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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 2 days ago

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When You Call Them Clingy| Hyungline

Hyungline x Gn!Reader

Request: I hope you enjoy!!! <3

Bangchan

The soft hum of the studio usually made you feel at peace, especially when you were just spending time with Chan. You were always glad to support him in his creative space, and you enjoyed watching him work. It made you admire and love him even more than you already did, to see ihm where he felt most comfortablte.

His studio, a mix of chaos and harmony, had always been a safe space where you could just sit quietly, listening to his music flow, while you did your own thing. It wasn’t a busy session, so you figured it would be a relaxing evening- just the two of you, in quiet company, without needing to talk or be overly present.

Which after the day you had was something you needed.

But, in a rare occurrence, Chan wasn’t just focused on the music today. Every few minutes, he’d stop, look over at you, and ask if you needed anything.

"Are you comfortable?" "Do you want something to drink?" "Is the light okay? I can turn it down if it’s too bright."

At first, you smiled and humored him, appreciating the concern. He was always thoughtful like that, checking in to make sure everyone was doing well. But after a while, the constant attention felt like more than you were prepared for.

It was subtle, almost like he couldn’t quite bring himself to trust that you were fine on your own. That he couldn’t leave you alone for even a minute. The steady rhythm of his work seemed to be interrupted each time he looked over, his eyes scanning your face, waiting for a reaction, for some indication that you were okay. It wasn’t just the questions- it was the way he seemed to hover around you, constantly adjusting things to make sure you were comfortable, even if you didn’t ask for it.

You shifted in your seat, trying to get comfortable, but the tension in your chest was growing, an invisible weight pressing down on you. The events of the day had drained you- errands, calls, the never-ending list of things you still had to do- and all you wanted now was to relax, to sink into the quiet. You weren’t used to being babied, and it was starting to irk you that you were.

“Chan, you’re being a little clingy, don’t you think?” you blurted out, the words escaping before you could stop them; coming out way sharper than you had intended.

Thus, the moment they left your mouth, you regretted them.

His head snapped up, and you could see his entire body freeze, mid-motion. The soft click of his mouse was the only sound that filled the room, the silence stretching longer than you intended. You quickly glanced at him, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you like a heavy fog.

The hurt flickered in his eyes, as he stared at his computer screen, and you immediately wished you could take the words back. The Chan you knew was warm, dependable, and always in tune with others, but he wasn’t immune to being hurt, even if he was quick to hide it. His shoulders slumped just a little as he took in your words, the usual ease in his expression slipping away.

“You’re not bothered, are you?” Chan asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if testing whether he’d heard you correctly. You watched as he swallowed his fingers twitching over the soundboard.

You could tell he was trying to mask the hurt, but the slight edge of defensiveness in his tone couldn’t go unnoticed.

"No, it's just- it's a lot, Chan," you said, trying to backtrack. "I know you care, but I can do things myself."

His expression faltered, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded slowly, a quiet acceptance in his eyes that made the room feel colder.

“Okay,” he replied softly, the one word holding more weight than you expected.

He stood up from his desk, his hand running through his hair in a rare moment of uncertainty. You watched as he stepped away, moving to the corner of the room where he kept his equipment, his movements slow, deliberate.

For a second, you thought he might say something else, some explanation or defense. But instead, he settled into a quiet stillness, his attention shifting back to the computer in front of him.

But the energy in the room had changed. There was no longer the usual comfortable buzz of creativity between you both. His focus was fixed on his work now, but you could sense the space between you growing- not from distance, but from something unspoken that had settled between you. Something heavy that neither of you was willing to address just yet.

The soft click of keys echoed through the room, but it felt far away now, distant. You turned your gaze back to him, but he wasn’t looking at you. The spark in his eyes- the one that had always made him seem so open and present- was dimmer now, as if the energy was draining from him, and the room felt quieter for it.

You opened your mouth to speak again, to apologize, to fix the tension, but no words came. The weight of your earlier remark had lodged itself too deeply between you. Instead, you sat there in silence, your shoulders tense as you fidgeted with your phone, trying to distract yourself.

You felt horrible. You could feel it in the pit of your stomach, the gnawing regret. You hadn’t meant it to come out like that. You had only wanted some space, some quiet to yourself. But in doing so, you had hurt him- someone who had only ever wanted to make you comfortable, to show that he cared in his own way, despite his busy life.

As the night wore on, the conversation you thought would flow so easily never came. Instead, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, your mind circling back to his quiet reaction. The weight of his silence hung heavy, and you realized that things had shifted in a way you couldn’t take back. The space between you wasn’t just physical now- it was emotional, palpable.

And you didn’t know how to bridge that gap.

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

Minho

Minho had invited you over for dinner, and you’d been looking forward to it all week. Due to his busy schedule, you guys rarely hadf time to go on dates, so this is what made up for it.

His cooking was always top-notch, as if you were at a five-star restaurant, and you both usually spent hours enjoying each other’s company, laughing and talking about anything and everything. It showed you a different side of Minho every time you went over, the evenings always the kind of evenings that felt comfortable, familiar, and right. But tonight, it was different.

You hadn’t been in the best mood for the past few days. Between work, personal things, and the overwhelming lack of sleep, everything felt like too much. You could feel the stress weighing you down, settling in your chest, and despite the warm invitation, you couldn’t shake the sense of exhaustion that clung to you. The last thing you needed right now was Minho’s over-the-top pampering. You found yourself almost wishing he would be the quieter, more stoic Minho lots of people knew.

You sat at the kitchen counter, rubbing your temples, trying to ground yourself. The clink of glasses and the smell of food were all around you, yet it felt distant, like you couldn’t fully engage in the moment. Minho, ever attentive, seemed to notice and was quick to act.

“Here,” he said gently, handing you a glass of water with a soft smile. His hand falling to the small of your back. “You need to stay hydrated. Don’t forget, it’s important.” He placed a small kiss on your cheek.

You forced a small smile, trying to mask your frustration. “I know, Minho,” you muttered, taking the glass but not quite meeting his gaze. “You don’t have to remind me every five minutes.”

Minho blinked, clearly caught off guard by your tone. The usual lightheartedness between you both seemed to fade a little, and his face momentarily tightened, his eyes narrowing, just the slightest flicker of surprise crossing his features.

“I’m just making sure you’re okay,” he said, his voice softer now, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his words. “I care about you, and you seem agitated by something.”

His words were sincere, but for some reason, it only made your irritation grow. You had always appreciated how considerate Minho was with you specifically, how he’d go out of his way to make sure you felt good, but tonight, it was too much. You were so tired, mentally and physically, that even the smallest things felt like a weight you couldn’t carry. You just wanted to be left alone in your thoughts for a moment.

You exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up as you tried to suppress it, but it was no use.

“Minho, seriously. Stop being so clingy,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “I don’t need you to make sure I’m comfortable every five seconds,” you muttered, the exhaustion making you sound harsher than you wanted. The words hung in the air, like they were already too much as soon as they left your lips.

The room seemed to freeze for a moment. Minho’s expression faltered, his eyes widening slightly as though your words had physically hit him. For a second, you regretted it, but the irritation still burned inside you.

His face fell, his smile slipping away. You could see it clearly now- the hurt in his eyes, the way his shoulders tensed, as if your words had taken the air out of him.

Minho didn’t respond immediately, and you could see his gaze shift downward, his fingers gently toying with the edge of the countertop. There was a long silence, the kind that felt like a distant echo, hanging heavily between you both.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable,” he said, his voice quieter, almost unsure. The tone was different now- softer, more vulnerable than it had been moments before. "Guess you want to treat you just the same as everyone else." His tone was no sharp, his hurt masking itself with irritation.

Your chest tightened with guilt, but the irritation still lingered.

Now he's gonna act all petty?

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come out as you intended.

