#sage ponders
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The radqueer fandom is dying. Reblog to make it die faster :3
#sage ponders#anti prat#anti radqueer#anti zionisim#anti radshit#anti radpara#anti transx#anti transid
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Gosh, today is my birthday!
I’ve had a wonderful day and managed to get a lot done and took some time to reflect. At the beginning of the year I set a new year’s resolution to get better at saying no to others and yes to myself more.
I’ve really honed in on doing more and better art and have started and finished several ideas and projects! It’s all been a huge relief and has made me feel better about myself and my growth!
Here’s to more happy years, I am grateful to those who consider me a friend or loved one and I love you all.
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I’m having a stupid RP idea and I need to subject y’all to.
So. Krysanthe’s Startouched form.
What if, and hear me out, cryptid bunn sightings.
Like, you see this, right?
This glowing girlie just standing there, looking at the sky, menacingly
And it’d be in random spots too but only on clear or fair sky nights.
If you stay long enough, she’ll notice you and give you a shiny. But if you spook her, Poof!!, she’s gone.
I dunno, I just think it’d be neat -shrug emoji-
#chill-bunn-sage#;;krysanthe zaivicelle#ffxiv viera#;;the soul behind the screen (ooc)#;;plotting and pondering (rp ideas)
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yknow i know ive seen ppl discuss the current push towards purity culture as an echo of the satanic panic, and i have the idea from listening to the ywa episodes on the satanic panic that a big psychological element of that wave of garbage thinking was reactionary guilt about not having listened to kids about family members, particularly fathers, and similar figures who had abused them. im wondering if this wave is coming from a similar reactionary guilt stemming from recent high profile cases like nassar and epstein (plus of course all of the stranger danger/true crime White Anxieties that a lot of us have spent so much time marinating in)
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#sage steele#article#espn#sports#lia thomas#university of pennsylvania#riley gaines#swimming#sam ponder#paula scanlan#2023
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OUTFIT CHECK 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧
ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, iatdori yuuji x reader
ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. jjk men being in love with you.
note. i'm back! i managed to fit in writing this in the middle of my midterms, i just finished my qualitative research paper for the midterms and i have 3 more take home exams to do. i hope you like this piece <33
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔
you stood in front of the mirror, shifting your body from side to side, eying your reflection from different angles. raising a brow, you heaved out a soft sigh — before eventually twirling to face gojo who had been sitting on the edge of the bed. his icy blue eyes had been gazing at you for as long as you've been standing in front of the mirror against your reflection.
"'toru, do you think i look—"
gojo hushes you, putting a finger onto your lips, shutting you up immediately, "no, you don't look bad, and no your outfit doesn't look weird. you look beautiful," he rattles with a small smile.
"but i just feel like something's wrong with my combination," you said, stepping back to disperse from his finger, "like something's out of place. i just don't know what . . ."
gojo slipped an arm across your shoulder, turning your body to face your reflection, "i don't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, baby — you're really pretty . . . and i look pretty amazing too," he winked cheekily at the mirror, kissing the side of your face.
the male had been sitting on the edge of the bed, paying attention to you analyzing your own outfit for the past fifteen minutes. twirling here and there, stepping backwards and forwards cluelessly. the male didn't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, in fact, you looked absolutely stunning in his point of view.
his comment made you break a small smile.
"is this top too revealing?" you turn your back to the mirror, revealing a slight peek at your fragrant s/c skin.
"baby, baby," he scoffs, "i'm the strongest, i can fight, you know? and you look beautiful in that top, you should wear it often, yeah?" his slender fingers grazes over your exposed skin gently, sending shivers down your spine.
a string of laughter escaped your throat, "i love you, you know that?"
the male leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, "i love you more. no complaints."
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎
"do you think the top suits the bottom?" you asked nanami after changing into your third pants of the day — brows furrowed in frustration as nothing seemed to be clicking.
nanami raised his eyes from the book he had in his grasp, "you look beautiful," he complimented yet again for the third time.
"kento, how am i supposed to pick an outfit when you keep complimenting them all? help me pick one, will you?" nanami didn't understand why you were insistent on the 'mismatched' outfit (at least you think it is).
but in his eyes, everything seemed well-matched. he'd say it's a 11/10 for your ability to match these outfits of yours, "how? you look beautiful in them all."
groaning out, you raise two bags. a black and sage green bag, "pick one."
nanami inspected the two bags and then looked back at your outfit briefly, "the sage green one would fit perfectly with your outfit now," he pointed.
"okay. how about a jacket, do you think i'll need one?" you questioned, rummaging through the closet, "you always have a hunch of what i'd feel, it's your judgement."
he pondered your words for a bit, "take a jacket. forecast said it's going to be cold tonight, i don't want you getting sick."
you chuckled and bobbed your head, "right. anything else i should bring?"
"pepper spray."
"check."
"be careful, yes? call me if anything happens," nanami whispers, standing up from the bed — initially he wanted to come along with you to meet your friends. but he thought that he'd be a bother to you so he stopped himself from asking, "i love you so much."
"i love you more," you kissed his lips, to which he returned.
"let's drop you there, hm?" nanami grabs your hips, giving your flesh a slight squeeze, leading you out of the house.
𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈
"y/n, do you — oh, wow."
yuuji stood, a hand on the handle of the door he just opened and another on the doorway. his jaw dropped at the sight of you, his partner.
you stood in front of a mirror, blinking cluelessly at his reaction. not knowing whether it was his surprise because of how good you looked or the other way around, "yuuji? do i what?"
yuuji blinked himself back into reality, entering the room mutely, his back leaned onto the shut door, "where are you off to?"
shaking your head you gazed back at your reflection, "i'm just mix and matching for a hang out with nobara tomorrow, does this look funny?"
he shook his head harshly, "no, no, you look really nice! really pretty," yuuji honestly said before inhaling, you quite literally took his breath away.
"really? the color suits?" you asked, pinching the shirt you're wearing, "is the pants a bit too short?"
yuuji stood still, "no . . . you — wow, you just look so pretty y/n. i don't know what else to tell you . . ." he whispers, entranced by your figure as he detached his back from the door to approach you.
mustering out a smile, you gave him a hug, "thanks yuuji, you're the best."
he nuzzled his nose into your hair, "you're so beautiful," yuuji mumbled before kissing the crown of your head.
all of a sudden, yuuji pulls back, his face stern and a frown on his face, "how come you're going out with kugisaki and i'm not invited?" he asks you, narrowing his eyes.
"baby, i promise it's just me and her. i'll get you something special on the way back and then we can watch movies? your pick." you pinched his cheeks gently.
"any movies?"
you nod, "any movies."
"okay! deal." yuuji beams out, kissing your cheek.
© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#fluff#gojo satoru#gojo fluff#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#nanami kento#nanami fluff#nanami x reader#nanami kento x reader#itadori yuuji#itadori fluff#itadori x reader#itadori yuuji x reader
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This is an appreciation post for all the grumpy pics of Gale that I see cross my dash.
Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely LOVE seeing him happy and smiling (wearing his ‘resting sweetheart face,’ as someone brilliantly put it) but whenever I see photos of him brooding or pondering a serious topic or being displeased about something, I can’t help but think about the whiplash a person would get once they actually met him.
Imagine your first impression of Gale when he’s in his battle robes, wizard staff on his back, looking breathtakingly handsome and wearing a stern expression on his face (literally looking like the photo above, from user eekeric) and all you can think is, “Oh my god, I can already tell this guy is going to be an arrogant, blunt, unfriendly asshole. He probably only speaks to people he considers ‘worthy’ of his greatness.”
And then the minute you introduce yourself he hits you with his thousand-watt smile and he’s all “HELLO :) :) :) I’m GALE of WATERDEEP! *shakes your hand vigorously, bows* I can’t help but notice you’re wearing an amulet of Animal Speaking! *chuckles* My oldest and best friend is my own Tressym companion, Tara. Our conversation topics range from roasted pigeon recipes to advice on expanding my social circle to suggestions for my love life. *raises a finger* Have you met any animals that offered you sage advice in regards to your love life or other topics? Perhaps a dolphin with recommendations for a particularly ‘FIN-tastic’ date? *laughs at his own terrible pun* May I fetch you a glass of wine? I’d love to converse further on—”
TLDR: HOW ARE THERE PEOPLE WHO CAN RESIST THIS MAN I SIMPLY CANNOT FATHOM IT
#This is how he got me#i thought I was gonna be a Halsin gal#Then he fell out of the portal and was like OH HI HELLO THERE :) :) :)#and I was *SOLD*#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#baldur’s gate 3#bg3
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You’re not “contributing to the infantilisation of autistic people” if you’re autistic and like doing “childish” things
You’re not “contributing to the infantilisation of autistic people” if you’re autistic and like watching kid’s cartoons
You’re not “contributing to the infantilisation of autistic people” if you’re autistic and like wearing cutesy/Kidcore outfits
You’re not “contributing to the infantilisation of autistic people” if you’re autistic and sleep with a stuffie or pillow
You’re not “contributing to the infantilisation of autistic people” if you’re autistic and wear diapers for fun/comfort
You’re not “contributing to the infantilisation of autistic people” if you’re autistic and age regress
You’re not “contributing to the infantilisation of autistic people” if you’re autistic and like to stim by sucking on a pacifier
You’re not “contributing to the infantilisation of autistic people” if you’re autistic and you personally compare your own brain to that of child as to better understand yourself
You’re not “contributing to the infantilisation of autistic people” if you’re autistic and call yourself a kid/child even though you’re a “legal adult”
You’re not “contributing to the infantilisation of autistic people” if you’re autistic and for liking childish things or being child like in nature
Ableists are when they deny you autonomy or assume you’re stupid and need to be treated/talked to like a child just because you’re autistic
#sage ponders#agere positivity#chronosian#chronosian positivity#autistic positivity#agere community#sfw agere#age regression#agere#chrono peculiar#actually autistic
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Running fingers through their hair 🤍
ft. wriothesley, alhaitham and neuvillette.
synopsis : you convince them into playing with their hair and you end up taking undue advantage of it.
warnings : implied fem!reader, pet names, mention of murder and suicide (neuvillette – no there is no angst here.).
a/n : fluff but seriously hair is so floof in genshin and i love me some domesticated content.
ALHAITHAM 🌱
"No." He crossed his arms in disapproval at your request.
"Haitham! Come on!" You begged your husband to let you run your fingers through his hair in hopes to help him unwind and relax but he was adamant not letting you.
"I am sorry [Name], but I have a meeting due in an hour with the Dendro Archon about some administrative changes and as much as I would love to catch a break, I can't as of now." He exasperated, voice laced with annoyance.
Ever since becoming the Acting Grand Sage, Alhaitham had gotten just a tad bit more whinier. You weren't complaining since Alhaitham had the emotional quotient of a rock.
"Oh come on! It's still an hour away. C'mere." You patted your lap. He sighed but agreed. You found yourself combing your nifty fingers through his grey locks. They felt soft to touch. Who are you kidding, he was a well groomed gentleman despite his emotionally constipated personality.
His eyes were focused on a book he was reading, his eyes scanning the pages but his expression was relaxed. He won't admit it but he liked it. This was a simple yet intimate gesture.
You on the other hand, stared outside of the window, fingers still running through his hair. The scenery of Sumeru city stretched out far and wide for your eyes to see. The sky was beaming with light, birds were chit chatting on the tree branches and–
Snore.
Your focus gets redirected back at Alhaitham who now had the book resting on his face, his chest rising rhythmically as you heard him breathing softly.
You chuckled at the sight. He really did fall asleep. He looked so carefree when a moment ago he was complaining about meetings and work. How amusing. An idea bubbled up in your head.
When Alhaitham woke up, he realised that he had fallen asleep and hurried out of the room to meet up with Nahida in the Sanctuary of Surasthana.
"Good evening Acting Grand Sage, I was just waiting on you- pfft!" Nahida's cheeks puffed up and the little Archon started giggling.
"I am sorry for being late- wait, why are you laughing?" He tilted his expression in confusion. Could his late timing be a matter of amusement for his Archon?
"Who made two tiny ponytails in your hair using sparkly pink pyro slime hairties!" Nahida chuckled more, unable to hold her laughter.
"..." he reached up to feel the two tiny fountains of hair made by tying them up. Who could've done such a— you.
Needles to say, Alhaitham image of a big mighty serious guy in front of Nahida had now been ruined.
NEUVILLETTE 🌊
"Ma Chérie, what do you think of this case?" Neuvillette leaned back into his chair, papers spread out on his table. You picked up one of the documents and examined them.
What made you and Neuvillette a match made in heaven was that you were one of Fontaine's best lawyers and Neuvillette was the Ludex. You both would brainstorm cases together though Neuvillette always tended to quote how he is unbiased as it is his duty as the Chief Justice to not let personal feelings get in the way.
Still, you catch him staring at you during court proceedings, expression twisting and turning based on the situation out of his instinctive concern for you.
"Well, I think this is a classic murder which is being displayed to the common eye like a suicide." You sighed and put the paper back on the table, stretching your back from fatigue.
