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joeymunsondjo · 1 day ago

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ok so like gorl I’m loving the idea of like a non famous gf who isn’t in the industry at all maybe a teacher or something like that and maybe gets bothered at work by someone bc she is dating joe? Anything like that would be awesome. I love watching new accounts grow

Oh goodness. Thank you for this beautiful idea. I might accidentally make this a little too fluffy.. sorry not sorry.

You don’t deserve this.

Content: verbal abuse, infidelity accusations and public humiliation, miscarriage.Lmk if I missed any.

Your day began like any other. Joe woke up about thirty minutes before your alarm was due to go off and quietly slipped out of bed to get ready for filming—not before stealing a quick kiss from you, of course. You drifted back to sleep, only to stir moments before your alarm was set to interrupt the morning calm. Joe reappeared in your shared bedroom, gently placed a coffee on your bedside table, and leaned down to say goodbye.

You sat up, giving him a quick peck on the lips. He grabbed a couple of pillows and propped them behind your back, letting you settle in to drink your coffee—the one constant in your life lately that kept you even remotely sane. Teaching twenty-five unpredictable four-year-olds five days a week had a way of fraying your nerves, and caffeine had become a non-negotiable.

Joe lingered in the doorway, clearly stalling.

“Get your ass to set, Quinn,” you called after him, smirking. “You were late yesterday. Don’t make a habit of it.”

Your mind drifted momentarily to the events of that previous morning—the playful chaos, the heat of it—and suddenly the room felt a little warmer. Joe winked in response, then disappeared, the front door clicking shut behind him.

With a sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed and began the ritual of preparing for the day: more coffee, a hastily assembled breakfast, getting dressed, finishing the lesson prep you’d abandoned the night before—Joe had had a rough day on set and needed you, and you hadn’t thought twice—and finally, you caught the bus to work around 7:45.

It was one of those days where you could just feel it was going to be difficult before anything had even gone wrong. You were bracing yourself for the usual suspects: a classroom meltdown, forgetting your lunch and being forced to eat the borderline inedible food from the school canteen, or—worse—being pulled aside by your traditionalist headteacher for “favoritism,” a word they used whenever you spent extra time helping the SEN children in your class consolidate their learning.

What you weren’t expecting, however, was to be standing at your classroom door at 8:00 a.m. on a Tuesday, facing a parent who looked you up and down with thinly veiled disdain before muttering that you were unfit to teach her child.

“I’d rather an animal educate my daughter than a homewrecker,” she spat.

Your breath caught.

You and Joe had been together for six months now—six beautiful, grounding, and wholly supportive months. It had taken time and care to navigate the beginning of the relationship, especially with Joe still fresh out of a broken engagement. But contrary to the theories the tabloids liked to spin, you had nothing to do with the breakup. Joe hadn’t even met you until three months after it ended.

Still, the weight of public speculation—and now private judgment—was something you were learning to live with. But no part of you had been prepared for it to follow you into your classroom.

You took a deep breath, trying—failing—not to let her words sink beneath your skin. The moment demanded composure, and so, with all the restraint you could muster, you did what you’d been trained to do: you smiled, nodded briefly, and turned your attention to the children.

Ignore it, you told yourself. You’re the adult. Be professional. Keep breathing.

The woman guided her four-year-old daughter to her usual spot on the carpet, smoothing the child’s coat and brushing a curl behind her ear. You caught a glimpse of the child’s eyes—confused, unsure—and it struck you that she hadn’t missed her mother’s bitterness either.

As the parent turned to leave, she paused in the doorway. And then, deliberately—her voice sharp, unwavering, and loud enough to carry across the room to every wide-eyed child and parent within earshot—she twisted the knife.

“Why don’t you try having your own child instead of poisoning other people’s? Oh—wait. You don’t have one, do you? Because you’re not engaged to him. She was. And you ruined that.”

The silence that followed her exit was suffocating. It fell like a curtain, heavy and stunned.

You stood frozen in place, your mouth parted slightly as if your body had wanted to speak in your defence—but your brain was still buffering. A few parents averted their eyes, others lingered, curious and awkward, pretending to fuss with their children’s coats as they clung to the scene like spectators.

Your hands, though hidden beneath your desk, had started to tremble.

You’d assumed—hoped—no one at the school connected you to Joe beyond casual mention. But now it was obvious. This woman must have known his ex. Or, more likely, knew of her. The way people did. The way tabloids made it impossible for a breakup to be private, for a new relationship to just… begin without it being tarnished.

Still, you swallowed the ache in your throat and moved forward. You had a classroom full of little faces looking to you for structure and warmth. You couldn’t fall apart. Not here. Not now.

You poured yourself into the morning’s lessons with quiet intensity—phonics, numbers, hands-on activities, smile after smile forced through gritted teeth. You read stories with your voice as steady as possible, though the words blurred at times behind the sting of unshed tears. You made it to lunch without cracking. You answered questions, handled squabbles, sorted glitter spills and tantrums with the same tenderness you always did.

Then came the afternoon. Then the final bell.

You gathered your marking books, pressed them tightly to your chest, and made your way out of the building as quickly as you could without drawing further attention to yourself. The moment you stepped outside, the sky opened up in a downpour, as if the universe had finally decided to match your mood.

Classic British weather, you thought grimly, the irony almost laughable.

You didn't run. Not right away. You let the rain soak through your coat, your cardigan, the fabric of your dress, the thin layer of tights you regretted wearing that morning. Your hair clung to your neck and face, the cold settling into your bones.

By the time you reached the front door of your flat, you were shaking. Not just from the rain, but from the slow collapse of everything you’d been holding in since 8 a.m.

Inside, you dropped everything in the hallway—your bag, the books, your soaked coat—and stumbled into the living room. You collapsed onto the floor rather than the sofa, your knees too weak to hold you anymore.

And then the tears came. Messy. Involuntary. Gasping.

You sat there in the dim light, drenched and shivering, your hands pressed to your face as the sobs racked through your body. It wasn’t just the woman's words that had broken you—it was the cruelty. The assumption. The injustice of being cast as the villain in a story you didn’t write.

You had spent the last six months slowly, carefully loving Joe—not as a replacement, not as a conquest, but as a human being who had been hurt and was healing alongside you. The media didn’t see that. Strangers didn’t see that. They saw headlines and timelines and decided you must have been the reason something ended, simply because you were the next beginning.

You reached for your phone, stared at it in your lap, and debated texting him.

But you didn’t need to say anything. You just needed him.

You needed the way his voice quieted the noise. The way his arms made you feel like the rest of the world couldn’t reach you. You needed him to look at you the way he always did—like you weren’t a scandal or a mistake, but a person worth choosing.

And so you waited, wet and raw and quietly unraveling, for the sound of his key in the lock.

————————————————

The silence in the flat was broken only by the hum of the radiator and the soft drip of rainwater from your sleeves onto the hardwood floor. Your clothes clung to you, heavy with rain, and your limbs felt leaden from the weight of the day, of the shame, of the words that refused to stop echoing in your head.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there—ten minutes, maybe thirty—when you finally heard the familiar jingle of keys outside the front door. Your heart caught in your throat.

The lock clicked. The door opened. And then you heard his voice.

“Hey, love—” Joe stepped inside, brushing rain off his shoulders, setting his bag down, halfway through calling out his usual cheerful greeting before he spotted you.

He froze in the doorway to the living room.

You were curled up on the floor, soaked through, your arms wrapped around yourself like you were trying to hold your body together. His face dropped instantly, every bit of ease gone from him in a breath.

“Jesus, what happened?”

You tried to speak, but all you could manage was a breathy, cracked sound as your bottom lip quivered again. You didn’t want him to see you like this—vulnerable and wrecked—but the effort of pretending had already burned itself out.

He was kneeling in front of you in seconds, hands hovering first, not sure where to touch, then gently landing on your arms. His thumbs rubbed along your sleeves instinctively, as if trying to warm you through the damp fabric.

“You’re freezing,” he murmured, brows knitting. “You’re soaked. Why didn’t you call me?”

You shook your head, wiping your face with your wrist. “I didn’t know what to say,” you whispered.

Joe moved carefully, kneeling lower so he was eye-level. “Alright. Then don’t say anything right now, okay? Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

He stood and offered you his hands, pulling you gently to your feet. Your body resisted—sore and cold—but he was patient, guiding you toward the bathroom, peeling off your coat first, then your jumper. He didn't say much, just moved with a quiet kind of tenderness that made your chest ache more than anything that had happened that day.

Once you were dry and wrapped in one of his oversized hoodies and a blanket, he guided you to the sofa. He disappeared briefly and returned with a cup of tea—your favourite, the one he always made you when the world felt too much. He handed it to you carefully, then sat beside you, his body angled protectively toward yours.

Only then did he speak.

“Who was it?”

Your breath hitched. You’d been dreading the moment, but it was inevitable.

“A parent,” you murmured. “This morning. She… said some things. About me. About you.”

Joe’s jaw clenched. You saw it—the small tightening of his expression, the anger threading just beneath his concern.

“She said I was poisoning kids' minds. That I should have my own before teaching other people’s. Then she brought up your ex. Said I ruined your engagement. Loudly. In front of everyone.”

Joe closed his eyes for a moment, processing. You watched him, heart racing, wondering if this was the moment where things got harder, where his patience snapped—not at you, but at the weight of it all.

But when he looked back at you, his expression wasn’t angry. It was something else entirely.

Devastated. And fiercely protective.

“Come here,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms. You curled into him like you were trying to disappear into the space between his ribs. He held you tightly, his hand running slowly up and down your back, grounding you.

“None of what she said is true,” he murmured into your hair. “Not a word of it. You didn’t ruin anything. That relationship ended before you were even in my life. And you, love… you’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You pressed your face against his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat settle your own.

“It’s just so hard, Joe. I try to ignore it, I try not to let it get to me, but when people say things like that… in front of children, in front of my coworkers…”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking just slightly. “I know. And I hate that you’re carrying this. You shouldn’t have to.”

There was a long silence then. Safe. Heavy, but not suffocating. Eventually, Joe pulled back just enough to look at you.

“Do you want me to say something to the school? To her?”

You shook your head. “No. That’ll just make it worse. I just… needed to come home.”

Joe kissed your forehead, lingering there. “Then that’s exactly what you did. You’re home. And I’ve got you, yeah? No matter what.”

You nodded, letting yourself believe it. Letting yourself rest in it.

For the first time that day, you felt warm.

Joe’s arms were still wrapped tightly around you, his chin resting against your head, but even in his warmth, there was a chill you couldn’t shake—one that came from far deeper than wet clothes or stormy skies.

You wanted to speak. To tell him the real reason her words had landed like a knife between your ribs. But the truth was tangled in grief, in silence you hadn’t yet broken aloud. Not even to him.

Your throat tightened.

He felt it. Your body subtly tensing against his.

“Love?” he murmured, pulling back slightly to look at you, concern shadowing his features.

You swallowed hard, eyes glassy again.

“It wasn’t just what she said,” you whispered, voice trembling. “It’s what it meant.”

Joe waited, giving you space, his hand still gently rubbing your arm.

You stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet his eyes. “She told me to have my own child before teaching anyone else’s… and it—” You paused, breath catching in your chest. “It hurt because… because I was supposed to.”

The words hung between you, fragile and heavy.

Joe stilled completely, a flicker of understanding crossing his face.

You had never said it aloud. Not even after the hospital visit. Not after the vague assurances from doctors about how “early” it had been and how “common” it was. As though that somehow lessened it.

As though a loss is less of a loss just because no one else knew.

“I was going to tell you,” you said quietly. “I found out about the pregnancy the week you left for the shoot in Wales. I didn’t want to distract you. And then… before I could say anything, it was just… over.”

Joe’s face was unreadable for a moment—then a devastating sort of softness overtook him. His mouth parted, then closed again. He reached out and gently took your face in both hands, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You were pregnant?” he asked, as if needing to hear it again to believe it. You nodded. “And you went through all of that—alone?”

Tears spilled again before you could stop them. “I didn’t want to burden you. You were so excited about the job, and it all happened so fast. I didn’t even know how to feel about it myself yet.”

Joe let out a shaky breath, his eyes brimming now too.

“Christ, love…” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. “You should never have had to go through that by yourself.”

You let out a sound—half cry, half exhale—and finally let yourself fall forward into him. This time, the sobs came not from humiliation or shame, but from the unspoken grief that had been sitting, heavy and undigested, in the corners of your heart for weeks.

Joe didn’t try to stop the crying. He just held you, one hand curled protectively around your back, the other running slowly through your damp hair. He kissed the top of your head, again and again, like it was the only way he knew how to say all the things there were no words for.

When your breathing eventually began to slow, he spoke again, voice low and hoarse.

“She had no right to say those things to you. None. And if I’d known what you were carrying... God.” He shook his head. “You are the strongest person I know. I’m so sorry you went through that alone.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t want you to look at me differently. To feel… sorry for me.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes again. “I feel heartbreak *with* you. That’s different.”

You blinked hard. His words pressed against something deep inside—something you hadn’t realized needed to be heard.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he added, voice fierce now. “You didn’t deserve any of what was said to you today. And you are *not* a homewrecker. You're my home.”

Something inside you cracked at that—something worn thin and quietly aching—and for the first time that day, your sobs gave way to something softer: release.

Joe leaned in, kissed your forehead, your cheek, then your lips, each one slow and reverent. You clung to him like a lifeline, and for once, letting go of the pain didn’t feel like forgetting. It felt like beginning to heal.

Later, when the rain outside had softened and the flat was wrapped in the dim golden light of early evening, you curled against Joe on the sofa, his arms still around you, a blanket shared between you like a truce with the world.

“I wish people knew the full story,” you murmured.

Joe looked down at you, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek.

“They don’t have to,” he said gently. “As long as *we* do.”

And somehow… that was enough.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ahhh that was so scary to write but also so much fun wth. I’m going to make a masterlist once I’ve written a few more fics but please lmk what your thoughts are!! Also apologies for any spelling or grammer mistakes it’s 1 am.

Please like, reblog and comment as it really helps me out xx

#joseph quinn fanfic #Joseph quinn rpf #hurt/comfort #joseph quinn fluff #Joseph quinn x reader

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sadclownkisses · 2 days ago

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smut under the cut

This is a nsfw blog for lesbians, men and minors DNI

I have been DROOLING over butches lowk

———————————————————————————

butch gf who’s love language is acts of service

Butch gf who doesn’t care if I already know how to do something, just kisses my forehead and tells me to sit and look pretty while she takes care of me

Butch gf that’s super clingy and needs to be near me all the time. Complaining every time I get out of bed early in the morning, following me around like a lost puppy as i make her lunch for work. Gym dates and she wants to spot me so she can be close by.

Butch gf that LOVES to eat and appreciates my cooking :/ I love cooking and baking for people it’s such a big part of my day to day life I just can’t be with someone picky or who doesn’t eat “that much” like no I’m going to make u gain 20 pounds im sorry but all the more reason for us to go on gym dates so I can drool over how beefy ur getting

Butch gf that babies me and lets me do the same I don’t believe in that “ur masculine don’t cry” bs like omg no come lay on my chest and tell me what’s on ur mind :( god I’d be so sweet and loving to my butch fingernails drawing lazy circles on her back as she rants about her day at work

Butch gf that isn’t dismissive of my feelings

Butch gf that pays attention to things i absentmindedly mention , coming home to something i said was cute a week ago or waking up to breakfast in bed after she seen it on one of my Pinterest boards,

Butch gf that understands my femininity is deeply rooted in my identity as a lesbian and as a tall girl who was forcibly de-feminized by everyone around her as if my height and strength made me less of a woman. all I want is for my identity to be accepted regardless of how tall I am and regardless of hobbies I enjoy or things I’m good at like putting together furniture or lifting heavy stuff ugh at the end of the day I’m still a hyper femme who likes to do her nails and wear full beats to do mundane tasks. And ofc I’d do the same however my butch identifies I’ll back it up wholeheartedly as a femme it’s our job to speak up for the less recognized people in our community <3

Butch gf that even after a long day of working will come home and still be so eager to please ^o^ AHHH being so needy after waiting for her to get home all day but she’s so beat she just pulls my panties off and tells me to use her face, lazily sticking her tongue in my hole and bumping her nose against my clit.

Butch gf that lets me top :o ppl always assume id be a pillow princess but god im such a freak and I just need a loser butch gf that’ll let me use her like my own personal toy sometimes IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK

Butch gf that lets me ride her just to make me work for what I’ve been so needy for mocking me as she leans back arms behind her head “you wanted it so bad baby, ride it or you can’t cum” nd once i get tired , tears prickling at the corners of my eyes , hands latched onto her shoulder as i feverishly ride her strap she’ll finally put her hands on my waist , gripping tightly as she thrusts into me “this what ya wanted baby? Stop that crying gonna give you a proper fuckin’”

Butch gf who whimpers in my ear about how well I’m taking her cock and how pretty I look bouncing on her putting her cowboy hat on my head as her thrusts try to match my pace something something abt “saving a horse riding a cowbutch”

Butch gf that ties me up and fucks me until I’m a drooling babbling mess seen smth about cowbutches being able to chase u on their horse and tie you up and all I have to say is I can run fast so I need my butch to be faster :p

Butch gf that is soooo sweet but gets so mean when she’s pounding into me “god, look at this pussy such a filthy little hole” groaning as she cups my tits pulling me further onto her strap bottoming out as she bites my neck “greedy little slut doing so well you like that princess? You like when daddy fucks into you like this?” Pinching and teasing me as she calls me a pathetic mess 😵‍💫

Butch gf that gets pussy drunk so fast , comes inside and sees me baking and bends me right over the counter digging her face into my cunt lapping at my juices like i haven’t been bringing her water and sweet tea all day. Babbling about how i taste so good sweeter than any thing she’s ever tasted, wants to put a baby in me and be soaked in my juices everyday. Completely feral and never turns down an opportunity to be between my legs.

BUTCH GF THAT WHIMPERS. Thinking abt having a steamy make out sesh both of us fighting for dominance as our tongues slip into each others mouths and our hands grope each others warm bodies ^o^ I’d straddle her lap nd leave hot wet kissing against her neck, breath shuddering and quiet moans and grunts fall from her lips as she grows needier “Please princess no more teasin’ touch me more?” Bonus points if she has big needy doe eyes 🥹 need a butch whimpering and crying beneath me begging for me to fuck them right

A/n: idk guys i think she might want a butch not sure tho LOL.

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corvidesque · 2 months ago

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was anyone going to tell me hans actually greets you in the morning if you sleep over at his poaching camp, or was i just going to have to find that out myself in my third playthrough

#the golden sunlight… hans making breakfast as he wishes henry good morning… what kinda pastoral dream #i'm guessing the game thinks you're in your shared room with him at the devil's den #but i also don't care #the thought of hans allowing henry to sleep at his camp despite their tiff & then greeting him warmly the next day is making my head spin #in my mind they eat breakfast together too #talking to myself*#autoplay warning #hansry #tumblr don't compress my video to hell and back challenge

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plethorawrites · 7 months ago

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Oh, I really, really like your recent blurb! Jason having a secret girlfriend/family is my favorite trope, but it is so hard to find!

Would you write about silly instances where Jason spots his family in public and tries to shuffle and guide you away without you noticing?

Ahh! I feel that validated in both my love of Jason and my love of the secret relationship trope! (This might not be exactly what you were looking for, but I hope you like it anyway!)

The first time it happened was a few weeks into your relationship, back When the two of you would meet for breakfast or brunch at the little cafe, a few blocks away from where you worked.

Jason Todd would always show up, yawning and exhausted from how tired he always was since he hadn't told you about his night job yet. But he was still on time, excited to see you even if he would go straight home and nap immediately afterwards.

The two of you would always spend more time talking getting to know one another than actually looking over the menu and ordering something to eat, but neither of you minded.

Then, one day, while he was looking away from you to hide the smile you had caused, he caught sight of Tim waiting in line to order a coffee.

Without really thinking about it, he grabbed both of your menus, propping them up and leaning over the table, trying to hide both your faces.

You frowned in confusion but leaned in too, until your faces were close together. "What are you doing?" You whispered.

"Nothing," he lied poorly, being his head over the top of a menu to see if his brother was still there and darting his head back down when Tim walked past the table. He let out a breath of relief, staring at you. "You look really pretty this close."

With an amused eye roll you leaned back in your chair, folding your arms and waiting for a better explanation. "You just wanted to talk really close for a moment?"

"Okay, fine," he sighed heavily. "I wanted to look at your freckles, alright? They're adorable. The ones on your nose are really cute."

It wasn't a lie, technically. He did love them. And you actually believed him, he thought. Or if you didn't, you didn't push the topic.

The next time you accidentally ran into somebody was at the mall, when you had dragged Jason along to help you look for a dress for a mystery date night he said nothing about, except for the fact that you had to wear something nice.

It was just his luck that you had picked the same store Stephanie happened to be shopping in as well. In most circumstances, she might not even notice him when they crossed paths in public, but in a woman's clothing store which was relatively empty, there was no way she wouldn't see him when she turned around.

Without warning, he tugged you away from rack you were looking at, pulling you into a cramped dressing room, locking it behind you.

"Wha-" You stared at him like he had lost his mind. "Why are we the dressing room?"

"How do women try stuff on when they can't turn around?" He countered, ignoring your question and planting his hand on the wall by your head to try to give himself more room in the tight space.

"It's typically not made for two people," you explained "Especially not 6'2 men."

He grinned a bit. "Do you like my height?" He asked, enjoying the proximity a bit more than he would admit.

Yes. Obviously. Who wouldn't? He towered over you. His arms could wrap around your entire body without even straining to cover more skin. Plus, he could reach the top shelf so you didn't have to climb on a chair.

But it was still too early in the relationship to tell him that.

"That's besides the point," you muttered. " Why are we in the dressing room?" You repeated.

"I just...always wanted to see a woman's dressing room," he told you, frowning at his own lie.

"Seriously?" You questioned. "You could have at least picked the big one at the end. And you didn't even let me pick anything to try on."

"Right, well..I figured we could try a different store," Jason explained, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "Nothing here would do you justice."

You huffed, finding it slightly amusing how foolish he was acting. But frankly, it wasn't terribly bad to be stuck in a tight space with him. So, you waited a moment longer before unlocking the stall.

You still had to find a dress.

Things were peaceful for a bit, you and Jason seemed to be growing stronger in your relationship and things began to get a little bit more serious. Jason seemed to be growing stronger in your relationship and things began to get a little bit more intense.

He knew that eventually he'd have to tell his family about you, but the next time he saw one of his brothers in public, he couldn't help but shy away from the task of introducing you.

In his defense, Damian really wasn't the first sibling you would want to meet.

He'd taken you to a nature preserve, because you said you used to go all the time as a kid but stopped after getting older.

You were practically giddy, feeding the animals from your palm, scrunching your nose when their whiskers ticked you. Jason was enjoying it too, more so because of you than the animals.

But while he was mocking you for your squeals, he heard a familiar voice having a one sided conversation with a lemur.

He turned and there was Damian, having his biweekly visit to see the animals that Father wouldn't let him bring home.

Jason cursed internally, pulling you away from the animals, accidentally spilling the feed from your hand.

"Hey, I stillwanted to see the—"

"I'll bring you back, I promise," he said, cutting you off as he dragged you behind a tree.

You wiped off your hand on your jeans and tilted your head. "What is it?"

"I just think you've been giving the animals too much attention," Jason noted. "I feel left out."

"Oh, c'mon," you rolled your eyes.

"Really," he insisted. "You kissed a sloth and a goat but not me."

He pouted a bit and leaned back against the tree, still holding you arm, though loosening his grip before running his hand up and down your arm apologetically.

You sighed, glancing around briefly, not really taking notice of the small, angry child, yelling at some poor worker, before leaning up on your tip toes to kiss his lips very quickly. "Satisfied?"

He smiled softly. "No." He shook his head, pointing to the exit. "Can we leave?" He asked gently.

"Will you bring me back?"

Jason nodded immediately. "Whenever you want," he said.

You gave up and left with him.

Now, if you really thought about it, you could easily put two and two together, but really, the instances were so far apart that you didn't really question the strange behavior.

He had managed to be, for the most part, pretty subtle about pulling you away from his family whenever he encountered them, as few and far between as those moments were.

Like the time you were walking down the street while it was raining and he spotted Duke crossing the street towards your direction. Even though he knew you loved the rain and hated umbrellas, he still pulled his jacket off, covering your head.

"Jay, I told you, I'm fine," you assured him, trying to move it off of you.

"Yeah, but you'll catch a cold," he insisted, pulling even further over your head while blatantly stealing an umbrella from a small stand that was selling them.

He popped it open, covering his own face as you walked past Duke.

"I will not," you told him, finally tugging it off. You frowned, not feeling any rain on your skin. "Where the hell did the umbrella come from?"

"Uh- someone handed it to me," Jason muttered. "Nice man."

And even though he despised running into people he knew because it always put him on high alert, trying to figure out what to do or where to go to keep whoever they ran into from spotting them, sometimes, he actually rather enjoyed the chance to pull you away from the rest of the world.

For instance, when you insisted on going to a carnival, which he wasn't a big fan of at first, until you guys got there and he saw your eyes twinkling at all the lights.

