#just uh very this is fine everything is fine

[peachesofteal]

The wallflower.

Johnny clocks it immediately, your shoulders practically pinned against the pale-yellow wall, pint glass slick with condensation cradled between your fingers. Your eyes dart around and then away, finding something to study in the carpet, or the stairs, on the coffee table.

You’re not comfortable here, that much is clear.

He elbows Simon. “Poor girl looks nervous.” Simon gives you a furtive glance over the rim of his glasses, and nods.

“Probably only knows one person. Or got dragged here.” It’s Kyle’s wife’s birthday party. She has a lot of friends it seems, well liked in all facets of her life, work and otherwise. He clucks his tongue. “Sweet thing.” Someone bumps into you, and then pivots, reaching out to grab your arm in apology. You don’t tell him off or pull away. You just glance at his hand, meek smile stretching your lips sour. It turns Johnny’s stomach.

“She needs rescuing.”

“Johnny.” There’s a warning in Simon’s tone, a reproachful sentiment that he knows well. No strays. No projects. No more shelter pets.

“Ach c’mon. Look at her.” That one muscle in Simon’s cheek feathers, the one that says everything without Simon saying anything at all. Broken resolve.

He sighs. Johnny grins.

“Ye alright?” The man who’s taken up a residence at your shoulder is now speaking to you. Worse, he’s asking you if you’re alright.  

“I… I’m good. Yeah. Fine.” You grip your glass tighter, ignoring the flip of your stomach. You snuck at glance at him when he first came over, and that was enough. He’s very handsome.

And you’re, well-

You’re… you.

“Someone ditch ye?” Oh god.

“Uh, no. My friend is over there.” You point to Anna’s back. She’s in the kitchen, laughing so loud you can hear her from across the living room.

“Ah. She did ditch ye.”

“No!” You glare at him, “No.”

“But she didnae offer to introduce you to anyone?” You wince, and his eyes flicker with sympathy. “Ah, she did.”

“I’m not good with… people.” The understatement of the year. You don’t do people. People are too unpredictable, too much of an unknown. A pattern of behavior will only take you so far, and it’s hard to forecast their actions, reactions, words, emotions… everything.

You prefer safer bets. Predictable things. Equations, mostly.

“Ye’re not good w’people, but ye’re at a party.”

“Yes, it’s quite a feat.” You snap your mouth shut, expecting him to give you a weird look, but he laughs.

“If ye’re uncomfortable, why stay?”

“Because, social interactions are good for me. And I promised myself a slice of cheese pizza if I made it an hour.” He should laugh. Most would. Most would think it’s fucking hilarious, how you’re bribing yourself, dangling a carrot in front of your face.

But this guy doesn’t. He doesn’t laugh. He cocks his head, and frowns. “So… ye’re torturing yourself so ye can earn a slice of pizza.” A nervous giggle bubbles up and out your throat.

“It sounds bad when you put it that way but-“

“It is bad.” A deep voice sounds from over your shoulder, and you jump.

“This is Simon.” Your new… friend, Johnny, motions to the hulking man at your side, and you manage a nod, spitting out your name. “He’s no’ scary, just looks it.” Johnny reaches for his hand, and the equation clicks to together with ease.

Oh.

“You here with a friend?”

“Uh. Yep.” You point to Anna, again, and they exchange a look.

“She ditch ya?” Same question, different accent, and you’re about to give the same answer, when Johnny intercedes.

“She’s here so she can have a slice of pizza.” Yeah. It sounds bad.

“Wot?”

“I… It’s good for me to be around people so I said if I could do it for an hour, I could have pizza.” They’re both wearing expressions you can’t translate, two faces you don’t understand, and it twists you up.

“Do you usually ransom yourself pizza?”

“N-no.”

“Is it… an eating thing?”

“Oh, no. It’s like… I’d rather be at home, but everyone says socializing is… important. So, for doing something I hate, I get pizza.” Simon sighs.

“Trying to fit a square into a circle.” The comment is puzzling, but as you’re trying to put it together, Johnny links his pinky with yours and tugs you closer. The room is quiet, the music, the laughing, the chatter, all of it goes silent. There are dozens and dozens of people in here, but right now, it’s just you and these two. Staring at one another. There’s a web thin string spinning from him, to you, to Simon, and it’s wrapping you up, cocooning you, holding you tight.

“This okay?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Ye wannae go get that slice with us?” Do it. Just do it. Do something. You take a deep breath.

“Sure.”  

They look comical, shoved into the pleather red booth across the table from you, Simon far too wide to comfortably accommodate Johnny, but they don’t seem to mind. “So, cheese then?” You nod, picking at the faded corner of a menu. This was a bad idea, this was stupid. What were you thinking? Why-

“Three slices of cheese please.” You hadn’t even noticed the server, and you panic when she starts to turn away.

“And a coke!” You blurt, immediately embarrassed. She stares at you for a second before nodding, forcing a smile, and walking off. Fuck. You press your palm down on the table, trying to focus on the texture, the feel of it.

“Hey,” Simon says softly, “you didn’t do anything wrong.” You bristle.

“I know that.” Of course you know… don’t you?

Clearly not.

They don’t try to force you into conversation, but they do talk to you. They don’t ask you pointed questions or try to dig into you, instead choosing to tell you about themselves, their dog, their jobs. They keep you involved without dragging you in unwillingly.

It’s nice.

You’re halfway through your slice when you realize they’re watching you.

 “What? Is there something on my face?” You frantically wipe at your chin, your cheeks. Simon’s mouth quirks.

“Nothing on your face, sweet girl.” Your brain scrambles. Words fail. You don’t think anyone has ever called you something like that before.

“Oh. Okay. Well. Good.” Stupid.

“Go on and finish up.” He instructs, pointing at the grease laden slice, and you bring it to your mouth obediently. “Want to come for a walk with us after this? Our favorite park is around the corner, and the moon is really bright tonight.” A walk. With them. A walk? What does that mean? Just like, a walk?

Do it. Just do it. Do something. Be brave.

You roll your shoulders, and take a bite of your pizza, chewing slowly and swallowing.

And then you nod.

“Yes.”

[putellas14]

A Girlfriend for Christmas (Leila Ouahabi x Reader)

"Should I wear this one or this one?" you asked, holding up two dresses for your friend, Leila. Leila was laying on your bed, her phone in her hand, probably texting last night's hookup. 

She glanced up briefly, flicking her eyes over the dresses, before refocusing on her phone. "The blue one," she said. 

"Thank you," you muttered. Dropping the dresses on the bed, you pulled your sweats and shirt off, letting them fall on the ground. You shimmied the blue dress up over your hips and put your arms through the straps. You tapped Leila's foot to get her attention again. "Okay, how does this look?"

Leila looked up again. "Uh." Clearing her throat, she looked back down at her phone. "You look nice. Where are you going?"

"I didn't tell you?" You laughed to yourself. "I'm going to meet the girl I'm hiring to be my girlfriend for Christmas. Well, this will actually be the fourth girl I'm going to meet. Haven't had much success yet." 

"I'm sorry," Leila said, throwing her phone on the bed next to her and sitting up straighter, "what are you talking about?"

"I'm hiring a girlfriend."

"Why?"

"Because I can't spend another Christmas listening to my entire family ask me endless questions about my love life." 

"Why didn't you just ask me to come with you?" she asked. 

"I couldn't do that. They all know you. They'd never believe it." 

"Why not?"

"Well," you thought for a second, "you're my friend."

"Friends date all the time. We could be friends who date,” she said, matter of factly. 

“Be real, Leila. I need this to work. You’ve always been very anti-relationship. No one is going to believe that we’re together.” 

Leila rolled off the bed and moved to stand in front of you. She was standing so close your lips were nearly touching. She lifted her hand, caressing your cheek with the back of her fingers, letting her fingers slowly, tortuously, slide down your neck. 

You felt an incredible sense of deja vu before remembering you’d been in this position before. Once. In a dream. A few months after meeting Leila. And you had berated the crush out of yourself back then. 

When you involuntarily leaned into her, she patted your cheek and stepped back. “See? We can make people believe we’re into each other.”  

“Right.” You cleared your throat and brought yourself back to reality. This reality. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Plus, this girl is already waiting for me, so it’d be rude to turn her down without at least going to meet her.” 

“Okay.” Leila settled back in your bed with her phone.

“What’re you doing? I’m leaving.” 

“And I’ll be here waiting to hear all the deets when you get back. I have to know everything. You know your brother is going to call me as soon as you walk through the door with this girl. Be weird if I don’t know anything about her.” 

“Fine. Make yourself useful and feed Dot while I’m out then,” you said, referring to your old sweet black cat who only enjoyed interacting with you or Leila. 

The bar you’d chosen to meet at was just a block away from you. But somehow you were still late getting there. She was already sitting at a table in the corner, her blonde hair flowed like a halo in the dim spotlight. She was even more beautiful than in her photographs. 

And that turned out to be her best quality. She was a complete bore. She could barely hold a conversation, stumbling her way through most sentences, and never saying anything of substance. Your family would give you a bigger headache for showing up with her than if you just went home alone. 

She wasn’t going to work. At all. 

After two drinks, you politely ended the night, thanking her for her willingness to help but gently turning her down. You paid for her drinks to make up for turning her down. 

“So?” Leila asks, as soon as you walk in. She had migrated from your bed to your couch. Dot was curled up next to her, sleeping. 

“Remind me never to have ideas again. She was so boring. My family would hate her.” 

“You know who they love?” she asked, a cheeky grin on her face. 

You nearly shut her down again. But she was right. Your family did love Leila. She was their favorite of all your friends. Maybe it would be hard to convince them you were dating but at least they wouldn’t give you a hard time about picking a person who didn’t fit. 

“On one condition,” you heard yourself say. 

“Name it.” 

“No kissing on my lips.” 

“But how will we convince them then?” she asked, raising a single perfect eyebrow.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Ouahabi.” You crossed the living room, heading for your bed. “We leave at 8am tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder. “Don’t be late.” 

You had already bought the second train ticket, and it was simple enough to get the passenger’s name changed at the train station the next morning. The three of you (you, Leila, and Dot) settled in for the long ride down to Oxford. You dozed on and off, as was typical for you. At one point you woke to find yourself leaning on Leila’s shoulder. You apologized and sat straighter. She had just smiled in response and returned to her book. Dot slept peacefully in her carrier through the entire ride.

