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residenthughes · 1 month

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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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minustwofingers · 1 year

Text

exoplanet p. 4.5

second half of exoplanet part 4!

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: PLEASE READ! mentions of nsfw content (read at your own risk), violence, explicit language. also a lot of angst. ellie is still kind of a dick but not quite as much.

a/n: haha. isn’t it sooo funny how i said this would come out almost 12 hours later and then i posted it? i need to hit the hay early asf today if im to be frank w you guys so here it is now. i want to thank you all for the sweet and kind messages and comments i’ve been getting—they’ve been fuel for my writing!! also, i’ve got a better idea of how i want to end it now, so i’ve got a pretty good outline for what’s going to happen. expect around 3 more parts (one of which may or may not be an epilogue from ellie’s pov). as always thanks for reading!

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4.0 (first half of this part)

playlist inspired by exoplanet!!

wc: 6.5k

tags: @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower

enjoy x

Dina’s sudden reappearance in your life was turning into one of the best things you had going on. When you were done with work, instead of loitering about Joel’s home and hoping to run into Ellie, you’d knock on Dina’s front door and spend your afternoons gossiping and trading stories.

She never asked so explicitly about Ellie again, but you could tell that occasionally she wanted to.

“Guess whose birthday it is this weekend?” asked Dina one day in late April. The Wyoming sun was hung high in the sky, and the weather was steadily becoming warmer. The temperature was stuck at a breezy 60, and a part of you wondered just how hot it would get over the summer.

Terranova rarely ever got over 70 degrees. Would it be hotter than that? Would you even be here to see it?

“Yours?” you guessed casually, pushing away the ever-present question of how long you’d really be in Jackson.

Dina snorted. “No. Not quite. You just missed mine, actually. I’m a December baby.”

“Jesse?”

“No.”

“Joel?”

“Nope.” Her mouth popped on the p.

Your heart thudded. “Uh—Ellie?”

Her face split into a wide grin. “Yes! It’s her 20th. Isn’t that crazy? She’s ancient.”

“Wow!” you said, coaxing faux enthusiasm into your voice.

You and her had kept seeing each other at night, long after Joel had turned in. It always proceeded like clockwork—she’d come knock at your door, you’d fall into her bed, and then you’d leave.

You’d thankfully avoided any of the embarrassing stuff that you’d done the second night—no more unnecessary sensual face touching and whispers of her being a good person. You wanted to, though. There was so much that you ached to tell her, so many words that threatened to spill from your lips that you just barely managed to keep at bay.

The worst part was the way that nothing had really changed between you two beyond what transpired every few evenings in her room. Each morning, you’d wake up knowing that you were in for another day of pretending like she didn’t know what it sounded like when you whined and begged and told her where to touch you. Like you didn’t know how her mouth tasted.

“I want to get her a present,” Dina was saying. “I do something for her every year, but I want this birthday to be a little different—given that she’s made it two decades and all, you know.”

“That’s really thoughtful of you.”

Dina’s eyes sparkled. “I know! Do you want to help? If you do, I’ll tell her it’s from you, too.”

“Actually,” you said, wheels in your head turning, “That would be amazing. I have no idea what I’d get her otherwise.”

“Great.” Dina leaned back, nabbing her backpack from the ground and fishing through it until she produced a map. She unfolded it and began gesturing over the marks. “I found an abandoned bookstore in this area outside of the wall.” She tapped on a dot that she’d made, situated a fair ways away from the wall and on the opposite side of the town as the dam.

“So we’re going shopping?”

Dina laughed. “Yeah. 5 finger discount, too. The only problem is that we might need to kill some baddies to qualify, but once we clear our way, it’s home free.”

“Right,” you said, fear creeping into your bones at the thought of having to fight off the infected. You’d only been on a few patrols since you’d been shot, and each had been totally unnoteworthy. You’d yet to actually shoot your gun at anything. “You—you do know that I’m not actually that good of a patrol partner, right?”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Dina, waving her hand dismissively. “I can take care of us. Plus, we haven’t seen infected in this area for a while. This is a pretty remote area—tough to reach unless you know what you’re looking for.”

“So, when are we going?”

A glimmer appeared in her eye. “Now?”

“Where are you going?”

Ellie stood, her arms crossed as she leaned against the opposite wall. You were grabbing your patrol things, slinging your backpack over your shoulders and pulling on the gray sweatshirt she’d given you.

“Out with Dina,” you said, slightly breathless from moving so quickly. You hadn’t been expecting Ellie to be home—normally she was keeping herself busy picking up extra patrol shifts and helping Joel. It had been an unwelcome surprise to run into her, sour faced and serious while you were trying to get ready.

“Out where?”

You shrugged, trying your best to look nonchalant. “Dina said she wanted to show me something.”

She was silent as you finished lacing up your shoes, but you could see her watching you from the corner of your eyes.

“I’ll be back in time for tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you offered snidely, hardly realizing what you’d said until it had left your lips. It had been a low blow. It had been nasty. You weren’t sure why you’d said it.

“That’s not—” She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” You stood up, feeling deflated. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

Ellie sent you a tight smile. “It’s fine.”

You walked back to Dina’s feeling heavy. That was how most of your interactions with Ellie seemed to go nowadays—awkward, stiff, and remarkably unfriendly. You weren’t sure what changed. And she was still fucking you, which didn’t make much sense.

Sometimes it felt like she was distancing herself on purpose. But that had to be wrong, because why would she do that? You obviously liked her. She wasn’t the one at risk of being hurt.

You and Dina took off by foot as the sun began to set, well-armed with both weapons and navigational equipment. Well—Dina was, at least. All you had was the small gun Ellie had given you. Dina was doing all of the heavy lifting.

The forest was quiet, interrupted only occasionally by songbirds and the sound of wind rustling through the leaves. Spring had hit Jackson suddenly, the underbrush exploding in volume and flowers blooming everywhere.

As you two walked through the woods, chattering mindlessly and generally enjoying each other’s company, you made a mental reminder to return to the forest to pick up a makeshift bouquet of flowers. Ellie didn’t seem like the type to swoon over things like that, but even the most unromantic people could recognize the gesture of flowers. You were sure she’d at least put them in a vase.

Eventually the path Dina was leading you on opened up to a heavily overgrown street, a small decrepit strip mall hidden away in the shrubbery.

“Here!” said Dina cheerily. She jogged forward, scrubbing the moss off of the door to show a book icon on the filthy glass.

“And you said that there’s no infected here?” you asked, your fingers wrapped nervously around your gun.

“Of course I did,” said Dina. “Do you think I’d take you somewhere that was infested?”

The glass shattered as a body came crashing through the door, thrashing and clicking in a mass of bloody limbs as it took Dina to the ground.

Your finger squeezed the trigger before you could think, sending a spray of gore into the air as Dina forced the thing off of her and stood, panting.

There wasn’t even a chance to breathe. A piercing shriek cut through the air before three more followed the first, not paying any mind to the jagged edges of the broken door that grabbed at their mutilated skin.

“Fuck!” Dina’s knife went swinging through the air, slicing and jabbing at the creatures in front of you. They fell in quick succession, but there was more rustling and screaming from inside. Far too much rustling. “Run!”

She didn’t have to tell you twice. Despite the fact that you’d never been a track star in school, you bolted quicker than you’d even known possible. Your backpack banged against your back as you sprinted down the road, ducking into the brush and making a break for it with Dina right on your tail.

The walk there had taken close to 30 minutes. Your sprint cut that in over half. You and Dina ran in stride, with her lagging behind to send off a few shots to ground the runners that were quick enough to keep up. The clearing you appeared in all the way back in the winter flashed by you in a second, and within another few moments, you were both resting against the wall, chests heaving as you both picked off the stragglers that had come out of the forest to investigate.

By the time the last gunshot rang out and the final infected slumped to the ground, you were shaking uncontrollably, your gun vibrating in your hand.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” said Dina, equally breathless though significantly more composed as you two walked through the entrance, getting concerned looks from the people who were manning the gate. “I’ve never seen so many in that store before. I don’t understand. It was clear the last time I went.”

Before you could respond, someone stepped into your eye line.

“What the fuck did you do,” seethed Ellie. Her eyes were wild, her lip curled in a manner so derisive you began to wonder if you’d ever actually seen her angry before this.

“Chill, Ellie,” said Dina. “Y/N and I were just going to try and pick something up for your birthday. There were…a few more than what I was expecting. But it’s fine. We handled them. She did great.”

Ellie looked at you then, and you could feel her taking you in. Her eyes rested with accusation at the way that your hands were trembling. “You’re so fucking stupid, Dina. You knew that she’s never done this before. What the fuck is wrong with you, taking her out like that?”

“It was clear the last time I was there!” Dina spoke with her hands, waving them through the air in emphasis.“There wasn’t supposed to be any. I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t purposefully try to get us killed.”

