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putellas14 · 1 day ago

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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.

#leila ouahabi x reader #woso imagine #leila ouahabi #Leila Ouahabi imagine #woso x reader #man city women #espwnt imagine

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linkcharacter · 2 days ago

Note

I find it interesting when people call Jimmy an unreliable narrator. There’s not really any narrating done in the traditional sense, and we don’t even hear a lot of his inner thoughts. Do they mean “narrator” as in our view of the world and characters are shaped by his POV through interactions and visuals, instead of a verbal, descriptive narration?

Please THANK YOU EXACTLY I WANTED TO TALK ABOUT THIS SO BAD ACTUALLY.

My opinion is that people like to shove terms that vaguely fit the story of Mouthwashing anywhere they can, same with describing characters (Curly for example) as "morally grey". Which in my opinion is reductive and doesn't represent who the character is, it's defined enough for people to 'kinda' be on the same page but also vague enough that it doesn't accurately describe the character and blurs the complexity that makes the character interesting.

I wouldn't apply the term "unreliable narrator" to Jimmy. His perspective of what we are allowed to see in game is limited, but we see exactly what happens, just through Jimmy's eyes. Jimmy isn't twisting the narrative for the viewer because he's NOT NARRATING. Mouthwashing is a game with no narration to tell the story. Sure, characters talk about the events, but they're not talking to the player, and an unreliable narrator's purpose from a storytelling point, is to deceive or mislead the viewer. I think trying to shove storytelling terms anywhere it fits doesn't work and just confuses a lot of people. The game itself plays around with the narrative and reveals things and structures the story in ways to manipulate our perception, like allowing only certain small sections of events to be seen, and ordered in a way to play with our thoughts and attention.

Jimmy's perspective and presence change the attitude of characters, but this isn't "unreliable narration", it's the reality of how characters act with Jimmy around. I kinda understand what people mean when they say he's an unreliable narrator, that we shouldn't take Jimmy's POV as the whole truth at face value, but that's not because the 'narrative' is being twisted, we just have to take into account the context of the situation. The players aren't being deceived, they're being required to think about nuances. And even when Jimmy starts having his episodes with hallucinations, it's not to deceive the viewer, it's showing us how JIMMY HIMSELF sees reality, we can very clearly disconnect what is being shown from the context of what is actually going on. The dinner scene, for example, is obviously just has Jimmy tweak out, but we as players can tell that it's not real, there's no misleading happening. And we see how Jimmy talks to others during gameplay, we see Jimmy be abusive to others and be a jerk and perform manipulation, there's no narration to make us believe he's not doing all of these things or to even conceal or twist the truth. Jimmy as a character with his words does manipulate others, but not the viewer. You can say Jimmy is an unreliable narrator within the reality of the game, but he's definitely not if we're talking about meta.

The bizarro sequences are a bit different because there's clearly some meta "showing the viewer symbolisms to have them connect ideas of the story, while not being grounded in reality for the characters in the game" stuff going on, but again, there's no narration nor is there a point to confuse the viewer. The point is to show the themes of the story in an interesting and impactful way that leaves a lot to analyze, you're not being deceived, you just have to think about it and see what the game is trying to show, it's encouraging you to look deeper into the story. Mouthwashing IS NOT a game with a clear-cut clean concrete story with no room for interpretation.

#ok i yapped my bad #mouthwashing #asks

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4linos · 23 hours ago

Text

they call you clingy.

ot8 x gn!reader

warning: really angsty, feeling insecure/unworthy, no happy endings. (sorry)

wc: 8708

bang chan

You and Chan had been together for a while, and things were generally great between you two. You had your own lives, your own routines, but there was always a sense of closeness between you that you both cherished. Lately, though, you’d found yourself tagging along with him more often, especially when he had dinner plans with the members.

At first, he didn’t mind. In fact, he enjoyed having you around, and the other members seemed to appreciate it too. Some of their girlfriends were there as well, so it felt natural, like a group gathering. But after a while, you started coming along more frequently, not wanting to spend evenings apart. You thought it was a way to spend more time with him, but you could tell it was starting to weigh on Chan, though you weren’t sure why.

Chan said nothing at first, but you could tell he became quieter and more distant throughout these dinners. He looked at his phone more frequently, and his smile seemed forced when you spoke with him or the others. Still, you tried to ignore it, telling yourself it was just your imagination. You weren't doing anything wrong by wanting to be with him, right? You had every right to join him on nights when he was with the other members. But you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

One evening, as you all gathered for a casual dinner at a restaurant, the atmosphere was different. You were laughing, eating, and talking with some of the other girls when you realized Chan was particularly quiet. He was nibbling at his food and not really participating in the conversation. You leaned over to him, laying your hand on his arm, attempting to draw him into the moment.

"Chan, is everything okay?" You asked, your voice gentle and anxious.

He shuddered slightly at the contact and gave you a fake smile. "Yeah, everything's fine," he said, but the tiredness in his voice was clear. The others didn’t seem to notice, but you did. It felt like he was pushing away from you just a little. Your stomach twisted as you tried to ignore the unease creeping in. Then, the conversation shifted. As the dinner continued, someone brought up how often you came along with Chan to these meals. You didn’t think much of it at first, but you could feel his discomfort growing.

“Honestly, though,” Chan suddenly chimed in, his voice a little more sharp than usual, “it’s getting a bit much. She’s always tagging along. It’s like she can’t ever be away from me. It's kind of suffocating.”

The words hit you like a smack in the face. You froze, your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach. The table fell silent for a moment, the tension in the air evident. You could feel everyone's gaze on you, and your cheeks reddened with shame. You tried to shrug it off, believing it was a joke, but the expression in Chan's eyes revealed his disinterest. He was not joking. Time seemed to slow down, and you could feel the sting of his words settling deep within you. Without thinking, you excused yourself from the table and went to the restroom, your chest tight and your eyes welling with tears. You locked yourself in a stall and tried to calm your pounding heart, but the words replayed in your mind over and over again. “Clingy,” “suffocating.” You felt small, insignificant, and utterly hurt.

Meanwhile, at the table, the other members exchanged glances, seemingly uneasy about what had just happened. After a minute, Hyunjin spoke up, his tone surprisingly soft. "Chan, that wasn't cool, man. Why would you say anything like that? She isn't clinging at all. She's just trying to spend time with you."

Felix nodded in line, his tone quiet yet forceful. "Yeah, we really like having her around. She makes things more fun, you know? I don't understand why you'd say something like that.”

Chan wasn't sure how to answer. He had meant it as a joke, something to relieve the stress he'd been experiencing lately, but now that he'd heard the other responses from the others, a rush of shame swept over him. He felt he'd crossed a boundary, but it wasn't until they spoke out that he recognized how serious the situation was. "I didn't mean it like that," he whispered, but his apologies seemed hollow even for him.

His thoughts was muddled by remorse, and for the first time in a long time, he felt completely embarrassed. "I think you should go talk to her," Minho said softly. "She is probably really hurt right now. You have to make it right."

Chan’s stomach churned. He didn’t want to think about how badly he’d hurt you. His usual confident self was gone, replaced by a knot of regret.

lee know

It was one of those days. The sort where everything you touched seemed to fall apart, and every corner you turned revealed another disaster ready to happen. The day began with your boss screaming at you for something you didn't even do, his anger pouring out on you as if it were your responsibility that the world was collapsing. You hardly had time to calm yourself before spilling your coffee all over your blouse at lunch. The entire day had been an upsurge of humiliating incidents, missed deadlines, and biting your tongue to resist snapping at everyone who gave you the wrong look.

You were physically and emotionally drained when you arrived home. You just wanted the day to end, to close your eyes and forget everything. However, when you walked through the door, you were welcomed by a familiar, comfortable smell.

Minho was in the kitchen, wearing an apron and humming softly to himself while making something. Your heart lifted a little because he was here, cooking for you. The simple gesture of kindness was a welcome breath of fresh air after a long day of drowning.

You stood by the door, hesitant whether to interrupt, but then he turned toward you with a gentle smile. "Hey, how was your day?"

You forced a smile, despite the weight of the day pressing on you. “It was... fine. I’m just glad to be home.”

He noticed the weariness in your eyes and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a gentle embrace. It was the kind of comfort you needed, even if you didn’t know it until he offered it. “Relax. I’ve got dinner covered. Why don’t you just sit down and take it easy?”

You nodded, thankful for his concern, but something inside you refused to just sit back and do nothing. It felt awful to be passive while he was so busy. "Let me help," you volunteered, heading near the counter, attempting to gather yourself after a stressful day. Minho gently shook his head, a teasing gleam in his eyes. "There's no need. "Please relax, okay?" You couldn't help but feel a sense of dissatisfaction. He was always so selfless and compassionate, and you didn't want to be someone who just sat by. Instead of disputing, you nodded and gave in to his desire. He was right, after all; you could use a break. “Alright. But give me something small to do.”

Minho paused for a moment to contemplate, then assigned you a tiny task. "Okay, could you please tidy up a little while I finish the soup? Just wipe down the countertops." It seemed simple enough.

You took a rag and followed his instructions while he worked on the soup. The house was peaceful, almost serene, and you hadn't felt that type of peace all day. It was good to be here with him and feel like you weren't confronting the world alone.

But in the middle of cleaning, your eyes darted to the pot of soup on the stove. It smelled incredible like something he had poured his heart into. You felt a surge of gratitude, the kind that made you want to help him, to show him how much you appreciated everything he did for you.

Without thinking, you decided to move the pot, to give him a little more space so he could focus on finishing everything. You gently lifted the heavy pot, but as you tried to shift it, your grip faltered. The edge of the pot slipped from your hand, and in an instant, it tilted, the boiling liquid splashing violently all over the kitchen floor and onto your leg.

You screamed out in shock, the searing heat of the soup burning into your skin, but the pain on your leg was nothing compared to the way everything seemed to shatter around you. The kitchen became chaos. The pot had fallen, splattered everywhere, and the delicious smell was suddenly replaced with the pungent scent of spilled soup. You tried to gather yourself, but the kitchen was now a disaster, and so were you on the verge of tears, overwhelmed, hurt, and defeated.

Minho turned when he heard the accident. His expression shifted from worry to annoyance in an instant. You looked up, and his eyes were filled with anger. The following words he said struck you harder than the burn on your leg. "Why are you always so clingy? I spent hours making that! "If you had just stayed out of the way for once, this could have been avoided!" His voice was harsh and slashed through the air like a razor. You stared at him, frozen in shock.

Was this actually happening?

His words felt like a punch to your chest. They were not what you expected, not from him, not when you were already dealing with the weight of the world. Your mind scrambled to make sense of it. How had it come to this? How had you gone from being the person he always tried to comfort to someone he now seemed to resent?

He stayed there, hands clenched at his sides. "God, I can't believe this," he said quietly, shaking his head. You always do this. You always get in the way. "Why can't you just relax and let me do it?"

You couldn't react because your heart was hammering painfully in your chest. You had spilled more than simply the soup. It was not only the mess. It was the sting of being accused of something you never wanted to do, like being too much. You did not want to be a burden for him. You never intended to make things more difficult, yet everything you did seemed to make things worse.

Minho sighed, looking at the mess with frustration. “Just… go to the room or something,” he snapped, turning away from you.

You stood there, unsure of what to do, feeling smaller than you ever had before. You knew he was angry, but the way he dismissed you, the way he acted like you were just an inconvenience, was something you hadn’t expected from him. He wasn’t usually like this. But right now, it felt like you had done something unforgivable. It felt like everything you had ever tried to do for him had been wrong, every gesture of kindness or help misplaced.

Your legs gave way, and you sank to the floor, trying to steady yourself, but your hands trembled with the weight of his words. Hot tears welled up in your eyes, and you didn’t bother wiping them away. The physical pain in your leg from the burns was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. You had wanted to help, to make things better for him. But now, all you could do was try to tend to your own wounds both physical and emotional alone.

You pulled yourself up slowly, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realized were falling, trying to find the strength to move. Minho was still in the kitchen, silent now, cleaning up the mess you had made, but his anger still hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

You left him there, retreating to your bedroom, feeling more isolated than you had in a long time. The night was quiet, but the silence between you and Minho felt louder than ever. And in that silence, you couldn’t help but wonder how long you could keep trying to be the person he wanted you to be when everything you did seemed to push him further away.

changbin

The evening started out like any other. You and Changbin were going to go to the gym together after a long day. You were excited to spend more time with him, especially since you had been trying to join him at the gym more often recently. At first, it seemed like a fun bonding activity. You'd go to encourage him, attempt to keep up with some of the exercises, and simply enjoy being with him. Changbin had always been a bit of a lone wolf, preferring his own time to recuperate, but he'd been nice enough to let you tag along at first.

You didn’t realize that things had slowly started to change. What had initially felt like an innocent way to spend more time together had started to weigh on him. Maybe it was because you’d started following him around everywhere always just a few steps behind, trying to do what he was doing, lingering around him during his sets. Maybe it was because he didn’t have his usual space anymore. But whatever the reason, Changbin was beginning to feel the pressure, and he didn’t know how to tell you.

You had no idea how much your presence at the gym was bothering him. He wasn't trying to hurt you or make you feel bad about wanting to spend time with him, but tonight was different. He could feel his patience fading and his irritation growing the more you wanted to incorporate yourself into his routine. It was supposed to be his time to escape. He needed the gym to be his sanctuary, a place to unwind and clear his mind. But tonight, as you followed him from machine to machine, everything came to a head.

The air in the gym seemed heavier than usual. Changbin could feel his patience fraying as you followed him for what seemed like the umpteenth time. You weren't doing anything wrong, yet he couldn't shake the overwhelming sense that you were constantly present. His gaze shifted to the clock on the wall; he'd been here for nearly an hour. And it wasn't that you were clingy in an obnoxious way; it was simply that you were always with him, which was enough to frustrate him.

He couldn't concentrate, couldn't clear his mind as he used to. You were always there, following his every move, asking questions about his setups, and attempting to get in the way of his routine. His thoughts were clouded, his mind no longer able to concentrate on the iron and his own movements. He couldn’t unwind. He couldn’t breathe.

When you followed him to the weights area once again, his frustration bubbled over.

“Y/N, can you just stop?” he snapped, his voice harsh and sharp, completely different from the usual warmth you were used to. His words cut through the air like a slap. “Can you just let me have this one thing? The gym isn’t supposed to be some place where you follow me around all the time. I need it to be my own. I need my space. You’re always here, and it’s... it’s too much.”

You froze, a cold shiver of confusion running through your body. Your eyes flickered from his irritated face to the ground, unsure of what to say. You had always been so excited to share things with him, and this was the last place you thought something like this would happen.

“B-Bin... I didn’t—" you started, your voice faltering, but he cut you off, his frustration spilling over.

“You’re always clinging to me, Y/N. And at first, I thought it was cute. But now? It’s just too much. The gym is supposed to be my alone time, somewhere I can relax, somewhere I can focus. But you’re here, and I can’t even do that anymore,” he said, each word feeling like a weight crashing down on you.

