#if it's any comfort to you i sometimes mix up wind and wild's names when im typing really fast

[wutheringmights]

Off anon, Long ask ahead.

Serious: When my friend first sent CTB to me, I read the first two chapters. Then I abandoned it. A long while later. I remembered I never read it. Thought, “Well let’s give it one more chance, it might surprise me.” Man, oh man did it. I got to the Ear-piercing scene and was hooked. The dread I felt throughout the past sections. Just knowing Something terrible was going to happen and they were going to stop being friends, brothers. When Spirit discovered Warriors had been lying about the light spirits. I thought that was it. But Then It Wasn’t. and that was so much worse. In a good way. Defying expectations. The neck scene. Changed the whole game. Went from, “I’ve got stop projecting onto these characters. Obviously, the author didn’t mean for me to interpret it like That.” To, “Holy Shit I am So Awesome and good at subtext.” Very good. I did not notice the underlining theme about hands until it was Too Late. Went back and looked at previous chapters. Oh my god it was so obvious. Of course, now I am intentionally looking for foreshadowing. Which might also cause problems. I am noticing Drowning coming up A Whole Lot. So, worries. Went back and reread the first two chapters after I finished reading and was punched in the face by how much I missed. I was mainly compelled by the past sections. In part because there were fewer characters and thus it was easier for me to understand. The first time the present sections really got me was when Warriors found Wind with the journal. I was so scared for him. And the next chapter did not disway my fears. I cannot properly explain the way I felt when reading. Every so often I would feel the most amazing sense of dread while reading. And it compelled me. You wove such complicated feelings into this story. I so desperately wish I was better at explaining emotions, just so that I can tell you how I felt while reading. But god. I can find myself in some way in Spirit, The child, and Warriors. It’s so incredible.

The dread I felt during Scenes like, the entirety of chap 14 or the build up to The child’s departure. Is rivaled only by the Horror I felt when the Minish showed up in chapter 16. I actually had to stop reading for a moment because I was so scared. I don’t know why.

Silly: Don’t worry, I’ve already ‘fought’ my friend. When the name twilight came up, I genuinely thought it was twilight sparkle from my little pony. I very quickly scrolled back up to look at the character tags (I did not look at any of the tags before reading, big mistake.) when the minish first came up, I felt such a primal sense of fear. I can’t even explain it. I thought I was getting by fine. Then A Creature showed up and my gosh. I had to stop reading for a minute and prepare myself because I was just SO scared. Though I have to say that by far the scariest moment when reading, was the slow dreading realization that every single character was blonde. Horrifying. I keep getting Wind and Wild mixed up. It’s causing problems. It took me so long to realize Time was the child. I was so dead set on the theory that Time was an older Warriors. It made sense at the time. Speaking of Warriors. I keep thinking of him with facial hair. which is funny because he is constantly described with a clean-shaven face. And I kept forgetting. I have to wax him in my brain every few minutes. Legend is flipflopping in my brain from, I think I know what game he’s from, to, emo teen. I no longer know how old any character is. I do not trust my perception of age. I thought 'old man' Time was in his Sixties, I thought he had fully gray hair. NOPE! Another blonde boy! I knew of exactly two legend of Zelda games. Original legend of Zelda, and Tears of the Kingdom (and super smash bros. if that counts???). I think perhaps this is causing problems. When Lana got mad at Warriors for spreading rumors about her and Time. I remember thinking, “That’s kind of an overreaction.” And then I went back and reread that that chapter and GET HIS FUCKING ASS LANA. I am now a Lana apologist.

Spirit is just continuously playing the “Hate” monologue from, “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream,” in his head (Me, projecting again). This is very disjointed. Thank you.

Going into this story with nothing but Tears of the Kingdom, the original LOZ, and Super Smash Bros to guide you is a feat. I have friends who are more well-versed in Zelda lore, and they do not understand what is going on.

I am both impressed and terrified. I still think you should fight your friend.

Nonetheless, I'm really happy that you enjoyed the story-- especially the past sections. The past is always the hardest to write, and it's really nice to know that you were so deeply invested in it. I'm really happy that you found it compelling and dread-inducing. Truly, thank you <3

Also, Spirit having the hate monologue on loop in his brain is the funniest take on the character. No notes.

[kwritingbooks]

Strange Flower

you go on one of your regular walks. the air is cold. the leaves rumble against the wind. and a strange flower catches your attention against all the dead leaves that lie around it. sometimes curiosity can mean taking unknown risks, sure, but that’s even more evident when said flower sprays spores in your face and brings you to a whole other world you didn’t know was possible… {prompt inspired by @waterloou)

tags: sci-fy, fluff, mystical

word count: 3.2k

my masterlist here

Forty degrees didn’t seem as bad when it was written out across your phone’s weather app, while you were still safely wrapped in your comforter about thirty minutes ago. Yet, that opinion drastically changed after spending more than 5 minutes outside in its actuality. You wore a jacket of course, but the wind that cut against the tiniest cracks of exposed skin felt unbearable. It was as if the wind was purposely looking for shortcuts between the fabric’s stitching in order to send a shiver down your already chilled spine.

I knew I should’ve gotten an actual, useful coat. You thought to yourself. Windbreakers can only do so much when the wind feels like actual shards of glass cutting through me.

You oddly felt comfort in it though. Probably because you were deep in the woods, meaning no matter what angle you turned, the vastness of trees was all that accompanied you. The branches only had a few leaves that were still holding on to what they once were: a stream of reds, oranges, and yellows when the air wasn’t so brutal.

Now it was all just brown and withered.

You hummed under your breath from the irony of it all. Even leaves didn’t catch a break from the seasons of life. The wind got to them too it seemed.

You wanted to forever live in the springtime air, but not just any springtime air. The kind that lived in your dreams and would visit you when you were a kid. You would wake up the next morning, almost at a loss of words of what you had seen when you were dead to the world. Not a worry was in your dream-world mind. All that mattered were the little fairies that would sweep you off your feet as you floated above them, giggling waves of laughter like you were a little kid again.

That always beat the loneliness you felt during your waking hours.

Time never mattered in your dreams. Nothing did. Not taxes or your health. Not even the money that was crumbled in your jacket pocket that you had found between the couch cushions. It didn’t even matter that you were actually excited to find a spare three dollars to be added to your name.

But there was always an abrupt end to it all—waking up.

However, it was nice to be in reality every now and then. That way you could feel every leaf that crunched underneath your shoe or you could smell the pine from the trees every time a gust of wind would blow through. It was the balance you needed in a life that sometimes felt so distant from reality.

As you continued deep in thought about the birds chirping in the background with the mix of a stream of water flowing in between the chatter, you found yourself leaning against a fallen log. Its rough bark tugged on your shirt, nearly scratching at your skin as it exposed itself from the lifted fabric. You fixed it quickly, not allowing the breeze to take any more warmth out of you than it already had.

You could only imagine how cold the water was in the stream across from you. Little splashes sounded as it continued its fast pace, like a running faucet in the wild. If only you could be a little fish, letting it take you along the path like a lazy river during a brutally hot summer.

You closed your eyes, envisioning it yourself. Scales flickered against the surface of your skin in your mind, gills opening up on your side, with fins to replace your shivering hands now. You laughed quietly to yourself, shaking your head from the weird thought.

Your laughing stopped when you noticed a beautiful magenta color poking out in the middle of a barren circle of dead grass only a few feet ahead of you on the other side of the stream. Your head crooked ever so slightly, confused how it seemed to be so full of life while everything around it was the opposite.

How had you missed something like that? It was so vibrant and it stood so sturdy against the dirt and dead leaves around it. It looked like everything around it knew it needed its own spotlight and did everything in its power to not let its colors dwindle. Everything fell so perfectly around it.

It was beautiful. You had to get a closer look.

With one foot in front of the other, you leapt over the bustling water. On any other day, you would’ve been concerned about being able to jump over it without falling. Though, this time, it all seemed so automatic. It was like your feet carried you to the bright pink flower as if you were starving to be near it.

You knelt down beside it, examining its petals. It was even more beautiful up close. You had never seen anything like it either. Not only was it magenta, but it was also iridescent somehow. Although the sun wasn’t completely out, it still found the light well enough to reflect off of it in a way that was enchanting.

It was the most nonuniform thing you had ever seen grown before. Its petals ranged from thick to thin strands that elongated high above itself. You weren’t sure how it remained strong enough to stand so tall by itself, but you weren’t about to question it either.

Your fingertip brushed against the feathered, Earthy material and you swore you saw a spark emit from its chambers. Your hand flew back to your chest, defensively cupping it with your other hand. It was like your eyes were betraying you, betraying your reality that you thought you had such a grip on.

It was like it was gleaming back at you. The petals curled into itself like a Venus flytrap and your eyebrows furrowed in confused amazement. You couldn’t help but peer closer as you watched this mysterious phenomenon happen before your eyes.

Poof.

A mist of powder exploded from the blooming flower, completely encompassing your face. You could feel the particles seep into your lungs with the breath of shock you had taken. A wild cough erupted from deep within your throat, knocking you from your seated position and directly onto the cold ground.

Your head ached as the world that was once so calming began to spin beneath you. Though, the spinning quickly began to fade.

But so did your consciousness.

Until everything was black.

And so so still.

…

…

…

“Are you awake yet?” You faintly heard in a muffled rumble. “Hello?”

Your eyes peeked open, a blurry spectrum of objects flying around you. Your hands fiercely rubbed circles against your eyes, hoping to steady things long enough to sit upright again.

“Hello?” You heard once more, resulting in a grumpy rumble coming from you. You were still so dazed and confused about what happened that the last thing you needed was some voice to respond to.

Where even were you? What even happened? All you remembered was a stream…then some flower…and then… you couldn’t remember.

With your eyes still squeezed close, you managed to somehow raise yourself up onto your elbows. You weren’t sure if you felt like you could vomit or if you would fall right back over at any moment.

Or both.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyelids raised open like a stubborn, jammed door.

Even in the swirl of dizziness, it all soon snapped back to normal when you realized what was all around you.

Or the lack of.

Was this a dream?

You were small. But not small as in comparison to a UFC fighter, but small in an ant-like small way. Maybe even smaller. The trees towered over you like they had never towered over you before. Even the blades of grass appeared like trees—or trees that you were used to. The stream now sounded like a deafening waterfall, now seemingly miles away rather than the few feet it once was.

“What the hell?” You whispered out in astonishment, gaping wildly at the scene before you. If you weren’t so confused and terrified at once, you might have found it soothing. Maybe this really was another one of your dreams.

But it felt so real…

“Hi!” That same voice from before rang out, startling you immediately. You were so awestruck by everything else that you forgot there was a voice that had been trying to get your attention this whole time.

Your eyes flashed quickly to the source.

Your mouth cracked open, ready to say something, but your vocal chords failed. The connections in your brain seemed to shatter just as you darted your gaze over to this person’s presence.

You didn’t recognize him, but it felt like you did. In a distant way. Or dazed and confused way. You weren’t totally sure yet.

“What’s going on?” You sputtered out nervously, looking in all directions around you. The rocks underneath your fingertips felt rough and scratchy, as if they were boulders you could now sleep on rather than the ones you usually threw across lakes with ease.

“No need to worry, I promise. It’ll all make sense in a bit.” His eyes sparkled, but not in a metaphorical way. They literally sparkled against the sunlight. They looked deep within you but granted you comfort you had only ever experienced in your dreams.

A dream!

You placed a hand to your forehead in dismay. Obviously this was a dream! There was no other explanation.

You pinched against the palm of your hand, a relieving smile portraying across your face. Any moment now you would wake up and be in the comfort of your bed. It was probably time to wake up for work anyway. Hopefully you hadn’t overslept…

“It’s not a dream by the way,” he replied curtly as he gestured towards the continuous pinching into your hand.

You looked down, not realizing how evident it was. Your skin swelled a soft red, irritated by the pressure. You rubbed it against your shaky legs.

“Then what’s going on?” You stood up straight, hoping it would make you feel taller in the situation but it seemed to do the opposite. He had to be right. This all felt too real. Uncomfortably real. There was no way your dreams could perfectly encapsulate the feeling of dew against your skin in this way or the sun beaming down on the top of your head. Even the towering blades of grass didn’t prevent those very real sensations.

This was real.

“Come with me!” He cheerfully exploded, standing himself up in one quick motion. He seemed to float away, causing you to quicken your unsteady pace behind him.

He glanced briefly behind him to make sure you were still behind, resulting in a small chuckle escaping his lips.

“Like I said, it’ll make sense. It’ll come back to you.” His voice was slightly muffled due to the distance he was ahead and the running stream that still raced behind the both of you.

“It’ll come back to me?” You asked in bewilderment. You had never wished for something to be a dream as much as you had in this moment. It kept getting increasingly confusing by the moment. Each word he said made your brain spin that much more.

“We’re almost there, c’mon!” He rushed out along with his steps.

You could feel exhaustion bubbling inside of you, but you couldn’t help but ignore it. While you were confused as all hell, you were intrigued nonetheless.

You almost lost sight of him until you realized he had turned a corner. Your eyes searched amongst the debris, and then you saw he had stopped moving. He stood facing you now, surrounded by a circle of brightly colored mushrooms. It looked like the kind your mom had warned you about being around when you were a kid. You felt your heart pick up faster somehow.

Your pace slowed, taking cautious steps closer to this mysterious guy. A shadow had overcasted his body now due to the head of the mushroom creating a roof over him. A baby snail was the same size as you as you took a step over it. You could feel your courage muster back up.

“Tell me what’s going on!” You shouted frantically.

A look of slight hurt crossed against his features and you physically recoiled at the sight.

“Look, I’m sorry. I…I’m just—,” you paused to find the right words, “the last thing I remember I was in the woods. I was normal, okay? This isn’t normal. This has to be a dream, right? A really realistic dream? Lucid dream, that’s what they’re called. That’s all this is, right?”

He stood there quietly, his hands folded in front of him. He looked like he wanted to burst with excitement but was now confused on how he should react.

You were growing impatient, but before you could open your mouth for further retaliation, he motioned his hand for you to come closer.

You huffed out an exasperated breath, stubbornly walking ahead. You couldn’t fight hard against the nerves that had yet to completely dissipate. He was the only one who had the answers, or at least that was what you figured. He was the only one around at all.

You were now only about a foot away from one another. He continued his period of excited silence as his eyes ventured from your face to his hand pressing firmly against the spotted mushroom stem beside you two.

Your eyes stared intently at his hand. Was something supposed to happen? Everything seemed intact and just as it was moments ago. Was he just taking the piss? Playing on your confusion and enjoying seeing it happen?

“Go on,” he nodded towards the thick stem. “It’s okay.” His voice was soothing. It felt like music notes that danced around your body. Maybe that was why you didn’t hesitate to follow.

Your hand swiftly floated like it had a mind of its own. Slowly, your fingertips brushed against the dewy surface.

“What’s supposed to hap—“

Your words were cut off just as quickly as your head was flown back. Everything felt fuzzy, like you were vibrating. Yet, the feeling felt so familiar. You wondered if this was what happened when you spotted that flower.

But now it felt like an actual dream. Yet, you were witnessing the dream as if it was a movie. It was a montage of moments that you had no recollection of. Yet, you were watching it all yourself. It wasn’t just you, though. It was you and the guy you had just been questioning.

There were flashes of moments in meadows of flowers the size of trees, inside buildings made of leaves and sticks, in puddles the size of lakes, and flying on the backs of various animals jumping from trees. In each one, sat directly by your side, was that familiar man.

Did he put these memories in your head? Were these even memories? How could something be a memory if you have no recollection of it, yet are witnessing it happen right in front of you?

“What?” You shot out in the darkness around you. Ahead of you, the unfamiliar montage continued, but to your right, left, and behind you was pitch black. Empty.

“Hello?” You repeated out. You much rather preferred the woods you were stranded in before. You at least recognized it. You knew it like the back of your hand, only you weren’t the size of a flea when you had visited it every other time.

“I thought you’d never come back,” a voice behind you echoed.

You whipped around, searching for that face you had just seen by your side in each recalled memory.

“What do you mean?” You asked out loud to what seemed like nothing considering you still hadn’t spotted where the sound originated from.

“Y/N.”

It was soft, but the syllables of your name resonated deep somewhere in you. You had heard that voice say your name countless times. You couldn’t pinpoint how or why, but it was there. His voice seemed to be apart of you. He was familiar. But why? How?

“Harry?” You blurted out. You didn’t know why. It felt like it had been forced out of your vocal box. It was like an instinctive reaction.

He stepped closer, exposing himself in a small amount of light. It was the same face you had seen minutes before, but a different feeling escaped this time. He looked familiar because he was familiar.

He was your Harry.

This wasn’t a dream.

“Welcome back home, Y/N. I’ve missed you.” He smiled so wide his dimples created craters in his cheeks. Memories of jokes about the vastness of his expressions rang back to the forefront of your mind.

You paused your thoughts.

“Wait, but which life is real then? This feels real, but so did before.” Your voice was soft. You weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer, but you needed to know. You had friends and family before. That had to have been real. You had a whole life. What about them?

“It’s all real. It’s just one of the many realities we have access to,” he reassured with another step closer. “Most of us only have the one. This is my only reality. But they’re all just as important as every other one we have.” His hand brushed against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine.

“How did I come back then? How would I go back to the other one?” Your fingertips brushed across his hand that continued to caress against your skin.

“I sent you the flower. That’s why you felt drawn to it. It was meant to be found. Found by you.” He released his hand from you, allowing it to rest back at his side. “You switch back and forth when you’re supposed to—when the world feels you’re ready and need it. Although you can switch back if you truly wish, but there’s always a reason you feel the need to come back. So I hope you listen to what the world is trying to tell you.”

You bit at your lip, looking closely at the expression on his face. His eyes kept that same sparkle as before even with the lack of light to reflect off of.

You looked behind you at the collision of memories cycling over and over again.

You had never seen yourself look so happy. Each one that passed felt closer and closer. It started to feel like you were in each moment first hand. You had never felt like that before in your other reality. Maybe this was where you were supposed to be afterall.

Maybe you weren’t meant to be there forever, but you were meant to be there now.

So that was what you were going to do.

You turned back around to face him, colliding your body into his. The smell of him entrapped you completely, his grip tightening against you as you sunk right back into him.

His lips pressed tightly to your forehead as you closed your eyes, and he tugged you once more into his chest.

“I’ll be with you as long as you allow me to be here with you. In this world, it is all that matters. You are my only reality, Y/N.”

[chemmerson]

by my side

Ushijima Wakatoshi/Fem!Reader, College AU

Ushijima starts a habit of knocking on your door at ungodly hours of the night, and you're always there to greet him with a smile. Because what are friends for?

Parts: 2/2

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: encounter with a creep, light threatening from ushi, hurt/comfort, fluff, kissing, uhhh just ushi being a cutie <3

A/N: im so thankful for the love and comments people have left omg i adore all of you. thanks for waiting for part 2 :) i hope you enjoy the end!!

Part One

Read on Ao3

---

Part Two

The end of a game was a mix of relief and restlessness for Ushijima. Relief that he had another game under his belt and more experience to take with him onto the next match. Restlessness because he wanted to play more. He wanted to get back on the court and fix the mistakes he had made during the match.

And at the end of a game, as he made his way back to the bench to grab some water and chat with his teammates, his chest would clench as his eyes always drifted into the stands. He knew Tendou would be there because he came to every home game. Sometimes there would be some people he knew from his dorm room floor, people that came with Tendou. Hope would bloom in his chest as he looked for people he knew.

And today, like every other game, that hope deflated in his chest as he saw only Tendou.

Ushijima didn’t know when he started to hope for you to come to one of his games. But part of started to one day. And you never came. To any of them.

Tendou told Ushijima that he always invited you, and it seemed that every time you had something to do. Ushijima understood, of course. But that didn’t keep that little part of him from deflating every time.

Ushijima made his way to the locker room a little later, ready to just go home and rest. Tendou was leaning against the wall outside the locker room. He smiled as he saw Ushijima approach.

“Great game, man,” Tendou clapped him on the shoulder. “You guys get better every game.”

“Thanks,” Ushijima said simply, and he must have sounded deflated because Tendou stopped him before he made his way into the locker room.

“Hey.”

Ushijima stopped but didn’t turn around.

“I told her to come. She just couldn’t.”

Ushijima stood and tried to shove down the dread in his chest.

“Thanks, Tendou,” he said instead. And Tendou let him go.

“I’ll see you back at the dorm,” he heard Tendou say.

The end of a game was always a mix of relief and restlessness, and lately, it was getting harder to shove away the disappointment of not seeing your face in the stands.

That night after the game and cleaning up the gym, Ushijima walked outside into the cool air to make his way back to the dorm. He felt the aftermath of the serving work he had done in practice earlier in the week, his arm feeling a bit more tired than usual. He thought he should stretch it out one more time before bed.

“Ushijima!”

His name said in the most lovely tone made him immediately turn in the direction of where it had come from.

In the darkness, saw a running figure making its way towards him while waving. Ushijima would recognize you anywhere.

He stopped walking and turned fully towards you, and by then you had caught up to him. Your hair was wild from the wind, and you were out of breath. You had your backpack with you.

Ushijima frowned while you caught your breath. “It’s too late to be walking alone.”

You smiled and huffed out a laugh. “Well, care to join me, then?”

Ushijima smiled a little at that, and then you smiled back. You walked to his side and you began to walk together.

“How was your game?” You asked. “I was at a study session over here, and I was trying to catch you. Lucky me.”

Ushijima glanced down as you beamed up at him with that sweet smile. It made him feel warm.

“The game went well,” he answered, looking ahead. “We won.”

Ushijima then grabbed your backpack strap suddenly and slid it off your arm. You were surprised, but let him sling it over his free shoulder.

“Thanks,” you said quietly. “Um, I’m glad your game went well.”

Ushijima nodded. You two walked in silence, listening to the sound of the nearby cars and people walking by. It was a cool, peaceful night on campus, and Ushijima never felt awkward in your silence. In fact, he enjoyed the silence you two shared because it was always a mutual understanding.

He glanced down at you while you two kept walking, keeping his head still so you wouldn’t notice. Lately, he had been trying to figure out when you had started making him feel so…different. He concluded that really, he had felt that way about you ever since he met you. Your attitude, your ideas, your mind, your spirit. He felt so drawn and welcomed by you, and Ushijima had never felt that way before.

He liked you. He liked you so much and he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

Because you were friends, and he didn’t want to ruin it.

The walk was silent the whole way back. Ushijima was too lost in his own thoughts to realize you hadn’t said anything, which was strange. You were always the one to start the conversation. That’s just how you were. Yet you were riding the elevator up the dorm floor and Ushijima noticed it had been a completely silent walk. He handed your backpack back to you.

You arrived at your door and stopped, facing away from him.

Ushijima didn’t know what to do. So he turned. “Goodnight,” he said, and started walking.

“Ushijima.”

Then, he felt your fingers wrap around his hand, and he felt lightning spark his body. He turned to look down at you.

You looked concerned, distressed, unhappy. Ushijima took a reflexive step towards you, feeling worried and concerned himself. Did he do something wrong?

“I…” you started, and then fiddled nervously with his fingers that you held in your hand. “I wanted to ask you something…”

“You can ask me anything,” he said, and you quickly glanced up at him through your eyelashes, then looked back down.

“I, um…are we friends?”

Ushijima blinked. “Of course.”

You looked up at him again and held eye contact. You were searching his face for something, and Ushijima didn’t know what. He stared back at you and then spoke again.

“You’re one of my best friends.”

Something flashed in your eyes, and your jaw clenched. You let go of his hand, and your lips twitched in a smile. “Right.”

You turned away from him and pulled out your keys to unlock your door. “Goodnight, Ushijima,” you mumbled.

And as you turned the doorknob, Ushijima’s arm moved on its own, his hand making its way around your face. You turned to him, surprised with your mouth open. His thumb brushed over your cheek and his fingers grazed your neck.

Ushijima leaned down and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. He felt his eyes close when he left his lips there.

When he realized what he had done, he leaned back but stopped just in front of your face.

“I’m sorry.”

And he quickly left down the hall to his own room, realizing the friendship he hadn’t wanted to ruin was completely and utterly ruined.

———

Ushijima avoided you for weeks. He went to class and practice, stayed late to practice on his serves every night, and then went straight to his room. He never went into the floor lounge, he never lingered longer in the hallway when filling up his water bottle. He focused solely on school and volleyball, and the games were ramping up as their team was advancing to the deciding tournament. They had a good chance of making it to the state championships.

And he never saw you at all.

Times when you would knock on his and Tendou’s door suddenly ended. Ushijima had a feeling that you and Tendou were still talking, yet Tendou was busy as the semester went on, too. He would mention you in conversation, and Ushijima either didn’t respond or changed the subject. Because he was sure that he had made things awkward, and he convinced himself that you didn’t want to talk to him ever again. You probably wanted nothing to do with him.

One day, Tendou was talking about a game night that people were thinking about hosting in the lounge, and Ushijima was half-listening until Tendou mentioned your name.

Tendou paused as if waiting for Ushijima to respond, but Ushijima never did.

“Hey,” Tendou spoke tentatively. “You know…she’s uh, she wants to talk—“

“Tendou,” Ushijima interrupted. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Tendou groaned. “Come on, Wakatoshi. You can’t do this to her. She’s been a complete mess since you stopped talking to her—“

“She’s been a mess?” Ushijima was now turned completely toward Tendou, his body feeling warm and heightened.

Tendou rolled his eyes. “You must be another kind of stupid. Of course she’s been a mess!”

Ushijima felt a pain in his chest. “I hurt her.”

Tendou took several rushed steps toward Ushijima. “No, no, not because of the kiss, it’s because you stopped talking to her—“

“You know about the kiss?” Ushijima interrupted again.

Tendou opened his mouth and then closed it. Then opened it again. “Well…I…dammit. I really wasn’t supposed to mention that—“

“What did she say? Is she upset?” Ushijima felt panicked. Because if you had talked to Tendou and told him about the kiss, surely you told him how you felt about it. Ushijima didn’t know what to do or how to handle all of the thoughts running through his mind. He wanted to know what was wrong and how to fix it immediately.

“Wakatoshi, I really think you should just talk to her,” Tendou looked around nervously. “You just need to ask her yourself—“

Ushijima was already up out of his chair and out the door. He had to find you and fix this. He had to apologize again and see what was wrong. Screw his own feelings and his own embarrassment. He had to fix this. He had to.

Ushijima walked up to your door, his fist about to knock firmly on the wood until he heard you laugh.

And then he heard another voice. A deep voice. A dude's voice.

Ushijima felt his cheeks flush, and his fist fell to his side. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but it certainly sounded like you were laughing and speaking happily.

And as he turned on his heel and started to walk back down to his room, your door opened.

He kept walking.

“If you ever need any help on the homework again, let me know,” he heard you say.

“Yeah, thanks so much,” the guy said to you.

Ushijima was about to open the door to his room when he heard the guy speak again.

“Hey, so I was wondering, would you wanna go out sometime? There’s a party happening at my friend’s house tonight.”

Ushijima felt his jaw clench.

“O-Oh,” he heard you say quietly. “I’m sorry, I’m not really available. I have a lot of school work and stuff.”

“You can’t even come for a little bit? You’re cute, and I want to hang out.”

Ushijima saw red.

“I’m really sorry, I’m just not interested—“

“You’re telling me you’d rather do homework than hang out with me?”

“Excuse me, can you please back up—“

“Aw, am I making you nervous?”

“Please get out of my room—“

Suddenly, Ushijima was bounding down the hall, stepping in front of you, and towering over the scraggly asshole, and he heard you gasp behind him.

“I believe she told you to leave,” Ushijima growled.

The asshole scoffed. “Hey man, what’s your—“

“If I were you,” Ushijima took a step towards the guy, making him step back. “I would do that.”

The asshole’s eyes widened, opening his mouth but no words came out.

“Understand?” Ushijima continued through clenched teeth.

The asshole broke out in a brisk walk down the hallway, and he was gone.

Ushijima heard a sharp breath from behind him, and he whipped around to you.

You had tears falling out of your widened eyes and streaking down your lovely cheeks, and Ushijima didn’t hesitate to cup your face in his hands, wiping his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Did he touch you?” Ushijima ducked to meet your eyes, scanning over your distressed face.

You sucked in another breath, tears continuing to fall out of your eyes. “I..I—No, h-he didn’t touch me, he just—“

You squeezed your eyes, and a small cry fell out of your mouth. “I’m sorry, I was just shocked—“

Ushijima wrapped you up in his arms and pressed you to his chest, and more sobs sounded muffled against his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, the words stilted as they came out. “I’m sorry—“

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Are you alright?”

You nodded against his chest, and Ushijima decided to take a step into your room and close the door behind him as not to call too much attention.

Ushijima held you to his chest again, and he felt you bring your hands up to fist his t-shirt in your hands. It was silent as you both stood there in your room, your face in his chest and his hands around your head. Inside, Ushijima was so pissed at what just happened, but he just pressed you closer and told himself he would never let that happen again.

“Wakatoshi,” you sniffed. “I just wanna go to sleep. I’m so tired.”

Ushijima stiffened, immediately feeling embarrassed that he had just invited himself into your room. It was late after all, and he started to step away. “Of course, I apologize—“

But your fists stayed glued to his shirt. Ushijima paused, his hands floating in the air around you.

“Stay,” you whispered, then peered up at him under your damp eyelashes. “Stay with me.”

She wants me to stay.

And it felt like second nature to him. He didn’t even think twice. He nodded, gathered up your hands in his, quickly flipping off the light. You made your way over to your bed in the dark, and you immediately pulled the covers back and got in. Ushijima followed, the familiarity of the situation feeling warm and safe.

Through the dark, Ushijima could see tears were still falling down your cheeks. He pulled the covers further up over both of you as you faced each other. He cupped your face, swiping his thumb over your cheeks to dry them. His heart hurt as you cried.

You sniffed. “I’m sorry, Toshi. I’m so sorry—“

“Sorry for what?” He said. “You have nothing to be—“

“Yes, I do,” you said. “I’ve…”

You sniffed again and scooted closer to him. Ushijima waited while you found your words, continuing to tenderly stroke your cheeks with his thumbs. Even in the dark, he could see your worried and troubled eyes. Whatever you had to say, it must have been something very serious.

“I’ve been a terrible friend,” you said in almost a whisper.

Ushijima continued to stay silent as he listened, watching your face as you focused on your thoughts. “I feel like I haven’t been completely honest with you. I never felt like I had to hide in front of you or pretend to act a certain way. I…always feel happy when I’m with you, I just…”

You paused again. Sniffing and then letting out a long sigh, Ushijima moved one of his hands to tuck your hair behind your ears. He felt you lean into his touch, and it made his chest flutter.

“Wakatoshi,” you said breathlessly. “I…”

Then your eyes met his through the dark, your tense pause hanging in the air above. Ushijima waited still. He would not pressure you to say anything, because obviously, you were choosing your words carefully.

“I just…I haven’t gone to any of your games. When is your next one?” You said with a small smile.

Ushijima, while he wasn’t great on picking up every social cue, knew very well that wasn’t what you were going to say. Your smile was weak and pasted on, definitely not your beautiful, sweet smile that he knew so well.

But Ushijima wouldn’t pressure you to say anything. He wouldn’t press. Whatever you wanted to say, he would be there to listen. He would always be there.

“The next one is away,” he explained. “An away game that decides the state championships. If we win the away game, we will go to state which will be held here.”

You smiled a little brighter at that. “I’ll be there. Because I know you’ll win.”

Ushijima brushed back your hair again. “I’ll count on it.”

You scooted closer to him, resting your forehead against his chest. He put his arm over you and held you to him.

The fourth time you and Ushijima spent the night together, he liked you so much it was almost unbearable.

———

They had made it to state and the day had arrived. Ushijima was warming up with the rest of his team, music blaring through the arena and people flooding in to find their seats. The other team was warming up as well, and the excitement in the space was buzzing in Ushijima’s bones. He was glancing up at the stands more often than usual, and he couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t waiting to see your face. You told him you were going to be at the game, and he just needed to see your face before he could get in his zone.

This was the state championship, this was the thing Ushijima had been working up to the entire season with the rest of his teammates. Lots of late-night serving practice, stretching, icing, and running made Ushijima feel more ready than he had ever felt for anything in his life.

He just needed to see your smile.

The buzzer rang through the arena to signal warmup was over, and Ushijima felt the nerves buzzing through his body as he made his way back to the bench. He grabbed his water, making sure to regulate his breathing and stay present. Once more, once more before the game, he would look into the student section to see if you and Tendou had—

Ushijima looked, and there you were.

Dressed all in school colors, wearing a university volleyball shirt with his number, and holding a sign that said: “Go Ushiwaka!”.

But all Ushijima could focus on was your smile.

Your beautiful, bright, warm smile made the rest of the area disappear. You smiled even bigger once you realized he was looking at you from across the gym, and you shook the sign enthusiastically.

Ushijima briefly saw Tendou trying to get his attention, waving a giant print of Ushijima’s head around like the weirdo he was. His coach called the team to a huddle, and Ushijima took one last look at you.

You threw a thumbs up at him. “You got this!” You mouthed to him.

Ushijima smiled back. He didn’t need to say anything back to you, because he knew you knew.

Both teams made their way to the court, the tension of the teams and audience growing every second that went by.

Ushijima was serving first. He channeled every single practice and every single late-night spent in his mind and took a breath.

The whistle blew.

Ushijima jumped.

And the audience roared as the ball smacked the floor on the other side of the net.

“Wing-spiker Ushiwaka starts the game off with an incredible service ace!”

———

All it took was a slip up by the other team’s libero to end the game.

They had won.

The crowd flooded the court. Students yelled and screamed as they made their way down, and Ushijima’s own team tackled each other in victory, pulling Ushijima himself into the mix. It was a complete mess, and Ushijima’s ears rang from his other teammates yelling in his ear. They had played an amazing game, and it was no wonder everyone was so ecstatic.

But Ushijima pulled away from his teammates and looked through the flood that was pouring onto the court from the student section.

He pushed through the bodies, and he was probably looking somewhat frantic, but he did feel that way a little. He looked for a head of red hair, but there were so many people it was too hard to—

A hand popped up above the crowd, and then he spotted the grinning face he knew and loved.

“Toshi!” Your voice floated beneath the screaming voices.

Ushijima tried to pry his way through the crowd to meet you. His heart was beating so fast, faster than it had during the entire game and his hands were tingling and all he wanted to do was—

Suddenly you were jumping up and wrapping your arms around his neck in a joyful embrace, and Ushijima caught you. Your face buried into the side of his face made the giggles escaping your mouth so clear, and he felt a relieved breath sigh out of his mouth. Ushijima almost worried about how sweaty he was, but he knew you wouldn’t care.

“You did it, Toshi!” You spoke against his cheek. “You did it.”

You leaned back and Ushijima looked at your face while still holding you up, arms around your waist. You giggled again, smiling with so much joy and love in your eyes. You were breathtaking.

“You were incredible,” you said. “Absolutely incredible.”

