#ken headcanons

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

-Ken is literally obsessed with loving on his partner. He’ll always find a reason to have his fingers threaded with yours, his hand on your back, in your hair, on your face. He loves peppering kisses all over your face, too.

-“I love you” is something that must be said at least 15 times a day. It’s mandatory for him. He loves you so much, and wants you to know it.

-Cuddlebug, majorly. He loves cuddles, especially when he’s sleepy

-Spent the first few months of your relationship nervously asking to hold your hand/ hug you/kiss you every time.

-Always smells faintly of strawberries. You asked him once what shampoo or body wash he uses and he was like oh no I just smell like this.

-Tries so hard to be crafty and make you things. Fails a lot but you still love the result :) he tries and that's what matters.

-Genuinely horrified and appalled when anyone is even slightly mean to you. Asks if you want him to beach them off.

-Loves loves loves pet names. He will call you anything soft and sweet and cute, and if you call him baby he will melt.

-If he were to ever get married, he’d never shut up about it. “My spouse this, my spouse that.” “Oh yeah that’s my spouse.” “My spouse said-”. Just any reason to talk about you and refer to you as his spouse/wife/husband

-I personally headcanon that this man can COOK. Feeding the people he loves really fulfills a sense of purpose for him!!

-His fashion taste is actually impeccable and he takes great pride in his outfits. He really enjoys outfit planning and clothes shopping :3

SFW AGERE BELOW THE CUT!!

Summary: You're just Barbie, perfect on the outside, dead on the inside. He's just Ken, neither perfect on the outside nor on the inside. 

Author's note: I condone neither patriarchy nor matriarchy. But I do love exploring different forms of mental exhaustion and extreme emotional dependency.

Warnings: Mental abuse, dark mental headspace, mentions of suicide and self-harm (only if you read between the lines), yandere behavior, yandere Ken, 

Not every Barbie has a Ken. Not one for herself anyway. Every Barbie knows a Ken, but that Ken most likely belongs to her friend, or her neighbor, or one of the other Barbies. Not every Barbie has a Ken, but every Barbie knows a Ken. You know one too, one with sandy hair and ocean eyes. And a look that longs for something more. You know a Ken who keeps his heart from breaking by crossing his fingers and praying to the Malibu sun. You know a Ken who's only happy if a certain Barbie looks his way. Or rather you knew. This was before the world fell apart. This was before he destroyed it. 

Ken returned without Barbie and the universe began to crack. It's fine you thought. It's fine you hoped. Ken -That Ken, the one who waited on the beach for hours on end until his Barbie walked by- returned from the real world preaching sermons on how the Kens were better, superior, the rightful rulers of Barbieland. How they didn't need the Barbies, how they no longer needed to settle for being treated as anything less than perfect. How they needn't be number two any longer. Ken returned without Barbie and the universe wept. 

You've always known the real world was a messed up place. It had become evident when the thoughts started to creep in. That was years ago-albeit you'll admit you have no idea if Barbie years and human years aligned- years since you started to feel like a constant failure. Years since that harrowing voice began screeching endless dreadful thoughts into your cranium. Notions that festered your mind and heart, tiny maggots that chewed away at your soul. There was always something wrong and it was somehow always your fault. Then came the pain. Horizontal pangs that shot across your arm. Always in the same spot, always in a cluster of three. Barbies don't feel pain as intensely as humans, at least they're not supposed to. 

 You worried for your human back then. You truly did. But you were always too scared to leave Barbieland. Never brave enough to go find her. She's fine you hope...you doubt it though. 

You also refused to go see Weird Barbie. Too scared of being labeled as anything less than perfect. So long as these thoughts merely remained inside you and no outward defects began to show, you would be fine. You could just pretend like everything was as perfect as it always had been. 

Ken came back from the real world unscratched. Yet his words hit a chord within every other Ken. They began to take over. The Barbies were reduced to accessories. Pretty little things that clung to their lovers. Dressed in short skirts and maid outfits. Turned into what they weren't. 

Ken destroyed what once was perfect. Yet all you could think as you watch the pillars of your homeland cripple and your friends descend into madness. Was how utterly beautiful he was.

The world turned upside down. 

Barbieland fell.

Kendome rose. 

