Mando turns to look at you. You can’t believe you were ever upset with him before he left, and for something so trivial as not wanting to share your bed. His affection would make you happy, yes, but nothing could ever compare to how you feel in this moment knowing that your little family is safe and complete.

It doesn’t take long for the baby to tire out, his eyes already drooping and Mando sets him down gently in his pram. You tell the Child goodnight, stroking his face with a gentle touch until you know he’s asleep. Mando clicks the pram shut, and then it’s just the two of you alone in the silence of hyperspace. It’s gotten late, and you yourself aren’t too turned off by the idea of going to bed.

You go to your little pallet on the floor, fussing with some of your blankets as Mando walks behind you. He sidles up to the ‘fresher door, declaring, “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Okay,” is all you, fully expecting the conversation to be over. But then Mando pauses in the doorway, head turned in your direction.

“Make up the bed for us?”

It takes you about four whole seconds to process the words coming out of his mouth, and even after you’ve discerned their meaning, you decide that this must be a dream. But no. No, Mando’s still looking at you over his shoulder, the question still hanging in the air all around the both of you. Remembering yourself, you nod.

“I— Yeah. Yeah, I’ll make up the bed.”

Mando nods, and then he’s gone.

Heart pounding in your chest, you begin immediately, dragging Mando’s mattress out of his bunk, sliding yours up beside it. You throw a big blanket over both of them, folding the edges under and praying they’ll stay together during the night. It’s in this moment that you remember the things you put in the dryer earlier, and you curse yourself as you rush to turn it back on. The blankets in there will be fine for you and Mando to cover up with, so you just throw down a couple of pillows and call the bed done. And it’s a good thing, too, because the water cuts off in the ‘fresher not a second later.

Knocking gently on the door, you call out to Mando. “I have some clothes in the dryer for you,” you say, and it feels so strange to just talk to him right now. “You know, if you’re still cold.”

“Let me have them,” Mando calls back, and then the ‘fresher door opens just the ittiest bittiest bit. You hand the clothes over with your head turned, and then Mando emerges minutes later looking so unlike himself.

He’s got the helmet on, of course, but everything else is gone. The beskar, the boots, the utility belt— it’s just him, just his body dressed in plain clothes and a pair of socks. Mando’s by no means a small man, there’s no debating that, but he looks… softer like this. More approachable. You like it.

“Go lie down,” the Mandalorian commands, the tone of his voice picking at something hot and raw inside you. Needless to say, you rush to do as he says.

Mando walks around for a moment, checking on the baby, looking to see if the hatch the cockpit is closed. You watch him closely, nervous energy churning in the pit of your stomach. Finally, he comes to you, standing above the little bed you’ve made here on the floor.

“Close your eyes.”

Once again, you don’t hesitate to follow his directions. There’s a click, the sound of shuffling, and then you feel Mando sliding into bed beside you.

“Open your eyes, cyar’ika.”

No vocoder, is all you have time think before something not unlike panic seizes your body.

“Mando, why don’t you—?”

“Just open your eyes,” he presses, and… and there’s nothing there.

All you see is inky, all-encompassing blackness, the entire hull void of any and all light. You take a moment to become accustomed to seeing without being able to see, reaching across the bed to gauge where Mando is next to you. It’s a shock to find him so close, but you’re not about to complain.

“Is this… is this allowed?” you ask, growing shy when Mando takes your hands in his own. He tugs you forward, and you go willingly, tucking yourself up against his chest like you’ve been doing it all your life.

“Can you see me?” Mando asks.

You shake your head. “I can’t see anything.”

“Then it’s allowed.”

The urge to bicker about this hasn’t left you, but it’s certainly fading fast. “But you’re not supposed to take your—”

“I’m not supposed to show anyone my face. Never said I couldn’t take my helmet off.”

Mando’s correction is a gentle one, but his words are enough to lay the subject to rest. The two of you lie beside one another like that for a long time, breathing, becoming accustomed to being in each other’s arms. You can’t remember the last time someone simply held you, though your mind conjured images from a time long past. They’re just vague little whisps of memory, flashes of you laid out in a shopkeeper’s bed on Tatooine, but you don’t remember that being nearly this good. Mando is warm and solid in front of you, and he holds you… You’d say he holds you like you’re something precious, but you aren’t sure if that would be going a step too far.

Some small, insecure part of you is sure that this is going to be ruined any second. Mando’s going to decide he doesn’t want to do this, or worse yet, he’ll decide that he wants more and you’ll have to tell him you’re not ready for that. It’s not like you haven’t—

“Your pulse is fast,” Mando says, making you flinch in surprise.

“What?” you ask stupidly, because… what?

“Your pulse,” Mando repeats, “it’s fast. Why?”

And if you weren’t anxious before, you certainly are now. Leave it to a fucking master warrior to comment on something as miniscule as your heartbeat…

“I— I’m nervous, I guess. To be here with you like this.”

Mando rubs your back with one strong, warm hand, and think you might actually start purring.

“You don’t need to be,” he murmurs. “Sleep, cyar’ika.”

And though nothing Mando’s said is actually very comforting, you do relax.

Minutes later, the two of you are sound asleep.

#my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction

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bonnie-barstow-of-flag · 3 years ago

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Killer Knightmares:

@avictimofthejazz an au based off a KR season 2 episode of the same name & knight of the drones vibe.

Dr. Bonnie Barstow is dutifully diligent with all of her work. She obsesses over even the most minuscule and trivial details to achieve perfection. It’s one of the many reasons she’s been added to the staff at the University of San Francisco under the supervision of the reputable David Halston.

___

It’s virtually unfathomable how much damage an ill-programmed microchip the size of a finger-nail could inflict. A twisted sense of insatiable fascination clutches a bewitching grasp over her complete attention. The tiny chip captured under the view of the highly advanced microscope was an absolute marvel with it’s bright ridges of gold along with it’s small valleys and backroads paved in a far duller shade of silver. It’s a coded maze that Bonnie can easily interpret. One infinitesimal change to the programming can mean the difference between life and death. Bonnie’s searching, seeking out the one piece of the prototype keeping it from functioning as designed. She could never and would never give the go-ahead on anything that could be considered dangerous. Even more so given the incidents that occurred because of Karr.

“There’s a call for you on line four, Bonnie.” Comes Halston’s abrupt half-careless words. Placing indelicate hands upon the slopes of her shoulders, he continues. “I’m starting to feel like your personal secretary.” It’s a gripe he made in earnest. He’s been, in no uncertain terms, telling her former associates to stop calling for months now. That Bonnie’s happier here without them hounding her. He delighted in being able to get her to refuse their offers to have her return. Of course, David hadn’t bothered to asked permission to make those direct assertions. He just did. Dr. Halson needed her. Even if Bonnie wasn’t fully aware of it, she had become vital to the success of his and Margo’s operations.

He leans over her shoulder to take a non-committal glance at her progress with the microchip. “It’s quite strange really.” He cryptically starts. The rest of the explanation failing to come as an immediate continuance.

Skeptical, Bonnie’s turquoise orbs lift towards her revered mentor while he speaks. Worry warps her usually beautiful countenance as she discovers herself clinging to his every utterance. Every easy breath hinged upon what would come next.

When her attention is fully upon him, he reveals against the shell of her ear all that he’d been biting back. “It’s a hospital near Los Angeles. A nurse Langly from Hoff Medical Center or other. She ‘claims’ it’s urgent.” There’s a deep trench of sarcasm imbued when his lips reach the word “claims”. He is well aware that she has no real family in the city. At least no one she should want to have contact with, given all the bridges he’s helped her burn. The remnants of her family were located in Boston. His eyes befall her with the great expectation that she’d pass it off.

Halston’s blasé indifference to the potentially serious situation doesn’t settle right with her. It lays like a load of swallowed bricks and mortar, in the formation of a thick, impenetrable, unmovable wall might; uncomfortably heavy. “I...” She swallows thickly, “I’d better get that.” The brunette rises from the stool she had been occupying and brushes past him. “It’s probably a crank call.” Arrives her half-hopeful utterance as she moves towards the thick plastic phone.

Sweeping a buoyant wake of chestnut barrel-rolls from her face, she lifts the receiver to her ear. “Dr. Barstow speaking. How can I help you?” She answers. Her lower-lip tucking between her teeth as she actively listens to the other voice. Twirling her fingers around the curly-q chord, she attempts to sort her thoughts. “Wait? What?” Panic bubbles upwards in her tone. Her once lax stance stiffens against the nearest wall. Her grip on the phone tightens to prevent it from slipping from her hand. “Are you sure?” A pause. “Could you repeat that name again?”

Nurse Langly patiently repeats, “Michael Long.” After a few seconds, she adds, “you’re his emergency contact.”

The warmth and color that usually could be found in Bonnie’s features drains as the gravity of the situation is rapidly dawning upon her. This was either a twisted macabre prank or it was a genuine emergency. Hardly anyone outside the Foundation knew that name or the history behind it. To invoke that name was to tug at Bonnie’s heartstrings. She has no other choice but to go investigate. If it was Michael and he was in trouble, she would never be able to forgive herself for ignoring his call.

Was it possible that he still had her number in his wallet? That Michael had never gotten around to changing his ICE list? If he hadn’t- why?

“Keep him there as long as you can.” Bonnie tersely instructs. Her heart skips a series of beats as she continues, “I’m leaving now.” With a glance down at her own delicate wrist watch, she calculates the amount of time it’ll take her to get that location. “I should be there in a few hours.” As she puts down the receiver, Bonnie contemplates ringing Devon and the Foundation. But she doesn’t. Not until she can fully ascertain if this is a joke or not.

Halston snags the frantic brunette’s wrist as she races towards the door. Throatily he demands, “where do you think you’re going? I didn’t give you permission to leave, and I know class hasn’t been dismissed. If you leave in the middle of our project, you’ll be costing the University thousands of dollars. You’re potentially destroying any hopes you had of a scholarship.” His concerns obviously rest with their work.

She wrestles her arm back from her professor’s clutches. Turquoise orbs darken when they lock upon Halston’s. Her expression is obviously deeply wounded and yet, out of respect for her mentor, she delays. “I’m sorry. I have to go...” Her words leave no uncertain airs about them. “I’ll be back when I can.” Bonnie is well aware that her defiance of direct orders could potentially cost her this incredible opportunity. Yet, she does not care! The Foundation has and always would be a primary concern for her. It didn’t matter how much time had elapsed since her employment with them, they were her family.

Bonnie is keenly aware that Halston is beckoning for her, yelling intangible words in her wake. She doesn’t dare turn back now with her feet already set on a steady course.

----

Only one thought prevailed as the brunette lunges past other students and into the parking-lot. Michael Knight could be in real trouble, and he needed her. She can’t fathom any set of circumstances that would require resurrecting a name that should have been buried. In her gut, she knows something is terribly amiss. But what?

Seven hours of the endless highway and traffic sprawled between the former partners. Every minute of that time seemed to conjure up a fresh, new fear as to what the explanation could be. Internally, she had been running herself through an extensive list of people who knew Michael Knight before he was the man she’d grown to love. Stevie was murdered. Tanya walker died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Vernon Gray and the others were in rotting in jail.

With the review of every case, came the discomforting realization that Michael and the Foundation were in the habit of making ruthless adversaries. Some of them were worse than others.

A startling thought does occur to her. Garthe and Elizabeth Knight knew about Wilton’s pet project. He knew that his father rescued Michael Long from that cold Nevada desert. However, Garthe and Goliath had taken a swan dive off a cliff. He couldn’t be pulling a crude trick like this. He had to be dead. Or was he? Worse still, could this be the work of Garthe’s vengeful mother? No. Why would they call her for help and risk the Foundation foiling another one of their wicked plots? They wouldn’t. Not even if they were aiming for the absolute annihilation of Wilton’s every dream.

Could it be the Chameleon? No. The man couldn’t have uncovered Knight’s former life. As far as the skilled impersonator knew, Michael had always existed as Knight. His previous life was a mystery. Or so Bonnie hoped it had remained an unsolvable riddle.

Every trudged up possibility seems to leave Bonnie with more unanswerable questions. She returned, time and time again, to square one. Frustration wells up inside of her veins as the brunette settles on the idea that Knight’s run into deep trouble on an investigation. This had to be a cry for help.

-----

Whilst Bonnie Barstow was not known for speeding, her foot increases the pressure on the gas pedal. The rev of the engine increases. Tires find themselves turning over at a quicker and quicker rate. All four heated rubber tires give a squeal of relief when she finally pulls up in front of the Hoff Medical Center.

With haste, she abandons her car in the parking-lot and races inside. Flagging down the first nurse she can find, she spurts out. “Please, I’m here for Michael Knight.” Entreating eyes catch the vacuous look to the nurses eyes and she repeated her words. “I’m Dr. Barstow. I got a call at the University where I work. I’m here for my - Michael Knight...” Ah, that’s where the issue dwells. She cringes before correcting herself. “Michael Long.”

That name garnered the desired knowledgeable reaction from the nursing staff. “This way.” The blonde nurse instructs taking up the lead through the sanitized hallway, armed with her clipboard.