Everything disappeared again. The people trying to push around him, the noise, the music. It all disappeared when Ushijima looked into your tender eyes and felt your noses brush against each other. He held you tighter, never wanting to let go of this moment and never wanting to lose sight of your eyes that looked at him and only him.

But Ushijima didn’t expect you to slam your lips into his. You squeezed your arms around his neck tightly, and Ushijima wasn’t about to let you go.

He kissed you back and melted into the passion of your hold and the softness of your lips. He realized he had been waiting so long for this moment, and it was better than he could’ve imagined.

You pulled away and Ushijima heard the hitch in your breath as you looked into his eyes again. Ushijima was still reeling from a whole new adrenaline.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you, Toshi,” you said breathlessly. “I like you. I have liked you for so long. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but I realized I want to be honest. I really, really like you. I want to be with you every day and I want to be at all of your games. I want to be by your side, Toshi.”

Ushijima’s chest swelled at those words, and still holding you up with one arm, he reached up with his other hand to cup your face.

“I want nothing more than for you to be by my side, sweet girl.”

---

tagging: @touyaspeach

[cno-inbminor]

iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin​ for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia 

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings:  DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

-

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

-

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

-

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

-

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and  caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him.  It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,”  he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

-

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

-

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

-

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

-

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

-

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

-

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

-

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

-

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

-

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

[shotorozu]

hello !! I'd rlly like to request Monoma if that's alright! I've had a huge soft spot for him for a while now and I'd love to see more content of him ;v;

anyway! we all know that superiority complex of his is definitely hiding some insecurities, but I also feel like he'd be quite touchstarved too bc of his peers seldom physically interacting with him due to his quirk, yknow?

with that in mind, I'd love to see how he'd handle an s/o who has "physical touch" as their main love language. they can give verbal praise/comfort, but they always get so shy abt it that they prefer giving physical affection to show their love. and maybe combining that with "quality time" being their second love language, they love to just cuddle him or toy with his hands/hair during quiet moments uwu

if you wanna do multiple characters, I'd love to request Shinsou, Midoriya, and Amajiki (separately) for the same idea, but if you'd rather do this with just Monoma then I'm okay with that !! no worries if you don't wanna do all four ♡

thank you if you do this request, and make sure to take care of yourself !! ♡

physically affectionate s/o

character(s) : monoma neito, shinsou hitoshi, midoriya izuku (i cut out tamaki for this one, sorry :[ but i’ll do another part if anyone wants it)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, strong quirk but the details aren’t specific, reader is a part of 1-A

headcanon type : fluff (and if you squint, then crack)

note(s) : yes i do agree :,) monoma should be getting a little bit more content, and i’m sorry that this came out so late! i was multitasking with other requests (because i took a 2 day absence,,) but this doesn’t mean i don’t read people’s requests

»»————-　♡　————-««

monoma neito

monoma 🤝 bakugou “the pros at sending mixed signals”

if there’s one thing he’s known for— then it’s for the persistent teasing, and his quite obnoxious attitude (especially at 1-A)

but he’s not a terrible person, he sure does have his reasons. and by now, people either choose to ignore him, or they simply knock the wind out of him

so, he was not prepared to encounter someone that was tolerant of him, AND also his type— like.. huh. that’s.. odd

and he was even more surprised when they accepted his wild love confession. there must be some catch to it, right?

so like i’ve said— monoma sends a lot of mixed signals. it’s either he’s complimenting your existence, or teasing you in various ways.

so— it’s just another normal day of monoma mouthing off to you, teasing you in a playful way, while you guys are hanging out this is way of making you remember him

but then, you just.. leaned forward and placed your hand on his head— not exchanging any words at all.

monoma’s first reaction is (・・?) because what?? someone is touching him right now.. wait.. someone is touching him!

honestly really shook, and at a lost for words— because everyone has refrained from coming into any physical contact with him? what a surprise! what even is this?

after said incident, you decide to speak “you had something in your hair.” and for once, monoma is the one that’s sitting in silence

“R-REALLY, Y/N? DID YOU REALLY THINK THAT WAS GOING TO W-WORK ON ME OR SOMETHING?” he questions in his usual mocking tone, but his cheeks are accompanied in a flushed red

he’d only experience field day when he realized that touch was basically your love language, with quality time in the second lead

so whenever you guys are spending time together, you’d,, actually go closer to him! this has never happened before, let him be

he doesn’t really like the idea of getting his hair touched, so you usually choose to fiddle with his hands— sometimes observing his details, and other times you’ll be comparing hand sizes

he’ll ridicule you for being so touchy— but he’ll ask if he’s “that irresistable?” while also moving you closer to him. he loves it a lot, okay?

don’t let class 1-b see this, he will flex on them because when he starts getting annoying again, they’ll use you as blackmail.

“monoma, i swear— if you do that, we’ll tell Y/N-”

“HAHA— ok, i’m sorry.”

shinsou hitoshi

he probably has the most chill reaction out of the bunch

again— another person that has been antagonized because of their quirk. he’s been perceived as villanious ever since his middle school days

kids have been told to keep their distance away from him at a young age so.. you’d bet that he’d be really touch starved

he never had any serious experiences with dating, and he never had any real friends— that weren’t cautious of his quirk

that was until he met you, which he just assumed you were another highkey stuck up person in the hero course

but, you were basically the opposite, and you were a real pleasure to have around. one thing lead to another, and now you guys are dating

he thought it was really cute whenever you got too shy to just sit in silence during dates, or to even give out words of affirmations

but hitoshi was surprised at first when he felt you pull yourself closer to him— resting your head on his shoulder. the concept of someone wanting to be in his presence is still sinking in for him

lucky for you! shinsou knows how to adapt to situations quickly, immediately slinging an arm around your shoulder, as he listens to you talk

he’ll be surprised when you start touching his hair, because golly!! are you guys close

but do it more pls, he loves it a lot— it sometimes makes him really drowsy.

if you play with his hands omg, his heart will do somersaults. he’s lucky that he’s able to keep himself composed.

loves watching you choosing to cuddle him, after briefly giving up on trying to form coherent words of affirmations.

it’s something he brings up quite often, but not in a teasing manner!

sometimes he’ll pat the free spot beside him, basically begging you to come closer to him.

eventually, denki notices on how touchy he’ll get whenever you’re around— but hitoshi will just shrug it off

“it’s always been that way.” he simply says, but he’ll turn around with this big ass grin on his face 💀

he’s whipped for your touch. so please, do it more

midoriya izuku

he’s also touchstarved. actually, all of them are really touchstarved, and for different reasons 💀

well.. it’s not like he had a choice from the getgo. he was born quirkless, and that lead to him becoming an outcase— and also the victim of bullying i wanna hug him

and being told constantly that he won’t ever be enough, or he won’t ever be a hero— it’s obvious that he doesn’t have any dating experience

but he didn’t think he’d be dating anytime soon— especially since he was ‘just’ pinning over you. he was convinced it was going nowhere

until you confessed. he’s surprised that he didn’t pass out

ever since you guys started dating, he noticed that you’ve been a little timid— not in the way that you feel awkward, more like,, you wanted to say something

or do something, because when you guys were studying together, you just suddenly sat closer to him— and started counting his freckles

he short circuited for a second.

he was reduced to a stuttering, and blushy mess— and you just laughed, telling him “you should continue what you’re doing!” as you ran your other hand across his shoulders

that night, he was wide awake in his bed— recalling your gentle and loving touch, running his hands along the parts of his hair, that you’ve touched

he loves quality time, because while he does like to ramble a lot— he does enjoy spending time with you in silence, but it’s the touches that makes him flustered

despite him being quite shy to initiate any sort of touch, you— on the other hand, were shy with saying praises. so you coped with physical touch, and quality time

man, izuku never gets used to it. no matter how much he tries to— he’s just.. needy, touchstarved.

he doesn’t realize how lost he looks when you’re sitting beside him, and not touching his hair or hands for once. please feel free to do so

oh, and since we’re on the topic of hands— he’ll tear up if you start playing/fiddling with his hands, and especially when you start tracing his scars. it makes him feel so warm.

okay but,, please give him a heads up if you’re going to act touchy in public. he’ll start stammering and blushing hard you might have to put him in rice or smth

the dekusquad talks about that quite a lot, especially when they accidentally witnessed it in the common room (for the first time)

in short— he adores it. sometimes he’ll initiate it, by asking you if you want to sit beside him, to play with his hair. he’s so inlove

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing, and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or use my works for audio readings without my permission :))

[twilightpoison]

It’s been brought up to me that a lot of my content is Isekai based. However I didn’t want this to be a Ieskai HC post. Instead let me tell you all about a stupid thing I came up with as a kid that I’ve been meaning to make into a fic for so long.:

What if the characters you play actually can feel your presence and/or can hear your commentary when playing?

Fair warning I never play Hyrule Warriors and Twilight Princess so let me know if I got things wrong.

Head canons under cut!

General head canons (These are all platonic headcanons btw.):

- Let’s say that the simple reason that you are here was to help the chain. Think of it like you’re the groups companion on this journey. Who better then someone that knows about each hyrule?

- The people who dealt with a lot of magic recognize you at first. The others need a bit of a push to connect the dots but everyone gets there.

- The connection wasn’t as strong at times during their original adventures, so its not like they could always hear you or sense you.

Time:

- You saw him and it was clear he has another sibling now.

- Time knew you where telling the true, that you followed both of his adventures however he wasn’t going to be fully open to you.

- Guess who isn’t scared of Time? You.

- Literally at one point you’ve pointed at Time and with a straight face says “thats a child”.

- This is also how the chain found out that Time actually fought the moon technically.

- “You fought Majora on the moon while it was falling. That’s not the same thing.”

- You meet Malon and it was an awkward first meeting since how do you explain this in the first place.

- Yet the two of you got along amazingly.

- When you and time are alone you instantly ask Time if he knew how she got the cow in his house. He kinda just… stares at you? Like you just met his wife and thats what your asking about?!

- The answer was that he wasn’t sure how she did that but the cow isn’t in his old house anymore. Since different timelines and all.

- It’s honestly weird for him to have someone remember both of his adventures in confidence.

- All be a little awkward hearing someone go, “oh yeah! Time had to do something similar.”

- Early on Time did go over boundaries since he really doesn’t like to talk about his adventures to much.

- So instead you both agree to be as cryptic as possible or at least there is an attempt on your part. Since your the only other person that can confirm or deny his claims.

- And no. You also don’t know his true age. But your guess is the closest.

Twilight:

- Since he is one of the Link’s that is drenched in magic, he recognizes your aura instantly.

- Chaotic sibling energy.

- If he is giving Wild or any of the other Link’s a hard time you are by his side calling Twilight out. Unless if the person in question did something truly idiotic then you let him go off.

- Speaking of, you call this man out as much as you possibly can. Like hell if you’re going to let the others think he isn’t a gremlin.

- He did try to stop you by covering your mouth but you licked his hand. So…. guess what he isn’t trying again unless it’s necessary.

- Somethings are kept a secret though. Since he did live through it and even if it was stupid he still could of gotten really hurt.

- You both play good cop, bad cop to the younger Links all the time.

- Twi is surprisingly very open with you about his adventure, to finally talk to someone about it with out having it sound crazy is nice.

- He also has some questions about you and your life. Since before this adventure started you just disappeared.

- The two of you honestly get along like two best friends who haven’t seen each other in years but still can banter like its the good old days.

- Knowing only small amounts about what they all been through it’s nice to know that you’re looking after the others as well.

- That feeling makes him really push himself to protect the family he has here and luckily you are here can smack him upside the head before lecturing him.

Warriors:

- heeeeey… you know what happen the last time he met someone that was suppose to be watching over the hero’s spirit?

- Yeah, so….War’s isn’t so keen on trusting you like some of these Heroes.

- You seem nice and not obsessively crazy. If anything what makes him decide to give you a chance. It’s seeing you get along with the other Heroes post battle or around the campfire when you think no one is watching.

- The moment that he recognizes you. You were cursing out some monsters and calling Dink every name under the sun. Which he actually remembers hearing your panicked voice briefly when fighting Cia.

- Anyway, you guys are a sass duo and even a trio when you get Leg involved.

- You steal his scarf sometimes with Time and Wind’s help

- He finds you and Wind wrapped inside of it leaning on time and his heart just- clenches, he has more siblings now!

- Then Warriors realizes he has another sibling… another sibling that will prank him…

- You two can be found discussing tactical strategies. Mostly him teaching you though since depending on the person not many people will know how to lead an army. Yet he is a good teacher and you catch on pretty quickly.

- Same with Twi, Warrior’s needs someone to pull him back sometimes it seems. Who better then to remind him then the person that already saw his lowest moment when his ego got the better of him?

- Seriously speaking. He wouldn’t come to you to talk. If anything he will try to avoid you if he wasn’t his best. In his head he has a reputation to uphold. Which will lead to a heart to heart. No sass. No banter. Just you and him sitting down to remind him that he is human.

- He needs a hug. Please give him a hug.

Sky:

- Sky actually didn’t recognize you at first!

- Yes he felt your presence and hear your voice in his adventure, but that was a while ago at this point. Also he isn’t as connected to magic as the others are.

- He does slowly befriend you despite everything.

- It wasn’t until you referred to a certain demon lord as a ‘B*tch A** Clown’ and a flood gate of memories open up for him. Memories of you cursing out Ghirahim, calling the imprisoned an ‘avocado with feet’ and so on.

- Nothing really changes between you two honestly, he just accepts it.

- If anything he becomes more open to you about everything, setting clear boundaries on what he doesn’t want to bring up. He will tell everyone about the curse eventually, but just hasn’t found a good opportunity too. Things like that.

- You do have to argue with Sky that the curse wasn’t his fault since you were also there when it was put on him, also the fact that he didn’t asked to be cursed in the first place.

- Most of the time you two are together its to get away from the chaos that the group of nine heroes could bring.

- Walking or sitting in silence is how you two end up most of the time together. It may not look like you two are bonding. There are some days while Sky is wood carving you would work on your small hobby as well. Then there are days he plays the harp and your reading.

- Despite it all he really enjoys the peace you bring. There is a sense of comfort that you have.

- When you and Sun finally meet. The first thing you ask him is to be invited to the wedding and it may or may not been in front of her too…

Wild:

- The recognition was really slow for him like Sky. Since Wild just got off of his first adventure he didn’t actually notice you were gone.

- It was until he realized that he couldn’t hear your panicked voice or snarky remarks when fighting in his head. That he finally realized you where outside of his head. He was quick to connects the dots after that.

- There was a moment where he didn’t know how to react since he just figured that you were just from his imagination.

- He now has another adventuring buddy with Hyurle! Though luckily you do keep the both of them from harm. Mostly because if something happens to them you will get in trouble with like Twi and Leg and thats never fun.

- Though you have your moments. Shield surfing and paragliding are on top of that list and Wild is all up for teaching you the ropes.

- The topic of the history of hyrule gets brought up a lot with the two of you. Since his era has a lot of connections to the past era’s. He is all up for learning about what came from where. Soon theories start to fly about.

- When You, Him and Flora are finally all together. There is nothing stopping you all from bouncing off theories. With your outside knowledge mixing with what they know. Things start to fall into place.

- The answer to why the timeline is like this doesn’t get answer. But hey! At least you all are having fun!

- If you can’t cook he will teach you that too! If you can! Well buckle up your going to share your knowledge with him whether you want to or not.

- Once you know how or get used to cooking while camping, you help him out a lot and its these moments where you both talk the most.

- It’s comforting to him to know he wasn’t alone this whole time.

Legend:

- As soon as you two locked eyes he felt instant dread. Yes he knew. No he isn’t going to opening up to you.

- Playful Insults to bond? Yeah that’s literally how he talks to everyone so no special treatment.

- He keeps you at a distance but its not actually working.

- You talk about his adventures so casually like it happened a few days ago. You avoid Link’s Awakening though. If you got hurt with the plot twist then you could only imagine the pain Leg went through.

- “I’m still trying to process the fact you married a tree.” “Hey remember that one time with Yuga, you slammed face first into a wall so hard you knocked yourself out?” “God do you not wear pants because of the fish thing?”

- This relationship is literally: Only I can bully this one.

- He fears the moment you meet Ravio and Fable knowing full well you all will bond over teasing him.

- Overall though he knows you got his back no matter what, to the point he finds himself confining in you slowly.

- Guess who is also teaming up with Hyrule to get Legend to sleep. It you.

- Once you probably have forced him to sleep by getting wolfie to lay on him. It was the wolf or yourself. In the end it was both of you and he was trapped.

- A sign that he was becoming soft towards you was when he started sharing his items with you. He trusts that you know how to use them and if you don’t he is actually willing to show you.

- He regrets giving the bee badge to you.

Hyrule:

- Another person that is drenched in magic. It only took one look at you for him to realize who you were.

- The two of you were awkward as anything at first. Since to you he never really spoken in his adventure so you didn’t know how to picture his personality.

- There’s a lot of mystery in your mind about him since again there isn’t much to go off of with what your given in game. It’s weird for him to hear about how you interpret his personality from that perspective.

- Hyrule didn’t honestly expect you to try and befriend him tbh. It mostly him over thinking it.

- You do follow him sometimes when he wants to wander around and explore. Mostly because you claim he finds the coolest things when he does.

- But its just a excuse to actually get to know him.

- The two of you trade stories and questions about each of your lives. There might be things you know that he might not know of about his adventure and his hyrule.

- Of course never going into to much details since there are things you couldn’t tell him.

- Hyrule honestly was dreading the day you all would land in his Era. He loves his home but is also very aware of it not being the most…welcoming place.

- So it’s more then surprising to him that there is even more then the glint of familiarity and excitement on your face. Knowing full well what dangers where a head of you, you still were open to exploring his world to the fullest.

- It’s honestly refreshing to see someone love his era as much as he does.

- Another boy that needs hugs, please give him a hug.

- You both cheer each other on though.

- This relationship is just aggressive support between you two and the others.

Four: (I’m actively mixing the Four Sword game and manga just to be clear.)

- Not sure if he would know exactly who you where since during the second adventure your voice and presence bounce between the four of them.

- Yet I also feel like he took after you because he was a child in his first adventure, which worries you a lot. Since you did have choice words for Vaati.

- The first to realize was Vio then it went Blue, Red and Green. Despite being in the same head it was just a theory they had over all. They all had their own ways of confirming it.

- Vio noticed the small things you do around Four. Like not stepping on their shadow, and covering Four when things got chaotic in their head. Small references here and there. When the two of you are alone he almost quizzes you about things. Just to see how much you know and to see if your telling the true or not.

- Blue recognize your mannerisms being something he picked up on during the first and second adventure. Only vaguely since again he was a child / there was only a small part only with him. Your fighting banter when your in battle made you see where Blue got his colorful language from…

- Your comfort was what clued Red in. He remembers your presence more clearly then the others from the first and second adventure. It was a comforting (yet chaotic) presence in their adventures that he latched on to. More so from his first adventure since as a kid he made an imaginary friend to process the fact he could sense and hear your presence. When you came back in the second time around it felt so natural for Red to have you there and really helped make him go forward through his small journey.

- For Green? It was a lot of things but when he see’s you treating each color differently when they are in charged. It’s a refreshing sight to be honest. He just enjoys hearing and seeing that his brothers had someone to confide in. Even when they switch who is in control you some how could tell and spoke to them accordingly.

- They were all some what surprise that none of the others picked up on your treatment of him swapping so much. Yet their also glad because their not ready to reveal themselves quiet yet.

- As Four or as you nicknamed him ‘Rainbow’ the two of you tend to sick together when the world’s shift around. Since his body needs more time to recover.

- You two are another pair that cheers each other on when the moral is low.

- He introduces you to the Minish! Getting you a jabber nut so you can speak to them too. You can’t shrink down to properly talk to them so this was the next best thing.

- The four of them makes you a dagger to bring home to remember him by, there’s a kin stone imbedded where the blade meets the hilt.

Wind: (hello self projection my dear friend)

- Wind didn’t recognize you ether at first, yet he didn’t even blink when you join everyone. He was fully on board with getting a new member and is easiest the most opened.

- It was when you two are alone together that something clicked in his head. You see during the Wind Waker he was alone most of the time when he was on land. So he had to face a lot by himself.

- Having you was reassuring to him when facing some of the monsters alone, especially with the puppet ganon fight. The two of you both agree that it was creepy.

- CHAOTIC SIBLINGS PART 2… well kinda

- Wind is a lot more mature then you realized but you two still have those moments.

- You, Aryll and Grandma get along too! So he and his family basically sees you and the chain as family.

- Pranking buddies! You’re targets would never know. Mostly because your covering up for him. You two team up with Four and Wild so the pranks can get chaotic at times.

- No matter what age you are compare to him and if your ok with it he does like platonic physical affection. Your going to be trading off with Warriors a lot of the time for cuddles or it’s the three of you together.

- You teaching him our worlds sea shanties and him teaching you his? Heck yeah! Even making up songs with the others is something on the table and in the works which is nice.

- It’s another thing to bring back home thats personalized!

Honestly since I’ve written all of this down I want to write the fic more. Though I’ll probably not only because idk if people would even read it lol. So it will just be a bunch of head canons. Anyway rambling is done.

[wistfulrat]

a 4-part rec list of my fave drarry fics - the thrillers, dramas, soft bois, and wankbanks getting me through 2020′s shitstorm

[the soft boi list is here and truly i’m not surprised this rec is going to be the longest bc if there’s one thing a bitch is going to do, it’s yearn.

as always! if you love a fic, follow the authors, leave kudos & comments, send them nice msgs bc free art is still labor xoxo]

part 3: soft bois

mood: for when I need respite, a balm to the all-consuming shittiness of life

includes: fluff, comfort, low-stakes, slow-burn fics. a wistful look, a rainy morning, an unexpected grace, a stupidly disarming joke. i could live inside these fics. the smallness of human lives removed from the site of that which hurts & irreparably changes. the story-equivalent of a deep breath after a long day. pregnant silences & pensive mundanity & shy smiles. banter with bite but without the cruelty. the color lavender. weirdly whimsical. soft fics are not necessarily conflict-averse (no drarry fic rly can be, considering the context) but, they offer the reader a generous distance from the initial harm. they’re the quiet cleaning up after a storm. sometimes healing is an exacting surgical knife and other times it’s a slow scabbing. you read these fics to be reassured that the way forward is not always ruthless. and honestly?? they deserve a semblance of peace godDAMmit.

The Way Down by @letteredlettered - 65k - T “and I thought that if someone talked to you as though you were a human being you might—maybe you could act like one” --the way i think about this line daily. the characterization of draco in this fic is one my favorites bc he’s earnest and neurotic and tired of harry’s shit. which is to say, he cares so so much. and harry doesn’t know what to do with that bc he’s got a monster in his chest and lives as a recluse. but they both humanize each other in ways no one else can. “you’re just a person” has to be some kind of drarry ethics of belonging and it makes me CRY. -

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them by @greaseonmymouth and dustmouth - 96k - T “Maybe it’s not about deserving it? Maybe you just get to have it anyway. . .I’m allowing myself to want something and to let myself have it and to fight for it.” --harry runs a daycare and also works at a library. draco spends a lot of time in said library. they bond over sci-fi books and therapy anecdotes and quiet philosophical conversations held over cafeteria soup. and harry’s struggling to understand his asexuality. draco’s learning how to live with anxiety and depression. they both want to be deserving of love. incredible fic with beautiful art by dustmouth. - 

Open for Repairs by @drarrytrash - 35k - T “A few leaves rustle in the gutter and the muggle world pays no mind to them, to two lost boys holding on for dear life.” --all of their fics feel exactly like this. like you’ve been allowed to look at something private, tender, unexpected. draco, known abba fan, is a repairman in the muggle world & harry can’t stop breaking thrifted things in order to see him? say less, i'm thERE. also “I think I have a crush on you” goddddd  - other faves by them: Counting Down By Ten - 2k - T: draco’s stepped outside of the party for a smoke. harry follows him bc of course he does. i could read this 100 times and not get tired of it. - Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon - 36k - E: FUCKING HILARIOUS I CACKLED THROUGH THE WHOLE THING. draco’s wolfy problem and harry helping him and harry being flustered by how much he likes draco and draco’s hot heroic moment. shutup it’s perfect. “He almost asks if Draco ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit all the time, but he knows that he, personally, never ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit.” and “It’s the traumas,” Harry says gravely” --lines that live rent free in my head -

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn't Really Want, Thanks by seefin - 70k - E “That was the only logical thing to do here, wasn’t it? It was the next step, it was the end of hurting each other and the beginning of the exact opposite.” --harry lives with luna and neville and also he dreams about the future sometimes? and he keeps running into draco. draco thinks this is sus as hell, until he doesn’t. feat. taxi rides, museums, cinemas, rooftop conversations beneath a lunar eclipse, mid-sex innocuous banter, draco and harry discussing nicki minaj. this fic charmed my ass off. seefin writes the most effortlessly hilarious dialogues. i smiled at my phone like an idiot at least 7 times. -  other faves by them: Wild - 93k - E: “he liked feeling needed, for the things that he was needed for back at the house in Ireland. For cooking and gardening and driving. Easy things.” --this shit makes me cry it’s so good. harry lives in Ireland with these three brilliant, hilarious, wandless witches and draco’s a potions student who's come to study under one of the housemates and the boys have so much shit to work through but their love becomes so tender and honest. draco yells at harry a lot and harry lets him and they both keep each other grounded in something real and fuCK.  - Divination for Dickheads - 7k - G: “I’m terrible at having crushes. I’ve never played anything cool a day in my life.” -- oh harry, we knOW. a bus ride, a fortune teller, an aquarium birthday party. god i love this fic. -

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic​ - 61k - E “But we’ve worked so hard at this, haven’t we? Yeah, I know it’s a horror to have to talk about it, but fuck it. We’re friends now, but it took so long to get here. Have you ever had to work so hard at something before?" --the steady blossoming of their friendship in this fic is so goddamn beautiful i want to yell. it’s draco and harry learning to trust each other and the whole thing unfolds so slowly, in this whimsical mix of london streets, wizarding politics, church halls feat. a Hot vicar, and a magical antique shop owner who’s married to literal poseidon?? goD the environment of this fic. immaculate. [also there’s a tender shower scene that makes me cry every single fucking time so if you read this fic pls dm me so we can be embarrassing about it together tbh] -

Nice Things by aideomai - 22k - M “He kept waiting for the weird shock of touch to not knock him clean out of his head, leave him quiet and warm and happy.” --8th year. harry forms an unlikely friendship with draco that begins with smoking weed on a windowsill. harry is touch-starved and draco touches him like he touches all his close friends - like it’s easy. the quiet affection in this fic, the way harry burrows himself into touch bc he’s been without it for his entire life. reading this is like being held. -

Running On Air by @tinyhistory​ - 74k - T “do you remember when we were eleven?” --alexa play coldplay’s the scientist it’s sad girl hours and we’re about to fucking yearn. you’ve seen this fic rec on every drarry list under the sun and i'm here to be redundant. the hype is so goddamn real. this story is a lyrical masterpiece held together by lines that act as refrains that will rattle around your brain until you die, probably. draco’s been missing for 3yrs. harry goes to find him. it’s their odyssey of homecoming. -

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken - 12k - T “But Draco, Draco was everything but boring. Draco made sitting in the rain watching an empty house fun.” --auror partners pining and draco being eccentric and harry being very earnestly gay about draco’s eccentricities!! god this fic is so genuinely fun skskd feat. undercover missions, murderous faeries, a book heist, a stunning navy dress, harry’s eyelashes. -

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by @thistle-verse - 14k - T “Draco is about to say something else— to thank Potter for what he’d done, however poorly— but Harry is smiling at him again, and it’s so soft and perfect that Draco holds in any inadequate words, lest he spoil it.” --draco collects tea cozies and of course harry has the one he wants. the sad and tender gays are at it again feat. conversations in the rain at a train station, melancholy Blaise, muggle photos, wizarding e-bay, the Dursleys.  -

Helix by Saras_Girl - 92k - E “Draco sighs in his sleep and Harry clings on to consciousness, needing to hold on, to give this tiny, insignificant moment the attention it deserves” --I think maybe you can describe every soft Saras_Girl story as giving tiny, insignificant moments the attention they deserve. like, this is an 8th year fic about snails and it’s full of whimsy, grief, compassion, and easy humor. an absolute must-read author in this genre if you want languorous, episodic fics full of distinct OCs and affectionate creatures. - other faves by them: Light up the Night Sky - 98k - M “Draco, sometimes you make my head feel like soup” --the one where harry is a fireworks artist and has a pet chameleon named ken. draco is on the wizarding arts council. they both pine like hell. - Headlights in the Snow - 71k - M “they stare at each other in silence, Harry’s heart beating so loud in his chest that he thinks the biddies must be able to hear it over the sound of their card game.” --the one where draco drives the knight bus and carts around the biddy club, a group of rambunctious old ladies who knit and drink tea and gossip. harry can’t help but fall in love with the everything about this. -

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 - 38k - T “Harry’s heavy thoughts lift at the sight, like dark clouds blown away from the sun by the wind. The tent doesn’t feel so cramped and stifling now. It feels cozy. And safe. It’s the same feeling that Harry gets when he’s at the Burrow for Sunday roasts, when a group of people who care for each other deeply are crammed into too-small a space.” --harry wanders to the lovegood house on a sunday afternoon. he’s baffled to see that luna’s taken pansy, greg, and draco under her wing. what follows is a summer of forest walks, scavenger hunts, gardening, water fights, odd cakes, faerie rings, and picnics. so many picnics. i love the pace of this fic, the innocent return to childhood things, the way luna brings out the best in all her friends. reluctantly soft slytherins are just *chefs kiss*!! -

Going Postal (A 125pg comic) by dustmouth - T what. a. beautiful. ass. comic. the wizarding fashion, the textures, the character design!! harry travels a lot for his job as a resourcer. draco works in the regulations dept. they pine like a bunch of lovesick idiots via field report notes. god i love dustmouth’s art. -

All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre​ - 29k - E “Draco is twenty-seven layers of personality wrapped up in drama and humour, and a wit so sharp it still stings when he doesn’t see it coming. But there is something below that, too. Something that makes Harry ache just looking at him.” --the way i would lay down my little life for tepre’s characterization of draco, whom invented the word earnest. he’s a magical art theory expert and portraits are disappearing all over London and harry’s the auror assigned to this case. and well. they’re both so very avoidant about how gay they are for each other and it’s like!! shutup and kiss!! which they do in fact, shutup and kiss.  -

Trenches by sara_holmes - 3k - M “Somewhere in the distant part of his mind that hasn't frozen solid, he thinks that maybe he and Draco are about to become more than auror partners, smoking buddies, wine-mates and co-inhabitants of a snow filled trench somewhere in western Scotland.” --the plot line here is literally “it’s cold and i need a fucking cigarette” but let me tell you how I never tire of the shared loaded-silences of two emotionally repressed gays. -

The Years Before Love by lomonaaeren - 13k - M “That’s one of the meanings of peace, he thinks, as Hermione hugs him...That he can do things slowly, softly, without worrying that they won’t be there tomorrow.” --andromeda taking harry under her wing and harry finding solace in teddy. narcissa and draco showing up and the tentative relationships that slowly develop in the quiet calm of andromeda’s house. found families and kisses in the snow and special xmas gifts ugh what’s not to love -

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy - 35k - M “I want this to be a house where people are welcome, where they don’t have to be any one way or another” --in which harry collects lost things--owls, best friends, inept bakers, potions experimenters--and turns the mausoleum that is grimmauld place into a home. feat. your fave drarry tropes like shared-beds and reluctant waltzing partners. -

[part 1: thrillers | part 2: dramas | part 3: soft bois | part 4: wankbanks]

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 15 - ao3 -

“I thought Sect Leader Wen was above visiting other sects,” Lan Qiren said sullenly, leading Wen Ruohan on a tour through the Cloud Recesses. He had nothing better to do: classes had been temporarily dismissed on account of sect business, what with the teachers all being recruited to receive the Wen sect’s retinue; at this rate, this year’s rogue cultivators wouldn’t learn anything of value, and Lan Qiren had the sneaking suspicion that it was somehow all his fault.

“I can’t imagine why you think that. Don’t I attend every discussion conference without fail?” Wen Ruohan said smoothly even though that wasn’t what Lan Qiren had meant and he knew it.

Wen Ruohan normally treated himself and his clan like the imperium, preferring to summon visitors rather than go to visit. Presumably, in this instance, it was only that his desire to bother Lan Qiren had overcome his vanity, or else perhaps he’d reminded himself that even the Emperor would sometimes summer at the homes of his lackeys, allowing them an unasked-for opportunity to pay homage to him.

Truly a very irritating man. Lan Qiren was almost entirely sure that it wasn’t his adolescent brain speaking, either, though he supposed he couldn’t discount the possibility entirely – he’d been very irritated by Cangse Sanren, too, and they were friends now.

Actually, he was still pretty irritated with her sometimes. Maybe it was just a symptom of adolescence. Or perhaps it was that strange similarity he sometimes found himself observing between them, whether it was their seeming timelessness or their overweening arrogance...

Well, when in doubt, there were always the rules: Do not disrespect your elders.

Also possibly Have affection and gratefulness, though that one had always been hard.

Lan Qiren took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then released it, taking stock of himself: his walking pace was steady, his hands were clasped together so that they didn’t flail, and his appearance was calm. It was just a matter of getting his emotions under control, and he had plenty of experience with that.

“You’re right,” he finally said, releasing his irritation with an effort of willpower. “You do. I was being rude, and it was uncalled for. Is there any particular part of the Cloud Recesses that da-ge would like to see? I doubt the Library Pavilion or the main buildings have varied much since your last visit, but the gardens and wild forest are beautiful this time of year.”

Wen Ruohan was quiet for a while, the two of them walking side by side in silence, and then unexpectedly he said, “Does the Lan sect use well-water or river-water as your main source of drinking water?”

Lan Qiren stared at him in disbelief. “I’m not telling you that. That’s private!”

“Is it?”

“Not everyone’s like the Nightless City, telling everyone that they rely on a half-dozen imported sources for their food and drink and challenging them to try to do something about it,” Lan Qiren said crossly, and tried to remind himself Sneering for no reason is prohibited. “I’m not actually a half-wit, you know.”

“You misunderstand me,” Wen Ruohan said, though his eyes, narrow with satisfaction like a cat, suggested that he would have been more than happy to take advantage of the situation if Lan Qiren had been so foolish. “I only wished to know whether it was the source of water they are drinking that has rendered them all blind to the treasure they hold in their hands.”

“…I’m not showing you our treasury, either.”

Wen Ruohan barked a laugh. “That’s not what I meant, either. Why don’t you show me your Wall of Discipline? I’m sure there are a few new rules since last time.”

There probably were – the rules were like water, both eternal and in a constant state of flux – so Lan Qiren obediently turned his feet in that direction.

“It’s not a work-day,” he warned. “So you’ll miss out on any carving. But the rules are there, and I can answer any questions you have about them, if you like.”

“Any question? A bold claim.”

