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puma-riki · 2 days ago

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⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 𝒜 𝐻 𝓊 𝓃 𝒹 𝓇 𝑒 𝒹 𝒮 𝓁 𝑒 𝑒 𝓅 𝓁 𝑒 𝓈 𝓈 𝒩 𝒾 𝑔 𝒽 𝓉 𝓈

۶ৎ ʟᴇᴇ ʜᴇᴇꜱᴇᴜɴɢ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

୨ৎ 𝒮 𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈 ~ Heeseung accidentally lets his secret slip in his sleep

𖹭 𝒢 𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒 ~ Fluff a smidge of angst

𖹭 𝒲 𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ~ Not proofread Heeseung has a bit of self-doubt (just a lil)

𖹭 𝒜 𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝒩 𝑜𝓉𝑒 ~ take this draft while I work on the next riki smau update. The next update is written so if it's not perfect I can't post it BEAR WITH ME. I got this idea from a TikTok abt ppls fiancée's being incredibly nervous before proposing and being painfully obvious about it LMAO

── .✦

Heeseung was exhausted.

He trudged through the door of your apartment, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft thud. The weight of the day pressed on his shoulders like a lead cloak he couldn't shrug off. His muscles ached from the hours of dance practice, and his throat was raw from recording in the studio. Even though the day had been long, his mind wasn't on the new choreography or the endless takes of content they had filmed.

It was on you.

As he slipped off his shoes at the door and padded into your room, his thoughts swirled. The small velvet box in his bag felt heavier than it should, tucked carefully between a change of clothes, and a water bottle. He dropped the bag onto the floor by the nightstand, staring at it for a moment before carefully pulling out the box.

He opened it, letting the dim light of the room catch the sparkle of the diamond. It sparkled like a fragment of a star

Is this enough?

The question struck him like it had every night since he bought the ring. Heeseung thumbed the velvet edges of the box, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

You're going to say yes... right?

He closed the box with a snap, shaking his head to clear the self-doubt. Heeseung loved you more than anything and he wanted this moment to be perfect for you-- a story you'd both tell for years. But as much as he tried, nothing felt good enough.

His mind replayed the day's events as he stepped in the shower, hoping the warm water would wash away his worries. Hours spent perfecting choreography, filming promotional content with the guys, then heading straight to the studio to work on their upcoming track. By the time they had wrapped up, it was already close to midnight. He'd pushed himself through the day, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and nerves, but as he went through his nighttime routine alone in your apartment, he felt the exhaustion set in.

Still, his thoughts were restless. He had written about a million things he could say to you, to lay his heart bare in front of you, and none of them felt right. His notes app was flooded with scrapped speeches and unfinished confessions.

You deserved a proposal straight out of a movie. Everything down to the time he popped the question, had to be perfect. He thought about proposing on New year's, but was he about to share what was supposed to be your guy's day with the whole world?

Absolutely not.

The place had to be stunning. Should he take you to dinner? One of the really fancy and expensive ones? Maybe not, that was too cliche.

The place you first met? Or maybe on a beach? No, it was too cold for the beach around this time of year. You'd probably like a smaller and more intimate place anyway.

But the scariest part was this:

Would you even say yes?

He was ready to wife you up the moment you laughed at one of his dumb jokes-- one that wasn't even funny-- and then you told him he was stupid right after, but you said it in a way that gave him heartburn.

He was ready, but are you? Did you even think he was husband material?

He had reached out to your family after he bought the ring. The gentlemanly thing to do was to get permission from your parents before he asked, of course, he would've married you whether they gave him permission to or not. They were enthusiastic about it. They had been sending him praise and encouragement over the phone since he last called, saying you'd definitely say yes and more than happy.

But they weren't you.

Heeseung groaned and covered his face with the towel he'd been using to dry his hair. He needed to go to bed.

Now showered and dressed in pajama pants and a sleep shirt, he tucked himself under the cool covers of the bed. Your side was empty, and he didn't like how cold it felt. He checked his phone.

1:03 AM

You had told him earlier today that you would be out late with your friends. Much to his disappointment, he would have to go to bed alone. He'd be asleep when you got home and probably be up before you for work.

Heeseung put his phone down on the nightstand to charge and turned to your side of the bed. His eyelids felt heavy, and his worries and doubts were starting to become muffled as he sank into the plush mattress.

1:47 AM

You quietly crept into your bedroom, heels in hand to make sure you made as little sound as possible. The apartment was quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the steady rhythm of Heeseung's breathing. You glance over at the bed. He left his bedside lamp on, something he usually does when he knows you'll be coming home late. He's sprawled out on the bed, one arm thrown over his face as if shielding himself from dreams.

Your heart melts at the sight and a soft smile tugs at your lips as you move to the bathroom. The night had been fun, filled with laughter and stories from her friends, but this moment was your favorite part of the day. When you come home to Heeseung.

Once you freshen up, rid of makeup, and your pretty (but uncomfortable after a few hours) outfit, you turn off the bedside lamp and slide into bed carefully.

The mattress dipped under your weight as you tried to move as slow as possible to not wake him, although you knew how deep he slept after long days like this. Your gaze fell on him again, the dim light from the bustling city behind your window, casting a faint light on his face.

You reached out, fingers brushing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes. His chest rose and fell steadily and his body felt warm against yours as you moved closer. His face looked so soft, peaceful in sleep. His lips form a small pout as his cheek lays snugly against the pillow. A pout makes its way onto your face as you trace your thumb over the heavy shadows under his eyes.

Heeseung was always working hard. A little too hard. You could feel the stress radiating off of him the past 2 weeks. You'd boiled it down to him wanting to perform well with their packed schedule. Which is what it usually was, but you had heard that the group was doing just fine balancing everything and had every song and dance down to a T.

There was something else lingering on Heeseung's mind and you couldn't quite figure out what.

"My hard-working man," You murmur, hand resting on his cheek. "You need to rest more." You murmured again under your breath, squishing his cheeks gently between your fingers. He let out a soft snore in response, and you giggled, the cuteness aggression bubbling up inside you.

As you pulled your hand back, he stirred.. "Mmm... perfect." he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

You froze, stifling a laugh. "What's that, Hee?"

"...perfect... has to be perfect..."

You blinked, leaning in closer. "What has to be perfect, baby?" You whispered, brushing your fingers along his temple.

"...proposal.." he muttered, his brows furrowing slightly. "I dunno... if the rings enough... dunno if she'll like it.."

Your breath caught, eyes widening as you realized what he was saying. A flush crept up your cheeks, and you lips curled into a soft smile. "Oh, Heeseung," You murmured, voice barely audible. You seriously wanted to smother him he was so cute.

"She deserves the best... better than me..." His words slurred together, his hand that was resting on your pillow twitching slightly.

Your chest ached at the vulnerability in his voice, even in sleep. You grabbed his twitching hand and held it in yours, placing a kiss on the knuckle of his ring finger. Your thumb gently stroked his skin as you whispered, "You're already the best, silly. Nothing else matters"

"...What if she says.. no"

The words were so soft, almost a whisper, but they broke your heart a little. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead as you blinked back small tears that were starting to form. "You're such an idiot," you whispered against his skin. "I'd say yes to you a hundred times over."

Heeseung sighed in his sleep, his body relaxing against your touch. You laughed quietly to yourself, shaking your head. "My hard-working, overthinking man," Wrapping your arms around him and holding him close to your chest.

5:13 AM

Heeseung stirs awake, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains and painting the room in a golden glow. He blinks a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light, only to find you already awake and tracing the bridge of his nose with your pointer finger.

"Hi," he mumbled, his voice raspy with sleep.

"Hi," Your voice was so quiet, he would've missed it if he wasn't so close to you. A small grin formed on his face as his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Were you watching me in my sleep, you weirdo?"

You smiled softly, a quiet laugh threatening to fall from your lips. "Maybe, You're cute when you're asleep."

"Oh, yeah?" Heeseung smirked, his hand slipping under your shirt to pinch your side, earning a squeal from you. "And what about when I'm awake?"

You squirmed in his hold, laughter spilling out of you as you tried to push his cold hand away from you," You're quite annoying actually."

"Rude." He mumbled, relenting and holding you tight against his chest. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart grounded you, your earlier excitement now mingling with contentment.

"Why are you awake so early?" he asked, pressing his chin lightly to the top of your head as he began to play with the ends of your hair.

You shrugged, trying to act casual. "I couldn't sleep."

"Couldn't sleep?" Heeseung echoed, his fingers absent mindedly tracing patterns on your back, "Why not?"

"Just... thinking," You murmured, your cheeks warming at the memory of his sleep-talking confession just hours earlier.

He hummed, though his curiosity didn't press. The comfortable silence stretched between you until his voice broke it.

"Hey,"

"Hm?"

"If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you want to go?"

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your face thoughtful for a moment as you looked off to the side and pursed your lips.

Cute.

Your face softened into a smile as your eyes met his. For a moment, his wide, doe-like eyes shimmered, gazing at you as if you had taken the night sky and laid it at his feet

"Anywhere, as long as I'm with you."

Heeseung blinked, his eyes wide for a split second before he let out a soft laugh, his hand coming up to squish your cheeks.

"You're so corny."

"Hey, you asked," You shot back, though your grin only widened when he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. Then your nose. Then your cheek and your jaw.

"I could also see you blushing" You giggled, face scrunched as he pressed another kiss to your cheek.

"Mmm.. I wasn't blushing." He mumbled into your cheek. His arm holding you impossibly closer to him.

"Yes, you were," You laughed, trying to squirm out of his hold again.

"Prove it then." He challenged pulling away from your face and holding your head close to his neck to prevent you from seeing his face.

"Hey!" Your protests came muffled against his skin and the pillow.

"Shhh, go back to sleep." You roll your eyes but give up anyway. The position you were in was comfortable and heeseung's warmth made your eyelids grow heavy.

"Hey, how do you feel about beaches in the winter?"

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐚��𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧!)ᯓ★ | @jiiyen @yangjungwonnie @amoressb @sugarikiz @stvrriki

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 15 hours ago

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women in male fields

fratboy!jaehyun x reader

summary: you’re fully aware you’re dating a reformed fuckboy/fratiest fratboy to exist but that doesn’t mean he can get away with acting like a douche without a taste of his own medicine… OR the 3 times sweetheart finds herself acting like a fuckboy and the 1 time Jaehyun calls her out

word count: 3.5k

warnings: swearing, fuckboy behavior, mentions of alcohol, Americanized college described (l'm American), pet names (sweetie, sweets, sweeteart, sweet girl) in order to avoid using y/n, Imk if I missed anything!

a/n: there was something completely magical in my Chili’s triple dipper because I sat down and pounded this out for 4 hours with minimal breaks! I’d had this idea for a while but figured I’d get it out before everyone forgot about the #womeninmalefields TikTok trend. Feedback is appreciated!

Timeline-wise let’s say this is about 4-6 months into Jae and Sweetheart being a couple

This story is a part of my fratboy!Jaehyun universe!

dividers from cafekitsune

You weren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Jung Jaehyun, one of the most fratboy fratboys to ever exist. You had been around for the parties, for the handful of nights where he overdid it and got sick, countless nights of standing by to watch him play beer pong, no dates on Sunday evenings because of frat meetings, and a couple philanthropic events. You were used to a lot of it by now.

But your boyfriend had adapted himself so well to this role that you honestly kind of hated some of his behaviors. He had changed some habits, of course. He was no longer the fuckboy fratboy that slept around, no, he was committed to you and you alone. He made some effort into being romantic which took some work since his idea of romance was sending you a daily Snapchat for your streak with a red heart. Gross. Now, he got you flowers occasionally and your favorite snacks. His room used to be an absolute pigsty and now he at the very least he shoved his mess under the bed so you didn’t see.

Then there were some habits that didn’t change and you were tired of them. Beyond tired of them. You were tired of him passively listening, barely paying attention to you, being kind of an asshole, and just being a gross guy. So you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. If he could do all these things and you could still like him, why wouldn't he still like you?

It had started when you texted Jaehyun on a Thursday afternoon and he didn’t respond until Saturday afternoon. It had been nothing urgent, but you were still annoyed. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this. In fact, it was a horrible habit of his. He started a conversation or read a text you sent and just never responded. You knew now, based on experience and the other guys telling you, that Jaehyun sucked at texting. He would still post on Instagram or Snapchat, posting various athletes like they were his friends and promoting frat activities like normal. It was almost like he forgot that the primary function of a phone was to communicate. Good thing he was pretty!

It didn’t make it any less annoying that your boyfriend didn't care to change this habit for you though, so when he finally texted you back, you decided to give him the same treatment. Saturday came to an end and you didn’t text back. Sunday was the same and so was Monday. He texted you countless times, so many questions, random updates on his day, and asking you if you were ok or if he should send help to your dorm. So when you knocked on the door Tuesday afternoon scrolling on your phone when Jaehyun opened the door. It was pretty safe to say he was pretty confused.