Your dad was waiting for you at the station, and he greeted you both with a huge hug before loading your bags into the car. You’d grown up there, both your parents being local primary school teachers. Your brother, James, had followed in their footsteps but was currently working towards his PhD so he could teach at university.

On the car ride home, you listened to Leila and your dad catch up with each other. Your family truly did enjoy Leila’s presence, which always warmed your heart. Thankfully, it seemed as though he had forgotten your text message letting them know you’d be coming home with your girlfriend for Christmas. God bless your dad and his forgetful nature. You were suddenly nervous about this whole ruse. 

As if Leila could sense it, likely from how quiet you were the entire ride, as your dad turned onto their road, she reached over and squeezed your hand. 

“Breathe,” she mouthed. 

And you did. Taking a few slow, deep breaths. It would be fine, you told yourself. This would all be fine. It was just a couple days. 

You could see your mom’s eyes get misty from the front door when she recognized Leila next to you. Clearly, she had not forgotten you were bringing home your “girlfriend.” 

She came down to the car so she could hug you tight as soon as you got out. “Hi, sweetie! How was the train?” 

“Hi, mom. Can’t. Breathe,” you managed. 

“Oh whoops.” She stepped back, loosening her grip on you and moving over to Leila. “Hello, Leila dear! Welcome!” She gave Leila as tight a hug as she gave you. “I think we have some catching up to do,” she said, looking over at me. Putting her arm around Leila’s shoulders, she guided her into the home. Leila looked over her shoulder at you as she went into the house and the panic on her face immediately calmed you down and brought pure amusement to you as you unloaded the bags and brought them into the house. You set down Dot's carrier by the front door and let her out. She immediately beelined for the sofa, her favorite place in this house.

From the front door, you caught a glimpse of the huge Christmas tree in the family room. There must have been at least a hundred ornaments hanging from the branches. Your mom (it was mom who loved Christmas the most) had garlands and decorations covering every available surface. She had always made home feel like something out of a winter Christmas fever dream. You loved it. It had always made you love Christmas so much. 

You wandered over to the Christmas tree, letting your eyes roam over all the ornaments and bows and lights. You had a small Christmas tree at the apartment in Manchester, but it was nothing like this. This was at least nine feet tall, nearly hitting the ceiling. It was plump and full and not at all like your artificial pre-lit tree. And it smelled absolutely glorious, straight out of a forest. 

You kept walking through, taking in all the little details. You could hear them all talking in the kitchen and slowly made your way back there, stopping to give Dot a few scratches behind the ears.

“Y/N!” Leila said, when you walked in. She reached out towards you, her eyes wide, and grabbed your forearm to bring you closer to her. “Perfect timing. Your parents were just asking when we started dating.” And now the wide-eyed look made much more sense. 

She was scared of them. 

Maybe this idea wasn’t so bad, after all, if it meant a few days of watching Leila squirm. 

“Oh. You didn’t want to tell them?” you asked, smirking. You leaned against the counter next to her. 

“I thought you might want to do that.” 

“Er right.” She looped a finger in your belt loop and dragged you closer to her, letting her arm rest around your waist. Even though this was fake, and you were both affectionate with each other, the move caused something to stir deep in your stomach. Swallowing the lump that was growing in your throat, you said, “Leila finally got off her ass and asked me out about three months ago.” 

“Three months!” your mom exploded. “Three months, she says, like it’s nothing.” Clearly, she was going to give you a pass on swearing given her fixation on your answer.  

“We didn’t want to tell you until we’d had time to give it a chance,” Leila answered, giving you a small smile.  

“Well, honey, we’re so glad you finally asked Y/n/N out. This means I win the bet,” she said in her husband’s direction. 

“What bet?” you asked. 

Before either could respond, the front door opened and you heard your brother yell out, “I’m here! Let’s get the eggnog flowing!” You move out of Leila’s grasp and run out into the front hall to give him a hug. It had been a couple months since you’d seen each other. Football season was always hard. 

“Hey kid, how you are doing?” James asked. 

No matter how old you got, James always called you kid. It had started as an insult when you were his annoying little sister and had morphed into a term of endearment as you’d gotten older. 

“I’m great. Merry Christmas.” 

“Leila? What the heck are you doing here?” he asked, spotting her over your shoulder. When he sidestepped you to give her a hug, you saw the huge grin on his face. You watched them embrace each other before he stepped back and put her in a headlock. It was like they had grown up as siblings, you thought with a shake of your head. 

"I told you I was bringing my girlfriend home for Christmas," you said, nonchalantly. Maybe too nonchalantly, by the look of shock on his face as his eyes met yours. He looked between you and Leila, still holding her in a headlock. "Can you let her go before you accidentally strangle her?" I reached out for Leila's hand as his arms slid limply from her neck. She linked her fingers with yours and allowed you to tug her over to you. "James, Leila is my girlfriend." 

"What do you mean?" he asked dumbly. 

"I know mom and dad explained how this works," you shot back. 

"But when? How? I mean, why?"

"Why? Well, I mean, look at her." You pressed a kiss to her cheek, feeling the heat flood her face under your lips. "And we were just answering those same questions for mom and dad. Three months ago. And she asked me out."

"Three months? That's like, that's so long ago!" 

"And now you're going to tell me what you know about this bet mom was just starting to say she won." 

"Uh. Nothing." He picked up his backpack again and started to walk away. "I know nothing." 

"Liar!" you yelled at his back. You looked down at your hand, fingers still tangled with Leila's. As you started to smile to yourself, you looked up at her face. She was standing still, no real expression on her face. "What?" No answer. You shook her hand, trying to get her attention. "Earth to Leila. Are you okay?" 

She shook her head and looked at you, seeming to be coming out of whatever had occupied her mind. "I'm great. Your mom said something about hot chocolate, let's go get some." She dropped your hand, walking back towards the kitchen. 

Your mom always went all out on the hot chocolate. There was whipped cream and marshmallows and little Christmas themed sprinkles and, of course, alcohol. A whole assortment of alcohol was now sitting on the counter, waiting for each person to take their pick. Per usual, you took vanilla vodka. She'd also set out some sandwiches. Once everyone was settled around the small kitchen table, you brought the conversation back to the bet.

"How much do you win in this bet, mom?"

"What bet?" dad asked, feigning innocence.

"The bet mom gleefully said she won after finding out how long I've been dating Leila."

The three of them at least had the humility to look sheepishly at each other before mom answered, "Fifty quid."

"And what did the rest of you bet?"

"That you'd eventually ask Leila out," your dad answered.

"That you'd die alone," James answered. Your dad slapped him over the back of his head. "Ouch."

"Be nice," your mom warned. He got up to top off his mug with whiskey and she reminded him that Mass was starting soon.

Shoot. You had forgotten to tell Leila that you'd be going to Christmas Eve Mass. "I have an outfit you can borrow, if you need," you whispered.

"Thanks," she whispered, covering it with her mug.

"So, girls," your dad said, "we know that Y/N's bedroom is a little small for the both of you." Oh, god, where was this going? "Mom and I talked about it, and we'd be okay if you both stayed in the guestroom, if you'd prefer."

You could tell this was as awkward for him as it was for you. Your room only had a single bed and although you had snuck girlfriends in and slept on that single bed with them, you weren't intending to share that bed tonight. You were temporarily taken aback by the offer because you assumed your parents would force you to sleep in separate rooms.

Leila reached over, squeezing your hand. "Y/N and I talked about it as well. And we're both quite comfortable being split up. Thank you very much for offering, though."

"Just so you know, there's a creaky board between the guest room and Y/N's room," James said. "I'll hear you if you sneak over."

Your dad hit him over the back of the head again. "Shut it, James." He turned back to you. "We want to make sure you're both comfortable."

"Thanks, dad," you said quietly. Leila squeezed your hand again and you looked over at her. She was giving you a soft smile. Of course, she knew how you were feeling. Overwhelmed and loved. You'd spent years in the closet, worried about upsetting everyone. It was easier to lean into the side of you that was attracted to men back then. To now have your parents be so welcoming to your "girlfriend" choked you up.

You were suddenly really glad you'd brought Leila along to play this role. It was somehow easier with someone you already knew. Having a total stranger sitting next to you right now would have made you feel really lonely.

Before you could dig too far into your feelings, your mom clapped her hands and said it was time to go get ready. Looking at the clock, you were shocked to find it was already so late. You took Leila up to your room first, so that she could see what options you had. No surprise to you, she took the only outfit with pants.

"What?" she asked when she saw you giggling in her direction. "My jacket will match it."

"I'm sure that's the reason." You picked one of the dresses up and held it up in front of you. Looking in the mirror, you checked to see if it would be long enough. Hmm, maybe not. You picked up another, checking for the same thing. Good enough. You pulled off your sweater to change and Leila stopped you.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what're you doing?" she asked, slapping her hand over her eyes.

"What? I changed in front of you last night. And I change in front of you all the time!"

"Yeah, but not in your parents' house." She turned away. Keeping her eyes closed, she reached her arm out and started feeling around, bumping into multiple items in your room.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm looking for the door."

"Then open your eyes!"

"No!"

"Ugh. Fine." You walked towards her. She was only a few inches off. Because of the way your furniture was set up, you had to angle your body sideways next to her to reach the knob. You could feel your chest pressed into her arm and held your breath, so your chest wouldn't move at all. God, you felt stupid. "The door is open," you muttered, stepping back. She fled as quickly as she could, keeping her eyes closed until she was in the hallway. Shaking your head, you closed the door again. You were half naked, after all.

You quickly got ready and went down to wait for everyone. The five of you squeezed into your dad's tiny ancient Renault for the short drive over to your local church. Your parents liked to attend Mass on important days of the year. Your brother had become more involved in the church as you'd gotten older, and he regularly attended Sunday Mass. You, on the other hand, had a more complicated relationship with religion. The church was a source of community, but it had also been a source of stress as a young queer kid. You were always still afraid walking through those doors that something negative was coming your way.

As if Leila could sense your apprehension, she closed her hand over yours as you walked in. It helped you feel more grounded. You went to Mass every year for your family but that had never made it easier. You had also never told them how you felt, only that you didn't connect with organized religion. But Leila knew. Leila knew everything about you. And she understood, without any additional words, what was going on in your mind at that moment. She kept your hand in her throughout most of the service, at some points drawing random patterns with her thumb.

