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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years ago

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Written In The Stars CXXXIX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m scared to see how you guys will react to this one, hope you at least find it enjoyable despite my very self-indulgent plots -Danny

P.S. Huge s/o to @bwbatta bc I decided to update my fic and now I have pretty dividers in all my books! Most of the ones I ended up using are her work so go check it out :)

Words: 4,641

Series’ Masterlist

Book V // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Need Your Love’ -by Joshua Wicker

Chapter One: Dumbledore's Mission.

"A galleon says Erick will crash the car —"

"Shut up!"

"Don't make him nervous," Emily scolded Harry. "If you continue this I won't teach you how to drive!"

"We don't need to learn," Mel snorted. "We'll apparate everywhere..."

"I thought you hated it," Her mother raised a brow.

"Yeah, but she's lazy," Harry smirked.

"Why is Harry here? He's not allowed to leave the house, is he?" Mel frowned.

"He's not allowed to be alone outside, there's a difference. We're babysitting two infants, unfortunately..." Erick taunted.

"What's the matter, Flint? You have stage-fright?" Harry replied.

"Oh please, he feeds on attention! Like a dementor but in a more annoying way..."

"Enough!" Emily looked over her seat. "Is that the kind of things you want to teach your brother?"

"I doubt he'll remember any of this!"

"We know he can do it, Em, we're just teasing," Harry said blithely.

"Yeah, he's the only adult here apart from you, mum. It's kind of his obligation to be good at driving."

The baby let out a squeal of agreement, he was three weeks old but had a good set of lungs that he was happy to use at any given time, especially while everyone was sleeping.

Harry leaned and checked that the baby's blankets. Mel beamed at the sight, the boy had pretty much adopted the boy as his own brother, which she thought made a lot of sense, not only because it was Sirius' son, but because he'd been part of her family for so long that anything else would've been silly.

They were well aware that bringing little Regulus to their driving lessons was a bit risky, but Emily wasn't as keen to leave Mel and Harry alone in the house as she used to, so she put a few safety spells on the chair once the baby was seated while Harry and Mel sat on both sides of it.

Erick turned out to be a good driver, but he still had a bit of trouble understanding how cars worked.

"I have to be pulling and pushing stuff all the time!" He complained as he activated the windshield on accident for the third time. "Why can't I just turn the key and press the pedal?"

"Cars don't work like that," Emily said patiently. "It's complicated, but you're good!"

"He's only gone up and down the street for half an hour, Leggie fell asleep already," The girl huffed.

Emily looked over the seat once again, she was frowning. "Erick, switch seats with Mel."

"You're joking... right?"

"Erick," The woman repeated.

"On it," He said happily. "C'mon Mel, are you scared?"

Ten minutes later, Erick was in the backseat and she was tightly holding onto the wheel.

"I'm doing it!" She said. "Is not that hard, is it?"

"A slug could move faster," Harry was looking at the roof of the car and dying of heat. "I thought you were going to be more... the reckless type of driver."

"Me too..." Erick agreed lazily, he was playing with one of Reggie's feet.

"I'm not going faster, my brother's in the car!" Mel scoffed.

"We're not asking you to! Just enough so we can feel like we're actually moving!"

"Bringing you three was a bad idea," Emily said over the boys' laughter.

"Fine!" Mel pressed down the pedal, the car immediately gaining speed. "I'm was just being careful!"

"Which makes me proud," Emily softly patted her shoulder. "It feels like it was yesterday when you were running around Remus' house in nothing but a diaper and now you're driving!"

"The other night I ran into her wearing no pants, so she's hasn't changed really," Erick murmured nonchalantly. "I stepped on Grey's tail thanks to that... maybe that's why he hates me so much."

"What?" Harry's head snapped to the side so fast he hurt himself.

"I forgot you live here now! Sometimes I sleep like that, s'not a crime!" She looked at Harry through the rearview mirror. "I've been an only child for sixteen years, sometimes I forget there are more than two people in my house..."

"I'm surprised her scream didn't wake up Leon," Erick sniggered.

"He's a heavy sleeper like his dad," Emily responded distractedly.

The conversation died instantly. It wasn't the woman's intention, of course, but it'd been only a few weeks since Sirius' passing, sometimes they would forget for a moment, just a brief second, then one of them would talk about Sirius and everything would start again...

It was painful, and it was weird. Mel had never endured something like this with anyone except Harry. Having a larger group of people sharing the same pain was strangely comforting.

Mel cleared her throat. "It's Harry's turn..."

"I'm okay," He said quickly. "I can learn another day..."

"Glasses, you and I have a tradition of experiencing things at the same time," The girl stopped the car and turned to look at him. "You're not going to ruin our streak. Besides, I need to know if I'm better than you."

Harry stared at her in amusement, then he looked at Erick.

"Is it fun, having her bossing you around all day?"

"I boss her around too," Erick smirked.

"They take turns," Her mother sighed.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry gave the woman a look of sympathy as he stepped out of the car.

"There are worse things than being stuck with two pushy teenagers..."

"Hey!"

"Sorry," Emily smirked. "A pushy teenager and a pushy adult."

"If it annoys you that much I'll move out," Mel offered humorously. "What d'you say, Prince? Should we try our luck outside our comfort zone?"

"You wouldn't last a day," Erick taunted.

"Fiddlesticks," Mel muttered, to which Harry laughed.

It was around three in the morning when someone knocked on her door. She'd been awake for a while now, so she stood up and opened it.

"Hi," She rubbed her eyes. "What's up?"

"Can't sleep," Erick mumbled. "Care if I stay a moment?"

"Go ahead..."

She went back to bed, Erick sat at the edge and stared at her for a moment. Grey let out a sleepy growl, curling further away from his reach. Erick pulled out his pocket watch, now hanging from a chain he'd found in Regulus Black's room back in Grimmauld Place. The reason why he'd taken it was unknown to Mel.

"What's up?" She mumbled, suppressing a yawn.

"I'm thinking."

"About?"

"How lucky I am."

Mel let out a puff of air without replying. He would do this often, say he was lucky to be there, that she'd saved his life... She just wanted him to shut up.

"I really don't want to punch you, Prince, I'd ruin your pretty nose."

He smiled, unbothered.

"You know, a few years ago you would've been pleased to hear me say that, you ungrateful git."

"Yeah well, a few years ago my biggest dream was to become a princess," She joked. "So you see my priorities were a bit messed up..."

"You'd make a cute princess."

"C'mon —"

"I mean it."

"Erick," Mel said in a tone of warning. "Stop."

He'd been acting like that for a whole week: flirting when no one was around, complimenting her... Mel had closed up so tightly around herself that she was barely capable of saying I love you to her mum. Erick had lived deprived of affection his whole life and was just getting out of that environment. At what point had she become the cold, distant one, and he the ray of sunshine?

She knew right away what he was trying to do, but she was so numb... Mel cared about him, but she was not there yet.

Erick leaned on the wall and tilted his head a bit so he could look at her.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" She replied. "It's not your fault... I just — I need time."

He nodded shortly.

"We can talk later?"

He was wonderful, but she was in the middle of all that was wrong in their world, right next to Harry and the lifeline that she still hadn't decided whether she wanted to keep or not.

"We should go to bed," She murmured, still unable to make any real decisions for herself.

"Yeah," He stood up, carefully putting the blankets back in place and dropping them all over Grey on purpose. He put the watch back in his pocket as well. "Sweet dreams, Mely."

The Ministry of Magic

PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY AGAINST DARK FORCES

The Wizarding community is currently under threat from an organization calling itself the Death Eaters. Observing the following simple security guidelines will help protect you, your family, and your home from attack.

"I have a better way to protect our house," Erick groaned, he was gently rubbing his temples. "Let Leon cry the whole night and not even Voldemort will try to enter... I myself am starting to consider living on the street just to get away from the noise."

"S'not that bad," She answered, the dark circles under her eyes giving her away. "It's hard to get used to being a human, you know?"

"Look at this," Emily unfolded the newspaper. "'Scrimgeour succeeds Fudge' — Well, haven't met him yet but I hope he's got a bit of brain, Tonks told me a few months back that he's certainly a bit brisker..."

The doorbell rang and Mel left to open the door.

The routine at that point was established even if it had been only two weeks since their arrival; Erick got used to life at Privet Drive quite easily, he spent two whole days examining every corner of the kitchen, and when Mel showed him what a movie was, he wasted a whole day in the drawing-room watching the movie adaptations of the books she'd lent to him.

Harry would go daily to check on"Reg". Once he'd stayed the night but refused to sleep in Mel's room, not that she'd tried to convince him otherwise.

"Goodmorning," She opened the door without paying attention, "you're a bit late for breakfast but I'll let it pass as soon as you —"

She stopped talking at the sight of her great-uncle, Dumbledore smiled at her and walked in.

"I can't stay for breakfast, but I dare say I regret it deeply."

"Professor... I — Is everything okay?"

"Certainly."

"To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Mel turned to see her mother standing near the stairs, gazing at Dumbledore coldly.

"Emily," Dumbledore said. "Good morning... I'm here to speak with Mr Flint."

"Is he in trouble?"

"Quite the contrary, I believe he's never been better."

"Professor," Erick's posture changed when he walked into the room, suddenly he looked more like a young man and less like a boy. "What can I do for you?"

"I have a mission for you... Mel as well, but only if she wishes to go."

"She's not of age," The woman replied quickly.

Mel was ready to accept whatever it was he wanted her to do, she needed to feel like she was doing something. Although she wasn't exactly happy to see him so soon after the end of their last term.

"As I said, only if she wishes to come. I assure you she'd be safe."

The girl looked at her mother and then at the men standing in front of her.

"Can I hear what this is about first?"

Emily crossed her arms without uttering a word, her uncle signalled towards the couch.

"A word, then?"

Erick nodded, making a beeline to the closest armchair. Emily turned to leave, but Dumbledore spoke again.

"You can stay."

The woman shared a look with her daughter, Mel couldn't hide her eagerness to hear what the old man had to say.

"I won't sit there and watch history repeat itself," Emily sighed.

The woman left before Mel could say anything. She would talk to her later, but first, she needed to talk to Dumbledore.

"I beg you not to interrupt me while I speak."

Both pupils silently agreed to his petition.

"Now, I find myself in need of a new Professor, but the man I'd been contemplating for the job has been on the run for almost a year — He's not guilty of any crimes," He added, noticing the way their faces grew worried. "He's just afraid like everyone else... I need you to track him down and point me to where he is so I can have a word with him."

"I'll do it," Erick responded instantly.

"Alone?" Mel frowned.

Dumbledore stared at her for a second too long.

"If I remember correctly today is your sixteenth birthday, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Mr Flint turned seventeen in January — You may know that's considered to be the start of our adulthood."

"Yes."

"Erick is allowed to do magic outside school... But you still have a year left."

"I don't see —"

"You have Matthew's spirit when it comes to saving a friend, Mel. When you were eleven you left this house with Hagrid so you could look for Harry yourself... The time has come for me to finally be honest with you."

"What do you mean 'finally'?" The words were burning a hole in her brain. "You mean all the things you told me when I was in your office last month... that wasn't it?"

Erick stared at them with polite interest, even though she knew he was dying to ask. Mel hadn't told him a thing about that night out of respect for Harry's privacy.

"That was all I had to tell you regarding the Harry," Dumbledore replied. "There are plenty of things I haven't said, and I wish to talk about them with you."

"And if I agree to go with Erick on this mission... you'll tell me?" Mel raised a brow.

"I'll tell you whether you help me with this or not, but I believe there's nothing else I can teach you, Mel. All that's left for you is to start putting your knowledge to use; I recommend you to go on this mission."

"What about my animagus lessons?"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore smiled. "I'll help you with that, but that'll be it. You've concluded your lessons with the highest marks, dear girl."

She would've been elated hadn't been because of the strange way her uncle was acting.

"Aren't you happy?" Erick nudged her arm gently. "You've worked hard for years, you should be proud!"

"I am proud," Mel replied shortly. "And I'd love to help, but I can't leave my family, it's not safe."

"They'd go to the burrow if you leave."

"What about Harry?"

"He'll go to the burrow too, but I have a few matters to attend with his family first."

"If Mel wants to stay that's alright, I can go on my own —"

"You can't."

Erick looked at her irritated.

"It's not like you can do magic outside school."

"It takes more than magic to survive out there — You don't know how to blend in with the muggles, do you?"

"You can discuss this throughout the day," Dumbledore grabbed a letter from his pocket. "In this, you'll find all about Horace Slughorn's last known whereabouts and a picture so you can identify him. If you do, don't approach, he'll know you're following him. As soon as you find him come back to Privet Drive and write to me."

"This is all just in case we decide to go, right?"

"I'm going," Erick scowled at her.

"We'll talk about this after dinner," She glared back.

Dumbledore stood up and they followed, Emily was at the entrance ready to let him out.

"I'll wait for your response, then," Her uncle stared at her for a moment. "You and Harry..."

"We haven't decided," She was quick to reply. "We need time."

"Very well."

"You're quiet."

"I have a lot to think about."

Her day had been slightly ruined by her great-uncle's visit. Although Lupin had been there for a couple of hours and stayed for dinner. Mel and Erick talked about the mission and she'd promised to tell Harry after the party was over, which was now.

The Slytherin was upstairs taking a shower and Emily was putting Reggie to bed. Mel and Harry were sitting on the grass, watching the stars above them. She'd fallen into contemplative silence, pondering what to do. She could go chase some stranger for Dumbledore's benefit, or she could stay and look after her family.

"This would be much easier if my mum had asked me to stay!" She pouted.

"I reckon she knows that," Harry responded, throwing small rocks over the fence.

"Won't you?"

"Hmm?"

"You won't ask me to stay?"

Harry stared at her.

"No."

He didn't explain his reasons, but he didn't need to. Mel had made up her mind even if she didn't want to admit it. That was exactly why she was so upset, she wanted to look after her family, but her responsibilities were keeping her apart. Three years of hard work had led to this, and although Mel was a big sister now, winning the war was more important than changing diapers.

Her mother was a whole different problem too. Around them she was always cheery, but Mel was sure she'd heard her cry when none of the boys was around to hear.

She believed it was about Sirius, but it could also be about her and Harry, that she was scared for them. Mel didn't have the heart to lie if her mother were to ask about the prophecy. It was, as they had agreed without even having to speak about it, too much weight to put on their loved one's shoulders. The idea of Emily, the closest thing to a mother Harry ever had, finding out there was a big chance one of them would die after having lost Sirius in such a brutal way...

"I don't think I'll be able to look at Dumbledore in the eye if I come back empty-handed..."

"You're one of the best witches I know," Harry shrugged. "You'll be fine, just try not to murder Flint while you're away."

"He's less annoying now," She grinned. "Ever since he left his parents' house, dunno, he's improved. Although I might murder him if he doesn't stop —"

She was going to say 'flirting', but for some reason, she didn't feel ready to talk about that with Harry. She wasn't ready for anything and yet the world was forcing her to keep moving, it was exhausting.

Mel got up and offered her hand to her friend.

"Do you remember when you were just Harry and I was just Mel, and we were the odd kids at school?" She fixed her gaze on her bedroom window. "Wish we could go back to that."

"When I didn't know I was a wizard?"

"Things were easier back then, don't you think?"

"Maybe," He retorted. "But they were never entirely good."

In Harry, Mel found another reason to stay.

They could have the summer to talk about the things they needed to. She would stare at his aged features and compare them to the ones of that young boy she used to call her best friend...

Their bond still had thousands of cracks that had to be fixed, Mel was having a hard time letting him in again and they needed to be okay in order to know if they wanted to keep the lifeline or not. It wasn't that she didn't want to like him, she wanted the comfort he used to provide, the warmth and security of having someone who understood.

He knew it, and he was trying his best to not mess it up, but Mel didn't want to love him again, cutting the lifeline was the best way to assure that... It was easier said than done, though.

Harry was confused. Sometimes it felt like nothing would ever happen, then an overwhelming affection would crush his chest whenever Mel laughed or touched him. He didn't want to put a name to it, he was terrified of saying it, even to himself. All he knew was that the connection was a way to make sure Mel would be safe, and he didn't want to give that up.

"I should go."

"Yeah..."

"Happy birthday," He said. "I have to be honest and tell you that your present was meant to be sent last Christmas, but..."

"I didn't give you a present either, it's okay... I'm a bit angry though, that was a missed opportunity, I could've won."

Harry laughed.

"You'll have a new chance this year, but I doubt you'll be able to beat me — I've already gotten yours..."

"It's July!"

"I know," His smile vanished suddenly, then he added. "Be careful out there, please."

"Erick'll make sure I don't do anything stupid," Mel smiled. "He's so obsessed with protecting me — as if he didn't know I can do it alone just fine!"

"Yeah, but now's different."

"Different how?"

"We need you alive," He told her. "You want to live long enough to become Headmistress, right?"

Mel froze, not knowing what to answer.

"What?" Harry tilted his head.

"I lied," She blurted out. "I never wanted to be Headmistress — I saw you that night, in the mirror... I saw..."

"What?" He asked again, this time softer.

"You kissed me. A real kiss... like the type we used to gawk at as children."

Harry cleared his throat. "Oh."

A tense silence surrounded them. The variations of colour in his eyes were remarkably easy to notice from where she was standing. She was tilting her head up now, perhaps they were too close.

"Be careful."

"You told me that already," Mel whispered, unable to look away. "Anything else you'd like to say?"

"Yes," He paused, his eyes took a quick glance to her lips. "But if I say it you'll get mad."

Harry kissed her, Mel responded by pulling him down.

It was hard to tell whether she was euphoric or scared, perhaps both, or perhaps neither. As soon as it happened Harry jumped away, and she was dropped back into reality.

"I can't do it — We haven't talked about the lifeline — We won't make the right choice if we let our feelings —"

"You're right! Yes!" Mel said, acting just as agitated. "It's a terrible idea — I like you, but—"

"—it's confusing," He said anxiously. "Do you have feelings for me?"

"Do you have feelings for me?" Mel asked in a high-pitched voice.

"No!" He responded, but his voice trembled with a lack of confidence. "I care about you a lot —"

"— I care for you too —"

"— But just —"

"— as friends!"

They stared at each other with the same frightened expression.

"I'm sorry if I made things uncomfortable," He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I... I don't want to lose you."

"We need to spend some time apart," She nodded, avoiding his eyes. "We can ignore this happened, right?"

"Absolutely," He agreed. "You're spending the summer at the burrow?"

"My mum and my brother will be there, so I kind of have to... is that okay?"

"It's okay," Harry looked around. "We... we should go."

"Did you ever regret falling for my dad?" Mel asked randomly. "I mean, you ever wonder how things would've turned out if you'd stayed as friends?"

Emily stopped folding her clothes.

"Something nagging that head of yours?"

"I think relationships are a waste of time. They all break and you always end up hurting..."

"What makes you think such nonsense?" Emily raised a brow, leaning back on the couch. "Who are you and what did you do to my daughter?"

"You don't think that way?" She asked doubtfully.

"Because I lost my partners that means I have to be bitter?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Mel replied quickly. "But... yeah."

Emily remained silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"Solitude can do weird things to your heart, love. It can pull you towards bad or good places... People that make you feel a little less lonesome, someone who understands you. You should hold onto that for as long as you can, no matter how scary it is. You never know what wonderful things may bring you..."

"Sirius said something similar a year ago," Mel said quietly. "Something about finding my equal, that the earth's full of options and stuff..."

"I won't force you to find a partner if that's not what you want, but you're young and the world is big, you can't turn your back on every opportunity."

"It's not like I have lots of prospects right now..." She huffed.

"You don't need lots, just the right one."

Mel hesitated for a moment, then added:

"I know you used to have a crush on James Potter."

Emily looked up from the laundry again, she raised a brow. "Oh?"

"I know it was a long time ago," She shifted in her place awkwardly. "But do you ever wonder what would've happened if you two..?"

The woman sighed.

"Only once."

"When?"

"When I found out Voldemort was after his son," She folded the last shirt and handed it to Mel. "I asked myself if I had made the right choice by giving him up... When I look at you I know it was the right thing to do. What happened to James and Lily... it was horrible, but it wasn't my fault. I was happy with your father; maybe Matthew wasn't my first love, but when it comes to this, your first love rarely is the one that lasts."

