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fangdokja · 12 hours ago

Note

Hello!

May I ask you about yandere!ex - boyfriend?

Did the yandere tendencies begin with the relationship or did they materialize after the breakup? And will there be a fic about him in the future?

Thankyou for answering in advance! 🫶

She wasn't looking for love, but love wasn't asking for permission.

❤︎ Synopsis. A calculated partnership born out of convenience spirals into something far darker, as control slips and obsession takes root. What started as a deal now feels like a dangerous game—and neither of them is willing to lose.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend x Reader

♡ Novella. Friction & Fire - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 9,000

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, possessiveness, objectification, suggestive themes, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching

♡ A/N. Another planned work in my drafts that I haven’t released yet before, but here it is now. Technically an ask, but I prefer to answer this with a fic :)) Ok….. so I checked it and it's turning into 12k+ words. Went a bit ham, and still going. Might turn it into a Novella. Why do I write so much, ahh. So, I'll be dividing the parts (6 parts). Sorry. Probably, the slowest burn yandere among all my works at the moment.... I think. But, still for me, pretty fast burn romance, because we focus on yandere content. Lol. Also side note, if you like ENTP 7w8 yanderes (e.g. Gojo, Hawks, Dazai, Vanitas, Kuroo)? Well, this one's for you. Made a hardcore ENTP 7w8 yandere this time.

The first time you met him, it was as if the universe had aligned—not in some whimsical, romanticized way, but with the brutal precision of mathematics. A logical equation where X equaled Y. You needed a shield, someone to deflect the probing questions of your overbearing parents and the inevitable parade of suitors they had lined up. He needed a partner who wouldn’t demand too much—someone who understood ambition, who wouldn’t suffocate him with expectations of sweet nothings and fairytales.

It wasn’t love. It was convenience.

You found him sitting in the back of the lecture hall, legs spread wide and a pen dangling between his fingers like a cigarette. There was something insufferable about the way he grinned at you when your eyes met, as if he already knew why you’d approached him. You ignored the flicker of irritation his cocky demeanor ignited within you.

“I have a proposition,” you said, arms crossed and chin high, voice cutting through the low murmur of the room like a blade.

His gaze trailed over you, assessing but not predatory, as if you were a puzzle he was already halfway through solving. He tilted his head, the grin widening. “Do tell, golden girl.”

That nickname—it would become a staple, laced with amusement and, eventually, something sharper, more cutting. But for now, it was just a playful jab.

“I need a boyfriend.”

That caught his attention. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, the smirk never wavering. “And what makes you think I’m boyfriend material?”

“I don’t,” you replied coolly. “But you’re convenient. Senior year, right? Close to graduating, no time for real commitment. And you seem…” You hesitated, letting your gaze sweep over him pointedly. “…unserious.”

He laughed, a low, throaty sound that drew a few curious glances your way. “Unserious. I’ll take that as a compliment. What’s in it for me?”

“Your parents are investors,” you said, your voice crisp, businesslike. “I’ve seen the sponsorships they’ve secured for student startups. You want their connections, don’t you? Stick with me for the rest of the semester, play the part, and I’ll make sure you have their ear.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if trying to gauge whether you were serious. Then, to your surprise, he leaned back, his grin softening into something that felt almost genuine.

“You’re a piece of work, aren’t you?”

“I prefer to think of myself as efficient.”

He held out his hand. “Deal.”

From that moment on, the two of you fell into a rhythm. It wasn’t romantic—not in the way people might imagine when they looked at you, the golden child, and him, the sharp-tongued, perpetually smirking senior. You didn’t hold hands unless necessary. You didn’t go on dates unless it served a purpose. He played the charming, doting boyfriend at family dinners, his wit and charisma winning over even your most skeptical relatives.

And you? You became his silent shield at parties, the poised partner who kept the clingy girls at bay and gave his otherwise reckless image a veneer of respectability.

It worked. For a while.

You didn’t notice, at first, the way his gaze lingered too long when you weren’t looking. How he started rearranging his schedule to align with yours, his texts becoming more frequent, more personal. You chalked it up to him playing his role—nothing more, nothing less.

But beneath the surface of your carefully constructed arrangement, something was shifting. Slowly. Inexorably.

And neither of you realized it yet.

────────────

The partnership was a tightrope walk over a chasm, a precarious balance between your structured determination and his reckless improvisation. Where you sought order, he thrived in chaos; where you demanded precision, he operated on instinct. Your interactions were a battlefield of clashing ideologies, the tension sharp enough to draw blood.

You didn’t like him. Not really. And he knew it.

“You’re wound tighter than a noose, golden girl,” he’d say, leaning back in his chair during late-night meetings in the library, a toothpick shifting lazily between his teeth. “Relax. Not everything needs a ten-step plan.”

“And you’re far too comfortable winging it,” you’d retort without looking up from your notes, your pen scratching across the page in rhythmic defiance. “Some of us actually care about results.”

“Results?” He’d laugh, low and mocking, his voice a rasp in the dimly lit room. “You mean the kind your parents can frame and hang on a wall?”

That stung, though you never let it show. You simply straightened your spine, raised your chin, and met his gaze with a glare cold enough to freeze fire.

“Do you even have a plan for your life after graduation?” you shot back, your words slicing through his amusement. “Or are you planning to charm your way through that, too?”

The smirk faltered for just a moment, a crack in his otherwise impenetrable facade. Then it was back, sharper than before. “Why bother with a plan when I’ve got you to micromanage everything?”

It was always like this. Barbs exchanged like gunfire, neither of you willing to yield an inch. But when the conversation shifted to the projects you were working on together—the startup pitch for your entrepreneurship course, the meticulously researched presentations you delivered as a team—something strange happened.

The arguments faded, replaced by an almost eerie synchronization.

“What if we market it as a subscription model?” he’d suggest, his tone uncharacteristically serious, his fingers drumming against the table as his mind raced ahead.

You’d hesitate, biting the inside of your cheek, before nodding slowly. “It could work. If we tie it to a loyalty program—discounts for long-term users.”

“And gamify it,” he’d add, his eyes gleaming with an excitement you rarely saw in him. “Make it addictive. People love chasing badges and achievements. Psychological manipulation at its finest.”

“That’s… a disturbingly good idea,” you admitted, scribbling notes furiously.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he teased, though his grin lacked its usual edge. “Even I can be useful.”

For those brief moments, it was as if the constant friction between you two ignited something productive, something almost electric. You hated to admit it, but working with him was exhilarating in a way that was entirely new to you.

And yet, outside of those moments of collaboration, the tension only grew.

You started noticing the little ways he got under your skin: the way he’d leave his half-empty coffee cups on your desk during meetings, forcing you to clean up after him. The way he’d interrupt your carefully rehearsed presentations with off-the-cuff jokes that somehow always landed better than your meticulously prepared slides.

“You’re infuriating,” you snapped one evening, your voice tight with exhaustion as you shoved a pile of his crumpled notes back into his hands. “Do you even take this seriously?”

“Of course I do,” he replied, his tone unusually soft, his gaze steady. “I just don’t take you seriously. Not everything’s a life-or-death scenario, golden girl.”

You hated him. You hated the way he dismissed you, the way he seemed to find amusement in your frustration. But more than that, you hated the way he could turn around and say something so insightful, so perfectly aligned with your own thoughts, that it left you reeling.

It was a strange kind of intimacy, this constant push and pull, this battle of wills that neither of you could seem to win.

And though you didn’t know it yet, the cracks were already beginning to form in the walls you’d built around yourself.

────────────

The first time he saw you, he knew exactly what you were: a fortress. Polished stone walls, towering spires, and gates sealed shut with bolts of iron. Your every movement, every word, every carefully measured breath screamed control.

And he? He had never met a fortress he didn’t want to sack.

At first, it was curiosity. A passing interest in the girl who spoke with the precision of a scalpel, who held her chin high as if the weight of the world rested comfortably on her shoulders. He’d seen your type before—sharp, ambitious, ruthless—but there was something different about you.

It was the way your voice never trembled, even when your words cut like glass. The way your eyes locked onto his, cold and unyielding, like you were daring him to try something. Anything.

So, he did.

From the very beginning, he made it his mission to chip away at that armor, to find the cracks in your flawless facade.

“Golden girl,” he’d call you, the nickname dripping with mockery. He loved the way your jaw would tighten ever so slightly when he said it, how your fingers would twitch like you wanted to slap the grin off his face but couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it.

He started small—interrupting your meticulously organized schedules with his “spontaneous” detours, leaving his belongings in your space just to watch you bristle. But as the days turned into weeks, his methods grew more deliberate.

“Relax,” he’d say, leaning too close during one of your late-night study sessions, his voice a low murmur that was equal parts teasing and commanding. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you keep clenching your teeth like that.”

Your response was always the same—a cold, cutting remark delivered in that icy tone of yours, your expression a mask of indifference. But he could see through it. He could see the flicker of irritation in your eyes, the subtle way your shoulders stiffened.

He loved it.

Because while you thought you were unshakable, he knew better. He saw the storm that brewed beneath your surface, the fire you tried so desperately to hide. And nothing thrilled him more than coaxing it out of you, one spark at a time.

One evening, he pushed too far.

“I’m starting to think you like this,” he said, his voice low and mocking as he leaned against the edge of your desk, his presence an unwelcome shadow in the otherwise sterile room.

“Like what?” you asked without looking up, your tone laced with exhaustion and barely concealed annoyance.

“This,” he gestured vaguely, his grin widening. “The arguing, the tension. You get this little spark in your eye when you’re mad, you know. It’s cute.”

That did it. You slammed your pen down with a force that echoed in the silence, your eyes snapping to his with a glare that could have burned through steel.

“You’re insufferable,” you hissed, your voice sharp enough to cut.

And yet, even as you said it, he caught the faintest tremor in your voice. Barely noticeable. But to him, it was everything.

He leaned closer, his grin softening into something almost intimate, almost dangerous. “Maybe. But you’d miss me if I was gone.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with an electricity that neither of you fully understood yet.

It was in those moments, in the way you tried so hard to keep him at arm’s length, that he realized he was beginning to crave you. Not just the fire in your eyes or the sharpness of your tongue, but you.

The fortress was starting to crack, and he intended to be there when it fell.

────────────

The cafeteria was alive with a cacophony of voices, laughter, and the clinking of trays. It was a battlefield of social interaction, chaotic and loud, yet somehow orchestrated, with alliances formed over shared meals and fleeting camaraderie. You didn’t belong here.

You kept your steps measured and precise, your gaze fixed forward, avoiding the swirling mass of humanity around you. People parted instinctively as you walked past, their conversations dimming for just a moment before resuming. Your presence was a ripple in the atmosphere—not disruptive, but enough to remind everyone that you were there.

And then you saw him.

He was in the center of it all, as he always was, the eye of the storm. His laughter carried over the din, rich and unrestrained, a sound that drew people in like moths to a flame. He sat perched on the edge of a table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, spinning some ridiculous story that had everyone around him enraptured.

They hung on his every word, their faces lit with genuine amusement, their eyes sparkling with admiration. He had that rare, inexplicable magnetism, the kind that made people want to be near him, to bask in his energy. He wasn’t just popular—he was adored.

And you?

You were the anomaly. The outlier. People respected you, even feared you, but they didn’t enjoy you. They didn’t invite you to sit at their tables, didn’t seek out your company for anything beyond necessity. You were an island—solitary, unyielding, and self-sufficient.

You didn’t envy him. Not exactly.

But as you stood there, watching him effortlessly weave connections, a quiet thought slipped into your mind like a shadow in the dark: What if you were different?

What if you could be like him, with his easy charm and boundless charisma? What if you could laugh like that, unburdened and free, instead of wearing the cold mask you’d perfected over the years?

The thought lingered for a moment too long, and then you shook it off, burying it deep where it couldn’t touch you. You didn’t have time for such things. You were efficient, logical, focused. Emotions had no place in your life—not since childhood, when you’d learned the hard way that they were a liability.

So you turned away, letting the sound of his laughter fade into the background as you made your way to the meeting room. The sterile, quiet space was more familiar to you than any cafeteria, more comfortable than any crowd.

He was already there when you arrived, sprawled in his chair with a cup of coffee in hand, his grin as sharp as ever.

“You’re late,” he teased, though there was no bite to his words.

“You’re early,” you replied, your tone neutral, as you set your things down on the table.

“Touché,” he said, watching you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Saw you pass through the cafeteria. Thought you might stop by to say hi.”

“I don’t make detours,” you said curtly, pulling out your laptop and powering it on.

“That much is clear,” he muttered, almost to himself, before taking a sip of his coffee.

The meeting began, the two of you falling into your usual rhythm of sharp exchanges and begrudging collaboration. But somewhere in the back of your mind, a tiny sliver of something stirred��a flicker of awareness, of something you couldn’t quite name, whenever he spoke or laughed.

You told yourself it was nothing.

And for now, you believed it.

────────────

The garage was thick with the scent of motor oil and cigarette smoke, the hum of a barely-functional heater filling the space with a low, constant drone. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered occasionally, casting long, jittery shadows across the room. The boys were sprawled around the billiard table, cheap beers in hand, the air crackling with laughter and banter.

