#I TRY TO PULL IT OUT!!! BUT SOMETIMES IT'S TOO LATE

[yaoiification]

Your headcanons are so delicious🤌

Can you imagine taking Caleb’s virginity? All those years of pining and teasing and cold, cold showers….

Thank you for this omg I love virgin Caleb

Surely Caleb must have realized how thin the walls are by now. Even with his shirt in his mouth to muffle his whines it was obvious what he was doing every night.. and morning.. and sometimes in the middle of the day. Did he not realize how obvious he was being when he suddenly excused himself to go take a cold shower after your cuddling on the couch got a little more touchy than usual?

This time was no different. It was late- you both should’ve been asleep by now. Instead you lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling while trying to block out the sound of your adopted brother thrusting into his hand on the other side of the wall. You normally wouldn’t mind- sometimes you’d even press your ear against the wall and close your eyes, trying to imagine how he looks as he whimpers against his sheets. Tonight, however, you needed to sleep and his pathetic little noises weren’t helping.

Caleb never locked his door; he’d always reminded you that he would always be there for you whenever you needed him. He’d never thought you’d need him at 11:30 PM though.

Dressed in one of the shirts you’d stolen from him and nothing else, you swing open his door right as your name escapes his lips.

He scrambles to cover himself, but the friction of his sheets against his painfully hard cock sends a shiver through his body and a quiet yelp slips out.

“Having trouble sleeping?” He finally manages to stutter as if he’d not been moaning your name moments prior. Then his eyes slide down your body, seeing nothing but bare skin under his shirt. The fabric barely conceals you, covering just enough to hide the wetness between your thighs.

“You’re being too loud.”

You wouldn’t normally be this bold, but those years of secretly sneaking lustful glances at each other, of hands wandering just a little too far for siblings, and ensuring that no one came between the two of you had led you to this moment. He doesn’t stop you when you pull back his sheets; he just gives you those pathetic puppy eyes as the cold air hits his sensitive skin.

“I’m sorry”

Ignoring his words, you climb on top of him, legs straddling his as you cover his mouth with your palm.

“Be quiet.”

He’s never felt himself ache like this before. His eyes widen as your other hand slips downwards, wrapping itself around his cock. Caleb shakes his head as his eyes beg you to stop. You shouldn’t be doing this. But you know he needs it. You’ve heard him mumbling fantasies just like this countless times from the other side of the wall. He needs it.

His eyes roll back as he feels you press him against your drenched core. It takes everything in him not to climax right then and there, but he manages to hold out. You slip his length inside with ease as if you were made for each other. His whole body trembles beneath you as you feel him panting beneath your palm. His whines only get louder as you move- not even riding him, just readjusting your position. It’s clear he can’t take much more. His eyes meet yours once more and he silently pleads for it to stop- he can’t take it, it’s too much. You nod, the gesture giving him enough confirmation that he had permission.

You take your palm away from his lips as he cums, his whole body shaking from pleasure as he whimpers and moans before your lips crash against his. Caleb’s hands move to your hair, wrapping themselves around you just to hold you closer. Your lips against his are the only thing stopping him from waking the whole neighborhood with his desperate whines.

Eventually, he comes down from his high and you manage to peel yourself away from him, allowing him to catch his breath. He can’t meet your eyes, ashamed of reaching his peak within seconds of being inside of you. You slowly move away, releasing him from the softness and warmth of your pussy. Just that act alone causes him to choke and you can see a tiny dribble of cum escape his tip. While he’s still catching his breath, you lean down and kiss it, licking up the tiny droplets that slip down the side. Then you simply hop up and give him a teasing grin before giving him a quick peck on the lips, letting him taste himself.

He’s still in a daze as you slip out of his room and back into your own, but a few minutes later you hear the sound water running. It seems like another cold shower is needed.

[phoenixyfriend]

Okay so we have like. An unusually high ratio of royalty/nobility among the Jedi. Dooku, Quinlan, Oppo, you can sort of count Adi or Xanatos or Bruck, etc. Lots of Jedi 'just happen' to come from royal, noble, or incredibly wealthy/powerful families.

So from this I want to posit four things:

If a royal family has a Force-Sensitive child, and hasn't had one in generations, they may think that sending that child to the Jedi would be a little like sending a child to join the Catholic Church in the middle ages: you get to influence the political choices of the highest religious power in Europe the Galactic Republic Government. (That said, Dooku was sent to the Jedi because his parents didn't want him and ||left him to die of exposure, basically, so that if the Jedi arrived too late they'd be picking up a baby corpse|| because they were so disdainful of Force-Sensitive individuals, and Quinlan wasn't sent to the Jedi so much as he escaped to them.)

They are all incredibly wrong about this, and royals raised as Jedi generally do not give any more of a shit about their home planets than any other planet. They care, of course, but they are not attached, because they are Jedi. Xanatos was an exception (afaik his dad sent him to the Jedi because he wanted to do the Catholic thing? and then Xanatos lost his mind). (Don't correct me on this, it's not really important if it was actually intended or not.)

This is achieved by way of Jedi from royal backgrounds having a mandatory high-level political class on how to handle royal court politics and general intrigue. It's not exclusive to the royal kids, but it is a prerequisite for them. They usually end up doing their home planets as case studies for capstone projects, in part because

Sometimes the planets try to call their errant royals back. It might be because the planet is struggling and genuinely running out of heirs/needs a change in leadership (Serreno) and it might be because it was the plan all along, but on the off chance that the Jedi decides they HAVE to leave the Order and take up a throne to keep an entire planet from kind of imploding on itself... that royal Jedi has to be ready to play the game. OR if they don't actually think they're REALLY needed there, they have to be trained on how to go, and be polite/avoid getting trapped/play the game until they can get the hell out of there, while also installing that cousin that nobody thought was strong enough but DOES understand how to run the treasury as the new king.

I'm just imagining this like. Very specific set of classes that are open to any Jedi that's taken the necessary prereqs, but is mandatory for people like Quinlan and Dooku and Oppo.

This was inspired by a post of mine that's getting circulated regarding QuinObi stuff and my thoughts about how Quinlan might have needed preventative training in case of political upheavals trying to pull him back to his home planet. I want to mess with the Politics Classes that Quinlan is taking because he has to and Obi-Wan is taking because Qui-Gon said he should.

Qui-Gon: You should take this class because I'm training you up as a negotiator and diplomat, and you will need it to interact with people when brokering trade deals or peace treaties. Tholme: You are taking this class because your aunt is insane and you have to be ready in case she tries to pull you back into the bullshit.

And as @firebirdeternal offered:

Quinlan: God this is the worst. So boring. At least Obi-Wan is stuck here too. Obi-wan: This is fascinating wow, I can't believe I almost didn't get to attend, Quinlan is so lucky he's automatically in these classes.

[xobunni0]

𝒾𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈 — Valentine day 1

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

౨ৎ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡… shadow reminds you that even though he struggles to show it, his feelings for you aren’t going anywhere.

short one bc im sick 💔

the apartment was quiet, you and Shadow sat across from each other on the bed, legs loosely folded, a comfortable distance between you. the dim lighting cast a soft glow over his dark fur, highlighting the sharp edges of his features

but tonight, it was different

you had noticed it before how sometimes, no matter how close you were Shadow seemed miles away. it wasn’t coldness not exactly, but something deeper like he was carrying a weight that even you couldn’t reach.

and it had been happening more often lately.

the silence stretched on between you and Shadow, heavier than before. even after his quiet promise to try, there were moments when he still slipped away moments when his thoughts pulled him somewhere you couldn’t follow.

and it hurt.

it wasn’t something you wanted to admit, even to yourself. you knew Shadow wasn’t the type to be openly affectionate, and you had never expected him to be. but when he pulled away, when his eyes drifted past you like he wasn’t really there it made you wonder if you were fooling yourself. If what you had with him was real

or if he was just holding on out of convenience

you sat on the bed knees pulled up to your chest, watching him as he stared out the window. his posture was tense, his mind clearly somewhere else. the city lights reflected in his eyes, but you could tell he wasn’t seeing any of it

Shadow had always been distant. you knew that from the start. but knowing it and feeling it were two very different things

Shadow was beside you, close enough that you could feel his presence but not close enough to feel him. not in the way you wanted.

you had always been there for him. When he became lost in his head, you stayed. when his nightmares woke him in the middle of the night, you never asked questions you just reached for him letting him know he wasn’t alone. when he disappeared for hours, sometimes days, you never demanded explanations. you simply waited.

but how long could you keep waiting for something that might never come?

“You’re thinking too much again” Shadow said his voice pulling you from your thoughts

you glanced at him. he was looking at you now but not in the way you wanted. it was observation not intimacy. he could always tell when something was on your mind but he never reached for you first. never touched you just because he wanted to

you swallowed your fingers gripping the blanket. “Do you even care about me Shadow?”

the words felt heavier the moment they left your mouth. Shadow stiffened his red eyes narrowing slightly not in ange but in confusion.

“Why would you ask that?” he said

you exhaled, shaking your head. “Because you never show it” you admitted your voice quieter now. “I’m always here for you. Always. And I don’t expect you to change who you are but… sometimes I wonder if this even means anything to you. If I mean anything to you.”

Shadow was silent. His gaze flickered slightly, as if he was processing your words but the longer the silence stretchedthe more that ache in your chest deepened.

“I know you’re not the kind of person who says things outright,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I never needed you to say the words. But I need something Shadow. I need to know that you care, that I’m not just wasting my time hoping for something you’ll never give me.”

His jaw tightened and for a second, you thought he might look away. But then finally he spoke

“I do care” he said, his voice quieter than before. “More than you know.”

Your breath caught. “Then why don’t you show it?”

Shadow exhaled sharply his hand running over his quills. “Because I don’t know how,” he admitted, and for the first time, there was a rawness in his tone that startled you. “I’ve spent my life fighting, surviving. Affection isn’t something I’ve ever had let alone something I’ve learned to give.”

Your chest ached at the quiet confession.

“You could learn” you said gently. “I don’t need big gestures of love Shadow. I don’t need words. Just… something. Anything to let me know I matter to you as much as you matter to me.”

Shadow looked at you for a long moment, something unreadable behind his eyes. slowly hesitantly he reached out.

His hand brushed against yours fingers curling over your own not tightly, but on purpose. It was such a simple touch but from him it felt like everything.

Your breath hitched slightly as you squeezed his hand in return.

Shadow’s gaze softened just a little. “I’ll try” he said but this time, you believed him.

because tonight he was already starting.

[dreaminguponlilypads]

BITE THE HAND.

AU: vampire!Simon "Ghost" Riley x human!reader

pt. 2

Loving a vampire was dangerous.

Loving him was reckless.

But that never stopped you.

The dim glow of the single lamp in your room cast long shadows against the walls, the silence between you both thick with something unspoken. Ghost sat in the chair across from you, mask pulled up just enough to expose his mouth. His sharp canines glinted under the low light—a quiet, constant reminder of what he was.

Of what he could do.

His dark eyes studied you, unmoving, unreadable. He always watched you like that—like he was trying to figure out why the hell you hadn’t run yet.

“You’re late,” you murmured, pulling your knees to your chest on the bed.

He huffed, arms crossing over his broad chest. “Got held up.”

“Drinking or killing?” you asked dryly.

The corner of his mouth twitched, something almost like amusement flashing across his face. “Neither.”

