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guiltyasdave · 23 days ago

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epiphany

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

word count: ~2.8k

tags/warnings: angst, descriptions of injuries, fluff, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n

summary: after a helicopter crash, frankie wakes up in a strange place.

a/n: once again i apologize for the pain i'm about to inflict on you. this was written for @almostfoxglove's angst challenge which i'm so so soooo late for (i'm sorry freya!) and this was originally @sizzlingcloudmentality's prompt/moodboard, but we were both going through the worst writer's block of our lives and thought switching might help (it did not), so the first thousand beautiful words are hers! <3 also thank you for beta reading and for all the yap sessions about this one in particular my love!

for an extra sad experience, listen to epiphany by taylor swift while reading :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

It is all noise, deafening noise, roaring rotors, beeping instruments, flickering lights, blinking warnings, screaming metal, screaming people, his own voice, so loud it made his ears ring. Then he saw it. Again. His mom, cradling him, his dad, telling him he was a good boy, Juan, his first cat, curled up in his lap. Friends, his brothers, most of them dead now, rotting in graves, the women he loved. His baby momma. His child, smiling up at him, tiny, fat hands grabbing into the air. Fuck, his life was flashing before his eyes. Again. How often would he have to see this, all his good moments and why were there bad moments, too?

A massive jolt goes through the helicopter as he hits the ground and now the smell of copper, fuel and earth fills his nostrils. Wet, dark, quiet earth. The smell of a grave. The beeping and whimpering blurs into one soundscape, a wave of sounds on which Frankie slips away as his eyes close shut. Dark, quiet earth. Like a grave.

A sheep. Or more than one? They bleat. They coax him out of his unconsciousness, every sound a beacon for his mind to find his way back into consciousness. Out of the dark peacefulness, back into the light. Frankie groans, everything hurts, not only his body, his whole existence hurts, feels broken and ripped. The sunlight cuts through between his eyelids, blinding him, but that is what he wants, the light. He needs the light.

He shields his eyes and finds himself in a meadow. Poppies, cornflowers, grass. Wet, rich earth under his palm as he tries to push himself up. The buzzing of insects. And the bleating sheep. He finds himself in a dream of cottage life. Then he turns his head and sees the helicopter, the carcass of the metal beast he tried to fly too close to the sun. Like Icarus he came crashing down.

He doesn’t have to check, he knows “a fatal crash with zero survivors” when he sees one. Frankie got lucky, again. Somehow death spared him, he always does. Maybe the old fella took a liking in watching Frankie fuck up his life over and over again.

Military training kicks in, he checks himself for injuries and finds no major ones. Maybe a broken rib or two, a concussion for sure. He grunts and pushes himself onto his knees, crying out in pain that he doesn’t even know where it’s coming from.

A furry head appears out of the tall grass, white curls, pink nose, floppy ears, black and vigilant eyes. The snout opens and a bleat comes out. Like a complaint for this human being. To better not disturb the peace in this meadow any further with his mediocrity of surviving yet another accident that should have killed him.

“Sorry,” Frankie mutters and finds the energy to rise to his feet. Shaky, wobbly, the scent of earth and grass clinging to his damp clothes and skin. “You know somewhere for me to find help?”

Another bleat, then the sheep turns and starts wading through the tall grass with all the time in the world. Frankie watches the little bum disappear between green blades dotted with red poppies. He might as well follow the animal. Perhaps he will find a shepherd this way. Or a good shepherd may find him. God knows Frankie is in desperate need of some guidance. Or at least medical attention.

So he starts walking, more limping than anything else, his boots cutting a swath through the grass and flowers, every step causing mayhem for bees and bugs. The sheep, a few steps ahead of Frankie, sways through the meadow like a ship through green waves. It doesn’t turn around once, doesn’t turn towards its herd, the animal simply follows an invisible path that Frankie can’t see. Maybe he is losing it now, following an animal after having a fatal crash like it was his guide. But he had done weirder things in his life. Maybe he had hit his head really hard on the ground when he got thrown out of the helicopter.

His head hurts, his legs hurt, breathing hurts as well, but the scent of summer and peace fills his hurting lungs and every breath soothes the stinging and rippling in his chest.

It takes some time, but finally, after hobbling behind the sheep, the meadow opens into a clearing, a gravel pathway starting to show and leading to a cottage. A small house with walls made out of stones, big and small, various shades and colors, a crooked roof, ducking under some trees as if it was hiding from the eyes of anyone who was not welcome. The birdsong sounds different now, too.

Another bleat and the sheep starts trotting towards the house, the front door open wide. Silence. There is no sound to be heard, no voices, no music playing, no banging of pots and pans. Just birds, humming insects, the sheep drinking water from a bowl. Peace, comes to Frankie’s mind as if someone had seeded the word into his brain.

He doesn’t know how long he sat there, on a creaky bench in front of the house, basking in the last warm rays of the sun before it hides behind the trees. Ten minutes maybe, or an hour. His thoughts were flowing molasse thick behind his forehead. Thoughts about the crash, thoughts about the lives he has on his list, thoughts about who might miss him if he disappeared for good this time.

His eyes flutter shut. The sunlight is warm on his skin, painting the darkness behind his eyelids orange. It’s like he’s floating away, on his way to the sun once more.

“Francisco?”

Your voice is soft, almost as if the wind had whispered his name. He opens his eyes, turns his back on the painless bliss of unconsciousness once more.

Rays of the setting sun frame you where you’re standing in front of him, giving you a warm glow, illuminating the flowing fabric of the dress that you’re wearing. He doesn’t question how you know his name, how you feel familiar even though he’s certain that he’s never seen you before. He must have hit his head really hard.

“I— I crashed,” he croaks, his voice hoarse and the words scraping his throat on their way out.

His hand vaguely gestures in the direction he came from, but he can’t see the helicopter anymore, no sign of the crash either, only seemingly endless fields of grass and wildflowers, with trees in the distance. How far did he walk?

You nod, seemingly unsurprised. The sheep that led him there nudges your hand with its snout and you scratch through the wool around its ears, muttering what sounds like thank you. It bleats at him once more, before finally trotting back to its herd, blending into the white dots among the green.

You pick up the wooden basket you had been carrying and tip your head towards the open door. Your eyes had been trained on his face, but when he stands up on unsteady legs, they trail down his frame, lingering on his side where blood has been seeping through his shirt and the stained fabric is clinging to his skin uncomfortably. He barely registered the pain while he was sitting there, but now, it grows to full intensity. Maybe it’s more than a concussion and a cracked rib after all.

He follows you over the threshold, taking in his surroundings. The stony walls, littered with mismatched wooden shelves, filled with books and flowerpots. Small windows through which the evening light is filtering in. Worn down furniture, cushions that he would love to sink his tired body into right now. An earthy, heavy scent, cleansing his mind and his lungs.

For the first time in years, there’s no underlying need for the artificial high that has kept his head over water and simultaneously pulled him under.

“We need to clean you up,” you say, eyeing his bloody shirt again.

You lead him up a wooden staircase, creaks accompanying his every step, and into a small bathroom. The light from a round window reflects off forest green tiles, mesmerizing him. You fill up a bathtub, adding oils from little glass bottles, until a herbal scent is wafting around him.

Carefully, you help him strip off his clothes down to his underwear. Lifting his arms hurts like hell and he sucks in a harsh breath when his shirt unsticks from the open wound on his left. Some of the pain eases as soon as he sinks down into the warm water, a grateful sigh falling from his lips. You smile at that, a small, timid thing, and he wants to keep looking at you, wants to make you smile again, but you settle on the stone floor at his back, pushing down on his shoulders until most of his body is submerged.

With a cloth, you start on his face, cleaning off mud and dried blood, so gently that it barely stings when you touch scratches on his skin. You move on to his hair, letting him lean back, your fingers massaging over his scalp, easing the tension, the worry that he’s carrying around with him. Finally, you probe at his rips under the water’s surface, fingertips dancing over the open wound there. The pain doesn’t disappear, but it feels less heavy, less biting somehow.

Your hands trace over the scars littering his torso in gentle touches, soothing phantom pains that have long passed. “I’m sorry about these,” he thinks he hears you say, so quietly that he’s not sure if the words were meant for him to understand.

“‘s not your fault,” he murmurs, his eyelids drooping shut once more as he sinks deeper into the warm water.

He awakens surrounded by soft white bedding, a wooden ceiling with exposed beams over his head and the light of early sunrise falling into the room, painting it golden. He stretches without thinking, only a sting at his ribcage reminding him of the day before.

It all feels like he’s walking through a dream, one too beautiful to disturb. So, he doesn’t wonder how he came here, who you are, why you seem to know him, how you seemingly healed most of his injuries simply by giving him a bath. If this is what an actual dream feels like, not the nightmares he usually has, he doesn’t want to wake up.

Everything feels easy, here, with you. There don’t seem to be any clocks in the cottage, so he has no idea what time it is, but it must be early morning. Still, he finds you in a small garden behind the house, tending to vegetables that you’re growing there.

He feels your gaze flying over him, like you’re checking what state he’s in. Then, with a smile, you start explaining what you’re doing. Which plants to water, which vegetables are ready to be harvested. He works alongside you, naturally, like he’s always done this. It feels good, using his hands and body like this. Growing something, helping someone, doing good.

He follows you to the small kitchen, watches you prepare things, storing them in a pantry. You explain which herbs you are growing in small pots on a windowsill, handing them to him one by one to let him smell them.

The sun is rising higher, warming the air floating in through the open backdoor. You take his hand and pull him outside again, walking down an invisible path through the green fields surrounding the cottage. Bees are buzzing in the wildflowers around you and the sheep are bleating occasionally, watching the two of you with curious eyes, but not coming closer to investigate.

You’re wearing a dress again, the skirt flowing around your ankles in the light breeze and the sunlight illuminating your figure as you skip a few steps ahead of him. Frankie can’t help himself, picking a few of the flowers and handing them to you. His heart almost cracks at your wide smile when he gives them to you, your fingertips grazing his.

Back at the cottage, you put them into a vase on the kitchen counter, the flowery scent mixing with the house’s earthy notes in no time. It’s a small thing, but in a way, it's a trace of his presence here. It’s almost scary how much Frankie likes that thought.

It becomes a routine, as easy as breathing. The two of you taking care of the garden first thing in the morning, then a walk through the fields. The sheep start coming closer, even though they don’t let him pet them the way they do with you. He barely hurts anymore, the wound at his side almost completely healed.

In the evenings, you make tea from the herbs that you’re growing. Frankie has never liked tea, always proud to be a black coffee guy, but this one is different. It calms him, slows his thoughts down and fills him with a peace he didn’t know life had to offer. And it’s something that you made. For him, to care for him.

One night, you’re both sitting in front of the fireplace, watching the flames and listening to them crackling. He starts telling you about his past, about all the regrets that haunt him. About the men that he’s killed, about all the pain and sadness that he’s responsible for. About the woman and child that he abandoned, all to chase a high that he knew was unreachable.

He feels lighter, afterwards, like a shadow has lifted from his heart. You take his hand and rest it on your thigh. Your fingertip dances over his open palm, drawing delicate shapes over the calloused lines of his skin.

“All the violence it took you to become this gentle,” you sigh.

Your smile is sad, and he wants to kiss it off your lips. He’s never felt gentle one day in his life, has always been made of brute force and rough edges, but here, with you, he thinks you might be right.

With every passing day, the peace seeps deeper into his bones. Maybe it’s not a dream. Maybe everything that happened before was the dream, a nightmare, and he finally woke up.

That evening, you’re singing while preparing dinner. He puts down his knife and the potatoes he’s been chopping and takes your hand instead. You grin at him, still singing as he sways the both of you around to the melody. His heart aches at the sound of your laugh.

He pulls you closer, leaning in, eyes darting to your lips. For a second, he could swear that you’re moving towards him too. Then you sigh, one hand coming up to rest on his chest, stopping him. He freezes.

“Frankie, you— We can’t. You can’t stay here”

Suddenly, his whole body feels cold.

“Why not? I want to be here. With you.”

Under other circumstances, he’d be ashamed of the whine in his voice.

“Your time hasn’t come yet.”

“What do you mean, my time hasn’t—”

Tears well up in your eyes. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip.

“I’ve already kept you longer than I should have. I’m sorry, Frankie. You have more life to live. I’ll protect you, just like I have before.”

Before he can say another word, before he can even attempt to understand, your arms wrap around him. Your lips sink down onto his, just as soft as he imagined, just as sweet.

Then, everything dissolves. The stone walls around him, the setting sun through the window, the scent of herbs and fresh flowers. It leaves only the feel of your warm body, your lips on his. Until that disappears, too.

His eyes fly open, seeing nothing at first. Sound erupts around him like an explosion. Blurry shapes move in his periphery. The air is thick with smoke, his ears are ringing. His mouth tastes of blood. Hands are frantically pulling at him, moving him, shouting at him, around him, in words that he can’t make out.

It’s like he’s watching, barely present in his body as someone feels his wrist for a pulse, shines a light into his eyes, checks his body for injuries. He doesn’t understand. He was good, he was healing. He was at peace.

His body is limp as he gets strapped onto a stretcher. They may be talking to him, he thinks.

“He must’ve had a guardian angel,” someone next to him says.

Frankie isn’t listening. He’s scanning the treeline, the landscape around him. It was all right here, the sheep, the meadow.

It’s like you’re still right there, the phantom of your presence next to him, but he can’t see you anymore. Just like it was before, he could swear he hears you whisper.

thank you so much for reading <3 as always, comments and reblogs are love, i'm so excited to hear what you think!

and check out this gorgeous art piece by @millersblud 🫶🏻

#janas fics #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader

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jackiesunshines · 5 days ago

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SORRY, I'M SO STUPID | S.LOHMANN¹²

summary: you're an idiot who lost the love of your life. somehow, you get her back.

contains: sydney lohmann x bayfcplayer.ᐟreader, exes to lovers, mentions of relationship insecurities, sorta messy timeline, mentions of concussion/injury, jealousy, jealous.ᐟreader, sydney got the patience of a saint, they're inlove your honor, some angst with fluff

word count: 6.0k

author note: first fic on this blog, hopefully you cool ppl in my phone like it. lil warning for the fic going from past tense to present tense alot, that's the point. i tried a slightly different writing style doing this so let's hope it eats. enough yapping, enjoy ❤️ p.s. this is a lyrics fic.

PLAYING THINGS I WISH YOU SAID BY SABRINA CARPENTER

baby, sorry, i left you in the dark. i always reach for your leg over there on your side of the car

you are really fucking stupid. at least, that's what you have been telling yourself for the past two months.

you're in your car, on your way to deyna's party. of course, san jose traffic is packed and going at snail speed, leaving you with time to think many thoughts. way too many thoughts.

thoughts that are mainly involving a pretty, german blonde who used to be yours at one point. she would still be yours right now if you didn't end things impulsively.

what did your parents say when you were a teenager about how social media is poison? you are slowly starting to agree because you let opinions circulating around social media and your insecurities end a good thing. now the one person you didn't want to hurt in this life is hurt and you're hurting alongside her.

you almost want to forget about her, but who could forget about sydney?

that's why when you change lanes to reach your exit on the highway, your hand automatically goes to the passenger seat to reach for a thigh that isn't there.

right. she's in germany, not here.

you're so fucking stupid.

baby, everything reminds me of you. nobody gets my jokes, everyone here thinks i'm fucking rude

being at practice reminds you so much of sydney. it makes sense, you both are professional players. so of course your day is riddled with memories of sydney.

arriving at the training facility reminds you of that time sydney told you she tripped coming into bayern's training building, and she was teased for days.

going through drills has you thinking about when sydney whined on the phone everyday about her legs and feet hurting after practice.

time in the gym, doing your cardio is not that different from the days where sydney and you would workout out together. getting a sweet treat right afterward.

so, by the time training is over, you are ready to get dressed quickly in the locker room and duck out to go drown in your self-pity and regret at home. it's too bad that even the locker room reminds you of sydney or the lack thereof.