"Mel?" Erick walked into the room. "If we're planning to drive around all day tomorrow, you should sleep," He nodded shortly at both of them and left the room, her mother chuckled.

"You know, Erick reminds me of your father... I know Sirius said he was like his brother, but Regulus made all the wrong choices... Erick's done all this for himself, to be better. Just like Matty."

Mel's gaze lingered on the doorway long after Erick had left.

"Thank you, for letting me go," She sighed, looking back at the woman. "I don't love following Dumbledore's orders but I... I want to make this world a better place."

"Love," Emily cupped her face adoringly. "I know why you're doing this. Just how I knew why you flew that car to save Harry, and why you went to the Ministry... but you're my daughter, and it's my job to worry about you anyway."

Erick and Mel took three changes of clothing and put them in the trunk, Emily gave them muggle money. Mel had a fake driver's license as well as Erick, and they would take turns driving. Harry was nowhere to be seen, but it was expected since it was five in the morning. She hadn't mentioned the kiss to either her mother or Erick, she was determined to keep it that way, much like the whole lifeline stuff and the prophecy.

'Just pile more secrets on top, why don't you,' She thought bitterly as she walked out of the house.

Emily hugged both and let them kiss Reggie goodbye, Mel promised they would see each other soon, and Erick vowed he'd make sure Mel would be safe (she snorted loudly at this). Once inside the car, her friend took a deep breath.

"Ready?"

"This isn't our first adventure, Prince."

"This one's the first we do with permission."

"You're an adult, you don't need anyone's approval."

"You know what I mean," He rolled his eyes.

"Sorry. I get defensive when I'm —"

"I know," He sighed. "I talk too much when I'm worried."

"I know," She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. "I'm ready... We'll be okay."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @wlwmaximoff @reverse-hxlland @hamiltonwc @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter xoc #harry potter fanfiction #WITT fic

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cowboyshit · 4 years ago

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starlight will be the only light when I can tell my heart to you... PART ONE OF ? future parts: two, three

Ship: Hangman Adam Page x Female OC (Hazel Baker) x Matt Jackson Summary: Hazel’s engagement ended awhile ago, and she’s finally decided she’s ready to jump headfirst back into the dating game by having a fun, carefree, no-strings-attached night with a handsome cowboy at the local rodeo. Instead, she finds something much, much more complicated and catches herself between two men and a whirlwind of feelings. Rating: explicit (part one only has a brief, heavy-handed make-out scene but it’s written explicit enough to elicit this rating, and the piece itself will become more explicit in the future) Length: 14,079 words Warnings: alcohol mention, brief descriptive make-out/verging on smut situation

author’s note: wow, this thing turned into a monster I didn’t expect. Initially, I just wanted to have a little fun and write the elite as rodeo cowboys in a rodeo au, but this fic sort of took on a life of it’s own. I will warn that not much happens in this part, despite how long it is. It’s just a bunch of FEELINGS. Look forward to part two, where things get even messier than they are here! And yes, I promise in the next one they’ll actually get together.

“Oh wow, look at that one.”

“Hazel, I told you I wasn’t going to bring you here if you weren’t going to behave yourself.” Her friend, Andrea’s playfully exasperated tone made Hazel grin wide.

“I know, but can you blame me?” She said and nudged Andrea with her elbow, jerking her chin toward the blond-haired cowboy dead ahead.

He was handsome in a heart-stopping, jaw-dropping kind of way, she thought. The late afternoon sun hit the edges of the blond curls that stuck out of his cowboy hat, making them look as if they glittered. His eyes crinkled at the corners as his cheeks pushed into them, a big smile on his face as he laughed. She could just hear the faint hint of it - that laugh - through the people passing between them and it sounded warm, and rich, and honest. She wanted to hear it closer.

He was wearing a bright pink, long-sleeve button-up with some sort of white pattern she was too far away to figure out. It was fine print, but looked like swirls. Maybe paisleys. The sleeves, upper back and chest supported bold, silver-white thread and patches sewn into it of varying sponsors and brands. Considering the multitude she could count, it was easy to guess he was one of the hot shots on the rodeo circuit. The money went where the winners were, after all. Plus the addition of that big silver, gold-trim belt buckle that was biting gently into the fat of his stomach had likely been won as a prize at another rodeo. It looked pretty fancy, even from this distance.

“Who is that?” She asked, and when Andrea didn’t answer she finally pulled her eyes off him and looked at her friend.

Andrea blushed and shook her head. “You don’t need to go near those guys.”

“What?!” Hazel exclaimed, frowning at Andrea and looking back at that beautiful pink-shirt wearing blond-haired cowboy. He was talking with two other cowboys, both with long, dark-brown hair. She looked from them, back to her friend and found Andrea frowning at her. Hazel rolled her eyes. “Oh come on! You know how long it’s been since Ethan and I called off the engagement and ended things. I’m finally feeling like me again, like I’m getting over that heartache. I could use some fun! The best way to get over someone is to get under someone, right?” She wiggled her brows and grinned playfully. “So, spill it, who is he? What’s his deal?”

Andrea worked the grounds when the rodeo pulled into town and had been doing it enough years that she was known and knew the folk who came to compete. It was a side-gig she had on top of working the cafe at the stockyards. This meant she often knew the rodeo competitors and other cowfolk who found themselves in Brimwood Creek. Therefore, she knew exactly who Mr. Blond Haired Angel Cowboy was and for some reason she was withholding that information. Andrea knew Hazel had a penchant for falling for those handsome cowboys and was enough of a confident little flirt to strike up some fun with one, but she’d never minded before. A thought occurred to Hazel as she remembered her friend blushing, and she looked both surprised at the realization and apologetic.

“Oh! Are you two a thing?” Understandably Andrea wouldn’t want Hazel making eyes at him if she was after him.

“What?” Andrea laughed and shook her head. “No.”

“Okay, so what’s wrong with him then?” She was getting suspicious. She narrowed her eyes on him, trying to find the flaw, but just found herself more distracted by how handsome he was. She glanced at his hand, or tried to, but couldn’t see his ring finger from where they were standing. “Is he married?”

“No! Hazel, look. He’s not the kind of guy you’re after. He’s sort of a recluse. He comes out to compete and then disappears after hours instead of spending time hanging out with everyone. I’ve never once seen him with a girl. He’s not like the rest of them, at least from what I’ve seen.”

Now that was surprising. A lot of these cowboys were known to be roaming heart-breakers with a little lady in every town the rodeo made a stop in. That’s what Hazel had been thinking when she’d gotten Andrea to agree to not only bring her to the rodeo, but get her a little bright green paper wristband that’d let her stay once the rodeo wrapped up for the night and the citizens took off, happy and entertained. After her serious, four-year long relationship had ended over half a year ago she was finally ready to get out, but she’d only meant to find herself a good one-night stand. Her heart wasn’t ready to open up to anything more than that.

“What a shame,” she murmured, eyes still on him, “cause he is quite the looker.”

“Adam! Harper’s out, you’re takin’ his spot!” A sudden barking shout from an older, bow-legged cowboy to her right drew his eyes, and when he nodded and lifted a hand to signal he heard and understood, he caught her watching him. His gaze moved from the cowboy to her, lingering a little, and she wished she could tell what he was thinking. Probably: Why the hell is this woman gawking at me?

His frown deepened and then he looked away as one of his friends - a handsome man with a dark beard and his long, equally dark brown hair secured in a ponytail, tucked beneath a black wide-brim cowboy hat - asked him a question. Hazel’s eyes jumped between them for a moment, admiring the view, before Andrea tugged her sleeve.

“Come on, quick gawking. You promised you’d help me work and not spend the entire day ogling cowboys, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Hazel said, dramatically overacting with a heavy sigh, “I did say that. What a bummer.”

“Shut up,” Andrea laughed and pushed Hazel’s arm playfully, to which Hazel gasped in mock offense, which quickly spilled into laughter before she pushed her back, the two turning to walk toward the chutes and figure out where they’d be best helpful. Neither girl saw the blond-haired cowboy, Adam, turn and watch them retreat with a curious, lingering, thoughtful frown across his naturally down-turned brows.

The rest of the afternoon and evening went by rather quickly. In between lending a hand wherever Andrea needed her, the girls propped themselves up on the metal fences and watched the rodeo events take place. It’d been a couple years since Hazel had gone to a proper rodeo, and her heart felt full to experience it all again. Even the way the crowd hollered encouragement for a particularly good ride, or how everyone lingered in groups and their familiar conversations drifted by her ears as she walked past them brought her back home. She’d missed it, every sense of it, and for a good moment during one of the last rides she let herself close her eyes and soak everything in as deep into her skin as she could get. For the most part she’d wanted to find some cute cowboy to hook up with after the show, but in reality she’d needed the entire day spent here more than she realized she would. She’d been away from this world for too long.

Eventually the citizens were gone, the gates were closed and security made their rounds past little encampments where friends had gathered around portable barbecues and bonfires to check and make sure everyone had the wristband saying they could stay. Hazel and Andrea were hanging out with a small group of workers like Andrea who saw to the set-up and tear-down of the chutes and paddocks, the feeding of the animals and the cleaning of their pens, the organizations of the rides and kept the level ground of the arena smooth for each competitor. One of the older men, a veteran of the rodeo, was telling a hilarious story about a mishap with an angry bull when Andrea gently nudged her elbow in Hazel’s side.

“I heard there’s a cowboy who was asking about you,” she whispered suggestively with a little wiggle of her dark, bold brows.

Immediately Hazel thought of him - blond curls, pretty eyes - and her heartbeat increased. She looked hopeful at Andrea. “Was there?”

“Mhm,” she nodded and tipped her beer bottle back, taking a slug and drawing out the anticipation. “One of the Jackson brothers. Matt.”

“Oh,” Hazel’s shoulders dropped as she felt a stab of disappointment that it wasn’t Adam. But then again, what had she been expecting? She’d only ogled him like a weird-o, then made sure to watch his ride and holler for him until she couldn’t breathe, wrapped up in watching him sit through each buck, knees bending in perfect rhythm with every jolting land and upward hop and twist the bronco put him through. He hadn’t even looked twice at her, but she’d hoped…

“Oh?” Andrea blew a breath from her lips and shook her head. “I thought you’d be all over that. He’s exactly your type and,” she tipped her beer bottle with her brows raised, “exactly what you’ve been looking for.”

No strings attached. Just adult fun with no expectations.

“Yeah, no, I am, believe me.” That was the dark-haired bearded cowboy Adam had been talking to. Hazel remembered thinking he was handsome, but she was so distracted by Adam that even in her mind she could barely remember him. “He’s hot. I was just… you know… hoping maybe Adam had said something?” She felt like she sounded pathetic, fishing desperately for some sign he’d thought something of her too.

“Adam? Adam who?” Andrea asked, perplexed.

“The blond haired cowboy we saw first thing today!”

A few curious eyes pulled their way as Hazel talked louder than a whisper, interrupting the old cowboy’s story. He set her with a heavy glare and she sheepishly shrugged her shoulders.

“Sorry!”

“Adam Page?” Andrea asked with a whisper once everyone had gone back to talking, then shook her head. “Honey, no. I told you, he’s not like the other guys around here. You could prowl the entire rodeo grounds tonight and you wouldn’t find him. He never sticks around here. Goes right back to his trailer, keeps his nose clean of trouble.”

“I wouldn’t be trouble,” Hazel retorted with a pout.

“Oh yeah, right.” Andrea snorted and slugged another swallow of beer. “Speaking as a friend that knows you, I’d say go find Matt. He and his brother have a little bonfire on the other side of the grounds, past the corrals. A few of their friends will be there too, so it won’t be too weird for you to drop by.”

“Won’t you come with me?” Hazel asked, frowning.

“Oh, no,” Andrea shook her head quickly, but even by firelight Hazel could swear she saw a little bit of color in her cheeks again.

Andrea was always so busy with work and her four younger siblings that she never found time to date, and normally because she didn’t have the time, she didn’t get boy-crazy the way Hazel always had. It was… interesting to see Andrea a little flustered.

“Alright, spill the beans. Why won’t you come with me to the Jackson brother’s little fire pit?”

Andrea glanced at the people they were sitting with, who were still engrossed in their own stories, and then back at Hazel.

“Hazel, it’s nothing.”

“Unless you tell me the exact reason I’m going to grab you by your wrist and drag you over there with me.”

“Hazel!”

“Don’t test me.”

Andrea groaned and set her beer bottle in the cup-holder of the camping chair so she could bury her face in her hands. “I kind of sort of have a crush on Nick Jackson.”

Nick Jackson, obviously the other half of the Jackson brothers.

“Really?!” Hazel was so enthralled by the idea of Andrea having a thing for one of the cowboys she immediately wanted to hook them up. “Well, come on! Come with me, come talk to Nick!”

“Hazel, no. I can’t. You know I can’t. I don’t want to do the whole one-night-stand thing with a rodeo cowboy I’ll have to see next time they come into town, and I have too much going on to add an attempt at a long-distance relationship to everything. He’s cute and he makes me feel tongue-tied and stupid when he smiles at me, but that’s just all it’s going to be. You, on the other hand,” she fixed her with a pointed stare, “should go get what you came here for before it’s too late.”

Hazel wanted to drag Andrea with her anyways, just to shove her in front of Nick and let the sparks fly, but she knew her friend and she knew what she said was right. Andrea’s life was already packed and bursting at the seams, the last thing she needed was a romance with one of these rodeo cowboys.

“Okay, I’ll go talk with Matt.” She said as she popped up, “and I’ll make sure to tell Nick you said hi.”

“Hazel!”

She smiled at Andrea’s frustrated, warning tone and gave her a wink before turning and heading off to make the walk across the grounds, past the corrals just outside the touch of the bright stadium lighting. Hazel was used to those kinds of slide-in conversations at these after-hours events. Everyone was everyone’s friend, and if a cowboy had been asking after you, all his attention would be yours the minute you were in that firelight. Honestly, was she really the kind of girl who was going to pine after some guy who wouldn’t give her the time of day or was she going to let loose, be free and have a little bit of fun with a totally handsome, dark-eyed cowboy who definitely wanted her? The decision was too easy to make.

She started to walk across the grounds and could just make out the horses in the pop-up pipe-fence pens, lined in a halo of white from the distant stadium lights. She could hear their soft breathing as she drew closer and the gentle swish of their tails as they flicked away late summer night flies. Her pace decreased until she stopped, turning toward the corral and watching the shape of a large golden palomino mare who dozed on the other side of the little one-horse pen. Noticing eyes on her, the mare's ear twitched and she shifted her weight, opening her dark eyes on Hazel. Her pale lashes looked gilded as they caught the light.

“Hey girl,” Hazel beckoned with a soft clicking under of her tongue, slipping her hand into the pen and holding the back of it out as a greeting. “Aren’t you a pretty thing,” she talked gently, her voice just above a whisper. All the people were far from the pens, set up in little circles around their parked trailers, and their laughter and conversation was a happy, distant noise. It left Hazel feeling as though she were in some hushed, isolated place, somewhere special.

She’d always lived for these moments as a kid, these points in time where it was just her and a horse, and she could talk about everything. The things that she was going through, the dreams she had, or even all the places she’d love to go riding if she ever could.

The mare drew close at the sight of Hazel’s hand and brushed her velvet, whiskered lips over the back of it, huffing a warm breath gently that smelled like sweet hay. Hazel smiled. “Hello, beautiful,” she said, gently turning her hand and letting the mare sniff and lip curiously at it, testing her smell.

“You have a little snip on your nose!” she exclaimed softly with delight, seeing the oddly shaped little white mark between the mare’s nostrils.

“When I was a little girl I had an imaginary horse I used to pretend was with me when I ran around, and I always imagined she was a pretty golden palomino with a little white snip on her nose just like you, and one, two,” Hazel scratched beneath the mares chin and leaned to try and count the markings on her legs, “Oh, darn. Almost.” She looked back at the mare’s face and smiled. “My imaginary mare had three socks, but you’ve only got two. Well, you’re still beautiful anyways. Dreams can’t always come true, hm?”

She laughed gently under her breath as the mare stepped closer to the fence, stretching out her neck and as if to offer more areas to scratch.

“Her name is Dolly.” A warm, low, soft voice nearly startled her, but she kept herself calm so as not to spook the mare. The mare clearly knew this intruder, though, as she swung her head forward and pointed her ears, letting out a loud rumbling whicker in immediate greeting. She forgot all about Hazel’s scratches, clearly too happy to see whoever had joined them. Hazel glanced over her shoulder and saw him - Adam - with his blond curls tucked neatly beneath his wide-brim cowboy hat and a sheepish expression across his face. He almost looked embarrassed to have interjected. “Well, it’s Lil Dun Dolly, officially. But I just call her Dolly.”

“Oh! This is your mare?” She felt her face go hot. He was going to think she’d stopped here on purpose. Probably saw her lingering outside his mare’s pen and wanted to know why the weird-o who’d been staring at him earlier was now bothering his horse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to disturb her.”

“Ah, no, ma’am. It’s no trouble,” he laughed a little weakly and cleared his throat, waving his hand between them, “Dolly doesn’t mind the company.” He glanced at her and almost looked like he wanted to say something else, but lost the courage.

“So uh, how much of our conversation did you hear?” She asked, already cringing a little inside, but when she braved a peek at him, saw he was smiling a sort of lop-sided smile.

“Are you going to be mad at me if I say all of it?” That smile of his seemed to want to stretch a little wider.

“No,” she said, laughing, “but I am going to be embarrassed you heard me telling your horse about the fact that I had an imaginary horse when I was little.”

Adam had walked up to the fence and leaned on it while they talked, cheating his body toward her and glancing down beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. She could just barely make out the sinful blue-green of his eyes with the way the shadows and light played on either side of his bearded face. Dolly abandoned her interest in Hazel and was now affectionately lipping at the folds in his shirt with the arm he had leaning on the fence, clearly happy to have him in reach. He reached over and affectionately rubbed his palm over the bridge of her nose and up her forehead before he started talking again.

“Mine was a little bay paint.” He said, and she frowned at him, confused by what he meant. “My imaginary horse I had when I was little? It was a bay paint with a big white spot across it’s chest and one over its haunches. I called him Bandit. What’d you name yours?”

She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, pushing high into her round cheeks. She wanted to worry over the way her heart started beating a little faster, but she couldn’t be bothered, trapped in those pretty, bright eyes of his. “Her name was Honey.”

“Honey, that’s a good name for an imaginary horse.”

“So is Bandit.”

They smiled at each other for a minute too long before they seemed to realize it, both clearing their throats and trying to jump into a different conversation, cheeks hot. They laughed awkwardly and Hazel shook her head. A change of conversation was probably for the best, so she grabbed at the first topic she could think of.

“I saw your run earlier, by the way. You were impressive! The way you sat that bronc despite his best effort to throw you was honestly amazing.”

He looked flattered and it endeared her how humble he was. Most cowboys at his level soaked in whatever adoration they could get. Damnit! Couldn’t he do something to make her not like him? This was becoming unfair.

“Ah, I owe most of it to that little firecracker I was riding,” he said, patting his hand against his mare’s muscled neck and gently ruffling her cream-white mane. “I’ve ridden him a couple times at past rodeos, but he was on something else tonight. He helped me get that good score.”

“Oh stop being so humble,” she laughed and rolled her eyes, “any cowboy or cowgirl who competes in the rodeo knows it’s the animal, the rider, and the rider’s understanding of that animal and their communication that makes the ride. No matter which sport it is. It’s about how you work as a team, you know?”

He was looking at her with an expression she’d describe as surprised understanding, like she’d just said something he thought of as important, too. Like they shared the same understanding of something a lot of people took at face value.

“Yeah… it’s... exactly that,” he stumbled over. “I haven’t seen you around before, how do you know so much about the rodeo?”

She felt her cheeks get hot and shrugged, choosing to look at Dolly just as an excuse to not see him looking at her like that. “I did some barrel racing a few times in my late teens and very early twenties.”

“You did?” He said with delighted surprise.

“Yeah! It wasn’t anything huge, just locals, qualifiers, and a few state shows. But I always enjoyed it.”

“Why’d you stop?”

