#Im hoping to do a few more parts for this

[natalicss]

Like We Were In Paris II

kwon ji-yong x american pop star!reader

part one

summary: you and ji-yong have been dating for a couple years, and you’ve kept under the radar this entire time. after the gala de pièces juanes, you two attend the chanel spring-summer 2025 haute contour show. however, the two of you are starting to get tired of keeping your relationship a secret.

warnings: not proofread AT ALL! i’m way too lazy for that, sorry. celeb!reader, implied age gap (reader is mid-twenties), lots of fluff, lil bit of angst, use of y/n, i still don’t know how to use this app i feel like an elderly man using a cell phone.

word count: 4.9K

nat’s notes: hey y’all! i came back for part two AS PROMISED! this was actually very hard for me to write as i kept changing my mind about how i wanted this to go. so im sorry in advance if its not all that great LMAO. i do wanna write a lil more about american pop star reader & jiyong, maybe i’ll do some sort of head canons about them, or some stuff about their relationship early on. i’m not sure. i also tagged the people who asked to be & i will try to keep tagging people in the future (if they wanna be). anywhore, i hope that you guys enjoy this, if you don’t…sorry<3 toodles!

tag list: @infinetlyforgotten @petersasteria

After the successful Gala Des Pièces Jaunes event, you had spent the next couple days in dressing rooms. You had been invited to Chanel’s Spring-Summer 2025 Haute Couture Show. You said yes, of course, having an affinity for fashion, and never turning down the chance to be near your long-term boyfriend. You and Ji-yong had been to a couple of the same fashion shows before. It was always easy to slip by with nobody noticing your connection. Oftentimes, you two were not seated remotely near each other and are far too busy with the peers around you to sneak away. 

But this last week felt particularly more difficult. Unlike in America or South Korea, where you knew the paparazzi and knew very well how to remain under the radar, the Paris press was more complicated. You and Ji-yong had to weave your way around in more secrecy than ever. Every method you could imagine. Some instances, the two of you would sneak through a back door and slide into cars to avoid the cameras. Other instances, the two of you would make separate nonchalant appearances. Ji-yong would leave the hotel first, shy and polite as he waved and greeted the people around him as he’d slip into a car and drive off to his next location. You, wearing designer clothes and sunglasses as you walked out with a big smile and a more confident approach. You’d get in your own car, sliding into the back with your security with a huff. Within moments, you’d open your phone to shoot a text to your lover. 

Y/N

i didnt get to say it before you left, but you look handsome today<3

You knew it’d only be a moment before he responded. 

Ji<3

Thank you, Aein, you look beautiful!

You and Ji-yong hated that you couldn’t spend this Paris trip together more. After all, you two had all of the same events, same meetings, same friends to visit, and yet you couldn’t be by his side at any of it, not in public. Part of you didn’t mind, used to the routine, but part of you was starting to grow tired. It wasn’t like two years ago, when you first started dating. At that time, Ji-yong was still on hiatus, you were working on your fourth album, and everything had to be a secret. Secret vacations, secret visits, secret dinner dates where the two of you wore silly disguises. You were good sports, making a game out of it and playing ridiculous characters to see who cracked first. But that was two years ago. He was back in the spotlight again, you had released your fifth album a few weeks ago, he was releasing his own work. You two were confident in your relationship, everyone was. What was holding you back?

There was no black and white answer. On one hand, now was the perfect time to announce to the world that their rumors of you dating a random Hollywood actor were all false. On the other hand, were you so willing to give up that last piece of privacy you did have? You weren’t worried about the hate on either side, despite knowing how fans often get if they don’t approve of their favorite celebrities' relationship. 

You had been in a public relationship way before Ji-yong. It was years ago, back when you were still new to the world of fame and glamour. Every corner you turned, the cameras flashing, the wave of hate you’d received, the amount of gossip around every song you released being about them or not, their interviews for their movies always being about you. Your careers had been forced to blend due to the way people reacted. The world had taken your last relationship by storm and had seemingly strangled it with their love and adoration. The lack of privacy, individuality, and respect for the two of you had been what led to you and your last partners split. It took the two of you years before the media finally stopped associating everything either of you did together. So, understandably, part of you was worried about that happening again.

You thought about all of this as you and Ji-yong were getting ready for the day. You both had things to attend to, tomorrow being the fashion show. One last fitting, one last meeting with your teams. You were styling your hair as Ji-yong had finished getting dressed, the agreement for him to leave the hotel first still agreed on. He looked at you, and you could see the way his eyes softened as he observed your eyes. He knew everything about you, down to the way your face looked when you were deep in thought, perhaps about to drown yourself with your ability to overthink.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, speaking in Korean first as he approached. You didn’t say anything, busy running your fingers through your hair as he quietly stepped next to you. He met your eyes in the mirror, his lips curling. “There she is.” You blushed at his words, putting your hands down as you finally turned your body to face him. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” He asks, reaching up to adjust your hair framing your face.

You didn’t know where to start. You and Ji-yong had talked about this a million times before. You two had always agreed to keep things the way they are. You weren’t sure if he was ready to change that. As he watched you get lost in your thoughts again, he tilted his head to meet your gaze. Your eyes were glossy, not all there as you already started mapping out every way the conversation could go, preparing yourself for every out come.

“Jagiya, you’re worrying me,” 

You blink. It takes you a second to come back to the present, taking a deep breath as you try to explain the heavy complicated feelings in your heart. “I’ve been thinking, through this whole trip,” You subconsciously reach for his hands, looking for comfort and something to anchor you down. He lets you, his thumb running along your skin in soothing patterns. “I don’t know how much longer I want to keep us a secret.” You blurt, staring at your connected hands rather than his eyes. You were too worried about what you might find. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then another. Your heart twists in anxiety, but you don’t dare to look up. Ji-yong’s breathing changes, only the slightest bit, but you notice. He stops his thumb from tracing its delicate patterns, instead letting it tap against your skin. You feel guilty. You both had so much to do today, this conversation could have waited til tonight, after the show tomorrow, or at just about any other time. You weren’t sure, but you knew this wasn’t it.

Ji-yong adjusts his posture, pulling one hand away from yours, only to bring it to your face. With the gentlest touch, he lifts your head so you finally see his eyes. They’re not angry, or frustrated, or even remotely annoyed. Instead, they’re as soft and warm as they’d always been, making your heart flutter the slightest bit. To be honest, Ji-yong had thought about this too. He’d admitted before that going public worried him. He was a celebrity, and that immediately brings its own multitudes of hardships. He knew that he’d keep any and all relationships a secret, unless the person he was with said otherwise. You had come into his life, unexpectedly, and changed his entire world in the best ways he could imagine. And here you were, the person he knew was the love of his life, staring back at him with sadness because of that very sentiment. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been feeling it too. He wanted to hold your hand down the streets of Paris, the two of you pointing out different things you loved about it, sharing kisses under streetlights. That night at the Gala, he had wanted to kiss you as soon as he was off the stage. And when you were finished performing? He wanted to part the crowd and sweep you into his arms, like he did at your own tours. But he’d been worried, worried about what people might say to you or about you. He knew how harsh they got. He knew you could handle it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to put you in that position unless you were ready.

His hand, which caresses your face with a certain level of sincerity you only ever felt from him, was soft and moved gently. He smiled, a soft gentle one that made you feel more at ease as you realized he wasn’t mad at you in any way. “It hasn’t been easy, has it?” He asks you, raising a brow. You only shake your head, lips pursed into a line. He studies your features like you’re a work of art (cause you are). “I miss every second I’m not with you. All I can think about is where you might be. If you’re smiling. If you’re anxious. If you’re laughing. If you’re thinking about me, too.” He leans in close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And then you text me, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to be with you, and how mad I am that you’re not next to me.” You nod in understanding. You’d always felt that way about him, to the point it made your heart clench.

“I love you,”

“I love you more.”

You’re blushing wildly as he kisses your lips softly. Your feelings for him being translated into simple intimate touches. You’d never experienced something like Ji-yong before. You never wanted to let that go.

When he pulls away, he’s reaching for your jacket hanging off the back of a chair. You smile at him, memorizing his face like you’d done a million times before. You slide your arms into the jacket, letting your boyfriend adjust your outfit slightly. He focuses on your hair, bringing it out form under it and framing your face. Everytime his fingers brush your skin it leaves faint tingles in their wake.

“Why don’t we talk to everyone when we get home?” He suggests, looking back at you. Your eyes widen. You search his expression. “If you’re positive, then I’m with you.” 

You smiled wide. You couldn’t help it. “I’ve never been so sure of anything.” Your arms wrap around his neck, and he laughs softly as you start to kiss all over his face. “I want nothing more than to scream about how I’m dating G-Dragon.” He rolls his eyes playfully, still not used to you using his stage name after all this time. 

The rest of your days went smoothly. Both of you finishing up with your work, having dinner with friends, coming back to the hotel room to spend every possible moment together. Soft laughter as you each told stories from your pasts (many you’ve already told), legs tangled together under the sheets of your bed. Small intimate touches. Fingers tracing shapes on skin. Gentle kisses. Messy hair. If possible, your eyes were certainly heart shaped every moment you looked at him.

It was hard to hide it, even now, as you sit at the Chanel show. Both of you had arrived at different times, wearing extravagant outfits. You could feel his eyes on you as you posed for the cameras. He tried to keep his composure when he knew you were near by as he did interviews. Luckily for both of you, you’ve had years of practice. You held your head high with confidence, switching your energy from your usual softer self to the person you were on stage. America’s pop star. America’s princess. The way you posed yourself elegantly, batting your full lashes and gave your most sultry looks. How was Ji-yong supposed to not look? You were sitting in your seat, looking down at your phone as a text popped up.

Ji<3

You’re the most beautiful one here

You looked across the runway, your heart skipping a beat. He was already looking at you, a knowing shy smile on his face as he kept his phone in his hand. You smiled back at him, looking back at your phone.

Y/N

Says you<3 I love you

You put your phone in your lap, looking around some more. You felt lucky you had been to so many events, most of these people you already knew one way or another. It made small talk with the people next to you flow easily. Every now and again, you’d sneak a glance at your boyfriend, who was always staring at you like you were the show itself. It was hard to hide your blushed face, keep your voice from pitching when you talked to the other celebrities, and nearly impossible not to stare right back at him.