"I must say, that's quite a possibility. I'd suggest you investigate futher and seek the truth." He pondered, his gloved hand resting on his chin.
"Neuvi, can we take a break? I am tired." You slumped down in the chair across him, exhausting from the repetitive task at hand.
"Indeed. Repetition tends to tire out the mortal brain. Let's continue this after lunch." He nodded and started to sort the papers according to there designated folders.
"Can I play with your hair till you get the sorting papers thing done?" You asked him and he seemed amused at the idea. Neuvillette was never reluctant from trying out new things and gave into your small pleasures if they made you happy. "Sure."
You ran your fingers through his white locks. Honestly his hair were so beautiful, it would put women's hair to shame. Neuvillette took good care of them. You started using this opportunity to experiment different hairstyles on him.
Neuvillette glanced up, only to see his hair in a braid from his reflection in the mirror with a black ribbon in them. He stared at the braid for a good minute, "Hmm simple, practical and elegant. It's quite nice." He mused.
You were proud of yourself before Neuvillette asked if he could try hairstyles on you.
An afternoon spent with chuckles, smiles, whacky and pretty hairstyles.
WRIOTHESLEY 🧊
You watched as Wriothesley worked like a machine.
Step 1 : Grab the paperwork
Step 2 : Read and Sign it
Step 3 : Put in the "done" pile
The sounds of paper swiping and pen scribbling filled the room. You tried to entertain yourself with some novel but you could hear wriothesley grunted and groaning in annoyance.
"Y'know, the best thing is to simply not to do the work if you don't feel like it, wrio." You suggested, flipping to the next page in the novel.
"You're right. I'll settle for a nap, drink tea after I get up and then continue doing this..." he grumbled before getting up and making his way to his bed upstairs. You afte a few minutes got up and followed him.
You both laid beside eachother, under the blankets, soaking in eachother's warmth. "You joinin' me on a nap, sweetheart?" A smile crawled onto his face as he looked at you with his icy hues.
"No, I am simply here to take care of you, silly." You kissed his nose as he took your palm firmly in his and kissed the back of it, endearingly. You peppered his face with feather kisses, tousling his soft black locks earning a relaxed hum of content from him.
Wriothesley was a man of limited needs and such small moments with you were his saving grace from the buttload of prison paper work. His arm snaked around your waist as he kissed the top of your forehead before his hand rested on your cheeks, his eyes fluttering shut.
He yawned and made himself comfortable before drifting off into his well deserved nap.
But..
"Oh my god, you are associated with Sigewinne in this??" He baffled at the sight of his face covered in stickers. Melusines loved to play pranks but his own lover? Now that was some serious betrayal.
"First my back and now my face?" He stared at you, jaw dropped, wanting an explanation. You simply stifled a laugh before hearing a click.
"Sigewinne, did you just take a picture of me?? HEY! Don't run away!? [Name]! Sigewinne! You guys better delete that picture!" He chased after you two as you ran with Sigewinne in your arms. It was a moment of solace and perhaps another moment added in your archive of memories.
a/n : to say i am obsessed with domesticated genres and tropes is an understatement.
don't steal, copy, plagarize.
©definitelysel
not proof read.
#genshin fluff#genshin impact#genshin x reader#fontaine#neuvilette x reader#neuvillette x reader#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley#alhaitham x reader#al haitham x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin imagines#wriothesely x reader#genshin drabbles#genshin#neuvillette#alhaitham#neuvillette x you#alhaitham x female reader#alhaitham fluff#wrio x reader#wriothesley fluff#neuvillette genshin#neuvillette x y/n#neuvillette fluff#genshin impact fluff
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cw a little suggestive towards the end, mdni please and ty :)
alhaitham is the type to seethe quietly in his jealousy.
he’s not outwardly possessive—no, because he lets the stranger talk to you—his pretty girlfriend—about his thesis plans, about his academic feats, and you sit there with a smile plastered on your face, nodding your head as you listen to him prattle on and on and on.
alhaitham nearly bends the book in his hand into pieces with what he claims is annoyance. not possessiveness, no, that was out of character. he was just… annoyed, that this random man had the gall to interrupt his reading session with you.
that’s what he tells himself, at least.
of course, how was he supposed to know you were dating the akademiya scribe, when alhaitham was possibly the most low-key person ever? the two of you were quiet about your relationship, content to share it between yourselves. only your close friends really knew the extent of how deep your “friendship” with the scribe went.
as soon as the man leaves (not without leaving his number for you, of course), and the two of you are blanketed in the quiet murmurs of the akademiya library, alhaitham sets his book down. he turns to you.
he finds you staring at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. alhaitham tilts his head, all feline grace, his eyes narrowing into slits as he asks, “what?”
you shake your head mirthfully, crumpling up the slip of paper in your hand and tossing it into the nearest bin. alhaitham feels his shoulders un-tense just a fraction at the sight.
“nothing,” you say, but alhaitham knows you’re lying.
so he leans closer to you, grasping your chin in his hand as he tilts your head back and forces your gaze to meet his.
“liar. what is it?”
you smile. wide and wider it grows, and you reach a hand up to brush alhaitham’s cheek. he barely suppresses a shudder at the gentle touch.
“i didn’t think you to be the jealous type.”
“i’m not.”
“then what was that all about?” you hum. you’re… amused by this. amused by him grappling with his emotions. alhaitham feels his lips twitch downward.
if you didn’t know any better, he would appear to just be frowning. but you did… and it was like he was pouting. you giggle.
“i am annoyed,” alhaitham says, stressing the last word, “that we were interrupted by a stranger. nothing more.”
“nothing more?” you parrot, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “sure. and i’m the grand sage.”
alhaitham bites his tongue, pulling his hand away from your chin. his fingers flex—he has to stamp down on his self-control. being found in a compromising position in the library would surely wreck the both of your social statuses.
but the thrill of it… seeing you bent over the table, utterly wrecked under the careful ministrations of his hands—getting to mark his claim on you...
he quickly shakes the dangerous train of thought away.
“do you want to go home?” you suddenly ask, a coy smile dancing on your lips. he must have been obvious where his line of thinking was going, if you managed to catch on that quickly. the grin on your face tells him that you did.
alhaitham pretends to ponder it. grabs the book he set down, turns it over in his hands, then shrugs.
“sure. kaveh shouldn’t be home for another few hours.”
his voice was bedroom-soft, and the tone in which he said it—nearly purring—has heat pooling in your core.
“alright. let’s go?”
he wordlessly rises, holding out his hand for you. there’s a small part of him that feels a maddening satisfaction when you let out a pleased hum, followed by a surprised yelp as he gracefully slides an arm around you.
someone nearby makes a “shh” noise, and he completely ignores it. you giggle out an apology.
it was utterly unlike him, he thinks, as he guides you through the library with his arm wrapped around your waist, slowly moving to rest his hand on the small of your back when the two of you exit the library.
maybe he’ll try being more public in his attention to you. that would most certainly keep this from happening again.
#alhaitham x reader#al haitham x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#☆ oakie writes#hey ! alhaitham drabble jumpscare before i go to bed :3#i did not proofread btdubs#wrote this all in one sitting on my phone from the comfort of my bed. and now… i eep!#a nice little bedtime story if u will
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[ LOGIC ] ALHAITHAM.
“haitham,” your voice sings, “are you jealous?” you elbow alhaitham’s side, poking his cheek and quirking your brows as an amused grin tugs at your lips. he only grunts, flipping a page of his book without sparing you a glance and pretending that he doesn’t hear you. “i know you heard me,” you pester, “you are jealous, huh?”
“i have nothing to be jealous of,” he says matter of factly, and though you can’t bring yourself to believe him, you have to admire his persistence even if a little.
alhaitham is not jealous—it’s what he tells himself, at least.
jealousy is an irrational concept, especially when two people have mutually agreed they’re exclusive—which you both have done so already. it’s an ugly emotion, it’s unbecoming of the loyalty you’ve pledged and the trust that exists between you both.
therefore, alhaitham is not jealous.
he simply thinks that logically speaking, the general mahamatra has no business standing that close to you when it’s a well known fact you’re in a relationship. based on his observations (which are seldom wrong) making you laugh so easily should be near impossible—cyno’s jokes are about as dry as the desert sand itself. alhaitham thinks it must be a pity laugh. it has to be a pity laugh—cyno is not funny, not in the slightest. and the way your eyes twinkle as you talk to him is not fondness, it’s kindness—because you’re a genuine person, that’s all.
he watches you both talk for one second, then two, and then he realizes he’s frowning. why is he frowning? there’s nothing to be jealous of when cyno is involved, the rational part of alhaitham’s mind knows this.
alhaitham is taller, a lot more muscular, he’s the (acting) grand sage—and though he hates the position, it’s evidently popular amongst the ladies. he’s smarter, and though neither him nor cyno are very social, he likes to think he’s better at analyzing people’s emotional responses and understanding human behavior. and besides that, alhaitham knows your favorite coffee order and where your favorite spot for lunch is. he knows the crinkle of your nose means you have more to say but you’re biting your tongue. he knows you laugh behind your hand because sometimes you get shy about your smile.
he knows more about you than cyno could ever imagine exists. logically speaking, alhaitham understands you far better than cyno, and he should be the optimal choice. there’s not anything to worry about, nothing that should concern him in regards to his (very stable) relationship with you. but then he remembers the way you laughed at something cyno said, the way the general mahamtra looked at you in surprise before letting his gaze soften with a tiny smile.
he grits his jaw and closes his book.
“cyno doesn’t know you as well as i do,” he starts, making you blink before you nod slowly.
“yes, that’s true,” you ponder, “i suppose he doesn’t. you’ve known me for quite some time now—”
“cyno wouldn’t have as much time for you with all his duties. i, on the other hand, leave work as soon as the clock hits five pm.”
“that’s true, you do have a tendency to leave even if they need you to stay—”
“cyno’s position as general mahamatra makes him the target of a lot of angry and dangerous people, which could prove unsafe for you too,” alhaitham continues, cutting you off.
you frown, crinkling your brows in confusion, and you have to wonder—where is he going with all of this?
“well, yeah, sure. but just so you know, i’m not weak. i can take care of myself—”
“i never said you weren’t capable,” he says instantly, “but the optimal choice for who to date would be me—which you made the right choice, of course. congratulations.”
you snort, giving him a side eye that makes him raise a brow.
“you’re hopeless, haitham,” you giggle.
“and why is that? i’ve supplied more than enough evidence why—”
and then you cut him off with a kiss. it’s a gentle kiss, a slow one where you cup his cheeks, rub the soft skin in delicate circles with your thumb, cradle the back of his head and hold him close as you linger and let him steal a taste of you while you steal one of him too.
alhaitham pulls away in a daze, the book in his hand falling to his lap without the page marked before he can even realize it, long forgotten as you press your forehead to his.
“only you would give me evidence why i should choose you,” you say, clearly amused.
“technically, it’s not evidence why you should choose me if you already did,” he retorts.
and he’s right—you have already chosen him, and you can’t say you regret it. sure, alhaitham is hard to read and nearly impossible to predict. just when you think you have him figured out, he surprises you in more ways than one. he’s too smart for his own good, and his impressive (and sometimes irritating) ability to come up with a rebuttal to everything has moments that make you want to peel your own skin off. he’s blunt and sometimes dry and it drives you up a wall that he answers you with that know-it-all attitude of his.
he never lets a single emotion sway his decisions, and you often whine over every minor inconvenience. he reads books in his free time while you look for something to watch on tv. he rarely wants to leave the house, yet you always have somewhere you want to explore or a new place you want to try. logically speaking, it shouldn’t work, but it does—and cyno will not disrupt the routine that is you, the routine that has so naturally knit itself into his life, for even one moment.
especially not with those bland jokes of his that don’t even have a proper punchline.
“just because you have an answer for everything doesn’t mean you need to give it,” you huff, “and i’m right this time. you are jealous.”
“like i said,” he shrugs, “i’m not jealous.”
“oh yeah? so if the general mahamatra requested my help for another investigation, then you wouldn’t—”
“the general mahamatra has made it this far without your help,” alhaitham says dryly, and if you look close enough, you might just make out the beginnings of a pout at the edges of his lips.
you laugh, scratching gently at his scalp as your fingers thread into his hair. “why else are you better for me?” you hum, cupping his cheek and kissing the corner of his mouth.
now that—that’s a question alhaitham will always have endless answers too. he relaxes, closes his eyes and lets you kiss along his jaw slowly as his hands find purchase of your waist.
“we’d be here all day,” he mumbles, “it’s a lengthy answer.”
“i got time,” you wriggle your brows. he chuckles—and when you laugh too, the sound of your voice in perfect harmony with the sound of his, he thinks he’s found yet another reason why.
“cyno doesn’t know you sing in the shower when you think you’re home alone,” he smirks, rubbing your hips up and down as you gape at him.
“what do you mean—”
“and he doesn’t know your favorite orders or the way you like your coffee. overall, the best option for you is me,” he nods, fighting back a chuckle when you roll your eyes.
“you sure put a lot of thought into this,” you mutter.