Your chest tightened and you found yourself unable to breathe for a little while. It felt as if the world had stopped moving around you, and all you could hear was the flow of blood in your ears. You weren't expecting to hear those words from him. Changbin had always been supportive and loving, even if he was a little protective of his space. What about now? Now it felt like he was pushing you away. And the way he avoided your gaze while he spoke, as if he couldn't stand to witness the pain he was causing, you could feel your heart breaking piece by piece.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill, but it didn’t help. The lump in your throat was too big, and the pain was too overwhelming. You weren’t clingy. You just wanted to be close to him. You didn’t realize that your presence, something you thought was innocent, had been smothering him. But hearing it from him so bluntly… it felt like a punch to the gut.

You said nothing at first. Your body was stiff, your eyes filled with unshed tears. You wanted to say something, but the words would not come out. Instead, you simply turned slowly and began to walk away. "I'll go," you said softly, your voice barely audible. Your steps were wobbly as you approached the exit. Changbin turned around, his heart sinking into his chest. It hit him, followed by the look in your eyes. Your lips quivered. He realized what he had just said. The frustration and fury had been misplaced. He didn't mean to hurt you. He wasn't trying to make you feel unwanted. But it was too late now. The damage was done.

“Y/N—wait!” he called after you, but it was no use. You didn’t even turn around. You just kept walking, your back stiff, your steps hurried.

hyunjin

(a/n: you and hyunjin aren’t a couple here, you’re childhood best friends)

The after-party had been buzzing with energy all night, full of celebration and the kind of chaotic, joyful atmosphere that followed every successful concert. It was supposed to be a moment of relief, a chance to let go of the weight of the stage and just relax with friends. You, however, couldn’t seem to shake off the knot of tension that had been growing inside you for weeks.

It hadn’t been an abrupt change, not really. Hyunjin, your best friend, had slowly started to become distant. At first, it was subtle, a shift in the way he looked at you, the way he barely seemed to notice when you were around. But now, it had become glaringly obvious, especially in moments like this, when you found yourself desperately trying to keep the connection you two had built over the years.

You’d always been there for him, supporting him through everything the highs and the lows. But lately, whenever you tried to lean on him, he pulled away. The distance between you had begun to feel insurmountable, and tonight, surrounded by the group at the after-party, it felt like the final straw.

You felt an odd, uncomfortable pull as soon as you walked inside the party. The sight of Hyunjin laughing with the rest of the group should have made you happy, but instead it made your chest tighten with anxiety. He looked... unusual. His eyes, the way they avoided yours, made it clear that something had changed between you two. You despised the sense of being on the outside, like you didn't belong anymore.

You had tried to give him his space during the last few weeks, respecting the growing distance between you. But tonight, you were determined to be present. To pretend as if everything was still fine.

After all, you were his best friend, right?

You moved over to where he was sitting, talking with Seungmin and Jeongin. When they saw you approaching, Jeongin's face lit up with that warm, welcome smile that always put you at at ease. He gave you a warm nod and motioned for you to join them, which you immediately did, thinking that the familiarity of the situation could help the uneasiness that had begun to settle over you. But once you sat down, Hyunjin's tone changed. His eyes flicked across to you for a quick, unreadable look before returning to the others. You tried not to take it personally, but it hurt. Jeongin was chatting animatedly about something, but you couldn't pay attention. All you could think about was how Hyunjin had practically turned his back on you.

After a few moments, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You leaned closer to Hyunjin, trying to keep your tone light, as if everything were normal. “Hey, Hyunjin... you good? You’ve seemed off lately.”

He looked at you, his expression suddenly sharp. “I’m fine,” he replied quickly, and there was a coldness to his voice that cut through you like ice.

You didn’t know what to say. You had always been able to talk through things before, but now it seemed like he didn’t even want to acknowledge you. You tried again, your voice trembling just slightly, “I’m just checking in... I’ve noticed you’ve been a little distant.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, as if he were irritated with you asking. “You’re always around,” he said, his voice laced with annoyance. “I don’t need you following me everywhere. It’s annoying.”

The words hit you like a slap. You froze, the weight of his comment sinking deep into your chest. You had no idea where this was coming from. You had always been there for him, not because you needed to be, but because you cared about him. You wanted to be there. But now, suddenly, it felt like you were an inconvenience.

The room felt suffocating, the noise of the party growing distant as you tried to process what he had just said. You had always been careful not to smother him, always tried to give him space. But now he was telling you that your presence, your very existence, was too much for him.

It was too much.

The lump in your throat grew, but you weren’t going to let him see you falter. You tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over, but you couldn’t stop the rush of emotions that came flooding to the surface. You had tried so hard to be understanding, to be patient, but this was too much to handle.

Before you could say anything more, you snapped. “You know what, Hyunjin? I’m not following you around,” your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and frustration. “I’m only here because Felix invited me. As his date.”

The words hung in the air, sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. You could feel the sting of betrayal, the way Hyunjin had made you feel small, and the anger bubbled up inside you. The room grew quiet for a moment, everyone’s attention now focused on the exchange.

You didn’t look at Hyunjin. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned on your heel, your pulse pounding in your ears, and walked straight to Felix, who was standing nearby. He gave you a surprised glance, but he didn’t ask questions. He simply wrapped an arm around you as you sat next to him, offering you a comforting presence in the midst of your emotional storm.

You didn't speak for a time, your thoughts racing from the argument, but Felix didn't press you to explain. He just let you sit there in peace, his arm resting comfortably on your shoulder. You leaned into him, attempting to center yourself and escape the overpowering pain that threatened to consume you whole. Felix did not deserve to bear the burden of your wounded heart, but in that time, his comfort was the only thing that made sense.

Hyunjin's gaze stayed fixed on you as the party went on. But you refused to look his direction. He'd already made it apparent that your presence no longer mattered to him. He had driven you away with his hurtful words, and as much as it pained you to admit it, you knew deep down that it was too late to fix things.

The rest of the night was a blur. You couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, about how he had made you feel so small, so insignificant. The person who had once been your best friend, who had always been there for you, was now the one who had cast you aside. And the worst part was that you didn’t even know why.

As the party wound down and everyone began to leave, you stayed close to Felix, not looking back, not wanting to face Hyunjin. You didn’t know what had changed between you two, or why he had suddenly decided that your friendship wasn’t worth his time. All you knew was that the person who had once been your closest confidant, the one who knew all your secrets and fears, had just torn your heart apart.

And you didn’t know how to fix it.

HAN

The evening began like any other, or so it was supposed to be. But Jisung felt as if the world was pushing down on him with every step he made into the apartment. The intensity of the day still clung to him, like a physical weight of frustration, disappointment, and tiredness. He had spent hours in the meeting with the company staff, only to hear criticism for the smallest mistakes and missteps. It wasn't the first time, but it always hurt. This time, however, it seemed different; he couldn't shake the nagging sense of inadequacy.

The door clicked behind him, and the familiar aroma of home didn't bring much comfort. Instead, it was almost smothering. His limbs ached, his mind raced, and all he needed was peace, time to unwind.

But you were there.

You always were.

As soon as he walked through the door, your eyes searched his face, and he could see the concern etched over your features. He could tell you'd sensed something was wrong. He attempted to disguise it when he saw you earlier that day, brushing off your "are you okay?" with a quick "yeah, I'm fine," but now, as you stood there with that sweet look in your eyes, he couldn't help but see it. You could look right through him, like glass.

"Jisung," you said quietly, your voice carrying the gentle tone you always used when you knew he was struggling, "are you sure you're okay? You don’t look okay."

It wasn’t the first time you’d asked. You'd been asking since the moment he came home, like you always did when you saw him worn down, like you always did when he looked like he was holding a little too much in. But no matter how well you meant it, no matter how much you truly cared about him, he just didn’t want to talk about it. Not today. Not tonight.

"I’m fine," he muttered, his tone dismissive, but you could hear the edge in his voice.

You hesitated, eyes scanning him again, sensing the distance between his words and the tension in his body.

"Jisung… I know you’re not fine," you said softly, a frown pulling at your lips. You reached toward him, wanting to bridge the gap that was widening between you, but he stepped back before you could touch him.

"I’m fine," he repeated, louder this time, irritation lacing his voice. "Just stop asking."

Your heart twisted, but you tried to swallow the hurt, not wanting to push him further. But you couldn’t stop yourself from trying again, desperate to get him to open up. "Please, I can tell something’s wrong. If you need to talk, I’m here."

He froze at that, hands clenched at his sides, jaw clenched. His frustration, the irritation that had been building inside him all day, finally cracked open.

"I said I'm fine!" He snapped, his voice sharp, his eyes burning with anger, not at you, but at the world that had worn him down. "Why are you always so clingy? It's annoying. I do not need you hovering over me like this. I don't need you constantly keeping tabs on me!" The words were biting and nasty. You trembled, a flood of hurt smashing over you, but you tried to stay calm.

You couldn't help but feel the sting of dismissal and the weight of his harshness. "I'm just trying to help you," you said softly, your voice quivering slightly. "I just want to make sure that you're okay. Why don't you let me help?"

He glanced at you, the spark of guilt in his eyes swiftly drowned out by the a flood of frustration within him. He opened his mouth and nothing came out. He wanted to apologize. He knew he hurt you. But the words did not come, and he had no idea how to make it right. He didn't know how to ask for what he wanted when everything inside him felt like it was about to come apart.

You did not wait for him to say anything. The anger, bewilderment, and hurt welled up in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you turned on your heel and marched out, your footsteps loud and strong as you made your way to the bedroom.

The door slammed behind you, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence. You sank onto the bed, feeling the weight of the frustration both his and yours press down on your chest like a suffocating blanket.

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to feel this way. You had only wanted to help him. To be there for him when he was struggling. But all he had done was push you away.

You heard no footsteps, no soft knock on the door. Normally, when something like this happened, he would come after you. He would apologize, his voice soft and regretful, and you’d make up. He’d say something about how it wasn’t you, how he was just having a hard time. But this time, the silence stretched on. The door stayed closed.

It wasn’t long before you realized he wasn’t coming.

The silence felt so loud, so suffocating, and it only made everything hurt more. He wasn’t here to apologize. He wasn’t here to soothe you like he always did.

And maybe this time it wasn't all about him. Maybe it was more than simply his tiredness and irritation. Maybe it was about something deeper, something more than just a bad day at work. Your heart broke at the thought that he might have pushed you away because he didn't know how to accept you. Maybe he'd been hiding his pain for so long because he was frightened to show you the parts of himself he thought were too shattered. Maybe he was just too stressed to recognize that you weren't a burden, but rather someone who wanted to help him shoulder the weight.

But right now, none of that mattered. What mattered was that he had called you clingy, had pushed you away when all you wanted was to hold him close.

You curled up in bed, hugging your knees to your chest, and tried not to cry.

You didn’t hear him come in, but you felt the weight of the bed shift beside you. Jisung’s presence was always so familiar, so warm, but tonight it felt distant. He didn’t touch you. He didn’t say anything. He just sat there, in the darkness, as the minutes dragged on.

And you, as much as it hurt, didn’t know if you could ask him again if he was okay. Not yet. Not until he was ready to admit that he wasn’t.

felix

It had been one of those days where everything seemed strange, as if a thin film of tension had been applied to the edges of everything you did. The kind of day where even the most basic tasks felt significant, and no matter how hard you tried to make things feel normal, you couldn't escape the growing distance. Maybe you chalked it up to stress. Maybe it was just a phase. Everyone goes through a hard stretch, right? But when you woke in the middle of the night, your hand instinctively going for the warm spot beside you, only to find it empty, that emotion became too strong to ignore. Felix had always been the one to stay close, even in sleep. He was always so attentive to your needs, so present. But now, the space between you was cold, and the bed felt too large without him there.

You sat up, the quiet of the room pressing in on you, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you swung your legs off the side of the bed. The soft glow of the TV in the living room flickered across the hallway, casting long shadows.

As you made your way down the hall, you saw him there, slumped on the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen but unseeing, staring at it like it held some answer that he couldn’t quite grasp. You could see the strain in his posture, the weight of something pressing on him, but he didn't acknowledge you as you approached.

You stopped a few feet away, unsure what to say. The silence between you two felt like a wall, immovable and unbreakable. This wasn't the Felix you knew, the one who would always offer a comforting smile or an encouraging word when you needed it. This version of him was remote and frigid, as if he built a fortress and did not plan to let anyone in.

"Felix," you whispered slowly, trying not to shock him, your voice trembling with emotion. "What's wrong?"

He didn’t respond at first, as if he hadn’t heard you, or maybe he just didn’t want to answer. The minutes dragged on, each second feeling like it added more distance between you two. Finally, when he spoke, his voice was low and strained, and it hit you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Nothing,” he muttered, though it was clear that wasn’t true. His words didn’t match the heaviness in the air, the emptiness that had settled between you two. “Just… leave me alone, okay?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Leave him alone? You didn’t understand. Since when had he ever asked you for space, especially like this? Felix had always been the one to reach out, to comfort you, to be the one you could lean on when things got tough. But now, he was shutting you out, pushing you away.

You stood there, paralyzed, staring at the back of his head as the emptiness in the room seemed to swallow you whole. His posture was stiff, almost defensive, like he was trying to make himself smaller, trying to hide from you, and it hurt more than you ever expected.

"You don't have to be so clingy all the time," he said, his voice more clipped and distant than you'd ever heard. It was as if the words were spoken by someone else, a stranger in the body of the person you loved.

Clingy? The word resonated in your thoughts, sending you reeling. You'd never considered yourself clingy. Have you really gotten so annoying? Was your affection and presence too much for him? You couldn't understand it. The connection, the intimacy that had once been so natural between you two now seemed so far away, as if it were a dream you couldn't fathom.

“I just…” Your voice faltered, and you took a shaky breath, willing yourself not to cry, not to show him just how much his words had wounded you. “I just wanted to know what’s wrong. You’re… you’re not like this, Felix. Not with me.”

You took a tentative step forward, hoping that your proximity would reach him, that your presence would somehow break through the wall he had built around himself. But he didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge you, and that hurt more than anything else. It was the silence, the refusal to face you, that felt like a betrayal.

"Please talk to me," you whispered, your heart breaking as you watched him remain motionless on the couch, his eyes still fixed on the television, as though he could pretend you weren’t even there.

But Felix didn’t respond. Instead, he kept his focus on the screen, the distant expression on his face more painful than any argument. You could feel the distance between you growing, spreading like a chasm, and it felt like you were standing at the edge, about to fall into the void.

It wasn't always this way, you thought, recalling times when simply being in the same room was enough to make you feel connected. It seemed as if you blinked and everything had changed. He wasn't the same Felix who would stay up with you when you were feeling sad, holding you and whispering comfort in the darkness. The man who had once looked at you with warmth and love now seemed so distant, like a stranger you didn't recognize.

Your heart ached; the anguish of losing him, feeling him slide through your fingers, was almost excruciating. You could not tolerate the deafening stillness between you any longer.