“why are you changing so fast? trying to run away from those bad shots you made?” jen jokes, coming to sit by you at your cubby.

you look at her, your hands still occupied tying your shoe. “you cannot be talking after the amount of times you fell. your age catching up to you?” you say in a similar joking tone with a side of deadpan,

or so you thought as everyone looks at you like you're crazy.

“i was just playing around, chill,” jen says. her words confuse you and so does the reactions of your other teammates.

did your joke have venom that you were unaware of behind it? or did you say it more on the side of deadpan than joking?

all you know is that sydney would have laughed at that. she would be giggling so hard, her face would get all red. then she would have thrown an even better insult right back at you.

you really miss her.

when i saw you cry, i didn't handle it well. without you here, i don’t know what to do with myself.

your nights have been so boring ever since you broke up with sydney. the same routine: get home, shower, water the plants, eat dinner, and then spend an hour or two scrolling on social media trying to fight the urge to stalk sydney's page.

you had blocked the blonde back when you two first broke up. you remember how klara texted you about how that's “childish and just hurts you both more.” she's right, of course, but who's going to tell her that? not you. not after you made a whole big deal about moving on and focusing on your career.

moving on doesn't even seem right. that's for people who were heartbroken by chance, not on purpose. it's not for people who hurt themselves by ending something that was good and stable because they couldn't get out of their own head.

still, as you lay there and scroll, your entire being craves for what used to belong to it.

you desire sydney's warmth.

you miss sydney's scent.

you are hungry for sydney's kisses.

you need to be held down by the weight of her body on top of yours.

instead, you are being weighed down by the pain you inflicted upon her. haunted by the sight of tears filling up in her eyes the day you ended everything and walked away. the unanswered text messages she left you the following night after she got drunk. the single text that followed the morning after that,

those were mistakes. ignore them.

everything blares in your head like an alarm that never stops. a clock that is broken, but not because it doesn't sound off but because it continues to sound off even if you want it to stop. there is no snooze for your regret, not with the way your dreams are filled to the brim with thoughts of sydney, too.

i think about these things at night before i fall asleep. things i wish you said to me.

syd's barely affectionate with her.

they don't give off girlfriends vibes.

sydney is more cuddly with her friends than her own girlfriend.

wonder when they are going to break up.

it's not going to last.

you reread the comments that led to your self inflicted suffering in the first place. the noodles in front of you on the table have run cold and your appetite is halfway gone at this point anyways.

social media has never been a big part of how you move throughout the world. you love to doomscroll, and of course, you have your favorite creators across platforms. you know about different trends and internet slang. duh, you aren't thirty. but you never used to let social media dictate how you interact with people outside of it. social media is full of algorithms and echo-chambers made to take over people's thoughts. forcing them to stay on apps longer than needed to look for solutions for problems that have been caused by said apps.

that's always how you felt.

but even you fell into the trap of social media. early in your relationship with sydney, you were too in the honeymoon phase to think about looking at socials. too wrapped up in sydney. however, when you two calmed down into a just as in love but more controlled state, your mind started wandering.

wondering what people are saying about you two. do they find you two cute? couple goals? were there fanpages for your relationship?

other players who are in relationships often have these things, so why wouldn't you guys have those as well?

what you didn't expect to find was people overanalyzing the way sydney and you interacted in public. for people to wonder if you guys are even in love.

“they don't see me when i'm with you. they don't know how attached i am to you every second we are alone,” sydney said when you brought up your growing insecurity. she was smiling all sweet, sitting on top of you.

how could you not believe her with the way she's kissing the frown off your lips?

your insecurities still grew and grew and grew until they became a hill. a hill, you weren't able to climb over.

they don't know how sydney loves wearing your clothes around and outside of the house because she's obsessed with your smell. they don't know about all the nights she cuddled into your side, basically glued to your skin. they aren't there on the days you were in sydney's apartment, cooking and dancing with her. they don't see the way she is all over you when you two are alone.

yeah, she wasn't super affectionate in public but that's only because she got so shy every time you showed her any love.

fans online didn't know about any of that, but you wish they did. you wish you didn't put so much value into their opinions because you probably would still have sydney in your grasp right now if you didn't.

if only you came to sydney about this more. the german player would rush to do anything that would make you feel better, more secure. but no, you just couldn't because you were afraid she would be annoyed you kept bringing the topic up after she reassured you the first time.

sydney would have never done that and you knew that.

that wrongful thought was influenced by that stupid hill in your head that was built on tons and tons of mean comments. the weariness of long distance fueled the comments impact on your mind deeply. getting reassured over the phone wouldn't be as satisfying as in person, so you never brought up the topic again and everytime you were with sydney, you didn't want to ruin the moment so again you didn't say a word. all of this created a hamster wheel you couldn't get out of.

you get up from the table, throwing your noodles away. they are too cool to eat now, and reheated noodles do not sound appetizing.

slipping into bed, your mind thinks back to the past over and over again until it tires itself out enough that you drift off to sleep.

things like “darling, i hope you know it scared me to death. the night that your sister said you got into an accident.”

number that SHOULD be blocked

i'm so sorry about your injury

when i saw you go down, my heart fell to my ass

i hope you have good ppl around you to take care of you ❤️

contact changed to sydney

you

i do

thanks for texting

sydney

….

yk i'm here for you too, right?

ik we broke up and aren't supposed to talk but

i'm just rlly worried about you

your heart feels like it's beating at 100 miles per hour. first, sydney texts you then second, she's worried about your injury and third, she wants to fucking be there for you.

is this a dream? have your wishes to get her back finally come true?

you look at the text, pondering what to send back. an immediate yes would be too desperate, right? but you are desperate for her you think to yourself.

fuck it, just say yes.

right when you are about to text back, sydney beats you to it.

sydney

there's no pressure

i know we haven't talked in forever

how is she being so considerate when you're the one who broke her heart?

you

i want you

sydney

you

i mean i want you to be there for me

can we talk pls?

be friends or whatever you want

sydney

duh

i'm the one who offered

there go the other side of sydney that you know and love.

“and god, i, i'm watching everything that you do. i can't get your songs out of my head or your hair out of my room.”

sydney and you have been texting back and forth everyday since that day she texted you. anyone looking from outside the situation would said it's heading straight for disaster. exes texting regularly again? especially when one is still very much inlove with the other? a speeding train just waiting to crash.

to that, you would say they don't understand. there isn't no tension or lingering resentment or anger between sydney and you while yall talk. that truth surprises you considering the fact you basically dumped sydney four months ago. if the roles were reversed, you wouldn't want to see her ever again, but somehow sydney's heart is overflowing with so much love that she doesn't have room to hate you.

she checks up on your well-being pertaining to your head injury. the recovery so far has been slow, very slow. you aren't even in rehab yet, still stuck at home resting and sleeping throughout the day. thankfully, your parents flew to san jose to come take care of you.

when you aren't sleeping, then you are texting sydney. her check-ups on you have slowly turned into long conversations about her day. texting her almost makes you feel like you two never broke up, that you two are still dating.

when you can't talk to her or are unable to sleep, you keep up to date with bayern munich. if someone asked why you were watching them, you would say not only for sydney, but that would be a lie. just a little white lie, though. you're watching for klara, lea, and lena too.. but mostly for sydney.

seeing her in her element, all sweaty and passionate, makes your head feel a little less broken, so yes, you will continue to watch her matches without telling her.

and what you don't know is that sydney thinks of you every time her feet touch the pitch. how she goes even harder than normal to impress you just in case you are watching. she hopes you are watching her, she always has and always will. even right after you broke up with her and she had to push her feelings down to go put on a good performance for germany, she played so hard she was MVP of both friendlies. back then, sydney hoped you viewed her performances with envy. with deep regret for letting go of a woman like her. now she hopes you look at her in admiration when she plays well.

you also don't know that sydney never threw away any of the gifts you gave her during your relationship. she was supposed to throw everything away in a box like lea recommended, but she couldn't. she couldn't throw away all of the memories she had left of you in her home. she couldn't delete the pictures she had of you in her phone. she couldn't even block your number.

sydney hanged onto every single last string she had that was still connected to you. it's hard to let go after being dumped. she thought, no, she knew you were the love of life. her entire world came crashing down when you sat her down on the last day of you visiting her in germany, suddenly saying you believe you two should be over. that long distance isn't working out for you anymore.

she cried for a week after you left. klara had to come over and help her clean up her apartment after a week of just crying in bed.

after that, the blonde slowly tried to move on. she went out more, with and without her friends. posted more on instagram. pushed herself into drowning in work related to football. even all of that didn't help her forget about you. she couldn't. her soul still yearned for yours.

she watched your matches in secret, all of her attention focused on you. her heart rate would perk up whenever commentators said your name. she wasn't able to pull her attention away from her tv when the camera would do a close-up of you.

so obviously, the day you got injured, sydney knew. she saw the way you went down and didn't get back up. her blood was rushing to her head, her chest was hurting as she watched you get carried off. it nearly felt like she was the one injured with how her body was feeling.

could sydney be faulted for texting you? for worrying about you? klara would slap the phone out of her hand if she knew about this, but good thing klara wasn't in her apartment. going off straight adrenaline and concern, sydney sent that text that led to you being back in her life.

texting back and forth everyday has sydney dopamine hooked. you still have the same effect on her that you always have.

every time she texts you, her eyes glance around her room at the various things you left behind when you broke up with her.

the sweater you never asked for back.

the dragon stuffed animal she won for you at a carnival.

the brush you always used when you came over. she couldn't bring herself to use it after you left her, so it just sat on her vanity, taunting her for ages.

sydney told herself that when she texted you about your injury, you two would keep a certain level of distance. that you wouldn't become lovers again. that she was only checking up on you every day because you deserved people in your corner.

that last part is true, but her other motive is also there: she wants you back.

i saw you meet somebody, and i'm jealous as hell. that i can't even stomach loving someone else.

the texting between sydney and you have gone from texting to calling. a big leap, but you both admitted to liking calling more than anything else.

the calling is totally not an indication of falling back into a similar routine from before the break-up.

or maybe it is because you don't fall asleep on the phone with your friends, you don't text your friends good morning and good night, you don't send so many selfies of yourself to your friends. those are actions you always have done with sydney.

anyone could see that you two still like each other, obviously, but you are seemingly blind to it.

perhaps it's the regret, pity, and guilt for ruining a good thing for no reason that's keeping you ignorant of what's growing between you two once more.

that ignorance wouldn't last forever.

sydney and you have now been in contact again for five months, more than no-contact lasted. your recovery is coming along better than your doctors expected. your head doesn't feel heavy anymore and you can have the tv above sixty without your head feeling like it's going to explode. sydney was more happy about this progress than you were.

syd 🥺

just watch

in a few months you're going to be able to run and play again

you

my doctors said that's not happening so soon

syd 🥺

idcc

you're like half magical so you will recover soon

you

LMAOOO

half magical is insane

you're crazy

syd 🥺

crazy or optimistic?

you

both…

syd 🥺

WOW??

okay i see how it is

say this to my face

incoming call from syd 🥺

after you answer the call, sydney and you talk for three hours. bickering back and forth with a mix of talking about your days. of course, your day is the same as always. you slept, ate, crocheted a bit with your mother, and saw your doctor. meanwhile, sydney's was full of life per usual. she went grocery shopping, helped lea clean out her spare room, got some sweets from a bakery, and “saw the cutest dog while walking home” in her own words. hearing about her lively days makes you feel a bit better about your own days that are very simple and very boring nine times out of ten. there isn't much a person recovering from a concussion can do.

you could push away and ignore your feelings when you two were in just a bubble of you and sydney. nobody else is in the way, questioning if exes talking everyday was healthy. nobody wondering if all that contact would lead to something more.

that bubble is broken the day you see something that makes you feel sick.

it's a saturday, you're scrolling on instagram. sydney is busy at a gathering with some friends, leaving you to your own devices.

sorta already missing her, you go on her instagram to look at her posts. you had unblocked the moment you two started talking again. as you click on her story, you wish you still had her blocked.

your head feels like it's going to explode as you look at the photo: sydney is sitting on a couch, and some girl is on her lap, smiling way too hard.

what the hell was going on?

you almost type out a message to sydney before you get control of your emotions. it isn't your place to be jealous or hurt or annoyed. sydney and you aren't together anymore. you two are friends, only friends right now.

you feel sick as you swipe out of instagram. it's time for a nap before your head falls off of your body with the way it pounds.

seeing sydney with someone else is making you stop believing the lie that you two were platonic right now. you could never be friends with the woman you love.

i think about these things at night before i fall asleep. things i wish you said to me.

that instagram story sets off a series of events.

first, you slowly took a step back from talking to sydney. the step back was so slow that she didn't notice at first. honestly, you took two more months to not talk to her everyday because you were hooked on her messages. hooked on her jokes and selfies and laugh and cute rambles. still, you somehow did it. instead of talking everyday, you two talked three days a week and only for an hour. way less than you two used to do.

second, you started putting tons of work into your recovery. seeing a physical therapist and slowly incorporating small, easy exercises into your day helps you come closer to getting back on the pitch. the first day you step back onto the bay fc training facility grounds, your emotions are everywhere. you haven't seen your teammates as much as you use to when you were not injured and seeing them training while you were just visiting the physical therapist killed you. they were all happy to see you though, catching you up on everything that has been happening since you were away. your head injury has calmed down enough that you could sit outside and watch everyone else practice. all the shouting and sounds of bodies moving doesn't irritate your head thankfully. you follow this similar routine for a long while, even if you are slightly sad about not being able to play.

and finally, sydney confronts you about pushing her out of your life.

you're lying on your bed, having just came back from a day at the bay fc training facility. you and sydney haven't talked for a week straight, her apparently busy with her life over in germany and you making an active choice to talk to her less.

that's why when a notification from her comes up on your screen, you look away from your screen then back at it to see if this is happening right now. it's not the notification itself that makes you act like that, but the message,

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

why are you treating me like this again?

you

sydney

what are you talking about?

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

you're ignoring me

we barely talk anymore

what's gotten into you?

you try to think up an excuse. eventually landing on,

you

yk i'm busy with rehab and stuff

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

bullshit

stop lying to me

you

calm down syd

omg

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

don't tell me to calm down wtf

first you randomly break up with me for some stupid reason

“long distance isn't working” whatever that supposed to mean

i just know in my gut that's not why you left me

now we became close again and you're leaving me again?

why let me back in your life if you're going to do this to me

your head is starting to pound as blood rushes to your face. you always hated when sydney was angry with you and this time is no different. it's justified though. what you're doing is really cruel, pushing sydney away after becoming close with her again. you have hurt her once again.

you're so stupid.

in the process of trying to run from your feelings, trying to ignore the jealousy seeping from your psyche after seeing the photo of that random girl on her lap in that photo. lost in your thoughts, you don't realize that it's been ten minutes since you replied to her.