“of course,” he shrugs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. and perhaps it is—there’s a sense of rationality he loses when you’re around. instead, a sense of rawness, a sense of something dangerously close to hope. “i spend a lot of time thinking about you,” he adds softly.
your face softens, and your eyes twinkle in a way that they certainly did not when cyno was around—and he suspects it’s from a lot more than just a bit of kindness.
“you sure you’re not jealous?”
“no,” he grins, “i’m very sure i’m right.”
“for once,” you kiss the corner of his mouth, watching it twitch as he stares at your lips and fights the urge to chase after them, “i’ll have to admit you’re right.”
#teepods.writings#drabbles.#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham x you#alhaitham fluff#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin fluff#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin impact fluff
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i do kinda like how for all the highly specific adaptations our bodies have made to keep us alive and thriving, there are still so many things that theyre just like.... yeah idk chief you gotta sort that one out for yourself. like why did my teeth grow in such a way that i have to fuck my molars with a teeny tiny bottle brush to keep them from rotting out of my head and maybe killing me. how was that gonna work out. i guess its comforting in a way that after hundreds of thousands of years of development our bodies are still doing just the absolute bare minimum to succeed as a species lol. large-scale messiness and cobbled together fixes are the default state of being
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What Do You Mean I'm The New Grand Sage?!
Alhaitham, Cyno, Tighnari, Kaveh x Grand Sage! Reader; separate, gender neutral
In some twisted turn of events, Lesser Lord Kusanali herself thought you are the best candidate for the position of the Akademiya's Grand Sage. From a Haravatat Researcher to soon running a whole region, how do you deal with this? And do the prodigal scholars approve of you?
'It's been weeks now and there's still no proper Grand Sage.'
'If it were me, I would have fired the two remaining sages, they might scheme as revenge.'
'How can we trust the choices of the next Grand Sage anyways? What if history repeats itself?'
Despite the House of Daena being respectfully quiet with only murmurs and mumbles from the surrounding entourage, these unspoken words taunt and occupy the mind of the Dendro Archon as she takes into account all the thoughts of her people regarding the matter.
All the candidates for the Grand Sage and other sage positions, as well as the exceptional figures of each darshan (some of which are familiar to her) crowd around the table where the Lesser Lord situated herself.
Unfortunately, based on Nahida's standards, none of them qualify for the position.
"Lesser Lord Kusanali?" Opening her eyes, Nahida tilts her head to the Scribe situated on a seat next to her, a quill unused in his hand. "Is something the matter?"
"Just deep in thought." Crossing her arms, the god of wisdom would hum to herself as she tapped her chin. "For example, what would the new Grand Sage do once they get appointed?" And with that, she closed her eyes again.
As expected, more thoughts filtered through her mind as the audience took the bait and began pondering on the provoking question in their minds.
'Just do what the past Grand Sage did? Minus the evil? This is easy.'
'As a Grand Sage, I would probably fire all the personnel, they can't be trusted.'
'Cultivate wisdom and govern Sumeru as best as possible, right?'
'With the Lesser Lord in power, probably just answer to what she wants.'
'Hm, to what extent did Azar mess up the system anyways? It would definitely be good to fix the things that he deliberately abused as soon as possible, right? The unnecessary laws, look into the international affair decisions he's done too, he might have signed contracts that would be damaging to Sumeru in the long run -'
A hit! But an unfamiliar voice. Opening her eyes, the god of wisdom looked around the area to look for the voice to match a face.
"Are you looking for something, Lord Kusanali?" Cyno straightened up on his stance by her side as he watched the archon stand on her seat. The action urged him to scan the area too, albeit for different reasons.
'Why am I thinking about this right now? I should really hurry home -'
"Over there!" The crowd parts like the sea as everyone in the area turned towards someone in researcher garb. Which looks to be... drenched in water. Looking up from wringing the sleeves of your robe, you finally notice all the attention on you.
"Ah! Sorry about the mess, I fell in the fountain in front of -"
"You shall be the new Grand Sage, (Y/N)."
The whole Akademiya seemed to have quieted down to the point that you could hear the individual droplets of water splatter from your hair on to the marble flooring of the House of Daena.
"Huh?"
And like catharsis, everyone exploded in exclamations of disbelief. Including you.
"With their determination alone, their steadfast effort is enough to shape them to the right person to hold the title of Grand Sage."
With the absence of the Akasha Terminal and the person that holds records of documentations and research, Alhaitham was reasonably the person that people flocked towards for information about you. Despite the inconvenience, there are a lucky few that the Scribe entertained.
The male personally knows you as a Haravatat graduate who researched about the current civilization and quality of life of Sumeru in great detail, something that honored your name for being their darshan's most cited thesis. And when asked about your eligibility to be the next Grand Sage, he repeats those words, even when the archon herself asked.
After all, he himself had been privy to that determination. Your dedication to graduate and use your knowledge to create something worthwhile, beneficial, purposeful. A kind of vigor for knowledge so pure and immense that not even he remembers having the same amount of passion.
Even now as he pretends to be occupied with his book, he watches as you practically lay on the huge table for Azar the Grand Sage in exhaustion, Alhaitham was confident that your sighs results from your worry of finding the best solution.
He lowers his eyes back to the pages just in time with you finally lifting your head. "Alhaitham?" He pretends the small smile was out of politeness, not because you have yet to get accustomed to being entirely formal with him.
"Yes, Future Grand Sage?" Alhaitham masks his voiceless laugh with the book in his hand at the sight of you huffing, sputtering at the foreign title.
"Azar had you draft the gazette when he makes up a new law or order, right?" He nods, you grip your head as if you were having a headache, which is quite likely at this point. "If you don't mind, do you think you can give me a copy of all of the laws he created? And the meeting transcripts too?"
"That is certainly doable. However," you straightened up when Alhaitham stood across the table to stare you eye to eye, placing his book on your table. "That would be hundreds of documents to go through, are you sure you're able to utilize that amount for your perusing?"
The expression on your face showed that you haven't exactly accounted that part. But there it was, that flicker in your eyes that captures you so perfectly, the perseverance that had always kept you afloat. Now he can bare witness to it. "I'm sure."
Even if he didn't have to, Alhaitham stayed by your side the whole time, assisting you about certain laws and contexts if you ever needed it.
And when you fell asleep on the table after hours of reading, he immediately placed his cape on your shoulders, because you needed it.
Surprisingly enough, Alhaitham is the one who puts in a good word about your designation out of all of them.
What they're unaware of is that he's quite fond of you and your prestige, being in the same darshan had him subtly defending you from the rumors other darshans/candidates spread.
You should be grateful that you have Alhaitham as your Scribe. Not only is he meticulous and dedicated to his work, but he acts as your assistant with how closely related your positions are.
Perhaps his usefulness and help also stems with the fact that he was the most recommended candidate before he declined, and the knowledge he had honestly makes him look like your master and you his apprentice.
A lot of times, you end up comparing yourself to him when you feel like you're lacking.
Thankfully, Alhaitham's perceptive made him aware of your tells, and knows when you're having such thoughts. He would try to derail that train of thought immediately, subtly remind you of your progress, or straight up tell you you're wrong.
For such an emotionless co-worker, he sure does well with being your hypeman.
"A lack of harmonious relationship with the archon, even with the people of Sumeru, became the downfall of Azar, . That level of respect is crucial in ensuring that history would not repeat itself."
As Lesser Lord Kusanali's main guardian, it was only logical that his beliefs about what the new grand sage should embody reflects that. And perhaps there were also some details that influenced his opinion, details that he would never elaborate on.
This isn't the first time he had been less receptive to the decisions of the archon (the first being the punishment of the Sages, if you can even call it that) but this one has more potential to go awry than any other.
His cold stare only grew colder, sharper, now that you've been assigned the highest seat in the Akademiya. You can tell his prejudices without him having to spell it out.
The harshest of glares usually happen when you request an audience with the god of wisdom, him always standing by her side in case you become hostile. Which is honestly quite a hilarious take - you? Harming a god? But with the history of the previous Grand Sage's you can't exactly call his fault.
In your case however, despite the stories of Cyno's job as the General Mahamatra, you never once feared the possibility of his judgment on you as an academic. After all, if you had done nothing bad, then you're out of his case, right? So as far as you know, this is your first time knowing about each other's presence.
Although, being nominated after you fell in the Akademiya's fountain and made a mess everywhere you walked certainly isn't the best first impression.
However, after one too many times you feel a chill up your spine yet see no one when you look around the area for a possible cause, you're starting to suspect that he may know you more than you know him.
"She's currently resting in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, don't -"
"Ah, no, I'm not here to ask about Lesser Lord Kusanali today." At your sheepish demeanor, Cyno opted to close his mouth and wait for your reason to approach him. So you continued. "I was actually hoping if you could accompany me to Aaru Village."
"The desert?" Why him?
"I've heard that you've been closely working with Lesser Lord Kusanali to rebuild the relations with the desert side of Sumeru." Your fidgeting made him notice the thick notebook tucked under your arm. "I wanted to ask questions about the details, as well as see for myself what else could be done."
There was a long pause of silence that passed by with you mostly avoiding looking into his eyes directly. Humbled but respectful. Cyno sighs. "You're not in proper attire to journey to the desert, nor do you have the proper equipment." Your gaze followed his retreating form until he stopped and looked over his shoulder to you. "Are you coming or what? Standing around does not count as preparing."
"Right! I'm on it!"
It was a long process, but you managed to convince Cyno of your worth, especially when it comes to your efforts to help the desert. He had seen it all himself and at this point he couldn't deny it any further.
Cyno would find his tailing to be out of security instead of suspicion, often times finding himself walking by your side as your protector whenever you had to go out. After all, you're still an important figure, your safety is high priority.
Soon, it would be you who he would go to concerning updates about the desert, hearing out your efforts for rehabilitation. Your desert internship program to help Setaria with her education efforts is by far his favorite.
Despite being the General Mahamatra, he found a bit of his job description changing: being the protector of the Dendro Archon and the new Grand Sage.
Whenever you have to cross to the desert to either talk with the village chief or negotiate with the Eremites, he would always find time in his schedule to be your escort.
Perhaps it was his mistake to doubt Alhaitham's judgment on this one. At the very least, Cyno became your ever reliable check-and-balance.
"At the end of the day, well intentions are enough of a factor to understand the path one would trek no matter the adversaries."
Tighnari was positive that he wouldn't have to deal with the Akademiya anymore after Lesser Lord Kusanali, maybe even enjoy a more peaceful life in the forest now that the Withering had stopped spawning together with Eleazar disappearing.
But of course, the exiled sages just had to be dropped into his forest for their 'tap on the wrist' punishment. Perhaps that would be the end of the Akademiya pestering him now that there's no need to exploit him for some evil scheme.
Well, the world had never been to kind to the forest watcher, what would make this any different? The hybrid would sigh as he watched a group donning Akademiya robes approach Ghandarva Ville, none of which he's familiar with.
This is a larger group compared to the ones the previous sages trying to coerce him back to the city brought - now that he squints, there seem to be Corps of Thirsty members tailing the group, too. This doesn't bode well at all.
At least Cyno's there. "And what business do you have in Ghandarva Ville to cause such a ruckus so early in the day?" Straight to the point, Tighnari stares dryly at the person that seems to be in charge of the group.
However, at the sight of Cyno freezing up in his peripheral, the forest watcher immediately realized that this is unlike any other encounters he had dealt with. Unlike the arrogance of the other scholars and sages, he could see how you looked conflicted from speaking.
"Seeing as you don't look to be well-informed," ah there's the Akademiya scholar he expected. The researcher gestures to you. "The Future Grand Sage is here to see the exiled former sages in hopes to interview them about their previous positions."
He wants to bite back, he really does - why was he not informed beforehand? Why are there so many personnel with you? How sure are they that you are not trying to conspire with Azar? Why are YOU the next grand sage?
"Alright." And he will never admit the relief he felt when your despondent look immediately lifted at his response. "It's a bit of a walk from here. And being the person assigned to oversee their training, I would like to be there during the exchange too."
"Thank you." You cut off the arrogant spokesperson before he even uttered a single word of protest, presenting a bulky journal in your hand to the forest watcher. "I actually prepared a set of questions to ask that you could verify -"
Old habits die hard, and admittedly, Tighnari didn't want to treat you more than the people he works with everyday, the people around you can easily do that for him. But he refrained from letting any past prejudice cloud his judgment on your character: there is undoubtedly something different about you in comparison to the old sages, and he didn't want his attitude to change that.
One day during one of your many visits however, Tighnari may have spilled a bit about his discontent about the attention your entourage brings to his forest. Even with you next in charge, he still dislikes bringing the affairs of the Akademiya to the forest rangers' territory.
He thought his words was out of pocket when letters of notice regarding your arrival ceased. Did you get all the information you needed from the sages? Or was what he said finally drove you away? That wasn't at all his intentions.
One random encounter brought him answer when the suspicious cloaked figure waving at him from behind a tree turned out to be you. "You said you didn't want my personnel to come so I decided to visit discreetly from now on."