“Where have you been? You didn’t answer any of my texts,” Jaehyun asked while he led the two of you upstairs.

You hummed noncommittally, your eyes not leaving the screen of your phone, “oh yeah, my phone broke. My bad.”

Jaehyun opened his mouth to argue, ready to tell you that he had seen you posting on your stories, your phone didn’t look new, and he had heard you on FaceTime with Haechan just yesterday. That you were literally scrolling through Instagram when he opened the door, but he didn’t say anything. He just pulled you into his arms, and pulled up the most recent episode of one of your shows.

He couldn’t really complain if you were here with him now, right? You were in his bed, in his arms, laying on his chest. Everything was fine. A few days of no contact was normal and you both had a good enough relationship where it shouldn’t bother him, right? But it did…

The next time Jaehyun pissed you off was just a week later. He had proven to be a little extra clingy after his punishment of silence and that was good enough for you. It had been enough to hold you off with some of his, less than perfect behavior, until the next time he messed up. Sure, enough it was just 7 days later when he acted stupid again. And it was time for him to learn again. Sometimes he just had to learn to not do something by doing it and learning the consequences. Like a child… or a pet.

Jaehyun had had a stressful week. You knew that, he had told you about it the last time you saw him just yesterday, so you did feel kinda bad for deciding to pull this out of your sleeve now. How was he going to learn if you never tried to fix it though?

Jaehyun was pacing around his room, running a hand down his face and staring at the email that basically told him nothing from their partner sorority. He was social chair, so he was in charge of planning mixers. That’s exactly what he was trying to do! But the Kappa social chair was either knowingly being a pain in the ass or just naturally was a pain in the ass. How was it useful for Jaehyun to know when a handful of sisters all had an astronomy class?! Why did that matter when he was asking her to choose from a handful of dates he’d already chosen?!

Not only was this sorority social chair being annoying, Taeyong had been on his ass to plan some kind of sponsored philanthropic event, but everyone Nu Chi had worked with previously was being so difficult! No one was returning a single one of his emails, he spent his afternoons on hold or making calls, and just getting in contact with new companies and vendors just took so much effort. He currently had one sponsor, which was fine, whatever. But nothing Nu Chi Theta did while Jaehyun was social chair was ever just fine. Fine was acceptable for Alpha Sig’s but not for Nu Chi’s. He would need at least two more sponsors to reach the level of finery he was used to working with.

So that’s what Jaehyun was texting you about, his fingers tapping across the small screen of his phone while he put all his ranting and raving into words and sent off the text with a sigh of relief. You would talk him down, get him through his stress, and give him some advice for his problems. Then he’d feel like a new man, ready to tackle his problems with a clear head just like you always did for him. Just the thought of your advice had him smiling down at his phone while he added ‘sorry, about that. had to vent. how was your day sweets?’ and sent it your way.

On your end, you read through the long text ready to reply and give him some advice and offer your own help, but then you remembered… You remembered how just a few days ago you were venting to him about a small argument you and Ari, your roommate, had gotten into, and he showed no signs of actually listening. You went to him for a reason! He had at least 10 roommates, he never had complaints about any of them, so it wasn’t like you were talking just to talk! You wanted your boyfriend to give you some advice like you always gave him, but all you got was a “damn... Wanna order me some wings?” You had to physically keep jaw from dropping. God, he could be such a fucking guy sometimes! It was like talking to a fucking wall! Albeit a very good looking, handsome wall, but a wall nonetheless.

It was time for him to get yet another taste of his own medicine. Instead of taking the time to offer your advice or offer your help, you smirked, staring at your screen as you typed out, ‘that sucks’. Next text, ‘My day was chill, kinda hungry … send me door dash?’

On his end, Jaehyun stared at the screen with blatant confusion, watching as the minutes ticked by while he waited for some long paragraph with solutions and encouragement to be sent his way. After five minutes nothing came. The same after 10. No change after 20 and then he sets his phone aside feeling grumpy and pissy. Why wasn’t his girlfriend helping him? Did you even read his message?

And he couldn’t exactly call you out on it because it wasn’t an issue between the both of you. They were problems he had before you guys were together sure, but he liked having you to lean on now. He sighed tiredly, resting his chin atop his folded arms with a pout while staring at his dark screen and willing you to text him back again so all his issues would be just one step closer to being fixed.

His heart skipped a beat when the screen lit up and he saw the familiar combination of emojis used for your contact. He reached for his phone eagerly, feeling his heart soar at the anticipated text where you would help him solve his issues. But his face fell into a frown and he groaned out loudly at the words on his screen: ‘is my food on its way yet?’

The last reciprocation of his fuckboy energy was probably the worst. You honestly don’t know how you let Jaehyun get away with it practically unscathed, but karma was coming around now and she wasn’t merciful. It was your pièce de résistance, the cherry on top of your fuckboy sundae, your magnum opus, your masterpiece.

To give Jaehyun some credit, it had been a while since he had dated a woman for a long period of time, or really, dated any woman at all. Maybe he had forgotten some very basic decorum and manners as far as ways to act and things to say or not say. Just yesterday you had been complaining about your professor being very vague in the instructions for your assignment, and even more vague when you emailed him to ask for clarity. “Like the instructions make it sound so simple, but it can’t be that simple if this project accounts for 30% of our grade! Like hello, is it hard to reply to an email with words that actually fucking mean something?” You groaned, running your fingers through your hair while you texted your project group chat what your professor had replied.

Jaehyun chuckled, running a calming hand down your back, focusing his relaxing touch on your lower back as his fingers kneaded at your muscles, “chill out sweetheart, I think you’re making this a bigger deal than it actually is.”

You sent him an unamused look from the corner of your eye, “chill out? Jae, I just said this project accounts for a third of my grade. I can’t be chill about this.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder, “are you… you know?”

Your fingers froze over your keyboard, waiting for his next words, giving him a chance to backtrack. He stayed silent and waited patiently. You exhaled, speaking in a voice that was all too eerily calm, “Am I what, Jaehyun?”

“Are you on your period? You just seem extra worked up about something kind of pointless.” He replied casually, his fingers continuing to work at your lower back. The exact area you had once confessed hurt you so bad you could barely stand in the first couple days of your period. This- somewhat thoughtful- little shit!

You smacked his hands away while you closed your laptop and gathered your things in a hurry, mumbling, “you’re such an asshole sometimes.”

Jaehyun stared at you in shock, an asshole? He was being an asshole for caring about his girlfriend’s well-being? “Sweetheart, it’s just that you seem to be making a bigger deal out of this than it actually is,” he tried to explain.

You held a hand up, silencing him, ”every time you open your mouth, you dig yourself into a deeper hole. No, I’m not on my period. Yes, it is a big deal and yes, I’m actually leaving. Good night and goodbye.”

This very conversation had been playing on repeat in your mind while Jaehyun vented to you about Johnny being up his ass about new recruits being low as he paced around his room. “I mean, it shouldn’t be solely on my shoulders if recruits are low. There are plenty of brothers who don’t have as many responsibilities as I do. Like, I barely figured out the whole sponsored mess with Taeyong and now Johnny decided to stick his foot up my ass too. Can I get a fucking break or something?!” He ranted passionately.

You stared at him blankly from your seated position on his bed, forcing your smirk to stay hidden. “Is it… you know?” You began to ask.

“Is it stressful? Hell yeah it is, I mean shouldn't we have any and all brothers taking turns trying to recruit. I mean that’s why I take my time to throw mixers, parties, and sponsored events that kick ass so that people want to join,” Jaehyun replied with a tired sigh.

“No,” you laughed softly, “is it like your time of the month? You seem to be making a big deal out of nothing?”

When Jaehyun turned to you with his eyes wide in astonishment, he expected to see you laughing it off playfully. He expected for you to confess that you were just kidding and kiss him sweetly. But you cocked your head to the side and raised a brow as if to ask, ‘what’s the problem?’

After that, Jaehyun was quick to rise to his feet, pinning you with a heated stare. “What the hell has been up with you? You've been acting… grimy for like the last month.”

You laughed in astonishment, “I’ve been acting grimy? Huh, then imagine how I feel on a regular basis!”

“You?! Sweets, you’ve been acting like a douche! Like when you didn’t respond to me for days even though you were posting like normal and you lied about your phone being broken! Like, hello! You were on Instagram right in front of my face with the same crack on your screen since I’ve known you!”

You raised a brow, holding back an amused smirk, “that’s all? I don’t reply for a couple days and now I’m a douche? Babe, you’re being like really emotional right now, calm down.”

“And that too!” Jaehyun exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “why are you asking me if it’s my time of the month when I’m talking about something that’s bothering me? I want you to support me. You did the same thing when I texted you looking for advice when I was handling the whole mixers and sponsors thing.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “well, I don’t know what you want me to say right now.”

Jaehyun raised his brows and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what the hell he was hearing. Was he in some kind of alternate universe? Had aliens come down and planted worms in your brain? What happened to his sweet girlfriend?! “Well, an apology would be really nice,” he replies while cocking his head at you.

“And have you ever apologized to me for any of that same behavior?” You ask in a calm voice.

“Wha- me apologize?! This isn’t about me! It’s about you!”

“Oh, so it’s only a problem when I act like this and not you? Got it.”

“When?! When have I acted like you?” Jaehyun asks in exasperation, eyes wide with shocked confusion.

“Hmmm. Let me think!” You exclaim before dramatically placing the tip of your finger on your chin, “just like everyday we’ve been together, you dummy!”

“Give me examples. I can’t believe this.”

“Alright, how about how I’ve had to train you like some kind of pet to learn some very basic texting etiquette? I let you get away with being a shitty texter for months and the one time I do it, you go crazy. I got used to not getting a response from you after days on end and I act like you did one time and you almost call campus security to my dorm to see if I’m alive,” you state, counting out a single finger.

With the next finger, “I come to you for advice regarding my single roommate considering you have like a hundred of them, and what do you do? You say, damn, buy me wings? Who the fuck does that?! So it didn’t feel very good when I did it to you, huh? Did you like looking for advice only to be hit with some bullshit response and then asked for food? Which I never got by the way!”

Third finger, “And just now. Oh no, did you not like being told your issue meant nothing? Awww, mmmm, are you sad?” You pull your face into a very sarcastic sad face, “now imagine how I feel when you asked me if I was on my fucking period?! Like, have you never been around someone with a vagina? Even Mark and Haechan who barely pull know better than to ask some shit like that! And these are just three of your douchebag behaviors! Shall I continue, Mr. so called I’m-perfect-and-can-never-make-mistakes-because-that-would-be-impossible!”

Jaehyun stood speechless. Was he really that bad? Well, clearly he was. He had to admit he didn’t think he was this bad. He had been really good about adapting to his new role as a boyfriend and thought everything else that came his way was just going to be easy to handle. Apparently, he hadn’t handled it all the right way.

“I didn’t realize I was this bad, I’m sorry. Wow,” Jaehyun sighed, sitting on the bed with his folded over his mouth, “sweetheart, I’m really sorry.”

But that was another way Jaehyun had adapted. He didn’t start arguments while being hard headed, he listened when the issue was serious, he accepted wrong doing, and made changes.

You crawled across his bed, sitting beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have been petty. I should have told you these things bothered me in the moment instead of using them against you… but it was kinda fun.”

Jaehyun rested his head atop yours and chuckled softly, “I think I’m really glad you’re not one of the frat guys because we’d always have girls in here yelling about you gaslighting them. How did you handle me doing this for so long?”

“It helps that you listen when it matters. You’re sweet, you can be romantic, you care about me, you make an effort for me, I can tell you’re trying to be better for me even if it doesn’t all come easily for me,” you explain in a calm voice, “and you’re hot as hell, the abs don’t stop, and you keep that body nice and tight for mama, don't you baby boy?”

Your cackle rings out across his room while he jumps away from you with flushed cheeks. “Don’t… don’t talk like that. It’s totally freaking me out!”

“Come on, babe,” you tease while deepening your voice playfully, “bring me that ass.”

You manage to grab him while he tries, and fails, to jump away. You playfully knead his (lack of) ass while grinning up at him. You pucker your lips, to which Jaehyun playfully rolls his eyes before kissing you sweetly. “I’m so glad you’re a girl because you would be an absolute terror as a guy,” he states while shaking his head and cupping your cheeks.

“I think I should rush, baby,” you respond playfully, “you could be my big, dude! Come on, bro!”

“Enough of this!” Jaehyun jokingly hisses, “I want my sweet girl back.”

“Fine,” you drawl out with pout, “let this be your lesson though, Jae. When you go low, I can go lower. And I will go lower.”

“Trust me, I’ve learned. I’ll be better at texting, I’ll be an active listener, I’ll give you advice when you need it, and I’ll never ask you if you’re on your period again,” Jaehyun nods.

“See, you’re such a great learner. Let’s go get you a treat, baby,” you smile sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before taking his hand and leading him down the stairs toward the kitchen.