Ellie sent her another scathing look before turning her attention to you. “And don’t even get me started with you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” she snapped.

Dina sent you a wink and disappeared down the street in the direction of her house.

“I was thinking of your birthday, actually,” you said delicately. “We were going to get you something from the bookstore.”

“That is not an excuse to go get yourself killed!”

You held up your hands in mock surrender, which looked really stupid considering how hard you were still trembling. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the original plan. Can we not do this right now? I’m still trying to, uh, process what happened.”

As if to punctuate your point, the next step you took nearly sent you to the ground, your knees wobbling.

Ellie’s hands were at your sides in an instant, solid and steadying against you as you regained your balance.

“Sorry,” you said again, lower this time.

“How many?” Ellie asked. Her voice was softer now, almost resigned. She hadn’t let go yet.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “After the first three or four, I lost count. They just kept—” You winced at the memory of the wet sound that they made hitting the ground. “They just kept coming.”

“You did them a favor,” said Ellie, stepping back and to your side as you began to walk forward. Her hand stayed posed on your forearm. “It gets easier.”

“I don’t know if I want it to get easier,” you confessed.

“Well, how about you start by never doing something that fucking stupid again.” Her words lacked any venom. “Don’t you ever go out without me again, okay? Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you?”

You gave your trembling hands a look. “I can take a guess.”

Ellie walked you back to Joel’s house, helping you out of your jacket and unsubtly checking your skin for bites. Or at least that’s what she said she was doing. She couldn’t seem to stop touching you.

You headed back up to your room to get changed as Ellie shut the front door and was off to finish her work with Tommy. As you leisurely made your way down the hallway, you noticed that something was off—the hallway closet was slightly ajar.

The memories of your first night there came floating back to you, images of Ellie shutting the door before you could see inside emerging to the forefront.

It wouldn’t hurt to look, would it? It was probably nothing.

Your hand wrapped tentatively around the handle, pulling the door open so slowly that the old, rusty hinge fell silent.

It wasn’t what you were expecting. It wasn’t what you were expecting at all.

It wasn’t really a closet—there were a few shelves, but no hangers. In their place, there were stacks of textbooks with old, dated covers of the stars, planets, and physics. The back wall was plastered with drawings of constellations and calculations in Ellie’s messy scrawl, reminiscent of the leftover scrap paper from when you sat your physics exams and did your problem sets.

The memory of Ellie staring at your textbook re-emerged to hit you with full force. No wonder she was interested in it. THIS is what she was going to say that she wanted to study when you’d asked her.

A slow smile crept onto your face as you thought about her upcoming birthday.

You knew what you were getting her now.

Preparing for Ellie’s surprise party was a full day’s worth of work. You and Dina had convinced Maria to give Ellie enough things to do that she’d stay out of the house for the majority of the afternoon. You felt kind of guilty that Ellie was being put to work on her birthday of all days, but Dina just shook her head.

“It’s Ellie,” she said. “She lives to act all macho and patrol and shit. This is probably an extra present to her.”

You two had located some flour, sugar, eggs, and butter and were hard at work baking a cake. It was tough going without a real recipe, but you’d grown up with a mother who loved baking, so you tried to do it from memory.

The result was a rather lopsided looking monstrosity that you and Dina had attempted to salvage through the liberal application of the thin icing you’d managed to whip up using milk and powdered sugar. It didn’t work, and you two didn’t wait long enough for the cake to cool before frosting it, so it melted in puddles and made the cake soggy.

“Fantastic work,” said Dina, wiping her hands on her front as you two surveyed the final product. “Really incredible, Y/N. You should really consider a career change.”

“Shut up,” you said, snorting. “Ellie’s gonna hate this.”

“She’s going to think it’s hilarious,” Dina corrected. “I’m sure it can’t taste too bad, right?”

You shivered. “Don’t say that.”

The decorations and gathering of presents were thankfully an easier challenge, and before you knew it Joel’s living room was fixed up to look obnoxious as possible, with a tacky “HAPP BIRTHDAE ELLIE” strung up in blood red reflective plastic (you two couldn’t find any Ys) above the fireplace. “Happy 5th Birthday!” balloons filled the ceiling, their gaudy purple color clashing horrifically with the red of the lettering.

“This is just awful, Dina,” you said. “Ellie’s never going to speak to us again.”

“You need to chill,” Dina responded. “She might act grumpy all of the time, but I know her, and I know she’ll secretly like this.”

7 rolled around quickly, and with it came the guests.

First was the unsurprising Jesse, grinning and carrying a satchel that had a makeshift card attached to the top labeled “Ellie”.

Next came Astrid, Bonnie, and Greg—all of the patrolmen that were roughly around your age. You hadn’t spent all that much time with them, but they’d always been fun.

Last came a girl you’d never seen before.

“Hi!” she said, extending a hand and looking at you through a fringe of choppy black hair.

“Hi!” you said, taking her hand and shaking it once. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know,” she said, her eyes crinkling. “I’m Cat.”

“I can’t believe you two haven’t met before,” said Dina, swooping in to stand beside you. There was something written on her face—something that looked kind of like worry.

“I can’t either!” you said good-naturedly. “How do you know Ellie?”

Dina cringed.

Cat just smiled wider. “Oh. Ellie and I go way back.”

“Cat, why don’t you go help me in the kitchen? I need to finish plating some stuff,” said Dina.

“Sure!” Cat sent you one more winning smile, following Dina with a bounce in her step.

Something felt deeply off about that interaction, but you couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was. You’d never seen Dina so eager to get you away from someone. Maybe it’d just been a coincidence?

You didn’t get a chance to dwell on it further, because Ellie was opening the door.

“Surprise!” Everyone in the living room yelled upon seeing her.

Ellie blanched, her eyes landing on you for a moment before she cast her gaze to the rest of the room. “What’s this?”

“Your birthday party,” said Dina, appearing from the kitchen with a plate of crackers and other appetizers, Cat in tow. “You didn’t think we were just going to let you turn 20 without embarrassing you just a little bit?”

“Those are the most hideous balloons I’ve ever seen,” said Ellie, crossing her arms.

“Thanks,” you said, beaming. “I picked them out myself.”

Much to your surprise, her lips lifted until she was smiling back. “You’re such a loser.”

“Okay!” said Dina, clearing her throat and stepping in between you two. “You two can flirt later. I’ve been slaving away in the kitchen for an entire day. Let’s eat.”

You shut your mouth, blushing uncontrollably as your eyes lifted. Ellie’s cheeks looked uncharacteristically pink and her eyes were fixed on your shoes.

Dinner went by quickly, with everyone trading odd stories about patrolling and their life before Jackson. You learned that Dina had actually been born in New Mexico and that Astrid was from Oregon. You heard all about how Jesse and Greg came across an old mall a few miles out of Jackson that was so full of infected that they could hear them scratching at the doors and clicking even before they were within eyesight of the building. You told some stories about your life in Terranova, about studying and your family.

“What the fuck is this?” asked Ellie once Dina had reappeared, carrying your sorry excuse of a birthday cake. Time had not treated it well. The first layer was almost entirely slid off, and the cake looked damp from the melted icing.

“It’s your birthday cake,” you said. “We, uh, tried. I don’t have a cake recipe memorized, and it was harder than I expected.”

The candles Dina attempted to stick into the cake kept falling out, the structural integrity so weakened from the melted frosting that chunks were coming off.

“Let’s just pretend that there’s 20 candles,” said Dina finally once the top layer of the cake finally split in half.

“Right,” said Ellie, snorting.

Dina led a very enthusiastic rendition of the Happy Birthday song that ended in cheers and hollers as Ellie dramatically lowered her head to the cake and pretended to blow the “candles” out.

No one touched the cake, but you couldn’t blame them.

Next came presents. Jesse went first, giving Ellie a satchel that held a bunch of cleaning equipment for her patrol rifles. Dina had found a t-shirt that said “Enemy of the State” in goofy comic sans lettering, and Ellie was unsuccessful in holding back her giggles at seeing it.

“Dina, this is so stupid,” she said, but there was no venom in her tone, just amusement.

It was your turn next, so you leaned across the table to place the small box in front of her.

“Please tell me you didn’t almost die getting this one,” said Ellie, giving you a suspicious look.

“Not at all,” you said. “I accidentally brought it from Terranova.”

Her nimble fingers untied the flimsy ribbon you’d haphazardly wrapped around the tiny brown box, lifting the lid off and peering inside.

“It’s a…rock?” Ellie frowned, pulling it out and holding it in her hand.

“You got her a rock for her birthday?” Cat asked you from her position to your right, her eyebrows raised.

“It’s not just a rock,” you said. “It’s a moon rock. Like, from the moon.”

Ellie froze, her eyes saucers as she stared at the rock balanced in her palm. “What?”

