#soft fluff

at first, hugo didn't really understand it. he would glance down whenever he felt the familiar little tug on his sleeve, only to find you absentmindedly standing beside him with your attention completely somewhere else.

you weren't asking him for anything. you weren't trying to interrupt him. you just liked being there.

after a while, he stopped questioning it entirely. whenever he noticed you quietly reaching for him, he'd lift his arm just enough for you to comfortably wrap yourself around it before continuing whatever conversation he had been having.

if the team was waiting between training sessions, he'd automatically leave the empty spot beside him open because he already knew where you'd end up sitting. he never teased you for it or called you needy. to him, it was simply another part of you, just like the way you smiled or laughed.

the others, however, found it impossible not to notice.

"is that…normal?" one of them quietly asked after watching you spend nearly ten minutes standing beside hugo with your hand loosely hooked around his wrist while scrolling through your phone.

"they've literally been like that all day," another answered.

"i don't even think she realizes she's doing it."

"hugo doesn't either."

except he absolutely did.

he noticed every tiny habit you had, even if he never pointed them out. he noticed how you'd sleepily reach for his hand whenever you got tired.

how you'd gently bump your shoulder against his whenever you wanted attention but were too shy to ask for it. how you'd instinctively search for him in crowded rooms before relaxing the second your eyes landed on him. they were tiny things that everyone else overlooked, but hugo remembered every single one.

after practice one evening, everyone was exhausted from training, slowly packing up their things before heading back.

hugo was sitting on one of the benches, quietly drying his hair with a towel when you wandered over without saying a word. still sleepy from waiting through the last part of practice, you simply stood between his knees before resting your forehead against the top of his head with a quiet sigh.

"…tired?" he asked.

you only hummed.

he gave a small nod like that answered everything.

without another word, he wrapped one arm around your waist to keep you steady while finishing drying his hair with the other hand. it looked so natural that nobody would've guessed he had only started doing things like this because of you.

when he finally stood up, you instinctively reached for the back of his shirt again.

he looked over his shoulder.

"…ready?"

another tiny nod.

he waited until you had a better grip before starting to walk.

the hallway was busy with players passing by, but hugo never once tried to shake your hand off his shirt or tell you to let go. instead, he slowed his pace just enough so you wouldn't have to rush after him.

"you know," one of the players muttered as they walked past, "she follows you everywhere."

hugo looked down at your fingers still curled into the fabric of his shirt before looking back up with the same calm expression he always wore.

"…i know."

"…doesn't it bother you?"

he was quiet for a second.

"…if she stopped."

his answer surprised even himself.

because somewhere along the way, the tiny weight on his sleeve, the quiet hand finding his, and the soft warmth constantly beside him had become something he looked for without realizing it.

later that night, while the two of you sat together watching a movie, you had somehow managed to end up almost completely leaning against him, one arm lazily wrapped around his while your head rested against his shoulder.

you were half asleep, barely paying attention anymore, mumbling little comments every now and then before your words slowly became quieter.

hugo looked down. "…comfortable?"

your eyes stayed closed as you smiled. "mhm…"

"…good."

he adjusted himself just enough so your neck wouldn't hurt, gently pulling a blanket over both of you without waking you. after that, he simply stayed still, even when his arm slowly started falling asleep underneath your weight. he could've moved. he probably should've.

instead, he glanced at your peaceful face resting against him and decided the numb arm was worth it.

"…sleep well," he quietly murmured, almost too soft to hear.

and although he'd never admit it out loud, the apartment always felt a little emptier whenever you weren't absentmindedly reaching for him anymore. after all, somewhere between all those little habits of yours, hugo had unknowingly grown just as attached to your quiet clinginess as you were to him.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ michael kaiser

michael kaiser absolutely loved the fact that you were clingy, though he'd never admit just how much it fed his ego. in his mind, it simply proved what he already believed—you liked him the most, you wanted to be around him the most, and out of everyone in the room, you always found your way back to him.

no matter how many people were talking to you, how busy either of you were, or where the two of you happened to be, your body seemed to naturally gravitate toward his. if he was lounging across the couch, you'd end up curled against his side without even thinking about it.

if he leaned against a wall while waiting for something, within minutes you'd be standing beside him, your shoulder pressed against his arm or your fingers absentmindedly playing with the sleeve of his shirt.

you never seemed to realize you were doing it, but michael noticed every single time, and secretly, he looked forward to it.

unlike most people, he never found your clinginess distracting. if anything, it became something he expected. there were moments where he'd be scrolling through his phone or watching old match footage, only to feel your weight gently lean against him a few moments later.

instead of reacting, he'd instinctively shift just enough to give you more room, allowing you to settle comfortably against his chest or shoulder while continuing whatever he had been doing.

it became second nature. he no longer questioned why you always reached for him first because, somewhere along the way, he had grown used to your constant need for closeness.

whenever you weren't nearby, he'd catch himself glancing around the room before realizing you were somewhere else, and while he'd never openly admit it, the absence of your familiar warmth always made the space around him feel strangely empty.

there were times when your clinginess became almost impossible to ignore. if the two of you were relaxing together, you'd somehow manage to steal nearly all of his personal space without realizing it.

your legs would end up resting across his lap, your head tucked beneath his chin, or your arms loosely wrapped around one of his while you quietly occupied yourself with something else.

michael always acted like you were inconveniencing him, letting out dramatic sighs or rolling his eyes as though your affection was the biggest burden imaginable, yet he never once made any effort to move away.

in fact, if you shifted even slightly as if you were about to get up, he'd unconsciously adjust his position to keep you close before he even realized what he was doing.

by the time he noticed, it was already too late, leaving him to pretend it had been completely intentional all along.

he especially enjoyed how naturally you sought him out after a long day. the moment you saw him, your shoulders seemed to relax without you even noticing, and before long, you'd quietly settle beside him, leaning your weight against him as though all the exhaustion you'd been carrying could disappear simply by being close.

michael liked to tease you for it, often calling you attached or claiming you couldn't survive more than a few minutes without him, but beneath every smug remark was a quiet satisfaction he couldn't hide.

knowing that your first instinct was always to look for him, to stand beside him, or to rest against him filled him with a sense of pride that only inflated his already enormous ego.

to everyone else, it looked like harmless teasing.

only michael knew how much he genuinely enjoyed being the person you searched for without even thinking.

the people around you noticed it almost immediately. they found it amusing how someone as prideful and self-centered as michael somehow became incredibly patient whenever it involved you.

the same man who complained about people invading his personal space somehow never minded when you leaned against him for hours or absentmindedly held onto his arm while the two of you sat together. if anyone else tried that, they'd receive an irritated glare within seconds. you, however, were different.

michael rarely acknowledged it aloud, but he unconsciously adjusted everything around your habits. he'd sit in ways that gave you more room to lean against him, slow his pace whenever you naturally reached for his hand, and remain still whenever you looked comfortable enough to fall asleep beside him.

he never thought twice about making those adjustments anymore because somewhere along the line, your quiet affection had become part of his daily routine.

despite all of his confidence and endless teasing, there were moments where michael revealed just how attached he'd become in return. on the rare days when you were busy or simply spent more time with someone else, he'd notice almost immediately.

he'd tell himself it didn't matter, insisting that you were free to do whatever you wanted, yet somehow he'd always find an excuse to wander into the same room as you or insert himself into whatever you happened to be doing.

he'd never admit that he missed the familiar feeling of you leaning against his shoulder or reaching for his hand without thinking, but the second you naturally drifted back to his side again, the faint smirk that settled across his face said everything he refused to.