A good sign. You never asked what he did outside of these four walls, and he never told you. Some things were better left in the dark.

You sighed, studying him. “You look tired.”

“Don’t get tired.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. You look like hell.”

Ghost tilted his head slightly, gaze flickering over you. “Funny. Thought the same about you.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. The past few days had been… difficult. Living among vampires as a human meant constantly watching your back, hiding your fear, never showing weakness. But it was different with Ghost.

With him, you could breathe.

Still, he noticed. He always did.

His gaze sharpened. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said too quickly.

Ghost’s jaw tensed, and in a blink, he was in front of you, crouching by the bed. He moved fast—too fast for a human, too fast for you to ever get used to. His hand rested against your knee, fingers cool against your skin.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, voice low.

You swallowed. “Had a run-in with one of your kind. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make his point. “Who?”

“Does it matter?”

His eyes darkened. “To me, it does.”

Your heart clenched. This—whatever this was between you—was dangerous for both of you. But the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, like he was trying to remind himself that you were real, made it impossible to care.

“I handled it,” you whispered.

Ghost exhaled through his nose, unconvinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, his fingers trailed down, wrapping around your wrist. He turned your hand over, his thumb brushing over your pulse point.

It was deliberate. He did it sometimes, as if grounding himself.

Or maybe reminding himself of what you were.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured.

A dangerous promise. One you both knew he couldn’t keep.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of his jaw, just beneath where his mask rested. His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his other hand rising to cup your cheek.

“Simon,” you whispered, using his real name—the one no one else got to say.

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his voice barely above a breath.

“Say it again.”

So you did.

“Simon.”

His name barely left your lips before he pulled you closer. His fingers curled against your jaw, cold against your flushed skin, his grip firm but careful—always careful. You knew what he was, what he could do, but he never handled you like prey.

You pressed your forehead against his, eyes half-lidded as you breathed him in—cold earth, iron, something dark and unnameable. His other hand was still wrapped around your wrist, thumb ghosting over the thrumming pulse beneath your skin.

A reminder. A temptation.

“You shouldn’t let me this close,” he murmured, voice low and rough.

You swallowed hard, but you didn’t move away. “Then why are you here?”

A long silence stretched between you. His dark eyes burned into yours, filled with something unreadable—something dangerous. Then, in a slow, deliberate motion, he released your wrist and slid his hand around the back of your neck instead.

His lips brushed yours, featherlight, barely there. “Reckon I’m just as bad at staying away as you are.”

It wasn’t much of a kiss—not yet—but it sent something sharp and hot through your veins. You chased the feeling, pushing forward just enough to press your lips more firmly against his. A quiet exhale escaped him, and then he was kissing you in earnest, his hand tightening at the base of your skull, keeping you close.

You sighed into his mouth, fingers fisting the fabric of his jacket. His fangs grazed your bottom lip—not enough to break skin, just enough to remind you exactly what he was.

Simon was always so controlled, so composed, but you felt the way his restraint frayed at the edges.

And you wanted to pull at the threads.

Your fingers trailed up, brushing along the hem of his mask. Before you could lift it further, his hand shot up, catching your wrist. He pulled back just enough for his lips to part from yours, his breath slow and steady despite the tension in his grip.

“Not yet,” he murmured.

Your heart twisted—not in disappointment, but something else. You nodded, letting your hand drop.

Simon searched your face for a long moment, his thumb absentmindedly stroking against your cheek. Then, in an almost reluctant motion, he leaned away.

“You need rest,” he muttered, standing.

You sighed. “So do you.”

He huffed, adjusting his mask back into place. “Told you. Don’t get tired.”

Liar.

You watched him for a moment, then shifted under the blankets and patted the space beside you. “Stay,” you said softly.

His jaw tensed, his shoulders stiff. He hesitated—but not for long. With a quiet exhale, he sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off his boots before sliding in beside you.

He stayed on top of the blankets, his body angled toward the door, always alert, always watching. You didn’t press him. Instead, you turned onto your side, nestling closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

His arm came around you without a word.

Simon didn’t sleep. He never did. But as his hand settled against your back, calloused fingers splayed protectively, you knew he’d stay there until morning.

Watching. Guarding. Keeping you safe. He always did.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough.

[db0xtae]

Winning the Breakup | Chapters 10 & 11

- Minho (Xo Kitty) X Reader

🦦ྀི Summary : Y/N, a talented and athletic after an intense breakup, Y/N reluctantly agrees to fake date Minho, to make their exes jealous. What begins as a mutual arrangement soon turns complicated when their fake relationship starts to feel all too real. With humor, bickering, and tender moments, Minho and Y/N's journey proves that sometimes the best way to heal from heartbreak is to allow yourself to fall in love.

🦦ྀི Warnings : None

🦦ྀི WC : 2,207

🦦ྀི Previous Chapter : 8 & 9

🦦ྀི A/N : Hope you enjoy!!!

˚⊱🪷⊰˚

Chapter 10: Crossroads

The days following Y/N and Minho’s tense late-night conversation were a haze of awkward silences and unspoken words. They still played the part of the perfect couple in front of their friends, but behind closed doors, the cracks in their act were glaringly obvious.

For Y/N, everything felt harder now. She missed the playful banter, the easy laughs, and even the way Minho would always make sarcastic comments about her volleyball matches. Now, every interaction was strained, and it was her fault. She’d pushed him away, and she didn’t know how to pull him back.

It was the day of a big volleyball match, and the gym was packed with students cheering for the KISS team. Y/N stood with her teammates, stretching and trying to focus, but her mind was elsewhere.

“You good?” her teammate Hana asked, nudging her.

“Yeah, just… distracted,” Y/N replied with a forced smile.

“Well, undistract yourself,” Hana said with a grin. “We need you on top of your game today. No pressure, but Minho’s in the stands.”

Y/N’s head snapped up. “He’s here?”

Hana nodded toward the bleachers, where Minho sat with Kitty, Q, Jin, and Yuri. He looked effortlessly cool in a leather jacket, his expression unreadable as he talked to Yuri.

Y/N’s stomach twisted. She wasn’t sure if his presence was comforting or just another source of stress.

As the game began, Y/N forced herself to push all thoughts of Minho out of her head. She focused on the rhythm of the match, the sound of the ball hitting the court, the shouts of her teammates. This was her domain, her escape.

By the second set, KISS was dominating, and Y/N was in the zone. She spiked the ball with such force that the opposing team barely had time to react. The crowd erupted in cheers, and for a moment, she allowed herself to bask in the adrenaline rush.

In the stands, Minho clapped, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

After the game, Y/N was surrounded by teammates and fans congratulating her. She smiled and thanked them, but her eyes kept drifting to the stands, where Minho was waiting with the group.

“Go on,” Hana teased, nudging her. “Your boyfriend’s waiting.”

Y/N hesitated but made her way over, her heart pounding.

“You were amazing!” Kitty said, throwing her arms around Y/N. “That spike in the second set? Legendary.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, her gaze flicking to Minho. He stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“Good game,” he said, his voice cool but not unkind.

“Thanks,” she replied, her stomach flipping.

Q, ever the peacemaker, stepped in. “So, celebratory dinner? Jin and I found this new barbecue place that looks amazing.”

“Yes!” Yuri said, already heading toward the exit. “I’m starving.”

As the group filed out, Y/N fell into step with Minho. The silence between them was heavy, but she didn’t know how to break it.

The barbecue restaurant was bustling, the scent of grilled meat filling the air. The group squeezed into a booth, with Y/N ending up next to Minho. She tried to focus on the conversation, but the tension between them was impossible to ignore.

“Pass the kimchi,” Q said, breaking into her thoughts.

Y/N handed it to him, trying to seem normal.

“So, Y/N,” Yuri said, leaning forward. “What’s the secret to spiking like that? I feel like you broke the sound barrier.”

Y/N laughed. “Years of practice and a lot of trial and error.”

“You make it look easy,” Jin said. “Meanwhile, I can barely hit a volleyball without it going sideways.”

“You’re amazing at track, though,” Q said, squeezing Jin’s hand. The gesture was subtle, but the affection between them was obvious.

Y/N glanced at Minho, wondering if anyone else noticed the way his jaw tightened whenever Jin and Q showed affection. Was he jealous? Or just annoyed by the PDA?

After dinner, the group lingered outside the restaurant, debating what to do next.

“Movie night at Yuri’s?” Kitty suggested.

“I’m in,” Yuri said.

“Same,” Q added, pulling Jin along.

As the group began to head toward Yuri’s car, Minho hung back. Y/N hesitated before turning to him.

“You’re not coming?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’ve got some stuff to do.”

There it was again—that wall between them.

“Minho,” she said softly, “can we talk?”

He looked at her, his expression guarded. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Everything,” she said. “I know I’ve been… distant. And I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to figure things out, but I’m not good at this.”

“Good at what?” he asked, his tone tinged with frustration.

“At being honest,” she admitted. “With you. With myself. I’m scared, okay? I’m scared of ruining this, whatever this is. But I hate how things are between us right now.”

Minho’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something. But then he shook his head.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said, his voice rising slightly.

“What?” Y/N asked, confused.

“You’re scared of ruining things,” he said, stepping closer, “but you’re already doing it by holding back. By acting like what we have isn’t real. And it’s driving me crazy.”

Y/N blinked, stunned. “Minho, I—”

“No, let me finish,” he snapped, his voice trembling with emotion. “You think this is just a game? That it’s just some act to fool everyone else? Well, it’s not. Not for me.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“I like you, Y/N,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ve liked you since the first time you made fun of me in class. And I’ve been pretending that this fake relationship doesn’t mean anything because I thought that’s what you wanted. But I can’t do it anymore.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Minho shook his head, his expression a mix of anger and vulnerability. “Figure out what you want, Y/N. Because I can’t keep doing this.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Y/N standing there, her mind racing and her heart aching.

Minho’s confession had shattered the fragile balance they’d been holding onto. And as much as Y/N wanted to chase after him, she knew she couldn’t. Not until she figured out what she truly felt.

˚⊱🪷⊰˚

Chapter 11: Cracks in the Armor

The night after Minho’s confession felt like a storm raging inside Y/N’s mind. She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying his words over and over again.

Her chest ached with guilt, confusion, and something else she wasn’t ready to name. Minho’s voice—usually full of teasing or sarcasm—had been raw, trembling with emotion. She hadn’t expected it. She hadn’t expected him to feel this deeply.

“Figure out what you want.”

That was easier said than done.

The next day, Y/N arrived early for volleyball practice, hoping the familiar rhythm of drills and spikes would help clear her head. The gym was quiet except for the squeak of her shoes against the polished floor.

She went through her warm-up routine alone, slamming ball after ball into the opposite court. Each hit was an attempt to push her emotions aside, to focus on something—anything—other than Minho.

“Wow, someone’s aggressive today,” Hana teased as she entered the gym with the rest of the team.

Y/N forced a laugh. “Just working out some stress.”

“Good, because we need that energy for next week’s game,” Hana said, tossing her a ball. “You and I are doing extra sets today.”

Y/N nodded, grateful for the distraction. But as the team practiced, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was only postponing the inevitable.

By lunchtime, Y/N’s anxiety had only grown. She hadn’t seen Minho all day, and she was starting to wonder if he was avoiding her. Normally, he’d pop up at her locker or make some snide remark about her choice of snacks. But today, nothing.

When she joined her friends at their usual table in the cafeteria, she immediately noticed the empty seat next to Kitty.