“I don’t know how I feel about you talking to me like I’m a dog…”

You smile at him, “you like it.”

Jaehyun raises a brow, “do I?”

You hum, grabbing the ice cream from the freezer, “yup, you have a praise kink.”

Well, if you say so…

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct blurbs #fratboy!jaehyun #frat!jaehyun #frat!nct #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fic #jaehyun fluff

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mono-dot-jpeg · 3 days ago

Text

stupid e-couple - s. nagi

summary; convincing nagi to be your e-boy is surprisingly hard. how does one be so stubborn and so lazy at the same time?

genre/extra tags; one shot, based off of my other fic with kenma about league, fluff, comedy, nagi being nagi, league player ew (/j), i can say that bc im a league player, league terms and champ names are being thrown and no i will not elaborate on any of them, one (1) sexual joke literally at the start

word count; 567

[gender neutral reader]

"sei, you're a shit boyfriend."

"what about last night?"

you send him a withering glare. "seriously?" he looks at you with those stupid beady eyes that he always has. that slightly feigned innocence, he knows what's he's doing. he's a grown ass teenager. a stubborn one. but you were stubborn, too. "how are you so damn stubborn?!" you whip a pillow at his face, to which he doesn't even bother dodging. like the good boyfriend he was, he takes the pillow to the face and flops over on the bed pathetically.

"is this really that serious?"

"is it really that serious?" you mock him sarcastically. "god forbid i try to be cute with you."

"but you're so bad at xayah... why can't you just play support instead? you're so much better." he grumbled.

"but they're like the duo to play in the bot lane. plus, they're hot, just like us."

"but you're still bad at xayah."

"not the point, nagi!"

"why don't we just play like.. what we're good at?" he asked the obvious question that you were expecting. "like, you're good at lux.."

"what about playing lux ezreal?"

"i hate ezreal."

"but you're so good at him." you started filing through the mental list in your mind of bot support lane duos that couples would play to be insufferable fucks to their team.

"why do you want to do this anyways? we just match skins anyways.." he muttered tiredly as he flipped around on the bed, stomach down. his face buried into the pillows, listening to your antics. "are matching skins not enough for you?" he turned his head to rest his cheek on the pillow as he gives you that annoyingly endearing pout you've come to know and love.

"it is but, what if i just want to be cute with my boyfriend?"

he looks at your own pout on your lips. he has half a mind to kiss you so hard that you just ignore this issue until next time, but he's far too lazy right now.

"what about jinx ekko?" he asked.

"ekko is a jungler, baby."

"okay.. and? anyone can be a support if you try hard enough."

"people are going to report you."

he shrugged, "not the first time that's happened." it was clear that you both were at a standstill. neither of you were budging. but it's not like nagi wasn't denying your idea. he was simply telling you a possible solution and the issues with your idea. god, you hate when he's actually sensible.

"let's just go and check what matching skins we can get."

"yay.." he said dryly, shifting on the bed to let you lay next to him. the moment you take your spot, his arms snake around your waist, and his stark white hair invades your vision and lips.

"sei! your hair!" you spit out the tufts that get into your mouth. "move your big head." you tell him.

he grumbles but complies and moves to bury his head into your chest. your arms wrap around him as you hold your phone. he cuddles you with a gentle sigh on contentment. a comforting silence blankets you both, the sounds of soft breathing and tapping fingers can only be heard.

"you know it shouldn't matter if we're matching skins or champions, i think we're still cute." he mutters before you can hear him start to doze off.

#blue lock nagi #blue lock #blue lock x reader #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro #bllk nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #bllk x reader #bllk nagi #seishiro nagi #seishiro nagi x reader

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mrsmangi · 21 hours ago

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Hibiscus 🌺🌺🌺

late night call - luigi mangione

♡ flower prompt: hibiscus - the realization of a friendship becoming something more - meaning: in victorian times, the gift of a hibiscus bloom meant that the giver was acknowledging the receiver’s delicate beauty. ♡ w.c.: 1k ♡ a/n: hi, love! thank you so much for your request. srry for the delay, i'm a bit backed up with requests. she's a short one, but i hope you enjoy!

♡ send me a flower & i'll write a drabble based off the prompt ! ↪ prompts that have been requested

“Do you ever think people realize just how loud their ceiling fans are?”

His voice comes through the phone, low and scratchy, like he’s been lying on his back for too long, staring at his own ceiling. You giggle softly, shifting against the pillow propped against your back. Your own fan spins above you, a rhythmic hum filling the space between his words and yours.

“It’s white noise,” you say, quieter than usual. “After a while, you get used to it and stop hearing it.”

“Mm, not tonight,” Luigi sighs. “It’s like the fan’s trying to keep me awake for as long as possible.”

You laugh again, a soft, breathy sound that feels just a bit too loud in the stillness of your room. It’s past midnight–long past the time you’d planned to be asleep–but this is how many of your nights with Luigi go. What starts with casual texts morphs into a phone call, then into hours of talking about nonsense; everything and nothing.

“Maybe it’s just your thoughts,” you tease. “What are the voices yelling at you about tonight?”

He pauses on the other end of the line, just the faint sound of his breathing audible. You know Luigi well enough by now to know he’s not actively ignoring your question; he’s only deciding how much of himself to give away.

“Life,” he answers lamely, though the vagueness of the reply altogether makes it clear there’s more to it than that. “Do you ever feel like no matter how much you do to succeed, it’s never enough?”

You roll onto your side, pressing the phone closer to your ear. The dim glow of your bedside lamp casts uneven shadows against the wall.

“All the time,” you reply honestly. “It gets exhausting, though. I feel like I’m just running a race no one even cares to watch.”

He exhales, a sound that crackles through the receiver. When he speaks again, his voice carries the kind of understanding that comes from being seen. “Yeah. I get it.”

The two of you fall into shared silence, the steady hum of your ceiling fan whispering across the line. You let yourself picture him for a moment–probably sprawled out on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. His phone would be balanced in his other hand. The image feels familiar, like something you’ve seen a thousand times before, even though you haven’t.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice breaks the quiet.

“Always.”

He’s quiet again, but you don’t rush him.

“Do you think…” He pauses again, and you can hear the shift of his breathing. “Do you ever think it’s possible for something to change without either person realizing it? Like, to wake up one day and feel like everything’s changed, even though nothing is actually different?”

“Maybe,” you say cautiously, voice softer now. “Sometimes things can change so slowly you don’t even notice until it’s already different. Then, you find yourself wondering how long it’s been that way.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

You stare up at the spinning fan, asking him, “What’s different, Luigi?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His continuous pauses make you grow somewhat uneasy, stretching a distance between you. “Us,” he says. “I think we’re different.”

You exhale slowly. “Different how?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But it’s like every time we talk, it feels different. More important, somehow, like there’s something there that wasn’t before.” He stops and you can nearly hear the way he’s turning the words over rin his head. “I used to just…enjoy talking to you, but now, it feels like I catch myself waiting for it. I’m counting down to the next time I’ll hear your voice. And when we’re not talking, I’m thinking about what I want to tell you the next time I see you, or wondering what you’re doing, or–” He breaks out into nervous laughter, cutting himself off. “Um, does any of that make sense or am I just rambling?”

It makes perfect sense. Too much sense. Your heart picks up speed, the weight of his words pressing against the thoughts you’ve tried to push to the back of your mind. You notice it too. You’ve felt a change in the way you catch yourself thinking about him at odd moments–when a song reminds you of something he’s said, or when you replay the voice messages he sends just to hear his laugh on repeat. Tonight, he speaks heavier, like he’s cracked open a door you have both been staring at for weeks, maybe longer, unsure of who will turn the handle first.

“It does,” you whisper.

There’s a small, nearly imperceptible breath on his end, like he’s been holding it and didn’t even realize. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You chew on your bottom lip, letting the word sink in. “I didn’t know if I should say anything. I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

“Me neither,” he says, “but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel it. I do. All the time.”

You close your eyes, the glow of the lamp behind your lids is a soft orange hue. “So, what now?”

“I’m not sure,” he says. There’s no pretense, no cleverness to soften the edges of his words. “But maybe we can figure it out. Together.” He says his last word carefully, almost like it’s fragile–like it may break under the weight of its meaning if he doesn’t say it the right way.

You hear him shift, the faint sound of fabric rustling through the receiver. It’s a small thing, but it makes the moment feel so real, tangible, like he’s not just a voice in the dark. You let his words settle over you. Luigi doesn’t have the answers to all your worries and neither do you. But, it feels comforting somehow–to know that he’s with you in this journey, and you with him.

“Okay,” you say. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You know he can hear it, even if he can’t see it. Your heart is full of love for this boy as you exhale: “Together.”

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione fanfiction #angst #real person fiction #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione x yn #fanfiction #free luigi #luigi mangione fluff #fluff #flower prompt #luigi mangione art #luigi mangione angst #mrsmangiwrks #anon

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biancadoes1 · 20 hours ago

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Hi,

First off, thank you for posting my post. Organized Anon. I never thought people would care what I had to write, just had to get that off my chest and I love a good list lol. I guess, I have more so here is part 2. Lol

Today will be the Wild West west for Lukolas. I see people sending in post that are all over the place.

I myself am not a lukola -per se. I love Nic and Luke. I would love if they dated. But I like to remain neutral. I find it is the best for me. For me.

I am seeing posts saying Nic and Luke are beefing bc he did not post for her bday and she has not liked her post. My advice is to not engage with people who think Nic is dating Jake. It is a waste of time. You could have ET standing next to you saying aliens are real and they still will not believe you. It doesn’t matter about posts talking about the meaning of sweet one, they will not listen. The only thing to prove a jakola wrong is to let them use their brain. Trust me, if you ask question that requires thinking, in a respectful way, they will not know how to respond or what to do.

again, saying Nic is with JD bc she went to his premiere is childish. Saying she is mad with Luke and she has been showing JD off since Luke went to Rome is childish. Saying there is beef between them is childish. yes, I am even calling so called Lukolas on this site out who are agreeing with things.

there is nothing we can say to prove or show. But again, ask yourself those key questions.. if she is dating Jake and they have been out an about all this time, why not just post or tag that is who she was with in her photo. Nic has a brain and smart. We know they went to the WT movie together and we know they spend time together so why not post or tag him- and she might later do this- but why be public with JD on certain days and private with him on other days- makes no sense. No logical sense. People already think they date, so why hide him on the bday post. -Because his is most likely isnt dating him. This is just from rational thinking.

again, think rationally. Why would two adults- who play a beloved fan favorite of Polin be beefing and put in on SM for the world to think so. It’s bad for the product. Look at the Amazon show, culpa tuya. The leads are apparently beefing and yea people are talking but Polin is a different type of love story. Shonda would not let dirty laundry out so stop with the beefing theory. People sound like children. And these are grown adult women. Stop thinking that people are vindictive and want to manipulate others. Go seek therapy and figure out why toxicity is a driving force in your life. If Nic was beefing, why is Luke all over her end of year dump. His photo is on the back of her phone. At the least, they are besties.

now the million dollar question- why did he post for Claudia Bday and not Nic. There are only two possible reasons. A. JD is her man and he did not want to take away from JD on her special day. OR B. Luke is her man or her and Luke are getting close and decided to make it private - no attention. I believe the latter based on rational clues. Extra extra eyes were on them this year. Commenting on her SAG post was loud but not posting is louder. Personal stays private.

Could I be wrong yes- lol. But I’ll leave with this. If Nic is dating JD, you will have people saying she trolled the fandom. And if you are being honest, it can be seen that way. Posting and not posting jd. Jd trolling as well, saying things like people want me to marry Luke , doing that audiobook. It’s just too much. And she will get push back and fans will leave. I don’t care how nice people think JD is, he is not worth losing fans for. But let’s not think on this. We will cross that bridge, when or a big big big big if we need too. thanks!!!

#no notes

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lehguru · 2 days ago

Text

RELATIONSHIP + TRAFALGAR LAW

general relationship headcanons for law!!

info: this was a request! thank u for sending it in <3 been a while since i wrote for him, i hope this is still good enough. || comms/ko-fi + b-day raffle!!

law is a very patient man. while it might not be true towards others, he is definitely like that with you. if you're the chatty type, he wouldn't mind hearing you talk about anything that got you excited that week, giving you encouraging nods and asking a few questions when he felt like it.

while he might not be the most touchy partner, he would always make sure that your needs are met. he would adore to give you tiny gifts and give you words of incentive, his eyes showing you that he truly adores you, even if he doesn't show it physically as much as other partners out there.

whenever you're sick, he goes out of his way to make sure you are the most comfortable you can be. extra pillows, your favorite food warm and ready for you to enjoy, warm and nice baths, anything and everything he can do (without putting his own health in danger) he will do.

he might not be into wearing full matching couple clothes, but he wouldn't mind having a piece of jewelry that matches yours or makes him remember of you. shachi and penguin gave him a heart locket with a picture of you inside and, even if he pretended to be annoyed at them, he wore it around his neck, that necklace now a prized possession.

date nights with him mean you two in bed, under the blanket and watching anything that you want. while he is not opposed to going out with you, he really enjoys staying in and just enjoying your company as long as you two can stay awake.