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

okay

do what you want

march 14th, 11:11pm, read

ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

“i don't know how to say this.. but you deserve an explanation. you wouldn't answer my calls or texts, and i get it. i left you not once but twice. both times for stupid reasons that i should have communicated instead of going ghost. the day i broke up with you.. i cried the moment i got home. all i could think about for so long is how hurt you looked. that should have made me act, but it didn't, and i just regret everything. the first time i pushed you away, it's because i let the internet get to me. make me feel all insecure about us. i pushed you away a second time because i realized i couldn't stay platonic with you. i.. saw that insta story of yours. the one with that girl on your lap. i lost my mind because i thought i didn't have a chance with you ever again. i'm really sorry, so sorry. i miss you so much. call me back, please?”

voicemail left to sydney, april 23rd, 3:00am

sorry, i pulled the “it's not you. it's me.” one day, i'll make sure you get a real apology.

sydney

are you busy?

she texts you one day in july. you thought that she was fully done with you after not speaking for nearly two months, but thankfully she isn't. you can make this right.

you

incoming call from sydney

…

“hello?”

you haven't heard her voice in so long. it sounds just the same, all soft and pretty. a rush of fondness hits you.

“hi sydney,” you say, more like whisper, into the phone.

there's some shuffling on the other line before she speaks again. was she moving around on her bed? it's a nervous habit of hers to move during intense situations you think to yourself.

you push your thoughts to the side as sydney speaks, “.. i got your voicemail.”

you thought she deleted it with how long it has been since you had sent it.

“did you like it?” you say.

why the fuck did you say that?

instead of hanging up the phone in your face, sydney laughs. you have missed her laugh so much.

“i wouldn't be calling if i didn't.”

“oh right.. sorry.” you let out a laugh of your own at your stupidity. not just your stupidity from right now but all the times before, too.

then the moment you start laughing, that makes sydney start laughing again. creating a cycle of you laughing at her laughter, then her laughing at yours and again. laughing on the phone with your ex after not speaking for some months once again is actually insane, but it seems like that's just how sydney and you are: insane.

the two of you calm down soon enough. getting back to the serious conversation that needs to be had.

“you know it really hurt me when you stopped talking to me. i thought we were getting somewhere.. platonic or not. it hurts even more to know you still like me but pushed me away anyways. don't you want me?”

“of course i want you.”

“then why didn't you say anything?”

“....”

“that was a stupid question.. i listened to your voicemail. i know why.. i just want to hear it from your own mouth in real time.”

you sigh before going silent for a moment. sydney doesn't speak, she just waits.

“i just.. was so insecure the longer we were together. i know at the time you told me to ignore social media, but i couldn't. all of those people were saying we shouldn't be together and that you didn't want me. i couldn't take it. i felt like i was holding you back from someone better, so i left. then when we started talking again, i deluded myself into believing we were on our way to being just platonic but i can never be just friends with you. the night i saw that photo on your insta story, i didn't know what to do.. so i left again. i'm sorry.”

“.. i accept your apology, but i'm still hurt. i thought you trusted me enough to talk to me about anything?”

“i do.. i did.. i swear.”

“you don't act like it.”

“i'll be better if you let me. if you want me.”

“i want you, but you'll have to work for it. i'm not taking you back that easily.”

i waste my time, i waste my life on idiotic things. like things you never said. things you'll never say to me.

sydney and you start talking again after that call. things between you two move slow though, very slow. more slow than the first time you guys got together.

you know that sydney is waiting things out, trying to see if you would leave her again. she keeps a certain distance when you two speak a little too flirty. she shuts it down quickly every time, which hurts, but you get it. you have to earn that side of her again.

and you do just that.

it's in small ways than some grand gesture. you tell about everytime you watch one of her matches, mostly praising her but throwing in some critique as well. after your rehab sessions, you tell her about everything. all your feelings surrounding the sessions, how much you've been improving. everytime you feel jealousy at one of sydney's posts, you talk to her about it.

that distance between you two slowly closes. not only emotionally but physically.

the summer the year after sydney and you reconnected for the second time since the break-up, you find the time to fly to germany for her birthday.

you asked before coming, though, not wanting to mess up the new connection you two are building.

“syd, i got a question,” you say, phone propped up on the bathroom sink as you got ready for another day at training. you have progressed very far in your recovery, thankfully, and can now do some light training with the team.

“hmmmmm?” sydney murmurs. she's looking all cute on the other line, face pressed to her pillow as she lays in bed. her room is dark, with the only light coming from her phone screen.

there's some hesitation that crosses your mind, but you push it away. communication, remember?

“can i come see you?” you ask.

sydney sits up slightly after hearing your question. there's clear confusion on her face.

“what do you mean?”

“i want to fly to germany for your birthday.”

sydney goes silent for a long moment. your nerves peak, looking at your screen. was this too big of a step for her? does she need more time to be ready to see you in person?

her answer surprises you.

“okay,” she says.

you booked your flight to germany that night and next thing you know, you're there. unfortunately, sydney isn't the one who picks you up from the airport. lena takes over that job, but it's still fun to hangout with lena after so long.

you don't see sydney until the day of her birthday. she claims she's been busy and you believe her. she texts you all the time even if she doesn't come see you physically.

your mind runs wild as you get ready for sydney's birthday party. you're in lena’s bathroom, making sure your hair looks perfect and your makeup doesn't make you look clown-ish and that your fit actually fits you and maybe you should brush your teeth again-

“you know sydney doesn't hate you, right?” lena interrupts your anxious thoughts.

“duh i know. i wouldn't be here if she did,” you say, still staring intensely at your appearance through the mirror.

lena rolls her eyes. “then why are you getting ready like we're going to a pageant? sydney likes you in every way. she was really hurt when you guys broke up, but obviously, she's moved on from it if she invited you to come all the way here.”

lena's words make you slow down your overanalyzing of yourself. she's right, sydney is forgiving you right now. trying to overdo everything to seem perfect isn't going to make her like you any more. she already likes you alot.

she wants you, not some polished version.

“you're right. i'm finished, let's go,” you say, leaving the sink and coming by the doorframe to make lena turn around. the two of you leave the bathroom, then put on your shoes and finally leave her apartment.

the drive to sydney's party is a short one, or at least it feels that way. lena, and you sing along to the songs on the radio the entire way there.

once at sydney's place, your heart starts racing. being back in her space feels so strange, but so right. alot is the same, but alot is different aswell. she bought a new couch, an upgrade from her old leather one. there's more plants around the place. her tv is new and even bigger than her last one.

the apartment is basically full with all of the bayern munich team and some other people from sydney's life. the smell of pizza and chicken hits your nose as you walk from the living room, where you greet everyone, to the kitchen.

and there is sydney.

her back is turned as you walk into the kitchen, but you can tell it's her.

her hair is styled in a ponytail, and she's wearing this black tank top and nice fitting jeans. she looks so pretty. she looks even prettier when she turns around.

“y/n?” sydney looks at you like she wasn't expecting you. perhaps she wasn't fully prepared to see you in person? even though she knew you were coming to her party. she allowed you to, after all.

you smile at her, “hi syd. is it too soon to say i missed you?”

“is it too soon to hug you?” she smiles at you back.

“i would be stupid to say yes, and i'm done being stupid.”

sydney flies into your arms, embracing you tightly. her arms wrap around your neck, her cheek pressing against yours. her quick reaction would feel weird if it didn't feel so right. you hug her back just as tight. it's been so long since you've been in her arms. so long since you smelled her scent. so long since you've even been around her.

“thank you for coming,” sydney says as she pulls away. not going too far as she stands close to you.

you laugh, “i'm the one who asked you. i should be thanking you.”

“for what?”

“for letting me back into your life.”

sydney's and your reunion is cut short by laura coming into the kitchen. she gives you two a look but doesn't say anything about your closeness.

“syd, you better get in here. it's your birthday party,” laura says, pointing to the living room. sydney looks at laura before looking at you. without thinking, you grab her hand and pull her out into the living room. time to party.

you ended up staying for longer than you thought you would in germany. sydney allowed you to stay in her spare room for the rest of your time there. the two of you have many, many conversations about where you two stand currently. she's not your girlfriend just yet, but you two are getting there.

when it's time for you to leave for america, sydney drives you to the airport and even blessed you with a kiss on the lips as a goodbye. your face is permanently flushed until you board the flight.

she texts you the moment you get off the plane back in san jose as well.

syd 💕

land safely?

you

yupp

but i miss you :(

syd 💕

miss you too :((

we'll see eachother soon

don't worry

you

call you when i get home?

syd 💕

call me when you get home

author note: i might possibly be working on an alt verison of this with sydney's pov.. depends on if my brain feels like working. hope yall enjoyed! 🙂‍↕️

#aj fics #sydney lohmann x reader #woso x reader #woso angst #woso fluff #woso fanfics

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hoshinasblade · 2 months ago

Text

you are so close to gaslighting yourself into thinking that maybe, just maybe you have already told hoshina's mom in the past what your favorite tea is.

the problem with that thought is today was the first time you met the mother of your boyfriend.

you denied it in your head - for all you know, perhaps mrs. hoshina is just really a good at guessing. that, or you are going batshit crazy.

because at that very day, people you have met for the first time - people who may be friends with hoshina soshiro but are practically strangers to you - seem to be aware of small details about you.

captain ashiro complimented you on your blue dress after shaking your hands, saying it's obvious why it is your favorite color, emphasizing how it brings out the intensity of your eyes. even okonogi, who you know works directly with the third division's vice-captain, had a specific joyful aura on her friendly face as she offered to hang out with you in the future, mentioning how she is a fan of true crime documentaries too and suggesting in the same breath that you should try the pudding sold in the headquarter's cafeteria.

you could have let all of that go if only you did not blush like a teenager after hoshina's own older brother called you by your childhood nickname during family dinner.

"i'm sorry." hoshina's hand found yours, his thumb drawing patterns on your wrist. he knows you'd been on edge since morning, and although this is entirely your idea - meeting his friends and his family in one day - he wouldn't blame you if you're overwhelmed.

"they did their research on me or something," you tried to laugh the nerves away. it didn't work.

"ah." hoshina suddenly looked guity. " that. well -" he stopped for a moment, gathering his wits, choosing the right words to say. "i mean, it makes sense that everyone who actually knows me would know about you, really."

you wanted to joke as a response; you wanted to say that he's talkative and tends to yap for hours about stuff he loves so yes, people around him would naturally know things about you. but then you caught yourself because this is yet another confirmation of what hoshina soshiro had been telling you for months now - that you are someone he loves.

you did not know being known could feel this sweet.

"huh. do you reckon i can extort them for information about you next time?" this time it was your turn to grab hoshina's hand, and with your forefinger, you traced three little words on the warm skin of his palm.

[author's note: hello guys, i know i haven't been posting a lot anymore, but i am thankful to everyone who still remembers this blog - yes i can read your asks, yes i see that you've tagged me in a fic, yes i checked my notifications in this blog every now and then. it might take me long to respond most of the time so apologies in advance but please know that i appreciate all interactions from everyone.

also i dont need to remind you but i don't tolerate copy-pasting or reposting any of my works anywhere. i read a lot from here too, and other writers can attest to this as well - we know if a line or a paragraph from any of our works is copied and/or reworded. ]

#this was cooking in my head for a while #and i was like #well this sounds cute #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kn8 x reader #hoshina soshiro fic #hoshina #vice captain hoshina

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astonmartingf · 10 months ago

Text

CALL ME MAX VERSTAPPEN ; MV1

max verstappen x streamer!reader

. . . the long awaited stream, and in charles conditions to let max and lando join, they become the third wheelers of maxyn

amgf wow, i'm back! i love max honestly he's fun to write, also bestfriend!charles is the best thing that happened. enjoy this 👍

previous: chase

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 108,752 others

yourusername call me max verstappen with the way i'm winning these games 😎

view 23,698 comments...

user1 gamer max!!!!

charles_leclerc he didn't even win the last race 🙄

yourusername you didn't win the last race either?

charles_leclerc change it to carlos sainz then

yourusername is that jealousy i'm hearing?

charles_leclerc are you playing that game with me?

yourusername i'm sorry cha 🥺

maxverstappen1 Stop teasing YN

yourusername see charles_leclerc 😛

charles_leclerc i don't know what max told you but i can still take back what I said

yourusername I WAS JUST JOKEINH 🥹 AHAHAHA how funny right?

charles_leclerc i'm always on the lookout

user2 me a yapper and nosy person waiting for charles to reveal what first he has on yn

user3 i'm sure it's about max, because he's so curious about it

user4 he has a crush on yn i fear

liked by maxverstappen1 and charles_leclerc

user5 they're actually so funny it's adorable

user6 i want what they have 😭😭

user7 is the caption max approved?

yourusername hehehehe its because i kept winning in mario kart

user8 technically it's call me YN because he didn't win at all

yourusername WAIT... you're right

maxverstappen1 just wait when your sim setup arrives you'll be looking at my rear wing

yourusername why would you say that to a noob like me 🥺

maxverstappen1 you kept teasing me because i was complaining about the controls, i definitely could've explained it properly

yourusername it's not my fault mario kart is better than sim racing, look at the characters!!! we all know mario can drive the RB20 but can Max Verstappen use the daisy glider? exactly, you can't!

maxverstappen1 because it's not real?

yourusername haters are always yapping thinking they can prove it 👄🤏

user9 they're my parents /real

user10 is this what it feels to have a love story unfold in your eyes

user11 they're already fighting and arguing 🥹 don't talk to me

maxverstappen1 uploaded a new story

[it's not sim racing and that's okay 👍]

charles_leclerc replied to your story

you're down bad...

what can i say

the game is actually not that bad

you're sickening

you and yn

well i'm sorry i like yn charles 🙄

what can i do to make it up to you?

just don't hurt yn

yourusername replied to your story

i told you so!!!

also thank you for helping me buy a racing set up

i've been browsing to surprise charles since he's been wanting me to play

no worries, if it arrives tell me and i'll help you set it up

won't you be busy?

i'll make time, i always do 😉

okay max

i'll tell you when the setup arrives ☺️

amgf ★ superstars: @namgification @lpab @the-untamed-soul @xjval @yoremins @thedecalcomania-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @youre-on-your-ownkid

#f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff

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ask-the-rag-dolly · 3 months ago

Text

okay . while i was writing the essay , i was going on a big spiel about how fandoms often reduce characters to familiar archetypes . then when i finished writing i realized i actually don't know what the Fuck i was yapping about because it all doesn't really apply to the tadc fandom post-ep 2 ? like Cool !! ragatha's an absolute loser of a woman , i think everyone has known that at this point .

basically ragatha's not the Best model for when i want to talk about nice characters being mischaracterized in fandom because i stopped seeing people making her put-together anyway . i can think of other characters that'll fit the thesis better .

i'm only deciding to post what i had down because i think i did say some stuff of note and because people were interested for . some reason ! . just keep in mind that it kind of became a nothingburger .

i'm in the middle of rewriting it to be less about the fandom though and my god it's already around 1118 words what am i doing with my life

also apologies in advance for the walls of text

——— this is not an essay to get you to like ragatha if you’re feeling meh towards her , or even dislike her . opinions are opinions , you have characters that appeal to you and i have mine ! this is just a ramblefest on why i love her , how people characterized her , and commentary on fandom culture as a whole

this is also not meant to bash any headcanons ! like good for you if you see her as the mother figure in the circus found family . the term ‘ mom friend ‘ here is used to describe how people often reduced her and similar characters down to a caretaker role for other characters while ignoring the Depth they have

as i think is clear in this blog by now , my favorite character in a piece of fiction has always been a mentally ill woman . the more complicated the brain , the better . i don’t have a type , but i know more often than not i would gravitate towards characters that are either misunderstood or disliked by most of the fandom

can you guess which category ragatha falls under —

don’t get me wrong , i am NOT generalizing tadc fans here ! the idea of her being a well-put together person lessened around episode 2 which is GREAT because i got to read very cool fics — and i’m not saying you have to know every part of ragatha’s thought processes to talk about her ( though at this point i think i’ve heard enough takes that makes me want to say that — )

