#brandon imagine

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.3

Characters: Sky x male reader, Brandon x male reader, Riven x male reader

Universe: Winx Club/Wix Saga

Warnings: None

My head is racing as I silently follow the Herald to my grandfather's office. I could not wrap my head around things. They didn't even call me home for my sixteenth birthday a month ago. But now? Now they suddenly want me back in the palace? Something felt strange, but not being able to pinpoint it is driving me insane.

The guards around me gave me strange looks as I nervously fidgeted with my fingers and my head slightly tilted down. Quickly I realized that my reputation was not following but running ahead of me. They must have been shocked at my anxious state. To be honest with myself, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Luckily, I don't care what anyone thinks of me. I didn't even look at them.

Soon we were standing before my grandfather's closed dark stone office doors. Two Geodocers - elite guardians with an affinity for stone magic - exclusively protect the king and stand on the sides of this door. "Explain why you are coming before His Majesty King Rodwick III's private office!" both guards commanded simultaneously in deep, stony voices.

Already aware of their deal, I finally straightened my back and looked directly at the two men, who were not looking back.

"I, (Y/N) Gyonos, Crown Prince of Gyonos, have been officially requested by His Majesty King Rodwick III."

Nothing happened for a while. Slowly, both men turned inward toward the door, pushing against the stone door with one hand while their other gripped their spears tightly. Yellow, brownish magic flowed across the door to the core, which broke open the stone. But only so much that I could step through. Nobody else is allowed to follow.

The second I walked through, the doors closed again, and the stone reconnected. "Oh, your grandfather is already waiting for you!" called a woman's voice which I know all too well.

"So the old man locked you in here?" I asked her jokingly, even relaxing my statue.

"You know how he is, but at least he let me keep plants here!" Her happiness and being able to see the best in everything always made me stare at her in admiration. But at the end of the day, she's still a prisoner.

"Can I open the wooden doors this time without being attacked?" I looked at her suspiciously as she just grinned crookedly at me. "Oh, in the name of Thortaglia, please give me strength," I murmured softly, but as always, she heard me, which I recognized from her ominous chuckle.

Slowly and reluctantly, I walked forward and knocked on the black wooden door made of the ash oak that only grows on the black rocks because of the lava inside the dormant volcano. Highly resistant to fire and anything related to heat.

I had to wait a long moment, or was it short? Honest? I don't know. The only thing I was that I stood there a moment longer than I would have liked. Until finally, the old man permitted me to enter.

With my guard on high alert, I did as I was told, almost casually opening the heavy wooden doors. Even though the door was wide open, nothing happened. Instead, I saw my grandfather with his usual mischievous smile. Across the room, my parents were seated, the same people who never fought for me, only following what my grandfather said.

"What are they doing here?" I asked in a disgusted tone. It made my disappointment in them very clear.

"Everything at the right time, you already know that. Come closer and sit down. It's important.”

"More important than a war I fought almost alone?"

"Yes, indeed, more important than anything else!"

Slightly shocked by my grandfather's determination, I entered the room and closed the door. Still, my senses still heightened; I turned around as soon as the door clicked back into place. Before I could take another step, I felt it. Without looking up, I smashed the rock that was falling on me. Staring at my grandfather the whole time, annoyed to no end.

I wanted to ask him how many traps he'd built, but I knew he'd never tell - like always. So I walked closer to the desk, smashing rocks, dodging arrows, and whatever the old man threw at me. 

Even from a distance, I could see the chair was tampered with. So I just put it away and made my own out of stone. I crossed my left leg over my right and leaned back, my forearms on the sides of the chair, looking at my grandfather smugly. It's a little game we play because I'm the only one in the family like him.

"So, old man, why did you call me here? Wasn't confinement to the battlefield enough?”

My grandfather looked me up and down, amazed that I hadn't lost my attitude and sense of superiority. "Somebody had to fight. I am old and tired-”

"Cut it, grandpa. We both know if you had wanted to, you could have split the world and burrowed these people into the ground.” His sweetly smiling expression fell instantly. Suddenly his seemingly broken exterior increased. He leaned over his desk, hands clasped, anger radiating from him. But I didn't give in. Instead, I followed his example and strengthened my position.

We just stared at each other for a while until the old man decided to lean back slightly again, this time sitting up straight with only his hands clasped on his desk.

"You will marry the third son of King Herald of Melakles," he stated matter-of-factly. It actually took me some time to understand what was being said. But as it slowly dawned on me, I began to laugh with all my heart. I almost fell off my chair laughing. After all, my family always told us that we should only marry for love. They would never force anything on us - except the crown.

I soon realized something. Nobody else laughed. I slowly opened my eyes and looked straight into my stoic grandfather's eyes. "You're joking, aren't you?" In a panic, I jumped onto the edge of the seat and tried to grab his hands. But he immediately withdrew.

"You already know Eric isn't that so? After all, he speaks of you with respect.” My panic turned to confusion. Yes, I know him, but I'd only met him once. "And we need their support after our other allies left us to die." A sly smirk graced my grandfather's lips out of a sudden. And it quickly clicked in my head.

"Are you serious?" I roared loudly, making the windows behind my grandfather and even the heavy stone doors shake with the immense power leaving my body. My anger grew as I felt two horns dig out of my head. "You want me to accept a political marriage? After the three of you talk about love as much as it can make a good marriage and make an empire flourish?”

With a single movement of my hands, his desk flew across the room, but my grandfather didn't flinch away; he just lifted his hands off it. "Yes. Everyone has to make sacrifices!"

"So all my siblings will also get married?" Suddenly it became eerily quiet. On my grandfather's stoic, cold icy facial expression, I thought to see something close to regret. "It's good to know that I'm the only one in this family who has to make sacrifices. Not only did you guys steal my teenage years by throwing me into a war, I have nothing to do with not allowing me to go to school or interact with others. Not even my own siblings. But now you want to control my future too?”

"Young man, you cannot talk to me, your king and grandfather, like that!" 

The love I once felt for this old man, who was always very gentle with me and helped me control the immense powers that lives within me, suddenly began to disappear. "Is that all?" I asked through clenched teeth, just about able to pull the horns back inside me.

"No." The hate that began to harbor inside me grew a little bit more. "You will study at the Alfea Academy of Fairies."

“What?“

“Of course, you are a fairy. You will study there, just like me when I was your age. The new semester starts in two days.”

"Well, on my birthday, you couldn't get me out of the war, but if you want to send me away again. I finally understand where my place is in this family.” I turned after spitting those words in my grandfather's face: as venomously as possible. My eyes fell on my parents for the first time since I entered. "I hope you two are happy. We'll see what your future will bring when this old man withered away, and I take the crown!"

Nothing further was said after this threat. I simply left his office, ignoring his assistant and opening the heavy stone doors myself, shocking the guards in front of them.

I kept wondering how they could do this to me. Am I this unimportant and replaceable to them? Deep in thought, I didn't realize I'd reached my room. At least, I thought so. I almost left it again as I could see someone else standing inside, nervously fidgeting with their fingers.

“Who are you?“

The poor fellow jumped in terror and cowered against the wall as soon as he heard my voice. "Your royal highness, I-I-I-"

"Get down to the point!" I growled at him, annoyed at just his presence and at the thought of what my grandfather could have done.

But my harsh words had the opposite effect. Instead of sharing his affairs with me, he closed his eyes and folded his arms protectively in front of him while at the same time crouching on the floor.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips, and I walked over to him, shaking my head. He must have heard my heavy, angry footsteps because he soon curled up into a ball.

Ignoring his obviously fearful behavior, I grabbed his waist and pulled him off the floor. Oddly enough, he weighs next to nothing. I sat him down on a couch on the left side of my room and put a blanket over him. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

Without waiting for another word of his, I opened the door and left my room. Mentally exhausted, I walked down to the kitchen, through a secret passage and later staff stairs.

"Your Highness, what can we-"

"That's not necessary. I'm just going to make tea and steal some snacks for a young man in my room whom I suspect has just had a nervous breakdown."

I could hear the giggles of many kitchen workers and a lower butler standing to one side. "So I assume you know who this guy is?"