The way she kept reading your mood today should have made you uncomfortable, but it just made you really glad to have her here. Although your family's consistent pestering of your love life was uncomfortable and annoying, it really wasn't anything compared to how lonely it made you feel. Their questions always reminded you that you were completely alone.

And Leila seemed to be on a mission to prove to you that you weren't alone.

The four of you had a quiet dinner in town at one of your favorite restaurants before heading home. It had been an early morning for you, and you said good night soon after you got home. Leila opted to stay up and hang out with James a while longer. And to your displeasure, Dot decided to stay curled on Leila's lap rather than coming up to bed with you. Leila and James both laughed when you pouted. Annoyed at them ganging up on you, you bent down to give Dot a kiss on the head and ignored them both.

As you walked away, you heard James say, "Ooo you're in trouble." You heard Leila respond but were too far away at that point to hear what she said. You were far more exhausted than you realized. Sleep took you as soon as your head hit the pillow, preventing you from overthinking what she could have said in response.

The next morning, you quickly showered, knowing Christmas day had a way of getting chaotic fast. You headed downstairs and found your parents cuddled on the couch, their cups of tea teetering precariously on the cushions next to them.

"Merry Christmas!" you said.

"Good morning. Merry Christmas, honey," your mom said.

"Merry Christmas!" your dad said at the same time.

"Do either of you want more tea?" you asked, pointing at their mugs. They both shook their heads, so you went to make your cup. While the water boiled, you took the moment to enjoy the quiet morning. You stared out the window, watching the birds fly from roof to roof. It was softly snowing outside, adding to the feeling of calm. The kettle started whistling, prompting you to remove it from the heat.

"Think I could get one of those too?" Leila asked from the doorway, startling you. You hadn't even heard her come in. You pulled another cup down and filled it. You put the kettle down and leaned against the counter to wait for the tea to steep. "Merry Christmas," she said quietly, remaining on the other side of the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas." You crossed your arms across your chest. "How'd you sleep?"

"Great. James and I stayed up pretty late and Dot kept me company after that."

"Not used to sleeping alone, Ouahabi?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, the amusement clear in your voice. Leila, on the other hand, scowled at you instead of laughing with you. "I meant that as a joke," you said sheepishly when she didn't respond. Feeling awkward, you checked the teas. The color looked okay, so you picked one up and handed it to Leila, leaving the other on the counter. "Milk?" Sometimes she took milk, sometimes she didn't. She shook her head. You poured a small amount into your cup and returned the carton to the fridge.

"What's the plan for the day?"

"Dad and I usually go for a walk, if you want to come. We'll leave from Gran's around 10:30 and we'll stay there until evening. We usually have like a late lunch type of deal there."

"Okay." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "How long is your walk? I'll have to shower before we go."

"Should be plenty of time. You should come. Get some fresh air before we're shut in with my relatives the rest of the day." You made a face at her, hoping to get a laugh out of her. When she at least smiled at you, you considered it a win. "Want to sit down?" you asked, gesturing towards where your parents were. She nodded and followed behind you.

"Good morning, Leila honey," your mom said. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," she said. She sat cross-legged on the floor, cradling her cup between her hands. The four of you sat quietly, listening to the crackle of the fire in the corner. Dot strolled in midway through your cup and nuzzled her face into your arm. You lifted your arm, letting her cuddle into your side. She collapsed against the side of your leg, and you let your hand gently rest on her back. "I guess she missed you after all," Leila said.

You smiled down at Dot, slowly moving your fingers against her fur. "Guess she did." You went back to silence, enjoying the addition of Dot's loud purring to the fireplace. "Oh, dad, Leila's going to come for a walk with us."

"Alright, great. Looks a little cold out there, so don't forget your coats, girls."

"Should we leave in about 10 minutes?" you asked. They both nodded in agreement. Your mom protested by snuggling further back into him.

"15 minutes," he said.

"Sure," you said with a big grin. Your parents had set too good of an example of what a relationship should be. They both genuinely enjoyed the company of the other. They worked together well as partners. They respected each other. They loved each other so fiercely. And nothing had changed after thirty years. If anything, their relationship was even better now. You let your eyes get a little misty, before turning your eyes downward to hide it from the room. If you had been looking anywhere else, you would have seen that you hadn't hidden anything from Leila.

The three of you set out twenty minutes later (your mom had protested again when dad tried to get up). It was still softly snowing, causing all of you to draw your hoods. It made it nearly impossible to hear anyone, which left the three of you walking in silence. You were glad for this walk. You knew the rest of the day would be loud and chaotic and stressful. This walk allowed you to hold onto the quiet of Christmas morning for as long as possible.

By the time you returned home, you were freezing cold, and a thin film of snow was stuck to the fur-lining of your hood. Leila laughed as some of it fell on your face. She removed her glove and lifted her hand to brush away the rest of it before it could fall on you. The heat rose to your cheeks, and you tried to tell yourself it was due to the blast of heat that had greeted you when you walked into the house.

While everyone showered and prepared last-minute gifts, you closed yourself in your room to hold onto those last few final moments alone. You had brought a red dress and tights for the day. The dress tucked in at your waist before flowing down to your mid-thigh. It was one of your favorite dresses, but you didn't often wear it because you thought the red was too bright for most occasions. Deciding to go forth with the boldness you were feeling, you painted your lips a deep red as well and carefully applied a thick layer of mascara.

"Y/N, come on!" James yelled. "It's time to go! What're you doing?"

Shocked, you looked at the clock next to your bed. You had no idea where the time had gone but you gave yourself one last look in the mirror, grabbed your coat and heels, and ran downstairs. "Sorry sorry. I wasn't watching the time." You sat down on the bottom of the steps to buckle your heels. "Okay, I'm ready."

"You look," Leila said when you stood. She let her eyes wander down you and back up to your face. "You look beautiful."

James hit her arm."Ew, dude. That's my sister."

"What?" she asked, hitting him back. "I've got eyes. Plus, she's my girlfriend. I'm allowed to, no I'm supposed to, compliment her and make her feel good!"

"She's right," your dad interrupted. "You should take notes, James, in case you ever convince anyone to date you."

"Ouch," he said, rubbing his chest.

"Alright, the lot of you," your mom said, "into the car. Let's go."

You sat quietly on the drive to Gran's while Leila and your parents talked about an upcoming trip to Morocco. You could tell Leila was in the zone. She loved talking about Morocco and giving recommendations to people who had never been there before.

There was almost no parking near her home, and you ended up having to walk quite a way in your heels, balancing the pot your mom had shoved into your hands. At one point, you had nearly slipped but Leila caught you around the waist with one hand and steadied the pot with her other hand. She kept her arm around you for the rest of the walk, making sure you stayed upright.

The rest of your family was already in the house, and they excitedly welcomed Leila in. Leila had been to family events and had met most people in the past. Your gran was probably more excited than your mom had been when you went over to say hello to her and introduce Leila as your girlfriend. She gripped both your and Leila's hand in her lap and cried, telling you both she had never seen such a beautiful couple and she was so happy to have Leila officially in the family. She was so emotional that you started getting choked up as well. When she let you both go, you leaned over and gave her an extra kiss on the cheek.

"Can I get you anything, Granny?"

"No, dear. Go have fun," she said, patting your hand.

"You want a drink?" you asked Leila. She nodded and offered her hand. You placed your hand in hers and pulled her behind you into the kitchen. Uncle Mark made the booziest egg nog every year. But there was also an assortment of other drinks your cousins had presumably brought. "Egg nog?" Leila nodded. You filled two cups and handed one to her.

"Going right in for the strong stuff?" Uncle Mark asked from the doorway.

"Always. You remember Leila, right?" He nodded. "She's my girlfriend now," you said with a smile.

"That's awesome. Well welcome. Today will be the real test of if you can put up with this family," he said with a deep belly laugh.

"Oh my god, stop," you mumbled into your cup.

"I'm just kidding. Kind of," he mumbled. "Anyways, Luke's upstairs. He's been waiting for you to get here."

Your youngest cousin, Luke, loved football almost as much as you did. It's his dream to follow in your footsteps and play professionally. He came to as many of your matches as his parents would allow him to. Leila went to mingle while you went up to find him. You found him in the spare room watching old plays on his phone.

"Y/N! Hi!" He jumped off the bed to hug you, nearly knocking his head against your chin. "When'd you get here?"

"Hi, bud. We just got here a few minutes ago. What're you watching?" That question unleashed something in him, and he explained how he was watching clips from MLS in America, and he was trying to analyze whether he agreed with the calls made or not. He had read online that the refs in MLS were some of the worst in the world and he wanted to decide for himself whether he agreed with that or not. So far, he agreed. After about twenty minutes of letting him walk you through every play and the calls, you asked him if he remembered your friend, Leila Ouahabi. He nodded, his cheeks suddenly turning pink.

"She's really pretty," he whispered.

"I agree," you whispered back. "She's downstairs if you want to go say hi." His eyes got wide. "Go say hi. I'm sure she'd love to talk about football with you." He grabbed your hand and pulled you along behind him.

You caught Leila's eyes from the top of the stairs, and you pointed, trying to tell her he was coming down for her. For the next twenty minutes, Leila got a full recap of what you had just heard upstairs. She kept asking him follow-up questions and you could tell he got even more excited every time she interrupted him. At some point you wandered away to refill your egg nog and talk to some other people.

As the afternoon wore on, you made your way around the room, spending time with each of your family members. You made sure to keep an eye on Leila and to periodically relieve her from any uncomfortable conversations. It was during one of these that it happened. Your brother and Uncle Mark had their grips in her, grilling her about her intentions with me. You had caught a snippet of it as you passed and abruptly halted, slipping your hand around her waist.

"That's probably enough of that for today, don't you think?" you asked them, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I don't think so," James said. You saw his eyes flicker up briefly but didn't think anything of it.

"We need to know what's happening, kid," Uncle Mark said.

"We'll tell you when there's something to know," you assured him.

"It seems you've found yourself fallen victim to Gran's mistletoe this year," your aunt said from the couch, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Have to give her a kiss, Leila. Granny's house, Granny's rules."

"Oh. Um, no, we're good, Aunt Lydia," you said.

"Rules are rules," Gran yelled, banging the tip of her cane against the floor.