At least you were... considerate. Conversation came easy without multiple glares constantly stabbing him in the back, talking about your progress as well as the conditions of Ghandarva Ville on the way to the training area of the sages.
While he was wary and skeptical about your appointment despite his utmost trust in the dendro archon's judgment, Tighnari soon came to accept your honesty and determination.
That transparency and good-intended perseverance are what Azar lacked, but under your rule, perhaps Sumeru would really be in good hands now.
Tighnari leaned against the tree as he watched your passionate discussion with the previous Haravatat sage. Undeniably, you as you are now without the title, greatly reminds him of someone dear.
"We've long realized that wisdom alone begets arrogance. Perhaps fixing the prejudices against the pursuit of art and whatever this and that Azar has gotten his grubby hands on should be first priority."
"Let me through! I must speak with them, this is important matter, too! If the new grand sage is really -"
Turning your head towards the commotion, your conversation with Alhaitham ended shortly as a tuft of blonde became visible from the sea of Mahamata's trying to keep him away from you.
Patting the imaginary dust off his sleeves, Kaveh would look into your baffled gaze with unyielding resolve. "I've heard you had been meticulously gathering the opinions of Sumeru and thought I could be of help."
"Exercise some tact, Kaveh, we're in the presence of the appointed Grand Sage here."
"I don't need your sass today, Scribe -"
"No, it's fine, Alhaitham. I was actually planning on talking to Kaveh at some point, anyways." Wait, you are? Kaveh dumbfoundedly asked as he watched you move a few books around to get to a worn out journal under the pile. "I assume you're here to represent the arts."
Besides the conversation, Kaveh insists he takes you out to the Bazaar and his magnum opus to properly showcase the culture. Alhaitham, who looked positively displeased of the impromptu outing, had to stay back to focus on documenting a new batch of submitted thesis.
It was endearing to see someone as passionate about change in Sumeru as you talk about the harmful acts Azar published against the Bazaar and the pursuit of arts. Well, what else can you expect from the Light of the Kshahrewar?
Talking to him about anything and everything felt like you were conversing with friends, a very vocal and expressive friend. Especially when you're introduced to the Palace of Alcazarzaray, something he looks at with both pride and regret.
"I am simply making sure that Alhaitham had not brainwashed you with his sense of morality. Knowing him, you won't gather such thoughts about the importance of arts from him."
"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." You really were, after running around from here to both ends of Sumeru, you're very grateful that your source of info decided to come to you instead. "It's not an easy feat trying to undo 500 years worth of corruption."
"I can already see how Sumeru would be under your care." He flashes a genuine smile. "Thank you for hearing me out as well, future Grand Sage, I'm rooting for you. You're already doing much better than the previous Grand Sage."
It was a simple reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, but when he finally sobered up from the feeling of elation, Kaveh can't help but scream to his pillow about how buddy-buddy he acted to THE FUTURE GRAND SAGE!
Kaveh offers a fresh perspective and a lighter, reassuring encouragement in comparison. Perhaps being the person who knows less of the details helped form a positive judgment.
Like Tighnari, he keeps a level-headed approach when it comes to your position, but less about respect and more on shared beliefs.
When it comes to efforts to rehabilitate certain areas, Kaveh is always quick to offer his guidance and opinion. He knows you trust him due to his honesty and genuine want for a better future for Sumeru.
He's also the type to casually waltz in to your office when he has a brilliant idea or important information to share. At this point, he's talked to you more than the new Kshahrewar sage - if he's so adamant to be heard, why didn't he accept the nomination?
Whenever he stumbles upon you when you're outside or he sees you pondering the giant orb™ in your office, he's quick to voice his concern and urge you to take a break.
His intentions recently are hard to read, but he really does believe in you, and he's not shy to voice that fact.
You just find yourself missing the quietness of your office before Alhaitham and Kaveh's banter in front of your table became commonplace.
"The Akademiya and Sumeru as a whole would surely flourish under this new samsara if I were to lead it with you by my side."
Lesser Lord Kusanali gives a knowing look at the sight of you standing straight in the presence of the archon, opting to offer your seat (which she declined) and refusing to sit down as a sign of respect.
She didn't need to read your mind to know. "How have you been? I've heard from the others that you've been working really hard to prepare for your inauguration."
Conscious, you pulled at the grey sleeve signifying your position as the current sage of Haravatat. Admittedly, it was a little stiff and stuffy for you, thicker and more uncomfortable than your uniforms in the Akademiya as a scholar and researcher. You missed those times.
"I've gathered a lot of opinions and information about operating as a sage as well as the current matters of Sumeru." Nahida smiles widely at this, before her expression faltered when you still had a bothered look on your face.
As far as she knows, you've gathered all the resources you need, more than you need even. So why do you seem troubled still despite your meticulous preparation? "Is there something in your mind?"
"I don't - I respect your wisdom, I really do and I'm honored that you think of me this way. But I'm - is this really the right decision? Am I really fit for this?"
Oh, so it's about that! You looked up from your journal laying on the table at the sound of the dendro archon's giggles, not at all expecting that reaction. Was your question that laughable?
"Not at all, I'm just amazed that you haven't noticed." Floating over to where you stood, her tiny hands reached up to give you - head pats? Embarrassed but too scared to deny, you took the gesture. "Since that day, I was certain that there would be no other puzzle piece that would fit the position of Grand Sage other than you."
You part your lips to interject, but she was quicker.
"And besides, there are many who share my view. I'm not the only one who believes in you, and you will see it for yourself when the time comes."
"When the time comes?" Holding on to your hand, Nahida starts pulling you towards the elevator and out of the House of Daena. Only when you reached the double doors of the Akademiya did she finally let go.
"You have these doubts because you are a good person, (Y/N). And even then, your own thoughts cloud your mind from seeing that the only person that doubts you now," Nahida would gesture towards the door. "Is you."
Looking back and forth between the entrance and Nahida's encouraging smile, you took a deep breath before pushing open the door -
Only to be met by a roar of cheers and explosion of applause.
Your fellow Sages, Alhaitham, Cyno, Kaveh, even Tighnari (with his ears pressed down) stood near the entrance with smiles of their own. But looking past the Akademiya staff and scholars, a crowd made up of Sumeru citizens from Port Ormos, the Bazaar, Ghandarva Ville, and even Aaru Village occupy the platform and every inch of the paths going up and down the Divine Tree.
Their collective chants mixed together to convey their utmost respect and belief in you.
"Every single one of them are here to root for you," turning to your side, Nahida stood next to you with a gray hat cradled on her palms. "Grand Sage."
Biting your lip to stop a big wobbly grin, you finally let out a relieved sigh as you kneeled in front of the god of wisdom, closing your eyes as she walked forward to place the hat of the Grand Sage on your head.
"People of Sumeru, may I present to you the new Grand Sage, (Y/N)."
The overwhelming amount of support from everyone made you take off your monocle to rub at your eyes.
And when your biggest supporters stepped forward to congratulate you, everything felt just right.
You got this.
Can't believe my random idea got written first lmaao alright we're in the good feels arc now
@ireallylikehamsters
#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#gender neutral#cyno x reader#alhaitham x reader#tighnari x reader#kaveh x reader#exile.flower#sumeru arc#cyno#kaveh#alhaitham#tighnari
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DAY 5: KEEP THINKING OF ME ❅⋆⍋
summary: when you ‘forget’ to kiss him goodbye.
characters: alhaitham, lyney, neuvillette, xiao.
notes: i have this weird thing of progressively making the paragraphs longer than the previous, wanted to try a different format, gn! reader. wc: 160 - 200 per character.
⋆⁺₊❅⋆ dreamy december event masterlist
alhaitham
Let’s be honest, he’d remind you.
Alhaitham is attentive to detail, fairly organised when it comes to routine, and certainly notices when something that ties his hasty mornings together is forgotten. He likes to say the work of a scribe is so endlessly dreary that he should be at least deserving of some reward. Preferably, though not outwardly stated, affection in the form of a tender kiss of your silken lips, brisk, energetic or longing, he’s not fussy.
Alhaitham believes that your affection is one of the only divine cures that could possibly be the remedy to the multitude of poisons inflicting his sanity. You find it a little funny; who knew the Akedemiya’s renowned scribe and former Acting Grand Sage could be so dramatic?
So, when you do forget to kiss him before he exits the door, he makes sure to mention it, makes sure that you won’t forget the next morning, because otherwise, the Akedemiya would have to deal with a missing employee.
lyney
The thing with Lyney is…he probably had more than plenty before he even reached this dilemma.
Throughout the day, from the first sunbeams to the final streaks of moonlight, he was quite bold when it came to the showers of love he craved most frequently. In truth, Lyney considers a day terribly incomplete if he hasn’t been exposed to the warm feelings of your beloved affection. He sincerely promises you that the simple regret doesn’t leave his mind, despite all the distractions he hopes to divert his thoughts revolving madly around you. Something that beautiful should never go overlooked.
Depending on the cruciality of the situation, he’d turn back and come knocking on your door with such a solemn expression that you’d assume that someone had died. The question would arise, his voice uncertain and curious, “Did you forget something important this morning?”
The best option would be to just give him that precious kiss. You don’t want him to do anything too extreme for it, do you?
neuvillette
Did he upset you the night before?
Neuvillette’s knowledge of the complexities of human emotions and responses was, in comparison to anyone else, a little rusty, he admits. That, of course, does not stop him from trying. The often ‘lost in his thoughts’ face the people of Fontaine regularly noticed about him was merely Neuvillette grasping in the elements of human nature, for to deeply understand them was essential if he ever planned on living alongside them.
The lighthearted experiment was just to see how he would react—a small prank, you convince yourself—but perhaps, just maybe, the chief justice had sincerely thought you were mad at him.
You haven’t seen him all day.
Neuvillette seems to have abandoned the customary meeting spots you’d typically bump into him, and that’s when you know.
The idea of putting the blame on himself, making up some complicated scenario that was certainly not true, elicits a newfound determination to make it up to him, to apologise with the compensation of the truth.
That evening, you wait for the door to open, and when it does, you ensure the person entering is gifted the sincere caress of your lips—a few more than what he expects.
xiao
Xiao would continue on with his day. He’s fine, thank you for asking. So what if you forgot to kiss him goodbye?
However, it would be a downright lie to assume that he was 100% veritably unaffected. Xiao was never particularly good at masking emotions, but rather more skilled at intensifying them.
He’ll ponder and wonder; the same question answered with the same reply, repeating like a lament, carving into the inconsolable space of his mind. In other words, Xiao is sulking and in brutal denial of it.
You observe him from the distance, standing on the tip of a faraway mountain, and there’s a strong feeling that he’s gazing at you, too.
Call out my name, he almost begs, a foolish excuse to inexplicably confront you.
The sound of your voice summons him instantly; it breaks him out of his trance, and what you say next cuts through all the tragic thoughts he ever contemplated beforehand.
“I forgot to kiss you this morning,” you smile, playfully apologetic. “Did you realise?”
Xiao doesn’t say anything, there’s nothing to be said, but his actions prove all that needs to be said—how the corners of his lips tug just the bit upwards as he leans into you.
#genshin fanfic#genshin fluff#genshin x reader#alhaitham x reader#lyney x reader#neuvillette x reader#xiao x reader#anya writes ✧.*
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So all of these guys I got are just a bunch of LOZ "what if" AU's and Plants is: What if Link was the forest sage?
So he's the forest sage. Always lived in the forest and doesn't have a destiny telling him to leave. So he doesn't leave. He doesn't really like pondering about the outside world, and the thought of other people seeing him makes him real nervous.
What's that? How would he know of the outside world if he stays in the forest anyways??
But ah! In canon even the Great Deku Tree knows about hyrule proper, and same here where Link of course knows about the outside kingdom. He even knows about the Princess and her best friend the Gerudo prince, Ganondorf.
In fact, the both of them would visit him ever since they were all kids. Many times they'd come to the forest to spend time with their little forest friend. Zelda, ever the artist, wanted to have a way where they can stay with him longer and came up with the idea of painted flower pots that hold domestic plants for him.
All over the inside of the forest temple and even outside there are tons of flower pots they've pained together. He loves all of them and takes care of all his new plant friends.
The goodbyes are bittersweet knowing they'll visit again, but always knowing Link is alone whenever they're not there. One day they hope Link can join them outside the forest. Maybe on a road trip around the country and share their world with him for once.
But for now he seems very set on staying in the forest and reassures them he's fine and can't wait for them to visit again.
