#this started as a headcanon and then i got carried away

[namgyunation]

Hi, absolutely love your writing style and that you not oversimplify characters.

You wrote before, that Nam-gyu and y/n (I’m not sure if she is even y/n) are fighting fiery and a lot. Could you write about one of those scandals and the behavior of both after it.

It can be your headcanons or a full drabble, you choose. Though I’d love to see replicas of both during the argument and afterwards.

Once again, love your works 💋

addicted to the drama

— pairing: nam-gyu x f!reader — summary: a relationship with someone like nam-gyu isn't easy, or peaceful. far from it, but you're in this shit for the long haul. OR; three fights with nam-gyu and three ways it gets 'resolved.' — warnings: suggestive moments, a littleeeee gross, he's especially gross in the second fight i'm sorry :(, mentions of sex but no crazy explicit smut, 18+, the girls are fightinggg, there's a little fluff in here, nam-gyu is veryyy not nice in the third fight and uses rather mean language, drug use, not proof-read! — word count: 11.3k — a/n: hiiiiii thank you so so much for the request and the kind words omg (seriouslyyy thank you :*)) <333 this is my first time ever doing one, so i hope i didn't stray too far from what you wanted, haha. i think nam-gyu is definitely a petty little shit when it comes to arguments with his s/o and definitely more than a little emotionally constipated. i went ahead and included 3 different fights, all with varying levels of seriousness lolol. i'm sorry it took so long, i got a little carried away LMAO. there's a bunch of my headcanons sprinkled in here ofc, but maybe i'll make a separate headcanons only post in the future TToTT I hope you like it!!! <3

In a bad mood, baby, come work me out.

You don't ask for much. You don't think you do, at least.

A tidy space meant a tidy mind meant a tidy life. It doesn't seem that hard of a concept to grasp. To you.

Nam-gyu's shoes are strewn lazily across the floor in front of you, shoe prints outlined and punctuated by a wetness that traced their path from start to finish. Rain water pools beneath the soles, dripping like a damn crime scene. You let out a deep sigh, swallowing your anger as you hung your jacket on the rack.

Your eyes flick over the apartment, taking a mental note of every offense and sorting them in the framework of your mind as you built your case. A discarded glass of iced tea on the island, half sipped, then forgotten. A stray sock on the floor, far from its home in the laundry bin overflowing with Nam-gyu's unfolded clothes. A cup of ramen with the chopsticks still in it. You step forward, grabbing a box of snacks on the coffee table. It was too light, nothing but cardboard and air as you shook it. Empty. You slam it into the recycling bin with more effort than necessary.

Your anger simmers, about ready to spill over as you push past the door to your bedroom. He's exactly where you knew he'd be, splayed out lazily across the bed in shorts and a loose shirt, one hand pillowing his head while the other gripped his phone.

"Nam-gyu."

He hums in vague acknowledgment, eyes still trained on his phone. You swipe at it, knocking it out of his hand, watching his face bloom with a mix of confusion and anger as it tumbles onto his chest, narrowly missing his face.

He curls his lip. "The hell is your problem?"

"Your shoes."

"My shoes," he responds flatly.

You suck in a breath. "In the middle of the floor. Dripping."

He rolls his eyes at you and puncutates it with a scoff. "My god. You're so dramatic."

You throw your arms out. "Is it that hard to wipe them and put them on the rack?"

"Yeah, yeah," he says. Dismissal. "I'll do it later, relax."

"You will not do it later."

He exhales, a hand dragging down his face like you're the one exhausting him. "Shit, you're so uptight sometimes. It's just a little mess."

You scoff. "A little mess that you leave sitting there for days!"

He grunts, the only sign that he heard you, before turning over onto his side to unlock his phone again.

Your eye twitches.

Fine.

The next morning, you don't put your makeup away after getting ready for work. Your cups populate the apartment, gathering on every surface like a small village. Your jackets find homes on the couch, the floor, the backs of the few chairs you two had. A stray sock joins his on the ground. Then a shirt. A pair of underwear. Fuck it. You add another sock for good measure.

It only takes two days for Nam-gyu to break. He catches you on the way to the bathroom, his hand digging into your waist as he whips you around, interrupting your plans to continue building the ongoing crime scene of makeup in the sink.

"Cut it the fuck out."

You smile. "I don't know what you mean."

He narrows his eyes, jaw clenching. "Oh my god, you're insane. I get it, okay? Fuck." His hand goes up to rub at his temples for a moment before dragging slowly down his face in defeat.

He points past you at the bathroom sink surrounded in puffs of eyeshadow and smears of foundation. "Deal with... that. I'll get the rest of it."

You stand there, biting back a smile as he lets out an exasperated sigh, pushing up his sleeves and tucking his bangs behind his ears before leaning down to tackle the mess—half you and half him. You're about to tease him when his eyes zero in on something on the ground. He picks it up with a smirk, holding it up in the air in front of you. It's your underwear.

"Honestly?" He looks away from you for a moment, his eyes dragging over it for too long, as if inspecting every twist of the lace. "I don't really mind if you keep leaving these around." He raises his eyebrows at you as a grin stretches across his face. You roll your eyes with a disgusted scoff, but you don't care, not really.

He opens his mouth to say something more, but you're already shutting the bathroom door behind you with a click.

You lean against the sink, hands gripping the cool marble as you let out a sigh of relief. Victory.

---

The next time you fight, it's under the pretense of something fun. You'd complained about how little time the two of you had spent together in the past week. Every time you were home, he was at work. Every time he was home, you were at work— or too exhausted from said work to do anything.

So he proposed a compromise. A night out together at the nightclub, he'd said. A nice way to spend time with each other even when he was on the clock. Like 'take your kid to work' day, except the 'kid' was his annoyed girlfriend. And the 'work' was a shady nightclub filled with too many loud, intoxicated people. And the 'day' was actually a night choking on smoke and sweat and too much noise that stretched way too long, like a guest overstaying their welcome.

You lean against Nam-gyu, staring out into the crowd of people as he tangles in conversation with another one of the club's regular VIPs. You found your head spinning from the revolving door of people that he'd spoken to all night. You wonder how someone as naturally introverted and—rough as him could stand this job.

You listen in, attention flitting in and out as they spoke. He says something so out of character that it catches you off guard. You let out an amused puff of air. He's too animated, too bubbly, too eager to please people that barely know his name. For what it was worth, he was certainly one hell of an actor. Anything to get the guests—and the drugs—coming over and over again, you suppose.

It's not long before you feel his warmth inch away from your body. An alarm. You look up, and his hands are already on your shoulders, rubbing quickly up and down in a way that signals 'hey, I'm about to do something that you probably don't want me to do, but I'm gonna do it anyways'. Your mouth is already opening to complain, but he beats you to it.

"I'm gonna step out for a second, okay?" He's not looking at you. He leans in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "This guy is offering me some good shit. Gotta take it. He's real important."

He brushes the ghost of a kiss to the back of your head, no doubt an attempt to placate your already building annoyance, but it barely registers. His hands pick up speed on your shoulders, rubbing the last bit of warmth into you before he's pulling away, smiling with enthusiasm as he leaves to pump more chemicals into his body.

You let your head tip back as your eyes shut. Nam-gyu never ceases to amaze you with just how many bad decisions he can make in one night. The air around you hums with music, closing in on your little spot by the bar. You drum your fingers against the counter, trying and failing to convince yourself that you're having fun.

You're about to stand—go outside to get some air maybe—when someone slips into the seat behind you, filling Nam-gyu's spot.

"Hey."

You startle a bit, not expecting the sudden conversation.

It's a man dressed in all black, a silver chain glinting against his collarbone. He smells like smoke and beer. Based on his attire, it's not hard to deduce that this is one of Nam-gyu's coworkers, another promoter, you were sure.

You nod at him politely, not really sure what to expect but not wanting to be rude, either. It'd be best not to cause problems with anyone working alongside your boyfriend, you figure. "Hello."

He's nice enough, asking you about how your night was going, what other clubs you'd been to, what kind of drinks you like.

Your face softens into a smile as the conversation continues, your initial suspicion simmering down and settling into something resembling ease as you realize he's just another guy on the clock doing his job: promoting the club.

He leans over, taking his phone out to show you something, and that's when you notice just how close he'd gotten to you since he sat down. You inch away slightly but still listen politely as he pitches one of the club's themed parties.

You nod your head with a vague interest as he scrolls through his photo gallery. Although you were never much into clubbing, you could admit that some of the events looked kind of cool. As he continues going through the photos, one in particular—a Valentine's night—catches your eye. You lean in, and your shoulders brush at the movement.

"That one's cute," you say, pointing at it as you take in the background details. Pink strobe lights, heart balloons, and rose bouquets. A small smile tugs at your lips as you imagine Nam-gyu in his work outfit, his sleeves rolled up and hair tucked behind his ears, knee-deep in a pile of cutesy, pink decorations. The thought brought some color to your cheeks. You'd have to bring it up to him later. Maybe that would be a more fun night for you to attend with him.

Unbeknowst to you, the man beside you was in the middle of taking your statement the completely wrong way. He raises his eyebrows, studying the pink dusting your cheeks and the way your face focused in on his phone screen. He scoots even closer, testing. When you don't react, he reaches out an arm, slowly draping over you as his hand finds its way to your shoulder. His grip on you is light, not forceful, not trapping, but you still stiffen at the contact.

"You think so?" he says, a smirk on his face. He ducks down so he's eye level with you. Too close. "Hey, if you promise me you'll go to our next one, I'm sure I can get you a discount," he brings his phone up again, tapping quickly until he's at the 'contacts' screen, "here, let me get your number so you can—"

You shrink back sheepishly, realizing that you have to nip this interaction in the bud. He looks at you, confusion written across his face, but he lets his arm fall to his side.

"Uh, sorry—do you know Nam-gyu?" you ask, thinking it was as good a time as any to bring him up.

He raises his eyebrows at the sudden shift in topic. "Nam-gyu...? Yeah. I work with him." A flash of recognition. His eyes widen. "Oh. Shit—are you the girl he came in with?"

You nod, a polite smile returning to your face as the man immediately retracts from you, an apologetic look on his face.

You open your mouth to speak, "Yeah, he's my—" Boyfriend, you try to say, but you're cut off by a rush of hands looping at your waist, tugging you backwards into a tight hold.

The familiar rumble of Nam-gyu's voice fills your ears as he leans over you. You twist around, looking up to see his face, both startled and relieved at his sudden entrance. He's staring down at you lazily through half-lidded eyes, and you can see how blown out his pupils are, even in the dim light. You barely have time to react or make a snarky comment before he's pressing his lips to yours, earning a small noise of surprise.

The kiss is welcome until a hand drifts to your chin, tilting you upwards, deeper, drifting into something that felt a little too intimate to be doing in a public space.

Remembering your audience, you pull away, a gentle hand on his chest acting as a barrier between the two of you. His coworker is looking at the two of you, his expression both sheepish and embarrassed, like he was intruding on something he shouldn't be— and honestly, he kind of was, what with the way Nam-gyu was glowering at him.

He stands up, giving Nam-gyu an apologetic nod as he clears his throat, hands flying to his pockets as he prepares to leave.

Nam-gyu smiles, nodding curtly back at him, but you know him well enough to recognize the tension in his jaw, the ingenuity in his smile. "Hey, man."

"Hey." He looks off to the side and then back again. "My bad, man. I didn't know she—"

"I think I can handle this one from here," Nam-gyu says, cutting him off with a barely disguised edge in his voice. There's a squeeze at your waist, a hand on your shoulder. "You can go find some other chicks to bother, right?" He cocks his head to crowd of people gathered in the center of the club, a small, mocking laugh leaving his lips. "I'm sure one of them will fuck you."

You recoil at his tone—and his gross implication, hand going up to lightly smack at his chest. You wonder if the drugs were cutting off the circulation to his brain.

"Nam-gyu!" you hiss, but he doesn't look at you.

His coworker curls his lip, eyes narrowing. "Jesus, dude. I said my bad. I didn't realize she was with you, alright?" He shook his head, turning around and promptly removing himself from the situation. He shot one last look at the two of you over his shoulder, returning the glare that Nam-gyu was still giving him.

Once his back fully disappears into the crowd, you stand up, knocking Nam-gyu's hands off of you as you fix him with a stare.

"What the hell was that?" you deadpan, arms crossing. "He literally said he was sorry."

"'What the hell was that?'" he mocks, his voice climbing a few octaves to match yours. He snorts, ignoring the frustration coloring your face. "I could ask you the same damn thing." He leans down, a hand drifting to the nape of your neck as he crowds into your personal space. "So. What were you two talking about? You seemed real interested." His tone dips low into something icy, accusatory.

You scoff at him, explaining how the conversation was friendly, how he was unaware of your status as a couple, how he instantly backed off at the first sign that you were uncomfortable—

But Nam-gyu ignores you, his hands travelling over your body until they find a home at your shoulders. He spins you around, and you let him, exhaustion hitting you as you realize that your statements were going in one ear and out the other. He rubs at your arms yet again as he pushes you forward, making you walk with him as he leads you to one of the side rooms—a VIP room, you come to realize.

"C'mon," he says, voice thick with whatever drug he'd just taken, "got s'more guests to entertain in here, and you get to come with me."