"Rules are rules," Leila said. In a whisper, she added, "Come on, just one kiss and they'll leave us alone." She turned into you, the arm around her waist involuntarily dropping a little lower. She moved your hair behind your shoulders with the tips of her fingers. "Sorry for breaking your rule," she said. Cupping your face in her hands, she laid a small kiss on your lips.

"A real kiss for couples!" Gran yelled out. "You're young and in love. Anyone can see that. But right now, you look like cousins saying hello."

"Gran," you grumbled.

"Can't disappoint her," Leila said. 

She brought your face close to her again, stopping when you were a hair’s breadth away. “Sorry for really breaking your rule,” she said. When you sucked in a deep breath, she closed her lips over yours. Your brain short circuited and your fingers reflexively dug into her waist. You ordered yourself to kiss her back. Couldn't have your family thinking you were shocked when your girlfriend kissed you. Her lips were unimaginably soft. When she touched her tongue to your lower lip, your heart dropped into your stomach.

As your hand came up to cup her cheek and bring her closer, she stepped back. Her face was flushed, and her lips were now tinged red from your lipstick. You reached your hand towards her to wipe it off, but her hand moved faster.

"Now that was much better," Gran said. "Good job, James."

You and Leila snapped your heads towards James. "James?" you growled. Normally it was Uncle Mark who helped Gran set up the house for Christmas and hid the mistletoe.

"James?" Leila asked, echoing you. But she sounded more hurt than anything. You looked back at her. She looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Leila, it's just a tradition," he tried to explain. He reached out towards her, and she backed away.

Confused by what was happening, you kept an arm around her for support. "Let's get a drink," you whispered to her.

"Yeah, anyone would need to cool down after that," one of your cousins yelled. You flipped him off as you led her away into the kitchen.

You grabbed two glasses and indicated towards the punch. She nodded. As you filled the cups, you said, "I'm sorry about that. I should've warned you about Granny's antics."

"It's alright, Y/N, I'm not upset about it."

You handed her one of the cups. "Are you sure?"

"Yup. Everything's fine." She sipped her punch, avoiding eye contact.

You didn't believe a word. That kiss had been fire, and you didn't think you were the only one still feeling it. You didn't feel "fine" and you were certain by Leila's reaction to James that something was wrong. "Okay, well. Um." Why did you feel awkward? "We can hide out in here for a few minutes but I'm sure someone else will be coming along soon to interrupt this momentary quiet space they've given us."

The two of you stood there in silence, sipping your drinks. You had never been at a loss for words with Leila before. You spent a lot of time in silence with each other, just hanging out, but it was never because either of you didn't know what to say.

Your thought was interrupted by Luke, wanting to ask Leila a question. She gave you a little smile. Lifting your hand, she pressed a little kiss to it before leaving with him to answer his questions.

You frowned down at your hand. There was a dull ache in your chest after that momentary glimpse of what it could be. That kiss had shifted something in you. Something you had buried a long time ago. You had tried so hard to suppress your feelings towards Leila. Pretending to be her girlfriend had to be one of your stupider ideas. Well, agreeing to pretend to be her girlfriend. Pretending at all was Leila's idea. You could curse her for that. 

For the rest of the afternoon, you tried to calm yourself down and remind yourself it was only until tomorrow. A few days of pretending and then you'd go back to being friends. In a few weeks, you'd call your parents and tell them it hadn't worked out. Maybe the pressure of being on the same team would cause a falling out. It wouldn't be the first time your football career had caused a problem in your dating life. You'd probably text your brother and he'd come to Manchester to take you out for a pint. He'd threaten to hurt Leila for hurting you and you'd calm him down and reassure him that it was you who had ended it. And by the next holiday, they would barely remember that you had brought home Leila this year. Your mom would barely remember saying "aw" every time you shared something cute about your "relationship." Your dad would barely remember bonding with Leila over his new power tools. And James would barely remember joking with Leila around the dinner table. 

Who were you kidding? Your family loved Leila almost more than you. They might never forgive you for "breaking up" with her.

You tried to engage in conversations with your family members and enjoy the holiday. But your eyes kept drifting back to Leila. And every time that happened, you grew a little sadder that this fake relationship was almost over.

During dinner, Leila sat down next to you. You ordered yourself to act happy and to not be awkward. You gave her smiles and casually touched her, as any couple would do. But you barely tasted your food. It went down like cement.

After dinner, your mom shooed everyone into the living room, saying that you and her would clean up. You worked in comfortable silence emptying food into containers while she washed the dishes. When you finished your task, you set to drying dishes so she'd have space for the steady stream of dishes she was still washing. 

"How are you doing? Really?" she asked. 

"I'm doing fine." 

"You just seem a little down is all."

Maybe you weren't fooling anyone after all. "I'm okay. Just a lot on my mind." This lie felt worse than the little lies you'd told all day. In the past, you would have talked to your mom if you were crushing on someone or you were struggling with someone. But you couldn't this time. Because if you did, they would all know that you were a liar. And that Leila had helped you lie to them. 

It was all feeling like too much. 

"It's just football stuff. Nothing to worry about." At least you were setting some context for your future break up story. 

"Okay," she said, not sounding at all convinced. After a few silent moments, she said, "I know we put a lot of pressure on you, but you can always talk to us. If you want."

"I know, mom. It's just football stuff," you said again. Thankfully, she let it go and you two continued to work in silence after that.

When you finished, you went to the living room to ask if anyone wanted tea. Everyone was now sitting around the fireplace, quietly talking. A few hands shot up. You quickly counted off how many you needed and went to the kitchen to boil the water. You arranged the cup and saucers on one of Gran's Christmas-themed trays.

As you took the tray around the room, you noticed both James and Leila were missing. You asked your dad if he'd seen them. He said they had gone out for a walk after dinner and hadn't come back yet. You glanced up at the clock. You'd finished dinner almost an hour ago. Looking out the window, you could see that it was still snowing outside. Frowning, you sat down next to him to sip your tea and wait for them while Simon read A Christmas Carol aloud.

They didn't come back for another half hour. Leila's eyes looked red, from the cold or from crying you couldn't tell. You raised your eyebrow at James, and he just smiled at you. He whispered something to Leila and then disappeared into the kitchen. She looked at you for a moment before coming to sit on the floor near you. You could feel her shivering and pulled the throw off the sofa to give her.

"Thank you." She took it and wrapped it tight around her.

"Why were you gone so long?" you whispered, still leaning down towards her.

"We were just talking."

"You okay?"

"Just tired. But I'm okay," she reassured. She squeezed your calf and gave you a half smile. "Ah, my prince," she said, lifting her hands when James walked in with two teacups.

"Anything for you, sis," he said with a wink. He sat down across from her on the floor, leaning back against the opposite sofa. The remainder of the evening, you kept catching them give each other looks. It was like they were having their own conversation, all without words, and all without anyone's input. You couldn't see Leila's face, but you could see her shoulders move every so often and see her shake her head.

Simon finished reading a little after 9pm. Everyone started moving, cleaning up the living room so Gran wouldn't be left with any mess. It took only 10 minutes with everyone's help. The end of A Christmas Carol always signaled the end of the night.

"Good night," you said, leaning over to give Gran a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, good night, sweetheart. Thank you for bringing your sweet girlfriend for Christmas."

"I know she enjoyed being here too." You gave her one more hug, but she tightened her arm around your neck before you could stand up.

"Don't let her go. She's a special girl."

You couldn't say anything, tears caught in your throat. Instead, you smiled at her and nodded as you stood up straight.

The drive home felt endless, squished between your brother and Leila. Your earlier sadness at this charade ending tomorrow had morphed into desperation for it to end. When you got to the house, you helped unload the car before quickly saying good night and escaping to your room. You scooped up Dot on your way up. You needed the comfort of your pet tonight. Hot tears burned your eyes and soaked your pillow for the guilt of having put your family through this. Why had you ever thought this was the answer? Why had you ever agreed to let Leila come here? Dot snuggled into your side, and you kissed the top of her head, glad she wasn't protesting not being allowed to sleep in another room.

You don't know what time you eventually went to bed, but you know you were still crying when sleep took you.

In the morning, you quietly packed your bags before going down. The train was not until 11am. Your mom had promised to make a nice breakfast before you left. Figuring you should help with that, you dressed quickly and went downstairs.

"Good morning," your dad greeted. He was coming in from outside, shaking snow off his boots.

"Good morning, dad." You walked through to the kitchen. "Hi, mom."

"Ah you're up. Good morning." She stood at the counter, cutting onions.

"What can I help with?"

"Actually, do you mind going out to the garden? Leila asked me to have you come out when you woke up. She's been out there a while now."

"Oh. Um, okay." You didn't think you were prepared for this just yet. But they were both looking at you, waiting for you to move. "Right. Okay, I'll just grab my coat." You took your time getting your coat and shoes on.

You found her sitting on the garden wall. She looked really cold. The tip of her nose was red. She was frantically rubbing her hands together. "Leila?" She looked up at you. "Maybe we should talk inside? It'll be warmer."

"No. No, I don’t want anyone to hear this conversation."

"Okay." You stayed where you were, not sure if she wanted you to sit down or even move closer. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I've been thinking."

"I can see that."

"Just let me finish. I won't be able to finish if you talk in the middle." She nervously rubbed her hands over her thighs. "I don't have perfect words. I'm not really like poetic or whatever."

"What-"

"No. Wait. Look, these last couple days have been great. But I didn't think they would affect me as much as they have."

"What-"

"Shut up." She looked up at you. "I need to tell you that I'm yours. Have been for a while, if I'm being completely honest. I don't know if you want me. But I belong to you. I'm yours, if you want me."

You stood there, unmoving, staring at her, your jaw slack in astonishment. Your breath was coming out in little streams of fog.

"Now you're going to stand mute? You're stolen my heart, Y/N, the least you can do is tell me what you intend to do with it."

You'd never believed that hearts actually skipped a beat in moments like these but there was no other way to describe what was happening in your chest. Taking a few large steps towards her, you grabbed her lapel to bring her face closer to yours and kissed her. Your grip on her softened as she slowly stood, never breaking contact with you. Your hands moved up her neck so you could wrap your arms around her.

"Okay I'll take that as a response," she said, her eyes still closed.

Giggling, you kissed her again.

"Hmm. Yes. I'll definitely take that." She opened her eyes to look at you, her arms staying around your waist. "Do you. Um. Wait, will you be my real girlfriend?"