“Can... can you tell me what happened to Michael?” Bonnie fearfully presses. She swallows down every fear collecting inside of her veins and penting-up in her chest. Having a breath catch in her throat, she manages to choke out. “Is he -- is he alright?” The concern taking up residence in the concentric confines of her eyes is genuine. Lord knows, she wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him.

The nurse keenly eyes her. The sympathy evident upon all of her etched features. “We’re looking at a mild concussion and bruised ribs. He’s lucky that nothing is broken. He must be in really good shape. Built like a tank that fella of yours is.” Any other man would have been in far worse shape.

Bonnie is too taken aback by the diagnosis to correct the woman’s assumption about her and Michael. In fact, she nearly misses the correlation as she is ushered into the room.

“He’s a real charmer. Your Officer Long is.” The nurse adds casting a wink in her direction.

Officer Long? God. It still felt anomalous to hear that in a sentence even with their extensive history together. She knew about his past. She was there the day Wilton brought Michael under his care. Until today, it had been years since that name fell upon Bonnie’s ears. Now, all of the sudden, she couldn’t seem to escape the shadow of the vastly unused moniker.

“Tried to flirt his way out of X-rays and everything.” The nurse actively points out. Her amusement with the fact is fairly obvious.

A perfectly manicured brow raises as Bonnie seats herself beside the man she knows under a very different name. “He really is. Isn’t he?” She fondly agrees. That had always been a part of the problem between them. Hadn’t it? His natural charisma instantly endeared him to almost every woman on the planet. She vividly recollects that he had tactfully employed it on more than one occasion to get what he wanted. He was kind enough to polish his act every time he attempted to use it on her.

Until the moment Bonnie cast her eyes upon Michael, it hadn’t struck her how intensely homesick she’d been for his familiar presence. Her heart gives off a series of palpable pangs against her ribcage as if it was sending Mores Code. Rescue was not bound to happen. No one could heed an unspoken SOSes. Could they? Despite her efforts to reign the unruly muscle in, it kept barreling ahead like an out-of-control freight train down the tracks.

Why was it that only Michael could arouse such chaos inside of her even when she had striven so desperately to move on? She tried to replace him with Dr. Halston and many other guys. Yet, nothing could fill that awful void that Michael left behind.

In that moment, with his large frame half swallowed by the hospital bed, she uncovers a dangerous revelation. She still loved him. As loathe to admit it as she is, those deeply-rooted feelings exist. They dwell in the undismissable realms of shadows where buried emotions and feelings are destined to remain.

Bonnie’s trembling hand gingerly brushes a dark-chestnut curl from the expanse of his warm forehead. The fluffy texture under the worn-pads of her fingers causes a familiar ache to awaken inside of her. “Michael, sweetheart....” She coos the term of endearment with a gentle insistence. She dare not startle him awake after the hell he’s obviously been put through with his injuries.

Her own lips bend into a shaky smile. “I’ve come to take you home.” His home? Her home? The Foundation? It didn’t really matter so long as he was back with people who loved and would protect him. As long as he was safe, Bonnie would never issue a complaint.

#avictimofthejazz #tw: long post #tw: long replies #you do not have to match the length #90% of this was Bonnie setting the stage #bonnie barstow #Michael knight #Bonnie Barstow x Michael Knight #Michael knight x Bonnie Barstow #this probably needs like five more years of editing cause of my strong meds but I am choosing to release it after spending all day on it

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destiny-islanders · 4 years ago

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Hey Destiny! Planning my first trip to WDW any advice :)

(I do hope you’re planning to go after the pandemic has been dealt with first off-- there are shops, restaurants, and certain experiences/shows that will be unavailable if you go around now-ish, and as far as I know they’re still charging full-price admission. So not only is it dangerous, it’s not worth it.)

But if you try and go next year sometime when life has presumably returned to normal...

If you can, stay on property!

Not a requirement obviously, but WDW has transportation that can get you to and from the parks so you don’t have to deal with the parking lots at the parks themselves. It’s also really nice as an adult to go to EPCOT and drink around the world without having to worry about who’s driving back

It also makes staying for the fireworks much less painful... Like it is excruciating to trudge back to your car after spending all day at the park and having to deal with the insane crowds leaving the park, and traffic in the parking lots...

Staying on property allows you to get Fast Passes and make dining reservations a whole month before other guests can. Which ties into my next point...

GET FASTPASSES AND DINING RESERVATIONS AS EARLY AS POSSIBLE

If you want to go to Magic Kingdom and go on the Mine Train, Space Mountain, and Splash Mountain with FastPass, you need to have them booked sooner rather than later. Find out when you can book FastPasses and get them the second you can.

If you couldn’t get FastPasses for it, get to the park when it opens and make a beeline to your #1 attraction

I live in Florida and I have an annual pass, so it’s not a big deal if I can’t go on my favorite rides because the lines are too long. But if you’re from out of state and this is going to be your only chance to go to Disney for the year or even YEARS, arriving early is a must

Trying to get on Rise of the Resistance (the fancy new Star Wars ride) in Hollywood Studios?

You need to be inside the park before it opens. Period. That is the only way to ensure you can get on this ride since it is insanely popular. Once inside the park, you need to use the MyDisney app to secure your place in a virtual queue. Everyone in your group needs to be registered on the MyDisney app or you will not be able to make a reservation for them. Once you’ve made the reservation, you’re free to roam the park as you will until it’s your turn to ride

Grossed out by crowded public restrooms? Use one in a sit-down restaurant.

Obviously please don’t bring your whole family into a restaurant to use its restroom. I’m talking like if one or two people in your group have to go. Just walk into the restaurant like you already have a table and go to the restroom in there. Though all of the restrooms at WDW are usually well-maintained, imo they’re even nicer in the sit-down restaurants haha. This tip is a little prissy but eh. Thought I’d include it

Disney snacks you are required by law to try

Magic Kingdom

Cheshire Cat Tail (Really yummy for breakfast while you wait in line for one of your first rides of the day)

Dole Whip Ice Cream (IT’S DAIRY FREE-- my fellow lactose-intolerant people can eat it worry-free!!!)

Sweet and Spicy Chicken and Waffle sandwich (Split with friends if you have lunch or dinner plans-- delicious snack to eat between rides or at a show)

GET A BIRTHDAY CAKE SCONE FROM THE CANDY SHOP/BAKERY!!! THEY ARE MY FAVORITE DISNEY TREATS AND I ALWAYS BRING LIKE 2 OR 3 HOME WITH ME

Animal Kingdom

Cinnamon roll (A classic-- and again, a perfect breakfast treat to share while you queue)

Night Blossom (Or its alcoholic equivalent-- really yummy slushies perfect to sip on in the outdoor queues in Avatar world)

Blueberry Cream Cheese Mousse (Need I say more? Yes it’s kind of dangerous if you can’t handle dairy though. Maybe steal a bite from someone’s just to experience life’s fleeting joys)

EPCOT

Adults who booze are obligated imo to get a Grey Goose Lemonade slushie in France. Tangy and sweet. COLD. Delicious.

Tarte aux Fraises (Honestly you can’t go wrong with anything in France... everything I’ve tried there is amazing...)

Giant pretzel (Not exactly a Disney-exclusive thing but... they’re humongous and a great snack to share with a group)

Side note while we’re in Germany-- there’s a little bar tucked into the corner near the back of this area. If you’re drinking around the world, go in there and get Apfel shots. Trust me I have good taste.

If they have them when you’re there... You need to get a meat bun in Japan. They are one of my favorite things to get at Disney Springs or in the parks when they’re available.

Hollywood Studios

(I’m not gonna lie this is not the park to get your snack on. There’s only one snack here I’m super passionate about...)

If you’re there around breakfast time (which you will be if you got there early for Star Wars), the S’mores French Toast in Toy Story Land is DELICIOUS. Just grab napkins. A lot of napkins.

Giant pretzel

This is not a recommendation, this is a warning: THE MILK IN STAR WARS LAND IS GROSS AND I HATED EVERY SECOND A DROP OF IT WAS IN MY MOUTH

Rides you should try to do while you’re in the park

Magic Kingdom

Space Mountain

Splash Mountain (I wear a poncho because I hate having wet clothes,,,,,)

I think Thunder Mountain is kinda lame but I guess it’s worth doing if the line isn’t terribly long

Dwarf Mine Train

Pirates of the Caribbean

Buzz Lightyear Space Ranger Spin (smacktalk in the queue and try to maintain your dignity when you get 9000 points and all of your friends have nearly broken 1 million)

Haunted Mansion

Mickey’s Phillarmagic

Animal Kingdom

Expedition Everest

It’s Tough To Be a Bug (this show will probably terrify your young children if you have any, just a warning)

Flight of Passage (I GUESS... none of the rides in the Avatar section of the park are worth a 2 hour wait if you ask me...)

Dinosaur (again, this ride will probably terrify your young children... I think it’s scarier than Jurassic Park at Universal if you can believe it)

Kilimanjaro Safari (get a Fast Pass for this one-- it’s probably one of the most popular attractions in AK)

Kali River Rapids (in which I once again don a poncho like a 50-year-old man)

Festival of the Lion King (corny as hell but it’s fun)

EPCOT

(If you’re not here to check out the exhibits in each country idk what you’re doing here haha)

Test Track (honestly the only ride I like there)

Spaceship Earth (yes it’s a slow dark ride but it’s really charming and there’s a bit at the end that will probably make you and your group cry laughing)

Gran Fiesta Tour (It’s hidden in the temple in Mexico. Cute little boat ride with Donald and the Three Caballeros)

Soarin’ (My friends and I have an endurance competition to see who can keep their legs held out straight the longest throughout the ride. We got some of the people sitting around us to join in the last time we rode which was pretty hilarious haha)

I’ve heard the Frozen ride is fun, but I’ve never ridden on it myself, so I can’t really comment on it

Note about Mission Space: I got really sick on this ride, and I rode the TAME version. Most of my friends also get sick on this ride. It’s worth trying once if you’re really curious, but I was knocked on my ass for half of my day at EPCOT after riding this one.)

Hollywood Studios

Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster (A really fun ride but try to keep your head back or you will have a headache all day... Bring ibuprofen.)

Tower of Terror (Probably one of my favorite Disney rides in any park. Will most likely further terrify your small children who may still be traumatized from the bugs and dinosaurs of Animal Kingdom)

Rise of the Resistance (I don’t care about Star Wars but uh. Yeah. This ride was pretty dope.)

Smuggler’s Run (One of the more immersive rides I’ve been on... The ride vehicle is cool as all get-out and there are lots of buttons you can push and levers to pull... Blame one of your friends for being a bad pilot when you only manage to snag two pieces of cargo)

Toy Story Mania (exhaust yourself and make your arms really sore as you desperately try to exert your dominance over your friends as you pop balloons with darts and throw rings around volcanos before they erupt)

MuppetVision (I’m a Muppets ride or die fan and I still think this ride is charming and funny. There’s usually never a line so it’s a perfect break in the air conditioning with beloved characters)

Minnie and Mickey’s Runaway Railway (I haven’t gotten to ride this yet, but I’ve heard good things-- and the Mickey shorts this ride is based on are HILARIOUS, so I expect good things)

Indiana Jones Epic Stunt Spectacular (DISCLAIMER: Only really fun if someone in your group is selected to be one of the townsfolk. My sister got picked last time and it was hilarious)

Fantasmic! (I like all of the fireworks shows minus the Star Wars one in HS because I really don’t care but. Fantasmic stands out. You have to watch it at least once. Try to catch the first show if you can so you can avoid some of the rush of guests leaving the park at the very end of the night)

#destiny answers #long post #Anonymous

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reyescarlos · 4 years ago

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look after you || a buddie fic

❄️ @911giftexchange fic for @bombera hey, tori! i'm wishing you the happiest of holidays! this year has truly been one for the books so i hope this fic will help to end 2020 on a good note for you! it kinda ran away from me but i hope you’ll enjoy! ❄️

word count: 4.7k || read on ao3

You've begun to feel like home, yeah What's mine is yours to leave or take What's mine is yours to make your own

Infamously December is known to be a hectic month but now, with just a little over two weeks until Christmas, Eddie is feeling the pressure. His work schedule leaves little to no time for him to prepare for the holiday season, time slipping through his fingers with such ease that it had come as a surprise to see just how close he and the rest of the world were getting to the big day.

His concern was bad enough but this last week his mind has been additionally preoccupied with worrying over his son who is the latest person to come down with the bug that’s running rampant. If he isn’t at work, he’s right by Chris’ side, doting over him and doing his best to insure his comfort.

Throughout it all he has had Buck, his best friend and confidant, a man he can share virtually any thought with. All, really, but one. Eddie groans internally. His unspoken feelings for Buck are the last thing he needs to dwell on now. But the thought is far easier to think than put into practice with Buck sharing this space with him. Even on his day off Buck opts to spend time at the Diaz house, an additional set of hands that Eddie is beyond grateful for at such a time. Buck has long since been a staple in his home and now, more than ever, he’s grateful for his companionship and help to keep him from going under. Buck seems to understand him in ways very few can, sensing his needs and thoughts without a single word uttered.