in the end, everyone assumed you were the clingy one in the relationship, but if anyone paid close enough attention, they'd realize michael had quietly grown just as dependent on your presence as you were on his—he was simply far too prideful to ever admit it first.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ sae itoshi

ever since the two of you started dating, sae quickly realized that you were the kind of person who loved showing your affection through quiet closeness rather than words.

you never demanded attention or interrupted whatever he was doing, but your body always seemed to drift toward him without you even noticing. if he was sitting down watching game footage, you'd eventually wander into the room with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders before quietly settling beside him, leaning your head against his arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

if he stood in the kitchen making himself something to eat, you'd appear only moments later, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and simply standing there without saying a single thing.

there were days where neither of you exchanged more than a few words for hours, yet somehow you were always touching him in some small way, whether it was your fingers hooked around the sleeve of his shirt, your shoulder pressed against his, or your legs resting over his whenever the two of you relaxed together.

being close to him made you feel safe, and after a while, sae became so used to your quiet attachment that your absence felt stranger than your clinginess ever did.

sae himself wasn't naturally affectionate, nor was he someone who constantly sought physical contact, but he learned your habits faster than he expected. at first, he'd glance down whenever he suddenly felt your hand slip into his or your forehead rest against his shoulder, wondering if there was a reason behind it.

eventually, he realized there wasn't one. you simply liked being near him. that realization made him stop questioning it altogether. whenever you absentmindedly reached for him, his hand would already be waiting before yours could fully find it.

if you leaned against him while he was reading or watching something, he'd shift just enough to make sure you were comfortable without ever looking away from what he was doing.

even when he was focused on something important, he'd subconsciously adjust his posture so you had somewhere to rest, almost as if his body had memorized yours before his mind even registered your presence.

your clinginess also showed itself in the smallest moments throughout the day. whenever sae came home after training or traveling, you were always the first thing waiting for him.

you'd quietly make your way over the second you heard the door open, wrapping yourself around him with sleepy eyes before he even had the chance to take his shoes off. you never cared if he was tired or sweaty from practice; all you wanted was those few minutes where you could reassure yourself that he was finally home.

sae never returned your hugs with the same enthusiasm, but he also never pushed you away. instead, one hand would naturally come to rest on your back while the other gently stroked your hair a few times before he continued walking, practically carrying you through the apartment because you refused to let go.

after enough time together, he accepted that this was simply how you greeted him, and if one day you didn't come over to cling to him, he'd quietly find himself looking around the apartment, wondering where you were.

the people around sae noticed it long before either of you did.

they often found it amusing how someone so emotionally reserved ended up dating someone who practically treated him like a personal pillow.

during gatherings or visits, you'd always end up tucked against his side without thinking, your head resting on his shoulder while conversations happened around you. sometimes you'd doze off against him entirely, completely trusting that he wouldn't move until you woke up.

everyone expected sae to complain or gently move you away, but he never did.

he'd simply continue whatever he was doing with one hand resting absentmindedly on your arm, making sure you wouldn't slip off or wake yourself. the sight was so unlike the cold, distant image people had of him that it caught everyone off guard.

sae never acknowledged the stares or comments because, to him, this had quietly become normal. your constant need to be close wasn't something he tolerated anymore—it was something he unconsciously made room for, adjusting his own habits around yours until your presence became woven into every quiet part of his daily life.

there were even moments when you apologized, worried that you might be bothering him because of how often you found yourself reaching for him without thinking.

sae never understood why you worried so much. if your hand searched for his while the two of you walked together, he'd simply lace his fingers through yours. if you rested your head on him after a long day, he'd continue sitting there as though nothing had changed.

if you fell asleep leaning against his shoulder, he'd stay exactly where he was until you naturally woke up, even if his arm had gone numb long ago. he wasn't the type to shower someone with affectionate words or dramatic gestures, but his patience spoke louder than anything he could have said.

he accepted every quiet habit you had without making you feel embarrassed for them, and over time, you realized something that made your heart ache in the sweetest way possible.

you had become sae's routine just as much as he had become yours.

he would probably never admit it out loud, but on the rare occasions when you weren't there to absentmindedly cling to him, the silence around him felt just a little emptier than it used to.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ bunny iglesias

bunny never had a problem with how clingy you were.

if anything, he found it strangely comforting. there was something about the way you always ended up beside him that made even the busiest days feel quieter.

you never asked for much—you simply liked being close. whether you were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder while doing your own things, lightly holding onto the sleeve of his jacket whenever the two of you walked together, or absentmindedly resting your head against him whenever there was a moment to slow down, your affection always came so naturally that it never felt forced.

it was simply how you loved him, and before long, it became something he couldn't imagine going without.

at first, bunny didn't really understand just how often you searched for him. he'd look up from whatever he was doing only to find you already standing nearby, quietly existing in his space without expecting a conversation.

there were moments where neither of you spoke for several minutes, yet you'd still be leaning against his shoulder or sitting close enough that your knees brushed together. eventually, he realized you weren't looking for constant attention—you were looking for comfort. being near him settled your mind, and once he understood that, he stopped questioning your little habits altogether.

instead, he'd naturally make room for you before you even asked, shifting over on the couch, slowing his pace, or leaving one side of him open because he already knew you'd end up there.

your clinginess showed itself in countless little ways throughout the day.

if bunny stood still for more than a few moments, you'd wander over almost without thinking, gently looping your arm through his or leaning against his side while your mind drifted elsewhere. whenever the two of you were relaxing together, you'd somehow find yourself pressed against him, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder while you read, watched something, or simply enjoyed the peaceful silence between you.

you weren't trying to demand his attention; your body had simply grown so used to seeking him out that it happened without thought. after enough time together, bunny stopped noticing when you leaned on him because it had become such a normal part of his everyday life.

the people around you found the relationship amusing because they quickly realized how differently bunny treated you compared to everyone else.

he valued his personal space with most people, yet somehow you were the one exception. no matter how often you leaned against him or quietly followed him from room to room, he never looked bothered. instead, he unconsciously adjusted around you, making sure you were comfortable before thinking about himself. if you looked tired, he'd stay where he was a little longer so you wouldn't have to move.

if you accidentally fell asleep against him, he wouldn't dare disturb you, even if it meant sitting in the same position until his shoulders became stiff. to everyone else, those gestures were small, but to you, they meant everything because bunny wasn't someone who expressed his feelings with dramatic words. he showed them through patience.

there were even times when you worried you might be too much. you noticed how often you reached for him without thinking and wondered if it ever became overwhelming. every now and then, you'd hesitate before leaning against him, trying to give him more space than usual, only for bunny to notice almost immediately.

he had grown so accustomed to your familiar warmth that the sudden distance felt wrong. without saying much, he'd naturally close the space between you himself, settling beside you until your shoulders touched again or quietly resting an arm around you as if reminding you that you never had to second-guess yourself.

he never made a big speech about it because that simply wasn't who he was, but his actions always answered your worries before you could voice them.

over time, your clinginess stopped being something either of you thought about. it became part of the rhythm of your relationship, woven into every ordinary moment the two of you shared.

bunny grew used to feeling your hand find his without warning, to your head resting against him after a long day, and to your quiet habit of searching for him whenever you entered a room. it wasn't something he merely tolerated—it became something he looked for without realizing it.

on the rare days when you were too busy or simply forgot to drift toward him, he'd notice the empty space almost immediately. he'd never admit that he missed your constant closeness, but the way his eyes instinctively searched for you, and the quiet ease that returned the moment you settled beside him again, made it obvious enough.

