you don’t think you’ve ever seen hanma look so…pouty.
he says he isn’t pouting, but when he sits in the large bathtub with his lower body submerged in the water, his arms on each side of the bathtub, flushed cheeks and pursed lips—it’s hard to believe that he isn’t pouting.
or take him seriously.
“you’re enjoying it, huh?” you’re getting ready for bed, knowing that keeping him company was the only solution to his silence. plus, the two of you were a little too attached to one another. when he refuses to respond, you turn to him with a hand on your hip.
“baby, for how long are you going to keep pouting about it?”
“not pouting.” it’s hilarious, really. his deep voice and his tattooed, muscular body should make him appear to be more intimidating but when he refuses to even look at you—you stifle a laugh.
“of course, shuji. you’re not pouting.”
after a long beat of silence, you start to put away your skincare products and notice that your husband is eyeing you the whole time. you bite down on your lip, pretending to busy yourself with one of the drawers under the sink.
“not even gonna ask me again.“
there it is.
you look over your shoulder as he starts to speak, before fully leaning against the door frame.
“what was that?"
"you won't ask me again what's wrong." how can a criminal look so... childish?
"I asked you four times, baby."
"I was going to tell you on the fifth."
you sigh. hanma isn't like this with everyone, you knew he only showed this side because he trusted you with his entire soul.
"okay then, what's wrong?"
"well now I don't want to say."
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