“I told you I studied astrophysics,” you said casually. “One of my professors let me borrow it because my research supervisor wanted to take a look at it, so it was in my bag. And I never had the chance to give it to him, obviously. So it’s yours now.”

“Holy fuck.” She turned in over, her fingers running across the surface. “This is…wow. Oh my god.”

“That’s so cool, dude,” Jesse said. “Like, insane. I didn’t even know that those were a thing.”

“There’s only a couple in the world,” you added. “And even fewer that are still reachable. The rest are…well, out here somewhere. Terranova only has a few from our own expeditions and the professors who managed to grab what they had when they moved.”

“This one’s from me,” said Cat, leaning forward and placing an envelope in front of Ellie. “It’s not as cool as a moon rock, but I thought you’d like it.”

Her fingers slid under the tongue of the envelope, ripping it open and pulling a piece of paper out.

“Good for one more free tattoo,” Ellie read out.

Cat sat back, looking awfully pleased with herself.

“Cat was the one who gave Ellie the one on her arm,” Dina explained to you.

A memory pricked at your consciousness, dating back to your first patrol with Ellie.

An ex had given her the tattoo on her arm.

The girl who had given her tattoo was Cat.

Cat was her ex.

That makes so much sense you realized with horror as you remembered how Cat had told you so confidently that she and Ellie went way back. Of course they did. They used to date.

“Where’d you go?” asked Dina, bumping your shoulder.

“Sorry,” you said, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Just, uh, tired.”

When you looked up, Ellie’s eyes were on you, her lips slightly quirked.

You looked away, instead focusing on the placemats that Dina had set out. Cat was so different from you—so peppy, so confident, so loud. No wonder Ellie didn’t want anything more than what you had now. Whatever Ellie had seen in Cat had nothing to do with you.

The night ended with you all sitting on the couches in the living room with Dina mixing drinks so strong that you were wondering if she was trying to kill you.

“Jesus Christ, Dina,” you said as you watched her pour. “What is that? 90 percent vodka?”

“I prefer to call it efficient,” Dina corrected.

It burned going down your throat and you fought back a cough as you placed your glass back on the coffee table. Ellie was right next to you, her thigh barely brushing against yours as you moved.

Cat was on the other side of the room, seated next to Jesse and Astrid. You were internally very proud that Ellie had chosen to sit next to you instead. Her arm rested on the back of the couch behind you, and even though it couldn’t have meant all that much, you couldn’t help but wonder if it at least meant something.

You were just halfway through your cup by the time you started to feel really and properly sloshed. Your voice sounded tinny in your ears, and from the way that Ellie was laughing at anything anyone said, you had a sneaking suspicion that she was somewhere around where you were.

It wasn’t long before everyone had excused themselves and wished Ellie a final happy birthday—it was getting late and quite a few had early shifts the next day.

Dina was the last to go, saying goodbye and sending you another look as she pointedly stared at the arm rested behind you.

For a few minutes, you and Ellie just sat in silence, hearing the fire crackle and the sound of her softly breathing.

Then she spoke.

“How did you know that I’d like the moon rock?”

“Oh.” You blushed. “Don’t be mad. You left the closet door open the other day—you know, the one with all your space textbooks and everything. It was an educated guess.”

“So nosy,” she tutted.

“But you do like the rock?”

She smiled. “Yes. Thank you.”

You reached forward and polished off the rest of the drink that Dina had made you, feeling the liquid fire slide down your throat and settle in your stomach.

When you turned back, you could see Ellie staring at you, her auburn hair glowing in the firelight, her pupils blown wide, and her eyes slightly unfocused. She’d had more than one of the drinks that Dina had made, and it was really showing.

“You’re so pretty.”

You froze. Out of all the things you expected her to say, that was nowhere on the list. The words had left Ellie’s lips like a compulsion, raw and honest.

She hadn’t stopped looking at you, but her eyes were wider, her cheeks red. She hadn’t meant to say it, you realized. Now she was embarrassed and flustered, and it was all because of you.

It was the boldness of being tipsy that made you move towards her, pulling your legs up until you were seated on your knees in front of her.

Ellie didn’t move apart from wetting her lips, her eyes darting from your eyes to your mouth.

When you kissed her, she melted into you. The arm that had been draped over the couch behind you dropped to your back, your own hands sliding into her hair and tightening at the back of her neck.

She gasped as she felt your nails scrape against her, and you took the opportunity to lick into her open mouth, tasting the vodka on her tongue as it slid against yours.

To your surprise, her hands didn’t creep up your shirt or dip below the waist of your pants. They stayed static, one glommed onto your back while the other clutched your jaw as she let you kiss her, over and over again.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there was something about it that felt different than your usual nighttime meetups. It felt more—vulnerable, almost, that Ellie was kissing you just to kiss you, not with some other agenda.

The grandfather clock chimed, indicating that it was almost midnight. You pulled away from her for a second, panting as you caught your breath. A string of saliva suspended between your lips, snapping as you waved a hand through it and flushed.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

She just smiled.

“Is Joel going to be back soon?”

As if to punctuate your point, the front door banged open, the man in question pulling his jacket off and turning to see you both. You’d thankfully managed to get off her lap before he saw.

“Oh!” he said, his eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. “I wasn’t expecting you two to still be awake.”

“Uh, yeah,” said Ellie, scratching the back of her neck. “We’ve just been…talking.”

“Good party?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad. Tommy and Maria wish you a happy birthday, by the way. Though I’m sure you knew that.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Well,” said Joel, giving a sigh that only old men could recreate, “I’m off to bed. You two don’t stay up too late, huh? You’ve still got work tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,” you two chorused.

Once Joel had disappeared into his room, you turned to look at her.

“That was close.”

“Yeah.” Ellie laughed nervously, picking at her cuticles. “Um—do you want to move somewhere else?”

Something deep in your chest ached. Sure, you’d be okay with spending another hour or so feeling her hands on you as she made you finish, but a part of you had really liked just touching her for the sake of touching her—kissing her just because you could.

“Sure,” you said. “Just give me a chance to change.”

When you knocked after switching into more comfortable clothes, the door swung open to reveal a significantly more nervous looking Ellie than you’d seen in a while.

“Hi,” you said shyly.

“Hi.”

You stepped into her, pressing a tentative kiss to the corner of her mouth. When she didn’t react, you pulled back.

“Is everything okay?”

“Do you want to stay over?” Ellie blurted out, her eyes wide and afraid.

You balked. “Uh, what?”

“You don’t have to,” she said, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I’m sorry. I know we’re not like that. I just thought that—maybe, I dunno, just this once—”

“Yes,” you interrupted. “Please. I’d really like that.”

“Right. Good. Okay.” She took a deep breath, then laced her fingers through yours to lead you to her bed.

When your mouth found hers again, it was just like on the couch—no intentionally rough or overtly sexual touches, just gentle brushes against your skin and the weight of fingers tangled in your hair as she pulled you further into her.

For the first time since you confessed, you didn’t sleep together. When you two finally tired out, you flopping down on the pillow first, Ellie’s head came to rest on the expanse of skin between your shoulder and your neck, your arms coming around her.

It was strange. For someone so deadly and tough, Ellie suddenly looked so small and fragile curled against you, the rise and fall of her chest synchronized with your breathing.

“I’m sorry Cat was invited,” Ellie said, her voice muffled from where her face was pressed into your neck.

“What do you mean?”

“I should have told you what her name was. That must’ve been a nasty surprise.”

Her foresight and understanding made your heart ache, deeply. How was it that she could say all these things but not want anything more with you?

“It was alright,” you said. There was no conviction in your tone. “I wouldn’t have expected you to tell me.”

Ellie was silent for a few beats. You knew she was thinking, though; you could feel the flutter of her lashes against you as she blinked.

“How long do you think it’ll take for you to forget me?”

You paused. “What? What do you mean?”

Ellie shifted against you, one of her arms draped over your chest. “I mean, when you go back.”

“Ellie,” you chided, bringing your hand up so you could run your fingers through her hair. “Don’t be ridiculous. As if I’d ever just leave you behind. If I go back there, I’m finding some way to bring you with me. So, no. That’s not even a valid question. I’m never forgetting you.”

In truth, you hadn’t even begun to consider what you’d do if—when—you were found. You’d been so focused on trying to fit into your new life here that your past had largely just faded into the back, shrinking in the horizon. What you did know, at least, was that even in some dystopian future without Ellie, she’d never be off of your mind.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I’m not,” you replied, tapping her shoulder. “I mean it. You’re stuck with me.”

Her diaphragm vibrated as she let out a short laugh. “Oh, the horrors.”

She fell silent as you kept threading your fingers through her hair, letting your nails scrape against her scalp. The hand that wasn’t draped over your chest had crept up, her thumb rubbing back and forth as she traced the outline of your jaw.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “I can be such a sad drunk sometimes. It’s pathetic.”