#legend of zelda#legend of zelda oc#link oc#legend of zelda au#my art#he's such a sweet little boy so precious#I got like uhhhhhh all of them done but Doctor Crow and Snakes oop#i just have to like type up their little lore sneak peaks and such but man these take so much brain power
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coming home - connor dewar
pairing: connor dewar x fem! reader
word count: 11k
tags/warning: friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst?, mentions of alcohol/drinking, minor swearing
summary: your entire life has entailed having connor by your side, no matter where the universe carves your paths. back home for the summer leading up to your final year of university, there's much to ponder - even your feelings about your best friend.
notes: this is genuinely a labour of love, the longest fic i've written in a long time 😭 i wanted this to be short and sweet, but it's long and sweet and i don't know how to feel about that lmao. but (!!!) i am really proud/happy about how this has come together and i hope you all enjoy this fic just as much as i loved writing it 😇 this is mostly proofread, but it is 5 in the morning, so I'll return to this soon! (apologizes for any errors towards the end!) more dewey content shall be coming soon, hehe! much love! <333
(also! this is very much in celebration of dewey's first goal as a leaf, teehee! 😁💗⭐️)
Summer’s always your favourite time of the year. Tan lines, midnight drives, fireworks, the beach. So much sweetness is in the breezy summer air and you simply can’t get enough. You wouldn’t admit it, but your favourite part of the season is when one of your closest friends, Connor, comes up from his gruelling hockey season and returns to the slow and laid-back lifestyle of your small town. Having grown up next door neighbours the majority of your lives, you quickly became two peas in a pod, always together with laughter following closeby.
Your friendship is something you’ve always treasured, held in some reclusive and special part of your heart that only houses your fated connection. No matter how mundane your time together may be - Connor strumming his acoustic guitar and you reading as the citrus sunset dips into the horizon - it's all so memorable to you and nothing, as you’ve come to experience, can ever replace his place in your life. However, life is a constant cycle of change and that first dose came when you two were fourteen, too awkward for your own good and growing out of your bodies. Connor was selected to play in a high-level hockey league hours away from your hometown and as your fingertips buried themselves into his tear-soaked t-shirt, you swore nothing could compare to this pain. The absolute tear of your beating heart out of your raw chest that ached with every gasp. You were a mess, undeterred by your futile attempt to appear as nonchalant at your silly age, but the second Connor stood on your porch, luggage in hand and the sadest tinge in his sage eyes, you fell apart.
Despite the sheer anguish you experienced that crisp autumn day, you adjusted. Stayed in contact with your best friend and continued to build up your life in his absence. Completed all your teenage rites of passage - took some extracurriculars, went to prom (you wanted to ask Connor, but ultimately decided against it), graduated high school and started attending university in Calgary - nine hours away from home. So many things changed and some still stayed the same. Connor was still as hockey obsessed and through his diligent efforts, he’s achieved his dreams of playing in the NHL night after night. You were there for draft day and there for his first game, university be damned. As was Connor, in the stands during your high school graduation and any time you needed him, whether that was him sitting on the phone with you until four in the morning or meeting up with you halfway across two countries because he felt like it. There was always something so spectacular about you two, your stories detailed by destiny and hung amongst the stars. A divine creation that despite the odds, of paths that have taken you two elsewhere, always merged because that is simply how it’s meant to be.
And, so it is, your last summer before your final year and here you are, fingertips tapping against the wooden bar as your leg jerks in anticipation of a figure that will come through your hometown bar, Punch & Judy’s doors any minute now.
Your best friend, Charlotte, manages to interweave your antsy fingers in between hers, a nurturing smile across her smooth face. “He’ll get here, don’t worry.”
Your eyebrows quirk, your legs stopping all motion. “Who said anything about worrying?”
She rolls her eyes, unamused. “You know what I mean,”
Then, she goes on to untangle your fingers, leaning her crossed arms against the bar occupied by the usual mellow group of regulars, including your own bunch of friends. “Besides, you know him. Knowing you’re here, he’s tryna get here quicker than a New York minute.”
A funny feeling flips in the pits of your stomach, an immediate flush coating the apples of your cheeks as you clumsily grab at your cider bottle. Connor always poked fun at your inability to enjoy a cold one, resorting to fruity flavours of cider. “He’s a law-abiding citizen, he’ll wait for the greenlight even if it kills him.”
“If you say so,” Charlotte casts you a glance out of the corner of her eye, smugness tugging at the corners of her lips as she takes another swig of her beer. The bell signifying the main door opening sounds in the background. “Oh, look. Speak of the devil and he shall appear! Hey there, stranger!”
Suddenly, your attention is elsewhere, eyes pinned to the tall silhouette that struts through the doorway of the LED ridden bar, kind eyes and a kinder smile with his tousled hickory hair and hushed voice finding its way to your eardrums again after so long. It’s like coming home again, watching from afar as close friends fall into endless hugs, your reunion saved for last as you beam a closed mouthed smile, reproduced by your best friend who opens his arms for a hug that solely belongs to you. You fall into him instinctively, inhaling his soft woody scent as you bury yourself in his embrace, the pendulum of your life coming to a pause as your universe centres.
“Get a room, you two!” Connor’s brother, Quinn taunts from over your shoulder, eliciting an exaggerated sigh from you as you’re reluctantly reminded of the lame chirps he seems to be full of whenever you and Connor are together.
You ignore him, savouring the moment for what its momentarily worth before Connor’s pulling away, arms loosely wrapped around the circumference of your waist as he peers down at you with those same green eyes you’ve known your entire life.
“Hi.” you breathe, short and sweet.
He simpers, something coy in the lines of his smile as he replies back, “hi.”
It’s a simple greeting, but there’s so much more in those few syllables - the endless gravity of your shared experiences and fondest memories making their way back to each other. Your eyes linger for a minute longer, taking in each other’s presence that’s long been missed due to your busy schedules leading up to your summer break. You part ways and despite how fulfilled you are to have him here and see him after some time, there’s a small knack that nags at you - hollow and wanting as you venture to a booth nearby, squishing up in between Charlotte and another one of your guy friends, Owen Power, who like Connor has been busting his ass in the NHL and friends with you all for longer than you can remember. You all chatter amongst yourselves with Connor’s brother sitting across from you, a discussion brewing as Connor returns shortly after getting a drink at the bar, sliding beside his brother with a beer in hand.
“Come on, Connie. Help me out here, these guys have lost the plot.” His brother argues, an eye roll your response.
Connor looks between your group, a knit in his eyebrows. “What’s the deal?”
“They’re tryna say, get this - that dolphins are more dangerous than damn orcas. Can you believe that?” Quinn attests, expression pinched as he ruffles the curls of his bleached hair sticking out his snapback.
“Hey! We’re well within reason to be arguing with you. You on the other hand? I don’t think so.” Charlotte proclaims, an accusatory finger directed towards Quinn.
“Yeah, not gonna lie, Quinn. You’re severely underestimating how evil dolphins are,” concludes Owen, his hand raised as he pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his sunkissed nose.
Quinn guffaws, jaw slack as his eyes flicker between everyone’s faces in quick succession, clearly in disbelief. “Are you hearing this right now?”
“Look, Q - we’ve been over this,” you start, hands extending as if to make sense of your proposed point. “You’ve been fed dolphin propaganda. We’ve literally shown you so many resources about their heinous crimes. Take it or leave it.”
Quinn groans, elbowing his older brother who wordlessly listens to the ongoing conversation. “Bro! A little help would be nice.”
A brief pause follows his younger brother’s melodrama, Connor weighing out the arguments of a conversation he hadn’t been here for, his eyes flickering over towards yours fleetingly. An unexplained shiver runs down your spine, the action camouflaged poorly as you appear to distract yourself from the sensation, fingernails scratching against the lines of your neck as you look up at the ceiling.
“Hello?!” hollers Quinn.
You swear he loves to hear himself talk.
“They’re right,” Connor concludes, eyes set on you as he speaks before he takes a swig of his beer, focusing back onto his brother. “Personally, I think you’ve been taking one too many trips to Sea World.”
“The promised land of dolphin propaganda.” mentions Charlotte.
“This is ridiculous!” Quinn exclaims, sending a heavy elbow into his older brother’s arm, all of which barely gains any sort of response from him. “What happened to honour amongst bros, huh? They don’t have that in Minnesota or what?”
Connor scoffs lightly, his smile reading amused as his head turns towards his brother. “That doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything you say.”
Quinn mumbles something under his breath, clearly displeased. “I forget you’re my harshest critic.”
Their double act entices the crowd, your circle of friends laughing amongst yourselves as Quinn folds his shoulders with his usual theatrics. No one buys into it, much less Connor who drapes his arm loosely around his brother’s squared shoulders, leaning in with a tickled pink smile that reflects within your own expression.
“You’re just mad I won’t kiss your ass.”
That earns him a shove off Quinn’s shoulders, sending him into a fit of laughter. Everyone chortles along, basking in the merriment of the moment before you’re delving into other non-controversial topics, indulging everyone in the bits and pieces of your lives they’ve missed and just like that, you're four drinks in and so sentimental it hurts. Owen suggests a walk around the town centre, a tradition you cannot help but all agree to as you all shimmy out of your respective booth, bidding Judy at the bar farewell as you file out of the establishment.
The cobalt sky dazzles with stars you’ve forgotten shine so bright here, the midday heat nowhere in sight as a cool breeze pushes you forwards. You linger behind Quinn as he impulsively hops onto Owen’s back, who stumbles at the sudden weight whilst Charlotte laughs at the unfolding scene. Nostalgia warms your heart at the sight, eyes half-closed and posture relaxing as the warm summer night holds you close and kisses your worries goodbye.
An arm drapes over your shoulders, your slow strides matching up with Connor’s as he looks to you, smile small and earnest as he playfully challenges, “Since when did you know about dolphin propaganda?”
You gasp, humour shaping your lips. “Well, you’ve been in my ear most of my life yapping about it, so…”
“Hey, I’m just saying - was I wrong?” the smirk on his face attests to his unwavering confidence and as you catch a whiff of his woody cologne, you roll your eyes in defeat, smile still on your lips.
“Considering you wore a shark tooth to school, I didn’t think so.”
You have to bite back the wide smile that fights to spread across your face, a few snickers here and there escaping before the loose ring around your shoulders closes in, Connor smushing your face inwards against the strength of his bicep. You can’t help but laugh throughout, swatting away his pesky grip that lasts no longer than a few seconds before all you hear is the echoes of your winded chuckles. In an effort to stabilise yourself from the momentary loss of oxygen, your hand seeks Connor’s, holding onto his larger and warmer as your feet hit the pavement in unison.
“Feels good to be back, doesn’t it?”
You let your head fall to Connor’s shoulder, arm wrapping around his lower back as your steps sync with such ease. A lightness in your limbs and how perceptive you can be to the sounds of downtown - car horns, hushed chatter and the like - let you know there’s nowhere you’d rather be right now than here. Back at home, with your best friends and your partner in crime who you answer in the form of a hum.
-
Your first few days back in the Pas are slow and uneventful, most of your time spent decompressing from the taxing semester and unpacking your items, all of which you didn’t know just how much you possessed. In an effort to make the most of the sunshine and get out the house for reasons other than your part time job at the local diner, you sign up for community gardening activities and ask the groupchat if anyone wants to come along. Everyone appears to have plans, except for Connor, who in the early hours of the next morning, picks you up from your childhood home and drives into town where for the next few hours, you’re knee deep in dirt under the blaring sun as you plant various kinds of greenery to spotlight the natural beauty of your rustic town.
What is certain, when early afternoon pours in, painting the sky in shades of honey and tangerine, you’re exhausted beyond belief. You have no idea how Connor makes the drive home, yet he does and when you two collapse into the hammock in your family’s backyard, your lips are slack and echoing more yawns than you can contain.
“That was great and all, but that’s knocked me out,” Connor groans, limp body shuffling in the confinements of the cotton hammock hanging off one of the trees in your backyard. The same tree which holds the treehouse you and Connor partially lived in throughout your youth. “That was more tiring than hockey practice.”
You’re tired and easily distracted, your head perched up in a way that puts the treehouse in your direct eye-line. “Remember when we’d watch movies in that treehouse?”
A brief pause follows, occupied by the tranquil chirps and running water from the nearby bird bath. “Yeah, I’d always wanna watch Jaws but you wanted to watch Disney movies.”
You give him a laugh, shuffling yourself in order to get comfortable in the small space. Why did you two think this would work like it did ten years ago? The thought occurs to you, but you brush it off to save yourself additional mental load, making the adjustments to cater to some form of comfortability in the tiny space. Even if that means sacrificing your shared personal space as your body overlaps onto Connor’s strong and firm one.
“Says the guy who knows the all the songs in Lemonande Mouth,” you counter, “And, Let it Shine.”
Without missing a beat, in his sleepy voice, Connor replies with, “kissy kissy, Roxanne, did you miss me?”
Groaning despite the snickers slipping past your lips, you bury your head into Connor’s chest, refusing to hear the rest of his ramblings. “My girl is hotter than your girl, you know it! You know it.”
To get your point across, you unbury your head, wide eyes peering up at your best friend who’s so amused by this all, hair messy and smile stretching from ear to ear. A bright sight. “Can you not?”
“You’re just hating 'cause I sing better than you.” He follows that by sticking his tongue out at you, so mature for his age that you grant him the response of a heavy sigh and an averted gaze, settling back into the peace and serenity of your backyard.
However, the silence doesn’t last long before you’re speaking again.
“Your hair’s getting long,” you observe, fingertips dancing along Connor’s nape as you absently fiddle with the long strands of his hair, silky between your fingers. “You should let me cut it.”