He can feel Buck’s eyes on him as he pops two slices of bread into the toaster but he focuses on his task, doing his best to keep his head on straight though his mind is a riot of thoughts.

Eddie massages the back of his neck to relieve some tension, stretching it a bit as he draws in a breath.

“Alright, what’s going with you?” Buck asks.

Eddie turns back to face him and shrugs. “It’s nothing. I’m just trying to figure out a game plan. I still have to finish holiday shopping but you’ve seen our schedule for the next two weeks. We’re practically going to be living at the station.”

“But we have today off and it’s only noon. That’s plenty of time for you to head out there while I stay here with little man. See? Simple solution.”

“It’s your day off. I couldn’t do that.”

“I can watch him, it’s not a problem,” Buck insists.

Eddie hesitates. It’s a great offer, one that would quickly remedy his dilemma. “I don’t know, Buck. It’s a big ask. It’s short notice and he’s sick.”

“It’s not a big ask. It’s not even an ask at all; I’m volunteering. And besides,” Buck says, puffing up his chest. “Buckleys don’t catch colds.”

Eddie’s mouth twists to one side in thought. Today really is the one true window of time he’ll have and it’ll certainly be easier to stealthily buy Chris’ presents without his observant son being able to see what he’s purchasing. Resigned, Eddie nods slowly, knowing this is the best offer he could possibly have.

“Alright, yeah, okay. I’ll try and hurry back but still, I know it’ll be a few hours until I’ll be back home.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “Would you relax? Take all the time you need, seriously. Chris and I always have a blast together. We’ll be just fine. I promise.”

“No, I know he’s good with you. I just…”

“Suck at accepting help, yes, I know,” Buck teases, patting him on the shoulder with one hand and gesturing towards the front of the house with the other.

“Go. I’m officially kicking you out. Don’t forget to get me something nice, yeah?”

~*~*~

Eddie returns home with a trunk full of presents after a very successful trip to the mall. He’s managed to get for everyone on his list and the relief he feels in having this task officially scratched off his to-do list is a major weight off his shoulders. He carries a few bags in with him to the house. From the moment he steps inside he can hear the raucous laughter of Christopher and Buck coming from the living room, his son breaking into a small coughing fit afterwards.

Eddie stashes his purchases into the closet, hiding the bags under his jacket in a feeble attempt to bury it for the time being. Buck and Chris carry on chatting and Eddie is certain that neither of them realizes he’s gotten back, so wrapped up they are in their conversation.

“Maybe we could go to New York like Kevin next year for Christmas? Me, you, and Dad.”

Eddie feels his body tense and he stays in place, curious as to what Buck’s response will be.

Eddie could easily picture it, the three of them taking on the city. The images that flood his mind teem with warmth and joy and sincerely, Eddie would love nothing more than to wrap himself in that. But a trip that elaborate wouldn’t be a casual thing between friends, at least not for him. It’s one thing to have Buck over at his place or for them to go on outings around LA with Chris on weekends. A Christmas getaway would carry far more weight. It’s something that families do. Something twinges a bit in Eddie’s chest at the thought. Somewhere along the way, without Eddie even fully realizing it had solidified itself, that’s precisely what Buck has become to him, and apparently Chris too.

“Now there’s an idea. I would love to go with you guys. Sure you wouldn’t mind me tagging along?”

Chris is quick to respond, casting away any trace of doubt. “Nope, the trip wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Eddie can hear Buck sigh. It’s clear just how touched his best friend is by Chris’ sentiment and Eddie would have to agree with his son. Any trip, any facet of life really, is so much better when Buck is thrown into the mix. He’s so interwoven into the fabric of their life, it’d be hard to picture any moment, big or small, without him there experiencing it with them.

“See, this is why you’re my favorite Diaz. Don’t tell your dad I said that though. It may break his old man heart,” Buck laughs, Chris joining in.

This melody is Eddie’s favorite sound, the lightheartedness of his two favorite guys sharing a private joke. It’s the little things like this that light him up, that fill him with a warmth so vibrant and strong that it takes every ounce of strength in him not to sit Buck down one day and have a serious conversation. But Eddie has never been good with words and in a case like this, for a topic this important, he knows a talk like that would be best handled with care. Whenever, or rather if ever, that day comes, Eddie hopes he’ll be prepared to handle it. Instead he’ll stick to this, to cloaking his feelings for the sake of keeping the scales balanced.

“With laughs that big I’m guessing someone is feeling better?” he says aloud, essentially announcing his presence.

He steps into the living room and sees the space has been transformed. A giant fort is set up in the center of the room and at the mouth of it is Buck and Chris stretched out side by side on pillows from the couch and Chris’ bed. It looks like the coziest of setups and Eddie isn’t at all surprised to see that Buck got creative in trying to make Chris as comfortable as possible.

Chris slaps on an innocent smile but Buck apparently has a harder time schooling his features.

“Eddie, you’re back. I didn’t even hear you come in,” he says, picking up the remote.

The end credits for Home Alone 2 flit by on screen. Buck hits pause as Chris reaches for the DVD of A Charlie Brown Christmas.

“Can we watch this one next?” he asks Buck who’s already nodding.

“Oh, definitely. This is one of my all-time favorites. How about I get you another bowl of soup and then we can fire this one up. Sound good?”

Chris gives him a two thumbs up and flops back against the pillows, plucking a tissue out of the box and wiping at his nose. Eddie frowns seeing his son so sick but the best he can do is continue supplying him with medicine and fluids to help him through it.

Buck carefully climbs out of the fort and walks over to Eddie, the two of them going into the kitchen.

“How’d your shopping go?” Buck asks as he opens the fridge and takes out a container.

“Really well. I managed to get stuff for everyone on my list, including a certain pest I know,” he jokes the second Buck opens his mouth, no doubt to check about the status of his own gift.

“Well, I’m glad you have your priorities in order then, thank you.”

A comfortable silence falls between them as Buck moves around the kitchen and Eddie is struck, not for the first time since befriending Buck, at how comfortable his friend is inside of his home. That’s all Eddie could have ever wanted. Buck moves with such assurance taking a bowl down from the cupboard, pulling a spoon out of a drawer, knowing exactly where everything is without hesitation or having to ask. It warms his heart to see this, to know that Buck must feel comfortable here, that this could somehow be home.

“Thanks again for watching Chris for me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it,” he says as Buck pops the now filled bowl into the microwave.

“Don’t mention it. I love hanging out with him and if I can help you in any way, I will. Always.”

Buck holds his gaze and for a moment, Eddie thinks he’ll say more. There’s something in his expression that looks as if he’s trying to communicate something wordlessly but far too soon, the moment passes and shortly after the microwave beeping breaks the silence between them. Buck smiles softly before turning away but Eddie keeps his eyes trained on his back, getting lost in his thoughts.

Maybe this is all in his head or perhaps an unhealthy amount of wishful thinking is at play but lately something has felt different between them, as if there’s something going unspoken.

Buck gets a tray and puts the bowl on top of it, carefully picking it up from the countertop.

“I can bring it to him,” Eddie says, gesturing to take the tray. “You can get out of here, if you want. You should enjoy what’s left of your day off.”

Buck rolls his eyes as he side steps and laughs. “That’s exactly what I’m doing now. Didn’t you hear? It’s Charlie Brown time. No way in hell am I missing him or that tree.”

Eddie smiles softly and shakes his head. He opens his mouth to say something but falls short on words. Buck seems to understand regardless as he smiles back and nods.

“I know,” he says simply. Eddie wants so desperately to ask what exactly it is that Buck knows, what he feels but he lets the matter go for now.

This right here is more than enough, he reasons. To have Buck look at him and comprehend even a fraction of his gratitude.

~*~*~

Eddie knows he worries too much but watching Buck throughout their busy morning and early afternoon with back to back calls, he can’t help but to feel a little troubled over Buck’s slower pace and quieter nature. Usually he could be counted on to be the most energized and talkative during calls but today he’s so much more subdued and it feels like a real cause for concern.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, searching Buck’s face as they wash their hands in the bathroom to prep for lunch.

“Yeah, I just need some food in me and I’ll be good to go.”

Buck smiles reassuringly but Eddie isn’t convinced. Nonetheless he follows Buck up to the loft where the rest of the crew is already gathered around the table. Eddie takes a seat beside Hen who sits across from Chimney, the two already engaged in conversation.

This leaves Eddie the coveted spot of sitting opposite Buck.

Buck settles in at the table beside Chimney, placing a hand against his throat as he clears it before he reaches to the center of the table to start fixing his plate. Eddie watches him curiously as he’s done all day, noting the way Buck seems to be moving a bit slower than usual, the man’s eyes trained in focus on the simple task of putting food on his plate.

Eddie wonders if he’s reading too much into Buck’s body language but given how well he knows his friend, he feels safe in his assumption that Buck is off today because he’s sick and putting forth his best efforts to disguise this fact. Out in the field it was easy to attribute Buck’s pace to the amount of work the team had to put into their calls but now, with everyone finally able to unwind and catch their breath, Buck still looks put out.

“Buck, you’re really hot,” Chimney says as Buck’s arm grazes his. Eddie purses his lips, his suspicion confirmed easily.

Buck flashes a smile and a wink. “Tell me something I don’t know. But I don’t think Maddie would take it well to know you’re hitting on her brother.”

Chim smacks his hand against his forehead and shakes his head.

“You’re no match for your sister, I can tell you that right now, but that’s not what I meant. Seriously, don’t you feel warm?”

Buck shakes his head. “No. It’s actually kind of cold in here, isn’t it?”

Hen pushes back from the table across from him, putting a hand over her mouth and nose.

“Nope, you’ve got to go. Cap, this bug is making the rounds quick. I swear half of Denny’s class is out with it.”

Bobby rises from his seat and walks over to Buck, placing a hand on his forehead. Buck looks like a grumpy child as his bottom lip pokes out slightly.

“Jeez, Buck. You’re like a furnace. I’m afraid I have to send you home.”

“But, Cap!” Buck tries to protest but Bobby shakes his head and holds up a hand to stop any more objections.

“That’s an order. And here are some more for you: drink lots of fluids, get in bed, and stay there. Be sure to get a ton of rest until this fever breaks. I know you want to stay on and help but you’re going to sideline the whole team if we don’t do this. Sorry, Buck.”

Buck sighs defeatedly and pushes back in his seat, rising to his feet. The crew murmurs their get well soon wishes to Buck as he heads toward the stairs and Eddie’s heart sinks to the pit of his stomach knowing how and why Buck is sick in the first place. He rises from his seat, quickly wiping at his mouth with a napkin before following him to the locker room.

Eddie stays quiet at the door as Buck gets his locker open and takes out his bag.

“So much for Buckleys don’t get sick, huh?” Buck says with a sigh, sitting down on the bench.

Eddie steps further into the room and sits beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. He’s surprised when Buck’s hand comes to rest over his. Buck’s hand is warm and Eddie relishes in his touch but too soon, the feeling is gone; Buck quickly lets go and clears his throat, shifting his attention to his bag. Eddie’s hand falls limply into his lap.

“This one’s on me. I’ll stop by after work and check on you, okay?” he ventures.

“You don’t have to. I’ll be alright.”

“Maybe so but I’d feel a hell of a lot better seeing that for myself. I can drop you home now, if you want. I’m sure Bobby would let me run off for a bit.”

Buck smiles softly and shakes his head. “You’re a good friend, Eddie, but I can manage the trip home. I promise I’ll follow Dr. Nash’s orders to the letter. I’ll be back on my feet in no time, just you wait and see.”

~*~*~

It’s been two days and Buck’s fever has been making its presence known; it’s Chris’ symptoms all over again but Eddie is ready for it, already having placed a call to his grandmother for even more of her miracle soup. Eddie’s been anxious at work, keeping his phone within reach at all times just waiting to get replies from Buck when he checks in. Some messages are more coherent than others but overall it seems as if Buck is hanging in there as much as can be expected.

Eddie’s certain that what his friend needs now is his grandmother’s home-cooking to really send Buck’s ailment packing. It’s to her house he heads straight to after his shift, his thoughts resting heavily on Buck’s recovery.

“Abuela?” Eddie calls out as he locks back the front door of her home.

“In here!”

Eddie follows her voice to the kitchen where he finds his grandmother ladling her soup into Tupperware, the remnants of vegetables and spices on the counter.

He greets her with a kiss on each cheek, taking a set back so she can continue filling the container she’s halfway done with.

“Thanks for doing this...again,” he muses. “One day I swear I’ll learn how to make this stuff.”

She gives him a doubtful look but smiles. “I don’t mind making it for you and your boys.”

Eddie eyes her for a moment, taking note of the implication of her wording. Unsure of how or even if he should call attention to it, Eddie switches gears a bit.

“I’m sure Buck is going to appreciate it. This soup was practically magic for Chris. Buck is chomping at the bit to get back to the station. This is just the thing to get him there again soon.”

His grandmother sets the ladle down and secures the lid on the container, double checking that it’s properly sealed.

“And I’m sure you’re eager for him to get back, too.”