She hesitated. “It’s… complicated.” Her eyes lifted slowly and apologetic to his. “Sorry,” she started, trying to explain it wasn’t something she talked about with practical strangers, but he held out a hand as if to stop her and gave his head a little shake.

“You don’t have to say any more.” He assured her, “I’m sorry if I touched a sore spot.”

“It’s okay,” she noticed the way his brows tilted downward a little harder than they were naturally set and it tugged at her heartstrings in a way she wasn’t ready for. “I don’t tell many people about that, actually. Although it figures that my rodeo past would come up at a rodeo though, so that’s kind of on me.” She laughed, and he grinned a little deeper.

“Man,” he said and sucked air through his teeth. When she looked at him he shook his head in disappointment. “I can’t believe you missed the opportunity to tell me this ain’t your first rodeo.”

For a drawn out second she just stared at him - the way a half-smile hung on his lips, just showing those slightly imperfect teeth; the way his eyes hung on her face, hoping she thought the silly joke was as funny as he did; the way one blond brow quirked higher than the other; the way that smile inevitably deepened as a couple more seconds crawled past.

And then, she laughed and shook her head. “I can’t believe you just made that silly of a joke.”

“Believe it,” he laughed and shrugged, warm southern accent merrily heavy as he talked. “I didn’t become a rodeo competitor to shy away from making rodeo-specific jokes whenever and wherever I can.”

“So that’s why you decided to compete in rodeos for a living, huh? Not the thrill of the sport, not because you’re good at it, not for the money…”

“Nope! Just the jokes.”

They laughed together in gentle breaths, their smiles still on their mouths by the time it stopped. She knew then exactly how dangerous this was for her. She needed to excuse herself and step away, because there was something between them that made her nervous and excited and painfully hopeful. Hopeless, more like. Everyone knew rodeo cowboys didn’t settle down; they traveled the road over half the year during the season and went from town to town, never too far from a pretty doe-eyed cowgirl in denim she’d cut into too-short Daisy Duke’s. After what Hazel had just gone through, the last thing she could afford was catching feelings for a rodeo cowboy.

“I should probably um-”

“Hey, would you like to-”

They had started talking at the same time and talked over each other, sharing an awkward laugh before he cleared his throat and tipped his head toward her with a smile. “Please, ladies first.”

“No.” She said it a little too breathlessly and cleared her throat when he looked at her with a curious expression. “Please, I want to hear what you were going to say.”

Carelessly, she mentally shut off the alarm bells blaring in her head and refocused on him.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to walk with me? I kinda like walking the corrals away from everyone at night. I normally do it alone but, if,” he glanced at her as if asking permission even as the next words tumbled out of his mouth, “if you wanted to, I’d like your company.”

“Yes!” She said, almost too quick, and then blushed and shook her head, heating up clear to her crown with embarrassment for how eager she’d just obviously been. “Sorry - erm - I mean yeah. That’d be cool, I guess.”

When her eyes darted to him, she saw he was fighting a grin. He jerked his head to the side and turned, starting to walk down the fence line. She fell in step beside him and for a moment they shared the quiet together. The crickets chirped in the tall grass outside the dirt grounds; the horses snorted and swished their tails, some of them lifting their heads and watching them curiously; the cattle flicked their ears and huddled close together, moving as a group wherever they went.

“What was your run when you were competing in barrels?”

Of course he’d ask a rodeo related question to break the ice and figure out what they should talk about. Typical cowboy.

“My mare ran between 18.3 and 19 seconds. My gelding was a little slower, he normally clocked solid 20.”

Adam sucked in a breath and released it slow, brows raised, he tilted his head toward her and appeared impressed. “Those are some good times.”

“Not World Championship times, a few seconds off, but yeah, I did pretty good in my local and state classes.” Wanting to shift the attention off herself and back onto him before he asked a question she wasn’t comfortable answering, she decided she’d throw a rodeo question his way. “So why bronc riding?”

He glanced at her a little sheepishly.

“Come on! Why bronc riding?”

“It’s just you have to really know a horse well when you’re riding them as they buck. It becomes a kind of dance; you need to anticipate every move, where that horse is going to shift its weight, making sure you’re as fluid with it as you can be so you don’t get dislodged. It’s about precision and timing, nothing can be off. It’s a constant attempt to achieve perfection in a narrow time window and it’s just you and that horse. You have to trust yourself to understand those animals so you can do it exactly right and not get yourself hurt, either.”

“Wow.” She was stunned, genuinely, and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t unheard of for a cowboy to talk so highly and credit the animals he competed with, but there was something about the way passion bled into Adam’s voice the more he tried to break it down that really got her. “You really love doing this, don’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” He laughed, and she decided she definitely liked the way a smile looked on his face.

“I love it,” she said, and tried not to pay attention to the way that made him grin a little more, scuffing the toe of his boot against the hard packed dirt ground they walked. “So why trailer in Dolly if you don’t compete in a sport you need your horse at?”

“Sometimes I help pick up, if something happens and they need someone to step in and help. Dolly’s been doing it for years and she’s a great little pick up mare, never lets the excitement from the broncs or the bulls rile her up.”

The cowboys who did picking up were the ones who rode in at the end of the eight second ride to offer a horse for the cowboy to safely jump off and onto. They’d take the rider away from the bucking roughstock and somewhere they could safely dismount and await their score. That required a sound horse who’d listen to its rider and not get carried away with the spirit and herd mentality of another horse kicking its heels up or a bull twisting and threatening to charge with angry snorts. Telling a horse to run toward another horse that was bucking like that was a whole other ordeal. Those cowboys needed people they could trust, and it said a lot that Adam paid the extra gas to haul a trailer and dealt with loading and unloading his mare here just in case he was needed.

“Plus,” he concluded, and looked almost a little sheepish, “I like having her company.”

“You really have to stop being so cute.” The words were out of her mouth before she could think about the consequences, and he laughed. If not for the shadow beneath his wide-brim hat and the gentle haze of darkness they walked through, she thought she might have seen him blushing.

“Ah,” he rubbed at the back of his neck and stopped in his tracks, making her stop a second later and turn to face him, her head tilting curiously as she looked up at him. He knocked the brim of his hat back so it sat more slanted on his curls and let her see that handsome, blond bearded face more clearly, lit in gentle white-blue from the distant haze of the stadium lights. It caught one side of his face more than the other, and his eyes were such a dark, pretty grey-green that she bet they’d have her heart doing somersaults over how pretty they were in the daylight.

“Look, I don’t normally do this, but,” he started, pausing a little between his words, struggling to get out what he wanted to say. Her heart increased its beat, racing with anticipation, her full lips fell apart in a gentle break to let her suck in a sharp breath of air. His eyes fell dark down to them and he trailed off, looking intently. She was dizzy. Was he going to kiss her? Oh God, he was going to kiss her.

Please, she thought, kiss me.

No, she groaned inwardly, don’t kiss me!

If he kissed her, she wasn’t sure she could keep fighting off the chemistry that was obviously between them, and something was telling her it would hurt a little bit to see this one leave her bed in the morning and never call again.

He started to lean in. She caught her breath.

“Hey, Page! Finally coming to hang out with us or what?”

They both jumped apart and looked with wild eyes on the cowboy standing a few paces behind Adam, who must’ve just walked up from the glowing orange fire pit set up near the trailer at his back. She didn’t recognize him immediately, but Adam clearly did.

“Hey Nick, actually, I-” Adam had turned his body a little to answer Nick, and when he did it revealed her standing near him.

“Oh jeez,” said Nick, blinking, the wide happy smile he’d been wearing slipping away almost immediately, “I hope I didn’t just interrupt something.”

“No!”

“Nope!”

They were both too quick and too eager to jump in and defend themselves, as if they hadn’t just been seconds away from giving in to temptation.

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” she said, rushed, and tried to ignore the way Adam’s eyes shot back over her, and how he took a small step away, as if her words had repelled him back. She wished she could explain it, that it wasn’t that she didn’t want to kiss him, but that she knew better than to. That she was guarded against any kind of hurt right now, even something as little as regretting the cold space that’d be on his side of the bed by the time she woke up the next morning.

“Right,” something in his tone told her Nick wasn’t buying it from either of them, and when she pulled her eyes away from Adam and looked at him, noticed he seemed to be struggling to keep from grinning again. Her cheeks felt hot.

“Well, things have wound down a little bit, but Kenny’s still hanging out and we’ve got food and drinks leftover if you guys want. Well,” he shrugged and held up his palms, stepping back as if to physically excuse himself from their space, “I mean, you guys probably want to get back to whatever you were doing out here all alone, so…” Did she sense a sort of mischievousness in his tone? Was he teasing them? Maybe she should have brought Andrea and sent her ahead to keep him occupied so he wouldn’t have interrupted them.

“No,” Adam was the one who spoke up this time, but he wasn’t looking at her. “I’d love to come hang out.”

“Really?” Nick said, “huh. That’ll be a first.”

He was definitely poking fun at Adam in the same way you’d tease a good friend. It occurred to her that if Andrea, someone who worked the rodeo grounds when they came into town, knew that Adam was the type to be a loner, the friends he had would know it even more. What had Nick thought when he’d seen that Adam was with her? Was he surprised? Glad that Adam wasn’t alone for once? Did he even care?

Adam shot him a glare she just caught as they started towards him, to which Nick bit into his wide grin and turned away, leading them both back toward the nearby fire with camping chairs strewn in a haphazard half-circle around it. She bit into the inside of her lip to keep from smiling, not wanting to give away that she’d seen the interaction between them and fought the urge to playfully bump her hip into Adam’s. The warm glow of the crackling fire and the light laughs and conversation grew louder as they came close.

“Found a couple wanderers near the corrals,” Nick announced as he made his way back to an empty chair, flopping unceremoniously down into it and grabbing a can of diet coke from a nearby ice chest. It made a soft pop as he cracked it, and Adam and Hazel were left staring at the little group.

“Adam!” Said a man with surprised delight. He was sitting in the chair beside the one Nick had sat down in, and made it look tiny by his mass alone. Even beneath his purple checkered pearl snap, she could see how big his arms and chest were. He wasn’t wearing a hat, though he must’ve been all day, as his tight wound dirty-blond curls had a slight crimp from where the band had sat. He had eyes a more vivid, concise blue than Adam’s could be. They were so blue that she could tell even in the orange glow of the fire. “Who’s your friend?” He asked, turning a politely curious eye and friendly smile on her.

“Oh,” Adam started and glanced at her, slight smile on the edge of his mouth before he looked back, “this is-”

“There you are Hazel. I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to come after all.” Matt Jackson had walked from around the trailer, chewing gum, returning and eyes all hers, not having noticed he interrupted Adam talking. His attention absorbed Hazel, like a dog trained on a scent, he wasn’t going to give up until his paws were on her. She’d seen that look before on a man, and normally it excited her, especially a man as handsome as Matt was. Alright, maybe it still excited her a little (she was only human), but Adam shifted ever so slightly beside her and she felt the change in the air around them and watched as Matt’s eyes jerked from her to him, and he looked genuinely shocked.

“Page?! Finally decided to be social, huh?” His smile showed teeth. “That’s great! Sit down and hang with us.” He waved toward an empty chair near Kenny, who was watching the three of them with a curious eye.

Matt’s attention was hers again, those brown eyes dark as sin, smile just the right level of smug that made her palm itch to slap it and grab desperate around his shoulders to pull him down into a passionate, heated, dizzying kiss. To spell it out in one word, Matt Jackson was one-hundred percent certifiable, damningly handsome trouble. It was the kind she’d been initially looking for, the perfect distraction from her broken heart… So why was her smile a little pained? Why did she want to turn toward Adam and ask where he was planning to sit so she could sit with him, put her hand on his arm, do something to let him know the only place she wanted to be was back to where they were? Why the fuck did it matter? He was just a guy; a guy who was trouble in a different way. That kind of trouble that meant broken hearts and burning aches in your chest for days; that kind of trouble was exactly what she was running away from.

Matt had moved closer to her while she was thinking, and she snapped out of it when his hand waved in front of her. He laughed softly, as though finding her momentary lapse in concentration adorable. Assuming she was so taken away with seeing him again and knowing he’d wanted her, she’d had her feet knocked right out from under her.

“Earth to Hazel!” He said, smiling. “Come on,” his head jerked toward a pair of chairs on the opposite side of the fire. Still a part of the group, but paired off a little separately. “I saved you the best seat in the house, right next to me.” He said, a grin growing before he winked.

Pretentious, egotistical prick. She nearly snorted. Fuck, he’s hot.

But she managed to pull her eyes away, intending to make eye contact with Adam and get help on what she was supposed to say here. Only… she didn’t meet Adam’s eyes. He had turned away from her and was already edging around the fireside to join Kenny and Nick opposite of where Matt was. He’d walked off without even waiting for her, or waiting to see what she’d say to Matt.

Hazel sucked back a sharp stab of disappointment and mentally chided herself immediately thereafter. What a fool. Just because he was cute and she was sure they’d been about to kiss didn’t mean anything. A momentary lapse in judgement where he’d been about to kiss her didn’t mean anything if there wasn’t going to be any follow-up. If he was willing to fold at the first sign of another man’s interest, it wasn’t worth her getting hung up on either.

But maybe she was being a little childish and spiteful when she turned a charming smile back toward Matt and made sure to speak loud enough that Adam would hear her, saying, “I’d be happy to sit with you!” She put a bright smile on her face she didn’t necessarily feel, and looked up beneath her mascara-curled lashes as she bit into the corner of her grin to match his smirk.

They sat in the two camping chairs, pointed inward toward one another, though hers damnably kept Adam in her sights too, just beyond Matt. She could avoid looking his way, she thought, focusing on Matt’s smile and his appreciative dark eyes, wondering what the hell was wrong with her that she’d waste her chance for some fun with a guy this handsome over one she barely knew.

“You seem to know your way around a rodeo, huh?” Matt asked her, chewing thoughtfully on his gum after pushing his hat back on his head so the firelight would catch his face and reflect the warmth and hunger that was in his eyes. His long dark hair was tied back, a few wispy strands caught the soft night breeze and stirred. She wondered what it looked like down, around his shoulders, curtaining his face.

“Do I?” She asked him, and remembered how she’d told Adam about her former barrel racing days. She didn’t volunteer that information here.

“You do,” he said, and reached lazily between them to tap a long finger playfully on her knee. An excuse to touch her. “You don’t seem that green to me, little filly.”

Alright, maybe she swooned a little bit at that, and maybe the smile on her mouth was a little more honest than before, and maybe her focus sharpened on Matt and Adam became a soft, firelit blur of pinks and blues and golden blond in the background. She laughed and didn’t notice the way Adam stiffened at the sound, and how his eyes shot fast over to see her grinning at Matt, and Matt’s finger on her knee. She didn’t see Nick frown and glance between herself, his brother, and Adam. She didn’t notice any of it but Matt. There was something… commanding about his charm.

“Well, you haven’t even tried to ride yet, cowboy. You don’t know how hard I can buck.”

The smile he wore stretched wide enough it showed his teeth. Endearingly she noticed his bottom teeth were crooked; it softened her to see something human peek through what had so far only been arrogance wrapped in a damningly handsome package. A little imperfection. Cute. He laughed loud at that, too, and his brows shot up with surprise.

“Alright!” He laughed again and his hand smoothed over her knee. It’s weight was heavy with intent, and warm.

Adam came a little more into focus past him. She could see how he tilted his head toward them. Was he listening?

“Do you have any experience riding a wild filly? Can you manage to stay on?” She barely managed to get the words out, and she wished she was looking into those soft grey-green-blue eyes, and that she’d get to see the wrinkles push up his hat when his eyebrows shot up after she got the words out. She wondered what sweet-seeming Adam was like when faced with bold, flirtatious advantages. Instead, she refocused on Matt, and she saw the self-assured expression cross his face at her tease. He slid his fingers off her knee and leaned back in the chair, gesturing down at himself.

“You’re talking to the top number one PRCA Team Roping Header champion, sweetheart.” He scoffed playfully, jokingly offended she’d question his skills. She wished she didn’t feel the need to press her thighs together and adjust her seat, or the way she wanted to take in a sudden, sharp breath when his eyes pinned hers. What was it about a cocky man that made something inside her come alive? That’s why he was fun to play with, but she’d never make the mistake of dating someone like him. That ego was fun in small bursts, but too much was liable to get you burned.

Somehow she managed to cover the jolt of attraction with a soft laugh and a jerk upward of one of her brows. She knew she was smiling too much into her words and couldn’t stop herself. “A roper? That doesn’t tell me you can ride a bucking horse, cowboy. Maybe I should go find myself a champion bronc rider, then I’ll be sure he’ll stick the ride.”

And she hoped Adam was eavesdropping and heard her say it, but she couldn’t look away from Matt to check.

Something in that dangerous look that flashed dark in his eyes told her he caught on to exactly what she was trying to do and say. It was a challenge, and she was quickly learning Matt was the type of man to grab on to a challenge with everything he had. He had a boldness that matched hers, and it invited her to play along. They continued to flirt and talk, weaving around and through topics, using little chances here and there to lay a hand on an arm, or a knee. She danced a dance she knew well, avoiding giving pieces of herself away she assumed a man like him wouldn’t actually care about. He was just trying to get into her pants, not her heart.

That was a good thing, she reminded herself, once again trying to resist the urge to let her eyes find Adam. They’d made eye contact by accident a few times that night as she talked with Matt, both catching the other trying to sneak a glance and looking away just as quickly. Matt had noticed a time or two as well, but he never made a comment or said a thing. Instead, they kept talking, kept flirting, and eventually got on the topic of his recent, most impressive roping championship run.

“That’s where I won this buckle,” he said, tapping the shiny, gold-filigree decorated silver buckle with it’s bold writing proclaiming him as champion of that specific rodeo.

“Is there a replay of the run?” Hazel asked curiously, wanting to see the way he and his brother worked in-tandem to rope a calf in less than six seconds.

“Yeah,” he said, and pulled his phone from his pocket. He tapped away, and she used the chance to look at Adam. He wasn’t paying attention to her this time, but was nodding and talking to Nick, moving his hands. Expressive. Nick had his hat in his lap and was stretched out, boots propped on the ice chest the sodas had been. He was nodding in agreement. She blinked, watching Adam’s hands… and then Matt leaned over to show her the clip and drew her sharply back to him. Suddenly, with his free hand he reached up, fingers skimming her cheek as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

“Sorry,” he’d breathed softly near her when her eyes darted to him and she noticed how close they were. She’d barely have to move to put her lips on his darkly bearded cheek.

“No you’re not,” she said.

“No, I’m not.” He agreed, and she noticed his eyes had fallen to her lips, which ached and wanted all at once after having been denied earlier.

“Alright, I’m going to call it quits.” It was Kenny speaking up and moving out of the chair that made her jump and glance toward the rest of the group. He somehow came across as even larger when he got out of it, and she briefly wondered what the hell his workout routine was like. It was then she noticed the light had died down, the fire was burned to coals glowing a soft orange-red among the black. It’d be safe to put out, clean up, and leave. Nick had popped up as Kenny edged around the fire, and was starting to grab up empty soda cans and whatever other trash they had to throw out. They made quick work of taking care of things before she could even offer.

“I’m heading out too,” Adam volunteered quickly and without a glance in her direction. “Night guys, see y’all in the morning.” He didn’t linger, lifting his hand in a slight, dismissive wave before he took off and didn’t let his eyes touch her again. He was avoiding acknowledging her existence entirely. Where did that nice, genuine sweetheart go that he’d been earlier? The one that’d made her heart skip in a way it never had, not even with her recent ex.

The way Adam was treating her stung, and she was, yet again, angry that it did. He’d chickened out of making the move on her and let Matt step in. That was on him. It wasn’t her fault and she didn’t deserve to be treated like shit for getting attention from someone who wanted her and was willing to do something about it. She didn’t deserve to feel guilty for flirting with Matt.

That’s what she told herself as she watched Adam disappear into the night.

“I’m going to get a ride back with Kenny,” Nick said as she and Matt stood up from their chairs and started folding them, helping each other shove them into the canvas bags and handing them toward Kenny’s outstretched hand.

“Alright,” Matt nodded, “see you guys in the morning.”

Today had been the qualifying runs, tomorrow they’d have to compete with the best in their sport to try and win both the purse and the added points to keep them at the top of the yearly rankings.