to everyone else, you were the clingy one, but the truth was that bunny had slowly grown just as attached to your presence as you were to his.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ julian loki

loki was not someone people expected to be the type to indulge someone’s clinginess. with his calm personality, his focus on football, and the way he carried himself with quiet confidence, most people assumed he would prefer having his own space. but when it came to you, things were different.

your affection never felt like a distraction to him. if anything, it became one of the few things that allowed him to relax completely after spending so much time pushing himself. you had a way of making the world around him feel slower, and your constant need to be close became something he quietly appreciated more than he would ever openly admit.

you were naturally affectionate, the kind of person who always found small ways to stay connected to him.

you weren't always talking or asking for attention, but you were almost always near him. whether it was sitting beside him while he reviewed something, resting your head against his shoulder when the two of you had a quiet moment, or simply reaching for his hand while walking together, your presence always seemed to find its way into his routine. sometimes you didn't even realize you were doing it.

it was almost instinctive, like your body already knew where it wanted to be. beside him, close enough to feel comfortable, but never enough to interrupt his own space.

loki noticed those little habits almost immediately.

he was observant by nature, so he picked up on every small thing you did. he noticed how your mood changed when you were able to spend time with him, how you naturally relaxed whenever you were close, and how you always seemed to search for him first whenever you entered a room. instead of finding it overwhelming, he found it endearing.

there was something incredibly genuine about the way you loved him. you weren't attached because you wanted something from him—you simply enjoyed being around him. and for someone who spent so much of his life surrounded by expectations and pressure, having someone who just wanted his company meant more than he could explain.

because loki was so patient, he never made your clinginess feel like a problem. he never pushed you away or made you feel like you were taking up too much space. if you leaned against him while he was relaxing, he'd simply let you stay there.

if you held onto his arm while the two of you walked somewhere, he'd adjust his pace so you could stay comfortable. if you quietly followed him around during his free time because you wanted to spend more time together, he would just accept it as another normal part of his day.

he didn't need constant affection himself, but he understood that it was important to you, and that alone was enough reason for him to give it back.

the funniest part was that loki slowly became just as used to your closeness as you were.

your presence became something familiar, something he subconsciously expected. after a long day of training, he found himself looking forward to the peaceful moments where he could simply sit with you and forget about everything else. you were one of the few people who didn't see him as just a talented player or someone who always had to be perfect.

with you, he could just exist without having to prove anything, and your clinginess reminded him that he was loved outside of football.

others around him noticed the difference too. they were used to seeing loki composed and collected, always focused and professional, so seeing him quietly allow you to cling to him was something they found surprising. he would be in the middle of something important, yet the moment you came over and rested against him, his attention would soften.

he wouldn't stop what he was doing completely, but he would make room for you without hesitation. it was subtle, but anyone who knew him well could tell that you were an exception to the usual distance he kept with people.

there were even times where you worried you were becoming too attached. you wondered if you were bothering him or if he wanted more space, especially because loki wasn't someone who always expressed his feelings through obvious reactions.

but he always made sure you knew you were welcome. he wasn't the type to shower you with dramatic affection or constantly reassure you with words, but his actions always gave you the answer. the way he stayed close, the way he remembered your little habits, and the way he never once made you feel like your love was too much spoke louder than anything else.

eventually, your clinginess became something that belonged to both of you. it wasn't just a habit you had—it was a quiet part of your relationship that loki had grown attached to as well.

he became used to your hand finding his, your warmth beside him, and the comfortable silence that came from simply being together. and although he would probably never make a big confession about it, the truth was that your affection became one of the few things he never wanted to lose.

because even someone as disciplined and focused as julian loki needed a place where he could stop being a player and just be himself, and somehow, that place had always been right beside you.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ don lorenzo

lorenzo was probably one of the last people anyone expected to be comfortable with someone being clingy toward him.

with his strange personality, playful attitude, and the way he always seemed to keep people guessing, most people assumed he wouldn't care much about someone constantly wanting to be around him. but when it came to you, it was different. your clinginess wasn't something he saw as annoying or overwhelming.

instead, he found it oddly reassuring. after spending so much of his life feeling like he had to rely on himself, having someone who naturally reached for him, chose him, and wanted to stay by his side was something he never truly got tired of.

you weren't clingy in a way that took away his freedom. you simply loved being close to him.

it showed in the small things you did without even realizing it. whenever the two of you were together, you always found some way to stay connected, whether it was sitting close beside him, leaning against him during quiet moments, or reaching for him whenever you walked together. sometimes you didn't even need to talk.

you were perfectly content just being near him, existing in the same space while doing your own things. for you, his presence alone was comforting, and over time, don lorenzo became used to the way you always seemed to find your way back to him.

at first, he found it amusing.

he was used to people reacting to him because of his reputation, his personality, or the strange way he carried himself, but you were different. you didn't treat him like someone intimidating or impossible to understand.

you simply treated him like someone you cared about. your affection was natural and honest, and that was something that caught his attention more than anything else. you weren't trying to change him or expect him to act differently. you just accepted him exactly as he was, and for someone who had grown up without always receiving that kind of care, it meant more than he would ever openly say.

lorenzo slowly became accustomed to your habits.

he learned that when you were tired, you would naturally move closer to him without thinking. he learned that when something bothered you, you found comfort in staying near him rather than being alone. he learned that your way of showing love was through small touches and quiet moments together.

instead of moving away or teasing you too much, he simply allowed it. sometimes he'd act like he was bothered just to get a reaction out of you, but the truth was that he never actually wanted you to stop.

because beneath all of his strange jokes and unpredictable behavior, lorenzo was someone who valued loyalty deeply. your clinginess reminded him that someone genuinely wanted to stay. you weren't around because of his talent, his status, or what he could offer—you were there because you cared about him.

and that kind of affection was something he didn't take lightly. even if he didn't always know how to respond in the most normal way, he understood the importance of having someone who made him feel wanted.

the people around him would notice how different he became around you. lorenzo was still don lorenzo—still playful, still weird, still someone who could make everyone question what was going through his mind—but there was a noticeable softness whenever you were involved. he was more patient with you, more willing to listen, and strangely protective over the comfort you found in him.

if you leaned against him for too long, he wouldn't complain. if you stayed close during stressful moments, he wouldn't tell you to move. instead, he'd simply let you remain there, accepting your affection in his own quiet way.

there were even moments where he surprised himself by noticing when you weren't around. he was so used to your presence that the absence of it felt strange.

he'd find himself looking for you without realizing it, expecting you to appear beside him like you always did. he would never openly admit that he missed your constant closeness, especially because admitting something like that meant showing a softer side of himself, but the way he naturally relaxed whenever you returned gave him away.

your relationship with lorenzo was never about one person being clingy and the other simply putting up with it. over time, your affection became something shared between the two of you. you gave him the comfort of knowing he had someone who would always choose him, and he gave you the reassurance that your love was never too much.

behind the strange humor and carefree attitude was someone who appreciated being cared for more than he let anyone see, and your clinginess became a quiet reminder that he was no longer someone who had to face everything alone. you were simply the person who stayed beside him, and somehow, that became the thing he valued most.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ teddy knight

teddy was the type of person who made it difficult to tell what he was actually thinking.

he carried himself with a calm, almost unreadable expression, often keeping his emotions tucked away behind a quiet attitude and a composed presence. because of that, most people would assume that someone being constantly attached to him would eventually get on his nerves. but when it came to you, it was completely different.

your clinginess never felt like a burden to him.

instead, it became something familiar, something that slowly settled into his life before he even realized how much he had started to depend on it.

you were the kind of person who showed love through presence. you didn't need some grand reason to be near him—you just liked being around him. whether the two of you were sitting together in silence, walking somewhere side by side, or simply spending time doing separate things in the same room, you always found yourself drifting closer to him.