For the rest of the night, something in the air shifted. The warmth that had once been there, the playful teasing and easy camaraderie, seemed to evaporate. Minho didn’t joke around with you like he usually did, no teasing smirk or lighthearted remarks. Instead, he was quiet, almost too quiet, as if trying to withdraw without saying a word. His eyes avoided yours, and when you spoke, he answered in soft, clipped sentences, with a bit of a bite, as if holding back the true amount of venom he wanted to use.

The energy in the room felt stifling, as though the conversation had drained all the life out of it. You could feel the tension rising with each passing minute, the unsaid words hanging heavily in the space between you. Even the food, which normally would’ve been a comfort, seemed bland and cold.

You noticed how he didn’t even sit next to you while you ate- he lingered at the stove, focusing a bit to much on his cleanup.

He didn’t ask if you were okay anymore. He didn’t try to comfort you, or joke about the ridiculousness and pettiness of this whole situation.

It stung, and you hated that it did. You wanted to take it back, wanted to apologize, but your vice of pride kept you rooted in your silence. You didn’t know how to say sorry, not when the frustration felt like it was still gnawing at you.

When Minho finally did sit at the table, he finished his meal quickly, his plate pushed away, and he stood up, clearing the table with quick mechanical movements. He seemed to go through the motions, as though nothing had changed, but you could feel the tension.

When Minho finally looked at you, his eyes were distant, but there was a subtle flicker of hurt that you hadn’t expected, something you couldn’t ignore, and it stung more than you realized. Something that showed you your words had cut him even more than you had thought.

“Thanks for dinner,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, void of the usual warmth. Now, it was no longer laced with irritation, that feeling had long since morphed into an unease and anxious guilt.

He nodded, but it was a small, mechanical motion, his gaze still not quite meeting yours. “Anytime.” He glanced at his watch, then turned away, his tone colder than it had been all evening. “I have work to do. But you can show yourself out whenever you’re ready. Drive safe.”

Before you could respond, he made his way to his room, then stopped mid-step. You saw the brief hesitation in his posture before he turned back toward you. Without another word, he leaned in and kissed your temple- a quick, almost reflexive gesture. But it was different this time.

It lacked the usual warmth, the reassurance he always gave when parting ways. This kiss felt more like a habit than an act of affection, as though he couldn’t help it, even now, despite the tension in the air.

It was a gesture you’d become accustomed to over the months.

Minho’s little ritual of kissing your temple before leaving, like a small blessing or a reminder that he cared. It had always made you feel safe, loved, and cared for. But tonight, it only made your heart ache more, because you realized just how deeply he still cared for you, even in the aftermath of your words. Even in the face of your anger, he was still showing you love, silently.

And that’s when it hit you- he was still being the bigger person. You, on the other hand, let your frustrations cloud your judgment, never fully appreciating the ways Minho always took care of you.

He was trying, trying so hard to make sure you knew you were loved, going out of his usual love language comfort zones, and you had just pushed him away with your harshness.

The kiss lingered in the air long after he pulled away, the silence between you thick with unspoken emotions.

And just like that, the evening ended. The space between you felt suffocating now. Every breath you took felt heavier than the last, as guilt gnawed at you from the inside.

You couldn’t help but wonder if you could have handled it better, if you could have just let the frustration go instead of lashing out. But Minho didn’t seem to want to address that issue tonight. Not now. And the realization that you had left him feeling like that hurt more than anything.

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Changbin

Changbin had always been energetic, especially when it came to hanging out with you. Whether it was spontaneous plans or meticulously planned-out evenings, he was the type to keep the energy high. But tonight, his energy felt more like an obligation- one that you didn’t ask for, but he seemed determined to push on you.

You didn’t want to ruin his mood, but you just weren’t in the right headspace for his relentless affection. It had been a long day, and you were struggling to keep up with the high spirits he was bringing. He practically showered you with snacks, offering things before you even knew you wanted them.

“Are you cold? I’ll get you a sweater.” “Do you need more chips? Wait, do you like these ones better?” “Should we pause the movie? Are you uncomfortable?”

It was sweet, really, but at the same time, you were starting to feel suffocated. You wanted to enjoy the movie, but you were also feeling the pressure of his constant presence, his constant attention. You just needed space- space to breathe without the constant checking in, without feeling like everything you did was being observed.

“Changbin,” you said, your voice more clipped than usual. “You’re being so clingy. Can you stop?”

The words left your mouth before you could fully process them, and as soon as you saw his face, you regretted it. His eyes, always so lively, lost their spark. His face fell, and for a moment, it felt like the entire room chilled. The warmth he usually exuded seemed to evaporate in an instant.

You couldn’t look away from the hurt in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just stood up quickly, gathering the snack bags and tossing them into the trash without a word. You saw the back of his neck turn an extreme shade of crimson, inching its way up to the tips of his ears.

“Sorry, I’ll give you space,” he said flatly, his voice void of the usual playfulness.

You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the guilt that was already welling up in your chest. The words you had thrown out so carelessly weren’t just a reflection of your frustration- they had hit him, harder than you had intended.

You wanted to apologize, to fix it, but before you could, Changbin was already turning away, his focus shifting to his phone. He tapped away at it with far too much intensity, avoiding your gaze.

You thought about it then- his need to please, his constant effort to keep things light, was actually a way of overcompensating.

Changbin was trying to distract you from whatever it was that bothered you, from the things he knew were going on in your life. But tonight, all it did was make you feel like a burden. He didn’t want to face whatever was weighing on him, so he smothered you in attention. But all you wanted was to be left alone for a few minutes. But how was he supposed to know that when his affection was not only something you loved, but most of the time desperately craved.

As you glanced over at him, his shoulders were tense, and his fingers were working quickly on his phone. He hadn’t even seemed to notice that you had curled up against the couch, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The movie was playing in the background, but neither of you were really watching it anymore.

The silence between you two thickened. Your own guilt was suffocating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to apologize, not yet. What was there to say? You had told him he was clingy, a word that no one ever wants to hear in a relationship.

It was a simple mistake, but it felt like something much worse.

As Changbin slipped off to the bathroom a while later, his movements were almost mechanical, as if he couldn’t stand to be around you for even a second longer. His absence left the room feeling cold. You pulled your phone out of your pocket to distract yourself, scrolling aimlessly, but something caught your eye. A text popped up on Changbin’s phone screen, and you leaned over to see it, a message from Hyunjin that made your stomach twist.

“Did you pop the question??!! Did Y/N say yes???!!”

The weight of the text hit you like a ton of bricks.

He had been planning to propose tonight.

He had been overcompensating, acting overly affectionate because he was nervous. He wanted everything to be perfect for you. He had been planning this all along, and here you were, pushing him away without realizing it.

A wave of guilt washed over you. You had been so wrapped up in your own stress that you had completely missed the signs.

When he returned from the bathroom, his face was flushed a deep shade of red. He avoided your gaze as he walked in, eyes glued to the floor, his shoulders hunched as though he were expecting some sort of confrontation. The atmosphere had changed, and you could feel it, like the air itself was thick with unspoken words.

“I…I’m sorry for being so clingy,” Changbin said quietly, his voice almost trembling. He lifted his eyes to meet yours, and you were struck by how vulnerable he looked, the way his face was tinged with embarrassment, and you swear his eyes were rimmed in a more irritated red, as if he had just come back from crying.

The confidence he usually exuded had dissolved, replaced by something far more raw.

The vulnerability in Changbin's voice made your chest tighten. His usual strength, the steady and confident energy he carried, seemed to crumble before you. His words hung in the air, heavy and full of meaning, yet your mind was spinning too fast to catch any of it.

“Changbin...” you began, but your throat felt dry. His eyes darted away from yours, as if holding your gaze was too much.

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, his words coming out even faster than he rapped. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, a rare display of nervousness that twisted the guilt in your stomach even further. “I just thought maybe I could...I don’t know, help, but I didn't take your feelings into consideration. I'm sorry. It was wrong and not what you needed. So I apologize.”