The show itself seemed to pass by with ease. You watched thoughtfully at every piece, making mental notes of things you particularly liked and wanted to mention to your assistant later. You’d lean over to your new friend of the night, whispering about different pieces and sharing your thoughts. You could see Ji-yong completely focused on the show, his eyes studying every model with intrigue. It was clear every piece that came out was being calculated into various looks. If he thought of something that worked, he’d raise his phone and take a quick photo. You smiled every time, excited to hear what he was thinking of later.

As the show came to an end, you were talking with your team as you felt someone graze past you. You looked up to see your familiar boyfriend, smiling at you fondly. You knew there were cameras everywhere, one minor slip leading to a whirlwind of chaos and news articles. The anxiety in your chest felt tight, but you kept your cool, straightening your posture and giving him a smile.

Ji-yong looked around, as if silently piecing together something. You followed his gaze, trying to see exactly what he was looking at. To you, there was nothing particularly interesting one way or another. Some fellow stars were talking, being interviewed, or just admiring the scene. Photographers were taking photos of guests, journalists asking people various questions. To you, it looked like every other fashion show even you’d been to. To Ji-yong, it looked like an opportunity. 

There were no words shared. His hand clasped around yours, and without thinking your fingers tightened around his. You blinked in surprise, looking ahead as Ji-yong started pulling you through the sea of people. You were wide-eyed as you looked around. Your teams hadn’t noticed you disappearing, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. But Ji-yong moved with purpose, walking through like this wasn’t strange or something other people should take a second glance at. You tried to mimic his confidence, but the butterflies in your stomach refused to simmer down.

In a quiet corner away from the cameras and the wandering eyes, Ji-yong finally came to a stop. You looked at him with a surprised expression. Your lipstick-painted lips parted slightly as you watched him look at you. He adjusted the tie around his neck, something he’d been doing the entire day. You looked behind you, worried who was watching, but a hand wrapping around your waist caught your attention.

His lips pressed against yours. Soft, passionate, and urgent. You squeaked in surprised against him, your hands landing on his chest as he pulled you further into the corner. Hidden away from your peers, from your teams, and from the layers of paparazzi. Your hands clutched tighter onto his jacket. His hands, which traced your body slowly, slowly lifted to grab your face with the most gentle touch. As he pulled away, you could only blink at him with big doe eyes.

“I couldn’t stand there and act like you weren’t the most beautiful thing here.” He whispers. 

The words caused your heart to do flips against your ribcage. His touch seemingly brought you back to earth, his thumb gently brushing against your cheekbone. “Says you, Monsieur G-Dragon,” You tease as you run your hands over the jacket again. This time, he’s the one trying to hide the way his cheeks blush. You looked at the bow tie with the flower on it, tilting your head as you reached up, slowly maneuvering the flower off. He looks down, blinking at it as you hold the flower in your hand, “Is that better?”

He reaches up, adjusting the tie again, and smiling softly. “Yes. Thank you.” He says finally. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, the usual” You sigh dramatically, shrugging your shoulders. Ji-yong chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Got whisked away by a hot guy, can’t complain.”

Ji-yong raises a brow in amusement. “Is that what happened?” He asks. You look around. “What else would you call this?”

He steps closer, looking up in thought as he lets his arms wrap around your waist. His lips in a line as he tilts his head slightly. He narrows his eyes at you playfully. He didn’t have an answer. He rather liked the idea of whisking you away from the public eye. He did it often, though usually it was more hidden than this. You leaned into his touch, a natural instinct. The rest of the world seemed to drift away, even in moments like this. Only you and Ji-yong existed. Life was better with him. He knew you like the back of his hand. He knew how to make you laugh, how to calm your nerves, how to soothe your cries. He knew your favorite snacks, your order at your favorite coffee shop, and your favorite movies. The same could be said for you. You knew how to quiet his overwhelming thoughts, how to make him smile in stressful moments. You knew his favorite songs to play in the car. His favorite jewelry pieces to wear. You had his tells of when he was anxious or upset burned into your brain. And when one of you were around the other, everybody else melted into the background. Your love trumping anything else.

“We should probably get back out there,” You whisper. He hums in agreement, but neither of you make any move to leave. You lean closer into him, your head resting on his chest as his chin rested on top of your head. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the two of you were together again; a few hours at most. Lately, those hours felt like decades.

Ji-yong gave you another squeeze. “You go out first, jagiya,” He whispers. You pull away from his embrace, staring up at him. The way your glossy eyes sparkled up at him. It was like he could see every ounce of love for him you had, pouring out of you. He framed your face in his hands, kissing you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” You whispered against his lips. Reluctantly, you pulled away from his touch, looking back at him again as you walked away. He only smiled softly. Your heart yearned to stay in that corner with him forever, until your managers found you and ripped the two of you apart. You chewed the inside of your cheek, turning away from him completely as you looked for any sign of your team.

In the dark of your hotel room, you and Ji-yong were a tangled mess of bedsheets and limbs. The rest of the event blew by, you making some lame excuse to your team that you had gone to the bathroom, and Ji-yong telling his team that he was looking at some of the pieces again. You ended up having a romantic dinner together, talking about the event and the people you ran into. A quiet night with glasses of champagne and flirtatious glances.

But now, as the two of you were sleeping peacefully in your quiet room, your phones began to buzz. A violent series of notifications flooding both of your phones. You begin to stir first, rolling over slowly, pulling Ji-yongs arms off of you as you reached for your cellphone. A series of calls, texts, emails, all from your manager, publicist, assistant, even friends of yours. You blinked a few times, your eyes squinting at the bright screen as you opened up a text from your closest friend. A news article.

Unexpected Couple! Musician Y/N L/N Seen With K-Pop Idol G-Dragon at Chanel Fashion Show

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach. No, no, no. You had been so careful for so long. You scroll, your breath escaping you as you look at a photo of you and Ji-yong. His hands on your face, his lips on yours. Another photo of you looking up at him like he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen (he was, to be fair). For a moment, you just stared blankly. Your thoughts struggle to catch up as your body seems to react for you. Nausea came over you. The room suddenly felt too small. The words on the screen burned into your eyes.

You looked at the top of your phone, seeing another phone call from your manager coming in. You ignore it, reaching over to your boyfriend and shaking him. “Ji?” You whisper. When he doesn’t immediately respond, your eyes begin to water. The anxiety, the fear, the stress catching up to you. It crawls up your spine like some sort of ugly clawed fingers reaching for your throat. You shake him again, a little more harsh as you croak. “Ji-yong.”

His eyes shot open. He flinches awake, looking around the room in a momentary panic before looking at you. First, he relaxes, realizing it’s just you. Then, his tired eyes take in yours. The tears threatening to spill over, your shaking frame, your heavy breathing. He sits up now, looking you over in concern. “Aein…? What’s wrong?” As he wakes up, he hears his phone. He turns to look at it, but the whimper from your lips stops him. Slowly, you hand your phone over. Ji-yong looks at you in confusion, but takes it and looks down.

Oh. 

Oh.

What was once a comforting silence now felt cold. The incessant vibrations of his phone on the nightstand made your ears ring. You crawled out of bed, wearing one of Ji-yong’s shirts as pajamas. You paced the carpeted floor, running your hands through your hair. Ji-yong remained silent. He read the article. Then he reread it. Then he read it again. He looked at the photos over and over. The title. The numerous texts you were getting. For a moment, he didn’t know how to react. He sat in the bed, dumbstruck. 

On one hand, part of him wanted to be relieved. The secret was out, and there was no reason to hide his love for you anymore. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be on your terms. Organized by your teams. Some staged paparazzi sighting, or maybe a hard launch on your social medias. He wasn’t sure. The two of you never discussed it that far. Now there was no choice. All because he’d dragged you into his embrace in secret. A selfish moment, now on the cover of multiple articles.

Slowly, he put your phone down, putting it on silent before reaching for his own. He winced at the number of texts he was getting, reaching triple digits. He even saw texts from Taeyang and Daesung, two of the few people who knew about your relationship. But he didn’t answer anyone, turning his own phone off so he could set his attention on your pacing figure. “Jagiya,” He pulls himself out of bed, approaching you with soft eyes. You keep pacing, shaking your head as you try to sort your racing thoughts. “Jagiya, look at me,” He reaches for your hands, pulling you to face him completely. His heart ached as he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. Your eyes wide with fear and worry. You wanted to go public. But not like this. You’d done so well at keeping your life private, and now it felt like it had been stripped away from you before you could even do it yourself. “I’m so sorry,” 

His words caught you off guard. There’s a heartbeat of silence as you look at him. Your brows crinkle together as you look at him. His sad, anxious expression as he guiltily looks away. “What?” You whisper, a moment of clarity through your emotional storm.

Ji-yong swallows, looking around the room as he holds your hands tightly. Your touch being the only thing grounding him to this moment. “If we hadn’t, if I hadn’t pulled you away, they wouldn’t have seen anything.” He explains. Your eyes dance over his face as you let what he’s saying register. You shake your head. “Ji,” You coo, reaching forward to push his mint hair out of his face. He looks at you, eyes sad and guilty. “It’s not your fault. We knew that there was a risk. Since day one.” You remind him. You were right. Since you started dating two years ago, there was always the possibility the media would find out about the two of you. Both of you are major stars, with public lives (to some degree). “I just, I can’t believe it got leaked at a Chanel show.”

Ji-yong is quiet for a moment, looking over at you. “The photos are cute.” He says. You look at him in surprise. You think about the photos, how oddly scenic they were, how the photographer had captured a genuinely sweet and beautiful moment. You couldn’t help but laugh, wiping at your tears. Ji-yong cracks a smile, though the worry in his eyes still evident. Not worried for himself, no, but worry for you.

“Our managers are going to kill us.” You say, your voice weak from crying and still being tired. Ji-yong nods his head. “What are we going to do?”

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “What do you want to do?” He asks you. Naturally, the two of you drift towards each other. Your arms wrap around each others frames, Your face tucked into his neck as you close your eyes. His grip on you tight, still gentle, and protective. His fingers rake through your hair as he waits. No rush for you to answer. No rush to figure out the rest of the world. He lets you simmer in his touch, your mind still racing. 