sometimes your shoulder would brush against his, sometimes you'd quietly sit beside him without saying anything, and sometimes you'd simply stay nearby because being around him made you feel comfortable. it wasn't about needing constant attention; it was about knowing he was there.

at first, teddy didn't really know what to do with it.

he wasn't someone who was used to having another person so openly seek him out. he was more familiar with keeping a certain distance, observing others rather than being the person someone naturally reached for.

so when you started appearing beside him more often, resting near him without hesitation, or instinctively looking for him whenever you entered a room, he didn't quite know how to react. he wouldn't push you away, but he also wouldn't immediately show how much he noticed.

teddy was the kind of person who would quietly take note of everything before deciding how he felt about it.

and eventually, he realized he liked it.

there was something strangely comforting about knowing that you always chose to be near him. your affection wasn't complicated, and you never expected him to become someone completely different. you didn't need him to constantly express himself or act a certain way—you were happy with the little things he already gave.

for someone like teddy, who seemed more comfortable keeping his thoughts to himself, having someone who understood his quiet nature was something he appreciated more than he could explain.

your clinginess became part of his routine in the smallest ways. teddy became used to feeling you sit beside him whenever there was an empty space. he became used to your habit of leaning closer when you were tired or reaching for him without thinking whenever something made you nervous.

he became used to the way you searched for him first, like his presence was something that automatically made things feel easier.

and while he might not always react dramatically, he always noticed. every single time.

he was also surprisingly patient with you.

if you stayed close while he was focused on something, he wouldn't make you feel like you were distracting him. if you wanted to spend time with him after a long day, he wouldn't turn you away. teddy wasn't the type to constantly shower someone with affection, but he showed care through small, deliberate actions.

he would make sure you were comfortable, remember little details about what you liked, and quietly adjust his own habits to include you. his affection wasn't loud—it was in the way he made space for you without needing to be asked.

other people would probably find the difference amusing. teddy, who could seem so distant and difficult to read, somehow became someone who allowed you closer than most people ever got.

they would notice how he didn't react the same way when it was you. someone else invading his space might earn a cold look, but you could sit beside him for hours and he wouldn't complain.

your presence became an exception, a quiet place where he didn't have to keep up any walls.

there would also be moments where you worried you were being too attached. you'd wonder if you were overwhelming him or if he secretly wanted more space, especially because teddy wasn't always obvious with his feelings. but the answer was always shown through his actions. he never pulled away.

he never made you feel like your affection was unwanted. instead, he would simply stay there beside you, allowing the silence between you to speak for itself.

over time, teddy became just as accustomed to your closeness as you were to his. he might not be the type to openly admit that he enjoyed having someone always near him, but he would notice when things felt different without you.

the room felt quieter, his routine felt slightly off, and there was a strange emptiness where your familiar presence usually was.

he wouldn't call it missing you right away, but deep down, he knew exactly what it was. because your clinginess gave teddy something he wasn't used to—a constant reminder that someone wanted to stay.

and for someone as reserved as him, that meant more than any big gesture ever could. you weren't just someone who followed him around or held onto him a little more than others.

You hear him before you see him. The soft click of the door, the quiet shuffle of shoes, the familiar sigh he always lets out because he's relieved he's home.

You're cooking when his arms slide around your waist from behind.

"Hi love," he murmurs, voice warm and tired.

You lean back into him "Hi."

He rests his chin on your shoulder, gently swaying you side to side. He always gets clingy after long days.

He starts to kiss your cheek. then your jaw. then the side of your neck.

then he stops.

his hands tighten slightly around your waist.

"..what's that?" he asks quietly.

you keep chopping the vegtables. "what's what?"

he doesn't answer right away. you feel him shift, trying to get a better look at the faint mark you blended onto your skin. his breath catches a little.

"did you.. hurt yourself?" he asks, voice loe. "or.. is that from someone?"

he says it gently, like he's afraid of what you might say.

you turn to face him. his expression is calm, but his eyes are searching yours, steady and serious.

'it's nothing," you say.

he reaches up and lightly grabs your jaw, brushing his thumb over the mark. his touch is light, almost hesitant.

"it doesn't look like nothing," he says softly.

his thumb stays on the mark, barely touching it, like as if he's afraid that if he touches it one of his worst fears would come true.

"did anyone come over when i was gone?"

you hum, keeping your face neutral. "no?"

he goes still, "are you sure, you know if someone touched you like that.. i'd wanna know."

you swallow a laugh "why?"

he hesitates, only for a second, "because i care, and i would want to know if my partner was cheating on me."

"james im not," you say, turning back to the counter.

he watches you for a moment. then steps closer, his hand resting lightly on your hip.

"okay," he says quietly. "i trust you"

you hear the tiniest bit of uncertainty in his voice.

he kisses your cheek again, but its a bit different, as if he's reassuring himself you're still his.

then he burshes your hair aside to look at the mark again.

his thumb presses a little more firmly.

it smudges.

he freezes.

"..wait."

uh oh.

you bite your lip, trying not to laugh.

he wipes his finger across the mark. it fades.

he stares at his thumb, then at your neck, then at you.

"you've gotta be kidding me," he whispers

you grin. "surprise!"

James closes his eyes, smiling as he lets out the a soft exhausted laugh.

"i was actually worried," he mutters, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. "you're evil."

you turn to face him. "you fell for it."

he lifts his head, cheeks warm and eyes soft.

"well yeah, it looked real!"

you smile. "guess that means i should be a makeup artist huh?"

he hums, brushing your hair back again, thumb tracing the now faded spot.

"you know.. if you ever want something like that," he says, voice low but gentle, "you don't need makeup."

you raise a brow. "oh?"

he trails slow kisses down you neck. "yeah, i can give you one." he murmurs against your skin, "or more than one."

Everyone at Hawkins High knew you were basically untouchable. You were Chrissy’s younger sister which therefore made you another popular cheerleader at this school.

So when Max nearly choked on her soda when you casually mentioned, “Yeah, I’m coming to your band’s show tonight,” it’s understandable.

“You’re coming to our show?” she asked, looking at you in disbelief.

“Yeah, Mike invited me,” you shrugged, pretending your heart wasn’t pounding in your chest like crazy.

Robin perched on the counter, resting her chin on her hands, lit up immediately. “Oh my god, you’re coming? Suddenly, this has just become our biggest show yet.”

Next to her, Steve leaned over. “Do you even know where it is?”

You smiled sweetly. “I’m a cheerleader, Steve. I know everything.”

What you didn’t tell them was you’ve known Mike since sophomore year. Since you two got paired together in history class and he spent the whole time apologizing for existing too loudly. Since you noticed the way he pushes his hair out of his eyes whenever he got nervous. Since you realized he listens to your words with every ounce of attention.

You also didn’t mention how you don’t go out to parties as much as they thought.

Going to theirs is going to be like meeting him on his ground.

When you and Chrissy pulled up, there were around fifteen people—mostly from school. They were still setting up the instruments when you saw him.

Mike’s back was turned away from you.

He was wearing a red and white tee, and his guitar strap was slung over his shoulder. His hair was a mess but unintentionally perfect. He was talking to Dustin animatedly, his hands moving and laughing happily.

Then he turned, and saw you.

You swore you could see his brain short-circuit.

He froze, his fingers still on the guitar strings, his mouth was slightly opened as if he forgot how to speak. Dustin followed his gaze and grinned.

“Oh,” he said. “Ohhhh.”

“You—hi—what,” Mike cleared his throat, immediately flustered. “You came.”

You nodded, tucking loose strands of hair between your ears in a nervous fit. You noticed eyes flicking between him and you. “I said I would.”