“Any question I know the answer to,” Lan Qiren clarified. “If I don’t, I can ask one of my teachers, or look at the books in the library.”

They walked in silence a little longer, although a surprisingly comfortable one given their age difference and Wen Ruohan’s general aura of barely restrained bloodthirst. Perhaps Lan Qiren was just getting used to it.

“Have I disturbed your afternoon plans with my visit?” Wen Ruohan eventually asked, gazing at the Wall contemplatively.

“I was going to meditate in the Cold Spring,” Lan Qiren said. “But it’s nothing I can’t do another time.”

“A Cold Spring?” A faint smirk flickered on Wen Ruohan’s face. “That’s useful for the suppression of yang energy.”

“And for cultivation, and for healing, and for encouraging clarity of thought,” Lan Qiren said, and managed to keep from rolling his eyes. “Of course, if da-ge is having some trouble controlling his lascivious thoughts, he is welcome to try it out. Such requests are not uncommon among newlyweds.”

Wen Ruohan was smirking outright now. “Tell me, little Lan, has that sharp tongue of yours ever cut the inside of your mouth? Or is that something you reserve for me?”

Lan Qiren pretended not to hear him and instead pointed out one of the rules on the Wall. “I always rather liked that one.”

Wen Ruohan glanced over and saw Have wins and losses - otherwise known, colloquially, as don’t be a sore loser - and grinned. “Oh, really? I find I’m rather partial to Honor the aged and wise, myself.”

“Really? And here I would have thought someone as humble as da-ge would opt for Do not say one thing and mean another, or maybe the prohibition against praising yourself.”

“Are you saying I do not count as aged, little Lan?”

“I would never question your years,” Lan Qiren said. “But the rule does include two clauses.”

Wen Ruohan was surprised into a snicker. “Sharp and sharper! Is this more of your vaunted Do not tell lies?”

“Be of one mind,” Lan Qiren retorted. “Anyway, you enjoy it, or else you would’ve just pointed out Do not argue with your family.”

“Indeed, I am not Qingheng-jun,” Wen Ruohan said, his smile poisonous, and Lan Qiren, struck dead on by the accurate blow, could only glare at him. “My little brother can argue with me any time he pleases…and does, I find. I told you to come to the Nightless City, and you disobeyed.”

“Learning comes first,” Lan Qiren said. “I had classes. Like I told you!”

“And your father and brother agreed with your prioritization?”

Lan Qiren winced, having not told them of Wen Ruohan’s request for exactly that reason.

Wen Ruohan only smirked, though, and did not call him out on it further. “Perhaps I will take you up on your offer,” he remarked instead, and for a moment Lan Qiren had no idea what he was talking about. “Travel is always so wearying, and I’ve heard fine things about the quality of the Cold Spring in Gusu.”

Right, that.

Lan Qiren was pretty sure he was allowed to make that offer.

“Unless of course you planned to have other company there…?” Wen Ruohan glanced at him and saw his confusion. “Your little immortal’s disciple lover?”

“Certainly not!” Lan Qiren exclaimed. “Men and women do not mix like that. Anyway, she’s not my lover. We’re only friends. She’s agreed.”

Wen Ruohan’s eyebrows went up as if Lan Qiren had revealed more than he’d intended.

“Very well,” he said, sounding almost agreeable. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Lan Qiren eyed him suspiciously.

“I’d still like to meet her.”

Of course he would.

“She might not like you,” Lan Qiren warned, shaking his head. Cangse Sanren was a warm and generous person, but her views were unshakable once set, and she feared nothing; he could only guess at the monstrous clash of egos that was about to take place. “But she should be by the training field at this time of day; we can go there next.”

Wen Ruohan reached out and ran his fingers along the Wall – seemingly at random, hitting Change clothes after taking a bath and No adornments that make sound as he did – and then turned to follow Lan Qiren with a look in his eyes that Lan Qiren did not understand.

“Then let us go,” he said.

As he’d thought, Cangse Sanren was practicing alone in the training field, looking especially fierce with her hair flowing freely in the wind as she danced with blade and horsetail whisk. Lan Qiren waited until she was done with her current set before clearing his throat to announce their presence; when she turned, he pulled out a ribbon from his sleeve – he’d taken to carrying spares – and offered it to her.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you,” he said to her. “It doesn’t matter how high your cultivation is, it’s still not going to help you in a fight if the wind changes mid-move and you get smacked in the face with your own hair.”

“Maybe,” she sniffed. “But I look amazing.”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes.

“This is Cangse Sanren, a disciple of Baoshan Sanren,” he told Wen Ruohan. “She has no personal name, so don’t ask for one. Cangse Sanren, this is Sect Leader Wen.”

Lan Qiren had heard rumors that Wen Ruohan had once had a personal title, but that he hadn’t liked it, and that he’d ensured that no one ever dared to use it to his face. At any rate, Lan Qiren didn’t know it now and could not use it as an introduction.

Not that Cangse Sanren would have cared, of course. She raised her hands in a salute, boldly keeping her head raised and the bow shallow enough to be insolent.

“I’ve heard of you,” she said, her eyes slightly narrowed.

“And I of you,” Wen Ruohan responded. “It’s been a long time since a disciple has descended from the immortal mountain. Tell me, are you planning on joining the Lan sect?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said. “Are you planning on proposing some alternative you think I might like better?”

“Perhaps I will. You never know what the future might bring.”

“Knowing the present and the past would seem a sufficient guide to me.”

Lan Qiren looked between them in growing alarm as they exchanged seemingly pleasant words in cutting tones. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected this, but perhaps not quite so quickly...

“Could the two of you maybe not do this?” he asked, feeling a little plaintive. He didn’t want to have to explain how a casual tour designed to kill time had escalated into an inter-sect issue. “Cangse Sanren, if my da-ge’s presence bothers you, we can just leave.”

Cangse Sanren broke away from the staring match she’d started with Wen Ruohan to frown at him. “You call him da-ge?”

“Is there any reason he shouldn’t?” Wen Ruohan’s voice was as smooth as the silk used to execute empresses. “He’s my sworn brother, after all.”

“Oh, I know that,” she said. “It’s only that he calls Qingheng-jun ‘xiongzhang’.”

Wen Ruohan seemed a little surprised by that. He glanced at Lan Qiren, who scowled back at him. “So what?” he said, feeling oddly defensive. “You asked to be called ‘da-ge’.”

“I suppose I did,” Wen Ruohan said, and his lips curled upwards in satisfaction.

“Hey, Lan-xiao-gege,” Cangse Sanren suddenly said, and Lan Qiren automatically glared: he didn’t like her calling him that. “Could you get me a ribbon from my room?”

“What? I just gave you –”

“There’s one in particular inside a qiankun pouch on my desk,” she said, barreling on. “You can just bring the whole thing. I need it rather urgently, and for various reasons cannot go myself.”

“But –”

“You shouldn’t deny a lady in need, little Lan,” Wen Ruohan interjected. “Don’t forget that chivalry is one of your rules. Go and return; I will wait for you here.”

“And I’ll keep an eye on him to make sure he does,” Cangse Sanren said, which was horribly rude even if he did somewhat need that reassurance. “Please, Qiren-gege? Would you?”

“…all right,” Lan Qiren said, having the distinct feeling that he was being ganged up on. “I’ll be back right away.”

There was a rule against running, but he’d long ago mastered the art of walking as quickly as he could without breaking any of the rules against haste; he was able to retrieve the pouch and return to the training field within a single ke, which he thought might have broken some sort of record. Even so, by the time he returned with the pouch, Cangse Sanren and Wen Ruohan were standing side-by-side with identical expressions of smug satisfaction that suggested that they’d accomplished whatever it was that they’d so obviously wanted him out of the way for.

Hopefully not a recruitment into the Wen sect. His brother would kill him.

“Ah, Qiren-gege!” Cangse Sanren said, and accepted the pouch. As if purposefully adding insult to injury, she tied it to her waist without even bothering to pretend to root around inside for the ribbon or whatever thing she had so ‘urgently’ needed from it. “You’re the best.”

“And you’re a pest,” he told her, but she only looked pleased with herself. He wasn’t going to get any answers out of her, and he didn’t even bother to hope for one from Wen Ruohan, who was exactly the same. He looked at him regardless: “Da-ge, are you done here? Even though they haven’t sent word, I’m sure the elders have finished preparing to receive you properly, so you can finally do whatever it is that you came to the Cloud Recesses to do.”

Get out of my way maybe, he meant, and not especially subtly, either.

“Uh, Qiren-gege,” Cangse Sanren said, grinning at him. “I’m pretty sure he’s already doing that.”

Lan Qiren refrained from rolling his eyes at her yet again – nobody would gather up their entire retinue to travel halfway across the cultivation world to see him – and turned expectantly to Wen Ruohan.

“I gave my lieutenants orders to begin negotiations without me,” he said, looking disinterested. “Your sect elders will not want me to disturb them until they have reached preliminary agreement on the main points, so as to avoid losing face for either sect in the event we can’t reach an appropriate resolution.”

Lan Qiren hadn’t thought of that. He supposed it made sense.

Irritating, irritating sense.

“We’ve already seen quite a lot of the Cloud Recesses,” Wen Ruohan added. “Why don’t we take some tea in your rooms?”

Lan Qiren thought about his rooms, which were still in a terrible state, and tensed – he’d neatened up as best as he could after his tantrum in the little time he’d had to himself, but removing all the broken things had left the space bare and uninviting. He wasn’t even sure he even had a matching tea set left.

“You should go down to Caiyi Town,” Cangse Sanren announced. “It has a thriving market full of unique goods, and from what I hear you have a new bride, Sect Leader Wen. If you don’t get her something from your trip, she’ll never forgive you.”

Wen Ruohan hummed thoughtfully, and Lan Qiren seized on the excuse to nod fervently and usher Wen Ruohan towards the gates instead of his rooms.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find something to her taste,” he told Wen Ruohan, and for some reason remembered how the man’s long-nailed hand, capable of crushing mountains, had so delicately held the bowl Lan Qiren had painted as he had drunk his wedding toasts, as if he’d been afraid of causing the slightest damage to it. “There’s plenty there.”

“I’m sure there is,” Wen Ruohan said, and to Lan Qiren’s relief they were able to spend the next two shichen wandering slowly through the market. Wen Ruohan seemed to be particularly interested in stalls or shops selling household goods, whether vases or inkstones or paperweights, or else in paintings and other decorations; he solicited Lan Qiren’s thoughts on them all, and insisted on hearing them no matter how much Lan Qiren tried to demur.

“I really don’t know how much it’ll help you to know that I personally prefer my décor to have neutral colors with abstract designs,” he said, rubbing his forehead after one particularly extended discussion with a very enthusiastic shop manager in which they, again, did not make any purchase. “I doubt your new bride shares my excessively particular tastes.”

“What makes them excessive, rather than simply a preference?” Wen Ruohan asked, strolling over to where Lan Qiren was standing and running a finger along the blanket Lan Qiren had been absent-mindedly kneading with his hands out of lack of anything better to do. It was made of multilayer silk, airy as a cloud but trapping enough heat to allow for some warmth, and some clever designer had introduced some sort of subtle pattern to the embroidery that made it feel almost fuzzy. Lan Qiren had liked it at once, although regrettably it was the sort of expensive that was beyond the reach of even his generous allowance, especially since he’d so recently depleted it; it would have required him to rely on sect credit to obtain it.

He was technically entitled to do so, especially as one of the main branch family, but it wasn’t worth the snippy comments about Do not wallow in luxury that he’d invariably get for it. When he was younger, his brother had, in a rare moment of sympathy, told him that he’d be able to do much more and allow himself far more freedom while still avoiding such criticism if only he weren’t so insistent on talking about the rules all the time, but at that age Lan Qiren had struggled tremendously with focusing on other subjects and it had seemed easier to simply give up a few privileges. Later, of course, he’d realized that he didn’t have to give up those rights at all – the rule against luxury was intended to forestall dissipation and waste, the prioritizing of self-indulgence over duty, not occasional purchases designed to make life more comfortable – but his austere habits had remained. It was easier to pretend to have a preference towards asceticism and restraint than to admit that he was just being picky again, that he’d rather no blanket than a scratchy one or that loud colors or busy designs hurt his eyes and distracted him from his studies no matter how beautiful the art.

“I don’t suppose you remember those greens they were serving, the first time we met?” Lan Qiren asked dryly. “The ones I didn’t eat? It’s a bit like that.”

“Mm, I recall,” Wen Ruohan said, which surprised Lan Qiren: the other man’s memory must be prodigious to recall such a small event in such a long life. “You cried when you tried to force yourself.”

“It was a physical reaction,” Lan Qiren said through gritted teeth. How did Wen Ruohan always manage to find the most irritating take on any subject? “I gagged, that’s all. Anyway, all I meant was that I’m picky and particular, set in my ways and preferences, and what I like doesn’t necessarily transfer to other people.”

He wanted to ask Are you planning on getting something here already, but that would be crossing the line from blunt to intolerably rude, given that Wen Ruohan was his guest and his elder. Instead, he waited until it seemed like Wen Ruohan was done talking, and then edged pointedly towards the exit in the hope that the older man would get the hint.

In the end, they returned to the Cloud Recesses just in time for dinner, in which Lan Qiren was seated next to Wen Ruohan but which, per Lan sect rules, was silent, and was happily sidelined for most of the discussions that took place afterwards, which were mostly about sect affairs. The next two days Wen Ruohan spent fully ensconced in negotiations with Lan Qiren’s father and brother, and the day after that he was scheduled to leave – he had made plans to visit the Jin sect next before returning to Qishan, a route that ever so coincidentally would make it convenient for him to unofficially swing by Qinghe on his return as well – and in the end they only had time to take tea a few more times, almost always in the company of others.

Lan Qiren breathed a sigh of relief at having managed at least one successful one-on-one interaction with Wen Ruohan that hadn’t blown up in his face. He obtained belated permission for his invitation to the Cold Spring and mentioned to Wen Ruohan that he could take advantage of it during his next visit, whenever that might be – Wen Ruohan had seemed pleased by the offer – and obediently watched the visitors depart before returning, at long last, to his classes.

There were whispers, of course, but he ignored them with the ease of long practice. His sworn brotherhood was unusual, inevitably drawing attention; that would not change, just as it would not change the existence of it, and so other people would simply have to grow bored of their gossip first.

It wasn’t until later, when classes broke for the day, that he finally went back to his rooms.

His rooms, which –

Did not look like his rooms.

Lan Qiren stared.

What should have been bare walls and a cracked table and a bed with a single sheet had been transformed: there were paintings and vases, each with the subtle designs he favored, the latter filled with flowers emitting a cool and subtle scent; the incense burner had been replaced with one of delicate and intricate copperwork, a perfect match to the copper accents that adorned the new table, made of dark wood, that had replaced the one he’d broken. Even the pillows and blanket had been replaced – and he recognized that blanket, expensive and unnecessary, with clever embroidery and multiple layers of silk –

“His taste’s a bit much, I think,” Cangse Sanren said from behind him, having apparently followed him in at some point when he hadn’t noticed. “But I suppose you can’t fault him for efficiency.”

Lan Qiren turned to stare at her. “You – you knew about this?”

She grinned at him.

“You didn’t say – you didn’t tell – !” Lan Qiren looked around. “He was shopping for me?”

“All your fault,” she said cheerfully. “Apparently you were the one who started it all, giving him a gift –”

“He was getting married!”

“Some men are unreasonably competitive, Qiren-gege. Your sworn brother is one of them.”

“I – a competition – ?!”

“Possibly he also felt bad about getting you drunk and taking advantage of you,” she said. “And wanted to make up for it somehow. Just a thought.”

Lan Qiren flapped his hands in the air, unable to form words for a while – not least because he was pretty sure Wen Ruohan didn’t do emotions like felt bad, and probably maxed out at this made you have feelings which are inconvenient for me – and then finally settled on some: “What did the two of you talk about?!”

Cangse Sanren poked at the new guqin stand in the corner, dark wood and copper as well, embedded with a few dimly glowing night-pearls, and nodded to herself in satisfaction at its balance. “Blind people with no judgment or appreciation, mostly.”

“…what?!”

“I may have also mentioned that your room was looking a bit too ascetic recently…”

“Cangse Sanren!”

She laughed her peculiar laugh, the deep one that came from her belly and made everyone around her want to join in, and took to her heels as if afraid that he might chase her. Lan Qiren seriously considered it for a moment, wanting to scold her and also to extract every detail about how she had almost certainly tried to scold one of the most terrifying men currently living, but he found himself drifting over to the bed instead, putting his hands into the comfortable blanket and already imagining how well he would sleep with it tucked tightly around him.

Fine, he thought, scowling down at it with a glare that was for no one’s benefit, not even himself. Maybe next time he writes inviting me, I’ll even go.

[bloodycassian]

** PT 2 Azriel x reader - enemies to acquaintances PT 2. ** - reader gets a backstory, they clear another enemy camp together and bond more. Azriel apologizes. 

Slight TW for violence/domestic abuse mention. Trying to keep reader as genderless as possible but sometimes I inherently switch to using woman POVs- asks still very open ;)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

"It seems I owe you an apology." Rhys began, pacing at the end of the makeshift bed the healers had set up for you. Your stomach rolled with nerves. His tone was not genuine, and you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. The healers buzzing nearby suddenly found different things to do.

 Azriel and Cassian stood at the edge of the canopy, the drizzle of rain making their armor shine. "Azriel informed me of your injury- I'm impressed with your bravery." He smiled, his dark eyes making him look like a snake. 

You glanced to the shadowmaster, who nodded the slightest amount. "Did you receive my message from him?" You asked, and when he had a genuine wide grin - showing almost too many teeth - it gave you chills.

"I did in fact. I wish the same to you." He said with that deadly calm. Cassian tried to hide his laugh, Azriel remained stonefaced. "Let's take this to the war tent. Whenever you are...suitable." he glanced to your wing, still stained with crusted dry blood. 

You felt your cheeks heat slightly, and nodded. He strode out from the healers canopy and into the rain without a look back. The generals followed him, Azriel glancing back to you only for a second. 

+

Once you had mustered the strength to get out of the cot, you thanked your healers. They insisted on giving you healing potions before you departed. And tried to get you to promise to come back for a check in daily. Mobility tests, stretches and strength building. You gave them loose affirmations and took the potions without putting up too much of a fight, given that the wing still ached slightly. Two days of rest had done a lot for the healing process, but it would take at least a week before it was fully healed. 

The short walk to the war tent was cold as the mist of rain poured down. Many of the soldiers were inside or drunkenly asleep in the mud. Sitting around and waiting was not an ideal situation with a thousand males ready to fight all around. 

You pushed open the tent, shaking out your jacket on the pelt rug. Earning a scowl from the high lord, seated at the head of the table again. "This one tells me you were a sight to see in the skirmish." He said, gesturing to the shadow master. 

You glanced to Azriel, his face was blank but his cheeks had gone a duskier shade of brown. "But maybe I took that the wrong way, and what he meant was that you were a disaster, considering someone managed to put a hole in to your wing." He laced his fingers together in front of him. You curled your lip at him, ready to tell him to get his ass out there and do it himself then. 

Before you could, Azriel turned to the high lord, opening his mouth to protest but he was quickly silenced by Rhysand's dagger like eyes. The shadowmaster pressed his full lips together tightly. Looked to his feet, as if in shame. It made your head thrum with adrenaline filled rage. Rhysand - the most powerful high lord in history - coudlnt get off his ass to take care of some second class Attors himself? Perfect. Just your luck. Being hired out like the hundreds of your kind before you, only it was worse because you weren’t even getting any gold from it.

"We now have a bigger force than originally planned coming directly at us." He said softly, a dark wind organizing enemy pawns on the table to show where they spread out. how they had your forces stuck against a wall of mountains.

 "Because you were brave enough to somehow miss the group of Attors flying away..." He glared those snake eyes at Azriel again, then Rhys let out a bitter laugh. He was upset, understandably so. You could admit that. But it wasn't your fault he decided not to believe you in the first place. 

You glanced to Azriel. His face was grave as his high lord tore into both of you with a tone of a disappointed parent. Like your parent. The thought of your father made your jaw clench, your teeth grind together as you fought to not begin screaming at Rhysand.

"The two of you will see to it that this is taken care of." He took a breath, gesturing to the pawns on the table. "There is a ravine to the west of here-" His dark gifts had the pawns lifting in the air. A fist of fear clenched your stomach. You had forgotten just HOW powerful he was.

"If you cut off the bridges their advancement will be paralyzed. We then may be able to regroup and massacre our way through this group here-" He pointed to the north, a smaller force lay there. Without the flanking force able to be a threat behind you it would work. Your strategist mind flushed out the plan.

 "I expect you both to fix this - as you both caused this issue. I want it done before dawn comes." The pawns he held in the air turned to dust on the table, making a neat pile before the dark lines that indicated the ravine. Hitting his point home, in a non subtle way you supposed. Arrogant cock of a high lord.

"It will work, Rhys." Cassian said softly. He glanced to Azriel. His eyes were pinned to your wing. Your stomach flipped, you glared at Rhys. Before you could call out his plans' faults - or how terribly he was treating you and your considerable 200 units in his army- you saw Cassian shaking his head slightly at you. He rested a hand on Rhys' shoulder. The gesture stood out. The cocky high lord had a sensitive side, perhaps. Your lip curled at the thought.

As if sensing your disgust with him, Rhysand's lip curled "Now get out." He said, voice low and gravely. Cassian gestured for you and Azriel to follow him out. Rhysand reminded you so much of your own father it made you want to spit. A territorial, abusive cock without enough dignity to spare your family name.

You took a deep breath of cold air, hoping to clear your mind. It did little to shake the tension in your shoulders, or the stiffness in your jaw. Making a mental checklist of the weapons you needed to bring, you noticed Azriel following you. Or seeming to.

The shadow singer stalked past your tent, going to the west where the bridges were. "What are you doing?" You asked, jogging to catch up with him. He was already fording through the tall shrubs and grasses by the time you caught up. 

"Taking care of it. I can fix it myself." He growled. You tried to keep up with him, but the jostling was upsetting your injury. 

You put a hand on his shoulder, "Wait, hey." He shrugged you off, scoffing to himself. "I should have gone alone in the first place. I dont understand why he had to send you." He muttered, stalking deeper into the forest. The rain didn't reach you here, under the darkening shadows and mist.

Rage erupted inside you at his words - and you called out the only thing you could think of that might stop him. If he wanted to fight he could damn well stop and have an actual fight with you. "I guess you are just like all the other Illyrians after all." Your blood rushed in your ears, seeming to dampen the sound of everything. The dull hiss of the rain hitting the trees above was barely audible. 

He stood rigid, wings flaring over his shoulders, growing larger with the shadows writing around them. "Do you even have a clue what real Illyrians would do to you right now if you were talking to them like this? What a normal male would do?" He was close. Too close for comfort. Too close to not be fighting or fucking. 

"Considering my father was a very real Illyrian, yes" He stuttered at that. You'd never seen him do such a thing. It would have been funny if that angry set of his features didnt come back. You were ready for more fighting, more yelling but his face went slack, and his eyes met yours finally. They were no longer the cold dark color like in the tent with Rhysand. They were a hazel that matches the warm colors of pine bark in summer. Your heart clenched at the sight of it.

"You're like the Peacemakers, then." He muttered, referencing the old tales of mighty warriors with mixed breeding. Unfortunately a lot of that breeding was not willing. It usually never was, and it had ruined two generations of Illyrian and Peregyn pairings. "Axios was always my favorite." He smiled at the memory. You bit your lip, remembering the true stories of each hero. Not the bastardized verisons peddled throughout the realm.

The offspring became ostracized and cast out of most communities. On Prythian and on the continent. The ones who survived long enough to become trainable though were given the name Peacemakers for a reason. Known for hired bloodletting, no questions asked. 

"I hope your end is not met like theirs." He seemed to shudder at the thought. All the anger boiled out of you at his concern. 

You felt the shame begin to creep up around you. You had sold your services to make ends meet at times. It always left you with a sickening feeling in your gut after. As if the Mother herself was disappointed. "You can help that not happen." You said softly, voice barely audible. If you weren't so deep into the forest you doubted even his shadows could have heard you. "I need.. I need to find my father." Your voice trembled, he approached you slowly. Like he was approaching a wild animal. 

"It might seem-" He began coaxing, holding a hand out to you. Just like he had the other night. A question, a temptation. 

"I know your pain, shadowsinger." You took his hand, letting him lead you to a fallen tree. The soft moss growing on it was a welcome seat after walking for so long following him into the woods. "He would beat my mother and would pluck her feathers." You were grateful for your mother every second she put into resisting his influence for you. For keeping him at bay until you grew enough to be sent to the Peregryn camps for training. She never revealed your cross breeding, only that you had your wings and could use them well. Only because she had taught you. 

Azriel was quiet for a long moment, his shadows moving slowly like waves around your ankles together. "I'm - sorry.. .about your mother. I didn't know." He whispered, pausing and cursing to himself. "I can help you find him. We can look, but we need to get through those enemy lines first. I need you to help me do that." He grasped your hand lightly, as if asking.

 "Lets slice some attor, I guess." You sniffed, the cold making your nose run. At least, you blamed it on that.

+

The camp was mostly asleep by the time you got there. Under the cover of nightfall you were able to silently end most of the Fae that lurked in the camp. With everything going so smoothly, your heart lurched at the sight of Azriel falling backwards, a calling horn in his hand. His siphons flared, and it shattered. But left his siphons dull. He winced as he rolled out of the winging range of a fellow Illyrian with a flail in one hand and a mace in the other.

"Traitorous bastard." Azriel grappled with the Illyrian commander, but they were evenly matched. They knew all the same moves, sparring and sword wise. You launched yourself through the scattered bodies lining the clearing, dodging over puddles of blood and forgotten weapons. The commander had Azriel in a hold that had his wings flipped outward, and the male took the opportunity. He pressed his boot against Az's back and pulled them backward, bending them father than was natural. You roared, not bothering to waste the time to draw your weapon. 

You barreled into him, Azriels hands still reaching backwards to claw at his hands. He toppled over a stack of bodies, yanking you down with him. You scrambled away from him, hands clambering for any weapon. By the time you turned back around to face him, Azriel had already put him on his knees before you. Bending the males wings back just as he had done to the shadow singer.

Your borrowed blade went through his throat, pinning him to the ground as he kneeled. He looked like a statue in the position.  

You spat on the body. "Dont touch wings, asshole." You muttered. Azriel stared at you, as if in shock. You picked up a better looking sword from the ground nearby, wiping it on the cloth inside of your armor sleeve. "What?" You asked. Azriel seemed stunned silent. He seemed shocked in place. After you were sure there were no rogues readying to flee or informants spying, You took a breath, returning to him where he still stood beside the body of the commander.

You pointed back at the winged body speared to the ground behind him. Smiling, you titled the pose. "A prayer to the mother." His eyes went somehow even wider. 

Then he broke out in laughter. You couldnt help but join him, the high of battle making you both delirious. You laughed at his laugh, the stupid face he made laughing back at you. Laughed at the half spoken words that were cut off by more breathless giggles. 

Your sides ached by the time you both sat around the enemy fire, enjoying their spoils of war from a nearby town. The roasted duck smelled particularly good. Azriel heated a pot of tea over the coals, throwing in fresh pine needles from a tree nearby. 

"You know-" He handed you your cup of tea. It was warm in your palm, but his hands were still somehow hotter than the boiling water. He blew on his cup, the steam not going much farther than what his shadows allowed. They seemed to almost play in it. "I am sorry about your mother. I understand why you regard some of us with such...distaste." He put the lid back on the pot and took it off the fire. He looked so natural doing...normal things. Not just posturing for his court and killing. 

You nodded in thanks, not needing too many words with him. "She fled the week after I was formally invited to train in the Peregryn ranks. He found her, and killed her for leaving him. My court holds no rules against such things. He hasn't suffered for it." Your voice shook at the end. "Yet, that is. This.." You gestured to the battlefield, the bodies behind you. "This is just along the way. Killing him will be my destiny. My retribution for my mother." You sipped your tea, letting the burn of it sink in. You hoped it would warm your insides.

"I miss my mother as well." He said, taking a gingerly sip of his tea. He stretched his wings, you could tell by the hesitant way he folded them back in that they pained him. You made a mental note to give him one of your healing potions when you returned to camp.

You sat in silence with him until that fire burned out, and only dull coals were left.

+

"I'm glad you both seemed to have fun. Is the camp clear?" Cassian hissed, following you to the war tent. You sipped your mead, nodding. "Yes, oh strategic one. The bridges are cut too, courtesy of yours truly." You winked at him, making him stop in his tracks. Azriel patted him on the shoulder without a word, then followed you into the tent where Rhys waited. Wrathful or not, you knew he had no rights to tell you off this time. 

Azriel's hazel eyes met your own as you entered the tent together.

[harrylilies]

The Royal Series | Pt. III

The Royal Series Masterlist

---

"Care to tell me what's on your mind?" Harry asked softly as you sat on his kitchen counter while he made pancakes for a late-night snack, something your nutritionist would've scolded you for. "What happened?"

You stopped swinging your dangling feet, your eyes fixated on the floor. "Had a fight with Granny."

"The Queen?" Harry whispered reluctantly.

You nodded. "We call her Granny,” you said, “Look, Harry," gulping, you looked up at him, "I don't know your intentions and I don't know what the future holds but," you paused, "But I, you know," you shrugged, watching Harry raise an eyebrow at you, egging you to say it.

"You know," Your hands were wild as you spoke, body temperature hot enough to have you fidgeting.

"I really don't." He chuckled.

You groaned, letting your hands fall on your lap. "I like you, alright?!" Harry grinned, turning the stove off before crossing his arms across his chest, facing you.

"And it's so crazy, it feels like that cartoon movie, Frozen, is it? But I feel like I've known you for so long. I've never," you paused again before slumping and letting out a chuckle, "I've never been on a date with someone who didn't talk about my status or family the entire date and you didn't do it all 4 times. I won't blame you if you run off, it's a heavy baggage and now I'm rambling about me liking you and I know I'm going to regret this moment in a few hours bu-"

With his hands cupping your cheeks, Harry interrupted you with his lips on yours. You were still for a moment before allowing yourself to get completely lost into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his were around your waist.

It wasn't until you both needed to breath did you pull away. "My intentions are good." He whispered, slowly opening his eyes.

You nodded, a faint smile on your lips. "Good."

"And I like you, too."

You bit your lip to contain the wide grin, "Good."

"Just good?" He chuckled, leaning down to peck your lips one more time.

"I mean, you're alright." You joked, leaning back to look at him.

Harry rolled his eyes, chuckling nonetheless.

He looked down, before sighing and picking his head up. "So, what now?"

"What?" You asked him quietly.

"What do I do to be with you? What do I need to do to have you?" He asked gently, intently staring into your eyes.

Your breath hitched in your throat for a second. Soothingly, you let your hand rest on his cheek. "Nothing," you shook your head. "Just want you as who you are, nothing else."

"But your famil-"

"Will understand." You finished for him. "We're not going to rush anything, alright? I'll let you think. I know, Harry," You nodded with a smile. "I know how hard this is."

And the kiss you both then shared was all the assurance each of you needed.

---

"I'm tired." You groaned, resting your head on the couch beside Meghan, who was soon to be your sister-in-law.

"Oh, hush. You've been picking flowers with us only for 2 hours." She laughed.

"Who picks flowers for 2 hours? They're flowers! All flowers are beautiful." You said, looking at her with your eyebrows raised.

"Not my fault your family's uptight." She said quietly under her breath, raising her eyebrow at you.

"It's your wedding, Markle. Do whatever you want."

"If it weren't for your brother, I probably would've ended up marrying you." She joked, letting her head fall on your shoulder with a tired sigh.

"No, you're too old for me."

She laughed, swatting your arm.

"My gals!" You heard your brother, Har's voice, seeing him enter the room with a grin on his face, his hair tousled on his head. "How was it?" He asked, leaning down to peck Meghan's lips and to press a kiss on the top of your head. "Thank you for helping her, Tiny."

You smiled up at him, "Only helping because I love her."

"Love you, too, baby sis." Meghan dramatically threw her arms around you, squishing you in a hug, making you laugh.

"Any updates?" Your brother asked as he sat on the chair in front of you.

"About?"

"The lad you decided to like who also shares the same name as yours truly. Short hair, green eyes, tall, sings, ca-"

"Woah there, fanboy. Someone did their research." You laughed, eyebrows going up.

"Have to," he shrugged. "Now, answer me, will you?"

"We're taking it slow. Told him to think, let it sink in a couple of days ago. It's a heavy baggage. You'd know." You said, looking at Meghan who nodded.

"It is heavy but if it's meant to be, it falls into place." She assured you, looking at Harry for a moment.

Har nodded, "You're doing it right, Tiny. Granny loves you; she'll learn to accept your choices. She just wants to cling to what she had to do when she was your age, and with Will and I not marrying someone from royal blood or whatever the fuck she calls it, it’s just some added pressure on you. She'll come along."

You sighed, nodding. "I hope so."

---

"Charity conference?" You asked you assistant as you took off your earrings.

"Done." She confirmed, tapping on her iPad.

"The dinner meeting?"

"Done."

"Do I have anything else planned for tonight?" You asked her, turning around and facing her.

"No, you're free for the rest of the night and tomorrow morning. You have dinner with your siblings and Prince Charles tomorrow at 7."

You nodded, "I remember. Thank you so much, Em." You smiled at her, patting her shoulder, "Don't know what I'd do without you."

"Be so lost that you’d be a disgrace of the family?" She giggled, shrugging.

"True." You pointed at her, “But I think I’m already working on that.”

You and Emilie go 4 years back.

She was 22 when she got the job as your assistant and was someone whom you were comfortable around as she wasn't too formal. She was the perfect mix of professionalism and laidback and definitely saved you from embarrassment and trouble countless times.

Your phone rang on your nightstand, making you hurry towards it. You smiled, instantly answering. "Hello?"

"Think I can steal you for the night?"

You glanced at Em who had a teasing smirk on her face, watching you with her arms crossed over her chest. You blushed, turning the other way. "Think you can."

"I'll pick you up from the same place I came to on first date, is that alright?"

"It's perfect, yes."

"Wear something comfortable. I'll see you in 20, love."

"See you." You hung up, looking back at Em, "Stop looking at me like that, you doughnut."

"I'm not looking at you like anything." She shrugged, "In fact I won't look at you like anything at all, I'll just leave."

"I hate you sometimes." You laughed, throwing your fluffed pillow at her, making her laugh and blow you a sarcastic kiss.

You wore your former university's crewneck sweatshirt and leggings before putting on your converse. You took your hair out of the fancy bun it was in, letting it into waves.

A knock startled you, making you face your bedroom door. "Come in!"

The door opened and in came your father, Prince Charles. "Oh, you're going somewhere?"

"I'm just meeting someone, Pa. Is everything alright?" You asked, using the name you loved to use to call him instead of the “daddy” you were raised to say.

He smiled, nodding. "I just wanted to check on you before leaving."

You tilted your head, smiling. "Is that really why?"