‘ nice characters ‘ ( especially female ones ! ) in fandom never have the most pleasant development in my experience . either they will be pushed aside because they’re seen as boring compared to the more brasher characters or they’ll be disliked for the few times they did something seen as ‘ not so nice ‘ . and in the few times where they Are being paid attention , they’ll be put in an arbitrary box that waters down their traits .

in other words , fandoms put characters in boxes . terms like ‘ mom friend ‘ and ‘ cinnamon roll ‘ are those boxes . they're common tropes in media that fandoms typically like . it’s why people were so disappointed to find out that jax is actually an unlikable asshole instead of a ' jerk with a heart of gold ' — these boxes make the characters easy to consume and understand .

as you can tell , i don’t agree with putting characters in boxes ! first of all , how are they supposed to breathe in there ?

secondly , it’s just restricting yourself from genuinely engaging with a piece of media , especially for a character-driven story like tadc . i would be More forgiving of this problem if tadc was a plot-heavy show where the lore’s the main focus , but The Characters Are The Focus , Johnathan . trying to understand the characters personally to extract any potential moral lessons from them Is The Point of those types of stories

thirdly , i call those boxes arbitrary for a reason ; they often don't describe the characters at all , and in some cases , even goes against their characterization . my biggest problem with mom friend ragatha is that it Takes away the things that makes her interesting as a character .

do you know what's so compelling about ragatha ? it's that , believe it or not , she is Not the most reliable . one of the most fascinating things with ragatha in episode two is how it shows her approaching emotions Vs. Pomni approaching emotions .

even though it's unintentional , ragatha can be seen as Dismissive and Overbearing . the way she tried to reassure pomni of not feeling hurt by being left behind can seem Passive-Aggressive . her conversation with kinger shows that she Assumes what the other person thinks without hearing them out . this contrasts against pomni who lets gummigoo speak out his feelings and actually had viable things to say than ' don't worry about it haha '

this contrast is interesting to note because it shows the world of difference between ragatha and pomni's emotional maturity .

you can tell that ragatha can be simple-minded . not in a ' she's a dumbass ' way , but in that she's Reluctant to approach uncomfortable emotions without beaming it with a ray of positivity . like you can tell she thinks that Repressing her emotions to the point she can't feel them is the same as ' processing ' them . all of these are stuff that don't fit the Mature Mom Friend archetype .

and that's Fine !! because she was never meant to be in the role anyway !! there's a common theme of Community and Support in tadc , and that Everyone Has Each Other . ragatha was never meant to be the Glue holding everyone together , she's meant to be a part of the Unit that is the circus .

there's also a conversation to be had about how older female characters — or at least characters that are seen as having stereotypically ' feminine ' traits of being kind and caring — are often being pushed to a reductive , supportive familial role that reinforces gender roles , but you didn't hear it from me !

anyways uh in conclusion ragatha's awesomesauce ok i'm going back to drawing

#[ ooc ]#[ ESSAY WARNING ]#tadc ragatha

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v1sexual · 2 months ago

Note

Could I pls have vi x reader who is a huge movie buff?

cinema ; vi (arcane)

request by : anon

note : as a huge movie buff myself, i absolutely love request. basing this request off me and my friend's reaction to 'long legs' by nicholas cage. spoiler : me and my bestie absolutely hated it *sighs*

content warning : swearing , op projecting and bitching about long legs

it's you and vi's monthly cinema date night. ever since you and her officially became girlfriends, going to the cinema monthly easily became a tradition. you've always been a big movie buff, something you got from your dad.

for tonight's movie, you and vi watched the latest showing for nicholas cage's new horror movie, 'longlegs'. it was highly praised online, it was even called "one of the scariest horror films". because of that, you and vi's expectations were through the roof.

"you ready for this shortcake?" vi whispered, her breath tickling your ear. you scoffed playfully and started cracking your fingers as the movie started, "i was born ready."

the movie ended around 10 minutes ago, you and vi sat inside her jeep. she looked at you expectantly, her eyes scanning your face trying to figure out why you've been dead silent. normally, you're already yapping away about the movie.

"sooo..." she started. "what are our thoughts..?" vi knew that she absolutely hated the movie, she just wanted to know your thoughts first. she's not gonna lie to you and tell you that she liked it just because you did though.

you closed your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath as if bracing yourself. "i... it-"

"i fucking hated it," you sighed, "i feel like we wasted money watching that piece of crap. i mean- i absolutely enjoyed the first part of the movie, i loved the foreshadowing, the literal devil in the details, the atmosphere-"

vi chuckled and stared lovingly at you, listening to every word that came out of your mouth. she's always loved how passionate you are when it comes to the things you love. with every hand gesture and facial expression you had, vi's smile grew bigger.

"- we were scammed! robbed! i've never been so disappointed in a horror movie, even fucking megan was better! i just- i don't even know what to say anymore." you let out an exasperated groan, flailing your arms before turning to vi. "what about you baby? what do you think?"

"i hated it too baby," vi said, her lips twitching into a smile. you sighed in relief, "i'm so glad- wait- you're not just saying that because i didn't like the movie right?"

vi snorted, rolling her eyes playfully at you as she started the car. "you know me better than that shortcake," she said. "just because i love you doesn't mean i'll agree to everything you say baby."

you nodded in agreement, "that's great, amazing."

silence filled the car again, your eyes were glued to your phone and vi was focused on the road. a couple of minutes later, she finally pulled in to your shared apartment.

"posted your review already?" vi asked, holding the door open for you. you smiled and nodded, holding your phone out to vi. "just posted on letterboxd, rotten tomatoes, and on my blog."

vi laughed, slinging an arm around you before pressing a kiss to your forehead, "you're such a nerd."

"you love that about me though," you said with an eye roll, your arm wrapping around vi's waist. your girlfriend sighed lovingly, "i love everything about you shortcake."

you giggled, nuzzling against vi, "i love everything about you too."

despite the intense disappointment you had for the movie, you and vi still had a great time which was the most important thing. the rest of the night was spent cuddling with her and binge watching ya'lls favorite show, and the horrible movie was soon forgotten.

note : when i said i projected i meant it *sigh* im sorry if you liked longlegs lol. anyways, hoped u guys enjoyed this one !

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maisiesgrove · 3 months ago

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. ᭢ 🦢 Yandere! College Frat Boy

a//n :: first post on this blog heh. might or might not be projecting my type of guy. feel free to suggest / req yanderes or him!! I really want to write more about him. He is a soft yandere, so like.... sorry if you expected more LMAO. There might be some grammar mistakes, sorry for that!

minors dni !!1!!!

wrns // tws :: rumors, stalking. light yandere behavior.

word count :: 1.8k words

g/n reader x frat boy ( Kaelum Bianchi)

— The university you had just enrolled in was quite a prestigious one, with multiple connections already established to said college. Many doctors, politicians, and those high in the social ladder have their daughters and sons put through here, be it through bribing or the extremely harsh exams.

— You had taken the latter, and the professors gave you a schedule that seemed pretty normal. All pretty mundane classes throughout the day depending on your electives and course.

— In one of your mandatory classes was Kaelum Bianchi, one of the boys that partied till no end in the weekends yet passed with stellar grades. With slightly curly golden hair, an almost sunshine grin, and a wonderful figure. He was obviously a social butterfly, always chatting and yapping to the professors of whatnot and students even more. You were quite suspicious of him. Did he somehow seduce the teachers, or was he just a genius? You couldn't lie, your interest was piqued.

— From his end, you were already someone he had taken note of from the start. Yes, he was popular. Everyday he had some random girl compliment him and confess to him, (he admits it felt nice being praised and 'loved' by random girls and boys he could care less of, though he does reject them) he couldn't quite understand why you were somehow a little bizarre. You were attractive, sure. Extremely, even. He couldn't count how many times he bit his lip trying to look away and control himself. You clicked the pen absentmindedly whenever you understood the lesson too well, or were simply bored, You made eye contact with him at one point, and merely smiled. Yeah, you were odd.(you weren't, he just wasn't used to people not liking him at the beginning) There was an air around you, and at one point, a few weeks after you had first enrolled, he had enough of simply looking from afar, and made a move. You studied well, and while he knew you didn't have any connections. he'll just change that.

— You sat near the exit of the class, as usual, when suddenly an ashamedly charismatic man decides to make the empty seat next to yours his now. You didn't have much friends, and when he makes slightly fulfilling small talk between classes— not too much, and he pipes down whenever you take notes—, you couldn't help but laugh at his remarks. You missed the way his eyes turned smitten at your lips curling upwards, and the way he grips the wooden table as if resisting temptation to lean in. At the end of the class, you had most of his friends' socials and his, and he asks you to come to one of his major halloween parties at his place. There were some colleges that only allowed in campus-dormitories, but since the demographic of the students were all practically rich kids with their own homes and apartments, they let that tradition diminish.

— You agreed, and he grins, nodding before watching you head out. That night, he stalked all your socials, quickly finding out what your hobbies were, what your music taste was, who you were online essentially. Multiple of his friends questioned him when he had texted you with compliments, wondering if this was a fling or a crush. They were a little confused, but mostly supportive, especially with the way he talked with them about you 90% of the time ever since that night. They agreed to be his wingmen and help you with anything if they saw you. He was extremely popular throughout the entire campus, and if word came out that he suddenly didn't like you? No one liked you either.

— You continued to hang out with Kaelum and talk. During class, at the restaurants and mall nearby, the parks, even near your own apartment by random. That last one was a bit creepy. Yeah, he lived 30 minutes away from your house and in the opposite direction of school, so him simply being on a walk was a little too weird of an excuse. But he was one of your closest friends, hell, you stayed in his house more than your own. And you had to admit, you had a little bit of a crush on him, so you quickly brushed it off. I mean, he would never stalk you, right?

— More time passes before the party, and he suddenly gives you an array of gifts. It ranged from cute gag gifts, heartfelt ones, to randomly luxurious ones. There was a time where he gave you a permanent bracelet that cost in the hundreds of thousands. "Give it to someone you truly love." His mother had mumbled when she gave it to him, and he took it to heart. When he gave it to you, that same pressure didn't really apply. When you looked at the delicately adorned jewelry, he simply stated. "If you don't want it, I'll just get you something else, okay?" While he was sentimental, he didn't except you to be the same. He would still love you nonetheless. Of course, you were grateful and ruffled his hair in gratitude. He smiled, 'jokingly' kissing your hand in return.

— Many things and activities that seemed like what only couples did, felt casual between the both of you. He knew how to lighten the mood, and to weave through the boundary of just friends to something more. After a while, he couldn't bear hearing you call him just a comrade. He could hear and feel the "ooh....damn." and pitiful glances of his brothers at the frat whenever he got bro-zoned. For the second time, he decided on making his move.

— It was Friday night, the day of the party, and Kaelum swore he was about to pounce on you. He could feel his own self control breaking down simply looking at you. The metallic taste of blood inked in his mouth from biting his cheek too hard. He smiles, complimenting your outfit and leaning in closer to you than normal. The house was extremely big, with many rooms and blaring music and lights. There were 3 floors, filled with random people, presumably his friends. His sole focus was on you though, and as both of you danced late at night. At one point, when the lights flashed off for just a second, he suddenly kissed you. It was brief, and if you didn't feel his hand hold your chin so gently, you wouldn't believe it was real.

— Shocked was all you felt. Practically the king of all social gatherings in one of the most influential schools in the country? Kissing a little nobody like you? Yeah, right. He was probably just doing a bet. And with the way three new frat members were laughing, it basically confirmed it. You began to run away from the party, dumbfounded and face red. You couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or the kiss, though. You could hear Kaelum running after you, and you felt embarrassed.

— He, on his end, felt heartbroken, and most of all, hurt. Did you not like him the way he liked you? The countless nights after parties he thought about you, wanting to feel you. He wasn't a player, and even less so when you came into his life. Was it something he did? Something he lacked? He could give you anything you needed in your life. He was the epitome of generational rich, a nepo baby essentially. Just give him the word, and he'd give it all to you. Or was it because you had someone else in mind?

You were ashamed and were fighting the urge to cry as you made your way to the backdoor of the mansion. It was an area that a lot of people did not know even existed, but Kaelum showed it to you on one of those nights you stayed at his place. Damn him, you thought. Even if you felt betrayed, you still loved the guy. You were about 4 steps out before a voice stops you in your tracks. "Do you like someone else?" Kaelum caught up to you frankly quickly, with his long frame and sporty background. You looked back at him, and you felt his hand grip your shoulder tightly. You rolled your eyes. "I'm not one of your side links, Kaelum. Stop following me." You could see the way his brows furrowed, his eyes blinking in confusion. He steps closer.

"I never said you were my side?- Who said that? Was it one of my friends?...No, they aren't that stupid to piss me off. No, I got it. It must be those three new little shits I saw earlier. Oh my god, I'll fucking kill them-"

Don't. You did this for a dare right? Kissing me?" The second you said that, he looked offended, like a puppy that got kicked in the rain. A slight pout was on his lips, and he leaned down, almost in a submissive manner.

"No. No, what? What are you on-... sigh, sorry. Didn't mean saying that. I would never do that, especially not to you. I'd rather kill myself than do anything that could hurt you. I look for you in every class, and in every corner of our college. I need you, ___. In a way that I don't think is healthy." At this point, you were already in his embrace. It felt suffocating, almost. "So please, don't leave." You couldn't dare to reply. Part of you was happy, but another part of you felt like if you did leave him, he would've ruined you.

— You stayed there, outside near the back entrance of his house the he only showed to you. In an embrace only just a little bit too tight and reliant, with a boy completely obsessed with you.

— He ends the party earlier than usual, time being 1am, and for the rest of the night, you stayed in his bedroom, having had a cold shower, watching movies with a seemingly infinite supply of food and drinks provided by one of the family's in-house maids. He popped in from time to time, checking in on you and talking casually. Only thing that changed was now his eagerness to touch you.

— Outside, while saying goodbye to the partygoers, Kaelum spreads rumors about the three new frat boys. It was scary, how fast he had changed personalities. Horrible words of gossip spread quickly through each and every college group, and even the most lonely people knew of the "crimes" those three had committed. By the next day, no one wanted to be acquainted with them, and the majority of those in your classes outwardly became friendly to you, seeing you as an innocent victim to their 'harassment.' You only glared at Kaelum, to which he responds with a whistle and shrug.

creds to reve on tumblr for lace header

creds to zuolirio on Pinterest for 2nd header.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere head canons #yandere headcanons #yandere hcs #yandere scenarios #‧₊˚ ☁️ maisiesgrove #✧.*maisies yanderes !!1!#yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #soft yandere #🎉kaelum bianchi

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girlsneedff · 2 months ago

Text

NSFW! Minors and Ageless blogs DNI!