He leaned casually against the edge of the table, cue stick in hand, a smirk playing on his lips as he lined up his next shot. His movements were lazy, almost careless, but his sharp eyes betrayed the precision in every calculation.

“So,” one of them started, a wiry guy with a perpetual grin that made him look younger than he was. “This new girl of yours… she’s the one keeping you so busy these days?”

Another guy chimed in, his tone dripping with mock suspicion. “Yeah, man, you’ve been skipping out on poker nights. Thought you were allergic to commitment.”

He laughed, the sound low and throaty, as he took his shot. The crack of the cue ball hitting its target echoed through the room, the striped ball sinking neatly into the corner pocket. “Allergic? Please. I don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

The guys laughed, the sound loud and unrestrained, their teasing picking up momentum.

“So what’s her deal, huh?” The wiry one pressed, leaning against his own cue stick. “Rich? Hot? Bet she’s one of those uptight types you love to mess with.”

He straightened, twirling the cue stick between his fingers as he leaned back against the table, his smirk widening. “You could say that. She’s… interesting.”

“Interesting,” another guy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You? Interested in someone? Hell, what’s she got—blackmail material? A hit out on your family?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, his tone light but edged with something sharper, something darker. “She’s just… different. Keeps me on my toes.”

The wiry one snorted. “Sounds like trouble.”

“Isn’t that the point?” he shot back, his grin sharp as a blade.

They laughed again, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his expression as he took another swig of his beer.

“Come on,” the wiry one said, jabbing his cue stick in his direction. “You’re not seriously into her, are you? Thought you didn’t do serious.”

“I don’t,” he replied smoothly, setting his bottle down with a loud clink. “It’s transactional. Mutual benefit, you know? She gets what she wants; I get what I want. Simple.”

“Sounds like a business deal,” someone muttered.

He shrugged, his smirk never faltering. “Aren’t all relationships?”

The guys laughed again, the conversation shifting to the next round of the game, but his mind lingered on the question.

He wasn’t serious about her. Couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be.

And yet, every time he saw her—the fire in her eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw, the way she tried so hard to keep him at a distance—it felt like a challenge he couldn’t ignore.

She was a fortress, and he was a conqueror.

For now, he could laugh, joke, and deflect. But the truth was darker, heavier, lurking in the corners of his mind like a shadow he couldn’t quite shake.

He lined up his next shot, the sharp crack of the cue ball echoing through the garage.

This wasn’t serious.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

────────────

The room was suffocating, its air thick with the sterile scent of recycled oxygen and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above. Papers were scattered across the table like fallen leaves in the aftermath of a storm, their sharp edges curling under the weight of your restless hands. The tension in your shoulders was a tangible thing, coiled tight and ready to snap.

He watched you from across the table, leaning back in his chair with the kind of casual ease that set your teeth on edge. You were all sharp lines and rigid control, while he was a picture of unbothered confidence, spinning a pen between his fingers like the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on him too.

“You look like hell,” he said finally, his voice low and infuriatingly amused.

You didn’t bother looking up, your focus glued to the screen of your laptop, the keys clicking beneath your fingers with a ferocity that spoke of barely restrained frustration. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure you are,” he replied, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on the table as his gaze bore into you. “Fine enough to bite my head off if I ask what’s wrong?”

“I said I’m fine,” you snapped, your voice colder than the sterile glow of the room.

That gave him pause, his smirk faltering for the briefest of moments. He’d seen you angry before, irritated, exasperated—but this was different. There was something raw in your tone, something brittle and sharp, like glass on the verge of shattering.

Still, he couldn’t help himself.

“Fine,” he echoed, dragging the word out like it was a joke only he understood. “You’re so fine you’ve been staring at the same spreadsheet for ten minutes without typing a single word.”

Your fingers stilled on the keyboard, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the distant hum of the building’s ventilation system.

“Drop it,” you said finally, your tone icy enough to frost the windows.

“Not a chance,” he shot back, leaning closer, his voice dropping into something quieter, more deliberate. “What’s going on with you, golden girl? Family drama? Business crap? Or is it just me getting under your skin again?”

His teasing grin was met with nothing but silence as you slammed your laptop shut with a force that echoed through the room. You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, and turned to leave without so much as a glance in his direction.

“Hey,” he called after you, his voice following you like a shadow. “You can’t just walk away from me.”

But you did.

The door closed behind you with a quiet click, leaving him alone in the oppressive stillness of the room.

For a long moment, he sat there, staring at the spot where you’d been, the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air.

He didn’t like this.

Not the way your walls seemed higher than ever, not the way your shoulders trembled just slightly when you thought no one was looking, and certainly not the way his chest tightened at the thought of you breaking under the pressure you refused to share with anyone—not even him.

With a frustrated sigh, he leaned back in his chair, the tension in his jaw a stark contrast to the easy grin he usually wore.

You could try to shut him out, build your walls higher, bury yourself in your icy fortress.

But he’d be damned if he let you freeze him out completely.

────────────

The argument started small—a quiet refusal on your part, your tone clipped and dismissive as always.

“I have work to do,” you’d said, fingers gripping the edge of the desk like it was an anchor in the rising tide of his persistence.

He didn’t care.

“No, you don’t,” he replied, his voice too light, too casual, the grin on his face sharpening as he loomed over you. “Not today. Today, you’re going out. With me.”

You scoffed, turning your chair away from him in a move that was more defensive than you’d ever admit. “I don’t have time for whatever this is. Go bother someone else.”

“Not happening,” he said, and before you could blink, he was behind you, his shadow engulfing yours. His hand was warm and firm on your shoulder, and when you tried to pull away, his grip tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you of how much bigger, stronger, and more stubborn he was.

“Let go,” you hissed, twisting in your chair to glare up at him, your voice venomous and cold.

Instead of answering, he bent down, his grin infuriatingly smug as he hooked an arm around your waist in one fluid motion.

“Don’t you dare—”

Your words were cut off with a sharp gasp as he hoisted you up with ease, your stomach flipping as he slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing at all.

“Relax,” he said, his tone still maddeningly cheerful as he adjusted his hold on you. “You’re overdue for some fun, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Put me down!” you snapped, your fists pounding against his back, your voice sharp enough to cut glass.

“Not until you promise to stop being such a workaholic,” he shot back, his grin audible in his voice. “Besides, you’re cute when you’re mad.”

The sound of your struggles echoed through the hallway as he carried you out, your threats growing more creative with every step. But he didn’t falter, didn’t even seem fazed, his grip on you secure as if your thrashing was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

When he finally set you down, it was with the kind of exaggerated care that only added insult to injury. You found yourself standing in the middle of an amusement park, the air thick with the smell of cotton candy and fried food, the distant hum of roller coasters roaring above the sea of colorful lights.

“What is this?” you demanded, your voice tight with irritation as you glared up at him, your arms crossed defensively.

“A date,” he said simply, his grin softening into something almost genuine. “You’ve never been to an amusement park, right? Figured it was time to fix that.”

“I told you, I don’t have time for—”

He cut you off with a sigh, his hand ruffling his hair in exasperation. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Work, work, work. But you’re here now, so you might as well enjoy it. Who knows? You might actually have fun for once.”

You stared at him, your mind racing for a retort, but the sound of children laughing and the sight of the spinning lights around you left you momentarily disarmed.

“Fine,” you said at last, your voice begrudging and low. “But don’t think this means anything.”

He laughed, the sound warm and rich as he held out a hand toward you. “Wouldn’t dream of it, golden girl.”

You didn’t take his hand, of course. But you didn’t walk away, either.

────────────

The amusement park was loud—a riot of color, noise, and movement that grated against your carefully constructed barriers. You were used to silence, to the sterile calm of office rooms and library corners. This place was chaos incarnate, a swirling mass of laughter, screams, and the clatter of machinery that felt like it could grind your composure to dust.

And he loved every second of it.

“Come on,” he said, his hand tightening around yours as he pulled you further into the fray. His grip was warm, insistent, and utterly unyielding, a stark contrast to the chill of your reluctance.

“This is unnecessary,” you muttered, your voice clipped as you tried to keep up with his long strides. “We’re wasting time.”

“You mean you’re wasting time,” he shot back, glancing over his shoulder with a grin that was equal parts teasing and determined. “Me? I’m having a blast.”

You tried to tug your hand free, but his grip only tightened, his strength a quiet reminder of the power imbalance you hated acknowledging.

“Let go,” you demanded, your tone sharp enough to cut glass.

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, pulling you closer until your shoulder bumped against his. “Boyfriend privilege. Now stop sulking and try to look like you’re having fun.”

Before you could argue, he steered you toward a brightly lit stand selling oversized stuffed animals and cheap prizes. The attendant handed him a small air rifle with a grin, and he lined up his shot with an exaggerated flourish.

“You’re kidding,” you said flatly, watching as he aimed at the array of moving targets.

“Don’t underestimate me, golden girl,” he replied, his tone dripping with mock seriousness as he squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, and a tin can toppled off its perch. He turned to you with a triumphant grin. “Told you.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as he handed the attendant a crumpled bill for another round. “This is ridiculous.”

“This is fun,” he corrected, his eyes narrowing in playful focus as he took another shot. Another can fell, and the attendant handed him a large, garish stuffed cat. He turned and thrust it toward you with a flourish.

“Here. For you.”

You stared at the stuffed cat, its glassy eyes staring back at you with an absurdly cheerful expression. “I don’t want it.”

“Too bad,” he said, pressing it into your arms. “Consider it a reminder to loosen up once in a while.”

You glared at him, but the faintest flicker of warmth crept into your chest, uninvited and unwelcome. He caught the twitch of your lips and grinned wider, his satisfaction practically radiating off him.

────────────

The roller coaster clattered upward, its chain mechanisms grinding with a metallic groan that reverberated through the skeleton of the ride. Each tick of the ascent was a promise, a prelude to chaos as the world below shrank into a mosaic of glittering lights and blurred figures. Beside you, he was practically vibrating with excitement, his grin a wolfish slash of white against the neon glow.

“You nervous yet?” he asked, his voice carrying easily over the mechanical din.

“No,” you replied flatly, your tone as unflinching as your posture. Your hands were clasped loosely in your lap, your expression an unmoving mask of calm.

He huffed, his grin faltering into something more incredulous. “Seriously? You’re not even a little scared?”

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

The drop came suddenly—a violent plunge that pulled the breath from everyone around you, their screams mingling with the wind's roar. The car tilted, twisted, hurtled through the loops and spirals with bone-rattling speed.

And you didn’t flinch.

When the ride screeched to a halt, his hair was wild, his cheeks flushed with adrenaline, and his grin wide enough to split his face. He turned to you, fully expecting to see some crack in your armor—a flicker of unease, a faint trace of thrill.

But you were already unclasping your seatbelt, your face a portrait of indifferent calm.

“Wow,” he said, dragging the word out as he climbed out of the car behind you. “Not even a scream? Not even a little ‘oh no, I’m gonna die!’?”

“It was fine,” you said, brushing invisible dust from your jacket as if the entire experience had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

“Fine,” he repeated, his tone a mixture of disbelief and mockery. “It’s a death machine on rails, and all you’ve got is ‘fine’?”

You shrugged, your gaze drifting to the next ride. “What’s next?”

He stared at you for a moment, a mix of frustration and amusement flashing in his eyes before his grin returned with a vengeance. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

———

The next stop was a haunted house. The entrance was cloaked in fog, its jagged letters dripping with artificial blood as distorted moans and sinister whispers spilled from within.

“This,” he declared, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the dark maw of the attraction, “is where you’re finally gonna break.”

You stepped inside without hesitation, the darkness swallowing you both. Animatronic ghouls lunged from the shadows, their plastic claws snapping inches from your face. A specter floated above you, its hollow eyes glowing red as it let out a guttural scream.

But you didn’t flinch.

By the time you emerged on the other side, his grin had soured into a frustrated scowl. “You’re kidding me,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing? Not even a ‘holy crap, that’s creepy’?”

“They tried too hard,” you replied evenly. “The suspense was predictable.”

“You’re a robot,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “An actual, emotionless robot.”

———

At the dart-throwing booth, he claimed he’d win you another stuffed animal to add to the growing collection he’d forced on you throughout the night. The attendant handed him a set of darts, and he aimed with exaggerated focus, his tongue poking out slightly in mock determination.

You stood beside him, arms crossed, your expression as neutral as ever.

“Bet I can hit all three bullseyes,” he said, tossing a dart into the air and catching it with a flourish. “And if I do, you have to smile. Deal?”

“I’m not making that deal,” you replied, your voice as dry as the desert air.

“Scared I’ll win?” he teased, launching the first dart. It missed the bullseye by a hair.

“Not particularly,” you said, watching as he threw the second dart, this one landing even farther from the center.

By the third throw, he groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up as the dart barely grazed the edge of the target. “Okay, maybe I’m a little rusty,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Or maybe you’re just bad at this,” you said, your tone cool but tinged with the faintest edge of amusement.

He turned to you, his grin returning full force. “There it is! A hint of a smirk! I knew you had emotions buried under all that ice.”