He chuckled, shaking his head and pointing his finger at you. "Smart like your mother."

You chuckled softly, your eyes falling to the ground. He took your hand softly in his, sitting you both down on the sofa. "I heard about him."

You let out a quiet groan — something you've been doing for a while now. "Granny?"

He nodded. "She told me how this isn't good for you and for the image.” When you remained quiet, he continued, "Want to know what I said?"

You looked at him and nodded, your heart thumping in your chest.

"Told her you should control your own life."

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him. "Thank you so much, Pa."

"Whether this is long-term or not, I want you to experience life on your own, darling. I want you to experience everything and try. I don't want you to look back at your life and frown." He rubbed your back soothingly, talking gently. "And I don't just mean the young man you're seeing, I mean your whole life. Make mistakes, so what? As long as you survive and know how to handle it, then do it."

You nuzzled your face in his shoulder, squeezing him. "I love you, Pa."

"I love you, too, darling. Now go, I believe you have somewhere to be." He pulled back, giving you a smile. With a kiss to his cheek, you scurried off.

---

What you hadn’t expected, was seeing Harry leaning against a red pickup truck as you got out of the car.

“What is this?” You asked warily with excitement.

“Rented this baby for the night.”

"Are you for real?" You grinned, looking at the in front of you with Harry leaning on the passenger door, a bashful smile on his face. "That's not it." He said, reaching out with his hand, letting you put your hand in his and follow him where he stopped in front of the cargo bed, making you see the duvet covering it and about 10 pillows to make it comfortable. "The stars look great tonight and I figured we can watch them. Together."

You let out a laugh, looking at him in pure amusement. "Then let's star gaze."

Holding your hand in his and helping you inside the truck, he pecked your lips quickly before shutting the door and making his way towards the driver's seat. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere where your guards won't look at me like I'm stabbing you." Harry chuckled, driving off.

None of you were sure when or how, it might have happened after you accidentally switched to a children radio station, but you and Harry were singing lullabies as he drove.

"Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop, when the wind blows, the cradle will rock," You and Harry sang quietly, your hand out of the window as you drove down the road.

"When the bough breaks," Harry sang.

"The cradle will fall," You motioned with your hands as if something was falling.

"And down will come baby, cradle and all." You both sang, giggling as you finished.

Down a dirt-road, Harry stopped the truck.

Right as you were about to open the door, Harry beat you to it, opening it and holding his palm out for you to take. You both walked to the back of the truck, Harry’s hands on your waist as he helped you up.

He jumped in, making sure you were comfortable and had enough pillows before he lied on his back, you mirroring him as he put a blanket on top of you. You smiled, looking at the sky in front of you.

"The stars do look wonderful." You whispered, tilting your head towards him.

Harry didn't reply, only grazing your hand with his. "I thought about it."

You turned your face towards him, your eyes skimming over his features, knowing what he was talking about. "Yeah?"

Harry looked back at you, his fingers moving to intertwine yours. "I'm willing to take the risk, Y/N."

You grinned, sitting up and leaning on your elbow. "You know you can tell me you don't want to do this, right? I'd understand."

He chuckled, rolling his eyes at you before leaning on his elbow, his face close to yours. "Y/N," Harry let out a laugh, raising his eyebrows, "I literally just told you I want to do this. I want to be with you."

You let out a breath, slumping down, resting your head on the pillow with a dumbfound smile. Harry's dimples were seen as he smiled, looking down at you.

"I'll do my best, Y/N." He whispered.

Looking into Harry's green eyes, you replied, "And that's all that matters."

Harry leaned down, capturing your lips with his. "I'm traveling in a couple of days."

"Way to ruin the mood, Styles."

Harry laughed, throwing his head back. "I'm sorry, I had to. I still have to finish my tour." His hand found your cheek, seeming to not know how to stop himself from caressing your skin softly.

"How long will you be gone?"

"2 weeks before I'm back again for a week."

"Think we can make the most of these two days?" You asked, your face leaning against his palm.

"Think we can." Was what he said before pressing his lips against yours.

---

"The plane goes," you dragged before picking Charlotte up and spinning her, "Whoooosh!"

She laughed excitedly as you let her down on her feet. "Again, Titi, again!"

Titi was Charlotte's way of saying "auntie", something that had the entire family swooning.

"You'll get dizzy, love. Let's sit down for a bit, alright?" You sat on the grass, Charlotte plopping on your lap. "Oof!" You joked, lying on your back with your arms spread, making her laugh.

"Titi! Up! Wake up!" She lied on your chest, making you wrap your arms around her.

You opened your eyes, seeing her face close to yours, your noses almost touching. "Where's your brother?"

"Which one?"

"Smart girl." You chuckled.

"Auntie!" You heard your other favourite voice, making you look towards the voice.

"There's my Prince!" You grinned, watching George run towards you with a grin, William behind him.

George fell in your arms, wrapping his small arm on his sister who rested her head on your chest. "How was the meeting?" You asked your brother, squinting your eyes as you looked at him.

"Eventful. I'm glad it's done." He sat down on the grass beside you, his legs in front of him as he leaned on his palms. "How was your little night getaway, Juliet?" He teased you.

"What's with everyone teasing me?" You furrowed your eyebrows, looking at your nephew and niece, "Papa isn't being nice, bubs."

"Papa!" They both scolded, raising their heads and looking at him.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He raised one hand up defensively, making you laugh.

"To answer your question, it was nice." You smiled at him before looking at George and Charlotte who were playing with the tassel in your blouse.

"Did you both talk?"

You nodded, "We did. Gave him a couple of days to think and grasp everything."

"From what I read about him, h-"

"Please tell me you didn't actually do that, Will." You laughed, shaking your head at him.

"Of course, I did!" He replied instantly, "Let me finish, will you? As I was saying, from what I read, he seems decent. Kind lad."

"He is, Will. He's," You paused, looking for the right word. "He feels so real, you know? Like he's effortless. He's easy to be around and you wouldn't question him. He's not- not fishy, you know? Fake in other words."

"All that you knew from what? A month?" William smiled, letting his hand stroke your hair.

You nodded, "Isn't hard to pick up."

"I support you, Tiny. As long as you keep looking after my children while I treat their mother." He joked, ruffling your hair.

"Disgusting. I think 3 is enough."

"I didn't mean it like that!" He laughed, "When did you become so vulgar?"

"When you left me with George 4 years ago and now look, he's not your only child."

[rebelliousties]

The day had been... quiet. Far too quiet, really, given how life in Dottore's laboratory typically was. The harbinger was nowhere to be found, and Kazuha was left to his lonesome, locked in the small room that had been deemed his since his arrival- the only signs of life beyond that door being a small meal dropped off sometime around what may have been noon. It's peaceful. It's suspicious.

And it’s as the sun begins to dip into late evening that it comes crashing to a harsh end. The typical Fatui guards that open the door and fall into their rhythm of harsh grabs, pulls, pushes, wrists fixed behind Kazuha’s back with the usual restraints, and when they drag him up and onto his feet and begin to pull him along, all of it is as it should be… until they take a turn they haven’t before. Led into a different part of the lab, further and further from any sense of normalcy that had been allowed to grow in what time Kazuha had been in the laboratory. Down countless flights of stairs until they’re well within the bowels of the laboratory where little more than the glow of lanterns shows where one is headed.

With little grace and with even less explanation, he is brought to a small room, and from there pushed through a rather large door that locks shut with a loud clink behind him-- Leaving him alone in… quite the arena. A massive stone area stained well with blood and guts, the overwhelming stench of death and defeat-- and a voice from a balcony far above, safe from any of the carnage.

“Good afternoon, Kaedehara,” Dottore calls down with a little wave of the hand and a positively punch-worthy grin on his face. “Welcome to Haeresys.”

Something behind a door on the other side of the arena makes a rather-- horrific noise.

“I won’t bore you with the petty details,” the doctor continues, resting his chin on his hand as he stares downwards, palming something in his hand that- after a moment- he tosses down without care into the center of the arena.

“Do try to survive as long as you can- It’d be simply dreadful if this was where you met your fate…” Standing up a bit straighter, he makes a motion to one of the scientists standing beside him, who quickly scuttles off into the darkness to do archons knows what. “Best of luck~!” is the last thing the doctor has to say- presumably, at least. All other words are drowned out, in any case, as the other door in the arena opens wide and unleashes a monstrosity.

Quiet once had been a blessing in his life, it used to mean peace, a moment of rest and recovery, the much needed silence between the constant run and clash of steel, the clarity of mind that came with feeling the nature he cherished all around him instead of blood on his hands and clothes.

It used to be good, healing, something he could enjoy.

Quiet was dreadful at best, now. Quiet was the time stretching beyond what his mind could truly grasp anymore, it was the suffocating, stagnant air of a room he had already memorized in a few days, so small he didn't just feel trapped anymore, he felt like he couldn't breathe. Quiet was too much and too little time at once in that place, it was what forced his mind to wander, to linger on all the wrong memories, to think so loudly the idea alone of once again throwing all his weight against the door in pitiful, desperate attempts to just escape- that idea was growing more and more tempting each second ( minute? Hour? ) that passed. And maybe he would, just to do something, to let physical pain stave off the growing restlessness in his mind that kept threatening to drive him insane in there.

This quiet fake peace was just more time for the bastard to prepare. Quiet was danger. It was a growing threat the more it went on.

There wasn't even the false blessing of white noise, of footsteps and light chat and life to be heard through the door. Only him in this prison with the stench of chemicals still choking him after so long, for hours on end, alongside those faint traces of blood he could still pick up. There had been too much blood in this place before.

Kazuha could imagine far too easily the screams that must've plagued this room, wondered how many there had been before him. Could even imagine his own limp body adding to the spilled blood. A morbid thought that felt almost too detached, that kept him from wandering too much into what already festered deep in his mind and nightmares. Anything as long as he could stop thinking so much when sleep refused to come to him.

Sore muscles tensed as soon as Kazuha heard the door creaking open, pushing back the instinct screaming at him to fight as soon as they laid a hand on him- he couldn't risk it, not again, no matter how much he would've liked nothing more than to listen to it, to fight and kick and bite and run.

A hiss, a low growl as they pushed him, and Kazuha was quiet once again, glaring like poison, seething as they dragged him around halls he was growing too familiar with. Anger wasn't enough to dismiss and ignore the increasing pounding of his heart the more they walked, however- he knew already what was coming.

Or so he thought.

A turn he didn't recognize, and Kazuha was already more aware than before, eyes darting around in search of that sickening routine he had been forced to accept ever since being brought here. New was just as much of a threat as normal here, but at least he knew what to expect with normal, could brace himself and take it.

( Maybe this would finally be the time he wouldn't walk back out, wouldn't wake up again in that suffocating cell- )

They reached their destination before Kazuha even knew it, trying however he could to find any new way out, to smooth over a panicked heart trying to claw out of his ribcage, barely registering the new room until he was all but shoved inside and into somewhere bigger-

-and immediately, he recoiled, eyes shut and a hand slapped over his mouth, far too sensitive nose scrunched and what little food he might've still had in his stomach already threatening to come back up. It wasn't just lingering in the air- everything here reeked of death, tried to drown him in it, the essence and soul itself of countless lost lives staining the walls and ground.

The mention of his name is enough to snap him out of it, to try and push through the nauseating feeling, remembering where he is, already knowing what's about to happen, deep, shaky breaths through the urge to gag. It's not enough to let him return the thrill with his own bitterness this time, not when he realizes where he's standing.

And then he sees something thrown in there, cautious at first- until he recognizes it, a mad run for it. Kazuha was more desperate than he wanted to show, but it didn't matter, not right now, not when he finally could feel the cold, polished surface of his vision once again in his hands. could feel the comforting wind at his side and even the wild, buzzing electro rebelling within in. Right there and then, Kazuha felt alive. More than he had in too long to count.

He felt like he could take on the storm again, now. Whatever was coming, whatever the mad man wanted to throw at him now, Kazuha would take it and return it in kind.

He reached for his sword, felt it within his vision- and stopped there, feeling it just within reach, only needing to push a little further to feel its weight manifest in his hand.

It was a split second decision, pulling his hand away, vision held close instead. Even with how slim his chances might end up being without it- he couldn't summon it, not now. So long as he watching him like a rat in cage thought this was all, thought he was capable of little more than groveling in the dirt, Kazuha still had some hope to hold onto, flickering as it may be. He'd keep his head low and his secrets close if it meant getting to stomp on the doctor until he heard the crack of bones and saw the door opening.

He had to survive.

If he could just push through this one fight, enough to let his vision push him, reach that high then-

"W-what..."

The shock leaves him into words before he can even think of it.

His eyes widen as soon as the... thing is allowed out into the arena, easily towering over him. Whatever this is, twisted and contorted limbs where they don't belong, blood and drool splattering the ground as it gargled and sounded like it was choking on it, scales and fur and skin- who knows what else mixed in with one too many eyes- Kazuha doesn't want to know what it is, what it is supposed to be or how it even came into being. It's almost enough for him to falter, everything yelling at him to just run as soon as it settles its sights on him.

And he listens, vision clutched in his left hand, hard enough he can feel the metal edges biting into his skin, anemo gathering at his feet at his command, blood rushing and heart pounding into his ears as he lets it loose, up in the air before the thing can touch him. For a moment, at least one thing feels right, feels as it should be, the power he was once so used to flowing freely in his veins and very soul again as it should've. It gives him confidence, at least a bit more than before.

But as much as he wished nothing more than to relish in the wind he longed for all this time, now isn't the moment for it- he looks down, sees the abomination turning around, trying to find him, and he knows he has to move fast, there is no time for hesitation. No time to wonder whether or not what he was about to kill had once been human. He wouldn't put it past a bastard like Dottore, stomach twisted into knots at the thought alone.

There is no sword in his hand, no blade to make quick work of anything as he once would've, but it's fine- Kazuha has dealt with worse than not having a weapon. When it came to fighting for his life, he was too familiar with it. And so, right before he's going to plunge down, he allows the angry surge of electro to run wild, tries to redirect as much of it as he can to his hand and ignore the stinging of an old scar. He needs to help guide it with the aid of anemo to even try fashioning it into something useful- and then he's diving down on the thing, hand thrust forward, skin crackling and tingling- and the creature is shrieking as soon as he strikes, blood bursting.

Shrieking- but still alive. And angry, if the sudden way it lashes out, eyes twitching, trying to locate him, is anything to go by. He needs to move- but no matter how much power he's holding once again, it's still pushing an already bruised, exhausted body well beyond his limits.

Something grabbed him, slammed into him before he could let the winds push him away, shoved him right into the wall behind him, a choked gasp as he felt something cracking and then crumpled to the floor, will the only thing letting his hand clench tighter around the vision, like the act alone of letting go of it would be what finally killed him.

And for a moment... he almost wants to let it all end there.

Kazuha is tired- exhausted. Bloodied and bruised and trying so desperately to just hold on when there wasn't even a good reason to, when nothing changed and it all kept being just a blur of pain, darkness, empty nothing and spiraling into thoughts he didn't want.

He could've just let this thing crush him, tear him apart, and Dottore wouldn't have been able to do anything this time, wouldn't have had anything to resuscitate anymore. He can feel it shake the ground with each step, slowly turning around, can smell blood upon blood that makes him want to just throw up. He can hear too clearly after the muddy feeling of being underwater faded, hears every twitch and shift and any other unnatural thing it's doing.

His sight is already blurry, struggling to focus, head heavy, dizzy even as he laid there on the ground.

And then, Kazuha pushes himself on his knees, heavy breath as he tries to pull some air back into strained lungs, nearly stumbles on trembling arms, fingers digging into dirt. He could give up now. But he refuses to, even when there's no point in persevering, when he's nothing more than cheap entertainment for a crazed mind too far gone.

He's come too far, survived too much, carried so many burdens on his shoulders. Giving up is out of the question.

He has people to go back to, people he hopes are still waiting for him. They would never let him hear the end of it if he gave up now, would they?

Focus, Kazuha. There is still a winning chance here, beyond putting a miserable creature out of its misery. He can go directly for the head right now, dethrone that mockery of a fake god.

If he could just get through this one...

Focus. The creature is finding him again, eyes starting to focus. Despite how much everything hurts, every little movement sending tortured nerves into a rage, flaring all over his body, Kazuha forces it to move, to push him back on his feet, the wind picking up and electricity dancing at his fingertips untamed. A weak spot, he needs to find a weak spot-

It reacted to pain. Its exterior wasn't invulnerable. Whether it had been his anemo, his electro or the combination of both, something had damaged it. It wasn't indestructible. He could kill it.

As soon as it was charging again, Kazuha reacted, allowed the electro to move him, all finesse and grace he held with the anemo thrown aside- he had no time for precise movements, survival was what mattered. He allowed it to charge into the wall behind him, came to a halt in his own rush to dodge in a weird mix of a roll and a land on his feet that made him wince and almost fall again, pushing through the pain to turn around and see the thing flailing as it tried to recover.

He needs to move now-

Anemo pushes him up in the air, where he feels like he belongs, electro propels him forward like a spark, gritting his teeth against the sudden surge tearing through his body and the lightning he cannot tame, until he gets where he wants to be- lands right on the thing's back(?), digs his free hand into the previous wound, grimacing as he felt the blood oozing out and hoping there isn't more mixed in there. The thing bristles, coarse and messily put together fur rising, but Kazuha pays it no mind, not yet, just tries to secure his footing before he can fall under claws of who knows how many different animals and be torn to shreds right there and then.

And right there, he screams- raw and feral and just angry, furious, digging his hand further into the burning wound, as deep as he can push it. Then- he lets it all loose.

Kazuha has been well aware of just how dangerous something as innocent looking as anemo could be. Has learned all the ways he could think of using it, has learned to polish it from the carefree, gentle breezes into a sharp, cold weapon, it's like a beast he has tamed and carried at his side, the winds bristling around him like bared fangs. It served as a threat, as a way to deter people before his sword was unsheathed, never really had the chance to do more than that.

Now, he'd let that beast get out.

And it's messy. He disregards the agony in his arm, just lets the burst of anemo loose like a hurricane, lets the electro that had already burned him once follow and seep into the winds- and it's like a bomb has been set loose inside the thing, pushing and pushing and tearing until tissue and skin alike give into to the pressure. There is another shriek, almost making him feel some more pity for the thing before it quiets down and its body goes limp. When Kazuha gets his arm back, it's a mess, not sure which blood is his and which is it, numb to the cold and shock it had to carry.

And as he stands there in blissful silence, vision still held tightly and too tired to care about all the blood, Kazuha looks up.

He's glaring through all the trembling and panting of a tortured enough body and soul, directly at Dottore, so much hatred and fury in burning crimson like blood, there is a clear threat there even without words.

He won. And now Dottore is next.

Kazuha doesn't say anything, doesn't even have the energy to, heart in a frenzy and blood rushing in his veins. He just lifts a foot, takes a step forward, lets the winds gather at his feet again-

-and his eyes go wide at the pure agony that shoots up his body with that simple action.

Before he can even try to correct himself, he sways, falls off the corpse and can barely rush the wind to catch his fall, but it's not enough. The vision is still in his hand, the electro is rushing through his veins more than his blood is by now, like trying to rage and push him forward, trying to tell him to get up, the chance he needed is right here-

Kazuha gasps, his grip on the vision is going slack without meaning to, his fingers still desperately clawing at it, his arms not responding much beyond that, his legs too heavy to move.

Not like this, not-

Before he can do anything else, carry on what he had been hoping for, right as he saw that sliver of an opportunity, of an escape, his sight blurs more and more, the dark spot dancing around the edges growing- and then he's blessed with nothingness.

[queenof-literature]

Hero of Wild - Chapter 6

I’m sorry about the delay… again… life really does get in the way sometimes doesn’t it? Anyway, I’m kinda planning my timelines/series as I go along, so if things don’t correlate I will try to fix them later. There’s also been some confusion about my story timelines and why Wild can talk in some stories and not in others. Sorry for the confusion! In my stories if WIld can talk then it takes place after this series which is a work in progress. For any questions to the order of my stories, please visit my Masterlist on my Tumblr, @queenof-literature. Thank you as always for the insane amount of support. Love you all and hope you’re doing well!

**This fic portrays Selective Mutism and trouble with speech how I and my peers have experienced it**

TW: Taunting/Bullying (No slurs), Minor Panic Attack 

Wild was still a mystery. It had been more than a week since Wild had joined their little crew. Sky and everyone else thought they were done receiving heroes, but Hylia still had surprises for them it seemed. Oh well, Hylia did what she thought was best, and Wild was a good person to have around. After the first time they saw him fight that Lynel, no one could deny that. Yet Sky couldn’t help but wonder why Hylia waited so long. Why make Wild more of an outsider than necessary by waiting more than two months to introduce him? Sky knew he would probably never know the answer, Hylia did what she needed to, but it was still something he questioned. They were back in Wild’s Hyrule once again, even though they were just here a week ago. After Wild’s Hyrule the first time, they went to Sky’s, then a random one, then back to Wild’s again for seemingly no reason. Sky hadn’t even gotten to see Zelda before he left his own Hyrule… it was just frustrating. But Sky tried not to let it show, getting mad wouldn’t help anyone. Sky looked back at Wild, who was doing his best to keep his distance from the group. Well as much as he could, Warriors and Twilight seemed to be worried that him and Hyrule would wander off again to ‘shield surf’. 

“Hey Wild?” Sky called out lowly. Wild looked up, eyes full of question and apprehension. He didn’t seem to be in a talk- signing mood today. “Are we still going down the right path?” The Links were currently traveling through a small patch of trees after what Wild had called Proxim Bridge, heading straight towards what seemed to be two large mountains, or one that was split right down the middle. Wild nodded, lifting his hands to sign. 

‘The path is straight through the mountains to the stable.’ Sky remembered Wild telling Time there was a stable after the mountain, but it was unusual for Wild to direct them down a large path. Even knowing him for a little over a week, Sky knew that Wild absolutely hated traveling main roads on foot.

“Okay, thanks Wild.” Sky smiled back at him. Wild had seemed to come out of his head slightly, awkwardly coming up to walk a shorter distance from Sky. The older assumed it was in case anyone else had questions. He didn’t mean to make Wild uncomfortable, he just wanted to be sure they weren’t lost. Wild glanced at him, as if expecting him to make small talk the boy obviously wasn’t comfortable at the moment. “We don’t have to talk, we can just walk.” Sky offered, low enough so only Wild could hear him. The other boy simply nodded, though Sky could see the grateful look in his eyes. 

The group walked in, a mix of lulled conversation and comfortable silence sweeped over them, and it was moments like these that Sky could simply appreciate his surroundings. As they approached the looming cliffs, Sky couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of it all. Wild’s Hyrule was savage and massive and overwhelming, but it was also beautiful. The tall rocky walls reflected the bright afternoon sun, the rocks a deep navy blue instead of ominous gray. 

Sky felt a small tap on his shoulder and looked towards his companion.

“Yes, Wild?” Sky questioned softly, doing his best to not draw attention to them.

‘There’s some monster camps between the cliffs. They usually leave people alone but we need to stay on the path.’ Wild signed to Sky. Even after that small of a conversation, Wild seemed to slump down a little further. It was almost unnoticeable, but Sky was always good at reading people. Wild said the stable was almost directly after the end of the mountain path, so hopefully he would be able to run off and recharge while the rest of the group stayed at the stable for the night. 

“Guys.” Sky called out, gathering the other’s attention. “Wild says that there’s monster camps coming up, but we should be ignored if we stay on the path.” Wild looked slightly flustered that Sky had spoken up for him, but he sent a grateful nod in the older’s direction. 

“When isn’t there a horde of monsters in this Hyrule.” Legend grumbled. No one could really tell if he truly hated Wild’s Hyrule or if he was just being sarcastic. It was hard to tell with him sometimes. 

“Thanks for the heads up, Wild.” Time interrupted, nodding his thanks to Sky for relaying the message. 

The group continued on along the river, looking up in wonder when they finally entered the enclosed path. 

“Is that a shrine up there, Wild?” Wind pointed widely to the blue glow in the distance. The rest of the group turned their attention on Wild, who squirmed slightly under their gaze.

‘Yes. One here, two on top.’ Wild signed quickly to get their attention somewhere else. Sky wanted to ask about their challenges, since Wild’s trials really interested all of them, but thought better of it when he remembered how uncomfortable Wild seemed in their large group today.

“We sure we should just leave those camps there?” Legend asked, glancing between the screaming Bokoblins and the Lizalfos swimming in the rushing river.

“If you want to fight them all, be my guest.” Warriors snarked. 

“Wild said it’s fine.” Time gruffed, halting that argument before it started. As much as Time wanted to kill any monsters possible to avoid future incidents, in Wild’s land they just seemed to keep coming. Plus the boys were all weary. Even Legend seemed to dread the very idea he brought up.

Wild felt a cold hand squeeze his heart. If they got attacked after Wild explicitly that it would probably be safe, then would they ever trust Wild again? Even if they did, Wild would never forgive himself…

“Is that the stable ahead?” Hyrule asked, glancing at the rustic horse head in the distance. Wild nodded a little dumbly, not noticing how far they had made it. 

“Yes!” Wind yelled, and the group sped up with newfound energy. Stops on their journey were always a relief, no matter how brief they were. 

~

After the group finally emerged from the cliffs above, the stable was in plain sight. The group crossed a flat rickety bridge. It reminded Twilight of the bridges the other children in Ordon would claim had trolls beneath. Wild called it Big Twin Bridge, although it certainly wasn’t big compared to some of the bridges the other Links had seen. 

As they approached the group felt the same warm aura that Wild’s stables seemed to radiate. The first thing Twilight noticed was the pen of animals every stable seemed to have. 

“Are those goats?” Twilight asked Wild, thinking back to the apparent sheep the last stable had. Wild nodded with a small smirk, already knowing Twilight well enough to know the older would go greet the goats when there was time. There were few people at the stable besides the group of nine, but that seemed to be normal for Wild’s Hyrule. Once again, they saw a scrawny young man carrying a beetle shaped bag three times his size.

“Is he everywhere?” Legend whispered incredulously to Warriors.

‘Beetle.’ Wild finger spelled to them.

“Is that his name?” Warriors laughed, only laughing harder when Wild nodded.

~

  “Wild? Are you coming inside?” Four asked, nodding his head to the other Links filing inside the stable to relax around the small table within. Wild shook his head and gestured vaguely to the fire pot. 

“But… Dinner isn’t until a lot later?” Four’s brow furrowed, looking towards the sun in the middle of the sky. 

‘Has to simmer.’ Wild signed fingerspelling the last word Four didn’t recognize, and Four mentally shelved the word for ‘simmer’ he just learned. 

“Okay… but will you come inside after it starts to simmer?” Four questioned, genuinely confused as to why Wild seemed hesitant about going inside. Wild bit his lip then nodded slowly. “Wild… you know that you can do what you need to do in your Hyrule? If you have someone you need to see or something, just let Time or Warriors know. We’ve all had to take care of business in our Hyrule.” Four assured. He couldn’t tell for sure why Wild seemed quiet. Well… more than usual. It didn’t just seem like a bad day like when he and Hyrule went shield surfing, it felt like far more than that. He thought back to his conversation with Hyrule. Perhaps Wild had something to do, but he was too scared to say anything. It was worth a shot. To his dismay, Wild simply smiled a little and nodded. So that wasn’t it, it seemed. 

“Let me know if you need any help.” Four finished, shoving down his disappointment. Hopefully Wild would be able to let someone know if he got too bad… as slim of a chance as it was. Wild signed a quick thank you before heading to the cooking pot.

~

Hylia, he hoped they weren’t here, but he knew they would be. The ‘Treasure Hunting Bros’, still looking for treasure Link had found in under an hour. Link had made the grave mistake of trying to tell them that he had already found it. They gave him the riddle, teasing him, not expecting him to really find it. Even if their arrogance was infuriating, he didn’t want them to spend months, if not years, wasting their time for treasure that wouldn’t even be there if they found it. When he attempted to sign, they rudely waved him off. He hadn’t tried to talk that much to others verbally since he left the shrine. The times he did it didn’t go… well… but he could feel the words on his tongue if he could just push them out, he’d be fine! He tried to approach them, tried to warn them.

“I…” The first word tumbled out of his mouth, hot streaks of pain clawed up this throat. “I… f-foun… I foun-” Link felt frustration and fear only closing his throat more. Why was this so hard? He could feel the words, he could feel his mouth form to say them, why couldn’t he just get them out?

“Uhh, are you okay?” Prissen, the one on the right asked with a laugh.

“Tre-rea-” Link’s words bubbled in the back of his throat only to slur and stutter and eventually die before they even had a chance to leave. 

“You sound like a demented toddler, man. Have some water or something.” Prissen giggled out, and Wild felt his throat flame up even more. Somehow the white hot pain was still so cold.

“I don’t have time for this.” Dak snapped. “Either say whatever you’re babbling about or leave.”

So Wild left.

~

Sky didn’t know whether or not he should be worried about Wild. The boy was quiet, but that wasn’t unusual. The newest Link reminded Sky so much of himself it actually hurt some days. Sky had his bad days, but it was better now.

Wild however, he never spoke a single word. No one could touch him without him panicking and reaching for his sword. The group didn’t want to approach him like a spooked animal, but no one was quite sure what to do. Wild didn’t need to talk, or accept hugs and pats on the back to be truly a part of the group. They would accept their Brother of Courage no matter what, but Sky truly was worried there was something deeper going on. Something the Hero of Sky couldn’t fix.

Looking at the boy sitting by the fire outside the stable, Sky felt more lost than he had in a long time. Sky’s eye twitched as once again the two men conversing in the stable got too loud. Their constant whispering and occasional yell was even getting Sky slightly irritated, but there was nothing to do, they were in a public place.

“It’s him.” The one in blue snickered, now that he was paying attention Sky realized that their ‘whispers’ weren’t even secretive at all. Sky wondered who they were even talking about. It seems the one in red had the same question. 

“Who?” The one in red snapped irritably.

“That one!” To Sky’s confusion and worry, he not-so-discreetly pointed directly at Wild outside. The entire group subtly perked up at the mention of their new member. Some in the group were used to praise and whispers, however, this didn’t sound like praise.

“Is that the one that you said sounded and I quote ‘like a demented toddler’.” The one in red asked in a deadpan voice, much to the group's shock. Did that mean what Sky thought it meant? He heard shuffling and expected Warriors to be holding Legend back, he did not expect to turn and see it was the other way around.

“Just wait a second you idiot.” Legend snapped in a low whisper. “We need more information first.” Warriors took a deep breath and sagged slightly. Legend was right, not that he would ever admit it.

“That’s the one!” The one in blue laughed heartily, and Sky felt a rock in his stomach.

“I don’t have time for you to antagonize an imbecile that can’t even talk back.” The one in red warned, and Sky felt his worry turn to anger. 

“He was the one that came up to us last time! Not my fault he couldn’t even get a thought out! Tr-tre-” The one in blue mimicked. Sky felt his ears heating up in anger on behalf of their friend that was clearly being insulted. Glancing over, it seemed not even Time knew if he should speak up or keep quiet. They all seemed to have one thought running through their head: Maybe if they didn’t cause a commotion, Wild wouldn’t notice. But these two certainly weren’t quiet about their hatred towards their new friend.

“You talking about Link?” Four piped up, masking the deadly look on his face. The two patrons in front of them either didn’t notice the glares of the other Links, or they were too stupid to care. 

“That the one cooking out there?” The one in blue asked, smiling arrogantly at the boy outside.

“Yup.” Four confirmed in a clipped tone. Sky admired him trying to scope out the situation, but it was obvious the hero’s patience was running short.

“Then yeah. That’s the one.” The blue on, Sky had given up on learning his name, smirked. “Dumbass kept interrupting us, stuttering and slurring. Hell, I would have felt bad for the guy if he wasn’t so annoying. There’s obviously something wrong with him.” The loud one luaghed, finding the situation far funnier than eight furious Heroes of Courage.

“That’s it-” Wind growled before lunging forward, letting out a loud ‘oof’ when his middle was caught by Time. 

“If I were you, I’d keep your mouth shut.” Time leveled the man with a glare. 

“Don’t tell me you’re friends with that fre-”, Sky couldn’t tell which glare was more terrifying, Time’s, or Wind’s. 

“I suggest we make a deal.” Warriors’ stone cold voice spoke up. Even the one in red shot out of his thoughts for a moment. “You two stay on the other side of the stable from us, and keep your mouths shut, and we might just do the same.” 

“I suggest you take that deal.” Legend spoke up, icy blue eyes trained on the two men before them. Sky could see the man’s gears turning, the one in blue glanced at the one in red, who was masking his fear far better.

“Fine.” The man in blue spit out, following his brother to the corner of the stable with his tail between his legs, not deeming the fight worth it. 

“Where’s Wild?” Twilight questioned. Sky’s gaze snapped over the place where Wild sat, finding it vacant. Before Twilight could move Sky was getting out of his seat, his chair screeching against the wood floor.

“I’ll talk to him.” Was Sky’s only declaration before he was outside. He knew where this would lead, and he wasn’t going to let Wild suffer alone. 

~

Wild tugged his hood further up, as if that could make all the bad thoughts disappear. They knew now. They knew. Of course Wild knew they would find out eventually. They surely had their doubts about Wild’s lack of speech with the scars on his neck, but Wild wanted it to be on his terms. Not some random assholes in a stable! Wild forced himself to take a deep breath from where he sat on a log that was covered in overgrown moss. He had fled to one of the nearby patches of trees after the conversation that no one even bothered to hide. Four had asked if they were talking about Link. They knew it was him, and they asked to make sure. Would they think he could talk and just… didn’t? Now that they knew would their disappointment in him begin? They had been so nice, too nice. On the other hand, that’s what Wild thought before they made name signs. For him. They made name signs specifically to make it easier on Wild. Deep down he knew the others wouldn’t be so shallow to discard him for this, but it made battles dangerous. If he saw a monster all he could do is let out a pathetic croak as one of his teammates went down. It made conversations around the fire harder too. They were nice enough to try and include Wild, but it sometimes died off when they gave him room to sign. They were trying, and Wild was trying so hard but it’s not enough-

“Wild?” He heard a calm voice call out through the woods. That was Sky. Wild mentally smacked himself. He just left them! No note, no dinner instructions, he just ran away again. Self loathing wasn’t worth it, it never had been, so why did he always run? Maybe he should make some sort of noise to let Sky know where he was, but Wild didn’t even have the energy to do that, as selfish as it was. He just hoped his cloak would stand out against the trees and moss so Sky wouldn’t be searching for long. A few minutes later his hope came true.

“Wild?” A gentle voice asked behind him. Wild didn’t respond, of course he didn’t. He heard footsteps approaching and he pushed down his panic, it was an ally, not an enemy. Wild wanted to look up, but some of him was too ashamed to do so. 

“Wild? Can I sit down?” Sky said when he was finally next to the log. Wild liked Sky, he seemed kind and always asked him things. Questions, opinions, permission to do something like sit down next to him or put his bedroll near his, it made Wild feel a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. Or perhaps a certain kind of warmth he had never truly felt before. Wild simply nodded, not ready to come out of his curled position under his cloak.