“Name a time and place, and I’ll be there,” he mumbles sleepily against the crown of your head, soothing you further towards a serene sleep. “Unless you fuck it up. Then, I won’t forgive you.”
You give him the satisfaction of a laugh tucked away in your chest, the ghost of a smile dissipating as the aches of a hard work’s start to plunge their teeth into your flesh and bones, body like cement as you sink further into the comfort of the hammock, into the comfort of your calm summer afternoon.
“One of my friends from my team’s supposed to be coming up for a night or two,” Connor croaks, voice hoarse and the gentle breeze of the summer’s day pecking your skin in an act of love. “Think…you’ll all get along with him quite well.”
His point is punctuated by a tired yawn that proves to be contagious as you mirror the action moments after, eyes unbearably heavy as time moves slow like molasses, body further sinking against Connor’s. You don’t even stop yourself from falling asleep, only blinking away the exhausted sting in your eyes to answer your best friend.
“Can’t wait,” you mumble, adjusting your body against Connor as your limbs slot together like puzzle pieces, matched at every curve as slumber envelopes you two in a kind embrace. “It’ll be good - the visit…and the rest of summer.”
Your words trail in a drowsy daze, tone doused in sleepiness as your eyes can no longer keep themselves open, glimpses of hickory branches and pear leaves wishing you peace and serenity as you finally fall asleep.
-
Your shift at the local diner passes without as much traffic as expected, local patrons ordering their usual with a few tourists dropping by to try the culinary experience of your average but nostalgic diner food. Due to how quiet the establishment is - Mabel, your boss and long-time owner of the diner - lets you off early and with a hug, you scurry back to your family house to get ready for the night's events. After dozing off with Connor in the hammock out back, your mother softly awoke to you with a holler she’s used since the dawn of time.
“Up and at ‘em, kids. Dinner’s ready!” in the distance of your dreams, you hear your mother yell.
With drowsy film still coating your eyes, you and Connor manage to dislodge your limbs from one another, sleepy smiles and croaky chuckles exchanged as you amble inside your house and Connor stays for a filling homemade meal that everyone at the dining table fawns over. Connor hangs back as you venture into the kitchen to wash up, a tradition you two have forged, him washing the dishes and you drying them. Not much dialogue takes place between the two of you and there is no need. For all the instances where you believed the need for conversation, you appreciate this silence so much more - how there’s no urge to talk for the sake of talking and how much comfort there is with simply just being with Connor. After you’ve done the washing up and Connor’s hugged your mother goodbye, fist bumping your father hilariously enough, he’s climbing into his car and wishing you well.
“You sure you don’t need me to pick you up from Mabel’s?” coaxes Connor, the wiggle of his eyebrows offsetting the echoes of titters that leave your lips.
“I’m good, thanks. Need to shower and get ready, anyways,” a gentle gust of wind blows, fallen leaves scraping against the cement of your driveway. “We all know how long that takes.”
“I don’t mind waiting.” Connor simpers, says like it’s the easiest thing in the world and like it doesn’t demand for the city of butterflies within you to soar beyond their ability.
You flash a strained smile, giving the top of Connor’s car a pat as your posture straightens and you step away from the vehicle. “Goodbye, Connor.”
“See you soon.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind, taking a little piece of you with him.
It’s when you’re strolling your way back inside the house, halfway up the stairs to your bedroom that your mom gives you a gentle call, beckoning you back down the stairs to find her in the dimly lit living room, mahogany reading glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose whilst the quiet snores of your father and his baseball game fill in the background noise.
She folds her newspaper, crinkles running up your spine as she addresses you. “So good to have Connie over, makes me miss him more when he’s away.”
Connor is like a son to her, the better part of your childhood glued at the hip whilst your parents cooed and awed at your loyalty to one another. He helps around the house with no complaint nor expectation of compensation, buys her favourite flowers every Mother’s day with an additional heartfelt gift come her birthday. He listens, he jokes and he cares. What more could she ask for?
“Can’t imagine how much more you miss him whilst you’re away.” she comments, throwing her denim clad leg over the other, directing all her attention to you, swaying between two feet with your hands behind your back, sceptical.
“Well, we try to meet up when we can, so it’s not too bad,” your hand goes to scratch the back of your neck, chin jutted as your head leans to the side. “…Is that why you called me down?”
Awkwardness rarely rears its head in your household built upon openness and unconditional love, which is why the unspoken truth your mother struggles to vocalise raises a red flag, your skin prickling as you fiddle with your hands behind your back.
She’s looking at you now, a maternal love in her eyes as she speaks up. “Maybe, I can’t really put my finger on it, really. I did, however, want to say that I hope you guys keep each other in your lives, however that may pan out in the future. There’s a special happiness in your eyes I want you two to be selfish with.”
It’s a small thing, she says. A snowflake amongst the pile of snow in the realms of your mind, but as you lay in bed later on that late afternoon, staring at the gold stars Connor helped hang up in your room, your mind wanders places it never conceptualised. Inserts Connor in places in your life where he hadn’t been previously - opposite you illuminated by a candle-lit dinner, dancing in a kitchen as you prepare breakfast and kiss each other in between, above your bare body as he holds you in the palm of his hand like you are the most precious thing the universe has gifted him. It’s a point in time that despite busying yourself with dipping your toes back into your hobbies - heck, even walking your next door neighbour’s golden retriever to clear your head - it never quite leaves you, awakening something deep and dormant in you that never goes away.
Snapping out of your syrupy daze, you adorn yourself in your finest line dance clothing, slipping on your gingerbread cowboy boots before you’re tying bows in the pigtails of your hair. Your mother yells down the stairs for you and you leave in a flash, kissing her goodbye as she drops you off at Punch and Judy’s, your jewellery clinking together as you walk through the main entrance.
Much like your first night back, the bar is illuminated in dim light and sharp LED lights of varying colours. Cowboy hats dominate the sea of customers, the building crowd of the bar dressed in shades of denim and tired leather cowboy boots. Knowing the others have already arrived, saving a spot at a nearby booth, you decide to make your way to the bar first, ordering your signature berries-flavoured cider, to which Punch (co-owner) makes quick work of, the cold beverage in your hands before you can blink.
“Beer not to your liking, sugar?” A smoky, mellow voice grabs your attention.
You spare a glance at the source of the gravel voice, eyes long lingering as they capture the image of a face that stirs a flip in the pits of your stomach. The man stood beside you braces his muscular arms against the hickory brown of the wooden bar, his sleepy chocolate eyes trained on yours as he takes a swig of his tequila flavoured Desperado beer. Locks of umber messily cascade along his face, unless tucked away in his vintage black cowboy hat that ties together the rugged cowboy look he presents with the sweet addition of his light stubble. To make things worse, he’s stupidly fit, his black t-shirt clinging to the curves of his muscles like second skin. If it were up to you, you’d-
“Like what you see?”
The smug comment snaps you out of your hazy olge, a pout forming upon your lips with an accompanying knit in your eyebrows. You make a point to angrily grab at your pint glass, ingesting a big gulp of the sugary alcohol whilst the rugged cowboy laughs to himself.
Even his laugh is attractive. Sick bastard.
“Coming from a man drinking a Desperado? Funny,” you have to laugh at whatever lame attempt of making conversation this man is pulling, Punch masking his misplaced laughter behind a cough as he polishes a pint glass. “How flirtatious you are.”
You admit, your latter remark is more bark than bite, a quick chirp that refuses to feed his ego yet grab his interest all at the same time. The ruse proves to work in your favour as the sexy cowboy gives another one of his huffed laughs, his body turned towards yours.
“Give me a chance, sugar. Just tryna start the night off right,” he counters, so brazenly confident in himself that you don’t know whether to laugh or shy away from his prying eyes. “Tequila beer and beautiful company - sounds about perfect to me.”
You react in a juxtaposition, eyes rolling and cheeks flushing as you divert your line of sight away from the handsome man flirting with you at your hometown bar. Perhaps, he’s some city folk travelling through the town, fancying himself a good time at Punch & Judy’s weekly hoedown Fridays, a little bit of flirting on the side to inflate his ego and keep his blood pumping. Whatever reason explains his presence, you are not one to complain. Your love life isn't very entertaining to put it mildly, so you're willing yourself not to get swept up in his caramel eyes.
Against the wishes of your quickening heart, you decide to give Mr. Handsome Traveller the time of day, body shifting as you face each other finally. “You don’t quit, don’t you?”
He cocks an eyebrow your way, something sneaky and sugary in the lines of his smile. A brief pause follows his actions, the soft rustic sounds of old town country murmuring from the jukebox nearby filling up in the space between your figures. It’s when he’s about to make yet another cocky comment that your conversation is put on pause.
Connor’s voice calls your name, head turning to find your best friend standing in between you and the Punch & Judy’s cowboy of the night, eyes wide and expectant as they shift back and forth in the middle of your standing figures.
“Dew, forget about Desperados tonight. The lady in bows will have your head otherwise.” Handsome Traveller nods his chin towards you, humour dancing in his smile as he snickers into his half-full glass.
Then, it dawns on you. Dew? One of the handful of nicknames Connor’s adopted over the course of his livelihood. So, they’re acquaintances? Or closer? Your eyes frantically search for social clues to point you in the right direction.
“The lady in bows is my best friend,” Connor explains, a bite to his words as his eyes glare a knowing look at Sexy Cowboy. He then goes on to face you, gaze softening almost immediately as his head tilts in his friends (?) direction. “This is Brandon, or Dewey One.”
Oh. Makes sense, you rationalise. This is Brandon, Connor’s close friend and teammate on his current team out in Minnesota, the one who gets into fights he can’t win on the ice whilst Connor trails nearby picking up his fallen gear. The one he told you a couple of days ago that was coming up to visit. And, of course you were flirting with him.
Of. Course.
“Dewey One?” you ask, minorly deflecting from your embarrassment and still genuinely curious.
Connor inhales, as if to speak but Brandon beats him to it.
“Brandon’s just fine,” he interjects, expression unassuming as Connor’s eyes put his visiting friend underneath a microscope. “Nice to meet you, darling.”
Normally, you’d wrinkle your nose at the sometimes sleazy pet name Brandon casually calls you, except this time round you find it more amusing than cringe-worthy, which is how you find yourself grinning as you two exchange a handshake that testifies to how strong Brandon is. You clear your throat to stop the circus unfolding within you.
“Come on,” Connor gestures over to you to follow suit. “Can’t keep ‘em waiting.”
You call out an agreement over your shoulder as you go to grab your drink, the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention as a close whisper brushes past your ears.
“I ain’t no quitter, sugar.”
-
The next couple of hours are spent packed into a crimson leather booth that peels at the ends, going from topic to topic over many a pints. Brandon fits so easily into your group, his infectious energy illuminating as he takes up space without regard, his confidence more enticing than suffocating. Everyone seems to be in good spirits as the alcohol keeps flowing and as you sit back, careful eyes watching your friends engage in conversation, you wish for this to be your forever for as long as you'd like for it to be.
A nudge against your shoulder turns your head, greeted by Connor’s sage eyes. “You ready for Judy’s Line Dance?”
His rhetorical question draws a laugh from you. “You say that like I don’t do this every time I come back.”
“Yeah, but if you were ready then, you would’ve brought your cowboy hat,” comments Connor, his veiny hands grasping gently at the ends of your braided pigtails accented with a bow. “What? Wanted to show off your pretty bows?”
He thumbs the ends of your hair, engrossed in the strands and its feel and for some reason, the casual intimacy of the moment inflates something in your chest, a balloon about to burst as you forcibly breathe in and out, clearing your throat afterwards. “They're my favourite accessories.”
Connor huffs, corners of his lips lifting gingerly as he continues his motions with his hands whilst your body remains rigid with the exception of your racing heart and crimsoning cheeks.
Your mother has definitely planted a seed you cannot unroot.
“Yeah, you’re almost always wearing them in your BeReal. posts. They’re real cute.”
For a fact you know so well, Connor’s confession comes as a pleasant surprise, one that shallows your breaths and quickens your pulse. It makes you reflect back on before, when all was platonic and the comment wouldn’t have made you bat an eyelash. Now, your skin tingles and you’re struggling to find the words to encapsulate your affection past your dry mouth. So, like many others in your position, you settle for a safe reply.
“Aren’t you a charmer?” you roll your eyes, brushing off his grasp because you might combat otherwise, projecting your attention ahead of you to come face-to-face with Brandon, who despite the engaging conversation he shares with Owen, his eyes skirt over to you.
You look away, even more flustered than before.
It’s just your luck when you hear Judy’s tap incessantly against an old microphone that you have something else to hold your focus, eyes brimming with glee as she announces the dances for the night and their updated partner songs. Last time you were here, they were still playing their beloved country hits and you danced along thanks to the amounts of alcohol you consumed, but their new playlist of pop hits within the past decade or so, you’re more motivated than ever to tear apart the dance floor.
“If you ain’t shy to do a little two step, please make your way to the dancefloor please.” Judy grins into her mic, tipping her cowboy hat as patrons make their way over to the illuminated space.