You clutch onto him, not moving away from him as you start to talk. “I want you. That’s it. I want to be able to be with you. I’m not ashamed of being with you, Ji. I’m proud. So proud of you, being with you. I love you.” You feel his arms tighten around you. Slowly, you lift your head and look into his eyes. Now, they were glassy. 

Ji-yong blinks away the pending tears as he sniffles. “You’re the love of my life, Y/N,” He whispers, reaching up to push your hair out of your face. You lean into his touch. “I will never be afraid to say that.” 

You lean closer, kissing him softly. Your heart still pounding against your chest, your mind still a storm of fear and worry for what wrath you’d face from the media, but it didn’t matter. Not in the long run. You had Ji-yong. You loved Ji-yong more than you could ever explain to him or anyone else. And you knew that the two of you would figure it out together. You’d figure out everything together.

“Are you ready?” He asks you, looking at your phones on the bed. This was it. No more secret rendezvous. No more sneaking around. No more lying in interviews about your relationship status. Everybody knows now. There was no hiding from it now.

You smile at him, your eyes sparkling in the way he loved. You nod your head. “I’m ready,” You assure him.

And by the time the two of you would be leaving Paris, on your way back to Seoul, the entire world knew the secret you’d been keeping to yourselves. And in the early morning as you rushed out of your hotel with your security guards, you two didn’t hide from the paparazzi. Ji-yong walked with you, hand-in-hand, as you walked towards your car. The shouts of fans and cameras catch your attention. You smile and wave, blushing wildly as you realize this was real. 

Ji-yong stands up straighter, his hand tightening in yours as he pulls you close. His hand releases yours, only to wrap around your waist tightly as he leads you forward. Ji-yong opens the door for you, despite the security guard reaching for it. Fans scream in awe, and you lean over quickly to press a kiss on his cheek. A weight you didn’t know was there, suddenly lifted. You beamed as Ji-yong slid into the seat next to you. His expression matched yours. Filled with love, excitement, a certain fondness and admiration. “Au revoir, Paris,” Ji-yong muttered as the car started to move. You giggled, leaning into him as you looked around the streets.

“Taeyang and Daesung will never let us hear the end of this.” You muttered, playing with Ji-yong's fingers absentmindedly. A gentle groan comes from Ji-yong, causing you to laugh again. An infinite amount of teasing and playful jokes awaited the two of you back home. Along with a million questions from friends, coworkers, the media, and who knows who else. But you were okay with that. It hadn’t been completely on your terms, but it was yours. Ji-yong was yours.

And if nothing else, it made your stories about Paris far more entertaining.

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽

VERSION IV.

(a/n: Hey everybody! Really sorry for not updating this week's been VERY hectic, but im back and ready to post new eps again 🙏 thanxx for your support ❤️)

WARNING!-none

wc: 1.1 k words

ALSO: tags-@ttheggrimrreaper ❤️ bear with me, ur episode is coming i swear

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…

…11, Isagi Yoichi."

The icon of an unknown person appeared on the screens. Looking closely, you tried to recall if you had ever heard of him during your training, before realising you didn’t interact with the male species for months so you definitely can’t remember the boy.

‘Maybe someone mentioned him a few weeks ago?’

Heading to the assigned room and getting there, Anri immediately gave you a bunch of stuff while telling you about some of Ego’s newly adapted annoying habits. Minutes later, she finished her complaining and let you go you to find your new player.

Imagine being the manager of Isagi Yoichi, the heart of Blue Lock.

——————

Isagi Yoichi, with whom you immediately click moments after you first meet him, the conversations going surprisingly smooth. His attentive and kind nature made you much more talkative than usual, feeling lucky that you somehow managed to get a normal boy. The nightmares that tortured you for the past week, anxious about who you were gonna end up with were also nowhere to be found. Between the breaks of practice matches, Yoichi would always come to the benches, eager to continue your little chat from earlier, seemingly taking genuine interest in you. And when he had to go back to the field, you simply watched him in silence while quickly reading through his data sheet.

——————

•Isagi, who you notice that literally every day, during all the matches tends to think and analyze a lot, which surprised you a bit, didn’t expecting to get someone who actually thinks before he acts.

•In the first few days he would mostly keep his thoughts to himself and although he does share some of them regarding soccer with you, he still remains a mystery.

•Isagi, who has been really curious about you from the start, and because of that you two talked a lot. From telling him how you ended up in Blue Lock, to him being silly and secretly imitating some of his teammates for fun. He also shared his own goals and how he hoped to be a good player, so you wouldn’t have to deal with all his shit in the future.

•He's also the one who's been holding whichever team he’s been part of together since the beginning and has slowly but surely earned a reputation within the facility. That wasn’t the problem, but rather the fact that your player was known for his harsh words and slurs towards his opponents and for being a completely different person on the pitch instead of the usual respectful guy, making you worry a little.

•The cherry on top however is that he somehow always manages to piss off the biggest, most skilled, clearly not in the mood to be insulted type of players.

•Dealing with this is probably the hardest part of being his manager. Apart from that, you have a pretty normal, simple routine, compared to the others, because well…you don't have to do much other than the standard work schedule, since Isagi is just easy to deal with. He doesn’t break the rules, eats what he’s given and always gets up on time.

•This is usually how your days go until the unexpected U20 match announcement comes, which makes the boy much, much more motivated making you basically fight to be able to keep up with him. Your tasks suddenly also multiply, having to give more detailed reports to the boss, monitoring Yoichi’s food portions and supliments way too carefully all while trying to help him achieve the perfect build for the upcoming match, hoping he gets selected.

•Your secret stash of snacks that you keep hidden in your room specially for him is also prohibited to touch, knowing damn well if Ego or Anri notices the few more calories on his data list both of you will be punished.

“So no more sneaky sweets?”-he asked one night, to which you just nodded regretfully.

“Nooooooooo…”

——————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Isagi changes. A lot. You would say he has improved and currently still is at a frighteningly fast pace. From the very first match he plays with his ‘new’ team to way he thinks and acts is different. This probably earned him one of the best players title as of now.

•He recently also began to follow a stricter training plan, and although the few chocolate bars you secretly try to give him are reeeeaally tempting, he always rejects them, saying that when he feels like he deserves one, he will accept it, resulting in you having to eat all of them alone before they expire.

•Changing places, didn’t necessarily mean new teammates. Yet, the people in Blue Lock he was the closest with all chose different countries, only some of them going on the same path as Isagi.

•Fortunately, he had no problem finding new and old friends to hang out with, so you thought at least you didn’t have to worry about that. Wrong. You should have.

•Because although Isagi may have gotten along with the Japanese players, the Germans were different. First you thought, maybe it was because of his duality while playing, but it seemed like his mere existence was a problem for specifically 2 German people. They were extremely bothered by him, the murderous look in their eye every time, made you try to keep your player away from them as much as possible.

•Isagi changing meant your nightly routine had to be adjusted as well. Instead of an hour, you now sat with him in front of the big monitors for 2, carefully analyzing his movements every second, papers full of notes and comments to discuss later.

•He also gained immense popularity all over the world with his goal against the U20 that day, receiving comments and praises from fans on a daily basis with them saying how humble and good he is. Yet, despite all this, for some reason he’s need to get a compliment or praise only from you, rises drastically.

•“I’m with you all day, you know me best. I’m just simply curious about your opinion!”

•He, with whom you focus quite a bit on learning the basics of the German language, yet somehow the pronunciation, even the rules have no place in the boy’s puzzle anymore. Still, he tries hard because talking to Bastard München fans and mocking Michael Kaiser in his own native language seems so tempting.

•Over time, you guys became much closer to each other, and even though he has thought about asking you out on a date, he still doesn’t do it because he’s afraid that if things don’t go well, you’ll quit and he simply wouldn’t risk it. You’re the best manager and if necessary, he will continue to try and see you as a friend, as long as you’ll be by his side until the end of his journey.

[maplegyu]

Went into this with no expectations! I just saw the tropes and summary and was like ooohhh i love all of these! I ended up rly loving the story and enjoying my read!!!

Your fingers tightened around the glass. Without thinking, you poured yourself another shot—your third, or was it the fourth? You weren’t keeping track anymore.

Mingyu let out a small chuckle, and that was it—you tipped your head back and downed the drink in one go.

Your chest tightened. Mingyu was your closest friend. Your partner for everything. The one you laughed with, teased, leaned on. Seeing her in that space, acting like she belonged, made your skin crawl. You probably were just overreacting- and yet, you just kept drinking.

Loved loved loved how this was written!!! I could really feel how reader was clinging onto the alcohol like a lifeline! The more it felt like Mingyu would be slipping through her fingers the harder she tried to be grounded by something else!

God, you were so hopelessly in love with him.

I GET U READER I WOULD BE TOO He's such a gentleman and he's sooo in tune with her feelings WHO WOULDNT FALL IN LOVE W KIM MINGYU

Of course, it wasn’t a big deal to him. But to you? It was everything. Every single thing.

GOD I CAN ONLY IMAGINE HOW MUCH THIS HURTS its like ur breaking ur own heart bc the feeling is like!! WHAT RIGHT DO I HAVE TO FEEL THIS WAY???!! i get u reader i rly get uuuu BUT UR FEELINGS ARE REAL AND VALID 😭 the hoping and yearning wow wow wow

I loved the imagery of the writing so much!!! Especially the scene outside the restaurant!!! Felt so immersed in the story and in very few scenes was already familiar with how close reader and Mingyu are and their feelings for each other.

BUT THE MORNING AFTER SCENE OH MY GOD???!?! CHEEKY MINGYU AAAAHHHHHHHHH

ON GOD!!! I AM NOT OVER THE IMAGE OF JUST WOKEN UP MINGYU, RASPY VOICE, REACHING OUT FOR READER... SMIRKING!!!!!! who wouldnt want to wake up next to this man for the rest of their lives?!

"Oh, this is fun," - im sorry. I WANT HIM SO BAD. Mingyu being a tease and being cheeky... I LOVE THIS KIND OF MINGYU GENUINELY LIKE SOME OF MY FAVORITE MINGYU TO READ!!!!!

YES HE DID BECAUSE PERHAPS!!!! HE IS IN LOVE WITH U ALSO DEAR READER?! 💘

“I know you can,” he said with that same, effortless ease, his tall, towering frame moving toward you without hesitation. “But let me.” His voice was softer this time, the teasing gone. 