And yet as everything the Barbies had worked all so hard to build came crumbling down. As your friends and neighbors began to lose themselves and submit to a tyrannical patriarchy. You found yourself utterly unaltered. Your world had been destroyed long ago. This was just another calamity that you would fake your way through. It would be easy, a lifetime of practice finally paying off. Stay quiet, stay in the shadows, no one would notice.

No one was supposed to notice...

Ken found you on the beach one night. A day or two after the hostile Ken takeover. He walked up behind you out of breath as if he'd been running. 

The bonfire crackles, a warning, and a love song. Until now you'd only ever existed in his sideview. An afterthought as he impaled his heart and called it love. You had burned yourself in his rays and called it love. You're convinced neither of you knows what love truly is. The moon's rays dance as you two sit side by side. In the distance, you see Blue Mermaid Barbie and Mermaid Ken share a tender kiss. An unparalleled sight. 

Ken sits next to you. Eyes following your every move. Scanning every dip and curve of your plastic corpse. He's just Ken you remind yourself with an uneasy breath. He's just Ken, nothing to fear. Although you're not entirely sure if those old ideologies shine through. He's Ken but somehow he's become unstable at worst, flammable at best. Something radioactive ticks inside of him waiting to detonate. Waiting to make the world feel a trace of his pain. 

Ken's fingers intertwine with yours as waves of helplessness crash across your body. You were created to be ethereal yet all you see is perfection molded in the shape of Ken's face. He leans in, carelessly placing his chin in the subspace of your neck as he whispers. "I see the way you look at me" his warm breath tickles the shell of your ear. You flinch, in time with the breaking of the waves. "I know you want me" Reality blurs when Ken touches you. He pulls you between his legs as his lips kiss the back of your neck. His fingers run up and down your arm as if he's trying to memorize your shape, your soul, you. It's romantic you think but all you feel is puka shell shards stabbing your flesh. You know he's dreamed of this intimacy with the other Barbie. 

you wonder if in his eyes you are merely a ghost. One he resurrected with desperate love and a broken heart. You wonder if he sees her, feels her, wants her. Yet he'll settle for you. The next best thing. The other stereotypical Barbie. Somewhere along the line, your own voice sounds, foreign to you. He's talking, his voice is smooth like silk. Fragile like window glass after a bombing. He asks you something, something you've dreamed of for all so long. He asks you to be his bride wife. You agree despite how degrading it sounds. 

What once was a pink haven of fun and joy has now been turned into a mess of horses and black sunglasses. Barbie's dreamhouse is now Ken's Mojo Dojo Casa House. You feel like an intruder, like a traitor. You feel loved, wanted, needed. Someone once told you that truths can co-exist. It's all you can think to save yourself from going mad. 

There's an unspoken easiness that comes with being with Ken. The way he's always around. His hands never leave you, tracing stars on your arms, running through your hair. He wants his presence to be felt. 

"I like this" you confess one night as you rest your head on his arm. "I've always felt...less than perfect. Like I couldn't be good at anything like the other Barbies." Ken laughs and it feels like the stars have cladded you in their warmth. He pinches your nose with a soft smile. "I know the feeling," he mutters and you feel your heart crack. "But you don't have to worry about that. I'm here and so long as you're with me. We're both going to be perfect." You snuggle into his chest as you close your eyes. "Ken and Barbie" you sing, a mantra, a prayer. One for a better future. One for a happy life. 

You have a dream house. Had one at least. You sometimes wonder which Ken lives there now. You wonder if his Barbie feels your presence radiating off the walls and the floor and the heart-shaped night lamp you once treasured. You certainly feel Stereotypical Barbie's presence echoing from every corner. You see her ghost whenever Ken pulls you onto his lap to watch a horse flick. Infuriated and distressed. You wonder if she's angry because you didn't join the rebellion. You wonder if she's angry because she thinks you took Ken away. You see her ghost again, feel her between the pause of two breaths. She glitches and fades as you hide your face in Ken's mink coat. 

"I don't like being apart from you" Ken claims as he lays your body on top of his. One hand dangling off the couch the other curling your loose locks. To Ken a touch away feels like being galaxies apart. You kiss his chin and his cheek and his nose and finally his lips. It feels like a dream. One you refuse to wake up from. 