Sukuna x f!Reader, fwbs, best friends, Sukuna's a dick, angst, unrequited love, mentions of sex

Word count: 1k

Author's yap: This is the start of the "NOT Over It" series! Should I have started with Over It first? Possibly. But this is my writing project, and I'm gonna do what I want <3

Fun Girl

And now you’re stuck here feeling shitty. And stupid. All because you decided to fall for your guy best friend. Who you know is a dick. You thought maybe, just maybe, that you would have the chance to get with him- to be in a real relationship with him besides the friends-with-benefits relationship that you have while he’s in between girlfriends, and you’re not distracting yourself with flings and short relationships. You thought that because he’s kept you around, you were different. News flash to you: you’re not. And now you’re wishing that you’d never even asked him about that possibility.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The two of you were sitting in his car, coming back from the movies. He wanted to see some random action movie, and you would follow him to the ends of the Earth, so of course you went with him. You’re sitting in the parking lot of the movie theater in comfortable silence, both of you just scrolling through your phones, not really ready to return home yet.

“You know the girl that I was talking to?”

Oh great. You rolled your eyes, shifting to rest your head on the closed window as you responded, while you continued to scroll through your phone. Trying hard to not show him how much hearing about his prospects bothered you.

“Which one?”

“I’m ghosting her. She’s hot, but talking to her is boring. I’d rather shit in my hands and clap.”

“Ryo you’re a dick.”

“A 10-inch one.”

“It’s smaller than that.”

He hits your leg in response. You shrug, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His body is facing you, his arm resting on the steering wheel.

“What?”

“You think I'll end up alone?"

Your heart jumps a bit, taking this opportunity to subtly hint at something. Who knows, maybe it would work?

You scoff. “Well at this point, the only girl you’re gonna end up with is me.” You say, trying to sound absent-minded. Sukuna doesn’t even let that sentence, that possibility, hang in the air for a moment before he shoots it down.

“You know there’s no way in hell that’s happening, right?”

You could practically hear your heart cracking, feeling it crumpling in on itself.

“Jesus, I was just saying.” You say quickly, trying to collect all of the shards of your heart before the hole is too big. Maybe you can glue it back together. He’s harsh- you know this. Don’t let it get to you.

“I’m not saying we’d be in a relationship or anything-”

“Oh yea fuck no. Sorry,” he says, in a way that you just throw the pieces you’ve collected up in the air, damning them all to hell, because you know that whatever he says is going to be devastating as he continues, “but I’d never date you. Ever. You’re not what I’m into.”

You were stunned. Looking back, you don’t know why you were stunned. You know this man. Certified womanizer, number 1 hoe. He’s noncommittal, selfish, rude, arrogant, abrasive. You knew this. So why were you so shocked?

“Oh, so I’m cool to sleep with, but not for a relationship?” You can feel your throat closing up, but you refuse to let him see you get emotional over this.

“We… have fun.”

“Fun?”

“You can’t tell me that you don’t have fun when we fuck.” He looks straight out the windshield, this conversation unconcerning to him.

You guys fuck?

It’s such a harsh way to put it. You hoped he would be softer about it- maybe salvage your feelings. You’re his best friend, for fuck’s sake. His kisses would be so tender as he slowly pushed into you, like he was taking care to not split you apart. The slow fucking and reassurance, the words of encouragement. Though it never lasted long before he’s thrusting into you like he hates you (which now, you’re wondering- does he?), you thought that those first moments were the most important. That they were his true feelings. Dumbass.

“I’m not your type, but you fuck me. How does that make sense?” You finally turn to look at him, your anger and tears combating each other to see which one holds out the longest. Your anger is winning, thankfully.

“Please don’t tell me you’re getting in your feelings about this.” He’s fucking smiling. Rolling his eyes, as if you’re getting worked up over something simple. Because to him it is simple. Sex is simple to him. He gets his rocks off fucking the shit out of anything that moves, and then he moves on.

“I don’t want to know about all of the guys that my girl’s been with. It’s emasculating.”

“Oh, so you can slut around, but there’s an issue with me having a past?”

“No, there’s not. Because I’m not into you, so it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re such a fucking-”

Immediately you hop out of his car. You quickly start to walk to the sidewalk near the theater, keeping your eyes glued to your phone as you scroll to book yourself an Uber home quickly. Your vision is blurring, but you don’t stop looking at your phone, not giving a damn if cars are rolling through the lot. You may be an emotional wreck, but you won’t allow any man, no matter how in love with him you are, to tell you that he’s using you to your face. You can hear him call out to you- you can picture him leaning on the top of his car with that stupid grin, calling your name as if he doesn’t understand why you would be upset.

You’re that undesirable? But Ryomen Sukuna sees no issue with his past sexual escapades. His charm, and his ability to sweet talk any woman is attractive.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

And that leads you to where you are now, sitting in the dark of your room, sniffling and deleting everything in your Photo’s hidden folder.

#jjk #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #NOT over it series

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demonslayerunhinged · 17 days ago

Note

Uhm...hello...oh my god, okay, this is my first time doing this so I probably should apologize in advance for I just know this is going to be a big yap session (there'll definitely be a question, trust).

I'm rather new to the KnY fandom so I haven't really completed the manga yet (as in, analyzed it) although I've gotten all the Spoilers I could get. I've read the light novels to an extent, too)

Sanemi really became my favourite character although it was a connection I couldn't really explain or express since he unfortunately remains one of the most hated characters in DS, and yes I began shipping Giyuu x Sanemi even though many people seem to think that's weird and came out of the blue.

A Pinterest pin with a link to your page; a post where you had a theory that Sanemi had some form of anxiety...and boy am I grateful to the person who made that post, I've been hooked to your blog ever since.

So, uhm, first of all let me just say that I love all your writings. They're convincing, elaborate, and the amount of research you've put into them is mind blowing! The Obanai analysis, the fandom discourse, to name a few, are some of my favourites. I've only read a few, so you might've already made a post answering a question similar to this, but uh...lemme ignore that. Okay, that's enough...onto the questions.

I wanted to ask you about Giyuu and Sanemi's relationship. One thing critics love to say is that their relationship would be "toxic." (That Giyuu's uncommunicative ways will be irritating and unbearable for Sanemi and since he's shown to be rather impatient, he'd lash out and Giyuu will only become even more quiet.) I genuinely want to know what you'd have to say about this. I can already tell you're an unapologetic GiyuuSane shipper, so I wanna know, as I don't know much about their relationship myself, but found that I adored the ship so much it became too much to bear.

Another thing is about Demon Slayer itself. I'm almost very sure that you are aware of how many people criticize the show. I've fallen in love with KnY and I genuinely want to understand why it's hated so much. So far I've been hearing that KnY is badly, poorly written; it has one-dimensional/ one-sided characters, sucks at world-building, is inconsistent, overrated, mid, cliché, unoriginal and what not. I've seen somebody make a freaking hour-long YouTube video on why DS is that bad. (I'm unsure if you've seen it, though.) Some people say there's way too much plot armour and the villains got nerfed, that Douma vs Shinobu fight was just the author rushing things; apparently the ending was rushed too. Its pacing was "horrible" the backstory dumping and the endless monologue is annoying to them, and "the only personality the characters ever have is their backstory." Someone even commented "the characters are basically caricatures with catchphrases."

I've heard that Obanai's character is boring, inconsistent and lacked development (that his character can literally be summed to "I hate all women except Mitsuri"), that Zenitsu is annoying, terribly written and is wasted potential, that Kanao is a typical Y/N character and that the Kamado siblings are nothing special, and are extremely generic and boring (especially Nezuko, she seemingly has zero personality.) Idk much, but there are some posts on Pinterest saying that all the canon ships except the Uzuis have poor writing. Even Giyuu seems to be a "Wattpad mafia lord who acts like he's carrying too much pain." Basically they're saying the characters are one-sided, lacking in development, mid, the villains are auraless, the anime is cliché and has nothing unique to it, and the only thing that carries KnY is Ufotable's animation.

Now the reason I'm writing to you is because I really, really want to know what your opinion on this is. I mostly think perspectives differ based on how people define "good" or "bad" writing, everyone has varied views; however as much as I want to defend an anime I've surprisingly grown embarrassingly attached too, I think you're better qualified. It hurts when people attack something that's close to your heart, even if it is just a bunch of pixels. I'm probably stupid to get affected by mere criticisms of a damn ANIME this much, but unfortunately this doesn't seem like something I can control. I am a deranged, cowardly escapist so I didn't even watch the criticisms properly but got the gist of it.

Uhm...yeah, I'm very sorry if I sound demanding, you can take your time, it doesn't matter how long it takes to reply (it's okay if you don't even want to reply, needed to get this off my chest to someone somehow), please don't stress yourself out, I've seen all the amazing titles you're preparing for, wish you luck.

(Okay I'll stop now. Sorry.)

Hey Anon,

I hope you're doing well.

Not gonna lie your ask made me tear up a bit especially towards the end of it because I get you, I get you so, so fucking much. Being a Demon Slayer fan, specifically an English-speaking Demon Slayer fan, is tough. It's like everywhere you look, all you see is negativity towards the series. At some point, you start to feel like you're the only one, you start to doubt yourself and feel, just as you described, crazy and deranged for getting so emotionally attached to such a'mid' anime series.

But lemme tell you this. Fuck those guys. Never be embarrassed for getting emotionally attached to a piece of media, that's what makes you human, it means that you have the time to critically assess and think about what you watch instead of just consuming it mindlessly. Creators LOVE people like you, and I'm absolutely sure that Gotogue-sensei would be touched that her work means so much to you. It's better to be attached or be a stan of something than to be a mindless bot wading through life with no passion for anything.

And I'm not just saying this because I'm also a deranged fan. This applies to any piece of media or any anime series. You know your heart, you know what you've been through in life, you know how life especially in this century is so fucking hard where it seems like everything is trying to crush you, where it feels like you're constantly trying to keep your head afloat in a vast ocean of despair being weighed down by, well, everything and if you find that one life raft that keeps you above the surface, that one thing that allows you to keep on going, that one ray of sunshine that makes you think hey maybe the world isn't so bad, as long as you’re in your lane, just enjoying KnY and engaging with the fandom in a positive way then who the FUCK are those barely sentient pieces of shit to take it away from you?

So with that being said, let's explore your concerns

SaneGiyuu is toxic

I feel the reason people think it’s a toxic ship is because a huge chunk of the fandom tends to infantilize Giyuu and vilify Sanemi. Which is a side effect of the lack of media literacy and shallowness that a lot of people possess.

Giyuu is always made out to be this soft, quiet, uwu-baby boy who is in need of protection because he's constantly bullied by the big, scary meanies like Sanemi and Obanai. Which people with working brains will know is far from the truth; Sanemi and Obanai talk shit about him yes, but if talking shit about someone constitutes as bullying then we’re all bullies and I bully my former boss.

Sanemi on the other hand is always made out to be either this irredeemable monster or this dominant, feral, 'hide-your-daughters' type man who's always alpha and on top, grrrrrr, he's both demonized and sexualized by a lot of fans. So with this mischaracterization of both characters, it's no wonder that people will see SaneGiyuu and come to the conclusion that it’s toxic because all they see is this soft, baby-uwu angel being paired up with this rabid monster. They want Sanemi and Giyuu to be Izuku and Bakugou from MHA so badly, which is just dumb. The other detractors of this ship usually lack the ability to recognize subtext or are just plain homophobic, thinking that the ship interferes with their fantasies.

Here’s a list of some posts I’ve made refuting these claims, but also exploring their dynamics. Just like you, this ship is really important to me because of it’s underlying themes of found family, trauma, miscommunication, isolation. And just the comfort of finding someone who has been through the same things you’ve been through and understands your pain.

The Anime is mid

Since you're new to the fandom it’s no surprise that the 'Demon Slayer is mid' comments would get to you, they used to get to me too. Long time fans will tell you how they’ve learned to just tune out the nonsense and focus on the fandom. Like yea yea we heard you, demon slayer is only carried by the animation, when you’re tired of complaining you’ll shut up and go back to snorting the Cheetos dust off your keyboard 🙄.

I consider Demon Slayer a litmus test on how people analyze media, especially media that doesn’t have elements that they’re familiar with. See, here’s one thing that a lot of people, even fans of Demon Slayer, don’t get. Demon Slayer is a character driven story—every event or fight is done for the development of the characters in the story. That's why the plot is so simple because it’s not about the plot, it’s about the characters. When people criticize KnY’s plot for being simple, I can’t help but laugh because almost all the greatest stories in humanity have simple plots or some none at all.

Lord of the Rings is about a bunch of dudes who travel to a tower to destroy a ring.

Gladiator is about a fallen general who is out for revenge on the emperor who betrayed him.

The Matrix doesn't even have a proper goal until the third act of the movie.

Harry Potter is about a bunch of kids who want to defeat the wizard that killed Harry's parents.

American Psycho doesn't even have a proper story structure. It's just about a psychotic dude who goes axe-crazy, literally.

The Star Wars franchise is about a bunch of people rebelling against a dictatorship.

Sam Raimi's Spider-Man is about Peter facing the Villain of the week.

So why are these stories so close to our hearts? It’s because of the characters. All this talk about characters being nerfed, fights being boring, plot armor, pacing etc. etc. are all plot-related complaints which don’t apply to the story because it’s all about the characters. Those who say the characters are one-dimensional are just fucking stupid, lazy and shallow-minded. The rest don’t even properly watch the anime or read the manga, they just parrot whatever opinions are popular at the moment.

It also doesn't cater to the western gaze. KnY is completely and unapologetically Japanese, it can’t take place in anywhere but Japan. it’s so rich with Japanese culture, mythologies, folktales, and stories that it’s either you get it, try to get it or you don’t. Even the name 'Kimetsu no Yaiba' directly translates to Blade of Demon Destruction and not just any blade either, Yaiba specifically refers to a Japanese sword. It’s a love letter to Japan that celebrates Japanese culture and values so much that it borders on nationalism 😂. This is foreign to some anime dudebros who are used to anime that either takes place in modern Tokyo, Western-inspired fantasy countries, some version of 'San Fransokyo' or the Edo period.

This especially goes for that arrogant streak of shit who has dryer lint for hair that made the 1hr-long video. I’m sorry, but I’ll be damned before I entertain the opinions of someone who thinks Walter White is a great, complex character. Like bitch, you're not some deep, philosophical critic, you’re just a stupid edgelord who just happened to snare the interest of other stupid edgelords who want to feel like their existence and opinions matter in the grand scheme of things.

Here's a video where the creator refutes that asshole's bullshit criticisms. And here are some other positive and more nuanced analysis videos by people who have actual brains and, y'know, HAVE ACTUALLY WATCHED THE FUCKING ANIME AND READ THE FUCKING MANGA! Here, here, here and here. I'll post them in my pinned post and update when I find more stuff.