With a last, desperate glance at him, you whispered, “I’m here, Felix. I’m always here for you. If you need space, if you need time, I’ll give it to you. But I just… I just need to know you’re okay.”

But he didn't respond and didn't move. His silence hurt worse than words could, and you realized, with a sickening feeling, that you had no idea where you stood in his life. The Felix you knew, the Felix who would always reach out to you, seemed like a memory you could no longer grasp onto. You turned away, your feet feeling heavy as you walked back to the bedroom, the distance between you two becoming more than just physical.

The weight of his disinterest crushed against your chest, smothering you, and you wondered whether things would ever be the same again. Will he come to you eventually? Would he tell you about what was bothering him, or had you already lost him in ways you couldn’t fix?

You climbed back into bed, the sheets cold where he should have been beside you. And as the night stretched on in silence, you tried not to feel the unbearable emptiness that had settled in your heart, wondering if Felix would ever look at you the same way again.

seungmin

The front door creaked open, and you could hear Seungmin's footsteps in the hallway, dragging slightly, indicating how exhausted he must have been after a long day of practice and vocal lessons. You'd been waiting for him, possibly too eagerly, though you tried not to admit it. You had planned to talk, the conversation you'd been putting off for days because the silence had gotten unbearable. The subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he became more distant and engaged in his own world, weighed heavy on your chest.

You knew how busy he was, how much work he put into his training and craft. But it didn't take away the sting of feeling like an afterthought, as if you were no longer a part of his life. You had tried to keep it together, to give him his space when he needed it, but the continual feeling of being neglected was gradually pulling you apart. You needed him to see you. You needed him to care the way he used to, to put forth the same effort that you did.

So, as the door clicked shut and you heard him move toward the kitchen, you braced yourself and entered the hallway to greet him.

"Seungmin," you called softly, but there was no immediate response. He didn’t even look up, didn’t even glance in your direction.

You took a breath, trying to keep the anxiety from choking you. "Can we talk?" Your voice was steady, though you could feel the tremor beneath it. "It feels like we’re not the same anymore."

His footsteps faltered for half a second, and you thought maybe you had caught his attention. But instead of stopping, he just continued walking past you, brushing past your shoulder so closely you could feel the coldness radiating off him. He didn’t even spare you a glance.

"Seungmin," you said again, but this time there was a little crack in your voice, a vulnerability you didn't want to express. You needed him to hear and see you, even if just for a moment. But he did not stop. Finally, he gave a low, exasperated groan that hung between you like a wall. He turned halfway, his eyes flickering to you with an enigmatic expression. "Why do you always make things so dramatic?" His comments were harsh, cutting through the silence and making you flinch. "You're really clingy. Just leave me alone for once."

The words were like a punch to the gut. The force of them knocked the wind out of you, and your heart seemed to stop for just a moment, trapped somewhere in the space between your chest and throat. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected him to say something so cold, so dismissive. All you had wanted was to talk, to bridge the distance that had formed between you, but now it felt like you were drowning in it.

Your body went still. You opened your mouth to respond, to explain how unfair that was, but no words came. How could you even argue against that? How could you explain that all you wanted was his attention, his care? You weren’t clingy you were hurt.

"Seungmin, I’m not—" The words tumbled out weakly, but they didn’t seem to matter.

"You are," he interrupted, his tone now flat, distant. "I don’t have the energy for this right now."

He turned away from you, heading toward the kitchen without another glance, leaving you standing in the hallway, shattered.

You stood there for a long moment, frozen in the aftermath of his words. Everything you had been holding back, all the frustration, the confusion, the loneliness that had built up over the last few weeks, was suddenly crashing down on you like a wave. Was that it? Was that all you were to him now? Someone who was too much to deal with?

You had never felt so small. So invisible.

You had tried to keep it together. You had told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that he was just stressed, that he didn’t mean it. But now, standing there in the hallway with nothing but the echo of his dismissal ringing in your ears, you realized that maybe this was the problem the distance. The lack of communication. The feeling that no matter how hard you tried, you could never reach him, never get him to understand what you needed, what you were hurting from.

You wanted to chase after him, to try again, to make him see how much his words had stung. But something inside of you had broken. There was a voice inside you now that said, "It’s too late. You’ve tried. He doesn’t want to listen." And that was more painful than anything else knowing that, deep down, he didn’t even want to meet you halfway anymore.

You had hoped, and even prayed, that things would return to normal, that the love you once shared would reemerge. But standing there, you couldn't help but feel as if you were fighting a losing war. You didn't ask for much: simply his time, presence, and devotion. You never expected this level of coldness in return.

The silence in the home became intolerable, and each second felt like a weight on your chest. You wanted to yell at him and urge him to care, but all you could do was stand there, feeling the barriers between you two grow higher and higher.

You turned away slowly, your legs heavy, your head spinning with everything you had just heard. You didn’t know what hurt more: his words or the fact that he had walked past you like you were nothing.

You needed him to care, but right now, it felt like the person you needed was already gone.

I.N

The evening had been everything you hoped it would be: thrilling, warm, and full of laughing. You'd been dating Jeongin for about a year, and he was finally introducing you to his members. It seemed like an important milestone in your relationship. You'd heard so much about them, and now you'd get to meet the people he cared about the most. The anticipation had you beaming all evening as you helped Jeongin in cooking dinner, your heart filled with delight at the prospect of cooking together and spending time with the people who were such an important part of his life.

The dinner had gone smoothly. The atmosphere was cozy, filled with the sound of happy chatter and the clinking of silverware. The members were friendly, teasing each other and joking around. You could see why Jeongin was so close with them they were like brothers, comfortable and at ease with each other. You had felt so welcomed by them, their laughter contagious, and the food you had helped prepare had been met with praises.

As the night wore on, everyone settled into the living room, enjoying sweet treats and wine. It was the perfect end to a perfect evening, or so you had thought.

But as the evening wore on, you noticed something that made your stomach churn. Jeongin was distant. He had been quieter than normal, with his focus wandering. Normally, he would be the first to steal a kiss from you or press his hand on yours if you were close. But tonight? Tonight, it felt as if he was purposefully keeping distance between the two of you.

You brushed it off at first, believing he was just weary or stressed after introducing you to everyone. After all, meeting his members was a major step, and maybe he was just concerned with making sure things went smoothly.

But it wasn’t just that.

When you leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, like you had done numerous times before without thinking twice, he pulled away almost immediately. The action was swift and sharp, as if you had done something wrong. You blinked in surprise, a frown tugging on your lips, but before you could ask what was wrong, he mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, "Stop being so clingy." The words struck you like a physical punch. You froze, the warmth of your feelings for him vanished, replaced by a frigid knot of perplexity and embarrassment. Did he mean it? You could feel the weight of the members' gazes as you looked around the room, though no one said anything. But you could tell they had heard, the awkward silence that followed making it painfully clear.

You felt heat rising up your cheeks, humiliated. Had you overstepped? You had never been clingy before and had never thought of yourself in that way. But his comments, which were cutting and contemptuous, hurt more than you wanted to acknowledge. The casual tenderness you had always shared seemed like a distant memory today, a bitter reminder of how things had changed without warning.

Jeongin had always been so warm and tactile with you. Kisses on your cheek while cooking, his arm slung over your shoulder while watching TV, all the little things that made you feel safe and cherished. But tonight? Tonight he was a different person.

You tried to ignore it, thinking maybe it was a bad moment. Perhaps he was just tired, or maybe something had happened at work or with the members that was weighing on him. But as the night continued, the distance between you only seemed to grow. When you tried to brush your hand against his, he pulled it away, a small frown on his face. When you tried to rest your head on his shoulder again, he shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your touch with a small sigh.

It was as if you were a stranger to him, someone he couldn’t stand to be close to.

Your heart dropped. It was a feeling you never expected to have with him, the type of coldness that made you question everything, including the entire foundation of your relationship. You had no idea what was going on in his mind, but the way he was treating you now felt so different from the Jeongin you had fell for.

You excused yourself to the restroom, needing a moment to collect your thoughts and prevent yourself from entirely disintegrating. The quiet hum of the talk in the living room followed you as you walked back, the members' voices merging into the background as your thoughts occupied you.

Was he angry with you? Had you done something wrong? Maybe he was embarrassed by you, by your clinginess. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen as the guy who couldn’t control his girlfriend. Maybe you were being too needy, too dependent, and he just couldn’t handle it anymore. Maybe he had changed, and you were the one who had failed to notice.

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm the tightness in your chest. When you returned to the living room, you tried to smile, to pretend like everything was fine. But the look on Jeongin’s face when you came back made your stomach twist even further. He didn’t smile at you like he usually did. He didn’t reach for you. He just sat there, a distance between you that felt like an ocean.

You sat down again, feeling smaller than you had with him before. You did not want to confront him in front of the other members. Not when things were going so well. You didn't want to ruin the evening or make things uncomfortable for everyone. But the awkwardness was already there. It seemed like a thick cloud suffocating you, and you knew he felt the same way.

Eventually, the evening came to an end. The group began saying their goodbyes, laughing and conversing, although their voices were scarcely audible. You were too consumed by the subtle tension between you and Jeongin, who hadn't spoken anything to you since your previous conversation. You gently grabbed your stuff, not quite meeting his eyes.

When you reached the door, Jeongin still hadn’t moved. He was standing by the couch, talking to one of the members, completely ignoring you. It wasn’t how you thought it would go. This wasn’t how you imagined the night would end.

It wasn’t until you were halfway out the door that he finally spoke, his voice distant, flat. "You okay?" he asked, as if the tension between you hadn’t been there all evening.

You stood frozen, looking back at him, your chest tight. You wanted to say so many things. You wanted to ask why he was acting this way, to demand an explanation, to tell him how hurt you were by the way he had dismissed you. But you didn’t. Instead, you forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes.

"Yeah," you replied softly, your voice quiet, strained. "I’m fine."

And then you stepped out, leaving the apartment behind, the discomfort and uncertainty lingering in the air like a thick cloud. You had no idea what had happened or what had caused this abrupt change, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something in your relationship had just broken. Something that might not be fixable.

And as the door clicked shut behind you, you weren't sure if Jeongin noticed.

(proofread ❌)

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hitlikehammers · 5 hours ago

Text

The One Where Wayne Munson KNOWS BETTER Than to Lend Air to IDLE GOSSIP

(and does it anyway on accident and ends up thinking his 💕boy's boy💕 might be ✖️stepping out) ——(1/3)

Wayne Munson’s lived his life mostly free from the hubbub of small town gossip. Some was unavoidable in his tiny holler as a boy; more was part and parcel to the service, and plain keeping half-sane in war—anything for a distraction. After all that though, Wayne’d had more’n his fill of even a teaspoon of hearsay, and compared to where he came from? Hawkins, Indiana was small potatoes for keepin’ his nose clear out of it.

Which is all to say he don’t mean to collect any of the latest scuttlebutt on his way just to town after he gets off his shift with the sun barely a glimmer, just past 5 for Leah’s to be open for a better cup-o-joe than the sludge he gets on the floor. All he wants is a hot nightcap because he knows damn well his boy didn’t pick up more grounds before Melvald’s closed last night, and Wayne doesn’t want to see his bed until he’s had a full mug of fair-to-middling coffee.

And honest: he don’t think that’s more than he’s earned to ask.

But it is more than he bargained for signing’ up to, when he sees the only other people in the diner at this hour on a Saturday.

Because the only other people are a girl he don’t know, though he can’t see her real well from the back, which only really means he sees her coffee date full-on and much too well in exchange because they’re leaned in and they’re being all touchy across the table, voices low but not too low—he don’t think they even noticed him come in, let alone come to wait close enough to hear ‘em while he insists on saving the lovely Leah herself the trip to a table when he can damn well carry his own drink, thanks kindly.

“You’re gonna have a coronary if you keep hiding this.”

The girl sounds…she sounds the way Wayne remembers his Mamaw sounding when she was about to hit his Grampy up the head over some harebrained such-and-such. Exasperated, but all from a deep well of unshakable loving.

Which is what perks up Wayne’s attention, and then churns his insides quick right-next, because—

Well. The boy this young lady’s being all over-fond at for his antics is Steve Harrington.

Who, for all that Wayne understands, is meant to be his boy’s boy.

“No, no,” Steve’s shaking his head, tone bowstring-taut; “I’m gonna tell him.” Kid sounds resolved for all of half-a-second before he’s groaning, running hands over his face: “Or, I mean—”

The thunk of the boy’s head to the tabletop clatters the cutlery, and if Wayne weren’t already clued into their conversation, he’d be wholly absolved for dropping eaves given how the noise echoes through the mostly-empty establishment bar-to-door.

“Dingus,” the girl says, and it drips with concern, with affection, with a deep choler that, again, sings loud of married-couple.

Which twists Wayne’s guts all the more to hear.

Because she’s talking to Wayne’s boy’s boy.

“I’m gonna, I promise,” Steve sounds not unlike a man on his way to the gallows, even more when he sighs deep as anything and traces out his lips with his fingers, hands shaky even out the corner of Wayne’s eye for a distance as he hisses low:

“Fuck.”

And Wayne, see, he don’t like borrowing trouble. He meant it about keeping his nose clean of the gossip and the hearsay. So he makes sure he reminds himself good in his own head that he don’t know the facts here, and jumpin’ to conclusions don’t do no favors to nobody.

It don’t do nothing for the way that what he does know, what he sees and hears with his own god-given senses in the now, don’t add up too kindly for the Harrington boy.

Not least because it seems to be adding up poor indeed for Wayne’s boy.

“Do you think he’ll—”

“Steve,” the girl’s voice goes softer, but also frantic almost, as Wayne sees her reach across the way and gather Steve’s hands with a familiarity to the motion that wouldn’t make sense unless…

Unless they’re something special to each other.

Wayne’s watched Eddie reach out for Steve that way. He’s watch Steve do the same. So it…it just don’t make sense—

“You’re shaking,” the girl says, all kinda pitiful, and Wayne’d seen it before, but now he chances a look again and: oh.

Boy’s a leaf in a cyclone.

“It’s a big deal,” Steve rasps out near under Wayne’s ability to hear it.

But he does hear it.

“You need to just lay it out,” the girl tells him, earnest now and more of that than any irritation, any frustration put-upon or otherwise; “be up front with him.”

And it ain’t fair, yet, even if all the signs are pointing that direction; but Wayne likes Steve. He doesn’t want to think the worst of him. And he doesn’t, really, in his heart, think Steve could do or be the worst, from all he’s learned and seen—Wayne’d had uncharitable thoughts about it he kid, before he knew better, based on hearsay which one more time, he don’t countenance as a rule, and he’d been taught better and quick from the second he saw Steve at his nephew’s bedside, and heard the only thing he’s proud and happy to have dropped in upon uninvited:

You nearly fucking died yourself dragging him out, Steve, what the hell—

That Henderson squirt, scolding Steve something fierce.

So Wayne reminds himself this boy loved his boy enough to risk himself to bring Eddie home. Before they were anything to one another. And Wayne knows damn well they’re both something to each other, now. It don’t make sense that Steve wants to…be up front about a notion with Eddie that could hurt.