You roll your eyes. "Yayyy." You continue to count down the minutes left in his shift, but something told you that he was in the mood to clock in some over time.

The lounge is nice, spacious. It's at least a bit quieter than it is out in the main area, a perk you're somewhat thankful for as you adjust yourself on the couch. The guy from earlier is there too. You'd nodded at him when the two of you entered, small and polite and slightly apologetic. He ignored you, presumably for his own sake. You don't blame him.

The night continues, and you're silent, not really wanting to get in the way or be dragged into the conversation. You lean closer to Nam-gyu, craving his contact despite how annoying he's been. It wasn't exactly easy for you to relax in a room full of supposedly 'very important people' that you didn't know, all smiles and raucous laughter as they smoked and drank and huffed whatever came their way.

You were never the biggest fan of the world your boyfriend operated in, surrounded by substances and fast people with fast money that seemed to move quicker than their minds could make decisions, but it's what you signed up for when you got into a relationship with him, after all.

He's chatting it up with a particularly loud, and—unique-looking guy to his left, two girls practically melted into him at both sides. Goes by 'Thanos', you come to find out. A famous rapper with a lot of status and—from how he was speaking—a whole lot of money. His purple hair draws your attention, making his presence impossible to ignore in the confined space, that and his peculiar way of speaking, puncutated by random bursts of english.

You carefully snake a hand around Nam-gyu's arm, wanting to be closer but not wanting to interrupt. He gives you a small glance before brushing you off, you shoot him a look but then his arm is looping around your waist, pulling you into his side. He adjusts your legs so they're draped over his lap, and you redden, feeling like it was the slightest bit too much.

The others at the table didn't seem to mind, though, too caught up in their own conversations to care about your inner turmoil.

You slowly relax as he returns to his conversation. His hands are warm against you, one resting gently at the small of your back, the other rubbing light circles into the exposed skin of your leg. Nam-gyu was a touchy guy, something that you'd gotten used to in your time together. Always a hand at your shoulder, fingers ghosting against your hip, an arm slung lazily across your lap. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

It was fine at first, a comfort amidst the torturously long shift. His touches were soft, subtle, light, a welcome feeling.

Then, it escalates. He laughs at a particularly stupid joke from Thanos, too loud, too eager. It sounds fake. Whether it was due to the drugs or his desire to get into Thanos' good graces, you weren't sure. Either way, you don't have time to dwell on it before he's pulling you again, closer, until you're on his lap, his arms locking against your middle.

This, you conclude, was most definitely too much. You're quiet for a few moments as Nam-gyu's laughter winds down and Thanos turns to accept a joint from one of his lady-friends, a momentary calm falling over the room with the distraction.

You take the gap in conversation as an opportunity, fidgeting in your spot as you try to inch off of his lap. "Nam-gyu, can I get down?" you whisper.

He looks at you, his eyes blank as a playful smile creeps onto his face, but there's a tinge of something else there.

"What?" He lets out a breathy laugh, raising his eyebrows. His fingers ghost over your waist, your ribs, the slope of your neck. Then, he's tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ears, smiling at you like a lovesick fool. You balk at the attention. He wets his lips before biting down on them. Eyeing you with a sudden razor-sharp focus. His voice comes out even, "You bored of me all of a sudden?"

You stare at him, incredulous. "What is with you right now?" He's not normally like this—touchy, yes, but not this... animated.

Nam-gyu just chews on his cheek, thinking for a moment before ultimately choosing to ignore your question. He pulls you closer until you're flush against his chest, your face burning red with embarrassment as he continues to hold you, his touch skimming dangerously close to indecency. You turn to the side, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze. At least he was warm, a silver lining.

Across the table, Nam-gyu locks eyes with his coworker, a silent battle still simmering in the weight of their stares.

This—his performance—was for everyone to see.

For him to see.

It wasn't even about you anymore. Just Nam-gyu's pride, his desire to win, even when no one else was playing the game.

A small misunderstanding, of which an apology had already been issued, it's fairly easy to let go, but Nam-gyu was never a fan of 'easy'.

The night pushes on, as does he. He whispers things you'd deem not very appropriate for company, much closer than necessary as he breathes against your neck, lips skimming the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. You mumble back a response, his fingers toying with the strap of your dress.

His behavior finally comes to a head a few moments later. Everyone at the table is chilled out, seemingly in a haze, likely from the weed and whatever else was spread out on the table. You wonder if it was finally about time for you to shove Nam-gyu in the car and go home.

Then, his hand is on your chin, guiding you to look up at him and fixing you with a stare that lasts a few beats too long, and then he's leaning down, closer, too close, pressing a kiss to your lips that he tries to deepen. It's dizzying, overwhelming, and entirely unlike him. You quickly break the contact, not giving him the opportunity to up the intensity. Not in front of all these people.

Thanos whistles from his seat, long and drawn out. It makes you want to melt into the couch.

Your face is red as you stand, suddenly aware of all the eyes on you.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you say, voice coming out in a flurry as you turn away from him.

Behind you, he meets eyes with his coworker for the last time that night, a cocky, infuriating smirk on his face.

He picks up the jacket that you'd left on the couch, throwing it over his shoulder before tossing a lazy 'goodbye' over his shoulders as he follows you. The performance was over.

The silence on the car ride home is suffocating, the engine humming beneath the tension. The energy shift is palpable—one second he was all over you, whispering into your ear and raking his fingers over every expanse of exposed skin, and then, nothing.

Nam-gyu had sobered up enough to drive, thankfully, because you were in no mood to do so. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, his other arm leaning out the window. His posture is lazy, leaning back in his seat with his legs spread out in a way that appears casual, but the way his jaw is set, the tension in his knuckles where he grips the steering wheel, the effort he expends to not meet the stare you're boring into the side of his head—it all betrays him, how he really feels.

His lips are set into a thin, irritated line as he drives. His eyes flick to the radio, and his hand leaves the steering wheel for a moment as he turns it on, upbeat pop music filling the car but doing little to mask the fact that he was simmering, barely keeping his temper in check.

You ran out of patience from waiting for him to speak first. "So. You done being weird now?"

Nothing.

"Nam-gyu."

Still nothing.

You let out a small huff that trails off into a laugh. "Wow. So you can run your mouth all night, but now all of a sudden you're quiet?"

His fingers tighten on the steering wheel at that, his pointer finger twitching as he taps against it, the subtle clinking of his ring against the wheel queueing you in to how close you were to getting a reaction.

You roll your eyes. "You're such a fucking child, sometimes. You know that?"

"Shut up."

Your eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"I said," he hisses, eyes narrowing as his grip on the wheel tightens, "shut up." There's something in his voice that makes you listen. It's low, firm, clipped in a way that tells you he's barely keeping himself from snapping.

You study him, taking note of the way he bites at his lip, the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows hard, and the way his hand flexes against its resting spot by the window.

You huff, turning to face the window and mirroring his posture.

Fine.

Soon, he's shifting the car into park, but he doesn't move. Doesn't turn off the engine.

Just sits there.

You don't turn around to face him. He doesn't ask you to, either.

The low rumble is the only sound between the two of you.

You didn't want to be the first one out of the car, and clearly, he didn't want to be either. It was like you two were in a standoff—a childish, petty standoff.

The silence is pointed, buzzing under the weight of all the things you weren't saying to each other. He lets out a sharp exhale, and you feel his stare on the back of his head. You refuse to turn around, refuse to give him the satisfaction.

You feel it, the way he's sitting there waiting for you to break the silence, as if this was somehow your fault and it was your responsibility to rectify it—waiting for you to sigh and grab his hand or say something snarky to give him an excuse to argue with you. It doesn't come.

He's the first to break, clearly tired from his shift, not to mention hungry for something to put in his body other than drugs ands cheap beer. He lets out a scoff before finally shifting the key in the ignition, shutting off the comforting thrum of the engine. He throws his door open, slamming it behind him as he fishes the apartment keys out of his pocket, not sparing you a glance as he walks towards the building.

You roll your eyes as you follow him, not like you had much choice.

The apartment is dim when you step inside, the only light coming from the fridge where Nam-gyu is standing, his body haloed in white as he pulls out a few snacks.

You flick on the light, ruining the dramatic environment he was building. You hang up your jacket and kick off your shoes, shutting the door behind you with a click as you fix him with a stare.

He turns, popping a few bites of something in his mouth before he leans against the counter, not meeting your eyes and instead staring at the wall across from him as if it had somehow become the most interesting thing in the world.

You suck in a breath, a mixture of annoyance and exhaustion swirling inside you. In all honesty, you just want to go the fuck to sleep.

"Nam-gyu."

Nothing.

Fuck, you hated this. Hated when he clammed up and backed himself into a corner, turning his nose up at you and forcing you to drag the issue out of him like you were pulling teeth, like he was a damn child. Because why would he ever just tell you what the problem was so you two could talk it out? That'd be way too easy for the both of you.

You drag a hand down your face, pushing past him and moving towards the bedroom, your patience running extremely, extremely thin.

"Jesus, you're exhausting."

His lip twitches at that. "What, running away again?" he says, voice indignant as he steps in front of you, cutting you off.

"Ohhh." You throw your hands up at him, a mocking smirk on your face. "Now you wanna talk."

He closes in on you, so close that you can smell the smoke and chemicals still clinging to his clothes. He looks like he's going to speak, but he doesn't, just presses his lips into a tight, thin line, his expression laced with irritation.

You roll your eyes at the silence. He has no room to talk, and you know it. He knows it too, clear in the way he won't open his mouth.

"If you're gonna throw a temper tantrum every time a guy speaks to me, go ahead. Just leave me out of it." You step back from him, finding your way to the couch. If he wants to act like a dick, fine. Let him.

"I threw a tantrum?" he says, voice laced with something icy as his jaw ticks.

"Yes, Nam-gyu," you say, voice going high as if you were speaking to a child, "a whole fucking scene, actually."

He watches you with silent anger as you fluff up the couch pillows.

You hear a snort behind you. "Oh, sleeping on the couch, huh? Cute."

"Better than sleeping next to you right now."

A beat of silence.

Then— "Fine. Whatever. Do whatever the fuck you want."

He stomps into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

You stare down at your lap, brows furrowed in anger as you gave yourself a moment to calm down. Then, it dawned on you that you were still in the dress you'd worn to the club with makeup still on your face, the only change of clothes being in the room now occupied by your angry boyfriend.

Dammit. You lay against the couch. It's too lumpy. Too cold, without your thick blanket and Nam-gyu's shared body heat. The dress is tight against your skin.

Still, you lay there for a good ten minutes, refusing to fold.

When your efforts to wait him out prove to be fruitless, you let your eyes flutter shut with a sigh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction but knowing that there was no way you were going to get a good night's sleep out here.

Reluctantly, you get to your feet and shuffle quietly to the bedroom door. You linger there for a moment, steeling yourself.

Behind the door, Nam-gyu is laying in bed, clad in only his boxers as he stares up at the ceiling in the dark, his arms crossed over his chest as he drums his fingers anxiously, angrily, against his skin. His work clothes sat in a crumpled heap by the laundry basket, taken off and dumped in a flurry as he waited for you, refusing to get ready for bed before you cut the act and gave in, like you always did. He knew you'd kill him if you found out he'd laid on the bed with outside clothes.

He reaches over to his phone on the night stand, quickly clicking it on before shutting it off again.

Ten minutes. Fuck. How long were you gonna keep this up for?

His body twitches in reluctant defeat, and he's about to get up, swallow his pride to scoop you up from the couch and drag you into bed so he could get some goddamn sleep—but the sound of the door creaking open saves him. He swallows, body going still against the bed as you step inside.

A wave of relief washes through him, and he exhales like he's been holding his breath since the two of you had stepped foot in the car. He quickly recovers, though, a smug expression replacing his initial relief, hiding the fact that he was waiting for you.

You slink across the floor, refusing to make eye contact with him as you push the closet open and search for your pajamas.

"Oh, look who it is," he laughs, propping himself up on his elbows. "Miss me already, huh?"

You don't respond, eyes narrowing as you stack your clothes in a pile next to you. After gathering everything, you stand up and make your way towards the door without shooting him a glance.

You pause, curling your lip as the smell of the nightclub reaches your nose.

"You stink. At least have the decency to shower after the club before you roll around in our bed."

His expression sours behind you as you make your way out.

You shower quickly, half convinced if you took too long that Nam-gyu was going to bust in and try to argue with you again. You dry your hair, pull on your pajamas, and brush your teeth. When you open the door, he's there, sitting on the couch in his boxers. He doesn't look at you as he gets up, nudging you with his shoulder as he makes his way inside.

"Took you long enough," he scoffs.

You roll your eyes.

His shower is quick, rushed. When the door to the bathroom opens, all the steam escapes. He stands in the doorway with his towel clinging loosely to his hips, hair dripping as he shuts the door behind him, his skin pink from the scorching water.

You quickly still on the couch, shutting your eyes as you pretend to be asleep, trying to play it off like you weren't listening intently, waiting for his shower to be over. Waiting for him to crack so you didn't have to actually spend your night on the damn couch.

He lingers in the doorway for a moment, squinting as he zeros in the outline of your body. Then, you hear the soft pad of his footsteps as he makes his way over, the sliver of light pouring in from the bathroom being his only guide as he towers over you.

"I know your ass isn't asleep," he says, eyes narrowing as he crouches down next to your face.