Ken is gold.

Unmetable and solid.A kaleidoscope of hope

He has so much potential rotting inside of him.

Ken is gold.

Beautiful and everlasting.

His value lies in how pretty he is. How good of an accessory he's willing to be. 

You wonder if he's sick of being gold. 

You felt Barbie's ghost again today. This time looming and aggravated. She wants her presence acknowledged. She has something she needs to say. Ken was out, one of the rare times you two spend apart. Something about a beach off and rock paper scissors. 

You wonder if a ghost haunting is their way of showing love. 

You wonder if the Kens starting a rebellion is their way of showing love. 

Barbie talks for ten minutes straight. You cling to every word, you forgot how much you missed the Other Barbie's voice. It's in the final beat of her sentence that you notice she's not a ghost. Not this time. This is Barbie, the girl who had been your friend since the day you left your box. "Help me" she pleads as she grabs your shoulders. "We need to fix this", you turn your head and smile a broken smile. "I can't" you confess. 

It's easy to undo brainwashing. Even easier to reinstate it. What Stereotypical Barbie and her friends can undo. You can simply redo. Even Barbies prefer ease, a few simple half-truths sung into the right ear at the right time. And the once normalized Barbies are running back to their Kens. You turn, in the rays of the golden sun, you see Barbie. Her eyes hold glimmers of unshed tears. She wears her betrayal on her pink sleeve. "Why" she whispers as her fingers reach out to hover over your heart before she retracts them. You think you may have burned her. You think she's afraid of being plagued by your depravity.

You feel like a traitor, like a monster. A creature made of pink lipgloss and shattered vows. should Kendom fall, you know your delicate dream life will fall with it. You stare into her eyes. And the words that leave your mouth feel so rehearsed, yet you swear it's the first time you've uttered them. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you both when you went through hell. I'm sorry I wasn't there when the world collapsed and you ran from the debris. I'm sorry I can't help you pick up the pieces and rebuild what once was yours.., ours. I'm sorry I'm so selfish". 

Immortal hearts are cursed with the loneliest beats. Maybe that's why the other Barbies never bothered to ponder their endless existence. Maybe that's why the Kens always clung to false promises of love. Maybe saying I love you is the same as saying I'm letting you go. Stereotypical Barbie has already reached this conclusion, you know this. For a fraction of a juncture, she looks into your eyes. Trying to reason and plea and hope all in the same breath. When you say nothing more her eyes shine with grief as she turns on her heels and runs for the hilled house. You reach out to her, yet only grasp the warm Malibu breeze. 

What do you call a person such as yourself? 

Coward...

That sounds about right. 

Ken kisses your neck, and it feels like lava sprinkling along your skin. You feel like a defeated soldier drowning in a sea of guilt. Survivor's guilt a voice echo inside your head familiar yet all so distant. A ghost from a past life or a current one unseeable to you. "I have it too" the voice replies. You wonder if it's the voice of an angel or a mortal girl. You don't tell him about the Barbie resistance or how easily they can reverse the brainwashing. You work best alone anyway. 

You hear the word death replay in the background as Ken bites a sensitive spot. A faint noise, a haunting whisper. You hear the word death and it sounds more familiar than the name Barbie that has rolled off your tongue every day since birth. 

Ken harbors you inside the once was dreamhouse like a forbidden secret. Sometimes the skirts feel too short. Sometimes the world feels too heavy. You always feel the eyes of the other Kens on you. You think Ken planned it that way to show the Ken world who you belong to. Just last week he took you to the beach. Both of you wearing matching pastel blues and silver earrings. Other Ken was there also adorned in pastel blue and silver earrings. You see the twitch in your Ken's jaw, the icy glare when Other Ken waves to you. "Let's go," he says, commandes really. He throws you over his shoulder and you're heading back the way you came. "I really wanted to see Mermaid Barbie..." You pout. "No no, you wanted to see a movie remember?" Ken corrects you, to be honest, he does that often. You're starting to doubt you even know your own wants anymore. 