2025 © content belongs to lehguru, do not repost, translate or feed it into ai without permission

#trafalgar d water law #law x reader #law x you #law x reader fluff #one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece x you #op x you #one piece x reader fluff

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mikkomacko · 15 hours ago

Note

I loved the little Nico reader and Johnny blurb! You should def do something small like that with them and holtzy next🥺 I’m in my missing Alex hours

Nico’s looking over your shoulder, a hand on your hip as he reads over the grocery list with you. You’ve both gotten pretty good at keeping the kitchen stocked and the grocery list stacked since adding Alex to the household. But between him and Nico, food seems to fly out of the fridge and cupboards faster than you can keep track of.

Which is why the list and the shopping has become a group affair.

“That’s everything,” you say, waiting a second while Nico finishes double checking for you. He squeezes your hip, humming his agreement and you tuck your phone away.

The checkout line slowly inches forward, the woman with the half filled basket in front of you sighing heavily. You meet her eyes, smiling politely and puffing out your own sigh of agreement. Maybe you should start making Nico and Alex take a day during the week to come shopping with you. The weekend crowd just isn’t cutting it anymore.

Alex is standing by the end of your overflowing cart, brown eyes downtrodden and lips pursed in that way they get when he’s scared. Not terrified scared, but anxious scared. You note the way he’s holding the edge of the cart, thoughtfully fingering the corner of the oatmilk coffee creamer stacked on top.

Oatmilk creamer, the kind Nico and you like. Not the kind Alex likes.

“Aw we forgot your vanilla one, Alex!” You say, and his gaze snaps up to yours. Relief floods his eyes, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Can I go run and get it?”

Nico nods his head back towards the dairy. “Go for it, the line’s not moving anyway.” Alex’s smiles wider, murmuring “excuse me’s” in a quiet and accented voice until he’s ducked out of the checkout lane and disappeared around the edge of it.

In the total wrong direction.

“Nico,” you whine, turning to him with pleading eyes. He pops his gum, frowning curiously at you. “Go make sure he doesn’t get lost please?”

“He’s a big kid, he’ll be fine.”

“He went the wrong way.”

Nico stands up taller, looks over the shelves and snorts quietly. “Let him get his energy out running up and down the aisles.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Nico Hischier if you don’t go right now and help him I swear to god-“

“Fine, ok,” he grunts, holding his hands up “but if you keep babying him, we’ll never get him out of our house.”

That’s not something you particularly care about though so you smile, patting him on the chest in thanks and sending him off with a short kiss. Nico makes his way down the checkout line, not bothering to say anything because everyone’s already scooting out of his way. You’ve always found it funny, how people seem to shy away from him.

Resting your elbows on the basket, you lean your weight into it and try to not be so impatient as the long lines ticks forward. The woman in front of you smiles again, briefly glancing to the area Alex was standing earlier.

“How old is he?” She questions.

“He just turned 18.”

She looks shocked, eyes slightly widening and lips parting as she looks you up and down. “Wow, you look way too young to have a son that age! I thought he was way younger.”

Oh, you gawk. No one has ever actually thought Alex was your kid. Sure you look older for your age and Nico has the personality of an old man but there’s not even close to being a normal amount of years between you and Alex for you to be his actual mother.

“He’s not-“you laugh, a bit caught off guard still “I’m not his mom. He’s just family.”

The lady’s cheeks tinge pink and you’d imagine yours are too judging by the heat burning at your face. She laughs too, holding her hand up in apology. “Oh he looks so much like your husband! I’m sorry I thought-anyway I was like I can’t believe how great this mom looks for her age.”

That makes you laugh, the awkwardness from before settling. Alex does look like Nico a bit, same color eyes, their dark and straight hair, even his nose a bit. And you’ve noticed him picking up Nico’s mannerism too, small things like the way he stands with his arms crossed or raises an eyebrow when he’s talking and is excited.

“Oof yeah I’m way too young to have a kid that old.” You agree, choosing to just breeze over her calling Nico your husband. Technically he’s not, but he’s as good as.

“Trust me there’s lots of time for that,” she assures, beginning to load her groceries onto the belt. “Seems like you’d be good at it too, if you decide to.”

Luckily, Nico and Alex slip their way back up to you just in time to save you because an uncomfortable and uncertain lump has lodged its way into your throat. Too early for the kid talk, like way too early.

Alex dumps his creamer into the basket, then a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream and finally a bag of some candy you’ve never seen before.

“Nico said I could.” He tells you with a pleased grin. “It’s Swedish.”

You had no idea there was even Swedish candy here but you laugh, shrugging off his explanation. “You can get whatever you want Alex, it’s ok.”

“As long as some of it is real food,” Nico cuts in, and you can feel the woman from before watching you three. “Not just chipotle and frozen pizza like the Hughes boys.”

Alex nods, a thoughtful look in his eyes and you can practically see him taking mental notes of every little piece of advice Nico’s given him. He blinks as if just realizing something.

“I don’t like frozen foods.”

Nico grins, smacks Alex on the shoulder like a proud father. “No harm then.” He grins, smacking his gum and then beginning to load the groceries onto the belt.

“I got it.” Alex jumps in, shooing Nico back to your side so he can empty the basket for you. Over his shoulder you meet the woman’s gaze again, the two of you sharing a knowing and amused smile before she’s walking away, a basket of bagged food going with her.

Nico rests his hand on your lower back, and you move in closer. “She thought he was our son,” you whisper into his ear, nodding towards the lady when Nico looks confused.

“Maybe your son,” Nico chuckles quietly, “we have more of a dog-owner relationship, ya know?” Even so, he’s smiling all shy and cute as he lies through his teeth.

You press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Mhm, whatever you say boss.”

#mob boss nico hischier #him and i chats #nico hischier #mob Alex Holtz

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whump-in-the-closet · 24 hours ago

Note

Imagine: A stoic whumpee who is forced to recite all of the rules. So they do it, perfectly, even if it's a very long list. That's just how good their memory is. But then the whumper asks: "And you're going to follow these rules?"

"No."

Just a simple, almost nonchalant "no", just to see what the whumper's reaction is going to be. Because whatever comes after, it would've still been worth it.

I am imagining AND IT IS DELICUOUS. I was so so so excited about this prompt bc GOOD GOD the whumperfllies >:) i hope i do it justice ahhhHHHHH

Stoic Whumpee X Confidant Supervillain

content: possessive/ creepy whumper, flogging, stoic whumpee, leader Whump, implied amputation, graphic description of torture, humiliation, stoic whumpee becomes defiant for a sec and whumper isn’t happy, beaten unconscious

Leader stood with their hands on the wall, digging their fingers into the stone, searching for any kind of support at all. The click, click, click of the whip dragging behind Supervillain echoed through the space like a countdown.

"Start," said Supervillain and Leader could practically hear their smile.

Leader felt the familiar press of exhaustion in between their ribs. "Rule one," they began, voice hoarse with use. "No speaking without permission." The words tasted like acid even as they said them. "Rule two: No looking at you directly."

Leader gripped the wall until their knuckles whitened with sheer pressure. Still, they went on, each word clipped. "Rule three: comply with every order without hesitation, rule four: never question your authority."

Supervillain snapped their whip across the floor. No matter how many rules they added, Leader was always able to spew them off, perfectly. Every. Single. Fucking. Time.

"Rule six--" Leader paused to take a breath, and Supervillain jumped at the opportunity. They cracked the whip across Leader's lower back, sharp and sudden.

The pain was brilliant.

"Faster," Supervillain demanded, but the order was tinged with triumph. With smug satisfaction.

Leader's eyes widened, arching their back in a silent scream. Their knees shook and they pressed their forehead to the cool concrete in a desperate attempt to remain standing. But to anyone else, it might have looked like a defense.

"Rule six," Leader inhaled faintly and resumed, spitting out the rules in a fasfire ricochet. "Rule six: address you with the proper title. Rule seven: no escape attempts. Rule eight: no disobedience in any form--"

The next strike came before they even reached the end of the sentence. Leader gasped. They bit down hard to stifle a scream and the metallic tang of blood filled their mouth, coppery and slick.

"Don't forget that one," Supervillain said with a sneer.

Leader had to swallow twice before they could go on. Their head spun. "Rule nine," they continued, ignoring the warm blood that dripped down their chin with their voice, "accept all punishments without resistance. Rule ten: show gratitude for your mercy—"

The whip came down again, tearing through the fragile equilibrium they had managed to maintain.

It hurt. It hurt so badly and it wouldn't stop and it was everywhere and it was throbbing, throbbing. And please–please not again–

–Pull it together– Leader pulled it together enough to wonder why there were dark blots in the corner of their vision.

Somehow, they were still standing.

Supervillain leaned in close, their breath hot against Leader's ear. "And you're going to follow these rules, aren’t you?"

Leader turned their head, slow and deliberate, making direct eye contact with Supervillain. They almost smiled when they replied.

"No."

“You little shit.”

They were almost prepared for the slap when it came. It snapped their head forward into the wall, their temple colliding with the stone. Not enough to knock them unconscious, but enough to send splintering pain and slick blood down their face and neck.

For a moment, they saw stars.

Leader slid down the wall, their legs giving out on them as they crumpled.

"You-- you're going to regret that," Supervillain enunciated every word with a vicious kick.

Leader curled in on themself, trying to cover their face as best they could, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Probably.

The last thing they saw was Supervillain's face, far too close for comfort as they straddled them. Dirt was embedded into Leader's back, bitter and searing.

"Tell me," Supervillain spun in and out of focus, but their voice was tinged with amusement. "What hand you like least?"

Through the haze, Leader caught sight of what exactly Supervillain was holding.

Still worth it.

#cws above the cuts #i had so much fun #mmmm I ate that prompt up like it was a five course meal lemme tell u #leader whump #leader whumpee #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump community #whump ideas #whump prompts #troy talks #answered asks #whump scenario #supervillain whumper #superhero Whump

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honeypiehotchner · 2 days ago

Text

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part six

About the ending of this one: don't hate me! Hate Hotch :)

Warnings: angst! the usual! a meeting with Strauss, Rossi knowing Hotch too well and it annoying the fuck out of Hotch (lovingly)

Everyone knows the case isn’t over, but it might as well be. With nothing else to uncover and Lila safely returned home, the BAU team is called back to Quantico.

Hotch makes sure that the Monroes have some security round the clock in their neighborhood, especially on their street. He doesn’t think anything will happen, but then again, no one can ever be certain.

The problem is that they can only afford the security for so long. One week, at the most.

You ignore Hotch the entire way home on the jet. In your defense, you ignore everyone. You put your headphones in and curl up in one of the chairs toward the back, perfectly secluded from everyone else.

Hotch watches you, trying not to look as worried as he feels, and hating that he feels such deep worry for you. Sure, your words stung earlier, that he’s the last person you’d want to work for, but they weren’t entirely untrue. You are the last person he expected or wanted to walk through those glass doors.

He hasn’t had the chance to discuss your placement with Strauss, but he will. Either it was pure coincidence that she placed you here, or she thinks she’s being funny. If it’s the latter, he hopes she can see how hard he isn’t laughing.

Rossi lightly kicks Hotch’s leg under the table. He raises his eyebrows when Hotch drags his eyes over to him.

“What?” Hotch says, settling down further into his seat, glancing at the file he’s supposed to be going over. “Got a cramp?”

Rossi scoffs. “Do you?”

Hotch hums. “When do you think they’ll send us the sketch?” He’s trying hard to change this subject to anywhere but where Rossi wants to take it.

Rossi, of course, ignores Hotch’s question. “I’m guessing she didn’t appreciate you prying into her past.”

Hotch focuses very hard on one word in the file, wondering if he might make it catch fire. “No, she didn’t.”

“Well,” Rossi sighs, looking out the window. “Serves you right.”

Hotch’s eyes snap up, glaring tiredly at his friend.

“What?” Rossi asks innocently. “It’s too soon. You should’ve known better.”

“You know just as well as anyone that in order for this team to work well together we need to have an established level of trust—”

“Save the pep talk,” Rossi waves him off. “I think you just can’t stand being left out of the loop. There’s a missing piece here and you can’t take it.”

Hotch doesn’t know if Rossi is still talking about you or not. “Richard said—”

“I heard what he said,” Rossi interrupts again and Hotch really wishes he’d stop doing that. “And if it was anything that concerns us, don’t you think it would’ve come up in her background check? That you, as Unit Chief, have to go over.”

Hotch can’t say that he disagrees there. He does go over the background checks, just a glance, really. Maybe his eyes lingered on yours a little longer, so what? Maybe he tried to focus on smaller details to puzzle you out, so what? That’s not a crime.