“Where’s Minho?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“Skipped lunch,” Q replied, biting into his sandwich. “Said he had something to do.”

Y/N’s heart sank.

“You two okay?” Kitty asked, her brow furrowed.

Y/N hesitated. “Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

Kitty gave her a knowing look but didn’t push further.

The rest of lunch passed in a blur of conversation and laughter, but Y/N felt like she was miles away.

After school, Y/N found herself wandering aimlessly around campus, hoping to run into Minho. Instead, she ran into Yuri, who was sitting on the steps outside the library with her headphones on.

“Hey,” Y/N said, sitting down next to her.

Yuri pulled off her headphones and smiled. “Hey, superstar. What’s up?”

Y/N hesitated, unsure how to start. Yuri had always been one of the more perceptive members of their friend group, and if anyone could give her advice, it was her.

“Can I ask you something?” Y/N said finally.

“Of course,” Yuri replied, turning to face her.

Y/N took a deep breath. “How do you know when you’re ready to admit your feelings for someone?”

Yuri raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, this is about Minho, isn’t it?”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “What? No, it’s not—”

“Please,” Yuri interrupted. “You two have been dancing around each other for months. Everyone can see it.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” Yuri asked. “He likes you. You like him. What’s the problem?”

“I’m scared,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of what?”

“Of ruining everything,” Y/N said. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if we lose what we already have?”

Yuri was quiet for a moment before she said, “Look, I get it. Taking that step is scary. But you can’t keep holding back because you’re afraid of what might happen. Sometimes, you just have to take the risk.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her chest tightening. Yuri was right, but it didn’t make things any easier.

That evening, Y/N decided to stop avoiding the issue. She texted Minho, asking him to meet her at their usual spot by the soccer field.

When she arrived, the field was bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. Minho was already there, leaning against the fence with his hands in his pockets. He didn’t look up as she approached.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey,” he replied, his tone distant.

Y/N hesitated before stepping closer. “Thanks for coming.”

Minho finally looked at her, his expression guarded. “What do you want, Y/N?”

She flinched at the coldness in his voice but pushed forward. “I wanted to talk. About what you said yesterday.”

“Which part?” he asked. “The part where I told you I liked you? Or the part where I told you to figure out what you want?”

“Both,” she said, her voice trembling.

Minho sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if you’re just here to tell me that you don’t feel the same way, I get it. You don’t owe me anything.”

“That’s not it,” Y/N said quickly. “I just… I don’t know how to do this, Minho. I don’t know how to let myself feel something without being terrified of losing it.”

“You think I’m not scared?” Minho said, his voice rising. “You think I haven’t thought about how this could go wrong? But I’m still here, Y/N. Because I’d rather take the risk than keep pretending I don’t care.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart pounding. Tears filled Y/N’s eyes as she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Minho shook his head, his expression softening. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I just want you to be honest. With me. With yourself.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the distant hum of traffic and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Finally, Y/N took a deep breath and said, “I like you, too, Minho. I think I’ve liked you for a while. But I was scared. Scared of what it would mean, and scared of losing you if it didn’t work out.”

Minho stared at her, his eyes searching hers. “And now?”

“Now, I’m still scared,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to keep running away from this. From us.”

Minho’s expression softened, and for the first time in days, a small smile tugged at his lips.

“About time,” he said, his tone teasing but warm.

Y/N laughed, wiping her eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”

Minho stepped closer, his gaze steady. “No promises.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Y/N realized that, for the first time in a long time, she felt lighter. There were still uncertainties, still fears, but she wasn’t alone in facing them.

And that made all the difference.

[benzendrine-nosebleed]

"Sing Me To Sleep."

Guys!! I wrote a one shot based on Schlatt's most recent Drunk Driving stream after hearing him sing bits and pieces. I haven't proof read this (mostly because I'm not in any sober editing mood to) but I wanted to share this quick little bit.

1111 Words, Fluff, Schlatt X Reader

“I love hearing you sing like that,” I spoke softly. Jay was taking a quick break from his drunk driving stream, moving from his office to the kitchen. He has been streaming for a few hours now, and I could smell herbal liqueur on his breath. He grazed past, marching straight to the refrigerator with padded “thuds” from his socked feet.

“Do ya?” Schlatt asked, plucking a snacking cheese from the drawer inside. “Was it on stream?” He asked, unwrapping and popping creamy gouda snack cheese between his lips.

“Yeah, your mic picked it up, and I do, I love hearing you sing Jay, I wish you’d do it when you were sober. You have a wonderful voice,” I smiled, “I mean, your fans loved the album right? That should be enough motivation for you to sing like a canary,” I reached out to hold him for a second before he went back into his office. His mustache shifted on his upper lip as he chewed away. “Have fun with your stream Handsome, I’ve got to go to bed soon. I’m gonna get ready to crawl in. I’ll turn your side of the blanket on so when you make it back it’ll be warm for you too.”

Schlatt smiled and reached out, setting the wrapper on the counter beside me and wrapping his arms around me in a soft embrace. “Of course toots, I don’t know when I’ll end the stream, but I’ll be ready to climb into bed wit-cha.” He pulled me close into his arms, and planted a kiss on my cheek. “If I’m not back in there before you fall asleep, I hope you get some good rest in, I love ya,” he chirped. He pulled away, striding with a confidence he put up as a front for his audience. He entered the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

As he moved back into his room, I strolled across our home to the master bathroom and began drawing up a shower. I had a long enough day working at my own conventional job, that a Friday night was the night to relax. It was winter though, which meant I was in the busy season. I had to help shovel snow across the city, while in New York was enough of a task on its own, and brainstorm funding for public park systems and come up with plans for new designs. I climbed in, letting the hot water warm my bones, and I listened to Schlatt scornfully yell at his computer screen. As I continued, I could hear his agitation and laughs come in waves. He was thoroughly enjoying streaming again, and I was more than happy to let him enjoy it.

I climbed out of the shower and threw on some pajamas, in “Jay’s” style as I had begun to call it. I had taken one of his sweatshirts, which was baggy on myself, and threw it over a pair of my shorts. Once I finished brushing my teeth, I walked to the bedroom, careful as to not disturb Schlatt in his element on Twitch. His cats, Jambo and Soup, were sitting on the preheated bed, leaving me to shuffle in between them as not to disturb their own slumber. I plugged my phone in, and scrolled through TikTok until I began to drift off. I could feel myself nodding in between videos, so I made the choice to set my phone down, and sleep until I felt my lovely drunk boyfriend slam into bed.

This was somewhat of a common occurrence, since he used to film Chuckle Sandwich late into the evenings, we held this dynamic. I would end up in bed early, and sometimes I would wake up to him crawling in, or cuddling up to me. Sometimes I wouldn’t wake up at all and I’d hear my alarm, and feel Schlatt’s arm wrapped around my stomach anchoring me down. After the week that I had though, I was too tired to try and stay up until he was done streaming. I set my phone down on the bed next to me, and nodded off.

I woke up to Schlatt crawling into bed gently, not to disturb me. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but the room was still dark, and the lamp on my side of the bed was still on. He reached over me softly and shut it off, slowly letting the room fill in with a darkness. I didn’t move too much, it was more of my subconscious running my body at this point more than my own mental state. My eyes fluttered closed again, only squinting shut as soon as I felt his hand wrap around my shoulders. He shuffled closer to me, pulling the blanket from between us, and spooning into me.

“Sleep Warm, sleep tight, once you turn off the light,”

He softly lulled. His fingers slowly drifted into my hair, stroking through the strands softly. I recognized the song, being one Schlatt would throw on sometimes in the evening as the night came to a close. He slurred softly, his tone was indicative that he had been drinking most of the evening, but reached his most inebriated state before climbing into bed. He softly sang more, my mind came to life realizing he wasn’t just singing along to a song, he was singing to me.

“Let dreams within you dwell, sweet dreams of me my love,”

He continued softly, his fingernails tracing softly on my scalp. A smile had formed on my face hearing him singing so sweetly, softly into my ears as his lips pressed to the back of my neck with each verse. I still hadn’t moved an inch, hoping to not spook him out of continuing his warbling.

“Close your eyes now, and kiss me, and whisper you miss me,”

He pressed his lips to my neck with a soft kiss. His soft mustache tickled my neck, his fluffed brown hair pressed to mine, it was almost overwhelming how much I adored him like this. I scooted backwards into his body, pressing myself against him as his singing ended a moment later. His hand wandered under my sweatshirt, gently cupping my bare torso. I would normally feel a tad self conscious whenever he would do this, but tonight I basked in the feeling. His hand slid itself between the mattress and my skin, securing his place next to me.

“G’night sweetheart, I love you,” He whispered softly between another set of kisses on my neck.

“Good night Jay, I love you too,” I mumbled back, still flush from his lull.

[bamgyuuuri]

⸝⸝ casual ┈ cyj.

⸝⸝ WHEN the lines between being casual or something more blur, what was simple now aches, and every touch feels like a promise neither of you can keep. as you try to leave, his silent pull drags you closer, and you’re both left questioning if you can ever walk away.

pairings and tags. fwb!yeonjun x reader . angst . emotional hurt/comfort . will-they-won't-they . emotional tension . bittersweet . longing . mutual (?) pining

word count. 1.7k

short note! casual by chappell roan played on shuffle and i just had to write out the experience :3

you and yeonjun were friends with benefits. that was it. that was the setup.

no messy emotions, no whispered promises in the dark, no tangled feelings in the sheets. just heat, just fleeting touches, just something to fill the silence of the night—pleasure wrapped in warmth, pressed between sheets and bitten-back moans. that was all it was meant to be.

but lately, yeonjun had been slipping.

it was in the way his gaze lingered, warm and searching, like he was looking for something deeper beneath your skin. in the way his fingers traced absentminded shapes on your bare arm when he thought you were asleep. in the way his laughter softened around you, his teasing carrying something gentler, something that felt dangerous if you let yourself think about it too much. his usual sharp wit melted at the edges when it came to you, his jokes less biting, his smirks less taunting. there was something fond underneath it all—woven between his words, tucked into the way he’d nudge your knee with his, the way he’d ruffle your hair only to fix it right after. it was in the way he let you win sometimes, even when you both knew he never let anyone win.

and you could feel it.

it clung to the space between you, thick and unspoken, curling around the edges of your carefully drawn lines, threatening to blur them beyond recognition.

so you tried to ignore it. to pretend you didn’t notice the way his touches lingered just a second too long, the way his gaze felt like it was searching for something more, something you weren’t ready to give. you tried to keep it light, to smooth over whatever was shifting between you with forced ease, with teasing that felt hollow, with distance that never lasted.

you started leaving as soon as you could, slipping out of his bed while the sheets were still warm, before the air could settle into something too thick, too real. before his sleepy voice could wrap around your name in that quiet, vulnerable way that made your stomach twist. before you could catch the way his fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for you but stopped himself.

but yeonjun wouldn’t let you.

he’d shift against the mattress with a sleepy groan, lashes fluttering open just enough for you to see the way his brows pulled together. his arm would snake around your waist before you could slip away, tugging you back with a strength that shouldn’t belong to someone still half-asleep. his voice, rough with sleep, would murmur soft protests into the crook of your neck. where are you going? it’s too early. just stay.

some nights, when you managed to make it to the edge of the bed, his fingers would brush against your wrist—light, hesitant, almost like he didn’t mean to. almost like it was instinct; like some part of him was reaching for you before he could stop himself. before his mind could remind him that this wasn’t supposed to be more than what it was. you never knew if he was waiting for you to leave.