Any thoughts of boredom were quickly drowned out by the sound of your screams on the scarier rides, when you'd reach for his hand. And he bought every single treat you so much as looked at— the funnel cakes, the fresh lemonade, the Carmel corn.

He was watching you pull fresh cotton candy from the stick it was spun around when out of the corner of his eye he caught his brother Dick, along with Wally walking across the fair grounds.

Jason was sure they wouldn't notice you with how far away they were, but he refused to take the chance. So, he interlocked your hands, tugging you into a nearby photo booth as you made a sound of confusion.

"Just thought we should grab a souvenir," he said, beating you to the punch before you could ask what he was doing.

"I'm still eating my cotton candy," You told him. "I should fix my hair too."

Jason got a devilish glint in his eye and ran his hand through your hair jostling it further as you screeched in disbelief. "I think it looks good like that," he admitted, staring at you now that it had a bit more volume.

You blew a loose strand from your face. "I can't believe you did that," you stated. "It's all disheveled."

He nodded, still thinking it looked beautiful. Sort of like how it was when you woke up next to him.

"C'mon," he urged, pulling you into his lap. "I like you this way." He threw a few quarters in the slot and before you knew it you had a strip of three pictures, none of which were appropriate to show to anyone.

A picture of him stealing your cotton candy, a picture of him nuzzling your neck while you scrunched your nose in the way that made his heart clench, and a picture of him tasting said cotton candy on your tongue.

So, maybe it was an over reaction to pull you away from the rest of his carnival when it was huge and chances were Dick never would have even seen you. But God, did he enjoy it.

Then, there were, of course, the far less subtle times which didn't end quite as well.

Like when you just so happened to be walking out of a movie at the same time Cassandra and Barbara were heading into one.

"I think the sequel might actually be better than the original," you told him, arms interlinked as you walked.

"Uh huh," he wasn't paying attention anymore after seeing his sister and Babs at the soda machine, filling up their drinks.

He couldn't exactly pull you into a different theater, especially since he didn't know which one they would be going into.

The next best option? Throwing the empty popcorn bucket over your head.

"Jay?!" You exclaimed.

"It's a discount thing," he muttered vaguely, grimacing at his own excuse. "Wear the bucket out and you get a free movie."

Okay, not the next best, probably. Maybe like...sixth best? Seventh at most.

He pulled you past them, keeping his hand on the top of the bucket to keep it in place while raising his hoodie and keeping on the 3D glasses from the movie until you were past them both.

Once you were, he pulled it off and you were...well, fuming. Rightfully so.

"What the hell was that?" You asked, a bit bitterly, not buying his excuse for a second. "I'm covered in popcorn butter.

He cleared his throat, kissing your greasy cheek and licking his lips tasting a salty popcorn and butter on your skin. "Tastes good, though," he mumbled.

You stormed out on him.

And then, when you chose to walk all the way back to your apartment in frustration, both with his actions and lies, he finally came clean.

"I just... don't want my family to mess anything up between us," he confessed, barely even looking at you.

Vulnerability wasn't his strongest asset, but he was trying. For you.

You washed your face off in the sink for the third time and still felt greasy. Even if you got it all off your face, you'd need a shower to get it out of your hair.

"Why couldn't you just tell me that?" You asked, still confused. It wasn't like you didn't already know who his family was.

"I just- I didn't want you to think I was hiding you," he muttered.

"Jason, you put a bowl of popcorn over my head so your sister wouldn't see me. That's hiding," you stated firmly.

"Yes but it's not hiding out of embarrassment!" He clarified. "My family can be a lot to handle and they might scare you off and they'd definitely mock me endlessly for being in love with you."

His eyes went wide. That...was an accident. He didn't mean to confess that.

You stared at him for a moment, blinking. "Did you just say what I think you did?"

"I uh- well that wasn't..." He cleared his throat. "Yeah," he finally agreed with a slight nod. "But you don't have to say it back or anything, I know I'm not the easiest person to love and it—"

You were already kissing him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He was caught off guard, but it didn't take him long before he kissed you back, his hands finding your waist and steadying you both.

"You're stupidly easy to love," you told him, resting your forehead on his.

(+Bonus)

It was a quiet Friday night when the two of you were at a nice restaurant, celebrating a year of being together. The food was good, the music was soft and nice, and Jason was practically a drooling mess over you, like usual.

So much so, he didn't even notice when his father walked into the restaurant with a date of his own.

You did, though. And in keeping with the spirit of what had apparently been a pretty large part of your relationship, even without you knowing it, you slid out of the booth quickly grabbing his hand and pulling him from his chair.

"Hey, wait a second!" He exclaimed as you rushed him out of the restaurant before he got to finish his dessert. "We still have to pay."

"We'll come back tomorrow and pay," you assured him, pushing open the door, into the cold evening.

"What the hell was that about?" Jason asked once you were outside and seemingly slowed down.

You pointed towards the window. "Your dad," you muttered.

He could see Bruce sitting at a table across from Selina, his eyes scanning a menu while occasionally looking up, probably to compliment her or something.

He huffed. "Add that restaurant to the list of places we can't go," he mumbled, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. "It got cold outside," he simply said when you frowned in confusion.

You pulled on the nice jacket that matched his suit. "Thanks," you said, wrapping your arm around his, tugging him away from the restaurant. "C'mon, I'll buy some more dessert."

He hummed, and pressed a kiss against your head. "Alright," he agreed, letting you lead him away from the restaurant and down the street.

#x reader #headcanon #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #batboys #jason todd x you #dc comics #plethorawrites

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lizardho · 10 months ago

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I came out to my dad as bisexual at 14 and I was PANICKED because I had a crush on a guy in my Boy Scout troop and thought I was Going To Hell Forever and he was so kind and understanding of my distress, but he had NO idea what bisexuality was. He just said “yeah but you like girls too? This is normal. Everyone is like this.” And I love my dad and trust him with my life to this day and the idea that the concept of bisexuality had not occurred to him had not occurred to me so I put it off.

By 16 though I had a crush on like THREE boys. Three entire boys in my Boy Scout troop. I felt like my sin was slowly advancing, until like an untreated cancer it had become metastatic. I remember bawling my L’il limp-wristed sissy eyes out in his big rumbly truck on the way home from a scout meeting and him telling me that it was OK, that he still loved me if I was gay, but that he knew I wasn’t gay because I still had crushes on women and that meant I was straight. I didn’t quite know how to explain that those felt *~*different*~* and that I felt like I was losing a fight to evil inside me but I again felt comforted by his reassurances and his genuine fatherly love.

At 18 I was like “hey I’m realizing all my friends are going on missions. I don’t wanna do that. Idk how to say that and I don’t have a ‘good enough’ reason to not wanna go.” So I just put it off. Again, my parents were extremely supportive of the information I gave them (I blamed it on perpetually forgetting to start the paperwork.) and one day my mom texted me that she had done the paperwork for me! And that all I needed was to get a physical! So I did that (it was awkward af tbh, my hernia check was done by a trainee doctor and she spent like 3 minutes fishing around my inguinal canals before her attending rescued me) and was sent to Mexico City where I learned that in addition to dipshit himbos with strong hands and scruffy guys with artistic hearts I was REALLY into chubby Latin men with strong personalities who bullied me a little when I lived in Mexico.

I remember my first companion got annoyed with me during an argument and said we were just gonna wrestle and whoever won the wrestling match won the argument (I stg I am dead serious this happened.) I was like…SWEATING when he tore off his tie and threw his white button-down shirt onto the ground (I won btw, don’t ask me how).

I remember one of my companions with this really intense, almost manic energy telling me that he was gonna make sure I was safe in a new area I didn’t know very well. He cooked breakfast for me and we’d go shopping together on P-Days and in the mornings before breakfast he’d jog around and do pull-ups with his shirt off and I’d do anything but look at him because my face would break out in a sweat so intense he’d think I was crying and come over to see if I was OK and somehow make it worse. He let me play D&D with myself in the evenings even though it was against mission rules because he knew how lonely and stressed I was.

I remember one of my companions was a big chubby man with a loud voice and a great sense of humor. He was kind and direct when addressing conflicts with me, and always bragged about how he knew the secrets of women’s minds and it felt like he really did since it almost always boiled down to “Treat Them Like People and Love Them a Lot. Don’t Stop Being A Person For Them. Also Eat Them Out Sloppy Style.” Our P-Day activities sometimes felt like dates, and it seemed like he was more attentive to my emotional state than I was since he was always the first to suggest we slow down our Divinely Mandated, God-Ordained, Super Sacred Work and Wonder to get a snack or check out a Pawn Shop (I love Pawn Shops).

I remember another companion who asked me to bully him every time he did something against his goal of losing weight. It was like he gave me Carte Blanche to take out my crush on him by being a nuisance and I LOVED that. I remember having a breakdown one day after we’d spent the afternoon frantically cleaning our disgusting-barely-habitable mission house to make it look less vile that it was (not our fault imo?) and I started bawling and he pulled me into a hug and he smelled good and he told me he knew it wasn’t just the house and that I was mad at him for being a Huge Dickhead for about a week (true) and that he would work on it. (He’s also a huge chaser but that’s a separate thing.)

I remember one of my companions waking up early (and our schedule is already built for sleep deprivation) to make me a “birthday cake” from knock-off Nutella and bread. He used matches for candles and woke me up, lit the ‘candles,’ pulled them out, then smashed it in my face and took a bunch of pictures while I was still madrugada and disoriented as fuck. He had the same sense of humor as one of my HS crushes and I could push his buttons pretty easily which was so fun.

I came home from my mission and started back at BYU where I became actively and aggressively suicidal. I had a stalker the year I moved up there and my dad’s solution to that was to get me a gun. I know he wouldn’t have bought me a gun if he could have read my mind, but I had a loaded pistol under my bed during a trifecta faith/sexuality/gender crisis and that was not helpful. I remember that the day I decided to kill myself I figured I’d call the BYU CAPS and see if I could get into therapy because it felt like what I was “supposed to do” so I could check my suicide boxes. My therapist was the guy who’d helped me pick a major the year before and was this drop-dead gorgeous Hawaiian man who cried when I told him how I’d been feeling.

A few weeks into therapy I met another stunning man with soft eyes and a scruffy illegal-at-BYU beard he kept pushing his luck with. He was funny, kind, patient, married, and wouldn’t give me the time of day if he knew I was crushing on him. We were in my history of psych class, which was inarguably the worst psych class I have ever had, and we studied together for every assignment and test and I realized that my feelings for him and for all the men I’d already mentioned were in direct conflict with my faith and relationship with God. My already agonizing spiritual conflict became even more wretched and as a result of this plus some other tightly-packed experiences with Mormonisms bullshit, I left the church.

After leaving the church I decided to move back to AZ and transfer to ASU. My mom helped me get a dog since I think it had started to dawn on my family that my mental health was barely getting me through the day, and she knew that we both loved dogs. Madi made my last year at BYU livable while I got my shit together and transferred. In that last year, I went on a date with quite possibly the only semi-openly-out trans person on BYU campus. It was not a great date imo, I was not doing well, but the person I spoke with was fun and fascinating and talked to me about Gender Dysphoria and it really cemented my need to go. To leave and never come back to that fucking school.

I started at ASU a month after my last semester at BYU and within a very short time frame it felt like I was coming back together, like a puzzle magically putting itself together in an environment that wasn’t slowly draining that puzzle’s will to live.

On the 4th of July, the year I started at ASU, I saw a transition timeline photo of a gorgeous happy beautiful happy radiant happy woman and her former Mormon missionary self and I realized the light that was on in her eyes was the light that was off in mine. I looked into transitioning for 3 days, sleeping about 10 hours total during that time. I started talking to other trans people on Reddit (one of whom is now my beautiful fiancée @cintailed) and after about a month of making preparations to be disowned and kicked out, something I was not sure would happen but was ready to go through to Turn On The Lights, I came out to my family and it was amazing. I started HRT a month after that. I secretly dated some dorky guys for about a year while I applied to grad schools. I got into a great grad school for me and my needs. I got FFS. I did my trainings and classes. Me and my fiancée moved in together after some LDR shenanigans. We’ve lived together now for 4 years of basically marital bliss. We have a cat named Grandmother Esmeralda Weatherwax who bites the hell out of my feet about three times a day. My bi-cycle continues to be part of my life but now it’s not as scary. Baby gays in my life have started to look to me for advice. Idk how this all happened so fast. When the years, months, weeks, days, and hours seems to crawl by so slowly now they are rushing past me so fast it’s almost bewildering. Whereas before I felt like I was living on borrowed time, past my ‘expiration date,’ now it feels like I can Fucking Breathe. I’m training myself to slow down now and it feels worth it to Live In The Moment.

Idk why I wrote this. Idk why these thoughts only seem to come up on Sundays when I’m supposed to be writing my dissertation. Idk why I’m crying rn or why I feel so happy. I’m gonna post this shit then get on with my dissertation I guess. Read more Terry Pratchett and give yourselves the time you need. Get a pet. Talk to someone. Re-examine the events that brought you here. Be gayer. Love y’all 💕

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cuntyji · 6 months ago

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will be writing this as a full-length fic soon…..amen!!

your relationship with nanami kento is the definition of ironic.

the office sees him as the perfect gentleman—level-headed, dependable, the very image of an ideal husband. meanwhile, you? you are the sweet, naive darling of the workplace, someone who gasps at crude jokes and stumbles over words when discussing anything remotely risqué. ‘a match made in heaven,’ they all say.

except, unbeknownst to your dear colleagues, you are a raging nymphomaniac with a one-track mind and a concerning dedication to testing nanami’s limits.

and unbeknownst to you, nanami is a retired playboy who has seen, done, and invented things that would make your little schemes look like a child's game of seduction.

case #1

it’s after work, and you two are in the break room. you “accidentally” drop your pen, bending down waaaayyyy too slow to pick it up, making sure your skirt rides up just enough to be suggestive. when you glance up at nanami, expecting maybe a sharp inhale, a slight stutter, anything—he just averts his eyes politely and sighs. “you should be more careful,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee.

…excuse me? that was textbook seduction! and all he’s giving you is a life lesson? “right,” you mutter, picking up the pen and standing up. he hums in response, unbothered. internally, you are seething. externally, you giggle and twirl a strand of hair around your finger.

but, on the other side of things—inside nanami’s mind, sirens are blaring. red alert. red alert. his eyes are on the ceiling. his knuckles are white around his coffee cup. he is chanting sutras in his head because he is one wrong move away from pinning you against the fridge. but no. no. he will not be like his past self. he will not ruin your innocence with his past perversions. “next time, hold onto your pen properly,” he adds.

you nearly choke. that sounded so suggestive. was that suggestive? but his face remains neutral. damn it.

case #2

one morning, you decide to test the waters by “accidentally” wearing one of nanami’s dress shirts to breakfast. you stretch a little tooooo much while reaching for the honey, making sure the fabric lifts enough to tease him. “oh no,” you say, “i think i grabbed the wrong shirt! it’s so big on me, kento.” you add a slight pout for effect. nanami doesn’t even blink. “ah, my mistake for folding it with your laundry.”

you stare at him. that’s it? not even a pause before responding? no flustered reaction? what is this man made of?????

meanwhile, nanami is gripping his fork like it’s a stress ball. the sight of you in his shirt is awakening something inside him that he spent years suppressing. memories of past flings, of long nights and tangled sheets, of being far from the gentleman he’s known as today—no. no. he is different now. he is refined. composed. civilized. “you should eat before your food gets cold,” he adds, stuffing a piece of toast into his mouth before he can say something dangerous.

you slump in your chair. you’re starting to think your boyfriend might actually be asexual.

case #3

you opt for the classic “watch a horror movie together” trick. the goal? get scared and cling to nanami, maybe “accidentally” bury your face into his chest. standard. foolproof. except—

“you’re shaking,” nanami notes. you look up at him, eyes wide and watery. yes. yes. take the bait. comfort me, kento.

he reaches for the remote.

“huh?”

he turns the movie off.

“i don’t think this is good for you,” he says. “we should sleep.”

…you are speechless.

meanwhile, nanami is on his last thread of sanity. if you keep clutching his arm like that, he is going to fold. but he will not. he cannot. he must protect your innocence. even if it kills him.

case #4

one rainy evening, you come home completely drenched from forgetting your umbrella. hair dripping, clothes clinging to every curve—you look like the lead actress of a romcom who is about to get thoroughly ravished by the male lead. nanami, who opens the door for you, malfunctions. but on the outside? his face remains blank. “you should change before you catch a cold.”

what. the. fuck.

“c-can you lend me one of your shirts?” you try, shivering. “of course.” and with that, he disappears into the bedroom, returning with sweatpants and a hoodie.

A HOODIE.

where is the white button-up? the gray sweatpants? you take the clothes in silence. this is your lowest point.

meanwhile, nanami is pouring himself a glass of ice water. his soul is escaping his body.

case #5

you decide to take a break from your antics. maybe you were reading into things too much. maybe nanami truly is just that reserved. maybe…maybe he just isn’t interested in you that way.

that night, nanami is in bed, scrolling through his phone when he stumbles upon a post:

"when a man truly loves you, he will control himself so he doesn't ruin you."

he stares at the post. then at the ceiling. “ah,” he mutters.

so that’s why.

in the darkness of your shared bedroom, you both lay in silence—both believing you’re the one restraining yourself for the sake of the other.

a tragic comedy. a love story with too many misunderstandings.

a match made in heaven.

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unearthlyeclipse · 3 months ago

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ROBERT "BOB" REYNOLDS :: SENTRY :: VOID P!LINKS // NSFW/SMUT

A/N: This was made for my two irl besties since we've been giggling about these guys all week. It's a lovely movie, by the way. GO WATCH IT!!! Also, THANK YOU ALL FOR 100+ FOLLOWERS THIS LITERALLY MEANS THE WORLD TO MEEE!! This post is a bit lengthy but I'm pretty sure you all won't mind ;)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, teasing, edging, mutual masturbation, spanking, fingering, cunnilingus, blowjob, size difference (?), creampie, overstimulation, brat taming (?), minor lactation, titfucking, sex toys, let me know if I miss any!!

Sentry You and Sentry having some fun with mutual masturbation. Teasing Sentry till he cums into your hand, a moaning mess. Sentry practically melted when he saw how mesmerized you were by his girth. Sentry was holding himself back from plowing your insides. The way your moans filled the room had him flustered. Sentry gripping your ass as he fucks up into you in desperation. A vocal Sentry fucking you senseless. Sentry prioritizing your orgasm first. Sentry still believes you don't know his worth.

Bob (IMG) Bob showing you some love early in the morning. Despite how timid he could be, Bob loves watching your face as he fucks you. Bob loves watching your hips jolt against his face. Once Bob ate you out the first time, he couldn't resist your taste. You and Bob cumming together as he rut inside of you like a dog. Bob and you getting intimate after a rough day. Finally allowing Bob to cum inside of you, whimpering mindlessly. Edging Bob in order to hear his pretty cries. You and Bob making a film for each other whenever you are separated, but he couldn't help but hide his face as you stroke him. Titfucking a needy Bob.

Void Void loves watching you cry his name while you're beneath him. You can't help but squirm while Void has you over his lap, crying from the motions of his hands. He wanted to see you in the black lingerie he gave you. Void fucking your throat. Whining like a mess while Void had you tied up, holding a vibrator to your poor, aching clit. Void slamfucking you after being suppressed for so long. He had watched the others have their fun with you, but he had been neglected, now grown far too jealous to handle. Void making you cum on his tongue then holding your leg and overstimulating you. Void holding you down and eating you out to get that cheeky smile off your face. Void using one of your toys on your cunt.

ALL of them (no threesomes unfortunately,,, FREAKS)

Running your hand through their hair as they suck your breasts tenderly.

They can't help but be vocal as you're sucking their dicks.

They love listening to you cry out with every thrust.

They're addicted to watching you squirm beneath their tongues, holding your torso down while your grind against their faces.

You were TRYING to make them breakfast, but it would have to wait.

Enjoying their favorite meal.

#p links #twt links #p!links #marvel #mcu #thunderbolts #the new avengers #new avengers #bob x reader #bob reynolds x reader #void x reader #sentry x reader #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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08luvmailz · 13 days ago

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★ ﾟ๑ REPORTER GETS INTERVIEWED ୧ ⊹ ࣪

⌢ ꒰੭ fluff ✿ ／ down bad boyfriend, clark being an awkward pie, yapper clark allegations ──⠀──⠀⸝⸝ ◜◡◝ well im back and i didnt get to watch fantastic 4 cause of the fucking rain

"NO NO NO NOOOOooo—please still be in the kitchen. please let her be in the kitchen"

The words tumbled from his mouth in a breathless whisper, somewhere between a prayer and a plea. He pushed the crumpled sheets off his body with frantic hands, his limbs heavy with ache and regret. The air bit at his skin the moment he sat up—cold, sharp, and unkind. His pajama bottoms hung loosely on his hips, and the chill crept down his spine as he staggered to his feet.

Every step echoed too loudly in the apartment, each thud like a knock on a door that no longer had someone waiting behind it. The apartment was still. Still in that way that felt empty. Still in that way that told him, without even needing to look, that she was already gone.

The scent of her perfume still lingered faintly in the hallway—a soft, familiar trace of vanilla and something warmer, like sunlight caught in their silk bed sheets she picked. It clung to the air like a ghost of her presence, making the space feel both close and unbearably distant. The pot of coffee sat untouched on the countertop, still warm, still waiting. She had made it for him.

Of course she had.

The dishes were already washed, stacked neatly by the sink. Every gesture, every quiet act of care, had already been done. She had moved through the morning like clockwork—quiet, thoughtful, loving. And he had slept through all of it.

He hates saturdays. Period.

He rubbed at his face with both hands, dragging his palms over his eyes, as if it would scrub away the guilt sitting like a weight in his chest. "i didn't get to kiss her goodbye"

His mind repeated it like a punishment. He gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles pale.

I didn’t even say good morning. Didn’t open my eyes. Didn’t see her smile. Didn’t—

His breath hitched. God, he hadn’t even heard her leave.

His footsteps slowed as he neared the table, the silence of the apartment wrapping around him like a reminder. There, in the center, was the plate she had left for him—carefully covered, still warm enough to suggest she hadn’t been gone long. But it was the note that caught him, small and yellow, resting gently on top like a kiss.

He reached for it, almost reverently, fingers trembling a little as he peeled it off the plate. Her handwriting was unmistakable—softly curved, slightly rushed at the edges like she always wrote while standing, halfway between brushing her teeth and zipping her bag.

"Didn’t want to wake you up. You stayed late last night after that attack. You looked so peaceful, but I made breakfast—make sure to reheat it first before you eat. I love you, Clark. See you later. <3 P.S. don’t miss me too much.”

God. He was so down bad. It has been what 7 months together?

He was smiling before he even knew it. One of those dumb, helpless, crooked smiles that stretched his cheeks and made his eyes crinkle like paper. His thumb brushed over the curve of her heart doodle, and then lingered at the place where she’d signed his name, as if he could trace the movement of her fingers from memory.

She had written this just for him. Thought of him in the quiet, in the in-between, while he slept like a stone through the echo of last night’s chaos. And still—still—she loved him with this softness.

Made him eggs.

Poured his coffee.

Left a note like they weren’t living in a world that asked too much of people like them.

His smile faltered then, just a little, as the weight of it caught up with him. He should have been the one up first. I should’ve kissed her. Told her he loved her with his eyes open, not just in dreams. He had slept through all of it—through her morning, her footsteps, her quiet grace.

And now she was gone for the day, and all he had was a sticky note and a breakfast gone lukewarm.

He returned to the bedroom they never quite admitted was shared—his, technically, though she had left more than just a toothbrush behind. It smelled like her now. Like safety. Like home waiting to be spoken aloud.

He crouched low beside the bed, where two boxes rested beneath the frame. One was marked and locked—the suit, a part of him too heavy for this hour. But the other… the other was hers. Or his. Or theirs.

It was a box of quiet things—sentimental and sacred in the way only love makes objects holy. Every piece inside was a fragment of a moment he refused to forget: snack wrappers from their first late-night grocery run, laminated and dated; letters she had scribbled on bad days and worse coffee; an old newspaper, creased and yellowing, with her title in bold on the front page—“Strong U.S. Job Growth Shows Economy Is Defying Challenges”—he had nearly cried when it printed.

He nearly tripped when he found out.

But above all—were the post-it notes.

They lived in layers, paper-thin memories tucked between soft corners of the box. She wrote on them daily, sometimes teasing, sometimes reminding, always loving. And now, this new one joined them.

He turned it over and wrote the date on the back, slow and precise, as if it were a record of something ancient and delicate. Then, with a soft exhale, he brought the note to his lips, pressing a kiss to the edge of her handwriting. A kiss she wouldn’t feel, but one he needed to give.

He slipped the note inside, nestled it among the others, and closed the box with a care usually reserved for relics. Then, gently, he pushed it back beneath the bed—out of sight, but never out of reach.

He did exactly what she told him.

Like a good boy he is, isn't he.