MY KNEES TURNED TO JELLY FR!!!! when he is chivalrous and a gentleman but also hot as fuck 🤩

Mingyu stood at the stove, moving effortlessly like he belonged there, he changed his white shirt. His black t-shirt now clinging just enough to make you notice. The sleeves stretched over his biceps, broad and defined, flexing slightly with each movement.

IMAGINING THIS MINGYU

AND I DONT BLAME READER FOR HAVING A HARD TIME W HER FEELINGS FOR HIM

THE WAY THIS WHOLE SCENE EXCITED ME BECAUSE IT CONFIRMS THAT MINGYU DOES ACTUALLY FEEL FEELINGS FOR READER TOO!!!! ITS NOT ONE-SIDED AAAAHHHHH ✨️

Yeah. He was so screwed. 

#MAPLEGYU SCREAMS!!!!!!!!! this is everything. officially down bad. on his way to becoming a certified loverboy!!!!!!

The whole back and forth about stealing and wearing Mingyu's clothes...... THE OBVIOUS FLIRTING PLEASE I WAS RLY EATING IT UP!!!! dont u two realize ur so into each other aaahhhhhh! And then tbh at this point i thought the story (or part 1) would be over but there was more!!!!

Mingyu was still there and reader was wearing his clothes. Excuse me a whole day of domesticity with your favorite person????

The way user taesjpq painted the picture of how their night was going sent me to space actually because ITS THE LITTLE THINGS!!!! together ordinary things feel extraordinary 😭 and im sure thats what reader felt w gyu!!!! And please they never stopped flirting! Him telling her he looks good in his clothes!!?? MY BABY GIRL LET YOUR MIND GO THERE!!!! THINK ABT GYU BEING PART OF UR DAILY LIFE!!!! BELIEVE HE LIKES U BACK COS HE DOES!!!!!

He watches you with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. His eyes flicker to your lips, and that’s when it happens—the hesitation. Heswallows hard, fighting the urge to close the distance entirely. He’s trying—really trying—to resist, to keep this from crossing a line neither of you can come back from. But it’s impossible when you’re looking at him like that, when your body is so close, when the scent of you wrapped in his clothes makes his head spin. 

THIS MADE ME INSANE I LEGIT WASNT BREATHING

SO IMAGINE MY EXCITEMENT WHEN HE TRIED TO GO IN FOR A KISS!!!!!!! The build-up??!?! The uncertaintainty but also wanting it so bad??!?! CROSS IT CROSS THE LINE!!!! God im rooting for them i am suchhhh a sucker for bff's to lovers!!!!!!!

Thank you for writing this i really reaaally enjoyed it!!! I cant wait for the next part!!!! 💖

Jealousy part. I

genre — suggestive fluff, best friends to lovers, smut (maybe in part II) ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ pairing — female!reader x best friend!Mingyu summary — You, Hoshi, Wonwoo, and Mingyu—inseparable. Their apartment feels like your second home. But one of them makes your heart race in ways you wish it wouldn’t. He treats you like you’re special—attentive, caring, almost like a boyfriend. But he’s not your boyfriend. He’s your best friend. He treats you this way—this is just how Mingyu is, right? word count — 4,3k (part l)

Warnings and notes under the line.

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, jealousy/insecurity, unrequited/complicated feelings, emotional distress, avoidance/coping mechanisms, mild possessiveness (towards him), possible hangover, waking up next to someone, suggestive elements/mild sexual tension, light kiss [let me know if I forgot something]

notes: san (ateez) cameo (you will better understand in part II) Hoshi, Wonwoo cameo. This is my first published ff ever, I hope you like it. I‘m actually very nervous about it, so feel free to give your opinion. I just wrote this, when I felt down bad for Mingyu again (he‘s so boyfriend istg). The question is, when i am not exactly down bad for Mingyu? He‘s the standard.

"Any plans for the weekend?"  

San held the office door open for you, his gentle smile as familiar as ever.  

You sighed quietly, relieved that the exhausting workweek was finally over. It had been chaos—half the staff out sick, leaving you drowning in double the workload.  

San had been your lifesaver, stepping in every time you thought you might break under the pressure.  

"Actually, I'm meeting my friends at a restaurant," you replied, noticing the faint flicker of something wistful in his eyes.  

"Why am I not surprised?" he teased, his grin widening as you stepped through the door.  

San had a way of always asking about your plans, like he was hoping, just once, your answer might include him. But it never did. Just: „My friends, my friends, my friends.“ 

It wasn’t a lie, though. You practically lived at their apartment. Gaming nights with Wonwoo, gym sessions with Mingyu, and endless meals with Hoshi—that was your rhythm, your second home.  

"Thanks for the coffee, San. Next time, it’s on me," you said, flashing him a grateful smile.  

"Anytime," he replied, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer before you parted ways.

 

You arrived flustered, breathless from rushing. Of course, they were already here. 

As you pushed open the door, the warm buzz of conversation and clinking plates enveloped you.  

Your eyes scanned the restaurant, locking on them almost immediately: your boys—and a girl. A girl? 

She was sitting beside Mingyu, close enough that their arms nearly brushed. Her laugh carried across the table, light and unrestrained, and something about it made your stomach twist. Who was she?  

"Finally!" Hoshi greeted you as you approached, his voice brimming with playful exasperation. "We thought you’d ditched us."  

You forced a smile, settling into the usual chaos of their teasing welcome. 

"This is Hana," Wonwoo explained casually when he caught the question in your eyes.  

"And? don’t you think she looks just like me?" Hoshi added, grinning as he gestured dramatically toward her.  

You studied her more closely, and the resemblance hit you. It was uncanny—her smile, her energy. She could’ve been his twin. 

"I’ve been crashing at their place for a few days," Hana said, extending her hand toward you. "Hoshi insisted."  

Your polite smile barely reached your eyes. Why hadn’t anyone told you?  

"Nice to meet you," you said, shaking her hand and glancing around. There wasn’t an empty chair for you.  

Mingyu noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he stood, grabbing one from a nearby table and setting it beside him.  

"Thanks, Gyu," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.  

He nodded and gave you a gentle smile. 

Oh, how you’d missed him. His warmth, his silly jokes—the way his laughter could dissolve the stress of your week. You’d been looking forward to this, to catching up with him. But now, it seemed difficult.  

As the group settled into conversation, you tried to focus, tried to join in. But your attention kept drifting—to Hana, to how close she sat to Mingyu, to the way she leaned into him when she laughed. Her fingers grazed his arm casually, like she belonged there.  

"So, Hana, how do you like the city so far?" Wonwoo asked, drawing her attention.  

"It’s great," she said brightly. "Hoshi’s been showing me around—it’s been so much fun."  

Her hand lingered on Mingyu’s shoulder as she spoke, and your stomach knotted uncomfortably.  

Just then, the waiter arrived, placing drinks on the table. Four sojus. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise—they’d ordered before you arrived. That wasn’t how things worked. You always waited. It was a small tradition, but it mattered. Or, at least, it used to.  

"One soju for me too, please," you said quickly, catching the waiter before he walked away.  

But the unease didn’t leave. Hana’s touchiness continued—her laugh too loud, her attention on Mingyu too focused. He didn’t seem to mind, even smiled at her a few times. Yet, every so often, his eyes flicked to you, as if checking for something. 

You didn’t know why, but every time Hana’s hand brushed against his arm, you reached for your bottle. Every time she giggled a little too sweetly, your glass met your lips. The warm burn sliding down your throat was easier to deal with than the twist in your chest. 

"You should see these two at the gym," Hoshi chimed in suddenly, pointing between you and Mingyu. "They’re like workout aliens or something." 

The group laughed, and you managed a small smile, but your heart wasn’t in it. 

Hana giggled, leaning closer to Mingyu. "Maybe you can show me some moves sometime," she said, her tone playful. 

Your fingers tightened around the glass. Without thinking, you poured yourself another shot—your third, or was it the fourth? You weren’t keeping track anymore.  

Mingyu let out a small chuckle, and that was it—you tipped your head back and downed the drink in one go. 

Your chest tightened. Mingyu was your closest friend. Your partner for everything. The one you laughed with, teased, leaned on. Seeing her in that space, acting like she belonged, made your skin crawl. You probably were just overreacting- and yet, you just kept drinking. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you lie, the words tumbling out too quickly, barely convincing even to yourself. 

You needed space—air that wasn’t thick with your confusion, your frustration. If you stayed another second, your face would betray you, exposing the childish jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.  

The cool evening air hit you like a lifeline as you stepped outside, goosebumps forming on your arms from the crisp breeze. 

You closed your eyes briefly, letting it kiss your flushed cheeks, but it did little to soothe the ache in your chest. The dull, relentless throb of longing refused to fade.  

“This isn’t the bathroom.”  

The familiar voice sent a jolt through you, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.  

You glanced back anyway, already masking your shock with a strained smile. Of course, it’s him. It’s always him.  

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, forcing a lightness you didn’t feel. “This looks like a bathroom to me.”  

He chuckled, that low, warm laugh that always did things to your chest, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. And despite yourself, you smiled too, because how could you not? 

God, you were so hopelessly in love with him.  

Without a word, he steps closer, draping your jacket over your shoulders. “You’re probably freezing,” he says, his voice gentle, but with a tenderness that makes your stomach tighten.  

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he adjusts the jacket, and it sends a shiver through you—not from the cold, but from the barely-there touch. 

You look up, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes meet his. His gaze softens, a flicker of concern crossing his face.  

The silence that followed stretched taut between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words. Neither of you seemed willing to break it. The faint hum of traffic and the muffled buzz of laughter from the bar filled the empty space.  

You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers toying with the hem of your dress. Don’t say it. Don’t bring her up. Just let it go. But the question clawed its way out of you anyway.  

“I didn’t know Hana was staying at your place,” you blurted, the words sharper than you intended, laced with something raw and exposed.  

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, his exasperation evident. “Yeah, I didn’t know either. Trust me.”  

You raise an eyebrow, still unsure. “Hoshi didn’t mention it?” 

“He forgot,” Mingyu mutters, shaking his head. What a Hoshi thing to happen, you thought.  

“I walked into my room, and she was already asleep in my bed. I didn’t have the heart to wake her, so I took the couch for the week.”  