His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and it hit you like a blow to the chest. You wanted to tell him he had helped, that his presence was a comfort, even if you hadn’t seen it at the time. That he didn't need to apologize that you were the one who needed to apologize. But instead, the words stuck in your throat, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you as you watched Changbin grabbing his things.

"Are you leaving?" Your heart leapt in your throat. “I’m sorry for snapping at you,” you managed, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just...I’ve been so tired lately, and I wasn’t thinking-”

He nodded, but the gesture was slow, uncertain. His eyes flickered toward his phone on the coffee table for a moment, but then he quickly looked away. Pocketing it without a second glance. His lips pressed into a thin line, and you could see the effort it took for him to keep his composure.

“It’s fine,” he said finally, his voice flat in a way that didn’t sound like him. “You don’t have to explain.”

“But I want to explain,” you said quickly, stepping closer to him. “You didn’t deserve that. I just-”

Changbin shook his head, cutting you off. “It’s okay, really. I get it. Sometimes I can be...too much.” His laugh was bitter, a sound so unlike him that it made your heart ache. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I guess I overstepped. My bad."

“You didn’t overstep,” you insisted, but your words felt hollow even to you.

You could see the way Changbin was retreating into himself, building walls where there had once been none. His usual openness, the way he wore his heart on his sleeve, was gone. In its place was a guarded version of him you had never seen before.

“I should go,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth.

“What?” you asked, your heart sinking. “Go? Changbin, wait-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” he interrupted, forcing a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I think we both need some space.” His voice wavered and you could tell he was trying his best not to cry.

The words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to argue, to tell him to stay, but the look in his eyes stopped you. He was hurt- really hurt- and no amount of apologizing in that moment would fix it.

“Bin...” you tried again, your voice breaking.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, jagiya.” he said quickly, not giving you a chance to respond. He turned toward the door, his movements stiff and deliberate, as though he were holding himself together with sheer willpower.

The sound of the door closing behind him was deafening.

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Hyunjin

Hyunjin had always been the most observant of anyone in your life. Which was one aspect that made you fall for him rather quickly. That and his passionate flair matched with unparalleled looks sparked a tender, fragile and deeply cinematic and irreplaceable type of love. He could read your moods with the kind of precision that sometimes felt like he could peer into your soul.

Tonight was no different.

He’d planned an afternoon at the art gallery, an activity you both loved for different reasons. His enthusiasm was infectious as he led you through the exhibits, explaining things with his usual passion. The way his eyes lit up as he spoke about the paintings, his voice filled with such excitement, usually made you feel lighter, but tonight, it all felt like too much. You wanted to enjoy it, but your mind was elsewhere. The weight of everything that had been building up- the stress of work, the tension with friends, an inexplicable loneliness creeping in- was clouding your thoughts.

You kept nodding and smiling politely, but your mind was racing, unable to focus on the beauty around you and next to you.

By the time you reached the café you always frequented afterwards, you felt drained, and Hyunjin’s constant attention started to feel a little too much.

And you couldn't help but feel a bit irritable at the fact that Hyunjin hadn't noticed that you wanted a bit of space.

He was supposed to notice everything wasn't he? You thought sarcastically to yourself.

He was offering to refill your drink every few minutes, asking if you needed more sugar, commenting on the way you "cute" you were holding your cup.

Yet every time he looked at you, it felt like he was trying to read you, trying to fix what was broken inside you when you didn’t even know how to explain what was wrong.

And he still somehow couldn't manage it...

“Hyunjin,” you finally said, setting your cup down with a frustrated sigh. “Can you just sit down for a minute and stop fretting over every little thing I do?” Your voice was sharper than you intended, and even as you said it, a twinge of guilt crept in.

His brow furrowed, and his smile faltered, the lightness in his demeanor vanishing as his eyes searched yours for any hint of what was wrong.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with concern, as if he could tell something was off but couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

You forced a small smile, hoping it would reassure him, but it felt empty even to you. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just... overwhelmed. Thought you would have noticed that by now,” you murmured, your words like an apology, even though they weren’t enough to explain the depth of what you were feeling.

He nodded but didn’t sit down in his own seat. Rather he continued to hover, shifting in the booth next to you, tapping his fingers on the table. The pressure of his presence- his concern, his need to keep checking on you- was starting to feel like an anchor, weighing you down when all you wanted was to float, to escape for just a moment.

"Hyunjin!" you snapped, unable to keep the frustration from your voice. You hated how you sounded, like a burden, but the words spilled out before you could stop them, "You’re being clingy! I thought I made that clear." You quipped, frustration bubbling up and over and out, directed at him.

His eyes widened, and for a moment, the color seemed to drain from his face. He didn’t speak at first, his mouth parting as if he was trying to find the right words. His gaze flickered to the side, and then he sighed quietly, the weight of the sigh making your heart sink. He licked his lip nervously.

“Okay,” he said, his voice small, almost defeated. He pushed his chair back gently and moved to sit across from you, but his posture was off- his shoulders slumped, his back stiff with a tension you hadn’t noticed before. His leg shaking up and down silently. The usual ease and warmth of his presence had shifted, replaced by something colder and anxious.

The rest of the evening was extremely strained. Hyunjin was quieter than usual, his focus elsewhere, barely making eye contact with you. Every time you tried to start a conversation, hoping to push past your miniature outburst, he seemed as if he was consciously avoiding you. He kept his gaze on his phone, fiddling with it absently, or staring off into the distance like he was waiting for something- anything- to change. His usual playful, admiration filled comments were gone, and in their place was a silence that made the air thickly discomforting.

You wanted to apologize, to explain yourself better, but something held you back. Maybe it was the fear that he wouldn’t understand, or maybe you were too embarrassed by how you had snapped at him in public of all places.

You couldn’t tell him how much you had been struggling, how every small thing was feeling too heavy to carry. You didn’t want him to worry about you, not like this, not when you couldn’t even explain it properly.

As you both finished your drinks, the silence between you felt too much to handle. His suffocating warmth and attention was gone, and you wished for that back rather than whatever the hell this was.

The energy between you had shifted so drastically that it felt like you were sitting next to a stranger.

When the bill came, Hyunjin stood up without a word, his movements quick. He paid, still not meeting your eyes. His fingers lingered on the edge of his wallet for a moment too long, like he was trying to force himself to do something, to act like everything was fine.

But the hesitation in his actions, the stiffness in his demeanor, told you everything. You had pushed him away, and now he was retreating behind a wall of his own.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said, but his voice lacked the usual warmth. It was polite, but you could hear the sadness behind it.

You nodded, but there was nothing else to say. The walk home was filled with nothing but the sound of your footsteps and the occasional shift of his feet beside you. The distance between you felt insurmountable now, even though you were so close to each other physically.

When you reached your door, you hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. You wanted to say something- apologize, maybe- but Hyunjin was already backing away, his eyes avoiding yours.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, his voice quiet, and with that, he turned and walked away without looking back.

You stood there, staring after him, feeling the weight of your words settle heavily on your chest.

"What did I do." You mumbled to yourself, letting the door close behind you with a soft click, but the regret in your heart all but made up for that.

And as the night stretched on, you realized the tension between you wasn’t something that could be fixed easily. Hyunjin was hurting, and you had no idea how to fix it.

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

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its-avalon-08 · 1 day ago

Note

Idk if your doing requests but if so could I request something where reader and Lando have been together like since they where 19 or something but a long time, and they have a fight that over something stupid but it escalates and Lando snaps frustrated and says maybe they need a brake and tells her to leave. She is heartbroken, and when Lando tries to get in contact with her, she won't answer, worrying Lando as she ignores his calls clearly. Then, Lando freaking out, thinking it's over and the one person in his life that he loved more than anything is gone. Carlos coming over to get some of readers things but Lando is heartbroken more at that, and when the reader comes back to the apartment after no contact for a week, she packs her clothes, but Lando panics and starts apologising. Happy ending, please, though. Sorry if it's long.

cracks in forever (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort, break up

The night felt colder than usual, and the warmth of their shared home seemed suffocating. Y/N stood in the kitchen, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound as she waited for Lando to come home. He was late again—hours this time—with no texts, no calls.