“Yeah,” he said, blinking. “You did.”

Max and Robin were watching from the stage, and you could hear Robin whisper loudly, “I knew it.”

Mike stepped closer to you, lowering his voice. “You didn’t have to come, I know this isn’t really your type of crowd.”

“I wanted to,” you softly said.

You could tell that relaxed him a little bit, his shoulders that were previously tensed up had softened.

“Uh,” he gestured behind him before rubbing the back of his neck. “We aren’t very good, by the way.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “I like not very good.”

You stood near the front with Chrissy, Dustin, and Steve.

They start playing and they’re actually good. They weren’t polished or perfect but their sound was captivating. Max’s drumming was sharp, Eddie’s bass was thumping in your chest, Robins guitar was clean.

And Mike—

Mike was singing like there was no one watching. Sure, his voice cracked once and you could see him grimace but he kept pushing through.

He keeps glancing at you as if he couldn’t believe you were still there at his show.

You cheered louder than anyone in the crowd.

When the song ended, everyone erupted in cheer.

“ENCORE!”, “We want more!”, everyone was loving it.

Mike laughed breathlessly, his cheeks flushed with a rosy pink. After his set, he found you leaning against the wall.

“I didn’t think you’d stay,” he said.

“I told you, I like your band,” you teased.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I thought you would get bored, or embarrassed.”

“Why would I be embarrassed?”

He shrugged. “I mean… you’re you.”

You raised your eyebrow and stepped closer. “And you’re you. Isn’t that the whole point?”

He softly chuckled. “Yeah true, thanks again for coming.”

You hesitated for half a second before leaning in—just a little bit.

Mike reacted a bit too late. His head tilted unsure and the first kiss barely landed, it was more a brush of lips rather than a kiss. You pulled back instinctively, surprised and he let out a short, embarrassed laugh.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No,” you said quickly. “It was—”

You cut yourself off and leaned in again, slower this time. Mike met you halfway and kissed you.

The kiss was still gentle and careful, but this time it fit better. His fingers lightly brushed the side of your arm before holding them to ground himself. When you finally pulled apart, the feeling of his lips lingered on yours and both your breaths were uneven.

He smiled wide. “I think I might write a song about this.”

“Please don’t,” you say rolling your eyes, but smiling anyways.

He laughed and squeezed your hand, as if he didn’t want to let go.

A week later, Mike was sitting in the bleachers with a nervous knot in his stomach. Steve was two rows up with Robin and they had a homemade sign. Dustin and Will bounced beside him, cheering on Lucas.

Mike barely noticed because you were there. On the court in your uniform.

The lights were brighter and the noise was louder, while it was familiar to his stage experience, it was still a different ground. Your ground.

He remembered the way you cheered for him, which made him stay as well. You didn’t notice him at first, but then when you did, you smiled at him. The smile was softer than your fake cheer, as if it was reserved for him only.

He lifted his hand in a small, awkward wave, heart pounding.

After that, you kept looking at him. Whether it was between cheers or jumps but no matter what, Mike’s gaze never left you.

At the halftime, you jogged over to him, breathless and flushed, the noise of the gym surrounding you two.

“You came,” you said.

“I said I would,” he echoed your words from the previous week back to you.

“Scared?”

“Terrified,” he said, with a grin. The buzzer sounded indicating halftime was over, but before you went back you pecked his cheek with a kiss.

You could see heat rising up his neck before you jogged away, a smile forming on your face.

After the game, you found yourself walking in the parking lot with him. He had given you his jacket, to keep you warm from the cool breeze.

“You know,” you said slowly. “I like how we keep showing up for each other.”

“Yeah, me too,” he softly agreed.

He grabbed your hand, and pulled you flush against him. He took your chin in his hand and leaned down, kissing you with more confidence than he had last time.

You could feel Mike’s pulse under your own as you deepened the kiss, pulling him closer by the back of his neck. He made a surprised noise, before reciprocating your movements.

When you pulled back, he smiled. “So… you’ll come to more shows?”

You grinned. “Only if you come to more games.”

“Deal.”

“C’mon guys! We’re getting ice cream!” Steve yelled from his car.

Outside, the rain whispered steadily against the windows, not a storm, just that persistent, needling drizzle that clung to the glass like it didn’t want to leave. It pooled in the corners of the sill and slid down in slow, meandering rivulets, tracing lazy paths through the city grime. That sound–soft static and water–was usually enough to soothe your mind into stillness. A constant, familiar hush that blurred the edges of thought and wrapped around your senses like a shield.

You were tangled up beneath a fortress of heavy blankets and layered throws, their weight pressing down over your shoulders like an arm curled around you. The fabric smelled faintly of lavender, mint, patchouli and clean laundry, warmed by the heat you’d trapped beneath them hours ago. In your hands, a worn paperback sat open on you, its yellowed pages fanned gently with the curl of time and use. The spine cracked softly each time you turned a page, and the cover–creased at the corners and faded from sun–bore the faint scent of a used bookstore: paper, dust, and someone else’s perfume.

You had picked it up weeks ago from a little shop in the middle of the city, fully intending to read it the same night, but life had its way of pushing things aside. Now, here in the glow of your room, with the rain curling around the windows, you were utterly immersed. You barely noticed how tense your shoulders had gotten, or how your legs had gone numb beneath the blankets–you were too deep inside it, clinging to each word like it might disappear if you blinked too long.

You shifted onto your side, blanket sliding off your shoulder slightly, and flipped to the next page with the kind of reverence usually reserved for sacred texts. The next line of dialogue was already calling to you–and then–

Knock Knock

It was soft, barely audible, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were in total silence you would’ve missed it. You froze mid-breath, eyes lifting from the page, heart ticking a little–not from fear, but from anticipation. You knew that knock. There were only two people in the whole compound who ever knocked like that.

Bucky or Bob.

It was always a surprise to you who would walk through the door.

For the past couple of months, you had been the unofficial comfort person for them–Bucky and Bob, two men stitched together by grief and guilt and the kind of quiet loneliness that didn’t always show. They never came on the same nights, never overlapped. It was like they had an unspoken agreement, or maybe some sixth sense, knowing when the other needed you more, without actually acknowledging the fact that you were being shared between them. And somehow, you always had space for it. For them. It had become routine for you–curling up with one of their bodies pressed to yours, listening to the soft cadence of their breathing drift into sleep, their presence grounding, warm, and achingly human. Sometimes you would speak to them, but oftentimes they were too distracted to even respond to you.

Both of them had their preferences, sometimes Bucky would slide his vibranium hand beneath your top, just to trace the skin of your back or stomach, like it was a way to soothe himself. Bob on the other hand seemed like he fully wanted to melt into you, most of the time the two of you looked like one monstrous pile of tangled limbs–exchanging breaths and knocking noses by accident from how close you would get. You didn’t have a preference for either person though, you were just glad that they had so much trust in you to actually come and seek out the comfort that they needed.

You cleared your throat softly, closing the book with care and slipping your bookmark into the page before whispering, “Come in.”

The door creaked open a few seconds later, just enough for a sliver of light from the hallway to pool across the floor. Then he appeared–Bob, soft-eyed and sheepish, shuffling into the glow of your room with an uneven gait. His light brown hair was pulled back into a loose bun, a few strands escaping to cling to his temples. He looked tired in the way only he could: like he’d fought off sleep for hours before finally giving up and walking down the hall to you. The shadows beneath his eyes were gentler in your lighting, made less hollow by the way the salt lamp warmed the edges of him, casting him in honey instead of sorrow.