“Nice meeting you, Hazel.” Nick smiled kindly, and Kenny bobbed his head of curls in her direction with a smaller, shyer smile before slinging three of the canvas bags with camping chairs on his back and grabbing up the ice chest in the other. Nick grabbed the other ice chest and the remaining two chairs, leaving nothing for her and Matt to take back but themselves.

“You too!” She said politely in return, and then they left and it was just she and Matt, completely alone.

“You want to come back to my hotel room?” The blatant invitation was asked without hesitation, wasting little time, and the look on Matt’s face was unmistakable. He’d reached out between them and grabbed one of her hands to pull her body in a little closer to his, and she realized the calloused pad of his thumb was gently skimming her skin and making goosebumps rise up along her arm. Her heart even started beating a little faster in her chest, making her pulse jump.

So why wasn’t the obvious answer so… obvious? Why did she look in the face of that handsome man she’d been flirting and talking to for hours and not find the word yes leaping off her tongue?

“I-” she struggled with the hesitation, and a slight frown disrupted the predatory expression he wore. She saw confusion, and knew he had every right to be. Up until this point she’d been giving him every sign that he would have her in his hotel bed with her feet pointed up to heaven by the end of the night. “I want to say yes…”

“But…?” he volunteered softly, watching her. There was something suddenly gentle there in those brown eyes and across his face. It made something stir in her. Something she’d been reminding herself all day and all night to be wary of.

“I’m in a weird place right now,” she felt guilty, like she’d led him on, and hated that she did, immediately jumping to explain herself in a rush. “I was in a relationship for a long time and our break-up has me kind of messed up, I thought it’d been enough time and I could just have some fun but, I’m just… struggling. I’m so sorry Matt.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me.” He sounded even more confused that she had, and chuckled softly just once before giving her hand a little comforting squeeze. “I’m not pissed at you just because you don’t want to fuck me.” He laughed a little dryly and shook his head. “Come on, let me walk you to your car sweetheart.”

He still hadn’t let go of her hand.

“Okay,” she said, and tried to shrug away the anxiety that told her somewhere, deep down, he probably was. He just didn’t want to be an asshole, so he’d said that to make her feel better. He’d probably noticed how many times she was paying attention to Adam instead of him.

After a lengthy period of silence filled only by their boots scraping the packed dirt ground, Matt tugged her gently by their joined hands, pulling her off balance to crash lightly into his body.

“Hey!” She said in surprise, jerked out of the anxiety spiral her thoughts were becoming, blinking rapidly at him.

He was grinning.

“Earth to Hazel,” he said, echoing that same phrase he’d had to use to pull her out of her thoughts earlier. They didn’t even know each other, how did he know to do that?

“Sorry, I’m such a basketcase today, I swear I’m not normally like this.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes, exasperated with how much she was struggling.

“Aw, you’re fine.” He reassured and smiled at her. “Get out of your head, wild filly.”

Butterflies in her stomach at that little pet name he’d decided on after their earlier conversation and she blushed, looking away from him to gather her thoughts on a safer topic. She was thankful she saw her vehicle and could avoid answering altogether. “That one’s mine,” she said, pointing toward the little bright blue Ford Ranger waiting in the dimly stadium-lit field where they’d been parking cars throughout the day. They walked toward it, just a few paces away.

“I didn’t think you drove a truck.”

“I mean,” she laughed, “does a Ranger really count as a truck?”

He laughed and pulled her to a stop beside her truck, turning her to face him. He still held her hand and grinned down at her. “I was right. This definitely ain’t your first rodeo.”

And just like that, she remembered Adam’s joke, the same one he’d made earlier when she’d talked about her past. She hadn’t told Matt about that. She inhaled a sharp breath and blinked, but Matt was leaning in, pulling her close, and pressing his mouth hot against hers. And her lips were moving, forming to his, opening, her tongue prying at his mouth, his sliding into hers. And he was pushing her up against the side of her truck, jean-trapped cock rubbing against her thigh as she opened her legs to give him better access. And his breath was a hot hiss of air from his nose, and his beard scratched her skin as he moved his mouth hungrily over hers. His hands pinched her waist hard, trapping her at the angle he wanted to fit best between her legs. She spread them wider, and he dipped, fitting his hips up so he could rub the swollen, hard lump of his need and want more firmly against her. The pressure just barely teased her, enough to make a needy, whiny moan crawl up from her lungs and push desperate into his mouth.

He pulled his mouth off of her like he’d had to be forcibly removed, his arms shaking, fingers curled tight around her hips, hard enough she wouldn’t be surprised to see little finger-print shaped bruises on her skin later on. He tried to laugh, but was too breathless to do even that, and he hadn’t moved his body away from hers. He was struggling, trying to catch his composure.

“Sorry,” he said, and flashed his eyes toward her, “I just… meant to kiss you. I didn’t mean to get carried away.”

“No, it’s okay,” her voice barely had any volume to it and she was dizzy. Her lips were tingling and the breath she sucked in with need tasted like him. Like the faint mint from his gum.

“You are something else,” he murmured in a warm breath, grunting as he seemed to all but force himself to step off of her, peeling his weight away from her and letting her settle flat on her feet again. The night felt so much colder, all of the sudden. Her hips ached pleasurably where he’d been holding her. She flushed under the compliment, and the stare in his eyes that was still eating her up. It was killing him not to take her back to his hotel room, but he wasn’t going to cross that line again unless she gave him the invitation.

“You too, cowboy.” She said, and her voice sounded dazed. Her blood was rushing in her ears.

“Drive home safe now, alright?” He said, and his hand moved at his side, like he’d wanted to reach out and grab her again but had to remind himself not to. It fell back down again.

“Okay,” she said, heart aching suddenly, confused on why she was still deciding not to say fuck it and throw caution to the wind. She pushed herself off her truck and turned to fish her keys out of her pocket. She’d turned it in the lock to pop the door open when Matt spoke up behind her.

“Actually, can I get your number? You can text me when you get home so I know you’re alright?”

It was a cute, classic excuse to hide the real reason he wanted her number, but she didn’t mind. She assumed he likely wanted to have her number on hand in case another rodeo brought him close enough to justify them meeting up and, maybe, he’d get lucky to actually sleep with her the next time they did. It wouldn’t surprise her and she wasn’t offended, in fact… she was more than interested. If he got her that crazy just kissing her up against her little truck… Wow.

“Yeah,” she said and smiled so he’d know she knew what it was about. She didn’t expect good morning texts and long conversations late into the night. She tugged her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her contact screen, passing the phone to him as she pulled her truck door open and hopped into the cab. He finished typing his information in by the time she turned to look at him. Matt extended her phone toward her with one hand, and leaned his forearm on the roof of her truck with the other.

When she grabbed the other end of her phone, he didn’t let it go. Instead he dipped down, and he pulled her toward him (though really she leaned up of her own volition) so their lips could meet for another kiss. He started to press in hard, to smear his lips against hers, the energy building back up inside him again, and pulled back with a sharp inhale. He released a slow breath through his nose, lips pressed together as he looked down at her.

“Are you planning on coming back tomorrow?” He asked, voice warm and smooth, his finger skimming her jawline after he let her take her phone back, thumb resting at her chin and keeping her face pointed up at him. Tingles spread from his touch. “I’d love to know there’s a pretty little thing like you in the audience cheering as me and my brother win the championship.”

There it was, that big ego that was all too natural and he couldn’t help flex with such confident casualness and a knowing grin shortly after. He might as well have winked when he took his fingers away from her chin. She playfully pushed her hand lightly into his chest as if to shove him off her truck, and he stumbled back.

“What makes you so sure you’re going to win?” She teased, pushing the key into the ignition and turning it over to start the engine. He flattened his hand on her still-open driver’s side door.

“Oh please,” he laughed and rolled his eyes. “Tomorrow night,” he tapped the belt buckle that currently clasped the belt slung through his Wrangler’s belt-loops. “I’ll have a shiny new buckle on my belt.”

He was so matter-of-fact about it, she didn’t question that he was probably right. He slid his hand down her driver’s side door and slowly started to close it, but before he was shut out, he arched a brow beneath the shade of his hat.

“So, am I going to see you cheering me on tomorrow?” Something hung in his tone. Something that told her he actually cared if she’d be there or not. Funny… but she decided to not let herself wonder about it for too long.

Her smile pushed high into her cheeks. “Yeah,” she said with a nod, “I’ll be there to cheer you and your brother on tomorrow.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, and she suddenly felt dizzy all over again.

He gave her that damnable wink, as though he knew the exact effect he’d had, with a smile pushing a little higher into one side of his bearded cheek than the other, and gently closed her truck door, stepping back to watch her drive away and giving her a wave in the rearview mirror.

**********

She chucked her keys on the side table, pushed the door shut behind her and half stumbled, half kicked off her boots as soon as she got home. The scrabbling of dog nails on hardwood from the kitchen alerted her that her two golden retrievers, Callahan and Carson, were about to rush around the corner to greet her. Hazel pulled her phone out of her pocket, typing across the touchscreen with one hand as the pups came panting and wagging their entire bodies, dancing and prancing around her, pressing their nose to her clothes and demanding attention for having left them alone all day.

“Alright, alright!” She laughed gently as they pushed at her, and abandoned finishing the text message to give them affection and apologize for not being able to take them to the rodeo. They followed her as she made her way down the hall and toward the master bedroom and adjoining bathroom. She finished typing the text message and hit send.

TEXT TO: MATT JACKSON Made it home in one piece!

She gently tossed the phone atop the fluffy comforter that lay over her bed, letting it land with a soft thud. It chimed with a returned text message as she rummaged through her drawers just as Callahan and Carson jumped up onto the mattress, flopping down with huffs. Carson perked his ears and glanced toward the phone as it buzzed again, then glanced over at her.

“I’ll look at it in a minute, Carson.” She chided, unbuttoning her long sleeve shirt and pulling it off, unclasping her bra and barely suppressing the relieved moan as she took it off. She slipped a soft, large shirt over her head, it’s hem just brushing her mid thigh. She unbuttoned and stepped out of her jeans, tugged off her socks and padded barefoot to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash the rodeo dust off her face.

And of course Callahan and Carson got a few more cuddles before she finally reached for her phone and swiped to see Matt’s reply.

TEXT FROM: MATT JACKSON Glad to hear it. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

She smiled and reached to flick off the lamp on the side table, typing away into the white-blue glow of the phone screen.

TEXT TO: MATT JACKSON In case I’m too busy working and don’t see you before your run, good luck!

TEXT FROM: MATT JACKSON Didn’t we already discuss that I don’t need luck, because I’m definitely winning? Anyways, hope I do get to catch you before the run, I’d hate to not get a little good luck kiss.

At that she rolled her eyes, but pressed the button to give a “heart” reaction on his text.

TEXT TO: MATT JACKSON Goodnight, cowboy. Rest up. 💗

TEXT FROM: MATT JACKSON You too, wild filly. ❤️

**********

The second day went by quicker than the first. Maybe it was because they were busier, with more people to watch the championship runs than had come for the qualifiers. Maybe it was because she threw herself wholeheartedly into her work to keep her distracted so her wandering eyes wouldn’t pull toward every blond haired cowboy she saw out of her peripherals.

Not that she had to worry. Either Adam was avoiding her, or there were just too many people to single him out, because even ducking along the chutes and helping sort and load the roughstock for the upcoming rides, she didn’t catch sight of him once. She thought it was peculiar, especially given that she crossed paths with Matt and his brother Nick at least four times that day, and had even run into Kenny once.

But never Adam.

“Ash! Give us a hand!” A shout from Andrea distracted her, and she shook her head as she glanced down the lane of pipe-fencing. “Stand by that gate,” Andrea pointed at a gate near her, “and swing it shut as soon as we push Bueno away from Brisket! Don’t let Brisket bully by you, cause he’ll try!”

They were trying to separate two of the bucking horses in the pen, Bueno, a big seal bay gelding, needed to be sent down the lane to the chutes where he’d get tacked up for the ride, but Brisket, the dun bay, needed to stay in the pens behind. Brisket was running as though stuck to Bueno’s side, as if he knew they were trying to separate them and he wasn’t interested in doing so.

Andrea and the young volunteer that’d stepped up to help her shouted and raised their hands, sending the big horses thundering in bouncing trots toward her. They were picking up their gait, coming faster. Hazel planted her boots firm and lifted her chin, getting ready to spook Brisket so he’d turn about, but keep Bueno running forward. However, as they got near, Brisket pinned his ears and lurched toward where she was standing, lips peeled and flat, yellow teeth showing.

“Hey!” She shouted, jumping back to keep from getting snapped by the grumpy horse, though, at the same time someone else shouted loud over her.

Whoever it was reached to wave a hat over her head, spooking Brisket into pulling his gait up and jerking his head upwards over his withers, ears flat and eyes rolling white. It had the needed effect, as Bueno jolted forward down the lane he was meant to go and Brisket back-stepped and turned about, releasing an angry, loud snort as the gate closed and he didn’t get his way. Whoever behind her had scared Brisket off swung the gate shut, and the automatic lock secured it.

“You alright?” He said.

She glanced toward the familiar voice and found herself trapped in pretty eyes that looked more blue than green today, framed by gold ring-curls that had a soft impression from the hat he’d taken off to shake in the horse’s direction. The mid-afternoon sun was beating down and made his hair look as though it were gilded, like he was some creature of heaven. She could have rolled her eyes at how stupidly romantic that thought was. He raised a hand to shake through his hair and set his hat back on his head, frowning with concern down at her.

“Adam,” She said his name on a breath, exhaling slowly, her entire body suddenly on fire, standing so close to him. She blinked, and her brain caught up through the surprise at seeing him to remember he’d asked her a question. Heat flushed her cheeks immediately. “Uhm, yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. He didn’t get me, just tried to intimidate me. I don’t even think he was going to bite.” She glanced toward Brisket, who was being guided back through the lanes toward the holding pen where he’d wait for Bueno’s return, his ears perked and posture far less aggressive than before.

“Glad you’re safe.” Adam’s tone was dismissive and she whipped her head around to see him turning away, planning to walk off.

“Adam, wait-” She said it before she knew what she was going to say next. Adam paused and looked at her, though she could easily tell he didn’t actually want to. “I didn’t sleep with Matt last night.” She blurted it out and immediately felt embarrassed. Heat crawled up her neck and flushed her cheeks as she fought to keep looking at him and not fall to the cowardice that wanted her eyes at his boots instead.

A look crossed over his face, but before she could wonder what it meant, it was gone and a polite expression was in its place. Despite his cordial look, his voice that’d been honey warm the night before was cold when he spoke, and it sliced right through her. “That’s not really any of my business.” And I don’t care, seemed implied. He reached up to pinch the brim of his hat and tip it to her. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Baker.”

Miss Baker, now. No longer Hazel.

Those eyes lingered on her a second more, and then he turned away and walked off to prepare his bronc rope and get ready for his ride, his shoulders tense and back a little hunched.

She was hurt by his dismissal, and she was angry that she was hurt. What was he supposed to have done? Walk over and kiss her? Admit that he’d been jealous and that he wanted her?

Yes, her heart whined.

Fool, the scars across it mocked.

Maybe she wasn’t even ready for casual fun like she’d thought she was. How could she have been so affected by him? They’d only talked for a little while. Maybe there were still some things she needed to work through from her break-up instead of trying to bury that pain in attention and sex. Maybe she was just shaken because she’d been open with him, vulnerable, only to have him treat her poorly after she’d trusted him so quickly.

Maybe, maybe, maybe...

Hazel shook her head and closed her eyes, taking a breath and giving herself a moment to try and breathe and get out of her head.

“Up next, Adam Page’s ride on Brisby’s Bueno! This young man has had a stellar career this year, after running mid-rankings the last few years he’s risen to the top this year and is definitely this announcer’s must-watch kind of ride!” Kenny’s voice crackled over the announcer’s microphone, and she found herself mildly surprised to learn he was an announcer. He didn’t exactly have the look of an announcer…

Adam’s ride. His championship ride.

For some reason, despite what had just happened between them, she couldn’t help but wander toward the arena. She couldn’t deny herself wanting to watch his ride.

He rode beautifully, with his free arm raised, moving fluid as the rest of his body did with every twist and hard kick and upward hop the bronc gave underneath him. She watched the determination on his face, the way his chin bowed to his chest, and how hard his gloved hand wrapped around that bronc rope. Bueno kicked hard and jumped high for a horse as tall as he was, earning delighted and excited gasps from the audience at the show unfolding in the dirt ring in front of them. No matter what the horse threw his way, Adam stuck on, his legs moving in perfect synchrony over and down Bueno’s withers with each leap. The counter ran up, and Kenny’s voice excitedly crackled over the speakers, growing more and more heated as the ride progressed through snapping bucks and high-spirited kicks.

The buzzer hit eight-seconds. It’d felt like time stood still.

The pick-up riders charged their horses up, one took Adam as he took his hand off the rope and leapt over the pick-up horse’s haunches. The rider turned the horse away while the other pick-up rider unbuckled the snap on Bueno’s flank strap. He gave a few more excited, hyper bucks before slowing to a trot and allowing himself to be guided back toward the chutes. Meanwhile, Adam slid off the horse that’d taken him a slight distance away and landed with a thud onto the dirt, getting a supportive cheer from the crowd as he finished his ride safely. He didn’t even soak them in, but immediately turned his eyes toward the scoreboard, waiting for the judges final call.

89.6 point ride.

The crowd erupted into cheers, and she saw him glance down at his boots and smile, as though soaking it in himself, trying to believe it before he finally let himself look up at the crowd. They hollered even louder. She realized she was screaming for him too.

“89.6!” Kenny’s voice crackled excitedly over the speakers. “With that score, ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a champion! Raise a hand Adam, give them a wave!” He encouraged from the announcer’s booth, earning a glance and almost bashful smile from Adam before he shook his head and waved a hand at the audience, making his walk back to the chutes. Back toward her.

She was smiling when their eyes met, and he smiled too. It turned a little apologetic. A little sad.

She decided he was something of an enigma, and she would never understand him or these feelings she had for him. She shook her head and turned away, knowing she’d be needed in the holding pens as hands always were and deciding she’d rather throw herself back into work as a distraction to keep her mind from mulling. Unsurprisingly, it worked. Needing to stay alert while helping work around the animals and being a willing hand kept her busy and unable to pay attention to much else than what needed done and she could help with.

The only time she let herself stop again was to get herself a cold water bottle and perch up on the top of the fence to watch the Jackson brothers have their final run. She watched as they rode toward the box, the young white and grey-roan speckled roping steer loaded in the chute and ready to run the moment those gates flew open. Hazel caught sight of Matt glancing Nick’s way, Nick giving a reassuring nod before the pair separating to load up in their separate boxes. Matt hadn’t been putting on a front with his confidence; they gave the signal, the man pulled the chute latch open and the calf sprung forward, the brothers in quick pursuit. Matt, the header, threw his lasso over the steer’s horns and turned his direction. Nick, without hesitation, threw his lasso straight through the air and looped it perfectly around both back legs. He did it so quickly and so flawlessly, he made it look easy. Wrapping the rope around his saddle horn, he leaned back, holding tight as his horse dropped its haunches and pulled the steer taut. A cheer rocked the stands as the boys let the ropes go and the calf was able to kick free. The timer buzzed as they gathered and looped the slack of their ropes, still sitting on their horses.

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and shook her head in disbelief. It’d been over so quickly, with such precision, she found herself gaping as she watched the little speckled calf trot with a bleating cry back toward the pen to be with the other calves.

“And with that impressive time rounding out their final roping session of the evening, the Jackson brothers have done it again! Matt and Nick Jackson everyone, your rodeo tag roping champions!”

She screamed with the rest of the folks in the stands, jumping up and down and hollering enough to make her voice go out. The brothers shared broad grins and Matt turned his horse to ride alongside Nick, giving his younger brother a quick pat on the back and another happy smile. Nick returned the gesture of affection and waved toward the crowd as Matt rode off back toward the gate they were swinging open for him.

He saw her, and his grin slipped a little higher up one side of his bearded cheek. She noticed when he’d ridden, the tie on his hair had come loose not quite enough to be completely undone, but enough to give her a hint of how handsome he looked with it loose around his face. He shrugged as he pulled back the reins and stalled his sleek, bay roan roping horse to a halt beside her.