“It’s okay,” you soothed, your other hand lightly dancing up and down her back. “I think it’s sweet.”

She snorted. “You would.”

Then, after a few more seconds of silence: “You really weren’t jealous?”

“I never said that.”

“So she did make you jealous?”

You flicked her shoulder. “Fuck off. Of course she did. Happy?”

“Thrilled.”

A few moments later, she spoke up again.

“Can you promise me something?” Her voice was deceptively casual.

“Anything.” You’d give her anything she wanted.

“Promise me that you’ll take the first opportunity to go home,” she said softly. “Promise you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I’ll take the first opportunity to go home as long as I get to have you around, too.”

You couldn’t see it, but you knew she was rolling her eyes. “Not good enough.”

“You want me to leave that badly?” You weren’t sure if you should be hurt.

“Of course not,” she responded. “I just...I don’t expect you to wait around here for me. I don’t want you to. I want you to be safe.”

“I feel safe with you.”

“Will you just—fucking—say you’ll go?” Her voice sounded raw, tired.

“Fine,” you said. “I promise.”

Your words were empty. You couldn’t promise her that. She had to know that. But would it matter? If you never had to make that choice?

In retrospect, you weren’t sure when you drifted off. All you remembered was the warmth of Ellie gathered up in your arms, her measured breath blowing across your exposed neck as you felt the slow, marching rhythm of her heart.

When you awoke to the early morning sunbeams streaming in through the window and warming your face, Ellie was passed out cold on top of you. A few unruly strands of her auburn hair had ruffled upwards overnight, sticking to your cheek and threatening the seams of your lips.

You’d never been happier.

As you thought, running your hand gently up and down the length of her spine, Ellie’s breath hitched.

You froze, thinking you must have woken her.

Then she made a quiet snort. She took another deep breath in, whistling as it went. Her next exhale was louder and caught in her nose.

You did your best not to laugh enough to wake her.

Ellie snored, even though she wasn’t that loud. The part of you that was still intimidated by her was shrinking by the minute. If only you had known in the beginning that after a long day of bullying you she went back to her room to honk shoo the night away, you never would’ve let it bother you.

She jolted awake, blinking rapidly as she pulled away and looked up at you.

“What the fuck are you laughing about?” she said groggily. “It’s—” She twisted in your arms, squinting at her desk. “It’s 6 in the fucking morning. Shut up.” With that, she flopped back down on top of you, laying one arm over your torso so she could shove it the space under the pillow beside your head.

“You shut up,” you heard yourself say.

Ellie smacked your shoulder, not even bothering to lift her head.

“You snore,” you said, quieter this time.

“I don’t.”

“You literally do. I was there when it happened.”

She was silent for a few moments. “Really?”

You pressed your lips to her forehead instead as you trembled from the laugh you were doing your best to rein in.

“Oh, god,” groaned Ellie. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“I thought it was cute.”

“You think everything I do is cute.”

“And what about it?”

You settled back in, wrapping your arms around Ellie as you tried to drift back off.

“Do you hear that?”

Her voice was whispered.

“Hear what?”

“That sound.”

You let go of her and sat up, your eyes unfocused as you tried your best to tune into whatever Ellie was talking about. Out of the corner of your vision you could see her staring at you with big, nervous eyes.

It took you a moment to notice it. No one could blame you, really. It was hardly a rarity to hear the sound of a plane when you grew up in Terranova.

“That’s a plane, Ellie,” you said, reaching out to cup her face. “It’s fine.”

“A plane?” She frowned, still blinking bleariness out of her eyes. “I’ve never heard one before. Joel told me that they stopped being used after the government officially fell.”

“That’s not true,” you corrected. “There’s some in—”

A puzzle piece clicked into place, and with it came a sense of underlying dread. But you shouldn’t be dreading it. It’s what you were hoping for after all, weren’t you? What you’d been praying for since you’d arrived?

“Let’s go outside and look,” you said, nudging her side. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You were hoping it was nothing.

Ellie followed you, pulling a throw blanket from her bed and draping it around her shoulders like a cape. She looked so cute like that. You wanted to bite her. Not, like, in a weird blood kink way. Just in a…you didn’t know how to describe it. Better leave it there.

A lump formed in your throat.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe this had nothing to do with you.

The air was tepid and pleasant against your bare skin as you two quietly opened the front door and crept onto the porch. The town was quiet. No one was awake at this hour, not unless they were down by the stables or doing night watch.

There was a sliver of pink and orange hanging over the tops of the mountains, no doubt remnants of what had been a spectacular sunrise. There were still snowy caps on the highest peaks. You hadn’t known that mountains could stay so cold for so long until you’d come to Jackson.

The lump in your throat grew larger.

“Shit,” said Ellie, leaping down from the porch and onto the road. “Do you see this?”

The plane was no longer in sight, but the swirling papers that hadn’t been on the road the night before were left as evidence.

“They must’ve dropped them,” said Ellie excitedly, snatching one from the ground and bounding back up the steps so she was next to you. “What do you think this says?”

You smiled sadly. “Why don’t you read it?”

She unfolded the envelope, ripping open the top and dumping the contents out in her hand.

“Oh.”

It was a picture of you. It’d been taken months prior at your family’s Christmas party. You’d worn glittery silver eyeliner and curled your hair. The upper half of your body was in view, clad in a rich red fabric that landed right below your collarbones. A string of creamy white pearls were clasped around your neck, matching the teardrop pearls that hung delicately from your ears.

HAVE YOU SEEN HER?

There was no other text, but you did notice a divet at the top right corner in the shape of a small oval.

Terranovan security. Of course.

Wordlessly, you pressed your thumb into the mold, holding it there for a second as the parchment recorded your print.

Then a paragraph formed at the bottom, ink slowly leaking into the paper.

COME TO THE COORDINATES LISTED BELOW AT EXACTLY NOON, MAY 15TH. A LIFT WILL BE WAITING TO ESCORT YOU.

You’d been found.

final a/n: sorry not sorry this was the original cliffhanger that i was planning for part 4 all along. you guys are incredible for still sticking around and reading even though this is getting lengthy as hell. anyway i hope you guys enjoyed this sort of different side of ellie before we reach the final act. the plot is abt to reach its peak and i’m hellaaa excited to share it with you. okok let me know what you think! it might take me around the same time it took me to finish part 4 to get part 5 out considering how sick i am/how much i have on my plate, but i promise it’s coming :))

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams self insert #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x oc

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c4tsc4pe · 7 months

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Classpect Analysis Definitions Guide Combob

i read a Smashing aspect analysis by @/alicesonions (which this is very inspired by check it out right now the redesigned symbols are awesome) and wanted to revamp my own so here we go shaggy 2 dope classpect guide 2.0 (og draft here)

this is just a rundown on how i personally understand/use classpects even though i love talking my ass off and want to over explain all this i tried to write hopefully easily digestible and to the point definitions using key words and phrases bc thats how i personally learn things (i might make an extended version with further information and analysis later)

this can always be edited too i am So open to discussion criticism etc please tell me every single one of your thoughts about classpects in tags comments whatever I LOVE HEARING IT

anyway fat megapost ahead man the cannons

- - >

Classpects

A “Classpect” is a player’s title in Sburb, which uses the formula [Class] of [Aspect]. Not only does a Classpect dictate a player's reality-bending powers, but it defines a player’s place in their session, their place in reality, and their place within the narrative itself.

There are two components that make up a player's Classpect: their aspect and their class. There are 12 aspects and 14 classes in total. Hypothetically, ANY player could be ANY of the 168 total combos of these, no matter the person, but Sburb will narrow down the options and pick a player’s Classpect depending on how it thinks it can BEST use them in the game/their specific session.

A Classpect is chosen via a sort of “sorting hat” method. The person you are (struggles, goals, gaming strategies, how you interact with the world and others, etc.) inadvertently dictates your Classpect, but that is only BEFORE THE GAME STARTS. Once you’ve entered Sburb, Skaia will ultimately decide your role based on everything it gathered, and you are stuck with it whether you like it or not.

[In total: Classpects are a predetermined in-game role to fulfill as well as a narrative tool.]

Aspects

Aspects are described as “the basic building blocks of everything that exists within paradox space”; a cosmic property that relates MOST to a player and that they have the potential to BEST excel at.

A player’s aspect is always something the player starts out STRUGGLING with in some way. No one ever has total control or knowledge of their aspect right off the bat. It is something that challenges the player and must be learned over time so the player can grow and reach their full potential as a Hero of their aspect.

Aspects are a neutral and nuanced concept- no aspect is inherently good nor bad.

The 12 aspects: Breath, Light, Time, Space, Life, Hope, Void, Heart, Blood, Mind, Doom, and Rage.