So please don't feel sad Anon! Nothing any of these cum-stain-should’ve-beens spew out of the cesspool inside their skulls will change the fact that Demon Slayer is a cultural phenomenon that revitalized the manga and anime industry. It is so popular that even the prime minister of Japan is a fan, that it introduced millions of people to not just anime/manga culture but also Japanese culture, that it revitalized the anime industry. There's also the debate about how it apparently outsold the entire comic book industry in 2020 and university researchers have studied and published analysis pieces on the characters. Not bad for a 'mid' series 😤

I hope I was able to answer your questions, and make you feel better. I'm glad you love my work but most importantly:

FUCK YEA!!! WE GOT ANOTHER GIYUUSANE BELIEVER!!!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #sanemi shinazugawa #giyuu tomioka #sanegiyuu #sanemi x giyuu #kny anime #giyuusane #kny ships #shinazugawa sanemi #demon slayer sanemi #giyuu #kny giyuu #demon slayer giyuu #tomioka giyuu #unhinged asks #fandom discourse #anime

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bvidzsoo · 8 months ago

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Love Me Like A Rockstar (9)

ー☆ Chapter 9: You (Show Me Where My Days Went)

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing ー☆ Word count: 9.8k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hi, lovelies!! LMLAR is BACK!! I am sooo happy I could finally update and just write, y'all have no idea! I am so sorry for making you wait so long for this update, but finishing my thesis was super important! I still have to study and such this month, but I promise next update won't take as long as this one did! (I'm writing other stories too while writing this one, so that kinda backfires sometimes lol) I am forever grateful that you are patient and stick around for the new chapters, this story is so dear to me you wouldn't even believe it. I am also super grateful and happy whenever you leave feedback, so please, keep on doing just that!<3 This chapter only exists because I was randomly inspired, and I'd like to apologize if it's a little rusty, I always have to get in "character" when I write this story lol. I am soo excited for next chapter, I think it's going to surprise you hehe. PLS PLS imagine that airport look from Mingi when reading this chapter, the pics from the moodboard, you'll see during which part! I also have a very small surprise at the end of this chapter hehe. I hope the time jumps aren't too confusing:(( Please, listen to the song called You before or while reading! Enough yapping, I hope you enjoy and leave feedback! (Taglist is always open for those interested! ^^)

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

Later that day

I hate him: hey…just checking in that I got home safely what are u up to?

I blinked, fingers tightening around my phone before I locked it, leaving the message on unread. My mother’s shuffling outside my door caught my attention, bringing a smile onto my lips as I watched her struggle while bringing all the dirty laundry to the bathroom. Then, I got off my bed to go help her.

Friday (11:30 am)

I hate him: i see u still haven’t checked my message… nothing too worrisome u certainly know how to make a man yearn for you lol that was a joke…dont freak out on me pls (lowkey true tho)

Friday (12:50 pm)

I hate him: lol, wooyoung has been bitching about seulgi’s professor for half an hour now mr. kwon u know him? i mean…i suppose he also teaches u i should take a sneaky video for u…wooyoung looks like a clown hanging upside down my bed and pouting like a damn child too (dont say im also one, thanks)

Friday (15:26 pm)

I hate him: well…ik my messages are going through so uh… why tf are u ignoring me???! *cries and dies in loneliness* entertain me dollll!!! im so bored pls oh…u said u had an important assignment…i bet u’re busy with that sorry for spamming u (text back tho when u’re done, im dying here…wooyoung is with seulgi and so is seonghwa with hongjoong…the single life sucks, bestie…lets be single and depressed together<3)

My jaw clenched as I heaved a long sigh, falling back on my bed as the sun shone brightly through my open window, the light breeze making me shiver as I only wore a t-shirt and sweats. Autumn was slowly turning into winter; the weather wasn’t so warm anymore. I threw another look at my phone, unlocked it, and stared at the received messages from Mingi for a second before finally deciding to delete them from my notification center, rolling over in bed to muffle a frustrated scream into my soft, and purple, pillow.

Saturday (9:09 am)

I hate him: i had the weirdest dream and im not even sure i want to tell u about it LOL but uh…a grisly was chasing me??? and then u appeared on a fucking white horse like a prince LOL and threatened to like…slay it if it didnt leave me alone??? honestly…what a slay, bestie good morning, btw, doll hope u had a better night’s sleep than me (and dreamed of me ehehehe)

Saturday (17:40 pm)

I hate him: i cant believe i allowed myself to be fooled like this back in highschool yuyu and i used to play baseball for shits and giggles and hongjoong (that rich prick) rented a whole ass baseball field for us for the afternoon and let us play with some of his (rich af) friends and uh… i think i wont be able to walk straight for another week with how much running i did… hongjoong kept scoring homeruns…i wish yuyu was here to kick his loser ass (dont tell hwa or hong i said that PLS) yo doll…everything’s alright with u? uh u…really havent answered me since… yk…i stayed over and waited for the rain to stop… have i done something wrong?

I sighed and put my phone on ‘do not disturb’, suddenly having lost all of my appetite as I forced the rest of the lettuce down my throat. My mother was sipping her kiwi and apple smoothie, eyes narrowed as she muttered to herself while trying to memorize the recipe of a dessert for later. Desserts were never her forte, unfortunately.

“Is it Seulgi?” She asked absentmindedly as I took a large gulp of my own smoothie, staring down at my salad, steak pushed to the side in my plate.

“Huh?” I asked distracted, eyes still glued to the dark screen of my phone.

“Texting you, your phone keeps buzzing, my starlight.” I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but didn’t bother to comment on it. I took a peek at my mother and her eyes were narrowed at me already, video on YouTube paused. Fuck, I had to answer her now or else she’d pester me all day long. And that would be a nightmare.

“Yeah, it’s Seulgi.” I lied, trying to make my voice sound convincing.

“Well, answer her then, don’t be rude.” My mother chastised me, pressing play on her video again, pursing her lips as she shook her head at whatever the man baking was saying.

“Later.” I whispered, biting my lower lip as my eyes remained glued to my phone, stomach clenching and heart dropping.

But I couldn’t.

Sunday (1:01 am)

I hate him: …you’re ignoring me, arent u? im sorry, y/n, i dont know what i did wrong, but we can talk about it we’re friends, after all…right?

『When you came along, I knew what was wrong

If you want to know exactly what I've missed』

Monday (present time)

It truly would have been a missed opportunity if Seulgi and I wouldn’t have grabbed coffee and went to sit in our usual spot in the back garden. The campus of our University was huge and that was perfect, because it meant people migrated and didn’t stay in one spot for long—at least long enough to irritate me to no end. Last week deemed to be rather rough, and I still didn’t feel like completely myself. To be honest, I thought about staying home today—and for the rest of the week—but I couldn’t afford missing any of my classes as exam period was slowly nearing, and so, I had to force my ass out of the house this morning before my mother could come and nag me about my weirdly unusual broody mood that has been going on for the past few days.

I hummed as I took a sip of my sweet coffee, enjoying the taste of warm caramel as Seulgi sighed loudly next to me, both hands cupped around her own coffee cup. The scent of cinnamon wafted from her cup and I scrunched up my nose, not too fond of the ingredient’s smell. Our classes started early in the morning today and we’d be here for at least four more hours, caffeine seemed like our only hope to stay awake and aware at this point. Given the fact that my baffling thoughts kept me up all night yesterday, I felt grateful that I was still on my feet at two o’clock at noon. As Seulgi fidgeted again, I chuckled and finally turned my head to look at her. She had a sheepish look on her face, and I tried not to laugh as I knew she was bursting to tell me all about her date with Wooyoung on Saturday.

“Well,” I started as I took a sip of my coffee, prolonging the suspense for her, “how did your date go?”

“It was amazing!” I had barely finished asking as Seulgi exclaimed, her cheeks turning rosy—and it wasn’t due to the cold air, “Wooyoung is—everything I thought he would be. He’s sweet and up for anything, he makes me laugh until I feel like passing out, and there’s just never a dull moment with him, you know?”

“One would expect that from him.” I muttered against my cup, laughing as Seulgi nudged my side, not looking too happy with my comment, “Oh, come on, it would be hard for Wooyoung to be different than the way he mostly presents himself; don’t you think?”

Seulgi grumbled something against her cup as she lightly bit into the carton, shooting me a pointed stare, “Well, yes, but…he makes me happy. Treats me well and all that, you know, he’s the perfect embodiment of what a boyfriend should be like.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” I teased with a smirk, wriggling my eyebrows at my best friend as her cheeks flushed an even darker color as she bit her lower lip, trying to mask the huge grin expanding on her lips. But as soon as I started giggling, Seulgi also broke out in a fit of giggles, hiding herself behind her wavy hair, pressing her cup of coffee against her face.

“God, I’m so down bad for him, Y/N, I don’t think you’d understand.” She mused, voice airy as she threw her head back, leaning back against the back of the bench. I chuckled and took another sip of my drink.

“Maybe I’d do.” I muttered, memories of my relationship with Yunho resurfacing. Thankfully, however, I managed to repress them as quickly as they came. They didn’t feel so gut-wrenching anymore, and to my surprise, didn’t leave a bitter taste in its wake either. What has changed? Certainly—certainly getting closer to his best friend didn’t influence the way I feel about Yunho, right? Right.

“So,” I glanced at Seulgi from the corner of my eyes as she swung her legs, looking down at her feet in the process, “how are you?”

“Fine, why?” I asked confused, angling my body to face Seulgi better.

“You’ve been…distant the whole weekend. I could barely reach you.” Seulgi’s voice sounded small and I gulped, feeling bad for making her worry about me, “You know…the last time you pulled away and disappeared, it was bad.”

“I promise you I am doing completely fine, Seulgi, you’d be the first person to know if I was in a bad headspace again, alright?” I reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Seulgi sighed and then raised her head to look at me, lips pulled into a thin line.

“Promise?”

“Of course, I promise.” I smiled at her warmly and she hummed in contentment, squeezing my hand back as she took a sip of her coffee. I followed suit before removing my hand from hers to fiddle with my half empty cup, “I’m just dealing with some things right now. I think I’m confused.”

“About what?” Seulgi asked curiously, leaning closer as I continued to avoid eye contact with her.

“I’ll tell you once I have my thoughts sorted about it.” I chuckled, making Seulgi roll her eyes in displeasure.

“You know, I tell you absolutely everything about myself and how I fell, and you always shut me out and tell me how you felt about a situation when it’s been over for years.” Seulgi pouted, narrowing her eyes at me, “How’s that fair, Y/N?”

“Hey, we work differently, don’t try to guilt trip me now.” I chuckled and took a sip of my coffee, making Seulgi roll her eyes, “Anyways, what did you do on your date with Wooyoung?”

“We went to the cinema,” Seulgi’s face lit up once again, grinning from ear to ear, “He bought me roses, a big bouquet. And after the movie we went for a walk and ended up stargazing in his cabriolet. It was really romantic.”

I smiled, feeling happy for my friend, she deserved someone like Wooyoung, “That actually sounds really amazing…and romantic.”

“Oh, my God, are you really Y/N? Where is my friend that hates anything that has to do with romance, cute stuff, and love?!” Seulgi’s shocked face was mocking and I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in front of my chest as I leaned back against the back of the bench.

“I don’t hate it, I’m just not a huge fan of all of those things, okay?!” I shrugged, letting my arms fall from my chest as I pushed them inside my coat’s pockets.

“Who’s the culprit?” When I raised my eyebrows at Seulgi, a sign that I didn’t understand her question, she chuckled and leaned closer, “Who’s the man that’s changing your views on life, huh?”

“Man?” I asked with a scoff, giving Seulgi a deadpanned expression, “Does it always have to be about a man? Can’t it be just the fact that I had a change of mind?”

“Sure, because of someone.” Seulgi had a smug look on her face, acting as if she won the argument. But there was no argument here and she had no idea what she was talking about.

“Whatever—” But I got cut off as her phone dinged loudly. Seulgi, very comically, scrambled to reach for her phone and as she opened it up, a wide grin stretched onto her lips. It didn’t take two braincells to realize who had texted her, and thus, I chuckled and turned my head. I sipped my coffee, taking in my environment while Seulgi answered her boyfriend, giggling quietly every now and then.

The campus was finally silent and not as busy as it usually was in the early morning hours. The cold weather also helped in keeping the garden a little quieter as most people preferred to stay inside the warm corridors and classrooms. But the chilly air was good, it soothed my nerves and erased thoughts that weren’t productive. Similar to that, were the emotions that I didn’t want to deal with again, like the guilt that’s never left me ever since Mingi walked out of my house wearing Yunho’s old clothes. It felt wrong letting him take them without knowing the truth about them, but I didn’t feel ready to tell him yet about the truth. I was scared, surprisingly, of what he’d think of me once he found out about Yunho and I. I was scared that—he’d walk away, like Yunho had once done. And that was a very frightening thought. But when had I become so attached to Mingi? When has Mingi managed to infiltrate himself so thoroughly in my life, that the thought of completely losing him became scary? And why was I taking the past few days so badly? It’s not like we were as close as Seulgi and I, or him and Seonghwa and Wooyoung, yet, ignoring him felt like the wrong move to do. However, the reasoning I always circled back to was the fact that I needed space. I had to clear my mind, to find the purpose of this whole friendship that’s been blooming between us, and to make sense of everything. I had to figure out first why Yunho barely scraped my thoughts now, and why was it was Mingi who I found myself thinking of so often. In case you were wondering, no, I still haven’t found the reason, and it was becoming frustrating quite quickly. That near kiss was a—mistake. Yet, it could have been so much worse—it could have been a real kiss. And a real kiss would have ruined everything. I didn’t want to open up to anyone just yet, not when the memories of Yunho still haunted me in my dreams and drawings. Drawings that now more often than not consisted of Song Mingi.

And to my horror, the flipping of paper sheets is what alerted me back to my surroundings as I had been lost in my thoughts, oblivious to Seulgi putting her phone down and grabbing my sketchbook that lay between the two of us on the bench. As I turned my head, my eyes widened as Seulgi’s expression held surprise but amusement as well. She chuckled as she looked up, making eye contact with me. I lunged forward in an instant, trying to take my sketchbook out of her hands, but she leaned back and away, putting it behind herself.

“Bitch, I’m not the only one who’s down bad for a man.” She said with a laugh, making me groan as I gave up trying to snatch my sketchbook back from her.

“I’m not down bad for a man, Seulgi, stop this non-sense.” I hissed, cheeks burning in embarrassment as she kept flipping through my drawings.

“Please,” She scoffed, turning my sketchbook around and making me grimace as I came face to face with an exact replica of Mingi, sitting in his chair, at his studio that one time he invited me inside, “Who the fuck draws so many drawings of one single person if they aren’t in love with them—”

“I’m not in love with Mingi, stop it!” I exclaimed, heart beating fast as Seulgi raised her eyebrows at me, looking unimpressed, “Don’t ever again say that, Seulgi.”

“Okay, calm down, whatever. You’re not in love with Mingi.” She chuckled, closing my sketchbook but she didn’t hand it back yet, “But let’s face it, Y/N, you have a thing for Mingi. It’s super freaking obvious even without the drawings.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I hissed and finally snatched the sketchbook out of her hands, clutching it to my chest. I knew bringing this along today would turn out to be a mistake, and here I was, facing the repercussions of my actions.

“There’s this glint in your eyes whenever you look at him—”

“Yeah, it’s called dislike.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“And I see how you struggle to refrain yourself from smiling when you’re around him—”

“Bitch, be for real, Mingi and I aren’t even often together around you for you to notice that.” I scoffed, completely appealed by whatever absurd claims my best friend was making.

“So you’re not denying it—would it really be so bad if you liked Mingi?” But Seulgi ignored all my interruption as she raised her eyebrows at me, smiling softly, “He’s a nice guy. Very well-mannered and with a big, and good heart. Wooyoung loves him a lot and is always worrying about him. He says Mingi hasn’t been the same ever since his best friend moved away for college—”

“Mingi is Yunho’s best friend!” I blurted out before I could stop myself, finally feeling like a stone was taken off my chest as I bit my lower lip, averting my eyes from Seulgi’s shocked expression, “Mingi is the best friend Yunho had always talked so much about while we were together. I—do you understand why it would be so bad if I ended up liking Mingi?”

“Y/N,” Seulgi whispered, eyebrows furrowed, “for how long have you know?”

“Long enough.” I muttered before clearing my throat, “So please understand that I’m not ready for whatever the hell me drawing all those sketches of Mingi could mean. A month ago I was close to bursting out crying even at the thought of Yunho, and now I fail to remember his existence on my best days.”