“I just came to check on you.” Sky spoke as he sat down on the other side of the log, giving Wild the space the boy needed to think through everything. “What they said… it wasn’t okay Wild. Far beyond okay, it was disgusting.” Wild peered up in surprise at the venom in the other’s voice. Sky took a deep breath and continued. “Wild… can I ask you something? If that oversteps just tell me and I’ll stop or leave you alone.” Sky reassured. Wild thought for a moment. Sky wouldn’t push him, Wild could refuse to answer and the other hero wouldn’t push at all. That was just the type of man Sky was. Wild nodded once again.

“Wild… Can you talk?” Sky asked. It was just a question, just a simple yes or no should have been okay, but instead a rush of ice invaded Wild’s body. Without thinking he lifted his hands into his hair, clutching near the scalp like a lifeline. There it was. He was a damned coward, not even being upfront about why he didn’t talk to the other Links. Wild forced himself to nod his head. 

“Does it… Does it hurt you?” Sky asked hesitantly. Wild nodded again, refusing to meet the other’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Wild. I know it doesn’t help but I’m sorry. I know how frustrating it is.” Wild once again glanced up in shock. He what? “Yeah.” Sky rubbed the back of his neck. “Speaking was hard for me when I was younger. I was left at the Knight’s Academy in Skyloft, my home, when I was a baby.” Sky began, looking over to see curious eyes peering from under Wild’s cloak. 

“I was quiet, and even when I talked I barely said anything. It took the teachers a while to figure out that sometimes I just couldn’t get the words out. I don’t know, they just couldn’t make it past my thoughts sometimes. The other kids called me stupid or said my head was in the clouds, but Zelda spoke for me on those days and I appreciated it. It never felt like she was babying me, she just always understood what I wanted to say. I’ve gotten better at getting the words out, but it’s still hard sometimes. The other Links understand, Wild. I know our situations are different, but we’re here for you. I’m here for you.” Sky finished. His final statement said as if it were a fact Hylia herself could not dispute. There was no doubt or uncertainty. ‘We’re here for you. I’m here for you.’ The words echoed in Wild’s head. Wild had thought himself weak, but Sky wasn’t weak. Sky was one of the strongest people he’s ever met and he’d only known the man for over a week. Wild’s hands released his hair slowly, coming to rest in his lap before he raised them.

‘I feel the same. I don’t even know if it’s my scars or if it was always like that.’ Wild panicked at the mention of what was before the Shrine of Resurrection, but Sky didn’t question him. ‘But the words don’t come. I can feel them, I can think them, but they don’t come out!’ Wild finished angrily, his hands flinging to his lap once more.

“It’s frustrating.” Sky stated. It wasn’t a question, nor was it pity, it was a fact they both knew. “If you want, we can work on it.” Sky offered, smiling slightly at the pure shock on WIld’s face.

“Don’t get me wrong, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” Sky assured. “But Zelda and I practiced talking over the years and it helped me. Me, or any of the other Links are willing to help, Wild. It’s an option. Otherwise, none of us mind that you sign. We all have things to work around, it comes with a team.” Wild didn’t even know how to respond. Help him? Team? Those were all new to him.

‘Can I…’ Wild trailed off for a moment. Did he want that? Wild couldn’t even really imagine himself talking. What did he sound like without the claws in his throat? Perhaps Wild wanted to find out.

‘Can I think about it?’ Wild asked, forcing his hands to steady, meeting Sky’s eyes. Eyes that held no judgement or malice, just understanding.

“Of course you can!” Sky assured brightly. “Just let me know if you ever want that, or if you just never want to speak of this again. It’s completely up to you Wild.” It was up to him, not Hylia, or the King, or a destiny he never wanted, it was Wild’s choice. That felt nice.

‘Thank you.’ Wild signed simply, and they both felt the emotion behind it. A few quiet moments passed before Sky spoke up again. 

“Do you want to go back?” Sky asked. Wild bit his lip.

‘I don’t want to face them.’ Wild signed honestly.

“I’m sure the others have made sure you won’t have to deal with those idiots anymore.” Sky thought back to Wind snarling.

‘Not them. The others.’ Wild corrected before turning away. Coming back to an entire group after running away in shame sent cold waves of panic through Wild.  

“Oh… Yeah it’s scary, but after the amount of times Legend has left huffing and cursing I think you’ll be okay.” Sky laughed, feeling ten pounds lighter when he saw Wild’s shoulders shake a little with silent laughter. Wild finally stood slowly, followed by Sky. They began the short trek back to the stable, but one more question still plagued WIld’s mind no matter how much he tried to get rid of it. Wild snapped his fingers to get Sky’s attention.

“Hm?” Sky questioned from his place beside Wild.

‘Why help me? You don’t know me.’ Wild questioned shyly. 

“What do you mean? You’re a Hero of Courage.” Wild winced at that. 

‘You don’t know me.’ Wild emphasized. ‘Not well.’ Sky seemed to think for a moment. 

“That’s true.” Sky confirmed. “But one day or two months, you’re one of us. We’re a group of nine now and it wouldn’t be nine without you.” Sky stated simply, waving at the distant group waiting for them at the stable. 

A group of nine. Wild could live with that.

On this episode of: I Think I’m funny. “Four confirmed in a clipped tone. Sky admired him trying to scope out the situation, but it was obvious the hero’s patience was running short.” Cuz Four… short… anyway. 

I love Wind so much. He is ready to fight entire armies of Ganon himself to protect his siblings old or new he will square up. 

Also does this mirror my other fic “The Tavern”? Perhaps ;)

Hope you guys enjoyed!   

[koolkat9]

In the Deep (Ch. 3)

The Gift

I didn’t get much sleep that night. Ludwig’s pained eyes and deep frown flashed behind my eyes every time I closed them, leading me to spend most of my night tossing and turning. I eventually fell into a light sleep, only to be woken a couple of hours later by Francis calling me for breakfast.

“Fuck off,” I groaned, but got up nonetheless. Despite how tired I was, it was obvious my option of restful sleep was out the window. I got dressed hastily, not even bothering to tie my hair up (at least for breakfast, I’d probably have to put it up for work, but that would be future me’s problem).

“You look terrible mon ami,” Francis tsked at breakfast. I couldn’t be bothered with anything more than a grumble and instead focused the little energy I had on eating. Today’s meal was croissants (homemade most likely) with some fruit and juice. As much as I hated to admit it, Francis had a way with food.

“Trouble in paradise?” The Frenchman went on.

“I told you I’m  not  seeing anyone. At...A-At least not like you’re implying.”

A mischievous glint crossed his eye. “Oh ho? So there is someone?”

“Don’t look at me like that! He’s just a friend.”

“But there is an issue?”

I should have shut up right then and there. Why I had said so much prior is still something I don’t understand, but there was nothing I could do about it at that moment other than keep quiet. Whether it was because Ludwig's sad face was still ingrained in my mind or the pure exhaustion I was feeling, I just kept going: “I don’t know...I guess I pried a little too much and made him upset. H-He said it was okay and I apologized, but I worry I may have pushed him away. There was so much pain in his eyes when we parted ways last night.”

For the first time since I met this man, his usual smirk melted into that of a soft, comforting smile. “Perhaps an apology gift is in order?”

“What good will that do?” I bit back.

“Sometimes a physical action is better at conveying how you feel over words. If that doesn’t work, at least he should be happy with the gift.”

Part of me felt he was trying to dig at me in that second half, but I brushed it off, taking out my frustration on an unsuspecting piece of fruit. “I don’t even know what to get him.”

“Don’t worry dear Arthur. You are in good hands! I’ll take you around town to look after I finish cleaning up here.”

Great, now I was going on an outing with Francis of all people. Could this morning get any worse? Indeed it could because by the time we had cleaned up the dishes from breakfast and were heading out, it began to rain. At least Francis could provide us with the umbrella, but at the same time, it forced us too close together. He smelled stereotypically French, reeking of wine and cheese mixed with the scent of some flowery beauty product.  

I tried to focus on it, turning my gaze to the shop windows, showcasing all kinds of knickknacks and products. ‘What do you even get a merman?’ I thought as we looked over a particular display of books, all of which piqued my own interest. Could he even read? Even if he could, he spent most of his time underwater so a book would not work. Now that I was thinking about it, that crossed off a whole bunch of items: clothing, flowers, blankets, stuffed animals, all out of the question. Every store we went into seemed to only lead to dead ends.

Eventually, we had to stop for lunch empty-handed. Francis took me to a local pub in the town square where he ordered us some potato-based dish, though I was too distracted to catch the actual name. “This is coming out of your paycheck,” He warned, “it's the least you could do for me after all our wild goose chasing today.”

“You’re the bastard who suggested this in the first place.”

“I didn’t realize how troublesome it would be. Usually, you get them flowers or chocolates and then you make up, but your lover seems to hate everything.”

There he was going again, calling Ludwig my ‘lover.’ My cheeks turned red at the statement, not helping my case. “For the millionth time, he’s  not  my lover.”

“Whatever it is, this seems like a lost cause.” For the first time since meeting him, a tired frown replaced his usual cheeriness. It didn’t fit him even though it often annoyed me.

Though I was uncomfortable, I wasn’t good and comforting people (especially those I barely know), so I let my gaze wander to the window. A group of children were chasing each other around the fountain while their mothers talked amongst themselves. Other couples and families were walking from store to store, mostly just browsing in the windows. It was calming looking at the mundaneness of it all while my life was turning into anything but. As I scanned the square, I noticed a jewelry shop just across the way from us and something clicked. Ludwig seemed to like sparkly items considering how much he took to the pendant.

“I think I found something,” I said, turning back to Francis. He gave me a quizzical look, but nonetheless, requested for the bill, paid, and we were on our way.

I led him to the shop I had spotted, admiring the window display once we were there. Something particular caught my eye, a beautiful silver chain with light blue jewels hanging from it. It appeared to be a bracelet of some sort. This was it, this was the gift. It was shiny, blue like Ludwig’s eyes and scales, absolutely perfect.

“You’ve got expensive tastes mon ami...or I guess it's more of this mysterious man. But by the look on your face, it seems perfect.”

I hadn’t even realized I had been smiling. Feeling suddenly exposed, I gave an awkward cough and tried to cover my tracks. “W-Well yes. It looks just like his eyes. I-I’m just...yeah...um...going to go in and buy it. Y-You, don’t have to wait up for me.” So much for covering my tracks. Without another word, I made my way into the shop, ignoring whatever tease came out of that damn Frenchman’s mouth.

---

It wasn’t long before I was back at the inn. Francis gave me the rest of the day off, so I retreated to my room for some rest before going out to meet Ludwig. As I collapsed onto my bed, I grabbed my purchase from the nightstand. Taking the bracelet from the box, I lifted it above my head, allowing it to sparkle in the sun. Ludwig’s scales were far more beautiful, shining even brighter than any jewel, but this would have to do. At some point, my eyes began feeling heavy, my exhaustion returning once everything had calmed down. It wasn’t long before I had fallen asleep.

The sun had almost set by the time I got up. I blinked in a daze before realizing I was late to meeting Ludwig. “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck” I angrily whispered to myself as I collected my things, hoping Ludwig had waited up for me.

When I finally got there I found our spot deserted. “God damn it,” I sighed, taking a seat in defeat. At least I could watch the end of the sunset and admire the waves. Like for most of the day, luck was not on my side as dark clouds began rolling in and the breeze picked up. With a sigh, I got up and began making my way back to the beach. As I walked, the weather only seemed to get worse, especially the wind that was whipping me every which way. Like history repeating itself, a particularly strong gust of wind sent me crashing into the water.

Of course, I had been blown in in a deep area, leaving me once again flailing unsuccessfully to keep my head above the water (at least the waves weren’t as bad as last time). As I became more and more desperate and fear took hold I surprisingly found myself shouting for Ludwig. He probably wasn’t around or able to hear me above the storm that was setting in, but he was my best option for help at this point. Soon the cold and exhaustion was getting to me and my world was slowly becoming dark, but before I passed out I heard the faint call of my name.

---

I was back in my room at the inn when I came to. My mind was fuzzy and everything felt sedately warm. It was as if I was wrapped in a soft flame that didn’t burn, but instead wrapped me in a comforting grasp. Although I felt a strange weight around my waist, I paid it no mind as my head was pounding and my nose stuffy. I felt miserable so when sleep began to tug at me once more, I was content to accept it. That was until I felt something move beside me. I immediately shot up, spooking Ludwig who was laying beside me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I screeched. When I noticed I was naked, I immediately pulled the covers up to my chest.

Ludwig’s eyes went wide and his cheeks went red. “I-I’m sorry...I just...your friend said this would help.”

“What?” My scowl deepened when I realized who had put him up to it. “That damn frog,” I seethed, though more to myself than Ludwig.

“I’m sorry. You were freezing...I-I’ll just go,” Ludwig blabbered as he clumsily untangled himself from the sheets and got out of bed.

“Wait...H-How are you…” My mind had finally woken up enough, realizing Ludwig was here, on land, without a tail or scales.

“Oh...I never mentioned we could become human?”

“No.”

“Oh...uh...well I can. I don’t usually, but you were shaking so much so I knew I had to get you home..er… where you were staying so I took it upon myself to get you here. It wasn’t easy, but...shoot I’m rambling aren’t I?”

My gaze softened. Ludwig was far sweeter than any man I had ever met. I couldn’t stay angry with him even if we woke up in a...compromising position (if anything it was Francis’ fault who told him to do it). “So...what exactly happened this time?”

“Well, there was a storm. I found you just as you were about to go under, so I immediately grabbed you. When I got you to shore you were freezing and… I-I didn’t know what else to do so I grabbed my spare clothes and began searching for the inn. That blond man was standing at the door and he recognized you and urged me to bring you inside. He explained I had to get you out of your wet clothes and under the blanket. Th-That’s when he suggested for me to lay beside you...t-too warm you up. I’m sorry again for that. And now we’re here.”

“Well, I-I suppose a thank you is in order,” I said, laying back down on the bed. My wooziness was finally catching up to me. It was clear I was starting to come down with a cold.

Ludwig loomed over me, an unreadable look on his face. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Some water would be nice. Why don’t you go ask Francis.”

He gave me a small nod and made his way to the door. “Oh, Arthur. By the way, that box you were holding onto so tightly is just on your nightstand.”

“Oh.” I looked over to see that velvety, blue box that held Ludwig’s gift perched safely on the table beside my head. “Thank you. For everything”

“Anytime.”

As the door closed, I snuggled into the blankets once more, still chilled either from the ordeal, my cold, or both. Tomorrow for sure I would give him his gift. Right now I was tired and sick, not wanting to do much more than sleep. However, it did not come so easy as the bed felt empty without Ludwig there and that warm, comforting feeling seemed to have gone with him. But sooner or later, my eyes closed and the lingering feeling of Ludwig’s embrace lulled me to sleep.

Ch. 2

Ch. 4

[sasskarian]

First Line Meme

I was tagged by @asaara-writes. Thank you, my dearest! <3 

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

My Heart and I -

If there’s one thing about Evelyn Swann that the entire Commonwealth knows by now, it is her love of music. Silence does not mark Evelyn’s arrival anywhere— instead, the soft tones of Billie Holiday do, crooning about mountains moved for love. Or the sultry voice of Lady Day herself, Ella Fitzgerald, floating around her and the companions like a bubble of the past, dreaming on into the future. Heavy footsteps beat out a tempo contrasting Butcher Pete and his big old ‘knife’ and everywhere she goes, she trails ribbons of jazz and cheer.

Like Afterimages - 

The settlers call her a survivor. Sanctuary calls her a savior. Codsworth cries when she returns from the wastelands, dragging in another minute— heh— victory for the Minutemen, or another rescued synth she doesn’t tell anyone about. But Mama Murphy just calls her a ghost.

That’s what she is, after all. Just a two hundred year old ghost. Like a mirage, superimposed on the darkness, burned into immortality by nuclear fallout and tragedy. Evelyn is only sometimes here, those dark gray eyes a pair of rain clouds on the distant horizon, drifting on invisible fronts. The thunder is inside of her, too, a raging storm swirling in her chest, beating fists made of babies crying and gunshots rimmed in frost ringing out against her ribs.

The Thrill of Your Hand - 

Danse has been a soldier too long to be a deep sleeper.

That’s the first thing the Brotherhood trains you out of. The indoctrination comes later, because only a good soldier can be indoctrinated, and a good soldier has to wake up at the first hint of danger. So when he hears the first whimper from across the room, his eyes snap open.

Paladin’s Bubble - 

The Commonwealth is quiet tonight.

It’s not silent, by any stretch: Evie can hear the hounds in the distance, their mutated throats sending their boofs echoing through the streets of Boston even from a long distance, and somewhere— a mile or more— the whoop of a raiding party rises over the station’s lookout, too far away to do anything but pity the poor prey they’ve caught. Dogmeat grunts, his paws pushing against her armored thigh as he stretches. His ears are perked, though, so he’s just catching some rest while he can. Even the thwomp-and-hiss of her partner’s power armor is missing from the darkness, the red light of his scope the only thing highlighting his face in their little bubble of quiet.

After the Glitter Fades - 

“If there is a future to be had,” Fenris murmured, his lips hovering near Hawke’s, “I will walk into it gladly at your side.”

His gorgeous green eyes were fixed on hers and Hawke fumbled for a moment, a half-smile playing across her mouth as her fingers played with the crumbling stone behind her. Silly, but part of her almost wanted to believe him. With the smallest sound, Fenris leaned in, his gauntleted fingers sliding through her hair as he kissed her— it started out soft, a chaste brush of warm lips and warmer breath, but within a couple of heartbeats, it deepened into something that promised wildness and fire.

Glitter: Marginalia - (E)

She can’t remember what dragged her awake— only that it left a sour, desperate taste in her mouth like old coppers and the cheapest bottle of whatever would get her drunk enough to sleep.

Waking up with nightmares is nothing new. The Amell curse, as most of the Kirkwall film crews call it, has yet to hit Hawke directly, but it had taken her father (a stunt gone wrong) and her mother and uncle (an unlucky intruder)– had struck Carver, too. She and Garrett and Bethie are safe, so far, but it's only a matter of time until it circles back around. The curse is a generations-long predator, still and patient, and it will hunt them down one at a time if it has to  

Ah, Kirkwall, she thinks, some blend of annoyance and fondness and adrenaline mixing uneasily in her heart. You fuck with us again and again and still, here we are.

He Might Like That - 

“So. Let me get this straight.” Greef lifts his bad knee with a groan, settling it over his other leg so he can sprawl a little more indolently. Din’s HUD focuses in, shows the elevated temperature in the joint in a dark red, and he turns it off with a flicker of his eye. Greef lifts his glass again, takes a sip, and gestures with it before continuing. “You two. Not together?”

Where I Can’t Follow - 

The day Geralt of Rivia dies, he hears the whistle of the sword which almost kills him. There’s a series of tiny holes stamped along the spine of the blade, keeping weight down and adding a sinister shrill hiss through the air on each pass. The raiding party - if it can be dignified with such language - are nearly all armed with similar steel, with hunting horns, rattling chime-spangled shields, and bullroarer slings wailing and droning like an oncoming swarm of giant wasps. The effect is deafening, overpowering all efforts to coordinate the various companies on this mission.

Malicious Compliance - (M)

So this is how it feels to have a galaxy tremble at your feet.

Not just the galaxy, though— millions of lives shuddering under the weight of your boot on their necks cannot compare to the half-lidded gray-blue eyes drinking you in like you’re his salvation and damnation both. No, there is power in this, in these stolen moments with him, that rivals nothing else you’ve found anywhere among the stars.

He’s a brave man, your Captain.

Counting the Days (since Exegol) - 

“That’s good, Finn.”

Rey smiles, feeling the Force ebb and flow around Finn as he manages to lift himself a few inches off the ground-- along with the meditation mat, two glasses of water, and the plate of snacks they keep for anyone who comes to visit. Finn cracks an eye open, smiles back at her, and lands with a thump. For half a moment, she almost expects him to be disappointed that his training is progressing slowly: hyper-competency is a Stormtrooper trait he’ll never outgrow.

Star by Star - 

The galaxy looks different now.

It’s not just the cautious celebrations still happening, weeks later. And it’s not just the way people step back from her now, too much reverence in them for her comfort. It’s in the way she looks at the sky and sees the color of Luke’s eyes, and the gentle wind that feels so much like Leia’s hand, she cries. The way that Poe’s back straightens at the podium, broadcasting Republic news to everyone, and Finn’s hand clutching his under the table, their life forces bright and right in her senses.

Stardust and Memory (and a little bit of romance) - 

“Wow.”

Jaal chuckled against her ear, hands firmly on her waist; a good thing, probably, or she’d be on her face on the floor. “It is… a lot, I know.”

“No!” Sara protested, only wilting when Jaal tilted his head at her. “...okay, maybe a little. There’s just— a lot of them?”

Scars and Holes and Broken Things - 

Whispers follow him wherever he goes.

What’s left of the crew whispers in the halls, the mess, on the bridge, and conversations trail off when his ghost walks through, haunting the only place that's ever felt like home. Whatever they’re saying doesn’t matter, though—he doesn’t care. He’s too tired to care. He hasn’t slept more than his body demands in weeks. Tali’s immune system has already begun to destroy itself, and even though the Normandy is stocked with more dextro rations than it’s ever carried before—

Almost like Shepard knew. Always prepared, that’s my girl.

Heart of the Woods - (E)

You left the Templars, but do you trust mages? Can you think of me as anything more?

Less than a fortnight of sweet words, gentle touches, and stolen kisses are the only weapons she could levy against the trauma that shaped a man’s youth. And for a moment in time, Isera hoped.

Common Ground (isn’t so hard to find) - 

“Skkut! Ryder!”

“Sorry, Enroh— oh!” Sara tried to stop, bounced into a low bench, and crashed into a pile of bruised, groaning Pathfinder on the other side. At least this time, she remembered to shield her head as she skidded to rest against the wall. Lexi would be pleased. Another concussion would get her put back under the scanner and that just ruined everyone’s day. “...ow.”

A Language Reserved for Lovers - (M)

The first time you touch him, his skin flushes red; the first time he touches you back, he trembles. Interesting, since if there is a word to describe him, it is steadfast. But there is more beneath the easy surface, beneath the deadly grace and unflagging stamina. He is loyal, and good, and so fascinating under the burden of his name. But nineteen is a young age, even if you're only a little older, and he seemed so young at first, unsure and innocent— then he gave you that crooked little grin, and stole your heart with it.

Every Beautiful Thing - 

I would prefer to be Mary Shelley. She died a widow.

Despite a foolhardy counter, thrown in indifference and pride, Edith never really thought she would be a widow. Despite her foolish quip so many years ago, she is no Mary Shelley. And despite moderate success as an author and teller of stories, the only thing she and Shelley have in common is a belief in a world outside of the everyday, and widowhood.

Yesterdays - 

He’s always thought she was invincible.

Sure, Morrigan told them the truth of the Archdemon’s death, an account more grisly and heartbreaking than the one Riordan gave; just the sort of tale that might ensnare a young boy’s heart, give him delusions of grandeur, while an older man might look upon it with resignation. But the truth doesn’t sink in until now.

If You Ever did Believe - 

“There are people dying,” Isera repeated slowly, as if she could make her advisers understand what she'd seen. As if giving her memories voice might lift some of their weight in her heart. “We couldn’t even get to Redcliffe because of the fighting.”

Three days of being stuck on a horse, only to have to turn around after three skirmishes— their first mission to the Hinterlands had been a remarkable experiment in failure. Isera had learned her skills at the hands of the best of her clan, had fought alone for years, and yet the shock of tripping over Varric and accidentally hitting Cassandra with a ball of ice had made their first fight a near loss.

Some saviors, Varric had laughed afterward, staggering around like baby nugs.

Glitter: Velvet over Veridium - 

If anyone had ever accused Marian Hawke of being a reasonable adult human being, she might have laughed at them. No, she'd have pointed and then laughed at them. But under all her bluster, and all her immature jokes, her dirty one-liners and cheesy pick-up lines, there was an adult hidden in there somewhere.

Okay, maybe I put more than one opening line, but I have a thing for context, dammit! 

This got so long -- mobile users, I’m sorry omg. 

Forwarding the tag (no pressure as always!) to @mayihavethisdanse @athreehundredthirtythree @thebisexualmandalorian @natsora @loquaciousquark @valdomarx @theggning @cullywullycurlywurly @systlin and @third-rail-vip 

[addictofsupernatural]

NSFW Alphabet

Oscar Diaz x reader

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Oscar always cleans you up afterwards. He'll rub the soreness out of your thighs, peppering you with kisses. He makes sure you're comfortable before teasing you about how tired you look.

B = Body Part (his favorite body part of yours, the other way around)

Your ass, of course. He can't help but stare at it for way too long (if there is such a thing). He loves smacking your ass as you pass him, and especially loves gripping it with or without your clothes on. Sometimes he offers to go shopping with you, just so he can have you put on a little show for him while shopping for skirts.

Your favorite body part of his is his chest. You love pulling his chest to yours in missionary, putting your head on it when your on his cock for slow sex, and even the next morning when your about to get up for work and you feel him pull your back to his chest.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

He's okay with cumming anywhere on or in you. If you're sucking him off, he loves it when you swallow for him. When you don't, you let him cum on your face and chest, and he just loves the sight.

When he's fucking you, he prefers to come inside you. He likes seeing it leak out of you. Unless you want him to, he won't wear a condom. When he doesn't come in you, he cums on your stomach. He'll scoop it up with his fingers and put it in your mouth, and you'll gladly suck it off to see that smirk on his face.

D = Dirty Secret

Something that only you know is that he's actually really into cock warming. It started when you once both fell asleep after having sex, and he didn't pull out of you. He woke up before you, and saw that he was still inside of you. He tried to pull out and not wake you, and you just squeezed him and moaned in your sleep. You got wet fast, and despite loving the feeling, he woke you up. You were really turned on when you woke up and humped out an orgasm for you both.

Now when it's just the two of you in the house, and Cesar is spending the night secretly with Monse, he would have you wear only a shirt and sit on his lap while he's on the couch. He'd slip his cock into you and lazily stroke your clit and play with your nipples while watching TV. He can't get enough of your panting and squeezing, and it's just such a turn on that he fucks the shit out of you over the couch after you had a different feeling orgasm from the cock warming.

E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

Though Oscar is really experienced, he doesn't like talking about it. Back then sex didn't mean much and yeah it made him good at it, but he's not gonna brag about it when all he wants is you only. That being said, he knows his way around your body.

Unlike him, you weren't really experienced at all and it took a while before you went to bed with him. You were embarrassed of it, but it honestly just made Oscar more happy that he's one of the very few people that get to see your sexy ass body.

F = Favorite Position

Doggy position. Getting a view of your ass while he's pounding into you. What gets him even more turned on by it is that your moans are louder in that position, since it has him easily hit the right spots constantly.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in bed? Or are they humorous?)

There are times when Oscar is serious when you two are having an intimate moment for making love. Other than that, at times you'll both be constantly be laughing in the middle of sex. Other times he'll make a joke here and there, and it makes him happy to know that you adore his inappropriate humor always.

H = Hair (Are they groomed down there? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

He does maintain himself, and he does trim it. He won't let it grow out of control, since he wants you to have a better time sucking him off, but he won't fully shave it either.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, are they romantic?)

When the moments are right, Oscar could make you feel like having sex is just so much more. It's actually a little hard for him to come up with genuinely romantic gestures, other than taking you somewhere here and there, so he tries to whisper sweet things into your ere before slowly driving his cock into you. To you, it's the most romantic thing he could do.

J = Jack Off

Once you moved in with him, there was no reason to jack off when he always had you. But before, he'd do it more often than not to the thought of you.

Eventually he told you about it, and you told him to let you know when he would masturbate. He did, and you sent him pictures of yourself that was only meant for him. He'd send you pictures back as well, and you'd both jack off together, which was a turn on for the both of you. Sometimes you even video called each other for it.

K = Kink

Squirting. This has to do with overstimulating you a bit. Of course he would never overdo it for your body and knows your limits, but it makes him so horny by the rare moments when you squirt. Usually it ends up on his stomach, and one time all over your face.

Every single time it happens you get embarrassed, but he has a big smile as he cleans you both up and pulls you into him. He tells you how sexy is was, and sometimes he can't help but tease you. It honestly makes him feel special, especially when you admitted that no one else has ever done that to you, and you didn't know you could even do that. It's such a turn on, you have to usually give him a handjob or a blowjob from how much he loves it.

L = Location (Favorite place to do it)

The bed of course. But he does have other places that are close favorites on his list. Over the couch gives good angles. In the bathtub underwater is a good different feeling. His Impala is always sexy, whether in it or on it. One time you both snuck onto the beach in the middle of the night with no one there, and the cool feeling of the wind mixed with the heated bodies of each other gave you both the strength to go all night long.

M = Motivation (What turns him on, gets him going?)

You. Your ass. He loves looking at your ass, clothed and nude. At times when it's only the two of you in the house, he convinces you to walk around naked. Because of this, he could get turned on my looking around the house, the memories of you naked in his mind.

N = NO (Something they wouldn't do)

He would never hurt you in any way. The biggest thing he'll do is smack your ass or pull your hair a bit, but putting you through any kind of real pain is a big no.

O = Oral (Do that like to give or receive? Are they skilled?)

To be honest, he prefers receiving more than giving. But that doesn't mean that he wouldn't do it. He likes to occasionally eat you out, and kisses you with the cum in his mouth, which he loves doing. But there's something about fucking your face and having you swallow his cum that he can't get enough of. He also loves the innocent eyes you have when you look up at him.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough, slow and sensual?)

More often than not, he's pounding into you relentlessly. In any position, anywhere, he could fuck your brains out. Sometimes you've had to call in sick because you couldn't walk right (and he gladly takes care of you for the day).

There are also times where he's trying to be emotional and romantic, and the two of you go at a nice slow pace while he places sloppy kisses on your neck. It's a different kind of good feeling.

Q = Quickie

Though he prefers to have you going all night, he loves a quick fuck to get it out of his system. He'll pull you into an empty room and pound the shit out of you, swiping your juices and having you suck it off his fingers for you to not cry out. What usually gets him going like that is you teasing him, or just looking at your body in a public place.

R = Risk (Do they like to take risks? Are they willing to experiment?)

He'll do any position and is up for learning something new all the time. It's really fun, and he always makes jokes to have you burst out laughing sometimes when you're trying to do something new. Again, he's not going to physically hurt you.

If by risks you mean location, then he's down for anywhere. If it was a hiding spot or nobody's there, then go for it.

S = Stamina (How many rounds? How long do they last?)

Your record together is 4. He normally has you go for two or three rounds if it's not a quickie or if it's not to help either of you sleep. If he's either excited or angry enough, you two could last for hours.

T = Toy (Do they own toys?)

Nope. No. Not at all. ¿Por qué piensas eso? He would never buy any kind of sex toys to use on you, and he would never even think about stuff for himself. Why use that shit when he and you have the real thing? The only thing he would ever actually do is maybe blindfold you while eating you out, but that's it.

The only time you get something was during the time he was in prison. You visited him every weekend, and once brought it up because of needy you were without him. He told you that he was okay with you to buy a vibrator, just as long as it wasn't as big as him.

U = Unfair (How much of a tease are they?)

When he's in a playful mood, he can be the biggest tease. He'll take forever teasing you before touching you where you want him to. Other than that, he can be more attentive to you than not.

V = Volume

He's not very loud, only some grunts here and there. He does love making you loud though. He wants to hear you scream his name, hear those sexy ass moans come out of you.

W = Wild Card

When you visited him in prison, after he allowed you to get a vibrator, he sometimes told you to bring it. You'd sometimes visit with it in you. When he told you to turn it on, you did. You two would be mid conversation when he'd randomly tell you to turn it up. He wouldn't say anything but smirk while he talked to you, you trying very hard to keep the moans in.

X = X-ray (What's going on down there?)

He's a little bigger than average, not gigantic though. What he really has to brag about is how thick it is.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It wasn't really that high until he met you. After you came into his life, even before you two got together, he was always horny thinking about you. He just couldn't help but have his mind wander when it was about you. After you and him got together, he could almost never keep his hands off of you. You don't mind though.

Z = Zzz (How quickly do they fall asleep?)

He falls asleep not too long after, but never before you. He likes knowing that you trust him enough to fall asleep with him spooning you.

[cowboyshit]

PART TWO OF ?

Previously: one Next: three Ship: Hangman Adam Page x Female OC (Hazel Baker) x Matt Jackson Summary: It’s been two months since Hazel met Matt Jackson and Adam Page at the local rodeo, and while she hasn’t seen or heard from Adam again, she and Matt have been getting close. But is she ready for a relationship? Is that what’s developing between her and Matt? Rating: explicit Length: 24,516 words Warnings: unprotected sex

author’s note: and the monster of a fic grows bigger... I genuinely can’t believe how long this part became LOL that was absolutely not my intention. I know I promised last time Adam would have a bit more of a part in this addition, but it looks like his involvement doesn’t come until the next part! 

The soft drum of a horse's hooves hitting the airy, sand-dirt blend arena.

The pounding of her heart in her ears; blood rushing like white noise.

The change in the air as her horse leaned its weight to curl tight around the barrel - as close as they could get without touching it - and she held the reins out and reminded herself to breathe.

The roar of life coming back to her as they pulled away from the third barrel, headed straight for home as fast as her horse could manage, the roar of the crowd cheering for them, the wind tearing into her hair, threatening to rip the hat from her head.

The buzz of adrenaline after, leaving her feeling as if she could take on the world.

The smell of sweat that dampened her horse’s neck, withers, and armpits. 

Hazel gasped as she woke, jerking almost violently, as if it took a shock to crash her into reality. She startled both Carson and Callahan, her young golden retrievers, who’d been sprawled out and asleep, their bodies thrown with haphazard carelessness across hers. Callahan thumped his tail as he sleepily wagged it, wiggling and stretching up the comforter to get closer to her face. Carson grumbled with complaint and huffed, turning himself around and away from her, clearly upset to have his sleep disturbed.

“Sorry guys,” she mumbled, voice husky with sleep and mouth dry. She pushed herself upright, reaching for the cup of water on her bedside table and took a drink, setting it back down and noticing her hand was still shaking from the adrenaline she was left with after the dream. Tapping her phone screen to check the time, she saw she had three hours before she needed to get up for the day. 

“Hopefully I can get back to sleep this time,” she mumbled with exhaustion into her pillow as she nestled back into it, scratching Callahan gently behind the ears, knowing she’d drift in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, but not be able to get back to sleep.

*****

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 Morning wild filly 😘❤️ just woke up in Alpine. Got in late last night, didn’t want to risk texting you and waking you up.

TEXT TO: MATT 💗 Morning cowboy 🥰 you could have texted me, I was up pretty late last night.

“Morning, Rosie.” Hazel said groggily as she pushed into the office behind the counter, grabbing for her apron hanging on the wall.