You don't react. He wets his lips, mind reeling, searching for his next move.

Then, his hands are gently resting on your side. You swallow, holding your breath in anticipation. The heat of his skin prickles against you, still steamy from his shower, the damp scent of his shampoo filling the space between you.

And then—his fingers press into your sides, and he's tickling you.

You yelp, eyes flying open and body jerking violently as his fingers dig into your ribs, mapping over every ticklish spot on your body that he'd come to know in the time you two had been together.

"N-Nam-gyu!" you try to yell at him, but it trails off into shaky laughter, his touch relentless.

You can't hold it in, after all, who could? And then you're a red, laughing mess beneath him, your hands coming out from where they were pillowing your head a few moments prior, trying-- and failing, to get him off of you.

You try to twist away from him, but he follows, grinning now.

"Oh?" he says, his voice mockingly sweet, "I thought you were asleep?"

He clambers on top of you, water dripping from his hair and onto your dry, warm pajamas. You want to yell at him for not drying off completely before he came out, but you can't get it out between your laughter.

He's laughing now, too, his grin growing wider, and this time, there's no venom there, no smug satisfaction, no anger. It's just him and you. Giggling in the almost-darkness on your lumpy couch in your small apartment, tucked away in your own little pocket of the world.

"You—asshole!" But you can't stop laughing, grinning so hard it hurts, despite how badly you wanted to be mad at him. "I hate you!"

He shakes his head, eyes not leaving you for a second. "No, you don't." He smirks, pressing one last ticklish squeeze in your side, before relenting and taking a seat at your legs.

You're breathless, gasping and heart racing, still half-trapped beneath him.

He stares at you for a moment. His grin softens. Yours does, too.

He knows he'd been an asshole this whole night. Knew it before and after the drugs had worn off.

And though he still doesn't say it—I'm sorry—as if his body won't allow him to say it—he leans forward, hair still dripping onto your face, and he nudges his forehead against yours. Just once.

You let out a shaky, exasperated breath, finally able to compose yourself.

Your hand goes up to rest on his bare shoulder, a beat passes, and then you're tugging him gently down, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"You," you say, shutting your eye as a droplet narrowly misses it, "are the biggest fucking baby alive."

He grunts.

You laugh, amused. In that moment, you know you'd won.

"Jealous little freak."

That earns you a huff.

The two of you sit there for a while, coming down from the moment. Once you can no longer stand the water dripping onto you, you shove him off.

"Hurry up and get ready for bed. I'm tired."

There's a ghost of a smile on his face as you push past him and collapse onto the bed.

Soon, he flops down next to you, the bed shifting under his added weight.

Silence.

He turns his head. A beat.

"So. You wanna fuck? Or..."

You exhale sharply through your nose in lieu of a response, rolling over to curl into his chest.

You press a kiss to his jaw as he drapes a hand across your waist, your voice sweet and laced with sleep as you lean into him, breath brushing against the shell of his ear as you whisper, "Go the hell to sleep."

He snorts, and soon, you're both drifting off into your own worlds.

---

The third time, it's not petty, not over a bout of jealousy.

It starts over money.

Of course it does. It always does.

You stand over him, trying to rub away the tension in your temples as he scrolls through his phone, ignoring you like he has all the time in the world.

"Seriously? You spent how much?" Your face is hot. "Are the drugs that good? They have to be, with how much money you throw away over them!"

Nam-gyu doesn't even look up at you. He's slouched, legs spread against the couch as he scoffs. "Why the fuck do you care?"

Your eyes widen. "Why do I— Nam-gyu, are you actually serious right now?"

He exhales sharply, shutting his eyes for a few seconds, as if this wasn't an extremely important and serious conversation. The sight makes your blood boil. He shuts off his phone and tosses it onto the coffee table with a clack.

"Look. I made the money—so I spent the money." He looks up at you then, his expression screaming that he'd rather be anywhere ot her than here. "I don't think it's that hard to understand."

"Yeah? With what fucking rent money, genius?" you spit back, your pulse quickening at his condescending tone.

He narrows his eyes at you, jaw flexing. Dangerous. "I said." He stands, looking down at you now. "I'll handle it." He presses two fingers to your chest, shoving you back lightly, a warning. "Now can you get the fuck off my back?"

You laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Really? When? Before or after the landlord's knocking on our door?" Your voice rises, the anger bubbling in your chest, getting ready to spill over. "Fuck, Nam-gyu! You always do this! Blow through your money—our money—like it's nothing and then act like I'm the problem for calling you out on it!"

"Oh yeah?" he says, stepping closer. His neck is tense. "And you do what? SIt there and bitch at me like you're my fucking mother?"

The words sting, but you don't back down. You open your mouth to fire back, but he's already speaking, practically yelling now.

"I was working. What the hell do you want me to do?"

"Working?" You bark out a laugh, mocking, incredulous. "That's what you call working? Getting fucked up and blowing your money on drugs for people that won't even remember your damn name?"

He takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he bites his lip. You're sure he's about to explode. It doesn't scare you.

"It's my job!" he yells, lips curling into a sneer. "What, you think you're an expert on my job now?"

"Your job is to promote the club, not snort half the fucking inventory!"

His face darkens, and something ugly twists in his features. You can't deny the way your hands shake at your sides.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too," you spit back.

The air shifts, the silence hanging between you two heavy and suffocating.

He shakes his head, looking off to the side like you were being ridiculous as he runs a hand through his hair. "You love doing this shit, don't you? Acting like you're so much better than me, like you've got everything figured out." He juts his chin out at you. "I bet you were just waiting for a reason to fucking lecture me again, huh?"

"Oh my god, Nam-gyu, this isn't about me. This is about your reckless spending habits—"

"And there it is! It's always my fault, isn't it? I'm always the villain, the big, bad piece of shit ruining your life. A screw-up that you have to fix." He smirks. "Go ahead. Call me a screw-up. I know you fucking want to."

You groan. "Do you hear yourself right now? I've never called you a screw-up! That's all in your head."

"Oh, yeah, but you sure as hell think it," he sneers, taking a step towards you. You don't move, determined to stand your ground. "You're always talking down to me like I'm an idiot. Like i'm just some loser that you have to babysit, because you're such a saint for putting up with someone like me." His eyes flash with anger. "You just wanna control me."

"Oh?" you huff, eyes narrowing. "So that's what this is about? Your ego?" Nam-gyu's jaw flexes at that, daring you to continue. "I don't wanna control you, Nam-gyu! I want to build a life with you! But you just keep sabatoging yourself—blowing through our savings on useless shit and poisoning your body while I try to save you!"

He laughs, a bitter, hollow sound. "I knew it!" He turns around and walks away from you, hands going up to tug at his hair as he paces across the floor. "You're just like every other bitch I've ever met. Always running your fucking mouth—acting like you know better. Acting like I need to be saved."

Your anger comes to a head, simmering and simmering until it was at the edge, just about ready to boil over. You step forward, cutting him off. "Maybe because you fucking do!"

He pauses, his face going blank as he stares at you. For a second—just a second—he looks wounded. Like you'd slapped him.

Then— "Oh, fuck off." He spits the words out like it's poison, hands falling from their place in his hair and leaving it a tousled mess. "You wanna 'save' me? What are you, my fucking mother?" His fingers twitch at his side. Then he scoffs, shaking his head at you, and a bitter smile stretches across his face. "No. You're not like my mom. You're worse. At least she knew when to shut the fuck up."

That did it.

Your anger boils over finally, coursing through every vein and artery until your body moves faster than you can think.

You slap him.

The sound cracks through the apartment like a gunshot.

He stumbles back, eyes wide and lips parted in genuine shock. He says nothing as he brings a hand up to his cheek, fingers pressing against the red mark blooming against his cheek. He's quiet for a moment.

Then: a laugh. Sharp and cold, slashing through the silence.

"Oh. Hah. There she is." He grins, but his eyes are wild. "The real you. The one who pretends to be so mature and understanding, but the second I hit a nerve, you turn into a hysterical, emotional bitch."

Your heart is slamming against your ribs now, and there's something hot pushing behind your eyes.

"I hate you." Your voice was shaking.

He doesn't flinch, just stands there, staring at you, but his fingers twitch, something cold taking form in his chest like a stone.

"Good." His voice is low, cold. Fake. "Then why the fuck are you still here?"

Something inside you snaps. Because underneath all the anger, you can hear what he's really saying.

Why haven't you left me yet?

But you're too furious to give him the reassurance you know he desperately wants—the reassurance he's waiting for with bated breath and clenched fists.

You won't give him the satisfaction.

You push past him, throwing the door open to the bedroom, one hand grabbing frantically at your clothes, the other clumsily fishing in your pocket for your phone. He follows you, suddenly silent.

You hear his breathing from the doorway. Heavy. Unsteady. Panicked. You pretend not to notice.

You dial your best friend, quickly bringing it up to your ear to hide the screen from Nam-gyu, hands trembling with anger.

"Hey," you say as soon as your friend picks up, voice shaking, "can you come get me?"

Nam-gyu's blood runs cold, something icy snaking through him and squeezing his chest like a vice.

Despite it all, he still finds a way to be an ass, another sharp laugh clawing its way out of his throat. "You're serious? That's all it takes?" He steps forward, his indifference betrayed by his breathing, fast and raggedy. "What, been waiting for an opportunity to finally be rid of me, you whore?"

You turn to face him, your hands going still as you lock eyes with him, eyes burning.

"You don't mean that." Your voice comes out so, so small.

Nam-gyu's breath stutters, disarmed by the way you're looking at him.

You see his face rewind before you, and for a second, he's the boy you met back in university. Vulnerable, unsure, timid, scared—and you saw it. A flicker of panic and regret across his face, knowing he'd pushed it the slightest bit too far. Knowing you were at the edge. It was up to him to pull you back.

And for a second, you really believe it. That he will.

But then—

Ego.

His pride.

His biggest fucking downfall.

"Nah," he scoffs, looking away as he feigns indifference. "I meant every word."

Your stomach twists. You grab your bag and pull yourself to your feet. You won't cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

He turns around, leaning against the doorframe and forcing you to watch his back while his face goes slack, teeth grit behind his lips as he holds his breath. "So. Are you leaving, or not?"

You push past him, bag in hand as you make your way to the door. He follows you, watching as you pull on your coat. He doesn't reach for you, doesn't stop you. His expression doesn't change, but the way his throat bobs—the way his hands shake despite his best efforts to hide them in his pockets—it tells you everything.

And this time, you don't have it in you to read between the lines, to decipher the stupid act he's putting up. All because he can't be an adult and say what he really means.

You grab your bag from the floor, a ding popping up on your phone: a text from your friend saying that she was outside.

Your hand is resting on the door knob, twisting, when his voice comes out���low, cracking.

"You're really gonna do this?"

You don't look at him. Just push through and slam the door shut.

He doesn't follow.

And just like that, Nam-gyu was alone. He lets out a shaky breath that he forgot he was holding, gripping at his sides like it would keep him from falling apart.

Suddenly, despite your absence, everything is much too loud. Louder than before. The hum of the refrigerator. The buzz of the wiring in the walls. The padding of his footsteps against the hardwood as he threw himself onto the couch, his legs suddenly too shaky for him to stand.

"Whatever," he says to the oppressive silence. "She'll be back." His voice cracks, unsure. Like he doesn't even believe the words as he's saying them.

Tension crawls up his back, settling into his limbs like a concrete block. He sits there for longer than he should've, an invisible weight pushing down on his shoulders. He won't say it, but he's waiting for you.

You don't come back that night.

The next day passes by him in a blur, thick with alcohol and chemicals. He's in the bedroom, his phone on the floor next to him. He pushes his palms against his temples, quick gasps burning his lungs.

His fingers twitch, exhausted with the effort of keeping still, but he won't do it. He won't text you. Won't call you. He won't let himself. His heart pounds craters into his chest as he sucks in a deep, labored breath.

His own words from the day before echo in his head. He'd wanted to push you, break you down, make you feel as small as he did. And it worked.

And now?

Now you were gone.

It was fine. It was fine. He pulls himself to his feet, something icy creeping up his spine. Nothing some weed couldn't fix.

As he stumbles to his feet, he catches himself wishing that he'd been scheduled for work today. Something to distract him. The thought makes him laugh, hollow and flat.

His hands shake as he struggles with his lighter, trying and failing to get a flame. He curses, arms dropping to his sides as he leans against the couch. Fuck this.

He slides down the couch until he's spilling onto the floor in a heap. There's something hot and wet pushing behind his eyes now, betraying him as it finally falls. He swipes at his face, biting back the frail noises threatening to spill from his throat. He doesn't want to hear it. His hands make fists in the material of his shirt, and he hardens his jaw, forcing himself to breathe slowly as his mind short circuits.

It was fine.

You'd be back tonight. He was sure of it. He tries the lighter again, and this time, it catches.

You crash at your friend's place. She doesn't ask questions, and you don't offer answers. It wasn't like this was the first time you fled to her house after a fight with Nam-gyu had gone sour. Your friend's guest room was practically yours, at this point.

The bed is comfortable, warm, but it does nothing to calm the threads of anxiety twitching through your limbs. You grab your phone, checking for the fifth time to make sure that it wasn't on silent.

It wasn't, and as you thought, there was nothing new. No text, no call. You let out a puff of air and continue to pretend like you don't care.