Reheated his breakfast like she asked — eggs a little rubbery now, toast slightly too crisp, but he ate it all, every bite a kind of obedience laced with affection. He drank the coffee she brewed, even though it had gone bitter sitting out too long — still, he smiled between sips. He cleaned the bedroom, tucked in the sheets she always kicked loose, straightened the photo frames on the shelf, folded her sweatshirt that had been hanging over his chair for two weeks.

Then the rest of the apartment. Floors swept, dishes washed again just for good measure, couch fluffed, even the throw blanket she always pulled over them during late-night documentaries was folded into a perfect square. She wasn’t coming over tonight—not yet—but he cleaned anyway.

He wanted her to walk in and feel peace. He wanted her to know she was thought of, even when she wasn’t there to see it. By the time the clock struck 10:30, the silence was unbearable.

No calls. No emergencies. No distant cries from alleyways or sirens that pulled him out of himself. No one needed saving today.

And for that, truly, he was grateful. But God — he was so bored.

His body didn’t know what to do with stillness. His fingers kept twitching like they missed the feeling of a cape slipping through them. His eyes flicked to the window every few minutes, waiting for… anything. A spark. A scream. A car crash. A mugging. A kitten stuck in a tree. Something.

Nothing came, only the chatter of people in cafes, or his neighbours snoring, screaming on the phonecall.

The usual boring time.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t even painful. It was just… constant. Like background noise he couldn’t turn off. The way his apartment felt too big when she wasn’t in it, too cold even when the sun was out.

He could bath himself in sunlight, he live for the sun.

But, damn he is so bored.

After hours, of saving, losing sleep for writing articles, cleaning, having dates. It's his break right, he should be thankful. He got to rest.

I am so restless.

He lay back on the couch, arms spread wide, staring at the ceiling like it owed him answers.

“I know I said I wanted a break,” he muttered, voice flat. “But this? Really?”

The ceiling didn’t reply. Neither did the universe.

So he sat up, rubbed a hand through his hair, and stared at the kitchen like it might blink back to life. He stared at the ceiling like it might give him answers, sprawled across the couch with time ticking dully around him. But his thoughts, once quiet, began to stir.

She will probably skip lunch again.

She always did when she was deep into something — when the words demanded all of her, when the world turned too loud to remember something as basic as eating. He could see it now: her hunched over her desk, fingers tapping rhythmically against the keys, the dim desk lamp casting a warm glow over her shoulders. Maybe her stomach hurt. Maybe she pushed through it. She always did.

What if her head aches? he thought, his brows drawing together.

What if she wanted to make another cup of coffee, but didn’t want to stand up because she was afraid she’d lose her train of thought? What if she was cold, too focused to realize it? What if she just needed something — anything — other than ink and paper and the echo of her own determination?

And what if no one was there to notice?

Of course, I will notice but I'm not there.

Oh man, I'm not there.

His chest tightened, that low ache blooming into urgency.

She wouldn’t ask. That was the thing — she never would. But that didn’t mean she didn’t need.

He sat up fast on the couch. Then stood even faster.

“Alright,” he said aloud, voice firm now. Completely speaking to himself. “Lunch. And her favorite flowers.”

He moved with purpose, already heading toward the kitchen. His feet found rhythm on the tile, each step filled with a new kind of urgency — the quiet now replaced by the thud of cabinet doors opening and the rustle of tinfoil and instinct.

He started with a two loaf of bread, then paused, eyes narrowing.

No. That wouldn’t do. Not today. A sandwhich, really clark?

Probably at mid-day snack, never lunch.

This wasn’t a sandwich day. This was a Reader is too in her head and forgetting to eat again day. And he knew what she loved on days like that — something warm, something homemade, something that tasted like comfort and reminded her that someone loved her enough to know these things.

He reached for the pink bento box, a little worn now, but still cute — she liked cute things when no one was looking. He filled the base with kimchi fried rice, the way she made it once and he never stopped thinking about it since. Not too spicy, extra garlic. Just the way she liked it.

Then the egg — not hard-boiled, not soft-boiled, but somewhere in that sweet, perfect middle. The yolk just barely melted, golden and trembling when he set it in place like a jewel.

He added some strawberries, her favorite. Peeled the edges of the orange because she hated the pith. Slipped in a piece of dark chocolate, hidden between the chopsticks and the fruit. She’d find it last, he knew, and roll her eyes, but she’d eat it anyway.

He didn’t pack a love letter. He didn’t need to. Wait, Should I? I'll just leave a post it note.

He sealed everything with care, wiping the edge of the thermos, straightening the chopsticks, folding a napkin into a neat triangle. He pressed the post it note inside, a secret small message. He smiled like a school boy in headlights.

He grabbed his keys, the bento box carefully secured in his other hand, thermos tucked under his arm. He was already halfway to the balcony, ready to take off into the sky like it was second nature — because, well, it was.

But he stopped.

Feet planted. Brows drawn. A single breath of hesitation.

Wait a minute.

The city was alive today — he could hear it even from here. The hum of traffic, car horns, the distant sound of street musicians, children shouting over melting popsicles. It was midday, and the streets were bustling, no doubt.

He glanced over his shoulder toward the alley beside the Daily Planet — his usual landing spot when he didn’t want to draw attention. But he could already feel the crowd there, smell the pretzels from the food cart that always parked at the end, hear the footsteps of too many people on their lunch breaks. Risky. Way too risky.

Then his eyes flicked to the rooftop — cleaner entry, sure, but the security cameras were always a little finicky. Perry had just installed the new tech last week and—

He paused again.

Am i shirtless?

He looked down.

Bare chest, pajama bottoms slung low on his hips, thermos pressing into his ribs, pink bento box clutched in hand like some fever dream version of a rom-com delivery boy.

Yup he is.

“Jesus Christ, Clark,” he muttered, turning back into the apartment with a resigned groan.

He set the box gently on the counter, then made his way back to the bedroom to throw on a clean shirt — something casual, something that said totally normal boyfriend bringing lunch, definitely not a man who can hear satellites. A navy henley, and some dark trousers. That would do, she bought this for him — FOR HIM. He isn't going to work today, he will just call Carla-the-clerk to ask for reader then, sneak a kiss and a see you later. Life is a bliss.

He bought the flowers downtown, just off the corner where the park met the bookstore with the creaky sign. It was the usual stall — tucked beneath a faded green awning, surrounded by mismatched buckets of color and perfume. The old woman who ran it had hands weathered like soft leather and a smile that reminded him of home.

“For her?” she asked, the moment she saw him.

She always asked that. Same gentle tone. Same mixed outfits she wore. Same twinkle in her eye, like she already knew the answer before he even opened his mouth.

Clark rubbed the back of his neck, ducked his head a little, and smiled like he couldn’t help it.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low, full of something tender. “For her.”

She nodded knowingly, her fingers already busy picking the stems she knew he’d want — a bit of blush pink, soft whites, a sprig of eucalyptus just for scent. She always built the bouquet like it was a secret she was helping him keep.

Sometimes he wondered if she was just that kind. Other times, he swore she was a psychic. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but in that way only old women and mothers could be, like his mom — the kind that looked at your face and knew the weight sitting behind your smile.

Guy Gardner would love her, he thought absently, the corner of his mouth twitching. Or be terrified of her. Probably both.

She handed him the flowers wrapped in brown paper, tied with twine like always. He offered her a few bills — she always waved off the full amount with a dismissive flap of her hand.

"Hope she liked it," She handed with a smile graced on her chapped lips, tucking the change into her blue apron.

"She always does" He said with a grin, Clark held the bouquet close as he left with a small wave towards the lady, the paper crinkling against his chest, the scent of freesia and freshly cut stems rising with each step.

He was speed-walking through the park, half-focused on the path ahead, half on the bento box in his hands. Each step was calculated, careful — not too quick to jostle the egg, not too tight a grip on the bouquet to crush the stems. His fingers curled just right around the paper wrapping, and the thermos rested in the crook of his elbow like a fragile promise.

The sun was climbing, casting everything in that golden hour softness that made the city look almost gentle. He glanced at his watch — 11:29. Almost lunch. Almost there.

He nearly collided with the jogger who always ran this route at noon. The guy shouted a half-hearted “yo! man!” as he swerved, and Clark barely had time to mutter, “Sorry—sorry!” before steadying the bento again like it was a newborn, sighing as he checked the inside with his vision, still warm, still fine.

Then it happened.

He felt it before he heard it — the distinct presence of someone stepping into his path, just enough to disrupt his rhythm. He halted abruptly, feet catching on the edge of the path. The bento box wobbled. The flowers trembled in his grip. His heart jumped into his throat.

He nearly dropped both. Maybe, his dignity also.

“Whoa—!” he gasped, gripping the bouquet like it might save him from further embarrassment. He righted himself, standing a little too straight, his expression caught somewhere between startled and please let me disappear now.

“Sorry!” he blurted out again, eyes wide, voice soft. “I wasn’t looking—”

The girl standing in front of him smiled like she’d just caught him in a love confession. She had a dress the color of sunshine and a microphone discreetly tucked at her collar — he noticed it immediately. Not the usual type. Lapel mic. Wireless. Influencer. Interviewer.

His stomach dropped. He doesn't know what to do, he is always the interviewer, not the one IN IT.

“Can I judge you, sir?” she asked, sweet but playful, like it was a game she already knew the outcome of.

Clark blinked, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Judge me?” he echoed at her.

He looked down at himself — slightly sweat-damp from walking too fast, bento box in one hand, flowers in the other, hair windblown, heart still beating fast from the near collision.

He smiled — awkward, crooked, helpless.

“Uh… sure,” he said, voice barely above a chuckle. “I guess.”

“Can you confess what you’re most guilty of at the moment?” She said it with a tilt of her head and a playful squint, already side-eyeing her cameraman like she could sense something soft brewing.

Clark didn’t hesitate. The words stumbled out of him faster than he could filter them.

“Not saying good morning to my girlfriend.”

He blinked, caught off guard by his own honesty. A flush crept up his neck, brushing his cheeks pink. He hadn’t even said that out loud before — not to anyone, just himself, over and over again all morning like a quiet mantra of regret.

The girl raised her brows, lips curling as she side-eyed the camera like “oh we are in it for the ride.”

But Clark was already spiraling. “Today’s Saturday, right?” he asked, as if needing confirmation. She nodded dramatically. “Yuh. Yuh.”

“I’m off today,” he continued, the words tumbling out like he couldn’t stop them. “But she’s working. She works weekends sometimes and I— I slept in.”

“Oh no,” she said to quickly, in synch, leaning in, hand to chest. He nodded, a hand lifting as if pleading for forgiveness. “And I didn’t even get to say good morning. Or take care. Or cook for her — she cooked for me, for both of us actually, but I know she was thinking of me too, and—” He stopped, sighed, laughed once under his breath.

“I was so mad. Not at her — never at her. But at myself. I promised to cook for her when I could. And now that I actually could, I just… didn’t wake up. She left breakfast. And a note.” He paused. His voice softened.

“God, I love her.”

The interviewer didn’t say a word. Just slowly backed up, pacing with her hands on her hips like she needed to process. Her cameraman muffled a laugh behind the lens.

“And she didn’t even wake me up!” he added, as if that made it more criminal. “So now I’m heading to her work,” he said, lifting the lunch box slightly. “I packed her lunch, ‘cause she always forgets to eat. And flowers. Just because.”

The girl stopped. Froze.

Then she sprinted back into frame, practically leaping beside him like she’d just won the emotional lottery.

“MMMH, YEAH SIR!” she shouted, causing a few people nearby to turn.

Clark blinked, confused at her actions.

The millennial pause.

Before he could speak again, she whipped out a tiny gavel — God knows from where — and held it high.

“Sir,” she declared. “You are guilty.”

He tilted his head, confused. “Guilty?”

She pointed the gavel at him with gleeful finality. “Guilty of being madly, stupidly, unapologetically in love with your woman.”

Clark pressed his lips together, fighting a grin. He bit the inside of his cheek and gave a tiny, sheepish nod. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I am. But I’m not ashamed.”

The girl let out a high-pitched laugh, practically hitting her thigh as she spun back to the camera. “YOU ARE FREE TO GO, SIR. GO GET THAT WOMAN!” The lady shouted with glee.

He gave a little wave, awkward but sincere, and with a final soft “Bye,” he turned — the bento secure in his hands, the flowers still intact — and picked up his pace again, that quiet dopey smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He ran for his dear life.

Well—ran, in the way a man in love runs while still protecting a bento box like it's fragile cargo and carrying a bouquet like it's sacred. His strides were long, almost buoyant, but his arms were steady, careful, clutching the lunch and flowers like they were made of spun glass.

He smiled at the guard as he passed through the doors of the Daily Planet, a soft, breathless “hey, man” as he waved. The guard gave him a knowing look — the kind reserved for familiar faces who don’t usually show up on their day off holding pink chopsticks and peonies.

Inside, the cool air of the lobby greeted him. The usual clatter of keys and the murmur of reporters filled the room like a song he hadn’t realized he missed.

Arla, the receptionist — sharp bangs, sharper tongue — glanced up from her desk, catching sight of him instantly. Her brow arched, unimpressed but faintly amused.

“What are you doing here, Kent?” she asked, voice flat but her smirk betraying her curiosity.

He gave her a sheepish grin, adjusting the lunchbox in his hands. “Hey, Carla… can you call Reader in for me?”

Arla didn’t miss a beat. She rolled her eyes, already reaching for the intercom.

“Sure, lover boy,” she muttered, half fond and half exasperated. Pressing the button with red nails, matching her wittyful? Is that a word, but that matches her personality. As he tapped his foot at the polished tiles, hearing carla specifically said “Reader? You’ve got a delivery down at reception. Says it’s urgent.” Her voice had that exaggerated tone — as if Reader would somehow miss the innuendo laced in every syllable.

Clark stood there, trying not to look too giddy. He failed miserably. His smile was practically carved into his face, soft and full of anticipation — the kind of expression that made people stop and think, God, I hope someone looks at me like that someday.

Minutes stretched and twisted, hearing the same stomps of shoes and heels clicking at the polished tiles. Time slowed the way it does when hearts beat louder than clocks — when anticipation curls in the chest like a held breath.

He could hear her. From floors away.

The faint rhythm of her heels moving through the bullpen, then the soft ding of the elevator as it arrived. He straightened, his pulse skipping, stepping closer just as the doors slid open.

And there she was.

Polished. Composed. Effortlessly radiant. That was definitely a new button-down — navy blue with tiny white polka dots, tucked neatly beneath a cream vest that shouldn’t look that good in a newsroom, and yet on her, it did. Her hair pulled back just enough to show her earrings — the ones he got her from a street vendor in Metropolis last winter.

God, he thought. She’s beautiful. I'm here. She’s mine.

She saw him — and her face lit up like sunrise spilling through glass.

Clark’s own grin bloomed before he could stop it, wide and boyish, almost relieved. He didn’t wait. His feet moved on instinct, closing the space between them, and in one sweeping motion, he scooped her into his arms.

“Clark—!” she laughed, startled but delighted, as he spun her once — just once — right there in the middle of the lobby, bouquet still half-clutched in one hand, the lunchbox dangling from his fingers.

She laughed into his shoulder, head tipping back, her voice the only music he ever needed. And when he set her down, she was still smiling, cheeks flushed and eyes full of something warm and speechless.

She lightly slapped his chest as soon as she was down on the polished floor, just above his heart — not out of annoyance, but because she didn’t know what else to do with the way he made her feel. The laughter was already bubbling in her throat, eyes narrowing as she tilted her head at him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, a half-laugh caught in her voice, her brows arched but her eyes already softening. Laced with affection that he always knew.

Clark’s grin widened, dimples and all.

“I brought you lunch,” he said simply, lifting the pink bento box with pride. “Don’t worry, It’s not pancakes.” He quickly added.

She laughed, short and melodic — the sound tugging something loose in his chest. Her hand lingered against his shirt, and then, before he could speak again, she leaned forward. Her voice laced with teasing “You’re never gonna let me live that pancake disaster down, huh?”

He leaned forward, nose brushing hers. “Not a chance.”

She kissed his nose — quick, playful, the kind of kiss that said you’re ridiculous and I missed you all at once. Then it was slower, she kissed his lips. More like a peck, but he quickly closed his eyes. Before he could lean in more, she pulled away and his brows rose.

“Clark,” she whispered, resting her forehead lightly against his. As he hummed, as he heard the breathy "Thank you, love." His grin, wider like the break of dawn as he pulled the flowers dangling on his hands. The way his name left her lips — soft, barely there — made his breath catch. He hummed in response, the sound low and warm in his chest, as her words followed like a promise made in passing winds: “Thank you, love.”

He smiled — wide, boyish, a little crooked — the kind of smile that looked like morning sunlight spilling through curtains. Without a word, he brought the flowers forward, the stems slightly wilted from the way he cradled them through his frantic journey, but still perfect in her eyes.

She gasped — a quiet, delighted sound — as she reached for them. “You shouldn’t have,” she murmured, even as her fingers curled around the bouquet like it was spun gold. He only shrugged with that same goofy charm.

“Have a nice day as always, m’lady,” he said, bowing slightly as if he were still in Kansas and she was royalty. What they do, when alone in exact 12 midnight. “Don’t miss me too much.”

She giggled — that rare, real laugh that pulled at his chest — before brushing the bouquet gently against his cheek in a playful slap. Then, with a final lingering glance, she slipped from his arms and stepped toward the elevator just as it dinged open.

Clark stood there, heart full, but then blinked down — the bento box still in his hand.

"Shoot. Wait—!"

He rushed forward, nearly tripping over his own feet, sliding one palm across the elevator doors just before they shut. She turned, halfway in, surprised.

He pressed the bento into her hands, careful not to jostle the coffee tucked at her side, and before she could say anything, he stole a quick, soft kiss from her lips — brief but charged — and winked.

“Don’t forget to eat, okay?”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her.

As the elevator doors finally closed, his last glimpse of her was that same smile — fond and exasperated — and a little wave goodbye. He exhaled, standing alone infront of the closed elevator door, heart loud in his chest, cheeks flushed pink.

God, he love her so much.

"You are, such a sap. Kent" He was pulled away, as Carla rolled her eyes while filling her nails. He just sheepishly smiled as he waved at her goodbye.

"Thanks Carla, Bye" As he slipped out of the lobby with a grin. And a man who has done his task for the day.

#Productivity

★ ﾟ๑ credit scene ୧ ⊹ ࣪

@ judgyseries | Down bad (posture) #judgy #downbad #dating

user47264240290 I love a good nerd

brilovesbannananaan i want what they have

nanaoh sir, that posture is not it

chaynhz DOWN BAD BF >>>>>>>>

visnez I just know she's super hella pretty

shittyballs its the bare minimum BUT WHY SO SMEXY

#superman #clark kent #superman 2025 #clark kent x reader #clark kent fluff #clark kent x y/n #clark kent headcanons #clark kent x you #superman x reader #superman x y/n #dcu #dc #clark kent imagine #david corenswet #david corenswet superman #superman imagine #dc imagine

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marsmaximoff · 7 months ago

Text

🦑 hwang jun-ho; headcanons 〇△□

content warning: gn!reader. fluff. mentions of death, coma and jealousy. pet names. no season 2 spoilers. let me know if i missed anything.

word count: 941

author’s note: well, my man is back, and i had to write some headcanons for him. the OBSESSION that i had back in 2021 needs to be studied, omg. anyway, as always, constructive criticism is welcomed, english is my third language, so i apologize for any mistakes. in case i don’t post anything else this year, happy 2025 everybody!! enjoy! 🩷

divider by @k1ssyoursister

〇 pre-games

best. boyfriend. ever.

that’s it, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

🙃🙃🙃

his love languages are:

1) quality time

he may be a police detective, but he ALWAYS tries to make time for you

and see you every day, and if he can’t, he’ll save some minutes to call you

loves to hear about your day

big on communication, that’s key on your relationship

type of boyfriend that picks you up after work, or anything really

he just wants to see your cute face :3

takes you out on cool dates

to the park, to eat, to cute animal cafés

he’s okay with staying in too, just cuddling, talking, watching something….

and 2) acts of service

will drive you anywhere you need

you get ‘good morning/night’ texts every single day you’re not together

makes you breakfast

and has no problem with cooking for you

opens doors for you

pulls out the chair at the restaurant ☝🏻

he’ll simply do anything you need

loves coming home to you, it doesn't matter how shitty or overwhelming his day was, you just put a smile on his face

his favorite thing to do with you is eating

it may sound boring, but he loves to see you taking care of yourself, well-fed and happy

takes you to meet his family

his mom loves you

even his brother likes you

he’s a tease and enjoys seeing you all flustered

i feel like he’d be the type to have many pics of you on his phone that he goes back to whenever he misses you

you’re probably his wallpaper, perhaps even on his wallet too 🤭

some pet names like: “honey”, “love”, “beautiful”, “cutie”

would never cheat

a guard dog

not super jealous -a bit tho- but won't hesitate to step up if someone acts stupid

(picture that one scene in season 2 when that man mocked him and didn’t believe he was an actual police detective hehe)

shows you off 🤩

checks you out :p

his hand is on you in some way when you’re out

has good emotional intelligence

big spoon

reminds you to take your make up off before bed if you wear any -he may even do it himself if you're too tired

or to take meds

he is just really caring and supportive

doesn't like seeing you worried or anxious because of his job

absolutely hates to see you suffer

doesn’t mind that you may be struggling financially, it won’t change what he feels

will help you with whatever it is

just don’t hide it, he hates secrets and lies

i hate doing it, but there always has to be some 🚩

he’s the first one that would do it (lying and hiding stuff) to ensure you’re okay and don’t get worried

on a particularly overwhelming day, he will raise his voice at you

can get really overprotective

some days you may not hear from him, or at least not much

will sometimes struggle to open up about his issues or what’s upsetting him

△ during the games

after your sudden disappearance, worry and fear ate him up

while checking your house he found a weird card

and once he discovered the exact same one at his brother’s, he knew something was going on

heard gi-hun at the police station rambling about some weird symbols and immediately recognized the design

interrogated him about you, desperate to know about your whereabouts

as soon as he successfully infiltrated the games, he began your search

almost had a heart attack when he spotted you

had to make the effort of his life to stay calm and not run to you

would somehow manage to get you two alone so he can get you out of there (i wrote about this)

almost gets caught

feels betrayed you didn’t tell him and quite angry you’d risk your own life like this

but mostly relieved you’re okay (and still alive)

watches you like a hawk from the distance, ensuring your safety

constantly around, you continuously sense his presence close by

□ post-games (you died)

had to see your death and practically went numb

blurry vision, ringing in his ears, shortness of breath, sting in his throat

the worst thing tho, was finding out his brother had been behind everything

how could he have done this to you? you trusted him!

feels completely disgusted

after his coma, he blames himself for everything

your name was his first word after waking up

dreams about you

gets you a cenotaph given that your body will forever remain strayed

nevertheless, he still talks to you like you’re there

tells you about his recovery and his progress finding the island

you are his strongest motivation

he’s doing this for you, to provide the love of his life a much deserving peaceful rest

gets you new flowers every few days

he’ll never stop feeling guilty

〇 post-games (you survived)

has nightmares he failed and left you to meet your demise on those cursed games

always there when you have them, and so is his shoulder if you need to cry

reassurance king

hides the identity of his attacker from you

becomes even more overprotective

shared location on at all times

gets paranoid if you don’t text him all day

he swore to never miss a single detail of your possible struggles. not again

you can still tell he holds himself responsible for your time on that island

stays awake at night just watching you sleep safe and sound (will never say it tho)

babies you

bigger spoon

doesn’t let you go out on your own if it’s late, afraid that something may happen and those psychopaths will reach you again

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game season 2 #wi ha joon #wi ha jun #hwang jun ho #hwang junho #squid game headcanons #squid game x reader #squid game x you #wi ha joon x reader #wi ha joon x you #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho x you #hwang jun ho headcanons #Spotify

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emocheol · 1 year ago

Text

seventeen when you reject their kiss (as a prank)

a/n: this is so long and took way too long i’m sorry T-T

seungcheol

seungcheol was used to arriving home from work and having you at the door to greet him with a kiss.

when you weren’t in your usual spot he walked over to the couch, seeing you watching tv and figured that you had lost track of time.

“hi baby, i missed you,” he announced his presence, leaving over you to catch your lips in a kiss.

when you turned your head to the side and he felt his lips catch your cheek instead he pulled back and gave you a funny look.

“something wrong?” he questioned quickly, you had never rejected his kisses before.

you looked up at him and shook your head, “no, i’m just trying to watch my show, cheolie,” you replied, trying to look around his frame that was blocking your view of the tv.

he narrowed his eyes at you, you didn’t sound upset but he was sure you could be a good actor. his mind started running with the possibilities of why you could be mad at him today.

it was usually silly reasons: he accidentally left the toilet seat up, he didn’t wake you up before he left the house, etc, etc.

but he hadn’t done anything today.

“okay…” he mumbled, leaning back down and attempting to kiss you again.

when you turned your head to the side again he sighed and sat down on the couch next to you, pulling you into his lap.