or hoping you’d stay.

but the worst was when he didn’t try to stop you at all.

when he'd just lay there, eyes half-lidded, watching you with something unreadable in his gaze—something thick and quiet and aching. no lazy grip curling around your wrist, no drowsy murmurs pleading for just five more minutes, no teasing excuses to keep you tangled up in his sheets. just stillness. just silence.

when he let you go, but didn’t look away.

his breathing was slow, controlled, but you could see the tension in his body—the way his fingers twitched against the sheets, like he wanted to reach for you but knew he shouldn’t. the way his lips parted just slightly, as if on the verge of speaking, only for nothing to come out. he just lay there, unmoving, waiting—waiting—but for what, you didn’t know.

or maybe, you did.

because he didn’t just watch you leave. he watched and waited for you to decide. waited for you to hesitate.

waited for you to turn back around, to choose to stay.

waited as he watched the way your shoulders tensed as you pulled your clothes back on. watched the way your fingers fumbled, your movements just a little too rushed, too stiff, betraying the weight pressing down on your chest.

it was like he was hoping—begging—that you’d falter. that you’d glance back, think twice, maybe even change your mind entirely.

and that was the part that scared you the most.

because every time, a part of you wanted to.

wanted to drop the fabric clutched in your hands, crawl back under the covers, press your face into the crook of his neck and let yourself disappear into the warmth of him. let his arms wind around you like they always did, let yourself be pulled into the slow, sleepy haze of his touch.

because there was something devastating about the way he looked at you in those moments—quiet, unguarded, hopelessly patient. it felt like a question he was too afraid to ask. like he was giving you the choice, over and over again, even though he already knew your answer.

and maybe, one day, you wouldn’t have the strength to leave.

maybe, one day, you’d stay.

but not tonight.

tonight, you swallow down the lump in your throat, the heaviness of his gaze still weighing on you like a physical thing. your fingers shake as you button up your shirt, the fabric slipping between your fingers more than once, as if your body is betraying you, wanting to stay, to stay just a little longer. you don’t look at him—not yet. if you do, if you let yourself see him right now, you’re afraid you’ll crumble. you’re afraid you won’t be able to tear yourself away from this.

but then, his voice cuts through the silence, soft and hoarse, as if he’s just woken from a dream that’s already slipping away.

"you always leave so fast."

your breath catches in your throat, lodged there like a stone, and for a moment, the world feels too still, too thick with unspoken things. you close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but it’s impossible to keep the trembling from seeping into your skin.

keep it light. keep it simple.

"you know the deal, yeonjun," you murmur, barely above a whisper, your voice breaking just a little, and you hate it. you hate how fragile you sound. you bend down, desperately trying to distract yourself as you slip on your shoes, the motion so much harder than it should be, because every part of you is screaming to turn around, to look at him, to stay.

but you don’t.

"do i?" he asks again, his voice catching in that way it does when he's too close to something he doesn’t want to face. you can feel the question hanging in the air, sharp and heavy, pressing in on your ribs. your heart stutters.

you look at him, finally. and it’s worse than you thought.

yeonjun's still lying there, the way he always does when he’s lost in thought, but it’s different now. the sheets are tangled around him, messy and half-draped, but it’s the way he looks at you that catches your breath, makes your pulse quicken in your throat. his eyes are wide, unreadable, like he’s searching for something in you, something that doesn’t exist, something he wants you to give him.

and you know—you know—that if you stay long enough, you’ll give it to him. you’ll break and give him every piece of yourself.

"don’t do that," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, but it sounds like you’re pleading, like you’re begging him to stop. you need him to stop. you need him to stop making it feel like this could be something else.

"do what?" he asks, his head tilting slightly to the side, his voice still soft, still heavy with sleep, but there’s something different now. something aching.

"make this into something it’s not."

his laugh is small, sharp, and it cuts into the air between you like a jagged breath. it’s hollow, humorless. but there’s a flicker in his eyes—something that makes your stomach twist, something raw, something that burns too bright.

"yeah," he breathes out, his gaze flickering away for a moment, like he’s trying to protect himself from the weight of what he wants to say, but when he meets your eyes again, it’s there, clear and heavy in the space between you. "guess I’m just imagining things, huh?"

you don’t answer. you can’t. the words catch in your throat, heavy and stuck, and all you want to do is scream, to tell him it’s not just him. it’s you too.

but you can’t.

instead, you straighten up, pulling your bag over your shoulder, and every part of you aches at the thought of leaving. your chest feels like it’s caving in, like there’s a weight pressing down on you, squeezing every breath out of your lungs, but you push through it, keep moving forward. you have to.

"go back to sleep, jjun."

he doesn’t reply this time. there’s no protest, no sharp word that calls you back. he just watches you, his gaze following every move, every step, like he’s waiting for something. waiting for you to waver, to choose him.

you reach for the door, your fingers trembling as they curl around the handle, but then, before you can pull it open—

"one day, i hope you wish to stay."

his voice is quiet, but it cuts through you, deep and piercing, and for a moment, you don’t move. the words hang in the air, wrapping around you like a rope pulling you back, pulling you toward him, toward whatever this is.

your grip tightens around the handle, your knuckles white, but you don’t look back.

not tonight.

꒰🧸꒱ @pagelets, @jettithink, @killa-1009, @j-ji-jia, @frankghgr, @dawngyu @usuallyunlikelyfox @sxmmerberries @napipope-ta @bamgeutori @xylatox @hyunj00 <3

[yourislandgirl]

*:ꔫ:*ₓₒ RAMEN RESOLUTIONS ˚ ༘♡ੈ✩ || 이히승 x fem!reader || drabble

— KISS ME, DON’T SAY NO series

summary: sometimes all you need is someone who tries, because they love you. heeseung was your someone, and he’d move mountains to prove it . or make you some ramen.. rain check on the mountains

genres: fluff, romance, non-idol!heeseung x non-idol!reader, est. relationship

warnings: attempts at humour, the smallest hint of angst, heeseung’s poor choice in skincare

[archive]

You were extremely annoyed.

Last night was… a mess. And you didn’t even have the time to ruminate on it since your day started off late — you missed your bus, you had to take an uber to campus, you made a stupid mistake on your quiz and lost three marks because of it, and to top it all off you had to walk home in the rain because you forgot to check the weather forecast for the afternoon.

You were cold, shivering a little, hair sticking to your forehead, damp and kinda gross. It was an odd feeling to be sweating while the weather was so cold but it couldn’t be helped as you rushed into your apartment, only stopping to finally take a breath when you entered the elevator.

You leaned against the elevator walls, pushing your hair off of your cheeks. There was no way today could get worse.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and as you pulled it out, you took a deep breath in. Heeseung’s bright smile graced your screen, the name ‘Hee-man🧍‍♂️’ at the top.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself. It was bracing, those tense three seconds where you wait whilst deciding whether to pick up the phone or let it keep ringing. Truth be told, you loved your boyfriend, you loved him to the ends of the earth, but after such a shitty fight the night before, followed by such a shitty day, well…

You exhaled, and answered the call.

“Hi,” your voice was soft.

“Hey.”

You felt your stomach flip. Two years and you still could not control that reaction every time you heard his voice.

more under cut !!

Heeseung sighed before continuing, “Look, I know you had long classes today, and I know all you wanna do is just relax but… I was hoping we could talk?”

“Um,” you glanced at the number on the elevators monitor, your floor was next. “Okay, yeah, okay.” It was like you were trying to convince yourself that it would be alright. “It’s just that, I only just got home.”

“That’s fine,” Heeseung chuckled, “I’m at your apartment.”

You froze, almost forgetting to get off the elevator as the door opened. “I- what?”

It was like you could see Heeseung shrugging as he went “Mhm, I was hoping you’d say yes.”

“A bit presumptuous, huh?”

“I like to think it’s because I know you so well,” he chuckled.

You slowed down your pace, a few steps away from your door.

It was never fun to fight with him, the few fights you’ve had you’d resolved quickly, but last night was different. It was the first time either of you went to bed without fixing things. But even in the midst of nerves and the buzzing sensation from how overstimulated you were from your day, Heeseung had managed to calm you down in about five seconds.

You really wanted to fix things. And you hoped that’s what he wanted too.

As you stepped through the threshold of your door, you smiled at the warmth that filled your home.

He’d turned the heater on in the living room, he was listening to the playlist you made for him and he was… in the kitchen?

“What are you doing?” You dropped your bag and coat on the dining table chairs, unclipping your hair to start drying it.

Heeseung smirked, glancing up from the cutting board. “Ramyeon,” he said, simply using his thumb to gesture behind him at your stove. A copper pot sat on top with a delicious, spicy scent wafting out. Heeseung carefully added some small squares of fish cakes before turning down the heat to let it simmer.

You leaned against the counter, observing his movements as he let out an awkward cough, shuffling a little closer to you.

“I, uh… I know that there are a few things we need to talk about and, um, I want to sit down and properly explain my side and hear your side and just…”

You held his hand, stopping him from waving them around in a frenzy as he tried to find the words to explain what you already knew. “I get it,” you whispered. “You wanna work this out.”

Heeseung gave your hand a squeeze, a silent confirmation.

The relief that washed over you was worth every nitty gritty annoyance that you went through today.

“It was just some miscommunication, baby.” Heeseung pulled you closer by your waist. “I didn’t like how we left it last night so, I figured I’d do something nice, let you know that I’m sorry for that. And maybe we could just eat some ramyeon together and I can help you relax before we talk about this?”

You fought the smile but it slowly bloomed on your face. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he shrugged. “But just because we had a fight doesn’t mean we don’t love each other, right?”

You nodded, burying your face into his chest. “You’re right,” you whispered, your voice muffled by the material of his shirt.

Heeseung pulled back a little, his eyes darting down and back up, holding himself back from leaning closer.

He settled his gaze on your lips. “I wanna kiss you right now.” The heat of his breath brushed against your cheeks.

You didn’t trust your voice to respond, opting to lean closer, closing your eyes and melting into his touch.

Heeeseung hands slid up your arm, reaching to cup your face, smiling into the kiss. It felt that much more special to know the love you shared wasn’t dependent on good moods and easy going days. Heeseung gave you the freedom to feel and the agency to express every emotion. Willing to slow down and solve the issue together because your love isn’t something finite. Heeseung made you feel worthy of asking for that love, he made you feel worthy of accepting that love, even when you weren’t at your best self.

“We’ll be alright,” he murmured against your hairline.

You giggled under your breath, before screwing your eyes shut. “Oh, babe… Your fingers smell like fish cakes.”

“But you love fish cakes.”

“Not as skin care!”

a.n: first instalment of the ‘kiss me don’t say no’ drabble series !! welcome to the month of love everyone <333

taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf

2025 © yourislandgirl

[viagracex]

Hellooooooo I was wondering if you can write a George fan fic about the song wildest dreams by Taylor swift I also really love your writing keep up the great work

Holding Onto Smoke

george clarkey x fem!reader

summary: say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams. based on the song wildest dreams by taylor swift

warnings: no major content warnings

1.6k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

The first time you met George Clarkey, the city lights were too bright, and the air hummed with late-night possibilities.

It was a rooftop party, the kind that smelled like cheap champagne and cigarettes, where laughter echoed between high-rises, and strangers became stories you’d tell years from now. You weren’t supposed to be there. Neither was he.