Everyone in the kitchen, about thirty people, made appreciative noises almost simultaneously. To be honest? It didn't surprise me. After all, the employees know everything at all times.

"He's your new personal assistant," the butler told me stoically.

I giggled darkly at his words, "Over my dead body." Suddenly, the happy atmosphere in the room was gone, everyone staring uneasily in my direction as I prepared for my short-term guest.

Feeling questioning looks on my back, I had to explain myself: “I won't take another assistant after what happened to my last one. The boy I've known all my life, I grew up with, who got killed right before my eyes! His blood spilled all over me, and to this day, I can't get the taste of his blood out of my mouth. I held him as he bled to death, unable to do anything for him. I could only pray that he would be in a different, better place and give him a final kiss on his forehead.”

I cried for his loss for so long that, at that point, not a single new tear could be shed. I miss him every day. His death was the reason I killed the only enemy I ever respected. It was his sword that spilled my best friend's blood.

To say they were in shock would be a gross understatement. Neither of them had any idea. They only know that I was on the front lines of this war - which is still going on.

There was complete silence in the room for minutes until I turned around with the tray in my hands, everything neatly arranged. "I didn't want to spoil the mood. Unfortunately, I'm not the lively person I used to be. You have the cruel old man to thank for that.” For the first time since the death of my best friend, I have shown my grief to someone.

Oddly enough, the atmosphere changed, and the intense tension eased as sympathy swept over all those who had always treated me - and the rest of my family well.

Head slightly bowed, I fixed my gaze on the floor as I shuffled out of the kitchen as fast as I could before either of them could see tears that dared to go against my will and break free of my eyes.

I took the same way back I had used to get to the kitchen, getting out of everyone's way.

Without thinking much, I opened my bedroom door with my forearm and closed it with my foot after entering. Soft snoring made its way to me, right into my ears. Shocked, I walked around to the couch. There the poor guy was, sound asleep peacefully. I must have really exhausted him through sheer fear.

Careful not to make too much noise, I set the tray down. I gently pulled the blanket over his shoulders so that only his head was sticking out. I also brushed a few strands of hair out of his face. "He looks even more like… him... from this perspective," I murmured under my breath. I wonder if grandfather is behind this and did it on purpose.

A sudden rush of new anger seared my eyes and turned them into what I tried to hide inside me so hard. It was difficult to push it back, but he somehow managed.

Straightening my back out again, I let out a sigh of relief. I breathed in sharply through my nose and let it out gently through my mouth. Slowly I could feel my senses slowly returning to me.

When I finally found myself still standing in front of the couch with the sleeping guy, I turned to my desk and quietly rummaged through it until I had a piece of paper and a pen in my hands. I wrote a note for the guy, left it on the tray, and finally left the room with one goal: finding a couple of guards willing to train with me to vent some frustration.

[Masterlist]

#winx club #winx club imagine #winx saga x male reader #Winx Saga #winx saga imagine #sky #sky x male reader #brandon #brandon x male reader #brandon imagine #sky imagine #riven #riven x male reader #riven imagine #male reader #x male reader #male reader imagine #x male reader imagine

[geekynerfherder]

'Shallan Davar' by Magali Villeneuve.

Illustration from the 10th anniversary leatherbound edition of ‘Words Of Radiance', book 2 of 'The Stormlight Archive' series, written by Brandon Sanderson.

#Art Of The Day #Art #AOTD #Magali Villeneuve #Brandon Sanderson #The Stormlight Archive #Words Of Radiance #Books #Female #Feminine #Fantasy Art #Fantastical Art #Imaginative Realism #Roshar

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

While we're at it: here's a drawing of zim I found while I was assembling all those drawings

#I like to imagine that zim treats gir like brandon rogers mom treats that baby doll #sometimes holds like a baby #but mostly flinging it around #invader zim #zim #invader zim fanart

[leclercstarrs]

sfw hcs, the specialists.

summary: the specialists and sfw hcs!

warnings: fairy!reader and not fully proof read yet!

notes: i know winx probably doesn’t have much of a fandom on here but honestly this show gives me so much nostalgia so enjoy!

sky ✿

sky spoils you so much, he treats you like a princess, which is ironic considering he’s a prince.

to him, you’re his world, he’d never do anything to hurt you and he loves you so much.

sometimes, when the two of you are relaxing together, he lets you style his slightly long hair.

speaking of relaxing together, that’s one of his favourite dates, when the two of you just spend time at a cafe, getting a break from the chaotic fairy and specialist duties you usually deal with.

brandon ✿

you were one of the few people to first know that sky and brandon switched names. brandon wanted to be completely honest about the switch and you understood due to sky’s feelings about wanting to try a normal lifestyle.

literally the sweetest boyfriend ever, he treats you so good. he’s so gentle and loving with you, your heart melts every time you’re with him.

he doesn’t get jealous that often and neither do you, the two of you trust each other and have a relationship that’s really built on honesty and loyalty.

riven ✿

no one would’ve thought the two of you would get together, as riven has a high temper and you pretty much have no temper, always calm and relaxed. in fact, the only people that suspected something was going on with the two of you were bloom and sky, they always took notice of the flirty comments and subtle touches between the two of you. however, ever since you’ve announced your relationship with the hotheaded specialist, you’ve been extremely happy with him, and your friends started relaxing exactly how much sense the two of you make.

you’re a balanced couple that occasionally has rough patches, as riven can get really jealous and insecure, but you guys always make it out and your love grows even more. riven loves you and never wants to make you feel less than appreciated.

his favourite date with you consists of literally anything that involves you two being near each other, but he especially loves when you and him help your friends defeat the newest villain. he also loves when you cuddle with him, as he’s really just a softie deep down, constantly wanting to be touching you. he’s a huge fan of pda, unless you’re uncomfortable with it.

helia ✿

you and helia go together so well, no one was surprised when the two of you made your relationship official. your both calm and loving people, quickly becoming one of the best couples out of your friend group.

you love his hair so much. he just lets you run your fingers through his hair and style it into stupid little ponytails and buns, the man not even complaining about it, actually secretly enjoying it.

he’s literally the best boyfriend. he is always at your side when you need comfort and he gives you all his love.

timmy ✿

it took a while for timmy to build up the courage to ask you out, but once he did, you happily said yes.

the two of you are the definition of ‘opposites attract.’ you’re outgoing and a social butterfly, compared to timmy, who’s shy and doesn’t talk to many people aside from his friends.

he isn’t a big fan of pda, but behind closed doors, he’s always wanting to be close to you.

#yall idk if anyone will read this fic cause winx is underrated but i wanted some nostalgia and i <3 riven #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #winx x reader #winx club x reader #fate the winx saga x reader #riven x reader #riven imagine #winx riven #the specialists x reader #brandon x reader #sky x reader #bloom x reader #the trix x reader #stella x reader #musa x reader #valtor x reader #valtor winx x reader

[residenthughes]

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

[haddonfieldwhore]

like crazy - vince dunn

vince dunn x gn!reader

summary: after a much needed win, vince is in a good mood while you spend some time enjoying LA

warnings: none i think, just fluff 🩵

word count: 1.3k vibe playlist 🎧✨🌴

you breathed a sigh of relief as you starfished onto your back onto the soft hotel bed. you felt a weight on top of you as vince’s arms circled your waist, his head resting on your stomach as he used you as a pillow. you giggled as his hands tickled up your back, rolling the two of you over to lay side by side, facing eachother. it seemed like the smile hadn’t left his face since the kraken won their game, a rematch of their loss last week against the kings.

“what are our plans for your day off tomorrow?” you asked, and he intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hands up in the air as he laughed. you loved him like this; a carefree mood that came to him only after a win, or when he was with you.

“i don’t know. probably enjoying the nice weather and doing some shopping? what do you think?” he asked.

“sure, that sounds good to me. maybe we could go to the pool tomorrow, too?” you suggested, remembering how pretty the pool you had seen earlier on the roof had looked. a mischievous grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and there was a playful sparkle in his eyes. “uh oh, what is that look?” you asked, knowing he had an idea in his head.