Eddie is brought up short by this, his brows furrowing in thought. Isabel Diaz is as formidable a woman as ever and is always far too good at reading things that weren’t spoken with Eddie. In a case like this, it only makes him feel on edge rather than comforted.

“What are you getting at?”

Isabel shrugs her shoulders but despite how nonchalant the gesture is, Eddie knows there must be more to her thoughts than she’s letting on just then.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Buck is your best friend, no? I would think it’d make sense that you’d want your partner back.”

Eddie can feel heat rising in his face and quickly turns to the pantry, opening the door to it and taking a tote bag off one of the shelves, taking advantage of the brief moment of reprieve to pull himself together.

Eddie returns to her side and begins packing away the various containers. His grandmother is nothing if not efficient and thorough. These batches will be enough to get Buck through the week.

Eddie stays quiet while he works but just as he’s putting away the last container, she places a hand on his arm, stilling him.

He turns his head slightly to look at her, not quite meeting her eye. She takes it as the invitation it is to say whatever is on her mind.

“He’s lucky to have a friend like you,” she says softly, as if in thought.

“I’m the lucky one here, believe me. Buck’s always a huge help. At work, around the house, with Chris. This is the least I could do.”

It’s only then that Eddie looks at his grandmother fully and the knowing smile on her face is so comforting that Eddie feels the tension in his body melt away.

“People like that are hard to find in life. Be sure to hold on the good ones for however long you can.”

~*~*~

Visits to Buck’s after work have become the norm all week and with each trip, Eddie feels more assured that Buck will be better in no time. Today’s check in brings on a sense of déjà vu. In Buck’s living room now is a replica of the fort he and Chris constructed at Eddie’s place a week and a half prior.

“What’s your obsession with forts anyway?” he asks as he climbs inside, surrounded by plush pillows and blankets.

“Maddie used to make them for me all the time when I was little,” Buck says. “Building one with Chris has me kinda nostalgic, I guess.”

Eddie smiles to himself at the mental image of Buck as a kid. It isn’t too hard to picture what he must have looked like back then as he looks at him now, a blanket draped over his head and shoulders sitting cross-legged in front of the laptop, a movie already playing.

“What are you watching?” Eddie asks, settling in.

“Love Actually.”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. “I didn’t take you for a romcom lover but I guess that somehow makes sense now that I think about it.”

“What’s not to love about them? The build up, the will-they-won’t-they but you know they totally will, the big sweeping declaration at the end? That’s what everyone roots for. Who doesn’t like seeing people in love live happily ever after? It’s the dream,” Buck concludes.

Eddie doesn’t argue the point. How could he possibly when that’s all he’s been hoping to have himself?

“That’s really your dream?” he asks tentatively.

Buck shrugs. “I definitely wouldn’t say no if it were to happen. But in order for all of that, someone would actually have to fall head over heels for me,” he laughs wryly.

“You make it sound like such an impossibility. Like you’re somehow difficult to love.”

Buck’s head tilts to the side a bit. “You don’t think that I am?”

It’s such a loaded question, a dangerous one really but still, the words fall effortlessly from Eddie’s lips as he replies.

“I would think that falling for you is one of the easiest things a person could do.”

Eddie realizes this conversation is veering off course and Buck probably isn’t thinking very clearly given the state of things. For all Eddie knows, Buck is hopped up on cold medicine and doesn’t realize he’s asking leading questions. Eddie falls silent then, laying back and staring up the blanket overhead as the movie continues to play on screen. The seconds stretch tauntingly and Eddie knows he’s said too much, gone too far over the line they’ve been treating as a tightrope.

He hears the tap of the keyboard and the movie pauses. Eddie keeps his eyes trained above him, hoping they can avoid delving deeper into this. But he’s kicked open the gate, ushered in this line of conversation he’s been terrified to have.

“Eddie, I—,” Buck starts but Eddie isn’t so sure he wants, or is even ready, to hear what Buck has to say in response.

“You should get some sleep.”

“But I want to talk to you. I missed you today. I always miss you when you’re away.”

Eddie freezes, unsure of if this an open statement Buck would be making if he wasn’t sick or possibly feeling awkward given Eddie’s last comment but he’d be lying to himself if he said it isn’t something that makes his chest warm right in the center.

“I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere all night,” he assures.

“All night? What about Chris?”

“He’s probably on his way to a sugar coma at my grandmother’s right about now. She’s baking tonight and Chris, of course, volunteered to help. I know he’s just in for the leftover frosting and taste testing.”

This seems to be a good enough distraction. Buck laughs softly and grows quiet, pressing the laptop again and Eddie is certain he’s never been more grateful to hear a bunch of British people in conversation with each other. He opts to just listen to rather than watch the movie; his focus is completely shot.

After a few minutes, Buck sighs and burrows in against Eddie’s side. Instinctively Eddie wraps an arm around his friend. Before he can undo it or reprimand himself for getting too familiar with Buck, the man buries his face against the side of Eddie’s neck.

He’s all too aware of each breath Buck takes, his skin tickling with every exhale. There’s nothing casual or platonic about this and Eddie’s heart aches so painfully in his chest that it takes every ounce of willpower he has to keep breathing. But still, before he can allow himself to truly accept what Buck getting this close to him means, he needs to hear it from the man himself.

“Buck?”

“You didn’t give me a chance to say anything before so I figured I’d show you where my head and heart are instead.”

Eddie sits up slowly, Buck moving with him. Eddie takes in his expression and sees a real clarity in Buck’s eyes that leaves no room for uncertainty that he’s serious. Eddie has spent so long feeling terrified of being presented with this moment but he takes comfort in realizing this isn’t one-sided like he’s feared.

“Is this the part with the big sweeping declaration?” he jokes lamely to work out his nerves.

“I sure hope so. That tends to always be the best part.”

“You’re a lot better at this than me,” he says, rubbing his palm against the front of his jeans.

“To be fair, I watch a lot of romantic comedies in my downtime.”

Eddie can’t help but to laugh at this, grateful for the levity Buck brings to this moment. He cups the man’s cheek and strokes his face lightly with his thumb as he stares into his eyes.

“I’ve never been too good with this sort of stuff but you make me want to figure out a way how to be. Maybe in time I’ll be able to get the words out but, if nothing else, just know that I feel a lot for you, Buck. With you, I feel everything.”

Eddie leans forward and kisses Buck’s forehead, his eyes drifting closed as he lingers for a moment. Buck sighs contentedly, one hand settling on Eddie’s knee. Eddie pulls away then, resting his forehead against Buck’s, his fingers carding gently through his hair at the back of his head. Buck bumps his nose softly to Eddie’s who smiles at the move.

“Crap, sorry,” Buck says, pulling away. “What if you get sick next?”

“I survived Chris’ fever. I think I’ll be fine with yours too. If not, then I’ll just have to commission Abuela to make more soup,” he laughs. “Speaking of which, I should get some for you. Or tea or—”

“No,” Buck interjects, holding on to his wrist gently, keeping him in place. “Please, just...stay here for a little while longer with me?”

Eddie looks at him, takes in that soft pleading look and nods. “Whatever you want.”

Buck smiles at this and lays down on his side. Eddie doesn’t hesitate in spooning him, his arm securing snugly across Buck’s hip. His face burrows in the crook of the man’s neck, chin propped against his shoulder.

“Now will you get some sleep?” he asks quietly.

Buck laughs, light and carefree. “I don’t see how I can be expected to now after all of this,” he replies just as quietly, playing with Eddie’s fingers.

“This feels like Christmas morning as a kid. All that excitement, wondering what’s in store. No,” he continues, shaking his head. “ I couldn’t possibly sleep now. I don’t want to miss a second of what comes next.”

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orbitariums · 5 years ago

Text

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟓)

note - once again, thank you for reading!! it took me a while for this chapter and i wanted to execute it properly. it’s long so i hope y’all got a place to sittt!!! srry if it has typos i didn’t go thru in depth!!

i introduced a new character in this named alex. i see him being portrayed as alex turner or oscar isaac, but you’re free to picture anyone!!!

let me know what y’all think of this chapter!!!!! i love some of the scenes in this, i feel like i structured it differently than how i usually do and you get to see their lives a lil more <3

new taglist

playlist

warnings - angst, stucky mission!, angst!, cigarette smoking, hints of 2013-2014 tumblr vibes for sure

word count: 9.7k

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

"Back to working late nights, I see."

As Steve looked over his shoulder, he was met with the sight of Natasha leaning against the jamb of the open door to his office. The light from the hallway flooded into his dimly lit office, the only lighting being the lamp on his desk. She had her arms folded, a small smile on her face as Steve looked up at her.

Locking eyes with him, it was no surprise that he had the same tired gaze that had been lingering in his eyes for the past three weeks since he'd stopped talking to you, almost a month. And while Nat may not have been surprised, she, like everyone else, was concerned. Steve was different from the man he had been just a few weeks ago, the man who seemed suddenly uplifted. He had rose up from his bad mood only to re-enter the slump he was in before, only worse.

This time, the slump Steve was in wasn't irritated and unnecessarily aggressive due to pent up sexual frustration, but it was lethargic, a melancholia that creeped in slowly. He seemed sad and gloomy, "not in the mood." Before any of Steve's mood swings, he was just the kind of calm and serious person that Steve Rogers was.

Then you came along and he was Steve Rogers in Wonderland. Now that you were gone, it was like he'd buried himself into a dark and deep hole, and not the one that Alice fell into. He was just sort of somber and quiet, too quiet. Isolated, like he was now - deep into his work, but not in a good way.

Steve didn't even muster a smile. He just slumped back slightly into his chair and sighed, the cold gloom in his eyes unwavering.

"Working on something from the Sokovia unit."

Nat offered a small, sad smile,

"Need anything? You're missing out on movie night."

Steve shook his head. He knew that Nat was checking on him for other reasons, but he didn't want to be the one to address it. He hadn't talked to anyone about it, not even Bucky, who was the only one to flat out ask what was happening. The others sort of danced around the topic. But it bothered Natasha greatly. She had to ask, because even she couldn't figure it out.

"Don't need anything. Thanks."

"Steve. What's going on?" Nat asked, fed up. She walked in further and closed the door behind her. "You're acting strange again."

Steve mustered the tiniest of smiles, shrugging,

"Just been busy these days."

"No, you've been purposefully making yourself busy. You're all cooped up in here. You're by yourself all the time, even when you're around us. What's going on?" Nat sat on the edge of the table, looking down at him with her eyebrows drawn together. "No one else is asking, but we're all wondering it."

Steve sighed. He'd been isolating himself, burying himself in work to distract himself from the thought of you. The two of you had ended on such a rough note, and it was hard for him to even process it. It scared him, how much more he thought about you now that he had stopped talking to you, thinking that would be the solution.

Thinking that leaving you alone would stop things from escalating. And they had, maybe in the way of your actual relationship with each other. But for Steve individually? The feelings were worse than they had been. He was hurt that he had hurt you, and it was like leaving you only exposed how much he really did need you.

And to think of it that way felt like his biggest defeat. Like he was letting his responsibilities down. He couldn't feel this way about someone he met online, not in the way that he met you. He couldn't let it get to this point, and yet it was impacting him so strongly, much more than he'd expected.

So he retracted, recoiled to be alone. He hated the way it had gone down - hated the fact that he had scared himself, hated the fact that he had even allowed things to feel that serious. But mostly he hated the fact that he couldn't be honest with himself - or maybe he hated the fact that now that he was being honest with himself, he was depriving himself of a good thing out of fear. And he had virtually no one to talk this out with, because he'd have to tell the full story, and he still forbid himself to do that.

It was over, and he didn't want to put this on his team's plate, even if it was over with. Now that he had ended things, he didn't have anything to hide anymore, but that didn't mean he was just going to reveal everything. He still felt like his leadership would be at stake if he were to, although not selfishly. It felt like something so private. He needed to think this out with himself.

So while he knew why Natasha was checking in, and knew that she was right to, because clearly something was happening, he still couldn't open up. So he just dismissed it with a wave of his hand and a false smile,

"Don't worry, I've just been tired." Steve hopped up from his desk, allowing a burst of energy, even if ingenuine, to take over.

He didn't want the others to worry about him like this. The situation was a big enough deal already. He didn't want them in on his own personal pain, which he had fully decided to take care of himself - though he wasn't doing a very good job of it. He continued, grinning.

"I'll join you guys for movie night," he decided.

He hadn't magically gotten better, but if this was what it might take to ensure his team that he was fine, he would bring himself out of his little hole, just for a few hours. He needed a break anyway, he'd been starting to drift when Natalie came in, thinking of you specifically.

But Natasha wasn't buying it, the fake smile, the sudden burst of energy. It was like he was putting on a show, but she wasn't a fan of his performance.

She stood up and sort of blocked him, staring him down with a dead serious look in her eyes, her arms folded. She wasn't angry, but she was disappointed by Steve's behavior. The past few months had been so topsy turvy with him, his changes in mood weren't making any sense. Out of anyone on the team, she felt like he understood her, had made the effort to make a true connection with her, rather than just gaze on, intimidated by her.