Your stomach twisted, the weight of his explanation sitting heavy. Of course, he wouldn’t complain. He’s Mingyu—always generous, always selfless. Always giving more of himself than he should.  

“Oh,” you managed, your voice too light, too fake. “It’s just funny to think… if I showed up at your place, I’d find her instead of you.” You tried to laugh, but the sound was hollow, even to your ears.  

He shrugged, casual and unaffected. “It wasn’t a big deal for me. I worked overtime all week, so I wasn’t home much anyway.”  

Of course, it wasn’t a big deal to him. But to you? It was everything. Every single thing.  

You felt the sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly. Not here. Not now.  

The night had been shallow and hollow, a void you couldn’t seem to escape. All you’d wanted was a quiet evening with your friends, especially Mingyu. Just sitting beside him, leaning against his shoulder—feeling the solid warmth of him—would’ve been enough.  

But instead, you’d spent the evening watching Hana, her laughter, her touches, her presence invading spaces you’d always considered yours. Even if you don't have the right to do so. 

The ache in your chest sharpened, spreading through you like wildfire. You couldn’t stay here any longer.  

“I’m gonna head home,” you said, your voice flat, eyes fixed on the ground. “I think I need some rest after this week.”  

You felt his gaze land on you, heavy and searching, and for a moment, you wavered under its weight.  

“I’ll take you home,” he said softly, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.  

“No, it’s okay,” you replied quickly, trying to steady your tone. “I have my car.”  

“I know,” he says, stepping closer, his presence almost overwhelming. His eyes scan your face, tracing every inch of you, as if reading you in ways that make your heart race. “But you shouldn’t drive. You drank too much.” 

“I’m fine,” you muttered, frustration bubbling up. “I’m not drunk.” 

 And then, he speaks again, voice softer, more tender. 

“Your cheeks,” he murmurs, his thumb gently brushing against your flushed skin. “They’re red. That happens when you drink too much.” 

You freeze, his touch lingering. Your heart pounds in your chest, and his proximity feels like a punch to your gut. He looks even more handsome than usual—his messy hair falling over his forehead, the soft fabric of his shirt still loose and unbuttoned just enough to make your breath catch. The way he stands there, effortlessly composed, but so close that you can almost taste the air between you—his scent wrapping around you like a warm, familiar blanket. 

God, you feel weak in front of him. 

“I can’t let you drive like this,” he adds softly. 

You want to protest, but the words catch in your throat. He cares. He always does. 

“Unless…” he tilts his head slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’ve got other plans?”  

A sharp, throbbing pain pulsed through your head as you reached for your phone, your limbs feeling heavy under the weight of sleep. 

The sunlight filtering through the curtains was way too bright, making you wince as you blindly swiped to answer the call without checking the caller ID. 

“Hello…?” Your voice was hoarse, thick with exhaustion. 

“Mingyu, where are you?! I’ve been trying to reach both of you for hours!” 

Your brows furrowed, confusion washing over you like a cold wave. Mingyu? 

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the name on the screen. Hoshi Hyung. 

Your headache made it hard to process, but one thing was clear—you would never save him like that. 

Why the hell was he even calling you about Mingyu? 

Just as the pieces of the puzzle refused to click into place, you felt it—a presence beside you. 

With a slow, sinking feeling, you turned your head to the right. 

And there he was. 

Mingyu. 

All 187 centimeters of him, sleeping peacefully under your blanket like he belonged there. His hair was tousled, his breathing deep and even, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. 

Your eyes widened, your grip on the phone tightening. You hung up immedietly.  

Fuck. 

Before you could spiral too much, Mingyu let out a deep sigh, his arm stretching out lazily—almost like he was reaching for you. His eyes, still hazy with sleep, fluttered open but instantly softening the moment they land on you,— The way you were staring at him, as if he'd just appeared out of nowhere —his lips curled into a knowing smirk. 

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough with sleep. 

“It’s 2 p.m., Mingyu.” 

He blinked slowly before lazily glancing around the room. “Shit, really?” His voice was raspy, thick. He let out a slow breath before sinking deeper into the pillows. “I slept so fucking good.” A lazy smile tugged at his lips as he let his eyes fall shut again. 

You watched him. His dark hair was a complete mess, strands sticking out in every direction, and yet, somehow, it only made him look softer. His skin looked warm and tan against the white sheets. His lips—full, slightly swollen from sleep—parted just the tiniest bit, and for a moment, you had to fight the urge to reach out, to trace them with your fingertips, just to see if they were as soft as they looked. 

You swallowed hard. "I... uh—what happened last night?" 

Mingyu let out a soft chuckle, rolling onto his side to face you properly. “You really don’t remember?” 

Your silence was answer enough. 

“Oh, this is fun,” he mused, resting his cheek against his palm. “You were very affectionate. Like, I knew you liked me, but I didn’t expect you to cling to me like that.” 

Your face burned instantly. “Shut up.” 

He grinned wider. “You wouldn’t let go. Kept saying I couldn’t leave, that I should sleep next to you.” His voice dropped into something teasing. “Should I start staying over more often?” 

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him. He laughed, catching it effortlessly before it could hit his face. 

“Ohhh, so violent first thing in the morning,” he teased. “Where’s all that love from last night, huh?” 

You wanted to escape the awkwardness, so you stepped away from the bed, but as you did, your gaze betrayed you—flicking toward Mingyu. His white shirt hung loosely on his frame, almost completely unbuttoned, exposing a hint of his chest and the silver chain resting just above it. The sight made your breath catch for a moment, your heart skipping. 

Mingyu caught your glance. His eyes met yours for a heartbeat, but then they dropped—slowly, unwillingly, lingering on your legs just a moment too long. 

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the fabric of your dress inching up, revealing more of your legs than you'd intended. The air between you both seemed to thicken, heavy with something unspoken. 

In an awkward flurry, Mingyu began buttoning his shirt, his movements too quick, too self-conscious, like he was suddenly aware of every inch of space between you. 

You cleared your throat, trying to fill the silence, and nervously stammered, “I—I’m making breakfast.” 

Mingyu immediately sat up, “I’ll do it.” 

You turned to glare at him, a bit sharper than you intended. “I can make it on my own.” 

“I know you can,” he said with that same, effortless ease, his tall, towering frame moving toward you without hesitation. “But let me.” His voice was softer this time, the teasing gone. 

His eyes flickered over you briefly—the exhaustion, the headache written all over your face, the way your clothes were still crumpled from last night. 

“You should take a shower,” he added, voice gentle. “It’ll help with the headache.” 

You blinked at him, and looked down on you after.  

“Yeah..probably.” 

You hesitated for a second before heading towards the bathroom, still feeling like you were stuck in some weird dream. 

The moment you stepped in front of the mirror, you almost flinch. 

Your makeup was smudged, your hair an absolute mess, strands sticking to your forehead. Your dress from last night was wrinkled and slightly loose on one side. 

You looked horrible. Greasy. Disgusting. 

Mingyu slept next to this? 

You suddenly wanted to cry. 

Taking a deep breath, you quickly peeled off your clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the weird feelings in your chest. 

By the time you were done, you felt human again. 

There was no way you were putting that dress back on, so you grabbed your bathrobe, tying it tightly around your waist before stepping out. 

Your hair was still damp, strands clinging to your skin as you walked barefoot toward the kitchen, following the smell of food. 

Mingyu stood at the stove, moving effortlessly like he belonged there, he changed his white shirt. His black t-shirt now clinging just enough to make you notice. The sleeves stretched over his biceps, broad and defined, flexing slightly with each movement.  

And then he turned around. 

For a moment, it was like time froze. 

Mingyu’s breath hitched the second his eyes landed on you. 

The damp strands of hair framing your face, the way your robe sat snugly around you, revealing the delicate curve of your collarbone—he was so unprepared for this. 

His fingers twitched around the wooden spoon, and for a split second, he forgot what he was even doing. His grip almost faltered. 

He was staring. 

Hard. 

You raised an eyebrow. “You good?” 

Mingyu swallowed, snapping out of it. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I’m—uh, food’s almost done.” 

He forced a smile, turning back to the stove way too quickly—like he needed a second to compose himself. 

You didn’t question it, shrugging as you took a seat at the table. 

Mingyu, on the other hand, inhaled deeply, gripping the spoon like it was the only thing keeping him from completely losing his mind. 

Yeah. He was so screwed. 

“So.” Mingyu cleared his throat, a little too forcefully. “How’s your headache?” 

You barely looked up, scrolling through the endless messages from Hoshi and Wonwoo. “Hm? Oh-It still hurts. But I’m sure I’ll feel better after eating something."

A beat of silence. 

Too long. Too heavy. 

You, sitting there like that—bare-faced, hair still damp, wrapped up in your robe—he had seen you like this before. And yet, right now, it felt… different. His fingers flexed against the edge of the kitchen counter. 

He didn’t want to think about why. 

“How’s work been lately?” he asked, voice casual—too casual. “You looked exhausted yesterday. And, well… the number of drinks you had kind of spoke for itself.” 

You let out a dry laugh, stretching your legs beneath the table. “Yeah, work… Work has been insane. Feels like half the office is out sick, and I’m the lucky one picking up the slack.” 

Mingyu frowned as he turned off the stove, moving with practiced ease. “That’s bullshit.” A pause. “No wonder you were exhausted.” 

That wasn’t the reason you drank last night, but he didn’t need to know that.  

You shrugged, watching him. The way he knew where everything was. The way he moved through your kitchen like he belonged there. Because he did. 

Mingyu set a plate in front of you before settling into the chair across from you. He picked up his fork but didn’t eat right away, just watching you for a beat. 

“You really need a break,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Then, his eyes flickered to yours, and something shifted in his expression. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Or maybe just… new clothes.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

He gestured vaguely toward you. “I mean, I knew you had a couple of my things, but—” He gave you a pointed look. “At this point, half of your closet is mine. I could practically  move in here.” 

You almost choked on your food. 

That little shit. 

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “You know, I always wondered where my stuff kept disappearing to.” He tilted his head, pretending to think. “For a while, I actually believed I had a hole in my closet.” 

You swallowed your bite. “Weird. Sounds like a you problem.” 

He scoffed. “Oh, really?” 

You nodded, keeping your face blank. “Mhm. No clue what you’re talking about.” 