“Morning babe!” Rosie’s sweet southern voice called from the back of the little pastry and coffee shop they owned together on main street. Hazel slipped back out of the office to the register, preparing the till for the morning and slipping the apron over her head as she secured it with a tie behind her back.

“You look like you could use a coffee.” Rosie’s voice turned sympathetic as she paused in front of Hazel, setting the milk she’d brought from the back fridge into the mini-fridge below the coffee bar.

“Yeah, I woke up again in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 That dream again?

She frowned at the screen. How’d he know?

“That dream again?” Asked Rosie with concern.

“Yeah,” Hazel replied, but her voice was unfocused, eyes staring at his text message. 

“You… alright?”

“Huh?” She blinked and looked up to see Rosie peering at her quizzically. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. Matt knew I was up because of the dream, but I didn’t tell him that.”

“Well, so did I?” Rosie tilted her head and squinted at her. “You sure you didn’t fall and hit your head on the way here or somethin’?”

“No!” Hazel laughed with exasperation, “I expect you to know that because of how close we are. I mean, we’re practically sisters.” She flipped the switch on the espresso machine and inhaled as the smell of coffee filled the air. Nirvana.

She briefly remembered Matt’s excitement when he found out she owned a little coffee shop. Does that mean I get free coffee any time I’m in town? She fought a smile, shaking her head as she reached for a cup and began flipping switches on the machine to prepare her morning brew.

“Yeah, but so are you and Matt?”

“What?” Hazel spun around to face Rosie, who’d walked around to the front door to unlock it, flipping the sign to signal they were open and made her way back around the counter. 

“Oh don’t ‘what’ me. Not that you two are sisters, but y’all are close.” Rosie said with a knowing grin. “You two text constantly, he calls you at least once a week or more just to talk, and y’all have been trying to figure out a date you’ll be close enough to drive to meet up with him. You’ve been talking exclusively to him for the past two months.”

“I-”

“What’s his name in your phone?”

“What?”

“What did you change his name to in your phone.”

“Matt…”

“Matt with what?”

“With a heart! And now I regret telling you when I did that!”

“Y’all are practically dating at this point.” Rosie fixed her with a pointed stare, brows raised, and turned to help a customer who’d just come in, smile across her face. As she and the customer chatted, Hazel blinked and fought the realization that was beginning to dawn.

Dating? Matt Jackson?

No… they were just friends.

But how many times had their late night phone calls turned into soft moans and sinful promises, their hands stroking themselves while imagining they were finally with each other?

So…they were good friends.

But how many times had they texted late at night, both lowering down their guards, talking about how they each dealt with anxiety, with things they often kept close to their chest? Opening up about their fears? Their past? The things they grew from? The things they were trying to grow from?

He’d been the one who’d encouraged her to sign-up for lessons at a nearby barn to start riding again. He knew her passions, her dreams, her aspirations. He encouraged her to reach for them. 

She knew his. She knew how much he loved his younger brother, and how he could never do the rodeo circuit without him by his side. She knew how hungry he was to be on top; how many years the Jackson brothers had been PRCA Tag Roping World Champions, and how desperate he was to keep that streak running. She knew how much and how big he dreamed, and how he got in his head and just needed everything talked through to remind him how good he was at what he did. She knew things about him that he’d laugh and swear he’d never told anyone.

Fuck.

Neither of them had ever defined what their relationship grew into. The occasional texts just started becoming more and more frequent, and their conversations fell into long talks that felt like something clicked and they understood each other. She told him about her past relationship one night when she was up late and couldn’t sleep, and he was sitting passenger in the cab of the truck with his brother, driving all night to a rodeo a state over. She told him how Ethan had fallen out of love with her before she’d fallen out of love with him. She told him how blindsided she’d been the day she stumbled across messages between him and another woman he’d been seeing for the past year. She told him almost everything about herself and all those scars across her heart. Matt was just… easy to talk to. He was open and honest. He listened to her. The pair of them were natural flirts, too, and clearly attracted to one another, so of course they played around and crossed lines into intimacy more often than not.

“I am not going to be that girl who forces a label on the relationship,” she declared once Rosie had sent the satisfied customer on their way. “Plus, I don’t even want a relationship right now. Remember?”

Rosie glanced over at her and offered a little shrug, moving to pull the freshly baked lemon poppyseed muffins from the oven. The aroma filled the little cafe, mixing with that of the coffee as Hazel grabbed her cup, pouring a little cream and sugar and giving it a thoughtful stir as her thoughts continued to circle.

“I’m just saying that what we have right now works. We’re friends and we have a connection. I think if I tried to pin him down with the boyfriend title he’d balk, and I’d never see him again.” She laughed dryly and lifted the mug to her lips, trying a tentative sip to see how warm it was.

“Suit yourself,” Rosie said, “but I think y’all sound awful couple-like to me these days.” She smiled and winked. Teasing.

Hazel frowned back at her phone and shook her head, tapping out a reply, deciding she wasn’t going to linger on it.

TEXT TO: MATT 💗 Yeah, it’s weird that I always wake up with my heart pounding like that. Can’t sleep after. It’s not like it’s a bad dream or anything, but it just… it doesn’t feel like a great dream. I mean, it’s good but...

She sent it and trailed off, fingers hovering over the keys, trying to figure out how to explain what she was trying to say. Sometimes she didn’t have to, Matt just knew exactly what she was trying to say.

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 It comes with a lot of other stuff. It’s not just the dream itself that affects you. 

TEXT TO: MATT 💗 Exactly!

The only thing she hadn’t told him was the full story of why she left riding horses and her country-life upbringing. It was her one last wall still constructed around her heart. She had hinted in conversations enough that he understood it wasn’t a flippant choice. It’d been hard for her to leave the rodeo circuit and her western lifestyle behind, but she’d had to do it for a reason out of her control. Selling her horses and moving away hadn’t been her first choice, but it’d been her only one at the time and the best thing for her.

But those dreams she was having… 

Those dreams reminded her how much she loved it, and how much she missed it. It made her heart long in a way it hadn’t in years.

Hazel turned to help the next customers who came in, the flow picking up steadily as the townsfolk of Brimwood Creek woke up and people made it downtown, filing into their shop. She smiled at everyone and spent time chatting with regulars, checking in on their lives and how they were holding up.

Opening this little coffee and pastry shop had been a big leap for both herself and Rosie, who’d had to leave their regular day jobs to take the risk, but it was one well worth it. They both liked to open in the mornings and sometimes stayed through closing. In the beginning it’d been up to them to be there every day to keep it running smoothly, but after three years they were now established enough to hire a few part-time employees so they could handle other aspects of the business, or even just take a day for themselves.

Rosie, who’d always loved to paint and draw beautiful landscapes and design work, was able to display her work in the shop and sometimes sold a painting to a curious customer. They also painted the window with cute themed designs depending on the time of year, making it quite a charming little place to come have coffee and goodies and hang out. Its success was currently Hazel’s greatest pride and joy.

She had a text message waiting for her by the time she was able to check her phone a few hours later.

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 You know what that means, right?

TEXT TO: MATT 💗 No... Are you going to tell me you moonlight as a dream interpreter?

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 Hah hah. Smarty pants. No. It means you need to ride barrels again. Even if you do it just for fun. That’s what your heart is trying to tell you.

Her heart skipped a beat. She thought of it, of actually doing it again, and felt her breath catch in excitement and a dull, familiar ache of wanting spread across her chest. He was right…

TEXT TO: MATT 💗 You might be right…

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 I know I’m right. I always am 😉

TEXT TO: MATT 💗 🙄 shut up. The old lesson horse I ride on is not anywhere near capable of running barrels, so I don’t think I’ll be doing that soon.

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 Have you thought about getting a horse again?

She had, actually. It started when she was riding again, appreciating the advice and lessons given by her instructor, but frustrated she couldn’t do the things she wanted to do. She wanted the freedom and leisure abilities of owning her own horse. She wanted to be able to take a relaxing trail ride out in the fields and orchards after a hard day. She didn’t want to constantly be told: “Point those heels down! Post! Heels! Chin up! Point your toes! Heels down! Watch the reins! Post! Heels!”

And yes, she wanted to run barrels, just her and her horse again.

TEXT TO: MATT 💗 Yes I have, actually. I mean, my property is in the country, big enough to hold a three-stall stable, some turnout paddocks and an arena, plus there’s plenty of fields and trails to ride out there. I did some budgeting and it’d be tight, but I could afford the construction, and the cost of owning a horse.

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 Have you started looking at horses for sale around you? If you buy the parts for the build, my brother and I can help you build it all. Don’t have to pay labor. That should help a little.

Such a cowboy, always finding ways to save a dime. They’d just do it their damn selves, and when their neighbor or a friend needed it done, they’d do it for them too.

TEXT TO: MATT 💗 No, I haven’t, and don’t go making plans. Look, it’s probably just an itch. Like a midlife crisis but instead it’s a horselife crisis. I’ll probably get bored of lessons soon and be done with it all.

Even as she typed that message she knew it was a damn lie.

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 Well, either way, I’m going to ask around Alpine this weekend and see if anyone has a good barrel horse for a decent price for you. Keep it in mind.

A thrill shot through her, and she let herself daydream about it again. She’d been doing that a lot lately, dreaming of owning her own horse again. Going out early in the morning and early in the evening to look after it and all the hard work and care she never minded because the rewards greatly outweighed everything else. 

What would it be? A hot-headed little red chestnut mare, bold white blaze down her face? A quirky little black and white spotted gelding she’d have to give a little extra encouragement to get running? A stocky little buckskin who started to fidget in place the minute they saw an arena set up with barrels? Whatever the color, whatever the breed, she knew she’d love them just as she’d loved the horses she used to own. Sometimes she even let herself fancy finding a way to buy them back, but their families were happy with them and had been for eight years now.

TEXT TO: MATT 💗 You don’t think I’m jumping back into all of this too quick? I mean, it’s only been two months since even you and I met, you know? Now I’m riding again, we’re talking about building a barn on my property? Me buying a horse again? What if I decide this isn’t what I want in six months?

Three little dots appeared. He was typing. He was typing for a while. She was starting to expect paragraphs in his reply.

The dots stopped. 

Hazel frowned. They stayed stopped long enough for her to get a little more worried.

They started again.

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 Get out of your head, wild filly. ❤️

Strange… It’d seemed like he’d been typing so much more than that. She shrugged and rolled her eyes, letting herself smile at his little check for her to help her shake her mind up and stop spiraling. Hazel tucked the phone into her pocket and carried through the rest of her day helping out at the shop, drifting in and out of daydreams of owning her very own horse again (once or twice the sight of watching Matt build a stable for her horses, his shirt off, sweat dripping down his back, might have snuck in as well).

It wasn’t until late at night, when she was tucked in to bed, ready to fall asleep, that her phone chimed with a little text-message notification. She twisted to grab it from where it was charging and pulled it close, seeing the banner was notifying her of a text from Matt. 

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 I found someone who knows a trainer that has a little six year-old barrel horse for sale. He’s only gotten her running a 24, but if you’re not competing… or, hell. 24 would do alright at locals. I was thinking, even if you don’t want to go see this guy’s horse, you should still let me build that stable on your property, and that arena. With my brother and a couple of our friends helping out, it’ll only take us two weekends. I was thinking, too, I could come up the Friday before so we could go to the hardware stores and pick out the supplies. Maybe get dinner together?

Her heart started pounding and she read the message over again, slow, completely dismissing everything about the horse and only looking at those last two lines.

TEXT TO: MATT 💗 Are you using building me a stable and an arena to get in my pants? Bold move.

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 No! I am not doing that to get in your pants. 

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 I mean, I do want to get into your pants. 

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 But I want you to have that stable and arena ready, so when it finally gets in through your mind that you need to get a horse, you’re ready to go. I have the time right now to do it, but in three weeks I’ve got another round of back-to-back-to-back rodeos and work to do on the ranch. 

TEXT TO: MATT 💗 Why are you so sure that I am going to need to get a horse? How do you know you’re not going to put yourself out doing all this work and then I’ll never wind up buying one?

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 I see how happy you are after you get done at the barn. I see it in your texts, I see it when we facetime, I hear it in your voice on the phone. You light up, wild filly. You told me that your heart has always belonged with horses, and I can see that it does. So, what’s holding you back?

She was stunned. First everything Rosie had said this morning, and now this? When had they crossed this line into caring this deeply about one another? In understanding each other to this depth? She was always so guarded, how had he lowered those defenses? Did he even realize he had? 

TEXT TO: MATT 💗 Wow. Okay cowboy. You win. This next Friday?

TEXT FROM: MATT 💗 This next Friday. ❤️

*****

“Hey, you! How was the drive?” She was standing at the end of her walkway, Matt having driven up in his truck, climbing out of the cab to greet her with a grin. Her stomach was filled with butterflies at the sight of him in a t-shirt with some sponsor's logo across the front, nice fitting, dark-denim wranglers, one of his (many) champion belt buckles catching the early evening light with a sparkle, and black, slightly scuffed, definitely worked in boots. His long hair was tied in a low, loose bun, and he’d just set his cowboy hat back atop his head as he turned toward her and closed the truck door behind him.

“Wasn’t bad,” he replied, and reached between the distance they were closing to slide his hands on her hips and pull her more firmly in toward him. He tilted his head and looked down at her, half-smile on his face. She felt as though her heart stumbled in its rhythm and wasn’t sure if she leaned up or he leaned down first, or if they both did at the same time. All she knew was that their lips were touching, and she felt that spark between them, only this time it felt more monumental, packed with all the conversations and feelings they’d built up talking over the last two months.

Her lips opened as she gasped, and his tongue took the invitation without hesitation, sliding along hers. His fingers curled tighter over her hips, grabbing and pulling and gripping skin beneath the material of her denim jeans. A hiss of breath pushed hard out of his nose, and he pulled his head back, their lips disconnecting with a soft smack.

She felt dizzy, and her skin was tingling from where the rough hairs of his beard had scratched against it.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting to do that?” He asked. His voice had a low, rough growl to it that sent chills down her spine in the most thrilling way.

“Hmmm, about two months?” She said playfully, though her voice was still weak, brain still fighting through the pleasurable fog their physical closeness had filled her with.

A spark lit in his too-dark eyes, and the grin he’d had pushed a little higher into his bearded cheeks.

“Two months.” He agreed, slipping a hand around to the curve of her rear and giving it a smack, then a squeeze for good measure. She squeaked, which only made him chuckle. “We better get to the hardware store before they close. The boys would be pissed if they showed up tomorrow morning and we hadn’t gotten the supplies because we were too busy with each other.” He leaned down to give her one quick kiss, offered another little firm smack on her ass, then finally let her go.

It wasn’t until they’d climbed into his truck and started down the road that she thought to ask.

“Hey, who’s all coming tomorrow?”

Though she and Matt had gotten closer these past two months, she hadn’t exactly forgotten about a certain blond-haired cowboy. She’d done well at putting him out of her mind in the beginning, but then Matt sent her a picture from one of the rodeos he was at of him, Nick, Kenny… and Adam. 

Her eyes had been immediately drawn to Adam. Standing with his thumb hooked on his shimmering buckle, half-smile on his face, blond ringlet curls framing it like a mane beneath his cowboy hat. She’d stared at him in the picture, wondering what was going through his mind, and reliving their moments beneath the starlight together all over again. She hadn’t meant to obsess, and she’d tried to force herself to look at the rest of the guys in the picture, including Matt, and then closed it knowing if she kept looking, she’d find herself staring at Adam again. Her attention just kept pulling back to him no matter how hard she tried not to let it.

Then he showed up occasionally in her dreams; each one felt so real.

Then, late night googling brought up recaps of his rides from earlier in the year and the years prior, so she’d started watching them. Watching how he rode each unique, different horse with precision. She even saw the few times, early on in his rodeo career, where he hadn’t managed to stick the ride as well as he wanted, where his skill just wasn’t there, and saw the way he looked when he’d disappointed himself. She had a feeling he was the kind of person who punished himself more than anyone could ever do to him. Another thing she noticed were his improvements when he came back after a particularly poor ride, and how he seemed to take a lesson from every less-than-ideal ride he had. It was why he was as good as he was now, and there was no denying it. Article after article online talked of Adam as though he was fixing to be the next big thing in bronc riding. Everyone from experts to hobby-watchers claimed they expected to see his name in the top five rankings of the PRCA every year. 

There was something about him she couldn’t quite pull herself away from. Something that made her yearn and ache and wonder.

But that was just a secret little thing she did. She told herself it didn’t mean anything and that she was better off never seeing him again in person. If she was ever going to go watch Matt rope at a rodeo, she’d check the bronc registrants and make sure Adam wasn’t there before she went. Matt didn’t need to know, but they weren’t dating anyways, and Adam wasn’t anything to her, so there was nothing to tell.

Still, the idea that not telling Matt now meant Adam was going to show up at her house to help build tomorrow…

“Nick’s bringing Kenny and our good friend Brandon, you haven’t met him yet.”

No Adam. Like he would have said yes if Matt asked him to come help her, anyways.

“Okay, cool! I wanted to make sure I had enough places for everyone to crash.”

They’d discussed getting hotel rooms, but Hazel wouldn’t hear it. She had enough places to put them up, and they were here to do her a favor. She could be a gracious host for a night for the men who were going out of their way to help out like they were.

“Andrea and Rosie are coming too,” she said, “figured we could use all the hands we can get. I think Andrea will probably bring her siblings, too.”

She hadn’t told Andrea that Nick was coming, just that Matt was coming to help her construct stables and an arena. Hazel almost felt bad, she knew how few days off Andrea got, but the chance to trick her into spending all day with Nick was too great to pass up. She still remembered the way Andrea had blushed when she’d talked about Nick and, getting to know Nick better through her conversations with Matt, Hazel couldn’t keep herself from wanting to see them together.

“Sounds like we’re going to have plenty of hands. It’s going to be a piece of cake.” He grinned reassuringly at her before refocusing on the road ahead.

“I seriously can’t thank you enough for this, Matt.”

“I think you knew what you were doing when you bought a house in the country with all that property. You knew that was the perfect size for a hobby ranch, maybe subconsciously.”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a smile, “Maybe.” The reality of her being able to own her own horse again was coming even closer.

“Plus,” he started, turning the truck into the parking lot of the hardware store, “a few rodeos come near here, an hour or two away during the season. I’ll be able to come put my horse up with you instead of paying the fees to rent a pen at the grounds.” He flashed her a grin. “And I won’t have to get a hotel room, cause there’ll be a bed with a pretty girl to keep me warm there too.” 

“Is that so?” She managed, laughing and knowing she had to be blushing.

“Mhm,” he said, parking the truck and unbuckling his seatbelt, reaching to rub his palm over her arm, giving it a light squeeze. He winked as he pulled his hand away. “Come on, the faster we get all this taken care of, the faster we can go get something to eat.”

“I’m sure dinner is the only thing you’re eager to get to,” she said as she climbed out of the cab and joined him to walk toward the store.

“Ma’am,” he put a hand over his heart and peered at her beneath the shadowed brim of his cowboy hat, “I don’t know what you’ve heard of me, but I’m a good Christian boy.”

“Mhm.” Hazel fixed him with a pointed look. “Good Christian boy my ass.”

“Maybe you do know me too well,” He laughed, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her in toward him, sealing the sentiment with a kiss to the top of her head.

They made surprisingly quick work through the hardware store. Matt had enough experience to offer solid suggestions, and she wasn’t exactly building anything fancy and was more than willing to defer to his judgement. He and his brother had built and repaired enough fences and barns in their day, and he was happy to share stories of the mistakes they’d made that had her laughing as he did. They ordered the lumber to be delivered in the morning, hopefully before everyone arrived, and took the rest of the supplies home with them after stopping at a taqueria for dinner.

Things were easy with Matt. Much easier than she’d anticipated. These last two months she felt like she’d gotten to know a different side to Matt, maybe not one he often showed. The one who needed to look at his brother before a ride, needed his brother to nod his head to say they had it in order to push his anxieties away. The one who wanted to do whatever he could to help his friends succeed. The one who dreamed big, impossible things and then kept grinding until he achieved them. The one who made her laugh, who teased her throughout the night and smiled wide as she giggled, his dark eyes soft and warm on her face.

She would have thought two months was enough time for her to sort out her relationship fears, but it wasn’t. The level of their closeness scared her, and she worried any moment his touch got a little extra gentle, or his smile a little softer on the edges, that he might decide to address where their relationship had gone.

He never did, and she knew it was silly (and a little cowardice) for her to wait for him to. Matt didn’t have long term, serious relationships. He’d told her himself he’d always been so focused on his career he couldn’t take time away from it to date. Why would she expect his mind to suddenly change with her?

Why did she want it to? 

She didn’t want it to. 

Did she?

Hazel decided to do what she did best and put the thought out of her mind completely, choosing to instead enjoy the feeling of Matt slipping his hand around hers as they exited the restaurant and walked toward his truck. She wiggled her fingers between his and he gave her hand a little squeeze. The evening air was still a little warm, but significantly cooler than it’d been all day. It pressed gently around them as they walked over the streetlight lit sidewalk together. He skimmed the pad of his thumb back and forth over her hand before they reached the truck and he had to pull his hand out of hers, opening the door and smiling as she climbed in before he shut it.

The closer they got to her house the heavier the pressure between them seemed to become. They still joked and talked, slipped in and out of flirting, his hand reaching over occasionally to grab hers and hold it between them, but there was something mounting.

A knowing excitement.

A delicious rush of tingles.

Hazel looked out the window at the properties they were passing as the town fell away and they entered the country outskirts she lived on. They were nearly home. No other errands to run. Nothing else to do… just time to finally be alone together.

She glanced over at him and he lifted her hand to press his lips against it, then looked forward again as he pulled away from the stop sign. The music - old, classic country - crooned gentle from the low volume he had it set at; quiet enough to easily talk over, loud enough to hear when the conversation paused. Hazel focused on that, or tried to, but really she was feeling every gentle sweep of his thumb against her skin and only thinking about how nice his touch felt.

She thought of the late-night conversations, where they’d stumbled into primal needs and he’d growled what he’d do to her, with her, through the phone and made her eyes roll back as she trembled and convulsed in pleasure. Her heartbeat kicked up as he slowed the truck and pulled into the drive. The gravel crunched beneath the wheels as he stopped the truck and parked, turning off the engine and letting them sit in the quiet as it's rumble stilled.

“Hey,” he said, and she looked over at him, catching her breath a little. He really was handsome with that full, dark beard and thick, long hair. Her fingers itched suddenly to touch it, to run through the strands and finally take it out of the band he pulled it back in, but she knew she wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

“Hm?”

“In just two weeks,” he grinned and gestured to where they’d decided was the best place to construct, “you’re going to have the facilities to house your very own horse. If you decide you want to.”

There was no way to stop the smile that burst across her face. She glanced to where he’d pointed and imagined a little three-stall stable with three horses poking their heads over the half-doors and giving excited whinnies as she came to give them their morning feed.

“See?” He said, but his voice was softer this time, and when she looked at him she found he’d been watching her this whole time, not looking off at her yard where they’d be building. “That’s why I wanted to do this. That smile you get.”

His brown eyes were warm… so warm. They reminded her of the day’s sunshine broke through in early autumn, enough to chase away the coming chill and illuminate the changing leaves still clinging to the tree branches. That sort of warmth you just had to stop, turn your face up toward the sun and soak in.

She ducked her head and bit into the rising corners of her lips, blushing and feeling suddenly almost overwhelmed with how much he cared about her happiness. To go through all this trouble just for her? She blinked back the sudden sting of tears that wanted to rise from her emotions, and looked over at him, and hoped he could see how grateful she was, because just saying “Thank you, Matt.” Didn’t feel like enough.

“You’re welcome, Hazel.” He said, and she felt like he understood. He knew no man had ever gone out of his way for her like this, she’d told him that when she told him about her ex-fiance. He knew she kept quiet and grinded and never complained, and never took anything for granted in life, and that she worked hard to achieve everything she could even though sometimes she just wished she could have a little break.

Here he was, giving her that break. Him, his brother, their friends, and her friends. For the first time since her engagement broke off, Hazel sat stunned in the realization of how much love she now had around her.

Matt popped his door open and hopped out, leaving the bags of supplies on his backseat, as they wouldn’t need them until tomorrow, and went around to her side to open the door for her. It was a cute gesture, and one he seemed adamant on doing for her. They smiled at one another as she climbed out, and he immediately wrapped his arm around her with familiarity, tucking her to his side again as they walked up the walkway to her front door.

Their closeness was disrupted by two seventy-pound balls of gold and cream fluff in the form of Callahan and Carson being over-excited by having a new person in the house. They wiggled around him, crashed their bodies into him, and looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes that demanded love. Matt fell to their requests and rubbed his hands through their fur, talking sweetly to them and playing with them. They offered soft little barks and huffed as they play-growled and went into puppy bows before Carson took off and came back quickly with his favorite stuffed toy, demanding there be some tug-o-war and light fetch across the room. Hazel smiled as he played with them; there was something about seeing a man love on a dog that just made her heart soar. And when it was her dogs? Her… well, he wasn’t exactly ‘her’ man… but a man she was interested in? It was hard to get the smile off her face, even as she turned away and told him she was going to go use the restroom. The sound of Matt’s laughter and her dog’s playful, happy barks and growls followed her clear down the hallway and into her room.

Hazel glanced at herself in the mirror after washing her hands, noticing the way her lips couldn’t seem to help but stay smiling, and her brown eyes were so bright she could see what people meant when they called them beautiful. Like amber gemstones, semi-translucent orange-brown, lit through with the sunlight coming in through them. As she looked herself in the eyes, she found that daring streak, that one she liked to toy with and play with.

That one she had a feeling Matt was going to love.

She shut the water off the faucet and sent herself one last knowing grin before shedding her clothes and moving for the impromptu surprise she’d decided to give him.

***

“Hey,” she stood in the open entryway from hall to living area, where Matt was crouching down to rub Callahan’s belly. He glanced over and saw her - she’d changed into glitter-white lace lingerie, the sort of lingerie that was over-the-top with multiple straps and garter belts clipped to semi-sheer white stockings - and he rose slow, turning to stare openly at her. The hunger was clear across his face and it sent a warmth prickling across her skin, making her flush.

He took a slow, heavy step toward her while reaching up to remove his cowboy hat. Another step, and he chucked it toward the couch. Another, and his fingers were on the metal of his big, championship buckle, popping it open and pulling the leather strap through, leaving them hanging. The last step was accompanied by the soft jingle of the unfastened, clinking belt, and then he was close enough she could feel the warmth of his body rolling off him.

He looked her up and down slowly, appreciating the delicacy she was. His hands traced up the curve of her body, not allowing themselves the gorging of biting into her inviting skin; not stopping the path they skimmed until he ever so gently framed her face. Fingers under her jaw pressed her to look up into his eyes - dark, nearly black - before he lowered and put his lips against hers.

The kiss started slow and soft but quickly devolved into anything but. He bullied her body up against the doorframe and the squeak she made was muffled in his mouth. His tongue slid firm along hers, stroking, and his head turned to offer an angle that’d make it easier to kiss her. His fingers slipped off her neck in opposite directions; one into her hair, curling and cradling her head, wrapping around the dark strands and pulling with the faintest hint of pressure and control; the other went down, his palm brushed over the thin lace covering her right breast and elicited a small moan from her mouth, buried against their tongues. His greedy fingers slipped beneath the material, flesh on flesh, and rolled her nipple into a hard peak. He pinched that needy little nipple, making her moan again at the sensation. His hand slipped out only to slide along her sternum and press beneath the see-through lace bra and fondle her other breast, fingers rolling and pinching the nipple into matching, aching hardness the other was.

The buckle hanging off his belt bit into her stomach as he pressed his still-clothed body against her nearly nude one. He finally freed her mouth, allowing her to desperately gasp a breath, and immediately had his lips on her jaw, down her neck. She felt the pinch of his teeth gathering her tender skin, making her whine underneath him. A growled laugh in a hot exhale against her skin was her answer, as was the hand squeezing her breast and teasing her nipple leaving it to slide down her body. Her stomach tightened as his palm brushed the sensitive skin. His hips moved from grinding his hard bulge against her thigh to give his reaching fingers space. They played at the elasticity of her lace panties and then slipped below, easily finding what was warm and wet.

“There you are,” he groaned in her ear and nipped at her earlobe.

A louder moan escaped her kiss-swollen lips as his fingers played over her clit, winding her up.

“Feels good, baby?” He asked, and shifted to lean over her, so he could watch the faces she made as his fingers slipped a few inches into her slit and pulled her wet up to continue stroking her.

“Mhmm,” she whined, closing her eyes and clenching her jaw as her muscles tightened, pleasure shooting like lightning down her thighs and up into her stomach.

“Good,” he exhaled, and stroked harder. Faster.

Her fingers reached desperate to his arms, finding them large, solid things to find purchase on. 

“AhhHH! Matt!!” She cried out desperately.

“Yeah,” he whispered, beckoning her to let go.

“Matt!” Breath stalled in her lungs; his name was barely a strained whisper from her too-tight throat. She was too wound up from the tension that’d been between them since he arrived and the way he rubbed in hard, fast circles told her he wasn’t here to draw out her pleasure. He wanted her to lose herself to his touch.

“Yeah,” he pressed, winding his fingers harder around her raised, needy nub. “Cum baby,” he coaxed, like he’d done before on the other end of the receiver. Only now she could feel the warmth of his breath, the strength of his muscles beneath her hands, and with each breath she dragged in, she caught the faint hint of his woodsy, musky cologne. He invaded every one of her senses until she was nearly overwhelmed, gasping for air as though drowning, clinging to him as though he were her lifesaver in this turbulent sea of mounting delectation.

All at once, her muscles locked. A long cry followed by a whined expletive slipped from her mouth, and she came. The fat of her thighs squished tight together as though trying to become one, and she hunched inward, curling in on him. Her fingers held desperately tight around his biceps, and she felt each deep, desperate pulse inside her as it wracked through her body. The long stroke of his fingers matched the pulses as they slowly calmed and let her consciousness float back to earth.

Hazel sucked in a shaking breath, Matt’s fingers gently brushed her tender, swollen, sensitive nub and her eyelids fluttered open, eyes locking to his. They were dark. Black pools that reflected her flushed, glowing reflection in them. The pulsing between her legs crawled to a stop, and the tingles lingered in their wake. Her thighs unlocked and exhaustingly fell apart, slouching her against the doorframe. It was biting into her back, but she barely noticed. Couldn’t be bothered to move.

Her hands still hung on him for support. He still held her. He took his hand away from between her legs and gently set the line of her lingerie panties back comfortably right. Eyes locked with hers, he brought his fingers up between them and stuck them in his mouth, cleaning her slick off. His nostrils flared and his eyes rolled slightly back at her taste, making her whine and tremble with need in front of him.

His fingers popped out of his mouth and he moved back slowly, letting her hands fall to her sides as they slid off his biceps. He stood in front of her, chest rising and falling with each staggered breath he took. She glanced down his body and saw the bulge of his hard cock, clearly defined and trapped in his wranglers.

Bold, suddenly so bold and so needy, she reached to grab his jeans and tug him as she sloppily pulled the button out of its slot and ripped the zipper down. 

He grunted as her hand slipped into his boxers and curled around the weight of his rigid cock. He moaned as her palm rolled over the top, spreading the precum it leaked around the sensitive velvet skin of the head.

“Fuck,” he breathed hot over the top of her head, and one of his hands ran along her cheek, eyes still locked with hers even as she started to stroke his length and grip just enough to make him want. At her next stroke his hips pushed up greedily, forcing a faster pace, and a vein jumped in his neck as he blew a hard breath through his nose and moaned deep from within his chest.

His fingers found her hair, curled around the back of her head. He added a little pressure and she went, knowing, sinking down to her knees in front of him, still holding his rigid cock, it’s veins full and pumping blood, skin stretched. She looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and she saw the light bright in his eyes - how much he loved seeing her at this angle - and she kept her gaze his as she leaned forward and tapped the head of his cock against her pillow-soft lips. He sucked in a breath through his nose, lips pressed in a tight, thin line. Her tongue slipped past her full bottom lip and swirled over the salty, soft textured skin, tasting what had leaked desperately from the tip.

She bent her head forward, breaking their eye contact so her lips could stretch around his girth, leaning forward and sliding him over her warm, wet tongue. She started bobbing in slow strokes, letting the taste of him coat every inch of her tongue and his moans pour louder and louder over the top of her head. The sounds he made encouraged her, as did the way his fingers curled even tighter around her hair, just beginning to cause a little pain but not enough that she needed him to stop. While one hand kept on his cock, taking turns stroking when she popped her lips off his head to give her mouth a break, the other rested on his strong, still-dressed thigh.

“NnngghHazelfuck-” he barely bit up above her, his free hand joining the other in her hair, sloppily gathering the dark strands in his fists, letting her control the pace but clearly close to losing the battle not to control her, not to hold her as he thrust his hips and fucked her face.

Fuck, she was so wet. She could feel it, damp on the white-lace panties she was still wearing.

Relaxing her throat, she pushed him deep, and let herself choke a little bit. Let that soft inner lining of her throat squeeze tighter around his head and felt more precum leaking salty on her tongue as she pulled gently back. Flat hands on his jean-clad thighs let him know she needed a breath, and she popped off sloppy, spit coating her lips.

He pulled her hair back, tugged down so she’d be forced to point her face toward him and meet his eyes again. For a moment he looked at her - memorized how she looked with his precum and her spit glistening her kiss-swollen lips - and then he shook his head and released a shaky breath.

“Jesus Christ, wild filly,” he mumbled low, “you’re going to make me cum too soon.”

He gently unwound his fingers from her hair, massaging where he’d pulled a little hard, and then reached to grab at her shoulders and help her back up to her feet.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he whispered, ducking in to brush his lips over hers. The coarse hairs of his beard tickled her as he hovered for a moment, turned his head and sank into the kiss. His fingers curled hard around her, holding her to him as they kissed for just one hard, desperate moment… and then he let her go and stepped gently back, giving her the space to guide him toward her bedroom.

She glanced over her shoulder as he followed close behind, smile spreading to match the one he wore. They walked down the hall, not bothering to turn on any lights, blue-night shadows shifting across his face as they went. She pressed the door to her bedroom open, leading him inside. As she continued walking toward the bed, he lingered and closed the door quietly at his back. The pressure in the room felt as though it shifted. She turned, looking at him, still tasting him on her tongue.

What calm had briefly settled between them evaporated in a heartbeat. Matt moved in, boots making a quick, decisive path toward her. As he did, he pulled at the cotton hem of his shirt and lifted it off his body. Pushed the denim of his jeans along with his boxers down his muscled, brown-hair coated thighs, and stopped himself only to step out of his boots until he stood just out of arm’s reach, naked in front of her.

One last step. Their bodies near touching, but he didn’t put his hands back on her just yet. 

Lifting them to his hair, Hazel admired the shift of his work-earned muscles bulging along his biceps. He tugged the elastic hair tie from its hold behind his head, letting his dark brown hair settle gently down around his shoulders. He ran a hand through it, impatient and quick, and she caught the smell of his shampoo.