When the front door finally opened, she didn’t rush to greet him. Instead, she stayed rooted in place, her arms crossed as he walked in, his jacket slung over his shoulder, looking more frustrated than apologetic.

“You’re late,” she said flatly, her voice strained.

He glanced at her, his brows furrowing. “Yeah, I know. The day ran long.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Lando sighed, dropping his bag by the door. “What do you want me to say, Y/N? I’m sorry. Happy?”

Her jaw tightened, her chest already aching from the weight of the argument that hadn’t even begun. “You didn’t even think to call me, did you? Or text? I’ve been sitting here for hours, wondering if you were okay, and you couldn’t even bother to let me know?”

His frustration flared. “I didn’t realize I needed to check in like a teenager. I’m fine, obviously. You could’ve just assumed that.”

Her eyes widened, the sting of his words hitting hard. “Do you even hear yourself? You think it’s too much to let me know you’re not lying in a ditch somewhere? God, Lando, it’s not about checking in—it’s about respect!”

“Respect?” he shot back, his voice rising. “I’ve been busting my ass all day trying to juggle everything, and you’re standing here acting like I don’t care about you because I forgot to text? Give me a break, Y/N.”

Her lip quivered, but she forced herself to stand tall. “This isn’t just about today. You’ve been distant for weeks. I feel like I’m screaming into a void, trying to hold us together, and you’re not even trying anymore!”

“Maybe because I’m tired of feeling like I’m failing all the time!” Lando snapped, his voice louder now, his hands gesturing wildly. “Nothing I do is ever good enough for you!”

Tears filled her eyes, spilling over as her voice cracked. “Don’t you dare turn this on me. You think I like feeling like I’m begging for scraps of your attention? You think I like crying myself to sleep because I don’t know if you even want me around anymore?”

Lando froze for a moment, her words piercing through his anger. But instead of softening, he doubled down, his own frustration clouding his judgment. “What do you want me to say, Y/N? That I’m perfect? That I have all the answers? Because I don’t! Maybe—” He stopped, clenching his fists. “Maybe we just need a break. Maybe that’s what we need to figure this out.”

Her breath caught, the words cutting her like a knife. “A break?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You want me to leave?”

“I don’t know, okay?” he shouted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Maybe we just need space. I can’t do this anymore—this constant fighting, this pressure.”

Her shoulders shook as she tried to steady herself, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She wiped at her cheeks, her voice breaking. “You know what? Fine. If I’m such a burden to you, I’ll go. I’ll make it easier for you.”

“Y/N, that’s not—”

“No,” she cut him off, her voice rising with the hurt that burned in her chest. “You don’t get to say things like that and take them back. You don’t get to hurt me like this and then act like it’s nothing. I’ve been here, Lando. I’ve been here for you. Through everything. And now you’re telling me I’m too much for you?”

Her words hit him like a freight train, but his pride kept him silent. He didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t know what to say.

She shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. “You want space? Fine. Have it.”

Y/N stormed past him, grabbing her keys and bag. Lando turned, his heart sinking as she reached the door.

“Y/N, wait—”

But she didn’t. She slammed the door behind her, leaving him standing alone in the silence of their home.

The regret hit him almost immediately, but by the time he picked up his phone to call her, she was already gone.

Title: Cracks in Forever

Lando barely slept that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—tear-streaked, devastated, and broken. He replayed the argument over and over, his words echoing in his mind like a cruel reminder of his failure.

“Maybe we just need a break.”

How could he have said that? How could he have pushed her away when she was the only constant in his life?

His phone sat on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with unanswered texts he had sent throughout the night. He had called her twenty-seven times—each one going to voicemail.

By morning, the bags under his eyes were heavy, his chest aching as if he’d been physically hit. He stared at his phone, scrolling through their old messages. He read her texts from the last few weeks, the ones he had brushed off or responded to half-heartedly.

Y/N: Good luck today! Call me after, okay? ❤️ Y/N: Hey, are you alright? You seemed off earlier. I’m here if you need to talk. Y/N: I miss you, Lando.

He clenched his jaw, tears blurring his vision. He had been so blind, so caught up in everything else that he hadn’t realized how much she had been hurting.

He hit her contact again, pressing the phone to his ear.

Ring… ring…

“Hey, it’s Y/N. Leave a message.”

The beep sounded, and his voice cracked as he spoke. “Y/N, please. Just… please call me back. I know I messed up, okay? I know I hurt you. But I can’t— I can’t do this without you. I need to know you’re safe. Just… let me know you’re okay. Please.”

He ended the call, his hands shaking as he set the phone down.

By the second day, his panic had reached a breaking point. She hadn’t been to their place, hadn’t responded to any of his messages, and her social media was silent. He sat on the edge of their bed—the bed that still smelled faintly of her perfume—and buried his face in his hands.

The phone rang in his hand, but it wasn’t her. It was Max.

“Mate, are you okay?” Max’s voice was cautious.

“No, I’m not okay!” Lando snapped, his voice breaking. “She’s not answering, Max. She’s not answering, and I don’t know where she is, and I don’t know if she’s okay.”

“Have you tried her friends? Her family?”

“I don’t want to drag them into this,” Lando said, wiping at his face. “This is my fault. I need to fix it.”

“You can’t fix anything if you break yourself in the process,” Max said gently. “Just give her time.”

“I don’t have time, Max!” Lando shouted. “What if she thinks I don’t love her? What if she thinks I meant it when I said we needed a break?”

“Didn’t you?”

The question made him pause, his breath hitching. “No. God, no. I was angry. I was frustrated. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Then tell her that. Keep trying. She loves you, Lando.”

Lando nodded even though Max couldn’t see him. “She did. I don’t know if she does anymore.”

That night was worse than the first. Lando sat on the couch, his head in his hands, the silence of their apartment a cruel reminder of what he had lost. He picked up his phone and called her again.

Ring… ring… beep.

“Y/N,” he choked out, his voice shaking. “Please. Please pick up. I’m losing my mind over here. I don’t know where you are, and I’m scared. I’m scared I’ve lost you, and I can’t—” His voice broke, a sob escaping him. “I can’t lose you. I love you. I love you so much. I don’t care about the fight, I don’t care about anything but you. Just… just come home. Or call me. Please, Y/N. I’m begging you.”

He hung up, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in his hands. For the first time in years, Lando Norris cried. He cried for the girl who had been by his side since they were teenagers, the girl he had built a life with, the girl he had pushed away.

And he cried for the possibility that he might never hear her voice again.

The doorbell rang, and Lando’s heart skipped a beat, though he couldn’t explain why. He wasn’t expecting anyone. It was too early for anyone to check in on him.

But when he opened the door, there stood Carlos Sainz, a look of concern etched on his face. His eyes softened when he saw Lando, but there was a quiet tension in his posture.

“Carlos…” Lando started, his voice hoarse from the sleepless nights.

Carlos looked at him, his jaw tightening. “I’m here to grab some of Y/N’s things.”

Lando stepped back, letting Carlos in. His apartment felt emptier than it ever had before, each room echoing with the absence of Y/N’s warmth. Carlos entered, his gaze scanning the space, lingering on the couch where they had spent so many nights together, the kitchen counter where they’d cooked meals, the small details that once made the place feel like a home.

“You’re really going through with this, huh?” Carlos asked quietly, his voice laced with disappointment.

Lando swallowed hard, his eyes avoiding Carlos’s. He had never wanted it to come to this. He never thought it would. But now, standing here in the emptiness of the apartment, the reality of the situation hit him harder than ever.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Lando muttered, his hands shaking. “I didn’t mean to push her away, Carlos. But she… she wouldn’t talk to me. She just… she left. She hasn’t even answered my calls.”

Carlos shook his head, his face hardening with frustration. “You don’t get it, do you, Lando?”