His gaze flickered over you, his smirk deepening. “So, you’re telling me my hoodies just magically disappeared? Along with my t-shirts? And my beanie? And—” 

“Okay, okay,” you cut in, groaning. “Maybe your clothes are just… way too comfortable. Not my fault they’re basically begging to be stolen.” 

“Begging,” he repeated, like he was tasting the word. 

“Yes.” You met his eyes, feigning innocence. “I don’t see the issue.” 

Mingyu let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.” 

You smirked, tilting your head. “And yet, you still let me steal your stuff.” 

He exhaled through his nose, picking at his food. “I don’t let you. You just take it.” 

“Semantics.”  

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but there was something in his expression—something warm, something familiar. 

For a moment, it almost felt normal again. Like the weird tension from before had settled into something softer. Something easier. 

But then his eyes lingered on you a second too long. 

And suddenly, it was back. 

That unspoken thing between you. 

Neither of you acknowledged it. 

You just kept eating. 

And Mingyu? 

Mingyu was so, so screwed. 

Your phone started ringing. Hoshi was calling. 

We were screwed. 

By the time evening settled in, you had changed into something comfortable—his clothes, to be exact. He was still here, lingering in your space, and for a few fleeting hours, everything felt right. As if this was how it was always meant to be. As if this was your everyday. But deep down, a small voice whispered, warning you not to get used to it. 

After dinner,  Mingyu is still here. 

You’re in the kitchen, washing dishes side by side like it’s nothing, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand brushes against yours when he reaches for a plate, and it’s almost too quick to register. But you don’t pull away. Neither does he. 

He leans against the counter, arms crossed loosely, watching you as you load the dishes into the dishwasher. His voice breaks the silence, low and casual, but there’s an edge to it, something like hesitation. 

“Do you still have a headache?” 

Before you can speak, he’s close. His presence fills the space between you. His left hand gently presses against your forehead.. His right hand moves to your neck, fingers brushing lightly over your skin.  

You barely notice it at first, but when you shift slightly, you feel it—your back pressing against the counter. Mingyu is so close, standing in front of you, subtly caging you in You can barely breathe. You don’t know what’s worse: the fact that he’s so close, or the fact that you want him closer.  

Your voice falters when you answer. "I’m fine now. It’s... better." You watch as Mingyu’s face softens in an instant at your words. 

Neither of you moves, standing close, too close.  

Mingyu’s lips quirk into a grin, but there’s a hint of something more in his voice. “My clothes look good on you. I should let you steal them more often.” 

You laugh, but it’s breathless. You stretch up, reaching for his face, your fingers brushing his skin. You squint your eyes, making a playful face. “I’d do it anyway. Don’t need your permission.” 

Mingyu chuckles, but his gaze shifts, sharpening just enough for you to notice. He steps closer. The warmth radiating off his body, the faint brush of his leg against yours, the way his chest is so close that if you just leaned in the smallest bit, you'd be pressed against him. It’s intoxicating. You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing for a second until you force yourself to inhale, only to take in the faint scent of him—clean, familiar, utterly Mingyu. 

He watches you with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. His eyes flicker to your lips, and that’s when it happens—the hesitation. Heswallows hard, fighting the urge to close the distance entirely. He’s trying—really trying—to resist, to keep this from crossing a line neither of you can come back from. But it’s impossible when you’re looking at him like that, when your body is so close, when the scent of you wrapped in his clothes makes his head spin. 

And then, he inches closer, almost without thinking, and his lips brush against yours—just the lightest touch, so soft that it could almost be a breath. Your body tenses, and for a second, everything stills.  

But fuck, it’s enough to send heat coursing through his veins. 

His lips are soft, teasing, brushing lightly against yours. The kiss is slow, barely there, but enough to leave you gasping for more. 

You inhale sharply, your breath mixing with his. You don’t move away. If anything, you shift closer, your body reacting before your mind can catch up. 

His lips linger, hovering, teasing. Testing. 

His self-control is hanging by a thread. 

He tells himself to stop. You were loosing yourself in it. You- 

- Ding Dong 

The sound of the doorbell rings, slicing through the tension. You both freeze. The world shifts back into focus. The heat, the closeness, everything evaporates in an instant. 

You step back, your breath coming in uneven gasps. Mingyu looks away, running a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. 

[phosphns]

⌗ . . . behind the camera with streamer!chris

warns. established relationship. pet names [baby]. cursing. kinda public sex. oral [f. receiving]. teasing.

to say you were bored, was a understatement. chris, your boyfriend, had been streaming for over 3 hours now, basically ignoring you, and you were getting impatient.

you were continuously glancing at him, annoyed, hoping that he’d catch your stare and finally give you attention.

“chriis” you huffed, your tone low so that the chat woulda had difficulty to hear you.

the triplets’ fans knew you two were together. obviously, there was a big part of them who hated, no, loathed you. they sent you loads of threats and insults, but you didn’t care much. “at the end of the day, it’s me who he’s with” you once said to a paparazzi guy.

anyway, the majority of them liked you. they thought you were a healthy person, who perfectly matched chris vibes.

“yes?” he answered, his eyes not leaving the screen. he was in the middle of the hundredth fortnite match, cursing under his breath at every missed kill. he looked angelic; his hair sticking on his forehead, the long-sleeved black sweater underneath you knew there was nothing else, which did nothing but increased your hunger of him.

you observed the way his fingers moved on the keyboard, an image that reminded you of how skilled his hands where — if put in a good use.

god, you were about to lose it.

to be completely honest, you had spent the night together, between intimate touches and cuddles, with your legs interlocked and his arm around your body. but did it mean it was enough? absolutely no. nothing was never enough with chris.

“i… uhm, can i play?” you asked, putting on a fresh love t-shirt and walking over him, standing behind his chair.

you were wearing a pair of his boxers as bottom, and as much as you didn’t care, chris wasn’t the happiest to have people conspiring about your sexual life.

he finally turned his head to you, removing the headphones from his head and placing them on the desk. he smirked, raising a brow.

“since when you like fortnite?” he investigated, careful to hide your body behind his figure. his eyes wandered around it and stopped a few more seconds on your tits, who weren’t being kept in a bra so your nipples were visible through the shirt.

“since you love it more than me. what do they say? if you can’t beat them, join them?” you quoted, winking at the camera. he let out a laugh, throwing his head back, and pulled you on his lap.

he leaned over your ear, his warm breath on your neck making you shiver. “couldn’t last another hour without my attention, could you?” he whispered, purposely putting an hand on the mic not to make the chat understand.

you pushed back to his chest, your ass now pressed on his crotch as you felt his growing erection on your back. you simply smiled to the camera, acting like nothing was happening.

“you’re a needy little thing,” he added, before removing the hand from the microphone and yelling a “let’s goo” to the stream.

you greeted the chat, which welcomed you happily and filling you with compliments. you felt chris’ arms circling your waist, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the fans.

«omg the hand placement»

«theyre soooo»

«i want this»

«im so jealous rn»

he started explaining how to play and which buttons to use, but all you could focus on was his voice, low and raspy that did certainly something to your core, and the way his jaw brushed against your shoulder.

“you got it, c’mon, babe” he told you when you started playing. you weren’t that bad, actually; it wasn’t your first time playing, especially since you were with chris, so you pretty much knew what you were doing — until you started feeling something tickling your thigh.

you shifted uncomfortably on chris’ lap, who hadn’t said anything but knew damn well what was happening.

luckily for him, that part of your bodies were hidden from the camera, so the stream couldn’t see anything but you stirring on your boyfriend’s thighs.

you continued playing acting oblivious, even though your trembling movements that were making you miss all the shots.

“fuck!” you groaned in frustration at the tenth waisted opportunity, while you felt a finger fidgeting with the hem of your knickers.

you looked at chris with the corner of your eyes, signaling to him that he needed to stop now or it wouldn’t have ended well.

he, however, ignored your signals and continued to yap about how he was a better player than you, whilst his fingers kept getting closer to your heat.

you involuntarily pushed back towards his hand, which caused his fingers to touch your opening and nearly making you moan.

“you okay babe? you hit your foot on the table or something?” he feigned ignorance, like he wasn’t the reason you almost came.

“n-no — i mean yes, i’m o-okay” you replied, trying to focus on the game. there were just 4 people left in the game, the competition was getting fierce.

as you killed a player, you felt a finger slide in you, making you basically nudged back against his chest, cursing under your breath.

chris gave you a smug smile, pushing you forward with the free hand, before saying:

“that’s my girl”.

you shivered, but you kept your hands firm on the keyboard, on one side because you were close to win, on the other because if you hadn’t, that twitch stream would have been transformed in a live porn one.

chris must had noticed the way your body was reacting, because he started pumping his finger faster than before, adding another one. his gestures were rapid and rough, but they were also limited, since he couldn’t move as freely as you both wanted. it was driving you insane.

“shit! where the fuck is he!” you yelled at the game, as the storm was approaching and there were left just few minutes.

your boyfriend’s fingers moved at an accelerating pace as you were literally about to levitate from the chair. you had to bite your bottom lip to keep back your moans that were begging to come out.

you also could feel chris’ hard-on under you, which provoked him to stay in silence, besides some comments that he would make about your skills.

your chest was moving quickly now and your breath was becoming heavy as you sensed the knot in your stomach growing. the chat didn’t seem to notice, though, probably convinced that your state was instigated by the tension in the game.

when chris added another finger, you actually felt like you could pass out. his digits were thrusting furiously into you, causing your whole body to tremble.

miraculously, you managed to kill the last one player, resulting in you to win. chris screamed in victory, but both of you couldn’t really move, because the same instant you won, his fingers won you over too, making you come and riding you out of your high.

“oh my god! chris — fuck!” you couldn’t help but let out a cry, but fortunately it was covered by your celebrations.

chris smirked mischievously, keeping his hand down your crotch.

it had been one of the most mind-blowing orgasm you’d ever experienced.