You rolled your eyes and started walking toward the next attraction. He followed, his steps quick and eager, like a hunter who’d finally glimpsed their prey.

The night stretched on, filled with more teasing, more dragging you to rides you didn’t care for, and more attempts to crack your facade. By the end of it, he was exhausted but victorious, a spring in his step as he carried yet another oversized stuffed animal under his arm.

“You had fun,” he declared as you walked toward the exit.

“You’re delusional,” you replied, but there was no venom in your voice.

“Admit it,” he said, leaning closer, his grin practically glowing in the dark. “You loved it.”

You didn’t respond, but for the briefest moment, the corner of your lips twitched upward—a flicker of something you didn’t even recognize as a smile.

And that was enough for him.

────────────

The Ferris wheel loomed above like a spinning constellation, its skeletal frame outlined in garish neon light that flickered against the starless sky. You were already seated, arms crossed, gaze fixed forward as the car rocked gently in the breeze. He slid in beside you, the faint scent of cologne and adrenaline trailing in his wake, and the metal bar clamped down with an ominous click, locking the two of you in place.

“Relax,” he said, his voice a shade softer than usual, though still laced with that persistent edge of mischief. “This is the best part of the night. Views like this? They don’t come often.”

You didn’t respond. The city below unfolded in a sea of chaotic lights, each one a reminder of the noise you’d been forced into. A quiet hum of tension coiled in your chest, a restless ache that he seemed to notice, though you wished he wouldn’t.

The wheel began to ascend, the creak of its movement loud in the silence between you. His gaze flicked from the cityscape to you, studying the profile of your face as though trying to decipher a puzzle he didn’t know how to solve.

“You know,” he began, leaning back against the seat with an exaggerated sigh, “you’re really bad at this whole ‘fun’ thing.”

“I’m aware,” you said dryly, not bothering to look at him.

“You’re supposed to be amazed by the view,” he teased, gesturing toward the glittering expanse below. “You know, lean in a little, say something like, ‘Oh wow, it’s so beautiful.’”

“Do I seem like the type to do that?” you asked, finally turning to meet his gaze.

“No,” he admitted, his grin lopsided and warm in a way that caught you off guard. “But it’d be nice to see you try.”

The Ferris wheel stopped suddenly, your car swaying slightly as it perched at the very top. He looked out over the city, his grin fading into something quieter, something uncharacteristically reflective.

“Pretty high up, huh?” he said, more to himself than to you.

You followed his gaze, the city spread out like a map, its lights blurred and distant. The air up here felt thinner, cleaner, as though you’d left the chaos below and entered some liminal space where nothing could reach you.

And then he looked back at you.

———

For the first time in a long time, the constant noise in his head—the laughter, the jokes, the relentless chatter that kept the silence at bay—dimmed into something else. Something quieter. Something unsettling. He wasn’t used to this kind of stillness, this kind of weight pressing against the walls of his ribcage.

You didn’t notice, of course. Your gaze was fixed on the view, your profile illuminated by the cold, artificial light of the Ferris wheel’s cabin. To anyone else, you might’ve seemed serene, but he knew better. There was tension in the set of your jaw, in the way your fingers gripped the edge of the seat as though you needed to hold onto something to keep from slipping away entirely.

He hated that he noticed these things. Hated that, for once, his usual shield of irreverence and detachment wasn’t enough to keep this gnawing feeling at bay.

It wasn’t love—not the dizzying, saccharine thing he’d seen in movies or read about in books. It was something darker, sharper, as though you were a shard of glass lodged under his skin. He couldn’t stop himself from turning you over in his mind, dissecting every detail, every flaw, every crack in your otherwise impenetrable armor.

You were fascinating in a way that felt dangerous.

He didn’t know what to make of it.

His hand twitched on the seat between you, the urge to reach out almost unbearable. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. The thought of touching you—of closing that impossible distance—was terrifying in a way he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t fear of rejection; he could handle that. It was something else, something far more primal.

Because if he touched you, if he broke through that careful veneer of professionalism and indifference, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like?” he asked suddenly, his voice low and uncharacteristically quiet.

You didn’t turn to look at him, your gaze still fixed on the view. “What what’s like?”

“To feel alive,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your brow furrowed slightly, but you didn’t respond.

He let out a soft, humorless laugh, leaning back against the seat. “Never mind. Stupid question.”

But it wasn’t. Not to him.

Because for the first time in years—maybe ever—he felt something. Something real.

And it unsettled him.

———

“I don’t get you,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “You’re impossible to crack, and for some reason, I can’t stop trying.”

You raised an eyebrow, more out of habit than genuine curiosity. “Sounds like a personal problem.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe it is.”

The silence between you two was a taut string, stretched so thin it felt as if the smallest sound might snap it. Outside the cabin, the Ferris wheel creaked as it swayed gently, the city sprawled below like a graveyard of flickering lights. Inside, the air felt heavier, dense with something intangible and electric that neither of you dared to name.

He shifted closer, so subtly that you didn’t notice at first. The slight groan of the seat’s weight-bearing joints was drowned out by the pounding of his own heartbeat, a rhythm he suddenly couldn’t ignore. His arm rested casually against the back of the seat, but his entire body was taut, every muscle coiled as if anticipating some unspoken impact.

His gaze drifted to you, no longer playful or teasing but something else—something raw, a little desperate, and utterly unfamiliar to him. He could see the faint outline of your lashes against your cheek, the soft curve of your lips as your expression remained distant, detached.

And yet, to him, you were a storm barely contained, your quietness thrumming with an energy he could feel in his bones.

He didn’t notice the way his own breathing had shifted, deeper now, as if his body were bracing for something he couldn’t quite define. His eyes flicked downward—just a moment, a heartbeat—and caught on the soft shape of your mouth. It wasn’t intentional, but once he saw it, he couldn’t unsee it.

He swallowed hard, the sound audible in the tight confines of the cabin.

“I—” he started, his voice faltering like an engine choking on its own fuel. He barely recognized the sound coming out of his mouth, stripped of its usual bravado and swagger.

He should’ve stopped there. Should’ve cracked a joke or leaned back with that cocky grin that had always been his armor. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

His hand lifted almost on its own, shaking slightly as it reached toward your face. The tips of his fingers brushed against a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear with a gentleness that felt alien to him. It was clumsy, hesitant—nothing like the smooth confidence he usually exuded.

The heat radiating from you was intoxicating, pulling him closer even as his mind screamed at him to stop. His breath hitched as he leaned in, so slowly it felt as though time itself had slowed to a crawl.

He wasn’t thinking anymore. The usual whirlwind of his mind—sharp, quick, always moving—had stilled completely.

All he could focus on was you.

The curve of your lips. The faint rise and fall of your chest. The way you still hadn’t looked at him, so lost in your own world that you hadn’t yet noticed the dangerous proximity between you.

His breath mingled with yours now, warm and unsteady, as his lips hovered just a hair’s breadth away from yours. His eyes half-closed, the edges of his vision blurring as every instinct in him screamed to close the gap.

And then—

Your eyes snapped to his, sharp and unyielding like a blade cutting through fog.

It hit you like a jolt of electricity, the realization of just how close he was, how dangerously near his lips hovered to yours.

But it hit him harder.

The sharpness in your gaze was like a bucket of ice water, dousing the fire he hadn’t even realized had been consuming him.

His eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as he froze in place. He looked at you—not just at you, but into you—as though seeing something he hadn’t been prepared for.

And for the first time in his life, he felt utterly and completely exposed.

———

His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and rough, as though he’d swallowed gravel. “You’ve never been kissed, have you?”

You stiffened, your brows knitting together in a glare that could have frozen the sun. “That’s none of your concern.”

He laughed softly, the sound devoid of its usual bravado. “Oh, but it is, sweetheart. I’m your boyfriend, remember?” His voice dipped into that familiar, playful lilt, but there was something else beneath it now—a hunger, a yearning he didn’t fully understand.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you didn’t pull away. Not yet. That tiny sliver of hope spurred him on, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out every rational thought in his head.

“I bet no one’s dared,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin as his thumb traced slow circles against your jaw. “You’re too intimidating. Too untouchable.”

He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “But not to me.”

And then, he closed the gap.

It wasn’t a calculated move, nor was it born of confidence. It was instinctive, driven by a force he couldn’t name. His lips brushed yours, tentative and hesitant, as though afraid you might shatter beneath his touch.

For a fraction of a second, everything else fell away—the city lights, the Ferris wheel, the constant cacophony of his mind. All that existed was you, the impossible warmth of you, and the way your lips were softer than he’d dared imagine—

And then, the world snapped back into focus.

Your palm connected with his cheek in a sharp, resounding slap that echoed through the tiny cabin. The force of it sent his head snapping to the side, his lips tingling from the abrupt end of the kiss.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you hissed, your voice as sharp and cold as a blade.

He blinked, stunned for a moment, before his signature grin broke across his face. His cheek was already reddening, and he rubbed it with a dramatic wince, leaning back in his seat as though to put some distance between you.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I get it. Ice queen stays frosty. My bad for trying to thaw you out a little.”

His tone was playful, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something raw and uncertain that he buried as quickly as it surfaced.

You glared at him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “This is a transactional relationship. Don’t forget that.”

“Transaction noted,” he quipped, the grin never leaving his face. “But for the record? That slap was totally worth it.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering something under your breath that he couldn’t quite catch, and turned your attention back to the window.

But he didn’t stop watching you.

As he rubbed his sore cheek, his grin softened into something quieter, something closer to a smile. He didn’t fully understand what had compelled him to kiss you, nor did he understand why your rejection didn’t sting the way it should have.

All he knew was that, for the first time in his life, he wanted to try again.

———

“Did you think that was going to work?” you interrupted, your tone sharp enough to cut steel.

He let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as the initial shock melted into something more familiar: that damn grin. “Wow, okay. I go for one kiss—one—and you act like I tried to steal your soul.”

“You did try to steal something,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “My patience.”

“That’s already gone,” he countered, leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “You can’t slap me twice for the same crime.”

“Try me,” you said, your glare unwavering.

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine as he rubbed his cheek. “Man, you’re vicious. It’s kind of hot.”

────────────

He watched as you rubbed your sleeve across your mouth, your motions brisk and unrelenting, as though scrubbing the very memory of him off your skin. His grin faltered for just a second, invisible to anyone who wasn’t looking too closely. Of course, you weren’t—you never were. Your focus was singular, your eyes narrowed and lips pressed in a thin, disapproving line as though he’d just committed a cardinal sin.

It stung more than he cared to admit. Not that he’d let you see it. No, no. His ego may have been bruised, but he wasn’t about to lick his wounds in front of you. Instead, he leaned back in his seat with a dramatic sigh, one hand pressed over his chest as though your rejection had physically pierced him.

“Wow,” he drawled, his tone laced with exaggerated disbelief. “I didn’t realize my kiss was that traumatic. Should I be offended or impressed by your dedication to erasure?”

You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass, but it only fueled the smirk crawling back onto his face.

“Seriously,” he continued, ignoring the icy tension radiating off you. “I’ve seen people wipe ketchup off their mouths with less vigor. I mean, I’m not that bad, am I?”

You didn’t respond, too busy swiping at your lips like a woman possessed, as though the mere memory of his touch was a poison you needed to purge.

He leaned closer, the teasing glint in his eyes sharpening to a dangerous edge. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re gonna scrub your skin raw. And here I thought I was the one who left a mark.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snapped, your tone colder than the winter wind.

“Oh, but it’s so easy when you’re this much fun.” He rested his chin in his palm, his grin widening as he studied you like you were his favorite puzzle. “Though I gotta say, you’re hurting my feelings here. Most girls would be swooning right about now. But you?” He whistled low, shaking his head. “Stone cold. A real ice queen through and through.”

“Good,” you bit back, finally lowering your sleeve. “Maybe you’ll think twice before pulling another stunt like that.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, but there was a flicker of something more behind it—something softer, unspoken. “You think I’m gonna stop? Not a chance. You’re way too fun to mess with.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your gaze back to the window. “Whatever. Just…keep your distance.”

“Sure thing, princess.” His voice dipped into a mock-serious tone, but the glint in his eyes betrayed him. “But don’t blame me when you start dreaming about it later. They say first kisses are unforgettable, after all.”

Your hand twitched like you were debating whether or not to slap him again, but you refrained, choosing instead to glare daggers at the glass.

He leaned back with a satisfied hum, crossing his arms as his grin softened into something quieter, something almost contemplative.

You might have been disgusted, but at least you weren’t indifferent. That thought alone was enough to keep his grin intact.

———

The cabin settled into a tense quiet, broken only by the faint creaks of the Ferris wheel as it descended. You’d stopped scrubbing at your lips, though the memory of his clumsy attempt lingered, palpable and unwelcome. With a slow, deliberate breath, you turned your focus outward, toward the sprawling view of the amusement park bathed in fractured, golden light.

“I’ll have you know,” you said softly, your voice sharp yet devoid of its earlier venom, “that wasn’t my first kiss.”

The words were like a scalpel, slicing clean and deep, leaving behind a sting that lingered in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t show it. He never did.