Hazel sucked in a hard breath. She ached between her legs, where he’d already stroked her to fulfillment.

Then, finally, his hands were on her, but for as desperately as he grabbed, fingers digging hard into her, leaving greedy red prints in their wake, he didn’t rip the lace of her lingerie. He popped snaps, unhooked clasps and pushed and guided the material off her body, as though excitedly unwrapping a gift. His lips were hot on hers once she was as nude as he was, his exhale buried in her mouth as he pushed hard and grabbed her against him even harder. His thick erection, still wet with her spit, pressed into her belly between them. She could feel it. Every needy, desperate, blood-filled inch. His mouth left hers, beard scratching her skin as he kissed down her neck and across the dip of her clavicle. He ran the flat of his tongue over her skin, dragging it slow as if to savor the taste.

She ran her hands down his nude front, over his firm barrel chest, feeling the few, sparse hairs he hadn’t shaved. Her hands continued down to his hips, where she curled her fingers and gently drug the tips of her purple painted nails along the slanted dips. He shivered and exhaled shaky over her skin, where he’d paused kissing and tasting, hovering over her. She trailed her touch further upward, never breaking contact, and reveled in the goosebumps that rose along his arms and the way he trembled with need underneath her touch, his cock twitching, precum leaking into her stomach.

A wide, firm hand came to her shoulder and pushed her back. The mattress brushed the back of her knees. She set her ass down on it, then pushed her palms into the comforter to wiggle her body back as Matt chased close behind, becoming a shadow over her, unwilling to break away from her for long. Her thighs fell apart invitingly, giving him space to push his hips between her legs as they settled atop her bed, him poised over her, his long, shiny dark hair spilling over his shoulders and around her like a curtain. She could smell his shampoo again.

He dipped his hips, and she sucked in a gasp as the velvet head of his cock traced between her wet pussy lips. He groaned gently and his fingers curled at either side of her head, slipping beneath the pillows and pressing hard into the mattress. He pulled his hips back and pushed forward again, only this time at an angle, so his cock found where she was drenched and neediest and sank a slow inch inside. She moaned.

Another inch.

Matt groaned and lowered to put his lips along on her jaw, up her neck, near her ear. Tingles swept down her body and made her velvet muscles clench around his girth as he continued filling her up steady inch by steady inch, until he was as far as he could go without testing her body’s boundary.

“Matt...” she exhaled underneath him, a needy whine in the back of her throat. She was asking him for something, begging underneath him, but even she didn’t know what she wanted. Faster? Slower? More? Less? To keep doing what he was doing, spreading her around him, sitting raw and unprotected inside her cunt?

Raw. 

She was smarter than that. They were smarter than that. She should push against his shoulder, tell him to pull out and put on a condom before they continued. Sure, she was on birth control, but why risk it?

Instead, she rolled her hips back, spread her thighs a little wider and hooked her legs around his hips. She pushed him in further, and he moaned and shook as another inch sank in, head buried to her cervix. He pulled his upper body back, lifting his hands from the mattress and gripping her hips, his cock sliding slow and wet from inside her.

That pace evaporated almost immediately as he pressed his fingers tighter into her hips and crammed all of his cock back inside, rolling into a rhythm that was nothing other than what it was: a good, hard fuck. The bed rolled with each demanding thrust, dark walnut wood frame creaking, headboard lightly tapping the wall it rested against.

Her mouth caught open and her back arched, pressing her breasts toward him as he held her up by the hips and built to something that almost seemed frantic and desperate, only half his cock pulling out of her pussy before he was shoving it back in. She moaned and cried his name, and he groaned and encouraged her. His eyes rolled back, then snapped forward, and his thrusts increased their pace toward further chaos. His biting fingers were going to leave bruises on her hips the next day, but she couldn’t focus on that. Only the sensations he was building inside her, the way he would fuck her harder for a few more strokes just to make her cry out and moan, then he’d grin down at her, clearly pleased at how he was affecting her. She couldn’t do anything other than grip the sheets and take generous thrust after generous thrust of his driving hips, crying out as the lip of his cock stroked teasingly at her g-spot.

Before the pleasure could mount enough to get her off, just when she was on the edge, toes curled, eyes nearly crossed, he dropped her hips back down and all but collapsed on top of her, chest heaving with desperate breaths and skin hot, sticky with sweat. They were only briefly uncomfortable as he moved shortly after, pulling himself off her body. She glanced with a puzzled expression as his cock popped wet out of her pussy but didn’t have to wait to ask why. He was already grabbing her, fingers curling around her arms, pulling her off the bed where he’d fucked the shape of her into her sheets, and turning her toward her vanity.

He must’ve noticed the mirror, framed in the same dark walnut as her bed, which was attached to her vanity when they walked into the room. It was large, tall, easily catching them both in its reflection. He set her palms flat on the edge of the vanity, his fingers brushing down her hands as he reached to grip his cock and shoved it between her legs with sloppy, needy haste. It was as though he couldn’t stand to be outside of her any longer than he had to be.

She gasped and moaned as he slid inside with ease; she was so wet; she could feel it coating her thighs and sticking to them both. Her eyelids fluttered open and she caught his dark gaze in the reflection in front of her. He rammed her harder when their eyes met, her breasts swaying and jerking with each thrust. His jaw was clenched, muscle jumping beneath his beard, vein visible along his neck, and his hands curled hard around her hips again, pinching into flesh as he pulled her forcefully back at the same time he thrust up hard.

“Fuck! Matt!” She gasped at their reflection in the mirror. It was driving her wild to watch him thrust behind her, to feel one of his palms slide and push almost angrily at her legs, his muscled, hairy thighs crowding in to hold them tight, forcing them closer together so her cunt would grip even tighter around his driving cock. The wet sounds of their flesh connecting filled the room with the rocking of the vanity, her little bottles and containers of cosmetics falling and clattering to the ground. He didn’t stop; she didn’t tell him to. They were trapped in that place, in watching each wild, passionate thrust send a ripple up the fat on her body, each stroke of his cock inside bringing them both pleasure, driving them further and further toward that edge they knew was within reach.

“FuckHazelI’m… Fuck…” He rammed harder, chasing nirvana, hunching over her back until she could feel the rough, short hairs of his dark beard scratch her cheek, his warm breath smearing on her skin. His body was a warm weight above her, the edge of the vanity bit almost painfully into the front of her hips, but all her mind could focus on was the wild pinnacle of pleasure she was about to crash off of with one… more… thrust…

“AHH! MATT!” She screamed, and her pitch echoed off the mirror her breath was now making clouds across the surface of.

“Fuck!” He grunted near her ear and drove her down onto the vanity, flattening her on top of it and jerking against her as he came. She came at the same time, though it seemed unplanned, as if their bodies finally couldn’t take it any longer and just happened to crash together. She twitched and cried underneath him, her cunt gripping and milking his cock and making him shake and groan even harder. Hazel could feel every hard squirt of his cum against her cervix, buried to his balls inside her as he was. And she felt how much it was, how it seeped from between their connected parts before he was even done coming.

Soon, their breathing was calming. Their locked muscles could uncramp, and he slowly lifted off her back with a weak laugh, muttering a gentle apology as he pried his fingers from around her hips where he’d definitely bruised her, and brushed her sweat-stuck hair away from her neck. She caught his expression in the mirror as he tensed, still buried hard and sensitive inside her. 

“God damn woman,” he managed, shaking his head as he met her gaze in the mirror, his hair dark and tumbling over his shoulders, strands sticking to the sides of his face. He gently brushed his fingers along the back of her neck, then slid his palm down her spine, tracing the length of her back. Hazel leaned on her forearms and exhaled, feeling weak and shaky all over.

“Was that worth the wait?” She wanted to sound sassy and playful, but she was so worn out it came out a soft, tired, happy sigh.

“Hell yeah it was,” he murmured, and grunted as he carefully leaned forward to kiss her between the shoulder blades. He reached between them and pulled his slowly softening cock from between her legs, letting it hang, satisfied and wet against his thigh. He reached for her arm and gently guided her upright, smirk picking up one side of his lips higher than the other as she wobbled slightly and tightened her grasp on his forearm to keep from losing balance.

“Shut up,” she said, but it lacked any bite. She was smiling too wide. “Quick shower?”

“Sounds great,” he agreed, but didn’t let her go before he had wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss against her temple, and then languid and soft across her lips. 

She smiled halfway through their kiss, and his mouth curled too, leaving them both looking with happy fondness at one another when he finally pulled away. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this happy.

“Come on, wild filly,” he said, sliding that arm around her waist so he could give her a light, but firm tap on her bare ass. “The sooner we rinse off the sooner I can hold you in bed.”

“You’re going to have to split the bed with the dogs, too,” she said, raising a brow as they started for the adjoining master bathroom.

“Not if I keep that door closed,” he said, nodding toward her still-shut bedroom door. “They can suffer a night on the couch so I can have you all to myself.”

Hazel laughed, and the sound bounced happily around the acoustics of the bathroom. 

“I’ll let you be the one to tell them that.”

*****

Though they spent the morning snuggled up in bed, naked limbs tangled, beard burn down her body as he sucked and kissed red marks over her breasts, and stroked slow and languid to enjoy every thrust together, the rest of it went by rather quickly. After coffee and breakfast Rosie and Andrea pulled up the drive, along with Andrea’s siblings in tow.

“I told some of the guys down at the stockyards what you were trying to accomplish here,” Andrea said as they stood by the level ground Hazel was planning on constructing the small stable at. “So we might get a few more hands to help.”

“That would be perfect,” Hazel replied with a bit of relief, worry on the edge of her tone. “I don’t know how he thinks we can get all of this built in just two weekends.”

“I’ve seen cowboys do crazier things,” Andrea laughed and glanced over at Matt, who was throwing a ball to one of Andrea’s youngest siblings, Daniel, with the intent to keep it away from Callahan and Carson, who barked and happily wagged their tails as they ran and jumped between them, trying to snatch it out of the air. Hazel felt something in her soften at the sight of him laughing, hair tied back in a bun, playing with the dogs and kids in the front yard. It was almost too picturesque. Almost too perfect. 

“So, y’all a thing yet?” Rosie asked as she joined Hazel and Andrea, following Hazel’s eyes to watch Matt as well.

Hazel stiffened.

“No,” she said, and a frown worked its way over her brow. A little panic wormed its way into her heart, and she gave her head a shake, pulling her eyes away from him. “I told you, we’re just friends.”

“Mhm,” Rosie said, sharing a look with Andrea that made Hazel roll her eyes. Whatever friendly wisdom she was about to bestow was cut off by the rumble of a large truck’s engine slowing and turning up the drive. Matt tossed the ball underhand to Daniel and waved at the driver, who Hazel immediately recognized as Kenny. Though she’d only met him once, he cut a pretty recognizable figure. Sitting passenger was -

“Nick. Oh my God. Hazel,” Andrea hissed through her clenched teeth, “You didn’t tell me Nick was coming.”

Hazel frowned and looked over at her.

“Don’t tell me you expect me to believe you wore that cute red top and that bit of make-up because you wanted to look cute for constructing my new barn. You knew if Matt was going to be here, Nick was going to show up too. I can see right through you.” She grinned as she teased, amused to see a little bit of blush creeping into Andrea’s cheeks.

“Shut up!” Andrea waved her hands in surrender and pretended one of her siblings needed something both to get her away from the conversation, and to distract her from Nick.

But Hazel saw the way he glanced immediately over at her before Matt approached him for a quick hug. She grinned and started over.

“Nick!”

“Hazel!”

He really had the sort of smile that if she looked it up in the dictionary, a picture of him beaming his pretty teeth would be right beside it. It was infectious and made hers spread and pick up into her cheeks. Matt was smiling too, as he looked from her to Nick and back again.

After she stepped away from a brief hug with Nick, Matt slipped his arm around her lower back and tucked her in so her hips bumped his thigh. Her breath caught at how perfectly domestic it seemed. How natural. How she liked his smell sharp in her nose, that shampoo he used, coffee, the little dab of cologne he applied that was just faint enough to intrigue her. When she glanced at his profile while he talked about what they had gotten at the store yesterday, explaining his plans to Nick, she stopped paying attention to what they were saying.

She knew she should - it was her barn and arena they were building - but she just kept staring at Matt. She reached up, fingertips skimming his hairline as she caught an escaped wisp of hair that’d picked up from the breeze and tucked it behind his ear. He slid his eyes to her - warm, bright in the morning sunlight - and smiled. It was a comfortable smile. A sweet smile.

One that reminded her of their late-night heart-to-hearts, where she kept having to switch to lay her phone on the pillow on speaker, because her ear was aching having been pressed against it for so long. Where she had to get her charger and plug it in to keep it from dying in the middle of their conversation. When had this happened to her? One minute they were just good friends, the next her heart was aching just as much as her thighs were.

Nick excused himself to help Kenny, and Brandon, who Hazel hadn’t yet met, and was talking to Andrea. She noticed Andrea change her posture a little bit as Nick approached and it made her smile.

“What is it?” Matt asked, sotto voce. He was still watching her, her fingers lingering their touch on his temple.

She slipped her hand away, but he still held her close.

“I was just thinking,” she glanced back over at Nick and Andrea, “Your brother. Do you think he might be into Andrea?”

Matt frowned and glanced from her, toward them, then smiled. “Yeah, he likes her.” His grin picked up a little higher and she trusted him to understand his brother’s body language quick enough to see it. He tilted his head toward her, and his eyes were hers again. “What are you thinking?” He seemed amused and intrigued.

“I was just thinking that maybe we should make sure they help each other on different parts of the job today.” She tried to sound innocent, but her grin was tilting in the corners and his was spreading wider as he watched it. 

Conspirators. 

“I’m sure they’ll work very well as a team together.” She shrugged.

His nod was a quick agreement. “Yeah, they look like they’ll have strong communication skills.” 

Hazel giggled.

“Matt!” Brandon - she really needed to find a minute to introduce herself to him - called up from down the drive and waved his hand. “Truck’s here with the lumber. Where should they unload?”

Matt slid his arm away from the small of her back and the loss of pressure and warmth and closeness almost made her frown. “Here we go,” he said, clearly excited to get the day started.

He, Kenny, Brandon, and Nick had already checked how level the ground was and started pointing and mapping out the perfect areas to build on, and what they’d need to do first. Matt jogged a step or two to close the gap in time before the driver backed into the driveway, waving his hands and nodding as he explained how he wanted him to maneuver around the vehicles in the drive and where they planned to unload the lumber.

Another truck pulled up, and Andrea waved with a smile, heading toward them as they found somewhere out of the way and parked. They were two older men, clearly cowboys by their denim shirts and work t-shirts, scuffed boots and slight bow-legged walk. That’s right, Hazel remembered, shaking her head and starting forward to greet them too, Andrea had said she’d told some of the guys at the stockyard cafe about what they were doing, and they’d said they might show up to help.

“Hi, I’m Hazel,” she introduced herself and reached for the handshake they were offering.

“Nice to meet you, Hazel. Ron.” He said. Hazel smiled and nodded, then turned to look at the second man and shake his hand.

“John. Andrea told me you and the Jackson boys are trying to get a barn and arena up for some horses?” She knew it had to have been at least partly because of Matt and Nick that some of the cowboys who ate at the stockyard cafe decided they’d come help.

“Yeah! Nothing too fancy, basic, sturdy construction. Matt’s got an idea in mind,” she waved her hand over toward where Matt and the boys were unloading the lumber. “Says it should only take two weekends.”

Ron whistled between his teeth. “That’s biting off a bit to chew.”

“I’ve seen shit built faster - oh, sorry ma’am.” John grinned apologetically toward her.

“Please,” Hazel said and waved a hand. “No offense. You might hear me say a colorful thing or two today if you stick around long enough.” They laughed and she nodded toward Matt. “Let’s go see if those guys need any help.”

A handful more people showed up, much to Hazel’s surprise, trickling in throughout the morning as they set to work on making sure the ground was level, digging post holes, mixing and pouring cement for the base, and getting everything in order. By early evening, the large group of twenty or so people - she couldn’t ever remember having this many people on her property - were exhausted, but happily chatting, having grown close throughout the day as they worked together. Carson and Callahan were happy too, having plenty of hands to pet them throughout the day, providing a distraction when anyone needed to take a quick break.

No one would allow anything but her gratitude, no matter how much she asked, so Hazel ordered up a generous amount of catering platters from a local barbeque restaurant and with a few makeshift adjustments to left-over lumber that’d be used to finish the construction, they had haphazard tables to set it all out on. Matt sent Andrea and Nick up to the store to get drinks, a couple styrofoam coolers, ice, solo cups, paper plates and plastic utensils. He turned and gave Hazel a little wink and a grin as Nick and Andrea set off toward the truck together. Soon enough it was an evening of people eating, drinking, chatting, laughing and admiring how much they’d accomplished.

A community.

She was lingering on the outside of the group - they’d started up her little bonfire when it got dark a few hours ago and plugged in the string lights she had up on her back patio - where she’d been helping clean up and put cans of empty sodas and beer away, watching everyone. A smile worked its way over her lips, but it was almost… sad.

It hit her then that this was something she’d been missing about this way of life. That this touched her heart with a kind of nostalgia that made tears prick sudden and hot in her eyes. She watched them, these kindhearted people who went out of their way to help a neighbor only from the goodness of their heart, not because they were expecting anything to come back to them. She continued smiling fondly, despite the rising tears, looking out over the faces of some people she’d just met today, and others she’d known for a long time, and she realized how comfortable she felt with them all.

She thought of everything she’d missed since she’d been gone, all the barbeques her large country-folk family used to have together. The late nights after a long show day, when she was exhausted but knew she couldn’t relax until the animals were cared for and bedded down properly. Those dinners at Denny’s that oftentimes went past midnight, feeling the grit and grime of dirt on her face from the day, laughing as she joked with the rest of her friends who’d competed too, or come along to support her, chucking fries across the table at each other.

All of it. She missed all of it.

“Hey, you okay?” Matt’s voice broke through the fog and when she blinked herself back into reality, she felt a tear slip down her cheek.

“Yeah,” she sucked in a shaky breath and looked over at him, smiling and lifting a hand to wipe at her eyes.

“Hey, hey,” he said with a soft whisper, moving in to slip his palms on her cheeks, cupping her face and turning it up toward him. He glanced between her watery eyes and softly shushed her as the pads of his thumbs skimmed her cheeks and wiped away the remnants of the few tears she hadn’t realized she’d cried. 

“What’s wrong babe?” He asked in that same quiet voice, the distant chatter and laughter background noise that seemed to fall even further behind.

“It’s nothing,” she started, and pulled her face from his hands, shaking her head. She couldn’t look at him when he looked at her with such deep, honest concern. Not when she was as vulnerable as she was right now.

“No,” he said, and his fingers curled around her elbow, turning her back toward him. His hand slipped to her back and he added pressure, guiding her into his arms. She stumbled toward him and swallowed back the lump that rose in her throat, slipping her arms naturally around him as his wrapped around her. She pressed her face against his chest and drug a deep breath that smelled and tasted like him. He rubbed his hand up and down her back, tucked his head against hers and squeezed his muscled arms comfortably snug around her body.

“It’s okay,” he whispered as her body shook with a sob she was trying not to cry. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” He ran his palm up and down her back, squeezed her in a little tighter as a small, pathetic sound crawled up her throat at how much his comfort meant to her. “Shhh, I’m here Hazel. I got you.”

She didn’t cry, not the way she might have if it really was just the two of them alone. But she kept her face pressed against his chest, let herself breathe through the sudden damning ache in her heart that tightened her throat, and closed her eyes as she calmed the stammering, erratic beating of her heart. She focused on his smell, on the warmth of his body around her, of the strength in his arms she could feel around her, of the pressure he added to the gentle strokes up and down her back. With each second that passed by, she pulled herself back away from that longing and that sorrow, and only when he felt the tension leave her body did he pull his chest away and cheat his face down toward hers.

One of his hands came up and gently tucked her hair behind her ear. His fingers skimmed her cheek.

“Okay?” He asked with that same care and concern he’d shown in the way he held her.

“Yeah,” she said, and cleared her throat, nodding sharply as she drew a breath and pulled to step back out of his arms. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.” Her voice was small, and they both knew she was, but wasn’t okay, but this wasn’t the time or the place for her to explain anything. What he’d done, holding there and being there with her, was exactly what she could have needed.

Hazel tried for a small smile and saw a little relief in the concern on his face when she did.

“Okay,” he said under his breath, then bent in and pushed his mouth on hers. It was soft. Their lips brushed, and they both melted into it, turning their heads to better adjust, and her heart lifted with the way his hands suddenly gripped tight and held her close to him. The kiss turned hungry, but wasn’t sexual, it was… deeper. A need to be as close as they could be after sharing a small moment together. A private place where they finally could kiss like that, when they’d been around people all day and could just flirt a little playfully, but never be as close as they wanted.

Matt’s tongue pried into her mouth and she made a small groan, opening her lips and slipping her tongue along his. His gripping fingers fell to her hips, massaging the sore bruises he’d left there before they curled around and both palms squeezed two handfuls of the fat on her ass. He yanked her body up against his and groaned when she slipped her tongue out of his mouth and latched her lips around his tongue, sucking playfully before she pulled back and broke the kiss. She could feel the growth of his erection as it started with how she was pressed up against him.

“Tonight is going to be torture,” he groaned. 

“Sorry,” she said with a laugh. It felt good to laugh, even quietly. “You know I couldn’t let them stay in a hotel.”

His brother, Kenny, and Brandon had traveled too far to go back home and rest up, so two would take the couches and one would take the guest bedroom. Unfortunately, that meant with the last night she and Matt had together, they couldn’t be as vigorous as they were the night before.

“I’ll get my hands on you still,” he muttered against her neck as he bent to press a kiss there, leaving little warm touches up her skin, the last lingering just below her jaw near her ear so the words he spoke were a whisper that tickled. “I’ll just have to cover your mouth to keep you from being too loud.”

A shiver ran through her as he leaned slowly back, eyes so dark, they no longer held the comforting honey-warmth she’d been looking into all day. Now they were hungry. Wanting.

The sound of boots scraping cement in an approach snapped them out of the spell they’d been pulled into. Matt didn’t let her go, though, only leaning back enough to turn his head and glance at who was approaching.

“Hey,” he said, lips turning in a smile as Nick came up, hands full of empty cans to discard of.

“Hey,” he said, and glanced between them, then bit down on a smile as he ducked around them and dropped the cans with a rattle into the plastic bag lined bins. “A few people are getting ready to trickle out. Things are winding down.”

“Alright, we’ll be over there to see them off in a minute.” Matt turned back toward her as Nick ducked off, back toward the crowd.

“I’m going to go splash my face,” she said, clearing the leftover emotions from her throat before slipping out of his arms and finding the night chill felt cooler than she’d anticipated.

“Alright,” he replied, and held onto her until he couldn’t anymore, until the grasp on their fingers broke softly away. She gave him another smile to let him know she was okay, and this one was a little bit higher than the last. He matched it with his own, then watched her walk inside before going to return to the people helping clean up, getting gathered in the groups they arrived and ready to go.

Inside, Hazel splashed her face with cool water from the sink in her restroom to erase any trace of her prior tears. She wouldn’t want anyone there to think she was upset, because she wasn’t, really. Her heart was full for the first time in a long time… and somewhere, deep inside, that scared her.

She knew how quickly that could all be snatched away.

She looked at herself for one more moment in the mirror and then nodded, wiped her face with a clean washcloth, and headed back outside.

Seeing everyone off, one group at a time, took a little time. Andrea was the last to leave, siblings piled into her car. When Hazel remembered to ask her if she and Nick had a fun day together, she’d had to bite the inside of her lip to keep her smile from spreading at the accusatory glance Andrea gave.

“I knew you were up to something!” She said under her breath, standing beside her car.

“You know you had an awesome day,” Hazel teased.

“Come on Andrea!” Daniel complained, cracking the car window down, “I need to get home so I can get on xbox,” he waved his phone, “Trevor and Noah are already on!”

“I’m using the xbox when we get home!” Shouted Anthony, the oldest of the bunch at fifteen, from where he was sitting in the front seat.

“Nu-uh, I called dibs!”

“Boys!” Andrea scolded, glaring at the car full of her younger siblings. “Daniel, roll the window back up, I’m talking to Aunt Hazel. We’ll leave when we leave.” 

Daniel groaned and rolled the window up, leaving their fighting to be muffled behind the glass as the kids started to argue again. Andrea’s eyes slid to Hazel, who was used to the chaos her friend lived in. She offered a supportive smile and Andrea sighed into one, too.

“Okay, fine. It was actually really nice.” She glanced over her shoulder to look where Nick was helping Matt, Kenny, and Brandon put everything up and get everything ready for tomorrow. “He’s really nice.”

“He is,” Hazel agreed.

“What about you and Matt?” Andrea asked, looking back at Hazel. “You two seem…”

“More than just hookup buddies?”

Andrea hummed her agreement and Hazel shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know. I’m too afraid to ask him.”

“Do you want to be more than hookup buddies?”

“Yes? No? Maybe? Probably not?” Hazel stumbled helplessly through her half-answers and groaned, shaking her head until her dark hair was a curtain around her face. “I don’t know what I want.”

“I think you do,” Andrea said and when Hazel looked up at her, saw her eyebrows were pinched in a concerned frown. “I think you do want a relationship with him, because he’s more to you now than just a casual hookup. But I think you’re too scared to open up again, and hey,” she reached out and gently touched Hazel’s arm. “That’s okay. I remember everything you went through after Ethan. It’s okay to be scared, Hazel.”

“You’re right,” Hazel worked a sigh through her emotion-tight throat and shook her head again. “You’re right.”

Andrea pulled her in for a hug, gave her a little squeeze and smiled as she pulled away.

“Cheer up, huh? You got a really hot cowboy to come build you a barn so you can get a horse. That’s a win in Hazel Baker’s book if I ever heard one.”

Hazel laughed. “You got me there.” She stepped away so Andrea could get in her car and waved as she backed out of the driveway. 

The boys had done most of the clean-up by the time Hazel made it back up the drive. “Thank you, guys,” she said, “I could use you around here more often.”

“That sounded like a threat,” Brandon joked as they started toward the house, Callahan and Carson joining the group, tails wagging as Brandon reached down to give them both a little scratch behind the ear. Hazel grinned over at Brandon.

“Well, I guess that means we have to do a bad job tomorrow so she’ll kick us out for sure,” Kenny supplied.

“She won’t have to kick you guys out; I’ll do it for her.” Matt threatened as they walked into the living room. Nick snickered as Kenny mocked a gasp. Hazel shook her head at their banter.

She’d already set up the two long couches with a blanket and pillow each. Brandon and Nick had agreed to sleep out on them and didn’t bother with her apologies for not having enough beds. Kenny was shown the guest bedroom, where he’d take the bed. Then it was just her, Matt, and the dogs left to wander toward the room and softly let the bedroom door click shut behind them.

Matt’s hand reached out to brush the small of her back as she slowed her pace in front of him, purposefully leaning back to have his touch. He rubbed his fingers over her shirt, pressing the fabric to her skin.

Carson and Callahan trotted to their beds and laid down, seemingly satisfied to fall dead asleep within seconds. They’d had a long day full of plenty of stimulation; it’d been awhile since that many people had been over. Hazel and Matt were mostly alone in a house full of people, and the touch on her body was different than it was last night.

This time it lingered.

Savored.

Appreciated.

He stepped in behind her, sliding his hands over her wide hips, looping them around her body. He pulled her back against him and nestled his chin on her neck. A low breath leaked from his nose, a contented sigh to just hold her like this after a long day. Maybe too, to remember what holding her like this felt like when he was back on the road again in less than twenty-four hours. The more he paid attention to every detail the easier it’d be to close his eyes and remember being so close to her, holding her, when they talked on the phone as he traveled.

Then his hands gripped along her arms and he turned her to face him as he leaned back enough to fit her snug, belly to belly. He lifted his hands, framing her cheeks, and leaned down to melt his lips against hers. Hazel’s arms lifted between their bodies, sliding up his stomach and chest over that soft cotton tee he wore. She looped them around his shoulders and pulled herself up as she pressed to the tips of her toes, giving everything in herself over in that kiss. He responded, his hands back on her waist, massaging as he wrapped around her and closed her in, squeezing a little hard so she’d feel how strong he was for her.

Their mouths opened, tongues pressing along one another’s. Their breaths hissed desperate through their nose, not ready to pull apart, but lungs burning with a need for air. She pulled him tighter down. He squeezed her harder against him. His beard prickled against her skin.

They only broke apart once they couldn’t take it anymore and froze in each other's breaths, chests heaving as they drug in air they needed. Their eyes met.

What is this? 

His fingertips skimmed the hem of her shirt and then pinched, gathering the material and slipping it upward. At the same time, he nodded his head to indicate for her to lift her arms, which she did almost feeling as though she were in a daze, trapped in watching him care for her. He exhaled when her shirt slipped away, despite the fact he’d seen her nude the night before. Despite the fact she was still wearing her bra and it wasn’t anything pretty, either.

Was she reading too far into it?

He slipped his hands to her jeans and pinched, pulling the denim together to slip the metal button out of its slot. He pulled the zipper down slow, letting its sound drag over their ears. He gathered the material at her hips and tugged hard enough to pull it down her thighs, around her knees.

“Step out of them,” it was a gentle command and he helped her as she lifted her knees, pushing her jeans around her ankles where she could sidestep and leave them a pile on the floor along with her socks and boots. His fingertips skimmed up the sides of her thighs and stopped at the elastic of her panties. They curled around it, pulling the material slowly away from her body. He peeled them down and she parted her thighs so he could. His chin pointed to his chest and he groaned softly under his breath.

“You’re already wet for me,” he whispered, and showed her the damp spot on her panties. She nearly trembled.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss against the corner of her mouth. “Come on,” his fingers slid down her belly and pressed between her legs, “let’s go to the bed.” 

He followed her until the back of her knees pressed her mattress, his artful, stroking finger already circling her clit and making her struggle not to moan loudly. When she did, he shushed her gently and admonished. “Naughty girl, you don’t want them to hear you, do you?” He leaned close and whispered over her skin. He pushed her to sit on the bed, then crowded close so she’d have no choice but to crawl back and give him space above her on top of her soft, pale blue comforter.

He slipped two fingers inside her and switched the pad of his thumb to stroke her red, raised, needy nub. His fingers mimicked strokes, pulling and pushing in and out of her. He added a third and she had to bite the inside of her bottom lip hard to keep from moaning loud enough someone else in the house was bound to hear. He seemed to enjoy her reaction to him, smiling as he gentled the way he fucked her with his fingers and leaned down, kissing her mouth gently. Fully.

Then he leaned back and pressed his fingers in harder. Stroked the inside of her walls, curving and sliding over that elusive g-spot. Her toes curled and she shivered. Once he knew where it was, he grew almost eager to see her rendered helpless with pleasure he brought on her. Her thighs shook from how hard she’d clenched them, her fingers curled so tight into the fabric of the comforter they ached. Her hips bucked desperate against his hand, as if her caught-open mouth and arched back, wide-open hips and rolled-back eyes didn’t tell him how desperate she already was.

His free hands reached up and clamped down hard over her mouth and the hand inside her pushed in further, stroked deeper. Faster. She pressed the back of her head into the pillows and pushed her heels against the bed, every muscle in her body seized tight. His thumb swept that sensitive nub and the pleasure erupted inside her, making her thighs clamp hard around his arm and her body to curl in on itself. Her muscles squeezed his fingers as she moaned and squeaked behind his hand, barely muffled by it, her hard breaths pushing desperate out of her nose.

Matt stayed with her until her body stopped seizing. Until she shakily dropped against the bed and her thighs fell lazily apart, aching at how hard they’d just squeezed. He gently pried his fingers out of her wet and slipped his hand softly away from her mouth before pushing himself off the bed. He leaned down and kissed her, it was brief, but full of… something.

Surely the racing of her heart only had to do with the orgasm he’d just teased her into.

Standing back, he tugged his clothes away from his body with haste and let them join hers on the floor. When he pressed his knees into the mattress, he was naked, cock thick, veins standing out along its length and head red, desperately filled, a bead of precum leaking from the tip. It twitched as he let his eyes fall down her nearly naked body - just her bra was left on. Matt climbed carefully up her, the weight of his body dipping the mattress and rolling her gently toward him. He pushed her knees and she spread her legs wider to fit his hips between them, his hard cock pressing against her wet lips. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, palms pressing against her back. He enveloped her and sank his lips to kiss her as he pulled his hips back and his raw head made its way between her pussy lips where she was warmest and wettest. He sank in slow, stretching her around inch after inch until his head pressed just before hitting her cervix. He broke his mouth off hers and breathed shaky above her.

Still inside her, he took care to roll them on the mattress, pulling her up so he’d be laying with his head against the pillows and she’d be spread out on top of him. Her knees pressed at either side of his hips, and he rotated his and pushed them up, pressing more of his length deeper inside her. He filled her. A barely-hushed groan crawled up this out of his throat. He jutted his chin upwards toward her and kept his arms firm and securely wrapped around her as she laid out over his chest. Their hot, sweat-damp skin stuck together, but neither seemed to care.

They were too trapped in this moment, all too aware of every sound they couldn’t make, of how affected they were by one another. Their eyes met and he pulled one of his wide palms from her back so he could hold her face as he steadily fucked her. She could feel his strong abdomen clench every time he pushed his cock up inside her. She could feel her hips press down greedy on him, catching his pace and driving it quicker. She could feel how wet she was, how it coated their thighs. 

Their moans froze in their throat and leaked as desperate, sad little pants hushed in the air between them. Their skin stuck and peeled apart as she rode him. Her clit rubbed against his body with each stroke, and he’d dropped his hand from holding her face to wrap his arms around her again. He squeezed her tight against his body, nestled her against his broad chest lightly dusted with chest hair, and pushed his cock up hard and desperate inside her. They were chasing that frenzied end, where the pace was picking up, and they were struggling more and more with each glorious second not to scream out loud.

“Matt,” she whined, a whispered plea, her brows pinched tight.

“Yeah,” he groaned between his clenched teeth underneath her.

“I’m-”

“Come on baby-” He encouraged in a matching whisper, and her thighs locked down at the next sweep of her slick skin down his body, and his press up to fill her further. With his cock buried as deep inside her as he could be, her muscles seized, she cried out a little louder than intended, and shook on top of him as her orgasm rolled through her body. When the muscled walls of her vagina squeezed around his cock, Matt grunted underneath her and pressed his hips up a little higher - head of his cock squeezing against her cervix - and went completely still.

“Hazel,” he whispered on a heavy breath, eyes locked on hers. His body jerked and his brow pinched, hair a tousled dark mess around his face. She felt the heat of his cum empty inside her and only then realized they’d done it again. Fucked raw. Without protection.