“i think you’ve changed your opinion on fortnite, haven’t you baby?” he asked, with a teasing tone, caressing your side with his other hand.

you nodded, not being able to say anything after the strong load of sensations that you felt in more or less twenty minutes.

after that, chris decided to wrap up the stream, claiming to be tired, but you and me both know that it was nothing compared to how much he would have been tired the next morning.

yaps. i think it’s pretty evident i have a thing for fingers… anyway i saw this tiktok and decided that i had to do something about it.

tags 💌 @ultrviolenxe ៹ @chrissbows ៹ @courta13 ៹ @chriss-slutt .

wc 1,2k

[colinarmistead]

i hope this doesnt sound like a ragebait question or something, im genuinely asking for advice because ive often been stuck on this when making art

when drawing moe characters, how do you reconcile with the loli association? the few times ive drawn moe characters i've been called a lolicon or the characters themselves have been called lolis, and i don't really like that association at all. at the same time though i understand that moe and loli have a lot of shared history and i dont think its an "unreasonable" association to make. is this something youve ever had to deal with? and if so, how do you deal with that? i really like drawing moe, and i want to keep doing it, but i don't want to be associated with lolicon. thank you for your time, i love your work and im sorry if this question is weird.

I have a lot of thoughts on this so I'm gonna have it all under the thing so it doesnt crowd up the tl lol

Loli shit is forever connected with moe aesthetics and history—it’s not some byproduct; it’s baked in from the ground up, and you have to make your own concessions with that. I’ve absolutely had to deal with people calling some of my works "loli bait" (despite me being a gay man who has a thing for older men lol) because of their subject matter, but I don’t take those interpretations of my work to heart since they aren’t willing to engage with what I’m doing in a way that isnt surface level.

For example, if I have an illustration of a small moe anime girl next to a dead male body (as I have multiple times), the uncanny sexual undertone of her short skirt and thigh-high socks isn’t some unintentional byproduct of the style—the uncanny is part of what appeals to me about these characters. If I’m using moe anime girls as a stand-in for some idealized, perverted digital feminine ideal, then the super-iffy sexual undercurrent baked into their designs (even in the more innocuous ones) is an important element of what makes them them. Another example is how in the animated opening to Angelic Kitty Miracle chan, in multiple shots her underwear is visible, Miracle chan herself is supposed to represent an artificial idealized form of femininity and to me to not add an element of sex to a character like that would be missing the point of what she is representing. If you design a young girl in a short maid dress and thigh high's I don't see why that is A-ok but the moment her underwear is shown in a frame then it becomes sexual, the fetishistic edge is baked into the design from the ground up.

now I understand having a shot of miracle chan's underwear without the context of the rest of the film she's from removes that imagery from it's critical context. That's totally my bad and for this reason I've stoped posting a lot of work of Miracle chan until the film is out

Moe aesthetics are often a microcosm of patriarchal feminine ideals and imagery, despite the fact that some people do use them to empower themselves and self-identify. It definitely brings to mind the constant debate: is the only way to destroy the power of regressive patriarchal female gender roles to distance ourselves as much as possible from anything that has been a byproduct of them, or can empowerment be found by embracing them? Personally, that’s up to the individual—but I’m in a lucky position where, when I’m drawing in anime aesthetics (with the exception of the paid work I do for V-Tubers), it’s usually to comment in some way on these aesthetics.

[spiderziege]

can you tell us more about your characters please please please???

ooohh yes i will tho i honestly dont have that much actual story, im just. worldbuilding atm. heres a map! (i posted this before but i cleaned it up a bit and improved the dragon, it was looking kinda weird before lol)

still work in progress though! the dragon is asleep under the earth and has been there for a long long time, shaping the landscape. most people believe its some sort of legend but some do believe its real and might wake up on day and destroy everything

and here's the 6 main guys and also their locations in the world (roughly)

Eshiel & Luz both didnt grow up in the steppe/plains area they live in now; Eshiel grew up very far west deep in the forest pretty isolated from the rest of the land. Luz was born in the mountainrange along the dragons spine, but he spent most his childhood travelling with a circus so i dont think he'd really think of that as home anyway. those two are sort of runaway criminals (as in they pissed off one very powerful and very evil guy). also Eshiel isnt her real name she just changed it so its harder to find her

The town Valérie lives in is very historic, not technically a capital city but sort of a central point for travel and trade. Valérie grew up there and works as a farrier. i havent really decided in what way magic exists here but Val is definitely the one who'd be into it the most.

everything south from that city until you reach the ocean (basically along the dragons neck & shoulders) is completely abandoned and forbidden to enter except for once every couple years for a tournament where people try to cross that land on horseback. which is dangeorus cause theres monsters/sort of demonic forces down there but theres good prize money & glory involved so people do it anyway. all 6 of them end up taking part for various reasons

The last three all come from the snow kingdom in the northeast. Kokoro is a princess and Caliott & Cäcilia are both knights. Koko basically runs off on her own to search for her older brother who took part in that tournament a few years ago and never returned, Caliott & Cäcilia are sent after her to protect her

i think thats it? heres a pinterest board lol. thank you for asking about them :') hope this all makes sense kinda. talking about ocs is so scary why is it so scary

[messyloverr]

"Underneath the Scowl"

Katsuki Bakugou x GN!Reader

Summary: You're an exchange student striving to become one of the best hero's in the world. As you're there you meet Katsuki Bakugou, and make it one of your goals to prove yourself to him despite his harsh attitude. Through intense training and perseverance, Bakugou begins to respect you, and what seemed like an unlikely friendship eventually blossoms into love.

Author's note: This is probably gonna turn into a series if anybody acc likes it. Also I haven't written a story in forever so im sorry to whoevers reading if this is shitty ! i wrote this for myself but decided to publish incase somebody else likes this super simple idea ;p

Katsuki Bakugou was a man of certainty—he almost never had any doubts about anything in his life. That was, of course, until you came along. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he knew you'd be trouble.

You arrived as an exchange student alongside Pony Tsunotori, a good friend of yours. She was placed in class 1-B, which meant you'd be transferred into class 1-A. You weren't thrilled about being split up, but you knew that this way, you'd have a better shot at becoming a pro-hero.

The first day was rough—well, mostly for you. The rest of the students were welcoming, greeting you with smiles, showing you around, and offering you a seat next to them during class and lunch. But one person stood out: a blonde, crimson-eyed man who caught your attention.

You tried approaching him, noticing a small group of students surrounding him, which made you think he was just shy—much like Kyoka Jirou or Koji Koda, who had only introduced themselves after the pressure of their peers.

To your surprise, he made it clear that he had no interest in being friendly. So, you turned to Kirishima, who you'd spoken to briefly before.

"Hey, Kirishima!" you smiled as you walked up to him. "I hope it's not a problem, but do you think you could help introduce me to the others? I'm not sure if I've met everyone yet." You whispered the last part subtly, making sure it was clear you were talking about the spiky-haired man a few inches away.

Kirishima glanced between you and the man standing just inches away. He made an attempt to introduce you, but Bakugo quickly dismissed the gesture by ignoring the both of you entirely. "Don't mind him, Y/N," Kirishima said with a nervous chuckle. "Bakugou's just...well, bakugou." He offered a warm smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension. "He'll come around. You're brave for trying to talk to him, though. I mean, people usually avoid him at first..." He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a light laugh.

"He can be a little intimidating at first, but once you get to know him, he's actually a great guy!" Kirishima continued, his voice carrying a sense of optimism.

You paused for a moment, wondering if it was worth the effort to keep trying. You quickly snapped out of it, reminding yourself of your purpose here: to become a hero. The first step? Bakugou. You had seen him in action during the sports festival and were eager on seeing him and his quirk up close.

The following days were the hardest . You tried your best to fit in with your classmates, but you couldn't shake off the feeling that Bakugou's fiery glares and constant scowls were tracking your every move. Everyone else seemed fine with your presence, he was the only person who didn't. He remained an impenetrable wall of hostility, and the more he avoided you, the stronger your curiosity grew.

He certainly didn't make it easy. Every time you tried to strike a conversation, he simply shut you down cold.

"Tch, I'm not here for this." or, "Why don't you go and bother someone else?"

Despite his words, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than his tough exterior led to believe. Beneath his aggressive attitude, you'd sensed a burning determination—the relentless drive to become a true hero, no matter who or what stood in his way,

One afternoon, after class, you found yourself sitting on the steps of the U.A. dorms. You needed a moment to let the weight of everything settle and to clear your head. As you gazed up at the sky, an uneasiness tugged at your chest, as though you didn't truly belong here.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice.

"Tch, you really gonna sit out here like some lost puppy?"

You turned in surprise, finding Bakugou standing with his arms crossed, gazing at you like usual, but with an odd softness in his eyes.

You let out a light chuckle, trying to keep things light-hearted. "I'm not some lost puppy, just thinking... It's been a lot, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it" He muttered, his tone softer than you'd ever heard it. "Things here are tough. But don't act like you're all alone."

For a moment, you stared at him in disbelief. You never expected him to be the one to offer comfort. Much less stand there talking to you. And for a second, you swore you saw a flicker in his eyes, of something beneath his fiery exterior. His true self? Maybe.

Before you could respond, he turned away, his usual edge creeping back into his voice. "Don't get any ideas, you just pissed me off less than usual today. I've got one goal: becoming the number one hero. And I'm not gonna let some extra get in my way." He muttered.

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as he walked away. Despite his harsh words, you counted this as a small victory. You had shared a real conversation, and that alone felt like progress.

As the days passed, you noticed something had shifted. Bakugou's gaze was different—It wasn't his usual cold, hostile glare you'd grown used to. This time, there was something subtle about it, something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

Sometimes, his eyes occasionally lingered on you, and he wouldn't look away. It was as if he didn't like the connection but couldn't help himself. In fact, his whole demeanor had changed subtly. Surprisingly, when no one was looking, he would give you the briefest nod of acknowledgement as you passed by in the halls. It wasn't much, but it was a small sign that something had changed.

The real turning point came during a training exercise. Your class was split into teams for a mock battle, the goal being to teach everyone how to cooperate with other unexpected hero's in high-pressure circumstances . The moment you saw your teammate, your heart sank—Bakugou.

[plutosillywrites]

imagine plus size!reader going to the bar for a date— just to get to stood up.. but that’s okay, 141 is there for their night out, and could never say no to a pretty bird like you.