What is criminal is hiding things from the team, especially the Unit Chief. He hates to pull rank, he really does, but when one of the FBI’s Most Wanted sits in an interrogation room and says he recognizes your newest agent, isn’t that cause for concern? Especially when said agent refuses to elaborate?

Why would Richard Monroe of all people recognize you? Or a younger version of you, so he says, because you’re older now than he remembers. Did he see a picture of you? How and where and why and from who?

Rossi is right. There’s a missing piece. And Hotch can’t stand it.

+++

Hotch gives you the following day off. You know damn well that isn’t standard, and that everyone else is still going into the office, but you don’t argue with him. He’s as surprised as you are about the fact.

Instead, you sleep in, you have a slow morning, you make brunch, and you do everything in your power to not think about your father.

It’s easier said than done most days. It’s hard not to think about him when there’s so much you don’t know — so much you’ll never know.

Because he’s dead. You know that for a fact. Got a phone call from the prison ward and everything.

Still, your mind wanders. You hold your coffee close, the mug practically burning your palms, but you’re too in your head to feel it.

Lila…everything about it was so similar to your situation. Kind of. Given that you still don’t know who kidnapped her, and you might never find out, it could be a freak coincidence.

You roll your eyes at yourself. Coincidence. Yeah, right. You stopped entertaining the childish idea of those long ago. Everything happens for a reason, which is why you have such a gut feeling about Lila. You just need to get to the bottom of it.

But you have no clue how.

+++

When you return to the BAU the following day, well rested and somewhat less anxious, you head straight for Hotch’s office.

Not because you want to. God, no. Hotch summoned you via text while you were still on the freeway.

You make him wait, though. You need coffee first.

After a pit stop at the staff coffee pot, and then at Emily's desk to chat, you waltz into Hotch’s office without knocking — his blinds are open and you can clearly see he isn’t busy — earning you an exasperated look from your new boss.

“Don’t give me that look,” you snap without thinking. “You’re the one who called me for a meeting when I wasn’t even halfway here yet. So what? What do you want?”

Hotch really wonders why he tries to be patient with you. “Sit down.”

“Gladly,” you smile, knowing it has to look as fake as it feels. You lower yourself into one of his stiff chairs across from his desk.

Hotch takes a moment, clearly pulling himself together, before he asks, “How are you?”

Your coffee freezes midway to your mouth. You drop the mug back down, resting it on your thigh, letting it burn you there. “Fine,” you give a little shrug. “Thanks for the day off, boss.”

“I thought you might need it,” he replies, like he’s caught you in something.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“I think you’re being an asshole on purpose,” you conclude. “I think I make you nervous, and you’re not used to that, so you take it out on me by being an ass.”

“Projecting, are we?”

“Proving my point, are we?” you grumble, ignoring how right he might be. You take a scorching sip of your coffee. “What did you actually want?”

Hotch stares at you for a moment, studying your face. You stare right back at him, unperturbed.

He’s going to learn that two can play at this game whether he likes it or not.

He’s the first to look away, down at the files on his desk. “The sketch artist spoke with Lila.”

“And?”

“She refused.”

You sit up straighter, nearly spilling your coffee. “What?”

Hotch’s eyes lift to yours. “She refused.”

You sit back again, propping your elbow on the arm of the chair to rub your forehead. “Okay. So what does this mean?”

Hotch threads his fingers together on his desk. “Her mom is going to talk to her, see if she can convince her to talk to the artist again.”

You nod slowly, looking out the window. “Okay. That’s good.” You’re not sure if she will. Or if it’ll get her in any trouble. She’s just a kid.

Hotch stays silent. Your coffee burns your thigh just enough finally that you move to rest it on the other arm of the chair.

You pause, looking over at him without moving your head. Your eyes narrow. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I thought you might like to know.”

You turn your head, smirking. “Missed me?”

He frowns.

You lift your coffee to your lips, waiting for Hotch to say something else, like you know he will.

He does. “I thought you might be able to shine some light on why she refused.”

You glare at him, but you finish your sip of coffee. “And no one else on the team was capable of shedding light?”

He stares you down. You return the favor.

You’re the first to cave this time. “What do you want from me, Hotch?”

“The truth would be a great start.”

All you can do is laugh, so you do, hanging your head. “Great meeting.” You stand and head for the door, raising your mug. “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

You hear Hotch push his chair back as he raises to his feet. “We’re not done.”

You pause, but you stay at the door. “You just don’t know how to leave well enough alone, huh?”

“I can write you up for insubordination.”

“Go ahead,” you shrug. “I could use another day off.”

On that note, and before he can hold you captive any longer, you yank his office door open and escape to your desk.

Hotch watches you through his open blinds. The way you settle into your desk chair, the way your hand shakes as you lift your mug to your lips.

It’s not that he can’t understand why you won’t confide in him -- or, well, it’s less about confiding and more about just telling him the truth. He doesn’t need to be your confidant, or anything remotely friendly. God knows you wouldn’t want that.

But this is serious. A serial killer recognizes his agent, shakes them up so bad they have what he can only assume was a panic attack in the parking lot, and he’s supposed to, what? Forget he saw anything?

Forget like his life didn’t flash before his eyes when he saw you crouched down, fighting to take in a single breath of air? Forget like he didn’t pace his entire apartment last night, recalling everything he knows about you to try to ascertain why an FBI’s Most Wanted would recognize you as a child? Forget like he didn’t nearly make himself sick with the implications of that?

It’s uncharted territory for him. Members of his team have hidden things from him before, but they’ve let the truth out. They’ve let him help.

You don’t seem keen to do either of those. Again, it’s not like he doesn’t understand. The two of you aren’t exactly each other’s favorite person -- and won’t ever be. But the nature of the work you do…this isn’t something Hotch can just let go.

+++

The next week at the BAU passes similarly and without much fanfare. No new cases come in -- surprisingly -- but a few seminars come up, some mountains of paperwork, and a meeting with Strauss.

The latter comes as a shock. You think for sure that it is Hotch’s doing, and you’re entirely prepared for a fight. You’re either being fired, reprimanded for your behavior, or who knows what else.

What you don’t expect is for it to be lunch. Plain and simple.

“Thank you for joining me,” Strauss says, in an uncharacteristically good mood, guiding you over to her comfortable chairs. “Sorry for the formality. It’s the easiest way to schedule these things. Please, sit.”

You sit across from her, waving off the apology. “Not a problem. I was a little worried, so I’m glad it’s only lunch.”

“Why?” she asks. “Is everything alright in the BAU?”

“Oh, yes,” you laugh it off. Hotch just hates me, but not to worry, the feeling is mutual. “Just new job jitters, I suppose.”

“Ah, still adjusting?”

“You could say that,” you nod with another sheepish laugh.

“Well, you shouldn’t worry,” she says. “I hear your performance is exceptional, and you fit right in.”

You raise an eyebrow. Hotch told her that? “Oh,” you try not to show your shock. “Thank you, I’m…I’m glad to hear that.”

She smiles. “Aaron can be a little rough around the edges, but you’re doing fine. Don’t worry. Ah, there’s lunch.”

Sandwiches are brought in, leaving you no time to really process what she has just confirmed.

And he is never going to live it down.

The rest of your lunch meeting passes by easily. To your surprise, Strauss steers the conversation away from the BAU and toward how you’re settling in here in general.

“It was a big move, I heard,” she says. “I hope the area is treating you well?”

“It’s great,” you nod. “I do love it here.”

Of course, work topics come up, such as professionalism among the team and how those lines blur around some. She doesn’t linger here, though, so you think nothing of it.

“A new case will likely come tomorrow,” she says. “You’ll hardly ever be without one this long. Consider yourself lucky.”

You laugh at that, mostly to hide your scoff. You wouldn’t consider yourself lucky to be without a case because it only means Hotch’s focus is on you instead of catching a killer -- which is a much better use of his time. Safer for him, too. Because with every passing day you come closer to spilling hot coffee down his suit.

Kidding. Kind of.

“Mm! I do have one thing to ask you,” Strauss says suddenly.

You swallow your nerves and look at her expectantly.

“Richard Monroe,” she starts, and you feel your blood run cold. “He’s still cooperating in their investigation, however,” she pauses, lacing her fingers together. “He’s asked to speak with you.”

You blink. “With me?”

She nods. “You clearly made some impression on him. He’s apparently been asking for you for a few days, though they only just notified me this morning.” She pauses to sigh. “Do you have any idea what he might be after?”

You shake your head, dusting crumbs off your leg. “No idea.”

“Alright,” she accepts your answer far too easily. “Well, if there’s time, and if he keeps asking, I might ask you to go speak to him. Just to…keep the peace, I suppose. We can call it research for the BAU.” She waves her hand. “But it’s not at the top of my list.”

“Of course,” you nod slowly. “Just let me know.”

She smiles. “I’ve taken up enough of your lunch time, so I’ll let you get back to work.” She stands and you do as well, a rare moment where you’re itching to get back to the bullpen. “You’re going to do just fine here. You’re already exceeding expectations, so well done. Keep it up.”

“Thank you,” you return the smile, your chest expanding from the praise. It’s nice knowing your boss’s boss thinks you’re doing well, no matter how Hotch acts when you’re in the same room. Checkmate.

+++

Hotch scowls at the paperwork before him as he listens to your laughter filter up to his office. You returned from your meeting with Strauss in a frustratingly good mood and have been joking around with Morgan for half an hour.

Fed up, Hotch shoves his chair back to shut his door. Maybe he slams it. It doesn’t matter.

He hears the conversation come to a halt. Good. Maybe now they’ll get some work done for once.

He signs off on what he needs to, closing the folder and moving on to the next. And the next. And the next.

Before he knows it, he’s the second to last in the office again. Rossi knocks once on Hotch’s office door before he opens it, one hand holding his coat over his shoulder.

“Working late?” Rossi asks, striding in and settling down across from Hotch.

“Yes,” Hotch says, not looking up from the paperwork. He still has a mountain to get through, and maybe it could wait until tomorrow, but he needs to focus. On something that isn’t you.

“Want to get a drink?”

“No.”

“Alright. Any particular reason you’re so grouchy today?”

Hotch sighs, looking up at his friend and hoping his eyes convey the best I’m not in the mood look that he can.

He must succeed, because Rossi presses even more. “Doesn’t have anything to do with, say, a certain new agent who seemed to be in a great mood today for the first time in a week?” He pauses, musing. “Or maybe it’s the fact that said new agent didn’t say one word to you today?”

Hotch’s jaw tenses. It’s true. Neither of you spoke to the other today. Plenty of glares were shared, though, which is the same as words for you two.

Rossi leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Aaron. She’ll come to you if she needs help. If she wants help.”

No, she won’t, Aaron wants to say, but he can’t. Because what’s his reasoning? Something he doesn’t want to admit.

The facts are that Rossi doesn’t know you. Rossi wasn’t there when Hotch first met you on that case all those years ago. Rossi wasn’t there to watch you try to do everything yourself and nearly fistfight Hotch every time he tried to take one thing off your plate. Rossi wasn’t there to watch you nearly get yourself killed because you refused to ask for help. Rossi wasn’t there to see the panic that had crossed Hotch’s face when he saw your reckless behavior.

Rossi doesn’t know you. Not the way Hotch does.

Which is why after Rossi leaves, Hotch gathers his things, and stops to see Penelope on his way out of the office.

#The Gambit #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #angst angst angst

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tinytinyblogs · 1 day ago

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Hey can you do yandere skz punishments

Punishment time darling

They give you everything you could ever want, but crossing them is a mistake you’ll never want to make.

Hyung line, Maknae line (coming soon)

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Bang Chan isn’t one to act impulsively, not when it comes to you. He’s always calculating, always planning. When you disobey him, he doesn’t explode in anger like someone else might. No, Chan prefers something quieter, something more effective. He believes punishment should teach a lesson, not waste energy. And when it comes to you, he wants you to feel the weight of your guilt, to truly understand why you were wrong. Isolation is his preferred method. It’s clean, controlled, and, most importantly, it works. The first time he catches you breaking one of his unspoken rules—talking to someone he doesn’t approve of, going somewhere without telling him—he doesn’t raise his voice. Instead, he gives you a long, measured look, the kind that sends a chill down your spine. His usual warmth is gone, replaced by something colder, sharper. Later, when it’s just the two of you, he sits you down. The air feels heavy, suffocating. His voice is low and calm, almost tender. “Think about it, darling. I’m doing this for your own good,” he says, his expression carefully crafted to appear apologetic, though his eyes betray something darker. “If I’m not protecting you, who will? This world is too dangerous for someone like you. Without me… you’re nothing.” The words sting, but they also confuse you.