“you don’t like kissing me anymore?” he questioned, “what happened to the person who would whine all day if i didn’t kiss them? huh?” he prodded, reaching a hand up and smushing your cheeks together.

at this point you bursted out laughing and wrapped your hands around seunghcheol’s wrist, “it’s a prank! i’m sorry,” you exclaimed, seeing how his fear turned into fake annoyance at your confession.

he rolled his eyes and leaned in once more, finally catching your lips while you were still giggling. he planted a firm kiss against your lips and then nodded in satisfaction.

“you’re ridiculous, you know that?” he said, secretly finding joy in the fact that you found the situation so amusing.

he loved seeing you happy, even if it was at his own expense.

jeonghan

you were sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast when jeonghan finally graced you with his presence. you knew he needed his sleep so you never woke him up when you got up.

“morning, angel, how’d you sleep?” he asked, making his way to you and leaning down while puckering his lips, ready for his kiss.

you smiled at him and continued eating, “it was good, you?” you asked back, ignoring his lips and opting for the eggs that were on your plate instead.

jeonghan narrowed his eyes and threw his hands up with a sigh, “you hate me, don’t you?” he asked dramatically, “you think i have cooties and you never want to kiss me again? i bet you want to break up with me, don’t you? because i’m so repulsive?” he fires dramatic question after question, only leaving you entirely flabbergasted.

while you opened your mouth trying to think of a response he crossed his arms, looking at you and awaiting your answers to his questions.

“if you kiss me ill forget this happened and go back to normal,” he decided to add, seeing that you couldn’t come up with an answer.

“sure,” you replied easily, not knowing how else to reply to his spitfire questions. you stood up from your seat and placed your hand on his shoulder, pressing a sweet kiss on his lips.

he instinctively wrapped one arm around your waist and kept you there for a second longer, “this is why you can’t try and prank me, it always goes my way in the end,” he said with a smirk, releasing you and delving further in the kitchen to find something to eat.

his words only left you stunned, “you knew what i was doing?” you called over to him.

“of course i did, did you forget who you’re dating?” he asked back, shooting you a cocky grin while you plopped back into your seat with a sigh. it was impossible to pull one over on him.

joshua

joshua was about to leave to go meetup with his band members for dinner while you stayed at home for the night.

you walked him to the door to see him before he left.

“i’ll be back later, don’t wait up, okay?” he made to clarify, knowing that nights with his friends usually went long into the hours of the a.m. and he didn’t want you staying up late for him.

you hummed at his words and nodded your head, knowing you would probably stay up for him anyways, “have a nice night, tell the guys i say hi,” you said with a smile, becoming close with joshua’s friends as your relationship progressed.

“i will, i love you,” he made sure to add, grabbing your chin and moving in to plant a kiss on your lips.

when he felt your resistance to his kiss he pulled back and gave you a funny look, “any reason you won’t kiss me?” he asked skeptically.

“nope, i love you too,” you replied, trying to play it off innocently.

he nodded his head slowly, his fingers still on your chin. he moved back in to kiss you again and when he felt the same resistance he gave you a pointed look.

“if you have a real reason for not kissing me, tell me and we’ll talk about it. if you don’t, stop playing around and kiss me so i can leave.” he said simply, leaving no room for argument and coming up with a solution.

you noticed that he was using his serious voice and you nodded slowly, finally letting him kiss you without putting up a fight.

he let his kiss linger a little longer than usual, likely because of the game that you were playing with him. the way he kissed you made you forget what you were even doing in the first place and when he pulled away he could tell that much from your face.

he pulled back with a smirk and kissed the top of your head, “i’ll be back, don’t miss me too much,” he teased, leaving you to give him a small nod as you watched him walk out the door.

prank totally failed.

jun

“are we okay? or are you playing with me?” jun questioned, noticing how you were physically dodging all his attempts to give you a peck on the lips.

you couldn’t help but grin at the cute pout on his face, not being able to play it off like it was a normal occurrence.

you were standing on one side of the couch while jun was standing on the other, both of you looked like you were prepared to run. jun was ready to bolt towards you and you were ready to get away from him.

though both of you had a smile on your face, you weren’t dodging him for a serious reason and he could tell.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said with a little giggle, moving in the opposite direction that jun was going whenever he moved towards you.

he thankfully realized that you weren’t actually mad at him and then decided he needed to take matters into his own hands.

jun jumped onto the couch and reached over to grab you, locking you in his arms while you burst out laughing, not being able to contain yourself.

“c’mon! give me a kiss, my breath smells good! i brushed! see?” he exclaimed loudly, opening his mouth wide for you to look, which only made you laugh harder.

you clutched your sides as you laughed, your sudden movement making the two of you lose any balance you previously had and you both went tumbling to the ground in each others arms.

jun’s arms were still locked around you, the two of you laying side by side on the hardwood floor. you both slowly looked at each other and smiled, a little sheepishly.

“you saw, right? my clean teeth?” jun spoke up first, still stuck on the fact that he was missing out on a kiss from you.

you couldn’t deny him now and you nodded, “yes, hun, i saw,” you replied, finally pressing a kiss on his lips to stop this whole debacle.

you could feel him smiling against your lips which only made you smile right back.

“i win!” he shouted when you pulled away, pumping his fists in the air. though, he wasn’t sure what game you were playing, a kiss from you always felt like a win to him.

soonyoung

soonyoung’s face was scrunched up, his lips drawn in a straight line and his eyebrows pulled in towards each other. it was his ‘deep in thought face’.

he was intently scrolling on his phone, furiously typing, scrolling a bit, then shaking his head. he repeated the steps multiple times, sighing at each dead end.

you sat next to him, watching tv as he completed whatever mission he had on his phone.

you had decided to avoid his kisses all day after seeing a video of someone else doing the same thing to their boyfriend online. though soonyoung didn’t seem too worried about it, at least that’s what you thought.

“do you prefer a casual relationship without emotional intimacy?” soonyoung asked out of the blue, setting his phone on his lap and looking at you.

his words caught you off guard and all you could do was look at him in shock. he took your lack of an answer as a yes and frowned. he nodded to himself and took your hands in his, his face as serious as ever.

“it’s okay if that’s how you feel, you can tell me and we can work things out, right?” he suggested, his voice sounded optimistic but his face told you all you needed to know, he looked like he was near tears.

you quickly shook your head when the shock wore off and pulled your hands from his, opting to cup his cheeks instead as you looked at him.

“where did you get that silly idea from?” you asked, running your thumbs over his cheeks, his frown still present on his face.

“wikihow…” he mumbled, picking up his phone and showing it to you.

you choked on a laugh at his reply and took his phone from his hands, looking at the open tab.

‘10 reasons why your partner won’t kiss you’

you went to his search history and finally found out what all the scrolling and tapping on his phone was about.

‘why won’t my partner kiss me’

‘what to do when my partner won’t kiss me’

‘how to tell if my partner doesn’t like me anymore’

‘how to be a better boyfriend’

you threw his phone on the couch and immediately pulled him closer to you, wrapping your arms around him and cradling him to your chest.

“honey, i’m sorry,” you said softly, he must’ve been sad and stressed all day because of some stupid prank that you tried to pull on him, “i was just trying to prank you, it’s stupid,” you mumbled, holding him tight.

soonyoung looked at you with wide eyes, his frown now turned into a small pout, “you don’t want to break up?” he asked softly, his puppy dog eyes in full swing.

“of course not! i’m sorry for making you worry,” you apologized, making sure you were absolutely clear about your love for him.

“okay… now give me 500 kisses to make up for it!” he decided, looking at you in complete seriousness, waiting for you to begin your task.

you couldn’t even be mad at his request and you obliged. you cradled his face with your hands once again and began to pepper his face with kisses, making sure you hit everywhere you could to show him how much you loved him.

he giggled at your actions, finally smiling for the first time in hours as you pampered him with kisses.

that was the last time you ever tried to prank soonyoung.

wonwoo

you were laying in bed on your phone, mindlessly scrolling while waiting for wonwoo to hop off his game and come to bed.

while scrolling you saw a video of someone pranking their boyfriend by not kissing him, and since wonwoo was keeping you up by not coming to bed yet you decided to play the same prank on him.

wonwoo finally got off his game around 30 minutes later and slipped into bed next to you, pulling you close to him with a shy smile, “i’m sorry, i was winning,” he whispered softly, nuzzling his cheek against yours.

it was rare that you saw him so cuddly and touchy, and your resolve was slowly fading to keep this prank up but you decided you would stay strong.

“it’s okay, let’s go to bed, hm?” you suggested, looking over at him with a little smile, gently pushing his hair out of his face.

he nodded at your words and puckered his lips, moving closer to you to get his nightly kiss before bed. when you dodged him and laid down he slowly blinked at you, a pout that you had never seen before slowly made its way onto his face.

wonwoo wasn’t the type to show his emotions so freely but you could tell what he was feeling clear as day now. he didn’t have to say anything for you to break.

“oh god i’m sorry,” you mumbled, pulling him in for a goodnight kiss, sweeter than normal since you felt so bad for ignoring his first one, “don’t hate me,” you added, hoping that your very short prank didn’t hurt him too badly.

he blinked at you and shot you a sleepy smile, “it’s okay, i know you’re bad at pranks,” he whispered, cuddling up with you and kissing your forehead before letting sleep take over his body.

you were a sucker when it came to wonwoo.

jihoon

“hello? i would like a kiss, please,” jihoon announced to you suddenly.

the two of you were lounging on the couch, enjoying each others company in silence. though, jihoon had been letting his mind run a mile a minute since you appeared to be dodging all his attempts to kiss you.

his words made you stare at him for a few seconds, processing what he said. he wasn’t one to ask for affection, he just took what you gave him. you realized this early on in your relationship and so you smothered him with love whenever you could, hoping it was enough.

when you had started this prank on him earlier in the day you thought that he wouldn’t notice, or care for that matter. he was a big ‘go with the flow’ type of guy. you didn’t even think that he would care about your lack of kisses since he never commented on your affection. clearly he cared.

“what?” was all you managed to say to his request, not able to form any other words.

“i said i would like a kiss. you haven’t kissed me today, did i do something wrong?” he asked innocently, trying to think over what he did all day, surely none of it made you upset.

you frowned at his words, you didn’t think that your lack of affection would’ve affected him that much. you felt your heartstrings tug and you couldn’t stop yourself from coming clean.

“no! i’m sorry, honey,” you pouted, scooting right up next to him and pressing a long kiss on his lips, followed by a few more pecks, “it was just some prank i saw online, it’s stupid,” you mumbled, realizing how dumb the prank was in hindsight.

jihoon nodded in satisfaction and wrapped his arm around you. initiating touch was also a rarity for him which only showed you how much this affected him.

“it’s okay, but that is a dumb prank,” he agreed thoughtfully, “i missed your kisses,” he whispered softly, so soft that you almost didn’t hear it. but you did.

and from that point you decided to show jihoon affection at any and every moment you could.

minghao

“is this one of your stupid pranks?” minghao deadpanned the second you moved out of the way when he tried to kiss you.

you frowned at his words, sad that he had caught on so fast and didn’t even pretend to be upset like the boyfriends in the videos that you had seen online.

you playfully pushed his arm with a pout, “you’re so lame, how’d you know,” you groaned, telling the truth since you knew you couldn’t lie to him.

minghao just laughed and ruffled your hair, “you would never dodge my kisses, you’re always whining for them in the first place,” he teased, though he was telling the truth, you’d be crazy to dodge his kisses.

you nodded slowly at his words, acknowledging that he was right. now that your prank backfired immediately you looked up at him and smiled, puckering your lips, ready for a kiss.

after a few seconds of not feeling his lips on yours you opened your eyes to see him standing in front of you, a smug smirk present on his lips.

“what’re you doing,” you whined, grabbing his hand and shaking it around a little bit, “give me a kiss,” you asked softly, trying to give him your best puppy dog eyes.

he just raised his eyebrows and shook his head, a grin still present on his face, “i don’t think so,” he said in a sing song voice, “you were going to try and keep your kisses from me, why can’t i do the same?” he asked thoughtfully.

you frowned at his words, “you’re mean…” you mumbled, though you didn’t really mean it, you loved his personality.

“you love me though,” his whispered, opting to kiss the top of your head since he was withholding his kisses from you.

it was enough to satisfy you for the time being plus minghao knew that it was only a matter of time before he caved.

mingyu

mingyu had been following you around your home all night, ever since you didn’t give him a kiss before you left for work.

now that you were back home after your shift he just had to be by you. he didn’t say anything, but his facial expressions said it all for him. he looked so sad, it honestly hurt your heart a bit.

whenever you got up, so did he. he would follow you to the kitchen, your shared bedroom, outside, even to the bathroom where he waited outside the door until you came out again.

after a few hours of this dynamic you finally decided to ask him the burning question.

“gyu, what’s wrong?” you asked, grabbing one of his hands and holding it gently. sure, you knew what was ‘wrong’ but you wanted to hear it from him.

mingyu let out an exasperated sigh and pulled you over to him, squishing you against his side, “finally!” he exclaimed, “everything is wrong!” he whined, rubbing his cheek against your head just like a puppy would.

you stifled a laugh at his actions, not wanting to invalidate his feelings since they were clearly making him so distressed. you had a feeling that this was how he was going to act, he needed affection and when you broke your routine of affection for him he didn’t know what to do.

“okay…” you started, “explain it to me, hm?” you suggested, finding you comfy spot even though he had a death grip on you. you managed to get one arm out to stroke his hair which made him visibly relax.

“you didn’t kiss me goodbye,” he pouted, “and you didn’t say anything about it!” he pointed out, knowing that you usually would’ve texted him an apology if you left without your usual goodbye kiss. he held up a finger each time he listed a reason.

you opened your mouth to respond, barely getting a word out before mingyu cut you off with another loud and exaggerated sigh.

“and you didn’t give me a kiss when you got home!” he raised a third finger for your third offense, “and you haven’t kissed me at all! it’s been hours since you got home!” he held up a fourth finger, waving them in your face with wide eyes so you understood the severity of the situation.

the more he talked the wider your smile got, you tried to hide your giggling but since you were so close to each other he noticed it and reprimanded you for it.

“and! hey! this isn’t a laughing matter… it’s serious…” he whined, bringing both arms around you again and shaking you gently back and forth, “don’t laugh at me…” he groaned, a big pout evident on his face while you tried to compose yourself.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you said softly, smushing his cheeks together in your hands, you noticed how his eyes got a little softer when you used his pet name. it was clear that you weren’t upset with anything, so now he was just a little confused.

mingyu’s pout still held presence on his face when he asked his next question, “then why didn’t i get my kisses,” he mumbled, his words coming out less coherent since your hands still held his cheeks together.

“oh! it was just a prank i saw online, wanted to try it on you,” you explained easily, though in hindsight it definitely wasn’t the brightest idea since you knew how touch starved your boyfriend could get.

he narrowed his eyes at your words, “worst prank ever,” he confirmed, feeling slightly better now that he knew you weren’t withholding his affection for a legitimate reason.

“don’t be sad! i’ll make it up to you,” you said cheerfully, leaning in and pressing a few kisses to his lips, pulling back with a smile, “better?” you asked, judging from the smile he was hiding you could tell that he had gotten over it easily.

but he shook his head, “i think i need one hundred more kisses to make up for this,” he said thoughtfully, closing his eyes and puckering his lips, genuinely waiting for his next hundred kisses.

you obliged and his smile grew with every next kiss you gave him.

seokmin

“if i sing you a song will you give me a kiss?” seokmin asked as if you were playing 21 questions.

you shook your head in response.

“what about if i write you a song?” he revised.

still another no from you.

“if i give you 20 bucks?”

you gave him a raised brow but still said nothing.

“a hundred? a thousand? a million dollars for a kiss?” he shouted out as if he was an auctioneer.

you set down your phone and walked over to where seokmin was standing, “i love the enthusiasm and persistence but the answer is still no, my love,” you whispered, giving him a pat on the back for his efforts.

see, with seokmin, you couldn’t just not kiss him without telling him. you knew him well enough to know that he would’ve spiraled hard over it. so, you showed him a few videos of other partners doing the prank on their boyfriends. he found it amusing and decided to turn it into a competition instead.

if he could get you to kiss him then he’d win. if you could stand the day without kissing him then you’d win.

the prize was bragging rights and you were determined to win. but so was seokmin.

it was nearing the end of the day and seokmin was getting desperate, now shooting off every suggestion and bribe to get you to kiss him. but to his disappointment, nothing worked.

now, the two of you were cuddled under the covers, you were smug since you had won your bet and seokmin was sulking since he was positive that he was going to win.

“goodnight, honey, i’ll kiss you in the morning,” you whispered teasingly, rubbing it in that you had won your little competition.

he just scoffed at your words with a roll of his eyes, “yeah, yeah, goodnight,” he mumbled in defeat, letting you fall into dreamland while he stayed awake next to you, playing on his phone and waiting to get tired.

after an hour you were woken up by seokmin’s quiet laughter, you peeled your eyes open and saw that his face was illuminated by his phone screen. you couldn’t see the clock on your nightstand but you assumed that it was late.

he noticed your shifting around and frowned, “sorry, love, did i wake you?” he asked gently, putting his phone down on his chest and rubbing your back slowly, hoping that would soothe you back into your sleep.

“it’s okay, go to sleep, seokmin, it’s late,” you mumbled sleepily, moving your head up and giving him a sweet goodnight kiss before falling back asleep quickly.

when he felt his lips against yours his face lit up, about to say something before he noticed that you had fallen asleep once again.

he looked at the clock on your nightstand.

11:58pm

you’d kissed him before the day was over.

seokmin had won your bet and you better believe you’d be hearing all about it the next morning.

(he even took a picture of the time for proof)

seungkwan

“honey… how come you won’t kiss me?” seungkwan asked, noticing how you had turned your head twice on him in the day, making him kiss your cheek instead of your lips.

you looked at him innocently and shrugged, “i don’t know what you’re talking about, kwannie,” you said, trying your best to sound convincing.

he nodded at you slowly and then went back in for a kiss, catching your cheek once again. he pulled back and pointed at you, “that! that’s what i’m talking about! i’m trying to get lips but all im getting is cheek!” he explained, as if you didn’t know what you were doing.

you shook your head, “hmm, i don’t get it,” you said, eyebrows furrowing together to try and play dumb. you knew that he would catch on to the fact that you were just messing with him. but it was fun for the time being.

he caught on quickly and nodded his head at you, his eyes narrowing, “ahh, i see,” he said suspiciously, “two can play at this game…” he concluded, walking out of the room backwards, keeping his eyes on you as he walked.

the rest of the day was spent not kissing each other. you each dodged the others attempts until you were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, stuck in an intense staring contest.

how was this related to your kissing prank on seungkwan? neither of you could explain. but this is where you ended up.

after another 10 minutes of menacingly staring at each other you were the one that broke.

“seungkwan, can we give this up now? i miss your kisses…” you said truthfully, pouty lips and gentle voice on display to try and convince him. you were not thinking that your silly prank was going to be a day long event and now you just missed your boyfriend.

luckily for you, seungkwan broke at the exact same time and nodded quickly. the two of you closed the gap between you on the couch and finally let your lips touch.

this led to a good 15 minutes of gentle kisses and giggles on the couch.

when you pulled away you were both grinning at each other, forgotten was the entire day and all you could think of was how happy you were in that moment.

“let’s never do that again,” you decided, not wanting to put yourself through that agony again.

“agreed.” seungkwan replied, diving back in and making up for lost time, or rather, lost kisses.

vernon

“do you think my breath smells bad or something?” vernon asked while the two of you were laying in bed together ready to shut off the lights and go to sleep.

the entire day you had been playing this ‘prank’ on him of not kissing him. though, the prank somehow backfired since he didn’t seem to notice at all, at least not to you.

after your refusal of his kiss early in the morning he hadn’t attempted to kiss you again.

you gave him a funny look and shook your head, “no? you just brushed your teeth, didn’t you?” you asked, confused by his very random question right before bed.

he nodded slowly at your answer and turned his head back up so he was looking at the ceiling. he seemed to be deep in thought before he turned his head back to you again.

“so, i’m all for boundaries and stuff and i respect yours, really i do,” he started, making sure you understood that he respects your choices, “but i’m just confused on why you didn’t want to kiss me at all today,” he explained, wanting to get straight to the point and not tip toe around the big issue that was swirling around in his head.

his words shocked you and you turned to face him, the surprise clearly showing on your face. you thought that he hadn’t noticed your lack of physical affection since you two weren’t big on all that.

“but you didn’t kiss me today either,” you pointed out to him, your response failed as he shook his head at you.

“no, i tried to this morning but you dodged me,” he pointed out in turn, “so i just assumed you didn’t want to kiss, didn’t want to make you explain in case it was a sore spot so i just respected it,” he continued, laying out his thought process to you, “my curiosity just got the better of me now, i’m sorry if you don’t want to talk about it,” he added respectfully.

you frowned at your boyfriends words, he was so respectful, almost too respectful. it was one of the many things you loved about vernon along with his maturity and his way with words.

vernon’s words tugged on your heart and you rolled over to his side of the bed, pulling him into a hug with your arms around his neck.

“you’re the sweetest guy ever,” you said softly, while you were having a sentimental moment vernon was utterly confused at your actions, however. but he accepted it and slowly brought his arms up around your waist, slowly rubbing your back as he didn’t know what to do or what you were feeling.

“okay… so what was going on today?” he asked, secretly relishing in the amount of affection he was receiving.

you pulled your head up and looked at him, “it was just this stupid prank i saw online, i thought you’d react differently…” you mumbled, cheeks heating up in embarrassment as you admitted it.

he raised an eyebrow at you, “a prank? dodging my kisses as a prank?” he questioned, not seeing the appeal in it.

you buried your face in his neck and nodded, “yeah, i thought you would be more persistent or something, but you’re just too respectful,” you said jokingly. he huffed out a laugh at your words and nodded, holding you closer to him.

“sorry, babe,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss on your head, “you want me to change?” he asked, half as a joke but also being half serious.

you shook your head quickly, “never, you’re perfect,” you said immediately, never wanting him to doubt himself.

to seal the deal you decided to press your lips against his, finally giving him the kiss that you had deprived him of all day.

chan

you were relaxing on the couch in your living room when you heard the front door open, signaling that chan was home from work.

you checked the time on your phone, realizing that chan was home almost an hour later than he normally was.

his late appearance intrigued you, so you got up from the couch and decided to walk to the entryway of your apartment, greeting chan there.

when you walked up to him he was taking off his shoes, but that wasn’t the thing that interested you. what did interest you was the huge bouquet of your favorite flowers that were in one hand and the designer bag that he was carrying in the other.

“woah! what’d you buy?” you asked curiously, reaching for the designer bag that was in his hand, he let you take the bag in your hands and walk to the kitchen to unravel it. you took the flowers into your other hand and set them on the table next to you after giving them a smell.

chan just gave you a smile and followed, “got it for you, honey,” he said gently, he seemed a little weary but you didn’t take much notice of it. though, you were extremely confused as to why he would’ve gotten you such an expensive item out of the blue.

you looked at him strangely, “why?” you questioned, it wasn’t your birthday or your anniversary any time soon, and you couldn’t understand why else such an expensive present would make its way into your lap.

chan gave you a sad smile and reached across the table, holding your hand, “i know this doesn’t make up for whatever i did, but i just wanted to tell you i’m sorry,” he said softly, “and i’d love to fix whatever i did if you just tell me what it is,” he said truthfully, getting ready to change anything you told him.

you cocked your head to the side and looked at chan with narrowed eyes, trying to figure him out, “what’d you do?” you asked, not quite understanding what he was talking about.

“c’mon, babe, you can tell me, i promise i’ll fix it,” he said again, wanting to make sure that it was a safe space for you to tell him your feelings.

you shook your head at his words, “no, chan, i really don’t know what you’re talking about, truly,” you made sure to emphasize, not leaving any room for him to think that you were hiding something.

“but… but you wouldn’t let me kiss you this morning,” he explained, “so you’re mad about something, right?” he deduced. and instead of asking you about it earlier he decided to spend thousands of dollars on a designer item and a bouquet of flowers to try and make it better.

when you let his words sink in you let out a loud laugh, pulling your hand back from him and grabbing your sides while you laughed. chan was far from amused and narrowed his eyes at you seemingly making fun of a serious situation.

“oh, god, i’m sorry channie,” you said in between laughs, when you finally caught your breath you composed yourself and explained, “that was a prank, babe, look,” you pulled out your phone and showed chan a few of the videos that you had seen online.

this only appalled him and he quickly snatched the bag from the table, “i’m returning this…” he mumbled, shaking his head at your actions.

“no! i’ll take it!” you exclaimed after him, standing up and getting next to him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and feigning innocence.

“i’m taking these flowers too, they’re mine now,” he said childishly, sticking his tongue out at you and snatching the flowers from the table as well.

you laughed at his actions, “we live in the same house! the flowers are going to be here anyways,” you explained, making him think of a rebuttal.

“well,” he started, pausing for a moment, “they’re going to go on my nightstand then!”

and after some convincing words chan ended up letting you keep the designer bag he had purchased. though your favorite flowers found their home on his nightstand.

3K notes · View notes

fastandcarlos · 9 months ago

Text

"Will You Be My Dad?" : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: where your daughter wants lewis to take on a new role in her life

“Come on, time for bed,” you smiled, scooping your daughter up off of the ground.