"I know you, Steve. You're not fooling anyone." As Steve's smile turned into a frown, Natasha turned around, walking out of his office. On her way out she followed with, "Come back when you're ready to be honest."

♡ ♡ ♡

"Can we get another round of mimosas, please?"

Aaliyah's voice brought you back down to earth. The spring air bristled against your dewy skin, the sun shining down on you from where you were both sitting in the seating area outside the cafe. If anything, you were grateful for California's sunshine. It kept you sane, and reminded you that no matter what, you'd always have the sun.

You were sitting outside you and Aaliyah's favorite brunch place (with bottomless mimosas), just to catch up and talk. You'd been busy dealing with school work and your personal life. And just now, you were a bit distracted, thinking of all the things that led you to this point. You were thinking of Steve, who still came around the wild landscape of your mind once in a while, like the shadow of a maintenance man who you never quite met. It had been almost a month since you stopped talking to Steve.

It still hurt sometimes when you thought about it, because you missed the rush of talking to him - your experience with Steve was so unique to your experience with any other customer. But it wasn't all about the rush - you missed really talking to him and getting to know him. Even though it felt like it had been all for naught, you felt a warm feeling in your chest when you thought about him.

You hadn't felt that way with a customer, and while you realized it was silly and irresponsible for the both of you to get as caught up as you had, you still loved every moment of talking to him. It took a special person for you to want to talk to Steve as much as you did - doing private shows for him, requesting him instead of the other way around. It was truly one of the more wholesome experiences you'd had with a customer. The rush was a part of it - it was exciting and thrilling.

But it was also calming, full of comforting conversation and freeing interactions. It was like this unhinged pleasure you were inviting each other to share, in every sense of the word - it wasn't just you servicing him, though that was a part of it. It felt like in a sense, he also served you.

The feelings were mutual. You listened to each other, you felt like you knew each other. So, since you were being honest with yourself, you could admit it hurt. But you didn't let it drag you down, especially now that it had been over three weeks. Mostly, when you thought of him, it was nostalgic, like you were waking up from a dream and only remembering traces of it. Just remembering, not grieving.

Aaliyah noticed your silence and offered you a tiny, shy smile. Ever you had been focusing on yourself, you hadn't been talking to Aaliyah nearly as much. Now that you felt comfortable being in the same spaces as before, you were together, talking it out.

You'd only told her bits and pieces of the story - that meant she only really knew about the situation with your ex and schoolwork. As for Steve, you kept most of that to yourself.

"You good, babe?" she reached over and squeezed your shoulder, clad in a loose blouse top.

You grinned, and it was genuine, biting down on your straw as you shook your head playfully,

"More now than ever."

Aaliyah's smile widened. She knew when you were being genuine, and she was glad to see that this was one of those times. You'd been withdrawn recently, but with good purpose and even better intentions. You were taking all that time to heal for yourself. And amazingly, you had never been more honest with yourself in your life. Ever since Steve, you went through it for a few days.

You were saddened by the abrupt loss of Steve, even if he was only in your life for a short time. But you didn't lose sight of the realities of your relationship - it would never work out that way. You let yourself sink into sadness only for the first few days afterwards.

You knew that to let your sadness continue would be extremely unhealthy, and would only cause you to question whether or not you were really fit for this job, where making connections with strangers was pretty important. This couldn't happen frequently, or at all.

And on top of that, you had been drowning in stress from school and stress from your personal life: morose after the situation with Steve, feeling so much emotional turmoil from your situation with your ex boyfriend. But after a while, you were able to lift yourself up. You knew how unhealthy it would be if you let yourself stay sad because of Steve - you didn't even know him and he had proven that he was just a customer.

Though that didn't mean you doubted your connection for one minute. You just hated the way you had underestimated what that meant when it came to boundaries, both for you and Steve. You had overshared. It just reminded you that there seemed to be a certain pattern in the relationships in your life, and they all taught you one thing: don't get too comfortable.

But after about a week of beating yourself up over that, feeling stupid and naive and embarrassed for opening up, you moved on to the more important things that needed to be handled - your school work, and how you would successfully move on from your toxic ex. You already had, but when you got that text, it felt like you were relapsing.

This wasn't just moving on, it was moving on completely and fully. It wouldn't be done by magic, through a divine snap of the fingers. But instead it was a process, an incredibly healing process, one that you actually wanted to find your way through.

It felt like despite all the progress you had made- all the patching up you'd done as a result of not just that one, but many toxic relationships in your life - you cracked so easily just being reminded of one of them. You didn't want that to be you anymore, even if it didn't mean you weren't strong. It just meant you were human.

You didn't dismiss all the growth you had made ever since you broke up with your ex, all the bad habits you had broken and the new spaces you had welcomed yourself into. But you didn't want to be the kind of person who cracked under pressure. Part of those toxic relationships was acknowledging the fact that those people will try again to get back into your life after realizing their loss.

And you understood that now. Your ultimate goal now was to get back on your feet and allow yourself to be as strong as you were and work on how you dealt with personal stressors such as these.

Your campus offered professional mental help and you took advantage of it as much as possible. You didn't disclose everything, especially not the details of your other job, but you talked about your emotions and your relationships and how you felt like you needed to learn how to handle times of duress. So, you got into therapy; it was a life saver. It wasn't that the incident with Steve had triggered you so much that you needed to get therapy, but the context of the incident and the feelings that roused you to that breaking point on screen with him made you realize you needed help.

You had done everything yourself before, all your healing, all your growth - but it wasn't shameful to get help. You realized that while you felt sated being a lone wolf and doing everything yourself, that while it was what you were used to and you never complained about it, you didn't have to go through this alone.

Part of why you never did before was because you didn't realize you could, too. That therapy wasn't just for people who were in situations much worse than your own. You could have a place to healthily let out your feelings, instead of letting them overflow inside of you, or to strangers.

"Therapy's helping," you nodded, and Aaliyah sat back and listened. "It's helpful for situational things like this, but I think I should've been in therapy like, a really long time ago."

"I'll drink to that," Aaliyah nodded intensely and raised her mimosa glass to clink with yours before bringing it to her lips and taking a sip.

You laughed, and you were almost surprised to hear the sound of your own laugh, so uncaring and so free. Not the kind of laugh you let out when you're restricting your joy. Just full, pure, laughter. You didn't have to become this hysterical ultrasad woman just because of your experiences - you were proof that things could and did get better.

You were living just fine before the crash of life came down upon you, you were satisfied with life. But now you felt like you had accomplished some form of ego death, and realized there was more than just being "satisfied." You hadn't thought there was before.

"For real though, I'm proud of you," Aaliyah nodded, making direct eye contact with you. "I'm glad you took this time to yourself. You glow better when you're happy."

"And when I'm not being bothered by idiotic men," you rolled your eyes.

Multiple, your brain reminded you - your ex-boyfriend, your idiot professor, and Steve, to an extent. You appreciated what it was that you two had, an undeniable chemistry, but he reminded you of most men - afraid to open up. Though you couldn't feel spiteful towards him. In this context, it made perfect sense that he didn't want to open up.

"Oh yeah, update me on that? I know it's over with your ex-"

"Yup. I told him not to contact me again. Then I blocked him," you replied with a heaving sigh - a sigh of release. It felt good to say that out loud again. It felt good to know that your response was final, and that any further badgering you received wasn't as a result of your invitation.

It was as easy as that, even though it took you days just to even figure out what kind of message to send. You could've met up with him, talked things out - at the worst, gotten together again, but you knew you'd never let that happen. You could've listened to whatever he had to say.

But you had decided that whatever he wanted to tell you, whatever apology he was going to issue, could've been avoided had he just treated you right, instead of constantly dismissing you, instead of reacting to everything with nonchalance. So you didn't need to hear it, and you didn't need to light yourself on fire just to decide whether or not to forgive him- you didn't need to decide at all. So you left it alone, and left him blocked.

Aaliyah just smiled softly at you, so grateful for your steady energy and your strong presence. You were such close friends, it felt like your experiences were mutual. Everything you went through, she was by your side, and vice versa. She was so proud of you for making the decisions you made, and so proud that you came to that result.

"As you should!" Aaliyah squealed, reaching over and squeezing your hands excitedly. "You really are that bitch. And your project... he said it's a go?"

You smiled bashfully as you squeezed Aaliyah's hands back.

"Yeah, we talked it out. I still have to modify it which is a huge pain in my ass, but I can manage. So it's fine. At least I'm not dealing with a million other things on top of that."

Aaliyah smirked, again raising her glass to tap it against yours,

"Cheers to that, babe."

So you had been on this journey, and you had sought out help where it was most valuable - in yourself, in friends, in professionals, and in the world around you. And in return you had learned that you didn't have to be strong all the time, that it was okay to break sometimes - as long as you knew how to cope. And that advice went such a long way.

Things were looking up from here.

♡ ♡ ♡

Ever since his confrontation with Natasha, Steve had been in deep thought. He was disappointed in himself for letting it get to the point where his interactions with his team felt hostile. Where he appeared so lonely and even sulky. It wasn't like him as a leader, and it wasn't who his team looked up to.

He didn't want his interactions with people to feel so unfulfilling as a result of his own personal catastrophes, especially when it came to someone like Nat, who was the only one to boldly address his change in mood. He felt like a loser for allowing himself to go as dark as he had. It was something he should've had more control over, something he should've never let creep into his life the way it had.

Steve wasn't some creepy old man slowly dilapidating in a lonesome one-bedroom home, with no friends and no lovers. He had gone onto the site to find some kind of sexual release, because he had nowhere else to realistically take out his pent up energy, at least not in his eyes. He wanted that connection, and he found it with you.

He should've been satisfied. The only problem was that he was in for more than he was prepared for. And maybe it was because he was old fashioned and really wanted that kind of connection, because Stark easily went through girls like Moonrose like it was nothing, no strings attached. It only further proved that Steve wasn't built for that.

He figured that as long as he was distracting himself from the problem by burying himself in work and isolating himself, he at least wasn't doing his job any harm. That was the most important to him - his work.

But the people that mattered most to Steve were beginning to point out to him that ignoring a personal problem wasn't going to solve it. And Steve should've known that naturally, because one of the biggest elements of his job was to solve problems. He was a logical person, he loved answering the unanswered and finding solutions.

But that was his job. This was a personal issue, and it was unlike anything he'd been through. He supposed he'd never known how to cope, and that talking to you was just a sliver of one of the ways he did cope.

He didn't put everything on you, nor did he want to - that was why he'd stopped talking to you. You knowing everything he was going through would be dangerous for the both of you, for obvious reasons. Though you felt like you knew each other, you didn't really know who he was, and maybe that wouldn't have been such a big deal if it weren't for the fact that he was Captain America.

So when he stopped talking to you, it was like a part of him stopped coping. Lucky for him, not everyone was just going to let him sulk around.

"Alright, Steve. What's this all about?" Bucky asked, walking beside Steve while they were on a mission together. This may have been the worst time for Bucky to bring this up, considering Steve was focused on nothing less and nothing more than his mission. He thought of you a lot, sure, but not during times like these.

"What's what all about?" Steve replied gruffly, mindlessly elbowing some approaching Hydra member off the ship they were infiltrating, the sound of splashing water resonating in the distance.

"You know," Bucky grunted, sweep kicking another member and sending him flying.

The two of them often talked to each other side by side on missions, so disciplined and highly skilled that they could easily do both at once, but not about things like this, and not conversations that required much more attention. Bucky continued,

"You've been all sad lately."

Steve sighed and shook his head, latching his shield back onto his back,

"Is that what we're going to be talking about?"

"Are you gonna answer me?" Bucky raised his brows, cocking the gun he had tucked under his arm and firing ahead of him.

"Can't really talk right now, Buck," Steve grunted, preparing himself for what was ahead.

"I think I know what it is!" Bucky exclaimed, jumping away from Steve as he took on a combatant in front of him, Steve doing the same.

"Please, enlighten me!" Steve called out sarcastically, going hand to hand with another guy, flinging his shield out in front of him.

Bucky aimed a kick at his guy's crotch, sending him flying to the floor, then standing over him and continuing to pummel him, all the while yelling over at Steve.

"You think you don't have anyone to talk to about how you're feeling so you're isolating yourself! I know you. It's a very Steve thing to do!"

Steve sighed, shaking his head. He wasn't too keen on having this conversation at all, but especially not now. But he knew once Bucky got started, there was no stopping it. Even in the midst of a fight, in the midst of a mission. But Bucky wasn't entirely wrong, and that was the dangerous part about it - Steve knew Bucky could figure him out if he really set his mind to it. And he was constantly being reminded how much other people knew him, whether it was you, Natasha, or Bucky.

He may have masked himself as un-phased and even tempered, but anyone could see past that now. Natasha had been close to figuring out just what was going on, and although she was one of the smarter Avengers, who could figure anybody out, Bucky and Steve were the closest of friends, twin flames. Steve knew Bucky would have him figured out in a minute, and he was getting dangerously close.

"Buck, not now!" he had to at least try.

"You still talking to that girl?" Bucky ignored Steve's pleas and continued - he had came to his own conclusion, putting together the pieces.