Instead, he let out a short laugh, tilting his head as though brushing off your statement with his usual flippancy. “Well, color me surprised,” he drawled, his tone laced with mock astonishment. “The ice queen has a romantic history. Who’d have thought?”

You didn’t respond, didn’t rise to the bait. The apathy in your gaze was unyielding, and that, more than your words, struck a chord he couldn’t name.

He shifted in his seat, suddenly restless, the smirk on his face becoming harder to maintain. Something stirred beneath his practiced exterior, an unfamiliar heat that crawled up his spine and settled, uncomfortably, in his chest.

Why did it matter?

He leaned back, forcing a casual posture, though the muscles in his jaw tightened. “Well, good for you,” he said, a little too quickly, a little too brightly. “Guess I can’t claim to be your first, huh?”

There it was again, that strange burning sensation. It twisted and coiled, feeding on itself, until it became something dark and unrelenting. He told himself it was nothing—just his ego stinging from your rejection. But deep down, in a part of himself he rarely acknowledged, he knew it wasn’t that simple.

You tilted your head slightly, your profile illuminated by the faint glow of the park below. “It wasn’t anything special,” you said, your tone devoid of emotion. “Just another transaction.”

Another transaction.

The words settled like lead in his stomach.

He laughed again, louder this time, but the sound rang hollow in his own ears. “Figures,” he said, his voice pitched light and teasing, masking the weight behind the words. “Trust you to make even romance sound like a business deal.”

You glanced at him, one brow arched, and for a moment, he thought you might say something else. Instead, you turned back to the window, your posture relaxed but distant, like the space between you was a chasm neither of you could—or would—cross.

His gaze lingered on you, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw, the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way the faint light cast shadows across your face. That burning sensation flared again, sharp and insistent, as though it were trying to tell him something he wasn’t ready to hear.

He didn’t understand it—this sudden, inexplicable need to prove himself to you, to earn something that no transaction could buy. It gnawed at him, a quiet fury that wouldn’t be silenced, no matter how much he tried to brush it off.

For the first time in his life, he felt unsteady, uncertain, as though the foundation he’d built himself on was beginning to crack.

And he hated it.

“Must’ve been a hell of a boring kiss,” he said, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bet I could’ve done better.”

You snorted softly, but didn’t take the bait.

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with something unspoken, as the Ferris wheel continued its slow descent.

And for the first time that night, he didn’t feel like laughing.

────────────

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hwaslayer · 2 days ago

Text

wildfire (cs) | 10.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 2k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, infidelity, flirting, kissing/making out, there is trouble everywhere quite frankly…. gonna dip once i post bcos i know this is bad but there’s def another future 0.5 chapter that might be worse

⇢ POSTDOC | YR 2.5

"Babe." Iseul whines a bit, making San mimic her pout before tapping her nose.

"Love. How about I take you out this weekend to make up for it? We can go somewhere, just us two."

"Okay, but it'd be better if you could do that and come hang out tonight, too."

"I'll try."

"San."

"I'll try." He chuckles. "I should really finish up behavior tonight and that review for the paper we're working on. I'm already behind."

"Who said? You still have time."

"I have to get this done by next week." He gives her a sympathetic smile before placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Next week."

"I'll try and get it done so I can hang out with you two, k?" He cups her cheeks. She can't help but continue to pout and cross her arms, even when he kisses her on the tip of her nose and on the lips. Part of her continues to have a soft spot for her man, the love of her life.

Part of her wants to continue being supportive because she loves seeing San excel in his craft, she loves being by his side throughout all his achievements and vice versa. She feels like together, they can conquer the world together— be unstoppable, reach the top.

The other half, maybe more than half at this point, is sad. Empty. She longs for the man she fell in love with, she longs for his company. His time. His effort.

His kisses, his cuddles. Everything.

Iseul never thought the lines would blur.

"Okay?" San repeats, causing Iseul to return her full attention on him. She gives him a small smile and nod, San's thumbs caressing her cheeks. "Better." He subtly bites his lip before caressing her chin. "C'mere." He leans forward to peck her lips again, and again.

And again.

Before they're both standing near her car, kissing under the late afternoon sun. Iseul tugs on San's shirt, deepening the kiss as she pulls him closer. He softly groans against her lips, Iseul's hand slowly traveling down to his belt.

"Baby." He pulls back and chuckles.

"We can be quick." She chases after his lips and presses small, repeated kisses against them before he's gently prying her off and shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, baby. I gotta go." She whines again before he's kissing her one last time on the lips and forehead. "You can have me all you want later tonight. And tomorrow. And the weekend."

"Ugh. I hope you know how much I'm sacrificing so you can hurry and finish." He laughs.

"I love you."

"Love you, too." She sighs, watching as San waves before doing a light jog back to the building. She slips into her car and connects a call to the bluetooth just as she pulls out of the parking spot.

"Yo!" Yunho answers the call almost immediately.

"Hey. What can I bring to your place for tonight?"

"Hm. Soju? I think I'm almost out." Yunho hums. "Chips and any other snacks."

"Okay, so everything? What do you even have at home?"

"Me, myself and I." Iseul laughs.

"Uh. So much for inviting us over when you don't even have anything ready."

"I'll whip something up, don't worry! Why the doubting?"

"Alright, boss. Counting on you then."

"You know what else I need?"

"What, Yunho?" He chuckles.

"You." It’s meant to be a lighthearted joke; nothing more, nothing less. But, it does something to Iseul and Yunho knows it well enough by this point.

"You're so sappy. Quit it." She blushes to herself, biting her bottom lip even though she playfully scolds him.

"Nah. It's kinda fun seeing you all flustered."

"Hate you."

"Sad. I don't." She shakes her head and smiles. "Sliding through soon?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna freshen up and change at the house first after grabbing groceries."

"San is coming?"

"He said he'll try and wrap up quick so he can join."

"Ah, okay." Yunho sighs a bit. It's been awhile since he's been able to hang out with his bestfriend, but he understands how important his work is right now. He tries to be, at least. He knows how it all goes.

He just wishes San would give himself more time to relax. Enjoy life a little bit, just like he used to.

"I'll see you in a bit then."

"Mhm. I'll text you when I'm on the way."

"How exciting."

"Shut up." She ends the call. Suddenly, those dark, sad feelings she felt earlier are gone. Suddenly, she's happy. She feels a bit giddy. Excited.

Iseul isn't really sure when the line started to blur.

But somehow, they're here and Yunho isn't sure how they'll go back and undo whatever they've created between each other. He knows this shouldn’t even be a thing. He should feel like some sort of last resort, a rebound— like he's the cushion that keeps Iseul company solely because San isn't around. Yunho knows there shouldn't be much to it.

So, why is there more to it?

It must have been all the kick-its with friends, all the lunches and casual dinners. It must have been the exchanged texts with stupid [but silly] memes or tweets the other would appreciate. It must have been the calls just to check in with each other. It must have been the subtle, lingering looks.

Accidentally brushing hands.

Teasing and poking fun at each other.

Flirty undertones.

Saying shit to make the other smile or laugh.

San would have just assumed they were being normal around each other. They had always been close anyway, but he says that because he doesn't catch the small acts in between.

The very small, but clear and intentional acts.

For a minute, Iseul thought it was a phase because Yunho was there like he had always been. But then, the feelings and the thoughts stayed for longer than a phase; piled up over weeks and weeks.

Until she realized what it meant.

So, she tried to distract herself and force herself to understand that it was truly just a phase. When San was around, she'd affectionately hug him. Kiss him. Cuddle him. Pull him to bed and make him cum over and over again to feel satisfied, to feel like she was still wanted by her man.

His moans and the loud calls of her name the only thing granting that satisfaction. Even though, could she say the affection behind it was genuine?

Clear, intentional?

Who's to say?

Especially when she's happily skipping down the aisles in the grocery store, grabbing the soju that both she and Yunho like; the one that San doesn't really like as much but he'll deal and make do. Especially when she's throwing on a form-fitting zip-up and leggings, trying to come off as comfy, but alluring. Especially when she sprays her perfume and dabs on a bit of lip gloss for a lazy kick-it that’s staying behind doors and enclosed walls.

Especially when she walks through the door to greet Yunho with a big hug— one that has him swinging her around before they plop onto the living room floor and get started on the drunk, scary indie movie and short film marathon the three agreed to do as a way of de-stressing.

Especially when Iseul gets the dreaded but expected text from San, and she can't help but welcome back the same feelings of emptiness and disappointment from earlier.

san: running behind. i don't think i'll make it, love. i'm sorry. tell yunho i’m sorry, too.

san: i'll be home tonight - i'll make it up to you. this weekend, too. 😘 i'm all yours.

"He's not coming." Iseul says, taking another huge swig from their third soju bottle of the night, making Yunho nod silently.

"I'm sorry—"

"It's fine, don't be such a debbie downer." She laughs, playfully punching him on the bicep. Yunho catches her hand in his when she attempts to pinch him the second time around, making her pout in return. "Ouch!"

"Says you who was just about to punch me on the bicep, meanie." She giggles when he lets go of her hand. "I'll let it go. At least you're laughing and smiling."

"Yeah." She looks up at him. "You surely do make me laugh and smile."

"Good or bad way?"

"Good. How could that be a bad thing?"

"I don't know, you could just think I'm stupid." She snorts.

"Never."

"Well, good." Yunho smiles. "I like it when you laugh and smile."

"I like it when you make me laugh and smile, Yunho."

"Yeah?" He drunkly rests his cheek on the palm of his hand, elbow on the surface of the table. "What else do you like, Iseul?"

"A lot of things."

"Mhm." He hums in a sing-song tone before leaning closer to tease her a bit. "What are a lot of things? Name a few."

"Yogurt soju, melon bread, being in bed after a long day and letting the sheets engulf me. Reading in a hot bath with candles lit up. To name a few." She leans forward to match him. "I don't think I can say anything else."

"Why not?"

"Because other things could be bad for me."

"In what way specifically?"

"Just cause." Her voice is barely above a whisper, lips only inches away from Yunho's.

"Just cause? How bad could it be?" She subtly shrugs before her eyes are dipping down to his lips, back up to his eyes.

"Dunno. You tell me." She distractedly says.

"What if.. maybe.. it isn't a necessarily a bad thing at all?" There's a thick silence in the air, but no one wants to address the tension, the elephant in the room. So, after a few minutes of said silence, Iseul leans forward and just kisses him— somehow thinking it could address the tension or whatever elephant is hiding in the room.

And at first, it shocks Yunho.

He freezes because he knows this shouldn't have happened. It fucking shouldn't have happened and he should’ve put a stop to it ASAP. Because Iseul was San's and vice versa, they made vows and devoted their lives to each other in front of him, and they were good together.

Yunho isn't really sure when the line started to blur.

But then, he finds himself chasing after her lips to kiss her again, and again— until things can't be stopped and San's texts are going unanswered while Iseul's phone sits on the coffee table and vibrates away.

Her and Yunho are no longer sitting around watching the short film that's on. It eventually plays a random video next because no one is paying attention to what’s happening in the background. Empty soju bottles are spread across the surface of the table, along with open bags of chips and empty bowls. TV serving its purpose as background noise, almost fighting with the loud kisses and subtle moans leaving their lips while Iseul continues to make a place for herself on Yunho’s lap.

Meanwhile, San tucks his phone into his pocket, shrugging off the entire thing after he had sent her a few more follow up texts with all his ideas on how to make up for tonight. And tomorrow. And the weekend. He felt bad, but he was genuinely excited to do things with Iseul. To take her out on dates, travel near and far with her just to be alone. Rekindle the flame. Bring back that love, passion, that had been slowly dying because of his own fault.

It wasn't entirely uncommon for Iseul to let texts go unanswered, but he was only worried because he knew that initial 'sorry can't make it' text upset her. She was probably trying to distract herself and lean on Yunho. Which, San can't help but think that Yunho does a way better job of being there for her than he actually does as her husband. It kinda aches him to think about it, and he's not sure how to navigate his own feelings when he keeps replaying that bar scene in his head.

For San, there’s no use in figuring this out because he knows they're good friends. They get along well, and he should be glad that they do. There isn’t anything to worry about despite his mixed feelings and confusing thoughts.

But for Iseul and Yunho, there’s no use in figuring out when this all happened, why this all happened— because everything has become perfectly clear and defined.

The small acts gone unnoticed no longer small and unable to be hidden.

Clear, intentional.

Now, the lines are no longer blurred.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme

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nicholaschavezobsessed · 3 days ago

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HIIIIIII

First I wanna say I love your work and give you all my support

So I was thinking a husband!father Charlie x wife!reader (cause I saw in a fic that apparently priest can stay married if they got married before they became priest but hey I dunno girl I ain’t Christian😭) and like reader work at the diner where Megan and Charlie goes to eat in episode 2 and reader is really jealous of Megan and hate her (she don’t hide it from Charlie) because she’s supposed to be a nun but she’s still drooling over Charlie.

This is all I got because it’s been in my late night fake scenarios for WEEKS but I always called asleep before fixing an end😭

Love ya kiss kiss💗🫶

Jealous Girl (Father Charlie x wife reader)

warnings: language, implied actions

wordcount: 1.1k

authors note: I enjoyed writing this one. Thank you for the support!!! VERY appreciated love! I hope this is similar to what you were wanting! Let me know if you want a pt. 2!!