Breath: The aspect of freedom and detachment. Breath is impossible to hold down, easy breezy, head in the clouds, go with the flow. Breath is breeze, movement, flight, weightlessness, indirection, and independence. Breath blows whatever way it feels like, not caring about much else.

Narrative connection: Plot development.

Breath’s opposing aspect is Blood.

Light: The aspect of knowledge and illumination. Light exposes the hidden, brightens the dark corners, brings things into the spotlight. Light is relevance, illumination, luck, enlightenment, sight, visibility, definition, and attention. Light brings itself to what is hidden in the dark.

Narrative connection: Plot relevance.

Lights opposing aspect is Void.

Time: The aspect of rhythm and destruction. Time is connected to death, the past and future, taking action, small details, the destination over the journey. Time is repetition, iteration, cycles, pace, patterns, preservation, decay, continuity, and management. Time is the steady tick of a clock, the constant rotation of an ever-turning gear.

Narrative connection: Pacing.

Times opposing aspect is Space.

[Time is one of the fundamental fabrics making up paradox space and is therefore an aspect required to win Sburb. If your session does not have a Time player, your session is doomed to fail.]

Space: The aspect of creation and beginnings. Space is new things, focused on the wait-and-see, the big picture, the here-and-now, the journey over the destination. Space is destiny, matter, physics, making, innovation, and intuition. Space is a vast endless infinity of possibility.

Narrative connection: Setting.

Spaces opposing aspect is Time.

[Space is one of the fundamental fabrics making up paradox space and is therefore an aspect required to win Sburb. If your session does not have a Space player, your session is doomed to fail.]

Life: The aspect of agency and autonomy. Life is foraging your own path, own destiny, self-direction, growing and strengthening. Life is nature, health, resilience, energy, progress, healing, vitality, and nourishment. Life sees its route and fights to take it.

Narrative connection: Agency/action.

Life’s opposing aspect is Doom.

Hope: The aspect of belief. Hope is dreams and wishes, blind optimism, unstoppable force, the "there’s always a way, nothings impossible". Hope is faith, possibility, positivity, will, imagination, and determination. Hope is a clear, enthusiastic "YES!".

Narrative connection: Convenience.

Hopes opposing aspect is Rage.

Void: The aspect of nothingness and the unknown. Void is a blank canvas, an empty page, a dark corner, a shadow concealing darkness. Void is secrets, mystery, invisibility, unexplained, ignorance, irrelevance, and uncertainty. Void obscures what the light can't reach.

Narrative connection: Plot irrelevance.

Voids opposing aspect is Light.

Heart: The aspect of feeling and self. Heart is the core of a person, their identity, passions and interests, the soul, feelings instead of thoughts. Heart is motivation, love, emotions, uniqueness, personal, individualism, bias, and passion. Heart follows itself.

Narrative connection: Inner self.

Hearts opposing aspect is Mind.

Blood: The aspect of unity. Blood is down to earth, grounded and chained, has expectations, forms relationships. Blood is community, responsibility, care, effort, stability, obligation, and connection. Blood is running through everyone's veins and knows it.

Narrative connection: Character dynamics.

Blood’s opposing aspect is Breath.

Mind: The aspect of thought. Mind is unbiased decision making, apathy, black and white, blends in with the crowd. Mind is equality, ration, logic, reason, judgement, calculation, choice, balance, and justification. Mind pushes away feelings and thinks instead.

Narrative connection: Outer self.

Minds opposing aspect is Heart.

Doom: The aspect of fate and constraint. Doom works within the rules, within restriction, follows damands. Doom is burdens, prophecy, acceptance, necessity, limitation, punishment, and misfortune. Doom does not negotiate against the inevitable.

Narrative connection: Conflict.

Doom’s opposing aspect is Life.

Rage: The aspect of refusal and rebellion. Rage is the ugly truth, holding back, immovable object, being stuck, “it’s impossible, there’s no way out”. Rage is cynicism, defiance, fury, negativity, anger, riot and revenge. Rage is a loud, guttural “NO!”.

Narrative connection: Contrivance.

Rage’s opposing aspect is Hope.

Classes

Classes are the second ingredient of the Classpect formula. Since an aspect is a cosmic property that relates most to a player, a class is how that player USES/INTERACTS with that cosmic property & its powers. Classes are NOT something a player struggles with and are just dictated by how they approach/play the game.

Classes are a neutral and nuanced concept- no class is a “worse/better” or “evolved” version of another, no class is gender locked, and no class is inherently good nor bad.

There are six functions of classes: creation, destruction, exploitation, manipulation, knowledge, and relocation.

[Creation: Bringing something into existence.

Destruction: Taking something out of existence.

Exploitation: Having something and using it.

Manipulation: Changing or altering something.

Knowledge: Knowing all about something.

Relocation: Stealing and/or moving something.]

The 14 classes: Heir, Seer, Knight, Witch, Maid, Page, Rogue, Prince, Mage, Sylph, Thief, and Bard, and the two master classes: Lord and Muse.

Heir: One who changes with their aspect or is changed through their aspect. Heirs inherit their aspect and can greatly use it for their session and coplayers.

Class function: Manipulation.

Heirs' counterpart class is Witch.

Seer: One who knows their aspect or knows through their aspect. Seers are knowledge-seekers who obtain information by observing, and guide their coplayers using what they learn.

Class function: Knowledge.

Seer's counterpart class is Mage.

Knight: One who fights for/protects their aspect or fights/protects using their aspect. Knights are set on serving and defending their session and coplayers, using their persona as a shield and their aspect as a weapon.

Class function: Exploitation.

Knight's counterpart class is Page.

Witch: One who alters/bends their aspect or alters/bends using their aspect. Witches utilize their powers to bend the rules and test the limits of their aspect and session itself.

Class function: Manipulation.

Witch's counterpart class is Heir.

Maid: One who serves/repairs their aspect or serves/repairs with their aspect. Maids clean, preserve, and maintain their session with/and their aspect, just as a housekeeper would.

Class function: Creation.

Maid's counterpart class is Sylph.

Page: One who strengthens their aspect or finds themselves through their aspect. Pages start out as weaker underdogs, but once their potential is fully realized, they can use their power to an astounding degree.

Class function: Exploitation.

Page's counterpart class is Knight.

Rogue: One who steals their aspect or steals from their aspect to provide others with it. Rouges take from their aspect and redistribute what they steal to their coplayers Robin Hood style.

Class function: Relocation.

Rouge's counterpart class is Thief.

Prince: One who destroys their aspect or destroys with their aspect. Princes are powerful, blunt forces in their session who once fully realized, will stop at nothing until they reach their goal.

Class function: Destruction.

Prince's counterpart class is Bard.

Mage: One who understands their aspect or understands through their aspect. Mages are the experiencers of their aspect that utilize their experience with it to guide themselves.

Class function: Knowledge.

Mage's counterpart class is Seer.

Thief: One who steals their aspect or steals from their aspect to keep themselves. Thieves are focused on taking from their session and others in it, then keeping that power for their own benefit.

Class function: Relocation.

Thief's counterpart class is Rogue.

Sylph: One who heals/mends their aspect or heals/mends using their aspect. Sylphs are vastly supportive to their coplayers through both backstage influence and personal interference.

Class function: Creation.

Sylph's counterpart class is Maid.

Bard: One who allows the destruction of their aspect or invites destruction through their aspect. Bards can be kind of a wildcard for their session, possibly for the best (or the worst).

Class function: Destruction.

Bard's counterpart class is Prince.

Master Classes

Lord: One who rules their aspect or rules using their aspect. Lords are intensely powerful domineers who command their aspect, session, and everything in it to bow down to them.

Lord's counterpart class is Muse.

Muse: One who inspires their aspect or inspires through their aspect. Muses are completely in tune with their aspect and influence their session with it, leading it like a conductor with their baton.

Muse's counterpart class is Lord.

#homestuck analysis #classpects #homestuck #classpect analysis

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sleepyowlwrites · 3 months

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badly described wip poll tag

I don't think anybody actually tagged me for this but there were plenty of open tags so, I'm doing all of them at once. Breezy started this, right? I think so?

Rules: badly describe your wips in poll form (I should've c/v this too gadzooks)

I can't remember who has done this thing or not, so ignore my tag if you have @abalonetea @moondust-bard @ink-fireplace-coffee @flock-from-the-void @chauceryfairytales @writing-with-melon OR ANYBODY ELSE WHO WANTS TO DO THIS

what a good tag game. and tricky. but fun.

#tag game #sleepy polls #sleepy's story stuff

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whumpinthepot · 1 year

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Word find tag game

Thank you @verkja for tagging me ^_^

Words given to me were: dirt, sharp, intricate, and softly

—

Dirt (said twice 😳)

Her hair was matted badly, and Ratty didn’t know if it was mostly just dirt that could be washed out or if it was so badly tangled she’d have to get it cut. Either way it did not look comfortable at all. Her lips were dry and cracked, and her nails were long with dirt buried under them.