A few moments later, you turn over, fumbling for another pillow in the darkness. You hold your breath, lip trembling as you squeeze it tight, biting back your tears. He didn't deserve it. To make you cry.

"Fucking asshole."

Unfortunately for you, he was right.

The next day, you do your best to stay away. Enjoy your friend's company. Calm the images of Nam-gyu's limp body flickering through your mind like a cruel recording on loop.

Then— "I'm sorry," you say, ducking your head at your friend. She pauses the movie the two of you are watching, and she doesn't startle, as if she already knows what you're going to say next. "Could you drive me home?" Your voice is sheepish, embarrassed, as you keep your eyes on the floor.

You can almost hear Nam-gyu's voice. 'How typical. Knew you'd come crawling back.'

Your friend just nods, keeping her thoughts on the matter to yourself. For that, you're thankful.

Soon, you're rounding the corner, fumbling with your keys before finally pushing past the door, betraying yourself yet again.

And he was there, right where you left him.

He’s half-slouched on the ground, his back against the couch as he stares up at the ceiling. He'd shoved the coffee table out of the way to make room for himself. His limbs are outstretched on the floor, loose and lazy. Like a cat, you think. It would've been cute, had it been under different circumstances.

A joint burns low between his pointer finger and thumb, dangling dangerously close to the rug at the foot of the couch. He brings it to his lips and takes a long drag. A stray piece of ash falls from the end and burns black into the plush fabric. A permanent stain. A reminder.

The room reeks of weed, a cloud of smoke floating lazily around the ceiling in a slow-motion circuit. The smell curls in your lungs like the argument still lingering between you. You don’t even care.

He didn't look at you when the door opened. Not when the door shut. Not when you cover your nose and mouth with your sleeve, quickly throwing the window open and ushering the hazy cloud outside as if it had the agency to listen.

He doesn’t blink when you come to a stop at his feet, your shadow falling over him like a blanket. He continues to stare up at the water stained ceiling, regarding it with a calm indifference, like a painting he couldn’t understand.

Your eyes rake over him, taking in every inch of his sorry state. He’s in the same clothes you last saw him in, shirt wrinkled and pants twisted low on his hips. His hair stuck out oddly like he’d just woken up from a nap. His eyes are red and swollen, but you know it’s not just from the weed. He barely acknowleges you, save for a lazy flick of his eyes.

You kneel next to him and and press a palm to the warmth of his chest. His face is blank, even, his mouth pressed into a thin line, but his heartbeat betrays him, hammering beneath your fingers like it was trying to get out. A bird making panicked circles on the floor of an open cage.

He lets out a quiet laugh, but it’s weak and tired, bordering on something desperate.

"You stink," you mutter.

Nam-gyu lets out a humorless snort. "Then leave." But he doesn't mean it, not really. His heart quickens beneath your fingers, no doubt scared that you actually might.

But you don't. Instead, you pluck the joint from his fingers and stub it out in the ashtray on the coffee table.

He blows smoke into your face. You don’t blink.

Your fist closes around the fabric of his shirt just above his heart, the soft cotton spilling out between the gaps of your fingers as you clamber on top of him.

He doesn’t react. Doesn’t meet your eyes. You lean down, tilting your head forward so that your foreheads touch. Your hair falls from behind your shoulders, draping over the two of you in a gentle curtain.

The smell of weed is thick as you press a kiss to his cheek. Your free hand comes up to cup his face, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly before straying to the nape of his neck. His lips part weakly, as if he's going to say something snarky, something mean, to remind you of the other day.

Your breath is hot against the shell of his ear as you speak, voice barely above a whisper, “Just... Shut up, okay?” You press another kiss to the top of his forehead, pleading. Soon, your face finds its home in the crook of his neck. You breathe him in, the smell of his skin grounding you, still managing to reach you through the haze of smoke and chemicals. "Please."

And for the first time in a while, he listens.

Nam-gyu says nothing. Not when your fingers comb through his mess of hair. Not when you're tugging his limp body up, up, pushing him—stumbling and dazed—into the shower. Not when you're peeling off his clothes and yours, switching on the faucet and rubbing circles of soap onto the gentle slope of his back as the shower fills with steam.

He won't tell you how much he appreciates it. He won't tell you a lot of things.

He's quiet as he pulls on his pajamas and sinks into the bed like a stone. Relief washes through him as the bed shifts beneath your added weight. His shoulders ease up for the first time since you'd left, though he won't tell you that, either.

The next morning passes like any other. There is no sorry. No kisses pressed to your neck or hands looped around your waist. You weren't expecting it, anyways. You don't dwell on it. Not like you had the time, to. Instead, you roll out of bed, shake the sleep from your body, pull your work clothes on, and start your day.

Later that day, when your key clicks in the lock and your legs cross the threshold, the apartment smells different.

Not weed, not chemicals, not the lingering smell of smoke.

Your eyes trail across the apartment, taking note of everything. The counters are wiped down, the floors swept. Even the clutter that usually lingered around—his clothes, empty bottles, dirty dishes—gone.

You raise your eyebrows as you hang the jacket by the door.

You lean against the counter, unable to keep the look of pure surprise off of your face as you watch his back. Nam-gyu is cooking, a novelty from when you two first got together. Before he'd sunk deeper into his drug habit.

"What's this?"

He doesn't look at you. "Food."

"Wow," you press, testing. He looks at you over his shoulder before turning back to the pot on the stove. "You? Cooking?" You lean in closer, trying to catch his eyes. "Am I dreaming right now?"

He shrugs, stirring the pot. "You always bitch about me eating. So I'm eating."

You purse your lips, deciding not to comment on his wording.

You can't remember the last time he'd cooked. It was always you. Or takeout. Or you reminding him to eat, that drugs and alcohol weren't enough to make up a healthy diet.

He flicks the stove off and grabs a plate from the cabinet, wordlessly spooning a scoop of freshly cooked rice onto the plate, still steaming. He shoves it into your hands before grabbing another plate for himself. He moves out of the way, gesturing at the pot like it'd inconvenienced him.

"It's still hot," he says blankly. His voice is tight, clipped, but you know it's just his way of masking his nerves. Tiptoeing around you like one wrong word might send you flying out the door again. "Now shut up and eat."

The food was delicous.

It tasted like nostalgia, bringing you back to the early days where he'd always cook for you, butterflies blooming in your stomach as your legs bumped against each other under the table, flirting under the warm kitchen light.

Back when his job was just a job. A 'for now'. Before it tangled and spiraled with his being, melting into him until you weren't sure where it ended and he began, the fuel for his fire, stoking his addictions and anger and insecurities until it grew big and ugly and distorted.

The thought made your chest tighten a bit, so you push it out of your mind, hands readjusting in your lap as you refocus on the movie playing in front of you.

The two of you sit on the couch, the glow of the TV flickering dimly across the walls.

Nam-gyu is beside you, sprawled as usual, his legs spread wide and taking up an offensive amount of space. His fingers drum absentmindedly against his knee, his other hand fidgeting with his ring. He hasn't reached for you all night, but every now and then, you feel his eyes flick toward you.

Like he was waiting.

And then, without a word, he pushes something into your lap.

You startle a bit at the sudden movement. You look down, and your mouth falls open.

A plushie. It's a chubby, white bunny. Soft and cute.

You wonder when he went to the store. You picture him walking up and down the aisles, scanning the shelves and chewing his lip nervously as he decides what to get you. You imagine him checking out, slamming the plushie down on the counter before roughly tapping his card.

Then, you notice the small, black box sitting on its tummy. You almost didn't notice it, blinking down at it in shock.

You pick it up, face incredulous as you turn to him.

"You bought me something?" you say, breathless, as you turn it over in your hands.

He doesn't answer, just keeps his eyes trained on the screen. His leg bounces restlessly, both hands fidgeting with their respective rings.

You sigh, and it's soft, so soft, as something wells up in your chest. "Nam-gyuuu..." you start, leaning towards him.

"Just shut up and take it," he grumbles, still refusing to look at you. "Or don't. I don't care."

You stare at him for a long moment. His ears are pink, just barely hidden behind his long, black hair.

You decide to give him a break and open the box. Inside is a silver chain, dainty, shiny, and exactly your style. It's also real. You lift it out with a gasp.

Nam-gyu doesn't turn his head, but his eyes flick to you for a moment, taking in your reaction. Something in him unclenches.

The pendant hanging off of it is small, but it's beautiful, sturdy. You let it fall against your palm, the silver catching the dim light from the television as you inspect it. It's a star.

You pout, eyes going wide and glossy as you turn to look at him. He exhales sharply. Then, you notice something else in the box, a baggie tucked away in the corner of the velvet lining. You hold it up to the light, trying to see what it is.

It's another star, just as dainty as yours, except somehow smaller.

"Is this an extra one in case I lose mine?" you ask, genuinely curious.

The moment he sees what you're holding, his whole body tenses. His knee stops bouncing, and his fingers freeze. Then, without hesitation, he snatches the bag from your grasp.

"Nothing," he mutters, shoving it deep in his pocket.

You blink. "Did you—" your voice trails off, realization dawning on you. Your heartbeat picks up. "You bought a matching charm?"

Nam-gyu glares at the TV like it'd personally offended him. "Oh my god. I said it's nothing."

You stare at him stunned. He was never the type to do this—sweet, thoughtful things. No, that was too corny for him. And yet he had. He'd gotten two of the same pendant. One for you, and one for himself.

Maybe to add to his own chain. Maybe to turn into a charm for his keyring.

Either way, it meant something. And you knew it.

"Nam-gyuuu," you press, all discretion gone as you cuddled up to his side. You watch his jaw clench as you rub his side, all smiley and starry-eyed. "You wanted us to match?"

"Okay. Shut up." He's tensing up, leaning away from you as he leans into the armrest, but you know for sure that it's all an act now. The plushie at your side and the necklace gleaming on the coffee table was enough proof of that.

But you can't. You can't stop staring at him, at the way his fingers dig into his knee like he's resisting the urge to snatch the whole damn box back from you. He's sulking like a kid caught red-handed.

Your grin widens, head going loopy with love. "Ohhh my goodness," you say, voice dripping with amusement, "you're so cute, Nam-gyu."

His head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing as he finally makes eye contact with you, but there's a color to his face that wasn't there earlier. "Don't start."

But you do start. You lean in, resting your chin on his shoulder, batting your eyelashes at him. "You wanted us to have matching charms? So that even when we're apart, we'll always have a little piece of each other?"

Nam-gyu gorans, tipping his head back against the couch. "Shut the fuck up." But there's no venom in it, not even a drop. Something tells you he might even be enjoying this, in his own way.

"It's like a promise, isn't it?" You sigh dreamily, pushing through the excitement in your chest, but also because you can't help but relish the way he squirms under the attention. "A silent vow that no matter where we go, we'll always be connected. Like two stars floating through space, spinning in a galactic embrace of eternal love—"

"I'm gonna kill myself," he mutters, rubbing his temples. The movie drones on in the background, completely ignored.

You laugh, finally letting up as you nudge him with your shoulder. "You're so romantic," you coo. "Who knew you had such a soft heart under that shitty attitude of yours?"

"I will throw you out that fucking window," he threatens, but it's weak. His ears are red, so red, and he won't meet your gaze.

You let the moment linger, then tilt your head, lowering your voice to something softer. "Thank you," you say, genuine this time. "I love it."

Nam-gyu scoffs, but his knee starts bouncing again. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

But later that night, when you finally slip the necklace on, the bunny plushie sitting gingerly in your lap, you catch him staring.

When you lay down next to Nam-gyu, there's something between you two. Something charged, electric. You don't say anything, but you know it's coming.

When his hand drifts over to you, lingers on your waist, you let it.

Then he's on top of you. His weight presses you into the bed, and you stare back up at him. His touch is soft, gentle, as he brushes the hair away from your face, from your neck. The necklace he bought you is cool against your skin. He stares at it again, touching it gingerly and turning it over in his fingers.

Your breath catches, and then he's leaning down, pressing a kiss to your lips. It's gentle, soft.

It's not like him at all.

That night, it's like a race. Except there’s only one pedestal, and it's a spot reserved just for you. So he's grunting, biting down on his lip as he presses his fingers into the dip of your waist, pushing you closer and closer to the finish line. There’s a ghost of his breath on your neck, a graze of teeth at your collar bone, something sickeningly sweet in your ears— something you likely wouldn't be hearing tomorrow.

Then, you reach the edge, and he’s staring in your eyes, gripping your chin so you can’t look away. He dips low and smashes his lips onto yours. The ribbon snaps, and you tip over, breath being ripped from your lungs as you gasp, sighing his name like it's a prayer.

It's been a couple minutes since he'd rolled over, your skin still slick with sweat as you continue to catch your breath, heart drumming steadily beneath your skin.

His hand is heavy on your waist, his breathing steady. He was practically half-asleep already once he'd finished.

"Fine," you breathe into the silence, eyelids growing heavy as you swallow. You push your hair out of your face and roll over to cuddle into his side. Defeat. "I forgive you."

Nam-gyu, even in his exhausted state, smirks weakly in the dark. He slowly turns to press his face into you, rubbing slow, possessive circles into your skin.

He feigns ignorance as he smiles against your hair, because accepting your forgiveness would be an admission of guilt, and he couldn't— wouldn't do that.