He delivers them with such conviction, such unwavering certainty, that a part of you begins to question yourself. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you were careless, ungrateful even. He leans closer, his hand brushing against yours as if to comfort you. “You’ll understand soon enough,” he murmurs. And then it begins. Subtly, at first. Your phone mysteriously stops working, and when you ask about it, Chan is quick to offer an excuse. “It’s better this way. You don’t need all those distractions.” Your friends start to drift away—he makes sure of it, carefully orchestrating misunderstandings and missed calls until you have no one left to turn to. Your schedule becomes eerily predictable, revolving entirely around him. He insists it’s for your benefit, that it’s safer this way. The isolation creeps in slowly, but it’s relentless. The world you once knew shrinks until it consists of only him. And every time you try to protest, he’s ready with the same disarming smile and soothing words. “I know this feels harsh, but it’s because I love you. You’ll thank me someday.” Yet, no matter how gentle his tone, there’s no mistaking the steel beneath it. Bang Chan doesn’t give second chances. By the time you realize the full extent of his control, it’s too late. You’re trapped, and he knows it. And to him, that’s exactly as it should be.

Minho

If Minho grows quiet and his sharp gaze locks onto you, it’s never a good sign. When you talk back to him or let your emotions run wild, and he remains silent, it’s far worse than anger—it’s dangerous. His silence is not passivity; it’s a storm waiting to unfold. Minho doesn’t like wasting energy, and why should he? When he acts, it’s always calculated, deliberate, and impactful, ensuring you won’t dare to repeat your mistakes. The last time you pushed him, your words came tumbling out in frustration, escalating into a full-blown argument. He listened without interruption, his expression unreadable, the stillness of his body unnerving. Once your words ran dry, he finally spoke. “Are you done?” he asked, his voice eerily calm, laced with a sharp edge. “You’ve been crossing the line lately. You know that, don’t you?” The weight of his words sat heavy in your chest long after he left the room. Sleep felt impossible that night as anxiety churned in your mind. You couldn’t ignore the suffocating feeling that something was coming. And you were right. Just as the clock struck midnight, the sound of your door creaking open made you sit up in bed.

There he was, standing in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the dim hallway light. His eyes, dark and piercing, met yours, and an unsettling smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Waiting for me, lovely?” he asked softly, stepping into the room with a predator’s grace. Before you could respond, he tossed something onto the bed. The clatter was jarring, and your breath hitched when you realized what it was: your phone, shattered into pieces. “Phone? No more,” he said with an icy smirk. “I wonder what else I should make into pieces. Those stupid plushies you’re so attached to? Or maybe… someone precious?” A soft, humorless laugh escaped him as he leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours. “Remember this, love. No crossing the line. Consider this your warning,” he murmured, his voice dangerously low. “Don’t make me dirty my hands, alright?” His words cut deeper than any shout ever could. Straightening, he glanced at you one last time before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. With Minho, silence was never just silence. It was a threat, a promise, and a lesson. And when he acted, it was always with a precision that left no room for misunderstanding.

Changbin

Explode—that’s the only way to describe him when he’s angry. It’s not subtle or restrained; it’s raw, chaotic, and terrifying. When his temper snaps, it’s like a storm that tears through everything in its path. He throws things against the wall, his voice rising into a roar that makes your chest tighten with fear. The sweet, soft side he usually shows you is gone, replaced by someone you can barely recognize. “You think I’m joking right now?” he shouts, his eyes blazing with fury, so red it’s like all he can see is rage. He plants himself in front of the door, his body a solid barrier ensuring there’s no escape. The once tidy room is unrecognizable—vases lie shattered on the floor, shards glinting in the dim light, papers scattered everywhere. Each crash feels like a knife twisting in your gut, and all you can do is collapse onto the floor, your knees too weak to hold you up. His breathing is heavy, his chest heaving like he’s barely holding back from completely losing control. “Ignore me like that again,” he growls, his voice low and dripping with menace, “answer me without thinking, and next time, I’ll throw you against the wall just like I did those vases.”

The venom in his words makes your heart race, and for a split second, you can’t tell if it’s an empty threat or a promise. Either way, the weight of his fury presses down on you, leaving you frozen in place. And then, just as suddenly as it started, the storm begins to subside. He straightens, his eyes still fixed on you, but the blazing anger in them softens into something almost tender. He takes a step forward, then another, crouching down to meet you on the floor. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant, as if trying to erase the memory of the chaos he just unleashed. You flinch as he reaches for you, but he doesn’t stop. His hands find your face, cupping it gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have spilled down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, love. You need to understand how much I love you,” he whispers, his tone pleading. It’s disorienting, the way he shifts from monster to lover, his gentleness so at odds with the destruction around you. “So don’t make me lose my temper again, got it?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. The warning is clear, and you can only nod.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin has a way of making you doubt yourself, twisting your thoughts until you’re unsure of what’s real. He doesn’t raise his voice or resort to anger—instead, he makes you feel like you’re the one who’s wrong, like you’re the villain and he’s the victim. His charm is intoxicating, but beneath it lies something dangerous, something that leaves you questioning everything about yourself and your relationship. When you upset him, he doesn’t comfort you or address it directly. Instead, he turns it into his own game, one where the rules are stacked entirely in his favor. He knows exactly how to manipulate the situation, how to make you feel like the guilt is entirely yours. His voice is soft, trembling just enough to tug at your heartstrings as he asks, “Do you even love me?” Somehow, he manages to conjure tears—perfect, convincing tears that make your chest tighten with guilt. You know he’s playing a part, that the sadness in his eyes is an act, yet it still works. His vulnerability feels so real, so raw, that you can’t help but question if maybe you truly are the problem. He always knows what to say to make you doubt your actions, and soon enough, you’re scrambling to fix something you aren’t even sure you broke. He doesn’t stop there.

His words cut deeper than any raised voice or angry outburst ever could. “I feel like I’m nothing to you,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping as though he can’t bear to look at you. “Do you even care? Am I just wasting my time here?” The weight of his accusations settles heavily on your shoulders, making you feel like the worst person in the world. And that’s exactly what he wants. For Hyunjin, this isn’t just a moment of hurt—it’s a game, a calculated strategy to make you prove yourself over and over again. You find yourself apologizing, explaining, and convincing him of your love, even when you don’t fully understand what you’re apologizing for. By the time he leans in, brushing a tear from your cheek, you’re already falling into his trap. “Tell me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible but laced with desperation. “Tell me how much you love me. Please… I can’t live without you.” His words are a plea, but they carry a weight that crushes you. It’s not just about proving your love—it’s about erasing the guilt he’s so carefully placed on you. And when you finally stammer out your assurances, he smiles faintly, knowing he’s won. For Hyunjin, victory isn’t loud or violent. It’s quiet, devastating, and entirely unforgettable.

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shineon3 · 2 days ago

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hiii!!!

maxiel + body swap (32) for the writing game?

(maybe make it a little bit horny 😈 if you want to)

From here. Hiiii! Thank you for the prompt it was super fun to write ^^

Daniel wakes up, disoriented and horribly, horribly sweaty, body tangled in the bedsheets and his heart beating so hard you’d think it was trying to escape his ribcage somehow. He gets up, intending to get some water for his dry throat, and looks down to be met with thick, pale, tattoo-less thighs.

He barely bites back a scream, scrambling up to turn on the light and make his way to the bathroom, muttering under his breath.

“Please be a dream, please be a dream, please be a dream-”

Max’s panicked face stares back at him in the bathroom mirror, blue eyes wide and hair disheveled. Daniel pinches the bridge of his nose - Max’s nose, his brain supplies unhelpfully - and weighs his options. Max was probably stuck in his body right now. God this was such a mess. He walks back to the bedroom, putting on some clothes, and tries to not touch himself any more than necessary. He didn’t need to make the situation any weirder than it is. He picks up Max’s phone, which thankfully opens up with face id, and shoots a text to himself, hoping the dutchman was awake.

He groans when he doesn’t get any reply after ten, agonizingly long minutes, and decides to go back to his place, where Max surely is. Daniel is fucking glad he thought to give him spare keys, at least.

_ _ _

Max wakes up with a gasp, dream still vivid in his mind. He whines, the sound too loud in the quiet, empty bedroom, and presses a hand against his cock, hips thrusting lightly. He doesn’t remember going to bed naked, but he’s not gonna question it, not when his hard cock begs for attention. He wraps his hand around it, hissing slightly, and he’s just about to look for the bottle of lube that’s somewhere in the drawer of his bedside table when it hits him.

His dick is big. Like, big big.

It’s longer, thicker, leaking a bit against his stomach and bobbing under its own weight, and it’s also uncut.

Either this is all a dream or… Or Max had swapped bodies with someone and was about to jack them off…

Both options kind of freaks him out, and he decides to get out of bed and check it out. And, hopefully, he’ll wake up before he gets there.

No such luck.

The moment the lights turn on, he catches the beautiful rose inked on his left hand and he knows.

He’s in Daniel’s body.

Guilt churns in his gut, laced with shame and just a bit of heat, and his traitorous cock - Daniel’s cock, he thinks, sending a shiver down his spine - throbs, precum beading at the tip. He closes his eyes, whining, unsure of what to do, until Daniel’s phone pings. The password is still the same as it was when Max first learned about it, and he unlocks the phone to find a text from himself.

‘Mate, I think we swapped bodies, wtf’

Max doesn’t reply. He’s sure Daniel is already on his way, and he doesn’t think the older will appreciate seeing him like this, disheveled and his boner out. He takes his cock, Daniel’s cock, in hand, carefully pumping up and down. He’ll just have to take care of it before the brunette comes here and- and what, exactly…? There’s never been any actual method to reverse swapping. It usually consisted in waiting it out, but surely Daniel was too busy to do so. He probably didn’t want to be stuck in Max’s body for days.

Max groans, tightening the grip on his cock, using the precum to smooth out the movements of his hand. His brain drifts, and he wonders, heat building up in his core. What would Daniel do, if he just walked in right now, if he found Max touching himself like this, shamelessly spread on the bed and moaning loudly?

He doesn’t let himself think about it, at first, too ashamed, but then he slowly gives in, too curious to shut down that train of thoughts.

Would Daniel be weirded out? Or would he find it hot?

Maybe he’d strip, climb into the bed and kiss him, show Max how he liked to be touched, what made him come? Or maybe he’d just sit and guide Max with his smooth, sultry voice, tell him what to do and call him a good boy? Max shudders, the orgasm washing over him like a merciless wave, all his nerves lighting up in pleasure. He pants, shaking from the aftershocks, chest heaving, his sticky hand smearing cum all over his abs.

And then he sees it.

Daniel, in Max’s own body, standing by the bedroom door, eyes so wide the black of the pupil swallowed the blue of his iris away. He’s panting softly, cheeks tinged pink, and Max doesn’t have the strength to move a finger, let alone sit up or try to hide.

“Fuck, Maxy-” The older groans, winded, and just the sound of it sends little sparks of pleasures all through him. “Fuck, that was so fucking hot, oh my god-”

Daniel doesn’t give him time to reply and crosses the room at the speed of light, pulling Max up for a kiss. It’s weird, for their first kiss to be happening while they’re body swapped, for sure, but Max doesn’t give a shit, fists Daniel’s shirt and pulls him closer. The kiss is messy, all tongues and teeth, and it’s wet, but neither of them cares. Max pulls away after a while, breathless. He’s about to ask Daniel what the plan is when the older strips out of his clothes and pushes him back into the mattress, and honestly?

He’s more than okay with it.

#f1 rpf #ficlet #maxiel #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #dr3 #mv1 #answered #tinytysh

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mari-lair · 1 day ago

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hello ! i love your fics and analysis! I was wondering which tbhk ships you think will become endgame?

Anon I have the most white bread of answers but since you asked-

1 - Hananene.

Nene starts the manga by wanting a date. It doesn't matter with who, any hot guy will do. She has many infatuations but isn't in love with anyone, she just want to be loved.

Nene has a lot of small character developments in different areas throughout the manga, but her strongest and most consistent change is her increasing love for Hanako and her acceptance of it.

She is still a girl with a ton of emotions, and she finds hot people attractive BUT now she want Hanako and only Hanako. She rejects everyone she used to have a crush on, there is no doki doki's when she gets the attention of pretty people cause they aren't the boys she wants attention from anymore.

Even Teru doesn't compare to Hanako. She went on a 'date' with him and felt more excited about bragging than the actual 'date'

AND SHE DID NOT BRAG when hanako got back, she just wanted to enjoy that he's back.

I don't even know why I am going so in dept on the couple stablished since chapter 1 but since i'm already rambling: Despite everything crazy going on in the festival NENE'S BIGGEST FOCUS WAS TO CONFESS TO HANAKO. That's something she thinks more about than her own death, like girl- Hanako is her whole world. She will not get a romance with another person.

There is the question of "Will Nene survive?"

If she doesn't, she'll disappear and have no boyfriend but I bet she'll be thinking about Hanako in her death. If she finds a way to become a supernatural in a very wild narrative choice she will be able to stay with hanako in their cursed eternity forever.