Amelia let go of a groan as she stood to her feet, looking across at you with a pout. You’d already let her stay up much later than you usually did, treating her seeing as Lewis had come around to visit, knowing how much she loved spending time with him. Lewis couldn’t help but smile as she huffed, calling out to you, begging for a few more minutes with the two of you.

It still felt like a dream for you sometimes as you glanced at Lewis, watching as he picked up some of Amelia’s toys and placed them back into her toy box. She was never too far away from him, practically glued to his side whenever he spent any time with you both.

Ever since you and Lewis had started dating, Amelia had relished in it. She was only young when you started dating, she didn’t really know life without Lewis in it, all she knew was that although he loved you, he wasn’t the man that she called dad, despite being the one to raise her.

As Amelia continued to groan, Lewis quickly stepped in. He scooped her up and carried her into her bedroom, throwing her down onto her bed as she giggled away to himself.

No matter what the situation, whenever you were struggling Lewis was there to step in. He saw Amelia as his own, he treated her as if she was. She was a part of the deal when it came to dating you, but rather than be an inconvenience, she was the greatest addition which made dating you even sweeter.

“Are you staying here tonight?” Amelia whispered across to Lewis.

“I think so,” he smiled, looking back to you to check. “That means I’ll be right here when you wake up in the morning, maybe we could eat breakfast together.”

Her smile turned up as you nodded in agreement with Lewis. “Will you cook for us? You always cook us the best breakfast Lewis.”

“I can do that,” he assured her, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “Although I can’t promise that my cooking will be as good as mummy’s dinner was that she made tonight.”

You slowly stepped towards the bed, perching down on the end of it. “Lewis can only stay if you promise to get some sleep, we can’t have a tired girl at the breakfast table tomorrow morning.”

Amelia nodded as she sat herself up and cuddled into Lewis’ side. His arm immediately moved around her frame, pressing several kisses against the top of her head. Your smile was wide as you watched the two of them, wondering once again how you ever got so lucky with the two of them.

“Maybe soon we can live so that we don’t have to have sleepovers,” Lewis spoke, taking you by surprise. “I’ve got a couple weeks off soon, and I was wondering about asking you and mummy what you thought about maybe coming to live in my house instead.”

“In your house?” Your daughter, grinned, spinning out of his hold so that she was face to face with Lewis. “Would we stay in your house forever?” She quizzed, bouncing up and down as Lewis’ head nodded, his eyes glancing across at the surprise in your expression.

It was a conversation that you’d never really had, and never expected to have so soon either, but Lewis’ mind was made up and he knew exactly what he wanted.

He couldn’t imagine life without the two of you, he hated the feeling of returning home to an empty house. The feeling didn’t compare to the feeling he got when he walked through your front door, immediately showered with love and greeted by his two favourite people, filled with excitement.

“You’d be able to come up with lots of plans and make your room exactly how you want it.”

“With a big bed?” She grinned, “and loads of teddies in the room too?”

Lewis nodded, wanting to give Amelia anything she wanted and more. He spoilt her rotten, one of the perks of not being her parent, even if it did leave him in trouble with you time after time.

“Are you excited about us coming to live with you Lewis?” She asked him.

“More so than you could ever imagine,” he whispered, reaching across and taking a hold of your hand. “You two have changed my life, I love being around the two of you, annoying your mummy and tickling you until you’re begging me to stop, that’s my favourite thing to do in the world.”

Both of you wore wide smiles as Lewis spoke openly, letting you know exactly how big of a role you both had in his life. The sentiment didn’t quite mean as much to Amelia as it did you, your heart was full as he spoke, whilst she still daydreamed about the new, amazing bedroom she’d been promised.

“If we live together, would we be a proper family? Like mum, dad, and me?”

Neither you or Lewis knew what to say, looking at each other. Your heart raced, terrified as Lewis stared blankly across at you, not quite believing what he had heard from her either.

“You do everything that a dad does,” Amelia spoke up, feeling the need to explain herself a little more. “You take care of me, and mummy. You take me to school, help me fix my toys when they break, give me cuddles when I’m having a nightmare.”

“That’s because I love you sweetheart,” Lewis smiled across at her.

“I know,” she smiled, “do you think...maybe...will you be my dad?”

You were nervous for a moment, but luckily the corners of Lewis’ mouth soon turned up. He squeezed Amelia even tighter, scooping her up and sitting her in his lap, scattering a trail of kisses from the top of her head, down and all over her face.

“I would love to be your dad, if that’s what you want,” he whispered.

Her head nodded, pressing her palms together. “You’re the best daddy in the world,” she told him, already full of confidence that no one could do a better job than Lewis.

“Sorry,” you whispered across to Lewis as you met his eyes, Amelia cuddling closer into his chest, “I had no idea she was going to ask you that, I’m sorry if you feel a little put on the spot.”

“It’s alright, in fact, it’s better than alright,” Lewis quickly assured you, “it would be the biggest honour of my life, it makes us more of a family, doesn’t it?”

You nodded in agreement as Lewis laid Amelia back down in bed again. “Did you mean what you said about moving in? You really want us to live with you? It’s not something you can just change your mind about.”

“I’ve never been more confident about anything,” Lewis smiled, “I don’t want to have to sit around and wait to see you guys anymore, I want to see you every day.”

You stretched across and pressed a kiss against Lewis’ cheek, “thank you for completing our family, I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“You’re an amazing mum, with or without me,” Lewis smiled.

“And you’re an amazing dad too.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

2K notes · View notes

amkyor · 6 months ago

Note

Hey! I'm a big fan, annnd I have a bakugou x y/n idea... where bakugou hasn't been paying attention to y/n his girlfriend lately and it's been lonely.... so y/n is watching a romance anime with Mina and y/n says... "I wish I had that"....and then Mina ask if she loves bakugou and she says ...."hes okay"..... but the whole time bakugou and his friend kirishima were listening....and bakugou his mind is like "I'm a bad boyfriend? Does she love me? Im...okay?"

K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY

Synopsis: Bakugo has been distant toward his girlfriend (you), and she realizes how much it is actually affecting her while watching a romance movie that includes the love that she wishes she had.

Short note: Chapter 23 of my Bakugo x Reader Fanfiction is out now! If you like my stories on here, I'm sure you'll like my fanfiction, so go check it out! The link is at the end of this post!!

Distance Between Us:

It all started slowly, too slow for you to realize.

The day you started to notice it was when it was late in the evening, and you were sitting on the couch, waiting for Bakugo to come home.

He had promised to spend the evening with you after work, but as the hours ticked by, your excitement turned into frustration. Finally, you heard the front door open.

Bakugo walked in, still in his hero uniform, his face tired and serious. "Sorry, I got held up at work. Some idiot caused a mess in the city," he muttered, tossing his gloves onto the table.

You smiled, trying to be understanding. "It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re home now. Want me to heat up the dinner I made for us?"

"Not hungry," he replied shortly, already pulling out his phone. "I need to check the patrol schedule for tomorrow. There’s a lot going on."

You sighed, your shoulders dropping. "Katsuki, can’t it wait? You’ve been working all day. We barely get time together."

But he didn’t seem to hear you, his eyes glued to the screen. "Huh? Yeah, sure, whatever you say."

The evening dragged on, and though he was physically present, his mind remained consumed by hero work.

You ended up eating dinner alone while he sat at the kitchen table, typing away on his laptop.

---

Another time was when he had made plans out of nowhere to hang out with his friends and ditch out on the two of you had planned.

It was a rare weekend when Bakugo didn’t have patrol or missions lined up.

You had planned a quiet day together—something simple, just the two of you.

But as you were setting up breakfast, his phone buzzed on the counter.

Bakugo glanced at the screen and smirked. "It’s Kirishima. He wants to hit the gym and grab lunch afterward. I’ll be back later."

Your stomach sank. "I thought today was for us? We haven’t had a day off together in weeks, Katsuki."

He blinked as if realizing for the first time that you might have feelings about this. "We can hang out later. It’s not like I’m gone all day. Plus, I haven’t seen the guys in a while."

You bit your lip, trying to keep your disappointment in check. "But we haven’t seen each other in a while either."

He paused for a second, then ruffled your hair in a halfhearted gesture. "Come on, it’s not a big deal. I’ll see you tonight." Before you could argue further, he was already grabbing his gym bag and heading out the door.

---

Another day came, and he did the same.

Bakugo’s dedication to his work often left him exhausted, and his sleep schedule was all over the place.

One night, you stayed up late, waiting for him to come to bed.

You had something important to talk about, but he was still in the living room, sprawled out on the couch, catching up on sleep.

"Katsuki," you called softly, standing in the doorway.

He grunted, barely lifting his head. "What is it?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s been on my mind for a while."

He groaned, sitting up slightly. "Can it wait? I just got back from a double shift, and I’m dead tired."

"But it’s important," you insisted, stepping closer.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Y/n, I can’t deal with anything serious right now. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?"

The next day came and went, and so did the conversation. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever get the timing right.

---

Then, of course, came another.

One evening, Bakugo was in the backyard, practicing his explosions while you watched from the patio.

You had been waiting for him to finish so you could spend some quality time together, but he was completely absorbed in his training.

"Hey, Katsuki," you called out, waving at him. "How much longer are you going to be out here?"

"Not now, babe," he shouted back, his voice carrying over the sound of crackling explosions. "I’m almost done!"

Almost turned into an hour, and by the time he came inside, you were curled up on the couch, half-asleep.

He walked past you, grabbing a water bottle from the kitchen.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," he said, but there was no apology in his tone.

You gave him a small smile, too tired to argue. "It’s okay," you mumbled, though deep down, you wondered if he even realized how much you had been waiting for him.

---

In each of these scenarios, Bakugo’s priorities—whether work, friends, or personal routines—seemed to overshadow his time with you. While his intentions might not be malicious, his actions often left you feeling overlooked and craving the attention he gave to everything else in his life.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The evening was calm, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow across the counters.

You stood at the stove, carefully stirring the simmering pot of stew. The gentle aroma of sautéed vegetables, rich broth, and spices filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soft hum of the overhead fan.

Tonight, you had decided to prepare something special—something hearty and comforting, like the conversation you hoped to have with Bakugo.

It had been a while since the two of you had truly spent time together.

His hero work had consumed most of his days, leaving you with fleeting moments of his presence.

You understood, of course, the weight of his responsibilities, but that didn’t make the distance any easier.

So, as a gesture of love and an attempt to reconnect, you had spent the better part of the evening preparing this meal.

The kitchen was cozy, lit by the soft glow of under-cabinet lights.

Plates were set neatly on the table, silverware arranged perfectly beside them.

A bottle of chilled sparkling water stood in the center, and the faint crackle of the stovetop added a soothing rhythm to the room.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. He should be home any minute now.

You adjusted the flame under the pot, letting the stew bubble gently, and moved to check on the freshly baked bread cooling on the counter.

The sound of the front door opening broke the quiet, followed by the rustling of heavy boots on the doormat.

Your heart gave a small flutter at the familiar noise.

He was home.

You didn’t look up from your task, your focus fixed on the pot as you gave it one last stir.

Toward the front door, the faint creak of the door closing reached your ears, followed by the soft thud of a duffle bag hitting the floor.

Bakugo’s presence filled the space immediately, even without a word.

The faint scent of smoke and ash mingled with the aroma of dinner, a signature of his return after a long day on patrol.

You heard the stretch of leather as he raised his arms high above his head, likely working out the stiffness from hours of action.

His footsteps echoed softly against the hardwood floor as he made his way down the hall.

You could picture him rubbing the back of his neck, his hair likely a mess from the day’s exertion.

The sound of his approach grew louder, each step deliberate yet unhurried, as if he were easing back into the calm of home.

You stayed at the stove, stirring slowly, waiting for him to join you in the kitchen, the moment of connection hanging in the air like the steam rising from the pot.

The clatter of the wooden spoon against the pot ceased as you set it down gently on the counter.

Wiping your hands on the apron tied snugly around your waist, you turned toward the kitchen's pillared entrance.

The soft shuffle of Bakugo’s steps nearing the kitchen tugged at your curiosity, and you couldn’t help but abandon your task momentarily.

You stepped around the corner, leaning casually against the frame of the kitchen entrance.

Resting your hand lightly on the wall, you peeked out toward him.

The sight of Bakugo, mid-stretch with his arms behind his head, immediately brought a fond smile to your lips.

His usual scowl was softened by a tiredness that clung to him, his messy ash-blond hair catching the dim light of the hallway.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck, likely sore from a long day.

His broad shoulders rolled slightly as he worked out the tension, the faint sound of his knuckles popping filling the quiet space.

The corners of your lips curled further upward as you admired him in his element—worn out yet still exuding the confidence and strength you loved about him.

Before you could say anything, his crimson gaze lifted, finally catching sight of you standing there.

His expression didn’t shift much—just a subtle raise of his brows as if to acknowledge your presence.

You straightened slightly, your smile warm and inviting as you prepared to greet him.

But before you could utter a word, he spoke first, his gravelly voice breaking the silence.

“I’m going upstairs to shower. Gotta get this grime off my body.” His tone was matter-of-fact, and he started walking toward you without breaking stride, cracking his knuckles as he moved.

Your smile didn’t falter as he approached, though the hurriedness of his words made you hesitate. “Oh, well, that’s great,” you began, your voice light and teasing. “But don’t take too long becau—”

“Oh yeah, by the way, before I forget,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through yours without a hint of malice, just his usual bluntness. “The gang and I are gonna hang out later, so I won’t be home for long.”

The abruptness of his words hit you like a splash of cold water. Your mouth hung slightly open mid-sentence, the rest of your words caught in your throat.

Bakugo’s gaze didn’t linger long, already focused ahead as though his announcement was nothing out of the ordinary.

Bakugo’s heavy boots thudded softly against the wooden floor as he approached you, his expression unreadable but relaxed.

He stopped just in front of you, his tall frame towering slightly over yours.

The familiar scent of ash and sweat lingered faintly, a testament to his grueling day.

Without a word, his hand reached out, rough but warm, and landed gently on your head.

His fingers ruffled through your hair in a way that was both playful and dismissive, tousling it slightly.

A light smirk played on his lips as he pulled his hand back, his crimson eyes meeting yours briefly.

“I know you can handle things here, so I’ll leave you to it,” he said, his voice low and casual, like he hadn’t just brushed past the idea of spending time with you.

As you stood out in front of him, the confidence and courage you had gathered from cooking in the kitchen had disappeared.

Now that you felt this way, there was no way you were going to bring up spending time with him over dinner.

Even though you had spent all evening preparing this relaxing for the both of you to enjoy, you couldn’t bring yourself to to tell him.

You were scared that if you had opened up, he might have gotten angry and dismissed all your worries with his furrowed brows.

Your heart sank a little at his words, but you forced a small smile, not wanting to let it show.

He turned on his heel without a second glance, his footsteps carrying him toward the staircase that led to the second floor of your shared home.

As he walked, his broad shoulders swayed slightly, his relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the tension that suddenly gripped your chest.

You stood frozen for a moment, your mouth hanging slightly open, the words you wanted to say stuck somewhere in your throat.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked rapidly, willing them away. You hated how they burned, how they threatened to spill over.

This wasn’t the first time Bakugo had brushed things off, but tonight, with the effort you’d put into dinner and the mounting distance you felt between you two, it stung more than usual.

He reached the first step of the staircase, his hand brushing against the railing as he prepared to ascend.

At you stood, something inside you snapped—a small but resolute voice urging you not to let the moment slip by.

Swallowing hard, you gathered the courage you had left, your voice trembling slightly but steady enough to cut through the air.

“Can I go too?”

Bakugo paused mid-step, his back still facing you, as the silence stretched between you both.

For a moment, you wondered if he had even heard you or if he’d continue up the stairs without a response.

Then, he turned his head slightly, revealing his side profile, his crimson eyes glancing at you.

“You wanna come?” he asked, his tone even and unreadable, a single brow raised in surprise.

Your hands instinctively came together, fidgeting as you avoided his gaze.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Gathering a bit more courage, you glanced up at him, noticing his blank expression.

It only lasted a second before you looked down again, unsure how your request would be received. “I mean, if that’s okay…”

Bakugo stared at you for a beat longer, his brow still raised as if trying to gauge your seriousness.

Then, his features softened, his raised brow lowering as he gave a small, nonchalant nod.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” he said, his voice carrying a casualness that made it hard to tell how he really felt.

Without another word, he turned back toward the stairs.

Relief washed over you, and a small smile crept onto your face as you followed his movements with your eyes.

It wasn’t much, but his agreement made you feel a little better, a small step toward closing the gap that had been forming between you two.

As Bakugo reached the first step of the staircase, he stopped again, his hand on the railing.

He turned his head just enough to look back at you, his expression neutral but firm.

“I’m leaving by 6, so get ready,” he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Then, without waiting for a response, he ascended the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing through the quiet house.

You stood there in the kitchen, your smile slowly fading as his words sank in.

Glancing at the half-finished dinner you’d worked so hard on, your arms dropped to your sides, mirroring the exhaustion settling in your chest.

The kitchen felt colder now, emptier, as you stood there alone, staring at the plans you’d made that now felt insignificant.

With a deep breath, you tried to shake off the weight of disappointment, forcing yourself to move and tidy up the counter.

But no matter how much you willed yourself to focus on the task at hand, the sting of his casual dismissal lingered, leaving a quiet ache in its wake.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The soft hum of the Porsche's engine filled the quiet evening air as Bakugo sat in the driver’s seat, his hand drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel.

His gaze occasionally flicked toward the house, his sharp crimson eyes scanning for any sign of you.

The minutes ticked by, and though he didn’t say it out loud, he was growing impatient.

But there was a part of him that understood why you were taking your time—he had sprung this last-minute outing on you, and you deserved a moment to get ready properly.

Inside, you were slipping on your white Converse, carefully tying the laces with precision.

The finishing touch to your outfit had just been added—a chic combination of blue jeans, a navy blue tank top, and a white cardigan that fell perfectly against your frame.

You smoothed down the fabric, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror by the door.

Your navy blue purse rested comfortably on your shoulder, and the messy bun you’d styled earlier sat perfectly atop your head, with the white headband completing the look.

Satisfied, you grabbed your keys and reached for the door handle.

As you stepped outside, the soft glow of the porch light illuminated your figure.

The evening air was cool against your skin, and the faint scent of freshly cut grass lingered.

You glanced toward the sleek black Porsche parked in the driveway, where Bakugo sat waiting for you.

Inside the car, Bakugo looked up as the light from the open door seeped out, drawing his attention.

His sharp gaze landed on you, and for a moment, his breath hitched.

You looked stunning—effortlessly chic yet understated, the kind of beauty that didn’t need to try too hard.

The way the soft curls framed your face, the navy blue of your tank top complementing your skin, and the casual elegance of your outfit made his heart skip a beat.

He blinked, trying to maintain his usual composure, but the faintest tint of pink crept onto his cheeks, betraying him.

It was subtle, just enough to hint at the effect you had on him, but it was there.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as he tore his eyes away for a brief second, trying to recover.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, glancing at the dashboard as if it could somehow distract him.

But his gaze inevitably drifted back to you, his expression softening in a way only you could bring out in him.

He didn't say anything just yet—he wasn’t the type to gush—but the way his cheeks betrayed a rare blush spoke volumes.

The soft hum of the Porsche’s engine was steady as Bakugo sat, his hand draped nonchalantly over the steering wheel while the other rested against his mouth.

His sharp crimson eyes flicked away from you as you descended the steps toward the car, trying to keep his focus elsewhere.

The blush that had crept onto his cheeks earlier lingered faintly, and though he wouldn’t admit it, seeing you like this had thrown him off his usual composure.

You opened the passenger door with care, stepping into the car and adjusting yourself in the plush seat.

The faint scent of Bakugo’s cologne mingled with the new-car smell, giving the cabin a warmth that was uniquely him.

As you closed the door gently behind you, you glanced up to see him leaning against the driver’s side, his elbow propped on the car door and his hand casually gripping the wheel.

His relaxed posture was natural, but the way his eyes darted toward you from the corners of his vision betrayed a subtle curiosity.

“Sorry I took so long,” you said softly, brushing a loose curl behind your ear.

Your voice broke the quiet tension, and you weren’t sure if you imagined his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

“It’s fine,” he replied, his tone gruff yet calm, as he adjusted himself in the seat and placed both hands on the wheel.

Hearing the simplicity of his response made you smile, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest.

You carefully removed your bag from your shoulder, placing it neatly on your lap.

Bakugo, meanwhile, shifted the car into reverse, the soft rumble of the engine vibrating beneath you as he backed out of the driveway with precision.

You stole a quick glance at him from the corners of your eyes.

The streetlights outside cast a warm, golden hue that framed his sharp jawline and stern features as he focused on maneuvering the car.

He looked so effortlessly confident, so in control—it was hard not to admire him.

Reaching up, you flipped open the vanity mirror above your head, giving yourself a quick once-over.

You smoothed down a stray curl and checked your lipstick, making sure everything was still in place.

Satisfied, you closed the mirror with a soft click and adjusted in your seat, letting your gaze wander back to him.

The quiet of the ride was broken only by the sound of the tires rolling over asphalt and the faint hum of the radio playing low in the background.

You bit your lip lightly, debating whether or not to say what had been on your mind.

Finally, you took a small breath, your fingers beginning to fidget nervously with the strap of your bag.

“Sooo…” you began, your voice tentative as you glanced out the window, gathering your thoughts.

Bakugo didn’t respond immediately, his focus remaining on the road ahead. His silence urged you to continue, so you did.

“How do I look?” you asked, your tone light yet tinged with curiosity.

Your gaze flickered toward him briefly before quickly looking back down at your lap, where your fingers continued to toy with your bag strap.

The quiet hum of the car filled the space between you and Bakugo, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

His eyes were fixed on the road, one hand on the wheel, while the other rested lazily on the gear shift.

You waited patiently, watching him through your peripheral vision, hoping for some kind of reaction to your question.

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze momentarily darting toward you before returning to the street ahead.

The streetlights flickered as they passed, casting warm, golden hues across his sharp features.

His silence stretched on, and for a moment, you wondered if he hadn’t heard you.

Finally, Bakugo turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes flickering toward you.

His gaze traveled up and down, taking in the effort you’d put into your outfit—the way your cardigan fell over your tank top, the way your jeans fit perfectly, and the way you’d styled your hair just so.

His expression remained stoic, but his eyes lingered just a beat longer than usual before he turned back to the road.

“You look,” he began, his voice even though there was a slight edge of hesitation.

He glanced at you again, briefly meeting your expectant gaze before focusing back on the street.

You could see his jaw tighten slightly, as if he were searching for the right words. “Good.”

That was it. Just one single, lackluster word.

Your shoulders sank immediately, the corners of your mouth pulling down as disappointment washed over you.

You slumped back into the passenger seat, crossing your arms loosely over your chest and shifting your gaze out the window.

You had spent so much time getting ready, hoping that maybe this time, he’d notice—really notice—and say something that would make you feel special.

But “good” was all you got.

Bakugo, on the other hand, was far from unaffected, though he certainly didn’t show it.

His mind was racing, replaying the moment he’d glanced at you and the way your face had lit up with hope.

His knuckles tightened slightly on the steering wheel, and a bead of sweat formed at his temple as frustration with himself began to build.

His brows furrowed as he stole another glance at you.

You were staring out the window now, your expression unreadable but your body language screaming disappointment.

“Tch,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the wheel tighter.

You remained quiet, sinking further into your seat as the car rolled through the neighborhood streets.

Your fingers toyed with the edge of your cardigan, your mind replaying the moment over and over.

Maybe you’d set yourself up for disappointment.

Maybe this was just who he was—gruff, blunt, and not the type to shower you with compliments.

Still, you couldn’t help the small ache in your chest.

Bakugo’s jaw clenched as he continued to drive, the silence between you both growing heavier with each passing second.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The drive to Kirishima’s house was silent, the tension lingering like an unspoken weight between you and Bakugo.

He didn’t try to make conversation, and honestly, you weren’t sure you’d be able to respond even if he did.

Your disappointment sat heavy in your chest, though you were doing your best to push it down and keep your composure.

When the car finally rolled to a stop in front of Kirishima’s house, Bakugo shifted into park and stepped out without a word, slamming his door behind him.

You sighed softly, your fingers gripping the strap of your purse as you reached for the handle of the passenger door.

Opening it, you slid out of the car, closing it gently behind you.

Bakugo was already several steps ahead, his strong strides carrying him toward the house without so much as a glance back at you.

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight as you followed behind him, your fingers nervously playing with the strap of your purse.

You felt small and distant, the space between you and Bakugo feeling far more than just physical.

As Bakugo reached the front porch, the sound of laughter and chatter drifted through the air, spilling out from behind the closed door.

The lively atmosphere of the gathering inside only seemed to amplify the quiet distance you felt from him.

Bakugo raised a hand and knocked on the door firmly, stepping back slightly as he waited.

You stopped a few paces behind him, your hands gripping your purse strap tightly as your mind raced.

You were determined to stand tall, to keep your emotions in check and not let anyone see how you were feeling.

The door swung open after a few seconds, revealing Kirishima’s grinning face.