(i hope u like this nonsense :3)

you’ve never had much luck with dating, which you think for the most part you’re okay with, sometimes it just doesn’t work out when you think it will— but it does sting when all of your friends are snatched up and engaged or dating.

it leaves you asking if there’s something wrong with you— which you know is not true, but when you are so crushingly rejected every single time, you get sick of it.

and tonight, god you hope it’s different. you had been chatting up some pretty guy, and he was nice— attentive even, and you aren’t ugly by any means.your curves are to die for, the way your tummy is seen in dresses, and how your thighs and ass look in some good jeans— maybe you have a few more fat rolls than the average person, and your body held a plump look. but you looked damn fine with it too..

the cellulite— the hair, the skin. practically flawless, and as you slipped on your black dress with pearl accessories, and a beautiful vintage black bag. you were ready to go—

you slip your heels on, grab your keys and you’re out the door. locking your apartment door behind you (god forbid you forget again like that one time. you’ll always miss your good mixer that the thief stole.)

the walk there is quite nice, your date having asked you to meet up at a jazz club nearby, which was only a 10 minute walk.

you walk towards the front door of the place, bright LED letters adorned the top of the building. ‘THE JAZZ ROOM.’ it’s a nice, quaint place.

as you step inside the sound of the sax and sweet singing voice draws you in, you smile at the song being sung— and make way towards the bar, waiting patiently for your date.

what you don’t see however, is how 5 men sat back in their seats to get a better look at you as you walked in. johnny is the first to say something— “Fucking gorgeous ain’t she.” — the others hum in agreement.

you twiddle your thumbs, sipping on a fruity cocktail because— of course you can’t shoot whiskey, it’s been 25 minutes since you got here— you even showed up 5 minutes late.

you laugh, but not one filled with joy, one filled with disbelief. “i think im just gonna delete tinder. it doesn’t work— stupid apps never do.” youre mumbling as youre finishing off your drink, and fanning down the bartender.

johnny claps his hands, and goes to stand. “i think pretty bonnie over ‘er got stood up. blokes missing out— it’s alright though, i’ll go and swoop her up.” he shuffles out of the booth, the others make no move to disagree but simon chimes in by saying, “you better tell ‘er how fucking gorgeous she looks tonigh’. “

johnny then makes his way towards the empty seat beside you. the 4 men sit and watch— they trust johnny to woo you over, he’s just too good with words.

you ask the bartender for another cocktail, and as you go to take a sip you hear a gruff scottish voice from beside you. “what’s a pretty bonnie like you doing here alone?” you turn, and wow.

the man has a mohawk, and the most stunning blue eyes you have ever seen. he’s got a smile that has a warmth churning up inside— why is he staring at you like your the only girl in the world? and why does it feel so good??

“oh— uhm,, haha..” you trail off, “it’s a funny story, really.” you fiddle with the fruit on a toothpick in your drink, “i’m supposed to be on a date, but uhm.. he didn’t end up showing.” you grimace a bit, taking a large sip.

“well, he’s a bloody idiot.” the man says, he leans closer, resting his head on his hand. “my names johnny, you wouldn’t mind if i took his spot as your date, would’ya?”

a handsome, muscular man with a hot accent asking to be YOUR date? yeah, you’re not saying no to that! you smile, laughing so quiet johnny almost didn’t catch it under the music.

“no, i wouldn’t.. i’d prefer if you did.” you scoot your barstool closer, and tell him your name, your hand resting on the table dangerously close to his.

“you look stunning tonight, love.” he breathes out, he intertwines his fingers with yours, “fucking breathtaking— had my eyes glued to you since you walked in ‘ere.”

you look at him quickly, he’d watched you since you walked in? “you like what you saw that much?” you questioned with a frown, and his smile only grew. “fuck yes, and not just me—“ he leans you can see the rest of the group.

their eyes are hungry; with something else mixed in, and you can’t quite tell if its passion or lust. “—my whole team thinks you’re the prettiest girl in this whole place.”

your body goes slack just slightly, before letting a smile creep onto your face, resting your hand on johnny’s knee you leaned close to his ear.. “well, it’s rude to keep people waiting.. isn’t it?” you whispered.

“you’re right as rain, bonnie. why don’t we join them?” johnny mumbles back, already standing and tugging you near their table, his hand wrapped around your waist…

(an: johnny i love you. i love you and you just don’t know it.)

[lackluster-plays]

🥩Let's Not Meat🥩

Lore Part 1

Dr Pliorre's Traits: Envious, genius, loner, haughty, apathetic, not easily impressed, insusceptible, egotistical, dominating, deadpan most of the time, workaholic, observer, and realist.

Asura | Lesbian | 57 years old | 4'5" | Class: Thief She's not much of a kleptomaniac but she can defend herself/stealth when she needs to.

Saibh's Traits: Submissive, detached, follower, low self esteem (a little bit into humiliation), obedient, brave, humble, horny, not innocent, sad, smart, broken, quiet/reserved, introverted, malleable, and tired.

Pronounced "Sive" | Lesbian | 3 years old at capture | 5' tall | Class: Necromancer Her necromancy is very give and take. And powerful.

Dr Pliorre is an independent inquest biologist/zoologist who has her own lab and 2 assistants. Saibh is her current experiment/fixation.

Location of the lab:

Pliorre's Experiment 1

Dr Pliorre's experiment is like a combination of the meat berry experiment and The Ship of Theseus paradox. There's decellularization, injections of a serum that she developed that transforms plant cells, and a few surgeries/organ transplants from unwilling donors. I imagine she uses alchemy to force Saibh's body to accept these changes. She basically wants to see if she can change the anatomy of a sylvari to be like a human. The experiment is working, however Saibh starts turning more meaty/fleshy (like necromancer minions or kryptis) instead of gaining a human-like appearance.

After the procedures are complete, Pliorre gives Saibh time to heal. She takes samples from her every day to see the progress of the transformation. And she does daily check ups as well to make sure Saibh isn't dying.

[nova-rpv]

a redraw of the first drawing i posted here to celebrate the fact that ive been in tumblr for more than a whole year posting my shit and havent deleted my blog in panic yippee \:D/ (mushy rant in tags)

[harbingersecho]

MAKE-A-NOSSIE IS NOW LIVE !!!

Make or recreate your own Nosferatu!

Currently this maker has 3 different faces, 4 skintones, and several different, movable facial features. Also includes stuff like piercings, boils, and wounds on top of accessories like hats, masks etc. Ghoul pets probably incoming at some point too.. Pets are now here!!

! CW for blood, body horror, eye trauma, teeth etc. Basically, there are parts for walking masquerade violations so… Remember that.

You can request some stuff too if there are parts you would want added <3

(I also have a ko-fi if you wanna throw in a buck or two)

[earthmixsclowderofcats]

Okay but imagine being in ZeeNuNew’s shoes - you’re queer, confirmed dating but haters still pair you with women you interact with or just meet (business or not), tell you that you’re not ‘queer enough’ and your relationship that you confirmed years ago must be fanservice and if you tell something like ‘NuNew likes cold showers, I prefer warm/hot ones and it’s torturous for me’ (Zee has said it recently by the way, like days ago) people still act surprised:/ but I hope it’ll be better for them

It's definitely an interesting situation. Because like, coming at it from an outside perspective as I was, I was confused for a while. Over the top fan service is a staple of the genre tbh. But I think maybe people get stuck on the black and white and forget the nuance.

Like yeah, it can be fan service and they can also actually care for each other. Which is where I ended up. Because they were definitely playing it up, especially at the beginning of the relationship, but you can also see the genuine affection and emotional honesty, and you can see how it shifts over time.

Again, so wild to me that it's like living your own fake dating au. Committing to the bit to the point where it's no longer a bit. It sounds like a bl plot. (I mean DMD is literally doing a bl with that plot right now lol) That's so meta.

I think people are naturally skeptical, and I think that's probably for a good reason, as it's always best to keep yourself self aware when it comes to celebrities. But what's weird is the intensity with which people are either "pro" or "anti."

As if it's a matter that affects them personally. Like, if they are "pro" and proven wrong true love doesn't exist and they were fools all along and if they are "anti" and they're wrong they were hateful homophobic crones. When like. We are not part of the equation. But people are dedicating themselves to their stance so fully. Which is why I think I was going back and forth for a while before just being like ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

They are or are not whatever they are. They're cute as hell and act like a couple so that's the assumption I'm gonna live under.

You know the whole "if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it's probably a duck" thing?

I don't shower with my bros.

But instead of being like "hey, I change my mind once I've encountered new information" people double down in weird and frankly, queer phobic ways.

I can understand the confusion about their label because I understand it's a bit different culturally. Like, in a western sense most people would not consider it a confirmation because it was more of a "make your own assumptions" kind of thing. Which was what tripped me up for a while.

Tbh that would be the best possible response if it were secretly all fan service all along somehow. Because then that would give people the feeling of confirmation they want while still having the deniability of "I never actually said that."

But also, given the untraditional nature of their relationship, labels like that, especially at the time, may have just not been something they were worrying about. Like, I don't think there's a guidebook for this whole situation.

Sidenote: I am so charmed by the epic saga that is them vs showers.

Especially how Nunew likes to tease about Zee's snoring vs Zee teasing Nunew about his bad habit of not showering before bed. (But it's ok if Nunew does it because Nunew is always the exception it seems. Something the besties have in common. Nat is always the exception for Max.)

The shower ghost, etc. it's peak old married couple bickering.

Kind of like for whatever reason what convinced me about earthmix (on top of everything else) was that Mix pops Earth's zits. Like. That's a level of intimacy that simple costars do not have lmao.

When it's not just the cute shit, but also the gross stuff and the every day bickering that makes it feel genuine.

[gomzdrawfr]

We are getting words in as I wrestle with my brain

this mtf (points at myself) loves stars and galaxy imageries

also random thought, does any fic writers do the thing when writing from art like this? xD I always like to pick things I've noticed from the piece itself, putting it in bullet points and then expand my ideas from there then try to connect them to paragraphs

[impostorsshow]

I'm actually so obsessed with him it's not even funny if i'm not listening to a TikTok or music directly related to him I can't focus free me free me

This is @/cherubpuppet's OC for a object show [au? pitch? wip show? How do I categorize this] and I've been destroyed by the fact that ruler art is infinitely superior [and 10x longer] and i don't have a good enough grasp on lip gloss's personality to make fanfiction so I am frozen in "want make fanart but fanart takes effort :["

[chryblossomjjk]

just found out that jungkook interacts with people who aren’t me

[donaviolet]

Friendship is the most special thing in the world because no award could be give me bigger happiness than jumping around in my room and smiling because my pookie asked me if I wanted to match pfps