Today Ken has you dressed in a pink and white dress. You remember Setrotypical Barbie use to love this dress. You run around the kitchen cooking a pretend dinner. You really want to go shipping, to pick out something you'd like. A rose pink Lolita skirt and a matching button-up. You really want to die. Although that's normal you always want to go shopping. You always want to die. You wonder if Ken will ever let you pick out your own dresses. You leave his plate in front of him as you loop your arms around his neck. You rest your chin on his head as he pulls you closer. Not picking your own clothes is a small price to pay for the intimacy you've craved for far too long. 

"Never has there ever been a girl as pretty" Ken whispers as he relishes in your presence. 

"Do you have any idea what you are?" He rasps, his lips hovering over yours. You're both sitting on the bed, watching the sun die for the day. 

Ken is a monster. At least that's what you're supposed to think. You have something in your mind something that squirmes around in what can only be described as reason. To call it wits and a conscious would be an overstatement. Lucide is a better word. Weak and brittle yet somehow still standing. Deep inside, your heart refuses to call Ken anything other than hero, savior, salvation. 

"I'm yours" it's the first truth that's left your mouth in a long long time. You cup his cheeks and kiss him with all the doom and gratitude that lies within you. And Wow Ken tastes like mint ice cream and shooting stars. Like dead dreams that lay on the tip of your tongue. He's the beach at night and the evermore gardens during the day. He's everything good and confusing and painful and sweet. Ken nibbles your ear, playfully, and coos sweet words into your soul. Spinning tales of how you'll be together forever. You soak in his presence, rolling his name around in your head. You keep your head filled with him before your own thoughts give you a heart attack. 

You're Barbie but now you are so much more than that. You're his Barbie. Ken's Barbie. Damaged yet simultaneously perfect. And he's perfect too, mesmerizing when the sun's rouge rays kiss his pretty face, bathing him in golden ichor.

You wonder if perfection and imperfection have always been in love. 

 Sometimes in the dead of night, you think of the little girl playing with you. Albit she isn't a little girl anymore, is she? Kids grow up. clawing and biting through the painful transformation. Sometimes it leaves their minds fragmented. Sometimes it leaves them less than whole. 

Judging by how long it's been, your little girl is grown up by now. You close your eyes and give Ken a final kiss before sleep overtakes you. You hope she's okay, even though you know that can never be true. Being "okay" doesn't seem to be a real thing in this universe. 

Because girls are broken and the universe knows this 

Because boys are broken and the universe knows this 

Because the universe does nothing. Just sits there and watches as life bends and breaks itself over and over again

Barbieland is broken too, imperfect and destroyed.

And so are the two of you. 

Yet in the end, it doesn't matter. 

For as broken as the world is the most important of things has been resolved. 

Ken has his Barbie.

Headcannons:

Not yet written

One-Shots:

Pining Ken With Oblivious Reader

hi!! thank you so much for requesting! sorry about the wait, i got a little stuck in the middle of writing this. i hope this is what you meant! if not, feel free to send another ask :)

i’m working on my other request right now, so i should be able to get it out soon. in the mean time, i’m open to other ken requests as well!

Ever since you met, you’ve been all Ken can think about

You’ve always been so kind to him, helping him figure out the real world and everything

And he is nothing if not head over heels in love with you 

He can’t help but admire you from afar

And the care and caution he uses when interacting with you is far beyond what he uses with other people

In fact, he gets teased by your guys’ friends all the time about it

As much as he wants to tell you, he just can’t find the courage to do it straight out

You two are just friends

What if it’s too much too fast? Or you don’t love him back? Or you never even liked him in the first place and were just putting up with him because you’re just that good of a person?

You love him too, obviously 

But you don’t seem to pick up on any of the hints he drops, no matter how blatant they are

It started about a month ago, when Ken decided to start being more obvious with his affection for you

His hints were pretty tame at first: an extra compliment here, a few more texts here

“You’re looking extra nice today, did you do something new with your hair?”

‘Goodnight! Have the sweetest of dreams :)’

You were flattered, sure, but in your head he was just being nice in return

He kept that pace up for a while until he couldn’t deal with it anymore

This was going agonizingly slow

So, recently, he’s been more obvious about it

He’ll bring you gifts all the time, hoping they’re meaningful enough to get his point across

It gets to the lost where you have to be more assertive with how many presents he gives you a week

“Ken, you really need to stop buying me so many things.” You scold him, though your tone is undermined by the warmth of your gaze as you look at what must be the 3rd gift box you’ve gotten in 5 days. 