His red hair was as wild as ever, and his cheerful energy was almost infectious.

“Yo, man! You made it!” Kirishima greeted Bakugo with a hearty slap on the shoulder before turning his attention to you. “Hey! Good to see you too!”

“Hey, Kiri,” you said softly, forcing a small smile as you stepped closer to the door.

“Come on in! Everyone’s already here,” Kirishima said, stepping aside to let the two of you in.

You followed Bakugo inside, the warmth and energy of the room enveloping you immediately.

Mina, Jirou, Denki, and Sero were sprawled out in the living room, laughing and chatting amongst themselves.

Mina was the first to notice your arrival, her eyes lighting up as she waved enthusiastically.

“Hey, you two!” Mina called out, jumping up from her seat and rushing over to you.

She wrapped you in a quick hug, her bubbly personality as bright as always. “You look so cute tonight! I love your outfit!”

“Thanks, Mina,” you replied, your smile faltering slightly as you glanced toward Bakugo.

He was already making his way toward the group, offering a brief nod of acknowledgment before settling into a seat near Sero.

Denki grinned, leaning back on the couch and tossing a chip into his mouth. “Look who finally decided to show up. We thought you might’ve bailed on us, Bakugo.”

“Shut it, Sparky,” Bakugo shot back, though there was no real bite in his tone.

As the group erupted into laughter, you found yourself lingering near the edge of the room, unsure where to place yourself.

Mina noticed your hesitation and grabbed your arm gently.

“Come sit with us! You can’t just stand there looking all pretty and quiet,” she teased, leading you toward the group.

You let her guide you, settling into a spot on the couch beside Jirou.

The lively conversation around you was a stark contrast to the swirling emotions in your chest, but you did your best to blend in, laughing when it felt appropriate and nodding along to the banter.

All the while, your eyes occasionally flicked toward Bakugo.

He was laughing with Sero and Denki, his usual gruff demeanor softened slightly by the presence of his friends.

But not once did he look your way, and that small detail gnawed at you more than you wanted to admit.

You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to focus on the moment and not the ache in your chest.

Tonight was about being with friends, and you were determined to make the most of it, even if things with Bakugo felt more complicated than ever.

You sat on the couch, nestled between Jirou and Mina, trying to focus on their lively conversation.

Bakugo was across the room, laughing with Sero and Denki as if the weight of the world didn’t exist.

You glanced at him briefly, your chest tightening before quickly averting your eyes back to Mina, who was animatedly recounting a story about a recent date with Kirishima.

“So, get this,” Mina said, her face lit with excitement. “Kiri and I went to this new arcade last week, right? And they had this claw machine he swore he could beat. It was filled with these little red dragon plushies—totally his thing, you know?”

Jirou smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Let me guess. He spent way too much money trying to win one?”

“Way too much!” Mina exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically. “But he finally got it, and he was so proud of himself. It was adorable.” She giggled, her expression softening.

“Honestly, though, it’s not even about the claw machine. Kiri and I just… we have fun, you know? We go out, we talk about everything.”

Jirou nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s exactly how it is with me and Denki. He’s a dork, but he’s my dork. We go to concerts, hang out at record stores, and just… talk. Like, really talk. He tells me about his day, his dreams, even the dumb stuff that happens during patrols. It’s nice, being so connected.”

The warmth in their voices as they spoke about their relationships was palpable, and it made you feel like a shadow in their light.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of the tightness in your throat.

“And you,” Mina said, turning her bright eyes toward you. “How are things with you and Bakugo?”

Jirou tilted her head, her expression curious but kind. “Yeah, how’s it going? You two seem solid.”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out at first.

Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your cardigan, and you forced a smile, even as your chest felt like it was caving in.

“Oh, we’re fine,” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. You cleared your throat quickly, trying to steady yourself. “Everything’s good. Really good.”

Mina beamed. “That’s great! You two are like, the power couple. I mean, he’s Bakugo—grumpy as hell but so in love with you. It’s obvious.”

“Totally,” Jirou added, nodding. “You balance each other out, right? He’s all intensity, and you’re like this calming presence. It works.”

You laughed softly, the sound hollow to your own ears. “Yeah, it works,” you echoed.

They bought it, smiling warmly at you before diving back into their own banter.

But inside, you felt like you were crumbling.

The truth was, things weren’t fine.

They hadn’t been for a while. Bakugo’s constant focus on work, his friends, and his own world had left you feeling like an afterthought.

You glanced at him again.

He was leaning back in his chair, laughing at something Denki said, his sharp features softened by the rare smile on his face.

It was a side of him you loved, but right now, it only made the ache in your chest worse.

Forcing yourself to stay present, you turned back to Mina and Jirou, nodding along to their conversation.

You couldn’t let them see the truth—not here, not now.

So you plastered on your smile and pretended everything was fine, even as the weight of your unspoken feelings threatened to crush you.

---

An hour passed as you, Mina, and Jirou chatted away about everything under the sun—relationships, patrol stories, and even a hilarious moment when Denki shocked himself trying to fix a broken lamp.

Despite the warmth of their company, a small part of you still felt detached, your earlier feelings lingering like a shadow.

Mina, ever the bubbly one, suddenly perked up. “Hey, I just thought of something! Let’s go to the other room and watch a movie! I’ve been dying to see that new romance everyone’s talking about. What do you think?”

Jirou shrugged, a hint of a smile on her face. “Sounds good to me. I could use a break from all the noise out there.”

You hesitated, but the thought of getting away from the others, even for a little while, seemed appealing. “Yeah, sure,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

The three of you made your way to a quieter room down the hall.

It was cozier than the bustling main area, with soft lighting and a plush couch that wrapped around most of the room.

The atmosphere immediately felt more intimate and calm, a perfect escape.

Mina grabbed the remote and flopped onto one side of the couch. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road!”

Jirou settled next to her, her legs tucked beneath her while you took the other end of the couch.

The movie started, its opening scenes filled with charming banter and budding romance.

The three of you fell into a comfortable silence, the story drawing you in.

As the movie progressed, the lighthearted moments gave way to more emotional scenes.

The characters faced challenges, their love tested by misunderstandings and miscommunications.

Then, the pivotal scene arrived.

The male lead stood in the rain, his face etched with regret as he argued with the female lead.

Her voice broke as she shouted, tears streaming down her face. “You don’t get it! I feel invisible to you!” she cried, her words hitting too close to home for your comfort.

Your chest tightened as you watched her crumble, her emotions raw and unfiltered.

The male lead, realizing his mistake, stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she sobbed against his chest.

Your heart ached, the scene striking a chord that you couldn’t ignore.

The floodgates opened, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face.

Your breathing grew shallow, and your palms began to sweat as you clutched the couch cushion beside you.

Mina and Jirou, engrossed in the movie, didn’t seem to notice your reaction at first.

But as you sniffled quietly, Jirou glanced over, her expression softening. “Hey, you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle.

You quickly wiped your cheeks, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… really emotional,” you said, your voice wavering slightly.

Mina turned her head, concern flickering in her eyes. “It’s okay to cry, you know. Scenes like this get me every time,” she said, offering you a reassuring smile.

You nodded, appreciating their kindness but feeling exposed nonetheless.

The movie continued, but your mind was elsewhere.

The female lead’s words echoed in your head, intertwining with your own unspoken feelings.

“I feel invisible to you.”

The weight of those words settled in your chest, and though you tried to focus on the screen, the tears wouldn’t stop.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep it together, but the truth was, you felt more vulnerable than ever.

The tears came harder, no longer quiet sniffles but soft, trembling sobs that you couldn’t hold back.

The scene on the screen blurred as your vision clouded with tears, and your chest felt impossibly heavy.

Mina and Jirou both turned toward you, their expressions shifting from casual concern to alarm.

“Whoa, hey… are you okay?” Jirou asked, leaning closer, her voice gentle but tinged with worry.

Mina’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She grabbed the remote and paused the movie, the room falling into silence except for your shaky breaths.

She scooted closer to you, her hand resting lightly on your arm.

“Alright,” Mina said firmly, her tone serious but warm. “What’s going on? This isn’t just about the movie, is it?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to wipe the tears away with the back of your hand, but they just kept coming.

“It’s nothing,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jirou gave you a skeptical look. “Come on, don’t do that. You’re obviously upset.”

Mina nodded, her grip on your arm tightening just slightly in encouragement. “Yeah, we’re here for you. So whatever it is, just say it.”

For a moment, you hesitated.

The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, and you didn’t want to burden them with your feelings.

But the way they looked at you, genuinely concerned and ready to listen, broke down the last of your defenses.

“It’s… it’s Bakugo,” you finally admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks. “I just… I feel like we’re drifting apart.”

Mina’s eyes softened, and Jirou tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful.

“What do you mean? Did something happen?” Mina asked, leaning forward, her tone gentle now.

You took a shaky breath, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. “I don’t know… it’s like he’s always so busy, and when he’s home, it’s like I’m not even there. He doesn’t notice when I try to do things for him. I cooked dinner tonight, hoping we could eat together and talk, but he just brushed it off and left to hang out with you guys.”

Mina’s face fell, a pang of guilt crossing her features. Jirou’s lips pressed together, her brow furrowing.

“I know he’s a hero, and I know his job is demanding, but… I just feel so invisible to him sometimes. Like I’m not a priority,” you continued, your voice trembling. “And I’m trying so hard to be okay with it, but it’s just… it’s hard.”

Mina reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t realize things were like this.”

Jirou nodded, her gaze serious. “That sounds really tough. You shouldn’t have to feel like that, especially not with someone who’s supposed to care about you.”

You sniffled, grateful for their support, but still feeling the weight of your emotions. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I love him, but… it feels like he’s slipping away.”

Mina wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a comforting hug. “You’re not alone in this, okay? We’ll figure it out. And honestly, Bakugo needs to hear this too. He probably doesn’t even realize how much he’s hurting you.”

Jirou nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s not exactly the most emotionally aware guy, but he cares about you. You just have to tell him how you feel.”

Their words brought a small measure of comfort, but the thought of confronting Bakugo about your feelings still terrified you.

You knew they were right, though. Something had to change.

You sat there in Mina’s embrace, your tears slowly subsiding, though your chest still felt tight.

The weight of their words lingered, and you knew they were right.

As terrifying as it seemed, you had to talk to Bakugo.

But how? He wasn’t exactly the type to sit down and have a heart-to-heart.

Mina pulled back slightly, her warm hands resting on your shoulders as she looked you in the eye. “You have to tell him,” she said firmly.

“And not in a ‘hinting’ kind of way. Lay it all out. He’s not good at picking up subtle stuff.”

Jirou nodded, leaning back on the couch. “Yeah, Bakugo’s not gonna magically figure it out. But if you’re honest with him, I think he’ll listen. He’s stubborn, but he’s not heartless.”

You sniffled, wiping your face with the sleeve of your cardigan. “I just… I don’t want to come off as needy or like I don’t support him. I know how hard he works.”

Mina sighed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. This isn’t about being needy. This is about being in a relationship where you feel seen and loved. You’re allowed to have needs, too.”

Jirou added, “And honestly? If he doesn’t get that, then that’s on him. Relationships are about both people putting in effort. It’s not all on you.”

You nodded slowly, their words sinking in.

It wasn’t easy to hear, but deep down, you knew they were right.

You couldn’t keep bottling everything up and hoping things would magically improve.

Mina smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Look, Bakugo might be a hothead, but he’s not a bad guy. If he knew you were feeling this way, I think he’d do something about it. But you’ve got to give him the chance to step up.”

You sighed, fiddling with the strap of your purse. “I guess I’ll try talking to him later… when we’re alone.”

“Good,” Mina said with a nod, her tone encouraging. “And if you need backup, you know where to find us.”

Jirou smirked slightly. “Yeah, we’ll set him straight if he doesn’t get the message.”

The three of you shared a small laugh, the tension easing just a bit.

Mina grabbed the remote and turned the movie off completely, standing up and stretching.

“Alright, let’s get back to the others before they start wondering what we’re up to.”

You nodded, standing up and smoothing out your clothes.

As the three of you made your way back to the main living room, you felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you.

Anxiety, hope, and determination all competed for space in your heart.

As you stepped into the room, Bakugo was standing near the corner with Kirishima, laughing at something Sero had said.

His usual sharp smirk was etched on his face, but there was something different in the way his eyes flickered toward you, a hint of something unreadable beneath his confident exterior.

For a moment, you just watched him, debating how you’d navigate the rest of the evening while the conversation with Mina and Jirou still echoed in your mind.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Bakugo had heard everything.

It wasn’t intentional.

On his way to the bathroom earlier, he had walked past the closed door of the cozy room where you and the girls had been talking.

At first, he hadn’t thought much of it—just chatter from Mina and Jirou, nothing unusual.

But then he caught the sound of your voice, trembling slightly, and his feet had stopped.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Really, he hadn’t.

But something in your tone made him pause, leaning against the hallway wall just out of sight.

He listened as Mina and Jirou pressed you about how things were going between the two of you.

He heard the way your voice wavered when you said everything was fine—so unconvincing that even he could tell it was a lie.

And then came the confession.

You weren’t happy.

You felt ignored, neglected.

You felt like he didn’t see you anymore.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

You, the person he cared about most, felt like you were slipping away, and he hadn’t even noticed.

His knuckles clenched, and his jaw tightened as he leaned his head back against the wall.

Guilt surged through him, hot and unrelenting. He wasn’t great with emotions; he knew that.

But hearing you spill your heart out to your friends, feeling like he didn’t care enough—it stung more than he wanted to admit.

When Mina and Jirou encouraged you to talk to him, he heard the hesitation in your voice, the fear of being seen as needy or overbearing.

It made his chest ache. You should never feel like that—not with him.

He had walked away before you left the room, needing a moment to collect himself.

By the time he rejoined the group, his mind was racing.

As you stepped into the living room, Mina nudged you gently with her elbow. “You’ve got this,” she whispered before heading to the group, leaving you to take a deep breath and square your shoulders.

Bakugo, standing near the corner, glanced your way.

His sharp smirk remained, but his eyes lingered on you a little longer than usual, softening for the briefest second before he turned back to Kirishima and the others.

He didn’t say anything, but in the back of his mind, he was already planning.

He wouldn’t let you feel like this again. Not if he could help it.

---

The night had wound down, and one by one, everyone began saying their goodbyes.

Mina and Kirishima gave you tight hugs, Mina giving you a reassuring smile as if to silently remind you of the conversation you’d had.

Jirou patted your arm, her subtle way of showing she was rooting for you.

Bakugo, meanwhile, was his usual self—casual nods, a few gruff “See ya’s,” and a fist bump for Kirishima.

His energy seemed as steady as ever, though you noticed the way his eyes flickered toward you more than once, a slight crease in his brow that he didn’t quite hide.

As the two of you made your way to his car, the quietness of the night enveloped you.

The cool breeze brushed against your skin, and the sound of your shoes crunching against the gravel filled the silence.

You felt Bakugo’s presence ahead of you, his confident stride unchanging, though he occasionally glanced back to make sure you were keeping up.

When you reached the car, he pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the doors, and slid into the driver’s seat.

You followed, gently closing the passenger door behind you and placing your bag on the floor by your feet.

The faint scent of leather and his cologne filled the space, a scent you usually found comforting.

Without a word, Bakugo started the engine.

The low rumble of the car filled the stillness as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the street.

His hands rested on the wheel, firm but relaxed, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, trying to read his expression, but it was the same stoic mask he always wore.

The weight of the evening felt heavy in your chest, and despite the warmth of the car, you felt a chill run through you.

The drive was quiet at first, the soft hum of the engine the only sound between you.

You wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt stuck in your throat.

You fidgeted with your fingers, your gaze shifting between the passing streetlights outside and Bakugo’s profile.

He hadn’t said much since you left Kirishima’s house, and it left you wondering if he’d noticed the distance between you—or if it even mattered to him at all.

Bakugo’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel as he drove, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he was working through something in his mind.

His gaze remained steady, but every now and then, you noticed his eyes flicker toward you, though he said nothing.

The silence was deafening, and with every passing second, it felt like the space between you grew larger.

Finally, unable to take the tension anymore, you shifted in your seat and let out a soft sigh, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Thanks for driving,” you said, your tone polite but distant.

He grunted in response, a low “Yeah,” his focus still on the road.

The quiet settled again, heavier this time, and you found yourself staring out the window, the lights of the city blurring past.

You wanted to say more, to breach the gap between you, but something held you back.

Bakugo, meanwhile, stole another glance at you, his expression unreadable.

He wanted to speak, to address the weight in the air, but the words felt foreign to him.

For now, he just drove, the road stretching ahead, both of you caught in your own thoughts.

The car hummed softly as the city lights flickered past, but the silence between you and Bakugo felt louder than anything else.

You leaned your head against the cool glass of the window, your eyes fixed on the blurred scenery.

Your hand rested on your lap, fingers nervously fidgeting with your nails as your thoughts raced.

What had started as disappointment had now spiraled into uncertainty.

You couldn’t shake the weight of the conversation with Mina and Jirou, nor the growing chasm between you and Bakugo.

You’d tried so hard to keep it together, but being here, so close yet feeling so far, made it even harder.

Bakugo kept his eyes on the road, his grip on the wheel firm.

Inside, he was battling a storm of emotions.

The echoes of your words from earlier replayed in his mind, mingling with the snippets of the conversation he’d overheard at Kirishima’s.

“I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”

He wasn’t good with words.

Hell, he wasn’t even good at feelings most of the time. But he wasn’t stupid—he could feel the distance, and it frustrated him because he didn’t know how to close it.

His crimson eyes flickered to you briefly.

The way you sat there, so quiet and withdrawn, tugged at something deep in his chest.

He hated seeing you like this, especially knowing he’d been the one to make you feel this way.

After what felt like forever, Bakugo’s resolve finally cracked.

His hand hesitated on the wheel, fingers tightening for a moment before he let out a sharp breath.

Slowly, almost cautiously, he reached over.

His hand covered yours, warm and slightly rough, the weight of it grounding you.

You blinked, startled by the sudden contact, and turned your head to look at him.

Bakugo didn’t meet your gaze right away.

His eyes stayed focused on the road ahead, his jaw tight, like he was bracing himself for something.

His thumb shifted slightly, brushing against your fingers in an awkward but earnest gesture.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant. “Stop doin’ that.”

You stared at him, confused. “Doing what?”

“Fidgetin’ like that,” he muttered, finally glancing at you for a split second before looking back at the road. “You’ll mess up your nails or somethin’.”

His words were gruff, almost dismissive, but the way his hand stayed on yours told you there was more to it.

He wasn’t just talking about your fidgeting—he was trying, in his own clumsy way, to tell you he cared.

Your chest tightened as you looked down at your joined hands.

The warmth of his touch, the slight awkwardness of the gesture—it all made your emotions bubble up again, but this time, they weren’t as heavy.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction. “Don’t say it. Not here, not like this.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, and leaned back against the seat.

For the first time that evening, the silence between you didn’t feel quite as suffocating.

The car came to an abrupt stop at a red light, but the tension in the car felt like it had slammed into a wall at full speed.

Bakugo’s hand hovered over the wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped it.

His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, but your anger was a storm now, and it couldn’t be contained.

“Seriously?” you demanded, your voice sharp and trembling. “If not here, then where? If not now, then when?”

Your hand yanked away from his, the warmth of his touch replaced by the cold sting of frustration. “You always say that, Bakugo. You always brush our problems away. You… you brush me off like I’m some kind of bug.”

His eyes darted to you, his lips parting as if to defend himself, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“You treat me like I’m not worth your time,” you continued, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Do you even know what I was doing before you came home? I was cooking dinner. For you. For us.”

Your hands shook as you gestured toward him, your words pouring out in a rush. “I did all of that so we could talk, so we could try to fix this. Just so I could know—know for sure—that I mean something to you.”

The light turned green, and Bakugo hit the gas with a little more force than necessary, his jaw tight as he stayed silent.

But you couldn’t stop now.

“But of course,” you spat, your voice rising, “your friends are more important! Work, training, hangouts—all of it is more important than me!”

The car swerved slightly as Bakugo’s grip faltered, and he shot you a glance, his brows furrowed in frustration and guilt. “But they’re not! You’re more important—”

“Don’t give me that crap!” you cut him off, your voice almost a shout now. “If I’m so important, then why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you make time for everyone and everything else but not for me? Huh? Answer me!”

Bakugo’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His silence was deafening, and it only stoked the fire inside you.

“Why, Katsuki?” you pressed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Why do I have to fight so hard to feel like I matter to you?”

The car pulled into your driveway, and Bakugo threw it into park, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly it looked like he might snap it in two.

For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the faint hum of the engine.

Finally, Bakugo exhaled sharply and turned to you, his crimson eyes filled with a mixture of guilt, frustration, and something else—something softer, something that looked a lot like regret.

“You do matter,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You mean everything to me, damn it. I just… I don’t know how to show it.”

But you shook your head, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “That’s not enough, Katsuki. It’s not enough to just say it. I need to feel it. And right now, I don’t.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable, as Bakugo stared at you, his expression unreadable.

For once, the explosive hero had no words, and the silence between you felt like it could split the world in two.

Your chest heaved as the emotions you’d been holding in for so long spilled over.

Tears streamed down your face, your voice trembling and raw as you finally let everything out.

“Why couldn’t you have just spent time with me?” you cried, your voice breaking as your gaze locked on Bakugo.

He flinched at the pain in your voice but said nothing, his hands clenching into tight fists on his lap.

“Why couldn’t you see that while you were having fun, I was feeling miserable?!” you continued, your words cutting through the silence like shards of glass.

Bakugo’s eyes darted toward you, filled with a mix of guilt and helplessness, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

“Listen, Katsuki...” you began, your voice softer but no less intense. “I love you. So much it hurts.” Your words hung in the air, trembling with sincerity. “But it’s starting to feel like... like you don’t feel the same.”

His head snapped up at that, his crimson eyes wide and frantic. “That’s not true!” he blurted, his voice rough and unsteady. “Don’t—don’t say that, alright?”

But you shook your head, your tears falling harder now. “Then why does it feel like I’m always fighting for your attention? Fighting for a moment of your time?”

Your voice cracked, and you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, as if trying to hold yourself together.

Bakugo opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

His jaw tightened, and his gaze fell to his lap, his fingers gripping his knees so hard it looked painful.

You could see the frustration, the guilt, the turmoil swirling in his expression, but it wasn’t enough.

It didn’t fix the ache in your heart.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Like I’m not enough for you. Like I’m not your priority.”

Bakugo’s head snapped up again, his eyes blazing with emotion. “You are my priority!” he insisted, his voice desperate now.

“You’re everything to me, alright? I just... I just don’t know how to handle all this shit sometimes!”

His voice cracked at the end, and for the first time, you saw something in him you rarely did—vulnerability.

He looked at you like he wanted to say a million things but didn’t know where to start.

But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

“Then show me, Katsuki,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “If I mean so much to you, then show me. Because words aren’t enough anymore.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, the only sound in the car was the faint hum of the engine.

Bakugo looked at you, really looked at you, and for once, the explosive hero seemed completely lost.

Bakugo’s chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths as he stared at you, his crimson eyes shadowed with guilt and frustration.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to die in his throat.

His hands clenched tighter on his lap, and he turned his gaze to the steering wheel, as if looking at you was too much to bear.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again as you watched him struggle to say something—anything—that could make it better.

“You’re right,” he finally said, his voice low and strained. “I’ve been a shitty boyfriend.”

The admission startled you.

Your breath hitched, and you blinked through your tears as you waited for him to continue.

“I’ve been so focused on everything else—work, training, trying to keep up with everyone—that I didn’t realize what it was doing to you. To us.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, the motion rough and frustrated. “And that’s on me.”

His voice trembled slightly, and he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sharp thud breaking the tense quiet. “Dammit, I didn’t mean to make you feel like this. Like you don’t matter.”

You watched him, your tears still falling, but something in his voice tugged at your heart.

It wasn’t just guilt; it was desperation.

“But you do, alright?” he said, turning to face you fully now. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, raw and unguarded.

“You matter more than anything else in my life. I just... I don’t know how to balance it all without screwing it up.”

His hands trembled as they rested on his thighs, and you realized how much it was costing him to admit this.

Bakugo Katsuki, the man who always seemed so sure of himself, so strong and unshakable, was unraveling in front of you.

“You’re not the problem, alright? I am,” he continued, his voice softer now. “And I swear to you, I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us. Just... don’t give up on me yet.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but the pain you’d been carrying for so long still lingered.

You looked at him, your tears blurring your vision, and took a shaky breath.

“Katsuki, I’m not asking for perfection,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m asking for you to try. To make me feel like I’m worth it. Like we’re worth it.”

He nodded, his jaw tight as he swallowed hard.

“I will,” he said, his voice firm despite the emotion in his eyes. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll be better. For you.”

You stared at him, searching his face for sincerity, and what you saw there made something in your chest loosen.

He looked at you like you were his whole world—like he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. It was small, fragile, but it was there.

“Okay,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Bakugo nodded again, his eyes never leaving yours. “You can.”

The car fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn’t heavy or suffocating.

It was filled with unspoken promises, with the beginnings of something better.