“we could go to the pool now,” he suggested.

“it closed at 10,” you sighed, looking at the clock that told you it was already after midnight.

“so?” he smiled, and you gave him a look as if to say ‘absolutely not’.

“do you know how much trouble we would get in if-“

“if we get caught. which we won’t,” he promised, and you couldn’t say no.

“okay, fine,” you agreed, and he nearly tackled you in a hug as he rolled on top of you, the two of you a pile of tangled limbs and giggles.

•

the two of you walked hand in hand down the hallway, your bathing suits hidden by normal clothes, and you silently hoped there would be towels by the pool. the elevator surprisingly took you straight up to the rooftop with no issue, despite the pool supposedly being closed. even more surprising was the fact that there was no lock on the gate, and no security. you half wondered if vince had paid the hotel to leave it unattended, but you decided you would ask him about it later; or maybe you wouldn’t bother.

vince kicked off his flip flops and pulled his t-shirt over his head, tossing it onto one of many empty lounge chairs surrounding the turquoise water. you walked over to a little counter area and grabbed a few towels, relieved that you wouldn’t have to drip dry all the way back to your room. getting undressed down to your bathing suit, you felt vince’s hand wrap around your wrist. a squeal left you lips as he jumped into the deep end of the pool, pulling you in after him.

you surfaced from under the warm water, wiping your eyes as you stared at him, a huge grin on his face as he brushed his curls off his forehead. you splashed him, and he laughed as you continued to throw water at him.

“vin!”

“i’m sorry! come here,” he said, and you shook your head stubbornly as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight so you could splash him anymore. “still love me?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes, unable to stay mad at him when he was being so cute.

“fine, only if you give me a kiss,” you pouted, and he pulled you against him until you wrapped your legs around his waist. your mouths met in a kiss filled with laughter, your fingers tangled in his hair as the water lapped at your skin.

“the stars are really pretty,” he said, his head tilted back as he stared up at the night sky above you. you however, were too busy staring at him; the small dusting of freckles across his nose, the slightly upturned corner of his lips, the crinkles by his eyes. you admired the water droplets stuck to his long eyelashes, and of course, that one damn curl that always fell perfectly on his forehead.

“you’re pretty,” you countered, and he lowered his head to meet your eyes. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” he smiled.

“i mean it though, you’re like really pretty. it’s kind of unfair-“ he interrupted you with a kiss, and you smiled against his lips, his hands sliding up your back, caressing every inch of your bare skin.

“yeah, well you’re not so bad yourself, he grinned, bumping his nose against yours gently. “all the stars and lights of the city and i’d look at you instead everytime.”

you stared back at him in awe, so hopelessly in love as you tried to find someway to respond to something as sweet as that.

“you’re gonna make me cry,” you pushed his shoulder softly, and he smiled again, and you decided it was your favourite sight in the world.

“put your head under the water and no one will know-“ you cut him off with a splash as the two of you fell into a fit of laughter, and he dropped down under the water, dragging you beneath the surface with him. you coughed slightly as you got your head back above water, your stomach beginning to ache from giggling so much.

“should we call the guys to come hang out with us?” you suggested, knowing that they’d probably enjoy a swim in the pool after a winning game.

“sure, i’ll text the group,” he swam over to the edge, and you watched his muscles flex beneath his damp skin as he climbed out of the pool. “you’re drooling,” he teased, and you flipped him the middle finger as he sat on the lounge chair and pulled out his phone, typing a quick invite to the guys. he looked up to see you had turned away from him, looking out at los angeles as the lights reflected off the water. he snapped a picture with his phone to capture the beauty of the scene, setting it as his lockscreen before reading the few replies he had gotten from the group chat.

it wasn’t long before a few of the kraken players found their way up to the pool area, some of the others having already gone to bed, and some of them deciding not to risk getting caught. it was mostly the younger players that had decided to join you, including tye, kailer, ryker, and brandon.

vince followed the guys into the pool, and you covered your face to protect from the splash as tye canon balled into the water next to you.

“dude, we’re supposed to be sneaky, remember?” vince laughed as he splashed water in his direction, tye pushing you in front of him to use your body as a shield.

“we can just hide under the water if someone comes up here,” kailer suggested, and you all failed to contain your laughter, definitely being way too loud.

“we’ll just say it was the rookies idea,” tanev teased, playfully headlocking ryker, who looked a little nervous that he was being serious.

“it’d be way more believable to say it was your idea, turbo,” you argued, and the others agreed, tanev holding his hands up in surrender.

“alright, alright, make the guy who scored a goal take the blame, i see how it is.”

the splashing and giggling continued into the early hours of the morning, until all of your fingers and toes began to turn wrinkly from the water, and the air started to get colder. but it didn’t matter, right now you were surrounded by the people you loved, and up so high above the city, you felt like you were on top of the world.

yeah, you definitely loved when the kraken won, you decided.

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

#vince dunn fic #vince dunn x reader #vince dunn imagine #vince dunn #seattle kraken #seattle #kailer yamamoto #tye kartye #brandon tanev #ryker evans #kraken nhl #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl players #real person fiction

[ezhrndle]

Idk man

Art is by @lamaery

#cremposting #mistborn #the stormlight archive #cosmere #crempost #kelsier #adolin kholin #kelsier fortnite #crem #brandon sanderson #the way of kings #the final empire #imagine #imagines

[emmyrosee]

Sunarin is a new dad. And he’s good at it.

He’s constantly hovering over his little boy, there’s no where in sight that the newborn is, that he isn’t right behind him.

And it’s good, that way. Rin’s always been able to keep his infant calm and from screaming, something he teases he’s also good at when it comes to you (he puts a fake pout on his face when you give him a playful smack on the back of his head), and in turn, you’re able to handle your domestics with minimal hassle. Rintaro loves his son, he’s so good with him and he’s so good at soothing him before he’s able to cry too much.

But then Rintaro goes back to practice. And you’re finally thrusted into your very own seventh circle.

You’re convinced your new little boy hates you. Clean and simple. The way he screams and cries is absolutely nothing short of constant, no matter the circumstance.

You put him down for a nap, he’s screaming, you try to feed him, he’s refusing to nurse, in the rare instance he does stop crying and you sit down on the couch, he wails once more, and you feel your sanity slip.

You’d cry yourself, if you had the time and mental strength. If you had time to think about it, you’d feel hurt at the idea that your infant likes Rin so much more than you, that he’s the only one who can soothe the baby and you’re the one he’s stuck with at home.

Lucky, for the both of you.

After the absolutely grueling day, you finally manage to make him stop crying, just in time for Rintaro to come home to the two of you- both exhausted and in shambles and covered in poop, but to you none the less.

He smiles the minute his eyes lay on your disheveled form, shrugging off his duffel bag making his way towards you. “Hey momma bear,” he hums, reaching out to hug you. “How’s my beautiful, sexy-“

“Back off,” you snap, watching Rin’s hand fly back as if you’ve bit him. “Your son just projectile shat on me, and I’m not in the mood for your flirts.”

You glare at your husband as he fights, with all his might, to not cackle at your tense words. “I-I’m sorry, he what?”

“I was changing him,” you snarl, your whipping the pack of baby wipes at him. “And I thought he had to fart, but instead, he fucking shit himself. Everywhere.”

Sharp eyes follow down the stain at the edge of your shirt, forcing back a snort once again with a grin, “everywhere?”

“Everywhere,” you growl. “And Rin, so help me God if you laugh I’m filing for divorce-“

“Hey hey, come on now,” he says softly, wrapping an arm around you. Despite not wanting to be touched, you can’t deny how good it feels to be back in his arms. “No need to throw around the ‘d-word,’ you know I was going to laugh regardless of what you say.”

“Asshole,” you growl, but any facade of true anger melts into one of tears, and Rin pulls away slightly to look at you in concern. “… he hates me, Rin.”

“No he doesn’t,” he promises, shushing you softly. “He adores you, you know that.”