"I think I could manage that." You smiled brightly, playing with the hair on the back of her neck. "What're we going to tell my parents?"

"I think they already know," she said, pointing over your shoulder at the house. You turned to see the three of them squeezed together to see out the tiny side window. Your dad awkwardly waived while your brother just grinned, and your mom wiped a tear from her eye.

"How did they?"

"James figured it out the first night."

"Of course he did." You turned back to her. "Let's go inside, you're freezing." You took her hand in yours and pulled her towards the front of the house. This time when you walked in the door, you went as real girlfriends, instead of fake girlfriends. Your heart was at the fullest it had been in years.

Your mom was still crying as she rushed towards both of you, pulling you both into a hug. "Oh, my sweet girls!" She kissed the side of both of your heads. "I'm just so so happy for both of you."

"Thanks, mom," you said, hugging her back.

"Go, get warm," she said, stepping back and wiping more tears from her eyes. "Breakfast will be ready soon."

You took her to the living room, to the couch in front of the fire. Sitting down, you pulled her down with you and covered her with a blanket. The chill hadn't yet hit your bones, like it had Leila. You wrapped your arms around her to hold her close and transfer as much of your heat to her as you could.

"What're we going to tell the girls on Monday?" she asked.

"We'll just be honest."

"That I pretended to be your fake girlfriend because I thought it'd be the closet I got to being your real girlfriend and then your idiot brother played antics to actually make it real?"

"Maybe we can leave a few things out." She shivered again and you brought the blanket up more tightly around her. "How long were you out there?"

"Like an hour."

"Leila!"

"Girls, breakfast is ready," your dad called out.

When Leila stood up, you took off your jumper and gave it to her. "Wear this. It'll help." She pulled it over her head, and you straightened it when it got caught in her long sleeve shirt.

"Thanks."

Your mom had put together a full English breakfast. It wasn't typical that she made it all at once but during the holidays, especially on travel days, she liked to make sure everyone had enough food in their bellies. As everyone ate, you looked around the table. There was laughter and talking over each other. There was love and friendship. There was everything you'd ever wanted at this table. You'd never felt incomplete but somehow in this moment, you felt whole. Nothing really made sense to you either.

"Does this mean mom still wins the bet?" your dad asked.

"You can split it," you answered. "Just as long as James loses," you added with a huge smile.

"Hey, you would've ended up alone if I hadn't meddled," he said.

"Oh great. Now he's going to have a big head about that."

"You'll be too busy in your little love bubble to even notice how big my head is about to get," he retorted.

"Are they fighting or saying nice things?" Leila asked your mom.

"A little of both."

James ended up paying both your parents £50, although mom insisted she had won because Leila had asked to be your fake girlfriend and had been the first to say how she felt. But dad wasn't having it.

They dropped you at the train station, promising to come watch a match and visit soon. The train ride to Manchester was similar to the ride home for Christmas. Leila read while you and Dot slept. Except this time, she lifted the arm rest between you and opened her arm to let you more comfortably sleep on her shoulder. You slept peacefully all the way home to Manchester, cuddled into her side.

[luvingtsumu]

𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𖥔 ࣪˖ ( MIYA ATSUMU X FEM!READER )

you were sure that miya atsumu hates your guts, but could it be it was just his way of coping with the huge crush he had on you?

★ genre: fluff | content: "enemies" to lovers, timeskip!atsumu, repressed feelings, osamu being atsumu's number one hater, hidden crush.

★ author’s note: hey…*taps mic* is this thing on? no? oh ok 😓

Miya Atsumu despised you, that was a fact, you were over that. You didn't knew exactly why, but it was obvious.

You two went to high school together but never really knew about the other's existance until the last year before going to collage, Osamu was the one to introduce him to you, and at first everything seemed casual and normal, but then you were quick to notice how off was the way he acted around you.

He was always serious and seemed to avoid you all he could, he was very cold towards you and wouldn't even look at you in the eye. You tried to dismiss the feeling saying he was just like that, but by the way he acted with everyone else, being cheerfull and annoying, you just knew whatever problem he had, was you.

And even now, 4 years after you two met, you being his team manager and coworker; he still couldn't look at you in the eye.

"Sorry, are you okay?" you asked softly after you two accidentally bumped into each other.

He felt goosebumps and he was quick to mutter a small "Mhm." without looking up, then just as quick as he spoke, he was quick to practically run away.

Once he was safe and hidden behind a vending machine, he allowed himself to let out a breath that he was holding, which came out in a little yelp. His face was fully red and he was breathing heavily, his hand clenching his shirt where his heart was, feeling how it was tumping like a drum.

You stayed in place a bit confused, your eyes going to the ground, where Atsumu's jacket laid on the floor.

You sighed in frustation as you picked it up. What did you do to him? He had to run away everytime? It was a bit disrespectful that he wouldn't look at you in the eye. Did he hate you that much?

...Not really.

Atsumu didn't hate you at all. It was the way his heart reacted every time his eyes landed on you. The way his body always ached to touch you. To run his calloused fingers through your hair. To feel your breath on his neck. Or for you to hear his screams during a passionate night.

"Atsumu?" you called, walking in the direction he went.

He took a big gasp of air, trying to calm himself down as he peeked behind the corner to look at you and see what you were doing. His eyes landed on his jacket, and he cursed himself for being so dumb and letting it fall.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

He just closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding it in and hoping that you wouldn't find him—

"Oh, there you are." you smiled, but your expression quickly dropped as you saw his face "Uh, you're okay?"

Atsumu’s breath hitched as he looked up and sawyou standing in front of him with his jacket in your hands.

He couldn’t move, frozen in place like a deer in headlights. He just continued staring at you, as his heart threatened to burst from his chest.

"Here, you dropped your jacket." you handed it to him, giving him a friendly look.

He managed to reach out and grab the jacket, but before he could say anything, his body betrayed him as a squeak escaped his throat.

He quickly covered his mouth, his face once again turning red in embarrassment.

You raised an eyebrow, a small chuckle escaping your lips "Be more careful next time...And, you sure you're okay?"

Atsumu nodded sheepishly, still covering his mouth to avoid any more embarrassing sounds. His heart was still racing and his palms were sweaty, but he tried to act composed in front of you.

"Yeah, 'm fine." he managed to squeak out, his voice sounding surprisingly hoarse.

"Oh, alright." you sighed "If you need anything, you know where to find me." you smiled at him before you started walking away "Take care."

Atsumu watched you walking away, trying to commit every movement to memory. Every sway of your hips, the way your hair bounced with every step. It drove him insane.

As you turned a corner and disappeared from sight, Atsumu finally collapsed against the vending machine, letting out a deep exhale he didn’t realize he was holding.

He looked down at the jacket in his hands, and he slowly brought it up to his nose, inhaling the faint remnants of your scent. His expression softened as he sighed and finally let the jacket down.

"Damnit... Why does she have this effect on me?" he mentally cursed himself for his own weakness, but he just couldn't help it.

Atsumu ate his fatty tuna at his brother’s restaurant, listening to him talking about a meeting with high school friends.

“Y’know, they’re all gonna be here. Rin, Aran, Kita, Akagi, y/n—”

“Y/N!?” he almost choked on his food “Why her?”

Osamu raised an eyebrow “She’s our friend too, dumbass.”

“Y’know how I get ‘round her.” he whined.

“That’s on ya, ‘m not gonna stop invitin’ her just cuz ya get too nervous ‘round her and act like a child.”

“Is not that easy, y’know?” he grumbled.

“It is, yer just dumb.”

They started a back and forth, Atsumu trying to defend himself and Osamu just calling him stupid.

In the bottom of his heart, Atsumu knew he was stupid. You were just a girl, how could he not be able to ask you out? I mean, of course, you were the most beautiful and intelligent girl he ever met, kind with a heart of gold, talented in every aspect, successful as you could be, with the most gorgeous sense of style, the prettiest eyes on the entire world and a shooting voice that made his knees weak— But that was just you!

Ok. Scratch that. You weren’t just a girl. You were the girl.

And he wanted you to be his girl. He remembers those grey days when you got a boyfriend and invited him to every meeting. God, how he hated him, so annoying and he didn’t even reach your heels.

Maybe Atsumu also didn’t reach your heels, you were too perfect, but he would give his best, his whole heart to you.

“Early as always.” he heard Osamu said as the bell of the store rang.

“Am I the first one?” Atsumu heard your angelic voice, his eyes falling to the floor immediately, he couldn’t stand making eye contact with you.

“Yep.” Osamu said.

You chuckled and walked towards where Atsumu was sat, sitting next to him “Hi.” you greeted him.

“Hey.” he said, his voice sounding rude. He bit his tongue. Why did it always sounded like that?

You sighed, Osamu had gone into the back of the store, and being in a room in silence was not something you enjoyed.

“So…Are you nervous for the next match?” you cleared your throat as you tried to initiate conversation.

“No.” he mumbled.

“Oh.” you said, frustrated at his lack of common sense to notice how tense everything was, and your want to start a conversation. But this is how it was, Miya Atsumu hated you.

“Well, you’re a professional so, I guess even if it’s a big game you’re not nervous…” you mumbled.

“Yep.” he said.

Atsumu’s palms were soaked in sweat, he was so nervous, you were sitting so close and the light of the bar made you glow so pretty. He wanted nothing but to have a normal conversation with you, but his nerves just made it impossible.

He felt like his heart was gonna beat out of his chest and he was worried you could hear him.

In the back of his mind, he could see Osamu making fun of him, telling him how he’s never getting anywhere if he can’t even have a conversation with you. The thought pissed him off, cause Osamu was right.

He took a deep breath then let it out slowly before he finally turned to see you. For the first time, actually looking at you in your eyes.

“Well, I can get nervous sometimes but ‘m very confident fer this match, so I ain’t feelin’ anxious at all, y’know?” he said, his smile trembling.

Were you gonna just laugh? Will you continue the conversation? Did he look stupid? What if his breath smell bad? Oh god, he shouldn’t have. He should just keep to himself and—

“Oh! Really?” you smiled as he continued the conversation, you suddenly felt relieved “I think it’s normal, and you should be confident, you have been playing incredibly this session, and your statistics are just going up.”

Now that he was looking directly at you, your faces so close to eachother, you could see him perfectly. He was pretty cute, no wonder why he had a big fanbase. He had big eyes, his lips looked soft and he had some freckles on his cheeks, almost invisible from far away, almost.