Connor makes way for you to exit the booth, your boots hitting the ground as you iron out any kinks in your outfit. Amidst your actions, you catch other movements out of the corner of your eyes, to which you find Connor playing with the ends of your bow this time round. There’s always been something so sweet and tender about him - in the way clouds are amongst a blue sky, in the way laughter spills over so easily in the presence of a found family and in how harmonies make you feel as if you're floating. But, it’s never been like this before, this intense and vivd. In a way that rids you of all thought and scares you beyond your deepest fears all at once. You’re still finding your footing in this new territory, a plain that speaks to the existence of your feelings but has no road nor destination. It’s a simple plain you seek to find some end to, picking up clues along the way that predetermine what the future holds. At the beginning, the animosity scared you pale and grey. Now, the end is what grasps your fear in a fierce chokehold. To pry yourself from the jaws of unhinged anxiety, you allow yourself to relax, to seep into the present and take it for what it's worth because the end is unknown and you’re not there yet. Not by any measure of time, you hope.
“Kick butt out there, rockstar.” His big smile deepens the soft lines of his face, a pure display of pride in his features as he gives you a pat on the back and gives way for you to shine.
It’s small, insignificant in the grand scale of things, but your smile deepens too and you nearly float to the dancefloor, adrenaline rushing through your body as the DJ prepares the upcoming music.
As you settle in line, you feel a light pressure lay upon the crown of your head, eyes darting to find Charlotte in the line next to you, giving you a wink before she faces forwards, thumbs slotted through the loops of her flare jeans. Her straw cowboy hat no longer, you reach up to find said object upon your head and with a chuckle behind your hand, your thumbs hang on your belt loops and let the music guide you.
It’s only when you’ve done your first turn that you realise that Brandon has also decided to join the line dance, huffs of amusement sounding from you as he glides and slides with a confidence dusted with his normal dash of comedy.
When Judy announces it's time for the partner dance, it’s your cue to catch your breath as you plan to evacuate the dancefloor. As mentioned earlier by Charlotte, the pretty sandy brown haired man who’d bought her a drink earlier in the night circles his arms around her waist as she gives him a smitten grin. You beam at the endearing sight, about to make your way towards your booth but are stopped in your tracks as a calloused hand clasps around your wrist.
Brandon’s expression is more sheepish than you’ve ever seen, his eyes distracted as they wander away from you. You raise an eyebrow.
“Who says the night has to end here, sugar?” His voice trembles partially, its edge lost in the coyness lining his smile as he finally looks at you with a dazzle of hope in his eyes.
A momentary pause delays your response, the moment used to turn the cogs in your head and sneak a glance back at your booth, where Connor was last you saw him, eyes trained on you as he simply watches the interaction. Under the weight of his gaze, a creeping sense of embarrassment climbs up your back, scolding the skin. You’re about to give your reply when the music starts up and Brandon speaks again.
“Put this desperado out of his misery and allow me this one dance?”
It’s so cheesy, maybe even idiotic - the words he proposes to you but he’s trying and that’s what appeals to you most, warms your heart and sways your response as you send him a nod that has Brandon cheesing ear to ear, his hand leading the way as you two fall in line.
You haven’t had much experience line dancing with a partner, the closest experience to this being a night you barely remember, happily back sliding with a fifty year old local in your college town bar who wanted to feel young again. Regardless of the fact, there’s no time to mull it over as the music already starts and your fingers are interlocking, matching up with the rest of the duos as you dance, cowboy boots stomping as you make a scene.
In all the commotion of heavy stops and ongoing thumps of Rihanna’s ‘S&M’, Brandon manages to catch your attention, mirroring your movements to a tee.
“You and Connor don’t do this much, do you?” he queries.
“You kidding me? Connie has two left feet, I’d be left for dead if it wasn’t for Charlotte.” You yell over the blaring upbeat country music, arms extended as Brandon glides you further away from his figure.
“Good thing I’m here tonight.” jesters Brandon, and you laugh along because you’re tipsy and having a lot more fun than you imagined.
Despite your familiarity with the dance routine you two execute to a tee, you’re caught off guard when Brandon brings you inwards, bracing you against his hard chest before his arm circles around the circumference of your lower back, holding you steady as he dips your body slightly. Your foot is kicked out, your (Charlotte’s) straw hat’s fallen to the scuffed dancefloor and you’ve just had the wind knocked straight out of you, eyes feverishly searching for answers as the bar falls to a hush.
You’re looking in each other’s eyes now, chest heaving and high off the adrenaline pumping through your veins from all that dancing. All time ceases to exist and it’s just two of you, sharing laboured breaths and looking for any cues for how this will end. It appears as if you’re in your own head at this point, combing through a thousand possibilities all at once to respond however you see fit. Thankfully for you, Brandon breaks the silence.
“One night and one night only.”
The sentence sends shivers down your spine and you’re pretty sure Brandon feels you quiver in his arms as he gives a brief chuckle, hauling you up onto your two feet and bringing you back to reality. You don’t really find their footing after that.
The rest of your time at Punch & Judy’s passes by in a flash, more pints being consumed over your group’s loud chatter as the night stretches on. Charlotte and her blue eyed companion indulge in another dance before he’s whisking her back to the bar and paying for everyone’s next set of drinks - bless his heart. He introduces himself as Jack, a new face in town and as he and the boys exchange pleasantries, the wild eyed non-verbal dialogue you engage in pieces together Charlotte’s sentiment and if it isn’t enough, when Jack makes his departure, she gives him a kiss on the cheek and bides him a coy farewell, a promise to meet in the next coming days on her tongue. One thing is certain, when Jack makes his exit from the bar, the door shutting behind him, you’re yelling and shaking each other’s shoulders in glee, stupidly happy and sharing that with one another.
Your table has their last drinks and before you know it, you’re being squeezed into the back of Owen’s pickup truck, sandwiched between Charlotte and Connor whilst Owen and Brandon sit up front. Over the murmured sounds of slow alternative music, you get bits and pieces of their conversation, the two excitedly talking about their shared love for Legos and the most they’ve splurged on one set. You shake your head with a laugh, going to share your merriment with Charlotte, only to find her soundly asleep, a light snore bypassing her punch pink lips.
“How you holdin’ up, champ?” Connor’s low voice draws you in, a slight head turn in his direction. “Don’t think I’ve seen you dance like that since we were ten and begging our parents to have a sleepover.”
The image is so vivid in your brain, two wide eyed kids that held hands as they begged and pleaded to have a sleepover, only for their polite request to be refused. Taking matters into your own hands, you dragged your parents’ big hands into the living room, where in front of them and an oblivious Connor, turned on MTV and danced to some popular song of the time. Lucky for you, it worked. Unluckily, Connor would hold that over your head forever onwards.
You’re cringing into your hand, face mangled in discomfort as you wish away the reality of you doing that away. “One of us had to convince them. Plus, it worked, didn’t it?”
“I can’t argue with that,” Connor laughs behind a fist before his hand falls to his side, a moment of quiet between you two. “You and Brandon seem to be hitting it off.”
A single eyebrow raises to express your confusion, perplexed frown prominent not because of his statement which is completely true, but because there’s an edge to his voice - something unfamiliar and cold in the way he says his words - a tone you’ve yet to hear, even after all these years. Uncertain how to proceed, you choose to be cautious about the matter, selecting your words carefully.
“He’s nice,” you state, because Brandon is but something in you twists uncomfortably, feels the recognizable pangs of embarrassment as you’re subjected to uttering this out loud. Or rather, in front of Connor. A betrayal of some sorts. “You were right about him fitting right in with us.”
There’s a strange shift in the air in the backseat of the car, the once peaceful quiet now becoming increasingly heavy and awkward as your words hang in the air like knives. Connor absorbs your words, stare averted as he watches his fingers fiddle with the lock of the door on the windowsill. You run your palms against the material of your denim shorts because you don’t know what to do with them otherwise.
It’s only when you’ve scratched the back of your neck, eyes stiffly roaming the interior of the car that Connor replies. “Yeah..I guess I just didn’t know how well.”
You’re about to ask him what he means by that, going to press him but Owen’s suddenly shut off the truck, his blinding interior lights turning on and him killing the ignition, alerting you of your arrival. Connor climbs out before your vision reverts back to normal, so you put the matter on pause and softly wake up Charlotte who sheepishly wipes away dried drool at the corner of her lips and climbs out the pick-up with you. You’re about to shut the door behind you, though someone beats you to it.
“I got it.” Brandon’s husky voice sounds from behind you, the slam of the door following.
You send an appreciative smile his way, perhaps a bit of timidity mixed in there too, turning to include Charlotte in any possible conversation to come, only to find her halfway up the porch stairs of Connor’s house.
How is it always the two of you left alone?
“Let’s head in, it’s chilly out here.” suggests Brandon, you falling in line with his request as the beginnings of goosebump dot your arms, the roughness of your skin hitting an all time high as Brandon’s large hand falls to the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs into the cosy and quaint house.
Hums of conversation lead from the back porch of Connor’s house, the presence of your friends known as you wordlessly navigate your way through the halls of Connor’s house, hallways and framed pictures you’ve committed to memory. When you’ve made your way to the kitchen, you find Owen nursing a cool bottled water, hair tousled and cheeks dusted in pink.
“There you two are,” announces Owen, fingers threading through the waves of his brown hair. “Everyone’s out back - apparently, Quinn’s out back too.”
You waste no time beelining for the backyard, the sudden weight of your reality dawning on you the second you stepped through Connor’s doorway, a cold shower of water easing you out of the mirage you’ve impulsively floated in. Once you’re outside, the cool air sinking into your skin, you spying the usual suspects - Quinn, Charlotte and Connor gathered together around a fire Quinn boasts about making. His glee is short lived.
“That boy scouts training finally coming in handy, huh?” Charlotte banters, a suppressed smirk sneaking amongst her features as she takes a seat in one of the camping chairs surrounding the fire.
“You laugh now but when you need someone to tie an impossible knot and survive off the land, don’t come running to me.” responds Quinn, taking a swig of his beer as Charlotte holds her hands up in surrender, laughing regardless.
You’re about to turn on your heels to head back inside, retrieving a beverage of your own, but a familiar call of your name is stopping you in your tracks.
“I’ve got your cider here,” alerts Connor, expression indifferent as he approaches you to hand off a can of your favourite berry cider and a bottle of water. “Blankets are on the chairs too.”
It’s embarrassing how much you want to melt into this man’s arms right now. Nonetheless, for reasons you know all too well, you express your gratitude in a toothy grin that he mirrors with a closed mouth, pulling you down into the camping chair beside his.
Soon enough, Brandon and Owen are sitting round the fire too and your night ends like this, light-hearted discussions under the stars as the heat from the open flame soothes your heavy eyelids closed. Whilst you’re mildly awake, you don’t miss the glances you and Bradon trade over the sandstone fire, loaded questions in his eyes. Had this been any other occasion, any other person not linked to Connor, any other reality where your current feelings didn’t exist for Connor, then there would be no questions asked, blossoms of wine doting both your necks come tomorrow morning. Alias, these were not the conditions and simply lounged in your camping chair, hoping Brandon didn’t look your way every time Connor’s hand would play with the bows in your hair.
-
Arm hanging out of his shiny porcelain white pick-up truck, Brandon squints as the rays from the blistering sun reflect into his eyes. Having said their goodbyes earlier, Connor and Brandon dab each other up with good-natured smiles before Brandon throws his focus over to you, standing with a bit more awkwardness than you’d like.
“Take care, Lady in bows,” Brandon says, a well-mannered nod sent your way with a closed mouth smile. “Don’t give Dewey a hard time. He’ll come round.”
For a split second, you’re eyeing him as if his face contains all the answers, but when he gives you that knowing look, the same one Charlotte and your mother give you any time Connor’s name is mentioned - you know. Know all too well and blush as a result, head snapping behind you to see if Connor’s within earshot. Thankfully, he’s in the middle of chatting with his brother, hands in his pocket as Quinn points off into the distance. You circle back to Brandon, the apples of his cheeks clear as day as he snickers like he’s been told a secret.
It’s as if this best kept secret brings you infinitely closer, your walls falling as you begin to bare the depth of your sentiment surrounding Connor. There’s no more beating around the bush, so you lower your head as you kick at the rocks at your feet. “You think so?”
You hate how small your voice comes out, meek and questioning everything known to man. It’s unfamiliar and not to mention, uncomfortable in every aspect of the word. Alias, Brandon sees you - catches the vulnerability you’ve shared with him and embraces you with a kindness that ushers a relieved sigh from you as he responds back.
“I’d bet my NASA Space Shuttle lego set on it.” Brandon banters, smirk soft and small.
So, he’s serious. Very serious, it seems because you know how treasured the item is to him. You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.
“Thanks, Brandon,” you breath, coyness coating your cheeks as your hands fall behind your back, your fingers tangling. “Don’t go fighting no alligators.”
“We can only hope,” Brandon gives his side-door a smack, rounding up everyone’s attention. “I’m hitting the road, fellas. Enjoy the fair for me, yeah?”