“What did I tell ya?”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled still.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second.”

He leaned in the saddle, the leather softly creaking. She smelled the faint cologne, a damp of sweat, a little rodeo dust, horse and leather as he reached and ran his calloused thumb gently along her jawline. Tingles again.

“Good girl.” His smile showed teeth before he winked, slipping his hand away, leaving her skin warm. He gave a gentle squeeze of his knees, getting his horse to walk back to where he could dismount and tend to it. Along the way she watched him pause to clap hands and receive congratulations from his fellow rodeo buddies, a fond smile resting gentle over her lips.

“You guys must have had a good night,” Andrea’s familiar voice broke her from staring after Matt and she shook her head, focusing on her friends grinning face.

Hazel laughed. “We didn’t hook-up.”

“Don’t lie to try and impress me or make me think you’re some innocent angel. I’ve known you too long for that.”

“I’m not lying!” Hazel protested, “Honestly! I… got myself confused.”

“What? Like lost your way across the rodeo grounds?” Andrea frowned at her.

“No, I… ran into Adam, and we talked and I opened up to him like…” Hazel glanced around, looking for anyone overhearing, then back at her friend's expectant, curious face. “Like no one I’ve opened up to in a long time. He was going to kiss me, but then Nick interrupted us and assumed we were coming to their little fire. Matt was there and he assumed I was there to see him and Adam got pissed off and now he’s acting like an asshole and Matt and I made out but I didn’t fuck him and now I’m more confused than I was coming into this mess.”

She’d talked fast, and her pleading eyes looked desperately at Andrea, who blinked rapidly.

“Wow, a hell of a lot more happened last night than I thought.”

“Yeah!”

“Don’t bother with Adam getting his panties in a bunch. Like I said, he’s a keep-to-himself kind of guy. If he was so upset with you and Matt flirting maybe he should have spoken up.”

“Thank you!” Hazel exclaimed with frustration.

“Still, I can’t believe you didn’t sleep with Matt.”

“You and me both.”

**********

Fire in his belly, it licked hot at the insides and spread over his skin like an itch he’d never scratch. In his mind, as he loaded the trailer and collected his winnings, preparing to leave the rodeo, he just kept seeing them.

Matt, leaning down on his horse to gently, affectionately hold her face. Her, looking up at him with a smile that he would like to have had reserved for him.

It was stupid, he told himself for the hundredth time as he climbed into the cab of his truck and started the engine, letting it gently rumble to life. It was stupid because she wasn’t anything to him.

Only that he’d felt like he’d been struck by lightning the moment he overheard her talking to Dolly. Only that he’d found a funny little smile on his face as he stayed quiet and listened, feeling bad for eavesdropping but finding a foreign, comforting warmth settling inside him the more he listened to her talk. Only that he’d thought the wind had been knocked out of him, like he got kicked in the gut by a bronc, when that soft light lit her profile and showed him the most gorgeous woman he could ever remember lying eyes on. Only that when her eyes had gotten sad, and she’d said she left competing for a reason she couldn’t share, he wanted her to trust him to take on that pain with her, and help her heal from it. Only that he’d shut himself off to the possibility of romance years ago, but when he talked to her he felt like every second of their time together was the most important moment of his life…

And then came Matt.

He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel and squeezed hard enough to turn the knuckles white. His jaw clenched as he glared at the open road, turning truck and trailer onto it, leaving the rodeo grounds behind. It wasn’t Matt he was angry with, or her for that matter, though he might as well have been with how he behaved.

It was himself.

The tension in his body slowly leaked out, color returned to his knuckles, and his shoulders sagged. It pierced right through him, remembering that look across her face this afternoon when he’d dismissed her. As he’d walked away he’d called himself every name in the book, begged himself to turn around and grab her and ask her what it was about her - a stranger - that made him feel so many things he hadn’t felt in years.

And how much that scared him.

And how much he let that fear control his life, removing the chance of losing her by driving her away before it could happen.

Driving her into Matt’s open, eager, waiting arms.

I didn’t sleep with Matt last night.

Why had she told him that?

He knew why. He only wished she hadn’t. He only wished she hadn’t looked up at him with those big, amber-brown eyes that made him ache to his core like he’d always known them. He only wished she hadn’t kept reaching for him with that longing he felt an understanding of, that made the defenses guarding his wounded heart snap and snarl and drive her away. It’d been bruised again and again and again, it no longer knew how to accept even the gentlest touch without fearing pain that might follow.

It was better this way.

He’d been telling himself that since the night prior, since watching her eyes light up as she talked with Matt by the fireside, and still finding himself aching for her company. He hadn’t been able to follow Nick and Kenny’s conversation, because any time her giggles swelled a little in volume his eyes shot to them, and jealousy was something bitter in the back of his throat. He had a feeling he hadn’t been subtle about it, because eventually they stopped trying to include him in their conversation and kept talking to one another, instead.

He had enough to deal with from helping his dad with the family tobacco farm, to trying to raise, train, and sell his own rodeo circuit horse stock, to trying to make a name for himself as the top, undeniable bronc bustin’ champion. There was no place, no room in his life for a woman that made him feel like loving her would change how he saw the world. Especially not one who lived a good six hours from where he did. Especially not one he’d hardly ever see as he traveled town to town to compete in the rodeos. It would never work, and the pain it’d cause when it didn’t wasn’t something he was brave enough to risk.

No matter how he tried to justify himself walking away from her, every piece of him screamed and rebelled against what he’d done. It was an exhausting spiral from want to anger to anguish to disappointment and he hoped it’d leave him soon.

The more miles he put between her and those damningly beautiful eyes and that pretty little smile that made his heart skip a beat in his chest, the better.

Or so he tried to tell himself.

#hangman page #matt jackson #hangman adam page fanfiction #adam page fanfiction #matt jackson fanfiction #aew fanfiction #mine: fanfiction #my fics: hangman adam page #my fics: matt jackson #me? throwing this up at 3am? so I can just. run away? and pretend I didnt??? YEP #anyways this might be the Most self indulgent piece I've ever written #and that SCARES ME to share it but HERE WE GO #my fics: starlight

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thanksjro · 5 years ago

Text

More Than Meets the Eye #4- Man, Talk About Timely, Huh? It’s Time for the Plague Storyline!

Issue #4 opens up with First Aid writing in his diary about the less-than-stellar working conditions at Delphi medical center, and it’s not because Ambulon caught him reading Wreckers fanfic during office hours for the eighth time this week.

So, here’s the thing: you can’t be demoted from doctor to nurse. That’s not how that goes, because doctors and nurses aren’t on the same career path ladder. A doctor can have certain accesses and privileges taken away if their performance slips, or can be moved to a different ward or transferred to another facility, but outright demotion to nurse status isn’t a THING. If anything, First Aid would be performing nurse duties to cover for the fact that Delphi seems to have a grand total of three staff members for the entire outpost. Hell, they’ve had to outsource their mental health checkups to a guy who was in orbit over Cybertron until a couple months ago.

But anyway, something’s up at Delphi, and it all started when they let a couple of Decepticon surrendering combatants inside. These two dudes were running from the Decepticon Justice Division, a group who basically super-murder any Decepticon who’s decided to do a runner from the Cause. The DJD’s base of operations is in the same general area as Delphi, which seems like maybe not the best idea for the Autobots when it came to outpost placement, but it seems to be working out pretty well for the surrendering combatants.

Pharma shows up, and is ready to throw them back outside- he’s the big boss, so he can make that kind of call- but after a little detective works they figure out that the two don’t have their t-cogs anymore, having had them removed for religious purposes. Ambulon sees them as the exact opposite of a threat because of this, not to mention him having a soft spot for surrendering ‘Cons, and manages to convince Pharma to let them stay, and also not violate the Autobot Code, Article 7, which states that all surrendering combatants must be granted safe haven. Ultra Magnus would be proud.

They lock up the Decepticons, slate them for a patch up, then things get complicated as it turns out, they’ve got a branched spark. The last time we saw a branched spark, things didn’t turn out so hot, and it looks like things have started going similarly downhill.

But enough about the horrific deaths of dozens of robots on a frozen planet, it’s time for bar shenanigans!

While Skids prepares to commit an act of violence on a droid that’s done absolutely nothing to him and is just trying to do its friggin’ job, Swerve reveals to Ratchet that he’s decided to follow his dreams after all and open a bar. He doesn’t have all the paperwork turned in yet, per se, but he’s working on it. He hands Ratchet a free drink to celebrate the off-panel event of the Lost Light having found itself on the map again, and Ratchet, who’s apparently never heard of a shot, gripes about the portioning.

Of course, he might have a bit of a point, as the drink seems to shrink more and more as he talks to Swerve about the fact that they’re both giant nerds who were subscribed to Wreckers: Declassified.

Was non-war-related entertainment just not allowed for the last four million years? No wonder the war went on for so long- everyone was so steeped in it they forgot how to function like regular people. Since the logs were beamed directly into the brain, I can only imagine the amount of physic damage that last entry caused.

The reason Ratchet’s brought up everyone’s favorite podcast is that there was a new entry last night- odd, considering that Ironfist’s been dead for a couple years at this point. It was just a series of seemingly random numbers, or at least it would have been, if Ratchet wasn’t a good doctor who kept up-to-date on his medical news.

My my, I do wonder which Wreckers: Declassified subscriber could have sent those statistics on Delphi out into the aether.

As luck would have it, the Lost Light isn’t terribly far away from Messatine at the moment, which is the planet Delphi is on. Ratchet decides it’s time to check things out.

Over in Rodimus’ very pink room, Ultra Magnus wants to have a discussion about Tailgate, and the fact that he wants to be a Decepticon. This is, obviously, a problem, considering the fact that everyone on the ship, who wasn’t stuck in some sort of hole or alternate dimension for the last six millions years, is staunchly anti-Decepticon. Magnus laments on the fact that now that the war is over, he has to start seeing people as people, as opposed to cogs in the machine. Magnus is one of those guys who functions better with structure, which the Lost Light doesn’t really have a ton of.

Rodimus tells Magnus to lighten up a bit, before he pulls something trying to bring military regulation into civilian life, and says that he’ll handle the whole Tailgate thing.

Back down on Messatine, Ratchet’s dragged Drift and Pipes of all people into his little visit to Delphi, and they’re rocking up to the scene on the MARBs- Mobile Autobot Repair Bays. This is Pipe’s first space adventure, and he’s really happy to be here!

We’ll see how he feels a little later in the day.

As the boys make their way over to the plot, Drift and Ratchet lay a bit of groundwork down for future storylines, then arrive outside Delphi to find the door locked and spray painted with a big ol’ X.

Shane McCarthy slipped James Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet. Let’s see how that pays off.

Pipes decides to do a thing and crash through the entrance like a hooligan. It goes about as well as one could expect, though we do a pretty sweet and unnecessary flip from Drift out of it.

We’re going to need to soak Pipes in rubbing alcohol for a good hour.

Ratchet yells at Pipes for busting into a medical outpost that clearly wasn’t meant to be cracked open like a cold one, not to mention knocking over at least three hospital beds.

Then a sick guy shows up and Drift flips the hell out and slices up a guy so hard Pipes has to remove his visor to watch the insanity unfold.

The whole “sword murder” thing doesn’t really gel with the idea of “do no harm”, so Ratchet and Drift get into it a bit before First Aid shows up and starts drawing on Pipe’s face.

Back on the Lost Light, Rodimus is keeping his promise and dealing with Tailgate, with the help of Rewind, resident historical archivist and the guy who’s about to rock Tailgate’s fucking world in under 12 seconds.

Okay. So.

The thing about recorded history is everything has a bias. No matter how impartial the recorder attempts to be, no matter how detached, there will ALWAYS be at least a little bleedthough. Now, while it’s unlikely Rewind’s been in direct combat, because he’s friggin’ tiny and turns into a data slug, and while he doesn’t seem the patriotic type, he’s still an Autobot. He’s only been on one side of the war, so most, if all all of his archive, is built from the framework of being surrounded by Autobot mindsets and propaganda. It would appear that this isn’t the first time Rewind’s done something like this, if he already has the upload time committed to memory down to the tens decimal. If he’d been asked to do this prior to the conclusion of the war- very likely, considering it ended a few months ago- what are the odds that he was asked to frame things a little more in favor of his own team? Pretty good, I’d think.

Guys, I don’t think Tailgate is having a good time with the history lesson.

Needless to say, any concern over Tailgate wanting to be a Decepticon is pretty soundly quashed after this.

Back over with the plague plotline, First Aid gives Ratchet the rundown on the symptoms they’ve run into at Delphi.

You fucker, you got that line from Wreckers: Declassified.

Delphi hasn’t been able to call for help, because even if they didn’t have their hands full of liquified robot, communications have been out since something went off and broke pretty much everything in the outpost, general health and well-being included. First Aid suspects a dirty bomb, curtesy of the DJD. The tour of the facility ends in the medical bay proper, where Ambulon is hard at work trying to keep folks alive.

Ratchet looks over the scene, and notes that the older patients in the ward aren’t crying their literal eyeballs out. Weird, that.

Ambulon shows off their super-secret patient, who is kept in shadow for the reader, to keep the suspense going for a bit longer. Mystery patient’s been in an “everlasting coma” since he got here, and while Ambulon and Pharma don’t think anything can be done, First Aid’s willing to get weird with it.

Earlier in the issue, it was mentioned that Ambulon didn’t think First Aid took any initiative. Turns out, First Aid does, and has, just not on things Ambulon agrees with.

It was at that point that Ratchet decided he rather liked First Aid.

Back with Tailgate, he’s returned to his room to confront Cyclonus, who’s busy doing something on the computer. What exactly isn’t revealed, and never will be.

Tailgate is really cross about the fact that Cyclonus let him walk around on a ship full of Autobots claiming he wanted to be a Decepticon. Of course, it’s not like Cyclonus knew he was going to be such a loudmouth about it, otherwise maybe he would have told him to maybe NOT do that, if only to prevent his life getting further muddied up by a war he wasn’t even around for.

Tailgate’s gotten really worked up over this, because that’s just how he is as a person, and even goes so far as to punch Cyclonus in the arm in his frustration. He apologizes almost immediately, but the bear’s already been poked, unfortunately.

Oh, honeybunches, you are going to be regretting that move for the next five years.

But not before the customary “pulling away from the one guy who’ll even talk to you because you don’t know how to properly react to anything anymore" thing.

Back on Messatine, we find out where Pharma got to- he’s been locked into the quarantine room by accident, and will remain there until all technopathogens are completely dead. This will take millions of years.

That seems like poor planning for such a room.

Or, at least, it would be, if Ambulon was still running the show.

How the fuck has Ambulon survived this long without dying of stupidity?

As Ratchet starts trying to get Pharma out of his glass case of emotion, Pipes is starting to not have so much fun on his first-ever field trip.

Yaaay, space adventure!

Ratchet warns Drift not to kill Pipes- repeatedly- and Drift manages to do that, though it looks a little dodgy for a second, as he bonks the little guy on the head and knocks him out. Ratchet’s managed to get Pharma out, and Pharma immediately runs for the prison cells, saying he’s figured it out.

Ambulon carries what’s left of Pipes back to the emergency ward, and Ratchet holds the little dude’s hand while they get him hooked up to some feeds. Drift starts bleeding from the eyes. Awesome.

Enter Pharma.

Today just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?

Turns out those two Decepticons from earlier got out of their cells somehow, and they’ve got guns. Things aren’t looking too good for the Autobots.

Well, I mean, if he says it’s fine, then I guess…

Yep, our mystery patient is none other than Fortress Maximus, warden of Garrus 9, victim of Overlord, and glorified lock-pick for the Aequitas chamber. He’s looking a lot better than the last time we saw him, in that he’s got some limbs attached to that torso of his, and also eyeballs. Good for him.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #issue 4 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing #overthinking about robots

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harryandmolly · 5 years ago

Text

Complicit // Introduction

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, allusion to sexual content, perhaps the Most Extra OC I’ve written to date

WC: 2.2k

----------

Penny closes one eye and scrunches up her face, digging through her S/S 2018 monogrammed Louis Vuitton tote for her work phone. It buzzes hard, rattling against her Oliver Peoples sunglasses, until she can fling some chestnut hair from her face and answer it.

“Caught me just before we’re leaving for the airport,” she says breezily, squinting out the bay window of the whitewashed St. Lucia suite looking over the lapis ocean, “What’s up?”

“I have such a treat for you,” chuckles Silver.

A familiar thrill shoots down Penny’s spine. She swallows and casts a glance around the room for her vacation companion. He’s nowhere to be seen.

“Who is it?”

Silver, being Silver, pauses for dramatic effect.

“It’s Shawn Mendes.”

A pause. Penny’s well kept brow furrows.

“Who?”

Niall first realized something was really wrong when Shawn didn’t want to go to 40 Love. In fact, he didn’t want to go anywhere. Niall had to go to him, to his house in Beachwood Canyon, just to see his old friend.

He eyes him warily, watching Shawn stare out the window overlooking the Hills. He’s got a guitar pick in the pocket of his sweats. His fingers fumble with it while he thinks.

“So… things are bad,” Niall guesses.

Shawn takes too long to shrug and angle his head back at Niall. “Not… bad. Just weird.”

Niall leans forward, propping his elbows up on his knees and holding his beer bottle aloft, examining the shedding label.

“I get it. It’s a weird situation. Honestly, I… I was pretty surprised.”

Shawn bobs his head and feels his jaw tighten against his will. “I think a lot of people are.”

Niall is quiet for almost a full minute. He shakes a hand through his coarse brown hair. “I get it, though. I mean, you know I do, mate. Going from teenager to adult in this business is somethin’ most people don’t even get to do. But doin’ it… it’s hard. So I get it, why this thing makes sense for ya.”

Shawn is silent, fidgeting in front of the window.

Niall lifts a shoulder, looking to lighten the mood. “Least she’s not a nightmare.”

It gets a short, rough chuckle from Shawn, which Niall considers progress. Shawn finally turns looking worse for wear as he shuffles to sit in the armchair across from the couch, shoulders hunched, legs spread.

“I don’t think I would’ve agreed to a publicity stunt relationship with someone I hate,” He pauses and chews on the inside of his lip, “I dunno, maybe I would’ve at this point.”

Niall lowers his gaze. He recognizes the old, faded remnants of Catholic guilt in his gut and does what he can to tamp them down. His progression from teen heartthrob of One Direction fame to singer-songwriter hasn’t been easy in comparison to Shawn’s. Hell, he’ll always be one of the 1D boys -- there’s really no changing that. He’s made his peace with it.

His young friend, 21 now and in the industry since he was 15, has to do the same. Niall’s been paying attention. Shawn Mendes has been stratospheric for a while. His third album was a massive success. He sold out arenas on a world tour that even One Direction’s *cough* ambitious management wouldn’t sniff at. But the Armani smart watch ads and even the Calvin Klein campaign haven’t saved him from being a “prince of pop.”

It’s not the worst thing you can be called, Shawn and Niall both know. But it’s diminutive, it’s a little condescending, it’s sweet. Shawn has always been sweet. He is the ultimate nice Canadian boy, the antidote to Bieber’s downfall.

But he’s growing the fuck up and the rest of it -- the music, the tours, the image -- it has to grow, too.

It was Shawn and Bex’s shared publicist who first mentioned the idea. Bex, single name, like Madonna, is an old friend. She’s a Nickelodeon star-turned-pop singer who came up around the same time Shawn was sitting in a computer chair posting to Vine and YouTube. He likes Bex, she’s cool. They’ve written together and yeah, they’ve fucked a couple times when they were drunk and needed distractions from their own lives for various reasons. But he doesn’t get that feeling about Bex. He knows the feeling is out there. But that’s not what this thing with her is for.

“It’s a proven effective way to age you up in the public’s eyes,” Emily advised him, doing that thing where she dips her chin a little toward her chest and widens her eyes, the ‘you really should listen to me’ face, “And aging you up is the only way to get you where you really want to go. The teenage girls can get you places. Fuck, they can even make you a legend. But they can’t get you the world’s respect.”

Shawn thought it was insane at first. Lie about a relationship? Isn’t that kind of seedy? Won’t people see right through it?