Atsumu felt his heart raising, his smile suddenly becoming bigger but he tried to control it, but he couldn’t control the way his cheeks became red.

“T-thanks— I— uh..” he cleared his throat “Ya know who’s a little nervous tho? Bokkun and Shoyo. They’re talkin’ ‘bout the team we’re goin’ against to every few minutes, ya should give ‘em a hand.” he chuckled, and you did too.

You chuckled. He had seen it before, but never was the reason of it. And god, that smile, he just wanted to tell you another joke just to see it again, he suddenly wanted to become a comedian, a clown that made you giggle until your stomach hurt.

Yes, Miya Atsumu didn’t hated you. He was deeply in love with you, and he now realized that being scared of his feelings wasn’t taking him nowhere. Not when he needed you like he needed air.

“Hey, after this ya wanna go to the movies with me?”

You blinked a few times. Atsumu bit his tongue.

“Ya don’t have to—”

“It would be a pleasure.”

Click!

[ithilien-writes]

yaaay! my prompt is choosing joy verse wedding planning (even if it’s just your thoughts on the roles everyone takes on!) ♥️♥️

Okay, this is probably not at all what you were envisioning, but I hope you still like it!! Thank you for the prompt! 💜💜

(to anyone reading: these were meant to be quick scenes to help unblock me so please take them in that spirit. ie. this was written really quickly and without much editing. feel free to send me some more!!

---

Best Laid Plans [Buck/Eddie (Buck & Maddie), G, ~900 words]

Buck is not being a bridezilla, okay? Or groomzilla? Whatever. He's not. No matter what Chim says about it. Buck is just being... particular. So that everything will be perfect. Eddie deserves that. Buck deserves that. So he's just- he's taking the wedding planning seriously, that's all.

"I'm just saying, why does he always have to do it here?" he can hear Chim saying in the other room, followed by a distinctly Maddie-sounding huff that's part fond and part exasperated.

Whatever she says in response, it's too low for Buck to hear, but when she comes back into the kitchen she's alone and he can hear the front door opening and then closing again. Buck can't help but wince a little in apology.

"Sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to drive Chim out of his own house."

But Maddie waves him off, one hand resting on her now very pregnant stomach.

"It's not you," she says, too forgiving of Buck, as always. "He's just stressed about the baby coming so soon. I sent him to run some errands; it's fine."

She comes around the island to peer over his shoulder at the three invitation samples currently spread out in front of him and hums thoughtfully.

"I like the cream with the blue font," she says. "The gold looks to fancy and the grey's a little boring."

"Right?" Buck agrees, probably a little too emphatically, as he twists around to look at her. When he sees her smile though, it makes him feel a little like he's twelve years old again, and the sudden surge of love that wells up in him almost takes him by surprise, if only just in it's ferocity.

"That's uh. That's what I was saying," he adds lamely, after a moment.

Maddie's smile gets a little brighter and she rests a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm so happy for you," she says, getting a little teary the way she seems to be at the drop of a hat these days. "You know that, right?"

"I know," Buck tells her, feeling his own throat tighten a little around the words.

Maddie sniffles and then rolls her eyes at herself.

"God sorry," she says. "Third trimester. I've already cried three times today. This baby needs to hurry up already."

Buck laughs with her, picking up their chosen invitation and tucking the other two back behind it. Maddie circles the counter again and goes to make another pot of coffee. It's decaf, but she swears it still has some kind of placebo effect. Buck's not entirely convinced.

He drums his fingers on the table a little, debating with himself. But it's just Maddie. It's just the two of them. He could ask her.

"Hey, um," he starts, a little awkwardly. "Do you- do you ever feel. I don't know. Weird? A-about Jee-Yun spending time with Mom and Dad?"

Maddie turns back from the coffee maker and regards him seriously. She doesn't look thrown by the question, even though Buck knows it has to seem like it's coming out of nowhere.

"Honestly? Yeah, sometimes," she says, and Buck lets out a slightly shaky breath, feeling weirdly relieved by her answer.

"It's not like-" she pauses, considering- "I'm not worried about her safety or anything, obviously. But I remember what it was like growing up in that house. Some of things they said to us. To you."

She sighs, fidgeting with the mug in her hands a little.

"So yeah, I worry a little," she admits. "Sometimes."

Buck nods, looking down at the invitation without really seeing it this time. Eventually he looks back up at Maddie and finds her still just waiting. Always so patient with him.

Buck clears his throat.

"They just- they haven't really... met Christopher," he says eventually. "I mean, obviously they did, at your wedding. But like, they haven't really spent any time with him. And I'm- I know it's dumb, but I'm-"

"I get it," Maddie tells him, voice soft.

Then, even more softly-

"You don't have to invite them, Buck."

Buck scoffs a little, at that.

"Come on," he argues. "They're our parents. I have to invite them."

"No," she argues back. "You really don't."

Buck shakes his head.

"That's not even- I want them there," he says. And he does. He's... pretty sure he does. "I'm just-"

Maddie sets down her coffee.

"Okay, how about this then - maybe you should just talk to Christopher about it," she suggests. "He's a teenager, so he's old enough to understand complicated family stuff-" Buck can't help but snort a little, at that- "and maybe it would good for you guys anyway. For him to understand things a little better."

"We did uh. We did kind of talk about it once," he tells her. "Or well, I did. He said our family was messed up."

This time it's Maddie's turn to snort.

"Well, if the shoe fits," she quips, picking up her coffee again but sighing a little discontentedly as she takes a sip.

Buck looks over at her and can't help but smile again.

"I don't know," he says, "I think my family is actually pretty great, these days."

Maddie smiles back at him, even as her eyes immediately go teary again. And well- if Buck gets an earful from Chim when he gets home about making Maddie cry, he can take it.

It's worth it.

[seas-of-silver]

For the ask game: "Stop with these ridiculous lies Dupain-Cheng, I saw you detransform!"

‘Stop with these ridiculous lies, Dupain-Cheng, I saw you detransform!’

Chloé smirked when the girl finally stopped avoiding her.

‘I saw your kwami and I know you’re Ladybug, and there’s nothing-’

Her heart jumped to her throat when Dupain-Cheng whirled around and pinned her to the wall with a hand covering her mouth, no doubt smudging her designer lipstick. She would’ve complained about the outrageous offence if it wasn’t for the intense glare that struck her like lightning.

‘Can you just stop yelling that for one second?’ Dupain-Cheng hissed quietly, her voice filled with a ferocity Chloé couldn’t help but comply with. The baker girl scanned the space around her before saying, ‘Come with me.’

Chloé scoffed. ‘As if. You-’

‘Now.’

The order sent a zing up Chloé’s spine. The person in front of her wasn’t some inferior unimportant insect of a school girl, but a general, a fearless leader born by trials of fire and hardened by fighting on the frontline of countless battlefields. Chloé followed silently.

They walked out of the school and into a secluded alley where Dupain-Cheng became Ladybug before her very eyes, wrapped an arm around her and zipped her way across the city. They landed somewhere entirely unfamiliar to Chloé, some weird disgusting abandoned warehouse or something, and Chloé only had enough time to register Ladybug sending some sort of message on her Bug Phone before her back slammed into something metal.

‘Ow! What the hell, Dupain-Cheng?’ Chloe cried out, feeling the magical yo-yo wrapping around her, securing her to a metal post.

‘Do not call me that when I’m suited up, you know the rules, Chloé,’ Ladybug commanded, catching the end of her yo-yo in her free hand. Her glare hardened. ‘Though, you don’t really care for the rules, do you?’

Chloé seethed at the slight.

‘How dare you! I did care!’ Chloé bit back, pulling at the unrelenting restraints. ‘When I found Pollen, I kept her safe and tried to learn from her so I could help you! And when Hawk Moth came after me, I fought back!’

‘You sold out our entire team to Hawk Moth!’ Ladybug retorted.

‘YOU ABANDONED ME!’ Chloé screamed, hot tears streaming down her face. ‘You knew Hawk Moth was targeting me relentlessly! Day and night for weeks on end! I couldn’t let my guard down for even one second, otherwise I would be under his spell! It was like he knew me, Ladybug - like actually knew me! He targeted every weak spot he could find; it was only a matter of time before I would break! I’m only human, Ladybug!’

‘Oh? And what about after Miracle Queen?’ Ladybug asked evenly, not much more than a red blob through her tears. ‘You weren’t being attacked then.’

‘I was hurt. I was angry. How could I not be?’ Her voice warbled as she sobbed. ‘I followed you, believed in you, and you left me high and dry. I had akumas tracking my every move and attempting to possess me - I even had one latch onto me, but instead of submitting, I threw it off!’

Chloé could’ve sworn Ladybug looked shocked at that. She hoped she was.

‘I thought that after everything I did for you, that I would have proved myself worthy to you, that you could believe in me too,’ she continued, ‘but no. You dismissed me at every turn and kept telling me I would never be Queen Bee again. The least you could do was tell me why! But you didn’t! My own parents were akumatised, and you wouldn’t even let me save them! How could I be loyal to you any longer when you couldn’t even let me do that much?’

‘M’lady! I got your emergency message- uh… why is Chloé tied up and why are you both crying?’

Chloé tried to blink her tears away, to see if the newly-arrived Chat Noir was telling the truth.

‘I’m fine,’ Ladybug obviously lied, her face suspiciously wet, ‘but we have a problem. Chloé knows who I am now.’

‘What?’ Chat Noir asked, shocked. ‘How?’

‘Remember when I had to go recharge mid-fight earlier today?’ Ladybug asked and Chat Noir nodded. ‘Chloé, for some godforsaken reason-’

‘Oi!’

‘-had decided to hide in the very alley I was recharging in,’ Ladybug continued, as if she hadn’t heard Chloé. ‘I thought the alley was clear, but apparently not. Once the battle was over, Chloé hounded me about knowing my identity, and when I denied it or ignored her, she got louder to try and draw my attention, and I was concerned she was going to grab other people’s attention too, so I brought her here.’

‘Okay, but why the yo-yo?’ Chat Noir asked, and Ladybug scoffed.

‘Have you forgotten that she betrayed us and our team to Hawk Moth?’ she asked hotly. ‘Or that she’s been behind many of the recent akumatisations and attacks recently?’

‘No, I just thought it was a bit of overkill,’ that stupid cat said placatingly, which only riled Ladybug up further.