Steve sighed again, kneeling down on the floor and hanging his head. His silence, his lack of a response, told Bucky all he needed to know. He was in his head, thinking about you, something he never did on a mission. He was thinking of how before this, you were one of the people he actually talked to to cope, even though he didn't delve too deep into his personal problems. But still, you had been there.

And now that you weren't, he was thinking of all the reasons why you weren't, almost all of them rooted in his own silly fear. The fear he'd been letting go for weeks until you asked him that question. Before you opened up to him to that extent.

Bucky got up, dusting his hands off. Both him and Steve had knocked their guys clean. Bucky signaled into his ear piece that the coast was clear and they were leaving the building, before heading over to walk next to Steve. Bucky had a sort of victorious smile on his face, knowing he had cracked the code.

Steve had been withdrawn before you, then excitingly different when you came around. It would make sense that he'd be withdrawn without you again. Especially if things had ended harshly. Since Bucky was the only one who knew about the connection Steve felt he had with Moonrose, it was easier for him to guess. The others might have known that Steve was using the site, but Steve made sure they didn't know all the specifics.

Although, Bucky did. And he wanted to know just what was going on. He put his arm around Steve's shoulders as a way of letting him know he was there, and that he did have someone to talk to besides you.

"You know, Steve, whatever happened, you've got me. You've got all of us."

Steve shook his head and looked down at the ground, mustering a small smile that was one of the more genuine smiles he'd shown in the past few weeks,

"I know."

"Then why didn't you talk to any of us? You've been like a hermit for the past month almost," Bucky inquired.

He wasn't attacking Steve, but he still had questions to ask. He wanted to have an honest conversation. He didn't want to have to sit back and watch as Steve alienated himself because he didn't know how to properly deal with his own issues. As an Avenger, it made both him and Steve look irresponsible. And as a friend, he physically couldn't watch any longer.

He didn't think he'd seen Steve so withdrawn, not even when his parents died, because Bucky forced his way in every chance he could get. When Steve was alone, things got dark. Bucky decided he'd be the one to actually help guide Steve out of it, by any means.

Although, he was surprised that all this was caused by a girl who Steve hadn't even met. A girl who Steve had expressed his worries about to Bucky. It seemed as though Steve wouldn't let things get this far or impact him this much. He had been so quick to deny Bucky when he asked if there was anything more there, and maybe it was because it scared him to think about because it was true. Was it expected, though? Not entirely.

"I didn't just want to air this out to everyone. It felt like something I shouldn't be doing, not in the position I'm in... I didn't want to disappoint people. And I feel like I have just by acting like this, even though they don't know why I've been this way. It's bad, I know, and I feel stupid for it. It's embarrassing to feel like this. Like... like I don't know any better," Steve replied, and Bucky understood, nodding.

"I get it. It's like, why would boss man have some strange attachment to a naked stranger?" Bucky responded, not realizing how crude he sounded, making Steve glare over at him with his brows knit together.

"Well, especially when you put it like that, Buck," Steve said, but he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Sorry," Bucky smiled, shaking his head. A beat, then he continued. "So you've stopped talking to this girl. For what reason?"

"I was afraid. It just... got too serious. And I guess it shows, because I've been acting like this as a result," Steve laughed bitterly. "I can't say I expected this to be the result. I think it hurts, but I've really been acting this way because..."

Steve took a deep breath. It felt like a lot to express his feelings or emotions on any given day, but especially when it came to this. He had been keeping nearly everything associated with you to himself. It felt like such a big deal to express something out loud when he had intentionally been keeping it extra personal. Even if it was Bucky. It felt like something so close to him - he still felt slightly idiotic for the entire ordeal.

He continued,

"I guess because I've been trying hard not to think about her as much as my mind does when I'm not distracted. So I have to keep to myself and do work so that I'm not thinking about it as much. And I guess in the process I just neglected my own self care."

Bucky nodded with a hum of assurance.

"Mm. Well you're right. Maybe it did go too far. But that can't always be a bad thing."

Steve cocked his head,

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's like me and Nat. No one would've trusted us years ago, but here we are now. On this incredibly elite team, fighting injustice with the best of them. I get it, you have to be safe, you can't let strangers get too close, you can't just do anything. But that doesn't mean you have to be so afraid all the time. You care about her. I knew that the minute you asked me about her. Because if it wasn't destined to end up this way, you would've never said a thing. You're good at keeping things to yourself, Rogers. The fact that you even asked me for advice on this, all those weeks ago. It says something. And maybe this all means that not only can you not stay away - but that maybe... you shouldn't."

♡ ♡ ♡

You hadn't been out out in a long time. You had been using the past three or more weeks to focus on yourself, to fully heal and regenerate and learn to cope. This was your therapeutic week, your week of release.

But now, you were going out. You made an effort to look extra cute, because it had been a while since you got all dolled up. You couldn't be out super late, you still had a show later tonight, but you'd go out and enjoy a few drinks with friends. You were also going to be meeting new people, which was something you didn't do regardless of your emotional situation, unless it was for work - but those were colleagues.

These were people who were potential friends, and potential lovers. But you couldn't have made it more clear to Aaliyah, who was tying this all together:

"I'm not looking for a relationship right now! You know that!" you exclaimed, shaking your head, but she just smirked at you, and pulled the straps of your dress tighter as you both walked into the bar where you would be meeting some friends and new people tonight.

"Mhm," Aaliyah said dismissively, slinging her arm around your shoulders. "That doesn't mean you can't meet someone and you know..."

"Aht aht," you chuckled, though you appreciated her vigor. "I don't do random hookups unless it's online."

Both of you cackled at that, but it was true. You were very put together and determined, especially when it came to actual relationships. Your sex life outside of your job on the internet was sort of quiet at the moment, and you liked it that way. You enjoyed sex and the sensual, pleasurable and freeing feeling that came with having sex in real life, or performing sexual acts on the internet for money. But it wasn't everything to you, you still navigated the world like any human would, except maybe you were hyper aware of your mindfulness, even more than people with conventional jobs.

You didn't let just anybody in, emotionally or physically, not when it came to real life. Though maybe Aaliyah had a little bit of a point. Not wanting a relationship didn't mean you couldn't have fun. You wouldn't force it though. If it were meant to be, it would be.

Tonight, you were going to be watching a local band play, sitting at a table in the audience with some friends, ordering drinks and just having a good time together. You were excited - it felt good to get out, good to be back on your feet. You were getting the normality back into your life, and you were enjoying it, as well as the healing process that came with it - no toxic ex, no hardships with school... when it came to Steve, you still missed him. But it didn't interrupt your ability to function, not anymore. You weren't quite preoccupied with him in this moment.

You were glad to be sitting down with friends, and meeting new people as well. It felt almost strange - you felt out of the loop, like you were getting back onto the scene for the first time in years, when it hadn't even been that long. You figured it was just the fact that there had been such an intense shift, and you had matured so much in just less than a month. You felt excited for the endless possibilities.

The bar was dimly lit, the band was tuning their instruments, drinks were going around, everyone seemed to be in a good, vivacious mood. It was very lively in a way you could appreciate, because you liked the spontaneity and eventfulness of life just like you enjoyed the organized, pragmatic parts of life that you endured in all of your careers and your lifestyle. You liked to have fun, there was no doubt about that. It was just a matter of when you had time for it.

As you sat down at the table, reunions and introductions went all around. Everyone was friendly, and everyone was a college student. You were excited to be with this specific group of people, full of friends and new faces. But there was one new face that truly intrigued you, belonging to a ridiculously attractive guy with a rockabilly quiff and a strand of hair styled at the front, a knowing look in his deep brown eyes. He didn't have to say he was cool, the oversized leather jacket he wore practically spelled that out.

He leaned across the table to shake your hand, his eyes sparkling when he looked at you, his smile bright and charming,

"Hey. I'm Alex. It's nice to meet you."

It must have shown on your face how immediately taken you were - he was hot and the energy he emanated was good, and purely sensual. Aaliyah took notice, smirking over at you and watching as you took his hand. You blinked, and smiled. He felt it, you felt it. There was no use in hiding it. You thought about how much you insisted to Aaliyah that you weren't looking to hook up - but this one guy may have changed your mind, just by his smile.

"I'm YN. Nice to meet you too."

Even as he let go of your hand and sat back in his chair, he didn't break eye contact with you, a small, playful smirk on his lips. But two could play at that game. Your job, doing what you did, made you ten times more confident than the average person. Just because you weren't on the dating scene didn't mean you didn't know how to flirt.

And just because you weren't interested in dating didn't mean you couldn't get to know someone in a different sense of the word. Just from looking into his eyes, reading the smirk on his smooth lips, you knew you would definitely be getting to know him tonight. With no strings attached.

| | |

"You smoke?" you asked Alex, standing in front of him outside the bar as he lit a cigarette. You were both standing in the alleyway beside the bar.

The both of you had ended up here, not completely on purpose, but Alex couldn't say he didn't notice when you excused yourself so that you could make a call to confirm another therapy appointment. You ended up out there for longer than intended as you started scrolling on your phone. But it was Alex who kept you out there, the night sky starry and clear above you. It was quiet, except for the faint sound of indie rock music coming from inside the bar. But it was a calming, comforting atmosphere. It felt like it was just the two of you, and in a sense, it really was.

"Yeah," Alex smiled almost shyly, unsure how you might approach that. People usually turned up their noses.

You in particular didn't see cigarette smoking as your idea of a good time- recreational marijuana, in moderation. You only ever really drank or smoked socially, but sometimes you could have a lot of fun drinking wine alone. In the heat of the moment though, it wasn't a very big deal to you. That was the other thing about you - you were spontaneous but well balanced, and let people live their lives how they wanted to, even if they were living just a bit on the edge. You knew people definitely would have choice words for your own lifestyle, and that just made you more open minded.

"Hmm," you hummed, simply thinking to yourself and nodding.

Alex shifted slightly, as if he were unsure of himself, but took a drag anyway.

"Nasty habit, I'm sure."

"Can I try?" you asked, leaning up against the brick wall behind you, and gazing up at him.

Looking into your eyes, he could see the glint of innocence and anticipation there, but there was something more- this sort of hot and flashy desire. The chemistry in your simple introduction was undoubtable, and it led you both to think there could be something else. But if there was, there was already an unspoken agreement in Alex's smirk and your smile - whatever it was would be purely physical.

You were too deep into your process of healing to fully put yourself out there, to even want to share yourself with another. Ever since your last relationship, you weren't looking for any one - no one to be your baby, no one to depend on, and no one who depended on you. You didn't want that. But this, whatever it was, was just a little bit of fun. You only ever really engaged in this kind of banter on the internet. It was about time you got a taste of it in real life.

Alex raised his brows at you, surprised. You didn't strike him as the type, and honestly, you didn't strike yourself as the type, either. You were just going with the flow. He just glanced at you and cocked his head to the side,

"I don't know if you really want to do that."

"What makes you say that?" you challenged, quirking your eyebrow quizzically, and tilting your head up at him. He wasn't wrong though - you almost immediately questioned why you asked if you could try.

"You don't strike me as the type. And you're a very pretty girl," Alex eased closer to you, and you felt his rough, wide hand against your cheek, caressing gently as he looked down at you, looking intently into your eyes. You felt his thumb against your cheek, running against your soft skin in smooth, slow circles, and you couldn't help but grin devilishly at the sense of danger it gave you, the kind of danger you only found deep within layers of pleasure. He continued. "Wouldn't want your... skin to fall off."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his anti-cigarette warning, shaking your head and laughing quietly, him joining in. He couldn't ignore the brightness of your smile, how genuine it seemed, how much it struck him. For you, laughter felt like medicine right now, like it was pushing you through this transition phase you were in.

"Really, is that what's gonna happen?" you smirked playfully, never looking away from him. He smiled, nodding,

"Yeah, that's exactly what happens."

A beat of silence passed between of you, but the tension emanating between the two of you was louder than ever, pulling you to each other with a tantalizing magnetic force. You watched his lids flutter gently as his eyes traveled down to your lips, the thumb that had previously been on your cheek drifting to your lips, hands moving languidly against your skin. A shiver ran all through your body, resonating in your core, just at the feeling of his touch, and at the knowledge that eyes were on you.

Real, human eyes, eyes that you had summoned through the power of your divine sensuality. You could find these connections online, but in real life it was so electrifying, so genuine- almost like it had been with Steve, though he was the last thing on your mind right now.

"Pretty girls have the nastiest habits," you blinked, letting him toy with your lips until you gently took his thumb in your mouth, wrapping your lips around it, all the while never breaking eye contact with him.

You knew exactly what you were doing, and you knew your intentions while you were doing it. They weren't anything good, but they weren't bad either.

Alex nearly shuddered, taking in a deep breath. You both had amazing sex appeal and an instant connection, but you were taking him for a ride that he didn't even expect. He nodded slowly, his eyelids heavy, watching your lips around his fingers.

"Mm," he hummed.