In the case she lives and Hanako gets exorcised she won't move on. Aidairo loves tragedies and obsessive love, so I can't see her approaching crushes with the same whimsy after her love dies. And Aidairo would likely preffer to make her suffer in her grief and longing than give her a rebound with some random guy, cause it sure won't be Kou.

2 - Mitsukou

My personal preferences aside, it is clear they are written to have romantic implications. Kou will either die with Mitsuba (As shown in the new timeline), and stay with him in death.

Or live to have an intense homoerotic 'friendship' with him.

He legit can't get mitsuba off his head, he thinks about him more than anything during the manga and he has A LOT of problems to think about.

I can't personally picture an explicit confession but we had a lot of equivalents already. It would be weird for Aidairo to send them to the aquarium, make Kou obsessed with mitsuba (and vise verse), show that they are 'very very close' in this new timeline, keep drawing them star-struck by each other and so on without romance in the head.

Kou is also never able to put his feelings into words, like, bro that's suspicious as hell.

They always get matching art with all the couples in Aidairo's twitter arts too.

That's not queerbaiting, they may not be explicit but by the lord they are not subtle at all, there is never a single "oh Mitsuba is like a brother to me" moment, they don't undo any of the gay implications we see, they double down on it.

Kou may be bi but it sure isn't the Nene route that Aidairo is playing.

3 - Aoikane

Akane has loved Aoi since he was a little kid. Waaaaaaay before he got a clock keeper contract.

He saw that Aoi cared so much about his opinion that she'd break out of her cold persona and burst into tears at the idea of being hated, and he locked in for life.

They are the codependent childhood friends troupe, the "I know you better than anyone" troupe, the "you are a part of my life I can't live without" troupe and they both love each other from the very start of the manga, not showing romantic interest in anyone else.

Nothing has made Akane change his mind about being with Aoi. Not being stabbed, not being rejected many times, not facing how bad aoi is at deling with her issues head on. He'll do anything for her time and time again.

in Akane's own words:

They had many build ups and a whole arc dedicated to their developments with each other (which is a lot considering they aren't main characters and Aoi usually get no focus in this manga.)

Narratively, it wouldn't make any sense to dedicate so many chapters pointing out how much they mean to each other and slowly working through their issues only to slap another ship at the end.

And is not like Aidairo said "They had their arc let's never talk about them again!", the author went out of her way to say "Even in a world where Aoi is in an arranged marriage, she still loves Akane"

They aren't subtle.

From the matching names, to the way they both crumble when they are separated from one another and keep thinking about marriage, they are very devoted. They have already explicitly confessed to the audience that they are in love with each other.

They'll either stay together forever or they'll die together.

#I wanted to put 'terukaneaoi' here but i gotta be realistic for once. Sorry teru i love you and i am down for being proven wrong on this #but i am 90% sure you'll end up alone #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #hananene #mitsukou #aoikane

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yassbishimvintage · 2 days ago

Text

No Questions (Studio pt 3 )

MDNI!

Warnings: Fluff, Smut

A/N: This is for the grown and sexy. And I admit you might be slightly pissed with Amari.

Brendan was doing a small tour circuit in Chicago. She heard her phone ring. B had sent her a first class ticket to where he’s at. Amari’s eyes widened as she stared at the message that had just come through. She quickly unlocked her phone to see the ticket notification. It was a first-class plane ticket to the city Brendan was staying in, with the departure time only a few hours away.

She blinked a few times, reading the details again, still not quite processing what she was seeing. Brendan sent me a ticket?

Her mind raced. He had been in touch with her all week, sending sweet texts and checking in, but this—this felt like a bigger step. Was he trying to move things forward? Or was this just another grand gesture in a series of them?

She felt her heart start to race. On one hand, the idea of getting away for a little bit, having some time with Brendan, was tempting. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Things had been moving fast, and now this—an unexpected trip, an invitation to step into his world a little deeper. It was a lot to process.

A few minutes passed as she sat in silence, staring at the phone. She could feel her palms sweating, and the little voice in her head was growing louder, questioning everything.

Just as she was about to overthink herself into indecision, her phone buzzed again with another text from Brendan.

“I know you’re busy, but if you can, come visit. I’d love to have you here. It’s just you and me. No work, no distractions. Think about it, but don’t think too long.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. There was a warmth in his message, something that made her smile despite herself. She hadn’t expected him to make such a bold move, but it was clear he wanted her there.

Amari took a deep breath, her thoughts swirling. Could she go? Would this make things clearer between them, or would it complicate everything more?

She couldn’t help but feel a pull toward him. The way he made her feel—wanted, appreciated, understood. The idea of spending time with him without distractions sounded tempting, even if it came with its own set of risks.

With a small, determined sigh, Amari finally made her decision. She quickly typed out a reply.

“I’ll be there. I’m booking my flight now. Can’t wait to see you.”

She hit send, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she imagined what the next few days would bring.

Amari stepped off the plane, the cool air of Chicago greeting her as she made her way to baggage claim. The city’s skyline loomed in the distance, and she couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. It had been a spontaneous decision, but now that she was here, she felt a rush of anticipation.

She pulled up the message from Brendan, confirming the hotel where he was staying, and made her way toward the car service waiting for her. She didn’t have much time to dwell on her thoughts—her mind was too busy picturing what the next few hours would be like. The trip, the unspoken feelings, and the possibility of deepening their connection.

As she arrived at the hotel, the sleek, modern building towering before her, Amari’s heart picked up its pace. The lobby was immaculate, with polished floors and the faint scent of fresh flowers in the air. She walked up to the front desk and gave her name, her palms slightly clammy with the anticipation.

“Mr. Brendan’s expecting you,” the receptionist said with a warm smile before handing her the key to his suite. Amari took a deep breath, steadying herself as she walked toward the elevator.

When the doors opened to his floor, she could hear the faint hum of music from inside his suite. The familiar sound of Jacquees’ voice, one of his favorite artists, drifted through the cracks of the door. Amari smiled softly to herself—this was Brendan’s world, and she was about to step fully into it.

She knocked softly, waiting for him to answer. Her heart raced, each second feeling like it stretched into eternity. The door swung open, and there he was. Brendan, dressed casually, his hair slightly messy from a long day but still looking effortlessly good. His hazel eyes locked on hers, a playful smile curling at the corner of his lips.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he teased, his voice warm with a touch of relief. “Glad you decided to.”

Amari couldn’t help but grin back. “You made it hard to say no,” she said, stepping into his space.

Brendan reached out, taking her luggage and setting it aside before pulling her into a tight hug. She could feel his warmth, his strength, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Just the two of them, here together.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured into her ear.

Amari pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “Me too.”

His hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing across her skin as he looked at her with a tenderness that sent a shiver down her spine. It was a side of Brendan she hadn’t seen before—soft and affectionate, but with an intensity that felt real.

“Come on, let me show you around,” he said, taking her hand and leading her into the suite. It was spacious, with large windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The living area was comfortable yet luxurious, with a plush couch and a few personal touches scattered around—a couple of framed album covers, a guitar by the wall, and a few items that hinted at his musical life.

Amari let her gaze wander around the room, taking it all in. It was exactly as she imagined—stylish and lived-in, but still very much his. And now, it felt like a space she could share with him.

As Brendan showed her around, his presence felt grounding, and any lingering nerves began to melt away. They chatted about everything and nothing, finding comfort in the easy flow of their conversation.

After a while, Brendan moved toward the windows and gestured for her to come closer. “What do you think?” he asked, looking out at the sprawling city.

Amari joined him, her eyes tracing the lights below. “It’s beautiful. Big change from where I’m from, but I think I could get used to it.”

Brendan gave her a sly grin. “You might just get used to a lot of things while you’re here.”

Amari turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “I think you’re right about that.”

The chemistry between them was undeniable, and as they stood there, the air between them felt charged with the unspoken possibilities of what could come next.

Brendan looked at her, his expression softening. “I’m glad you’re here, Mari. Let’s just enjoy the time we have together.”

Amari nodded, her heart swelling. She didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a while, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

As Brendan kisses Amari softly, the connection between them deepens, and the tension that’s been building between them over the last few days is finally released in the warmth of the moment. His hand gently cups her face, his thumb tracing her jawline as their lips meet. The kiss is slow, deliberate—he wants to savor it, to let the uncertainty of their situation melt away, even if just for a while.

Amari, her heart racing, responds in kind, her hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. It's the first time they've been so close since they both agreed to take things slow, and yet, the pull between them is undeniable.

As they pull back, she looks into his eyes, her breath shallow. "You sure this is what you want, B?" she asks softly, the hint of concern still lingering in her voice.

Brendan pauses, his gaze steady as he cups her face with both hands. "I'm sure," he says, his voice low and sincere. "With you, I’m sure."

He presses his forehead against hers. “Why are you so anxious about this relationship? You’re my girl.” He says.

Amari’s breath hitches at his words, her heart fluttering as his forehead presses against hers. His reassurance seems to ground her, but there’s still a gnawing hesitation within her. She lets out a quiet sigh, her hands resting on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.

“I’m not anxious,” she begins, though the words feel less convincing than she intended. “It’s just... everything’s moving so fast. I don’t know if it’s just the thrill or something real.” She looks into his eyes, searching for answers, for something she can hold onto.

Brendan’s expression softens, and he gently tilts her chin up, guiding her to meet his gaze. “Mari,” he says, his voice calm yet firm, “it’s real. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. You’re not just some fling or a distraction. I want you. All of you.”

Amari swallows, her eyes glistening as she searches his face. It’s hard for her to fully let go of her doubts—after all, she’s been burned before, and trusting someone in his position felt like walking a fine line between security and instability.

But there’s something in the way he holds her, the way he’s always made her feel seen. Maybe, just maybe, she could trust this. Trust him.

“I just...” she starts again, her voice quieter, “I don’t want to lose what we have. This feels different, B.”

His smile softens, and he leans in to kiss her forehead gently. “You won’t lose me, Mari. I’ve got you. Always.”

He smiles. “Jump.” He says softly. She does and wraps her legs around his waist. This always made her feel safe.

Brendan’s arms immediately wrap around her, holding her securely as she jumps into him. Her legs instinctively encircle his waist, and she feels the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest. There’s something so grounding about this moment, about the way he makes her feel like she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

Her head rests against his shoulder, and she lets out a content sigh. The world outside might be fast-paced and uncertain, but right now, in his arms, everything feels calm, safe, and real.

Brendan chuckles softly, his voice a low hum against her ear. “I’ve got you, Mari. You don’t have to worry about anything when you’re with me.”

Amari smiles, her hands gently trailing down his back. “I know. It’s just hard sometimes, you know? But... when I’m like this, with you, I feel like everything will be okay.”

He tightens his hold on her for a moment, a silent promise passing between them. “That’s because it will be. We’ve got this, together.” He leans back slightly, just enough to look her in the eyes, his gaze warm and steady. “You don’t have to carry all that weight by yourself. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Amari’s heart swells, and she leans in to kiss him softly, grateful for his reassurance, for his presence in her life. For the first time in a while, she feels like she can truly exhale.

“Mari. You’re my home.” He says softly. Amari feels a warmth spread through her chest as his words sink in. "Home..." she whispers, the weight of his sentiment grounding her in a way nothing else could.

She pulls back slightly, searching his eyes to make sure she’s hearing him right. His gaze is steady, sincere, and filled with an intimacy she didn’t expect but deeply needed.

"I never thought I’d find that," she admits softly, her voice trembling just a little. "But when I’m with you, it’s like everything else just fades away. I feel like I belong. Like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be."

Brendan smiles, his hand cupping her cheek as he leans in to kiss her gently, the kind of kiss that speaks volumes without saying a word. When he pulls back, his voice is low but firm. "You do belong, Mari. With me. Always."

Her heart races, and she lets herself fall into the moment, feeling the weight of his words, the certainty in his touch. This is it—this is what she’s been searching for. A place, a person who makes everything feel like it’s falling into place.

With a soft smile, she rests her head against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "I’m home too, B," she murmurs, closing her eyes, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over her. "I’m home with you."

“You better make this worth it. I had to cancel the rest of my appointments today.” She says.

Brendan chuckles softly, his lips brushing against her forehead as he adjusts his grip on her. "I’ll make it worth it, trust me." His voice is laced with a playful confidence that’s impossible to ignore. "You know I’m all about keeping my promises."

He slowly carries her to the couch, settling down with her in his lap, his hands tracing gentle patterns along her skin. The atmosphere between them shifts, an unspoken understanding passing through the air. It's more than just the physical chemistry that fuels this connection—it’s the quiet moments like these, where everything else fades into the background, and it’s just the two of them.

"You’ve worked hard, Mari," he says, his fingers dancing over her shoulders, massaging out the tension in her muscles. "You deserve a break. And I plan on giving you one... in every way possible."

She tilts her head back, allowing herself to relax into him. "You better," she says with a teasing smile, her voice soft but filled with that signature challenge she always throws his way. "I’m counting on you."