“He won’t stop crying,” you wail. “And he wouldn’t eat, he wouldn’t sleep, I haven’t peed for nine hours, for gods sake he shit on me-“

“And that’s because he’s two months old, baby,” Rin says, kissing your pounding temple. “He’ll do that. For a pretty long time. That’s what babies do. They’re not really picky with that, they kinda hate everyone.”

“He doesn’t do that with you-“

Rin chuckles, “you just don’t happen to see it. You’re out and about being super mom, all I can do is hold the fort until you get home. And you don’t see the chaos he can cause, yeah?” When you say nothing, Rin nudges his nose against you. “He loves you, babe. He just doesn’t know it yet. And that’s okay.”

He plants a kiss to your head, his warm hand settling on your belly to rub soothing circles in- carefully avoiding the poop stain- and when he finally feels you melt against him, he smiles encouragingly and guides you back into the bedroom where your son lays on his back in the middle of the bed.

“Hey, lil’ dude,” he hums, laying on his side next to the baby, while you blink in exhaustion. “You makin’ mommy crazy?”

“Yes,” you whine, laying on the other side of the baby boy, who grunts and smacks his lips up at his father. Your eyes close in a feeble attempt to ward off the migraine that’s forming, but when you hear a soft “I’ve taught you well,” followed soon by a “pound it,” you scowl up at your husband, whose fist is balled and ready for a fist bump. But even you can’t fight the chuckle that breathes through your nose when a tiny, mitten clad hand knocks against Rintaro’s, an excited “yesss,” easing past your husband’s lips.

Green, sharpened eyes flick over to you, and he offers you a loving smile before re-lifting his fist to you and mouthing another “pound it,” directed at you this time. Your smile falls to a frown, and you whine an exasperated “no,” before pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers. Instantly, a noise of distress comes from your son, and Suna clicks his tongue, “babe you’re making him upset, we need to pound it!”

Reluctantly, you lift your fist to bump against Rin’s, and he sighs happily as he looks down at your son, “and that’s how you were made, little man.”

You scowl and smack his hand, a playful “ow,” falling out of Rin’s mouth. You watch the hand you’d smacked rub soothing circles on your baby’s belly, his lips pressing small kisses against his chubby cheeks.

“Well, I’m proud that you are making mommy crazy,” he begins, resting his head against the bed to lay his forehead against his son, almost as if he’s recharging.

“But make sure to leave some chaos for me, okay?”

“I swear to God, Rintaro.”

#Brandon Farris wrote this 💅🏼 #suna rintaro #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x f!reader #suna rintaro x reader fluff #suna rintaro imagine #suna rintaro haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x f!reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x y/n #dad!au #dad!suna #dad!haikyuu #dad!hq

[smuttyworks]

SmuttyWorks Masterlist <3

Full masterlist! 

WARNING: Most if not all my stories include dark content so please don’t read if you’re not comfortable with it.

* - Smut

Brandon Carver

*Captured (Part one)

*Captured (Part two)

Captured (Part three)

Before the world ended

*Do you feel the same? (Part one)

*Do you feel the same? (Part two)

Mattheo Riddle

*The Game

*You’re Mine

*Why does wrong feel so good

*Beg for forgiveness 

*Control

Bellamy Blake

*Fear of you disappearing from my grip

Rafe Cameron

Lets go home (Part one)

There is no more home (Part two)

#brandon carver #brandon carver smut #charlotte matthews #mattheo riddle fluff #bellamy blake smut #bellamy blake #bellamy blake imagine #rafecameron #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #harry potter fandom #obx smut #obx imagine #harry potter smut #marcus lopez arguello #benjamin wadsworth #outerbanks #the walking dead #the walking dead smut

[chaotickryptonitetree]

grant me easiness and i'll give you everything (it's only fair) | jeremy swayman

what I feel about him is alarming and frighting and yap yap yap. hope you like!

Whoever claimed to enjoy airports had clearly never been an Uber driver. 

Sure; the money was significantly better than a normal ride—but the traffic? And the poor temperament? And the confusing lanes? It made you question if it was even worth the money. 

But there were bills to pay, so you added tonight to the list of nights you ended up at the rideshare terminal of the airport. 

You knew by now that flights usually got in on the 10s (7:10, 8:10, etc), so people would have collected their luggage and made their way to ride shares by the 35s (give or take). Glancing at the dash cam, you read 9:32. As if on cue, your phone pinged with a few alerts. 

Typically, you’d choose the one that offered the most money. But it had been a long night, with a lot of rides, and had made enough to finish a bit early. So you picked the one that would put you closest to home. And it happened to be Jeremy, who wanted to end up at a brownstone around 7 minutes from your building. 

And you waited. 

Just for a minute or two before a knock on the back window stirred you from completely zoning out. Instinctively, you unlocked the car and a body slid into the back seat. 

“Jeremy?” You confirmed, not bothering to look back. 

“How do you know that?” A cheery voice forced your hand, made you make eye contact with him in the mirror. Mistake. 

“Are you Jeremy or not?” You were paid to drive, not indulge lazy jokes. Still, his kind eyes didn’t waver. 

“Just messin,” he looked out the window and mockingly placed a light touch to the window. Despite yourself, you tracked the movement, watching his hands (his large, large hands). Mistake. “Driver, take me home.” He sighed a wistful sigh, and even though you didn’t want to, a small smile found its way to your face. Putting on the turn signal, you merged into the departure lane and turned up the stereo. 

Checking your blindspot, you pulled onto the freeway—traffic was awful so it would be a long ride despite the short mileage. 

“Temperature okay?” You asked politely, following your script. 

“Just right!” You could hear the smile in his voice, even though you refused to look at him again. 

“Music alright?” 

“My favorite!” You raised an eyebrow at his response—top 40 radio was no one’s favorite. But that was your last question that usually made riders feel heard enough to give 5 stars. Slightly relieved (as always), you settled in for the drive. 

Usually you spent the time working through a problem in your head, really getting into the whys and hows of something that was bothering you. One of your friends was being distant, so you started there. She had started this behavior about a month ago, so that could mean that—

“I flew in from Alaska,” that cheery voice interrupted your internal monologue completely. 

“That’s nice,” your reply was non-committal. You didn’t usually talk to riders that much. Didn’t plan on making it a habit. 

“Yup!” He popped the p sound. “I’m from there, and I was visiting my family. It was awesome—I really miss them when I’m here for a long time.” 

“Nice.” You were out of practice making small talk with a new person (to put it lightly). He just nodded—the only indication being the sound of fabric moving around his neck as he did so. 

“So, where are you from?” He leaned forward in his seat, as if genuinely interested—as if knowing where this stranger grew up was a seriously important part of his night. 

“I don’t have to talk to riders just because,” you cringed at how mean you sounded. He didn’t even deflate a little, just leaned back and laughed a slightly weird laugh. 

“Fair enough,” his tone made you wonder if he was always this happy, this unphased. 

And then the music filled the space as much as your stale air freshener did—even if the air was tinged with a bit of guilt on your part. 

“I can feel you looking at me,” your eyes darted to him again in the mirror. Brown eyes forgiving and kind and very, very cute. 

“Not tryna hide it.” It could’ve been taken as flirting, but you had the impression that he was just like this with everyone. Still, it warmed your cheeks just a little bit. “I’ve just never had such a pretty Uber driver,” and then a moment later, “well, a pretty one that’s my age, I mean.” 

You laughed, despite yourself. “Pining after older women are ya?” He smiled easily, and it definitely was for him—easy. 

“Look at this face and tell me I’m not a cougar's dream,” he laughed loudly. You didn’t look back for safety reasons (and convinced yourself that was the only reason). He leaned forward again. “I like it though,” his words felt like an admission, even if he didn’t lower his voice. Everything about him just felt—genuine? In a way that made every breath feel like a secret. “Makes me feel like I have a hot girlfriend who likes me enough to pick me up at the airport.” 

You scoffed. If he wanted a hot girlfriend, it definitely wouldn’t be hard—not with his easy charm and pretty face. “I’m only here because I’m being paid.” You hesitated. “And there’s no way you don’t have someone who likes you enough to brave the traffic.” 