"For what?"

© to @namgyunation on tumblr; do not repost

ao3 link, if you'd prefer to read it over there

a/n: omggg i had so much fun writing this! obviously, a lot of this is my interpretation / speculation of how he'd act 'normally', so when he's not crazy hopped up on drugs and locked up in a life or death situation, but hopefully it's somewhat believable. i'm like rushing to get all my writing out before season 3 potentially crushes all my hopes and dreams and imagination and/or my motivation leaaves me haha. although school's still been kicking my ass, as always please feel free to send me any thoughts / suggestions in my inbox <3 i'm in this shit for the long haul, y'all.

[brain4stew]

Hi!Can you please make a chance,shedletsky,007,and 1x4 with a robot reader?Like theyre basically a walking four leaf clover(their ability gives people luck basically)And is also able to heal????TYSM i love your fics!!!!!

Hi, hi anon! So glad you like my fics!! Full honesty, the fics were my first ever fics I have written! 🫶

I’ll see what I can do with your request, anon!

(Reminder; I do not entirely know the characters personalities and etc, so they might if not most likely will be OOC!!)

That being said! Here’s the headcanons/something after the cut! ;

(Since 1x4 is the only killer, I’ll start with him first!)

(1x1x1x1)

• You infuriate him in every round you’re against him. Stop healing and giving the survivors luck!

• You’re somehow extremely lucky to not be hit by his “Mass infection” and “entanglement”, or else your system would malfunction.

• You did get hit by it once, and had to immediately find 007n7 or Builderman, so they could fix you.

• But, how unfortunate for you… Everyone of your survivor teammates are dead, and your system is basically… Fckd.

• You get somewhere high ground, and try and fix yourself, unbeknownst to you, that 1x1x1x1 is watching.

• Why hasn’t he killed you, you may ask? You’re interesting to the embodiment of hatred. You aren’t a human, or some annoying thing with two lives, you’re a robot!

• When you do manage to fix yourself, you’re somehow met face to face with him. 1x1x1x1. He’s just, staring at you.

• You, unsure what to do or say at the moment, were about to speak, but you don’t manage to. As the round ends, transporting you both back to your lobbies.

• You’re confused, so you immediately go to find either 007n7 or Builderman, so they can help you with your system and check over your mechanical body.

• 1x1x1x1, who hasn’t said or even moved a single muscle since he got back to the killer lobby, has gotten pieces of your code from his abilities.

• You intrigue and infuriate him, little robot. ♡

(Survivors)

(Chance)

• Chance absolutely loves having you around him. You’re his lucky robot!

• He always tests his luck whenever you have given other survivors luck. (Spoiler; the luck kept going back and forth between him and the other survivor. 😭)

• In rounds, he doesn’t flip his coin right away. He immediately goes to find you.

• When he finds you, and is near you, he feels lucky, but, he asks you to give him luck. Which, you do. Then, and only then, does he flip his coin, getting good stats, and only weakness VI, with 3 charges.

• He shoots the killer when the killer is too close for comfort of you and him, and it lands its shot. (The killer kind of got sent flying into a wall by that shot…)

• Of course, whenever he’s injured, he trusts you more than Elliot, which, you find a bit strange, as you specialize in luck giving more than healing. But, you don’t complain and heal him.

• When the round is over, and you’re both back in the lobby, he’s quite exhausted from running and walking around. He, jokingly, asks you to carry him to the couch.

• …You carry him. Bridal style. He’s embarrassed, flustered and shocked. He didn’t expect you to actually do it!! (He’s not complaining about it… He secretly likes it…)

• Go easy on the poor gambler, little robot. ♡

(Shedletsky)

• He helped both Builderman and 007n7 with your code, but not too much.

• You constantly have to remind him of his health, which, he finds a bit annoying, but he doesn’t say or do anything about it.

• He loves it when you give him luck in rounds, he manages to hit the killers more faster for some reason!

• Whenever he’s out of his fried chicken, he goes to you to heal up, as he’s had enough to eat, and doesn’t want pizza’s from Elliot…

• Again, you find it odd, but oh well, you don’t question it. You heal him up, earning a “Thank you” from him.

• When the rounds are over, he’s almost passing out everytime and everywhere.

• You end up carrying him, and he doesn’t even complain or just doesn’t have the energy to fight back. (Not that he can do much about it anyway…)

• Watch over him, little robot, he might be in trouble, if it’s not for you. ♡

(007n7)

• He was the main person for your code, with a little help from Shedletsky and Builderman.

• He originally wanted to program you to watch over, and take care of C00lkidd for him, but decided against it.

• You’re mostly always around him or Builderman, in case your system malfunctions or something.

• In rounds, he doesn’t need to go to you, as he knows he and you’ll be alright.

• (He won’t be alright, the killer is his son… How unfortunate for 007n7, to see C00lkidd, yet again…)

• He’s hurt, of course. He first thought of going to Elliot, but, he’s dead unfortunately. So he goes to search for you!

• You have just given Guest 1337 luck, to block, punch and charge more quickly and correctly, before you finally spot him.

• You rush towards him, and pick him up, running to a more safer and hidden place, before healing him. (He’s very grateful for it, but you didn’t have to CARRY him!)

• Once back at the lobby, he goes to check on your system, and check if anything is wrong. He finds that a wire of yours has gone aflame, and tells you to go to Builderman, out of worry.

• You insist you will be fine, but, the stern glare he gives you, somehow scared you. So, you relented and went.

• Perhaps he likes you, little robot! ♡

[fruity-fruition]

Tenma siblings headcanons from the top of my head

--

I'm a FIRMM believer that Tenma siblings are very physically affectionate (i.e. hugs, forehead kisses, cheek kisses, high fives, shoulder bumping, cuddling, hair ruffling, etc)

This takes Toya fully by surprise when they do it to him outright, without any room for denial.

--

Tsukasa was eating breakfast with Saki and Toya before realizing he was going to be late for a meet-up with Wondershow.

He has this thing, where he instinctively kisses Saki on the forehead before he heads off, so he does. But, in his unfiltered older brother instinct and disarray, he kisses Toya on the forehead too. And just. Leaves.

Toya kinda blue screens before snapping back and being like "what."

Saki doesn't even bat an eye lmao she just kinda looks at him like he's a little weird.

Toya: (literally saw Tsukasa kiss Saki's forehead first before beelining to him without any hesitation) "I think... he mistook me for you"

Saki: "Toya you dumb fuck (/affectionate) you've been one of us since you stepped foot in our house"

--

Tenma siblings cuddle a lot, usually on the couch during movies. Tsukasa in the middle, Saki to his right, and Toya to his left. They aren't aware of the set position but whenever they switch, all of them all at once just think "something is not right rn"

While cuddling, Tsukasa often uses his right hand (which Saki is leaning on) to either scroll his phone, read, or so show work (costume designing, script writing, ideas, etc). He always leans his head on Saki's. He uses his left hand to run through Toya's hair.

--

Toya starts referring to Saki and Tsukasa as his siblings and family outside sometimes.

Saki and Tsukasa listens to pop music sometimes. Not their main music taste, but enough for it to be significant.

This culminates to a very confusing moment for VBS, who've met Toya's biological, douche, emotionally constipated classical music family, when they hear Toya say "Oh, yeah I know Taylor Swift. My family listens to her sometimes."

Which scared VBS to their core because why is Harumichi Aoyagi listening to western white girl music

--

Tsukasa loves baking and cooking. It's a stress reliever thing for him. This is a huge bonus for his siblings (mainly Saki. Toya's not a huge sweets person) because there's always sweets in the pantries.

Toya never sneaks into the kitchen alone, he wouldn't dare. Plus, again, not a huge sweets person. Saki, however, is a horrible influence. They often have 2am gossip, accompanied by brownies and vanilla ice cream.

--

Toya and Saki can't cook for their life. (I know canonically, they're okay-ish, but hear me out.)

Toya, raised as a rich kid for most his life, has never cut a single raw ingredient in his life until his late teen years.

Saki's been hospitalized for the majority of her life.

Tsukasa's the only Tenma sibling with cooking and baking skills (considering he had to fend for himself for a while)

While they were baking together, Toya and Saki managed to get the batter on the ceiling AND explode the microwave because the batter had too much eggshells in it when they put it in. Tsukasa had to call Rui over to fix it.

Tsukasa: "I can't pay you for now, Rui I'm so sorry-"

Rui: "Don't worry about it, Tsukasa"

Tsukasa: "I'll repay you in sweets when we're done?"

Rui: "...preferably not ceiling ones but yeah I'd like that"

--

Speaking of,

Ruikasa starts dating and Tsukasa swears that Rui had nothing to worry about when it comes to his family. They're welcoming! They're open! They'll love him.

Rui decided to not tell him about the glares coming from a certain pinkish blonde and split haired boy when they announced the news. (At least the parents were sweet)

Toya and Saki actually has no real gripes against Rui. They're protective, sure, they will eventually corner Rui and interrogate him, but Saki just thinks it's funny and Toya is just Toya. Rui's paranoid lmao

--

Akito punching Toya in the main story left a bruise (as seen in the official animation) which Tsukasa and Saki got really concerned about during their arcade hangout (Toya's first 3* side story).

Tsukasa figured out that Akito was the one who did it, and ranted to Saki about it. But he retracts it when the duo made up.

Saki isn't letting that shit go, oh no. This GINGER punched her brother?? Then, she started hearing about how Akito likes messing with Tsukasa, even insulting him to his face sometimes.

So she has a personal beef with Akito. Who didn't even know she existed.

When Akito first step foot into the Tenma household, he was dreading the presence of Tsukasa, but to his shock and horror, Tsukasa is actually more tame at home.

His biggest worry should've been the girl with pigtails, who, upon seeing him, got up from her chair and heads straight to her room. not breaking eye contact.

It takes a while, but Saki and Akito gains an unlikely alliance.

--

Names I gave to the Tenmas:

Tenma siblings: All three of them, at once

Tenma Twins: Saki and Toya

Tenma brothers: Tsukasa and Toya

Prototype Tenma: Tsukasa and Saki

(real original I know)

--

Kohane is Wondershow's number #1 fan, probably Tsukasa's number #6 fan (I love her but her competition is Saki, Toya, and Wondershow. Idk what to tell you. At least she got a number)

She absolutely loses it when Toya got them all free tickets to one of their shows.

Akito dreads going. An is slightly excited. Kohane is radiating pure joy.

Akito nearly cries when when Kohane admits that she actually likes Tsukasa as a person, not just a performer, when she properly meets him.

Akito: "An you're my only hope. Toya's biased, Kohane's insane"

An: "idk dude Tenma and Kamishiro are pretty cool when they're not actively trying to blow the school up"

Akito: "An please"

--

I have so much more idk maybe I'll post more later

[bakugousolos]

Meow meow meow. Imagine being barbarian!bakugos wife and sitting him down to braid the sides of his hair 🤤🤤. Like everyone just kinda stops and stares at how you easily lead him towards your seat and have him plop down in front of you, he doesn’t even know why you brought him there. 🙏 just happy to be with you n in your presence.

[athanoraa]

i was actually going to do a whole page and post it but i dont think i'll ever get around to doing it so....here's the Elvenking :)

[mauvearts]

#N♥l♥finweans

[kanene-yaaay]

Sousou no Frieren- Tickle Headcanons

This anime has me in a chockehold and ain't letting me go so soon so I might as well share all the daydreams and thoughts living in my mind rent free since I watched it and decided that!!! Hey!!! I can add tickles to that!!!

Anyway, at first I was going to just write about Himmel and a few other selected characters from both adventures but GOSH suddenly all out of nowhere I start daydreaming about ALL OF THEM and so... This long post was born. kjhgfdfghjklkj not all of them are going to be very long and it can be OOC but I hope you still like to read it as much as I liked to write! <3

[~*~]

Himmel

(We are not going to talk about how much time I spent trying to choose just one gif) Our dear dead wife <3

He LOVES tickles and no one can convice me otherwise, I mean! Look at him! He definitely play that card at any moment he can

Cheering someone up? They say that laughter is the best medicine! Another boring day stuck in a cabin waiting for the snowstorm to go away? Nothing better than a tickle fight to make the time pass! Comforting a sad kid they just saved and are bringing to safety? Add a few wiggling fingers and watch that beautiful smile appear right way! Someone is literally just minding their own business doing nothing at all GET TICKLE ATTACKED!

He is a charming, playful, dramatic bastard and he knows it. He is using every and any opportunity to plentily tease the person, praising their laughter, pointing how lovely is their every reaction, gasping in false offense at any threat of revenge.

He will definitely laugh and snicker together with the person and sometimes let out honest comments that weren't supposed to be teasy but are like 'I didn't expect you to be so ticklish' or 'Wait, it tickles? Right here? That is so cute' and take the matters on his own hands to find at least one (1) new tickle spot when he tickles a friend because their surprised face right before descending in unstoppable giggling is way too priceless

Now, I need you to listen to this very very carefully: he can NOT take what he dishes out. at all.

So much squirming and trashing around. He can't control himself at all and won't even try to hold his laughter back, letting it ring loud and free, dying with any kind (literally, anything will do) of tease and pleading for his life as if he is being killed on the spot.