But then: care can look a lot of different ways, and can change over time. Ain’t nobody to fault for that. And much as Wayne can’t quite believe the Steve he’s gotten to know these past many-months could swallow hurting his Eddie…

Wayne’s been proven incorrect about people more than enough in his life to know better than to think it’s impossible to be wrong about a man’s heart.

“Oh, I’m sure that’ll go over fucking fantastic,” Steve’s huffing, rolling his eyes—apparently he don’t want to be up front with the person they’re talking about. Wayne tries to remind himself that they’ve not flat out said it’s Eddie yet. Wayne shouldn’t go making assumptions.

“Why not?” the girl’s pressing him. “Be honest, with him,” then her tone does go a little judgemental; “you can’t honestly think he doesn’t suspect—”

“I really don’t think he does,” and it’s a strange thing, because no matter the words themselves, it don’t sound like Steve’s meaning to be deceitful about a thing. Kinda sounds a little like he’s mourning, like he’s just in a kind of pain. “If he did, then at least maybe I’d have some kind of,” he waves his hand in the air, looks frantic, at loose ends all around; “heads-up for where his head’s at.”

And they’re both quiet for a spell, and Wayne looks for Leah in the back, knew she was getting food ready and was happy to wait—for better or worse with the conversation he’s been privy to without permission unspooling at his side—but he’s starting to feel antsy for all that he’s hearing, and the way he can’t quite tamp down associating it all with Eddie, with touchy things Steve might have to tell Eddie—

“Tell him by the end of the weekend.”

And now: think he might have to tell, encouraged so damn strong and single-minded by his lady friend with her hand on his arm.

“That’s fucking tomorrow!”

“End,” she’s narrowing her eyes sharp enough Wayne notices more in the shift of the room than to see it head-on; “of,” and then she’s smacking Steve’s arm to emphasize hard enough it rings out; “the weekend.”

Then Wayne notices how her posture shifts, and she leans closer again, so much affection, and easy with it, and welcome for it, no doubt about it:

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” she says low and earnest; “especially not when the thing you’re like this about is,” and then her tone shifts to something bright, near-on hopeful, even:

“It’s such a good thing, Steve.”

“I mean,” Steve mumbles, kind of miserable really; “of course you think so.”

And Wayne don’t like where his head goes for things the girl who’s watching Steve with such soft eyes might think to be good, might think while she’s touching him so close and —

“He’ll,” and she huffs a touch before going all heartfelt again: “Eddie is going to—”

And the moment his plausible deniability about the subject of the discussion is gone, Wayne gives up waiting for his coffee at the counter and…retreats to the corner by the door, far as he can get from whatever’s said next. He’d leave, honest, but the truth of the matter’s this:

He can’t be expected in good faith to figure out how to bring any of this up with Ed if he don’t have no caffeine in him.

☕ 👀 ☕

✨ part ii >>>

♥️ coming tomorrow /// 14 Jan

For @thefreakandthehair, who requested 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST—and since this is almost a YEAR LATE, could I possibly offer it as a normal-amounts-of-late birthday gift, more than as an egregiously-and-unforgivably-late prompt fill for you?

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here @pukner @ravenfrog @sadisticaltarts @samsoble @sanctumdemunson @shrimply-a-menace @slashify @stealthysteveharrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @theheadlessphilosopher @theintrovertedintrovert @themoonagainstmers @theohohmoment @tillystealeaves @tinyloonyteacups @tinyplanet95 @warlordess @wheneverfeasible @wordynerdygurl @wxrmland @yourmom-isgay @1-tehe-1

NOTE: it's important to me that you know that Wayne's accept belongs to nowhere, and is just the voice of someone I knew as a kid, who also sounded like a little of everywhere and then again nowhere. so if you think some turn of phrase doesn't fit what you think you're reading in terms of dialect? it's just that this way of stringing words together is—with intention—its own amalgam of places and times

divider credit here and here

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #post-s4 #established relationship #POV wayne munson #outsider POV #emotional hurt/comfort #domestic fluff #misunderstandings #self-esteem issues abound #a little dash of codependency as a treat #(because gossip don't do anybody any favors!)#and worries after the worst for steve and eddie's strangely but undeniably serious relationship #wayne overhears a conversation he's not meant to #good uncle wayne munson #but then also:#steve harrington is wayne munson's boy too #protective uncle wayne™#moral of the story: eavesdropping makes everything worse!#which is most clear from the outset in this first part and I promise you only gets worse #happy ending #stranger things #gift fic #thefreakandthehair #hitlikehammers v words #hitlikehammers writes #hitlikehammers' hobbit-birthday prompt fest

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femmejournal · 3 days ago

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birds of a feather.

Kn8 + love. Self explanatory

Gender neutral!reader for the boys, fem!reader for Mina's and Rin's, I do whatever I want

Kafka Hibino is really sweet when he's in love. Not particularly flirty in any sense, but he's cute and kinda sappy. Protective. Not jealous, but insecure. He's always afraid you'll ditch him for somebody else, because he's always felt inadequate in every sense of the word and wonders if you find him disappointing (nope). Probably won't ever tell you that he loves you, you'll find out from Kikoru someone else who blurts it out without realizing that you didn't think Kafka's actions were romantically inclined.

Mina Ashiro is quiet when she's in love. Almost nobody would know except Kafka and Hoshina, and maybe Okonogi. Of course there are rumors that the commander Ashiro is into women (a lot of men out there are. Not thrilled about it tbh) but nobody knows whether it's true or not except, again, Kafka and Hoshina, and maybe Okonogi. Maybe. Anyway, she doesn't really tell anyone; if they know, it's because they figured it out. With you, she's shy and more girlish than her image suggests. Not that she's giggling and twirling her hair, but there's a pink tint on her cheeks when you're around. When you talk to her, she gets tongue tied. Would NEVER ask you out (shes nervous and doesnt know if you like women) so Kafka has to push for her to try.

Reno Ichikawa is very shy when in love. He's just a kid, sweet and kinda dumb. The first time he sees you he does a double take 😂 yeah he's not subtle, everyone knows. Unlike Mina, he IS giggling and twirling his hair. Finds out your type and tries to be more like that. When called out on this, he starts stuttering and fake laughing and then changes the subject. Hes always bringing you water during training, too, and other stuff like that. Again. He's sweet but very young and inexperienced so he's a bit of a goof.

Soshiro Hoshina is arguably the most mature in love. He's dedicated and protective, loyal to a fault. Man's gotten his heart broken many times, I think. maybe even by Mina? One sided hoshimina...food for thought. If he's in love with you, he won't necessarily share that information outright, but he won't withhold it either if anyone asks. He watches you a lot; he'll pull strings to keep you safe. When it comes down to him nearly dying all the time though, he might impulsively tell you how he feels after the fact. But he is a little shit so he's probably going to tease you when your eyes pop out of your head after he walks up and says "i love you" without it being prompted.

Iharu Furuhashi is loud as shit when he's in love. He's not direct but he says objectively sappy things all the time to your face. Would flat out say "i fucking adore you, moron" if you didn't get it. Although he doesn't make it clear that his intentions are romantic (never says "I'm in love with you"), but like Reno he is not subtle. He's not as giddy and embarrassing as his "rival" is, but he's pretty obvious and forward about his feelings.

Gen Narumi is annoying when he's in love. He's bugs you nonstop and follows you like a puppy. Its embarrassing how smitten he is, honestly. What a boyfailure. He actually tries to clean up his act a bit to impress you, and shows off at every opportunity. If youre not impressed, he's sulking. If you are, he's puffed up and macho. Despite all his bs he's actually really in love with you and willing to do crazy shit to get your attention, not to mention keep you safe. Would refuse to die just to see you again.

Rin Shinonome is a shameless flirt. She'd totally call you "babe," wink, all that stuff. Like Narumi, she's kind of a showoff, but not to the same degree. And if you don't notice her, she won't pout; on the contrary, she'll work harder to get your attention. Makes fun of you lovingly. She's kind of frivolous and develops crushes on women all the time, but when it gets to be serious feelings she commits. Horniest of the group too, ngl

#kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kn8 #kn8 x reader #Kafka hibino #kafka hibino x reader #Mina ashiro #mina ashiro x reader #Reno ichikawa #reno ichikawa x reader #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #iharu furuhashi #Iharu furuhashi x reader #Gen narumi #gen narumi x reader #Rin shinonome #Rin shinonome x reader #🩷.txt

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dawn-moths · 3 days ago

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thinking about tomura being tenko’s older brother where they’re perhaps ten years apart. you and tomura first meet when you’re both eighteen, start hanging out as friends, but you’re only vaguely aware he has a sibling when sometimes he says he can’t hang out that particular weekend because he has to “babysit the brat”.

after a while, you’re able to convince him to show you a picture of his little brother. you’re curious if they look alike, and other than a few features like their eye and hair color, you can easily imagine how tomura looked at that age, too. him and tenko look startling similar to each other even with that many years between them.

“sorry…” tomura grumbles through the other side of your phone call one afternoon. “tenko’s soccer practice got canceled and now my mom’s making me watch him while she’s at work.”

he sounds annoyed, almost embarrassed by the fact that, even at eighteen, he has to obey his mother’s requests, but is ultimately contrite about his last minute change of plans having to effect you so often as well.

“it’s ok,” you assure him with your usual chipper tone, fully understanding the responsibility he has. “but, y’know…” you remind him, “if it’s ok, i could always come over and we could hang out while you’re watching your brother?”

you try and hide your eagerness the best you can. the truth is, you’ve been wanting to meet the mini-tomura for quite some time now. tomura always describes him as annoying, as a needy little brat that whines until he gets his way, but the words are never spit with scorn and there’s something soft in his eyes that always gives away the fact that he actually does care.

tomura usually just brushes off your offer, promises to reschedule with you, so you’re prepared to be let down, but that time, after a short pause of contemplation, tomura clears his throat and says, “i mean, yeah, ok. that’s fine i guess, if you want…”

“ok!” you beam, already grabbing your keys. “i’ll be over soon then!” you hang up, grab your bag, and jump in your car.

any time you’ve been over to tomura’s house (which has been few and far between, since your place tends to be the designated hangout given you usually have the house to yourself most of the time) tenko hasn’t been there. he’s been at his aforementioned soccer practice or a friend’s house or some other activity that’s kept you from meeting him.

you’re so curious it’s overwhelming, and as you pull up to tomura’s house he’s already perched on the front step, gazing at his phone until he hears your car approaching. you park by the curb and scamper up to greet him, giving him a hug as per usual, and though he’d sounded sort of defeated on the phone earlier, seeing your smiling face now makes him feel a little lighter.

“hey,” you grin, momentarily holding both his hands in your own down between your close bodies. sometimes you're reminded how adverse to any kind of physical touch tomura used to be when the two of you had first met. even something as simple as a light, playful nudge would make him flinch, cause him to keep a bit more of a distance for the rest of the day.

but over time, you're not sure exactly why but, something changed.

and it was actually him who came to comfort you that time. you'd been upset, had planned on staying in your room alone until the ache decided to pass. but then you and tomura had started texting. he'd sensed something was wrong so he'd called. he'd heard the heartbreak in your voice, told you he was on his way, and not ten minutes later he was sitting beside you on your bed with his arm around you as you'd talked to him about what had happened while you'd cried.

ever since then, he'd gotten more comfortable with your casual, familiar touches, though he still found it easier to touch you than to be touched by you.

“hey,” he returns, then adds with that hint of that sarcastic humor you’ve come to love so much, “you ready to meet the little demon?”

you laugh, unable to not be amused by his melodrama. “oh, c’mon,” you say, lightly batting at his arm. “he’s only eight, he can’t be that bad!”

all tomura offers in response is a muttered, “yeah, well…” before inviting you inside.

as soon as you walk through the door, a little dog comes bounding towards you, running in energetic circles and barking as his tail wags with both curiosity and excitement. you proceed with caution around the corgi, wanting to reach down to pet him but hesitating around the unfamiliar animal.

the few times you'd been over before, tomura had let his dog out into the yard so he wouldn't end up jumping all over you, so this is the first time you're meeting him up close instead of catching glances of him through a window.

"ugh, sorry..." tomura mutters as he reaches down and scoops his dog up, the canine's tail continuing to wag even more once he's secure in tomura's arms. "i forgot to let him out back..." he then seems to realize something, his eyes widening a bit as he does a double take back at you and asks with a little more guilt in his tone, "you're not afraid of dogs, are you...?"

you wave off his concern with a swish of your hand and a crooked smile. you tell him you're not, you were just a little surprised is all.

"it's mon-chan, right?" you ask, slowly reaching your hand out for the dog to sniff.

"yeah. mon-chan," tomura confirms, readjusting his grip on the wriggling animal. "he's super friendly. just, well..." he gives a half shrug as a small grin cracks at one corner of his mouth. "he can be a lot."

"hey, mon-chan..." you coo, your tone turned sugary sweet, and the dog gives the back of your hand a few friendly licks. "awwww, you're cute, aren't you? what a good boy..."

but before you can dote over the dog too much, something catches your attention from the corner of your eye, causing you to shift your view towards the living room that sits off to the side of the main entrance.

and, lo and behold, there he is.

little tenko and his sweet little face that reminds you so much of the older brother you’ve become so fond of.

“hiiiii,” you greet the little boy with a soft voice and a smile. you know kids can often be wary when meeting new people, so when tenko just stares at you with those big, dark eyes you’re not surprised.

“hey,” tomura grumbles to his sibling. “don’t be rude. say hello.”

tenko then seems to snap out of his cautious trance, looking at his brother then back to you before saying, “is this the girl you’re always talking about, nii-san?”

tomura feels his cheeks heat and his ears burn as he sputters out something that sounds like half an excuse, half a scolding before telling tenko to go watch tv and behave. tenko obeys without any trouble and as you pass by through the living room you can see a popular superhero movie playing on the screen.

you travel down the short hall to where tomura’s bedroom lays at the very end, and once the door is shut he seems to become a little less tense.

“i’ll need to make him lunch in about an hour,” he tells you. “but until then…” he flashes you a suggestive smirk and you know exactly what’s coming.

it's one of your favorite things about hanging out together, the way it relieves the tension, lets you two unleash parts of yourself that you rarely let other people see. and tomura's been surprisingly good at it from the start. you wouldn't have guessed at a glance how skilled those hands could be, how coordinated given his usually lax, nonchalant nature...

he tosses you a game controller and you catch it with ease. “wha’dya say we pick up where we left off?” he asks, a hint of darkness to his voice that you now recognize as cold, hard competition.

you feel a look of confidence spreading across your face at the challenge and you reply in a tone befitting of a worthy opponent, “you’re on.”

the next hour passes quickly as you play your guys' favorite co-op game together, leaving you just two points from tying with tomura, and amidst your laughter and playful taunting, there’s a slight squeak as the door creaks on its hinges, little tenko peeking through the thin crack and observing, letting out a quiet gasp when he realizes he's been spotted.