You could sense his delight through your headrest. “Oh yeah I do,” he looked out the window again, “I have the best friends in the entire world. They were just busy tonight.” He sighed as if the idea of his friends was as good as having them in the seat next to him. It was quiet for a moment. “But no girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“I wasn’t asking,” your tone was blunt, but you couldn’t help but smile. He laughed his weird, goofy laugh.

“Call me a romantic,” he addressed you by name—something you typically didn’t like from patrons in your backseat—but it felt different with him. “But I want that—someone who wants to be the first person to see you when you get back, who can’t even wait to kiss you even if it’s in front of a whole terminal.” 

“Sounds like you’ve been watching too many rom coms,” but that suddenly felt unkind to such a gentle man, so then a moment later, “I hope you find that.” 

“I will,” he seemed absolutely sure. “Oh shoot,” he raised his fists to the sky mockingly. “My phone died. Curses!” 

“I have a charger,” you looked around for the cord while still keeping an eye on the road. He stayed quiet for a moment, considering. 

“No, I have an android,” he quickly put his phone in his front pocket, eyes squinting with trouble. Trouble that made you think that he definitely didn’t have an android. “Oh wait! I have an idea!” He completely over-sold his facial expressions, making you question where he was going with this little scheme. 

“And what would that be?” your tone was dry, eyes still on the road as you took the exit off the freeway, only a few minutes from his destination. 

“So I can give you your rightfully earned tip!” He reasoned, “you can give me your phone number so I can send you money once I get my phone charged.” You could feel his hopeful gaze on you, like his plan was the most logical course of action ever spoken. 

Logistically, it made no sense. You could tip an Uber days after your ride. “And what—you’ll just remember my number until then?” For some reason that was the first question you asked.

He nodded, serious as you’d seen him. “Of course,” he said incredulously, “I remember important stuff.” 

And it didn’t make any sense. And you could’ve said no. And this was probably against some sort of employer code. And he was definitely this charming with everyone. But he looked so endearing and hopeful and there was something very good about him. Something right. 

So you rattled off your number, and he mouthed each number after you said it. And you believed him that he would remember it. 

And you believed him as he opened the door to leave, wishing you a good night. And you believed him as he waved from the top step. And as he opened the door and turned around for one more look, mouthing goodbye. 

Despite yourself, you believed him. 

…

Your bed was heaven after a long stint in the car. Practically asleep before your head hit the covers, a notification sounded from your phone. 

A message from an unrecognized number was the last thing you saw before sleep. 

From: unknown 

Sent $50 

And then a moment later, after you saved his contact. 

From: Jeremy 

Any interest in meeting me at Dunkin on Tuesday morning? 

You went to sleep smiling. He remembered. 

…

You agreed to meet him early—you typically liked to start driving before 11 and he had morning skate. 

The sun had just risen as you walked to a Dunkin about halfway between you and him, bundled up in a puffer jacket and a toque. The bell jingled above the door as you entered, blowing warm air into your hands. It was freezing out. 

You didn’t even have time to glance around and look for him before a tall, broad body in a black coat walked up to you and held out his arms for a hug. And then you weren’t freezing anymore. Not even a little bit. 

He released you with a smile, linking your arms together and pulling you into line. “What do you usually get?” You asked, convincing yourself that you certainly were not leaning into his side. Definitely not. 

He peered down at you, tucked into his side, nose red from the cold. “Whatever looks good,” he admitted, “usually the thing with the most cream and sugar.” 

You laughed—even if you didn’t really know him, the idea that he didn’t have an order, that he just let himself enjoy whatever he wanted (even if it had a ton of sugar), that seemed very him. 

“I’ll get that too,” you definitely snuggled into his side more, but maybe it was so you didn’t have to face his genuine smile so head on. Maybe? 

And so he ordered for you both, but not before complimenting the teenage cashier’s pride pin and asking what his favorite donut was. 

“Dunno,” the kid had braces and posture that seemed to shrink in on itself, and was clearly not used to anything beyond what can I get for you, “sprinkle looks pretty good today.” 

“Then two of those too,” he put the spare change (and a five) in the glass tip jar. “Thanks brother,” he put out his knuckles for a fist bump. The kid tapped his fist lightly to Jeremy’s, completely won over. 

Like a puppy, he quickly found something else to entertain himself with while you waited. “We almost have matching jackets!” He gestured to his black north face and your navy one. You pulled a face—how could he find such delight in everything? 

“I guess?” You pinched your face together. He didn’t mind. 

“Very couple-y of us,” he put his hands up at the look you shot him. “I had to say it,” He shook his head like it was obvious. And it was so cute you didn’t give him a hard time about it. 

“Thanks for paying,” you directed the subject elsewhere, “you didn’t have to do that.” He shrugged, eyes fixed on your drinks as the barista (are they called baristas at Dunkin??) set down two identically light and sweet drinks. 

“My pleasure,” he grabbed the bag with two sprinkle donuts inside. 

“I’ll send you my share,” you made to grab your phone from your pocket. His hand over yours stilled the movement entirely, warmth emanating from his palm. 

“You got it next time,” he shrugged—like obviously there would be a next time. And you believed him, hand now interlaced with his. 

“I know it’s bad for me,” he groaned as he took a sip, “but it’s actually the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” A completely innocent line, but it felt dirty as he said it. Or maybe you were just losing it over how his thumb moved over yours. 

“Oh,” you responded quietly, taking a sip of yours. Total sugar bomb. “Well you’ll work it off anyways in practice I’m sure,” you fumbled over your words just a little bit. He seemed amused. “Like, looking at you, I’d never guess you have a sweet tooth,” you said, even though there was absolutely no reason to keep talking. He titled his head in delight. “Because you look totally in shape—you look, great. Yeah.” A true example of vocal mastery was on display tonight. 

He took a bite of donut, his white teeth a sight so intimate it made you blush. He hummed while chewing, nodding. “Oh yeah? I’m not sure why you mean…should we keep talking about how hot I look?” He joked before pulling a very embarrassed you into his side and out into the chilly air. It didn’t feel as cold with his hand around yours though. 

You laughed an embarrassed laugh. “Easy, you big dope, I was trying to be nice.” He laughed into your toque, head on top of yours. 

“I know, I know.” And then he went into talking about how he wasn’t a fan of Dunkin before moving to New England and now he was addicted. And you just listened, toasty from humiliation and content as he walked you home, hand covering yours. 

…

You offered to pick him up from practice later in the week (he had asked you to come to a home game, but you weren’t quite ready for that yet). He was right on time, waving an animated wave as he walked out the door with a few teammates. 

You waved back (a bit more timid in the presence of his friends), and turned to que up your next song. He knocked lightly on the window, and you rolled it down. He was bent over, face in the window as he glanced toward the backseat. 

“Want to meet my friends?” He asked politely, clearly excited. 

You hesitated, which made him continue. “No pressure at all. If you don’t want to, I can hop in the backseat and we can pretend you’re my Uber driver again,” he smiled a grin that was so genuinely happy it made you less nervous. You turned off the engine. 

“No way,” you unbuckled your seatbelt. “I wanna meet ‘em.” You opened the door and shut it softly behind you, wrapping your arms around yourself instinctively. He pumped his fist. 

“Let’s go!” He seemed overjoyed. It was quite possibly the sweetest reaction to such a nothing event. You rolled your eyes, but let him pull you in front of him, large hands rested on your shoulders, steering you to face his two teammates. 

He introduced you to them both (they were sweet, but there was something on their face that made you unsure if they were making fun of you or jeremy–or both–or no one). But listening to them banter back and forth while you stood pressed to the front of him made you realize that they just joked around like that. 

Jeremy was usually the punchline–but he didn’t mind. He was easy to laugh, easier to smile, and made a point of pulling you impossibly closer to him. If his friends noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

But then the fact that they didn’t say anything made you wonder just how many people he had introduced to his friends. Maybe they were having a non-reaction because they were so used to it? You stiffened slightly under his hands. 

And he must’ve felt it, because he placed a feather-light kiss to your hair–which did pull a reaction from his boys. 

“If you’re around on new year’s, we’re throwing something and you are obviously invited,” one of them nodded towards you, eyes a little wide. 