He found you leaning against the railing, watching the city sprawl below like you were trying to memorize it.

“You look like you’ve got a secret,” he said, his voice a low tease.

You turned to find him watching you, the skyline casting a glow across his face, messy curls brushing against his forehead. His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. 

“Maybe I do.”

He grinned. “Want to tell me?”

You should have walked away then. Should have never let him take your hand, never let him lead you into the kind of love that leaves bruises on your heart. But you didn’t.

For weeks, it was stolen moments and promises that never felt real. He’d show up at your apartment late at night, breathless, like he had been running just to see you. You’d press your fingers against his pulse, feeling the way it raced beneath your touch, and wonder if he knew you were already falling.

George became your wildest dream come true, a whirlwind romance that swept you off your feet. Late-night drives through the city, his hand resting on your thigh as streetlights blurred past. Stolen kisses in hidden corners of bookshops, the scent of old pages mingling with his cologne. Lazy Sunday mornings tangled in sheets, sunlight painting patterns across his freckled shoulders as you traced constellations on his skin.

You fell hard and fast, drunk on the dizzy rush of new love. George's eyes lit up when he looked at you, like you were the most fascinating person he'd ever met. His laugh was infectious, head thrown back with abandon. You found yourself doing things you never imagined - singing karaoke in dive bars, skinny dipping under a full moon, dancing in the rain on empty streets, whispering secrets into the crook of his neck. 

"What are you thinking?" he'd ask, catching you staring.

"That I want to remember this forever," you'd reply. He'd pull you close, kissing you slow and deep, like he was trying to etch the memory into your skin. You'd run your fingers through his hair, marvelling at how someone so vibrant could be real.

But even as you fell deeper, a nagging voice whispered that this couldn't last. George was like a shooting star - brilliant, beautiful, and destined to burn out.

You saw it in the way his eyes sometimes drifted to the horizon, searching for something just out of reach. In the restless tapping of his fingers against your skin, a morse code of unspoken goodbyes. In the way he smiled when you talked about the future soft, bittersweet, like he already knew how the story would end.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you admitted one night, curled up in the dim glow of your bedroom, his hoodie swallowing your frame.

George’s fingers skimmed over your wrist, thoughtful, lingering. "Maybe that’s the point, maybe it's real enough for now."

You didn’t answer. You just pressed your forehead against his chest, eyes squeezed shut, hoping that if you held on tight enough, the world would forget to take him away.

But you both knew better.

He wasn’t yours to keep.

You tried not to think about it—about the way time was slipping through your fingers. But every touch felt like a goodbye, every kiss tasted like a memory.

And still, you stayed.

Because some people are worth breaking for.

The week before he left, you stood together on that same rooftop where you first met. The city stretched out before you, a glittering tapestry of lights and promises. You wore that red dress he loved, the one that made you feel invincible. His arm was around your waist, warm and steady, anchoring you to the moment.

"I wish we could freeze time," you whispered, your voice catching. "Just stay here forever."

George's fingers tightened on your hip. "We'll always have this," he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. "No matter what happens, no one can take these memories from us."

You turned to face him, memorizing every detail - the curve of his jaw,  his clear blue eyes, the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. Your heart ached with the weight of everything unsaid.

"Promise me something," you said, your fingers tracing the line of his collarbone. "Promise you'll remember me like this. Standing here, in this dress, watching the sunset with you. Remember how much I love you, even when I'm just a distant memory."

George's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. He cupped your face in his hands, his touch infinitely gentle. "I could never forget you," he whispered fiercely. "You're etched into my soul. Even if we never see each other again, you'll always be with me. In my thoughts, in my dreams."

You kissed him then, pouring every ounce of love and longing into that embrace. The city faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. When you finally broke apart, both breathless, you rested your forehead against his.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant hum of traffic below. "I'll always love you."

George's arms tightened around you as if to shield you from the truth. ”I—” His throat bobbed. He stopped, swallowing hard, the words trapped behind his teeth. 

And that—

That was worse than if he had said nothing at all.

George's silence hung heavy between you, filled with everything left unsaid. You could feel his heartbeat, rapid and uneven, echoing your own. The city stretched out before you, a glittering constellation of lights and possibilities, now tinged with the bittersweet ache of farewell.

You pulled back slightly, searching his face. His eyes were dark pools of emotion, reflecting the fading sunlight and the weight of your shared memories. Still, you clung to every moment. You memorized the curve of his smile, the sound of his laugh, the way he said your name like a prayer. You traced the curve of his cheek with trembling fingers, committing every detail to memory.

The last time you saw him, the city smelled like rain.

The neon signs flickered in the puddles at your feet, the world a blur of color and noise. His suitcase sat by his side, damp with drizzle, the taxi idling at the curb.

You wanted to tell him not to go. Wanted to scream, to beg, to tell him that you had memorized everything—his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world.

But you didn’t. Because you knew better.

Instead, you reached for him one last time, your fingertips brushing against the stubble on his jaw, rough against your skin, before tangling in his curls. You needed to remember how he felt. Every last detail before he became nothing more than a memory you could never quite hold onto. He kissed you like he was trying to burn the memory into his bones, like maybe if he kissed you hard enough, you’d still be there when he turned around.

The silence stretched between you, his breathe hitched, and for the first time you saw it, his lips parting his throat bobbing, the smallest tramble in his fingers as he reached for you. His arms wrapping around you. You tightened your grip, but it felt like holding onto smoke, weightless. No matter how hard you tried, he had already slipped through your fingers vanishing before you ever had the chance to keep it. The city lights cast harsh shadows across his face, making him look like someone you once knew. The lights blurred as tears filled your eyes.

"I should go," George murmured, his voice rough with emotion. But he made no move to leave, his fingers tracing patterns on your back as if trying to memorize the feeling.

You nodded against his chest, unable to form words past the lump in your throat. The night air felt suddenly cold, and you shivered, pressing closer to his warmth.

"Just... a few more minutes," you whispered.

George tightened his embrace, resting his chin on top of your head. You breathed in his familiar scent - sandalwood and coffee and something uniquely him - committing it to memory.

The city hummed around you, oblivious to your private heartbreak. A siren wailed in the distance, and a gust of wind ruffled your hair. You thought about all the moments that had led to this one - the late-night conversations, the shared dreams, the quiet intimacy of simply existing in the same space.

“I’ll see you around?” His voice was hoarse, like he didn’t believe it either.

You swallowed down the ache, the words cutting your throat like glass. “In your wildest dreams.”

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

Just like he was always meant to be.

The city swallowed you whole, and you let it.

And in the quiet of your room that night, as you pressed your face into the pillow that still smelled like him, you whispered a prayer to the universe.

You hoped he remembered you.

You prayed that, even years from now, when he closed his eyes, he’d still see you—standing beneath the city lights, red dress glowing, lips parted, whispering I love you. 

Always. 

Only In his wildest dreams.

[taycherouzz]

rodrick bf headcanons fem/gen reader pls? 💗🤗

this is a part of what I think Rodrick would be like, hope you liked and enjoyed it!

there is no doubt he ALWAYS invites you to his gigs and band rehearsals

As the band Löaded diper started playing, Rodrick's eyes kept drifting towards you. Every time he looked at you, he couldn't help but smile, his focus wavering. He tried to keep up with the beat, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

"Rodrick, dude, focus!" one of his bandmates called out, snapping him back to reality.

He chuckled and nodded, trying to concentrate, but it was no use. Your presence was too distracting, and every time he glanced your way, his heart skipped a beat. You couldn't help but blush, knowing you were the reason for his distraction.

During a break, Rodrick came over to you, shaking his head with a grin. "You're killing me here" he teased, his eyes filled with affection.

You laughed, playfully nudging him "I'm just here to support you". "Well, you're doing a great job" he said, leaning in for a quick kiss "Maybe a little too good".

when you both can't sleep (or just out of boredom), he would take you to have late-night drives

The city lights blurred past as you cruised through the streets, the windows rolled down and the cool night air filling the van. He played a mixtape he made just for these drives, the music perfectly capturing the mood.

As he drove, Rodrick took you to a secret spot he had discovered—a hill overlooking the city, where the lights twinkled like stars. He parked the van and you both got out, sitting on the hood and enjoying the breathtaking view.

"This is our little hideaway" he said, taking your hand "Just you and me" you completed his sentence while you smiled.

Rodrick wrapped his arm around you, and you leaned into him, the music still playing in the background while you both looked into the mesmerizing view ahead of you.

I feel like sometimes you both would prank greg

One afternoon, you both decided to play a classic prank on Greg: the old "fake spider in the bed" trick.

You and Rodrick carefully placed a realistic-looking spider under Greg's blanket, making sure it was positioned just right. Then, you both hid around the corner, waiting for Greg to come into his room.

When Greg finally walked in and pulled back his blanket, he let out a loud scream, jumping back in fright. You and Rodrick burst into laughter, high-fiving each other for the successful prank.

Greg quickly realized it was a fake spider and glared at both of you. "Very funny, guys" he muttered in a sarcastic tone while rolling his eyes.

he would 100% teach you how to play drums

"Okay, let's start with the basics" he said, handing you the drumsticks, he sat on the stool and he positioned you on his lap.

Rodrick's arms guided yours as he showed you the proper way to hold the sticks. "It's all about the rhythm. Just feel the beat" he explained, tapping a simple pattern on the snare drum.

You tried to follow his lead, your movements awkward at first. But with his patient guidance and encouragement, you started to get the hang of it. "That's it! You're doing great" he said, a proud smile on his face.

The garage was soon filled with the sound of your combined laughs, and the sense of accomplishment you felt was indescribable.

when you have a sleepover, you would definitely make marathons of horror films or comedies

One rainy Saturday, you decided to have an all-day movie marathon. Rodrick had a stack of DVDs ready, and you both created a cozy nest of blankets and pillows in the living room. As the first movie started, Rodrick pulled you close, his arm around your shoulders.

Halfway through the night, a particularly scary scene made you jump, and you buried your face in Rodrick's shoulder. He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her tighter "Don't worry, I've got you" he reassured.

Between movies, you'd debate which one was the scariest or funniest, sharing your favorite scenes and inside jokes.

By the end of the night, you were both sleepy but happy, the warmth of your time together lingering long after the credits rolled.

he has no problem on letting you use his löaded diper shirts, but I feel like he would make one shirt specially for you

Rodrick was incredibly proud of his band, Löded Diper, and he loved seeing you in their merch. One day, he surprised you with a special gift: a custom band T-shirt. The front had the band's logo, but it was the back that made you smile the most—it boldly read "Drummer's GF".

"You like it?" he asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

You grinned and nodded "I love it! It’s perfect".

Every time you wore the shirt, Rodrick's face would light up with pride. He'd often brag to his bandmates about his amazing girlfriend who supported him wholeheartedly.

despite his though side, he has a soft spot for you, which causes him to be protective over you

One evening, you both decided to go to a local concert. The venue was packed, and the crowd was getting rowdy.

You felt a bit overwhelmed by the pushing and shoving, and Rodrick immediately noticed. Without a second thought, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to his side.

"Stay close to me" he whispered in your ear. He navigated through the crowd, making sure you were safe and comfortable.