When I dared take a peek at Seulgi, she was smiling softly, almost proudly, “Fine, I’ll pester you about this later on, when you’ve figured things out, but until then—you can’t deny Mingi isn’t hot—”

“Can we stop talking about Min—”

“Hi, girls!” I jumped in fright at the overly excited and shrill greeting as both Seulgi and I turned our heads to be met with…Wooyoung and Mingi. Speak of the devil. Suddenly, there was a lump in my throat, and my heart started beating just a little bit faster as my eyes fell on Mingi’s tall form. It didn’t help that underneath his coat he was wearing Yunho’s sweater—the one I had given him.

“Hi.” Seulgi giggled as Wooyoung leaned down to press a kiss against her cheek, the two looking sickly in love. It was actually endearing, but I’d never admit it out loud for my own sake as I knew I’d get teased about it by Seulgi. I averted my eyes from Wooyoung and Seulgi as they were muttering things to each other, and so, had no choice but to look up at Mingi, who looked—expressionless. Something in my stomach dropped at his cold demeanor, and it was worse that I wanted to assume it was my fault that he looked like that. But just as I was about to look away, he cracked the tiniest smile ever, and I exhaled, licking my lips.

“Hi.” My voice was small as I gulped, eyes trans-fixated on the tall man as his smile became just a little wider. I don’t think I had the power to ignore him anymore, not when he was standing right in front of me, looking like he wished to be anywhere but here.

“Hi, Y/N.” Having not heard his voice in days, it sounded even deeper and raspier than usually, making butterflies erupt in my stomach as my grip tightened around my sketchbook. I felt a little awkward, perhaps even tense, as Mingi didn’t say anything else, just continued gazing down at me with his sharp dark brown eyes boring into my own. I had so many things that I could’ve said to him, but I felt tongue tied. I didn’t know what would be the right way to approach him after I ignored him for so many days. Would he understand? Is he mad at me now? Does he hate me now? Will he forgive me—

“Okay,” Wooyoung chuckled, syllable drawn out and sounding amused, “I feel like I’m interrupting something here, yet they are basically just staring at each other.”

“You’re right.” Seulgi giggled, and I finally looked away from Mingi, throwing a glare at my best friend as she had leaned into Wooyoung’s side, who stood next to the bench and her.

“Shush, you two.” Mingi beat me to telling the two love-birds off, and I couldn’t help but smile, “Don’t poke your nose where it doesn’t belong to.”

“Look who’s lecturing me about poking my nose where it doesn’t belong to—”

“Wooyoung.” Mingi’s tone held a warning, and it made Wooyoung giggle as he leaned down and pressed a fat kiss against Seulgi’s cheek—again—making her push him away playfully.

“We’re headed to class, are you coming over later?” Wooyoung smiled down at his girlfriend, playing with a strand of her hair.

“Maybe, if I get to finish my project.” Seulgi said with a pout and Wooyoung hummed, leaning down to press a kiss against her lips this time around. I averted my eyes, not a fan of seeing couples kiss, only to catch Mingi already looking at me. He was expressionless once again, but he was fidgeting with his fingers, looking almost nervous. And as Wooyoung stood up straight and ruffled Seulgi’s hair affectionately, Mingi took a deep breath.

“Will you come to Outlaw this Friday?” He asked in a rush, sounding almost reluctant as his eyebrows furrowed slightly and he chewed on his lower lip. To my horror, I found my eyes fixated on his plush mouth and I gulped before I quickly averted my eyes, praying that nobody caught it.

“Yes.” I answered before Seulgi could, and nodded, smiling a little bit, “I won’t miss it.”

A beautiful smile spread on Mingi’s lips and he nodded once, looking too happy for something so little. I don’t think I’ll understand anytime soon why he gets so excited and happy when I listen to his songs or watch him perform. I’m no expert when it comes to music, my feedback is merely amateur and I’m not even a fan of his band yet.

“Cool, see you then.” And Mingi didn’t wait for Wooyoung as he turned around and walked away, steps hurried. I didn’t miss the confused glance Wooyoung and Seulgi shared before Wooyoung was off, chasing after his best friend. And maybe I would be soon able to make sense of my thoughts and feelings around Mingi, figure out what they meant and why they felt so real at times.

Monday (16:58 pm)

I hate him: hi Me: hi I hate him: would it be a lot if i asked to meet u tomorrow? Me: no, im free in the afternoon I hate him: cool, me too so uh…we can hang out in my studio? Me: or we can go to that new café with pottery I hate him: really? Me: u did say u wanted us to go… I hate him: i certainly said so i’ll pick u up around 4 Me: u don’t have to i’ll meet you there I hate him: come on, y/n…let me drive u Me: u’ve driven me around too many times by now i’ll meet u there and that’s final. I hate him: okay, boss, see ya there Me: :))

Getting here before four o’clock and having to wait in front of the cute café had no business being this nerve-wrecking. Yeah, Mingi hasn’t shown up yet—but perhaps that’s because there were still ten minutes until it’d be four—and I knew I had no reason to think he’d bail on me, but we hadn’t spoken since yesterday, when he had asked me if we could hang out. And so, waiting for him shouldn’t have had me breaking out in a sweat despite the cold weather, making me bite my lower lip harshly as I tried to smooth down the wool, green, brown, and beige patterned coat I was wearing. First of all, why the hell would I be so nervous about meeting up with Mingi alone at this cute café? He probably wanted to talk about that near kiss, and once we had that cleared, things would go back to normal—right?!

And maybe that was the reason which made me want to vomit on the sidewalk, the thought that I knew Mingi would demand answers—answers that I wasn’t yet ready to hand out. Why did I even agree to this? Because I missed him? I should have just stayed at home and done the project I’ve been procrastinating on—again. But when I heard the rumble of Mingi’s old Honda’s engine, I knew there was no turning back, catching the bus and running home to hide underneath my blanket.

As Mingi took his time to parallel park, I took a deep breath and gripped onto the strap of my tote bag harder, looking down at myself. My apricot orange sneakers matched the color of my blouse, the top two buttons out of five undone, but not showing too much skin. My blouse was tucked inside my washed out high waisted mom jeans, the black belt matching the color of my tote bag—I know black isn’t a color, I’m an arts major after all. My hair was pulled in a low ponytail just to prevent the wind from blowing it in my face, and I was thankful that I chose my wool coat as it kept me warm enough. I have opted to wear quite a few rings today, and because my neck felt too exposed, I decorated it with three necklaces of different length. I gulped hard one last time as Mingi got out of his car and took a few seconds until he managed to lock it. However, those few seconds were exactly what I needed to prepare myself to not pass out at the full sight of him.

Mingi, in true fashion to him, wore all black, except for his jeans that were a very dark shade of blue, almost black too. His turtleneck was tucked inside his jeans, a black coat with a hood keeping him warm from the cold late autumn weather. It almost made me smile upon seeing his own tote bag, black, and funnily matching mine. Except that his was plain, while mine had Claude Monet’s Water-Lily Pond painting painted on it, done by none other than yours truly, me. Mingi’s eyes were concealed by black sunglasses, and I snorted as he almost splashed himself up by stepping a little too enthusiastically into a big puddle. Two necklaces hung around his neck, reaching down his chest. A very obvious and sturdy silver cross necklace, and another longer chain that had pearls scarcely strung on it. And in true Song Mingi fashion, his rings weren’t missing, only two of his nails painted black on each hand, almost as if he didn’t have time to finish doing them. My heart racing in my chest so fast just at the mere sight of him, certainly wasn’t healthy, right?

“Hi!” I squeaked out and wished to burry myself instantly as Mingi chuckled, a very charming smile spreading onto his lips. It was a little annoying that I couldn’t see his eyes, forced to stare at his plush lips instead—let’s be real, nobody forced me, I did it because I couldn’t help myself, “The sun is quite blinding today, isn’t it?”

And of course, in good old fashion, my mouth worked before my brain would agree to saying something out loud, and my cheeks were burning as I knew Mingi saw me look at his lips. I had to divert the attention somehow, and teasing him was my best method, actually. It always worked.

“I’m trying to make a fashion statement,” Mingi grinned as he gripped the sunglasses and took them off in a very unnaturally hot way, “but hello to you too.”

“No need for a fashion statement when it’s just the two of us,” I narrowed my eyes, finding Mingi’s hair very soft and fluffy looking, almost as if he had recently washed it, and it wasn’t completely dry, “I’m not one of your fans.”

“Pity,” Mingi hummed, stepping slightly closer to me, “I thought I might just finally wove you.”

I scoffed, and as I was about to tell him off, he grabbed my tote bag and pulled me after himself, headed for the entrance of the café, “Did you have to wait long for me? Traffic was busier today, I had to take a few detours to get here in time.”

“Don’t worry,” I smiled as he opened the door for me and let me walk inside first, “I only waited half an hour for you to arrive, runway princess.”

“Runway princess?!” Mingi’s eyes bulged for a second before he started laughing loudly, making a few customers glance our way as we made it inside the café. I elbowed him in the stomach gently, not too keen of having people glare at us as he disturbed their peace.

“Don’t like the nickname?” I asked with a raised brow as we neared the front desk. The cashier had a friendly smile on her face while she greeted us as Mingi and I looked up at the menu, trying to decide what we’d like to have.

“Never said that,” Mingi answered with a chuckle as he threw me a quick glance, “it’s just surprising coming from you.”

“Why, can’t I call you a princess?” I chuckled, turning to face the cashier as I have made up my mind about what I’d like to have.

“Up until now you seemed to prefer the term ‘bro’, but I’m fine with whatever you decide on calling me, doll.” The look the cashier gave us made my cheeks flame up and I cleared my throat loudly, shooting Mingi a look that told him to shut up.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered embarrassed, smiling at the cashier, “can I get a strawberry cheesecake?”

“Sure, right away, and you, sir?” Her attention was on Mingi now, cheeks flushing the longer she looked at him. Okay, I could totally understand why. Mingi looked quite good right now, it was hard not to ogle him.

“A mint-chocolate cheesecake and a cappuccino?” Mingi hummed, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he looked down at the cashier.

“Plain cappuccino or with vanilla?” The cashier typed in our orders as she asked Mingi, averting her eyes shyly once he looked at her, pursing his lips.

“Plain,” He decided at last, turning to look at me, “are you not getting anything to drink?”

“An orange fresh will be alright.” I said as I reached inside my bag to fish around for my wallet.

“And would you also like to paint some pottery?” The cashier asked, pointing behind herself at all the displayed options. Mingi and I shared a look and I smiled as I nodded at him, making him grin from ear to ear.

“Yeah, we’ll paint some pottery too. Can I have a cup?” He asked, pointing at one on the higher shelf. It was a smaller cup, specifically made for drinking coffee. The cashier nodded and then looked at me expectantly.

“Uh, a mug will do for me.” I said and thanked her once she handed us the pottery and the paint that was used for painting these. Then, she tapped a few more on her tablet and told us the total. I opened my wallet to pay for my purchase, but Mingi had a card in his hands, the cashier already typing in the total sum for him to pay.

“Mingi,” I hissed quietly, looking at him with a frown, “what are you doing?”

“It was my idea to come here—”

“No, it wasn’t.” I cut him off, fingers curling into the scratchy fabric of his coat as I reached out to hold it, “I suggested we come here instead of going to your studio.”

Mingi sighed and pocketed his card, already having paid, then turned his body to face mine. I didn’t let go of his coat just yet, “Yeah, but when I drove you home during that downpour I asked you if you’d come here with me. So technically, it was my idea. Initially, anyways, it really was.”

“Mingi—” I started, but soon swallowed my words as he stepped closer, invading my personal space. My fingers tightened more into his coat and I gulped, suddenly feeling nervous due to our proximity. He faintly smelled of vanilla, it was a fragrance I didn’t except to smell on him.

“Can you not fight me on this one, please?” Mingi’s eyebrows slightly furrowed and his eyes softened up and I—struggled to breathe for a second as I stared up in his pleading eyes, mouth going dry. He looked—adorable like this, and I did not like the way I felt myself getting lost in his soft gaze.

“Let’s find a table.” I muttered, forcing myself out of the trance he placed on me, and grabbed my mug and the painting supplies. Mingi followed suit as he took his own cup and followed after me closely. We walked further inside the café and found a smaller table in the next room, closer towards the window. The walls were painted a faint orange and were decorated by white stripes that created abstract shapes. The chandeliers were white and hung low, the place well-lit for those who wished to paint pottery.

I placed the things in my hands on the table carefully, and then discarded my coat on the back of my chair and my tote bag by the leg of the table, pulling my chair out for myself. Mingi followed suit, however, he managed to almost send his cup tumbling to the floor when he took his seat. His eyes were wide as he just barely caught the cup, and I giggled as I watched him while opening the box that held all the paint. Thankfully, the table was spacious enough to harbor both our pottery and paints as the cashier brought out our delicacies. She threw Mingi a lasting look before she hurried back to the front desk, glancing our way at times.

“This is going to be a tough one.” Mingi said before scooping up a bit of his cheesecake with his little spoon.

“Why?” I asked with a chuckle, choosing a thin brush to start painting some flowers on my mug. My cheesecake could wait.

“Because I’m literally sat at a table with an arts major, having to decorate some cup by painting.” Mingi sounded stressed and I chuckled as I looked up at him, amused by his expression. His hair fell in his eyes a bit, and I found myself absentmindedly reaching over the table to brush it to the side. Almost as if realizing at the same time what I had done, we both froze. It felt like time stilled around us as I watched Mingi with a gaping mouth, slowly but surely, my cheeks becoming the color of a fire hydrant. But Mingi wasn’t better off as he bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes shyly as his cheeks turned the faint color of pink. Clearing my throat and accidentally choking as I hastily pulled my hand back, I averted my eyes and fought for my life to not choke. Thank God the orange juice was right there, I quickly took three large gulps.

“Th—thanks.” Mingi stuttered, staring at the table as he licked his lips, “Uh, it’s gotten long, my hair, I mean, I have to cut it when I get the time.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, grabbing my mug and chewing on my bottom lip in embarrassment—God, could the Earth swallow me up right now? Why the hell did I do that?! “Yeah.”

“Do you think I should change it up a little?” I paused as I had dipped my brush in red paint, and slowly looked up at Mingi, “Do something fun with it—like going blonde?”

“I hate blonde hair.” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Nice one, idiot. Yunho was blonde while we were together, and thus, yeah, I’ve hated blondes ever since. And to be fair—and this is not me shitting on my ex—but that hair color did not suit Yunho at all.

“Oh, noted.” Mingi whispered, pouting a little. I sighed and looked up at the ceiling, hating myself for the weird atmosphere I have created.

“Mingi, you can do whatever you want with your hair.” I spoke up, leaning down to try and look him in the eyes as he was busy staring at the table, “My opinion shouldn’t matter. It’s your hair. Go crazy with it, have fun, try out something new. Really.”

“But do you think it would suit me?” Mingi was still pouting as he finally looked up at me, looking quite crestfallen. My eyebrows furrowed and I tried to imagine him with blonde hair. He was quite blessed with his skin complex as most colors looked good on him, but perhaps I preferred Mingi with dark hair—black hair, more specifically. Like he had it right now. He looked—good. Handsome, even. Completely gorgeous. Fuck.

“I think it would suit you.” I settled on saying that. He didn’t have to know my train of thought, like at all. Mingi hummed in appreciation, and I watched as he reached inside his tote bag, pulling out a case that held his glasses. He took it out of the case and put it on, pushing it up on the bridge of his nose. He grinned when he looked at me and I chuckled, shaking my head as I looked down at my mug, finally starting to decorate it.