“i’ll be out in a sec,” tomura tells his brother, already knowing what that expectant look means. tenko seems to linger, casting you another glance, and you convince tomura to pause the game.

“c’mon,” you murmur, giving him that guilt-tripping stare that he hates you for being so good at. “let’s go make him lunch and then we can finish this after.”

and it’s that suggestion of we, that suggestion of together, that has him pausing the game and setting his controller aside, standing from his bed to open the door to his little brother and following him down the hall to the kitchen, you close behind.

tomura takes out a tupperware from the fridge and has just popped it in the microwave when his phone buzzes from his pocket. "it's my mom," he states. "gimme one sec." he steps out of the kitchen and begins to wander towards the living room, his voice growing more distant as you hear him pick up the call. you hope everything is ok. but, for now, it's just you and tenko standing in the kitchen, the eight-year-old gazing up at you with that big, curious stare while the microwave counts down the seconds behind him.

"can i have lemonade?" he asks once you meet his eyes and give him a friendly grin.

the microwave beeps and you go to take his lunch out of it. "sure," you answer. but then, a little bit more suspiciously, you ask, "does tomura usually let you have lemonade?"

tenko nods, not giving anything away as you finish plating the other items of his lunch while tomura remains on the phone in the living room. from where you stand, if you glance just slightly around the entryway, you can see him sitting on the couch, leaning forward a bit while he continues to speak with his voice low. you just hope his mom won't be mad that he invited you over while she wasn't home.

it's not like you hadn't been over before when his house was empty, but given this is the first time you've met his little brother, you just hope you're not overstepping somehow. not to mention that, unbeknownst to you, tomura's mom had begun badgering him about meeting you before the end of summer. as soon as she'd caught onto the fact that her eldest son had been hanging out regularly with a girl, she couldn't help but become curious as to what kind of girl she might be.

a bit distracted by your thoughts, you just nod and say to tenko, "ok, sure, you can have some lemonade then."

once his chicken tenders and apple slices and animal crackers are promptly arranged on his plate and a glass of lemonade is poured, you carry tenko's lunch to the table and take a seat across from him while you wait for tomura to conclude his conversation, trying to keep your growing anxiety at bay at any possible problems that may be arising due to that phone call.

you try to listen in, though mostly hear the standard, vague, "yeah. uh-huh. alright," responses from tomura until—

"are you my brother's girlfriend?"

you blink at tenko, taken aback as you sputter over a response to that, wondering for a moment if you merely imagined it. then, once your nervous giggling and bashfulness begins to dissipate, you clear your throat and say, "did tomura tell you that?"

tenko takes another bite from one of his apple slices and says, "no. but he talks about you all the time. he says you're his friend, but i hear him talking to his friends at night when he thinks no one is listening."

you stare at tenko with an intensity you don't realize you're wearing on your face at first, the suspense eating you alive. eventually, when tenko doesn't seem like he's going to offer more, you lower your voice to something closer to a whisper, your gaze darting back to where you can barely see tomura sitting in the other room, still on the phone, and ask tenko, "what do you hear him say?"

tenko, his big eyes moving up and to the right, contemplates that for a moment as he finishes chewing and swallowing his next bite, then tells you, "i don't know exactly. i can't hear what his other friends are saying, but one time i heard nii-san say that you were special." you feel your cheeks heat and again glance over at the back of the boy you've become so fond of so quickly. "he said something about not wanting to ruin anything," tenko continues, reciting the words as if he doesn't quite grasp their meaning. but then, tenko's mouth splits into a mischievous little grin that reminds you so much of tomura, it's honestly a little scary. he says, seeming to find amusement in his next words, "one time, i heard him say you were like his guardian angel or something..."

a childish little giggle bubbles up from tenko's lips, almost as if he finds a cruel kind of pleasure in knowing his older brother's biggest secret, but this information just makes your heart all the more warmer towards tomura.

you'd spent the last couple of months suffering inside your own head about it all— about whether you really meant something to tomura, about if he cared for you as much as you did for him or if you were simply just convenient and would be discarded come any significant distance put between the two of you—

suddenly tenko seems to retract, perhaps sensing your discomfort, so you take the opportunity to clear the nerves and giddiness from your throat and change the subject.

"so, tenko," you begin, trying to straighten out your crooked smile. "tomura tells me you play soccer. do you like it?"

tenko gives a shrug at first, taking another bite of an apple slice that's had the skin peeled and cut to resemble rabbit ears. then he says, "i guess so. but i like watching movies more."

you ask him what kinds of movies he likes, recalling the superhero blockbuster that had been playing on the tv when you'd first arrived, and feel a spark of endearment as tenko's face lights up as he delves into telling you all about his favorite characters and their cool powers.

"wow! you sure know a lot!" you commend him with a beaming smile, and at the compliment tenko's face begins to turn a little red. "do you and tomura ever watch movies together?"

"not really..." the younger sibling sulks, pouting as he peels the remainder of the skin from his apple slice. "nii-san is usually playing video games in his room and my mom says i'm not allowed to play them because they're too violent..." then, before you can tell him that's too bad but one day he'll be old enough to play the same games as his brother, tenko perks back up and tells you, "but sometimes... sometimes nii-san lets me into his room on nights our mom works late and we play mario kart together."

you have to force yourself to stifle a laugh at that. i mean, it's just completely adorable, isn't it? the thought of tomura, who tries so hard to play it off like he couldn't care less about his little brother, like he's nothing more than a nuisance to him, a pest, an inconvenience, does actually take the time to bond with him anyway. at least, when no one's looking.

you tell tenko you also like mario kart, then lean in and add in a playful whisper, "but i bet he doesn't tell you about all the times i've beaten him, does he?"

tenko regards you with blatant skepticism. "no way," he says, as if he's never been more sure about anything in his life. "there's no way you can beat nii-san. he's too good! no one can beat him!"

now you laugh openly, causing tomura to glance over his shoulder just to make sure there isn't too much chaos ensuing in his brief absence, but tenko just looks confused.

"well," you reply, amusement trailing off the end of your words, "he is pretty good. i'll give him that. but unbeatable..." you quirk up one brow and wear a slight smirk for a moment before allowing your features to fall back to normal. then you tell tenko, "just give it time. one day i bet you'll be able to beat him. i believe in you!"

"you behavin' in here?" tomura suddenly appears in the entryway, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he casts his little brother a warning look.

"your girlfriend says she beat you in mario kart, is that true?" tenko blurts out, and you have to force yourself not to tease tomura when his cheeks visibly darken at the mention of you being his girlfriend.

"everything ok?" you ask to defuse the situation a little and put tomura back at ease, but then his look of bashfulness morphs into a look of slight surprise at the sight you and his little brother getting along so well.

quickly, he snaps out of it, and replies, "yeah. she was just checking in," before seeming to notice something awry about the picture here, specifically on tenko's side of the table.

"hey," tomura lightly scolds his brother. "you know mom only lets you have lemonade on the weekends." you immediately begin to apologize, saying that when he asked you thought it would be ok, and feel embarrassed that you let yourself be manipulated by a child, but tomura assures you it's fine before returning to interrogate his little brother who, admittedly, looks very guilty now.

"did you lie to her?" he presses, and for a moment you're afraid he'll make tenko cry. tenko denies it at first and you observe with growing anxiety as the argument between them ramps up a bit.

it isn't until you reach over to place a hand over tomura's, which has been firmly planted on the tabletop as he leans in over his brother, that he seems to simmer down a little.

"one time will be ok, won't it?" you ask him, not wanting to ruin the moment you'd just shared with tenko, feeling like you'd gained a little more of his trust. you use your secret weapon, the one thing tomura can never say no to whenever he sees it— that sweet, pleading stare you give as you gaze up at him, the look that makes his stomach flutter and his head haze over with thoughts he'll be revisiting later once he's alone.

"fine," he concedes, some of the rigidity that had captured his limbs leaving him as he steps away from the table. he looks directly at his brother and concludes with a warning, "but just this once."

you're relieved, and tenko appears to have returned to his prior state of unfazed contentment, but tomura still seems impatient about something.

"c'mon," he says, beckoning you up from the table to follow him back to his room. "we still have a game to finish."

you give tenko a parting smile before humming out an amused, lilting little note, trailing after tomura as you chirp out a mischievous remark of, "are you gonna actually help us win this time? or am I gonna have to carry the entire round again?"

he lets out an incredulous, albeit amused, chuckle, surprising you by throwing his arm around your shoulders and tugging you in closer to his side so you almost stumble down the hallway. "oh, just you wait..." brazen, he murmurs in your ear, his voice low and dark, now allowing the butterflies in your tummy to unfurl their delicate wings and take flight, "by the time we're done with this round, the other team isn't even gonna know what hit 'em..."

and, with that, you once again return to the confined space of his only slightly disheveled bedroom, the tv screen still bearing the scores from your last game. although, admittedly, as you continue to sit side by side, knees nudging one another here and there when things start to get a little too desperate or rowdy, you can't help but find yourself a little more distracted and self-conscious than usual.

because you swear you catch tomura glancing at you in between rounds from the corner of your eye, something softer, something warmer than you're quite used to possessing his crimson gaze.

it's a side to him you've rarely gotten to see, but you hope he'll learn to wear it a little more openly around you as time goes on.

besides, when his little brother had asked if you were his girlfriend, he hadn't quite said no, now had he?

#word count: 3600+#helloooo this has been in my drafts since the summer time oh my gosh #this is just a fluffy lil sfw piece btw #dont know if i'll end up expanding on it but i just think the thought of tomura and tenko being siblings is so cute T^T <3 #also I imagine this is like a friends to lovers type thing with tomura #and like you’re just on the cusp of actually dating but haven’t like done anything other than really hug and hold hands a little bit yet #like maybe it’s the summer before you guys are going off to college and you’re spending a lot of time together #and he plans on telling you how he really feels about you before the end of summer #anywaaaaaaaayyyyyy just wanted to finish this lil idea up because. yeah. its been sitting in my drafts for forever.#and i miss him <3 #drabble #tomura x reader #tomura x y/n #tomura x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x y/n #boku no hero academia fanfic #my hero academia fanfic #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x y/n

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hollowed-theory-hall · 12 hours ago

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hi 👋 i love hearing your thoughts about things, especially when i feel like ive hit a wall with ideas lol. anyways i was wondering about whether or not you thought it was ooc for sirius to go after wormtail that night instead of stay with harry

Hi 👋

Thank you so much!

And no, I don't think it's OOC considering it's one of the first things we learn about Sirius. Sirius, when he's emotional, he's reckless. Actually, Sirius is reckless with his own safety in general. Throughout GoF and OotP he constantly tells Harry to not risk himself, but Sirius is constantly putting himself at risk. He is reckless with his own life and well-being almost constantly. His recklessness extends to others as well (I mean, the prank could've ended up with everyone finding out or with Remus killing Snape. So it's clear he doesn't care as much for Remus or Snape's safety). But not Harry. Never Harry's safety.

Harry's safety is incredibly important to him, not his own (or some other people, he's pretty selective about who matters).

After the Potters died, Sirius trusted Hagrid and Dumbledore to keep Harry safe, so he allowed himself to go after Pettigrew. I mean, it's his usual pattern, he makes sure Harry is safe, like he shouts at him to take Neville and run in the ministry in OotP:

“Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!” Sirius yelled, dashing to meet Bellatrix.

(OotP)

Before throwing himself headfirst into danger he might not return from. (Azkaban back on the night the Potters died and a fight in which he died at the end of OotP).

Besides, Sirius sees betraying his friends as the worst sin possible:

“Believe me,” croaked Black. “Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them.”

(PoA)

“You don’t understand!” whined Pettigrew. “He would have killed me, Sirius!” “THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” roared Black. “DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!”

(PoA)

He is willing to die for James, Lily, and Harry in a heartbeat. It's not even an active decision for him, it's just how it is. To think it isn't the same for Pettigrew — that his friend let James and Lily be killed to save his own skin — there is little Sirius hates more than that. If Voldemort comes after you, Sirius sees no other option but to die to protect your friends.

Like, fandom likes to talk about secondary houses and stuff, Sirius' second choice house would be fucking Hufflepuff. His loyalty and how all-encompassing it is, is such a big part of his character. Loyalty motivates him to do almost everything he does. He breaks out of Azkaban to protect Harry:

“But then I saw Peter in that picture . . . I realized he was at Hogwarts with Harry . . . perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again. . . .” [...] “So you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive. . . .” [...] “It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head, and the dementors couldn’t destroy it. . . . It wasn’t a happy feeling . . . it was an obsession . . . but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog. . . . It’s so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused. . . . I was thin, very thin . . . thin enough to slip through the bars. . . . I swam as a dog back to the mainland. . . . I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a dog. I’ve been living in the forest ever since, except when I came to watch the Quidditch, of course. You fly as well as your father did, Harry. . . .”

(PoA)

He stays in a cave and eats rats so he could be close by if Harry needed him during the tournament:

Harry pulled open his bag and handed over the bundle of chicken legs and bread. “Thanks,” said Sirius, opening it, grabbing a drumstick, sitting down on the cave floor, and tearing off a large chunk with his teeth. “I’ve been living off rats mostly. Can’t steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I’d draw attention to myself.”

(GoF)

The original plan with the Secret Keeper was for Sirius to be the decoy. So, Voldemort would go after him and kill him, but James, Lily, and Harry would be safe. Sirius planned to die to keep the Potters safe:

“Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it,” Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backward. “I thought it was the perfect plan . . . a bluff. . . . Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you. . . . It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.”

(PoA)

He goes back to a childhood home he hates and lets the Order invade his privacy in a way that clearly strains on his mental state because he knows it'll help protect Harry. Sirius wants to be of use and of help to the people he cares about so fucking much:

“Hasn’t anyone told you? This was my parents’ house,” said Sirius. “But I’m the last Black left, so it’s mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters — about the only useful thing I’ve been able to do.” Harry, who had expected a better welcome, noted how hard and bitter Sirius’s voice sounded.

(OotP)

So, of course, he goes after Pettigrew to avenge James and Lily. His friends are dead, Voldemort is dead, Harry is safe, the only useful thing left for him to do is punish the traitor:

...but it was the other way around, don’t you see? Peter betrayed your mother and father — Sirius tracked Peter down —” [...] “Harry . . . I as good as killed them,” he croaked. “I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me. . . . I’m to blame, I know it. . . . The night they died, I’d arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he’d gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn’t feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents’ house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies . . . I realized what Peter must’ve done . . . what I’d done. . . .”

(PoA)

It's how his loyalty is.

It's such a major aspect of his character that is consistently a huge motivation for him.

I think it's telling his Animagus form is a dog — the animal most renowned for its loyalty.

So, yeah, I think it's 100% in character. It's reckless, as Sirius often is for his own safety. And it's out of Sirius' sense of loyalty that Peter betrayed. Sirius hates Peter at that moment more than he ever hated anyone probably. Because Peter abandoned his friends. Becouse he sinned against Sirius' highest value — loyalty.