You never gave much thought to your future. Your mind was fixated on one thing and one thing only: Charlie Mayhew and his damn charm. From the very moment you laid eyes on him, he completely consumed me. He is the one thing that managed to make you think about the future; you'd be more than just a waitress at the simple diner in your town; you'd be his wife, and that was something you made sure of. One thing you didn't count on? Your personal trainer husband becoming a priest. It wasn't an easy change; you weren't really a religious person, so you didn't really understand his calling, but you supported him the best you could.

(Present day)

It was a normal day in the diner, not completely empty but not completely full. Nothing really caught your eye until the bell jingled, signaling a customer walking in; you ruffled down your uniform, putting on your customer service smile. "Welcome in..." You trail off, soaking in the person in front of you. Dressed in black and white, full-on nun attire with her phone glued to her hand. You quickly clear your throat, realizing you had stared a bit too long. "Welcome in Sister. Would you prefer a seat at the counter or in a booth?" She takes a second, glancing between the booth and the counter. "A booth please. I'm meeting someone; face to face seems better." She flashes you an awkward smile, waiting for you to lead the way. "Of course, right this way." You grab two menus, thoughts clawing at your brain. Who could she be meeting? More nuns? Not really something the diner sees a lot. Truckers? Yes. Nuns? No. You lead her to her booth, placing a menu in front of and across from her. You pull your pen from behind your ear and a notepad out as she slides into her spot, eyes bouncing from me to the door. "Can I get you started with something to drink?" Her eyes dart to you, "A water would be fine, thank you." You nod, beaming her a smile before walking off.

The sound of chitter fills your ears as you make your way behind the counter, huffing to yourself as you fix her water. Another one of your customers at the counter flag you down for a refill. You top off their coffee before sauntering off back to the nun's booth with her water and your notepad at the ready. "Can I get you something to eat while you wait, hun?" She moves a strand of blonde, curly hair from her eyes as she shakes her head. "I'll wait for the father to arrive; I don't want to seem rude, but could I change out my water for a root beer when you take my order?" You nod, stashing away your notepad. "Just holler when you need me!" You wipe down a table passing the time, humming to yourself when the doorbell jingles again. You look back in curiosity, only to see your husband. You bite the inside of your cheek, a nasty habit when you're worried. You abandon the task at hand, rushing to your husband, worried something could be wrong. "Hey, is everything okay?" You bite your lip nervously as his face scrunches into confusion. "Everything's fine? Why wouldn't it be?" You exhaled deeply, shoulders dropping as the worry melted away. "Sorry, love, I just wasn't expecting a visit from you today. He shakes his head, eyes glancing behind you. You turn your head to meet what had his attention. Ah, the nun. "She's been waiting for you, father." The word comes out harsher than you expected, catching him off guard. He places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, gently giving it a squeeze. "I'm just here to go over a story she wrote for the paper. She's been bringing in a lot more people to my sermons. You hum in response as you lead him to her booth, ready to take their order. "We'll both take the burger and fries." She answers for the both of them; you jot it down and walk off. You place the ticket in the window, your eyes never leaving their table.

You crossed your arms over your chest, your jaw tightening as your gaze followed their every movement. You knew you had nothing to worry about; she's a nun, but something in you just couldn't help it. You knew your husband was good-looking. His brown, styled-back hair, his piercing dark chocolate eyes that would make anyone melt, topped off with his perfect smile that could make your knees weak with one flash. His voice smooth like honey, you could just listen to him for hours, and below those robes was a perfect body. He truly was just perfect. Your hands fall to your side as you watch her flirt with him, him laughing and flashing that perfect smile. Your fists balled up at your sides, the tension in your knuckles betraying your calm demeanor. But duty calls, and their order is ready. You bring out the hot plates, interrupting the two of them so tangled up in their conversation. "Will that be all for you, sister? Father." You put on a fake smile, so hard you thought you might squeeze out your eyes. "No, this is perfect." You give her a nod and walk off, not acknowledging your husband. You have to remind yourself not to worry; he's married to you. Charlie was your strength, but also your weakness. You refuse to lose him.

You try to distract yourself by finishing up your shift; as soon as the clock strikes four, you toss off your apron and storm out of the diner, not even giving him a second glance. He knew he was in for it when he got home. You pull up to your home, nothing fancy; walking in you toss your keys on the counter and toss off your uniform, slipping into a robe. Time to decompress the day away until you hear a car screech into your driveway. Fuck. Charlie storms in, nose flared as he stalks towards you. You cross your arms, staring him down, daring him to say something stupid. "She's a fucking nun, Y/N. She has vows to honor." You take a step towards him, placing your pointer finger against his chest. "Yeah? Did you see the way she was looking at you, practically eye-fucking you? Just because she's a nun doesn't mean she wouldn't think about it." His jaw clenches as you stare at him, not giving in easily this time. He stares down at you, eyes piercing into your soul, when his hand reaches up, gripping your jaw. "I'm going to fix this little problem of yours, yeah?" His voice soft, the embodiment of calm. You raise your brows, a smirk tugging at your lips. "On your knees, now." Without a second thought, you slowly fall down to your knees; he leans down, his grip never leaving your jaw. His thumb pulls down your bottom lip, hunger burning with every touch. "Such a jealous fucking girl. I'm going to show you; I'm all yours."

————————————————————————

Tag list: @nicholaschavezslut69

#plus size reader #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x plus size reader #dr charlie mayhew #dr charlie mayhew x plus size reader #grotesquerie #father charlie x reader #charlie mayhew #father charlie x plus side reader #dr charlie mayhew x reader

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e-vay · 21 hours ago

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Hi!! First of all, I'm a BIG fan of yours and I love your work! My question is, do you still have your first reference sheet or your first design ideas for Aurora? Or maybe the names you have thought to give her? I'd love to know more about our girl!

Thank you so very much! I really appreciate that 🥰

A long time ago I posted a compilation of Aurora's designs throughout the years. She started out pink, then she was purple, then powder blue, then back to pink haha.

I'll give you the full rundown of Aurora's history but it's not all sunshine and rainbows, so buckle up!

When I very first started drawing her, her personality and background were COMPLETELY different. She was more of a reflection of all the shit I was going through at the time and she was my coping mechanism (🎶childhood trauma🎶). She was from a mechanoid, dystopian future and she was orphaned at a young age, so she was a very jaded character. She ended up traveling back in time and actually getting to meet Sonic and Amy (during the time we see them in the games), but she was really bitter and resentful towards them. I only have this one scan of a drawing from that era, I lost everything else:

I really do not know when this was drawn, but based on the art style and trying to recall what my living situation was like at the time, I am guessing this was probably around 2001.

Then between 2004-2006, things in my life started to drastically change again and so I don’t know, I guess I decided to reevaluate things? I don’t remember a lot from this time —again, childhood trauma—so I don’t remember exactly what sparked the change. But I think I was like "Wait a minute, Sonic and Amy and Aurora don't deserve this. I’ve been making this all about me. Let me try again." So then I rebuilt Aurora the proper way, thinking about what traits she’d inherit from her parents and the way they would raise her, and thinking about just how fun a family the three of them would be (because the ideals of “fun” and “adventure” are so important to both Sonic and Amy so of course they would make for a fun family). So that’s where her personality and relationship with Sonic and Amy became what you know it as today.

I fell out of the Sonic phase for awhile and was focused on other interests for several years, and then around 2014 I came back to Aurora and that’s where I ended up with her current design. Even then I was experimenting with her interests and motivations, and this is when I gave her the power of light. It just seemed to really suit her and I thought both Sonic and Amy are just such pure sources of light and love that it made sense for it to physically manifest as a power in her.

The one thing that's never changed was her name. She was always named Aurora, even from the very beginning.

I know this was a LOT of personal info about my own life, but my history played a huge part in the initial concept of Aurora which is so insanely different from the Aurora you all know, so that’s why I figured I’d explain.

#ask me #evayQA #aurora the hedgehog #my life #personal #trauma #childhood trauma #tmi #angst #drama #sonic trash #long post

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amyoffline · 20 hours ago

Text

In Defense of the Phandom (Mostly): Dan, Phil, and Our Parasocial Social Club

Refer to my previous pinned post for an explanation of and outline for this project. Now that I'm done going through my old reblogs (god, it took forever), it's time to actually research and write this script! Finally, my favorite part of any project. This will be my pinned post for the foreseeable future, so you can come back to by clicking on my blog for the current status of this part of the process. There will be a similar post for filming and editing once I get to that point, but for now, you can glance at how "full" the bar below each section is for a quick idea of where the script is. Or you can expand the post to see more details.

Script word count: 2,350 | Last updated: January 9, 2025

Research

Peer-reviewed or published literature: ⚫︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ Social media, forum archives, and fanwork: ⚫︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ The great rewatch: ⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ Discussions with other phannies (hey! that could be you, if you want!): ⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎

Writing

Introduction, background, and conclusion sections: ⚫︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ 2009-2013: ⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ 2014-2018: ⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ 2019-2025: ⚫︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ Long tangents (fandom, RPF, and PSIs/PSRs): ⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ Editing: ⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎

More details below the cut!

Research → peer reviewed or published literature:

I read a few things (like Haidt's The Anxious Generation) while I was in the process of searching academic databases, but most of the 403 works I have saved to Zotero for this are currently unread. They're not all the same length or will take the same amount of time to read, so the completion proportion is just getting updated based on vibes. I'm absolutely not referencing all 403 of these things in the script - I just cast a wide net for materials I thought might be relevant. Furthermore, there are some things I didn't save that I know I'll be referencing, like some of the Pew Research Center's work in the early to mid 2010s on teenagers and technology, or the journalistic coverage of what got my school district in huge trouble in 2011.

Research → Social media and forum archives:

The collection of posts, art, and fic (other than mine) to reference in the video. For regular posts and art, especially by people who have long since abandoned their accounts or whose content went pretty viral, I feel comfortable just showing things in the video with credit as examples. For fic, I intend to just discuss trends more broadly and vaguely since, as a fic writer myself, I know we tend to get more flack and less acclaim for our work and therefore prefer to stay out of the spotlight. Let me know if you think I should handle this differently - the academic impulse is to credit sources and reproducible searches for every single thing you do, but that's definitely not best practice for phandom history since we have so much "forbidden" lore. I'll also be reading the IDB forum front-to-back, listening to things like the phandom podcast, reading the current generation of phanzines, and looking at recent (and historical, if anyone has any) surveys done of phannies within the community. I'm assuming those folks would appreciate credit and/or a shoutout.

Research → The great rewatch:

Rewatching everything DNP-related so I can talk about it from more recent memory (and read what's left of the original comments for DNP videos that are still up at their original locations). I know there's a playlist for this but I also know it's incomplete, so I have been doing some poking around myself and will probably continue to.

Research → Discussions with other phannies:

Writing → Introduction, background, and conclusion sections

See old pinned post for the outline. Will expand details here once research is mostly done (I plan to read and watch everything in the research section aside from talking to other phannies, then complete the script's rough draft, then talk to others on call, then integrate that with and finalize the script).

Writing → 2009-2013

See above.

Writing → 2014-2018

See above.

Writing → 2019-2025

See above.

Writing → Long tangents (fandom, RPF, and PSRs/PSIs)

See above. These tangents are kind of mini video essays in and olf themselves, so I may write them while I'm reading through my saved stuff in Zotero and before I rewatch all the DNP videos.