Somehow is totally blind to tickle traps. Sometimes just to mess with him Heiter would hold his cup up and ask for a toast and when Himmel complied he would latch on his ribs and rip my bro. he's dead on the floor. He never seems it coming even if they already done this a dozen time before.

Always crumbles with the tickles. A squeeze on his side and his legs transform in noodles immediately. That doesn't mean that he is a easy target though, if you decide to tickle him be prepared for some revenge

His main target and partner of tickle fights is Heiter, even though they manage to pull the rest of the party to their shenanigans sometimes too, even getting to listen to listen Eisen low, amused chuckles and Freiren tiny smile.

Talking about that. There is just one very specific occasion all his self preservations, squirms and defense disappear in the same second: when Frieren is involved.

Once, when both Heiter and Einsen decided to gang up on him, she decided to get into the fun with a few pokes and the VERY MOMENT Himmel realized that she was tickling him it was over.

He became a boneless mess of hysterical giggles on the floor not moving a single inch and taking all the tickling with no protests, completely lost in the fact that this was Frieren having fun, being silly and playful with them and his brain shortcurted and suddenly he became 1000000000000 more ticklish instantly.

Excuse me honor he is SMITTEN

If he is tickled for long enough or on a specially ticklish spot he lets out a loud, high pitched crackling that never fail to amuse his friends because he gets extremely red at that and tries to cover his face at any cost.

Besides that, he is not flustered at all about his liking to tickle and be tickled. It's a fun activity, a nice way to bond and it bring happiness to everyone! What is there to be embarrased about it?

Though other teases can destroy him rip

Is extremely and I say extremely gentle and caring when tickling Frieren. Soft scribbles, light scratching and steeping away not before too long has passed. Sometimes get lost in the happiness and joy of the moment but it's quick to come back to reality so that his tickling never lasts too long and he gets smiley about it for the rest of the day.

Gets grumpy about how he never manages to catch Einsen by surprise but immediately loses his pout when the warrior decides that he is not the one who started that war but he is the one who will finish it.

When he takes too long to decide a pose for their statue they start to attack him with plenty of pokes and squeezes until he finally makes up his mind.

Sometimes they just do that while he is posing to mess with him too. Especially because Himmel will try to pretend nothing is happening and attempt to keep his pose on the very beginning until he eventually breaks down in titters and protesting giggles.

It never lasts long. But he keeps trying

Has The Smirk.

Softest and most playful aftercare ever. With plenty of comfort and smiles.

Heiter

Our flawed priest <3

Do not have The Smirk but he has an entire aura about him that you can't really point what it is but suddenly there's ringing danger bells in your mind and on outside he looks normal, just taking a drink but then you blink and then BOOM he strikes

Can and will destroy someone with tickles with just one (1) hand because his other one is too busy carrying his cup

Gets stupidly silly when tickling someone. He will chuckle together with the person and use the goofiest nicknames, teases, tickle traps and everything else he can think of. It's the whole ordeal, really. He has no shame.

It's quite neutral but leaning to positive when it comes to tickling, but since Himmel is always dragging him into tickle fights he can't help but get a little bit of playful revenge. After a few years he started a couple of them by himself too.

Is horribly skilled with the nimblest and deadliest tickles ever.

Also. Changes from side to side of a tickle fight easy as water and will always help who offers him more drinks. So be careful when siding up with him to not get too close or comfortably into tickling range.

Somehow, incredibly lucky in finding tickle spots, be with random pokes to call the person's attention or some soft scribbling to hear some giggles and smile amused and content at them.

Also adept to cheer up or comforting tickles, creating a lot of fond memories with Fern in the nights she couldn't sleep and they both shared some good tea while watching the sky.

Will try to curl up in a ball when tickled and his only protest is to be careful with his glasses.

Not really very affected by teases. Says a lot of nonsense when is tickled tho

Frieren

HEEEEERRRRRRRR <3 <3 Our old lady

Has the tiniest, sweetest smile when tickling someone. it's adorable.

Do not engage in tickle fights but it's not against them. Usually would just stay in the background with Einsen while the other two got caught up in their giggly shenaningans

Her biggest moment was when she decided to show everyone this magic spell she learned some decades ago and then suddenly everyone is attacked by a bunch of wiggly, fluffy feathers that followed them no matter how much they squirmed or jumped.

Tickle spell tehee

They never got to know if she did that to mess with them or if she truly just wanted to show the spell.

Is more curious about tickling than anything. Thinks it's a nice way to make her friends laugh, but it's also very neutral about it, won't actively seek revenge or anything.

After years with both Himmel and Heiter, also lightly tickled Fern once or twice for the sake of cheering her up.

Ticklish ears ticklish ears ticklish ears ticklish ears-

The first time Himmel tickled her he immediately fell on the floor ded because it was too much cute.

(The way he looked at her that day is a fond memory for her, she doesn't quite know why, tho.)

Not really a squirmer and her laughter is mostly silence, full of small giggles and one or two hiccups. Like soft tickles the best, since it is not unbearable to feel and actively leaves her w a light, quite content feeling afterwards. She could take a tickle fight, tho.

Fern

<3 Somehow the most responsible adult in the party <3

Terrifying ler, can and will use your weakness against you.

Just as she does when fighting, thrives when her victim understimate her power and is quick and ruthless to bring them to their destruction.

Will tickle the person usually as a way to get them to do something (probably a chore they forgot) or admit something while having the most unimpressed face ever seen by humankind

She can be both incredibly merciless and very very kind, depends on her mood, the person and the context

Only like being tickled by someone she really trusts and not around another people so no one will her being silly like this.

Get very embarrassed just for thinking how childish tickling is, but treasures the soft moments with har friends and family, just like every other playful, fun, nice memory

When the person (let's be honest here, probably Spark) is too occupied laughing their heart out also let's out the tiniest, softest smile, pretty much like Frieren

Used tickles to cheer up Spark once and promised to do 10 times worse if he even THINKS about mentioning that to anyone

Snorts. SO much of them. If she is laughing they will automatically appear no matter how much she tried to hide them between her hands.

Her shoulders and head shake with giddy energy when is being tickled. It's everything <3

Einsen

*LOUD INTELLIGIBLE SCREAMING* AAAAAA

As I said on Himmel's part, not really one to start the tickle fight but a quick one to finish it.

Not really very ticklish and not very easy to be caught out of guard so rip his opponents, really

HOWEVER, he has one single incredibly and horribly ticklish spot right under his knee that he immediately DIES when it's tickled and it's an automatic win for the person, so the thing is of every fight is: will them be able to get him there before he gets them? That is the big question

Not really a teaser, prefers to tickle the person in silence while mapping the places that get the biggest reactions so he can focus there.

Could or could not have used this techinique with Spark to 'train his resistence' once (an excuse that his friends were very fond to use with him) but no one will ever know because if you ask him he will just stare at you and let out a single chuckle before going on about his day and Spark will Blush and Die before answering

Made mental bets and always knew the score by heart of Himmel x Heiter fights

Used to think it was a silly and pointless activity. But after their ten year adventure came to treasure and be fond of silly, pointless activities

Loud, booming laughter or no laughing at all. No in between.

Spark

DA BOI WHO DID NOT DESERVE THAT PAST AND NOW DESERVE ALL THE LAUGHTER EVER

Do not mind tickling at all!

It kind of reminds he of his brother, since when he was a kid he was the biggest tickle monster ever. Not only on those training tips he used to give even while being extremely busy, but he just loved to appear out of nowhere behind him, carry and put him on his shoulder and tickle him while walking back home, pretenidng he was carrying a bag of 'extremely wiggly vegetables!'

He also used pokes and prodding to help him with maintaining his form while wielding a sword. Even if extremely common, Spark still squeaked everytime he poked his armpit to remind him to not his arms so far away from his torso

Still, everytime he is tickled that boi just can't form ANY coherent sentence at all, no matter if he is full on belly laughter with just a few giggles, his mind immediately turn into a mushy mess

Won't go down without a fight. Running away, attacking back, squirming as his life depends on that. Most of the time squirming away from it only to dash in a sudden bolt of energy and then come back in a surprise tickle attack to get revenge.

Tried to get Fern back once for tickling and they ended up actually fighting but some days later she started a tickle fight so he ??? is just very confused??? if she actually hates it???

(But to see her loosing up, giggling, laughing out loud and being so full of playfulness and joy... wow)

He likes to throw a few playful teases here and there when he is tickling his friends, with plenty of snickers of his own and pointing out how ticklish the other person is or about their delight reactions.

!!Tickles games!!!

His entire face gets extremely red when his laughter begins to sound higher or crackly. Can NOT take any tease about that at all.

Sein

OUR EVEN MORE FLAWED PRIEST <3 <3 <3 Come back pls

THE MOST TICKLISH PERSON EVER

And his best, amazing, ruthless friend Gorilla was more than happy to remind him about it all the time

Until nowadays he can't really see fingers wiggling in his direction without immediately getting a wobbly smile and giggles instinctively creeping up on his throat

His brother also would tickle him when he was a kid and later would gladly snitch all the 'truly good, hidden tickle spots' to his friend much to his dismisse

Will trash, squirm, plea, beg and promise to do anything when tickled. Especially if we'retalking about light, soft tickles. Those make him go absolutely crazy out of his own mind

Even so, he doesn't mind it too much. Still, gets extremely embarrased and complains about how childish it is.

Def made AND lost bets again his friend and got tickled as a "payament". Also I can see them both having competitions to see who takes the longest to laugh, say uncle, keep their arms up and etc :D

Sometimes gives Spark a few tickles just to mess w him and snicker at the jumps he gives.

Spark got revenge so rip.

[mourn-and-watch]

Some time after the Blight ends, they're invited to Redcliffe. There's going to be a statue in their honour, the letter says, made by one of the best Fereldan artists — and it needs their approval for some reason. A formal one, of course. “At least they didn't pay Orlesians. Let them stick to their fancy chateaus,” Alistair says jokingly, but he seems excited — and Keeris, well, not that much. She doesn't tell him about it anyway. He deserves to feel like a hero for once. Statues and celebrations and all.

It's nice to see Redcliffe rebuild though. It's nice to see anything rebuild — no more darkspawn and barricades, no more walking corpses and burning roofs. Former wastelands are green and full of blooming spring flowers that cover the ruins of something that cannot be restored anymore, completely destroyed houses and fallen mill wings that no one had time to take away; it's a beautiful sight. She'd better stay here instead of going to the castle. She's, frankly, sick of the castles — and they are probably sick of her.

People inside are still friendly, though. Cheerful even. Keeris sees the shade of nervousness crossing Eamon's face when he shakes her hand, but it's not unexpected, really — he couldn't be that fond of her, not after what happened at the Landsmeet, she's aware of that.

The Fereldan sculptor, on the other hand, is very proud and just can't stop talking — about the greatness of his project and how honoured he is to work on it and set the Heroes of Ferelden in stone. Before he bows his head, he gives her a brief look, a strange one for sure, almost terrified — Keeris doesn't know what to make of it nor she wants to try.

Then, he shows it. The art, the concept. It's a big, big piece of paper full of little sketches and drafts and one glorious drawing of a statue in the middle of it.

For a moment, no one says a word.

“What is that?” Alistair asks and his voice sounds genuinely baffled. There are tones of anger in it, loud and clear. Keeris slightly squeezes his hand.

She's not surprised at all.

The statue is a man and a woman in Grey Warden uniforms standing in pretentiously heroic poses. A man resembles Alistair very well, with the same features and even the way he holds his shield. It's almost like him, really, just lifelessly stony grey.

A woman is slightly shorter than him: her features are smooth and pretty, her braided hair is long and wavy, scattered by the wind, and her ears are flat. Her face is so strangely, unfamiliarly bare.

Oh, it does make her angry, furious even. Just a little. Even if she shouldn't care.

She shouldn't care, a girl with vallaslin and sharp features and sharp ears and hair too short to cover them.

“Somehow,” she says calmly, looking Eamon straight in the eyes, “I didn't expect less from your kind.”

They argue. Alistair and Eamon, mostly — she herself wouldn't waste time on it nor she thinks it would change anything, but now they can't go away and loudly shut the door.

Eamon says something about his gratitude. Something about the gratitude of his people and how they all cherish both of them here. Something about the cruelness of the world around. Something about the vile, vile people, who are obviously not there, but they will come and they will not tolerate an elf standing in the middle of their beautiful human town. They will not let it be.

Of course, they won't. She saw the alienage in Denerim. She saw what Anora did to it after she gave her a crown and was proclaimed a friend. It always ends up like this. All the promises and gratitude — they never matter. She learnt it the hard way.

“Then,” she says finally, “Don't make it. Don't place it here. If not for my people's sake — don't lie to your own at least.”

Nobody dares to object.

They leave in awkward, unpleasant silence: no farewells, no partings. They don't even stay for the night at Redcliffe. Alistair keeps repeating he's sorry, that he never wanted it to be this way, that he was sure his uncle would do better than this — Keeris laughs with just a little bitterness in her voice. He shouldn't be sorry. She was the one who took his statue away, wasn't she? He promises they will get a nice, proper one. Maybe somewhere in Amaranthine.

Another letter comes, informing them it is going to be a griffon. A beautiful creature, a symbol, a compromise, it says. None of them respond.

When they get to Redcliffe a couple of years later, there it is, standing in a square. No faces, no names and no shameless lies.