Sharp

Ratty’s hands went up slowly, they tipped their face down while keeping a steady voice, “Whoa now Big Guy, I think there's been a mistake. I’m not here to hurt anyone, let alone the little Imp… So… You’ll put them down, yeah?” They kept their sight sharp on him.

Intricate (oh god old writing)

She read off a bunch of safety rules for Zyan to obey for life. Such as no harming another being. No screaming. No breaking things or causing any tantrums, ect. The list was fairly intricate.

Softly

Mouse started lulling after that, as if her head was too heavy for her to hold up. She stopped responding, and when Clarence shook her shoulder she only moaned softly. She didn’t flinch or move.

—

(How this works is you find the words from your writing that was picked by the person who tagged you, then you can tag people to join and pick out four new words for them to find in their own works!)

Tagging who ever reads this post!! Words im choosing for you are: Smash, fight, seethe, bite

#tag game #whump tag game #breezy’s post #writing tag game #whump writing #rats race #tsats #word find game #tw child endangerment

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liminalmemories21 · 1 month

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WIP Wednesday

tagged by @lemonlyman-dotcom, @paperstorm, @strandnreyes, @orchidscript, @three-drink-amy, @whatsintheboxmh, @ladytessa74, @carlos-in-glasses, @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad, @freneticfloetry, @jesuisici33, and @iboatedhere. Thank you!

I am rapidly approaching the point where I'm not just filling in scenes where I know what happens I just hadn't written them yet, and getting to the part where I actually don't know what happens. I was kind of hoping I'd have figured it out by the time I got there, but so far this plan does not seem to be working.

TK picks up on the first ring, like he’s been waiting for the call. “Hi honey.” TK makes a tiny abortive sound that he cuts off fast, and when he comes back his voice is light and breezy. “Hey, baby. Did you get out of your meet and greet early? I didn’t expect to hear from you until later.” “In between the cocktail hour and dinner with some guys I met,” he lies, and TK makes a noise of understanding, which to be fair he probably does because TK goes to more conferences than he does. “I thought I’d sneak in a quick phone call while I was waiting.” “Learn anything fun today?” TK asks cheerfully. He spins a lie about sessions on mediation and conflict deescalation. He can see TK’s leer through the phone, “Yeah, wanna come home so I can deescalate you?” He laughs. “What? That doesn’t even make sense.” TK shrugs. “Made you smile though.” He dips his head and pretends like he’s alone. “Yeah. How was your day?” He doesn’t know what TK hears in his voice, but he immediately launches into an involved story about the drama between three of the kids study group who all live together. "I do not miss my 20s," TK finishes. He snorts. "Your twenties were two years ago." TK makes a horrified noise, like he actually had not realized that. "Baby, I need you to come home. Remind me that I'm still bendy and fun. These kids are making me old before my time." He doesn’t know whether TK has genuinely forgotten that they're on speaker phone, or if he just doesn’t care. If he had bet he'd say the second. "Soon," he promises, and hopes it's a promise he doesn't have to break.

Okay, I have no idea who is left to tag - umm, @carlos-tk, @vineofroses, @rmd-writes, @welcometololaland, and @guardian-angle22

#wip #tarlos #911 lonestar #knave-verse

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fluffyfebruary · 1 year

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Fluffy February Prompts 2023

Welcome to Fluffy February 2023! Back for a third year, we want to spread fluff and good feelings throughout all of February.

This year, we’re reverting to the one-prompt-a-day format from 2021. As in previous years, no one is obliged to write/draw/create every single day -- do as many as you want! The official guidelines are posted here.

Above the cut are the one-word prompts. Below the cut, I’ve included some phrases and suggestions in case the one-word prompt isn’t stirring something creatively. You are totally free to reinterpret the prompt in a different way; the stuff below the cut is just to help someone out of block if needed. Please tag @fluffyfebruary so we can reblog your creations!

Soooo here we go! Happy creating!

1. Hello

2. Soft

3. Anniversary

4. Starlight

5. Amber

6. Stretch

7. Cloak

8. Callous

9. Breezy

10. Thunder

11. Immaculate

12. Shell

13. Pride

14. (Free Space/Do Your Own Prompt)

15. Reward

16. Glow

17. Blessed

18. Glide

19. Loop

20. Sink

21. Tender

22. Remember

23. Crave

24. Bubbly

25. Murmur

26. Joy

27. Blaze

28. Goodbye

Here is the prompt list again, this time with some potential interpretations to try to get your creativity going, if you’re struggling with a prompt. As stated above, you are under no obligation to use ANY of these -- this is just to bust blocks.

1. Hello -- the first meeting, the start of a day, a surprise…

2. Soft – a sound, a voice, a feeling…

3. Anniversary – a day to be remembered, a day to remember, another year…

4. Starlight – in night, in comparison, in color…

5. Amber – a stone, a color, a scent, a name…

6. Stretch – limbs, clothes, boundaries, ability…

7. Cloak -- clothing, to obscure, a device…

8. Callous – an attitude, where something has rubbed, rough...

9. Breezy– an attitude, a voice, the weather, approach...

10. Thunder – weather, noise, a voice, rumble...

11. Immaculate -- divine, perfect, untouched, clean, sinless...

12. Shell – a home, a part, a covering, an ear, to remove from a hard place, what once was...

13. Pride -- a group of lions, a feeling, a sin, a virtue...

14. (Free Space/Do Your Own Prompt)

15. Reward - for a deed done, for achievement, just desserts...

16. Glow – light, skin, a smile, eyes, a warmth...

17. Blessed -- favored, gifted, lucky, a curse, uttered in frustration...

18. Glide -- to soar, to skim, to slide, music, dance ...

19. Loop – a path, a knot, a circuit, a stunt, connection ...

20. Sink -- a verb or a noun or a feeling ...

21. Tender -- a person or an approach, to show care...

22. Remember – recall, memory, to summon back again, to learn, to ignore...

23. Crave -- yearn, desire, pine, for a person, for a food....

24. Bubbly -- from heat, from a reaction, to blow, soapy, a personality, fizzy, champagne...

25. Murmur -- the hum of the crowd, a low voice, something tender, articulate, inarticulate...

26. Joy -- happiness, pure pleasure, a virtue...

27. Blaze -- burn, streak, smoke, to color, to destroy...

28. Goodbye --- the end, until next time, never again, to set free...

#fluffy february #fluffy February prompts #fan art #fan fiction #ocs welcome #original fiction #fluffyfebruary

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gyunglitter · 7 months

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➷ 03 ➷

-“oh, the way he makes me feel that love isn’t real -– cupid is so dumb”

unlike you, your brother’s best friend just doesn’t know when to quit

word count: 4,034

warnings: cursing, mentions of running, soobin and reader bickering, a sweaty beomgyu in a tank top, CRINGE lmaooo

tags: brother’s-best-friend!beomgyu x reader, ??? to ???, angst, fluff(??), beomgyu is the cool boy-next-door, reader is an independent girlboss (or trying to be, at least), beomgyu’s gonna be GROVELING, simp!gyu, pathetic pining from both sides lol, maybe some cringe from reader (she was a teenage girl in love, have some empathy plz😭)

notes: this chapter literally didn’t exist lol, but as i was writing chapter 4, i realized it didn't flow well and spawned this. while writing it, i HATED it, but then threw in some crack and suddenly it’s my favorite thing lol. hope y’all get a laugh out of it—if not, i’m officially so unfunny :)

–> masterlist <–

One of the habits you had picked up while away: working out early in the mornings. Whether it was going for a run, doing yoga, or some pilates you would wake up early and start your day with a good bit of sweat before devouring a smoothie and protein bowl.

Of course, you couldn’t quite replicate your routine with how your parents’ blender was broken and the protein in your house was a bit more limited than you had back at your place, but you could make do. Then there was your childhood neighborhood that didn’t have the same layout as your apartment’s neighborhood did; there were many more hills and way less sidewalks. But you figured you had walked these streets for eighteen years with only the occasional complaint, so it shouldn’t be that hard. You could make do.

Or at least you thought you could.

Currently, you were gasping for breath as you finished trekking up the last hill to your house. You’d forgotten just how much worse the monsoon season felt at home than at school. Thankfully, you’d dressed correctly for your morning run: your running shorts, a sports bra, and breezy tank top to help your dying body breathe easier. You just wish your terrain was more forgiving.

You decided to walk the rest of the street back to your house, feeling utterly humbled (and old) as the early morning sun beat down on your back. Sweat glided down your cheeks, making you take the hem of your tank top to wipe it off, before ultimately taking it off and using it as a towel instead. You swung the top across your shoulders and sighed at the discomfort, vowing to stick to your indoor pilates workout routine until the weather mellowed out.