#dan and phil #phan #dnp #daniel howell #amazingphil #amy writes #i feel weird putting this in the main tags but given it's been TWO WEEKS WITHOUT A PHUPLOAD no one's gonna mind #as indicated - this is now pinned on this sideblog! more minor status updates will just be tagged “amy writes” so follow if you want those

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ruegarding · 8 hours ago

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for context, @rosabell14 is referring to tags on this post.

ok we're going off-road w this one

generally speaking, i like the concept of "some things aren't meant to be controlled," which annabeth says to percy after he controls the poison. this is said and then immediately forgotten abt, however, this could be another angle of change, a reoccurring theme in hoo, as well as a continued theme from pjo.

obviously, from pjo, the change is addressed w the myths, the theme of yielding, and w the conclusion of the story:

hoo continues this concept of change w the percy-jason switch, the greek-roman conflict, the idea of what an identity is and how to change it, etc. there's a lot of individual character work w this idea, but there's less of a mythological concept attached to it. gaea is a static and flatly written antagonist, octavian becomes incredibly flat as a character and his development into this sort of fanatical antagonist that is never explored, there's a lot of teeth-gritting abt how the gods are gods and they never change and everyone just has to accept it, the myths aren't challenged in the same way they were in pjo, etc. there's a few major exceptions, i'll get to that.

this is a glaring issue i have w hoo. it wouldn't be as bad as a standalone, but hoo makes the entirety of the previous series meaningless. in tlo, percy asks for kids to get claimed and be trained so when (or if) they have to go on dangerous quests/fight monsters/etc they're both older and more experienced. this is the conclusion to the war and how the status quo is changed (disability accommodations expanded to reach more ppl and work more effectively).

hoo, however, does not do this. camp jupiter infamously has a child army while the adults are retired, all of the new characters are younger than percy (who is still 16), and only two of them have spent a long period of time training, although hazel's isn't formal/in a camp (and piper doesn't even learn how to fight until book four ffs). this sort of immediately bastardizes pjo in a way that is never acknowledge by the series and makes it, and anything after it, a failure as a continuation of pjo.

and that's where this theme could've come in. when bob is remembering who he is, him and percy have this back-and-forth abt identity. percy relates to bob bc he, too, just had his memory erased and that vulnerability exploited (annabeth's perspective in this conversation is very different bc she doesn't have this same experience nor does she understand percy's feelings abt it. a good way to build tension using different povs, but, once again, doesn't get fully utilized). in the conclusion that conversation, there's an interesting moment:

this is that idea again, "some things aren't meant to be controlled," like fate, like identity. titans are meant to "be the same...forever." and here percy is, not only as the catalyst for change by throwing bob into the river lethe, but also by encouraging him to commit to this change once bob should know better. this was percy's role in the previous series, as well, where he constantly challenges the perspective of other characters to be more quote human unquote.

afterwards, annabeth has a similar moment w damasen:

i also think these are very funny to have side-by-side, just as character analysis, bc percy is very much both insecure and empathetic like u can choose ur future, it's up to u, etc, whereas annabeth is like i am right, listen to me.

anyway, both of these moments repeat the idea from pjo/tlo: immortals can't change. but they are changing. and they will change. the rules of the world are malleable (i also think hazel's monologue abt seeing the minotaur as a victim would be another aspect of this to explore). what abt traditions? what abt camp jupiter's child army? how should these change? going back to the og thought, tho, what shouldn't change? what are the "some things" that aren't meant to be controlled? how do you balance traditions and reform (great opportunity to use octavian btw!)? why can't a god be human, act human? why are the ancient rules important? that's an important discussion to have if we're growing this universe.

i don't particularly like that hoo immediately reverts back w the premise of the story, like i was talking abt earlier, nor do i think these characters were introduced or used well in canon, but using these characters, these moments, these conversations, rick could've salvaged this mess by embracing change isn't a static thing. he doesn't, tho, so it's all lost potential.

separately, something i've always liked abt the akhlys fight is that percy wins the literal, physical fight against her, but loses the metaphorical fight. he gets to walk away, but he walks away miserable. and this is bc the gods aren't ppl, they're physical representations of concepts. and percy has this thought abt tartarus and gaea while in tartarus, and i believe it's brought up in boo, but it's barely relevant. it's something i wish was explored more.

now onto specific characters. i talk abt my general idea here, ie this moment in tartarus is forcing percy and annabeth to confront their worst-case scenarios.

for annabeth, i've repeatedly gone on record to say i hate the way annabeth is written in hoo, here is an example, ie her fatal flaw does not come thru in her character (i also think she and percy switched characterizations from pjo to hoo, but...). separate issue is that annabeth's character revolves around percy a lot. so there are two issues i would focus on, largely bc she's not written well and doesn't have established unique conflicts. like,

this is a big revelation at the end of hoh, that she has to "step back" and she can't "protect everyone she love[s]." except it doesn't make any sense. tlo ended w annabeth telling percy to give luke her knife which luke uses to kill himself. not to mention, thalia's sacrifice on hbh. ALSO. percy accepting the prophecy and "taking the brunt of the danger"! and finally. annabeth has been at camp for 7-8 years. 1) she should have relationships w these ppl and 2) she should care that some of the ogs died in the previous war (which would also require rick to figure out who died lol). but the point is, this isn't a new conflict for annabeth!

the thought she had in moa abt having to accept she's not always the best person for the job:

this is not built up nor is it delivered on, but would be interesting, given that she demanded to be on the quest and if there was an actual power struggle instead of writing her as the de facto leader. this would be a better conflict than accepting that "she couldn't protect everyone she loved" when she has historically not been able to protect everyone she loved.

anyway, back on topic.

first, this moment exists to challenge her perception of percy, which is important to challenge bc she quite frankly has an unhealthy attachment to him. other ppl have said this better than i, so here's a post abt codependency and p*rcabeth and here's another one i rbed a while ago.

tldr; rick treats annabeth's abandonment issues/possessiveness/codependency as like. cute, peak romance. and he's been doing this since pjo, right, like annabeth's abandonment issues and possessiveness didn't matter when it was thalia joining the hunters,—bc there's no romance trope here w thalia—but gods forbid percy speak to rachel.

and this doesn't change in hoo. in fact, it's worse. like,

i'm going to [statement redacted] rick for this. what part of this is cute??? i'm killing it with fire.

so anyway, i want to treat annabeth's possessiveness/etc as an actual, consistent, character flaw, that she can grow out of, even. maybe even connect it to her hubris or her rsd. explore her feelings abt luke now that we have her pov to do it in. the fallout from this moment w akhlys is a great way to begin delving into that bc it's a shocking moment for her.

second, and going back to the theme of change, annabeth is different from percy in the sense that she has a different relationship to the gods than him (which i'm comparing bc i think rick (and fandom) has a hard time giving these two consistent and separate personalities/beliefs post pjo). the two times she has rebelled against the gods directly were bc of percy's influence (again, this is percy's role in pjo), 1) in the zoo truck, a scene that only takes place bc percy challenged her view of the poseidon-athena rivalry and their place in it, and 2) w hera where the first words out of annabeth's mouth are literally "percy is right."

i find this interesting especially bc her fatal flaw is hubris, which is common in mythology and frequently ends up fatal bc ppl challenge the gods. so, annabeth using the gods and these stories to keep her hubris in check makes complete sense.

and it seems like this is the same approach she's using w percy:

percy is directly challenging a god for power, and more than that, he's challenging a domain he's not supposed to have control of at all.

very interesting! does not get explored. such is common for hoo.

for percy, this scene is part of a long-running conversation of his powers (which is a huge part of his disability coding!!!!!). and it doesn't go anywhere.

percy has established anger issues and implied emotional dysregulation. this has been a thing since the beginning, literally chapter one of tlt! punishing percy for this when he's clearly not getting the support he needs is. a choice. also there's the issue that hoo kinda. erases this aspect of percy's character until the confrontation w akhlys, which is a separate but related issue.

there really should've been more buildup to this outburst (eg: in son percy punches a shelf in the library and immediately feels guilty bc he scares frank and hazel. percy is in an incredibly stressful situation; this should've happened more), but that would mean rick would treat it and the disability conversation seriously (which falls flat after son) and do less teeth-gritting abt the whole gods thing.

so, to go back on my "using the different povs to build tension was wildly underutilized" train, a featured part of almost everyone's pov is that percy is very kind, and gentle, and forgiving. i discuss a moment w frank being impressed w percy's selflessness here and he also says that he would follow percy anywhere, jason says percy is "a nice guy" after like 2 days, nico has his whole thing, hazel says "percy was a child of poseidon’s better nature," going on to describe him as gentle, etc.

and all of this praise goes nowhere and kinda just becomes percy is so awesome...and then turns into everything is percy's fault in boo...it's bad writing.

but it's an interesting opportunity to play w perspective. percy in pjo is dehumanized in that he is both villainized and idolized, and obviously hoo is continuing the trend w idolization. rick sets up a great plotline w this in moa:

and this doesn't go anywhere bc apparently percy's problem is that he needs to learn to step back. which. part of this is bc rick recycled plotlines from percy and gave them to other characters, which means that percy cannot be in character anymore without making themlook bad (the recycled plotlines i'm talking abt are the idolization, imposter syndrome, wanting to step back but constantly pushed into the spotlight, being seen as different/elevated status bc of ur parentage, struggling to connect to who your parent is, even the dehumanization as a weapon is straight out of percy's writing in pjo). this is a big problem w hoo in general ie characters becoming ooc by necessity (see: bad writing). the other part to blame is that rick is literally trying to redo tlo what w the whole "you are not the hero." it's all the same from pjo except written worse. it's a running theme of hoo (and a bonus). bad writing all the way down!

ANYWAY. so pjo ends w percy at an elevated status bc he 1) survived an unsurvivable prophecy, 2) was offered godhood, and 3) turned down godhood to improve the lives of the demigods while all the demigods watched. and he has the curse of achilles but. we all know how that went. the point is, all of this puts percy on a pedestal. i like to think it's the biggest reason hera kidnapped percy: if he said no, if he refused, she would've lost the support of almost all the demigods at chb (also the metaphor for the audience lol). i think making percy go on the quest, or at least to new rome, is the only good bit of world building rick did between books.

the problem is, rick is kinda all over the place w how percy is perceived and misses both the point of percy's character (callback to what i said abt his disability) and the world building of the previous series (what happened to power-scaling, narrative consequence, etc fr). that's what creates the flip-flopping "percy is perfect" and "everything is percy's fault," and neither are particularly good reads.

going back to annabeth, i don't think she's an exception in idolizing percy. she has no reason to see percy's vindictive side bc he works hard to hide it. even w crusty, annabeth is preoccupied. annabeth is smart, she's not omniscient. instead, there's the famous "percy is too nice" from som. i also like to think this is why she keeps trying to talk to percy abt luke as if luke is a good person who didn't try to kill percy. she doesn't understand that percy would hate luke for betraying him bc why would he? percy is a good person.

(for the record, i think the exceptions are: 1) grover, who chooses not to bring it up w the exception of his nemesis comment in tlt, 2) rachel, who made a painting where percy's "expression in the picture was fierce—disturbing, even—so it was hard to tell if I was the good guy or the bad guy" and simply said that's how he looked, and 3) arguably nico—considering percy has attacked him before—but i do think "very [dangerous]. to his enemies." does a good job of capturing that, it just doesn't go anywhere).

so, to condense all of this, ppl are idolizing percy in terms of both strength and morals and percy feels stifled by this knowing that he is not as strong or good as ppl think (and also by the fault that he was demonized prior and has corresponding low self-esteem bc of that lol). keep this in mind, i'm changing the topic.

in botl, percy's torture scene is used primarily to set up how powerful he is. he can cause an eruption that necessitates the evacuation of thousands of ppl and wake the biggest threat in greek mythos, but he would never know that if he wasn't back into a corner. bc that's not who he is. he shies away from power and titles. he wins his fights w strategy and very rarely relies on his powers to overpower his opponents.

just to clarify, i categorize percy's powers in two sorts of ways: involuntary and voluntary. involuntary is like speaking to sea creatures, healing in water, things that don't require a lot of energy/effort/focus. he's not scared of this. he's wary of the voluntary, powerful explosions, the things that set him apart from his peers. that's what i'm referring to in this section.

so, percy has to come to terms w the fact that he 1) blew up a mountain, 2) survived blowing up a mountain, and 3) woke typhon. and what does he say immediately after that?

he immediately deflects! he wasn't in control, it wasn't him that's powerful, it was an accident, and besides, he can't do it again bc he almost died. and what's even more interesting is the only time he uses his powers after this (in botl) is when grover asks him to stop the fire in the woods.

so, what lesson did percy actually take from mt saint helens? that he's dangerous. very interesting to use this teaching moment and have the protagonist come to the quote wrong unquote conclusion.

in hoh, we don't have a purpose for the torture scene. there's no significance to confronting how powerful percy is. percy is not addressing his self-sacrificing tendencies nor his propensity for bottling his emotions up. there's no questioning of p*rcabeth's relationship. there's no questioning of the gods. it's a cool scene w no narrative purpose.

so, take two. what is percy supposed to be learning from akhlys? how do we relate this to percy taking the wrong lesson from mt st helens?

at the end of botl, nico comes up w the river styx plan and percy takes almost a full year to agree to it. how much further ahead in the war would they have been if percy had accepted the curse sooner? how many fights could percy have won faster if he used his powers? if he trained his powers? if he trusted his powers?

there's a really interesting comparison w phorcys and akhyls where percy doesn't attempt to fight phorcys bc he assumes he won't be able to overpower him,

but w akhyls he tries anyway,

bc he's backed against a corner. and he succeeds.

percy is a character who very much embodies duality. i've talked abt this before wrt his loyalty being both his greatest strength and greatest weakness and how it clashes w his desire for freedom, but it's true for almost every trait. he's honest and manipulative. he's ruthless and merciful. he's kind and violent. he's looked up to and looked down upon. he's the saint and the scapegoat. etc etc. and percy responds to this by frequently trying to deny his quote worse unquote traits until they eventually bubble up and explode out of him. this is part of why juno calls him a loose-canon (which btw, i love. everyone has been treating him as a loose canon and no one on this side has the balls to say it until then, seven books in).

all this to say, *ethan voice* it's abt balance! this moment should've been abt percy confronting his unfair treatment! the idolization from his peers! the demonization of his flaws/disability!

thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

#if u think hoo p*rcabeth is the pinnacle of romance do us both a favor and don't read this post <3 #anyway #they call me the rambler #this is an excuse to talk abt many things i have thought abt but didn't want to make individual posts for #so this is only mostly on topic and it may or may not make sense #good luck 👍#percy #annabeth #hoo crit #answered #take a shot every time i say “anyway” in this post lmfao

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ravenstargames · 2 days ago

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Hi!! I'm unsure if you guys will see this, but after reading your 2024 wrap-up I wanted to send some well-wishes for the future!! ^^

I've always been more of a lurker, but I just wanted to say you guys inspired me to pick up on my drawing and writing again. I'm especially a sucker for worldbuilding, and your whole idea with limbo has honestly gotten my creative juices going! I can definitely see you have created the world and characters with a lot of love and attention, something that I aspire to do as well.