“Why?” He asks, a dejected kind of look falling over his face. “Do you not like them?”

His expression and cautious words catch your attention and you let out a little smile. He’s really just the sweetest guy. ‘If only he liked me..’

“No, of course I do!” You reply, setting the present down and placing one of your (shaky) hands on his. “I’m just worried that you’re spending too much money on me.”

Miraculously, you don’t notice the way the blush rises to his cheeks or his eyes widen at your touch. Ken takes a deep breath to steady himself before stumbling through his next words.

“That’s like, impossible. You’re worth more than all my money.” He says, cringing as soon as it leaves his mouth.

A part of you, a small and repressed part of you, swoons at his statement. However, the reason i’m your mind decides that this is just another example of Ken being Ken.

You don’t see the little frown that falls back over his face when you don’t seem to get the hint.

Ken, driven by newfound motivation, starts jumping at any opportunity to hint how smitten he is with you

He’ll remember the smallest things you say and bring them up later

“The aquarium?” You inquire, looking at the building you two had just arrived at. 

Ken smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He thinks for a moment, debating whether or not to tell the truth. He decides to be totally blunt.

“Yeah. I, uh-“ He clears his throat. “You told me about that time when you were like 6 when your birthday at the aquarium got cancelled and you never really got to go back. So I just figured it could be fun or something-“

“You remembered that?” You ask again, in slight disbelief.

Ken’s a really sentimental person, you know that. But he remembers that dumb story? You must’ve told him that months ago. A blush creeps onto your cheeks.

“Of course.” He shrugs.

Obviously, you end up having a great time at the aquarium (although he got scared in the shark tunnel and you had to hold his hand)

Your one-on-one hangouts evolve from casual outings to fancy restaurants quickly

The line between hanging out and going on a date is so blurred that neither of you are quite sure which it is

Not that you’re going to bring it up

One day you go out for a walk after dinner and end up sitting on a park bench, just talking

Ken looks over at you and noticed how perfect you look in the moonlight

He’s tempted to tell you how he feels right then and there

But of course it doesn’t work out like that

“Thanks for hanging out today,” You say, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

Ken smiles in acknowledgment before clearing his throat a bit. He shifts his gaze from you, to the stars, back to you again. You can practically see his brain racing.

“No problem. It’s nice to feel so wanted.” He says softly. “I really appreciate this, by the way. That you’re willing to put so much time and care into, uh, this.”

You take a deep breath. ‘He’s just being nice. Don’t look for implications that aren’t there.’ You think to yourself. But you have to respond somehow. He’s looking at you like you handed him the world. It’s really cute.

“Of course, Ken. You know I love you,” You realize what you said quickly, eyes widening. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Ken’s never felt so disappointed in his life

He really thought that was it

He’s pretty stiff for the rest of the evening

Like everything he says is scripted

It’s really just so that he can keep it together until he gets home to think out what to do next

As soon as he drops you off, his mind starts racing

What was that?

Was he friendzoned? Was that last part a coverup? 

Regardless, he cares about you too much to potentially hurt you in any way

Even if that means backing off a little bit

So he distances himself abbot, not knowing what else to do

You realize something is off pretty quickly and walk over to his usual spot on the beach

Sure enough, he’s sitting on the sand alone, his head cradled in his hands

You approach him slowly, sitting next to him on the ground

Ken glances up as your shadow casts over him. You sit next to him, not saying anything at first. He looks… confused. There’s a glint of relief at your presence, but also a slightly guarded look that Ken never usually carries.

“Hey,” You say softly, meeting his gaze. “You okay?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes betraying that he’s weighing whatever options he has in this situation in his head. Eventually, he sighs, shifting his gaze to his hands.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He says vaguely, fidgeting with his fingers. “Just trying to think I guess.”

“About?” You don’t want to press, but Ken’s almost never closed off like this. 

“You?” He says, blushing intensely. 

The two of you just sit there for a second, trying to process what effect that little comment had on the future of this conversation

He eventually works up the courage to tell you everything. From the very beginning.