Lando looked up, surprised by the venom in Carlos’s tone. “What do you mean?”

“She’s my childhood friend, man,” Carlos snapped, his voice rising. “I’ve known her since we were kids. I’ve seen her go through everything, and I’ve watched her give you everything, and you—you—treated her like this? Like she’s disposable?”

Lando’s chest tightened at the accusation, but Carlos wasn’t done.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you, how much she cares for you,” Carlos continued, his voice breaking as he ran a hand through his hair. “And you—you—just pushed her away like she was nothing. Like she wasn’t the person who was always there for you, who stuck by your side through everything, through all your races, all your highs and lows.”

Lando’s heart sank. He could feel the weight of Carlos’s words sinking deep into him. He knew he had screwed up, but hearing it like this—coming from someone who knew Y/N like Carlos did—made him realize just how badly he had messed up.

“I didn’t mean for her to think she wasn’t enough,” Lando whispered, his voice barely audible. “I love her. I always have. I just… I don’t know what happened. I was frustrated, and I said things I didn’t mean. I didn’t want to hurt her, Carlos. I swear to you.”

Carlos’s gaze softened, but his disappointment was still evident. He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “You hurt her, Lando. And now, you have to fix it. But she’s not just going to come back because you say sorry. You’re going to have to fight for her. And honestly, I don’t know if you’re ready to do that.”

Lando looked down at the floor, tears welling up in his eyes as the guilt hit him full force. He knew Carlos was right.

Carlos reached for the duffel bag by the door, picking it up and unzipping it. “I’m just getting her stuff. I told her I’d bring it by. But you…” He paused, looking Lando in the eye, his voice quiet but firm. “You need to think long and hard about what you want. And if you want her back, you need to prove it. Because right now? You don’t deserve her. Not after what you did.”

Lando felt his heart crack at the truth in Carlos’s words, and his voice trembled as he whispered, “I know.”

Carlos hesitated for a moment, then turned and grabbed a few of Y/N’s things from the shelf, placing them into the bag. He looked back at Lando one last time before heading for the door.

“You’ll figure it out, mate,” Carlos said quietly, his voice softer now. “But you’d better start trying, and fast. She won’t wait forever.”

Lando nodded, unable to say anything. He was already too choked up, the weight of the past few days crashing down on him.

Carlos walked out the door, leaving Lando standing there, broken and alone.

Lando stared at the door for a long time after Carlos left, his thoughts swirling, the pain of losing Y/N gnawing at him from the inside out. He needed her. He couldn’t live without her. But the real question was—would she still want him when he finally realized just how much she meant to him?

And how could he prove to her that he was worthy of a second chance?

It had been a week since she left. A week of silence. A week of empty calls and unanswered messages. A week of Lando spiraling, his world without her a place he didn’t recognize anymore.

Now, here he was—sitting on the couch, waiting. He knew she would come back at some point. Y/N never stayed away for too long. But the anxiety had eaten away at him, each passing day a reminder of how badly he had screwed up.

The door opened, and he could hear the soft click of her heels on the hardwood floor. His heart skipped a beat, but when he looked up, his breath hitched in his throat.

Y/N was standing there, her back straight, her face expressionless. In her hands was a suitcase—half-filled.

She was packing.

“Y/N…” Lando’s voice broke as he stood up. His chest was tight, his hands trembling slightly. “What… what are you doing?”

Y/N didn’t answer. She simply moved past him and into their bedroom, not sparing him a glance. Lando’s stomach twisted.

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. He followed her to the bedroom, his eyes not leaving her. “Please, don’t do this. We can fix this. We can talk.”

She didn’t respond, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. It was like he wasn’t even there.

Lando stood by the door, frozen. He watched as Y/N picked up clothes from their closet and threw them into the suitcase without a single word. Each piece she grabbed felt like another piece of his heart being ripped away, like she was disappearing right before his eyes.

“Y/N, please… talk to me.” His voice shook with desperation, but she still said nothing.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he stepped closer, his chest tightening with the fear that she was really going to leave.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know I hurt you. I know I was a mess. I should’ve been better. I should have been better for you. I shouldn’t have said those things, and I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was angry, and I didn’t know how to handle it, but I swear to you… I swear I love you. I always have. And I need you. Please, please don’t leave me.”

Y/N didn’t stop packing. She moved mechanically, and the silence between them felt suffocating.

“I was scared,” Lando continued, his voice growing quieter, more raw. “I was scared that I wasn’t enough for you. That one day, you’d realize you deserve someone better than me. And I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to let you in. But I do love you. I do. And I’ll do anything to prove it to you. Anything.”

She picked up another piece of clothing, folding it with such precision that it made Lando’s heart shatter.

“No, no, no…” Lando whispered, panic rising in his chest. “Please, Y/N. Don’t do this. Please, I can’t lose you. I know I’ve been an idiot. I know I hurt you. But you are my heart, and I can’t let you walk out of that door without knowing how much I need you. Without you, I’m nothing.”

He was shaking now, the weight of his words settling into the pit of his stomach. His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion.

“I can’t breathe without you,” he choked out, his eyes glossy with tears. “I’ve been waking up every day wondering how I could have been so stupid, so selfish. But all I know is that I love you. I need you. And I don’t want to spend another day without you in my life. So, please… please don’t leave me. I’ll fix it. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. Just… don’t walk out that door. Please, don’t leave me alone.”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of her folding clothes and his heavy breathing.

Finally, Y/N stopped moving. She didn’t turn to face him, but her shoulders trembled, and Lando could feel the weight of the silence press against him.

“I know you’re angry,” Lando continued softly, his voice breaking. “And I understand that. But I can’t lose you. I can’t lose the one person who knows me better than anyone. The one person who loves me no matter what. You’ve been my constant, Y/N. And I don’t deserve you, but I’ll do everything to show you that I want to be better. For you. I’ll be better, just… don’t leave.”

There was a long silence. Then, almost imperceptibly, Y/N set down the last piece of clothing in the suitcase and turned to face him. Her eyes were glossy, but she said nothing.

Lando took a step closer, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. But I can’t imagine my life without you. You’ve always been my best friend. You’ve always been there for me. I don’t deserve you, but please… please don’t walk away. I need you more than anything.”

And that was when Y/N finally broke.

A single tear slid down her cheek as she looked up at him, her eyes full of so much pain that it shattered him.

“You hurt me, Lando,” she whispered, her voice small but raw. “You hurt me so badly. I don’t know if I can just forget that. I don’t know if I can go back to what we were. But I…” She choked on the words. “I love you, too. I just… I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

Lando’s breath hitched. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t.

“I swear, I’ll never hurt you again,” he promised, his voice full of sincerity. “Please… let me show you. Let me prove it to you.”

Y/N wiped her eyes, still unsure, but there was something in Lando’s eyes that made her pause. Something raw. Something that made her think—maybe this wasn’t the end.

“I don’t know if I can just forget what happened,” Y/N said, her voice shaky. “But I do want to try again. I want to believe you, Lando. I want to believe that we can fix this.”

Lando’s heart soared as he rushed to her side, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I swear, I’ll spend every single day proving it to you,” he whispered into her hair, his tears falling freely now. “I’ll make it right. I’ll never take you for granted again. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

And for the first time in days, she let herself breathe. She hugged him back, the warmth of their embrace a promise that maybe—just maybe—they could get through this together.

It wasn’t perfect. But they had each other. And that was all that mattered.

It had been a few days since everything had fallen into place. Y/N and Lando were slowly rebuilding their bond, piece by piece, and while the tension between them had melted, something was still different. The scars of the fight remained, but Y/N wasn’t thinking about it anymore. The past was behind them. She was focused on the present.

But Lando? Lando still couldn’t shake the feeling that any moment, she might walk out again. It wasn’t that Y/N had given him a reason to doubt her, but the guilt gnawed at him constantly. He had hurt her so deeply, and no matter how many times she reassured him, the fear lingered. What if one day, she grew tired of him? What if he wasn’t enough for her?