He placed his hand on the wall above you as he towered over you. You felt covered by him, in a good way. He was all over you in the only way either of you wanted to be. His fingers left your lips and now held his cigarette. He leaned in and lifted your chin up, the cigarette smoke lifting up from his cigarette and swirling around your nose, just before he pressed his lips against yours.

Your lips were hot against his, which were smoky and tasted like his own vice, an open mouthed kiss with nothing but passion and craving within the little space between your lips. The kiss lingered, his hands then beginning to travel all around you, not just your face, but your entire body. You felt his hands on your sides, traveling up your thighs, his body and his lips smashing into your own. There was nothing wholesome about it, and yet you couldn't help but want more.

You only pulled away, panting, to remind him of one thing,

"You know this is it, right? I'm not looking for a relationship."

He shook his head, reattaching his lips to yours, breathlessly replying,

"Me neither."

He couldn't care less for the clarifications - he was caught up in you, he just wanted more, in whatever way you would allow. It was quick and fast paced, that seemed to be the basis of your newly forged relationship. Not much thought went into your very needy motions, all abrupt and reckless.

But you pulled away again, placing a hand on his chest,

"And we're not having sex."

"Fine. That's fine. I just want to kiss you. Can I kiss you?" he asked, unable to keep his eyes from flickering between your eyes and your lips.

You smiled, nodding eagerly, sated by his needy disposition and the sexual prowess you had over him. He didn't even know the half of your nasty habits. In response, you cooed,

"Yeah, you can kiss me."

♡ ♡ ♡

Ever since the mission, it was both lucky and unfortunate for Steve that all he had left on his hands was time. All that time consumed him, and you were on his mind all through it. He also thought about what Bucky had to say. Bucky's words were a reminder that he couldn't let things consume him out of fear. It reminded Steve that while he was right to feel weary, he was right to trust, too. Trust was a big part of the Avengers Initiative.

They all depended on it, and it took a lot of trust in individuals that no one else would probably ever take under their wing. But placing that trust in each other worked, and formed the greatest group of justice defenders on this earth. The people Steve considered his closest friends still had yet to gain true trust from some of the most important figures in the country. That didn't mean Steve trusted them any less.

He'd had the revelation many times before, but he was having it again. The two of you had something- you had almost everything except for trust.

It was a big leap he was taking, a big contrast from the way he felt beforehand. But he'd spent all his time thinking and worrying and letting fear and irrational darkness take over him for too long. It was time he took the matters that involved his feelings and personal health into his own hands. And to start, he had to take that big leap of faith.

Was he making a stupid decision? Likely. But was it rash? No, it was the result of so much reflection and thought. It was like he took a look inside of himself and realized what he had to do. And even though this wouldn't solve the problem entirely, it was at least a start. A promise to himself and an apology to you. If this was how it was without you, then he didn't want it to feel that way ever again, by any means.

You were more than the controversy of the relationship you had with him and the context surrounding that relationship. Loyalty was one of the most important qualities to Steve. He didn't want a friend if they weren't loyal, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that you were a friend, no matter how much he tried to push away the legitimacy of the connection.

Months ago, he would've never done this. On any conditions. But that was before he met you. So now, he was sitting in his room after a shower, falling back into the old routine. It was Friday. You'd be live in a few hours.

♡ ♡ ♡

You came back home from the bar exhilarated, the touch of the man you'd been so close with lingering on your body, and in the best way you could imagine. You knew he wanted more physically, but you weren't at an emotional position where you could give it to him.

And he had respected that, even though the yearning was so clear. The thrill of the moment felt like it would never dissipate. The spontaneity of the moment and the heat of it all reminded you how powerful you were.

He had practically whined into your mouth for more. Sure, you had men online who would give up all their belongings for you, but it felt different when you were experiencing this with a man who you could touch, a man who you could genuinely feel that zing! feeling with just by looking at him.

You weren't sure when you'd see him again, or if you ever would. And that was the beauty of the entire situation. You didn't feel like you had some type of emotional obligation to him, or like you would have to follow up. You could leave it at that and hold this moment in your heart guilt free. It didn't matter that you didn't know him well - all that mattered was that you still felt whole afterwards and not trapped, that it brought you just as much pleasure as it brought him. And it did. It was like your hot girl summer was starting early.

And you had enjoyed your night out, ending it on a positive note as you watched the bands close up. You filled Aaliyah in on your little detour with Alex. You came home so amped for your performance. This was the most excited you had been for a show since Steve left. You loved your work, but the knowledge that Steve would be watching or would be talking to you afterwards made your shows just a little better.

But now, Steve wasn't on your mind, and you couldn't even say Alex was either. So what was on your mind? Mainly the joie de vivre, the sudden burst of energy you felt after a night out, the invigorating feeling that you were returning to normalcy.

So when you logged on that night, you were more than ready to give a show, not knowing that you were in for a big storm.

Steve got the notification that you were on, but he decided to wait it out. He didn't necessarily want to watch the show because he wanted to talk to you. He didn't want to feel awkward, watching you perform overtly sexual acts when all he wanted to do was talk to you. This way you could talk alone. So he didn't watch the show, just waited until you were off. He did some things to occupy himself while he waited, leaving his screen for a moment.

Your show went by smoothly. It was quick, and mainly full of interaction. You didn't do anything too crazy that night, except for parade around on screen in your lingerie and strike suggestive poses, and make conversation with your regulars as well as welcome new comers. You appreciated the simple life — no extra special connection with anyone made your life a lot easier, even though you had to say that special connection felt like a bonus. But this was nice. Just sitting and talking about the most mundane of things. Dry eyed, cute, and paid.

You read a few comments as you prepared to finish. Almost everyone was talking about how happy you seemed, how you were glowing more than usual. You just chuckled as you read them, and thanked each commenter.

"Okay guys!" you cooed into the camera, smiling and giving a three fingered wave as you prepared to sign off. "I'm gonna get going, but it was so great talking to each and every one of you. I hope you guys have a good night. Private sessions tomorrow!"

You blew a kiss into the camera, and ended the show for that night. You would've logged off completely and gotten ready for bed had it not been for the notification you received, and boy did it grab your attention.

Grant Rogers would like to chat.

You made a face, blinking as you looked at the screen. It had been about a month since you had last talked to Steve. You thought for sure he was a goner, and you had gotten accustomed to the fact a long time ago. You were surprised he was coming back to talk to you at all, though you were glad your reaction was solely surprise and confusion. You weren't reacting in a way that would send you into another spiral, and you also didn't expect yourself to.

But you couldn't help but think of the odd circumstances that you had left on, and wonder if it was worth the stress of reconnecting.

Fuck it, you thought. You'd been through so much. What was a little more? You had the skills you needed to react accordingly, to keep sight of who you were and who you were talking to. You could cope. So you pressed "accept."

Again, you were met with a black screen. You weren't sure why some part of you expected anything else, but for some reason you had this little voice in you that was cheering to see what Steve looked like. You swallowed that voice down though, and listened to his own, which came after moments of an awkward silence.

"Hi," Steve said, and you flushed at the sound of his voice, remembering the things it did to you, the way it made you feel — remembering the sound of his voice when he decided to cut things off.

Don't get emotional, you reminded yourself. It doesn't make sense.

"... Hi," you replied, still confused, not able to hide your furrowed brows and slightly open mouth.

"I know this is weird of me, and maybe even selfish..." Steve sighed, and in that sigh was his final decision. Even when he decided that he was going to go through with this, the whole time he waited for your show to be over, he went back and forth with himself.

Was this even a slightly plausible idea that he was going through with? He wondered. He had to reassure himself that it wasn't as dangerous as he had convinced himself it was, because you weren't dangerous, because he trusted you. As scary as it was to say. And lastly, what were the consequences?

It wasn't like Bucky told him to do this, but his talk with Bucky made him realize that it was what he had to do. He didn't want anybody else taking the blame if there was a major fall. It was all on him, and the knowledge of that make him panic. Yet, not enough to stop.

So in that sigh, he was making that final decision to really follow through with it. He was already speaking, so he finished his thought, letting the weight lift off his chest.

"But I felt like it was only right. We left off on a strange note, and that’s entirely my own fault. I want you to know that. I want you to know that I didn't mean to shut you down, and it's not about me, but I feel... terrible for letting that happen. I shouldn't have let you open up like that if I knew I wasn't even accepting what it was that we had. If I was going to be scared."

You were starting to become worried, furrowing your brows as you gazed into the black screen ahead of you. It didn't make any sense, what he was saying. It was verging into the same kind of conversation that had made him uncomfortable. The kind of unnecessarily emotional conversation that neither of you were ready to have with each other.

And you didn't know exactly what he was saying, but you had an idea. He was going back to try and reignite this connection, but it felt like he was overthinking it. Like he was about to blow things out of proportion. And for your own safety, you didn't want to let him.

"Steve, I don't think-" you started, shaking your head as your face morphed into further confusion, but he cut you off.

"Just... let me show you what I'm talking about."

This conversation couldn't get anymore confusing. He was being so unnatural and cryptic, so randomly opening up to you. It scared you, and it didn't feel like the conversations you had with Steve before all this. You were rethinking everything, ready to just call it a night and take a break for a few days just so you could process what he was even saying and why he was coming back after nearly a month.

It was irregular before, but in the way that you liked — irregular in the sense that you felt such a strong connection with a customer that you'd never felt before, irregular in the sense that you wanted to talk to him so often, irregular in the sense that it made you happy, but it didn't take up all your time. Now it was just strange. And you almost laughed at the way the universe seemed to be taunting you - of course right when you were feeling free, of course right when you were ridding yourself of your emotional baggage, taking your sexual freedom into your own hands, this would happen. It felt like a compromise right now, even if a part of you was happy to be hearing from him.

And then, a pause. The sound of shuffling. And then he turned his own camera on. And you weren't looking at a black screen anymore. Confusion, a blur in your mind — were you mistaking exactly who you were looking at? A brain hiccup, followed by clarity. An abrupt realization that you weren't mistaken.

The sight in front of you when that camera turned on made you sit right up, your eyes nearly popping out of your head. There was no fucking way. It was some sort of sick joke. Because the man behind the camera simply could not be who you thought it was.

"What. The. Fuck."

note: ummm!!!!

!!!

i told y’all it’d be getting crazyyyy

yes there will b a part six!!!

give me all of ur thoughts !!! gimme all of them !

will be adding tags in reblogs <3

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers reader insert #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america smut #steve rogers smut #girls on film #orbitariums #marvel smut #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel series #smut #reader insert #steve rogers x y/n

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years ago

Text

Far Away but Not Apart

Ao3

Summary: Roman loved Logan with all of their heart, even if they had only ever seen him through a computer screen. Content: Nb!Roman, don’t think there’s anything else really Pairing: Romantic logince Notes: This is the amos prize minific for @averykedavra who requested long-distance logince. I’m not certain I stuck properly to the prompt, but I do hope you like it, Avery!

“-I’m just saying, there is no crueler mistress than the one that would place soulmates such as ourselves so far apart!”

Logan sighed, rolling his eyes in a way that Roman was fully aware was amused, not annoyed. Though he had started the facetime sitting up and back in his fancy office chair, he was now leaning forwards, elbows on the desk, supporting his chin with one of his hands. “If fate were as cruel a mistress as you claim, Roman, then why would she allow us to meet each other at all?”

“To torture us!” Roman replied dramatically, grinning when Logan chuckled. “It is only in knowing the other exists that we suffer! To be so close in heart but so far in distance-”

“A pity, yes, but one we will survive.” Logan said, scoffing when Roman pouted at him. “You will only make yourself feel worse about our situation the longer you dwell upon in it.”

“I have dwelled upon it every day since the one I met you, and suffered it every day since the one you allowed me to call you mine.”

“We’ve only been dating for four months, Roman.”

“And friends for two years!” Roman added on for him. “And never once during all of that time have I so much as held your hand! It is a crime, my beloved, a crime, a sin, a defiance against all that is good and pure!”

“You’re overexaggerating.”

Roman sighed and collapsed backwards on their bed, hand splayed over their forehead. “No, I’m suffering.”

Logan laughed, and Roman lifted their head just enough that they could see him as he did so, their faux pout dropping so that they could smile at their muse. People who didn’t really know Logan said he was cold, unfeeling, logical to a fault. That was because people who didn’t really know Logan had never seen him smile brighter than the sun and laugh prettier than any angel could.

Roman didn’t realize they had gotten lost in their thoughts of loving Logan until the object of their affections coughed and said, “You’re staring.”

“How could I not?” Roman replied without missing a beat. “You are beauty incarnate, my sweetness, figure carved from smoothest marble and face painted with finest hues. I cannot help but to stare.”

“You really are too much.” Logan told them, but his cheeks had flushed a dark red that let Roman know their words had had exactly the impact they had hoped for. “I was asking you what you were doing this weekend.”

“Losing myself within worlds far more interesting than ours for but the fact that they do not have you, my angelic love.”

“So… binging Netflix?”

“My way of describing it was better.”

Logan chuckled. “If you say so, dear.”

Roman smiled at the petname. They had always loved how it made them sound as if they were an old married couple (which Roman fully intended for them to be one day). “And what are you going to be doing over your break from work-aligned existence?”