And for now, that was enough.

---

Bakugo’s hand enveloped yours, firm yet gentle, as if he was anchoring himself to you.

The warmth of his grasp communicated what his words had struggled to convey earlier—a need, a desire to hold on to you no matter what.

The silence in the car was filled with unspoken understanding as you both sat there, the weight of the evening settling between you.

When the car finally pulled into your driveway, you barely had time to move before Bakugo was already out of the driver’s seat.

He strode purposefully around the car, his movements sharp yet filled with intent.

You blinked in surprise as he opened the passenger door, crouching down to your level.

His crimson eyes met yours, raw and unguarded. “You mean a lot to me,” he began, his voice steady but thick with emotion.

“So much... and I’m sorry for not showing you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words tumbled out, each one more heartfelt than the last.

“I’m sorry for not replying. I’m sorry for not being there. I’m sorry for not showing up,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly as he leaned closer.

“I promise, though, from now on... everything I do, I’ll do it with you on my mind.”

His hands found their way to your thighs, a touch so gentle and deliberate it sent a shiver through you.

It wasn’t just an apology—it was a plea, a vow.

“I promise you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “that from now on, I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel loved. So please, don’t give up on me. Please, don’t lose hope.”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his tone, the rawness of his confession.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you managed a small, wavering smile as you placed your hand over his.

“You swear?” you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.

His grip on your thigh tightened just slightly, his crimson eyes boring into yours with unwavering determination.

“I promise,” he said, his voice firm yet soft.

That was all you needed to hear.

A small, genuine smile spread across your lips as you nodded.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt the weight lifting off your chest.

After a moment, Bakugo stepped back slightly, holding out his hand to you.

You placed your hand in his, and he helped you out of the car with a gentleness that contrasted his usual brash demeanor.

Once you were both standing, he didn’t hesitate—he pulled you into a tight, almost desperate hug.

His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you as if he was afraid you’d slip away.

His head rested against your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your fingers threading gently through his spiky blonde hair.

“I missed you more,” he murmured against your shoulder, his voice low and filled with emotion.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the world around you fading into insignificance.

It was as if time had paused, giving you both a chance to reconnect, to heal.

When he finally pulled back, his hands still rested on your waist, and his gaze locked onto yours.

The intensity in his eyes took your breath away, and before you could say anything, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an apology, a promise, a declaration.

His lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as if to ground himself.

You responded just as passionately, pouring every ounce of love, frustration, and hope into the kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together.

His crimson eyes softened as he looked at you, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

You smiled back, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

He chuckled softly, his voice lighter than it had been all evening. “I won’t. I swear.”

In that moment, standing together in the driveway under the soft glow of the porch light, you felt something shift between you.

A new beginning, built on honesty and love. And for the first time in a long time, you believed things could truly get better.

ADULT BAKUGO FANFICTION

2K notes · View notes

4linos · 7 months ago

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they call you clingy pt. 2

ot8 x fem!reader

genre: slight angst. hurt/comfort. fluff. (mostly) happy endings.

wc: 8916

(read they call you clingy pt. 1 first)

bang chan

When Chan returned home later that night, he was overwhelmed with guilt. He expected to be greeted with a warm embrace, maybe even a soft joke about how awkward he had been earlier. But when he entered your shared bedroom, he was greeted with silence. The lights were dark, and you sat on the edge of the bed, back to him. "Y/N?" He called out quietly, almost pleading.

You did not respond.

Chan's heart fell as he got closer, but you flinched when you felt him behind you. He stood there for a while, unsure of what to do, before finally speaking, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say what I said. It was a terrible joke. Please… please look at me.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough for him to see the tear tracks on your cheeks. Your eyes were red and swollen, and your expression was tight, like you were holding everything in. The sight broke him, and he stepped forward, kneeling in front of you, trying to meet your gaze.

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I was frustrated, and I let it all out in the worst way. I’m so sorry, I should’ve never said that. You’re not clingy. I don’t think that at all. I was wrong. I never should’ve made you feel that way.”

You shook your head slowly, your voice cold. “No, you meant it. I heard the way you said it. You don’t want me around. You think I’m suffocating you.”

“I don’t,” Chan whispered urgently, his hands reaching out to touch yours, but you pulled them away. “I don’t think that. I swear. I don’t want you to think that at all. I just… I don’t know what came over me.”

But you didn’t want to hear it. You wanted to believe him, but the words still stung too much. The way he had looked at you with indifference, how he dismissed your presence like it was something burdensome. It wasn’t just the words it was the way it made you feel so small, like you weren’t wanted.

You stood up suddenly, avoiding his touch. “I just need some space, Chan. Please. Just leave me alone tonight.”

Chan flinched, but he didn’t argue. He nodded, his heart breaking as he quietly walked out of the room. He knew he had crossed a line, and the weight of that reality hit him hard. He didn’t sleep well that night, tossing and turning on the couch, feeling the distance between you both like a wall that couldn’t be scaled.

The next morning, Chan woke up early, with his mind still filled with guilt. He'd apologized the night before, but he knew it wasn't enough. He needed to express how sorry he was and how much he cared. He crept quietly into the kitchen and began preparing breakfast, hoping to get it right for once. When the smell of pancakes and coffee filled the apartment, he returned to your bedroom, gently knocked on the door before opening it slightly.

You sat on the side of the bed, looking out the window. Your back was still turned to him, but when you heard him enter, you had stayed still.

Chan took a deep breath, his voice soft. “I made breakfast… for us. Please, can we just eat together? I want to talk.”

You didn't say anything at first, but eventually nodded and stood up, following him into the kitchen. You both sat silently, the tension hanging between you like a cloud. Chan pushed the dish of pancakes toward you, his hands shaking slightly. He took a breath and spoke again, his voice full of earnestness.

"You were not clinging, Y/N. I was wrong. You aren't suffocating me. I adore having you around; I always do. I… I'm not sure why I said that. My frustration clouded my judgment, and I hurt you. I'm really sorry."

You didn’t answer right away, but the tightness in your chest slowly loosened. You looked up at him, seeing the genuine regret in his eyes. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

You sighed softly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “It just hurt, Chan. I… I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

“You’re never a burden,” he said quietly. “You’re my partner. I want you to be with me. Always. You nodded, the words finally sinking in. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”

He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “No, I deserve it. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you both ate in silence, the unspoken understanding between you filling the room with a quiet comfort. The hurt was still there, but you knew you could heal it together.

lee know

The warmth from the burns on your leg persisted, but the coldness in your chest stung the most. You sat on the edge of the bed, carefully placing a cold compress against your skin, hoping that the discomfort sting would ease.

Your mind was racing, trying to figure out what had just transpired in the kitchen. Minho, your Minho, had yelled at you, and the words cut worse than anything physical could. You couldn't understand how it had come to this.

You had tried so hard to help, to lighten his burden, but instead you had made matters worse. The kitchen was a wreck, your leg was on fire, and your heart felt like it had been ripped open by the very person who had always made you feel safe. You wanted to believe it was just a moment of frustration, something that could be forgiven, but the distance between you both felt insurmountable.

When Minho’s voice called from the living room, it felt like the world’s weight pressed on your chest. “Hey... can we talk?" He sounded tired, but there was an undertone of hesitation, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d even listen.

You didn’t respond, hoping the silence would send the message you weren’t ready to face him just yet. But moments later, the sound of his footsteps in the hall brought you back to reality, and before you could register, he was standing in the doorway of your bedroom.

His expression shifted from confusion to panic when he saw you sitting there, the cold compress against your leg, and your tear-streaked face. His eyes widened, a rush of guilt flooding over him.

"What... what happened?" His voice was quieter and more uncertain now. He took a step forward, peering down at the reddening skin on your leg. "I—oh God, did you burn yourself?" His eyes scanned yours for a response, his hand quivering slightly as he reached out to touch your leg. You didn't say anything. You couldn’t find the words. The burn hurt badly, but the heaviness of his words in the kitchen made it intolerable.

Minho's hands shook as he gently led you to lie down on the bed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" His voice cracked slightly as he rubbed a cool cloth on the burns, the chill alleviating the sting slightly.

You finally let yourself to cry, tears rocking your chest and the emotional weight coming down on you. You didn't understand how much you were holding back until the tears started pouring freely. "I-I'm sorry for the soup," you said through sobbing. "I didn't mean to ruin everything. "I just... wanted to help."

Minho's face softened, expressing regret and disbelief. He wiped your tears away with his thumb, his voice barely audible. "Stop. I don't care about the soup. Not when you're hurt. "Why didn't you tell me you were in pain?"

His words felt like a balm to your wounded heart, but they didn’t erase the ache. You buried your face in his chest as he leaned down to kiss your forehead gently, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You don’t deserve that... you never deserve that.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten even more. You clung to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso, needing his warmth, his presence. “Minho... I just—everything went wrong today. And then you... you made me feel like I was a burden.” Your voice trembled, and the weight of your emotions finally broke free.

Minho’s arms tightened around you as he whispered into your hair, “I never meant to make you feel that way. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. But you are not a burden. You never will be. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You could feel his hands softly comb through your hair, comforting you as you kept crying into him. The tears weren't simply over the soup, the burn, or the day's failures. It was all about trying to keep things together, to be strong, and not show how overwhelmed you were. And everything came tumbling down in his arms. "I should have been there for you today." "I should have seen how much you were struggling," Minho said, his voice thick with regret. "I'm not upset at you. I should never have said that. I'm so sorry."

You nodded into his chest, the tears slowly subsiding as his comforting words washed over you. Despite everything, despite the mess and the hurt, there was still love between you two, even if it was lost in the chaos for a moment.

“I love you,” Minho whispered, his hand gently wiping away the last of your tears. “Please, forgive me.”

You pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes. There was nothing but tenderness there now, no trace of the frustration that had clouded his expression before. “I love you too,” you said, your voice still shaky, but steadying. “I know you didn’t mean it. I just... I just had such a bad day. Everything went wrong, and I was just trying to fix it... and I ended up making it worse.”

Minho kissed your forehead again, his lips lingering for a moment. “You don’t have to fix everything. You don’t have to carry it all alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here. Let me help you.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief settle over you as his arms wrapped around you again. “I’m sorry, too,” you whispered, hugging him tighter. “I just... I wanted to help you. To make it better. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

“I know,” Minho whispered back. “And you didn’t make it worse. I promise.”

As the silence between you two grew, the storm within you began to calm. It wasn't entirely mended yet, but for the first time that day, you felt like you weren't going through it alone. You felt at ease in his embrace, and you gradually began to hope that things can get better again.

changbin

Changbin's breath came out in weak, raspy gasps as he stood there watching you walk away. Every instinct in his body shouted for him to go after you, to draw you back and explain himself, but something in the air held him still. The severity of his own words resonated in his thoughts, a jarring reminder of the damage he had just done. You were hurt. And now, so was he.

He watched as your form disappeared through the exit, the door closing softly behind you. The gym suddenly felt suffocating. The weight of his own anger and frustration, which he had not yet fully comprehended, seemed to settle in his chest like a stone. He turned over, and his face flushed, his head dizzy with regret. He never wanted to make you feel like this, never wanted you to feel like a burden. His mind was spinning with confusion, but one thing was painfully clear: he had messed up. Badly.

He stood there for a long time, eyes fixed on the door, as if begging you to return, but he knew it was pointless. He had said too much. The damage was done.

You'd never felt smaller than you did at that time. Changbin's words felt like a hefty blow to the chest, knocking the air out of you. You weren't expecting him to snap. Sure, he'd been distant before, but this was different. The sharpness in his voice, the way he stared at you with irritation and anger, hurt in ways you couldn't articulate.

You didn’t know how long you had been walking for when you found yourself in the parking lot, your car now looming in front of you like a silent reminder of what had just transpired. You stood there for a moment, your hands trembling as you fumbled to unlock the door. The cold night air bit at your skin, but the chill in your chest felt much worse.

Why was he so angry?

You understood that sometimes people needed space, but you had no idea that your presence, which you expected to bring you closer, would make him feel overwhelmed. The realization hit you hard: He had been letting you to follow him about because he didn't know how to express his need for space. And, in the end, when he exploded, it broke the fragile link you had formed with him.

Your eyes stung with the promise of tears, but you pushed them away. You weren't sure if you were ready to let them fall yet.

You got in the car and drove aimlessly at first, wanting to get away and clear your mind. The drive seemed to go on forever, but you couldn't escape the agony in your chest. You eventually pulled over onto a quiet street and parked. You allowed the silence to settle in, the only sound being the faint hum of your car's engine.

Your phone buzzed, and you looked at it nervously. It was a message from Changbin. Your finger hovered over the screen, unsure whether to open it or not. But the yearning for an explanation, some attempt to make sense of it all, was overwhelming. So you opened it.

Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted. Can we please talk?

You bit your lip, your eyes scanning the words over and over. His apology felt sincere, but it didn’t erase the sting of what he had said. How could it? And yet, a part of you still wanted to hear him out, to understand where he was coming from, even if it hurt.

You debated texting him back. Part of you wanted to ignore him, to hold onto the distance you felt was needed right now. Another part wanted to reach out, to explain that you weren’t trying to smother him, that you just wanted to be close.

Instead of responding, you did the one thing you never thought you’d do: you called him.

The phone rang a few times before he answered. “Y/N?” His voice was soft, hesitant, almost nervous.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Can we talk?”

A long silence passed. You could hear him take a deep breath on the other end. “Yeah. I think we need to.”

Back at the gym, Changbin had barely managed to collect himself before his phone buzzed in his hand. When he saw your name on the screen, he almost couldn’t believe it. He had messed up so badly, and yet, you were still willing to talk to him. His heart beat faster as he swiped to answer, his voice coming out quieter than he intended.

“Y/N?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t imagining this.

“I… I’m still upset, Bin,” you said, your voice shaky. “I don’t know what to think. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was invading your space. I just… I wanted to be close to you.”

“I know,” he whispered, guilt flooding his chest. “I should’ve told you sooner. It’s not your fault. I don’t want you to feel like that… like I’m pushing you away. But I just… the gym was the one place where I could just be by myself, clear my head. And when I didn’t have that anymore… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “I didn’t know. I thought… I thought you’d like it. That maybe it would be something we could do together.”

“I do like spending time with you,” he said, his voice steady now, more sincere. “I really do. But I didn’t realize how much I was taking it out on you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I’m sorry for how I said it. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. You’re not a burden to me, Y/N. You’re the last person I want to hurt.”

You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “I just wanted to be close to you. I didn’t realize I was making you feel suffocated.” There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I know. And I should’ve communicated better. I just didn’t know how.”

“I understand,” you replied softly. “I just… I need a little time. To process this.”

Changbin’s heart sank, but he understood. “Yeah. I get that. Take the time you need. But please know I’m here. I don’t want to lose you over something that should’ve been a misunderstanding.”

You inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of the conversation. It wasn’t fixed, not yet, but you could feel the tension easing a little, the sharp edges of the pain starting to soften.

“Okay,” you said quietly. “We’ll talk more when I’m ready.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Changbin replied, his voice full of warmth despite the distance between you. “I’ll be here.”

The call ended, leaving a quiet, uneasy space between you two. You were unsure where this would lead or what would happen next. But perhaps, just maybe, you can find your way back together.

hyunjin

The next morning, you woke to a cloud of confusion still hanging over you. Hyunjin's remark from last night, as well as the way he pushed you away, played on an unending loop in your memory. The hurt was still fresh, but you were beginning to wonder why. Why had everything changed so dramatically? Why had Hyunjin, who you had always trusted, suddenly become distant?

You'd barely slept, your mind knotted in a web of despair, confusion, and betrayal. Everything seemed odd as you tried to get through the day. The calm hum of your daily routine had been replaced by a heavy silence in your chest. Your phone remained silent, and you weren't sure if that was a relief or something else entirely. You couldn’t decide whether to hope Hyunjin would reach out to explain himself or whether it was better to just forget it all.

But then, in the late afternoon, your phone buzzed. It was a text from him.

Hyunjin: Can we talk? I need to explain.

Your stomach twisted, both nervous and cautious. You stared at the message, weighing the possibility of opening the door to this conversation. You didn’t know if you were ready to hear whatever he had to say. Still, part of you needed answers, even if they were painful.

After a few moments of hesitation, you typed back.

You: Where?

Hyunjin: Meet me at the park in 30 minutes. Please.

You took a deep breath and, despite everything, found yourself getting ready to meet him. Part of you was angry, but there was another part, the part that still missed him, that needed to understand. You had always believed in the strength of your friendship. You didn’t want to just throw that away without knowing what had really happened.

When you arrived at the park, the air felt cool against your skin, and the trees around you swayed gently in the breeze. The park was quiet, mostly empty, with only a few scattered joggers. You found him near a bench, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his posture tense. He stood as soon as he saw you, but neither of you moved closer at first. There was an awkwardness between you two that felt thick enough to cut.

“Hyunjin,” you said softly, your voice almost faltering. "You wanted to talk?"

He nodded but didn’t say anything right away. He just stood there, staring at you as if he wasn’t sure how to start. Finally, after a long pause, he exhaled sharply and took a step closer.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice low and unsure. "I know I hurt you last night, and I—I need you to know that wasn’t my intention. I’ve been… I’ve been a mess, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings.”

You furrowed your brows, the confusion growing. “Feelings? What are you talking about?”

Hyunjin seemed to hesitate, as if he was unsure whether to voice the words out. But after a moment, he added, his voice breaking slightly: "I—I like you. More than just a friend. I had for a while, but I wasn't sure how to deal with it. So I tried pushing you away. I figured if I detached myself from you, it would go away. That I could let go of these feelings."

The words struck you like a thunderclap. For a while, you just stood there, your mind spinning, trying to make sense of what he had just revealed. Hyunjin... liked you? Was it why he had been so distant? All the time you'd spent wondering what had changed, what had gone wrong… it was this?

He looked at you, his eyes full of vulnerability, guilt, and something else that you couldn’t quite name. “I didn’t know how to deal with it, and I thought… if I pushed you away, I could just forget. But the more I tried to ignore it, the worse it got. And last night, I just… I didn’t know how to act around you anymore. So I lashed out. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You stood there, silently absorbing his words. The knot in your chest relaxed, but it was replaced by something else: a rush of feelings you couldn't quite describe.

You had no idea how to handle this revelation. You had been wondering what had happened to your friendship, why things seemed so tense, and now it all made sense. But it was overwhelming. You never saw it coming.

"I don't know what to say," you confessed gently. "I did not..." I didn't realize you felt that way. All I saw was you slipping away, and I wondered if I had done something wrong. I didn't realize it was about this."

“I should have told you,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I was so afraid of ruining everything, of losing our friendship. But instead, I ended up pushing you away. I thought if I could stop being close to you, I could stop feeling this way. I was wrong."

You felt a mixture of emotions rise up relief, anger, sadness, confusion. But beneath it all, there was something else: you understood now. He had been trying to protect himself, even if it meant hurting you in the process. It didn’t make his actions right, but it made them a little easier to comprehend.

“So what now?” you asked, your voice softer than before.

Hyunjin took a step closer, his gaze intense. "I don’t expect things to go back to how they were immediately. I don’t know how to fix this. But I want to try. I want to be honest with you now. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. But I couldn’t keep pretending anymore. I couldn’t let you think you didn’t matter."

You paused for a long moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Part of you still felt hurt, but another part of you your heart, maybe was softening. You had always cared about him. The idea of more than just friendship… it was a lot to process, but you realized that in some way, you were willing to listen, to figure out what this meant for the two of you.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” you said, finally meeting his gaze. “But I’m not going to lie and say I don’t care. I do. I care a lot. We just need time. To figure this out.”

Hyunjin nodded, his eyes filled with a quiet hope. “I’ll give you time. I won’t push you. I just needed to say it. To be honest.”

The two of you stood there for a while, neither of you moving, but there was a shift a change in the air. For the first time in weeks, it felt like there might be a way forward. Maybe it wasn’t simple, maybe it wasn’t easy, but at least you had the truth. And that, you realized, was enough to begin again.

HAN

The silence lingered for what seemed like hours, the kind of silence that enveloped you both like a thick cloud. You hadn't moved, still curled on the bed, eyes locked on the wall, as if it might give some answers. You couldn't get the idea that something inside of him had permanently shifted, that whatever had cracked tonight had been building up for a time and was now beyond your control.

Jisung said nothing, did not try to pull you closer, nor did he give his usual soothing words of regret. But he had not left either. His presence next to you, despite its normal comfort, suddenly felt like a distant recollection, a piece of him that had vanished.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you heard him shift on the bed beside you. His voice was barely a whisper, but you could tell he was struggling, his words thick with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you could hear the weight of the apology, like he had been holding it back for so long it had become a raw, painful thing.

You stayed silent, not sure what to say. He had hurt you, and though you wanted to forgive him, you couldn’t shake the sting of his words. His harshness had cut deeper than anything he’d said before, and you weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion of the day, or something more, something that had been building up between you two for a while.

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N,” he continued, his voice shaky, as if the apology itself had become difficult to express. “I’m just… I’m just tired. I don’t know how to deal with everything. But that doesn’t excuse how I snapped at you. You don’t deserve that. You never do.”

You eventually allowed yourself to turn towards him, your gaze scanning his face, and you saw the weakness there, the same vulnerability you had always seen beneath his normal confidence. His fists were clasped in his lap, and his shoulders bowed, as if he were bracing for the impending storm.

"You are not a burden, Y/N." "You're not clingy," he continued quietly, his voice much lower now, as if the apology was gradually peeling away the layers of irritation and hurt. "I just.. I'm not always sure how to let you in. I am so overwhelmed that instead of accepting your help, I push you away."

Your heart squeezed. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was battling with himself, trying to figure out how to make it right without knowing how.

“I’ve been so used to dealing with everything on my own,” he continued, looking at the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. “I didn’t want to burden you with my problems. I didn’t want you to see me as weak. But instead, I ended up hurting you.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you hard, and it took everything in you not to reach out and wrap your arms around him. You knew he had been struggling, you knew it. But hearing him admit that he had been keeping things from you, afraid of showing his true self, only made the ache in your chest grow.

“I don’t think you’re weak,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “I think you're strong. But you don’t have to do everything by yourself, Jisung. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

He shook his head, eventually meeting your eyes. His eyes were filled with sadness, but there was also a quiet desperation in them, as if he didn't know how to mend the rift between you two.

“I just... I'm so sorry. I don't know how to ask for help," he said, his voice full with sorrow. "But when you try to help me, I... I push you away because I'm not sure how to let you in. But you aren't a burden, Y/N. You have never been one. I just didn't know how to handle anything on my own, so I ended up pushing you away when all you wanted was to be there for me."

The honesty in his words was almost too much to bear. You had always known Jisung to be someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, someone who could make light of even the darkest situations. But now, seeing him like this, so raw and open, made your chest tighten.

“I don’t want you to push me away anymore,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to help you. But I can’t help you if you keep shutting me out.”

Jisung's lips twitched, as if he wanted to say more but couldn't find the right words. Instead, he simply nodded, the impact of his quiet screaming loudly. He didn't need to say anything else because you could feel the pain in his chest and all the frustration he'd been carrying around for too long.

For a long time, the two of you merely sat there, your quiet now distinct. It wasn't the crushing stillness of earlier, but one filled with empathy, even if neither of you understood exactly how to mend anything.

After a while, Jisung reached out, his hand hesitating before softly stroking your arm. The warmth of his fingers across your skin brought back memories of how simple things had been between you two. He didn't say anything unnecessary, but you could sense his apology in the way he held his hand there, letting you know he was sincerely sorry.

"I'll try to do better," he answered simply and softly. "I will try to let you in more. I do not want to push you away anymore."

You nodded, your heart still heavy but not as broken as it had been moments ago. “I just want to be there for you, Jisung,” you said softly. “I don’t want you to have to go through everything alone.”

The quiet stretched again, but this time, it felt different. It felt like a beginning. Neither of you knew how to fix everything right away, but you both knew that you wanted to try. And sometimes, that was enough.

Jisung shifted closer, his hand still resting on your arm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel so distant from each other. There were still things left unsaid, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that you were both here, both willing to try again.

felix

The hours passed by in agonizing silence, the kind that made everything seem more impossible than it actually was and stretched and clawed at your thoughts. Nothing could take away the icy emptiness that had descended between you and Felix, even as you lay there, wrapped up inside yourself, listening to the gentle buzz of the night.

When the world got too much, he would wrap up with you and reassure you with soft touches and quiet words. You recalled the warmth you had previously enjoyed. Now, it felt like a lifetime ago. His distance was more than just physical; it was something that made your chest hurt since you didn't know how to make it better.

But as much as you wanted to lie there, to let the hurt consume you, you couldn't. You couldn't just wait and wonder if things would somehow improve on their own. You were the kind of person who needed closure, who needed to understand what was happening. And right now, Felix was slipping through your fingers, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

You sat up, wiping at your tear-streaked face, and glanced towards the living room. The faint glow from the TV still flickered through the hallway, casting a cold light on the darkness of the apartment. You could feel the weight of the choice pressing down on you: Should you leave him be, give him the space he seemed to want, or should you push through, confront him, and demand answers?