Tonight was supposed to be just another quiet night in. Lando had arranged a cozy dinner, hoping to make her smile, to show her how much he loved her. He’d gone all out, buying a fancy dress he thought she’d look amazing in. Maybe, just maybe, if he gave her something beautiful, he could make up for the ugliness of the past.

When Y/N walked into their living room, he was holding the dress in his hands, eyes brimming with hope.

“Lando,” she smiled softly, as she entered, sensing the warmth in the air. “What’s this?”

“Just—just something for you,” he said, a little shy, as he handed her the dress. “I know it’s a bit much, but I thought… well, you’d look incredible in it.”

Y/N laughed, though there was something oddly sweet and bittersweet in her eyes. She looked up at him, still feeling the remnants of their past conversation, yet no longer letting it weigh on her.

She took the dress from his hands and examined it, grinning at the fabric.

“You really don’t have to do this,” she said, her tone playful but tender. “I’m happy just being here with you.”

Lando felt his heart race. He wanted to keep proving himself, to show her how sorry he was. But deep down, his insecurities kept churning. What if this wasn’t enough? What if it wasn’t going to be enough?

Y/N noticed the flicker of unease in his eyes. She stepped closer, putting the dress down on the couch.

“Lando…” she began, her voice soft but firm. “You don’t need to keep doing this. You don’t need to keep going all out just to make me happy. You don’t need to prove anything.”

Lando froze, the words hanging in the air, yet it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him.

“But I want to,” he said quietly, as though trying to explain the reason behind his actions, his voice trembling. “I need to make it up to you, Y/N. You deserve so much better than how I treated you.” His voice cracked with emotion. “I don’t know how to fix it. But I need to make it right.”

Y/N’s heart ached, seeing how much he was carrying. She stepped forward, reaching for his hand, but his nerves kept him at arm's length.

“Lando, I’ve already forgiven you. I don’t need grand gestures or endless apologies. I just need you,” she said, her voice steady and full of love. “I want you. Just the way you are.”

Lando looked up, but the pain and doubt still clouded his eyes. He shook his head, feeling as though he could never do enough to atone for the way he had hurt her.

“No, I don’t deserve you,” Lando whispered, his voice barely above a sob. “I’ve been an idiot. I hurt you, and I don’t know how to forgive myself. Every time I see you, I feel like I’m not enough. That one day, you’ll leave. And I—”

Before he could finish, Y/N launched herself into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she buried her face into his neck.

“Stop,” she whispered softly, her hands gently brushing his hair. “You’re my baby, Lando. I’m not going anywhere. I love you. Don’t you see that?”

Lando froze for a moment, his whole body tensing as her words hit him like a wave. Her voice was so tender, so sure, that it broke through the wall of self-doubt he had built around himself. He didn’t know why he had been so scared.

“I need you to stop thinking I’m going to leave,” she continued, her voice firm and comforting at the same time. “You’re my home. You always have been. I’m not going anywhere, Lando. I love you so much, it hurts. So, please, stop trying so hard.”

Lando’s heart melted in her arms as he clung to her, desperate to make sense of everything he had been feeling. “But I hurt you, Y/N. I hurt you so badly. I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Y/N tilted his face to look at her, her fingers gently wiping away his tears. “We’re fixing it, Lando. We’re here. Together.” Her voice softened even further. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re my world. You’ve always been. And nothing’s going to change that.”

Lando’s breath hitched as he buried his face in her hair, holding her tighter, like if he let go for even a second, she might disappear again.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her skin, the words a soft plea in the air. “I promise, I’ll do better. I’ll be better for you. I swear.”

Y/N laughed, the sound like music to his ears, and pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “You don’t have to be perfect, Lando. You just need to be you. And that’s more than enough for me.”

Lando looked at her with a mixture of love and relief in his eyes, finally feeling like he could breathe again.

She smiled, her hands cupping his face gently. “You’re mine, Lando. Forever. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry for ever making you doubt that.”

Y/N kissed him softly, then pulled back just a little, her smile soft and content. “I love you, too, Lando. Always.”

And for the first time in days, Lando believed it. He believed in them. He believed in her. And as he held her close, he finally let go of the fear that had gripped him for so long. She wasn’t leaving. They were in this together.

Forever.

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i2rizz · 3 days ago

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Stuck in a storm Pt.1

Summary: You get stuck in a storm with the Blue Lock boys.. how will they react?

Featuring: Isagi,Rin,Bachira,Kunigami,Chigiri

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Yoichi Isagi

•At first, he tries to act calm and logical. He scans the surroundings, pointing out where to find the best shelter. "Over there—it looks like there’s a covered bus stop. Let’s head there before it gets worse."

•He’s the type to immediately offer his jacket even if it means standing in the rain himself. When you insist you don’t need it, he shakes his head. "No, seriously, I’m fine. Just take it. You’ll get sick if you don’t."

•Checks his phone obsessively for weather updates or to see if the storm will pass soon, only to groan when the signal cuts out. "Figures. Of course, the one time I actually need my phone…"

•He’s not used to moments like this and fidgets awkwardly while trying to keep you comfortable.

•When thunder cracks loudly and you flinch, his protective instincts kick in. Without thinking, he grabs your hand, his voice soft and reassuring. "It’s okay, I’m here."

•Later, when he realizes what he’s done, his face heats up, and he stammers out an apology. "Uh, sorry. That wasn’t weird, was it? I just… wanted to make sure you were okay."

•Deep down, though, he’s secretly happy he got to hold your hand, even if it was for a brief moment.

Rin Itoshi

•The moment it starts pouring, Rin groans in frustration. He pulls his hood up but glares at the storm like it personally offended him. "Just my luck," he mutters, his tone icy.

•He doesn’t say much at first, just scanning the area for shelter. When he spots a small abandoned shed nearby, he gestures for you to follow him. "Over there. Let’s go."

•The atmosphere is awkward at first because Rin doesn’t exactly know how to be comforting. Instead, he silently shrugs off his jacket and places it around your shoulders, avoiding eye contact. "Don’t argue. Just take it."

•Stands stiffly by the entrance, crossing his arms and muttering about how inconvenient the storm is. "I could be doing something productive right now."

•You try to lighten the mood by pointing out how pretty the lightning looks, and he gives you a sidelong glance. "It’s just light," he says flatly, but the faintest smirk tugs at his lips when he catches you staring at it in awe.

•When thunder rumbles and you instinctively grab his arm, he freezes but doesn’t pull away. His voice softens slightly. "You don’t have to act scared. It’s just noise."

Meguru Bachira

•When the rain starts, Bachira laughs like it’s the most exciting thing to ever happen. "This is awesome! Free shower, anyone?"

•He doesn’t even bother running at first, instead splashing through puddles like a kid. He turns back to you with a playful grin. "What? You’re gonna stand there and miss all the fun?"

•Eventually, he notices you shivering and drags you under a tree for some shelter, shaking out his hair like a wet dog and accidentally spraying water all over you. "Oops! My bad."

•To keep you distracted from the cold, he starts playing silly games like “Would You Rather” or “I Spy,” but his answers are always bizarre. "Would you rather fight a hundred duck-sized horses or one horse-sized duck?"

•When thunder strikes and you jump, he doesn’t miss a beat. "Woah! Scary stuff, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll protect you!" He says it dramatically but ends up clinging to you instead.

•By the end of it, he’s convinced this whole situation is a “romantic adventure” and teases you about it. "See? Told you we’d make the most of this. Now we’ve got a stormy love story to tell everyone."

Rensuke Kunigami

•The responsible one, Kunigami immediately takes charge when the storm starts. "We need to find shelter before this gets worse. Come on, let’s move quickly."

•He keeps a protective arm around your back, guiding you toward the nearest safe spot he can find, which turns out to be an old pavilion.

•Once there, he insists on giving you his jacket, brushing off your protests. "I’ll be fine. You’re the one I’m worried about."