Brendan laughs softly, his lips curling into a grin. "Consider it done."

As they settle into the quiet comfort of the moment, Amari allows herself to let go, trusting in him to make this day, this time, worth every bit of the sacrifice she made. It feels right. She feels right. And for once, she’s letting herself simply enjoy it.

Amari slowly wakes up, the soft hotel sheets tangled around her as she stirs. The light filtering in from the window feels warm against her skin, but there's a strange emptiness in the room. She glances around, expecting to see Brendan by her side, but the bed is empty.

Confused, she stretches, trying to recall the events of last night, but everything feels a bit foggy—too much passion, too much heat. Still, she can't help but feel a tinge of unease as she notices the absence of his familiar presence.

She sits up, the cool air from the room hitting her skin as she checks the time on her phone. No messages, no calls. Her thoughts race—was it just a fleeting moment for him? Did he leave without a word?

Despite the confusion, Amari forces herself to shake it off. She quickly gets dressed, trying to push aside the doubts that are slowly creeping in. As she steps out into the hotel hallway, she hopes to find him, maybe to ask what happened, or maybe just to confirm that last night wasn’t something he wanted to erase.

Before she could she sees a card and another box on the table.

Amari pauses in the hallway, her eyes landing on the card and the box placed neatly on the table by the door. She feels a wave of curiosity wash over her as she approaches, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the card before she picks it up.

The card is simple—elegant with clean lines, and inside, written in Brendan’s familiar script, are a few words:

"I didn’t mean to leave you with so many questions. Let me explain when I get back. Enjoy the gift, it's a token of my appreciation for you. See you soon, B."

A sigh escapes her lips, the tension in her shoulders loosening slightly. He didn’t just leave without a word—he left a message, and it seemed genuine. But her mind still churns with questions. Why had he left so suddenly? Why didn’t he wake her?

Her attention shifts to the box beside the card. It’s carefully wrapped in sleek black paper with a metallic gold ribbon tied around it. A pang of uncertainty stirs in her chest, but she can’t help herself—she carefully unwraps the box, revealing a small velvet jewelry case inside.

Amari slowly opens it, her breath catching in her throat when she sees what’s inside—a delicate necklace with a custom pendant that reads "Mari" in elegant script. The sentiment is clear: this isn’t just a typical gift; it’s personal, thoughtful, and carries weight.

She runs her fingers over the pendant, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her. She feels touched but also unsure. What does this mean for them? Why does he feel the need to give her this now?

Amari sits down on the couch, the necklace still clutched in her hand as her mind races. She looks down at the pendant, tracing the curves of the letters with her fingertips. Her thoughts spiral, a jumble of emotions swirling together, making it hard to focus on any one feeling.

Why am I second-guessing this? she thinks, biting her lip as she reflects on everything that’s happened between her and Brendan.

At first, it all seemed effortless. There was chemistry, an undeniable pull that had brought them together so naturally. He was charming, funny, and caring when he wanted to be. But then there were the moments that gave her pause—the moments where he would vanish, or leave without a word, like last night. And the times he’d get distant or act like he was keeping a part of himself hidden. She had always told herself that she didn’t need to be the one to ask for explanations, but now she’s beginning to question if that was the right approach.

Is this just a whirlwind romance, or am I setting myself up for something deeper? she wonders. She feels a tension between what she knows—how much she cares for him—and the uncertainties that keep cropping up. She remembers how she told herself she wouldn’t let someone into her heart so easily again after her past. But with Brendan, it felt different. Or maybe it’s the fear of it not being different enough.

Am I falling for someone who isn’t ready to commit, or am I just overthinking things? The doubts cling to her thoughts like a fog, heavy and lingering.

Her phone buzzes in her lap, snapping her out of her reverie. It’s a text from Brendan.

"Miss you already. Can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ll make it up to you, I promise."

She stares at the message, her heart fluttering a bit at his words. Yet the feeling of uncertainty remains. Does he really mean it? Or is this just another fleeting moment in the rollercoaster of their relationship?

Amari sighs and drops the phone on the couch beside her, leaning back with her hand still wrapped around the necklace.

She wishes she could just have clarity. A sense of what’s real and what’s fleeting. The trust they shared feels genuine, but the insecurity in the pit of her stomach is hard to ignore.

When Brendan walks through the door that evening, Amari is still sitting on the couch, lost in her thoughts. The sound of his keys hitting the counter draws her attention, and before she can fully process it, he’s already crossing the room toward her.

He pulls her up from the couch and wraps his arms tightly around her, enveloping her in his warmth. His chin rests gently on her head, and she feels the rise and fall of his chest as he takes a deep breath.

"I missed you," he murmurs softly into her hair, his voice steady and reassuring.

For a moment, Amari lets herself melt into his embrace. The doubts and questions swirling in her mind feel smaller when she’s in his arms. His hug is grounding, like an anchor holding her steady against the tide of her own thoughts.

"You okay, Mari?" he asks, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. His hazel gaze searches her face, concern etched into his features.

She nods but doesn’t say anything, afraid her voice might betray the mix of emotions she’s feeling. Brendan tilts his head, clearly not convinced.

"You’ve been quiet all day," he says, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "Talk to me. What’s on your mind?"

Amari hesitates, biting her lip as she considers whether now is the right time to bring up her feelings. But the tenderness in his eyes gives her a small push of courage.

"I just..." she starts, her voice soft. "I’ve been thinking about us. About where this is going."

Brendan frowns slightly, his hands still resting on her waist. "What do you mean? Did I do something to make you doubt how I feel about you?"

"It’s not just about you," she says quickly, shaking her head. "It’s me, too. I’m trying to figure out if I’m... ready for all of this. For us. Sometimes it feels like we’re moving so fast, and I’m scared I might get hurt."

Brendan’s expression softens, and he pulls her back into his arms, holding her even tighter this time. "Mari," he says, his voice steady but full of emotion. "You’re my girl. I don’t want you to feel like you have to question that. I know I’m not perfect, and yeah, this might be moving fast, but I don’t take what we have lightly. You’re not just someone to me. You’re everything."

His words hit her like a wave, washing over her doubts and leaving her feeling raw but reassured. She exhales deeply, letting herself sink into him again.

"I don’t want to lose you," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You won’t," Brendan says firmly. "I’m not going anywhere, Mari. We’ll figure this out together. One step at a time."

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, she decides to trust him. To trust them. Maybe it’s not all clear right now, but it doesn’t have to be. She just has to take it one step at a time, like he said.

Brendan pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on Amari's waist as he locks eyes with her. His tone is firm but gentle, grounding her in the moment.

"Amari," he says, his hazel eyes steady and unwavering. "We discussed this. I’m your boyfriend. You’re my girlfriend. That hasn’t changed. It won’t change."

She opens her mouth to respond but finds herself at a loss for words. The certainty in his voice, the way he says it like it’s the most obvious truth in the world, makes her chest tighten.

"I know," she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "It’s just..."

"It’s just what?" he presses softly, tilting his head as he studies her. "Tell me, baby. Don’t hold back."

Amari sighs, running a hand through her curls. "Sometimes I wonder if I’m enough for you. Your life is... big, B. You’re everywhere. Everyone knows you. And me? I’m just..."

"You’re just the woman I want," he interrupts firmly, cupping her face in his hands. "I don’t care about the rest. All of that—my career, the fame, the noise—it’s nothing if I don’t have you to come home to."

Her breath hitches, and she searches his face for any sign of doubt, but there’s none. Just honesty.

"You’re more than enough, Mari," he continues. "You’ve always been enough. And if you’re ever feeling like this again, you tell me, alright? I don’t want you sitting in your head overthinking. We’re in this together."

Amari swallows hard, nodding as her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. "Okay," she whispers.

"Good," Brendan says, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. "Because you’re stuck with me now. No take-backs."

That earns a soft laugh from her, and she leans into him, resting her forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around her again, holding her close, and for the first time in days, she feels the weight in her chest begin to lift.

Brendan's voice drops to a low, teasing murmur as his lips trail along the curve of Amari's neck. "Now," he begins, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine, "I have a way of enjoying you while we’re here."

Amari tilts her head slightly, giving him more access as her hands rest on his chest. "Oh, really?" she asks, her voice soft but laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

His lips curve into a smirk against her skin before he presses a series of slow, deliberate kisses along her collarbone. "Mhm," he hums. "No distractions, no interruptions—just you and me."

Amari’s fingers trail up to his shoulders, her heart pounding at the intensity in his voice. "And what exactly does that mean, Mr. Superstar?" she teases, though her breath hitches as he continues his exploration.

Brendan pulls back just enough to meet her gaze, his hazel eyes darkening with intent. "It means I want to focus on you, Mari. No cameras, no schedules, no outside noise. Just us, in this moment."

Her cheeks flush at the sincerity in his tone, and she bites her lip to suppress a smile. "Well, when you put it like that..."

He chuckles, his hands sliding down to her waist as he pulls her closer. "Then let me show you," he whispers, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s slow, deep, and filled with all the promises he doesn’t need words to express.

Amari stirs under the covers, her body still warm and buzzing from the hours spent with Brendan. She glances over at him, sprawled out beside her, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. A faint smile plays on her lips as she takes in his peaceful expression.

Then, the sharp buzz of his phone cuts through the quiet. Amari sighs, her muscles sore but satisfied, as she reaches over to the nightstand. "B," she murmurs softly, nudging his arm.

He groans in response, eyes barely cracking open. "What is it, baby?" he mumbles, voice rough from sleep.

"Your phone's going off," she says, holding it out to him. "Might be important."

Brendan takes the phone, squinting at the screen. His brows furrow as he reads the message, and he sits up slightly, running a hand through his hair.

"Everything okay?" Amari asks, her tone laced with curiosity and a touch of concern.

He sighs, placing the phone back on the nightstand. "Just my manager," he says, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Nothing that can’t wait till morning."

Amari relaxes, her smile returning. "Good," she whispers, pulling him back down beside her. "Because I wasn’t done cuddling you yet."

Brendan chuckles, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "You’re gonna ruin me, Mari," he says with a soft laugh.

"Guess we’re even then," she quips, burying her face in his chest.

Amari hears her phone buzz on the night stand. She opens her phone. And she sees she’s been tagged in a photo by Brendan. Coming from his stage page. It’s a picture of her on his bare chest sleep.

Amari’s heart skips a beat as she unlocks her phone and opens the notification. There it is—a photo Brendan posted from his official stage account. In the picture, she’s peacefully asleep, her head resting on his bare chest, the soft lighting in the room casting a serene glow over the intimate moment.

The caption reads: "My peace. My girl. 🖤 #NoQuestions"

Her eyes widen, and a mix of emotions floods her—surprise, embarrassment, and a strange, undeniable warmth. Brendan is private, especially when it comes to his personal life. For him to post something so intimate on his public page felt... monumental.

Amari’s cheeks flush as she glances at Brendan, who’s now propped up on his elbow, watching her reaction with a sly grin.

"You posted that?" she asks, holding the phone up.

"Yeah," he says nonchalantly, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. "What? I can’t let the world know I got the baddest girl out there?"

She shakes her head, biting her lip to suppress a smile. "B... you know your fans are going to have a field day with this, right?"

He leans closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Let them. I want everyone to know who I come home to."

Amari sighs, leaning into his touch. "You’re really trying to make me fall even harder for you, huh?"

"That’s the plan," he says with a wink, pulling her into a kiss.

She was scrolling through the pictures. She stopped on the last one. Curious, Amari scrolls back to the last photo and reads the caption Brendan had posted beneath it:

"When she’s your peace and your muse all in one. #MyQueen #NoQuestions #AmariAndB"

Her lips part slightly as she rereads the words, her heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t just the pictures—he had put her at the center of his world, publicly claiming her in a way that left no room for doubt.

She glances over at Brendan, who’s lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone as if he hadn’t just sent the internet into a frenzy.

"B," she starts softly, catching his attention. "This caption..."

He looks up, his hazel eyes meeting hers with a calm intensity. "What about it?"

"It’s... a lot," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "You’re really putting us out there like this."

Brendan sets his phone down and shifts to face her fully. "Amari, I don’t do anything halfway. You’re it for me. If the world knows it, then good. I’m not about to hide how I feel about you."

Her eyes soften as she takes in his sincerity. "You’re sure about this?"

He cups her face, brushing his thumb along her cheek. "More sure than I’ve ever been about anything. You’re my peace, Mari. And I want everyone to know it."

She exhales deeply, her chest swelling with emotion. "You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?"

Brendan chuckles, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "Only because you are."

She smiles, resting her forehead against his. "Alright, fine. But if this blows up, you’re the one answering all the comments."

"Deal," he says with a smirk. "As long as I get to keep posting you."

Amari shakes her head with a laugh, knowing she’s already lost this battle. "You’re impossible, B."

"And you love it," he counters, pulling her into his arms.

She lets herself melt into him, silently admitting he’s right.

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