“Obviously?” You questioned, but felt far more comfortable than a moment ago. The taller one laughed, eyes flickering to Jeremy’s briefly. 

“Obviously,” he confirmed. “You think this is our first time hearing about you?” He shook his head, clapping the shorter one on the back. “Sway here wouldn’t shut up about you. If you didn’t respond to his text he was going to make us call every Uber in Boston until one of us got you as a driver.” 

You hit his chest as you turned around. “You goof,” you meant to say–but the words died on your tongue when your eyes met his–so full of genuine enjoyment and content that it warmed you from the inside out. You turned toward them again, waving goodbye. 

“I’ll see you on new year’s then.” 

“Nice to meet you,” they parroted, smirking at Jeremy. “We’ll see ya sway.” He waved and let you pull him into the passenger seat. 

“I like your friends,” you rubbed your hands together and blew on them. He smiled a radiant smile. 

“You’ll love the rest of the guys,” he pulled your free hand into his lap, both palms wrapped around it, warming you right up. You drove the rest of the way home with one hand so he could keep a grip on you. He gave you a play-by-play of practice (which drills he did best on, what made him laugh the most, what he wanted to focus on for the next game), only coming up for air once. 

“I really like you,” he said earnestly, as matter-of-factly as when he spoke about drills. It made you shake your head. 

“Obviously I like you too,” the words felt good to be out–like you didn’t realize how true they were until you said them aloud. 

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “Obviously?” You could feel his smile on the back of your hand. 

“It's, like, impossible not to.” You pulled in front of his building, putting the car in park. Meaning to pull your hand back from him–a little embarrassed–but didn’t even make it over the console before he crushed you in a hug over the center console. The steering wheel dug into your side, nose crushed into his chest, hair static-y all over his puffer. But you couldn’t bring yourself to back out of it–arms rubbing circles against the back of his coat. 

You had no idea how much time had passed when he pulled back, grabbed his bag from the trunk, and walked up to the front door. It was probably the longest he had gone without talking around you. But you didn’t mind. You liked him when he talked, when he didn’t, when he smiled, when he breathed. 

You smiled all the way home. 

…

You agreed to walk to the new year’s eve party together. It was just far enough away for you to prepare to meet more of the people from his world and hear about his last couple road games. Just hearing him talk made your nerves melt away. 

He insisted on meeting on your doorstep, however, even though it added 10 minutes to his walk. He texted when he was on his way.

From: J

Be there in a few!

From: you

You need my address?

From: J

Course not.

And then.

I remember important stuff.

You went in for a hug as you opened the door–a new part of your routine. 

“Hey,” your greeting was muffled into his puffer. His navy?? Puffer. One identical to your own. You thumbed the material and glanced up at him. “Nice coat?” You raised your eyebrows. 

He laughed loudly, tipping his head back. “I wanted to match.” The way he said it made it feel obvious–tone like a noncommittal shrug. Like why wouldn’t he want to match? 

The ease of the gesture was lovely. He was lovely. “Well then,” you linked your arm with his, setting off down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, “it is an honor to match with you tonight.” 

He let a grin brighten his face. “You smell really good,” he breathed into your hair. “Like you always do. And I like the glitter you have–” He ghosted a thumb over your brow bone, “here.” 

And the loveliness haunted you the entire walk over, conversation easy and light. He was so open, so kind, in a way that eased openness and kindness from you as well. 

So the night was much better than you had expected. It felt natural to meet his friends, his teammates, their wives, their kids. It didn’t feel like being thrust into a brand new world. It just felt like natural–like getting another piece of Jeremy was a privilege. 

And you didn’t feel out of place with how enamored you were with him–everyone here clearly was. He was the heartbeat of this group of people–and you felt lucky to watch him light up the room. And a little part of you felt proud that you were here with him. 

The one who everyone wanted to be around–he wanted to be here with you. 

“You’re too nice for him,” another new face laughed as he clapped Jeremy on the shoulder, looking down at you. 

“Too nice?” You glanced at the palm resting over your stomach. Possibly the most gentle, kind touch you had experienced. How could anyone be too nice for that? “For him?” Your voice raised with confusion.

The young guy in front of you raised his eyebrows at the man behind you. “He didn’t tell you?” His smile was all trouble. “Our boy Sway likes to be a little roughed up,” he laughed at your blush, hidden by you turning around to gape at Jeremy. To wait for a rebuttal.

But it never came. He just laughed good-naturedly and hugged you into his chest. “Hey now, don’t scare her away!” He looked down at you, squeezed tight against his chest. “Lucky to have her here at all.” His smile was just for you. 

And so you smiled and let yourself half forget about that comment. Met some more people. Drank some more wine. Smiled a lot. 

But you couldn’t forget it entirely. 

Some time later, he beckoned you over to where he sat on the couch. You finished up chatting with some of the women and made your way to him. 

“Hey,” you stood in between his legs before he pulled you down to sit on one of his thighs with a thud. You felt him sigh into your hair as you leaned back so your head rested on his shoulder, hands reaching around the play with his fingers. He was solid and warm. 

“Hey,” if you had to put money on it–you’d bet he was smiling. “Thanks for being a champ about this–they can be a lot.” You traced a nail over the outline of his hand. “But they’re important to me, so it makes me happy that they get to meet you.” 

As intimate as a secret, spoken lowly in your ear. As secure as a fact, warming your chest. 

“I like them,” you thought for a moment. “Even if they think I’m too nice.” 

He rolled his eyes. “They’re just giving you a hard time. It’s a long story.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “You can tell me if you want.” You could feel his chest rise and fall under your back.

“When I first signed, I showed up to practice all beat up once. Bruises, all that nonsense.” His eyes shone as he retold the story–like the emotions were just as fresh as they had been.  “Told everyone I walked into a doorway–or something stupid like that. In the locker room later, everyone saw the marks this girl had left all over me.” He indicated scratch marks over where you lay on his chest. “All on my back and my neck and stuff. Never heard the end of it–how doors are really fighting back now and all that.” You just listened. “So yeah, they give me a hard time about it. But it’s no big deal–I didn’t want them to scare you or anything. If you’re not into that, don’t worry.” 

He ducked his head into the crook of your shoulder, kissing behind your ear. You shivered, trying not to wiggle too much over his lap. Tilting your head towards him, you let your voice drop so only he could hear. “I’m into that.” His eyes went wide. “And I’m into you, so I can still be nice.” 

He gulped audibly, making you smirk. “Like, I can be nice and tell you that you’re so good.” His face was as serious as you’d seen him. “Makes me wonder if you’d be so good for me.” 

He nodded before he knew what he was nodding at, grip tight around you. “I would be.” His voice was clipped. “I’d be so good for you.” 

You nodded back, chest on fire. You believed him. 

You let your cheek rest against his sweater, eyes peering up at him–slightly flushed from the party and eyes a little tired. It had to be close to midnight. 

As if on cue, the countdown began from the tv. Every voice in the room chanted along…10, 9, 8…but you almost didn’t hear them. Too busy looking at Jeremy. 7, 6, 5. You turned so your legs swung off the couch, sideways in his lap. 

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” he whispered, holding you upright against him. “Like a real one. Not just a friend or something.” 4, 3. You pulled him so close you could see the shine of his lip from his drink, feel the sweat on the back of his neck from his sweater. 

2. 1. “Glad to be your first or something,” you grinned into the kiss, teeth knocking against his. He laughed a breathy laugh into your mouth, free hand palming the back of your head. His chest rose and fell next to yours, making you pull back. 

“I’m so happy it’s you,” he admitted–probably the most embarrassed you’d seen him. You ran your hands through his hair, settling against his chest so he could put his chin atop your head.

You believed him.