He shifts uncomfortably in the chair. He still wonders these things sometimes. But the righteous indignation he felt last year when it came up is an ancient memory. He picks moodily at his own beer bottle sitting on the arm of the chair.

“You see someone, right? Like a therapist?” Niall verifies. Shawn nods absently.

Niall goes silent again for longer than usual. Shawn looks up to see his friend pensive.

“What?”

Niall shrugs and lifts his eyes to Shawn’s carefully. “Not the only thing you could be doing to manage this. The stress, ya know? And anxiety.”

Shawn bristles the way he does whenever someone suggests he’s not doing enough of something. Before he can open his mouth, Niall steps on his own words.

“I mean, ya know, there’s someone else ya can be seein’.”

Shawn’s face is blank. Niall’s going to have to explain the idea as painfully and awkwardly as it was explained to him by a friend a couple years ago.

“I’ve been seein’ a girl on and off for three years. Not always the same one, I mean. For stress relief.”

Shawn, as sweet and doe-eyed as he doesn’t want to be, isn’t picking up what Niall’s putting down.

“What, like a chiropractor?” Shawn guesses, his brow creasing.

Niall slugs back the last slurp of his beer. “No, like a domme.”

Penny waits until she’s back in her three bedroom Studio City home, quiet and removed in the hills just like she likes, to call Silver back.

Gus, her favorite agency driver, picked her up from the Santa Monica airport after she kissed one of her favorite clients, Victor Calhoun, goodbye and hauled in all her luggage from a week in St. Lucia. For barely needing to be dressed at all for a week, she brought a ton of shit with her. She makes a mental note to rethink that for next time, but she also thinks Victor likes that she’s high maintenance. Or seemingly high maintenance, she thinks with a smile as she pads barefoot around her cottage in panties and an old t-shirt, bag of popcorn in hand.

She drops onto her couch while the phone rings on speaker in her lap. She stretches out her slender legs, admiring her robust tan.

“Hey, bitch.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Penny laughs, dropping some popped kernels into her mouth, “Been holding down the fort ok?”

“Yes, believe it or not, I survived a week without you. How was St. Lucia? Was Victor a very good boy?”

Penny smirks. “Always. So good, in fact, I’ve been taking low doses of muscle relaxants for three days to keep myself from getting lockjaw.”

Silver snorts. “That man loves a blow job.”

Penny sifts through some burnt kernels, locating an extra buttery looking piece toward the bottom of the bag and eyeing it like treasure.

“So,” she begins, crunching indelicately into the phone, “Tell me about Shawn Mendes. Who referred him?”

“Niall Horan.”

“Oh, he’s been seeing Karina, right?”

“Yep, she keeps him very much in line. He’s quiet about La Splendeur -- he’s not the guy telling all his friends about how much he’s paying to get dommed by a call girl. He’s selective with his referrals.”

Penny lifts an eyebrow and shrugs. “Those are usually our favorite kind of clients, I guess.”

Silver snorts. “Less messy, certainly. Anyway, Karina adores him, so that bodes well.”

“Who, Shawn?”

“No, actually, as far as I can tell, he’s new. None of my contacts have a history of him seeing anyone.”

Now Penny is really intrigued. It’s not that often she gets a client that has never seen a call girl before. Being a courtesan, the elitest of the elite escorts, clients generally work their way up the food chain to her.

But he’s new. Fresh, untouched, curious. Silver’s right. This is a special treat.

“Well, I downloaded his music, so I’ll have a listen. I recognize a few of the tracks. Anything else I should know?”

“Well, babe, no client history means you start from scratch, research-wise. I’d say be prepared for anything. He seems like your usual sweet, pretty boy, which as you know, can mean anything goes.”

Penny bobs her head thoughtfully, already mentally scanning wardrobe options and toys.

“When?”

“Thursday at 8, Chateau. Give you some time to recover from your potential lockjaw.”

Penny’s laugh is loud and sizzling, one she rarely uses in front of clients, but she and Silver have known each other a long time.

“Good. Plus, I like a few days of anticipation for new guys. Gets ‘em all worked up before I even get in the door.”

“And that is why you’re worth every Penny.”

Penny rolls her eyes and hangs up on the millionth time Silver has made that same adorably stupid joke.

Penny’s always liked the Chateau Marmont. It was the site of her first appointment. She remembers being nauseous with nerves walking through the doors that night, sure she’d be arrested just for stepping foot inside. She felt like she had the word “NEFARIOUS” stamped across her pretty forehead.

But she held her head high and focused on the rhythm of her Jimmy Choos, purchased especially for the occasion, on the fine marble floor. As instructed, she didn’t even spare a glance for the front desk. She strode in, not too fast, not too slow, and headed straight for the elevators. The concierge would recognize her from a picture passed along by her madam, Silver, and let her by without a problem. That’s one of Silver’s treasured trade secrets -- most working girls choose lower key locations for dates. Hiding in plain sight, especially at tourist attractions, heavily reduces suspicion, hence why Silver struck up a deal with the Chateau’s concierge years ago. Her girls get a pass, he gets a cut.

The booking is made under the name of the driver who arrives early to check in and drop off Penny’s suitcase while she window shops nearby or grabs a glass of wine at the bar. When the client arrives and is OK’d by the driver for security reasons, Penny gets a text and makes her entrance. Before the driver excuses himself to the car, he checks in with Silver to make sure the client’s wire transfer is complete. Once those initial checkpoints are crossed, the night is Penny’s.

Tonight is no different, really, Penny tells herself as she steps out of the Bentley, offered a hand by the Chateau’s valet. She sneaks him a sultry smile just because getting men squirming for her before she even meets her client feels like a good way to hype up.

But it feels different, somehow. The Hollywood evening’s breeze is especially pleasant, the hotel is especially quiet, and the night especially charged as she heads inside hugged in tastefully cut black satin and wearing her favorite black Roger Viviers. She ignores the way the hair on the back of her smooth olive neck stands on end when the elevator dings upon arrival to the specified floor.

Gus, standing outside the door in a dark suit with his arms crossed, gives her a nod, indicating all is set and well. She rises on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. She knows by now she can’t make Gus squirm, so she doesn’t try. He stands aside and opens the door.

He’s sitting on the couch, facing the windows on the opposite wall. His posture is hunched and she can see his shoulders are broad. She tries not to lick her lips.

He turns slightly, looking over his shoulder. His profile catches the orange lamplight. It’s even more magnificent in person. Penny feels a jolt from her squished toes up her very straight spine. She smiles.

He stands, one hand limp by his side, the other clutching a sweating glass of bourbon. Penny can’t wait to taste it on his pretty lips.

Facing her, his jaw tightens, muscles flexing, and his eyes darken just a shade, or maybe she imagines it because she bets hers do the same.

“Penny?”

His voice is a croak. He notices -- he goes magenta moments later. The familiar animal that lives in her stirs, stretching, limbering up.

“Hi, Shawn.”

-------

Ooooh it’s that time again! Ya girl has a new solo series to sink her teeth into. If you’re happy and you know it, buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes series

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idreamofwolves · 6 years ago

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Not My Type - Part 2

Summary: Two polar opposites meet on unusual terms. When they decide to take a chance on each other both of their worlds turn upside down.

Pairing: Nikki Sixx (The Dirt) x OC

Author’s note: Thanks for reading! If you want to be on my tag list let me know! I was going to make the date a full part but I think it’ll be way too long lol so look out for part 3!

“I don’t know about this Drew.” Scarlet said while she absentmindedly fiddled with her hair. They’d only been sitting in the club parking lot for a few minutes, but her nerves were starting to get the best of her. “What if he doesn’t show up?”

“He’s going to show up.” Drew answered, maybe more nervous than his sister was. “Nikki freaking Sixx doesn’t just ask anyone out on a date. If he wants to actually talk to you, and not just have sex with you, that’s a big deal. He’ll be here.”

“I look stupid.” She looked down at her black skirt, probably the only black item of clothing she owned, and her off the shoulder pink top. Drew has helped her get dressed, but she wasn’t so confident.

“You look fine.” He laughed, as if her worrying about her clothes was the last thing she needed to worry about.

Knots formed in Scarlet’s stomach as she waited. 5:00 exactly. “He’s late.”

“He’s a rock star. You’ll be lucky if he shows up before 6.” Drew laughed as he nervously tapped his fingers on the wheel.

“I don’t care if he’s a rock star, he can be on time.” She said defensively. Her frustration didn’t actually come from Nikki’s tardiness, it came from her nerves and twisted stomach. She hoped this would t last all night.

After 5 minutes of nervous silence, Drew finally spoke up. “That’s him.” He pointed to a black car that pulled up beside them.

As the three of them exited their cars, they greeted each other as if they had known each other forever. “Hey man! How’s it going?” Drew called as he went in for a high five.

Nikki chuckled and high fived the exited fan. “Not to bad, how about yourself?” He raised his eyebrow at Scarlet discreetly, making her giggle. Obviously Nikki had no planned to entertain Drew.

“I’m great, dude. So where you two headed?” He asked, almost like he wanted to come along.

“Oh- I figured we would-“

“You have work tomorrow morning, I don’t want to keep you up too late.” Scarlet interrupted. She knew if Drew knew where they were going, he’d “conveniently” run into them. “Nikki, would you mind driving me home tonight?”

Nikki smiled, as he knew exactly what was going on. She was obviously just trying to save herself a little embarrassment. “Yeah sweetheart, whatever you want.”

“Okay, well I’ll see you later Drew.” She hugged her brother who was disappointed and silent.

“Be safe.” Drew said, slugging back into his car.

The moment Scarlet sat down in Nikki’s car, the overwhelming smell of leather and booze hit her nose. Something about it excited her, and her nerves went a little off the rails once her date got in and started the car. “Sorry about him, like I said, he’s a big fan of yours.”

“No problem, I deal with a lot worse than that. He seems like an alright guy.” As he drove, Scarlet began to realize she had no idea where they were going.

“So where are you taking us?” She tried not to sound nervous, but she was sure it had come through in her voice.

“Figured we’d go somewhere quiet, since I don’t think you’re too used to the bar scene.” She nodded in approval, somewhat relieved she wouldn’t be sitting on some pub.

They ended up in some family owned, Italian restaurant. The vibe was more comfort and homey than it was classy, which she thought was great, seeing as someone like Nikki probably wouldn’t fit in at a high end restaurant.

They were seated in the back of the dining room at a small table next to the window. It was dimly lit and for once, no one was staring at Nikki, not in the way he was used to anyway. A few odd looks came his way, his leather pants most likely being the cause, but no one waiting to get his autograph. It was a relief to him. The waitress promptly took their orders and left, finally giving them time to talk. “So Scar, tell me about yourself.”

The question felt too broad, she really didn’t know what to say, so she started wherever she thought was relavent. “Well, I go to university right now, I’m studying business, I-“

“Why business?” He asked as he stirred the water the waitress had just set in front of him. “Does it make you happy?”

“Oh, uh not really. It’s a good basis for about any career. My parents thought it would be helpful.” She shrugged, and for the first time she started to question her choice.

“But if it doesn’t make you happy, why do it?” She hates that he had a point and began to realize how smart he actually was. Rock stars didn’t really have the most notability for being intelligent.

“Financial stability I suppose.” She received a nod and another question right off the bat.

“So do you live with your brother?” Another rock star cliche was that they were arrogant and only wanted to talk about themselves. He was proving her wrong there too. Even the other men she’d gone on dates with, who were nothing like Nikki, had no interest in getting to know her.

“For now, yeah. He lives closer to school and I can’t really afford an apartment of my own yet. It’s really nice of him to take care of me.” She felt like a loser, not having a car or a place to call her own, but Nikki didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he didn’t mind at all, he could relate to being that poor. Except he never got the help from family like she did.

“Yeah it is. You seem to have a great family.” The waitress brought over Nikki’s jack and coke and set down a martini for Scarlet.

“What’s your like?” She asked, though had she known his answer she wouldn’t have.

“I don’t know, I don’t talk to them. I’m on my own. But that’s a story for another day.” He flashes her a smile and took a drink, but she could see that was a touchy subject.

“Sorry. Well what about you? Tell me something about yourself rock star. I’m sure your story is far more interesting than mine.” She laughed, trying to get off of the weird note that had left them on.

“I see the world from the back of a bus, fuck up hotel rooms, get drunk, get high, play shows, meet fans, whatever. It’s not that interesting.” He shrugged as if it were a normal thing, but Scarlet had a laundry list of questions, but only one stuck out.

“Drugs? Like what?” She didn’t know almost anything about drugs, and she’d never met anyone who had done them.

“Cocaine for a long time, we all did that. But uh, I guess when I found heroin I fell in love.” He looked disappointed in himself, and she honestly wasn’t sure why. “Since I’m sure you’ll find out anyway, you might as well hear it from me.” He started, “I did heroin for a long time, let everyone down, about tore my band apart. It got to a bad point and I over dosed and died. Even after my ass got saved and went and shot up again.”

“How are you doing now?” She asked, afraid for him. She didn’t know why but she was worried about him.

“Better. Cleaned up in rehab and stayed clean. I went back to drinking, obviously, but so far so good on the drug use.” He chuckled, trying to keep this light. He hadn’t expected to spill his guts about the darkest time of his life. It was only their first date.

Conversation was interrupted by the waitress setting down their food. Scarlet was excited about her dish, but she kept her martini in mind. She wasn’t one to drink and didn’t know what to do with it yet.

As they began eating, Scarlet sat back and looked her fate in the eyes. He awkwardly looked up at her and for the first time he felt a little nervous. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Is that still on your mind?” He asked, surprised she was so concerned.

“Yeah, I guess it is. You’re just a really talented and sweet person. I’d hate to see you destroy yourself like that.” She wasn’t really thinking as she spoke, she just said what she felt.

Nikki sat silent, but the look on his face told Scarlet that what she said meant something to him. He may have been used to adoring fans, but he wasn’t used to actual kind intentions and someone worrying about him. He didn’t know what to say, so of course, he changed the subject. “Are you going to try your drink?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t really-“

“Try it.” He laughed, knowing she’d be apprehensive. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink the rest.”

“I don’t want to get drunk.” She giggles and looked around to make sure no one was watching.

“You won’t I promise. I wouldn’t ask you to do that. Come on, have your first drink with me. If nothing else it’s a cool story to tell your brother.” He was too charming for his own good. His smile would have convinced her to do about anything.

He gave him a playful glare and took a small sip. She wanted to hate it and give him a big “I told you so” but she wasn’t quite that lucky. “Okay it’s good, but the after taste is awful!” She set her drink down and eyes Nikki. He seemed satisfied as he began to eat again. “I don’t know how you drink liquor straight.”

“Lots of practice.” They laughed, and conversation seemed like it could have gone on forever.

After dinner, neither of them were ready to call it a night. “Hey, do you want to go for a walk?” Scarlet asked, hoping it wasn’t too forward.

“Hell yeah, let’s go.” They weren’t sure where the night would take them, but they both knew something good was going to come out of it, and it was only half over.

Tag list!

@fandomshit6000 @mainly-me @batirumi

#nikki x oc #nikki sixx fic #the dirt nikki sixx #the dirt fic #the dirt #douglas booth #tommy lee #mick mars #vince neil #nikki sixx #motley crue #oc #original character

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ace-octo-pix · 6 years ago

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This is... going to be a bit long. sorry, mobile users. The ocs are listed by team!

SPLATOON 1 TEAMS

ROKA/OLIVIA/AGENT 3. A bit of a lovable goof, with caring too much for her little inkling body. Fierce in battle. Yes, she gets the scar in the OE arc, but the OE arc goes a bit differently in the story due to... reasons? yeah, reasons. She goes missing for a full year and that’s when Akim takes up the Agent 4 handle.

MINT TEA/PAIVA. A bit of a gossip, but also a wall of support. Wants to cheer everybody up, but is hiding issues of her own. Close friends with Roka. A possible ship with roka, as well. She’s the second leader of the team, and the only one in contact with Roka, right up until her disappearance. Oops. Literally the only one with a picture like this.

GLASSES/HENRIETTA. I did not know that the splatoon manga glasses was known as glasses, and this is awkward. and also full moon is a thing and AGH. anyway glasses. Seems to be a sarcastic little piece of shit, but honestly it’s just a front to her inner core. Of someone who likes to snipe and have fun. Wonder what caused her to be like that? hm.

Bandanna/Daphyne. She exudes an aura of edge, an aura of Not Caring... but she really does care... a lot more than she lets on. Will Fight anybody who disses her pals. Honestly a teen girl at heart. Loves black.

RETRO/AKIM/AGENT 4. A bit of a prick, but the kind of prick you know doesn’t mean his words. He’s kind of skilled in battle with his roller, which makes this W O R SE !! a big fan of music, and gaming, and also being gay. he makes jokes about that a lot.

SPECS/MARK: you know the stereotypical nerd? stays in a bedroom most of the day, tinkering around with stuff? That’s Specs! He likes to play video games with Retro, and... oh, look at that, another ship. Wow. Analytical!

SUNNY/GWEN. Similar to another person, she appears to not care, while caring a lot. Apathetic seeming, but able to come out of her core to care. Probably has a lot of interests from her girlfriend...

RAINY/SARAH. She’s fueled by a firey passion most of the time, but it tends to fizzle out quickly, and that’s how she and Sunny met, basically. Not pictured is the Traditional Headband she wears. Yes, she and Sunny are girlfriends. yay matching outfits.

PAINT! Er, she looks... not like this as much? Her gloves cover her fingers, and her hairstyle is the enemy octo hairstyle! In the ‘first game’ aka the first arc, she actually wears the paintball mask which covers her whole face, and also mains chargers. She just switched to brella in the second game. Shy, kind of nervous, but willing to put her foot down when push comes to shove. Er, she also has to be pushed to that point. Poor girl.

FISHFRY. A super out-there kinda kid. sorry, some ocs don’t have much personality. He will Protecc Paint with his life. Probably does research and field expeditions for her.

PEAKS. Proud of her role in battle, and probably the first one Paint trusted with the secret of her being an octoling, and the one best fit to break the news.

VECTOR. Full Attacc mode. Fueled by battle, loves to battle. Whenever Paint is taken off guard, she’s probably the one there to back her up.

ZEKKO. Leader of the Marksmen. Sorry there isn’t much about him. he’s definitely gay tho? Loves bothering the other players with his gun.

PANEL. A bit of a nerd, though he hides it behind his huge blaster.

SQUIDMARK. Reclusive? shows little emotion, but its definitely there.

CHECK. Loves the feeling of his hair. Probably more muscly than you would gather from his shirt.

SATIN. Loves this style and doesn’t get why people laugh at her scuba mask. knows what she’s doing in battle, but... not much outside of it.

CANCEL. Tends to ignore the outside world for her daydreams, even in battles, and still does well?? how does this team function

Ah, this is how they function. PARKA. Aka the straight person- well, they’re nonbinary and are hiding their ponytail in that hat of theirs. The person who sets the team straight and directs them in the right direction. Beakons help.

Zink. Just as odd as the rest of his team. He says his headband helps him, when it very clearly doesn’t. Or maybe it does and its just a hidden condition. Who knows? He’s just a bit bizarre.

BERRY. Leader of her team, she’s Suspicious of everything, and fierce in battle. Loves being Warm....

Olive. Er, he has the wrong ink color, and his eyes are blinking. It’s better like this instead of the WRONG PIECE OF HEADGEAR. Suave and cool, and yet constantly bickers with Berry. Ah, sibling culture. Super strong. A bit of a brat, but he won’t press on Berry’s anxious triggers. That’s Just Rude.

JELLY. Sometimes called Baby because of just how precious she acts. Will kick people if she has to.

SHRIMP. AKA... well. You know that headcanon that Pearl, Emperor, and Prince are siblings? Well, Shrimp’s their cousin. He’s got the short genes. He tries to compensate for it by being loud, and is often jokingly called Pearl’s cousin. Likes telling tales. That are often mostly true.

SPLATOON 2 TEAMS

HOOK/ATA/AGENT 8. A soft and kind soul, friendly and loves to talk more than take action, but when she takes action... whooo. she knows how to take action. If she’s angry, you don’t want to be around. Mostly quiet. Another possible ship with Roka.

YAMAGIRI/ADRIAN. Confident, and a bit cocky, but it’s mostly only a bit of exaggeration: he loves to stick to his ideals, and truly believes himself to be carrying those out to the best of his ability. Stupidly loyal to his friends.