Throughout the night, he kept a watchful eye on you, ensuring that no one got too close or made you uncomfortable.

he would definitely make you a mixtape with songs that reminded him of you, and you listen to it together in his van while he explains why that song (or which part) made him think of you

You were parked in Rodrick's van, the low hum of the engine barely audible over the mixtape he'd made for you. The song "Think About You" by Guns N' Roses started to play, and Rodrick turned to you with a soft smile.

"Listen to this" he said, his eyes meeting yours "these lyrics made me think of you".

As the song played, he explained "It's the way the song talks about always having you on my mind. Whenever I'm not with you, I miss you... God that was just so corny" he muffled with a chuckle while looking down.

But he lifted his gaze and saw you blushing, feeling your heart swell with emotion. Rodrick's hand found yours, and you sat in comfortable silence, letting the music speak for the both of you.

you would help him with homework and have study sessions together (but you always end up making out instead)

Books and notes were spread out on Rodrick's bed, ready for today's session, but it didn't took long for distractions to take over.

As you leaned in to explain a math problem, Rodrick's lips found yours in a quick kiss, and then another, and another one after that, until you find yourself making out with him instead of studying.

"C'mon, Rod, we have to study" you murmured between kisses, trying to stay focused.

"One more, and then we'll study" he promised, but his lips met yours again, and you couldn't help but kiss him back.

Your kisses grew more frequent, each one stealing your breath away. You kept trying to remind him of your homework, but his persistence made you lose track of time.

Each kiss pulled you deeper into the moment, and soon enough, the textbooks were forgotten as you got lost in each other.

[ll7esxs]

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

The first "I love you" in the relationship [requested]

characters: Logan walker, Hesh walker, Keegan russ, kick

notes: SFW content, kinda chessy for me since i love angst more than this shit but whatever man whatever this fandom wants

Logan walker:

yeah you are the first who is going to say it don't argue with me.

Logan struggles with words and would never rush into saying it.

tbh i think logan has never had partners in his life :(, he kept training not knowing anything about love.

sometimes i think hesh is the one who couraged him to date and elias too, telling him that he has been more than 30 years serving for this country and even though.

elias controlled and balanced the love and working with his mother.

It happens A late-night moment at home, when he’s quiet but seems lost in thought.

I think when you have been dating for months? like more than 8 months.

You’re curled up against Logan, watching, but he’s barely paying attention. His mind is elsewhere—probably thinking about a mission he can’t talk about.

You run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. He sighs closing his eyes, leaning into your touch and getting out of the blurred world he was in.

"I love you, you know that?" you said lifting your head up to look at him.

Logan freezes,oh boy even his body tensing slightly against you, you can feel that already.

Logan’s eyes widen slightly, like he wasn’t expecting it—even though he’s felt it for a while.

He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words but failing.

Instead of answering right away, he gently pulls you into his arms, holding you tighter than usual. After a short pause, he finally murmurs, “…I love you too.” which made you smile into his arm, you were proud of that to let this sweet boy speak of his feeling.

Later, he shows it rather than says it—staying close, kissing you, covering you in blanket when he thinks you're asleep, and making sure you’re always safe.

because words aren’t enough, but he hopes you can feel it.

Hesh walker:

he will say it first, But he blurts it out impulsively.

hesh is the one with partners but i see he had 3 or 2? and they weren't that serious they didn't reach that level with him.

but since he is a grown ass man (28) he found you

going out with him for classic dates.

It happenes in a playful moments while teasing each other.

in the kitchen, you kept arguing playfully talking back to him gahly! he thinks to himself how did i get with a woman like this.

"god you're impossible...I love you" he said with a soft shrug hands on his hips looking down smiling.

he said it without thinking, The moment he realizes what he just said, he freezes, eyebrows raising slightly like "Well… guess that’s out now."

and you had butterflies and bugs in your stomach like hello? did this handsome just tell me that??

"oh my god david?!" you said with a happy chuckle, heart already out of your chest "you just said this!!".

you wanted to step closer to him, He watches your reaction closely, trying to act all cool and confident but is secretly panicking inside.

you shaking your head while holding his face, which lead him to hold both your arms. "I love you too!"

his grin turns soft, and he pulls you in for a tight hug, whispering, "Good. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere."

totally forgetting about the baking yall been making out. (wtf did i just type)

Keegan russ:

bro why is it so hard to write keegan, like this man is a hella mystery.

you are the one who said it sorry, cuz Keegan is way too guarded to say it first.

why i think he thought about his job first before you like he hates it if you are involved with someone like him, what if something danger happened to you because of him?he is way too cautious.

but because of those damn eyes of yours the weakest thing he will do is keeping you with him.

how did it happenes? late night walking, this man adores these times secretly especially after he has been with ya.

i think he ended up with a talk active partner? but no that much, he is just a listener and a talker sometimes.

you like it when he talks, his creative words and the sarcasm he is using making you say unbelievable about him.

He had insisted on walking you home—not out of obligation, but because it was simply in his nature.

When you reached your doorstep, you turned, your fingers curling around the doorknob. The soft glow of the porch light cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw, the glint of something unreadable in his eyes. (lord have mercy i got too much in details)

“Well, kid," his deep voice rumbled through the quiet, rough yet familiar, "guess I’ll see you around.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips, warmth flickering in your chest at the easy finality in his tone. He turned, hands tucked into his pockets, ready to disappear into the night like he always did. (bro is batman but he never tell you that)

“Keegan?” The name left your lips before you could think twice, barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make him stop.

His shoulders stiffened for the briefest moment before he turned back to you, his lightened gaze steady.

You didn’t wait any longer—you just walked up to him, arms wrapping around his neck. His eyes met yours, and God, it was so hard to be honest while looking into them. It seemed just as hard for him.

He was stunned, motionless, but his gaze remained stoic, unreadable.

“I love you,” you murmured, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He took a moment, then let out a stiff chuckle. “Must be the champain messing with your little head.”

“Shut up. I said it… I love you.” The second time, your voice was firmer. That’s when his eyes softened, a rare smile tugging at his lips—your first time seeing him like this. Gentle.

For a long time, he doesn’t speak. The silence stretches, heavy—almost unbearable.

Then, finally, he whispers—so quiet you almost miss it.

His fingers close over yours, grip tightening as if grounding himself in the moment.

He exhales, then presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles, the warmth of it seeping into your skin.

“…I love you too.”

Then he went to the shadows of the streets and after that time, you never see him again...

im joking bye.

Kick:

Kick is always aware—sharp, cautious, both in his military work and personal life. Nothing slips past him.

He never talks about his partner. He’s a ghost, a skillful one. Never caught, never seen unless he wants to be. Have you seen the kill list? He’s needed, and yet the feds can’t find him.

He doesn’t have trust issues, not exactly—but he’s careful. Always watching, always a step ahead. Especially when it comes to his relationships.

He even hesitated to date you, afraid you’d get hurt because of his work—afraid that if anything happened, he’d never forgive himself. Not even in death.

But he went for it anyway. Because he knew how to protect you. He kept you far from enemies, tracked every possible threat—all without you even knowing. He was secretive like that.

Man fuck the enemies he thought, he is in his 30s and we live one time why don't just have a partner in ur life?.

Not even the gang knew he had a partner. Only Merrick, who one day casually let it slip in front of him—like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

So he said it it just slips out casually not knowing the effect he will do on ya.

He said it during a random completely unromantic moment.

He doesn’t even realize what he said until your eyes widen. "Oh, damn. Did I just say that?"

You shrugged, still shocked. “Uhm… yeah, you did!” You shook your head, trying to process it.

He tried to play it off, acting like it was no big deal. “Well, yeah, of course I love you. Have you seen yourself?”

You couldn’t find the words. Your eyes softened as you looked at him, still stunned, heart pounding in your chest.

But when he saw you getting emotional, the act dropped. He smiled—small, genuine—and muttered, “Alright… yeah. I love you. For real.”

And later, he proved it. Small, silent acts of devotion—fixing things for you without being asked, making sure your coffee was just right, staying up just to watch you sleep peacefully.

[hollyoongs]

⤷ W/U, LATE NIGHTS DON'T MEAN A THING!

시놉시스┆ 𐑙eehan, ─────⠀f!reader 𓂅 𝑤.𝑐: +2.3k ꒰ ⌗ fluff and lots of shyness ꒱ ↷⠀ ℰditoral ! 𓂂

You don't even know how many times you have turned in bed, insomnia taking you over like it used to do. The clock on your nightstand reads 11:27 PM, and you sigh, staring at the ceiling. No matter how much you try, sleep evades you like it used to do from the past two years, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Your phone vibrates beside you, the glow of the screen illuminating your dark room. You reach for it and smile at the contact name.

Come outside if you're not sleepy.

Your eyes widen, hesitating for a moment before pushing the covers aside. The cold air nips at your skin as you go to your window, confirming he is actually there. Leehan stands outside your dorm, hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

You take your phone back as you click on the "Call" icon, watching how he doesn't wait to answer.

"How come you're awake this late?" you say, watching as he turns his back to you slowly. "Hey! It's bad education turning your back on people."

After you say that, he turns back to his original position, finding you until he does, a small smirk plastered on his face.

"I'm awake by my own will, thank you very much. Also, I know college has been rough on you and how much you love stargazing." After that, your view shifts to the sky, rubbing your eyes. "From your spot there aren't so many, but I know a place where you can see them. So, let's go see the stars?"

You hung up after you said “yes,” put on a hoodie, and quietly snuck out of your dorm with your emergency keys in your pocket in case you came too late. After being fully out of your place, Leehan came close to you with a smile on his face; you took your time analyzing what he was wearing.

His hoodie was slightly oversized as usual, a faded navy blue that looked well-worn, baggy jeans that fit him just right, and sneakers that had the faintest scuff marks. His long brown hair was tousled, and his wrist was wearing a bracelet you gave him when you helped a friend do her Taylor Swift-inspired ones, his being a baby blue color with the number ‘21’ in it.

“You good? Or is insomnia still your enemy?” He asked, tilting his head and cupping yours with his hands; they were a little warm in comparison to the weather. Your eyes closed at the sensation of his thumb caressing your cheek.

"Insomnia, so let's hope the stars can calm me enough to sleep when I come back."

Leehan smiled, tugging you gently by the wrist as the two of you began walking. The campus was eerily quiet, only the distant hum of the city breaking the silence. The two of you walked in comfortable silence until you reached the parking lot. Leehan led you to his car, a slightly beat-up but well-loved sedan, and opened the passenger door for you. “Ladies first.”

“Thank you, Donghyun.” You smiled, sliding into the seat.

The drive was quiet, the roads mostly empty as he took you away from the bright lights of the campus. He glances at you occasionally, the soft glow of the dashboard lights illuminating his face in the dim car, the soft R&B music coming from the radio, and sometimes both of you singing was a good way to spend the time. 

After about twenty minutes, he pulled off onto a dirt road, the pavement giving way to gravel. The car jolted slightly as he maneuvered through the bumpy path, finally stopping at an open clearing. When you stepped out, the night air hit you full force, crisp and clean. And above you two, spread across the sky, were thousands of stars, glittering like tiny diamonds.

“Wow,” your breath hitched, fully concentrating on the beautiful sky. The moon was full, shining as bright as the stars. You didn’t realize what Leehan was doing until he stood next to you.

“Wanna eat something?” When he said that, he noticed your confused face, pointing at what he did. A couple blankets were placed on the floor, two bags of snacks and two cans of soda on it, you looked back at him, Leehan was facing down and thanks to the light of the of the moon, you could see a faint blush on his cheeks, the same blush that you had in yours.