People here still recognise them. They wave their hands when they pass by and promise to buy them a beer if they happen to be around. An elven servant in the crowd blesses her path with Mythal's name. A young girl throws her a flower crown.

They do not put portraits in the archives of Weisshaupt after all.

At least there is no woman who never was.

[wr0ngwarp]

music box

[lunarw0rks]

Ur so real for that tho!!! Realistic val <3 itd probably be a bedroom only thing and wouldnt transfer to everyday things

she's so strict outside of the bedroom (because she has to be, and that's how she got to the top of the ranks)

so i DOUBT she would want to be mean to you outside of being a mean dom <33

[honey-tongued-devil]

Got a request: Jinx x Piltover reader who comes to the undercity a lot to see some action and excitement with Jinx thinking they’re from there only to find out that they’re from topside.

[Arcane preference zaunites] with a s/o from Piltover (viktor, ekko, silco, vander, jinx, vi, sevika)

In less than a week, I’ve gained 500 followers and over 20 requests, so I’ll ask you right away to please be patient. English isn’t my first language, and I don’t think I’ll be able to post more than two or three headcanons a week (since I also draw). I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but I just ask for a little patience. In the meantime, if you’d like to support me, you can follow me HERE (bluesky) even though I haven’t started posting seriously yet, or you can leave a tip HERE. That said, enjoy!

Viktor:

- The most versatile on the subject. He’s the first one who is constantly around the people of Piltover, studying and having his room at the academy, which is even located in a wealthy area.

- Generally, he doesn’t pay much attention to someone’s origins, but as the relationship grows more serious, memories of his early academy years become more vivid.

- Viktor is a chill guy, until he’s no longer chill, (at least the original one).

- Most heated discussions are likely to revolve around politics or events in the city. But as long as you don’t call the people from the Undercity “beasts,” “creatures,” “monsters,” “beings,” or “animals,” his anger won’t be directed at you.

- At some point, he won’t remember anymore that you’re from “different neighborhoods,” and since he needs a hand carrying things to the academy, he’ll start asking you to accompany him to the Undercity when he needs to make purchases or pick up pre-ordered items.

- And although it might scare or intimidate you at first, it won’t take long for you to get used to it.

- Although sooner or later, you’ll learn to change your clothes before going down to Zaun.

Ekko:

- The first meeting with Ekko is straight out of a book: you get caught in a crossfire, and before you can even begin mentally writing your will, an arm grabs you around the torso and pulls you away at such a high speed that you feel like throwing up.

- He can’t take people directly to the hideout, but he can offer you assistance as soon as you’re somewhere safer.

- This is why, the second time he saves you, he can’t help but joke about how it almost seems like you put yourself in danger on purpose, and that you could ask him out in a less dramatic way.

- Of course, he’s just joking to break the tension, but when you actually propose it, even just as a way to repay him, it’s the beginning of the end.

- Between your outfit and the fact that, having run into you twice in a crossfire, you were in some pretty dangerous places, the last thing he expected was for you to ask him to meet up at the bridge and then show up dressed like a Piltie.

- Before his meeting with Cait and the one with Jayce, this would’ve been a breaking point; he wouldn’t have shown up and would’ve just gone back. But now, even if he’s not thrilled, he’ll at least come over to complain that you didn’t tell him you were from the upper city.

- He’s resigned to this fate, but he still remains a bit suspicious and on guard, not knowing your political stance, why you were down there, or how you see the people from his city.

- Even as you become closer, he’ll never stop teasing you about your background. You’re drinking, and you drop your cup? “What a strange way Pilties have of drinking.”

Vander:

- Going down to Zaun without stopping by the Last Drop is a waste, which is why you’re lucky enough to run into the Hound of the underground right away. Not only is he one of the most influential people, but also one with a lot of connections.

- At Vander’s suggestion, you stay at the counter, and he uses the opportunity to ask you a few questions, curious: for example, why is someone from Piltover down in Zaun alone at that hour? What do you study, if you study, or what do you do for work, if you work.

- Vander is extremely sociable, and since he handles negotiations, he doesn’t hold hostility toward upper-city residents, though it’s rare to see them in these parts.

- It’s not even about flirting; he just wants to keep chatting and make sure he won’t have you on his conscience. He asks you to wait until closing, checks in on the kids to make sure everything’s okay and says goodnight, then walks you to the bridge.

- The more regular your visits to Zaun become, the more the other regulars at the Last Drop start to recognize you and get used to you, making that place quite pleasant. And then there’s the deal with the bartender: if you offer him a good chat, he’ll treat you to a good pint of beer.

- The toughest part of getting close to Vander is learning that he’s a single father to four kids, and seeing the hostile and shocked reaction of the younger ones when they find out you’re not from their city.

- But hate is taught, and even if it takes some time, they slowly start to get used to you. Maybe they won’t jump into your arms, but if you decide to stay over, they’ll make room for you or bring you something to dry your face with, in strict silence.

Silco:

- This man, though he may not look like it, is the embodiment of patience.

- It’s his goons who bring you to his office, and the first time, all it takes is a quick glance for him to know you’re not a spy, a rival, a drug addict, or a threat.

- Silco kills, but generally not without reason. So, the first time you have a heart-pounding panic attack from being dragged there, you get off with a warning: if they catch you poking around his business again, it won’t go so well for you.

- But today, Janna’s on your side, and you’re safe.

- The issue is much simpler than it seems: if you live in the Undercity, you know which places to avoid and which gangs control which areas. But if you’re just a foolish Piltie who likes wandering outside your own city, the odds of ending up in one mess after another are high.

- That’s why, the second time they catch you near one of their shipments, his goons already have their weapons drawn.

- This time it’s not even Silco who spares you; instead, a firefight with the Firelights breaks out nearby, and you’re just lucky that bigger problems show up at the right moment.

- It happens repeatedly: either you run into his goons and instinctively wave like an idiot, or you end up in restricted areas, and one of them who’s taken a liking to you motions for you to leave, or you start frequenting the Last Drop and see them all more often.

- Gradually, this brings you more often—and with less dread—to the kingpin’s office, who, since even his daughter likes you, first makes sure to get you a map of the Lanes because “you’re obviously so clueless you must be from Piltover” to keep you from getting yourself killed.

- Then he realizes you’re pleasant enough to let you hang out in his office on weekends, when the noise downstairs is so loud that he couldn’t work anyway.

Jinx:

- You’re essentially the “dumb Piltie” stereotype that comes to mind when people in Zaun talk about those from the upper city.

- Deciding to venture into the alleys without any experience or knowledge of the area purely out of curiosity wasn’t your brightest idea, but at this point, it’s too late to turn back.

- That’s why, after hours spent looking for something interesting—colorful explosions that have been common recently near the docks, some chase scenes—you find nothing, give up, and throw yourself into a bar.

- If it were evening, you might hope for more than just a jukebox playing country music, four young guys playing pool in a corner, and a girl sitting at the bar who looks half-asleep while the bartender cleans glasses, but you still decide to sit down and order something local.

- Everyone’s eyes are on you, but the moment the girl with long blue braids lifts her head, the others snap back to what they were doing, and she looks at you, still drowsy and a bit confused.

- Meeting Jinx is the beginning of the end; she rambles on, is relaxed, and the moment she hears you wanted action, she jumps off her stool and drags you out before you can even sip your drink.

- She has no particular reason—it's just rare to find someone who wants to have fun, although you quickly realize that her idea of “fun” involves risking your neck.

- The first time ends like that; you don’t even exchange names. When it gets late, she vanishes, leaving you no choice but to return to the bar in the following weeks, where you meet her again and pick up on that fun “tour.”

- This “tour” brings you closer, even if you never talk about deeply personal things because there’s never time.

- It’s one night when you’re sitting together on a rooftop, watching the distant lights of Piltover, that she learns the hard truth: you’re from the other side of the river. This single piece of information seems to destroy everything you had built. Without a word, she runs off, and you don’t find her at the bar at the usual time anymore, but you don’t stop trying.

- The bartender probably tells her, or she sees you, who knows, because weeks later you meet again, and she almost looks sad to see you.

- She expected you to give up, not to keep coming back despite how difficult she’d made it, which is why when you pull her into a hug, she stiffens, taking a while to hug you back.

- The closer you get, the more she becomes like a ghost. You even find her at your place, but you never see her on the streets in Piltover. She rarely stays over, but you know it’s because of personal issues.

Vi:

- Vi isn’t for everyone: she’s for those with a “savior complex” or hotheads who can take a couple of punches to the face.

- The reason you’re in Zaun, dressed incognito, is because your colleagues told you there’s some interesting stuff in the underground city’s shops.

- What you didn’t expect was that the “interesting find” curled up behind an abandoned building would be a person.

- Nothing too serious, just a brawl gone wrong. She’d hidden to tend to her wounds in peace, probably in that vulnerable “cornered wolf showing its teeth” state.

- Cooperation isn’t her strong suit, and, not to rely on Undercity stereotypes, but you imagine it’s also rare for anyone to help strangers wounded on the street.

- She becomes more docile after you simply stand by, “covering her back”—basically just staying put and shielding her from view. 

- whenyou blurt out, “Forget gin; I need something stronger.” she starts to like you

- Once she recovers, she gestures for you to follow her, suddenly motivated by the urge to drink. Surprisingly, she takes you over the bridge to your own city, to a cozy pub that smells of wood.

- Drinking there becomes a habit; after a few drinks, you tell her you hate that the evening has to end, and she chuckles, flattered, before saying you can always do it again.

- And you do it again.

- You keep doing it until you end up kissing clumsily in the pub’s restroom, nearly knocking heads together, until she pins you to the wall and your brain signals a warning.

- You tell her you live nearby, suggesting you take things to your place, unknowingly revealing something you thought was obvious.

- She stares at you for a few confused seconds. “You didn’t tell me,” she says, but the truth is, Vi doesn’t hate upper-city people, so once the confusion passes, the alcohol and hormones work their magic, leaving that conversation as a problem for the next morning.

Sevika:

- Her only interactions with people from the upper city have been with Enforcers, but contrary to appearances, Sevika is a big, intimidating dog that’s actually quite tame.

- She doesn’t get her hands dirty unless necessary, so even though she has no fondness for Pilties, she’d never start a physical fight with one.

- You first see her in the Undercity, at the Last Drop, playing cards for a hefty sum of money against two shady types: one bald with a metal nose, and the other dressed like an out-of-place gentleman.

- It’s only when the game ends and she gets up to head to the bar that you clumsily manage to strike up a conversation, receiving nothing but a scrutinizing glance in return.

- She lets you buy her a drink despite the large sum she just pocketed, and when you compliment her on her play, she puffs up with pride and starts talking about how those two just cheated but still couldn’t win.

- For a moment—just a moment—she realizes she’s never seen you around here before, but then she goes back to talking and listening, fueled by the alcohol.

- Getting her out of your head becomes impossible, and if you catch her at the end of her shift, she’s even more relaxed. It doesn’t take many weeks before you find yourself with your knees over her shoulders in the Last Drop’s basement.

- Emotional or mental intimacy with Sevika comes at an incredibly slow pace, but she starts approaching you in the bar, and your “private encounters” become more and more frequent—until you try to make things more serious by inviting her up.

- Her reaction seems angry, but it’s more surprise; she hadn’t realized and didn’t expect it.

- She becomes a lot more guarded around you, until, in time, she learns to trust you again.

[uhhlifeig]

real tbh like... these are FICTIONAL CHARACTERS and they ARE NOT REAL

and dont even get me started on the people who hate on ships bc "iT woULDn't HaPpeN in CaNon" like bro these are FICTIONAL CHARACTERS in SITUATIONS that ARE NOT canon!! go play with your own fictional characters and leave other people's versions alone!!!

some of you cannot be the age you say you are because the way you react to fictional characters with such anger is jarring

[luvyeni]

🥀 … ( headcanons ) perv anton ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 앤톤 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ roommates to lovers with perv anton headcannons ヾ

BF!앤톤 ・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・unprotected sex‎, free use mention, somo kink ‎ wc ・ ‎0.9k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. any perv!anton drabbles pls 🙏🏻😓

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 been a while since i did perv!idol

before you guys get into a relationship…

﹙ 𐙚 : perv!anton who: assumed you were a boy , he was shocked to see a girl at his front door ﹚ .ᐟ

his hair covering his eyes , as he stared at you — you were barely clothed , boxes in front of you. “hello.” his eyes never leaving your chest. “im your new roommate.” he’s confused. “you’re a girl.” you look down at your chest where he was also looking then back at him. “so i’ve been told , now are you gonna let me in?”

﹙ 𐙚 : perv!anton who: he doesn’t even wait until you’re fully settled for his perversions to start ﹚ .ᐟ

a barely shows you to your room before retreating back to his room , closing and locking his door. pulling his pants down , jerking off with the thought of your boobs on his mind , the thought of cumming all over them had him cumming quickly into his hand , the first time he’d ever came so much. “hey.” his post nut clarity hitting him as you knocked on the door , he couldn’t believe he did that , but that doesn’t stop him from doing again and again.

﹙ 𐙚 : perv!anton who: finds a pair of your underwear mixed into his clothes during wash day ﹚ .ᐟ

and instead of sitting them in your room , he takes them into his room , holding them to his nose as he gets off to sight of your body from when he got a glimpse of it when you left it slightly open when you were showing and he walked by. he still remembers how he stood in the door , jerking off to sight of your body , the soap dripping down the crevices of your bust. he came so much he made a mess on the door he had to clean it up without moving the door.