“There goes the cool, mysterious, hot celebrity act.” I teased under my breath, not expecting Mingi to hear me. But he did, and he started laughing, giving me a cheeky grin.

“Not quite a celebrity yet, but at least you admit I am hot.” Of course he was smirking as I gave him a deadpanned look, about to argue him on his statement, but he didn’t let me as he continued talking, “By the way, let’s exchange our cups when we are done. The mug will be mine and the cup will be yours.”

I tried to fight the smile off my lips, “So that you get the artwork of a talented artist for free to sell for an outrageous price later on when I’m famous?”

“I fear you have misjudged my character, doll.” Mingi’s eyes narrowed playfully, but there was truth to his words. I might just have misjudged his character.

“I still think you’re arrogant and selfish.”

“Of course you do, didn’t except anything less from you.” Mingi winked and then looked down, his cheesecake forgotten as he started decorating his cup, tongue just barely sticking out as he concentrated hard on whatever he had in mind to paint onto the cup. I chuckled and shook my head before focusing on my own mug, the silence that’s settle around us comfortable, as always.

Mingi and I were the quietest table in the café as we worked in silence diligently in, painting our own pottery. Mingi, at times, would hum along quietly to the songs that were played on the radio. Despite his cup being smaller and easier to paint, I finished painting mine before him, and so, I took the time to savor my cheesecake even if it had gotten warm and a little too soft. Mingi was hunched over in his seat, glasses low on the bridge of his long nose, with his full lips either pursed or with the bottom one bitten as his eyebrows would furrow every time he almost made a mistake. It was a funny sight, and I grabbed my phone without thinking much, and snapped a few pictures of him, leaning lower and even closer to his face to get the funny angles, all while Mingi remained oblivious to it. I chuckled as I looked at the pictures I had taken of him, looking at him when I felt eyes on me.

“What’s so funny?” He asked curiously, eyeing my phone for a second.

“You.” I chuckled and stuck my tongue out as Mingi rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he heaved a long sigh.

“I’m finally done.” He grinned and I looked down at his cup, taking in the yellow chicks he had painted quite—clumsily. Well, not all of us had the skills of a painter—not that it was an issue or anything—it’s just that it’s been long since I had seen someone have the skills of a—kindergartner, “It’s pretty sick, huh?”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from giggling and nodded with my eyebrows furrowed, “I’d give it a seventy out of a hundred mark.”

“Hey! That’s too low!” Mingi said, looking offended. I chuckled before shrugging.

“You’ll have to work on your skills for a higher mark.”

“Fine, next time you come to the studio, I’ll make you sing.” Mingi raised his eyebrows, making me narrow my eyes at him playfully.

“Oh, I didn’t know we are in a competition.”

“We weren’t, until now.” He winked and then stood, grabbing my mug and his own cup carefully as he took it to the front desk for drying. I gathered the items we had used to paint the pottery with to place them back in the box, and couldn’t help it but sneak a glance at Mingi. He was leaned up against the front counter, grinning widely at the cashier as she spoke to him, using her hands for big gestures as she was probably explaining something. My eyes narrowed as Mingi leaned slightly closer to her, only to detach himself from the front desk and walk back towards our table. I looked away and busied myself with my glass of orange juice.

“So, we’ll get them delivered to our houses once they are dry and all.” He said with a smile, sitting down, “I hope you don’t mind I gave her your address too.”

“I don’t.” I muttered, chewing on the straw for a second, “I didn’t think you’d know my address.”

“Well,” Mingi flattened his hands on the surface of the table, “I’ve been to your house twice now. I think it’s only right I remember your address, doll.”

“Right,” I muttered, “you’ve been to my house.”

Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, and I figured he didn’t like the tone of my voice. But before I could correct myself and explain that I had nothing against that, he spoke up, “Y/N, I—I didn’t mean to scare you or—I don’t know—make you think that I want anything from you. I mean—we are friends, and I respect you as a woman and as a friend, and I know we almost—kissed. But I—I don’t want you to think that I’m playing some sort of game with you to get—to get in your pants. I’m your friend. And even if I wasn’t, I still wouldn’t do that to you.”

Hearing him say all that felt wrong. I didn’t deserve any explanation from him. I was the one that’s overreacted that day, and Mingi was the one that deserved an explanation and apology from me for the way I have acted. I knew I couldn’t completely open up to him right now, that some parts of the truth had to be omitted today, but he also deserved to know why I had pulled back. And I wanted him to understand that it wasn’t his fault for the way I reacted to everything.

“Mingi,” I offered him a small smile and gripped my empty glass for some support, “If you think you are the reason why I ignored you, please, stop thinking that. It’s—we both leaned in, okay? We were both about to kiss each other, it’s not like you initiated it or forced me to do something I didn’t want to. And nothing even happened, for God’s sake. I reacted that way because I—”

When I paused, Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned over the table, gently poking my hand with his ring clad fore-finger, “You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not comfortable sharing it, Y/N.”

“But I want you to know this, Mingi.” I averted my eyes and took a deep breath, embracing myself for what I was about to tell him, “I had a boyfriend back in high-school who completely broke my heart, shattered it into pieces. And I know that happened a long time ago, and yes, I am over him, but I—I am scared people will treat me like he had treated me. I’m scared that if I let you close, you’ll just—leave. Like he did. And I know ignoring you for days was very shitty of me and I shouldn’t have done that—because quite frankly, Mingi, you deserve better—I just didn’t know what to do. I needed a few days to myself, to figure things out. It’s a bad excuse, but it’s the truth, and I think you deserve to know it. Since we are friends.”

Mingi’s face conveyed no emotion for a few seconds and I gulped, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Did he figure it out now? That I was talking about Yunho? That maybe I have started feeling something for him too, for Mingi? Would he stand up and leave? But to my surprise, a wide smile stretched onto his lips and he hummed, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

“Thank you for trusting me, it means a lot that you told me all that.” I bit my bottom lip, looking down at the table abashedly, “And I was never mad at you for ignoring me. I completely understand you, Y/N, and for the record, I have zero intentions of leaving you. And your ex is a fucking asshole for breaking your heart like that, tell me who he is and I’ll beat him up when I cross paths with him.”

There was nothing funny about what Mingi had said, especially since he was talking about his best friend, but the comically tough look on his face made me snort loudly as I shielded my mouth with my hand, trying to stop myself from laughing too loudly. Mingi started grinning like an idiot, his giggles deep, and making something coil in my stomach. When has Song Mingi become adorable instead of annoying?

“I doubt you’d want to kick his ass once you find out who he is…” I grimaced once that was out of my mouth, regretting it instantly. What was it about today that I couldn’t keep my thoughts and mouth in check? It was turning really frustrating.

“So, you plan on telling me one day?” Mingi wriggled his eyebrows, making me snort, “Like real besties gossiping and shit.”

“You never fail to make me cringe when you call us besties, Mingi.” I shook my head, taking a glance at my wrist watch. Oh, the time had flown away, it was well past five now, and the sun was going down. I’d probably have to head home soon to have dinner with my mother. I was becoming hungry too.

“Well, that’s what we are so…” He cleared his throat before slowly standing up, making me look up at him, “Did you know today we’re celebrating the Festival of Light?”

“Nope, I had no idea.” I shook my head, standing up too as Mingi wore his coat, “I don’t follow the events our city organizes.”

“Pity, it’s really pretty.” Mingi pouted, waiting for me as I grabbed my tote bag and pocketed my phone, “Should we check it out?”

“I mean…maybe?” I shrugged and Mingi beckoned me over as he crossed his arm with mine, making me chuckle as I looked up at him. He wasn’t much taller than me, but his sneakers had a thick sole and they made him even taller, “Where is this festival held at?”

“Just down the street, at the Citadel.” Mingi smiled as he led the way out of the café, waving at the barista as she blushed again, making me chuckle as I subconsciously nuzzled up against Mingi’s side, the air chilly as the sun had set by now.

“That barista totally has a crush on you.” I found myself saying as we walked down the sidewalk, trying to avoid crashing into the people that came towards us. Yeah, there certainly was an event on-going in the city, otherwise you wouldn’t see so many people out and about around this time. Everyone preferred staying inside after the sun had set, not keen of the cold nights.

“You think so?” Mingi mused, bottom lip jutting out as he narrowly avoided a child that was running around, “I didn’t notice.”

“You must be really dense then.” I snorted, eyebrows furrowing as I looked up at him, “She was constantly blushing, and she was totally looking at you with hearts in her eyes.”

“How do you know when someone is looking at you with heart eyes?” Mingi’s question threw me off, and I detached myself from his side, clearing my throat as I looked ahead, pushing my hands in my pockets. He was warm, it made me realize as the cold bit at my skin now that I wasn’t nuzzled up by his side anymore.

“Well, they have this look in their eyes, you know? It’s warm, and soft, and it lasts.” I explained, feelings my cheeks heat up, “And their eyes always linger on you when you aren’t watching them. It’s like…puppy eyes, I suppose? I wouldn’t actually know, Mingi, nobody’s ever looked at me like that.”

When there was no response, I looked back to find Mingi looking at me intensely. My eyebrows furrowed as we have arrived to the Citadel, the gates open for the visitors of the festival. The place was packed, this wouldn’t be so fun anymore. I would’ve turned around and walked back home if I didn’t see how excited Mingi was when I agreed to come check it out.

“There’s lots of people here.” Mingi muttered, and then walked closer to me as I led the way inside, a little baffled by his reaction to my answer. I just merely gave an answer based on my beliefs. It was him that was acting weird now. But as I looked at him, I could see it in his eyes that he didn’t want to talk about this topic anymore, that he wanted us to drop the subject. His last comment was a way to veer the conversation in a different direction. What was it about us today making everything weird? I sighed and just walked further inside, trying to avoid the big crowd which seemed almost impossible as it stretched on and on. The Citadel, however, was beautiful as it was coated in darkness, only the little paper lamps and fairy lights illuminating the place. It had a certain aura to it, almost romantic, and I soon found myself smiling as we walked down the cobblestone path, still trying to avoid people and stick close to each other’s sides. The air was chilly but the walls of the Citadel did a great job at keeping the breeze out, and the crowd certainly kept the place warmer than it was outside the stone walls.

I found myself admiring the décor in wonder, my mouth hanging open as I took in all the little lamps placed down on the ground, following the cobblestone paths, illuminating our way. It was truly beautiful, it almost felt like the scene was taken out of a fairytale. I found myself filled with excitement and happiness as I turned to grin at Mingi.

“This is so beautiful!” I giggled, absentmindedly grabbing the sleeve of his coat and dragging him away from the path and into the dying grass as there was a panel covered with paper, and people were writing on it. Mingi remained silent, but as I searched around for a pen or pencil, I felt him watching me, “What, do you not want to write something?”

“If you manage to find a marker or pen, I will, sure.” He said with a shrug, adjusting the strap of his tote bag before he pushed his hands deep in his pockets. I chuckled and looked around for a marker, but it was hard to see it in the darkness whether they were laying around in the grass or not. To my surprise, a little girl standing next to me looked up at me with a small smile on her lips, and offered me her purple-coloured marker, saying she was done with her drawing. I thanked her with a chuckle and turned to face Mingi with a grin.

“I found one!” Mingi chuckled and took the marker from my hands, being able to reach high up where the paper was still empty, due to his height. The panel was illuminated from the inside so you could actually see what was written on the paper. I watched him as he wrote on the paper, hesitating for a second, before he stepped back and handed me the marker. I raised up on my tip toes curiously, and craned my neck to see what he’s written. ‘The moon is beautiful tonight.’

I felt a smile spread onto my lips as I looked back at Mingi, who’s expression was serious and almost sad-looking as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his tall nose. I craned my neck back once more to gaze at the dark sky, at the moon, and indeed, there she was, beautiful and shining brightly. It was a new moon. Taking a swift glance at Mingi, I raised back on my tip toes and stood close to the panel, reaching up, just underneath Mingi’s writing. Thankfully, I could reach just bellow it, and I grinned as I quickly drew a new moon, adding a little shading to it and dents as well, creating the illusion of a real moon. Mingi remained silent as I took a step back, admiring our work. I handed the marker to another child as I fished my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture quickly of our artwork.

“The moon turned out beautifully.” Mingi commented once we had stepped away from the panel to let others draw too, headed back onto the cobblestone path.

“Still, it’s not as beautiful as the real one, but I tried my best.” I chuckled as I crossed my arms in front of my chest for a second, avoiding a man as he wasn’t looking in front of himself as he raced down the path. Mingi threw him a displeased look before looking down at me.

“Your drawings and paintings are always beautiful, Y/N.” Mingi said and I found myself blushing, thankful that it was so dark he wouldn’t be able to see it. I uncrossed my arms and turned my body a little to face him. There was music coming from one path, the one which led to the southern part of the Citadel.

“Are you nervous about Friday?” I found myself asking him as Mingi veered us towards where the music was coming from. He looked at me for a second, and then shook his head.

“I’m rarely nervous when we have to perform.” He said nonchalantly, the back of his hand brushing lightly against mine. My heart did a somersault against my ribcage, but I ignored it.

“Oh, you’re such a cool guy.” I teased him with narrowed eyes, making Mingi chuckle.

“I rarely get nervous, to be honest, even less when it comes to performing.” He hummed, looking up at the dark sky for a second, “I trust myself and my bandmates that everything will go well, so, there’s no actual reason to feel nervous.”

“But I’ll be there on Friday, that still doesn’t make you feel nervous?” My question was meant to be teasing, part of our playful banter, but the way Mingi gulped and quickly averted his eyes told me that perhaps I hit the nail spot-on. Well, now I have turned things awkward again. I sighed loudly, chewing on my bottom lip as Mingi remained silent, the two of us walking down the narrow path as the music became louder as we were nearing the stage. Jazz music was playing, the lady who was singing had a powerful and smooth voice that carried over the crowd neatly. There were a few people dancing in the crowd.

“Perhaps having you there will make me nervous.” Mingi’s voice was barely above a whisper and I tensed when I felt his pinkie brush against my own, making me clench my hand into a fist. But a very quiet voice inside my head demanded me to accept Mingi’s subtle request, and willing my heart to stop hammering so hard in my chest, I relaxed my hand and slowly slipped it into Mingi’s. If he stopped walking for a milli-second, I didn’t say anything about it, and he also ignored it. His grip turned firm as he intertwined our fingers together, gently pulling me closer into his side as he smiled at a mother who apologised for his son almost running into us.

I gulped and kept my eyes ahead of me, too nervous to look at Mingi. Holding his hand like this meant nothing in particular, but it was a nice feeling. It made my cheeks warms and heart race. And I didn’t have to look at Mingi to know he was smiling like crazy, his cheeks just as red as mine as we came to a stop behind the dancing people.

Have I started falling for Song Mingi?

��It's you, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh

I'm just saying it's you, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

You, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh

You're what I've been chasing

Show me where my days went』

❱❱ Next chapter

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

so...the festival of light scene was totally inspired by me and my bestie attending it in our city lol; it was sooo beautiful and the pictures in the moodboard were actually taken by us; also, her and I kept laughing about the romantic vibes we were getting, all in all, we had a nice time...and OFC we make everything about Ateez so :))

I wrote that LOL I'm like Mingi, tall enough to reach the top where people haven't scribbled onto yet lol

also, this is what y/n's outfit looks like for anyone wondering, except for the colors as they are the way I have described them in the scene ^^

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