A chorus of agreements go off from behind you before Brandon gives one more salute, speeding off into the canary yellow sun. The small crowd outside Connor’s house disperses and regroups again later on that day, refreshed and ready to attend the local fair held every summer and the highlight of the year.
The fair lives up to its expectations, grand and joyful with a variety of rides ranging from teacups to a catapult-like ride that swings back and forth and then upside down. You’re distracted by all the colours, the sights and sounds that you’re so oblivious to what goes on right before you, until your vision is shrouded in black and your face is submerged in fluff.
Retracting, you blink your eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, lips parting as you stare at the massive latte-coloured teddy bear that Connor presents to you, the rest of your friends nearby taking their turns at the darts board way ahead of them.
He must see you struggle to find the words, his grin infectious as he jests, “I think I’ve finally out-conned the concessionaires.”
You must look like an idiot, or a deer in the headlights as Charlotte jokes, disbelief strikingly apparent on your face as you reach for the souvenirs, the fluffy animal so cosy in your arms and melting your heart into a big puddle of goo. “Thank you, Con.”
“Don’t mention it.” a smile plays tenderly on his lips, the sheer kindness he captures in his sage eyes enough to make your pulse race and head spin.
After the thoughtful gesture, your high spirits cannot be tamed as you indulge in every little thing your heart desires - laughing a little harder, smiling a little wider and stuffing your cheeks full of hearty food that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Charlotte basks in your glee, speaking of a glow you radiate as she snaps photos of your stuffed cheeks, a knowing smirk on her lips as she hands you your teddy bear once your food is finished. You don’t reply, exchanging words through your glances as you make your way towards the second bit of rides the boys want to try.
“Wait, isn’t that…?”
As Quinn’s voice trails off into the distance, you find yourself turning in the exact direction where he directs your view, eyes landing on a pair of figures - one being Connor and the other being, Amelia, Connor’s ex-girlfriend from high school and most notably, his last girlfriend. Her waves of blond hair glisten in the sunshine, something like a Renaissance painting. Her smile bright and wide as she greets Connor with an enthusiastic hug, a hug you feel lasts longer than necessary.
They then go on to immerse themselves in conversation, and for the life of you, you can’t look away - pry your jealous eyes away nor dry swallow this bitter pill because she’s still so into him. Hands familiar and all over him, leaning in when she gets the chance and beaming like she’s won the lottery. In all fairness, her life’s been such a tale - excelling academically, incredibly driven in all sports and other extracurricular activities that garnered her attention. And such a kind spirit too, always there to help no questions asked that it made you physically sick that you could foster any ill feelings towards her, because she’s such a light and maybe Connor would see that too. As he did when they were together.
You’re too busy losing yourself in a sea of self pity that you don’t notice Charlotte's attempts to snag your attention nor other things at first, your illegitimate fears getting the best of you but as your posture stoops, your eyes floating everywhere around the busy fair that it pauses on Connor’s figure. Once immersed in conversation, he appears distracted, indifferent somehow as his attention wanders, wanders over to you as his line of sight floats over to you from time to time as the conversation stretches on. At first, you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, feeding into delusions that’ll soothe your pity party, but at some point, he holds your gaze, giving Amelia a pat on the back before he’s jogging over to where your friendship group is, not even uttering a word as he slots himself between you and Owen.
“What was that about?” Quinn just has to ask.
“Oh, Amelia just wanted to catch up,” he sounds distracted, his mind elsewhere but you don’t dare to indulge, your sight directed elsewhere as you grip onto the plush teddy bear as if it were a lifeline. “She says hi, by the way.”
You don’t do much listening after that, tuning out all the colours and sounds of the fair as you ride the highs and lows of what your life has become.
-
A sense of urgency plagues you from that day forth, a hurriedness in your actions as your anxieties get the better of you, going from lounging around in day old pyjamas covered in crumbs and mystery stains to getting a head start on your master’s personal statement and running every errand you’ve been procrastinating. Your parents swear you’ve become a different person - venturing outside the house before noon to visit the bank to change your address or go get your car serviced. Perhaps seeing Connor with Amelia was the jump start you needed to stop relishing in instant gratification, distracting yourself from facing any sort of music that pertained to the future and all its question marks. You still hang out with the others, more so Charlotte as you spend a few afternoons at the lake with one another, feet dangling into the water as she updates you on her adventures with Jack.
It’s the first time someone’s pursued her with such sincerity and charm that she’s hesitant about his authenticity. And yet from the sounds of it, Jack doesn’t mind one bit and shows his patience as they get to know each other, the smitten man taking your best friend on dates that further solidify their connection. You couldn’t be any happier for your best friend, this kind of treatment a long time coming, all of which you express just to see her blush and dive into the cold lake water to avoid further talks. You chase after her, teasing her mercilessly as the thoughts still linger at the back of your mind - your own sentiment with regards to Connor and what has come from the change of heart.
Emotional anguish and so much fear you’re not sure what to do with yourself. It takes a week of mulling things over, his missing presence due to off-season hockey training for you to make up your mind, peeling into his driveway and hiding your apprehension behind a strained smile as he greets you at the door. You preoccupy every bit of silence with running chatter, because you don’t want to hear yourself think, a multitude of topics discussed over vodka pasta you make together before you’re finding your way into his bedroom, the early evening sky greeting you as he flicks on his buttermilk bedside lamp.
He brings out his guitar, the same one you gifted Connor two years ago at the height of his newly-found hobby and plucks the strings, creating a melody you compel yourself to relax into, somehow ending up sandwiched in between him and the guitar as he directs your fingers to play one of your favourite songs, just because.
Apparently, your shaky hands don’t make for good playing material.
“You’re shaking like a leaf, you cold or something?” notes Connor, his looming presence over your body sending you into overdrive, your skin feverish and mind imploding from overwork.
“This is different.” you annouce, because it is. Unlike times before, it didn’t mean as much to be alone in his bedroom with him, getting glimpses into the life he’s lived and who he is as a person through all his possessions. You could handle the casual intimacy - the soft spoken whispers, the unprovoked kindness, the skin to skin contact that didn’t send your heart into a series of flutters. Now, all you can do is bat an eyelash, many at that, and this you must make known. For the selfish reasons you can think of.
“What d’ya mean?” he mumbles, clearly distracted and known the wiser to his breath fanning over your neck, goosebumps rising against your skin as your body grows rigid against his.
So acutely aware of your proximity, of the bursting feelings that thud at the confinement of your chest, your thoughts scatter like glass. “This, Connor. Being like this…with you.”
That strikes a chord with Connor, his motions ceasing altogether as his hands drop from the guitar and you’re forced to face the music. Sink your teeth into this undeniable truth that’s followed you all these years and you’ve been too blind to see. Confront the holy truth that maybe there was more divine work intertwined in your story with Connor, that maybe the universe wrote you two as one heart as opposed to two. That, as the summer days ticked by, the sun seeping into your skin, your love grew for Connor like molasse - slow and thick and palpable that once you were aware of its existence, that’s all that consumed you. Coated in his syrupy love, an endless desire.
You’re facing your best friend in spite of the hellish screams in your mind to play this off as some random mood swing, a joke even, because laughter follows you two everywhere, right? But, you know. Know better than anybody else that Connor knows you, like the back of his hand. Sees right through any charade you may jester him with, so any attempts to divert the conversation are as pointless as anything. Your confession starts and ends here.
A flicker of concern mixes in the dark of his eyes, hands clasped together with a crease in between his eyebrows. “I don’t follow.”
A full body sigh draws out of you, shoulders sagging and back curving, your hands casting aside the acoustic guitar with caution. You’re back to staring at each other, in the silence of the night, caged in between four walls that burn your eyes white as you once again grapple with your innumerable feelings and the finality of it all - this longing.
“Don’t you think,” you croak, question in your eyes as you look up at Connor, stifling any rise in emotion within you. “-this summer has been different?”
His sage eyes cast away, pink lips settling into a pout as he racks his brain for whatever answer you may be looking for. “No? Maybe? I don’t know.”
He adds on, looking back at you as he leans closer without fault. “Is this because it’s your last summer before you graduate?”
Connor’s got a point. When you’re trying to kid yourself into not having romantic feelings for your childhood best friend, your mind wanders to places where it has more control. Plans for after college, what modules you’ll be taking, what societies you want to join, what last things you’d like to cross off your list before you’re forced into full fledged adulthood. It’s a thought that lingers ever so presently at the back of your mind, like background music stuck on loop, but ultimately, Connor has missed his mark and you tell him so.
“Partially, but,” you wet your lips, struggling to find the words again as the burn against your cheeks proves to be insufferable. “This is what’s been on my mind more than anything else.”
Your point is accentuated by your single finger gesturing between the two of you, a poor attempt at best to foster some sort of confession of your romantic feelings. Because it's so scary, lending these thoughts your voice because they become much more real, spoken aloud for his ears to hear and his heart to see. For his heart to feel and what then? What awaits you once your confession reaches his ears? The unknown is scary, chilling to the bone and you wish to shroud yourself from it as long as there’s daylight.
There’s a beat before you hear Connor’s voice again. “What about us?”
Hearing him vocalise those three words makes the moment so real, so vividly intense that it sends chills down your spine and slows your laboured breath, the thump of your heart all you can hear aside from the ticking clock against Connor’s bedside table. It ticks and ticks, signifying the curtain call to your summer long charade.
“Connor, I..” It’s as if the magnitude of your feelings have manifested into some beast, with razor-like fangs and sharp claws that slash at the confinements of your chest, the words of love dying on the tip of your tongue as the moments hangs over your head like a gauntlet. You’ve never been so scared before, driven nearly to tears as your desperate hands grip at the material of your hoodie to ground yourself in some sort of way whilst you try to push yourself. To see this through until the very end and leave the destination unknown.
“We’ve been friends our entire lives. I don’t know anything beyond being with you and I never wanted to, and I feel like that means so much more than it did years ago,” his eyes are on you, undivided attention served on a silver platter that you turn away from, for its sincerity and shine. “Maybe, I did know deep down inside what I know now all those years ago. Like when I cried and begged for you not to leave the Pas. Or when you held my hand any chance you got when we were kids, or anytime you smiled at me really that let me know I always liked you. Maybe, even love you - I don’t know. But, what I do know is that I just couldn’t leave for Calgary without letting you know. Even if that means…”
You don’t have the heart to utter your next words, a dagger to the heart at even the possibility of losing your best friend and partner in crime. Perhaps, it isn’t worth saying - this whole grand love confession because this is a risk you’re not ready to face. However, despite your thundering heart against your bruised chest and however many times you’re second guessing yourself here, the weight lifted from your words is undeniable. An unspoken truth that had been set free, that needed to be set free - whatever the fallout may be.
A snicker snaps you out of your deep seated fears, your scattered daze settling on the view before you, one you had least expected. Connor, eyes cast away from yours as he huffs into his hands, a laugh you’re undecided where it derives from.
“…Are you laughing at me right now?” You feel awful for even asking such a ridiculous question. At the same time, you’ve just been as vulnerable as you’ve ever been in your entire life - some hesitancy is to be expected.
At your question, Connor’s huffs of delight cease and stares at you at alarm, realising his mistake. “God, no. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I just-”
“You used to rub dirt on me, and now you're proclaiming your love for me,” an airy laugh puffs out of his moving chest, a mixture of disbelief and amusement painted amongst his chiselled features. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”
He seems…happy? Relieved? You’re not really sure, but what you at least find peace in is that there’s no sunken look about him, no expression worn that conveys disappointment and hurt because that’s all you’d have to see to know where his heart lies.
“Good or bad?” you ask.
His eyes bounce back to yours, those same olive eyes you’ve spent years looking into, glimmer with a sparkle that you’ve yet to see and robs you of rational thinking as your heartbeat picks up the pace.
“Good,” he whispers, like it’s a secret for just the two of you - one that is small and fragile, but so special and cherished that it makes your heart squeeze. “Because, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. Not by a long shot.”
You swear you could cry, burst like a dam and drown in your tears that overflow with such joy and relief because this is it for you. So right and settled, being where you’ve always meant to be - so loved and treasured by the one person who knows you better than yourself, someone who’s seen you at your most awkward and at your worst, and loves you because he has. Because he’s seen it all and wants to spend the remainder of his life doing so, a conscious choice he makes everyday because he loves you and you love him.
You’re unsure how you’ve ended up like this, limbs curled up in your lover’s lap as he cups your cheeks, rough thumb caressing the skin as his love shines through his gaze that blows his iris’ out of view. He looks so beautiful like this, unabashed and vulnerable, secure in love and what destiny holds for you. He looks at you as if you colour his skies and spin his world round and just like that, you lose yourself in him. Thread your fingers through his strands of umber brown and kiss him like you mean it. Kiss him long and hard, and with everything you have because it’s long overdue, so needed that you melt into him, lips overlapping as you taste destiny on his tongue.
The story of you and him, a tale as old as time.
#connor dewar x reader#connor dewar#connor dewar fic#cd24#minnesota wild#toronto maple leafs#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#hockey imagine#hockey fic#connor dewar fluff#dewey 2#brandon duhaime#dewey 1#dewey#residenthughes
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