“sh-shit.”

﹙ 𐙚 : perv!anton who: eventually gets caught by you ﹚ .ᐟ

it’s not like you didn’t know though , you knew since the week you came , his innocent and shy face didn’t hide the pervert inside. there’s only so many pair of panties that go missing before you start to think you’re going crazy. “not to mention , that day you watched me in the shower , you left a mess on the door.” he’s embarrassed but he’s still stroking his cock. “if you wanted to fuck me you could’ve just asked , instead of stealing my panties , and you could’ve gave them back.”

﹙ 𐙚 : perv!anton who: spends the rest of that night allowing you fuck him dumb ﹚ .ᐟ

he can’t even count how many times he’s cum , all he could think about is you riding his cock , milking him for all his cum , his dirtiest fantasies coming to life that night. cumming all over your face , letting his milky thick cum spill down your chin , down to your titties , which makes him harder , it literally takes him like three hours before you had to tap out and even then he was still hard , and had to jerk off and even then he didn’t hide it , he laid right next to your naked cum covered body , stroking his cock.

“fu-fuck fuck i can’t stop cumming , im still so hard.”

after you get into a relationship his perversions don’t stop, in fact they get worse…

﹙ 𐙚 : perv!anton who: doesn't stop stealing your panties ﹚ .ᐟ

in his nasty head he’s like “she’s my girlfriend now so she won’t mind” you often find your panties covered in his cum , and he just smiles bashfully at you.

“sorry baby , i just got carried away, they just smelled like you and you know how i get when it comes to you.”

﹙ 𐙚 : perv!anton who: is more touchy feely now that you’re all his ﹚ .ᐟ

having to move his hands off your ass constantly because he can’t stop touching it. “tonnie stop touching my ass please.” he doesn’t and you don’t even stop him after that, even when he stands behind you and rut against you like a horny dog.

“sh-shit let’s go back to the room.”

speaking of sex…

﹙ 𐙚 : perv!anton who: just gets nastier as your relationship progresses ﹚ .ᐟ

now that you’ve given him free reign of your body , he uses that to his advantage , bending you over any surfaces , pressing his hard cock against you. “fuck , you look so good right now.” I mean he’s hard all the time. “bend over baby , i just need to feel you.” pulling your pants down. “just the tip , fuck I promise.” but he never really means it , pushing fully into you , fucking you into the very surface he bent you over stuffing you full of his thick load.

“fuck that’s it just keep taking my cum…”

﹙ 𐙚 : perv!anton who: loves somophillia ﹚ .ᐟ

this mixed with the verbal consent that you’ve given him to use you whenever he wants just makes him crazy , whenever he wakes up in the middle of the night horny and doesn’t want to wake you , he’ll just roll on his side and slide right inside your waiting cunt , fucking your sleeping body , not even bothering to pull out after cumming , you wake up with his cock still inside you… hard and ready to fuck again.

“got hard last night and I need you.”

﹙ 𐙚 : perv!anton who: after sex needs to be as close as he can ﹚ .ᐟ

his head on your bare chest , his thumb on your nipple just toying with it as he came down from his high , both of you completely fucked out , unable to move. “fuck i love you so much.”

yeah he’s gross , but he’s your gross boy…

©️LUVYENI

[antinitoniny]

secretly dating anton but y'all are actually really obvious: headcanons

𖦹 anton x reader, reader uses they/them pronouns!

𖦹 fluff, secret relationship

𖦹 typos + grammatical errors ahead :)

anton carrying your bags, and you consciously giving it to him as if your friends aren't looking at both of you.

"why are you carrying their bag?" friend asks

"he's just being nice" good thing, you're a pathological liar

but anton's not the best at lying nor pretending

anton unconsciously taking a portion of your meal because he knows that you get full easily.

"when did you guys got so close to the point that you eat each other's food?" anton would just stare at them til they drop the topic.

meeting up at the restroom because anton wants to hug you so bad he's tearing up

anton playing with your fingertips under the table

anton accidentally calls you "babe" so he started calling everyone babe

anton looking at you whenever someone's flirting w him. he refuses which makes your friendgroup suspicious about his dating life.

"i'm just- i'm- i'll- um" anton can't lie, unfortunately

"coincidentally" wearing matching fits

"what the hell, 'ton. do you have like a big fat crush on me? why did u wear the same fit" you jokingly said. anton's eyes are shimmering as if he's being hypnotized; he was about to say yes.

anton unconsciously playing with your hair while everybody's busy

"i thought you don't like it when people touch your hair?" they ask you so you're now forced to like it when OTHER people touches your hair

"bab- hey. do you um- can you help me with my stuff" anton can't come up with an excuse to get you out of the room either.

you explaining something to your friends, anton suddenly removing a strand of hair from your face which made everyone freeze.

"what the hell" -- "it's just hair" anton defended

anton UNCONSCIOUSLY giving you the first bite of his sandwich. at this point y'all aren't pretending anymore

sidewalk rule. anton pulling you casually to his side while you're busy yapping w ur friends

anton always asks: "did you skip your breakfast again?" which makes ur other friends wonder if anton would ask about their breakfast too...

"oh this is good" anton instantly taking a sip from ur drink the moment he hears ur reaction.

"you guys just kissed indirectly." - ur friends

"i mean- i don't- that's not true lol. are we kids?" and you gaslighting them

ur friends js watching anton take candid photos of you for like 27x today

acknowledging ur presence the moment u enter the room unless..

.. u arrive together (coz he's always picking u up)

most importantly, the eyes.

anton's eyes never lie. the way he looks at you while you're talking, the way he's always admiring you-- it's already a huge give away

even before you guys started dating, everybody already concluded that anton has a big fat crush on you.

with that, they're now thinking that anton finally got together with his crush

though you guys think that y'all are hiding it so well

[haikyuubby]

hot spring with the mha boys, part 2!

headcanons featuring your favorite mha boys!

featuring: bakugo, midoriya, todoroki, kirishima, kaminari, tokoyami, shoji, shinso, & monoma.

❀ - female reader, bit suggestive at some parts.

╰┈➤ ੈ✩‧₊˚ note: you’re in a mixed hot spring!

bakugo

✩ constantly splashing you

✩ (let’s just imagine that 1-A got their own hot spring rented out)

✩ would only get nervous if he stares at your chest too long (and gets caught doing so by kaminari)

✩ if you two are dating, he won’t stop touching you.

✩ i.e. him throwing you into the water, letting him carry you while swimming, dunking your head underwater, etc.

✩ if you two aren’t dating, then he’ll still do all those things.

✩ he loves to see your body, and he’ll compliment you too.

✩ seeing you naked does get him feelin a little hot and bothered, but his thought go away once he realizes that you guys are in a public place.

midoriya

✩ definitely nervous to see you since you’re fully naked.

✩ lowkey a d1 fumbler over here

✩ he’ll stutter over his words trying to compliment you.

✩ after he calms down a bit, he wouldn’t mind playing games like “marco polo” or seeing who can hold their breath the longest between you two.

✩ he’s surprisingly a fast swimmer, even without using his quirk.

✩ doesn’t hesitate to splash mineta if he ends up making pervy comments towards you or any other girl.

todoroki

✩ enjoys the relaxation of the spring.

✩ is quiet compared to the other boys.

✩ if you start small talk with him, he’ll probably only give you short answers, since he really is focused on his own relaxation here.

✩ he wouldn’t mind listening to you rant though, he’s more of a listener anyways.

✩ if he finds that the hot spring just isn’t quite hot enough, he’ll use his quirk to make it warmer.

✩ doesn’t stare at your body out of respect, dating or not.

kirishima

✩ he’s just happy to be spending time with you.

✩ would enjoy having deep talks with you here.

✩ if you voice being insecure about your body in front of him, he’ll be quick to shut it down.

✩ wouldn’t mind playing games with you in the water, as long as the people around you don’t care.

✩ not a big fan of splashing super obnoxiously, but if you do it to him then he’d do it back.

✩ would recommend that the next time you guys go to a hot spring, more relaxation will be required.

tokoyami

✩ extremely flustered seeing you.

✩ another one that won’t hesitate to splash mineta if he makes perverted comments towards you.

✩ uses dark shadow to hide his flustered face.

✩ he’s actually really good at swimming.

✩ would like to chicken fight with you against kaminari and jirou.

✩ doesn’t mind to relax also.

kaminari

✩ likes to just play in the water tbh

✩ after losing against tokoyami in chicken fight, he vouches that you two get revenge by dunking him underwater.

✩ let’s just say that you both ended up underwater afterwards.

✩ might have some…pervy comments to make about your body, but he means well.

✩ by this, i mean he tries to compliment you but just ends up sounding like a complete weirdo.

✩ likes to see who can hold their breath the longest underwater.

shoji

✩ very quiet, and very respectful.

✩ doesn’t want to cause a ruckus out of respect for others.

✩ after he sees you, he might look away due to him being flustered.

✩ his arms are pretty useful for making huge splashes, but you’d have to really convince him to do something so trifling.

✩ he’s just one of those guys who’d rather sit in silence during times like this.

✩ probably the most normal out of everyone.

shinso

✩ he tries to just sit and relax at first

✩ but after you convince him to use his quirk on kaminari to go and splash bakugo a bunch of times, then things take a turn.

✩ you guys go and be little shit starters around the hot spring

✩ if it comes to you guys seeing who can hold their breath the longest underwater, shinso will win.

✩ not the fastest swimmer, but he enjoys floating on his back.

✩ if you don’t know how to float, he’ll gladly teach you.

monoma

✩ he’s just a little shit tbh

✩ would try to dunk (drown) you, splash you, basically he’ll do anything to annoy you, both in and out of the hot spring.

✩ he finds your reactions to be “funny” towards his antics.

✩ swears that he can swim faster and better than you can.(surprise, he can’t)

✩ cheats during “marco polo”

✩ if you and him pair up for a chicken fight, then you’ll probably end up winning against whoever your opponent is.

[thoughtssvt]

suguru conditioned you to get wet every time he tied his hair up.

over the years he got into the habit of letting his hair relax. he wore it down with the new found confidence that came from your compliments and 'hey handsome's.

the only time he wore his hair in a bun was when he was shirtless between your legs.

if there was one thing he hated it was getting interrupted while he ate. he could allow his hair getting in the way when he was kissing you, holding you close. he liked the feeling of your fingers running across his scalp. he especially liked the tug you gave it when he sucked your nipple into his mouth, tongue laving and circling. a chuckle buzzing through his lips as you arched up into him.

that he could handle, but once he was face to face with your pussy he wouldn't allow it. he'd sit back on his haunches, skillfully gathering his hair into his palms with his thumbs. maybe it was just something about the way he looked down at you, carnally, ready to devour you with no restraint. maybe it was the way you knew he would do just that like he'd done so many times before.

he would run his hands up and down your thighs once his arms dropped to his sides. he'd leave soft kisses against your knee, guiding them down as he laid on his front. if your head wasn't so cloudy you would whine at the shit-eating smirk he wore as he looked at your glistening cunt.

"i haven't done much and you're already this wet?" he'd chuckle softly, so close to your skin that it felt like love wiring running under your skin, your hips bucking up into him. he'd hush you, reassure you that he'd give you everything you needed as he kissed just right above your twitching button.

"always so needy," he commented leaving open mouthed kisses on your outer lips, and though it was meant to come off snarky you couldn't help but keen like it was praise.

the first lick was always mind numbing. you held your breath as you felt his thumbs spread you open, watching his eyes flutter closed as he guided a flat tongue between your folds, the muscle giving your clit a gentle flick before he sucked it into his mouth. it was then you let your breath go, a whiny moan forcing it out.

"mmm," he hummed around you making your legs snap around his head as it shot pleasure down to your toes. "ah, ah, don't interrupt me while i eat, honey," he scolded softly, large hands prying your legs open so he could spread you up and open, pushing your knees to your chest so he could feast uninterrupted.

maybe it was better he kept his hair up despite how much you liked to tug on it. it let him focus in on your pleasure. he took his time, each move slow and calculated. he knew exactly what made your legs shake and what to do when he wanted you to suck in a deep breath, hands shooting up to the sides of your head to grip your pillow for stability.

he'd lightly scrape his nails against the sensitive skin of your thighs as he switched between slow, broad stripes against your clit to lip-bitingly quick flicks with the tip of his tongue. he'd bob his head, the gentle suck on your bud a tantalizing combo with the way the muscle swirled around it.

"so good, can't get enough of you," he'd sigh as he dropped down to your hole, gently kissing your clenching entrance before pushing his tongue in as deep it could go. he moaned at the way you twitched around him, hot and wet on his tongue.

he'd reach a hand up so his thumb could toy with your clit as he drank down your juices, steadily tongue-fucking you until your climax.

when you got your vision back there he was again, looking down at you with carnal desire, biceps bulging as he scooped his hair up into a secure bun once more, because he was definitely far from done with you.

A/N : i may have gotten carried away, i was about to go to sleep... and this was so not planned, I was supposed to write cute headcanons of how the jjk men start your apples for you. anyway I hope you enjoyed, reblogs and comments are always appreciated

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