“Yes, I would,” you said, both sitting next to each other. Leehan didn’t even make you touch any of the food, opening everything for you. You hug your knees to your chest. “The stars are pretty.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “They really are.”

You looked at him; he was already looking at you. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You have gone out with Leehan plenty of times already; the case was that this felt way more intimate.

Leehan cleared his throat, looking away for a second before grabbing a can of soda and offering it to you. “You know,” he started, his voice a little hesitant, “I like moments like this.”

You took the soda from his hand, fingers brushing slightly. “Me too,” you admitted.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I mean, I like spending time with you. More than I should.” Your heart skipped a beat. Leehan had his gaze fixed on the stars; you could tell that wasn't what he was really focusing on.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The gentle night breeze rustles through the trees, the distant chirping of crickets filling the silence. Then, cautiously, Leehan reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before intertwining them. It was more of an attentive touch, but that simple action sent warmth spreading through you.

“What are you thinking about, Donghyun?” 

“How the moon is always present ever since we have met each other.” You laughed softly.

“How poetic,” you said, and he pushed you tenderly, laughing soon after.

“No, but think about it. The first time we met, it was under the same sky. It was during freshman orientation, remember? You were sitting alone on the campus lawn, sketching something in your notebook. I remember being drawn to you even then, but I didn’t want to pull a move until Jaehyun took a seat next to you, and you barely looked at us." You laughed as you nodded, remembering the moment your friend Jaehyun set you two up.

When Leehan finally got you to talk, you told him you loved the night sky the moment he saw the doodle of the full moon of that night and accidentally let out that it made you feel like you weren’t alone.

Leehan continued. "After that, I kept finding excuses to see you at night—study sessions in the library that conveniently lasted past sunset, late-night walks to clear our heads before exams. Every time, the moon was there.”

Leehan smiled at the memory, his gaze softening as he continued. “Then there was that night when we got caught in the rain after a late study session. You laughed as we ran across campus, completely drenched, and I remember thinking that I’d never seen someone look so beautiful. We sat under the covered pavilion, shivering but laughing, and you told me your dream was to travel the world and see the constellations from different places. That was when I knew I wanted to be part of your journey, in any way I could.”

He exhaled, eyes fixed on yours now. “And then there was the night of the meteor shower. We sneaked out of the dorms, climbed up to the rooftop, and just lay there, watching the sky light up. You fell asleep before it ended, and I remember staying up just to make sure you were warm. I never told you, but that night, I made a wish.”

You tilted your head. “What did you wish for?”

Leehan hesitated, then smiled. “For more nights like that. For more moments with you, with the person that made me learn what it feels like to like someone.”

You felt your breath catch because it felt like the universe had been pulling you together all along. Your eyes met, and for once, neither of you looked away. Slowly, as if testing the waters, Leehan lifted a hand to brush a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek.

You swallowed hard, your breath uneven. “Leehan…”

“Can I?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the night breeze.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply nodded. That was all the permission he needed.

He leaned in, closing the space between you, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, most reverent way. It was tentative at first, gentle, as if he was afraid you might pull away. But when you didn’t, when you kissed him back with equal tenderness, he deepened it, his hands cradling your face like you were something precious. And to him, you were.

As the kiss broke, you both lingered in the quiet space between breaths. The world seemed to hold its breath with you when Leehan pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closed as he steadied his breathing and heart.

“Look,” he began, voice soft yet full of sincerity, “I—"

But the words caught in his throat, and he let out a small, nervous laugh. “I’m not great with words, as you can tell.” He hesitated again, his hands nervously fidgeting with the fabric of the blanket beneath you both. “I’ve been wanting to say something for a while, but… I don’t know if it’ll make sense. But after the kiss, I think you kind of have an idea of what I'm meaning.”

You reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I think I do," you murmured, your thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. "But I want to hear it from you."

Leehan inhaled deeply, his fingers tightening around yours; he dropped his gaze to your joined hands, swallowing hard before looking back up at you.

"Sorry, you make this so hard."

Your lips twitched. "I'm just sitting here."

"Exactly." He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flickering between yours and the stars above. "You just—you make me feel things I don't know how to say. I'm usually so good at talking, but with you, I get all… weird."

"Weird?" you teased, tilting your head.

"Yes. Weird. Like, I forget how to be my usual self because all I want to do is impress you, or make you laugh, or just be around you even if we're not saying anything." He exhaled sharply, his free hand clenching into a fist before relaxing. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… I like you. A lot. Probably more than I should. Probably more than I know what to do with."

"Leehan…"

He shook his head, giving you a sheepish grin. "I told myself I wouldn't be a coward about this, but here I am, stumbling over my words." He met your gaze then, all hesitation gone. "I fell for you. And it terrifies me how fast you made me be completely at your mercy."

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache in the best way and made you kiss him again. Leehan could feel those butterflies in his stomach that Sungho told him once; he felt warmth in his heart just like Jaehyun and Riwoo mentioned whenever they were with their respective partners and even felt his whole world stop with you being his center of attention, or those were the words said by Taesan and Woonhak.

You broke up the kiss; you had this impulse, and before you knew it, you moved, your hands sliding over his shoulders for balance as you straddled his lap. His hands instinctively found your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your shirt as if grounding himself in the reality of you being so close.

Leehan swallowed hard, his eyes darting between yours, searching for any sign of hesitation. But there was none. Only warmth, only you.

"Is this okay?" Your voice was barely above a whisper; he let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

"You're really asking that after you've completely stolen my ability to think straight?"

You smiled, tilting your head, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve of his jaw. "I just want to make sure."

His hands tightened at your waist, thumbs brushing the exposed skin that escaped from your hoodie. "Yeah," he breathed. "More than okay."

Your arms went around his neck while his went behind him to support himself. He just admired you, no second intentions in his gaze, unlike the pose you two were in at the moment.

"Y/N?"

"Yes, Donghyun?"

"Would you be my girlfriend?"

A slow smile spread across your lips as you brushed your fingers through his hair. "I thought you'd never ask," you said as you leaned in just enough that your noses brushed.

Leehan let out a shaky laugh. "So… is that a yes?"

"Of course, it's a yes," you finally said, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "I'd love to be your girlfriend, Leehan."

The relief that washed over his face was immediate. His arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace, pulling you impossibly closer as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. "You're going to be the death of me, Y/N," he murmured, voice laced with affection.

You laughed, threading your fingers through his hair. “Good thing I’ll be here to keep you alive then.”

Leehan pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his expression soft. “Yeah,” he said, smiling, “I think I could get used to that.”

And with that, he kissed you again—this time with no hesitation, no uncertainty, just the overwhelming joy of knowing that you were his.

─── SITUATIONSHIP LEEHAN!?!? as you can see, i love down-bad characters. shout out to BND's song "So let's go see the stars" that made me jump in my bed with this scenario. @onedoornet

[biotic-raptorian-angel]

Headphones- Pharmercy

Angela hadn’t meant to stop by the Helix training facility that afternoon. She had been on her way to the research lab to review some medical reports when she heard it—faint, muffled singing mixed with the rhythmic hum of music.

Curiosity piqued, Angela followed the sound toward the gym. Peeking through the open doorway, she spotted Fareeha, deep in the middle of a workout.

Only this wasn’t like any training session Angela had ever seen.

Fareeha was alone in the gym, her usual discipline momentarily cast aside. Sweat glistened on her toned arms as she transitioned between exercises—pull-ups, squats, and lunges—but between each set, she was dancing. Not just subtle movement, but actual dancing—shoulders rolling, hips swaying, a lightness in her steps that Angela had rarely seen in the otherwise stoic soldier.

And, to Angela’s absolute delight, Fareeha was singing along to whatever was playing in her headphones.

She wasn’t just humming—she was belting out the lyrics with confidence, her deep, rich voice filling the space between her reps. And it was a love song.

Angela clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Fareeha, the ever-serious and focused warrior, was singing an old pop song about longing and devotion—completely oblivious to the fact that she had an audience.

Angela leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, watching the performance unfold with an amused grin.

Fareeha finished a particularly dramatic turn—spinning on her heel as she set her weights down—when she finally noticed Angela standing there, smiling.

Fareeha froze mid-motion, eyes wide.

Angela couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer. A soft giggle bubbled from her lips, which quickly turned into a full, melodic laugh. “Gott, Fareeha!” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I never knew you were so… expressive while training.”

Fareeha yanked her headphones off, her face immediately flushing with embarrassment. “I—you—how long have you been standing there?”

Angela bit her lip, pretending to consider. “Oh… long enough.”

Fareeha groaned, burying her face in her hands. “This is humiliating.”

Angela stepped forward, unable to stop smiling. “Are you kidding? That was the best thing I’ve seen all day.”

Fareeha peeked through her fingers, looking skeptical. “…Really?”

“Ja!” Angela laughed. “The great Commander Amari, fearless in battle, brought down only by a pop ballad. I’ll never see you the same way again.”

Fareeha huffed but couldn’t stop the reluctant grin from tugging at her lips. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Angela crossed her arms, still amused. “Who knew you were such a romantic?”

Fareeha groaned again. “I wasn’t even thinking about it, I was just—”

“Singing about eternal devotion?” Angela teased.

Fareeha sighed, then muttered, “You did say you liked knights and chivalry.”

Angela’s teasing expression softened. “And you did promise to be my knight,” she said playfully.

A beat of silence.

Fareeha exhaled and shook her head, finally giving in to the ridiculousness of the situation. “Fine,” she admitted. “Yes, I like that song. And yes, sometimes I sing when I work out.”

Angela beamed. “And you dance.”

Fareeha hesitated. “…And I dance.”

Angela reached for the abandoned headphones, picking them up and pressing a few buttons on the device. “Then,” she said mischievously, “I think I should get to hear what you were listening to.”

Fareeha’s eyes widened. “Angela, no—”

But it was too late. The gym filled with the smooth, soulful melody of the song Fareeha had been singing just minutes ago.

Angela pressed a hand to her mouth, trying and failing not to laugh as she listened. “Oh, Fareeha,” she sighed dramatically. “It is a love ballad.”

Fareeha rubbed the back of her neck. “…I might have a playlist for when I train.”

Angela’s laughter was pure joy. “I knew there was a romantic in you somewhere.”

Fareeha rolled her eyes, though there was no real frustration in it. “Alright, you’ve had your fun.”

Angela grinned. “Have I?”

“Angela—”

Before Fareeha could say another word, Angela did something unexpected. She took Fareeha’s hand and tugged her forward—right into a slow, playful spin.

Fareeha barely had time to react before Angela twirled herself under Fareeha’s arm, swaying lightly to the music. When she looked up, a mischievous glint sparkled in her blue eyes.

Fareeha raised a brow. “Are you dancing now?”

Angela shrugged. “I was feeling inspired.”

Fareeha huffed a soft laugh. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed.”

Angela smirked. “Both, I think.”

Fareeha sighed, shaking her head—but as Angela’s hands slid into hers, guiding her into another small step, she let herself relax. The music, the laughter, the warmth of Angela’s presence—it was all unexpectedly perfect.

So, Fareeha did the only thing she could.

She danced.

Maybe not like she had before—this time, it was slower, more intentional. Angela swayed with her, her head leaning lightly against Fareeha’s shoulder, the soft fabric of her workout tank warm against Angela’s cheek.