She wasn’t sure whether it was a big deal that, when she looked at him coming off his high beneath her, she was happy he’d cum inside her. She liked the feeling of it. Of just them. A smile curled the tired edges of her lips and, when he saw it, a matching one slowly grew across his. He eased the way he’d squeezed her against him, but kept his arms still loosely wrapped around her, not quite ready to let her go. She leaned down, pressed her lips in a sweet kiss in the middle of his chest and turned her cheek to rest against him.

It was faintly uncomfortable, sticky and warm like that, him still buried up inside her, but it was also somehow comfortable too. Hazel listened to the soft thump, thump, thump, of his heart as it’s erratic beat calm, and felt hers slowing to match it. After he’d rested a few moments his hands started gently rubbing up and down her spine in slow, methodical strokes. They stayed like that for a little while, until they pulled toward the verge of falling asleep. Then, he sucked in a sharp, heavy breath to wake himself up and chuckled softly underneath her.

“Come on,” he ushered gently.

“No,” she muttered and snuggled in closer against him, enjoying the warmth radiating off his body. She was only then aware of how tired she was. Of how sore she was.

Matt laughed again.

“Come on, quick shower before bed.” He pushed her gently upward and she gave him a small, pouty glare which he grinned at. She groaned complaint as he gently pried her thigh off him and slipped out from between her legs, cock semi-hard and softly wilting. As he pushed himself off the bed, Hazel stretched naked atop the sweat-damp sheets. He paused by the bedside to appreciate the view, then quirked a brow and held a hand toward her.

“Let’s go, dirty girl,” he whispered.

She grinned at him for that one, then slipped off the bed, legs shaky as they were forced to support her weight.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk right for a week,” she complained under her breath as they padded on bare feet around discarded clothes for the bathroom.

“Good,” Matt said, “that means you’ll be feeling better by the time I get here next weekend and can do it all over again.”

***

The second day went quicker than the first. The arena was built by the time they were done, much to her surprise. But, with just needing post holes dug and cement to harden, it wasn’t quite the construction the barn was. Eventually she’d turn the other half of her property into a turn-out paddock, but for now the arena could double as such. By the afternoon the barn stood as a frame with steepled plywood to make the roof, the skeleton of the insides built atop the cement-poured floor. Hazel stood inside it and whistled low under her breath.

“I can’t believe it. It already looks like a barn.” There were three stables that would have half-doors on hinges and a little room built off to the side for her tack and feed. Nothing was enclosed yet, that would come the next weekend, but for the most part she could already see exactly what it was going to be.

And she couldn’t stop smiling. She looked at the men who’d helped her and saw they were grinning, too.

“Thank you, guys. Really. I can’t thank you enough for this… I…” words failed her. She didn’t know how to tell them how much this meant to her, but they seemed to understand with how warm and kind their eyes were.

“Any time for a girl as sweet as you,” Kenny said kindly, opening his arms as she stepped in for a hug. He held her friendly, warm, and pulled away so she could hug Brandon and then Nick, too.

“We’ll have this done next weekend.” Brandon said.

“If we didn’t have to get back, we’d have it done by Tuesday.” Nick supplied.

Hazel laughed. “I can be patient enough to wait for a weekend.”

They stepped away from the barn, retreating toward the house so they could gather their things and get ready to hit the road. A biting sense of dread rose in her throat as Matt tucked her against his side. It wasn’t just Kenny, Brandon, and Nick who were leaving, but Matt, too. It had only been two and a half days, two nights, and she wasn’t ready to let him go. She wasn’t ready for the questions that would creep into her mind as distance pulled them apart. She wasn’t ready to not have his calm touch or his love-sweet smiles when she needed to look toward him for support. She wasn’t ready not to have his comforting warmth wrapped securely around her as she slept at night. She wasn’t ready for the spot in her bed, which he seemed to fill so perfectly, to be empty again.

But it didn’t matter if she was ready or not. This was the unfortunate reality.

All night and all-day Hazel had been mentally warring with herself on whether to address her feelings with Matt. He seemed more affectionate and warmer toward her the entire day, and she wondered if she was projecting what she wanted from him. They had felt closer after their moment the night before… and she saw the way his eyes caught on her and felt the way his touches constantly lingered, how he seemed unable to keep from reaching for her whenever she was close enough to touch.

Maybe he was just trying to touch her as much as he could before he was gone.

Maybe he liked her as much as she liked him.

After Brandon, Kenny, and Nick pulled from the drive and took off down the road, she couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“What is this?” She blurted out and didn’t mean to sound as panicked or confused as she did. Matt tilted his head as he turned to look at her and a light frown tightened the pinch of his brow.

“What is what?”

“This.” She said, then gestured between them. “Us.”

He didn’t melt. In fact, he almost stiffened. Her heartbeat increased.

Oh no.

“I don’t know, Hazel.” He said, his voice soft and troubled. He glanced away, tongue sweeping his lips. When he met her eyes again, she could have sworn she saw a little bit of pain there.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and he firmly shook his head.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. It’s just…” He ran a palm over his face and exhaled a breath. “You’re the only girl I’ve been talking with these past two months, the only girl I care to talk with. I…” he reached for her then, as though he couldn’t confess these pieces of his heart without touching her in some capacity. “I care about you Hazel. I really do. Do you think I would do any of this,” he gestured behind her toward the construction of her barn and arena, “for a girl I didn’t feel anything for?”

“No…” she said and shook her head. “But are we… are we in a relationship?”

“I…” he slipped his hand from where he’d been gently holding hers. “Hazel, I can’t… I can’t be in a relationship right now.”

Her heart sank.

Fuck.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be,” he urgently continued. “Trust me. It’s just… the rodeo. I’m traveling constantly, plans changing frequently. We’re at a crucial spot in the season. If I miss one ride, it could wreck my PRCA points and take Nick and I out of the championship for the rest of the year.”

“I get it,” she said, but her throat was tight and it was hard to get the words out.

“Hazel,” he started, gentle, and she took a step back.

“No. You don’t have to say anything else, really.” She tried to smile, but it couldn’t curb the hurt in her eyes she was trying to hide. “It’s okay Matt. I was dumb for even bringing it up.”

“Don’t do that.” He said, and there was something in his tone that made her eyes meet his, and she saw a matching sort of hurt there.

And in that moment, it made her angry. Angry that he would be hurt, when it was his choice to not even try.

“Don’t do what?” Her voice snapped and she fought to keep from wincing at her tone.

“Don’t just brush me off like everything’s okay just because you don’t want to talk about something difficult.” His voice rose a little, stress pulling it tight.

This wasn’t how their goodbye was supposed to go.

“Well…” But she couldn’t think of what to say. She just started, then stopped, looked at him, swallowed the lump in her throat and looked away. “I don’t even know why I asked.” She added, teeth pinching her bottom lip so the pain would keep her from crying. Stupid. This was all so stupid. She shouldn’t have said anything.

“Hazel, listen to me,” he was gentle again. Trying. He reached and his fingers curled around her arms and tugged her toward him. She considered bristling, but decided to melt instead, and sighed against his chest. His arms came around her, his head tucked on top of hers. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He said. “You told me everything with your ex-fiancé and I… I don’t want to be the guy who hurts you after you just started working through all of that. My focus right now is on my career,” his wide palm ran up and down her back, “I would hate myself if I was the one who hurt you again.”

That’s not fair, Hazel thought, but pressed her lips together and didn’t say so.

“I care about you.” He said, and when she didn’t make any noise, he slipped his arms from around her back and gently grasped her shoulders. He pulled her back from him and peered down into her face. “Hazel, I care about you. More than I ever intended to, if I’m being honest.” He reached and tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, then fell into holding her face. “You mean a lot to me.”

But he wouldn’t even try? Wouldn’t even see if just maybe, they could make things work? Because he didn’t want to be the bad guy if she wound up hurt? 

“Hey,” he said, and his thumb skimmed her cheek. “Earth to Hazel.” The sweetness in his voice just made her want to cry more.

“I think,” she said, clearing her throat and moving her head back so his hand would fall away from it, “It’s just been an emotional weekend for me. I got in my head about everything and confused myself.” She knew how to put her pain away, and so she started to do so, making excuses that sounded logical. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all… you know.” She shrugged.

“You have got to stop apologizing for things that don’t need an apology.” He said, but his tone was a kindhearted tease, trying to help lighten what heavy, serious mood had just laid over them. “We are definitely more than what we intended to be, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, and maybe it made her heart hurt a little less to know he felt so too. Or maybe she was telling herself that to get through this goodbye.

“Look.” He sighed through his nose and reached to pull her in again. He left a warm, lingering kiss on her crown before he spoke again, and she felt the rumble of his voice in his chest, he held her so near. “How about at the end of this rodeo season, you and I talk about our future, alright?”

Six months.

“Until then, let’s just keep what we have, and if there’s ever a weekend between rodeos or a rodeo nearby, I’ll do what I can to come visit you, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, and tried for another smile. It wasn’t anything overly cheerful, but seemed enough to satisfy him to smile back.

“Okay.” He agreed, and leaned in to gently put his mouth to hers. She took a second to respond in turn, but then her lips were moving on his and she was opening them for his prying tongue. His arms held themselves strong around her, fingers stroking along the curves of her body as they kissed.

They broke apart and she found it a little easier to smile.

“If you think about it, I’ll be right back here in just a few more days.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Me neither.”

For a minute they were stuck in limbo, hyper aware of the minutes ticking down and the long drive he had back home. Aware that even though they’d settled for a moment, something had changed as soon as they broached the topic of the depth of their romantic relationship. He sucked in a sharp, sudden breath that swelled up his chest, as if waking up from a dream. 

“Okay,” he sighed the breath back out. “I’ll… text you when I get home?” His hands were pinching his hips. He looked at her and smiled, and this time she didn’t think it was unfair that his was pained too.

Goodbyes - no matter how temporary - sucked.

“Okay,” she agreed, her breath a little hitched; a little emotional.

“Okay.” He said and cleared his throat, nodding and moving toward his truck. There was a tense set in his shoulders, and she clasped her hands in front of her and wrung her fingers a little, just to have something to do with them. Her chest ached a little more and a little more every step he was away from her until, at last, he was pulling down the driveway with one last, sad look in his eyes and lifting his palm in a small wave. She lifted her hand to wave after him and didn’t move clear until she could no longer hear the rumble of his truck’s engine down the road.

The days passed by rather quickly and with nothing out of the norm. Hazel and Rosie ran the coffee shop during the day and every night her phone buzzed, Matt calling to check in, both of them sharing stories about their days. Certain moments, when they grew a little soft and a little more tender, would suddenly stretch themselves out and hold a new sort of weight. Hazel knew better than to talk about it, but burying it and ignoring it was getting harder every time. How she expected to spend another entire weekend with him and not feel more of those heart-racing feelings that scared her, she didn’t know.

She could feel her phone buzzing in her pocket, but her arms were full of a fifty pound bag of dog food, and she made a small noise of distress as she tried to balance it between her hip and the wall as she shoved the house key into its slot and turned the lock. The door flew open, she’d pushed it with too much force, and Callahan and Carson were right there barking and happily wagging their tails as they greeted her home.

“Hi guys, hi, I missed you both too!” She said, rushed but soft as she dropped the hefty bag down unceremoniously, making them jump and perk their ears at it before they went to investigate, tails wagging once again when they realized it was food. She grabbed her phone quickly from her back pocket, feeling as if she just slid to answer the call when it was about to click to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Matt seemed surprised too. “I thought I was about to get your voicemail,” he laughed a little dryly.

“Oh I know, sorry, I was carrying the bag of dog food in so my arms were full. What’s up?” She asked, then frowned as she noticed the clock on her living room wall told her it was barely three in the afternoon. She hadn’t expected to hear from him until the evening, like usual. 

It was Thursday, she’d be seeing him tomorrow night. Thinking that must be what he was calling about, she bumped the front door shut with her hip and walked over to fall back on the couch, deciding she’d put the dog food away when they were done talking. It felt nice just to sit down after errand running anyways.

“It’s about tomorrow,” he said, and Hazel smiled. She’d guessed right.

“Listen,” he started, and she felt a sudden prickle, something that finally tuned her into his tone. He didn’t sound excited. “A spot just opened up for Nick and I up at Dalton. Even second place there would get us enough points to push us up even higher on the rankings, and then with Broken Bow, Laton, and Pike’s, we’re almost guaranteed our spot in the Wrangler NFR.” 

The Wranglers National Final Rodeo was the rodeo. It was the season-ending championship event for the PRCA, taking place the second weekend of December, generally considered the world’s premiere rodeo. That was where the best of the best of the best competed. But only if you’d scored high enough in the rankings the rest of the professional rodeo season.

“Hazel, I’m sorry,” he started, and she shook her head as though to pull her out of a daze.

“No, hey, Matt, you don’t have to apologize.” Their conversation from just a few days ago was ringing in her ears. It’s just… the rodeo.

“Look, I promise, Nick and I will make it out there to finish your barn as soon as we get a break from rodeos.”

“Matt, it’s okay,” she hoped she sounded convincing. She didn’t want him to hear the disappointment that was sinking in her chest. “I get it, don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on getting a horse any time soon, remember?” She pinched the fabric of the couch, then idly plucked a dog hair off of it.

“I know, “ he sighed, “I know I just…” Didn’t want the rodeo to come between them when that conversation was still chasing the edge of every talk they had at night?

“I know.” She said softly between them.

“I’m sorry Hazel.”

“It’s okay,” she said, “you have to bring home that championship buckle to me at the end of the season, remember?” She tried to make her tone lighter than she felt.

“Yeah,” he laughed softly. “Yeah, that’s right.”

***

“Alright Rosie, I’m heading out!”

“See ya babe,” Rosie called cheerily from the back of the shop as Hazel waved goodbye at their employee working the till and stepped outside to her truck. She jingled the keys in her pocket and popped open the door, climbing up inside.

It was new - well, newer - she’d traded in her little Ranger and upgraded to a truck big enough to tow a trailer. Not that she had a trailer, or a horse, or even a finished barn.

It had been three weeks since Matt hadn’t been able to come back into town and finish building everything, going rodeo to rodeo all over the United States. She swore she didn’t mind, she knew he’d been doing her a favor in the first place, but she still had yet to tell him the plan she’d decided on. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told him. She’d had plenty of opportunities, since they talked every day in some capacity be it a phone call in the morning, night, or text messages throughout the day. During any one of those moments she could have told him about the calls she’d made and the meeting she’d arranged to have that Tuesday afternoon, but she hadn’t.

The little bell above the door chimed as she passed over the threshold and the receptionist behind the desk smiled cheerily.

“Good afternoon!”

“Hi, I have a meeting with Jeremiah?”

“You must be Miss Baker.”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Hazel smiled.

“I’ll let him know you’re here, just have a seat and he’ll come get you when he’s ready.” She picked up the phone and tapped the keys, likely dialing his extension.

“Thank you,” Hazel nodded and sat down, noting how comfortable the waiting room chairs were. There was a little fountain happily bubbling away in a corner, and the room smelled faintly of sandalwood. She let herself admire the pretty marble tiling and how professionally clean everything was. This place had amazing reviews on google when she’d been doing her research which was why she’d chose it in the end.

“Miss Baker?” A kind male voice asked, and she glanced to see the man she’d talked to on the phone a few days ago smiling at the entrance to a hallway. She stood up and made to cross the room so she could accept his stretched out hand in a firm shake.

“Please, Hazel’s fine.”

“Hazel it is,” he grinned, and let her hand go, nodding down the hall. “My office is the third door on the right.” Then, as they walked toward it, he started their conversation. “You were saying you have a half-finished barn you need completed? Was it another construction company you worked with who did the prior work?”

Hazel shook her head as they stepped into the office. “No, my…” An awkward pause, she smiled, “my friends were trying to help me get it built, but they compete in the rodeo and, well, the season is picking up right now. We were going to wait to finish it in January, but I don’t think I want to wait that long.”

“That’s smart of you, especially if the wood was left untreated,” he said, sitting behind his desk and rummaging around for the file they’d started on her when she’d made the appointment. She’d sent them a ton of pictures they’d requested to try and get a quote together. “The rainy season will hit around October or November, and if that wood isn’t tarped up properly or sealed there’s a chance it could be warped come January. Safer to just get it done now.”

“And less of an eyesore,” Hazel joked.

He chuckled. “Yeah, definitely that too.”

“I might come into owning a horse before January too, so I’d like that barn to be finished.” She’d been talking to the contact Matt had gotten her a few weeks ago. They still had the little barrel horse available for her to come out and look at, but she said she wanted to get her barn done first. She knew she could keep it up in the arena, but she didn’t want to skip any steps.

“Well, the foundation work looks pretty sound from the pictures you sent. I won’t know until I get there of course, but I don’t see any reason why my guys can’t get this job done in a week.”

“A week sounds perfect.”

***

Adrenaline. It prickled down his arms; crawled up his spine; raised the hairs on the back of his neck. His horse below him shifted its weight, hooves pressing in the soft arena dirt. His heartbeat was picking up, it was the third ride of the night for him and Nick. The one that counted most. The one that made up for any mistakes on the other two, and could help round out one hell of a score.

It meant another win.

It meant more points on their total.

It meant one more spot up on the rankings.

It meant one more rodeo down until he could finally see Hazel at the end of the season.

Matt exhaled low and steady, transferring his reins to one hand and smoothing a palm down his horse’s already warm neck. He could always tell when they were getting closer to the run by sensing Matt’s mounting nerves, by the place they took as they made for the box, and by the sounds of the steer being loaded into the chute and the crowd starting to murmur with buzzing, growing anticipation.

“We got this,” he said, though to him or his horse, he wasn’t sure.

As he always did before a run, Matt glanced over at Nick. Their eyes met and Nick nodded. Matt nodded too and squeezed his knees, turning his horse toward the box. What nerves had been twisting and bunching in his stomach weren’t necessarily gone, but were suddenly easier to breathe through. He pulled back the reins, gently, and his horse backed up until it tucked into the back left corner of the box.

He reached for his rope, and flexed it in his fingers. A breath. He glanced toward the chute to see the little roping calf that was loaded, his horns specially wrapped to protect him when he was roped. Matt glanced at Nick to check he was loaded in the right back corner of his box, then glanced toward the man who held the lever to pop the chute.

He nodded.

The metal clanging of the chute opening felt as if it was right against his ears. In a lurching flash of orange-brown, the slender steer calf leaped free from the chute. Matt kicked his heels into his horse's sides and his horse leaped forward, all the coiled muscles that’d been wound tight seeming to suddenly snap free and stretch. Matt kept his balance with ease, core tight and boots firmly in the stirrups so he could concentrate on snapping that lasso through the air as quickly as he could. The loop sailed beautifully around the horns and he tugged, sitting his weight back hard in the saddle so his horse would pull up its gait and turn as the rope went tight. They pulled the calf to the left and Nick’s rope snapped from behind right on time, cutting through the air with a whistle Matt could hear over the background roar of the crowd.

The lasso slipped around the calves' back hooves like natural and he turned his horse, both men letting their ropes go slack at the exact same moment they faced one another.

The buzzer sounded.

The crowd cheered.

The calf bawled and trotted off toward the outside, followed by the pick-up man, safely stepping out of their ropes.

Matt was almost scared to look at the time as he started to pull his slack, free rope back toward him, looping it with quick practice and setting it over the saddle horn.

He couldn’t hold off any longer. He glanced up and looked to where their time was reflected.

The red glowing numbers on the board read: 4.9 seconds.

Their best time that night. Hell, that was their best time in weeks.

He broke into a grin and looked for Nick, nudging his horse to trot toward his brother. “How about that, huh?” He laughed, lifting a hand for a high-five.

“Not bad at all,” Nick agreed with an even wider smile and clapped their hands together.

The crowd cheered at their retreating backs as the announcer excitedly speculated they’d be certain to take the win tonight with that run. The screen replayed every second in slow-motion, pointing out every flawless piece of tag team action between him and his brother. Matt grinned over his shoulder at it, then twisted forward in the saddle, leaning to pat his palm happily against his roping horse’s neck. The rider he’d given his phone to hold held it up toward him and Matt leaned down to grab it, seeing notification banners across the screen and Hazel’s name.

The excited boyishness of his smile subsided into something warmer as he balanced back in the saddle and clicked his tongue, squeezing his knees and encouraging his horse in a languid cool-down walk back to the trailer. With his other hand he was free to cradle his phone and turn the screen up toward him, swiping across with his thumb and popping open the messages he’d missed.

He was excited to tell her he was pretty sure he had it in the bag. That they’d run a 4.9 second round. He could only imagine how excited she was going to be. That was something new for him. Matt actually found himself looking forward to Hazel’s reactions when he called her nearly as much as he did to the runs themselves. He’d even started daydreaming about bringing her along to the Wrangler NFR so he could have her there as he took home the final gold of the season.

Her messages popped up and he grinned down at the screen, body swaying gently in the saddle with every step his horse took.

TEXT FROM: HAZEL ❤️️❤️️ Hey! No need to worry about the barn not getting done until January! Surprise!!! I hired a construction company to finish the job at the beginning of this week. They said you guys made it easy on them. Look at how nice it turned out!! I upgraded a couple features, splurged a little, but I love it.

There were pictures too. A pretty three-stall wood finish barn, but they’d added small turnout paddocks and doors to the back of each stall. The roof was tiled now rather than plain plywood laid over wooden two-by-four beams for support.

It was nice. It was a good barn. The wood was finished, the handles on the stall doors glittered a pretty faux-gold, the trim was painted a nice hunter green…

His fingers clenched tight, curling around the phone as the muscle in his forearm tensed. His brow furrowed hard enough for an ache to spread across his forehead and his jaw clenched as his teeth pressed hard together. That was supposed to be the thing he did for her. She was supposed to be able to look at that when he wasn’t there and remember that he could come through for her on some things. That he could be there for her when he was miles and miles away.

She couldn’t wait four and a half months?

Why didn’t she tell him she was going to get it finished and pay someone to do it? He would have…

“With a five point penalty Colby Snow and Marcus Wright fall behind, putting the Jackson brothers one step closer to winning the night!” The voice crackled over the speakers, and a distant crowd roared their approval in return.

He wouldn’t have been able to do anything. He wouldn’t have told her he would skip this rodeo to finish her barn. He would have asked her to have a little patience in him. Didn’t she say she wasn’t in a hurry to get a horse? Why the sudden rush?

His chest stung with a heavy weight and he rolled his eyes in irritation, blowing a low breath out of his nose and swinging his leg over the saddle to dismount. One hand gathered the horse's reins, the other stuffed the phone back into his pocket, her messages left on read. Reaching for the halter still secured on the side of the trailer he looped it over his horse’s ears and swapped the bridle out, gently easing the bit from his horse’s mouth. He didn’t bother reaching for his phone again while he untacked and rubbed down his horse, using the physical activity to work through the tension that was wound suddenly tight inside him.

Halfway through, when he was just pulling the saddle and pad away from his horse’s sweaty back, his phone buzzed again in his pocket. He set the tack in a heap of leather, buckles and straps on the ground and pulled it out, seeing he had a message from her. His lips pressed into a line and he looked at her name on the notification, then chucked it lightly toward one of the two camping chairs that were set up nearby. It landed with a soft thud and he turned back to tend to his horse.

“Hazel’s calling you.” Nick said a few minutes later, his horse cared for and two bottles of cold water in hand. He chucked one underhand across the gap between them as Matt turned to look at him. 

Matt caught it and twisted the plastic lid off with a jerk, spilling a few drops on the ground.

“I know.” He said, and there was a bite in his tone.

Nick looked immediately both confused and concerned, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. They spent so much time together that a lot of times they only needed to share a look to communicate.

“She finished the barn.”

“Hey, that’s good, right?” Nick supplied helpfully, flopping down into his chair and shrugging.

“Yeah.” Matt said, and pinched his hip with his hand, exhaling heavy and shrugging. “I guess.” He walked toward the other chair, reaching to snatch up his phone. Missed text message, missed call. He jostled it in his hand, fidgeting a little, then turned to sit and look forward at their horses, postures relaxed as they were secured to the trailer. He shoved the water bottle in the cupholder so he wouldn’t have to hold it anymore and reached to tug his hat off, rubbing the palm slick with cold condensation down his dusty, warm face.

“I wanted to finish it for her.”

Nick had waited until Matt was able to get his thoughts out, and he hummed under his breath as if to signify that’s what he’d assumed must have been it.

“You got her started,” he pointed out, and didn’t talk again until Matt finally turned his troubled, dark eyes toward his younger brother’s watchful blue ones. “She wouldn’t have built that barn if you hadn’t suggested it. You can’t really blame her for being excited and getting it finished, deciding she doesn’t want to wait around for you to get done with the rodeo.” He waved his bottle around them, at where they were and what they were doing.

Matt’s face read clear as day that he didn’t like that answer, as true as it may be. He looked forward again and huffed a sigh from his nose. “When the hell did you get so wise?” He complained, “I’m the older one.”

“When the hell have you ever been the wise one?”

He rolled his eyes and saw Nick’s wide grin before chucking the plastic cap to his water bottle at him, which Nick caught. Matt grabbed his phone and flashed the screen back up at his face before unlocking and clicking her name, calling her back and bringing it to his ear.

“Hey! How’d your run go?” She sounded so genuinely happy for him, it was hard not to smile.

“It went good. It went alright.”

“Just alright?”

“We ran pretty well. Clean.” He wasn’t sure why he suddenly didn’t want to tell her how good they’d done or brag and let her fawn over him. Normally he loved doing that. “We have about another thirty minutes for everyone to finish out their rounds for the night and then we’ll know for sure.”

“I’m sure you guys have it.”

“Thanks babe.” He said, and the lightness in his tone sounded authentic even to his ears.

There was a brief, somewhat stretched pause and he knew what was coming before she spoke.

“Sooo… did you see the pictures?” Nervous, but clearly unwilling to let the call drop without talking to him about it.

“I did. It…” he trailed off, and thought about that way she smiled when the facetime camera was pointed at her after her rides and he got to ask her about them. While there was still a sour note in his belly, he dropped the tension in his shoulders and in his tone. “It uh, looks good.” He forced happiness he didn’t quite feel into his voice.

“Yeah?” She breathed a sigh of relief, and when she started to talk again she sounded excited. “I can’t believe it! I just stood out there staring at it for an hour after they left. I can’t believe I’m this close to finally owning a horse again.”

“Yeah, you are.” He smiled. “Hey, uh, sorry to cut this short, but I gotta go. I need to keep an eye on the scores.”

He didn’t.

“Oh! Okay! I’ll… talk to you later?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you or send you a text when I’m able to. Might not be until tomorrow depending on how late everything goes.”

“Oh, okay…”

“Alright. Bye Hazel.”

“Bye… Matt.”

***

Hazel’s phone chimed as she scooped the dog kibble into bowls for Carson and Callahan, who were excitedly tapping their nails on the hardwood floors, tails and bodies wagging in anticipation. She glanced toward it, sitting on the table, hoping it was Matt. He’d sent her a text late the evening before with a picture of his new buckle and the news that they’d won, but she’d already been fast asleep. With sleep still in her eyes she’d typed out her happy reply, congratulating him and asking him to pass her congratulations on to Nick, too.

She placed the dog food bowls down and stepped away from the rush of gold-fur bodies as the dogs crowded in to begin to eat. Scooping up the phone from the counter the smile she had slipped away as she noticed the sender was an unknown number, not Matt’s. She swiped to bring up the text message and her confusion melted away as she saw the recent back-and-forth messages. This was the number Matt had given her a couple months ago about the barrel horse for sale, she’d been talking with him at the beginning of the week about arranging a time for her to drive down and try the horse out.

She hadn’t had a chance to tell Matt yet, and the man’s ranch was only an hour away from Matt’s, which meant she could plan a little impromptu trip to visit him before he took off for the next rodeo.

The text message, however, took those plans away.

I’m sorry, someone came by to check Red out yesterday and liked him so much, they bought him on sight. I do know someone who’s been working with some youngstock for rodeo competitions. I don’t know if he’s got barrel horses, but you can give him a try. Tell him Bob sent you.

The number followed. Hazel clicked it and brought up a new message, trying not to feel the disappointment that was sinking her heart. Shopping for a horse was an entire ordeal, it wasn’t like she would have liked the horse the man had for sale anyways. All she could do was keep reaching out, keep looking around, and eventually she’d have a horse of her own again.

Hi, Bob gave me your number and said you might have horses for sale? I’m looking for a horse that might be able to barrel race. They don’t need to be trained, I used to train barrel horses. Just as long as they have it in them, I’d be interested in checking them out. I’m free next week depending on how far out you are from me.

She had just set her phone down when it chimed. She was surprised to see there were already messages back.

Hello, I’m available any day next week. I have three horses I’d consider selling, only one has barrel racers in her blood, but I think the other two could be pushed to it. I’ll send my address, let me know when you can make it.

The address followed, which she tapped into her map application. 

“Six hours away…” It was six hours in the opposite direction as Matt, which meant she wouldn’t be able to plan her surprise trip to spend time with him, but six hours was a doable day drive. If she left early enough in the morning she could get there by early afternoon.

How does Monday work for you? She typed back, watched the bubbles pop up…

Sounds great. See you then.

A grin broke out across her face. She clicked over to her contacts and tapped Rosie’s number, bringing her phone to her ear and unable to keep her happiness from her voice when her friend answered.

“Rosie! Want to come with me on Monday to look at a horse?”

“I would love to!” Surprised, delighted, Rosie pressed on, “That guy Matt got for you finally got back about that horse he had?”

“No, he actually sold it already, but he gave me a number for someone who has a few horses for sale and they said I’d be free to come out on Monday. It won’t be near Matt, so I’d love some company, if you’d be down for a little road trip.”

“Absolutely, babe! Count me in.”

Hazel grinned. “Awesome!” She was excited to take Rosie with her, to have her to talk with the whole way there and back, and to share that moment of looking at a new horse with her. It would have been nice if Matt could have met her at the ranch, or even getting to talk with him about it afterwards, but this would still be fun. “We’ll work out the details later. I think we’re probably going to leave in the morning.” She knew that wouldn’t be a problem, given the early start she and Rosie kept just to get the shop opened.

“Let me know once you have everything worked out.” Rosie said, and Hazel could hear the smile in her voice.

“Okay!” She promised, pulling the phone away and ending the call. Excitement bubbled up inside her and she danced a little in place before she felt silly and laughed, rolling her eyes and turning to glance out the kitchen window to where she could see the turnout pens behind the barn. 

One day - maybe soon - there’d be a horse there, too. Hers.

***

“We’re almost there,” Rosie announced, having glanced down at the phone which highlighted the map they were traveling down.

“Good,” Hazel said, spreading her fingers from where they held the steering wheel of her truck to work out the cramps. Six hours wasn’t awful, but toward the last two she’d felt like it was starting to drag a little bit. It’d be nice to get out, stretch her legs and walk around. Rosie agreed to drive them back, but they’d already marked out a couple nice hotels they wouldn’t mind stopping for the night at if need be.

She glanced down at the map too and saw their destination was just another thirty minutes away, tucked far outside the city among miles and miles of ranch property. All these wide open entrances with cattle guards spelled out each neighboring ranch that bordered one another, though there was a lot of acreage between them. Sometimes they drove for thirty or so minutes before they finally saw the next glimpse of a new ranch house, barns, horses and cows owned by someone else.

The road curved through foothills and the music crooned softly low, Rosie and Hazel singing along, taking turns or joining in to act overly into the words as they did. They often broke apart in giggles, but this time when Rosie broke away it was to gasp in awe. “Wait, is this it?”

Hazel looked at her phone and saw the map was indicating they were coming up close. She eased her foot off the gas to slow the truck down and glanced up to see what Rosie was looking at.

A curved ditch ran along a property with tall oak trees grown along its edge, which threw a cloak of shadows over the white-fence pasture which bordered it. There was a gravel-laid road that curved past the pasture, flanked by another on it’s left. Horses grazed among the tall, deep green grass, their tails gently flicking at their hinds in the late afternoon sun. They lifted their heads and perked their ears, turning to watch the truck that turned slow and steady into the drive and rolled slowly passed.

Hazel and Rosie admired how pretty the horses were in the front pastures.

“These must be the breeding mares,” she commented, noting the heavy swell of some of their bellies. “That one looks ready to foal any day,” she nodded over her steering wheel at a little bay roan mare standing by the hay feeder, plucking some hay free and chewing the strands as she watched Hazel and Rosie drive past.

“Aw, I wish we would have come when there were babies.” Rosie said with a sad sigh.

“Me too!” Hazel agreed.

At the end of the drive there was a ranch house to the left, a large open space ahead, a large barn, and an outside arena. There looked like there was another barn tucked a little further back, but the messages had said they’d meet by the main barn or the arena and he’d keep an eye out for her when she arrived. He’d promised to have the most likely candidate for barrels ready to be saddled by the time she got there.

She rolled the truck to a slow stop near the main barn and put it in park, turning the keys over and shooting an excited grin toward Rosie before she popped out of the cab. Her boots hit the gravel with a soft crunch and she glanced back toward the right-hand pasture she hadn’t gotten a good look at, so distracted by the pregnant mares in the other one. 

“Oh, I wonder if that horse is for sale,” she remarked, looking at the golden horse far off in the pasture. She was too far away to tell any distinct characteristics, but she had a pretty honey color that shone as it caught the dappled light filtering through the oak tree leaves.

“That one is so pretty!” Rosie said with a sigh. “That’s socks, right? Those markings on the legs?”

Hazel grinned and looked a little more closely at the mare as she picked up her legs and walked idly through the pasture, swinging her head down to continue grazing as she moved. “Yeah! Looks like she has two socks as far as I can see.”

A strange feeling crept into her stomach. She frowned and blinked at the mare. Why did she feel like she’d seen this horse before? There was just something that seemed somewhat familiar about her. As if sensing she was being watched, the mare picked up her head and turned her neck to look over at where Hazel and Rosie were standing.

There was a little white snip on her nose.

“Oh my god, I know that horse.”

“What?” Rosie said, blinking and whipping her head to look at Hazel.

But when Hazel turned her head to tell Rosie what’d just occurred to her, she caught sight of movement back at the entrance of the barn. The owner had heard her pull up and was coming out to meet her, as promised.

Only, when they’d been texting, she hadn’t thought of exchanging names. Hadn’t really cared. Now she realized maybe she should have, because she felt like all the air had been ripped out of her lungs. Standing not ten feet in front of her, stopped in his tracks, was none other than Adam Page. He was dressed down from when she’d last seen him. Now he was dressed in just a cotton t-shirt, wranglers and boots, with his blond hair pulled up in a high bun. One of his (she guessed many) championship belts caught the afternoon sun and glittered prettily.

They were just staring at each other.

Hazel could have sworn the whole damn world stopped spinning. She didn’t care how stupid that sounded; that was how it felt.

He started walking again, but each step felt slow. Was she dreaming? They always seemed just as real as this did.

He stopped in front of her.

“Hazel.” He said her name in a breath, and she wasn’t sure what sort of breath it was, or what expression was in those pale blue, pale green eyes of his.

Surprise. Anxiety. Excitement. Hopefulness. Worry. Relief.

All of it in his tone and across his face.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Hazel, now. No longer Miss Baker.