•Always prepared, he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and offers it to you to dry your face. "It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing."

•To keep the mood light, he starts joking about how this feels like the beginning of a survival movie. "Think we’ll have to start rationing snacks soon?"

•When thunder rolls, and you cling to his arm, he chuckles softly but doesn’t say a word, just pulling you closer. His steady presence alone is enough to make you feel safe.

•After the rain lightens up, he looks at you with a gentle smile. "You okay now? Let’s get you somewhere warm."

Hyoma Chigiri

•When the rain starts, Chigiri lets out a dramatic sigh, already annoyed. "Great. Just what I needed today."

•He’s not a fan of running in the rain but picks up the pace slightly to make sure you’re not completely drenched.

•Finds a small overhang and guides you there, pulling you close so you can both share the limited space.

•Starts fussing over his hair, muttering about how it’s going to take forever to fix. "You don’t know how much effort it takes to keep it looking this good."

•Offers you his jacket with a teasing smirk. "But only because you’ll owe me after this. I don’t just hand out my stuff for free, you know."

•When thunder roars and you instinctively grab his arm, he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he smirks and leans closer. "Scared? Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. You’re welcome."

•By the end of it, he’s back to teasing you, calling this the “most dramatic storm adventure ever.” But there’s a warmth in his eyes that shows he secretly enjoyed looking out for you.

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fictionalcharactersaremypassion · 3 days ago

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here's an autistic Ian fic! It didn't come out exactly as planned but I'll probably do another one at some point if I get an idea or somebody requests something

“Give me one good fucking reason I shouldn’t fire your ass,” Mickey hissed on their way back to the truck. Him and Ian finally got rid of the stolen ambulance, investing their money in a vehicle for transport. It was all fine and fucking dandy but he never should’ve gave Iggy a job after he got outta jail. Ian didn’t mind having him around; those two were were fuckin’ close for some reason that Mickey didn’t understand.

But Ian seemed to be oblivious to how much of a dumbass Iggy was. Case in point; them nearly losing one of their best gigs because he couldn’t keep his dick in his damn pants.

“I’m sorry, Mick,” Iggy actually sounded remorseful. “I didn’t know it was his fuckin’ sister. The fuck was I supposed to do, check her ID or some shit?”

He was seriously contemplating on whether going back to prison would be worth it. Ian would be pissed but if Mickey could get his hands around Iggy’s neck...

“Get in the damn truck and shut the fuck up,” Mickey snapped. He threw open the door, getting in with a harsh exhale.

The engine started and off they went, pulling out into traffic.

Iggy remained silent for all of five seconds. “Ay, you wanna stop for some lunch? I’m hungry, man.”

“You think I’m feeding your ass?” Mickey scoffed. “You’re lucky I didn't leave you here.”

His brother huffed, grumbling under his breath.

In his pocket, Mickey’s cell phone buzzed. He thought it was Ian, making him ready to launch into a rant about Iggy’s stunt, but found it to be his least favorite brother-in-law instead.

“The fuck do you want?” He said as a greeting.

Iggy leaned in his space, interested. “Is it Red?”

This instantly annoyed Mickey and he mouthed, no, focusing back on the call.

Lip was unfazed by now, so his voice was only a little dry as he responded. “Hey, Mick. I can see you’re in a good mood today.”

“You callin’ me for a social call, College?”

“No,” Lip sighed, his voice growing serious, “it’s about Ian.”

Mickey froze momentarily. “What about Ian?” Iggy’s head moved in his direction, a flash of concern on his face.

“We had a small...issue when we went shopping. We went to Whole Foods after we got lunch and they must have done some rearranging.”

His stomach sank. Mickey didn’t completely understand why it bothered his husband so much whenever changes occurred, but he knew enough that it disrupted Ian’s mood for the rest of the day.

“Shit,” he blew out a breath.

“What?” Iggy was asking. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Yeah,” Lip said, hushed. “He freaked out a little bit. I tried to help him get what he came for but he couldn’t do it so I took him back to the apartment.”

The traffic for this time of day was fucking slow. Mickey’s stress was elevating as the seconds passed. “Fuck- is he okay now?”

“He’s in the bedroom laying down. I got him to calm down a little but I think he’d be better if you were here. How close are you?”

“I don’t know, thirty-forty minutes,” Mickey said, frustrated.

“Do you have any other deliveries? I can text Brad and tell him I’m going in later if you want me to stay with Ian until you get back,” Lip offered.

Mickey didn’t say it often, or at all, but Lip was actually okay in times like these. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have Iggy finish the deliveries. Just stay there until I get back.”

“Got it,” Lip replied.

Mickey hung up the phone, feeling his brother’s gaze on him out to the corner of his eyes.

“What’s up with Ian?” Iggy asked curiously.

“He-” Mickey used his free hand to rub his eyebrow, “had a little-” The fuck was that called again? “Episode or some shit at the store. They rearranged the place and it messed him up.”

“Oh,” Iggy scratched the back of his neck. He didn’t really get the full extent of Ian’s autism, and well, fuck, neither did Mickey sometimes. Still, his brother wasn’t a complete dickhead, and tried to understand it in his own dumbass way. “He good?”

“The fuck if I know.” Ian would be fine once he calmed down. It was just getting him there that was a challenge some days.

“Ay, chill out,” Iggy said, having noticed Mickey tapping his foot with the one that wasn’t on the accelerator. “You'll get to your ginger soon enough.”

“Fuck off, he needs me.” At one point back in the day, Mickey would’ve never said anything like this where someone else, his brother especially, could hear him. This was a different time; he was confident with who he was and didn’t give a shit who knew how much he loved his fucking husband.

Iggy was unfazed. “To what, suck his dick?” He snickered to himself, while Mickey rolled his eyes.

“You’re a fucking moron.”

His brother just gave him a one arm shrug.

“Listen,” Mickey said, not to be deterred, “you’re gonna take over the rest of the deliveries-”

“So I’m not fired,” Iggy crowed. Mickey shot him a dirty look.

“You oughta be,” he muttered.

“Admit it, Mick, you need me,” he sounded too smug for Mickey’s ears, giving him this strong urge to smash his brother’s fucking face in.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Upon arriving at the apartment, Mickey expected to find Lip flicking through the television channels, sipping on one of the diet coke’s they kept in the fridge for when he was around. He thought Ian would be in the bedroom calming down, not standing in the living room pulling on his hair.

Shit, Mickey thought. Ian tended to start yanking on his hair when he got really upset. Once or twice when it was really bad, he actually pulled out some hair. They tried not to let it get that far, though, doing their best to help him calm down before it escalated to that point.

Lip was talking to him, trying to reason with him. Mickey, though, carelessly tossed his camo jacket onto the couch, coming right up to him.

“Ay, ay. Quit it,” he said firmly. Fuck, sometimes Mickey was just winging it, honestly. Like right now; Ian was getting lost in his own little world, prompting Lip to shoot Mickey a glance full of questions for what they should do next.

“They messed it up!” Ian breathed out heavily, starting to pace. “They messed it all up!”

“Who messed what up?” Mickey asked, even though he already knew.

“The store!” Ian’s response came out as a shout. Mickey knew not to take his eruption personally, it was just something that happened when shit got to be too much for him. He usually always apologized for it later anyway. “They rearranged the fucking store!”

Mickey side-eyed Lip. He may have been Ian’s brother but that don’t mean he needed to stand there and fucking watch. “Alright, I got him now,” he said, feeling slightly uncomfortable as he tackled on, “....Thanks.”

For once, Lip didn’t argue. His eyes darted to Ian again, his concern evident. But he slid his jacket on after bidding his brother a goodbye that he probably didn’t hear. “Thanks for taking good care of him,” he said.

“He’s my husband, man.”

“Yeah, well, you were doing it long before that,” Lip said, the door shutting behind him.

Mickey’s focus fell back onto his husband.

“The bread was where the fruit should be,” Ian rambled. “They- they moved the deli and the bakery too-”

His voice was teetering on the edge of cracking. He was that upset.