You spent the rest of your walk internally whining about everything you’d done wrong since waking up, going over all of your worst regrets. But it wasn’t until you got to your front lawn, that you actually faced your biggest one. Which, of course, came in the form of Choi Beomgyu.

A gorgeous, sweaty, messy, out of breath Choi Beomgyu.

Feeling your cheeks heat up beyond what would be considered healthy, you gawked at the boy–no, man–who was currently putting together some machine in his own front lawn–the front lawn that your birdbrain had completely forgotten was right next door to your own. Beomgyu had also been dressed for the weather, wearing a loose, white tank top and black shorts with wire headphones as he worked. He looked like he might’ve been up for as long as you had, with sweat running down his forehead and arms, leading down to his dirty hands that you could only assume caused the multiple oil stains smeared on the front of his top. His hair was a delightful mess, but of course on Choi Beomgyu it made him look like a greek god. His face was a bit flushed from working, but you knew it was no match for the red on your face at the moment.

Lucky for you, he was completely focused on whatever the hell he was building.

Feeling hopeful, you discreetly inched towards your porch steps to avoid garnering his attention. You deemed your confrontation with him the night before to be good enough interaction for the next year, and you really did not want a repeat of it now, when you’re half naked and sweaty.

But as life would have it, you still have many regrets to live through today.

“Y/n?” he called.

You nearly shrieked as your body went on autopilot and jumped.

…Into the nearest bush.

“Y/n?!” he yelped, sounding a bit more concerned this time around.

WHY THE FUCK DID I DO THAAAT?

You hit your forehead with your fist as you berated yourself now physically and mentally while you basically hid behind the shrub by your porch. It’s not like you could escape the interaction, the only way to get out would be the way you came, which would only make you look so much weirder since he literally watched you jump, anyway! Now you were naked, sweaty, and had sticks in your hair. You really had to work on your fight or flight response because what the hell.

So much for acting like you moved on–what happened to being unbothered?!

You groaned and took your hair out of its ponytail to at least have something covering your shoulders a bit more. You used your tank top to wipe off additional sweat and dirt before trying to calm down and gather yourself.

“Y/n, are you okay?!” Beomgyu yelled, making you sigh heavily before popping out of your hiding spot.

“What–Beomgyu? Wow, I totally didn’t even see you there,” you coughed, pulling a random stick out of your hair.

Kill me.

You tried to not make eye contact with the boy, but you saw he was gaping at you and your disheveled state.

“W-what hap– a-are you okay?”

“Never better,” you replied. “I just thought there was a squirrel in the bush and-well, uh, you know...”

“I don’t think I do,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

You didn’t either. But you weren’t going to say that.

Instead, you waved his words off and let the space between you fill with silence. Beomgyu took both of his earbuds out and scratched the back of his neck while he tried to string together words. But it seemed neither of you were going to come up with much of anything as he continued to stare at you while you stared at the floor.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, wanting nothing more than to escape whatever the hell this was supposed to be. “See ya.”

You turned to run up your porch and into your house to curl up into a ball, when Beomgyu interrupted you once again.

“Wait, hold on!” he called, making you want to smash your head into the wall.

“We really have to stop doing this,” you groaned.

He let out a chuckle while you turned back towards him. “I know, my bad.”

You folded your arms as he nervously fiddled with the hem of tank top once again. While you tried to keep your self restraint in check, you allowed yourself one more second of drinking in the veins that popped from his forearms, before shaking yourself. “What do you want, Beomgyu?”

He motioned toward the half-finished machine sitting in front of him. “My dad just got this new grill for this weekend, and I’ve been trying to put it together all morning, but I need some help carrying the tank and finishing it up,” he explained.

You grimaced, “I don’t think I can help you out with that, to be honest.” Nor do I want to.

But luckily, he shook his hands frantically, “No, no! I just meant–I mean, I was going to come to your house to ask Soobin for some help, anyway! I just figured it would be kind of weird for me to knock on your door after you just left, you know, so…”

He let the words die awkwardly after rambling for a bit, but he looked to you with red ears and a hopeful look on his face that you got the gist of what he was saying without thinking he was weird or weak, or whatever was making him so anxious.

Not that you felt you were in a place to judge, after he just watched you jump into a bush.

Sighing a little bit, you hesitantly nodded at him and gestured to your house. “Alright, well come in then. I’m sure oppa’s not doing anything important right now, anyway.”

Beomgyu’s eyes slightly widened at the offer, before nodding enthusiastically.

“Oh, perfect! G-great! Thanks, Y/n,” he rambled, which you ignored as he started speed walking over from his spot to follow you into your house.

You opened your door that was almost always unlocked and toed off your shoes easily and slipped into a pair of slippers while Beomgyu tried his best to not touch anything with his grease-stained fingers. Noticing his predicament, you bit the inside of your cheek in slight annoyance as you slid another pair of slippers next to his feet.

“Thank you,” he muttered, slightly embarrassed.

“Just go wash your hands in the bathroom,” you dismissed, immediately walking away from him to go further into the house. “Man, I’m starving.”

“Y/n? Is that you,” your mom’s voice called from the kitchen, making you walk in her direction.

Turning the corner, you’re faced with your mother in her usual pajamas, making herself a pot of coffee. You smiled brightly at her, but she gave you a confused look.

“Where are your clothes, bean?” she asked, making the smile drop off your face.

You heard Beomgyu choke from behind you, making your cheeks heat up ridiculously.

“Hello to you too, eomma,” you grumbled, making your way to the fridge to make yourself a yogurt bowl and fight off your blush. “I just went for a run at the worst time possible.”

Your mom snorted at that. “Why in the world would you want to do that?”

“Because I hate myself,” you grumbled sarcastically, only half joking considering your circumstances.

After taking a bit of time to grab all of the ingredients you needed, you went to sit at the counter by your mother who was making herself a mug.

“Did you want a cup?” she asked you, to which you made a sour face. “Oh, right, I forgot you hated coffee.”

“Which is a crime, by the way,” Beomgyu chimed in, coming into the kitchen as well, drying his hands off on a towel from the counter.

“Beomgyu! When did you get here, dear?” Your mother smiled at the boy who was practically her second son.

He smiled widely back at her, going in for a hug before realizing his shirt was horribly stained and pulling back.

“I came with little Y/n. I just went to wash my hands really quickly,” he explained.

Your mother let out a little laugh, “Speaking of washing, what happened to you? You look like you slept in a garage.”

You smirked at that, while Beomgyu went to explain himself. But before he could, you all heard heavy footsteps thunder down the staircase. It had been a few years, but you could recognize Soobin’s footsteps anywhere.

You were proven right when the steps had rounded the corner, revealing your older brother with his eyes barely opened. Soobin slowly trudged through the kitchen, his body on autopilot as he instinctively opened the right cabinets to get a bowl and cereal. It was only when he opened the fridge and grabbed the milk that you decided to say something.

“Well good morning, sunshine,” you cooed, making Beomgyu snort from behind you.

Like on command, your brother screamed and dropped the milk carton. He whipped around to face you, while you were currently swallowing a spoonful of your yogurt bowl.

“Jesus Christ, I forgot you were here,” he muttered. After rubbing his eyes roughly, he opened them once again to look at you, but quickly shielded his eyes and screamed again. “Where the hell are your clothes?!”

Your mom and Beomgyu laughed while you rolled your eyes and chucked a piece of granola at him. Your brother flinched when it bounced off of his forehead.

“Is my nakedness really that bothersome to all of you,” you grumbled, scooping more yogurt into your mouth.

“Not bothersome,” your mom said as she went to grab another mug for your brother as she could tell he was in need of his own cup of coffee, “Just very shocking to see you in a sports bra considering the most exercise you did in high school was walking to the convenience store for ice creams.”

You absentmindedly grinned at that as you remembered all of your ice cream runs with your brother back in high school.

It seemed Soobin was doing the same thing as he let out a happy sigh. “Ah, good times.”

You nodded in agreement as he picked up the milk carton and made his way to sit next to you to eat his breakfast.

Beomgyu came over as well and took the other seat next to you. “Did you enjoy your beauty sleep?”

Soobin squinted at the boy around you. “I did, actually. You look like you could’ve used it though–”

Your mother lightly swatted the back of your brother’s head, ignoring his cry as she asked, “Did you want a cup, Beomgyu?”

He eagerly nodded at her. “Thanks, Mrs. Choi, that sounds great!”

Beomgyu smirked at Soobin, while he merely pouted back. “Why are you even here, Beomgyu? It’s too early to deal with the sight of your face.”

Beomgyu snorted. “I literally texted you about it yesterday before the dinner; I took apart appa’s old grill and I’m setting up the new one since all the guys are coming in this weekend. I need your help with the tank and stuff.”

Soobin groaned at the idea of doing manual labor, while you turned to your brother with a confused look and asked, “‘Guys’? Who’s coming in?”