He tells you what a great friend you are, and how he never wants to mess up what you already have

He starts rambling in his nervousness, trapped beneath your intense gaze

“I know you love me as a friend, and I obviously also love you as a friend. But I think I might also love you a little bit more than that, if I’m making any sense. But I totally get it if you don’t feel like that as well. I might be moving too fast. I’m sorry-“

You have to kiss him to shut him up (i know it’s cliche i’m sorry 😭)

He just stares at you after you part, his eyes wide as saucers, until a small grin sneaks onto his face

“So, is that like, an, uh-“

“An ‘I love you too’? Yes.”

You’ve never seen him smile to big

You two spend the rest of the day sitting on the beach and talking

About how you covered up your confession that day at the park

About how he thought he had to avoid you 

Hesitantly, he reaches for your hand

I know I talk about Ken's glitter all the time but have you considered...

ooooh, yay, a request for ken, i was honestly worried i wasn’t gonna get any for him !! thank you so much, dear anon, and i really hope you like these headcanons !! <3

✩⡱ headcanons: ken (ryan gosling) x gn!zookeeper barbie!reader

(note: i am aware that technically all the barbies are ladies, but in the interest of inclusion i am keeping this gender-neutral - hope you don’t mind!!)

— in a world like barbieland, where so much is the same - the days, the weather, the outfits, the words exchanged between those who live here - you are a notable outlier.

— rather than spend your days at the beach or cruising around the pristine streets of barbieland like your barbie counterparts, you are more than content to spend all your time in barbieland's only zoo, where you work, among the animals. rather than perfectly fitting clothes in pastel colors, your wardrobe consists of a standard zookeeper uniform, beige and khaki and shorts and t-shirts, the type of clothing always ready to be stained with dirt and animal saliva even if they somehow never are.

— you're also a bit different from the other barbies, and even the kens, in terms of personality. you much prefer the company of animals, and after spending so long among them (although curiously, it has never felt like that long), you're left in a place of often not knowing how to socialize with people. the other barbies and kens are all very nice to you when they come to visit the zoo or see you in public, of course - you're not sure any of them know how not to be nice - but the fact remains: you are quiet and relatively isolated, not peppy and social like every other barbie seems to be.

— which is, perhaps, exactly what allows this particular ken to notice you.

As a result of his patriarchy journey, Ken decided to flip the script and view you as his accessory of sorts. He likes it when your outfits compliment his. He will pick your clothes for you.

He's terribly possessive in a contradictory way. On one hand, he doesn't want the other Kens to so much as glance in your direction, but at the same time he wants to show you off.

He wants you to be his "bridewife". You being his long-term long-distance low-commitment casual partner just doesn't cut it for him. He wants all of you to himself. He would give you his necklace to signify your special relationship. He plays his desire to marry you as no big deal, but it's incredibly important to him. He needs to be wanted in a tangible way.

He is wildly insecure. Ken needs a lot of reassurance and approval from you even if he won't admit it out loud since men don't need that kind of thing from their partners.

Pet names? Ken uses them relentlessly. They're all a little condescending but they belay his affections. He calls you things like "tiny baby", "mini baby", "my rainbow", "my divine girl/boy". He'll go on a tangent with the names he throws out getting increasingly more outrageously long.

He keeps you in sight at all times. Partially just to marvel at how he got so lucky, but also because he's insecure that you might choose another Ken. He has to be the object of your attention. You're never allowed to brewski beer anyone else.

He likes explaining things to you. It's even better if you ask him questions (the simpler the better so he doesn't get flustered). He talks at you for hours. He also 'writes' you songs and plays them at you and sings in that goofy voice of his. Any activity that gets your eyes on him is worth doing.

It's not unusual for him to cry in your arms at night. He's no stranger to burying his head against your stomach and sobbing. He's wracked, not quite by guilt, but by the stress of being a figurehead for a movement he doesn't even really care about (he just liked the horses and the respect) and how he drove away Stereotypical!Barbie. It was simpler being an accessory to Barbie, even if he wasn't even one of the cool ones.

He's very physically affectionate with you on top of the names and showoff behaviors. He'll pull you right against his own body. He lives for kissing you. One of his favorite things is to sit you in his lap facing him and drape himself over you, holding tight.

He only has eyes for you. You're his and he's your Ken. There's no room for anyone else in his obsessions.