“Ay,” Mickey said gently, “Ay, sit on the ground for me, okay? Come on, man.”

It didn’t happen right away. Ian was still extremely wound, but when he did, Mickey offered to retrieve his blanket for him. It was plush, super soft and just the thing Ian sought out during times like this.

He returned, draping it over the back of his husband. Ian immediately grabbed onto it with both hands, his fingers kneading the material.

Mickey sat on the floor beside him, waiting to be needed. Ian craved soft touches and shit even in regular circumstances, but especially now - when he’d go completely quiet, not talking or making any noises. He was pretty sure Ian told him the word for it but he couldn’t remember it right now.

“We can put on one of your shitty army movies you want,” Mickey said, turning on the television. He, unlike some of the Gallaghers, didn’t treat his husband like a damn child. Even if that wasn’t their intention, that’s how it came across, that’s how Ian saw it.

Ian didn’t say anything, but Mickey didn’t expect him to, just repositioned himself so he was laying on his stomach on the floor. It’d hurt like a motherfucker later but this way, Ian could have free range of his hair. Mickey used to think his husband was just weirdly obsessed with his hair, in actuality, doing so steadied him, brought him back down from the high he was trapped in. Without hesitation, he flexed his fingers through Mickey’s hair, clamping his hand shut and repeating this several times.

Mickey let him have it; felt pretty fuckin’ good anyway, plus he knew his husband would be wiped out for the rest of the day after this, hauled up on the couch or curled in their bed. Didn't bother him any, though. Whatever Ian needed to feel okay.

“You ain't gonna believe what Iggy did,” Mickey said with an eye roll, because even though Ian wasn't talking he still made conversation with him. “You remember that one client we have, the one doing business with his sister? Fuckin’ Iggy slept with her. Seriously, what the fuck was he thinking? Nearly lost business there since he only thinks with his dick.”

Ian yawned, so Mickey draped the blanket over the front of him instead.

“Alright, Firecrotch, just relax, okay? Go to sleep if you need to.”

Mickey twisted around, leaning up to kiss him on the forehead.

These times weren’t always easy, but he never regretted a damn thing.

#shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #shameless fanfiction #autistic ian gallagher

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drdemonprince · 3 days ago

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So I met a guy on a dating app. He’s also Autistic and we have a lot in common. Really hit it off and after some conversation he’s like To be honest I’m not looking for a relationship and I have someone else I really like but she’s not wanting a full on relationship either so we’re looking at ENM or maybe Poly but if that’s not your thing I understand. So I’m a bit disappointed but he’s sweet so I’m like ok let’s be friends.

Then it almost immediately gets sexual and we talk a lot about kink and fetish stuff that we seem pretty aligned with. Which is rare. We sexted a bit and it was great.

But today he told me he’s going on a date with someone. It’s actually a chick I also met off the the same app (I’m bi) but that didn’t bother me. What did bother me was that I got this instant reaction like upset that he was going on a date. It triggered something in me.

Not mad at all with him as he’s been super honest. But didn’t anticipate my own reactions.

So now I have to decide if I stop talking to him and let this go or if I try to move past it and enjoy the positive sides of our friendship.

We had tentative plans to meet in a few weeks time (we don’t live super close to each other). As a date but not a date.

Now I’m super confused about what to do. Especially as I really don’t meet many people that I vibe with and share similar “interests” with etc.

Just not entirely sure I’m built for the whole sharing thing…

Respectfully, it sounds like this dude fucking sucks ass at polyamory and doesn't know what the hell he's doing, and you're gonna get hurt.

First of all, he told you that he was poly because he is down bad for someone who doesn't want to be in a relationship with him? And so what, he's using his other dating partners as some kind of emotional or sexual stopgap?

That's objectifying and downgrading his potential future partners, including you, from the very start -- and it's setting you up to always be in the position of offering him temporary succor from the unrequited desires he has for this other person, only to be sidelined when she IS giving him a lot of attention. Sure, it's great he's being honest or whatever -- but the situation he's inviting you into is honestly disrespectful. You were disappointed to learn about this situation from the start. That feeling is an important signal! He's made it clear that he's not actually emotionally available and will NOT be consistent with you, and believes he has no reason to be.

It's also quite telling that after he established the nature of his relationship with this other person, he pivoted to getting very overtly sexual with you. This makes me wonder a lot about the woman he is pining away for, and what the terms of their relationship is according to her. (because if they're agreeing to get ENM or poly together, that's a relationship! Even if she says it's not a relationship).

Did she tell him that she cares about him but that she doesn't want to fuck him? Is she just less available than he'd like her to be, in terms of time and number of dates? What the hell is this arrangement between the two of them, how much of it was her proposal versus his idea, and where the hell do you fit in in all that?

If two people aren't fully sexually compatible and both parties want to explore sex and kink outside of their relationship to one another, that's fine; I'm living in that situation and it works great. But you have to approach prospective sexual partners with equal respect as you would your pre-existing partner (or whatever the hell she is to him, since they say they're not in a relationship?), and be clear about what you are and are not available for. It seems to me he asked you to be some kind of non-monogoamous, not-exactly-romantic-but-intimate "friends" with one another, and then tried to transition you into being a kinky sex partner once you expressed you could work with that.

I don't mean to remove your agency from this or act as if this is all something he is doing "to" you, because you expressed some interest in him and said the sexual connection is there. But... how much of this arrangement or how any of this is going has had anything to do with you or your stated preferences? Are you just going along with the flow because he seems nice and you want to see some possibilities there and for each new curveball he's throwing you, you're having to find some new way to justify it and make sense of it? What about what you want? What about your feelings? Why do you not get to determine what the relationship even is or where it is going, and he does? Because he's not getting what he wants elsewhere? That's not a good reason. That has nothing to do with you.

It makes sense to me, in light of what a mess his handling of this has been, that when you found out he was also pursuing other casual sexual partners that you felt jealous. Perhaps seeing him seeking out other non-committal, kind of formless sexual encounters with other people made you worry that you were being seen and treated by him in the same way, or that you were basically just a cog he was trying to slot into place for the time being. Or maybe you already felt on some level that you weren't given primacy in your relationship -- because this is a relationship of a kind! -- and now you have to worry about a whole other person who he has his own feelings for and agendas about altering how he relates to you.

You're not in the driver's seat in this relationship, hell you're not even really being consulted -- he's just making decisions about the various women in his life that he's trying to have meet needs for him and plugging them in and out of those roles as it suits him. The actual arrangement you all have entered into could be completely fine if all parties actively wanted it and had clarity and control over their own positions -- I'm a non-monogamous but *not* polyamorous person who dates people casually, and so i explicitly seek out others who are looking only for casual sex, that kind of stuff is fine -- but instead, this guy seems to be just making his choices up on the fly based on when he's horny, or lonely, or who is around and easy to get to.

I think you're giving a lot more latitude to him than he deserves, here. I'm not saying you need to dump him if you don't want to, if the sex seems like it could be fun you should go for it -- but on your terms. What do YOU want out of this connection? How do you see it? How much quality time, consistency, and commitment do you need? How comfortable are you with being non-monogamous and what kind of non-monogamy do you actively *want*? Do you see this guy as a friend? A casual partner (but a partner nonetheless)? A fuckbuddy?

There's a significant distance between you two, you two have been talking a lot, you call him a friend, and you call your plans to get together a "date." This is a relationship, whether he likes to admit it or not, and that comes with responsibilities to treat one another well and be honest, and to respect the other person's needs. And he doesn't seem to be showing any sense of responsibility toward the people he is in relationships with, and maybe doesn't even see them as relationships at all? He might seem nice, but the way he is navigating all of this is very selfish and instrumentalizes other people -- and so I think you should listen to that feeling you have of insecurity, because it's signalling that he's put you in a very insecure place.

Tagging in my homie @pastimperfection who always enjoys yelling about people doing poly badly

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