“Some of our friends from school are coming down to visit. Yeonjun and Kai are definitely; not sure about Taehyun though,” Soobin sighed. “They’ll be here all weekend and staying with Beomgyu. But for the first night, we’re barbecuing and having a bonfire.”

You recognized all of the names: you’d actually met Yeonjun in person years ago, Soobin having met him in his first semester at school and became friends through Beomgyu. They brought Yeonjun back home with them since he didn’t have any plans for the holidays, so you got to know him a bit. Then there was Taehyun, who you’d only heard every now and then from random stories. But at last, there was Kai, who had been a common name thrown around by Soobin, claiming he adored the guy and would pick having him as a younger sibling over you any day.

Whatever.

It honestly surprised you to hear about Taehyun and Kai since it turned out they graduated high school the same year you had. Soobin told you they had met during a party where all three of them hid in a corner and bonded over their friends ditching them for the night. You’d been pretty interested in the lore behind your brother’s friend group when you were eighteen, until you’d heard the reason Soobin was ditched was because Yeonjun had been dragged into a beer pong game where he got smashed, and Beomgyu wanted to hook up with some random girl–who you would rather listen to your brother singing the Attack on Titan theme song for ten hours, than learn about.

“You should actually come with, Y/n,” Beomgyu piped in, nudging your elbow.

You didn’t turn toward him, instead remaining adamant on facing the other direction toward Soobin as he shook his head.

“Uh, no. Why would I surround my sister with a bunch of men? It’s bad enough you can see her like this,” Soobin wrinkled his nose at you, to which you promptly kicked him in the shin. It didn’t take long for him to kick you back.

“Soob, come on,” Beomgyu scoffed.

You honestly couldn’t tell whether Beomgyu was more offended over Soobin refusing you going, or the fact that him being around you was such a bad thing. And, the more you thought about it, the more you really didn’t want to know.

“What?” Soobin defended. “Men are disgusting!”

Your mother placed a mug in front of Soobin and Beomgyu respectively, before adding in her two cents, “I don’t know if you remember, Soobin-ah, but your sister isn’t thirteen anymore. She’s twenty-one and perfectly capable of deciding for herself if she would like to have men around her or not.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Choi! Spoken like a true feminist,” said Beomgyu, a wide grin on his face.

“Since when did you get so progressive?” Soobin deadpanned.

“Since when did you refer to Taehyun and Hyuka as ‘men’?”

“Touché, touché.”

Beomgyu said, “Our friends are literally the greenest flags to walk in South Korea, if little Y/n will be safe with anyone, it will be them.”

“That is true,” Soobin pondered, but you rolled your eyes at the both of them deciding on your weekend’s fate for you.

“Exactly! I don’t know why you never let Y/n come with us,” Beomgyu complained.

Soobin scoffed. “Why do you care so much?”

Your ears burned when Beomgyu stayed quiet at that, not really knowing what to say. Instead, you turned back towards your yogurt and took another mouthful. “Whatever, it’s fine. I don’t wanna go, anyway.”

“What? Y/n,” Beomgyu whined, but you just ignored him. Again.

Even if Soobin hadn’t refused, you would’ve had to look for a good excuse to not go for multiple reasons. And Beomgyu was not the biggest this time. You honestly planned to rot for at least a couple of days, after all the traveling yesterday and your run this morning. Truly, you’d only gone for a run because it was routine and basically instinct. But you were still jet lagged, not to mention your social battery had run fairly low after your best friend, Yunjin’s, party yesterday, and then your surprise reunions with Beomgyu. The party had been a little tiring, but it was incredibly lightweight compared to being with your brother’s best friend. To say the brunette boy was exhausting would be an understatement for you.

“Seriously? You don’t want to go,” Soobin asked, eyebrows lifted. “You always used to beg to hang out with us.”

You nodded and gestured to yourself. “I’m tired, oppa. Besides, like eomma said, I’m not thirteen anymore!”

Soobin looked at your attire once again and mocked, “You sure about that?”

You kicked the crap out of his shin under the table as he cackled.

“You’re adopted,” you growled, making Soobin laugh even harder at you. “You’re not funny, and you’re not cute. I hope you trip over the sidewalk and that your favorite anime character dies–oh wait, he already did.”

Soobin’s jaw dropped. “You bitch–”

This time, it was Beomgyu who roared with laughter as you stood up and placed your yogurt bowl in the sink. After putting all of the food away, you went to stand next time your mom and cling onto her.

She shook her head at the both of you as she wrapped her arms around you as well. “I have to say, even though I love the peace and quiet, I did miss hearing the creative insults you two would throw at each other.”

You tried to hide your smile at that, while Soobin continued grumbling into his cereal. Another thing you had missed: your brother. Your age gap wasn’t very wide and the both of you had many things in common growing up. Though you’d always been close, the both of you had grown a lot closer while in high school. No one had known you better than he had, and the same vice versa, besides maybe Beomgyu. It had honestly broken his heart when you decided to study abroad and leave for four years, but the two of you stayed in contact with random facetimes and his many visits. You would say you stayed in better contact with him than you had anyone else.

“I know you missed your sister too, Soobin,” your mom cooed, causing your brother’s nose to twitch.

He gave a big sigh, “Whatever. Come, don’t come–your choice whether you want to or not.”

Your eyes widened a bit at the yield. Despite all those embarrassing years of begging to hang out with him and his friends, Soobin was adamant on the both of you not mixing friend groups. You knew all of his friends in high school since you passed each other in the halls everyday, but Soobin remained stubborn that you couldn’t join his friends when they went out. It always confused you since his friends were a bunch of angels, but your mom said Soobin was just too protective when it came to you. This never made sense to you, but your parents would always take his side on it. To see your mom voice her opinion against his and your brother finally giving in was a bit of a shock. Maybe you weren’t the only one who had changed a little over the past four years.

“Come on, Y/n, it’ll be fun,” tried Beomgyu.

He turned in his seat to face you and your mom, giving you those famous puppy eyes you’ve recently started to really dislike.

You turned your head away stubbornly, but your mom wasn’t quite done either.

“You should go, bean,” she said, petting the top of your head. “It’ll be like ‘healing your inner child’, or something.”

Your eyebrows raised as you faced your mother. “Who taught you that phrase?”

“Yunjin-ah. I called to congratulate her on graduating the other week,” she supplied, making you roll your eyes at the mention of your childhood best friend.

Of course she did, you mentally laughed.

“Look, I understand you’re tired, but it’s only Tuesday! The boys don’t come in until this weekend, you have plenty of time to rest,” she continued.

It honestly surprised you how much your mom was pushing you. She typically didn’t push you to do much of anything besides clean up. To see her have an actual opinion on it and pursue it against you made you think for a second.

“What, is IU supposed to be there, or something?”

“Huh?” your mom asked, thoroughly confused.

“I mean, there’s gotta be another reason as to why you want me to go so bad.”

Your mom laughed before pinching your ear lovingly, making you squirm away from her. “Sorry I want you to have fun while you’re at home!”

Shrugging your shoulders, you relented. “Fine, because you guys are so desperate–”

“YES!”

Beomgyu cheered as he suddenly stood up from his seat. He clutched the mug your mom gave him in one hand before using the other to give her a one-armed hug and kissed her on the cheek. Your mother laughed as he sang, “Mrs. Choi, I owe you the world!”

Soobin rolled his eyes so harshly it made you stifle a laugh.

“Stop rizzing up my mother, you loser,” he groaned, before getting up to put his bowl and breakfast away. “Let’s just go finish this stupid grill before I ghost you and leave you to build it yourself.”

Beomgyu’s mood didn’t deflate at your brother’s negativity and instead picked up the other mug as well, to bring with them. “Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. Choi! I’ll make sure to bring it back later!”

“Oppa can bring it back,” you reasoned.

“That’s what I just said,” Beomgyu said, a bit of mischief in his tone.

You deadpanned him, but his grin didn’t shift.

“See you later, little Y/n.” And the bastard sauntered away, carrying both mugs for him and your brother who looked like he was going to need it more than anything to get through the rest of the morning.

“Is it too late to back out?” you asked your mom, the fake smile on your face contradicting your serious tone.

Your mother hummed as she studied the view from the window on the side of your house that showed Beomgyu and Soobin on his front lawn, before moving back towards you.

“I have to say, that is probably the happiest I’ve seen him since you left,” she said softly, making the fake smile melt off of your face. “You don’t actually have to go; like I said, you’re old enough to make your own choices. But I think it’d be really good for you to. And if not for you, at least it would be for him.”

You knew your confusion was evident on your face by the knowing smile that crept onto hers.

“Just give it a shot, bean. Besides, I think you’ll really like Soobin’s friends. They’re the sweetest boys you could ever meet.”

–> next <–

#txt #tomorrow x tomorrow #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #kang taehyun #huening kai #beomgyu fluff #stupid cupid

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