‘Overkill?’ she echoed venomously. ‘Our biggest betrayer now knows my identity! I’m compromised and she’s a massive liability! She’s been my own personal tormentor for years, and now she holds the key to our demise if she hands that information over to the magical terrorist she’s now buddy-buddies with!’

‘She bullied you too?’ Chat Noir asked, surprised, before shaking his head at Chloé with disapproval. ‘Oh, Chloé.’

Chloé hated how Chat Noir said that, especially because of how his disappointment hit her. Somehow, it felt almost as effective as Adrien talking to her like that.

‘As I said, I would never have joined Hawk Moth if you had just trusted me,’ Chloé retorted angrily.

‘Trusted you? Trusted you?’ Ladybug’s eyes were flaming with fury, her voice and posture ablaze with rage - Chloé would’ve taken cover if she could’ve. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to trust you? You, who had tormented me for years. You, who has orchestrated the traumas that have and will haunt me for the rest of my life. You, who has blatantly, unashamedly and relentlessly targeted me, my friends and my family just for your own personal satisfaction. Hell! I can’t even ask out the guy I like because of what you did to me with the last guy I liked! And you wanted me to trust you more than I already did?’

Well, when she worded it like that, Chloé found it hard to find a rebuttal.

‘You should be grateful that I even gave you the chance to be Queen Bee,’ Ladybug spat, ‘let alone trusted you enough for you to hold that title more than once. Did you know your biggest champions were Chat Noir and Adrien?’

Chat Noir looked a little abashed at the sudden mention of him, and confused by the mention of Adrien.

‘Whenever my belief that you were changing for the better was starting to wane, those two held strong in their belief in you, and helped me believe in you, too,’ Ladybug continued. ‘I even convinced the Guardian before me that you deserved another chance. It was near impossible for me to trust you, but I was getting there, slowly but surely. I’ll admit I made mistakes, some cost me and the team dearly, but even when I fail, I will continue to fight because it’s the right thing to do, and I would rather die than let Shadow Moth win.’

Chat Noir nodded solemnly in agreement, which made Chloé wonder if she was missing some understanding about the gravity of this magical war, or if these two were just wayyyy too intense about being superheroes.

‘Surely it’s not that dire, seriou-‘

‘Chlo, Shadow Moth winning means he could wipe out our current reality and rewrite it entirely,’ Chat Noir said, no trace of his trademark humour to be found (effectively cutting off her objection to him using Adrien’s nickname for her). ‘Life as we know it could cease to exist - we could cease to exist…permanently.’

Chloé gulped nervously. Were the stakes always that high?

‘This is not a game, it never has been,’ Ladybug said darkly. ‘So the question is: now that you know who I am, what do we do with you?’

[marzipanandminutiae]

I really loved nosferatu because in the interpretation i have of it is that it deals heavily with the way survivors can sometimes end up eroticizing their abuse and seeking out that treatment throughout their lives, and the final scene is the culmination of so many things going wrong and in the narrative, being the easiest way out. But trying to interpret it as a dark romance about forbidden love and repressed desire, itd be kinda mid and requires so many like "trust me bros" to work

Also like if ellen 100% was down to submit to orlock why would she kill him? If her goal was to realize a destiny and eternity with a monstrous lover, why would she trick him into being destroyed by the sun? Like i can understand the idea that she may have loved orlock and wanted to give this man suffering as a monstrous undead some form of peace but most of the romance fans dont really reckon with the final scene beyond the submission and the beauty of the final shot

So, I think we disagree on a few points here:

I don't see any of it as erotic for Ellen after that initial encounter when she's younger turns nightmarish. I didn't see any evidence that she was into it in a way that counts- physical arousal is involuntary, so that means nothing on its own. I saw that element as dealing with the shame victims of sexual assault can feel if they became aroused or orgasmed during the act. The "I abhor you" scene read to me as her confronting and taunting Orlock- getting as close as a kiss and then revealing that no, he doesn't have her under his control and he never will, because he can't force her to want him. But I guess YMMV as with everything here.

The killing part is one of a very small number of places where I get the Dark Romance interpretation, actually. If she's resigned herself that they can Never Be Together In This Horrible Repressive World(TM), she might decide that murder-suicide is the best option- they get to die together, and they can both finally be free. It would be an interesting twist, too, where she goes from being the submitting and succumbing ingenue to revealing a bit of her own active darkness- because uh Orlock was clearly not expecting it to go like that. I could totally see it...

...if the entire rest of the movie hadn't utterly failed to demonstrate any romance between them, in my opinion.

(Also like I haven't said this before but it would be easier for me to see it as a romance if Orlock...had a personality? Was a fleshed-out character? Seemed like he wanted Ellen specifically, for herself and not just because she was a Thing To Want and he was a Thing That Wanted?)

(I don't know anything about Orlock besides Vampire and Wants To Fuck/Kill Ellen, and he doesn't even really seem to want her for any reason besides "she's there!" Give me SOMETHING to work with!)

I'm also not really down for criticizing people who DO interpret it that way, which you're dancing on the edge of at the end there. It's not that I'm pooh-poohing them; they're free to do what they want with it and if Eggers' apparent intended message landed for them, great! Different interpretations are fine with me as long as you're not an ass about them and you allow that other people may see it differently (which I fully do, as you can see)!

It's the filmmakers where I'm a bit baffled and "unblock me I just want to talk."

[elisedonut]

i love how a few months ago i was so hyped up from mircofic may that i was like "I can totally write 8 fics for soulmate fest"

and here i am

having finished not a single one lmao

[butwhatifidothis]

I guess the ultimate thing that kills CF for me - or at least nudges it away from me saying I definitively like it - is just how much Edelgard is clearly written with the player in mind before she's written with her character in mind.

Because on all of the other routes, there's a power to Edelgard's presence. Even on BE, there's a sense that for as lonely as Edelgard might be, she still ultimately will do whatever it takes for her to get what she wants. Be that be killing her citizens (or otherwise letting them be killed), endangering her friends, assisting in kidnapping people, allowing Byleth to support her only when they have the Sword of the Creator, covering for TWS - no bar is too low for her to limbo under if doing so means she's even a step closer to her goals.

She's manipulative! She's deceitful! She doesn't care for the lives of her people! Even her friends are forfeit if they try to stand in her way! And this happens no matter how close you, the player, get to her, in the case of BE - C+ ain't stoppin' Remire, and going to the coronation ain't stopping the Holy Tomb.

And in the war phase, she is dominating the field. She has the Kingdom completely on the ropes, down to a few houses standing against Imperial rule, and the Alliance is stuck in neutrality - she may not be able to do much to it, but neither can they do anything to her (to say nothing of the Alliance houses who stand with her). She's far from the underdog in this race, and she shows off how threatening she can be.

CF? Her route?

She scweams at scawy rats. She gets embawwassed when you find her dwawings. She's just so wonewy, and she's just so gwad that you chose her. She somehow fails to capture Rhea, or frame Dimitri for regicide, and so now has to deal with that on the Kingdom's side of the war. But that doesn't stop Elly Welly-kins fwom twying to find her pwecious teacher, because you're just so important to her. She cwies and hugs you when you meet her in the Goddess Tower!! Because she missed you so much!!

It's like... Dimitri and Claude certainly show different sides of themselves on their respective routes. It's the whole point! You grow closer to them and thus see how they treat those close to them, as opposed to being the Kinda Neat Teacher they see run along every now and then. But, like... Claude doesn't become a blushing maiden whenever Byleth speaks with him on VW. Dimitri doesn't scream at scary rats and get called cute for it on AM. They don't get Basic Bitch Gap Moe Traits slapped onto them that are only ever shown to the player and only on their routes. Unlike Edelgard.

Dimitri's endearing trait is that he's this big huge dude who can bench-press forests and arm-wrestle god who still wants to learn to sew and who teaches kids to protect themselves and who buys candies for his friends. Claude's endearing trait is that he's this mastermind planner who has contingency and lie and obfuscation as three separate legal government names who still wants everyone to be safe and happy and hold hands and be friends.

Edelgard is strong, confident, and willing to do some of the shittiest things known to man for her goals. Her endearing trait is that her screams are cute. She's shy about her drawings of the player character. She blushes over the player potentially joking about having sex with her per her JPN version of her C support; you know, the one about how Byleth walks in on Edelgard muttering in her sleep from a nightmare about her tortured family? Perfect time to joke about fucking her! Dimitri and Claude's endearments are, well, endearing; Edelgard's are all straight up embarrassing for her.

Hell, even the smaller stuff is affected! Claude's passion for poisons and mushrooms are things he has no qualms about having others know about, despite how weird they are. Dimitri laughing at shitty jokes brings him no personal discomfort or embarrassment, despite just how loudly he laughs at them. They have traits to them that can easily be uwu worthy, and they don't care! Of the lords, only Edelgard does! Because, it feels like, the only way for a strong, resolute female character to come off as approachable is if she's knocked down a few pegs for specifically and only you, the player.

And that sucks ass! I'm sorry, but when I'm playing Edelgard's route I don't want to deal with her hiding herself away in her room for a month IN THE MIDDLE OF HER FUCKING WAR because she's just so embawwassed! It is so fucking insensitive that Edelgard is literally the only lord of the three who can have her trauma openly belittled at any point in the story by Byleth, all to have some cheap cutesy uwu moment about her fear of rats (calling her screaming in fear cute and INSISTING that it's really cute which is just. Fucking ew man)! Why can we fucking mock Edelgard's manner of speech during the MASSACRE OF REMIRE?

This shit doesn't happen to Claude or Dimitri! And saying "oh just don't pick those options then" is bullshit because no equivalent options exist for the male lords! It's piss-boilingly annoying that the second you choose to see things from the strong confident villainous ambitious female lord's perspective you can reduce her down to this bumbling moeblob just for you (sometimes unavoidably!) like!! Dude!

[lienwyn]

Devour

__

Will I ever draw Jong Woo without covering him in blood, you ask?

Stay tuned and find out.

[redgearsmovin]

and in this moment, we dance.

A Dave/Boris fic.

Summary:

Dave finds himself sharing a dance with a famous ballet dancer.

Words: 1780.

Note:

It's not mentioned but this fic is written with the headcanon that Dave is aro-spec. Unsure if that is portrayed clearly tho, or if the characters might be OOC haha. Anyway this silly little crackship has been on my mind alot, hope you like this writing of them!