Sirius holds everyone else to his own standard of loyalty, as well. He likes Ron and Hermione because they were willing to die for Harry in PoA and Sirius respects that immensely. Becouse to him it's obvious you should be willing to die for your friends. It's what you do.

Add to that the raw emotions of just losing his two best friends, the end of the war, the betrayal at the moment, the guilt he feels even during the events of the books for his part in it (for suggesting Peter) — and you have a Sirius who'd probably be willing to harm other people (and himself) on his way if he got to kill Peter.

So, it's actually very in line with the type of behavior we see from Sirius. The only situation in which he wouldn't have gone after Peter is if no one was there to take Harry and then Harry would be at risk if Sirius left. Becouse in general, with Sirius' morals (loyalty above all else) and emotions at the moment, he would always go after the traitor if he could.

#harry potter #hp #sirius black #god I feel feral about that man #I love Sirius #hollowedtheory #padfoot #hp meta #harry potter meta #asks #geck-motj

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batmanlovesnirvana · 1 day ago

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| BATTINSON HEADCANONS ! 🦇

A/N : old post from two years ago, but I’ve changed and added a few things since then

my boy is awkward as hell, but somehow, not at all—it really just depends on who he’s with and the vibe of the moment

sassy when he feels like it, but most of the time? he’s a total nonverbal enigma—half the time, all you’re getting are grunts and the occasional raised eyebrow

specially if you’re still just a stranger to him, or even just a friend

he’s ridiculously stubborn—dug-in-heels, won’t-budge-an-inch stubborn. and, of course, he inherited every ounce of it from his darling mama...

had a Star Wars phase when he was 9

he could’ve talked to you all day back then if you’d asked—about every character, every layer they had, his favorite, and why

I think his fave would’ve prob be Luke

but secretly, he’d have a soft spot for Darth Vader too—not for the evil he represents, but for the complexity of his character

he was definitely spoiled—lived the life of a prince, no doubt about it. but his parents made sure to keep him grounded, always lecturing him to be thankful for what he had and to value everything, no matter how small

he’s the last person to complain about anything, especially when it comes to material stuff

If your apartment’s not exactly perfect or if you don’t have all the fancy things, don’t feel embarrassed—he couldn’t care less about that

Bruce isn’t the type to judge people for their circumstances

what matters to him is who you are, not what you have

he traveled a lot and saw poverty up close. he didn’t just witness it; he experienced it and used it as a way to train and push himself

so I think he’d insist that you don’t let his wealth define you or make you feel small. he’d want you to focus on who you are, not what he has

but he’s still a billionaire

and sometimes it shows

Like if he takes you somewhere, he might be like,

“That place wasn’t good, not what I wanted for you, their steak was too dry”

or “The service was way below expectations.”

it’s not that he’s trying to flex, but his standards have been shaped by a life of luxury and privilege.

even if he doesn’t mean to, it can come off like he’s out of touch with the more everyday experiences.

listen, I’m pretty sure he was that kid in middle school—the one everyone liked. Popular, friendly, Shy, and effortlessly cool, he had a ton of friends and was the kind of person people just gravitated toward

but deep down, he was still an introvert at heart. No matter how many friends he had or how much people loved being around him, he always cherished his alone time—it was his way of recharging

probably teacher favorite

after his parents were murdered, he retreated into himself, becoming a loner—a shadow of the person he once was. the bright, sociable kid who could light up a room disappeared, leaving behind a quiet, guarded shell

he shut everyone out—his friends, his teachers, anyone who tried to reach him.

communication felt impossible, like talking to a wall ready to crumble at the slightest touch. he became volatile, quick to anger and prone to violent outbursts.

the smallest thing could set him off and it was clear he was battling demons far too heavy for a child to carry

he was always getting into fights at school, over the most ridiculous things—someone looking at him the wrong way, a comment that barely made sense, or a passing remark. it didn’t matter how trivial; he’d snap.

it was like he was itching for a reason to lash out, just to feel something other than the numbness that haunted him

alfred was absolutely fed up every time the school would call. It was the same routine—another fight, another complaint.

his patience was wearing thin but he never showed it.

he’d just sigh, straighten his tie, and head to pick Bruce up, trying to stay calm while his mind was racing with how much things had changed

alfred probably thought about quitting a dozen times, especially during those rough moments. he was already carrying the weight of guilt over Thomas and Martha’s deaths, feeling like he’d failed them in some way.

but even through his exhaustion, he couldn’t walk away.

he simply couldn’t abandon Bruce, not when his parents had entrusted him with their son’s care, not when the boy was falling apart.

bc alfred knew that no matter how hard it got, he had to stay—because Bruce needed him, even if he didn’t always show it.

it’s pretty clear that Bruce really doesn’t have time for small talk.

that man goes straight to the point, no beating around the bush. sometimes, it’s like he forgets there’s a filter between his brain and his mouth—so he comes off way too blunt.

but, honestly, he just doesn’t see the need to waste time on unnecessary pleasantries.

if he’s got something to say, he’s saying it, no fluff.

Bruce absolutely loves car races (it's actually canon in the prequel book)

he’s got that need for speed, and nothing gets his adrenaline pumping like watching or being part of a high-stakes race.

it’s not just about the cars; it’s the whole atmosphere, the precision, the thrill of it all.

you can tell he’s got a real passion for it—just one of those things he doesn’t talk about much bc he rarely even talks that is

and so, naturally, he’s got a huge interest in F1

He’s got a serious passion for mechanics too—like, borderline obsession

favorite car is, without a doubt, his grandfather's Corvette (the one that makes an appearance in that iconic funeral scene)

another phase he went through during his late teens—but never really left—was his obsession with Nirvana

It hit him so hard that he even picked up an electric guitar because of it.

spending hours alone in his room trying to replicate their sound, teaching himself riffs from songs like “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and “Lithium.”

it became an outlet for him, a way to channel his emotions without having to say a word

he wasn’t looking to impress anyone or form a band—it was just for him, a way to lose himself in the music. over time, he got pretty good at it, though he’d never admit it

and I think music became another refuge for him, a way to escape the chaos in his head

overall, though, he was a massive fan of Nirvana and Kurt Cobain

did date as a teenager, but it was never anything too serious

his heart was always more focused on Gotham—on his plans, his ambitions, and the legacy he was determined to create

relationships were never a priority for him back then; it was always about the bigger picture, the city that needed saving, the work that needed to be done.

gotham was always at the forefront of his mind, and nothing, not even the most charming date, could truly distract him from his ultimate goal

honestly, I don’t think he’s even a virgin. or maybe he is—who knows? but the prequel book did mention he knew his way around women, so it’s safe to say he’s no stranger to that side of things

was a straight-A student without even breaking a sweat. it just came naturally to him

fave subject was chemistry

he looks a lot like his mother but you could definitely see his father in him too—kind of a perfect mix of both, like a living blend of their best features

he inherited his mother jawline and hair

and his father eyes and nose

was really close to his paternal grandparents

they passed away when he was only seven, so his memories of them are more like faint impressions. but looking at the pictures on the fireplace, you can tell just how much they meant to him

according to Alfred, it was his grandparents who chose his name

never really knew anything about his maternal grandparents, except that they were long gone before he was even born. it was just one of those things he never thought to ask about, something his mother never spoke much about. it was as if they were just figures in the past, distant and forgotten, not even a whisper of a memory for him to cling to

he’s got a ton of distant cousins, most of them living over in Europe, but honestly he doesn’t talk to a single one of them. it’s not like he cares to, either.

that's another reason why Alfred ended up with custody. with all those distant relatives, none of them really stepped up and Bruce wasn’t exactly close to them anyway.

alfred was the one who had always been there, so it just made sense

didn’t mind being an only son, but deep down, he used to beg his mom for a sibling

comfort smell? It’s his mom’s perfume—lavender mixed with a hint of lemon

and Alfred cookies ofc

Bruce’s go-to comfort clothing is his dad’s old Harvard sweater—it’s just cozy and familiar.

as a kid, he’d call his mom "Mummy" or "Mama" and his dad "Papa."

most of his suits? Hand-me-downs from his dad. He’s only got a few of his own.His favorite sport is soccer—don’t ask why; it just makes sense.

Bruce has always been fascinated by his family’s history.

his dad used to tell him all these stories about their ancestors, and Bruce would listen so intently, always begging for more.

sure, the library had books on it, but hearing the stories from his dad just hit different. his dad’s voice made it all feel personal and alive.

oh, and he’s canonically descended from English royalty

his mom was really into gardening.

she loved her plants, especially lilies of the valley and Bethlehem stars.

Lily of the valley: sweetness and purity of heart.

Bethlehem star: hope and happiness.

she used to say they reminded her of his dad and Bruce.

Martha was also super into art and fashion.

she painted and was basically a Gotham fashion icon

because of her, Bruce was always dressed to impress as a kid

his dad, though, was the total opposite. Thomas Wayne’s tie was always crooked, and he had zero fashion sense

Bruce remembers how every morning, his mom would fix his dad’s tie and scold him about it, but Thomas would just kiss her to shut her up

at work, his dad was all about scrubs, and at home, it was pajamas and a robe

Bruce sometimes wears his dad’s robe now—it’s comforting

when it comes to fashion, Bruce is totally his dad’s son

if Alfred didn’t step in, he’d probably look a mess.

his dad loved photography and books

Bruce remembers how his dad used to take photos of his mom and him all the time

the library is packed with pictures of his family—mostly his mom and little Bruce

his parents’ love for each other was something else, and Bruce secretly dreams of having something like that one day

and deep down, he’s a total romantic. he gets that from his dad

he’s already decided that if he ever gets married, he’ll propose with his mom’s ring

a diamond blue sapphire ring

Alfred used to sneak him sweets before dinner (classic Alfred move)

they played chess a lot, though Bruce never actually won

Dory, his mom’s maid, was one of the midwives when Bruce was born

she’s also the one who taught him how to cook, and yeah, Bruce knows how to cook ( the essential at least )

everyone says he’s a cat person, but honestly, I feel he's more like a dog person. It just fits.

part 2 ?

or should I do dating headcanons ?

#battinson #bruce wayne headcanon #the batman #battinson x reader #the batman 2022 #batman #dc comics #bruce wayne imagine #dc movies #gotham #alfred pennyworth #martha arkham #thomas wayne #wayne family #bruce wayne x reader

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hypertechnica · 3 days ago

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i’m not saying that what Odo did in s6 while the dominion occupied the station WASNT fucked up beyond imagination, but am i the only one who thinks it completely makes sense why it happened (and why Kira forgave him?)

to be clear, i absolutely think the show forgave him too fast - it should have been a full arc on screen, not in a single off screen discussion in a closet. that was a massive writing failure. but! i don’t think that the arc is usalvageable at all.

(CW for discussions of grooming)

from what i knew of the dominion collaborator arc before i watched it, i assumed Odo had taken an active role in betraying the federation basically because he was lonely and horny and prioritized his own feelings over his values. i didn’t see that at all.

Odo’s betrayal lied within his inaction - his refusal to help kira and the resistance when she needed him most, ruining their plans and in the end costing thousands of lives. Kira (and everyone else) had every right to never speak to him again - so why did she?

Odo, to me, seemed completely dissociated the entire time his betrayal took place. where just before he had been talking of wanting to rip out his strong feelings for Kira, he then takes on an eerie apathy towards everything, stating things “used to” matter and that he felt nothing. he doesn’t even know how much time is passing. the crux of this, of course, is the link - Odo stresses that it’s an experience that can’t be compared to anything solids can do. Kira just “doesn’t understand.” that she can’t understand. what is so life changing about linking that makes him do a full 180 on everything he’s ever stood for? it’s basically just goo sex, right? right?

the Voice of the Link (the female changeling but i refuse to call her that because it’s a stupid fucking name) is manipulating him with his desire to link and to experience his culture. but linking is more than a metaphor for sex, it’s quite literally the emotional fusion between beings. the show compares it to sex, yes, but the emotional intimacy of the act transcends humanoid notions of sexuality in a way Odo had never experienced at this level before. the Voice already had power over him. she’d been building his trust and teasing him with hints at their culture for seasons at this point, it wasn’t a huge step to fully let her enter his mind. the Voice wanted Odo to join the Great Link - but she also wanted that minefield to be destroyed. Odo says she didn’t find out about their plans, but was he correct? what are the Voice’s true motives? she says she doesn’t care about the details of the war, that she just wants to be with Odo for companionship - i don’t buy it. she has to know about the resistance. she’s too smart to not have figured it out. it’s two birds with one stone - fully sway Odo to the side of the dominion, and ensure that the minefield is destroyed.

they’d linked before, but never in totality or for that length. she knew he’d be vulnerable to it. that he would lose himself to the overwhelming emotional intensity and melding of their minds. Odo was an extremely young changeling with little to no experience linking, and was thrust into an out of body extremely emotional and sexual experience literally transcending the boundaries of self with a thousand+ year old founder who knows exactly what buttons to press. of course he would lose his sense of self and detach from reality! she’s literally both attacking and assuaging every vulnerability Odo has in an extremely precise manner!

Odo wanted nothing more than to be able to link with another changeling but the power imbalance was too great. he was putty in her hands. it was really uncomfortable to watch and i dare say it was an act of predation rather than “Odo was horny and folded immediately” or “Odo was lonely and prioritized that over his friends.” yes, he was both of those things, but in the context of his relationship with the Voice… good lord. i wouldn’t even be surprised if Odo genuinely didn’t know the extent of the damage he caused until after things were over - he was completely and utterly gone.

it makes no sense for Odo to suddenly abandon his entire moral and value system just because The Link Is Cool and Awesome and i’m Learning About my Culture and then change his mind once more once shit starts hitting the fan. he’s not that gullible. he can’t rip out his feelings! but he can be coaxed into a state of derealized semi consciousness by continuous linking and isolation from others.

by linking with the Voice he lost track of where he ended and she began. his ego had been destroyed. he was nothing, and nothing mattered but the link. the totality of it. his loneliness was amplified by a thousand degrees every time they separated, she knew how to make him feel just right, she knew how to make him lose his independence completely.

but the spark within him, his love that he’d tried to get rid of, the kind that didn’t require becoming nothing but a drop in an ocean, saved him from her. Kira helped him remember himself and what he believed in right before it was too late.