...

happy new year! Love ya

#nhl fic #nhl imagines #jeremy swayman #bruins #boston bruins #david pastrnak #brandon carlo #charlie mcavoy #matt poitras

[thethreeeyed-raven]

Can you make a bran Drabble when the jist is that he has a secret bf/gf :) tysm!!

bran with a secret s/o

navigation | warnings : SMUT (if ur uncomfortable with that just skip), caught in the act | a/n : listen, if he wanted to, he could, THE WAY I SAT GIGGLING TO MYSELF WRITING A CERTAIN ONE | tags : @knight-of-flowerss @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom | bran stark playlist

SFW

bran loves secretly holding your hand, especially when you go out somewhere with him and his family, ugh hand holding is a must

secret kisses🤭

buying you gifts then you having to pretend arya or sansa bought it for you and the awkward silence when they say they didn't

he has you over to watch movies and cuddle

he may beg his fam to go out and do something for the night just so he can do that ^^

he likes sneaking around with you

longing looks across the dinner table when you get invited to have dinner

OML KICKING EACH OTHER UNDER THE TABLE OR TEASING EACH OTHER

you both are sat giggling and everyone just has confused looks on their faces

you sneak into his room in the middle of the night when you have sleepovers just to cuddle with him and then you have to sneak back into whoever's room you were in first

late night talks

always checking up on you, making sure you've eaten etc

once sansa caught him doing this and started teasing him about it

his fam constantly talks about you around him just to see that little smile that appears on his face

NSFW

neck kisses

HICKEYS

imagine going home and you have a big massive hickey appearing on your neck all because bran cant help himself

THIS MAN LOVES HAIR PULLING

imagine ya'll are at it, he's devouring you down there and you're pulling his hair

the moans he has to stiffle😫

constantly telling him to be quiet

loves taking you up against the wall

always ensures your comfort before trying anything new

he loves marking you

if you consent to pics being taken he absolutely will

keeps them all in a secret folder and sometimes beats his meat to them💀 ^^

IM SORRY

bro is very very vocal

sometimes your movie sessions end up in steamy sex

literally does everything you tell him to no joke

bro is submissive af

he needs praise

like a lot of praise

HE NEEDS YOU TO TELL HIM YOU LOVE HIM

he craves it

"tell me you're mine"

HE WHIMPERS

i just know he whimpers

and i just know its big

its hard for you guys to get at it because your relationship being a secret yk so when you do its definitely passionate and loving

bran does like it rough but not all the time

Grunts and whimpers could be heard throughout the room.

Bran's family had gone out for the day, but Bran pretended to be sick so he could have you over.

His shirt was thrown somewhere around the room and your bottoms where around your ankles.

As he rutted into you, you tugged on his scalp, earning quiet whimpers from him.

Your moans filled his ear drums, listening as you whispered sweet nothing's into his ear.

His family was supposed to be out for the day, but then just happened to get home early.

They all piled into the hallway.

"Stop." Catelyn said. "Can't you hear that?"

Sansa and Arya stiffled laughs as they all approached Bran's room. The noises got louder.

Catelyn opened the door.

"BRANDON!"

You both turned to look at each other in embarrassment.

"Fuck."

#game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones smut #bran stark imagine #bran stark #bran stark x reader #brandon stark #isaac hempstead wright x reader #isaac hempstead wright

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy prince

Characters: Sky x male reader, Brandon x male reader, Riven x male reader 

Universe: Winx Club/Winx Saga

Warnings: None

Authors note: Okay that's a strange one. It is a hybrid of the old Winx Club animated Series and the horrible reboot from Netflix. It is in a sense more on the Winx Club side of things but has also parts of its reboot in it. So yeah, hope you guys like it.

When your parents told you that now was the time that you had to leave amid the war you were fighting against a neighboring world, to say you were furious, would be an understatement.

Even though you did not want to leave, you couldn’t go against your parent's word. So a couple of days later, you found yourself at the entrance of the Alfea school for fairies. The mostly pink building made you almost vomit on sight. But being near other people like you would be a nice change. You have four younger brothers, but none of them are like you.

And then came the moment in which you entered the place. Only fairies could at the start enter the campus and everyone looked at you astonished, as you followed a group of girls onto it.

Minding your own business, not even realizing that dozens of pairs of eyes stared you down. Hanging on your phone texting with Vika, your brother that was closest in age to you.

Where finally someone tapped on your shoulder. Turning around, a faint smile crept on your face, as you saw an older woman with white hair in front of you.

„Young man, you must be mistaken, this is Alfea the school for fairies,“ she began to talk. As you wanted to interrupt her, she started anew. „The school for specialists is a couple of kilometers west from here, you can’t miss the red fountain!“ Her voice was happy to help you.

Dumbfounded you just stood there. In your family was it normal for boys to be fairies and not the girls. For generations, at least one of your kin visited Alfea, yes it is a long time overdue, cause of your father's generation having not a single one, but before him, were seventeen, alone from your family alone.

„Excuse me? I think I’m at the right place,“ you only told her determinedly.

She was taken aback, especially at your slightly sour tone. Without giving her more of your attention, you went back to your phone. Telling your brother everything that had happened.

You did not notice, that the woman had left or that everyone gathered at a place, in front of a little stage. Only after the woman you had just a confrontation with, lets out beautiful magic, do you look up again. Not being able to hear her, you walked closer. 

It was only welcoming, but again you got the feeling of belonging deep inside of you. Eyes glistening in excitement. You even hold your hand to one of the magical butterflies she just let appear, out. A lot of them landed on you, tickling your soft skin. Never in your life, have you ever seen something so beautiful?

Only the color of blood corpses piling up, as art and the screams of dying or hurt people, as music. But this, this was entirely different, warmth began to fill you up.

At least until you felt something strange hovering over you, just as you wanted to look, you fell to the floor. Not knowing what was happening, you tried to stand up, by putting your hands on the floor. But were unable to move them even a little bit. As your eyes wandered down you saw a kind of rope, binding you together.

Angry you tried to free yourself, but it also seemed to block your magic. Fear flowed through your veins, which only got worse, as you saw that nobody was going to help you.

„Miss Faragonda, we were sent to get this one out of here, to get him to the right place as you wish.“ Immediately your eyes went to the older lady, that had spoken to you before. She smiled at you sweetly, but the only thing you could feel was a betrayal. Not only from your own kind but also from a woman, your grandfather most likely held in high regard.

„You can’t do this, I’m a fairy too!“, you screamed out, which let everyone look at you in disgust. That you really tried that to get into an all-girls school. 

Before you could make more problems, a blond guy took your upper body, while a brown-haired guy, took the other side and carried you away. All the while you spewed insults, and threats, and all in all being aggressive.

With the hovercraft back in their own school, you got carried to the headmaster, where he wanted to explain why you thought, being obviously a specialist to go to Alfea to learn about the craft. At this point, you did not answer anything. Which got you in a confinement cell. To let cool you off.

But your anger just grew in there. To get betrayed was one thing, but from people who should understand and be with you? Your own magical kind? The only ones even in the slightest should be able to feel the pain of responsibility you had on your shoulders?

For an entire week were you in there, often both headmasters you had seen came to you, to speak, but you hadn’t any of it. Three times a day, the brown-haired guy that had brought you there, feed you. Because of the rope that still bound you together, you couldn’t eat yourself.

After this week a very known face to you finally got you out of this cell. He almost broke as he saw you. Caged into a cell, instead of being together with your kind, just as he was when he was younger.

He destroyed the rope and got you to follow him. His steps were slow and the walking stick wouldn’t do it for much longer. Still, he walked up all the flight of stairs. He was determined for something.

As you got into the headmaster's room, in which you were the first day. „Saladin!“, your grandfather called through the room. As the other old man looked up from his desk, he was shocked to see you and your grandfather. But before he could say anything, your own clam grandfather shot an explosion at him.

The room was destroyed but no one was harmed. Still, Saladin was obviously confused. „What are you doing here Teritel?“

„What I’m doing here? My second oldest grandson brought to my attention, that my oldest was not answering him anymore. So I came to this place to find him, only to hear from Fraragonda, that my precious boy is in here! Caged into a cell!“, the last part he screamed in absolute anger.

Even the headmaster gulped hard at seeing your grandfather this angry. „Because he is obviously a specialist and not a fairy.“ Saladin tried to argue softly. But then your grandfather showed him his own wings.