“Not really a break, I’m afraid.” Logan said, prompting Roman’s smile to become a frown. “I’ve got a business meeting on Saturday, leaving Friday night.”

Roman’s frown deepened. “Does that mean virtual movie night is off?”

Logan nodded, now frowning himself. “I’m sorry to say, but yes. We’ll have to reschedule for another week.”

“Well that sucks.” Roman said, trying to keep the majority of their disappointment out of their voice. They knew it wasn’t anything that Logan could change, so they didn’t want to make him feel bad about it. “You better get me a souvenir though. To make it up to me.”

“If a ten dollar bobble-head will fill the hole in your life that is our Friday night virtual movie marathon, then I am glad to oblige.” Logan returned, briefly looking away from the camera to check a paper on his desk. “Your address is the same, yes?”

“Don’t know how I could’ve changed it without you knowing.”

“Just checking.” Logan said, marking something down before he turned back towards the camera. “Now, I hate to once more be the figurative bearer of bad news, but I must take my leave- I have a client call in a few minutes here.”

“Skip it.”

“I do have to keep my job, Ro.”

“Your new job can be loving me, twenty-four seven, benefits are spending all your time with me.”

“And how much does loving you pay?”

“Did you not hear about the benefits? They’re better than money!”

Logan just laughed fondly. “You are cute, I’ll give you that.’

“So you’ll take up my offer and your new job?”

“Sadly, to function in the real world, I need a cash-paying job.” Logan told them, smiling at Roman’s following pout. “But if it alleviates your pains, know that I already love you twenty-four seven.”

At that, Roman allowed their pout to morph into a smile. “Well, look at who’s being cute now.”

“I’m simply stating the facts.” Logan replied, glancing at his watch. “One of which is, unfortunately, that I really must go now. I’m worried I’ll be too busy tomorrow to chat- I’ll call you on Saturday, alright?”

“Oh, my star, my sun, my only light through the darkness and troubles that are this world, however will I survive a whole day without any contact with you?”

“You are strong, my knight, I’m sure you’ll find a way.” Logan told them in return, grinning when Roman blushed. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Roman responded, blowing Logan an imaginary kiss. Logan, as always, indulged them by ‘catching it’ before he turned his camera off, Roman’s screen going dark soon after. As soon as it darkened, Roman sighed, falling back against their bed and shutting their laptop as they did so.

It was going to be a long day and a half.

“Roman? Wh- Why are you calling?”

“Because I miss you!” Roman whined, not bothering with pretending to not be clingy. “Yesterday was long and dull and completely devoid of true joy and true love! I simply could not bear to wait til you called me! Oh, how I have missed you, my world, my stars, my universe-”

“It’s barely been a day, love.”

“Love!” Roman said, ignoring the majority of his sentence and latching onto the important part of it. “I haven’t heard you call me that in over a day! Possibly two! Hell, darling, I’ve been in absolute hell without you.”

Logan laughed at that, and Roman had never before so desperately wished they were on a facetime, just so they could see the absolute glory that would be Logan’s face while he was laughing. It didn’t matter how many times they had seen him laugh- it would never be enough. Before Roman could say something to that extent, however, their doorbell rang, grabbing their attention.

“Damnit.” They said, annoyed. Did they have packages coming today? They didn’t think so. And they really, really didn’t want to get up.

“What is it?”

“The doorbell- it’s fine, probably just a package or some door-to-door salesperson. Just annoying, interrupting the melodic sound of your laughter-”

“You should probably get that.”

Roman groaned and threw their head back. “But I don’t want to!”

“It could be someone important.” Logan told them. “Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Roman groaned louder, but they still swung themself off their couch. “Fiiiine. But when it turns out to be nothing, I’m going to… I’m going to…”

“Yes?” Logan asked, in a much too smug way that suggested he knew perfectly well Roman had no way to end their threat.

“...I’ll think of something.” Roman said vaguely, ignoring Logan’s following chuckle of disbelief and amusement. Shaking their head, Roman moved the phone from their ear to the side of their neck, muffling the speaker as they opened the door. “Okay, listen, I’ve got some important stuff going on so-”

Roman cut themself off as soon as they saw who was standing on their porch. Because it wasn’t a salesperson or a dropped-off package- it was a man with a suitcase by his feet, a phone in his hand, and a face Roman would sooner die than forget.

“Surprise?” Logan said, and that was all he was able to get out before Roman had flung themself at him and wrapped them up in what Roman was sure was the biggest, tightest, most important hug they had ever given.

“You’re here!” Roman said after a minute of just basking in the magnificence of the moment. They still refused to let go of him, having dropped their phone so that they could hold on solely to Logan, keeping him as close to their chest as possible. “You’re really here!”

“Well I’m certainly not a hallucination or someone pretending to be your boyfriend.” Logan said, having managed to get his phone into his pocket before returning Roman’s hug. “So I should hope I’m really here, yes.”

“Yes- but- you’re here! I can see you! I can hug you! I AM hugging you!” Roman exclaimed, knowing they were getting repetitive at that point but not caring at all. They were currently hugging their boyfriend for the first time ever, after all- how could they care about anything else?

“That you are.” Logan agreed, voice still a professional neutral before he tightened his grasp on Roman and added, “So I am as well.”

Roman giggled, a mostly involuntary sound that was brought about the sheer joy of the moment. They pulled back from Logan, just a bit, just enough that they could see his face- his beautiful, lovely, gorgeous face, a face that was a million times prettier in real life. “Can I kiss you?”

“Mhmm- not on the lips. Weird texture.” Logan said, but he was still smiling, unbothered by Roman’s question.

Happily, Roman pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead, grinning when they saw Logan’s smile grow. “I can work with that.” They said before moving to pepper the rest of Logan’s face with kisses.

“If I- if I knew you were going to be this persistent I- I would’ve stayed home.” Logan protested, having broken down himself and begun giggling in between Roman’s kisses, rendering his protests unbelievable.

“My most beloved, you are a horrible liar.” Roman told him, pressing an extra special kiss to his nose before saying suddenly, “Hey, wait- don’t you have a business meeting you’re supposed to be at?! You can’t be here!”

Logan laughed. “Roman, my prinx, this is the business meeting. I lied so I could surprise you.”

Both Roman’s eyes and smile widened as they dived back into scattering kisses across Logan’s entire face, only stopping when Logan pulled far away enough they could no longer reach his face.

“We are going to get absolutely nothing done if I allow you to kiss me all day.” Logan said, though at Roman’s pout he did lean forwards to kiss Roman’s forehead. “I did take Monday and Tuesday off, but I can’t be here forever, you know.”

“You say that as if it would be a waste of our time if I used it for little more than showering you in all the affection you deserve.” Roman returned, attempting to resume their attack of Logan’s face.

Logan pulled back once more, chuckling when Roman immediately began to sulk. “There will be plenty of time for that. But there is also time for other activities, such as one that might have been missed recently…?”

Roman blinked at Logan, frowning for a moment in confusion before their face lit up in a grin. “Oh! Movie night! We can have a real life movie night!

“Only if we don’t spend our entire weekend standing on your porch.” Logan pointed out. “So… may I come in?”

“Of course!” Roman said, finally (albeit regrettably) letting go of Logan so that he could grab his suitcase and come inside. The moment he was within and Roman had closed their door, however, Roman had their arms wrapped around Logan’s waist, smiling as Logan laughed and put a hand backwards so that he could hold Roman’s shoulder.

“You’re very touchy.” Logan commented, though he didn’t sound annoyed.

Roman just held him closer. “Two and a half years, my heart and soul and life! So long have I waited for this moment- you wouldn’t hold it against me that I wish to cherish it, would you?”

“It’s actually been two years, four months, and three days since our first interaction.” Logan corrected them before softening, leaning back and more into Roman’s hold. “But no, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Good.” Roman said, pressing a kiss to the top of Logan’s head. “Because I have no plans of letting you go anytime soon.”

Logan tilted his head back so that he could smile at Roman. “Well I should hope you don’t.” He responded, looking fondly at Roman. “Four days aren’t that much time. It would be a shame to waste even a second of them.”

Roman grinned. “Aw, you do like being cuddled!”

At the claim, Logan looked down, trying (and failing) to hide the blush Roman could still see blooming in his cheeks. “Maybe just a little bit.”

Grin widening, Roman shifted as quickly as possible, eliciting a small yelp from Logan as they lifted him up and held him against their chest. “Don’t worry Lo,” Roman began, using their new position to kiss Logan’s forehead, “Four days may not be a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but it is plenty of cuddle time.”

Roman expected Logan to protest that, to say that time was the same whether it was in the ‘grand scheme of things’ or in ‘cuddle time’ or any other definiment of time, but he didn’t- instead, Logan just let out a small sigh and rested his head against Roman’s shoulder. “We’re watching Big Hero Six first.”

“Of course!” Roman agreed enthusiastically, leaving Logan’s luggage behind on the floor as they walked over to their couch before adding (just because he could), “Anything for you, my love.”

Because Logan was right- four days wasn’t that much time.

But Roman had plans to make the most of every second.

#logince #ts logan #ts roman #nb!roman #ts sides #sanders sides #fanfic #fanfiction #the cryptid speaks #amos minific #i haven't written logince in forever #gosh i missed these bois #averykedavra

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cowboyshit · 4 years ago

Text

PART THREE OF ?

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

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

He hadn’t stopped thinking about her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’ll go away…

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

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

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

“Hello,” he said.

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

It seemed Hazel did the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**********

He was kissing her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” she blinked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowned. “Uh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your friend is sweet.”

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

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

“Is she registered?”

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

Hazel laughed. “That’s adorable.”

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

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

“They do,” Adam sounded surprised she knew.

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I trust you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She felt excited.

She felt guilty.

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

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

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗

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

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

TEXT TO: MATT 💗

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

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗

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

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

TEXT TO: MATT 💗

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

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗

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

TEXT TO: MATT 💗

Okay 😊 😘

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

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

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

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

Rosie, beside him, blushed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I guess I better… bye Adam.”

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

She wanted him to do that too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, the other Adam?”

“Mhm,” Hazel said, grinning.

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

“Yeah,” Hazel said, smiling.

“He asked me for my number.”

“He did?!”

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

“And? Did you give it to him?”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

She flushed at that.

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

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

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

“He is,” Hazel agreed with a laugh.

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

TEXT TO: MATT 💗

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

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗

Sounds good babe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TEXT TO: MATT 💗

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!” She said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adam.

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

**********

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

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

A horse to tell him about.

Adam’s horse.

Adam.

Matt showing up on her doorstep.

Adam and Matt being friends.

The way she felt when she was with Adam.

The way she felt when she was with Matt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Page.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, full sisters.”

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

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

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

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

“Shorty?” Matt asked, smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long will that take?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TEXT FROM: Adam

Daisy passed her vet check with flying colors.

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

TEXT TO: Adam

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

TEXT FROM: Adam

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

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

TEXT TO: Adam

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

TEXT FROM: Adam

Kind of with… but not dating, right?

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

TEXT TO: Adam

Yeah…

TEXT FROM: Adam

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

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

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

TEXT TO: Adam

Guest bedroom it is. See you Friday.

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

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗

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

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

TEXT TO: MATT 💗

Sounds great babe. Drive safe!

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was, of course, temporary.

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

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

“Hey, babe.”

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

“How was the drive home?”

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

She could hear a touch of anger in his voice.

No, wait. Not anger.

Worry.

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

“What do you mean?”

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

There was a long pause. Longer than normal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I care about you too!”

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

Suddenly this conversation was steamrolling into a fight.

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

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

Hazel didn’t specify.

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

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

“I don’t know what to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

“Bye, Hazel.”

“Bye, Matt.”

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

***********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? How?”

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

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

Another sigh.

“She met someone else, Nick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You already are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sort of already are, Matt.”

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

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

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

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

**********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, about five minutes ago!”

“Sorry!” Hazel laughed and shook her head.

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

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

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

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

“She really is,” Rosie agreed.

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

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

“Adam’s close?” Rosie asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She does.” She agreed with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” She asked, smiling up at him.

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

Hazel laughed softly.

“What?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She rolled her eyes, but was still grinning too.

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

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

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

“I could always stay…”

“What about the rodeo?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckled and she felt it rumble in his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will, promise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Missed Call: Matt 💗

Her heart sank and she nearly dropped her phone.

New Voicemail: Matt 💗

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

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

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

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

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

**********

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

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

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

“Why’s it good news?”

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

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

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

Adam and Nick fell in step beside one another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made him smile just picturing it.

**********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not even a text message?

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

“Hey there, handsome.”

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

“Hellooo?”

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

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

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

“Y-” He cleared his throat. “No.”

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

She was bold, he’d give her that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, who’s Hazel?”

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

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

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

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

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

**********

TEXT FROM: Rosie

Have you listened to it yet?

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

TEXT TO: Rosie

Not yet…

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

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

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

TEXT FROM: Rosie

Babe…

Hazel sighed.

TEXT TO: Rosie

I know, I know.

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

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

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

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

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

The message clicked and Matt’s voice was gone.

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

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