You can also read it on: AO3 | SqW

* * *

As Guests of Honour, the Movers and Nina were looking forward to the backstage access. Once the other ticket holders had wrapped up their meet and greet, the five friends were brought to the VIP area, where they would meet the two dancers there.

"Boris, Oksana, your performance was beautiful!" Nina said excitedly.

"Yeah, I couldn't look away!" Scott added.

"You both danced wonderfully," Smitty complimented.

Dave took off his cap to pull out a big bouquet of red roses and handed it to Oksana. "For you," he said, putting on the hat again. Oksana grinned as she accepted it.

"Thank you Movers! Thank you Nina!" Oksana replied with a slight curtsy, and they bowed back.

"Yes, we are very happy you enjoy show," Boris said, smiling. "We love seeing you in crowd." He looked at them, and when his eyes landed on Dave, he gave him a quick wink. The gesture was met with a slightly surprised expression from the Mover, his eyebrows slightly raised. The others were oblivious to it aside from Nina who noticed, her gaze shifting between the two men. They all then continued their conversation for a little while.

"So, what's next? Are you two going back home?" Rich asked.

"We have more show next week."

"Da. We stay in your country until show is done," Oksana added. "We will love to see you all again. You too, Mousenik." She patted Warehouse Mouse gently, and the mouse cheered. "We hope to dance more in your country now that we are still the famous dancers."

"We're really glad it all turned out well. Congratulations to both of you!" Rich said happily.

"All thanks to your help too," Boris noted.

"So, great job to us too!" Rich cheered, holding his hand up for a high five.

The others got ready for the high-five as well, though Dave was interrupted when Boris handed him the bouquet and a few other gifts the dancers received from their fans.

"Please bring these," Boris said, making his way to one of the rooms away from where they all gathered.

Dave stood there for a moment, balancing the items in his hands before eventually following Boris' lead.

'At least he said "please" this time', Dave thought to himself, pursing his lips. He walked over to a table and carefully placed the items down. He let out a sigh, then looked at the dancer who was standing near a dressing room mirror. "Alright, I put all your stuff here."

"Thank you," Boris replied, flashing a smile at Dave. He placed a tube of his favourite hair gel inside the bag, along with the other tubes.

"Guess you won't be using those anymore, huh?" Dave remarked.

"Mmm, not so much, but maybe a little." Boris closed his bag and turned to approach Dave, taking proud strides. "Enough to make Boris extra handsome, no?" he said with a smirk, running his hands through his hair.

Dave took a small step back when Boris stood right in front of him. He scoffed, then shrugged as he plainly replied, "Sure."

Boris chuckled lightly, a more genuine smile forming on his face, and for a moment the Mover froze. Even if his constant self-praising were bordering on being annoying, Dave couldn't deny that the dancer was quite attractive and very well aware of it.

"One more thing I want to ask." Boris' words snapped Dave out of his thoughts.

"Huh, what?"

"Will you do honour of dancing with Boris?" The dancer asked, offering his hand.

Dave looked at it, then back at the man. He promptly glanced to his side and checked his surroundings before facing Boris again.

"Are you.. asking me?" he asked, a confused look plastered on his face.

Boris cocked an eyebrow. "Do you see other handsome man being here?"

Dave felt his face heat up, his eyes widening. "I'm not.. um.." he mumbled, trying to think what to respond. He then cleared his throat and replied, "I don't know ballet. You and Oksana saw how me and the guys danced, right?"

"I can show you," Boris said calmly, "if you like."

Dave blinked a few times, staring at the hand extended to him. Countless thoughts were running through his mind, none of them helping him decide what to do.

What's going on?

Why all of a sudden?

Why me?

Dave frowned, and Boris took note of it. He lowered his hand.

"If not, it's OK," he reassured with a smile, turning away. Dave didn't hear any hint of bitterness in those words, and his expression relaxed. He decided to not overthink it.

"W-wait!"

The dancer looked at the Mover, who spoke once more.

"I, uh, I'd like to dance."

Upon hearing his words, Boris smirked. He offered his hand again, and Dave accepted.

* * *

Admittedly, Dave still wasn't so sure about this.

Ballet music played gently across the room. The two men faced one another, hand in hand. They moved together, with Boris patiently guiding Dave in each step. They pulled each other close, and Dave was still trying to grasp everything that was happening. He couldn't help but observe his dance partner; the way his dark hair fell on his forehead, feeling the heat from his rough palms whenever their hands met, the woody scent of his perfume as strong and intense as the person wearing it.

Dave had never realized how big his dark pupils seemingly were, and he found himself staring into them. Boris smirked as he raised an eyebrow, looking into Dave's bright blue eyes in return. He began moving his legs, prompting Dave to follow as they continued. Dave swung his arms as gracefully as he could and his feet stepped wherever Boris took him.

"Well done, kotyonok. You dance very good," Boris said, grinning as he twirled Dave around.

They ended their little dance with a dip; Boris had his hand supporting the Mover's waist as Dave leaned back into it. The Mover froze again, his eyes widened as he gazed into Boris' eyes once more, their faces now inches away from each other. He could feel his heart pounding, the overwhelming mix of perfume and musk piercing his nostrils, and the warmth from the other man's body. His head was clouded, his senses almost overwhelmed. Boris observed Dave's reaction, his face slowly inching closer to the Mover. Dave's mind was racing.

Aren't things going a little too fast?

Should I lean in? Close my eyes?

This perfume is too strong. It's nauseating.

Just like in fairytales, kiss and live happily ever after.

I can't feel my legs. My face feels numb.

He swept me right off my feet! Metaphorically and literally.

The others are probably looking for me.

What a dreamy moment~

This isn't happening.

Dave closed his eyes shut, as Boris leaned more into him. He could feel the dancer's breathing on his face, and at that moment, everything was too much.

"Sorry."

Dave moved his head, leaning further as he slightly pushed Boris away.

Boris carefully pulled back from Dave, holding his hand as he helped the Mover stand up properly. Once Dave was steady on his feet, Boris held Dave's hand up to his lips and gave it a soft kiss before letting it go.

"No worry, it is pleasure dancing with you."

Dave's face was flushed, his heart still beating quick as he looked down, trying to calm himself.

"Ah, before you go.." Boris walked over to a table and grabbed a piece of what seemed to be a poster. He uncapped a marker and started writing something on it, then looked up as he asked, "What is your name?"

"Huh, oh—" Dave briefly looked down to his suit, realizing his nametag wasn't on there. "It's uh, it's Dave."

"Dave.." Boris continued writing, and Dave's eyes wandered elsewhere, still reeling from what had happened.

"Here." Boris handed over the poster, which was of him in a ballet pose, with unfamiliar writing on the bottom left which Dave could assume one of the words was his name spelt in Russian, along with Boris' signature. "If you ever miss me." He winked before going back to his bag.

Dave took a look at the poster, then pulled a face. "Um, thanks." He kept it in his hat and glanced at the door. "I should probably head back to the others."

"Farewell, Dave. Thank you again."

"Yeah, bye." Dave gave a small wave before exiting the room.

* * *

"There you are, Dave!"

Dave was caught off guard when he heard Nina's voice calling to him. The Movers turned to his direction as he approached them.

"Hey guys—"

"Hey, are you okay?" Scott interrupted. "Your face is so red, almost like your hat!"

He stepped closer, cupping his hands on Dave's face as he continued, "And it's so hot too!"

The others looked at him curiously. Dave chuckled, pushing Scott's hands off him. "It's nothing. I'm probably just tired."

"Yeah, it is getting late. And we have to leave now anyway," Smitty chimed in, petting a sleepy Warehouse Mouse who he was carrying in his arm.

The others nodded and made their way out the theatre. While walking to the Mover Mobile, Nina suddenly stopped in her tracks. "Oh no!"

"What? What's wrong, Nina?" Rich asked worriedly.

"I forgot to ask Boris for his autograph.." Nina said, pouting.

"Oh! I got you." Dave pulled out the poster from his hat, handing it over to Nina. Her eyes lit up as she unrolled the poster. "You can have it."

"Wow, thanks Dave!" Nina grinned widely and Dave nodded. The others smiled as they all continued walking.

Shortly after, Nina called out to Dave again. "Hey Dave, maybe you'd wanna keep this," she said in a quieter voice, giving him a small knowing smile as she handed a folded sticky note that was attached to the poster.

"Hm, what.." Dave hadn't noticed it there. He opened the note, then furrowed his eyebrows. "It's.. a phone number?"

"Ooh.." Nina smirked at him. "I guess someone was hoping to see you again."

"Who would..." Dave stopped his sentence, a red tint forming on his cheeks. "..oh."

Nina couldn't hold back a smile. She leaned closer to Dave as she spoke, "Anything you want to share?"

Dave cleared his throat, covering his mouth. "..not yet. I'm still.. processing it."

Nina patted his arm. "Okay then, I won't say anything about it."

"Thanks, Nina," Dave said, giving her a grateful smile.

"Let's go catch up to them."

"Oh, right!"

They both walked faster to the other Movers in front of them, eager to get back home and get some rest from a long, exciting day.

[insidejupiter]

jingliu is a perfect example of "if this female character was male, shed be universally loved instead of heavily criticized"

[technicalknockout]

finished the entirety of lmk s5 and i gotta say. what the actual heck did i watch/pos/but unwell

[lamentinghouses]

Some quick little watercolor scenes from my fic Get It Through Your Head. feat. Shenanigans, clearing up misunderstandings, and an unfortunate meeting with an overhead sign.

A bonus, since the way I was originally hosting the images broke lol

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Sometimes, mental health is very difficult to manage and you have extreme executive dysfunction that makes it almost impossible to task switch or accomplish certain tasks.

This also means that, sometimes, you accidentally don't work on a commission piece for months except for a couple hundred words every other week and feel extreme guilt until the client contacts you asking for a refund.

And then, if you happen to have a very Oof bank account statement and are made of sheer stubborn will and spite, you will finish that commission by cranking out 6,000+ words in four hours.

I'm not sure where I was going with this, but if you commission me I guess the key is to threaten me by asking for a refund??? (Also, I don't do refunds once I begin writing a story anyways, but considering I essentially left this story on read for months, that was all on me.)

[vampiremourning]

need at least 1 person to be mentally ill with in the dms about my own writing perhaps then ill be able to publish something

[ame-to-ame]

something something more self indulgent doodles!!!!