Odo is far from a defendable character in many cases. he’s a very very flawed person. but i would argue this isn’t his worst moment. his extremely authoritarian tendencies and the amoral decisions he’s made while in complete sound mind are honestly more culpable to me than what happened to him in s6. the scale of the disastrous consequences resulting from his betrayal make it way worse obviously, but he was literally getting groomed and NOT in his right mind. he seemed almost drugged to me at points.

so he SHOULD have gotten another arc afterwards explaining all of that in detail instead of “well, he talked it out offscreen with Kira. he’s forgiven now!” BRO HE INDIRECTLY KILLED SO MANY PEOPLE dissociated or not he SHOULD face consequences for that!! make him grapple with it!! make him realize the extent of what happened not only the consequences but the the way he was taken advantage of! its literally existentially terrifying in every way! and of COURSE in that context Kira would forgive him. trust would have to be rebuilt, of course, but it’s one thing to actively put the entire alpha quadrant at risk for some strange, it’s another thing to have your vulnerability taken advantage of and be put into a dissociative state.

tldr: the Voice is a great villain and Odo has never done anything wrong ever in his life

#star trek #ds9 #odo #the female changeling #the voice of the link #kira nerys #my writing #character analysis #if you disagree with me feel free to discuss it #pls be nice tho i mean no harm #it is a tv show not life and death

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haru-dipthong · 2 days ago

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Fansub release + Analysis of Utena Ep 18

There's a lot of ideas packed into this episode about patriarchy and what it means to become a man. This is an issue that I've personally done a lot of reflecting on, and also something I've been reading about recently with bell hooks' The Will To Change, so this episode I'll be doing a little more textual analysis than usual and comparing readings of Utena with bell hooks.

Utena: つわぶき君はよく続くなー。僕だったらあの生活三日も持たないや。 Anthy: きっと好きだからできるんですよ

Utena: I don't know how he does it. I wouldn't last three days being bossed around like that. Anthy: If you loved someone, you'd understand.

This line is soooo revealing. It really shows how Anthy thinks about love. And god, the way she says it — so condescending to Utena with the んですよ. Like “you poor naive thing who has never experienced love, I know better than you do”. It sounds very "you'll understand when you're older". And it tears me up inside to see Anthy believing that she is the one who knows better. Even Utena’s naivity is better than Anthy’s horrible warped idea of what love is. And obviously the reason Anthy essentially takes a stand behind the idea that love is unconditional servitude is because of her curse and her relationship with Akio. She is obliged to be at the beck and call of her betrothed, a position of love. And she has learnt from Akio that love is running yourself into the ground, from his time serving the people as Dios. And her relationship with Akio, a familial relationship that is traditionally one of love, is essentially slavery. What else can she do, how else can she live with herself, if not by telling herself that this is what love is meant to be?

A more literal translation of Anthy's line would be something like "I'm sure he can do it because he loves her". But her tone and phrasing in Japanese makes it clear that she's extrapolating - she's thinking that anyone in love would do the same. That's why I translated the line the way I did.

I also tried "That's just what love is" but it didn't sound condescending enough. I needed Anthy to sound like Utena's mum in this exchange, because that's how she sounds in Japanese.

大人になりたい！大人になって世界をめちゃくちゃにしてやりたい！

I want to grow up! I want to become a man so I can fuck up the world!

Oh god oh fuck. What is happening to our little Mitsuru… who could have predicted this?! Well, bell hooks did:

Boys are encouraged by patriarchal thinking to claim rage as the easiest path to manliness. It should come as no surprise, then, that beneath the surface there is a seething anger is boys, a rage waiting for the moment to be heard. The Will To Change pp. 44

In isolation they lose the sense of their value and worth. No wonder then that when they reenter a community, they bring with them killing rage as their primary defence. pp. 43

The word めちゃくちゃにする is difficult to translate. It’s a word used often in casual conversation, so it doesn’t sound very formal or proper. It kind of means “to throw into complete disorder; to make everything a complete mess”. E.g.

その地震は何もかもめちゃくちゃにした

The earthquake destroyed/smashed up everything.

In this context though, “destroy” or “smash up” doesn’t work because we’re not talking about buildings and furniture, we’re talking about “the world”. Other translations try their best to translate this line without swearing (I want to become a man and wreck the world! // I want to be an adult and just kick over the whole world! // I want to a grown up, and just… just do whatever I want with the world!). But I really don’t think it’s possible. THE translation for めちゃくちゃにする in this context is “to fuck up”.

経験を積んだ大人を倒してこそ子供は大人になる

But a kid who beats an adult… will become an adult himself!

Maybe I’m reading too much into the word 倒す here, but allow me to digress: I don’t think this translation is particularly controversial. 倒す literally does mean “beat”. But I originally had this as “defeat”, a much less violent word (also used by the one of the translations I’m using as reference). However, I think “beat” is better for several reasons.

First, 倒す is a word that comes up a lot in anime and manga targeted at the 12-16 year old boy demographic. “Beat” is similar — “can superman beat goku in a fight?” It has the same schoolyard feel to it. Using a word like this emphasises Tsuwabuki’s boyishness.

Secondly, while 倒す means “to defeat”, this meaning is actually metaphorical. Its literal meaning is “to knock down/to fell”. I’m guessing the “defeat” meaning comes from its use in boxing, where knocking someone down is equivalent to defeating them. Because of this, the original Japanese could be interpreted more literally — Tsuwabuki wants to batter an adult, he wants to prove his manhood by beating a woman, by knocking her down. I think this reading is reinforced by Tsuwabuki’s violent patriarchal outburst in the Seminarium elevator.

Another except from bell hooks’ The Will To Change (emphasis mine):

Researchers found that boys agreed that to be truly manly, they must command respect, be tough, not talk about problems, and dominate females. pp. 42

And another:

Boys who are allowed to assume the role of “mini patriarch” are often violent toward their mothers. (…) Obviously, as small boys they do not have the strength to overpower their mothers, but it is clear that they see the use of violence to get their needs met as acceptable. pp. 61-62

As always, thank you to my editor @dontbe-lasanya for their amazing editing skills! This project wouldn't be possible without you!

Remember to follow the blog if you want to stay updated with new episode releases. For all episodes released so far, go here:

Rose divider taken from this post

#revolutionary girl utena #rgu #utena #shoujo kakumei utena #sku #utena fansub #translation #utena analysis #japanese language #japanese #langblr #official blog post

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dreamerwriternstargazer · 3 days ago

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Adding onto this, half of the frustration I think regarding the bi-generation is that it is so…. Limited in its consequences and that is classic poor RTD writing - the man’s always been afraid to break rules and open up the potential of a particular concept, often choosing to steer back to a fan indulgent, happy ending. This isn’t inherently a bad thing, but that is why RTD’s big lore choices are often not as criticised as Chibnall’s, because he does something small that doesn’t change the equilibrium of the show, ultimately.

I heartily believe Tentoo narratively speaking was actually a much more creative and skilful execution of bigeneration than the literal bigeneration was, probably because it was planned out for longer

Yes it really only served the purpose of giving Rose a fairytale ending, but that in itself is rather sweet and poetic, and the mechanics of it make a lot of sense I like the way the hand was brought back to make Tentoo I felt it was one of the few times RTD executed a story in a slightly Moffat-esque manner in that the lore mechanics were transparent even if the conclusion was still fan service

When it comes to The Timeless Child, it’s unpopular because it nukes all the important essence to the Doctor, the fact that he is an Everyman, he is not more important, yes because for the Old Guard it messes with their sense of continuity with the show and they don’t like that, but I think what bothers both sides is the fact that it’s never brought anywhere and never says anything more conclusive than: the Doctor was Special because they were the Start of Everything, it feels borderline Space Jesus-y (which we NEED to stop doing in Doctor Who I’m so over it 💀)

(Also I will acknowledge Flux made a fair attempt at making something more of the Timeless Child and the new potential it brings up in the Doctor’s past, I really enjoyed it, but it still resolves in a dull way and while plenty of conflict is shown for 13 none of it really goes anywhere or has a message to it. Her issues with her adopted “mother” figure could have been fleshed out, the people she used to be and can’t remember could have been written more clearly, but ultimately nothing is SAID with the conflicts there’s nothing conclusive and we don’t learn more about the Doctor or see growth)

This is Chibnall’s issue in a nutshell - he can’t write any sort of conclusion because I believe he really doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, he doesn’t have a clear intent going into a story so even if he sorts out his character writing and dialogue issues, the end result feels disappointing because it feels hollow. Because it IS hollow.

The Timeless Child could have been used to show a great deal of internal conflict with the Doctor, change the character properly in a way that matters, and yes while there’s attempts at showing conflict with 13 I can only attribute that to the strength of the episode writers through Flux and Jodie’s acting. It must be acknowledged that while there are substantial things to read into with Jodie’s Doctor - the fact that she’s so closed off, the fact that she’s constantly trying to be cheerful and never talks about the Timeless Child truths and how they affected her - are all Watsonian readings of the text. The main interesting conflict in 13 is that we consider her so tightly wound because she’s quiet and we deduce straight-laced, ignoring that we only make this of her because Chibnall forgets to write emotions and internal conflict for her. As a result, we are forced to analyse and use the absence of it as a building block for her character in a death of the author manner that has never been necessary for RTD or Moffat, who, though have made some rather big lore changes themselves, have always shown the emotional and practical consequences of it on the Doctor.

In comparison to both RTD and Chibnall, I present to you Moffat - the man who basically batted a lore changing concept every season he ran and I truly feel hit a home run every time

While we can debate over whether Moffat’s better at individual episodes or season long arcs (I would say the latter but primarily in relation to *character arcs*) what is crystal clear is that he is bold enough to introduce something new, and has enough intent to use it to say something substantial about the Doctor or really any other character - he is smart enough to actually break the lore and rebuild it.

The War Doctor is probably the easiest example to cite - a regeneration we never knew! We get insight into the Doctor’s extremely conflicted, extremely grey past, his actions in the Time War, we actually get a proper plot ABOUT the Time War in which we see the conclusion of it. We are changed for knowing about this, but not too much because he uses the conclusion, his classic “there’s always a way out”, to show the character’s growth, to show how he has been changed from 10 to 11, from War to 11, by his companions, to dare to say he won’t repeat his mistakes. Moffat could have shown the Doctors all standing together to destroy Gallifrey and the Daleks again, and there’s still meaning in the fact that they went with War to help him, the fact that they were no longer running away and taking responsibility, but we get the final Doctor (not that we know of it yet), Clara Oswald, demanding that they change things. Considering what she would later become, the other half of the Hybrid, we could almost view this scene then as a reminder of the importance of the companion to the Doctor but also as foreshadowing for Clara’s future - the most healed, most hopeful, most important Doctor who was holding onto the tenant of being the Doctor and reminding the others, almost I feel what 13 should have been to her Timeless Child selves.

Moffat skilfully used one of RTD’s own big lore points, Bad Wolf Girl, as the plot mechanism for how the Doctors are brought back together, while paralleling the story with that of the Zygon face off with UNIT, ultimately bringing us to still another imperfect conclusion - Gallifrey is there, but it needs to be found, unfrozen, the difference is… there’s time enough to save it. Yet this is still perfect because all of these different elements to the anniversary episode - the Zygon invasion, War being a regeneration, Gallifrey’s existence itself - are all utilised again and again for future episodes, hell Gallifrey feeds into another, if slightly less grand, lore shatter of the Hybrid.

RTD throws a net into the pond of the show to catch a specific fish

And Chibnall throws a stone into the pond of the show and forgets that he did it

But Moffat? Moffat throws a stone into the pond (heh) of the show and watches and takes note of every possible ripple.

Bigeneration is just as lore-changing as the Timeless Child. And yet no one shits on it because their precious RTD wrote it. If Chibnall did something like this, y'all would have your pitchforks at the ready. The double standards in this fandom, I swear. RTD is allowed to retcon Doctor Who, but heavens forbid Chibnall even try.

The Doctor is no longer even a parent because of him. David Tennant is a good actor, but I'm tired of people pretending like he's the face of Doctor Who. The whole point of the show is that the Doctor has different faces, and we should love them all—not regress backwards.

We deserved to see the Fourteenth Doctor in Thirteenth's clothes, and not for everything she is to burn up and die. The Fifteenth Doctor deserved his own regeneration scene like every other Doctor, without Fourteenth randomly sticking around because of RTD's inability to let go of the characters he wrote.

At least the Timeless Child added something more to the Doctor's story. Bigeneration took something away: the emotional impact of the Doctor's regeneration - having to say goodbye.

#star meta #Doctor who meta #the timeless child #rtd #steven moffat #chibnall era

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peterm4rker · 4 hours ago

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from the rooftops || m.l

twenty four. mark fucking lee

🕸🕷✮⋆˙ wc. 0.7k w. curse words ! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

sometimes in life things just click.

like when you hear a part of a gossip you were missing and everything suddenly makes sense, or when you remember the name of something hours after thinking about it.

or when you hear spiderman answer your question in a way that no one but mark lee would.

it was november 13th, the day was beautiful with clear and sunny skies. kids ran around the park and laughter filled the air. everything was absolutely perfect.

you had everything ready to take action on your little detective plan as you both sat on your usual spot on the ground of the park, where was telling you one of his many stories for the new article. you noticed the stiffness of his body almost immediately after he got there, when he greeted you with the most awkward handshake you had ever been a part of. he completely lacked his usual relaxed and fun demeanor, and it was making your job harder and easier at the same time. maybe he was trying hard to hide who he was now that he knew he had fumbled a couple days prior, or maybe he had just woken up in a bad mood. whatever it was, it would end up playing an enormous part on the pieces of the puzzle moving slowly into place, preparing a picture of a face you had grown to know a little too well.

you did everything you could to make him feel more comfortable so he could let himself go, just so he could give you something, anything that would help you finally figure out what you so desperately wanted to know.

it wasn’t that you wanted to know for any evil reasons like you were sure that many did, but you needed to know if the boy you were madly in love with was putting his life in danger every single day.

you asked questions and said funny comments, looking to elicit some type of reaction from him. slowly, he let his walls down as he always ended up doing around you. his hands began to move around as he articulated his words, his voice got more excited and giggles started to allow themselves to escape out of his lips.

and then it happened, the moment where everything clicked.

“and after that i went to go get ice cream to the parlor close to the river” he commented as he ended his story, letting out a small chuckle.

“ouh, fire?” you asked, without even realizing that you had just set yourself up for success.

“flames” he answered casually, almost out of instinct, causing your eyes to widen slightly.

no.

fucking.

way.

“i’m glad, i’ll have to go get some there. i’ve never had it.” you said quickly, trying your hardest to hide the emotion in your voice.

“it’s so good, also pretty cheap, but they give it to me for free because i once stopped a guy from setting the store on fire” he commented with a small laugh, and you felt utterly stupid.

how had you not realized after all this time? how could you not hear the voice that clouded your dreams behind that (now very obvious) voice changer? how had you not noticed that his laugh was way too beautiful to belong to anyone but mark? how had you not connected the dots earlier? every time he said one of the silly things he could come up with, every time he made the hand gestures you had seen him do so many times without the mask on. every time that he had made your heart flutter like only one person had ever done.

mark fucking lee.

“you okay there, yn?” the too robotic sounding voice asked as the man in front of you, mark, tilted his head in curiosity.

“yeah, sorry, i zoned out” you chuckled “but go on, i’m paying attention now” you urged. you had never thanked your mother so much for making you take those drama classes when you were younger more than in that moment.

“don’t worry, i was just saying that the chocolate ice cream there is bomb…” he continued talking, immersed in his own world to notice the way your lips quivered upwards as you watched him.

click.