He wore a plain white t-shirt and black joggers, both slightly wrinkled, like he’d been curled on top of his bed before coming here. The cotton clung faintly to his chest and arms, stretched just a little around the quiet strength he always tried to make smaller than it was. His feet padded quietly across the rug, and he smiled at you, tentative and crooked.

“Hey, stranger…” You greeted softly, watching him step further into your room, closing the door behind him. He wrung his hands together, fingers twisting with nervous habit, something he had always done in moments like these–in moments where he needed to ask something of you.

“Do you…Do you mind if I sleep here tonight?” His voice cracked just slightly near the end, like he was preparing himself for a different answer that he usually got. You let out a breath of a laugh, warm and fond.

”When have I ever said no to you?” He gave a tiny shrug, toeing off his socks gently.

”Well…I thought I’d ask, just in ca-case you wanted some time alone…Or something.” He replied quietly.

”I would’ve told you if I did.” You commented, already shifting the blankets back for him. Watching as he moved carefully like he didn’t want to possibly disturb the sanctity of your room. He tiptoed towards your bed, slipping beneath the covers slowly, like he was easing himself into a body of water. The moment he settled beside you and adjusted slightly against your memory foam mattress, you placed your book behind you on the nightstand and turned onto your side to face him.

He took a few deep breaths–each one a little steadier than the last–before mirroring your position, turning onto his side to face you in the hush. You opened your arms for him without a word, and he slid into the space like he belonged there, like your embrace was the only place his body remembered how to breathe.

His legs tangled with yours under the blankets in a natural sprawl, his limbs looping around you until you could hardly tell where one of you ended and the other began. One of his arms slid beneath your side, the other curled around your back, palm splayed between your shoulder blades. He was the pure embodiment of heat, all soft cotton and quiet strength, chest rising and falling against yours in a rhythm that slowly began to match your own.

Your fingers found the tie that held his hair back away from his face, and you unfastened it slowly, allowing the strands to fall loose in messy waves. They slipped through your fingers like warm silk as you threaded through them slowly, brushing the mane of hair gently with the patience of a saint. He nestled even closer to you, humming at the sensation, burying his nose into your shirt with a quiet exhale, warming the fabric.

Then, in a barely there, incoherent mumble that you had grown used to, he said “Always smell…Nice.”

You smiled at the comment, and rested your cheek against the crown of his head, breathing in the tea tree oil conditioner he used for his hair before folding yourself around him like he was something to protect, continuing to run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

His breath deepened again, lashes fluttering against your shirt, muscles relaxing into you like melting wax.

You were just beginning to slip into that warm, floaty drift of half-sleep, your body starting to give itself over to stillness, when–

Tap. Tap tap. Tap.

Your eyes opened at the familiar rhythm, lids heavy with sleep but not enough to miss it–tap, tap tap, tap–that cautious little code of his. You blinked once, and brought your gaze toward the door, your hand still resting in Bob’s hair, your other arm curled around his waist where he lay folded into you.

Bob stirred against your chest with a faint sigh, just enough to press his face deeper into your shirt, but not enough to fully register what was happening.

The door opened a crack.

Then a little wider.

And there stood Bucky.

His silhouette cut a dark shape against the dim hallway glow, his hair tousled from sleep or tossing in bed, his black t-shirt clinging to his shoulders and biceps, and the familiar flannel pajama pants–blue, slightly rumpled, soft from years of wear–hanging low on his hips. His bare feet were silent on the hardwood, his black vibranium arm glinting just slightly in the low light.

He stopped in the doorway, startled. You watched his expression shift–guarded first, then confused, then…Quietly resigned. His wide blue eyes landed on you. Then Bob. Then you again. You could see the flicker of understanding behind them, like this wasn’t a shock but still something he needed a second to register.

“Sorry,” He murmured. “I can come back.”

He was already beginning to turn, hand reaching to pull the door closed when you whispered, “Wait…No. It’s okay… You can come in.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, his hand tightening around the handle of the door, almost like he was considering listening to you. Then you felt Bob move against you, groggy but aware, head lifting slightly from your chest.

“Who is it?” He mumbled, voice rough with exhaustion, his words more vibration than sound. Your fingers halted in his hair for a moment as you glanced down at him.

”It’s Bucky…Is it okay if he joins us?’ There was barely a beat of hesitation before Bob gave a small sleepy nod against you, letting out a little sigh.

”Sure…I don’t want to im-impose on him getting sleep…” He commented, his words slurring with drowsiness, “We’ll have to deal with him if he’s grumpy tomorrow.” You huffed out a soft laugh, affection blooming in your chest like a second heartbeat.

“You’re definitely right on that,” You whispered, shifting him closer to you as he settled back into his place, his limbs going heavy against yours again, taking in slow pulls of air. You tilted your gaze back up to Bucky’s, seeing that he was still processing what was going on in front of him. You gave him a small nod.

”Come on, don’t be shy.” You whispered, motioning for him. He lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, eyes flicking to Bob curled against your chest, then back to you. He looked hesitant–like standing on the edge of something too tender to touch, unsure if he had the right to interrupt and intrude on something that was already so full of connection. But your expression didn’t waver, and the look in your eyes was welcoming and so warm…

So he took the plunge and crossed the room in a few quiet strides, the floorboards creaking just slightly beneath the heavy weight of his feet.

”Should I…” He started pausing near your light, “Should I turn this off?” You nodded.

”Yeah, that would be good, thank you.” The wall sconce flicked off with a tiny click, the room dimming all at once into shadow. The only light that remained spilled in through the window: soft, fractured glows from the city skyline–orange neon and cool blue flickers dancing faintly across your floorboards, the edge of your desk, and the lower halves of the curtains. It painted the room in a hush. A kind of peace that wrapped around the three of you like another blanket. You heard the gentle rustle of fabric as Bucky approached. Then the whisper of the comforter being tugged back. The mattress dipped slightly behind you, and you shifted just enough to give him space as he slid beneath the blankets.

Then the covers were drawn back over all of you–tucked in again, sealed into this private cocoon of silence, breaths, and body heat. Bucky settled in behind you, moving gently to adjust to the positioning without taking up too much space. His vibranium arm slid over your waist. It was cold at first, but it warmed quickly against your skin due to the heat that was entrapped beneath the covers–which was mainly caused by Bob’s overheating. The metal arm rested just slightly higher than Bob’s, like a second tether holding you in place. A quieter claim. A mirrored need.

Then slowly he slid his other arm beneath your pillow, seeking your free hand in the dark. You met him halfway, your fingers relaxing easily into his as he laced them together–skin to skin, his warmth grounding and familiar. His thumb stroked once across the back of your hand, then stilled, his chest expanding slowly against your back, before shifting downward, nuzzling himself closer until his beard grazed against the space between your shoulder blades. His breath was hot and steady through the thin cotton of your shirt as he melted into your body completely. Bob let out a small, breathy snore–just a little noise fluttering against you. You gave Bucky’s hand a soft squeeze beneath the pillow.

“You okay, Buck?” You whispered, your voice muffled by the hush of the blankets and Bob’s hair that was sticking up every which way beneath your chin. He nodded against your back, the scruffiness of his cheek dragging along the fabric of your shirt again.

”Definitely better now…” He murmured, his voice low and raw in that sleep-soft way. “But I don’t know how you survive this heat…Feels like the tropics.” You huffed a sleepy laugh, pressing a little closer to Bob just to prove your point.

“Imagine how it feels being pressed against it every other night, basically…You get used to it after a while.” Bucky gave a slow hum, almost like a chuckle trapped deep in his chest.