You hesitated for quite some time. But then you made a decision. You needed answers. You needed to understand why the person you loved had abruptly shifted into someone you didn't recognize. You moved along the hallway, the apartment's silence more oppressive than before.

Felix kept his position on the couch, his eyes looking blankly at the TV, his posture tight and walled off. You stayed there for a moment, studying him, trying to determine whether he noticed your presence.

His eyes didn’t leave the screen. His face remained unreadable.

"Felix," you said again, your voice steady but laced with emotion. This time, there was no hesitation in your tone, no softness. You needed him to hear you.

He didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel the tension in the room shift slightly, as if he knew you were waiting for him to say something. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, quieter than before.

“I told you I don’t want to talk,” he said, almost in a whisper. But this time, the words weren’t as sharp. There was something else in his voice, something you hadn’t heard before. It wasn’t anger, but a deep exhaustion, a weariness that seemed to go beyond just physical fatigue.

You didn’t take a step back this time. Instead, you closed the distance between you, sitting on the arm of the couch, your hand brushing lightly against his. It was small, a gesture that once would have meant nothing, but now it felt like everything. You needed him to know you were still here, that you hadn’t given up.

“Felix,” you repeated, softer this time, your voice trembling with vulnerability. “I know something’s bothering you. And I get it. You don’t have to talk right now, if you’re not ready. But I need to know—am I the problem?”

When you asked the question, his head snapped towards you, his eyes wide with amazement, as if he had never considered it before. For a brief moment, his gaze softened, and you thought you caught a glimpse of the old Felix, the one who used to share everything with you, the one who would always turn to you when the world got too much.

"Of course not," he said gently, his voice husky. He took a deep breath and wiped his face with his palms before running them through his hair. "You aren't the problem. "I just...I’m a mess right now, okay? I did not mean to push you away. I didn't know how to deal with it, and I thought if I could draw back, maybe it would get better.”

His words hung in the air, and for the first time in what felt like days, you understood. Felix had always been the strong one, the person who seemed so capable of handling everything on his own. But now you saw how much he was struggling beneath the surface, how much he had been hiding.

"You don’t have to carry it all alone," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "Felix, we’ve always been a team. You can lean on me. You don’t have to push me away just because you’re having a hard time."

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze flickering to the floor, then back up to you. The tension in his shoulders finally seemed to ease, and he let out a long breath. It was as though a weight was slowly lifting, and for the first time in days, you saw a glimpse of the Felix you had known and loved.

“I’m scared,” he admitted softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m scared of being a burden. I’m scared that if I show you how much I’m struggling, you’ll leave. I’m scared you won’t love me if I’m not always the one who has everything together.”

The rawness of his confession hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you just sat there, your heart aching for him. You had always known Felix to be strong, but in this moment, you realized just how vulnerable he was beneath it all, and how much he had been carrying alone.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me, Felix,” you said, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “I love you, all of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between. You don’t have to be anything but yourself.”

Felix finally looked at you, his eyes wide, his expression almost disbelieving. The walls that had been built up around him seemed to crack ever so slightly, and you could see the relief in his eyes. He swallowed hard, then reached out, taking your hand in his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his grip tightening around your fingers. “I’ve been pushing you away for no reason. I was just so scared.”

You shook your head gently, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, Felix. You don’t have to be scared. We’ll get through this together.”

For a minute, you just stood there, the two of you having an unsaid understanding. There was still a lot to sort out, and the path ahead would be difficult, but you knew that if you were both ready to try, you could do it.

As Felix drew in closer, resting his forehead against yours, you felt the warmth of his presence return, as well as the relief that you hadn't lost him despite everything. Not yet.

And for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe that things could be better.

seungmin

The morning light filtered softly through the kitchen windows, casting a dull glow over the room. Seungmin walked in, a faint sigh escaping his lips as he poured himself a cup of coffee, his mind still half-occupied by the rehearsals and everything waiting for him outside the walls of this apartment. But as he sat down at the breakfast table, he was immediately hit with an unexpected shift in the air.

There was no cheerful greeting from you, no attempt to share a quiet moment together before the day began. Instead, you sat across from him, silently eating your breakfast, your gaze fixed on the plate in front of you. Usually, you’d be making something small, even if it was just a quick toast or coffee, a gesture that made mornings feel connected. But today, the stillness felt suffocating.

Seungmin frowned, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He didn’t quite understand why you weren’t speaking, but he knew something wasn’t right. He set his cup down, meeting your eyes for the briefest of moments before his voice broke through the quiet.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, his tone a bit strained, not sure if he was even ready to hear the answer.

You did not respond immediately away, keeping your gaze fixed on your food and your jaw tight as if the words you wanted to say were locked between your teeth. But they didn't come, and your silence spoke louder than any argument. Seungmin waited, his patience dwindling as time passed.

Finally, you scoffed, making a little but harsh sound that seemed to cut through the air, and you stood up from the table, pushing your chair back with an audible scrape.

"I don’t know, Seungmin," you shot back, your voice tinged with frustration, barely holding back the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "Maybe I’m just tired of feeling like I don’t matter to you."

He blinked, taken aback by the intensity of your words. Before he could respond, you stormed off, the door to the bedroom slamming shut behind you with a force that rattled the still air. Seungmin sat there, the taste of the bitter coffee suddenly unfamiliar in his mouth, his mind spinning. He hadn’t expected this. Not after everything that had happened last night.

The rest of the day felt like a blur. He went through the motions work, meetings, rehearsals but your words lingered in his mind, a constant hum of unease. By the time he returned home that evening, the tension was unbearable. He hesitated by the front door, unsure of what to expect. Normally, he would have found you sitting on the couch, or you would have greeted him with a small smile, asking about his day. But tonight, there was only silence.

He walked into the apartment, his footsteps faltering slightly as he noticed you in the corner of the living room, avoiding his gaze completely. You sat curled up on the couch, eyes fixed on the television but not really seeing anything at all. He stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of you, and the hollow feeling in his chest deepened.

"Can we talk?" he asked carefully, his voice laced with concern. His eyes searched yours for any sign that you were ready to listen.

You didn't respond immediately, your body rigid and remote. His heart fell as he saw the look on your face, as if a part of you had closed off, trapped behind a door he couldn't open. "Please," he said, getting closer. "I don't know what's going on, but..." "I can't fix this unless you tell me."

You snapped your head up, your eyes burning with a mix of pain and frustration. Your voice was more emotional than usual. "You don't get it, do you, Seungmin?" You stood up abruptly, raising your voice with each word. "I have tried. I've been trying for days to get you to come see me and realize that something is wrong! But all you have done is brush me off, make me feel like I’m too much for you, like I’m just… clingy."

His eyes widened in realization, the words you had uttered earlier in the morning returning to him with a crushing force. He had no idea it had gotten this bad, nor did he realize how much his words had hurt you until now. And it stung when the weight of his own stupidity fell on him. You carried on, your voice cracking as you talked.

"You've been really distant, Seungmin. And when I try to talk to you or look for your attention, you just push me away. You make me feel as though I am a burden. And I can't keep pretending that I don't feel it.”

Seungmin opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stood there, completely stunned, his chest tightening with regret. He had been so wrapped up in his own stress and exhaustion, so focused on his own battles, that he hadn’t realized how far apart you had grown, how much pain you had been quietly carrying.

He swallowed hard, stepping closer, his voice small now, barely a whisper. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I… I didn’t realize how much my actions were hurting you."

But your anger had already started to bubble back up. You shook your head, arms crossed tightly against your chest. "How could you not realize, Seungmin? How could you not see how much I’m struggling with this? I needed you, but you’ve been so… so cold." You paused, your breath shallow. "I needed you to care. To see me."

The words stung like salt in an open wound, but Seungmin couldn’t deny the truth in them. His heart clenched, and without thinking, he moved toward you, pulling you into his arms before you could step away.

"I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I didn’t mean to make you feel invisible, or like you were too much. I’ve been so caught up in everything that I forgot to see you, to notice what I was doing to us." He held you tighter, his grip desperate now, like he was trying to hold onto something he feared was slipping away. "Please forgive me. I don’t want to lose you."

Your body trembled against him, but for the first time in what felt like ages, you didn’t pull away. You rested your forehead against his chest, letting out a shaky breath, your emotions swirling but slowly softening under his touch.

"I just need you to be present, Seungmin," you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. "I need to know that you’re here with me. That I matter to you."

"I hear you," he whispered softly, gently touching your face and lifting your head to meet his gaze. His embrace was raw and vulnerable in a way you had not seen before. "I hear you, and I promise to do better." I will make you feel seen. I will make sure you understand how much you mean to me."

You nodded softly, your heart aching but glad for his genuine remarks. The path to healing would take time, but for the first time in a long time, you felt confident that he would accompany you on it.

I.N

The next day, Jeongin arrived at your apartment, his normal bright smile on his face as he walked through the door. It was as if yesterday had never happened. His aura was light and carefree, as if he hadn't just disrupted the peace you had previously enjoyed in your relationship.

You, on the other hand, were still reeling from his cold demeanor the night before. The hurt persisted, and you couldn't shake the weight of his words. Stop being so clingy. It wasn't the first time someone had made you feel small, but it hurt more than you expected, especially coming from him.

You didn't answer as usual, and you didn't greet him with the warmth he had grown to expect. Instead, you kept your distance by giving him short, clipped answers. You preoccupied yourself with little things in the apartment, refusing to make eye contact in the hopes that the stillness would bridge the gap between you. The tension in the room, however, was palpable.

Jeongin didn't seem to notice right away. He went about his usual business, jokingly discussing his day and laughing as if everything was alright. When he reached for your hand, you automatically pushed it away, indicating that something was wrong. His smile faltered, and the warmth in his eyes was gradually replaced by confusion.

"Hey," he said, voice soft, the smile still not fully gone but now laced with a hint of concern. "What's wrong?"

You looked up at him, saw the real confusion in his eyes, and almost let it go. Almost let go of your pain for his smile, for the Jeongin you adored. But the words you'd been keeping in all day sprang to the surface. "What was that yesterday?" You snapped, your voice filled with emotion. The anger, hurt, and confusion you'd been harboring all night had finally bubbled over. "You were an entirely different person. One minute you were fine the next you were pushing me away, telling me I was too clingy. What was that?"

Jeongin blinked, taken aback by your strong tone, his eyes wide as if he had not expected such an outburst. His posture tensed, and for a brief period, you could see the walls he had built to protect himself from whatever discomfort was brewing inside. But that didn't erase the fact that his actions had harmed you more than he knew.

"If you want to act like that, maybe we should just break up," you muttered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, a mix of hurt and frustration in your voice. "I don't want to be with someone who suddenly treats me like I'm a burden just because they're worried about what others think.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Jeongin’s expression faltered, his brows furrowing as if the idea of you breaking up was the last thing he expected. His eyes softened slightly, and his voice became almost breathless as he spoke, not quite believing what you’d just said.

“Wait… what?” His voice wavered, the hurt in his eyes clear now. "No, no, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

You crossed your arms, feeling the burn of frustration building again. You needed answers. “Then what was it, Jeongin? Why did you act like that? I thought we were fine, but now… now I don’t know where I stand with you.”

He exhaled shakily, his hands running through his hair as he paced for a moment, clearly struggling to find the right words. After a beat of silence, he stopped in front of you, meeting your eyes, this time with a vulnerability that was both unexpected and painfully familiar.

“I… I love you," he began, his voice steady but filled with an edge of fear. "I love you so much, but I was afraid… I was afraid that if we showed too much PDA, the members would tease me relentlessly. They’re always joking about stuff like that, and I didn’t want them to make fun of me, of us."

The explanation hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, stunned. Was this actually the reason? Was he so concerned about what his members thought that he distanced himself from you, his girlfriend, in front of them? You struggled to wrap your head around it.

"Are you embarrassed of me?" The question fell out of your mouth before you could think. The thought of it twisted something inside you, the possibility that he might consider you as something to hide rather than something to be proud of.

Jeongin’s face immediately morphed into one of panic, as if the very suggestion cut him deeper than anything you could have said. “No! God, no. I would never—” He stepped forward, his hands reaching for you, but you instinctively took a small step back. He stopped, his hands falling to his sides, the hurt in his eyes obvious now.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his confession hanging between you two. "I never meant for you to feel like that. I just… I just didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t want the members to think I was soft or that I couldn’t keep my cool. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. I’m sorry for pushing you away, for making you feel like I didn’t care about you."

His words were a mix of regret and sincerity, and as he spoke, you could feel the depth of his struggle, the dread of being judged and ridiculed that kept him from completely being himself with you. It wasn't that he didn't love you; it was just that he hadn't understood how to balance his feelings with the demands of his life.

You stood there, silent for a moment, contemplating what he had just said. Your heart was still raw, but you could see remorse in his eyes and feel it in the way he stood, as if he was waiting for you to decide what to do next.

Finally, you spoke, your voice quieter than before, but the hurt remained beneath the surface. "I don't care what others say, Jeongin. I care about us. I want to be able to express my love for you without having to worry about what others might say."

He nodded quickly, his stare focused, and took a slight step toward you. "I promise I won't do it again. I will never make you feel that you are too much, or that I am embarrassed by you. You are more than just someone I care about; you are someone I am proud of. And I will do better. I will."

You held onto his gaze, seeing the honesty in his eyes and sensing the truth in his words. It was not a simple fix. There was work to be done and trust to be rebuilt, but you could tell right away that he was eager to give it his all.

"I just need you to be honest with me," you muttered, feeling the tension between you begin to ease. "That's all I want."

Jeongin's expression softened as he made one final step forward, closing the gap between you. His hands met yours, and his contact was warm and grounded. "I'm here. I'm actually here. And I will make sure you never feel that way again."

(❌ proofread)

masterlist.

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prettygirl-gabi · 2 months ago

Text

Cravings, Cramps, and Consequences

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball/ WNBA-Dallas Wings

Warnings: Period-related content, smut (pazzi), dominance/teasing dynamic, mood swings, voyeurism, soft aftercare

Summary:period mood swings leads to Paige and Azzi putting you in your place….

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @zizi-bee-yapping , @latenighttalkinqwp , @fairyblossomsav

I woke up already pissed off.

My stomach was cramping like my uterus was reenacting Gladiator, and the heating pad had gone cold sometime in the night.

I was sticky, sore, and emotional for no clear reason other than hormones.

I hated everything — the blanket tangled around my legs, the faint sunlight slipping through the curtains, the way my own name sounded when Paige gently whispered it in the morning.

“Hey, baby,” she murmured, brushing a kiss to my forehead. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck full of razors,” I grumbled, rolling away from her mouth. “And you smell like strawberries. It’s annoying.”

She blinked, surprised. “Uh… okay. I can brush my teeth?”

“Whatever,” I muttered, already regretting my tone but too grumpy to fix it.

Azzi peeked her head in a second later. “We’re making breakfast. You want pancakes or eggs?”

“Do I look like someone who wants to make decisions?” I snapped from under the blanket.

There was a pause. “Noted,” Azzi said calmly. “We’ll surprise you.”

When I finally dragged myself out of bed — 30 minutes, two cramps, and one angry trip to the bathroom later — I found them both at the kitchen counter, working in tandem like domestic goddesses.

Paige had flour on her cheek.

Azzi was cutting strawberries.

The audacity of them looking that peaceful made my eye twitch.

“Is there caffeine?” I asked, standing like a gremlin in the doorway.

Paige held up a mug gently. “Chai. Less harsh on your stomach—”

“I didn’t ask for a lecture,” I said, grabbing it anyway and taking a sip. It was perfect, of course, which somehow annoyed me more.

“Do you wanna eat in bed or—”

“I’ll sit. I’m not broken.”

“Didn’t say you were,” Azzi said, not looking up.

Paige slid a plate toward me. “We put extra syrup since you like—”

“Why is the butter cold?” I interrupted. “It’s not gonna spread.”

That time, neither of them answered. Just exchanged one of those subtle, silent looks — the ones that made me feel simultaneously guilty and defensive.

I knew I was being awful. I knew it. But I couldn’t stop it. Everything in me felt too tight, too raw. Even when Paige offered, “Wanna sit in my lap? I’ll rub your back,” I looked at her like she’d grown two heads.

“I’m not a toddler, Paige.”

Azzi snorted into her juice. Paige gave her a look, then turned back to me with annoying patience.

“Okay. So… no cuddles.”

“No. And don’t ask again.”

After breakfast, they tried again — gently, carefully, like I was a wild animal they didn’t want to spook.

“Wanna lie down for a bit?” Azzi asked as we settled onto the couch. “We could nap together.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not five. I don’t need a nap.”

“I meant more like—never mind,” she said, rubbing her temple.

Paige reached for the remote. “Maybe a movie? Something chill?”

I exhaled loudly, curling into a ball with my heating pad. “I don’t care. Pick whatever.”

There was a long beat of silence.

That was the moment I realized I had crossed the line from moody to spicy. Paige and Azzi didn’t argue. They didn’t snap. They just looked at each other with that subtle shared energy that said, Alright. Bet.

“You’ve been spicy all day,” Paige said lightly, plopping beside me on the couch.

“I’m bleeding. What’s your excuse?” I deadpanned.

Azzi laughed under her breath from the other side of the room. “Damn.”

“Okay,” Paige said, raising her brows. “Noted.”

I looked at her from the corner of my eye. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” she said slowly, “we love you… but you’ve been on one since like 9 a.m., and it might be time for some consequences.”

I blinked. “Consequences? What are you gonna do, ground me?”

Azzi wandered over, her hoodie sleeves pushed up, looking deceptively casual. But the glint in her eyes said otherwise.

Azzi dropped a kiss to the top of my head, voice deceptively sweet.

“No,” she said, “we’re just gonna give you a little reminder.”

Before I could even register what that meant, Paige was tugging gently at my wrist.

“Up,” she said, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes — not in a mean way, more like a warning cloaked in affection. “Let’s go.”

“What—where?”

Neither of them answered directly. Azzi just took the mug out of my hand and Paige was already guiding me toward the bedroom with calm insistence. When I stopped in the doorway, blinking in confusion, Azzi nodded toward the desk in the corner.

“Sit.”

I glanced between the two of them. “Why?”

“Because,” Paige said, crossing the room to pull the chair out slowly, “you’ve been bratty since sunrise, and since you clearly don’t need us today…” She motioned toward the chair. “You get to watch.”

My stomach flipped.

“You’re joking.”

Azzi smiled, too pleasant. “Nope. Blanket optional. Attitude not recommended.”

I huffed, arms folded tightly. “This is dramatic.”

“You are dramatic,” Paige countered, “but go on, keep pushing.”

I sat — mostly out of curiosity, but also because I knew the second I didn’t, they’d both double down. The chair was cold through my shorts, a little too upright. Distant. And that was the point.

Azzi leaned down, brushing her fingers under my chin. “Don’t pout. You’re still our girl.”

“Just not the one getting spoiled right now,” Paige added as she pulled Azzi toward the bed with that slow, knowing smile that made my stomach coil tighter than any cramp ever could.

I sat there, helpless in the corner, as they kissed slow and deep in the glow of the bedside lamp — and for once, I had no say in how this played out.

Paige gasped as Azzi’s hand slipped under her shirt, tweaking her nipple just before Paige dropped to her knees in front of me.

Her hands pushed Azzi’s legs apart, her mouth kissing up the inside of her thigh.

“Fuck, Princess,” Paige murmured.

“Missed how sweet you sound when you’re begging. Bet, y/n misses how wet she can get you,”

Azzi bit Paige’s neck lightly. “Let’s see how fast we can make her fold.”

They took each other apart. With me watching, helplessly.

Paige pinned Azzi’s wrists above her head as Paige with her free hand worked her strap in, slowly and deeply, Azzi’s legs wrapped around Paige’s waist.

I let out a groan, eyes fluttering, body aching for every touch they are giving each other.

“Feels good?” Paige whispered, trailing kisses down Azzi’s jaw.

She nodded helplessly. “Y-Yes—Paige —yes—”

Paige put the tip of her strap in, inching all the way in slowly but surely. They she pulled out just long enough for Azzi to whine about lack of fullness.

I barely had time to look away before Paige thrusts into Azzi, this time harder, deeper.

“Fuck—Paige —”

“Shh,” she said, kissing Azzi. “Take it. Baby show her what’s she’s missin.”

Paige took Azzi’s mouth, silencing her cries, while her fingers and played with her clit in tight, delicious circles.

Circles I wasn’t able to witness up close. Circles I wasn’t making to make her feel good.

At some point, they switch positions.

Paige held Azzi’s hips while

Slamming into her from behind, Azzi gasping as Paige’s strap hitting all the right spots.

Azzi arching her back but turns her head to face me with hooded eyes.

“You want it?” she teased.

I whimpered. Squeezing my thighs together tightly.

Paige’s grip tightened on Azzi’s hips. Then looks at me with an evil grin “She’s drooling.”

Azzi moaned. “Fuck, P, m’so full.”

I watched as Azzi moved her hips back on Paige’s strap as Paige reached around to rub her swollen, sensitive clit again.

I in that moment felt nothing but jealousy.

Cause I wanted to be Paige.

Or maybe I wanted to be Azzi.

In this moment I wanted both.

“Come on, baby,” Paige whispered. “Let go. Come all over me.”

And I watched her do so—harder than I ever seen before.

They collapsed into a tangle of limbs, sweat, and shaky breaths.

Once they’ve gathered composure Paige feet softly padding towards me with her had healed out.

“Mm, join us for cuddles.” She said pulling me up gently and tugging me to the bed with her.

I let out a sigh of content once I was sandwiched in between the both of them.

Azzi pulled me into her chest, kissing my forehead.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Even when you’re being cranky and mean.”

“I love you too,” I croaked.

Paige curled up behind me, her hand on my stomach, stroking softly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again.

Azzi kissed my shoulder. “We know. We’ll make it up to you once you’re in the clear for activities again.”

Eventually we fell asleep and had been for hours by the time I woke up.

I woke up warm — the good kind of warm. Not from a heating pad or cramps or internal chaos, but from the quiet, steady thrum of two bodies tucked close around mine.

Azzi’s arms were still wrapped around me from behind, her breath slow against the back of my neck. Paige’s hand rested low on my stomach, her fingers gently tracing lazy circles like she’d been doing it even in her sleep.

I blinked slowly, taking in the soft golden light of early evening filtering through the bedroom blinds. The sheets were kicked down to our waists. My head was resting on Azzi’s collarbone, Paige’s bare thigh tangled with mine.

And for the first time today, I didn’t feel like I was going to cry or bite someone.

Instead, I felt… clingy.

Like my body was still sore from cramp and my hormones were still doing the absolute most, but all I wanted now was to keep them close. Tangle up tighter. Maybe cry, but in a nice way this time.

Azzi stirred behind me. “You okay?” she murmured, voice low and a little gravelly from sleep.

I nodded, then turned my face into her skin. “Wanna do something with me.”

She kissed the top of my head without hesitation. “Anything.”

Paige hummed groggily, lifting her face from the pillow. “Mm… she better not be asking us to go outside.”

“No,” I said quickly, burrowing between them. “Just… bath. Please.”

Azzi was already sitting up, hair a sleepy mess. “Bath sounds good.”

“You just want an excuse to keep us naked longer,” Paige teased, but she was already stretching, her fuzzy robe slipping off one shoulder as she stood and started running the water.

By the time the tub was full, warm and steaming, I was practically glued to Azzi’s side. She stepped in first, settling down with a relaxed sigh before opening her arms for me to sink back against her. I fit there like I was meant to be, her thighs framing my hips as I settled in.

Paige slid in across from us, facing us, her legs brushing mine beneath the surface. Her cheeks were still a little pink from sleep, hair damp from the light mist clinging to the air. She looked like something out of a daydream. So did Azzi.

Azzi’s hands found my thighs underwater, her fingers pressing gentle circles into the tense muscles there. “Relax, baby,” she whispered. “Let us take care of you now.”

I exhaled slowly, the steam and the water and their presence washing over me all at once. Paige’s foot found mine beneath the surface, hooking around it lightly, grounding me.

Paige leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees. “Still mad at us?”

I shook my head. “I wasn’t really mad. Just… hormonally unhinged.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh behind me, kissing my damp shoulder. “We know.”

“I didn’t mean to be such a brat,” I added quietly, letting my head fall back against Azzi’s shoulder.

“We like your bratty side sometimes,” Paige said with a smirk. “Gives us an excuse to remind you how much you love us.”

I rolled my eyes, but it was soft. “I never forget.”

“Still,” Azzi murmured, dragging her fingers gently down my legs under the water, “it’s nice to remind you you’re safe. Loved. No matter what mood you’re in.”

I felt it in my chest, heavy and warm — that truth, that anchor. I let the bath hold me up, let their love wrap around me like the steam.

Paige shifted forward slightly, cupping water in her hands and letting it run down over my knees. “We should do this every month. Like… period pampering ritual.”

“You’re just saying that because you like baths,” I mumbled.

Azzi smiled against my neck. “We like you.”

I closed my eyes.

This… this was exactly what I needed. Not just cuddles or kisses or a bath. But them. Steady. Present. Even when I pushed, even when I snapped, even when I sulked like the world had wronged me because strawberries existed and cramps were evil.

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-Thank You For Reading!💚💙

-prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

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