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#mark #mark lee #mark smau #nct dream #nct dream smau #kpop #kpop smau #nct #nct smau #mark texts #mark x reader #wayv #mark social media au #nct dream social media au #nct social media au #🕸🕷✮⋆˙ peterm4rkerswrld #🕸🕷✮⋆˙ from the rooftops #🕸🕷✮⋆˙ mark

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sincerelykimii · 1 day ago

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𝐒𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞?

𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞, 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫? 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬!

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: Despite being one of the most powerful and overall dangerous members, you're known as a ray of sunshine, always optimistic and always making the best out of the worst. He however, is quite the opposite. Right now, you were in the kitchen at the avengers compound, making some strawberries and chocolate. It was late evening, everyone was asleep. You were up watching stuff due to your usual problems with insomnia, but you couldn’t Ignore the rumble in your stomach. Humming a soft tune of a familiar song you couldn’t remember. Your hands were attached to the knife as you cut the fresh strawberries infront of you, glancing over at the stove, your chocolate melted slowly, the scent lingering through the kitchen, filling your senses with delight. Caught up in the moment you didn’t notice Bucky entering the kitchen, to be fair he was as quiet as a mouse. His deep, gruff voice, clear he had just awoken startled you, making you drop the knife a little too loud on the counter. “Jesus Bucky…”

He raises a brow at your reaction, taking a sip of his water. He sets the glass down on the counter, his eyes never leaving yours. He seems almost...amused by your small jump scare. “Didn’t mean to startle ya doll.” My eyes follow his hands as he sets the glass back down, when did he even…? Anyways. I smile warmly at him, hand over my chest, feeling my heart rate quiet down. “that’s okay, what are you doing up? Did I wake you? I’m so sorry if I did.” The words stutter out, he always did make me nervous. He moves closer, leaning against the counter beside you. His usual stoic demeanor softens slightly as he catches the scent of chocolate. "No…no, couldn't sleep. You didn't wake me." He pauses, watching your hands work with the strawberries.

I nod my head focusing my attention back to the knife in hand, I can’t help but blush at the proximity between Bucky and I. He’s not the most talkative person but he always keeps a conversation going with me, makes me feel…loved. A few moments later, I’m popping the plate of chocolate covered strawberries into the freezer. Bucky hasn’t said much since he’s been in here, just observing, I break the silence humming the same tune from earlier.

His eyes never leaving you as you hum that tune. He can't quite place it, but it's soothing in a way that only you manage to be. He watches as you put the plate in the freezer, his gaze lingering on the way your fingers brush against the handle. Finally turning to face Bucky, my eyes meet his as he is already looking at me. “Hi” my tone is softer than before, his eyes melting my heart. I smile warmly at him, the same smile that spreads across my face anytime my eyes catch a glimpse of his. There's a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, almost like he's fighting a smile. He doesn't do warm and fuzzy often, but something about your genuine smile makes him want to try. He suddenly straightens up. "How'd you get that cut on your finger?"

My brows furrow just as quickly as his did looking down at my finger, there it was, a small cut, barely noticeable. “I’m not sure…do you think any blood got on my strawberries?”

The frown that appears on your face, throws Bucky for a loop, his heart racing as he notices it. He can't help but chuckle at your expression, finding it adorable that you're more worried about your strawberries than the small cut. He reaches out and gently takes your finger in his calloused hand, examining the tiny cut. "It's barely a scratch." He's not usually one to notice small details, but he finds himself studying your face more than the cut on your finger. Your stomach flips more times than It should, the feeling of his surprisingly warms hands on yours, has your cheeks darker than the strawberries. You can’t help but admire his face, his squinted eyes, barely creased at the corners. His soft lips parted ever so slightly, and his small nose scrunches while examining the scratch. The same thoughts that are running through your head are in bucky’s just as much as yours, he can't help but notice the way your cheeks flush under his scrutiny, making you look even cuter than usual.

“It’s all good.”

His voice pulls me from my thoughts, focusing my attention back onto the cut. “Oh! my strawberries should be finished by now.” I pull the plate from the freezer placing it infront of Bucky, “you ever had these before?” He pulls the plate closer, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the chocolate-covered strawberries. He's had his fair share of sweets, but something about these looks particularly enticing. He picks one up, examining it carefully before bringing it to his mouth. "No, I don't think so."

my eyes follow his movements, almost trance like. He’s so intriguing, it’s hard not too, “It’s my favorite snack, always had a sweet tooth.” I pick one up, bringing it to my lips taking a slow savoring bite. The pretty blush color from the strawberry leaving a tint on my lips.

His eyes linger on your lip, the faint blush of the strawberry tinting your smile a shade that seems to taunt his thoughts. He takes a bite of his own strawberry, the rich chocolate melding perfectly with the sweet, juicy fruit. The sight in front of you is too die for, his lips quirk up ever so slightly into a smile, barely ghosting on his lips. His eyes flutter close momentarily, allowing you to really take in his features for a moment longer. When he opens his eyes again, they lock onto yours. There's a softness there that you rarely see, a warmth that seems to draw you in. He sets the half-eaten strawberry back on the plate and leans in closer, his voice low. "You have chocolate on your lip."

my cheeks flush immediately, almost embarrassed. I can only gaze into his eyes, seeing the warmth in them has my head fuzzy, “can you?” I say softly, leaning in a bit closer. Without breaking eye contact, Bucky reaches out with his thumb, gently brushing it across your bottom lip. His touch is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the callouses on his fingers. He lingers for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. Your breath hitches, not at his touch, but the way his eyes linger on your lips. Your eyes meet his, flickering between the two blue orbs before pulling away from his embrace. “thank you.” I whisper.

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐑: the sun comes shining strong through my window. My eyes focused on the ceiling fan spinning quickly above me. Finally having enough energy I sit up swinging my feet off the bed letting them lead me to the bathroom. A few moments later, teeth and hair brushed, I walk in the living room, eyes immediately landing on Buckys. I flash him a warm smile as I usually do, before taking a seat on the sofa a few spots away from him. Even though we’re dating, he’s still getting used to the comfort, so I give him all the space he needs till I know he’s ready. Bucky is sitting on the armchair, a book open on his lap but his eyes aren't focused on the pages. He looks up as you enter the room, his expression unreadable. He watches as you sit on the sofa, the warm smile you give him making his mind reel.

The silence floats in the air comfortably, “mornin buck, how’d you sleep?” I say softly, my voice is still a bit raspy from awakening. He closes the book and sets it aside, his gaze never leaving yours. He rubs the back of his neck, a slight frown tugging at his lips as he tries to formulate a response. "I slept fine," he says gruffly, his voice a low rumble. my brows furrow at his response, easily identifying the lie coursing through it, “I know when you’re lying buck, you gotta get some sleep sweetheart.”

His jaw clenches briefly at your use of 'sweetheart', you call everyone sweetheart, but there’s something about the way it rolls off your tongue whenever it’s directed towards him, for some reason it makes his heart skip beat. He runs a hand through his hair, the signs of a restless night visible in the slight messiness. "How do you know?" he asks, more curious than annoyed. I shrug my shoulders, “I know what insomnia looks like, I’ve been through it countless times.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes. He knows all too well the effects of insomnia, the constant tossing and turning, the never-ending thoughts that keep you awake. "What helps you sleep?" I press my lips together softly, I can’t tell him he’s the reason I sleep so good at night, knowing I’ll get up and see his face…his beautiful smile, his terrible dad jokes he whispers to Steve unaware I heard, his concentrated face while reading a new book, he’s the reason I sleep at night…but he’ll never know that, not now at least. “I’m not sure…”

He notices the slight hesitation in your response, the way your eyes dart away for a moment. He feels a strange pang of jealousy, wondering if there's someone else who helps you sleep so peacefully. He pushes the thought aside, focusing on the conversations instead. "Maybe we should try something new,"

“don’t keep me on my toes Barnes.”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth at your playful jab. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Ever tried meditation? Or maybe some of those bizarre sleep apps Steve raves about?" I chuckle softly, everytime steve saw something new he would rant to Bucky and I about it, it’s quite sweet actually. “I’ve tried meditation, I just can’t sit still for that…you know what! I’ve seen people fall asleep to asmr.” my lips quirk up in a smile knowing Bucky has no clue what asmr is.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, the term 'asmr' foreign to his ears. He tilts his head, studying you with a curious expression. "Asmr? What the hell is that?" He asks, his voice laced with a hint of amusement and curiosity. Ive never pulled my phone out so fast, finding a video. I hand the phone to Bucky letting him watch the video of a girl having her hair played with, “it looks very relaxing.”

Bucky takes the phone, his eyes widening slightly as he watches the video. He listens to the gentle whispers, the soft brushing of the comb through her hair, and the soothing sounds of the girl's voice. His expression softens, and he finds himself strangely entranced by the calming scene. "Huh,"

My eyes admire his softened features instead of watching the video, “what do you say buck?” I can’t help the smile growing on my face. Bucky lowers the phone, a rueful smile spreading across his face as he catches your admiring gaze. He shakes his head in disbelief. "I never thought I'd be considering hair brushing videos as a cure for insomnia," he chuckles softly, handing the phone back to you. I take the phone from his hand letting my fingers linger on his for a moment longer, “well it won’t cure it, but it’ll help definitely.” I say softly.

He notices the lingering touch, his heart skips a beat at the gentle contact. He clears his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "Yeah, it does seem pretty relaxing," He pauses, his gaze drifting back to the video for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "Wanna..."

“Tonight. I’ll come to your room or you can come to mine, and I’ll be your asmrist for the night.” I say playfully before standing up. Bucky rises to his feet as well, a amused smirk plastered across his face. "Asmrist? I think you mean ASMRtist," he corrects, shaking his head in mock disbelief. He steps closer to you, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. The giggle that left your lips had buckys heart racing, he swears he’s never heard such a sweeter thing. “Oh so you’re a pro now Barnes, I’ll remember that for tonight sweetheart.” with that I disappear back to my room.

The sun finally sets, and everyone is already in bed. I leave my room, heading to the living room, Bucky is already sitting on the couch, his legs stretched out and his arms crossed over his chest. He looks up at you as you enter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ready?”

“Ready.” he whispers, trying to suppress a grin.

I smile softly taking his hand in mine, leading him to my room. Bucky follows you willingly, his heart pounding in his chest at the prospect of the evening ahead. He settles onto your bed, positioning himself comfortably against the headboard. He watches you with an amused expression as you arrange yourself behind him, his muscles tensing slightly at your proximity. My hands move slowly as they finally make contact with his shoulders, “relax buck, I’ll be gentle.” I whisper rubbing small circles on his arm with my thumb. Bucky takes a deep breath, the tension slowly starting to melt away under your gentle touch. He leans back slightly, allowing himself to be more comfortable against you. "Easy for you to say," he murmurs, though his tone is light and teasing.

my smile never left, only growing wider at his words. I hush him as I move my hands to his hair, letting my fingers run through his surprisingly soft locks, untangling any knots I find. He lets out a soft sigh as you run your fingers through his hair, the gentle touch soothing his frazzled nerves. He tilts his head to the side, giving you better access to the knots and tangles. "You're really good at this," he comments, his voice low and content. I let another giggle fall from my lips, “Here, lay back and rest your head on my thigh, it’ll be a bit more comfortable.” the suggestion picks up his heart rate a bit more than it should’ve, “if you want too sweetheart.” I say softly, keeping my voice barely above a whisper. He hesitates for a brief moment, his cheeks coloring slightly at the intimate suggestion. But with a small, almost imperceptible nod, he slowly lays back, resting his head on your thigh. His breath is steady but his pulse betrays his inner turmoil.

placing my hands back in his hair, I repeat my movements from earlier. “comfortable?” I coo quietly. He nods silently, his eyes drifting closed as you continue to work out the knots in his hair. The warmth of your thigh against his head and the soothing touch of your hands is incredibly comforting, and he finds himself relaxing even further. "Perfect," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. I sigh contently, my eyes admiring his relaxed expression. “I’ve got you buck, you can fall asleep.” I whisper before humming the same tune from last night.

His breath becomes softer and more rhythmic, his muscles completely relaxed now. The humming lulls him even further, and he finds himself drifting in that sweet space between wakefulness and sleep. His hand unconsciously moves to rest on your knee for support. "Don't stop..." the sight has my heart beating out of my chest, I wonder if he can hear it. “I won’t honey, rest. You need it.” I say softly, my fingers moving subconsciously through his hair. He inhales deeply, taking in your comforting scent as he nestles his head further onto your lap. His mind is fuzzy, his thoughts blurring together, but one thing is clear - he feels safe. He feels... loved.

𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐓𝐮𝐧𝐞: You and Bucky are in the living room simply enjoying eachothers company. He’s reading a book and you’re laying down, listening to music. the song you never know the name of comes on, you began humming softly.

So this is love, mm.

He glances up from his book as he hears the familiar humming. He recognizes the tune, though he still doesn't know the name. He pauses, his fingers marking his place in the book, and listens more intently. Completely lost in the song, eyes closed, you don’t notice Bucky watching you instead of reading. You continue humming the song letting a few words slip as you sing along.

So this is what makes life divine…

He sets his book aside, giving you his full attention. He's captivated by the sound of your voice, the way you effortlessly bring the melody to life. He finds himself leaning forward slightly, drawn in by the raw emotion in your humming. "What's that song?" My eyes flutter open slowly landing on his, “So this is love.” I reply finally looking at my phone seeing the song that’s been stuck in my head for what feels like months. "Yeah? What're the words? That part you keep humming..." He reaches out and gently takes the phone from your hands, bringing the screen closer to his face so he can see the lyrics better. His fingers brush against yours, deliberately lingering for a moment. "Mind if I..."

I shake my head handing him the phone, “go for it.”

He takes the phone, holding it close as he reads the lyrics silently to himself. A soft, wistful smile tugs at his lips as he realizes the song seems to echo the tender feelings blossoming between you two. He glances up at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. I furrow my brows seeing the same mischievous glint in his eyes that always mirror in mine, “what?” I whisper sitting up.

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and inviting. "This song suits you," he says with a gentle smile. "You've been... singing it without even realizing it. Like it's a part of you now." I chuckle softly, “It only comes to my head when I’m around you.” I say softly. His expression softens considerably at your admission. There's a gentle intimacy in his eyes now, unguarded and vulnerable. He shifts closer on the couch, close enough that the fabric of his shirt brushes against your arm. "That's... interesting," he says quietly. “why’s that?” I reply back, moving close enough, our sides are met with eachother.

He looks down at where your side meets his, feeling the warmth and the gentle rise and fall of your breath. He swallows hard, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. "Because," he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, "it makes me think that maybe..." Before he can answer your voice cuts him off, “maybe I’m in love with you.” I burst out, it felt like a weight was lifted off of my shoulder as the words finally leave my lips. His eyes widen momentarily, surprise and joy mingling in his expression. For a heartbeat, he's stunned into silence, but then a slow, warm smile spreads across his face. He turns to face you fully, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Maybe I'm right there with you."

#fanfic #reading #writers on tumblr #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #fluff #so this is love

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