“I guess that’s true ’cause you got used to me…” He commented. At that, Bob shifted slightly, dragging his leg further between yours. His cheek nestled into the curve between your chest again, and you could feel the unmistakable warmth of drool beginning to soak through your shirt. You sighed, amused, and tilted your head toward Bucky.

“You say that like you’re a burden or something…” You whispered gently, brushing your thumb along the back of his hand. “Which isn’t even close to the truth.” Bucky didn’t say anything right away. Instead, his vibranium arm slid lower over your waist, the plates flexing softly before his palm splayed wide across your stomach. He tucked himself closer into your back, his breath slowing as he melted into you with a quiet intensity.

“Well…” He finally replied, barely audible, “…I’m glad you think that way.” Another snore rattled out of Bob–louder this time. He shifted again, adjusting his face against your chest, arms tightening around your waist again, not to pull you away from Bucky but to get even closer–if he could manage that.

A slow, sleepy smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“I think we should do this more often,” You murmured into the dark, the words barely more than a breath.

Bucky shifted behind you just slightly–enough for his nose to nudge against the curve of your spine. His hand squeezed yours gently, voice quiet and low against the shell of your ear.

“It’s not as awkward as I expected it to be…” He admitted, and you could feel the grin he tried to hide against your shirt. “So I wouldn’t object to the idea.”

You smirked, your voice light despite the weight of the bodies wrapped around you. “Well, I guess we’ll have to run it by Bob in the morning then…”

There was a pause.

Then, muffled against your chest, Bob let out a little grunt of awareness. “Good for…Me.”

That sent a puff of laughter out of both you and Bucky, breathy and brief and a little stunned–like the sound surprised you as it escaped. Not loud enough to disturb the peace of the room, but just enough to feel like a thread of gold had stitched its way into the quiet.

You closed your eyes, letting your body relax again between the two of them, tucked between metal and muscle and tangled limbs, feeling every inch of warmth and closeness.

Bucky adjusted his hold, pulling you just a little closer, while Bob let out another soft, sleep-heavy sigh and nosed further into your chest, content.

Outside, the rain whispered like a lullaby.

the offices' local radio came through scratchy croon of bing cosby singing a holiday tune, giving the room an oddly cozy, old-fashioned atmosphere. you leaned against the edge fo your desk, speaking animatedly to cat, lois, and even jimmy. "i mean... really he's been everywhere these past few days. toy drives, shelters, the fire station this morning... and even stopped by leo's diner before the city woke up, made sure the tip jar was full. it's like he's everywhere, spreading cheer!" jimmy grinned, leaning forward. "sounds like superman's trying to earn extra brownie points for the holidays. i mean, the guy's basically a saint." his own big ear to eat smile brushing across his freckled face.

cat smirked, adjusting her glasses and giving you a pointed look. "oh, so you like him that much, huh?" her voice was playful, teasing but sharp enough to make your cheeks warm. lois, perched on the edge of her own desk, leaned back with her arms crossed and a mischievous glint in her eyes. "careful, clark might get jealous if he hears you gushing like that." you laughed softly, brushing the comment off, though a subtle fluster of warmth spread through you. "i'm just... noticing the good he's done, that's all. i appreciate it." from across the room, steve's plaful voice chimed in with a teasing drawl. "oh yeah, if you like that sort of thing, miss princess."

your smile faltered for just a moment, and you felt the faintest twinge of fluster rise in you chest. clark, who had been standing nearby pretemding to sort through a stack of papers, froze mid-motion. his glasses perched just so on the bridge of his nose, he adjusted them with the tip of his finger, though his eyes never left you. the office around you became background noise—the chatter, the clacking of keyboards, ringing of phones, it all seemed to blur into a soft hum as clark's gaze sharpened, observing every tiny inflection in your expression. you swallowed, suddenly very aware of him and his presence.

three months in, you still felt the little jolt that came whenever clark's attention was fully on you. and today, there was something more. something careful, watchful, protective. "clark." you whispered softly, almost to yourself. "i'm fine." he stepped slightly closer, the air between you contracting in the smallest, unspoken way. "i know." he said, voice low, calm and measured. "i just-i noticed." his jaw tightened ever so slightly, a subtle flash of possesiveness crossing his expression, though he quickly masked it behind the familiar, mild-mannered calm of clark kent. you glanced back at your co-workers, trying to laugh it off.

even cat's knowing smirk couldn't distract you from the tension humming quietly between you and clark. "i think she's fine." jimmy said, his obliviousness to to the silent battle of attention and sublte energy happening right next to him. "she's more than fine." clark murmured under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear. his shoulder brushed yours slightly, a movement so sublte it could have been accidental, but you knew better. your hand brushed briefly against his as you shifted your papers. clark's thumb moved instinctively to trcae a light circle on your wrist,possesive protective, but impossibly gentle.

your stomach fluttered at the touch, warmth spreading through you like the first sip of hot cocoa on a cold day. "clark..." your voice softlu murmured, trying to tease, trying to keep your voice casual. "you don't have to hover." he smiled softly, not enough to reach his eyes. "i'm not hovering." he said softly, a corner of his mouth twitched ina ghost of a smile. "i'm making sure you're comfortable, safe." a blush crept over your cheeks, and you leaned just a little closer, letting your shoulder brush against his. he didn't move away, in fact, he adjusted slightly, draping his arms over the back of your chair in a protective cocoon. it was sublte but deliberate.

the office seemed to melt around you, leaving only the two of you in a quiet bubble amid the christmas office bustle. cat, not missing a beat, tilted her head and quipped. "careful, clark. you're giving off serious santa-with-the-cookies vibes, and it's boderline threatening in the best way." lois, stifled a laugh behind her hand, eyes flickering between you and clark with an unmistakable curiosity. "i get it now." she murmured, just loud enough to be annoying. "you talk about superman like that, and suddenly kent's hovering like a guard dog." steve, completely oblivious, leaned against your desk with a grin. "yeah, it's kinda adorable.

big superhero crush, huh?" before you could even form a response, clark's chair scraped back, loud, sudden. "that's enough." the bullpen quited in an instant. steve blinked, caught off guard. lois' brows lifted, surprise flickering across her face. clark stood there, broad shoulders squared, jaw tight in a way you'd only seen a handful of times, the way it got when someone crossed a line. "you don't get to comment to her like that." clark said, voice firm, no stutter, no awkward kent softness like usual. "not as a joke, not ever." lois opened her mouth, jimmy's comment trying to ease the tension here.

"clark buddy, relax." his eyes snapped up to jimmy. "no!" he snapped himself, sharper now, eyes flashing. "you relax, olsen." a beat of stunned silence followed. jimmy's grin falters, as cat watches with open interest, lips pursed like she was filing this away for later. steve muttered something under his breath and backed-off, auddenly very interested in his monitor. perry's office door cracked open enough for his voice to carry. "kent." he warned, "bullpen." clark exhaled slowly, visibly reigning himself in. "sorry, cheif." the words were polite, the edge beneath them not so much. he sat back down, the chair creaking underneath his weight, but he didn't dare move away from you.

if anything, clark shifted closer to you. your pulse was loud in your ears as you leaned toward him, voice low. "clark..." you murmured, "you didn't have to-" his voice in a low murmur alike yours cuts you off gently, "yes, i did." his hand finds yours under the desk, fingers warm, steady and possessive. his thumb brushed your knuckles once, in a slow grounding way. "it's... complicated." you said quietly, more to fill the space than anything else. clark's gaze softened immediately when he looked at you. the tension drained from his shoulders, replaces by something private. something only you ever got to see. "it's not complicated..." his said under his breath "just mine."