„I have expected more from your guys. You knew that my family brings out male fairies instead of females! And still, you caught him like a criminal, and humiliated him in front of hundreds of others! This will have consequences, Saladin! As the still reigning king of Ulnika, I will bring this up in the next „Kings and Queens“ meeting. Maybe we need new schools for the next generations!“

Just then your grandfather wanted you to go with him. Telling the other older man, which seemed to have been once a friend of your grandfathers, to stop you two.

„No we can train him here, maybe even with fairy guidance!“, he tried to get to a compromise.

„You want my grandson? My heir, to half a half excuse of a fairy education? One that he as the protector of an entire world, has a right to? He already is experienced enough to get all of your boys on the floor with a sword, so what could he learn more from you, than from a school full of fairies?“

The man seemed to be at a loss for words. Which your grandfather took as your leaving sign. But this time it was you to stop him. „Maybe I should try it. But only, if we start the school year with a training camp with both fairies and specialists, where both get trained together for a while.“

Your grandfather at first reluctant, understood with a couple of moments looking into your eyes. S slightly evil grin appeared on his wrinkled face, „That is a fantastic idea. Deep in the woods, is an old wizard school. It still gets cared for.“

Saladin at the end of his wisdom said `yes´ to it, He didn’t even have much of a choice left, but still. At least he wouldn’t be on your grandfather's bad side anymore.

And as your grandfather had told already, you could bring all of them down. And you looked forward to doing it. Especially with the blond and brown-haired guys. But also the one with purple hair tips. The one that had thrown the rope to contain you.

A wide, satisfied smirk already was on your face, not being able to wait for the day of your revenge.

[Masterlist]

#Sky x male reader #Brandon x male reader #Riven x male reader #Winx Club #Winx Club x male reader #Winx Club imagine #Winx Saga #Winx Saga x male reader #Winx Saga imagine #x male reader #male reader #x male reader imagine #male reader imagine #Sky imagine #Brandon imagine #Riven imagine

[gazpachoandbooks]

I can't believe Brandon Stark rode up to his enemy's fortress and yelled at him to "come out and die" and that sentence is never spoken about ever??? As if it isn't the coolest most badass thing in the world???? I'm starting a petition to make it a family tradition. I want every single starkling yelling this at the top of their lungs at least once. I'm cheering them on already

#worst case scenario at least they get to scream and if someone's earnt that right it's them tbh #i think about this all the time #imagine tiny arya doing this i would literally lose my shit #brandon stark #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #starklings #house stark #two generations of starklings

[galbalmuhet]

Yes, yes, yes! ❤️

#alan rickman #severus snape #alan sidney patrick rickman #rickmaniac #snape love #snape imagine #colonel brandon #the perfume #antoni richis #i love alan rickman #sense and sensibility #snape fic #snape fandom #severus art

[rise-my-angel]

More headcannons about the Starks being doms!!! Pleaseeeee!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay starting off saying, all Stark men are doms, just in different ways. But let's start from the eldest down.

Brandon Stark:

Easily a hard dom. He was short tempered and described as very distinctly as having "wolfs blood". He loved fighting and always kept his sword sharp and with him. I have a distinct theory that he was a power bottom, preferring women on top of him but without actually giving them that control. Probably didn't talk a lot, and when he did was just purposely filthy. He also definitly liked to take things rough, considering Barbrey Dustin says this about him.

"I still remember the look of my maiden’s blood on his cock the night he claimed me. I think Brandon liked the sight as well. A bloody sword is a beautiful thing."

That is some hard dom behavior right there.

Eddard Stark:

If there was a Stark who was closest to a switch then the others, it would be Ned. But I think that is more because Ned is just rather vanilla in comparison. There is zero reason to believe Catelyn likes being in charge in the bedroom, but I also think Ned is far more of a soft dom. Not very talkative, probably more intimate, and he doesn't push Catelyns limits. But he does in fact, go hard.

The man gave her five children, and Catelyn literally implies in the first book that Ned fucked her so hard she was in that afterglow pain only a man who goes rough can give.

"Her loins still ached from the urgency of his lovemaking. It was a good ache."

Submissive men do not fuck so urgently they leave their wife laying in bed sore as fuck from getting pounded. Ned is probably the least kinky of the present Starks, but certainly still a soft dom.

Benjen Stark:

We see he has a very dominant personality, how easily he takes control of a conversation and establishes himself as someone to be listened too, but considering he clearly joined the Nights Watch at an early age, it's safe to say Benjen grew up a man whom was just not involved in sexual encounters.

If he did fuck, he'd likely be more of a soft dom with a side that likes to tease and be playful, but I assume he's either never or had very little sexual encounters to say for sure what he'd be like as one. But in his everyday personality, he certainly commands authority when necessary which is proof of dominance enough for me.

Robb Stark:

If there is the biggest example of a hard dom, it's Robb. This man takes you like a goddamn wolf. Flipping you onto your hands and knees, shoving you further into the furs of his bed, going fast enough you can't catch your breathe and rough enough that you feel him well into the next day. He will yank you up to his chest and purposely mutter depraved shit in your ear, mock you for your pleasure knowing it works you up more when he does it. Calling you derogatory sexual terms in bed to keep you in that subspace (he doesnt say them to hurt your feelings you know its all part of a kind of rougher roleplay essentially).

We've seen him take command in every situation. He knows how to seize control of a conversation even with opponents as difficult as Jaime Lannister. He doesn't falter, knowing he has everything in his favour and is sure of himself. Putting men twice his size like Greatjon Umber in his place but still managing to secure his upmost dedicated loyalty at the same time.

Robb probably the most forgets to be romantic in bed, but he makes up for it any other time. It's just in bed, when Robb is fucking you, he is rough and mean. You both know its with love and you both like it, but he is a true hard dom.

Jon Snow:

If his brother is the definition of a hard dom, Jon is the definition of a soft dom. Jon is incapable of being mean to you, truly being mean. He'll never whisper filth for the sake of it, never try to mock or embarrass you, will never use anything close to something derogatory towards you in what he calls you. Jon is passionate, raw, and very intimate about sex with you, and he needs a lot of both skin to skin contact and he needs to be able to kiss you as much as he wants.

But, he is also very controlling. More then he realizes. Jon is unpredictable in bed, because what he wants varies wildly. Sometimes he takes you slowly, but goes for hours to the point he is still inside you as you pass out, which he keeps going. Sometimes, he is rougher then he even realizes. Jon leaves bruises all the time from how tightly his hands grab at you alone, and he goes rough to the point sometimes you almost are pushed too far, but Jon somehow always ends up making you crave it.

You basically will never choose how the night goes. Jon always controls you in bed, and you let him. It works him up to an endless degree that you so completely trust him with you to the point he basically owns your autonomy in bed. He can convince you to do anything knowing you'd let him, and he won't give you what you want because he knows your needs and limits better then you do.

Jon is soft and loving with you in bed, but he is a dom through and through. Jon alone is the one in total control in the bedroom and he will always keep it that way.

#jon snow #robb stark #brandon stark #eddard stark #ned stark #benjen stark #jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

[sierpentas]

I JUST NOTICED. BLITZO DOESNT HAVE A SONG. HE DOESNT SING. HE JUST DOES A little PART IN MOXXIES BAD TRIP.

moxxie sang more than 3 times already

stolas also

verosika sang twice

2 kings of hell already had songs

EVEN MILLIE HAD A SOLO BEFORE BLITZO

now i cant stop thinkin about a fucking blitzo song bruv that will DESTROY ME

just imagine what it could be . Boy.

*on the other side i think its very fitting that the only time blitz is in a song related context its just him having a meltdown w some led zeppelin in the background lol . but .. idk ...............🥺 gimme more singing brandon rogers

#helluva boss #vivziepop #imagine if the song came in ep. 6 lol #blitz #brandon rogers #imagine if the song was about fizz or his past #IMAGINE IF HIS FIRST SONG WAS ABOUT STOLAS????????? #not likely #im so normal about this #spindlehorse #helluvaboss #blitzø #fizzarolli #barbie wire #moxxie #blitzo #i will shit my pants fr