For what it's worth, I'm so so glad you guys were able to power through your rough start and that you are here today, not only as the devs of what might become my favourite vn, but also as a fantastic team of talented and brave people to enrich the storytelling scene! I believe it takes a lot of courage to put oneself out there for the world to see(especially as first time devs!!), but I honestly think that despite some little accidents you guys have done very well, and can't wait to see more of what your galaxy brains will come up with.

I'm happy and proud to see your dream slowly but steadily become a reality, and as I did with kickstarter, I'll be thrilled to continue supporting you when the game comes out 💕

That's it for my little appreciation message, sending you guys a lot of hugs and cookies!!

Anon.........

I just wanted to say that we read ALL your asks. Every single one of you who spends time sending us encouraging words, sharing your experiences with us—we read all of you. We have 457 (and counting) asks in the ask box so we may take a while to reply, but please know that your words matter a lot to us.

This was such a beautiful read. I'm so happy to know you've found the will to draw and write again, and I hope you can enjoy it and be proud of what you do. Knowing we've inspired you to pick it up again is the best compliment we could ever receive, and as I always say, we promise to keep working hard even if we make mistakes!

Remember that creating is the greatest expression of the human soul! 💜

#lost in limbo #sweet

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hooked-on-elvis · 2 days ago

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ELVIS GEMS

Hey, friends! So, @buglass suggested a while ago for me to share some less known (or less mentioned) Elvis songs. I guess today I felt inspiration to. Note: This is my personal selection, based on my taste and vision - not necessarily meaning all the songs are not as appreciated as they should be or that they are technically and content-wise flawless. I just think they're great for different reasons, and that they should get more plays. Oh... song 5 in this list contains wisdom for life in the lyrics and it's something that's really meaningful today as we reach Elvis' 90th birthday. Hope you enjoy this short list!

"Blue Moon"

Album: "Elvis Presley" (1956) I don't think it's that unknown but when I see people talking about the ballads E recorded, this song is not much remembered. I love it very much!

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"Fool, Fool, Fool"

Recorded during a studio radio session. KDAV Radio - Jan 6, 1955. First released first in the album: "The King of Rock 'n' Roll: The Complete 50's Masters" (1992). This song is great Rock and Roll. When the guitar solo comes (0:56), it's impossible not to move.

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"Dark Moon" and "Tennessee Waltz"

Album: "Elvis: The Home Recordings" (1999) Although the poor audio quality, those are songs I, particularly, get the most intense feeling of what it would be like to jam and harmonize with Elvis among, probably, all of his home/jam sessions recordings. I love to sing along with those tracks. Plus, I can always visualize E with his friends gathered around the piano he's playing... it's a plus. In "Tennessee Waltz" they mess up with the lyrics, it's annoying and fun at the same time.

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"Once Is Enough" ♥

Soundtrack: "Kissin' Cousins" (1964) That song came to me randomly right now on my Spotify playlist but it fits like a glove in the mood today. I think the lyrics is pure "words of wisdom" material, and the melody is fun. And hey, it's Elvis' birthday! In this song he sings: "What's the good of reaching 90 if you waste 89? You got one life so live it If you don't it's a crime." Elvis didn't live to reach his nineties we would be celebrating with him today, but he lived quite the life in just forty-two years walking on this earth. People tend to pity on him, thinking he had such a tragic life story but, the way I see it, Elvis lived more than many of us ever will get to do. This song represents quite well the way he did things in life... not waiting 'till tomorrow, just going for it. "As a lightning-bolt" ⚡ El, you're amazing for leaving so many precious life lessons for us. We couldn't thank you enough, King. By the way, there's great gems among the soundtracks from his movies... this is just one of my favorites.This song is really a gem. ♥

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"You Better Run"

First released in the album "Elvis Presley: Amazing Grace" (1994) Traditional arranged by Elvis and recorded during an informal gospel session filmed for the documentary "Elvis On Tour" (1972) on March 31, 1972 at RCA's Studio C, Hollywood. This gospel tune was never officially recorded by Elvis, but he did sing it in concert on a few occasions. "You Better Run" was sung in a medley with "Bosom of Abraham," that's why they're quite similar in melody. Note: I love the latter song, one of my favorites by E, so "You Better Run" as similar as it is, it's like an extension but not as well known as "Bosom of Abraham" because wasn't featured in the documentary.

The footage below is composed of random scenes from "Elvis On Tour." As mentioned, the footage in which Elvis harmonizes "You Better Run" with his close friend and musician Charlie Hodge, plus JD Sumner and The Stamps Quartet didn't make it to the final cut of the 1973 music documentary and (for what I know) wasn't even released yet as an outtake. As we know, director Baz Luhrmann is working to get never-seen-before footage from Elvis' two documentaries finally out, so maybe this footage will be released in the not-far-away future. Fingers crossed.

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"Almost"

Album: "Let's Be Friends" (1970) I'll never get over how sweet this song and the scene from the movie "The Trouble With Girls" in which Walter Hale (Elvis) performs it playing the piano are. I think 1:50 is way too short for such a beautiful song, it actually pissed me off how quick it ends.

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"Loving Arms"

Album: "Good Times" (1974). When this song gets to 1:47 it hits hard in the soul. I just feel like crying every time (how did he do that?) Great song!

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"It's Easy for You"

Master released on the album "Moody Blue" (1977), but here's the X-rated take 1 because it's so fun! This version below is on "Way Down In The Jungle Room" (2016)

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"Pledging My Love"

Album: "Moody Blue" (1977). The lyrics is just so precious! "Making you happy is my desire, dear... Keeping you is my goal."

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I could go on but Tumblr has limitations of 10 videos per post, unfortunately. I think I'm gonna share more in a bit. For now, I'd love to see what are the songs you think fits this list.

#happy birthday elvis!#elvis presley #elvis history #elvis music #elvis gems #elvis #elvis the king #Youtube

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aishangotome · 3 days ago

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[Azel] Loving Devoutly in God's Harem - Part 1

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this!

This is a "what if" story.

You, a book merchant, visit Tanzanite and catch the eye of the Living God. You end up imprisoned in the "harem"...

Emma: Prince Azel, thank you for everything up until now.

Azel: Rejected. Why are you casually trying to escape? Wait!

Azel grabs my hand as I try to leave the room with my luggage.

(I guess I can't just suddenly run away without any explanation.)

Azel: Have you forgotten your debt to me?

Azel: You promised to repay the debt you owe me by acting as a shield against women, didn't you?

Emma: If all I have to do is repay the debt, there are other ways to pay.

Emma: For example, I could do other work and repay in installments...

Azel: Rejected.

Emma: Stingy!

Azel: Stingy is fine. Please get to work today.

Azel confiscates my luggage and looks down at me with a frown.

Emma: Then please listen to my earnest plea.

Azel: I'll listen, but that's it.

Emma: The other day, I heard from a merchant acquaintance...

Emma: That the story of the only woman to receive the sole affection of the Living God has already spread throughout the continent.

Azel: And?

Emma: If I were to fall in love with someone in the future, the rumors might become a hindrance.

Azel: Poor you.

Emma: Yes, poor me, right?

Azel: However, even if it's a pity for you, you have an obligation to pay your debt.

Azel: I have no choice but to tearfully bind you to the God's harem.

Emma: ...In the first place, that debt is due to your fraud, Prince Azel.

Emma: You only said you would introduce me to customers looking for books, but then you suddenly demanded a commission fee...

Azel: It's your fault for not confirming beforehand. It was a good learning experience, wasn't it?

(It's no use saying anything else.)

Emma: I've decided! I'm running away tonight!

Azel: Don't declare it so boldly! I'll put a collar on you.

Emma: ...I never knew Prince Azel had such a hobby...

Emma: Eek... W-w-wait a minute!

Azel pinches my cheeks, and when I resist, he picks me up.

Azel: This conversation is over. Let's go to sleep.

Emma: Are we together again today? I don't want to!

Azel: That's how a harem works, isn't it?

(What do you expect from a fake lover?)

The Living God is famous for keeping women at bay.

The harem's caretaker had been racking his brains about this for years, but the situation changed when Azel suddenly brought in a foreign girl.

(I've heard that he wants to do something about the current situation where countless women are flocking to enter the harem...)

(I wonder how long Azel intends to keep me tied down.)

Originally, we were more than acquaintances but less than friends, a book merchant and a customer.

I don't even know why I was targeted by the God.

I'm thrown onto the bed and he embraces my prone body. The warmth enveloping my back makes my heart pound.

(He probably imprisoned me for some baseless reason like, "I'm sure she won't fall for me"... )

(I wish he would realize that's not the case.)

Azel: Let me tell you, this is a measure to prevent you from escaping.

Azel: It's not like I want to sleep with you, so don't get the wrong idea.

(...There are plenty of other ways to keep me from escaping.)

(Since coming to the harem, I've been repeatedly swayed by Azel's suggestive behavior.)

(At first, I could easily brush it off, but as time goes by, it's becoming more difficult...)

(...It's painful to be told I can't fall in love with him.)

The next day, my plan to run away at night ended in failure.

Since I'm the only woman confined in the Living God's harem, the people around me are always going out of their way to try and win his favor by any means necessary.

It escalates day by day...

Emma: ...Sigh...

Azel: Don't sigh so obviously. It's contagious.

Emma: I never thought I'd be thrown into the bath while Prince Azel is bathing!

Even though the spacious bath allows for distance between us, soaking in the same water while wearing only a thin cloth is nothing short of an ordeal.

(What will happen if this keeps escalating?)

Azel: Just don't mind it.

Emma: Doesn't it bother you, Prince Azel?

Azel: If it's harmless, I don't care.

(Certainly, if we're this far apart, it doesn't really matter...)

(...That's impossible, isn't it?)

I sneak a glance at Azel, and he's completely averted his gaze from me.

Is this an "I'm not interested" attitude, or is it shyness...?

Either way, there's a prickling pain in my chest.

(Right now, it's just a bath, but there's a possibility that it could become a serious situation.)

(I gave up yesterday, but I really should try to escape, even if it's forced.)

(...)

(...In the first place, I'm a decoy to ward off women.)

(Azel was supposed to hate women who approach him.)

(In other words, if I become like those women, he might get fed up and kick me out.)

(That's right... Why didn't I think of this sooner?!)

The brilliant idea that popped into my head seems like a long shot if I think about it calmly, but...

Cornered, I have no other choice.

Emma: Prince Azel, since we're here, shall I wash your back?

Azel: Huh?

Emma: Or perhaps I could wash your hair?

Azel: ...Ah, so you're trying to get kicked out by deliberately harming me.

(Ugh... He saw through me in an instant.)

Emma: N-no, I wouldn't think of doing something so straightforward.

Emma: It's just that, if I'm going to play the part of the favored woman, even if it's a lie, I thought I should be able to do at least this much.

(Don't be shy. Just a little... just a little more to endure.)

I inhale the steamy air and move closer to Azel through the water.

When I close the distance enough to touch him, his mystical eyes, filled with the starry sky, suddenly turn towards me.

(...!)

Azel: Unfortunately, that's not even enough to be considered harassment.

Emma: ...I'm not trying to harass you.

Emma: It's just... well...

Emma: I just want to love the Living God!

Azel: ...Is that so?

(Huh, he's calmer than I expected—)

(!?)

He puts his hand on my waist in the water and pulls me closer.

Before I know it, our bodies are touching through the thin cloth.

Azel: Then please do your best.

(...Eh?)

Part 2

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to leave me a tip or buy me a coffee through the "Leave a Tip" button on my navigation bar!

#ikepri jp #ikemen prince translations #ikemen prince #azel radwan #azel radwan translations #azel radwan ce #azel radwan collection event #azel radwan stories #loving devoutly in god's harem

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trashcanteatime · 11 hours ago

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Extra curious about this one and wanting to record some thoughts since I may experience some of this one day.

I am out and open to my higher management. My store manager knows, my city and district managers know. And I may be moving to a different district a few months after transitioning. By this logic, I will be receiving a lower wage in my current district, but once I move after changing my name, markers, all that stuff will I perhaps receive higher wages due to being perceived as masculine in a very masculine industry? To not completely doxx myself I'll just say I work in building materials and do some of the creative work involved when I can.

But I would like to note down some extra thoughts about that bit specifically. At the moment, I would say that at first glance I look like a butch lesbian. Which is intentional. I try to visually code myself as being a masc queer, and if the first instinct of a cishet client is to clock me as butch and leave it at that, it's cool. Some guys have the energy of "oh? You like women too? Women are great!" which is generally amusing. And there are those that clock me as queer and/or female and treat me worse. Not allowed to help with their materials questions, they ask one of my cis male coworkers, then come crawling back when they need a design question answered or the coworker cannot answer the question. (Which is a lot of the time.) There are also those that seem offended by my queerness, and while I haven't received threats to my face for a while, my coworkers have removed clients from my presence because of what they said behind my back.