For a few moments, the gym, the teasing, even the embarrassment all faded away. It was just the two of them, moving gently to the song, wrapped in something that felt unspoken but deeply understood.

As the music played on, Angela whispered, “For the record, I liked the way you were dancing before, too.”

Fareeha chuckled, her fingers lightly tightening around Angela’s. “Noted.”

They stayed like that for a while, swaying together, the melody wrapping around them like a quiet promise. And Fareeha thought, just for a second, that maybe—just maybe—she’d let Angela catch her dancing again sometime.

A-Z Prompts

I've decided to try and keep up with daily writing by doing 1 prompt a day for each ship via the A-Z prompts I came up with below. If you like it or have suggestions for other prompts, please let me know!

Adoration

Bravery

Chivalry

Devotion

Ethereal

Friendship

Glamour

Healthy

Idol

Jukebox

Kingdom

Letter

Moss

Nude

Observation

Paint

Quiet

Rejection

Sea

Turntable

Unanimous

Vermin

Wings

Xenomorphic

Yitten

Zephyr

[roaringroa]

they should make a life where you don't have appointments, work, school and scheduled events every single day for months on end

[db0xtae]

Winning the Breakup | Chapters 12 & 13

- Minho (Xo Kitty) X Reader

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Summary : Y/N, a talented and athletic after an intense breakup, Y/N reluctantly agrees to fake date Minho, to make their exes jealous. What begins as a mutual arrangement soon turns complicated when their fake relationship starts to feel all too real. With humor, bickering, and tender moments, Minho and Y/N's journey proves that sometimes the best way to heal from heartbreak is to allow yourself to fall in love.

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Warnings : None

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. WC : 2,129

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Previous Chapters : 10 & 11

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. A/N: Hope you guys enjoy!!!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Chapter 12: The Fallout

The days following Y/N and Minho’s emotional confrontation felt like walking on a tightrope. Everything had changed, yet nothing had. They still sat with their friends at lunch, exchanged playful banter, and texted late at night. But there was a tension between them now—unspoken but palpable—like a string pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment.

Y/N found herself hyper-aware of Minho’s presence in a way she hadn’t been before. The way he smiled when he caught her staring. The way his voice softened whenever he said her name. And the way his hand lingered just a second too long when they brushed past each other.

By Friday, the shift in their dynamic hadn’t gone unnoticed. At lunch, Q, ever the observant one, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Alright,” he announced, drawing everyone’s attention. “What’s going on with you two?”

Y/N froze mid-bite, her eyes darting to Minho, who raised an eyebrow in mock innocence.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Minho said smoothly, taking a sip of his drink.

“Oh, come on,” Kitty chimed in, pointing her chopsticks at them. “You two have been acting weird all week. Did something happen?”

“Nope,” Y/N said quickly, her voice higher than usual.

Yuri smirked. “You’re a terrible liar, Y/N.”

“I’m not lying!” Y/N protested, avoiding Minho’s gaze.

“Sure,” Q said, drawing out the word. “But just so you know, if you two are hiding something, we’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Yeah,” Kitty said with a grin. “We’re like detectives. Very nosy detectives.”

Y/N laughed nervously, desperately trying to change the subject. “So, Q, how’s Jin doing? Didn’t he have a big race this week?”

The distraction worked, and the conversation shifted to Q gushing about his boyfriend’s recent victory on the track team. Y/N exhaled in relief, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that their friends weren’t going to drop this anytime soon.

Later that day, Y/N was heading to the gym for volleyball practice when she bumped into Jin.

“Y/N!” Jin said, flashing her a bright smile.

“Hey, Jin,” she said, adjusting the strap of her duffel bag. “Congrats on your race!”

“Thanks,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Q won’t stop bragging about it, though.”

Y/N laughed. “You know he’s your biggest fan, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Jin said, his smile softening. Then, his expression turned curious. “So…what’s up with you and Minho?”

Y/N’s stomach flipped. “What do you mean?”

Jin tilted his head. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together lately. Q mentioned it, and honestly, I’ve noticed it too. You’re closer than usual.”

“We’re just friends,” Y/N said automatically, though the words felt hollow.

Jin gave her a knowing look. “If you say so. But just so you know, Minho’s a good guy. A little stubborn, maybe, but he cares about you.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his sincerity. “Thanks, Jin.”

“Anytime,” he said with a wink before jogging off toward the track.

Practice was grueling, as always, but Y/N threw herself into it, grateful for the distraction. She loved the way volleyball demanded her full attention—the thrill of the spikes, the precision of the serves, the camaraderie with her teammates.

After practice, as she was toweling off, Hana nudged her with a sly grin. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Y/N turned to see Minho leaning against the gym doorframe, his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, walking over to him.

“Thought I’d walk you home,” he said casually.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you offer to walk me home?”

Minho shrugged. “Since now. You coming or not?”

Despite her better judgment, she smiled. “Fine. Let me grab my stuff.”

The evening air was crisp as they walked side by side, the silence between them surprisingly comfortable.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here, you know,” Y/N said after a while.

“I wanted to,” Minho said simply.

She glanced at him, her heart skipping a beat. It was moments like this—when he dropped the sarcasm and teasing—that made her chest ache.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “Are you still scared?”

Y/N looked down at her feet, kicking a stray pebble along the sidewalk. “A little.”

Minho stopped walking, turning to face her. “Y/N, you don’t have to have everything figured out right now. I’m not going anywhere.”

She met his gaze, her chest tightening. “I want to try,” she said softly. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I want to try. With you.”

For a moment, Minho just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, he smiled—a real, genuine smile that made her heart flutter.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m not giving up on you.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest, and for the first time in weeks, the weight of uncertainty lifted.

As they continued walking, Minho reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a promise—a step forward into something new and terrifying but undeniably real.

By the time they reached Y/N’s house, the tension between them had eased, replaced by a quiet sense of understanding.

“Good luck at your game next week,” Minho said as she unlocked her front door.

“You’ll be there, right?” she asked, surprising herself with how much she wanted him to say yes.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, his smirk returning.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Goodnight, Minho.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

As she closed the door behind her, Y/N leaned against it, her heart racing. For the first time in a long time, she felt like they were moving in the right direction.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Chapter 13: The Game Changer

The week leading up to the big volleyball match was filled with excitement and nerves. Y/N was determined to make it a game to remember—after all, her team was counting on her. But something felt different. As much as she threw herself into her training, her mind kept drifting back to Minho. To their conversation. To the fact that they were both finally acknowledging the unspoken feelings that had been there all along.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it felt to be with him now, even though the air between them was still thick with unspoken emotions.

She’d never been good at navigating relationships. She was blunt, honest, and didn’t have the patience for the games that others played. That was why she’d always preferred the straightforward world of sports. There were rules, a clear goal, and, most importantly, a definite outcome. But now, everything felt murky, and she wasn’t sure how to play the game.

The day of the match arrived, and the entire school seemed to buzz with excitement. It was the final game of the season, and everyone was eagerly anticipating the showdown between KISS and their long-standing rivals, Han University. The atmosphere in the gym was electric, with banners waving and students cheering, their energy infectious.

Y/N’s team was getting ready in the locker room, adjusting their uniforms and psyching themselves up. Despite the pressure, Y/N felt a sense of calm wash over her as she laced up her sneakers. This was her element. This was where she belonged.

“Alright, Y/N,” her coach said, clapping her on the back. “I know you’ve got this. Lead the team, and we’ll get the win.”

Y/N nodded, determination lighting her eyes. “We’ll win. I promise.”

As she made her way to the court, she spotted Minho in the stands, sitting with the rest of the students. He flashed her a smile and gave her a thumbs-up, and her heart did a little flip. Even from a distance, his presence was comforting. It was like having a silent support system in the middle of all the chaos.

The game kicked off with a roar of excitement from the crowd. Y/N’s team was on fire, their coordination flawless as they spiked, blocked, and served their way through the first set. Y/N played with a focus and intensity that had earned her a reputation as one of the best players on the team. Every hit, every jump, every dive felt like an extension of herself. The ball sailed over the net, landing perfectly in the opponent’s court, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Y/N grinned, but there was a small part of her that couldn’t help but glance at Minho, watching him as he cheered with the others. She caught his eyes, and in that brief moment, everything else around her seemed to fade away. It was like there was only the two of them, locked in some silent understanding.

The match progressed, but as the score tightened, the pressure mounted. KISS was up by one set, but Han University wasn’t backing down. The tension in the gym was palpable. The team huddled during a timeout, Y/N’s breath heavy from exertion.

“You’ve got this, Y/N,” her teammate Hana said, tapping her on the shoulder. “Just one more set.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes narrowing in focus. “We’re not stopping until it’s over.”

The final set began, and it was nothing short of intense. The points came faster now, each team scrambling to land the decisive blow. Y/N could feel her muscles burning from the exertion, but she pushed through, determined to lead her team to victory.

As the final point neared, everything seemed to slow down. Y/N found herself at the net, poised to receive a powerful serve from Han University’s best player. She positioned herself perfectly, ready to leap and spike the ball back into their court.

And then—time seemed to freeze.

There, sitting at the edge of the stands, Minho was standing up, his eyes fixed on her. The way he was watching her—his expression soft, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more intense—was enough to make her lose focus for a second. The serve came at her fast, and she barely managed to leap in time.

But she did it.

The ball flew over the net with perfect precision, and the crowd erupted into a frenzy as it landed in the opponent’s side. The whistle blew. The match was over. KISS had won.

The gymnasium exploded with applause. Y/N’s team rushed to congratulate each other, their faces flushed with excitement. Y/N was lifted into the air by her teammates, laughter and cheers filling the air.

But in the midst of the celebration, her eyes found Minho once again. He was grinning, a proud look on his face as he clapped for her. And for a moment, she could’ve sworn his gaze softened just a little.

After the game, Y/N made her way over to the bleachers to meet Minho, her heart racing a little. The adrenaline from the match still buzzed through her veins, but there was something else now—something warmer, something more complicated.

“That was amazing,” Minho said, his voice low as she approached. “You were incredible out there.”

“Thanks,” Y/N replied, breathless. “Couldn’t have done it without the team.” She paused, then added, “And… you cheering me on from the stands didn’t hurt either.”

Minho chuckled, his smile softening. “I was just making sure you didn’t get distracted by someone else’s bad serves.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. Then, his expression grew more serious. “You know, you’ve got a knack for making things look easy.”

Y/N looked up at him, meeting his eyes for a brief second. There was something unspoken in that look—something that made her heart beat a little faster.

Minho opened his mouth to say something, but the sudden arrival of the rest of the group interrupted him. Kitty, Q, and Yuri were approaching with grins plastered on their faces.

“Okay, okay, what’s going on with you two?” Q asked, his eyes darting between them. “You’re acting all… squishy.”

Y/N blinked. “Squishy? What do you mean?”

“You know,” Q said with a mischievous grin, “like you’re not sure whether to kiss or to fight.”

Minho and Y/N both froze, their faces turning bright red. “What?” they both asked in unison, and the whole group burst out laughing.

Yuri rolled her eyes. “You two are terrible at hiding it.”

Kitty raised an eyebrow. “You know, you could just admit it already.”

Y/N and Minho exchanged a quick glance, both of them flustered.

“Maybe,” Minho said slowly, “we should take this one step at a time.”

Y/N nodded in agreement. The night ended with celebrations, laughter, and plans to hang out over the weekend.

[lunar-wandering]

head hurty