TOOTHPICK/NOELANI. Two words to describe her: mom friend. Caring, worrying for everybody that crosses her vision, analytical to a stupid degree. Strong, so she can help throw her friends into a food cart so they can EAT FOOD.

OCEANIC/VICTOR. A soft-spoken octoling, but is willing to do whatever it takes for his friends to Remain Happy, happy to shoulder their burdens. Hides his emotions under his big ol’ hat, though if you look under it, he’s probably a blubbering mess. Whenever angered, his voice seems to drop octaves and inflection. That’s terrifying!

BLOCKER. Oh my god, he’s a party animal. Oh my god. He likes doing memes and tricks, and, you know who this should remind you of? Aloha. Anyway, Blocker’s well known for his tricks with his brella, and his excellent dance skills... which also aids him in battle!

FUGU. He has a Big Ol Crush on Blocker, and I don’t think Blocker’s noticed yet. Oof. Kind of quiet and likes to observe before hopping into things, useful for a blaster with such a short range...? Awkward, but he’s trying to get better.

SEA SLUG. Constantly on the go, constantly moving, she’s gotta Go Go Go!! Hyperactive, probably can be seen stimming. Has an attachment to her gun.

LEAF. Seemingly hard-boiled, constantly huffing about something or other. She’s- she’s a Rider Tsundere, that’s all I can describe her as. Her friendships with Blocker the Party Master and Sea Slug have definitely Lightened her up. Still a little bit of a grump?

ARROW. Dependable. You can depend on him to tell you when you’re doing some Bad Shit, Stop That.

HOTHOUSE. A... a bit of a flirt, and a good punster. two things that shouldn’t be combined into one girl.

TACKLE VISOR. Keeps their face hidden purposefully, which hides their non-standard hairstyle. Rough and tough, a sneaky little bastard. You know, despite the TACKLE VISOR on their head.

MATCHA. A silly little guy. The oblivious one that somehow still manages to cooperate with Hothouse’s jokes anyway. May be faking obliviousness...

HICKORY. Such a casual guy. Him and Blocker are probably pals. Party pals. Would drink your soda on accident and then apologize.

DO-RAG. oh my god, look, it’s a lesbian. She loves to show off, and is super strong. Could probably lift her teammates above her head. Actually can’t see much without her glasses, they’re made for her weird-ass eyes.

REDLEAF. He looks like the type of guy who hyperfocuses on everything and has to be told to back off, but he’s not trying to be creepy. Soft. Would memorize your food favorites and cook it for you.

CLAMS. He. he loves being super fancy. Not because he thinks he’s above others, he really, really loves the aesthetic of it! He and Do-Rag fight over which splatling is better sometimes. And then help each other score dates.

EGG. Super silly, has probably eaten a raw egg whole on a dare. Easily dared into things, though this means she’s very resilient. Can and Will say silly things just to confuse people.

CARROT. Helps out with Egg’s jokes. Has shoved an entire carrot down her gut before. Egg and her were actually friends before they both traveled to the surface. They are... bad influences on each other.

RAINBOW: He’s a casual gay. I- uh. He’s super fun in battles, and is often the one daring Egg and Carrot to do things because he loves putting it on whatever the octo media is. Loves sandals, hates his toes feeling constricted.

CANARY. Oh my god this is a swamp gremlin. You know the meme versions of agent 4? that, times like 100. Jesus. This team is crazy.

SEASHELL. Doesn’t use the deco because her teammates described what the burstbomb and carbon did to people and she doesn’t wish to cause people harm....

JADE. he’s blue ba due be- i mean. he’s a good singer, but still learning the ropes of his new weapon.

DEEPSEA. A friend. The dad friend. Will tell jokes to make you feel better, but always a shoulder to lean on. Always will wear silly clothes too.

FORGE. ..... a guy of few words.... kind of like skull. doesn’t really talk much, but evidently is a good prankster and loves spicy things. Will tuck you into bed and then doodle on your face.

#LONG POST JESUS #Long Post #Pix's OCs #which ones do yall like the most? tell me!#picture

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dragonbleps-fr · 3 years ago

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All of my projects are XYZs because I love them <3 I’ll put them under the cut!! Fair warning, I also have genes I tend to overuse xDD I’m a fan of Lionfish/Noxtide and Capsule (not necessarily together) haha. I also tend not to change breeds much from their original apparently

This is Ghoul! A LONG time ago when the Nocturnes first came out, I hatched a Nocturne with awesome colors and named him Ghoul. Eventually my lair got full and I didn’t use the dragon for any breeding so I exalted him. Years later, I see a female with nearly the exact same colors and I HAD to get her, even though she was expensive. I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do with her, but she looks cool! Tho I am kicking myself for having exalted the first Ghoul ;o; They would have made amazing swamp children

Jungle/Gloom/Crocodile

Next are my Nudibranch Faes!! Inspired by sea slugs and their many colors :D They’ll both be Poison/Sludge/Capsule. Slimy poisonous Fae

Male is Azure/Lapis/Spring Female is Turquoise/Teal/Spruce

I hatched this lovely Mirror gal, and she’s PERFECT for making a Lionfish! Tbh I think the Trail matches better than using Noxtide because Lionfish have those “feathery” fins, so the white bars help that illusion! And of course the venomous spines.

Fire/Cantaloupe/Sunset

I hatched this guy on Halloween during the Blue Moon and it took a while of futzing with his weird colors to get something I was happy with. Originally I was going through candy types bc.. Halloween, but then I saw something I loved the concept of: Vampire Bees!

Yellow/Crimson/Coral

The last project is actually a breeding project that I’m SO CLOSE to finishing. I have all the genes/scrolls necessary, I just need him to hatch. He’s basically a fandragon of my own OC, a Skyrim Dark Elf Vampire. He’s got very unusual and not particularly matchy colors, but they represented him best xD His current planned breed is a Mirror, but I gotta say he looks mighty fine as a Veilspun or Obelisk too! (If only Veils weren’t so tinyyyyy--he’s a vampire not a mosquito!)

Storm/Obsidian/Crimson

Show me your current gene projects (what they look like now and your plans!)

Bonus points if they’re an xyz!

I’m running low on inspiration because I use the same two gene combos (jag/current/stain is a big one I’m guilty of over-doing)

#missy rambles #long post #under a cut but still #my lair #missy projects #dragon share #fr community

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peristeron · 7 years ago

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so y’all its time for the rare “maybe i need to re-examine my dæmon form" time with mala, thoughts under the cut

right, so. for those not in the know, who happen to decided to poke into this out of curiousity — i use the dæmon forum’s methods, which are basically taking the whole thing as a personality typing dealio, for self-reflection and shit. for the past several years i’ve been solidly settled as a tawny frogmouth, and before that, before the shift in analysis style i was a palm cockatoo

BUT recently i’ve been noticing some thought patterns i think i’ve pretty much always had but never entirely paid much attention to or noticed, namely some stuff relating to being image-oriented, particularly when i’m actually dealing with conflicts and not running the fuck away or otherwise avoiding the shit out of them. this isn’t something i ever considered about myself because generally i hate the spotlight and am so conflict-avoidant that the competitiveness that almost always goes along with being image-oriented doesn’t fit me At All

however

i’ve been noticing as a pattern through the past few months just how much i am Deeply Concerned with how things will Look, even when i feel generally past the point of going through the motions/playing the social game/doing my usual sugarcoating that is a lot more purposeful and careful than it probably seems. i Care about how i’m going to look to a theoretical Audience, to the point that it will utterly stress me out in some environments to the point of turning into a slug (see: dreamwidth). i want to make sure my shit is water-tight, i want to make sure that i come out looking Good. which, given internet culture (and especially dreamwidth and tumblr cultures), makes sense, especially for someone whose brain spends 75% of its activity centered on Avoiding Stress/Conflict/Unpleasant Things. if facing something Unpleasant and actively getting involved, it makes sense to not want things to get More Unpleasant due to one’s own phrasing or actions, etc.

anyway

one of my biggest problems with form finding, right, is that my cognitive functions are INFJ and my enneagram is 6w7. that isn’t a combination that’s very common and, from what i can tell, is viewed as kind of weird. i’ve re-examined both of these things (bc i try to avoid quizzes with personality typings and instead try and figure out how the systems work to pick The Most Accurate One, bc im that nerd), and i’m pretty heckin solid on it. but because its an uncommon and weird combo, it can make form finding difficult — bc finding an analysis that has the right combination of weird INFJ/6w7 traits is ............ yeah

NOW FINALLY ON TO THE GOOD SHIT

so i’m poking around on the spreadsheet, bc i know it isnt infallible but its a handy resource to get started with, and i keep pulling up things that are absolute duds. and then im like, “coyote, sure, lets just fuckin look” bc its listed as infj and 6. the analysis linked to that needs some editing, but doesn’t seem egregiously wrong and ... weirdly ... fits more than i expected. so out of curiousity, i popped over to the other two coyote analyses, both of which were written by forum analysis experts

and i stare. because this is............ hmm. it isnt a Perfect Fit, at least i dont think so, but its............... its more on point than i really expected. wtf. the other analysis doesn’t fit nearly as well, which i wonder how much of that is really down to differing interpretations or if it’s because of............. something else idk, but ironically that’s the one that has infj listed in the coyote’s possible mbti. this one doesn’t, but is more accurate to me. /scratches head

this is just So Weird to me bc i’d largely like. not........... considered a canine for myself before, not seriously, not since i got started and went through the “Maybe I’m A Wolf” phase. i’ve been birds for the longest time. but the birds that worked for me before (tawny frogmouth, mourning dove, though that second one fit a lot less closely) are distinctly missing the image-oriented stuff. and the bird analyses i know that definitely do center on it too much. so looking outside of birds, let alone finding one that fits as well as that coyote analysis, is just.................. Weird. it feels so Weird

it even nails something that, like. i never looked too closely in regards to myself bc i didnt like it:

¤ Possessive (revisited) Only some coyotes are territorial year round, but all are territorial during breeding season. Although there's not a lot of information out there on the subject, it appears that coyotes are territorial of the core 10% of their territory year round (usually where the den is located). How aggressively a coyote defends its territory will depend on available resources. In times of plenty, they're more lax; when food is scarce, they're less welcoming. Similarly, coyote people are not Possessive with a capital P, but they are possessive of things they see as uncommon or unique to them. The more obscure the interest or thing, the more possessive they are. Finding someone who shares these interests makes them feel like their individuality is being threatened. In contrast, when something is really popular or common, they don't expect it to be "their" thing and aren't upset by others embracing it. Basically, you could call them conditionally possessive.

SWEATS..................... LOUDLY. i. yeah. this is a kneejerk reaction i have. its not as uniform/regular/predictable as that, and i really need to pay more attention to that feeling and analyze it more when it happens, but i uh. sometimes........... i......... yeah

like. typically, i am not a jealous person. 97% of the time, i dont get jealous about my relationships, to the point that polyamory is a very real possibility for me and has been a thing for me in the past. but occasionally. occasionally. i’ll get... possessive a bit. and a bit jealous, wanting to helicopter and wanting to demand All The Person’s Time, No, Play With Meeeeeeee. i dont let myself do this, ever, because i know its Bad and it feels extremely uncomfortable to feel it to begin with. and there are some things i’ll get weirdly possessive about, usually more along the route of ideas kinda thing. i get the whole insecurity about “if this other person does the thing, then everyone’s going to like them more than me, and no one will like me any more because that person is better than me.” which is bullshit but i haven’t figured out how to bury it yet

squints off............... also i wanna talk about this:

¤ Competitive ... Coyote people are competitive by nature. They want to succeed and have trouble enjoying themselves if they're losing or struggling. This might cause them to drop activities they find difficult while focusing on what they're good at. They have a habit of comparing their achievements to their peers', which can lead to motivation or jealousy. They want to be the best in their field (or at least feel comfortable with their status), and they'll do what they can to stay there.

again, like i said earlier — being competitive isn’t something i typically consider a trait i have. i dont like conflict, competition feels way too much like conflict to me, i dont like negative attention, etc. ..................... but. b u t. the way this is phrased here? the bolded shit? which is pretty much the entire thing? y...eah. this hits it right on the fuckin head for me. i avoid competition because i hate losing and dont trust my reactions when im not doing well in a competition situation. i avoid things i’m bad at for the same reason (and bc feeling like a failure, bad thought spirals, perfectionism (which is also a trait in this analysis), etc). and, here’s the kicker, even if i’m not participating in something competitive at all, i’m still constantly comparing myself to other people, esp other people who are doing similar things to me (such as, say, role-playing courier six, the most open-ended player character in the bethesda fallouts and thus why am i comparing my OC to other OCs that’s fucking stupid). i may not feel like i want to be The Best One (is that bc i have no ambition/drive, which is a thing, or is it bc i have a huge amount of self-worth problems and therefore can’t imagine myself as being The Best and besides i wouldn’t want that pressure to be and stay The Best) — but i want to feel comfortable and safe in a status of being One Of The Better Ones, or even just One Of The Good Ones. and i want to maintain that status because i hate change (even if i can deal with it after some adjusting)

again — all of this is shit i’ve never wanted to really look too closely at or even admit too much, but it’s been there for a very long time, so its not like i’m magically developing this. its just............. that i’ve ignored it. and now im starting to be more honest with myself about it and its raising a lot of questions

anyway i may not be a goofy af looking bird guys i may be a clumsy, goofy coyote. ???????????????????????????????????

#mala talks #long post #TDF #dæmons #i'll probably make more posts like this #as i poke around at other forms #i'm not Sold on coyote yet despite everything #i wanna keep shopping around #bc u never kno what u'll find #for those'a y'all who are brave enough to try to read more on the dash #and are wondering why i bolded my links #its so the links stand out more on my layout

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fanofawesomethings · 7 years ago

Text

Halloween Run

Another commission piece for @bixbitesmeepmorps‘s Gem OC’s.

If you want a commission of your very own, message me and I will tell you my prices

Bixbite kicked the ends of her heels on the limestone outside her cave. The green forest had changed into shades of orange and red, almost overnight. The air was no longer warm and the days seemed shorter. Bixbite named this part of the year the Orange time, not knowing that the season already had a name. Like the years before, she loved to sit and watch each brittle leaf fall from its tree until the forest floor was painted with the orange and red color. But Bixbite was especially happy during that fall season because for once she had someone to share the season with.

The wind Onyx sat on her back and watched the heavy cloud sail away. There wasn’t a particular reason why she did so; it certainly wasn’t to enjoy the pleasant calm associated with watching the clouds. Unlike most, Onyx didn’t see the beauty in staring at nothing and often times she’d have to ask Bixbite what the point of little things like cloud watching is; Onyx was artistically blind. But Bixbite wanted to sit and watch the leaves and Onyx was unable to refuse her. The minutes seemed to droll on like a slug and though she’d rather be moving something heavy or punching the boulder she always punched when she was bored, out of the corner of her eye, Bixbite was smiling with glee, so Onyx kept her boredom quiet, for her.

Bixbite would point and laugh when another leaf landed on the growing pile forming a little mountain like theirs. When Onyx snickered to humor her, Bixbite’s smile grew. Onyx followed suit by pointing to a cloud she watched and asking Bixbite what it looked like to her. Bixbite’s answers were always better than hers so at some point Onyx gave up trying.

Onyx tapped Bixbite’s butt which startled her like a jolt of lightning, unpredictably so. While she found it interesting to know another of Bixbite’s secret weakness, Onyx did it to get Bixbite’s hand. Small and dainty magenta hands were swallowed by strong yet gentle black hands.

Before both of them knew it, the sun reached the peak of the sky and began to reseed to the mountains. The tree Bixbite watched lost half of its leaves and the cloud Onyx watched changed from being the shape of a wolf to a lumpy crab. It hardly felt like hours to them.

“Do you want to do something else?” Bixbite asked, finally breaking the calm silence.

Onyx basked in the warmth of her Bixbite’s hand and the softness of her hair which caressed her hand when the wind pushed it. Truthfully if Bixbite asked her this question a couple of hours ago, Onyx’s response would be to immediately suggest something physical, maybe training. But sitting in blissful tranquility did wonders to change her mind so all she could think about what sitting next to Bixbite—forever if she could.

“Let’s stay like this for a little while longer,” said Onyx.

“You don’t want to train, or punch something, or try that thing we tried last time?”

Onyx choked on nothing, caught off guard by the last thought. “I think I’m starting to get the hang of this ‘doing nothing’ idea you had,” she said. She gave Bixbite a small wink. “But you know, I’d be in the mood if you wanted to start again.”

Bixbite blushed despite suggesting it herself. Her lips inched to say yes, a moment that was changed when all of a sudden the two were startled. Rustling in the forest echoed in the sereneness, making the rustling thunderous as it drew closer. In addition to the forest brush being parted they heard the ground being cut as though a chainsaw struck the earth. They didn’t recognize it at first glance but it wasn’t until the sound drew closer, and they could see the spinning purple sphere, that Onyx and Bixbite could drop their guard.

The splicing sphere form of Amethyst collided with the bottom of the mountain below them. Colliding with the limestone with her strength and speed, the top of Amethyst’s head made an indent on the stone. She wobbled backwards holding her head in a silly fashion.

“Whoa that was a hard stop. Err, sorry about dent in your house,” said Amethyst casually as an attempt to make the collision seem like part of a joke. Bits of rubble fell out of her hair.

“Hello Amethyst,” greeted Bixbite.

“Oh yeah, the short Amethyst,” said Onyx, only vaguely remembering her. “What are you doing here?”

“Geez, what’s with that greeting? Hey, big Onyx with the giant shoulder pads. We came to check up on ya’, of course.”

“We?” Bixbite repeated.

Amethyst climbed the mountain to reach them and put her arms around Bixbite. She squeezed Bixbite tightly and then scurried behind her like a mischievous cat to play with her long, magenta hair. Reasons had nothing to do with it; Amethyst simply loved running her hands through Bixbite’s soft hair and playing with its excessive length.

“Yeah, Steven and Pearl were way too slow for me so I had to leave ‘em in my dust,” she grinned.

“Steven’s coming!” Bixbite cheered.

“The Pearl is coming?” Onyx griped.

“Yup. We’re gonna do this thing that happens every year where people dress up like weird things and get free candy,” explained Amethyst, grabbing a strand of hair and putting it over her lip to look like she had a mustache.

“What’s candy?” Bixbite asked.

“No way, you’ve never eaten candy before?! It’s way weird. Sometimes they’re hard, other times they are all chewy, sometimes they get stuck in my teeth. They’re super good and humans just give you them for free today!”

“So you eat too? Gems don’t need to eat,” said Onyx.

“Come on, you sound like Pearl. If you wanna eat, just eat, that’s what I think,” said Amethyst.

Onyx balled her hand, very displeased about being compared to Pearl.

The bushes up head rustled. Onyx groaned, for up until this point she had been enjoying her day alone with Bixbite and then before she knew it she has to deal with the Pearl she disliked more than every human on Earth, combined. But Onyx’s dislike for Pearl mattered little to Bixbite who was just excited to see her friend—she was confident enough to let her guard down knowing Onyx wouldn’t pick a fight.

“Bixbite, Onyx!” Steven’s voice rang from the brush. Bixbite stood up to greet him.

The green parted and Steven emerged, but looking differently than Bixbite remembered, much to her horror. Steven’s pinkish skin had turned gray, his hair was covered with white streaks, red outlining his mouth, and white rib bones exposed on his stomach. His clothes were torn apart, some tears were painted red. Steven had his arms extended in front of his chest as he moaned, a ghoulish moan. Everything about his appearance fired a surge of fear into Bixbite and she screamed loud, running immediately behind Onyx while continuing to scream. Onyx herself raised her guard to protect herself and her friend. Tears showed on Bixbite’s eyes as she trembled.

“S-S-S-S-Steven i-i-i-s a-a-a m-monster!” Bixbite cried.

Steven and Amethyst looked at each other puzzled, both discovering that she was serious.

“Bixbite, it’s okay, I’m fine,” said Steven. He padded the side of his bare stomach and rubbed the rib bone off, revealing it was nothing but white paint. “It’s just my costume.”

Bixbite peeked from behind cover.