But things are changing. I'm on T. I have my top surgery consultation set up. I will be working on legal markers during the downtime for surgery. The current goal is to move me to a different facility upon my return to work with my masculine name, markers, chest, facial hair, everything. Will the first bit of "privilege" I actually will get to experience be a client asking me a question, believing my answer, and not fact checking with a cis male coworker? Will I automatically have more respect by being male in a misogynistic industry that is changing all too slowly? Or not? Because no matter what I'm gonna get clocked as being some flavor of queer? For the most part, I actually enjoy my industry and work. I really do. This is merely a journal entry of thoughts and feelings and concerns for the future brought up by the idea that as a t-guy the wage gap that shouldn't exist in the first place may close for me. I guess we'll see.

So I've seen "trans men and mascs get paid more and find it easier to get hired and that's a level of privilege" go around recently. Which I've been reading into and trying to find sources for, because it's something I could imagine is true but also I don't like just believing things that people state online without backing it up.

The main source I've seen for that argument cited the United States Transgender Survey 2015. But I also found an article titled "The labour market outcomes of transgender individuals" by Matthew Shannon ( found on sciencedirect ) that cited the same study and argued that trans groups assigned female at birth had significantally lower incomes in general. It also had some nuance; trans men who transition younger tend to have higher incomes than those who transition later in life, whereas trans women who transition younger have worse incomes compared to their older peers.

I'll be honest, I don't feel individually qualified to judge whether Shannon's paper is making good points and interpreting the data well. But I'd love to see other people's opinions on it, if you or your followers have any.

i would say it's situational

if the trans man passes well enough and/or is not out to their coworkers, their employer may choose to give them higher wages because they are being seen as a man. that's not the trans man's fault by any means. they did not transition specifically to get higher pay. they're not in control of what the employer pays them- the employer quite literally sets the pay rate. if they choose to pay more because they're a man, it's on the employer

however, there are so many trans men who can't or don't pass, never get their names or gender markers changed, or are never viewed as men in their workplaces and treated like women, thus, having worse wages, hours, privileges, positions and so on. generally speaking, a trans man isn't very likely to benefit from this at all. i never did because of my deadname and gender marker. i always got the same pay as my female co workers.

if anyone else would like to comment, feel free. it sounds like there's some nuance being left out, but that could just be me

#ftm #trans journey #trans men #transmasc #trans journal

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aritsukemo · 3 days ago

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Gifts | Demon Slayers

Summary: In which someone gives you a gift and they find out.

Characters: Obanai, Kanao, Inosuke, Zenitsu, and Kanae

Warnings: Old draft so possibly extra bad grammar mistakes. Majority of these are pretty unserious pretty unserious. Extreme depictions of jealousy ahead ( Obanai and Zenitsu ) Inosuke being Inosuke, aside from that it's pretty fluffy. Female reader is implied ( Some much more than others ) Read at your own volition.

A/N: I start school again on Wednesday and the news has me so depressed that I've been unable to write anything. That said, anything posted in the near future will be scheduled ahead of time. This was written over on my Wattpad some time before I quit. ( Which you can find the full scenario here ) It's nothing much, but it's something.

"Aren't these beautiful?" You gasped out as you presented your boyfriend the glittering bouquet of roses. A beautiful collection in your favorite color and non-stick glitter—something he doesn't recall buying you.

"They're nice," He replies. His movements slowed as he slides his bag strap over his head and off of his shoulder. His eyes never left the bundle in your polished hands, and you were too busy oogling to notice, but his gaze hardened the longer he stared.

He didn't buy that for you, but they got here somehow. So, did you buy them for yourself? He decides to ask, "Did you buy those for yourself? If so, you didn't have to. If you would've told me, I could've bought that and more for you on my way home."

Your smile widens, "As always, you're the sweetest man I could've ever asked for," and you set the flowers aside at last, granting him the blessing to see your gorgeous, cheesing face as you walked up to him.

You leaned in, planting your lips to his slightly bandaged cheek, and for a moment, the boiling lava that had began to bubble at the base of his chest cooled as did his thoughts. It only lasted for a moment though, because as soon as you parted from him, you replied to his previous question.

"I actually didn't buy these myself. A coworker of mine did," And that simple response was enough for that volcano inside him explode all over again. Not that you could tell. On the outside, he seemed as calm as usual aside from the many veins flexing from his head that you didn't seem to catch.

"Oh really?"

You nod your head, "Mhm! But really I should've been the one to give them roses! They close up the restaurant for me all the time so that I don't have to risk the dangers of driving too late at night. Same goes for my shifts! Ever since they were hired, I haven't had to deal with late night weirdos!"

Obanai was nodding along, but not a single one of your words had processed in his head. His mind was on other things, other people—a certain cretin matching your description down to the tee coming to his mind and infuriating him so badly that one would think the lava inside of him would just boil right out through his pores and melt his skin.

But, of course, his voice gave away the exact opposite of what he was feeling when he spoke to you, "Say, love, is the coworker who bought you these also the one who walked you to the car last Friday?"

"Yeah! I'm glad you remember them!" You obliviously replied and he followed up with, "..And they're working the night shift tonight, right?"

"Yes..but why are you—"

"No reason," He simply said to you before leaning in and planting a bandaged, tender kiss to the side of your head, promptly ignoring the confused look you give him as he turns on his heel.

"I'm going out," He says, your favorite little snake beginning to peak from his clothes as he walked, grabbing his work bag filled with textbooks and graded papers in the process which only left you more befuddled.

"Huh, but you just got here.. Where are you going?"

"Don't worry, I won't be long. I'm simply in the mood for takeout. I'll be back with some for us in a little while."

"..Oh. Well, alright. Be safe!"

"Morning, Kanao!" You chirped after catching her in one of the many hallways of the Butterfly Manor.

At the lovely tune of your voice, her lips—which were moving since she was passing on Shinobu's instructions to a Kakushi—stilled. Her gorgeous lilac eyes seemed to noticeably sparkle as she caught a glimpse of you. Although it could've just been due to the lighting or your imagination..

As the Kakushi left, Kanao made quick strides up to you, her uniform's skirt, which she was still wearing having just got home, swaying with every little sway of her hip or movement of her thighs. She stops before you, allowing you to pull her in and squeeze the daylights out of her, all while wearing her usual smile.

"I'm so glad you made it back safely!" You said, parting from your crushing hug after a while, "And not a scratch on you! Hehe~!"

After you broke the hug, Kanao's eyes darted down, watching your lips move in a rapid succession as you began rambling about what you did last night. She was listening for the most part, but her eyes never left your mouth which she noticed was rather dolled up and coated by a unfamiliar, but pretty lipgloss.

It was a little darker than what you'd usually wear, but it still fits you perfectly as it contrasted your skin well and ultimately brought out your eyes more. Your smile too—she especially loved how it looked stained in that color.

"Ah-! Sorry! Did I start rambling?" You said upon the realization, your face beginning to grow hot from embarrassment.

"Look at me! You just got home and I'm already talking your ear off.." And then your lips dipped down into a small frown, which she'd be lying if she said didn't look just as pretty as your smile when all shiny like that.

As your lips parted to allow another apology to slip out, Kanao leaned in and captured them with her own. It caught you off guard, but on instinct, your mouth closed and only opened again when she eventually parted..

"I- Kanao.." You were at a lost for words. It wasn't often that she initiated stuff, much less kisses but..damn, did she look good with her lips coated in your new lipgloss.

..Oh, right! That's another reason you were excited to see her. You wanted to show her the new makeup kit you were given! Right! Foucs!

"Oh, Kanao! This really nice woman gave me a makeup kit for free the other evening while I was out shopping! She called me pretty and said it would suit me! ..Ah, but in the end, I still only have the courage to wear the lipgloss.."

"Do you.. Do you think I look as nice as the lady told me I'd look..?" You asked, semi-nervous. You couldn't help it. Even though you know there's a bat's chance in hell that she'd insult you, the possibilty was still there. Not that it lasted very long. As soon as you finished talking, Kanao leaned in again, answering your question by deciding to cherish your lips in kiss so sweet, it put Mitsuri's pancakes to shame.

"Uhm..Inosuke. What exactly am I looking at?" You questioned as you stared at the ring in your palms which was currently staining your hands brown and let off a putrid odor.

"It's a flower crown! I made it myself!" He said proudly, puffing his chest as he did so. You couldn't help the way your brows knit together.

"Is that so.." You mumbled out, trying to find the right words to say about this..gift.

Flower crown, he said, but there's not a flower in sight. Just twigs forced together by wet, sticky mud. It was nothing like the pretty arrangement set atop your head right now that was given to you by Kanao and certainly not as nice smelling. Nevertheless, you stretch a smile on your face and tell him in the most convincing happy tone you could muster, "Thanks, Inosuke! I'll cherish it!"

Unfortunately for you, that doesn't seem to satisfy him. After you thanked him, he went silent, staring at you for a long while. You had to resist the urge to scratch your cheek and stain it with mud to alleviate the awkward feeling in your gut..

"What's wrong?" You asked, the color draining from your face when he told you, "Put it on."

"B- But, I already have a crown on," You said, your smile crinkling at the ends, "And two crowns would look silly.."

"Then take off that one," He said in a 'duh' tone of voice. Your smile wrinkles even more.

"Uhm..b- but if I do that..then the mud will melt away and I won't be able to wear again— Yeah!" You stammered, "I think Tanjiro said it'll rain soon! You spent so long working on this..uh- wonderful crown for me that I wouldn't want it to get ruined!"

Inosuke pauses, and for each second of silence that passed, the image of your head soiled by mud as twigs poked you became clearer and clearer. Luckily, the next words Inosuke says are just what you were praying to hear.

"I knew that!" He said, "Obviously, I was just testing you to see if you knew that it would rain soon!" And you sighed out a breath of pure relief as you nodded your head.

"Right, right.. Of course," You said, "Glad I passed the test then."

"And I promise, I'll wear it as soon as the rain passes," You ended up leaving it out by 'accident' in the end. Best part is that you had managed to stray so far away from the topic of the gift that Inosuke eventually forgot about it! ..Unfortunately, it was at the cost of the flower crown Kanao made you as you found it too risky to wear it around your boyfriend out of fear he'll remember that god awful mud crown.

"I'ma kill him!" Your boyfriend said, veins flexing from every angle of his face with nothing short of murder in his whited out eyes.

"Zenitsu," You called sternly, "Don't you dare." But it doesn't seem that he was willing to listen to reason. That said, you latched onto him as soon as he began walking. Nevertheless, Zenitsu was as determined as ever and kept trying to walk away. With you being physically stronger, however, he didn't get anywhere and was forced to walk in place.

"It's was just a kiss on the cheek. Plus he's a literal child," You said, causing the man you loved to look back at you with eyes of betrayal.

"Exactly! A kiss on the cheek! That squirt tainted my girlfriend's cheek with his lips!" He shrieked before his head turned as did his tone, changing to one much more aggressive as he said, "He needs to be dealt with!"

"No one is getting dealt with!" You yelled, "I'm not letting you hurt a kid who's done nothing wrong!" And you turned and began walking away, arm still tightly gripping your boyfriend's arm. Zenitsu had no choice but to be dragged away by you, steam practically blowing out of his ears as he caught a glimpse at the little boy who kissed you—who was laughing and grinning from ear to ear.

He's never wanted to dice someone up more in his life.

"Oh my," The drawled chime of your girlfriend's surprise was the first thing you heard when you stepped into the common room. It causes your eyes to wander, trailing over to the couch where Kanae was waiting for you with a smile on her face.

"I know it's been some time since we've last spent time together, but you didn't have to dress up for me. Not that I'm complaining," Her glossed lips parts, opening just enough for her to slide her cup between them. She then speaks, her voice bouncing around and vibrating the cup, making ripples in the tea inside, "There's nothing better than having a nice view while you drink or eat something, makes it taste ten times better!"

You could feel your skin being set aflame at her words, but you played it off in the best way you could; by giggling like a little girl.

"Well aren't you the smooth talker," You said as you walked up to her. Your hand reaching out to accept the cup she had begun to raise in your direction, "Are you trying to fluster me or something? If so, it'll take a lot more than pretty words."

"Not at all," She says, but her smile told you otherwise. Not that you cared enough to call it out, deciding to sit beside her instead, "But really, I'm surprised! That type of clothing isn't something you tend to wear after all."

"Shinazugawa bought it for me a while back. We were out on a mission togther and my clothes were in tatters by the end of the fight. Since it was raining, he took me to the first inn he could find and bought the first thing he saw at the market we passed through and told me to put it on," You explained, adding, "And that something happened to look like somehing out of a fairytale.."

"Is that so? He really did that?" She said, her voice pitching as her tone perked up, "He's come such a long way from that meeting! I'm so happy for him!" And then she takes another sip of her tea, "Next time I see him, I'll pass on my thanks to him for his kindness!"

"Pass on mines as well," You said, reaching for one of the many treats set on the table, "He went out on his next mission while I was changing so I never got the chance to."

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

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