Despite all his shortcomings and twisted logic, there's always an undercurrent of care in everything he does. He treasures you even if he puts on a macho, cool guy persona for the other Kens.

18+ content under the cut.

Ken Cheering You Up After Crying

hi!! thank you so much for being my first request! your idea is so cute, this was fun to write :)

sorry if it’s a little all over the place, i got a little carried away 😭. let me know if it’s not what you wanted

Ken comes over to your house one day after you’re finished with work for your planned sleepover

You answer the door with a dampened mood, but he brushes it off as you being tired or something

He comes with you into the kitchen to help cook dinner, and notices that you aren’t as prepared as usual

You keep forgetting things, or misreading the recipe

Eventually, Ken caves into his thoughts and asks if you’re okay

To which you immediately start crying

At first he thinks you’re actively dying or something

He’s never seen tears before

Kinda freezes for a minute, just looking at you with fear and pain and love mixed around in his eyes

Stays like that until you apologize 

“I’m sorry-“ You manage to get out between sniffles. “Didn’t mean to start crying.”

“No, no, don’t apologize!” Ken hurries to make up for his lack of immediate confort. “I just don’t know- are you okay? I mean like, does that hurt?”

You notice him pointing at the tears on your cheeks with a curiously gentle look on his face.  It clicks on your head that he might not even have seen tears up to this point. That thought makes you smile a little.

“No, Ken,” You explain. “It’s just a thing people do when they feel strong emotions like sadness. It actually feels kind of good.”

You sniffle a little bit more and wipe your eyes. Once he knows what you mean, a wave of relief hits him. You’re not dying. Then he realizes what you said.

“Wait, you’re sad?” He asks, before noticing how obvious that was. “No, don’t answer that. How can I help you?”

You haven’t really had people ask that before, so you just kinda shrugged 

But Ken didn’t take that for an answer 

He’s immediately trying to think of ways to cheer you up 

The first thing he can think of is asking you what’s wrong

So he brings you out of the kitchen and into the living room where he sits with you on the couch

He watches intently as you talk, interjecting little comments to prove he’s listening

After you’re finished, he gives you a hug and says how proud of you he is for telling him

If you’re still crying at this point, his worry spikes a bit, but he’s determined to help

He all but carrie’s you to your room so you can lay down after a long day

Brings you a glass of water and puts on something for you to watch

Then he disappears for a suspicious amount of time, which is weird, because he’d usually jump right in to cuddle

You actually fall asleep for half an hour or so

Eventually, you hear a squeal from somewhere in your house and get up to investigate

You round the corner of your house into your kitchen where you see Ken standing with your apron on and flour dusted all over his face. He holds out a plate with a waffle on it. It’s still hot, fresh off of the iron. He looks at you with a huge grin and the proudest look on his face.

“I made you dinner.” He states importantly. 

You have to hold in a giggle at that. Not that you wouldn’t eat a waffle for dinner. The poor guy probably didn’t know how to make much else. You smile back at him. All of the effort he’s putting in to help you feel better is really working. 

“Aw, thank you,” You say, reaching for the plate. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Ken shakes his head.

“Of course I did! You were sad. And waffles make me happy, so I’m just kind of hoping you like them too?” He adds the last part with an almost shy tone, blushing a bit.

The kitchen was a huge mess because he lowkey sucks at cooking, but he cleans it as you eat so no worries

Of course you eat the waffle

And he watches you closely, trying to gauge whether or not it’s working

You’ve obviously cheered up a lot, but he refuses to rest until your mood is perfect 

As soon as you finish, he cleans up your plate and then brings you back to your room for cuddles

He wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder, trying to make you as comfortable as possible

He whispers cute little compliments in your ear until you’re both kind of tired

“Are you still sad?” He whispers, nuzzling into your shoulder.

Ken let’s out a yawn, tired from worrying about you all evening. But i’m the moment there is nowhere he’d rather be. He kisses your shoulder lightly as he awaits a response.

“No,” You answer, a small smile playing on your lips. “Thank you so much, by the way. You don’t have to do all that every time I cry you know.”

He lets out a little hum of contemplation at that before he ultimately makes up his mind.

“I know. But a little extra work doesn’t hurt me nearly as much as you hurting does.” He murmurs sleepily, his words a little jumbled

He’s just a loving, sleepy guy