“Oh, Steven, you messed your makeup again. Really, if you insist on being this ‘zoombie’ thing, you should at least make sure you stay in character,” said Pearl, coming up behind him.

Pearl raised both her index fingers to her Gem and closed her eyes in concentration. A little circle cup of white makeup appeared and she diligently reapplied it to the spot where Steven had rubbed off. Onyx shot Pearl a disgust look as she painted.

“It’s nice to see you again, Bixbite,” said Pearl, and stopping there. Bixbite was still unsure of Steven’s costume so she didn’t respond.

Steven tapped his stomach. “See, nothing to be scared of, it’s just a part of Halloween.”

“Hahllowine? Is it the thing Amethyst was talking about where you get candy?” Bixbite sniffled.

“Yeah that! But you gotta be dressed up like a weirdo,” said Amethyst.

“We came to ask you two if you wanted to come along,” said Steven.

Onyx pointed to Pearl, intentionally meaning to be rude. “So why is she here then?”

“Pearl’s our chaperone. Garnet couldn’t come, even though I had such a good costume in mind for her,” said Steven with a sigh of disappointed because he had a plan to dress her in a witch’s gown whose red and blue colors were split down the middle.

“I could’ve been your guard if you asked me first. There’s not really any need for two,” said Onyx.

Pearl made no face in response, choosing not to humor Onyx. Her ability to ignore annoyance, no matter how big, was a trait that took years of living with Amethyst to master. The tension between them was still as dense as it was when they first met, the only difference Bixbite, Steven and Amethyst could tell was that neither one was getting ready to cut the other down—some restraint was shown.

“S-So, do you guys want to come?” Steven asked, feeling the awkwardness.

“That might be fun, but we don’t have any coostumes,” said Bixbite

Steven grinned proudly to Peal who sighed with a smile of her own. He predicted this would happen and asked Pearl to hold their costumes, which at the time she didn’t believe they’d need. Pearl touched her forehead with both hands and two orbs of lighting stretched out, molding and growing until they took their original shape and fell into Steven’s arms. He held them out in front of them.

“Bixbite you get the orange one and Onyx you get the gray one,” said Steven, handing their individual costume. Both looked at each other at a loss at what they were supposed to do with the clothes. They figured it out as they went inside the cave to change while the others waited outside. In the dark cave, neither could see each other’s costume, and it would remain a mystery to each other until they finished. Amethyst kicked her feet on the ground as she laid her head on the limestone, bored after a while. Steven paid close attention to how the sun began to set, the opportune time to start trick-o-treating, he thought, was soon impending. Finally the two emerged from the shadows to an audience who awed at their appearance.

Bixbite wore a sunset orange leotard-esque outfit with a fluffy skirt around her waist that was made up of brown and green leaves. Leaves and twigs were scattered around the suit with thin yet sparkling veils over her arms that reached to her palms. The costume came with accessories—a crown of bright orange and red flowers with red berries strung in between them, four elongated twigs that Bixbite placed in the middle of the crown on top of her head, and smaller pink flowers as clips that hung to her hair like a forest floor. She had a difficult time wearing the forest flip-flops the costume demanded; she wiggled her bare toes against the strap, uncomfortable.

Onyx was comparably not as impressive. Her costume was a knight’s outfit, but it was far from the real thing. She had slipped into a body suit with most of the armor painted on the surface. Foam grieves, gauntlets and shoulder, and a cheap red rag as a cape completed the lackluster look. Steven was incredibly disappointed looking at the costume now, especially with how Bixbite’s turned out. Onyx, however, didn’t notice how pathetic her costume looked; she was immediately stricken by Bixbite’s new appearance.

“Hey you know, you should tie up your long hair, girl,” suggested Amethyst sneaking up behind Bixbite.

“You think so?” She wondered. Because of all the things pinned to her hair, for the first time Bixbite considered the thought.

“Here, lemme help you out,” grinned Amethyst.

Amethyst grabbed two handfuls of Bixbite’s hair, but even that wasn’t enough to contain the massive length. Onyx watched liked a slack jawed buffoon, expectant to see the outcome of Amethyst playing. Nothing came to mind until suddenly Amethyst got an idea and was quick to make it a reality. While attention was off them, Steven whispered into Pearl’s ear and she reluctantly compiled with the request, just as Amethyst stepped away from her finished work.

Half of Bixbite’s hair was free and wild as it always was, but using the costume’s clips to disconnect them, Amethyst tied an array of pigtails using the ends of her hair. But she soon realized she wasn’t finished. Amethyst ran to Bixbite’s sides and tied two long strands around her neck like a necklace. The last strand behind her ear that bothered Amethyst tied behind her head like a ring. Onyx couldn’t look away.

“Yeah, I got the hair moves,” Amethyst said to the speechless Onyx. She pushed her to Bixbite.

Onyx was extremely unprepared to face Bixbite then. Her face was blushing.

“Do you like it?” Bixbite inquired.

“You’re beautiful! I—I mean i-it looks nice,” said Onyx, exploding at first. Bixbite blushed which only sent Onyx into a flurry of emotions.

Metal pieces clanked as they fell to the ground, startling everyone and immediately breaking the mood. The individual pieces of the white armor proved to be too heavy for Steven to carry and they fell on him like dead weight while he crumbled beneath them. Pearl, the one who summoned each piece, jolted to his aid.

“Steven—oh my gosh—are you alright?!” She threw the chest piece, the biggest part, off his with one arm. Onyx caught the flying part.

Steven raised his thumb, weakly. “I’m good!”

Onyx saw herself in the crystal clear reflection, behind a symbol of an eagle the chest plate bore. Beneath the eagle was a sun and below that were two large stars.

“What’s this?” Onyx asked.

“It’s your costume, Onyx. This one is way better than that one!” Steven proclaimed. “This one is an actual knight’s armor Pearl had in her Gem.”

Onyx looked at Pearl with odd perplexity. “You keep an entire suit of armor inside your Gem?”

“I like to see it as being prepared for anything. Do you want the suit or not? Unless you’re content with looking absolutely ridiculous,” said Pearl.

Onyx only then realized how ridiculous she actually looked. Bitterly she had no choice but to take the pieces of shimmering white armor. But not before tearing the flimsy bodysuit off her with a single tug, unaware that Steven had paid money for it and he could’ve easily returned it. Trying the leather straps to her body, tightening the armor pieces until they pressed on her muscles, and carrying the immense weight of steel felt nostalgic to the warrior Gem. She never wore armor when fighting, but she didn’t think any less of the Gems who did. As she the suit was fully guarding her body, Onyx ignored the memories of war to be in the mountain, with Bixbite.

Sharing her friend’s reaction, Bixbite couldn’t hold a thought or a word when she saw Onyx in her costume. The black Gem’s large muscles made the armored plates bulge out and the chainmail greaves stood out prominently with the great build underneath; the crystal sheen on the metal gave Onyx a glisten like stardust that worked well with her nature beauty—at least it was what Bixbite seemed to think. She didn’t say any of her thought out loud, but Onyx guessed from her mindless drooling that Bixbite liked the costume; she blushed.

“Alright, everyone, let’s go trick-o-treating! Mwahahahahaha!” Steven imitated a nefarious laugh befitting a mad scientist, though the same effect wasn’t apparent with his size or voice.

“Mwahahahaha!” Amethyst mimicked with a stronger voice.

Pearl refused to take part.

Bixbite and Onyx were given a small treat before they got their candy. When the group of Gems reached the nearest Warp Pad they teleported to inside Steven’s house, where the two new Gems were finally given a chance to see a new setting. There were so many simple things that would surely capture Bixbite’s attention for hours, but time was of the essence according to Steven and they could only stay for a minute to get shopping bags and then leave. Bixbite extended her neck so she could see more as she was being led out the door; she managed to see the TV and the coach, which was accompanied by Garnet who waved goodbye as they left. While Bixbite was disappointed she didn’t get to see more, what awaited her outside was even better.

A glare hit the side of Bixbite and Onyx’s eyes when they stepped out onto the wooden patio outside Steven’s house. The citrine-colored glow of the setting sun was mirrored on the azure surface of the ocean. Bixbite and Onyx froze. Where the sun went after it set over their mountain had been a mystery to both of them—for Bixbite it remained a mystery for as long as she lived in the mountain. In addition to the setting sun, the unfamiliar Gems threw their mouths open at the ocean, an endless area that was as vast as the valley behind their mountain but painted blue. Steven gave them the time they needed to indulge.

With a few coercing pushes to get Bixbite and Onyx moving again, the group of Gems made their way to the boardwalk. Everything around them was new to Bixbite and Onyx and to Steven, Amethyst and Pearl it felt like they were leading them on a tour of the city rather than a walk to the houses. While Bixbite walked forward as she spun like a top, Steven led the group to a blue house at the end of the boardwalk. This house wasn’t decorated and there wasn’t anyone out in the frontyard despite the garage door being open.

“Hey Onion, we’re here! Let’s get going!” Steven shouted.

“What’s an Onion?” Onyx asked.

“He’s my friend Vidalia’s kid and Steven’s buddy,” said Amethyst.

Onyx gave a look of disgust. “Humans have weird names.”

A light on the second story window lit up and a shadow moved inside, most likely Onion. The group waited outside, a silence on the group during the short moment waiting. Behind them a whisper so sly it was carried by the breeze so none of them could hear it. A figure, draped in a long black cloak that touched its knees, wearing a mask of a face turned upside down, an eerie sight that crept up behind them. None of them heard its advances until its thin hand rose up with boney fingers. Bixbite saw a shadow creep on her shoulder and she turned around; for that moment she was unable to scream as the figure grabbed Amethyst’s shoulder with a pinch.

“GAAAAAAAH!” Amethyst shrieked.

“AAAAAAH!” Steven shouted in response.

“WHAAA?!” Pearl jumped hearing Steven scream.

“HEYAAAAAAH!” Bixbite was the loudest scream out of all of them, which in turned caused Onyx to suddenly pick her guard up.

The series of screams was triggered by the mask figure who upon seeing the fruits of her devilish prank revealed herself to be Vidalia.

She laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. “Man, for a Gem warrior you get scared really easily.”

“Do not!” Amethyst denied. “What’s with the mask, Vidalia? Your normal face is scary enough.”

“I’m headed to Sour Cream’s Halloween rave so I needed a good enough costume.” The older woman then noticed the extra two Gems, one of which, Bixbite, was hiding behind the other. “Wow, you got some new friends? Gonna give me an introduction?”

“Yeah, that red one’s Bixbite and the big beefy one is Onyx. We helped them out with some serious Gem biz, you know how it goes.”

Vidalia went up to Onyx who was a great deal larger than the mature woman. She invaded her personal space to analyze the Gem’s face clearly. Onyx looked cornered, not knowing how to respond to a human staring so intensely at her.

“You got muscles for days, big gurl. I could use you to move some stuff next weekend. I won’t pay you though,” said Vidalia.

Onyx had too many questions to single one out.

Vidalia passed her to get to the magenta Gem hiding behind. Without the creepy mask, Bixbite felt a little comfortable peeking out of her guardian’s back but she was still apprehensive. And just like with Onyx, Vidalia scanned Bixbite intensely.

“Sick hair color, gurl,” said Vidalia. “Back in my hay day I tried to get that shade but I always got red or pink. You’re lucky, Beet. It’s what I’m gonna call ya’ since you look like a big ol’ beet.”

“What’s a beet?” Bixbite poked her head out of her cover like a gopher.

“Geez, you make the lamest nicknames,” said Amethyst.

“And I’m callin’ you Olive,” she said to Onyx who didn’t get the name either.

Onion, the smallest of all Steven’s friends, emerged from his house wearing only a blank, white face with eye holes as a costume. He stood like a statue and waited for their responses; his costume didn’t trigger fear in any of them, but it did send a freezing chill down their spines.

“L-Let’s get going,” said Steven, hesitant to take Onion’s hand to keep him close.

“Keep all ten eyes on this little imp, and have him back before midnight,” said Vidalia. She patted the top of his head. “Don’t give ‘em too much trouble.”

Onion nodded. Vidalia slipped her mask back on and waved her hands in an overly spooky manner as she retreated into the garage.

“Get ready, Bixbite and Onyx, we’re about to finally get the candy,” said Steven.

Bixbite got over her fright for the sake of the delicious treats she’d been promised.

With the final member added to their roster, Steven and the others were finally headed to the houses on the other side of the street. However, others had the same idea Steven had for the ideal time to start trick-o-treating. As they made their way they heard crowds of doorbells being rung and doors being knocked. Onion pulled away from Steven and rushed around the corner. Steven took Bixbite and Pearl’s hands and pulled them. Bixbite smiled with anticipatory enjoyment. That is, until they rounded the corner.

Vampires. Ghouls. Mummies. Evil clowns. Werewolves. Aliens. An wide assortment of costumes on people ranging from small to huge, all in a cluster moving from one house to the next. Bixbite was petrified immediately. Her wildest nightmares could not compare. So many scary things all around her, each one invoked a fear that she didn’t even know what there. Steven felt Bixbite’s hand suddenly go limp; he looked back to see her eyes blasted open. Her throat grew with the impending scream she was about to let loose. Steven’s shocked expression caused the others to become aware of Bixbite’s impending scream. She panted rapidly and swallowed the air she needed. Everyone scrambled to calm her, but they were too late. Bixbite let out an earth shattering scream that was quickly muffled when Onyx slapped her hands over Bixbite’s mouth almost instinctively. Bixbite had the chance to let out all her fright and Onyx’s quick thinking prevent it was becoming an incident.

“Bixbite, its okay, everyone’s in costume! None of it is real,” said Steven. Bixbite was still in mid-scream so they waited until all of the air had been exhaled out of her body before explaining things.

“Relax, Beet Bix, there are no monsters here that can get ya’,” said Amethyst.

Bixbite sniffled behind Onyx’s hand—she wasn’t convinced of her safety. Onyx saw all of the excitement Bixbite at the start of the new adventure had left her; her expression now read her hurry to get back to the cave and hide. A knife cleaved Onyx’s stomach seeing Bixbite so miserable. Suddenly, Onyx lifted Bixbite off the ground and into her arms.

“I’ll hold you the entire way, I’ll keep you safe, Bix,” said Onyx.

The color returned to Bixbite’s face, along with some additional shades of bright red. They were caught in each other’s eyes; their faces inched closer to each other, completely ignoring the audience they had. Steven blushed and Pearl had to cover his and Onion’s eyes. It was only when Onyx felt Bixbite’s gentle breath hit her lips that Pearl cleared her throat to remind them they were still there.

“Not in front of the children, you two, please,” commanded Pearl.

Bixbite and Onyx shared the same flustered look like they had made a big mistake. Onion pulled away and ran to the nearest house.

“Bixbite, Onyx, there’s our first house. When I ring the door bell you gotta say ‘Trick-o-Treat’, okay,” Steven instructed.

Bixbite understood the steps clearly enough, but there wasn’t any way she saw herself getting down from inside Onyx’s arms, for more reasons than being afraid of the monsters around her. Thankfully the house Onion picked for them was at the start of the block and the other costume children had long since visited it. Onyx ducked her head and squeezed her body tight closed to fit on the patio. Onion rang the doorbell. The owner, a small old lady, must’ve been nearby because the door opened fairly quickly.

“Oh my, such scary youngins,” said the lady in a weak voice that matched her poor eyesight.

“Trick-o-Treat, ma’am,” said Steven politely.

“Gimme my candies!” Amethyst commanded.

“Trice or Teet!” Bixbite said, misunderstanding what exactly Steven said before. Onyx wasn’t going to say it.

She adjusted her thick, golden glasses. “Two strapping young lads and three pretty young ladies.”

“Ladies? We’re Gems,” said Onyx, taking it as an insult.

“Kids these days and their costumes, it’s hard for an ol’ lady like me to keep up.” She reached behind the door and picked up her candy bowl and handed Onion and Steven a handful of candy. “Don’t go eatin’ all your candy tonight. Thas what I did thirty or twenty teeth ago.”

The handful of candy landed at the bottom of Bixbite’s empty shopping bag. It was only a few wrapped single flavor hard candy, what looked like a single popcorn kennel, and a mini bar of chocolate; Onyx got the same. Bixbite poked her head inside to see the wrapped sweets glistening like treasure; she didn’t know what any of the brand names meant, what the candies were, and what exactly she was meant to do with them other than eat them, but she was happy to receive them. She looked to see if Onyx shared her happiness in receiving candy, but Onyx’s response was a bit more complex.

Onyx was just as oblivious as Bixbite towards what the purpose of the candy was. They looked like the same pieces of trash that she’d previously seen piling up in Jason’s trashcans. They weren’t weapons or anything interesting that would make her excited. And yet, Steven showed his candy to Onion with a bright smile on his face and Bixbite’s eyes widened with joy. The joy of the candy was easy to them but an enigmatic mystery to her. Bixbite quickly unwrapped her mini bar of chocolate and held it to Onyx’s lips. She awkwardly munched on the mini edge, but oblivious once again as to what made it “good” as the others often said when eating. Bixbite giggled because of bit of chocolate hung on Onyx’s lips; she took it off Onyx and ate it, smiling back. Onyx smiled too.

“Honestly you bunch and your food. I will never understand it,” said Pearl.

“What, don’t you want some Pearl?” Amethyst tore the wrapped of four of her six pieces of candy, mashed them together in a ball of various colors and held the ball of sugar at Pearl’s face. “Come on, P, its good!”

Pearl backed away. “Oh no, Amethyst, don’t you dare get that thing close to me!”

“It’s full of sweetie goodness!”

Amethyst chased Pearl around the street like a cat and mouse, holding out the ball of candy which she used as a weapon against her. Finally Amethyst made Onyx laugh, at Pearl’s expense of course.

The night went by before any of them noticed, which was often the case when they had fun. Steven and the others visited every door they could, collecting candy that quickly made their shopping bags heavier than they were. The sun had long since set and the moon was out by the time their bags were halfway full. When they couldn’t carry the heavy load any longer they gave them to Onyx who held them and Bixbite the entire night; it was Onion who originally threw his bag on Onyx when it got too heavy for him. Sweat from too much walking had begun to wet the makeup on Steven’s body; for an autumn night it wasn’t at all cold. The last of the houses within a good walking distance was hit and the group rested on the block curve to catch their breaths while children much younger than Steven were still going strong.

“Kids these days, I’ll never understand where they get their energy from,” said Steven trying his best to sound like an old prune.

“It’s gettin’ kind late. Didn’t Vidalia say she wanted him to be back before midnight?” Amethyst reminded.

“Oh yeah, that’s right! We really should be getting back now,” said Steven. “Come on, On—”

Steven trailed off when he discovered his little friend wasn’t seated next to him. His head swished to his left but only found Amethyst where she’d always been. He looked behind him and even out in front of them. No Onion to be seen.

“Onion!” Steven called out.

No answer, not that he half expected one.

“Guys! Onion’s gone!”

“What?!” Pearl squawked. She too looked around. “I-I wasn’t even paying attention!”

“No way! Vidalia’s gonna kill us!” Amethyst shouted.

“Your little friend?” Bixbite asked.

“What’s the big deal? He can probably find his way back,” said Onyx.

“Of course he can’t, he’s a little human!” Pearl barked at her.

Onyx stood up to meet her challenging stance. Before a new problem came, a shiver ran down Onyx’s spine. Her hairs stood on end and her body locked in place as though the chill that tickled her spine had also frozen her.

“—off,” Onyx muttered.

“What’s wrong, Onyx?” Bixbite inquired.

“Get this thing offa me!” Onyx cried.

The group looked around her massive frame to see a creature latched onto her back like a beetle. Onion climbed her back while attention was drawn away and Onyx only noticed him after he began to poke her Gem. He grabbed it with his tiny palms and even tried to pull it out.

“Off! Get him off! Get him off! OFF!” Onyx pleaded.

Bixbite picked Onion off her friend and held him with perplexity. He wriggled free and quickly retreated behind Steven. Meanwhile Onyx hadn’t loosened, her face sweating and her face completely pale.

Pearl, Amethyst, and even Bixbite shared a mischievous grin with devilish intent brightening their eyes. They discovered Onyx’s fear and they weren’t about to let her forget it or that night.

#steven universe #steven universe au #au #writing #bixbite #fanfiction #fan fiction #commission

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