and your breath hitched then, ever so quietly so no one lese could hear his voice, it came. "you know." he murmured, lips barley moving, "i could hear his heartbeat spike from acorss the room." your eyes widened, a mix of shock and heat flooding to your chest. "clark." you warned. "i could hear yours too." he added softly, a dangerous hintog a smile tugging at his mouth. "son't pretend you weren't affected." you swallow, your cheeks pinked. "your using thst agaisnt me." you stated squeezing his fingers. "only a little." he said his thumb pressing more firmly into your hand. "and only because you're safe with me."

outside, the snow had came to a gentle still, snowflakes drifiting lazily past the windows, blanketing into the snow on metropolis' streets in a quiet white field. the office lights had glowed warm and golden, but the heat curling through you had nothing to do with them. "you know..." you whispered, leaning into him just enough for your hair to brush his shoulder, "you're doing a very good job. even without your cape, superman." clark's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "careful." he warned, teasingly. "you know i don't always leave it at home." you laughed softly, your cheek brushing his chest as you leaned closer.

he was solid, steady and unmistakably there. his arm shifted behind you, still protective without being obvious, his own version of restraint. cat smirked from her desk. "wow! someone's taking wprkplace loyalty very seriously." lois rolled her eyes, though there was a small smile tugging her lips there too. "she's glowing, kent. try not to scare the newsroom into thinking you've grown a backbone overnight." jimmy lifted a candy cane like a mircophone. "for the record, i', scared- but i'm also impressed." clark ignored them all, as his hand rose and brushed a strand of hair from your face. tucking it sweetly, behind your ear with deliberate care.

his breath was warm against your temple when he whispered, "i've got you." your fingers intertwined with his, natural as breathing. "for everything." he added quietly. "always, sweetheart." the bullpen noise faded once again, dissolving into a cozy background hum. foreheads brushed, with shared smiles passed between you two like secrects. snow silent as you looked into each other's eyes for the millionth time. bing crosby's voice crooned faintly still on the radio. clark adjusted your scarf once. his touch lingering just enough to make your heart stumble. "i've got you, sweetheart." he repeated, softer still. "and no one else needs to." you pressed into him closer, laughting warmly as a quiet glow formed inside your chest.

"i know." you whispered, "i wouldn't have it any other way, clark." and there, beneath twinking white and mutli coloured lights, surrounded by the smell of ink and stale coffee, with the printer wiring to life and cooling down. surrounded by the snow and frosty ice, with christmas warmth, you knew it was true. the world could be loud and dangerous but also unpredictable. but with your beau, clark kent. you were, protected, chosen, and most importantly his.

author's note cont.

thank you so much for reading this little cozy moment with clark. i had the softest time writing this, snow-outside-the-window energy and all, and i hope it felt like a gentle exhale for you too. thank you for being here, for supporting my writing, and for making this space feel so safe and special. thank you to my mutuals and readers and passer-byers who've been here, hyping me up, and making this whole kinkmas experience feel so warm and special. writing this felt like wrapping myself in a cpzy sweater and letting clark do what he does best: protect quietly but completely. all the love, lae 🍓

~*~ the strawberry patch ~*~

you hadn't expected to find him like this.

"giyuu?" you said, stepping onto the engawa. "are you—"

he turned his head.

and oh.

his cheeks were pink. not the usual pale flush of exertion or embarrassment—this was a soft, warm pink that spread all the way to the tips of his ears. his eyes were slightly unfocused, and when he looked at you, he blinked slowly, like he was trying to process your existence.

"oh," he said. "it's you."

"yeah. it's me." you sat down beside him, close enough to see the way his pupils were a little too wide. "how much did you drink?"

"not that much."

"giyuu."

"…maybe that much."

you sighed, but you couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. this was new. you'd seen giyuu tired, injured, frustrated, cold. you'd never seen him like this—soft and loose-limbed and warm.

"you should probably stop," you said gently.

"probably," he agreed. but he didn't move. he just kept looking at you, like you were something interesting he hadn't noticed before.

"what?" you asked.

"you have a nice face," he said.

you blinked. "what?"

"a nice face." he said it so matter-of-factly, like he was commenting on the weather. "i've always thought so. i just never said it."

your heart did something strange in your chest. "you—you've never said that before."

"i know." he frowned, like he was disappointed in himself. "i don't say a lot of things."

"you really don't."

"i should say more things." he turned to face you fully, and the movement made him sway slightly. you reached out instinctively, your hand landing on his arm to steady him. "you're always saying things. good things. kind things. you patched me up and you didn't even complain when i was difficult."

"you weren't difficult."

"i was. i always am." he looked down at your hand on his arm, then back up at your face. "you're still here anyway."

"of course i'm here. we're recovering together."

"no." he shook his head, and the motion was so earnest, so oddly vulnerable, that it made your breath catch. "i mean—you're always here. you stay. even when i don't say anything. even when i'm—" he gestured vaguely at himself, "—like this."

"like what?"

"quiet. boring. bad at—" he paused, searching for the word, "—people."

"you're not boring."

"i am."

"you're not," you said firmly. "you're just—you're careful. there's a difference."

he stared at you for a long moment. then, very softly, he said, "you're nice to me."

"of course i'm nice to you. you're—" you stopped. swallowed. "you're my friend."

"friend," he repeated, and there was something almost sad in his voice. "right."

the silence stretched between you, filled with the sound of wind through the wisteria and the distant chirping of crickets. giyuu's hand was still under yours, warm and solid, and you couldn't bring yourself to let go.

"giyuu," you said quietly, "what did you mean by that? when you said 'friend' like that?"

he didn't answer right away. he seemed to be thinking, his brow furrowed in that way it always did when he was trying to find the right words.

"i don't want to be just your friend," he finally said.

your heart stopped.

"what?"

"i want—" he paused, and you could see him fighting through the fog of alcohol, trying to be clear. "i want to be more. i think about you when you're not there. i think about your hands. your voice. the way you smile at me even when i don't deserve it." he looked at you, and his eyes were so honest, so open, that it hurt. "i've wanted that for a long time. i just didn't know how to say it."

you couldn't breathe.

"giyuu—"

"you don't have to say anything," he said quickly, and now there was a hint of panic in his voice, like he was already regretting it. "i know i'm—i'm not good at this. i'm not good at any of this. and the sake is making me say things i shouldn't—"

"giyuu."

"—and i don't want to make you uncomfortable, so you can just forget i said anything—"

"giyuu."

he stopped.

you reached up and cupped his face in your hands. his skin was warm, and he went very, very still, like he was afraid to move and break whatever this was.

"i like you too," you said softly. "i've liked you for a long time. i just didn't think you'd ever—"

"really?"

"really."

he stared at you. then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—not his usual tight, careful smile, but something real and open and almost disbelieving. it made him look younger. softer.

"you're not joking?" he asked.

"i'm not joking."

"you're sure?"

"i'm sure, giyuu."

he let out a breath, and some of the tension bled out of his shoulders. and then, before you could say anything else, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours.

"okay," he murmured. "good. that's—that's good."

you laughed, soft and a little breathless. "yeah. it is."

his hand found yours, fingers intertwining. his eyes were closed, and his breathing was slow and even, and you realized with a start that he was falling asleep.

"giyuu?"

"mm?"

"you're falling asleep."

"i know." he shifted closer, his head dropping to your shoulder. "you're warm."

"you're drunk."

"maybe." he nuzzled into your neck, and you could feel his smile against your skin. "still warm."

you wrapped your arm around him, pulling him closer. the wisteria swayed gently above you, and the night was quiet and still, and giyuu tomioka was asleep on your shoulder with his hand in yours and the softest expression on his face.

you pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"you're really cute when you're tipsy," you murmured.

"i know," he mumbled, half-asleep.