#I'll thrive in this hill

[pixiefeatherkw3]

Nah, I think I'm actually obsessed with Broken and Hunted as a dynamic, actually

[guinevereslancelot]

a koi pond for your dash:

❀ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ༄ ❀ 𓆝 𓆟 ༄ ❀ 𓆞 𓆝 ❀ ༄ ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[arilevenatz]

Ruthless Desire | C.S

Pairing: King!San x princess!Reader

Genre: Forced marriage

Word count: 19.2k

Warnings: dark stuff, captivity, stockholm syndrome vibes, injury by glass shards, manipulation, san is kinda scary, and hot, the reader is a dancer, yeah I still dk how to do this

AN: If you are sensitive to things like this please don't read it. This has some dark stuff. @kymimi I kinda slipped and wrote san instead of the member we discussed BUT dw I'll write him another one :)

Masterlist

The kingdom of Eldoria was like a painting come to life. Pastel-colored houses lined the streets, their rooftops reflecting the golden hues of the sun. Flowers of every shade bloomed along the cobbled paths, filling the air with a sweet fragrance. Towering trees provided shade to the people who gathered in the plazas, laughing and conversing freely. The kingdom was peaceful, its people content, and at the heart of it all was their beloved princess—YN.

YN was the embodiment of grace and perfection. Her long, flowing hair shimmered in the sunlight, and her warm smile was enough to bring comfort to anyone who crossed her path. She was not only admired for her beauty but also for her sharp mind and kind heart. Unlike the sheltered royals of other lands, YN roamed freely among her people, visiting markets, studying at the grand library, and even lending a hand at the flower fields when she wished to.

Her days were spent in harmony with the kingdom, and her nights were filled with dreams of the future. But even in a perfect kingdom, change was inevitable.

But that was not it. You see, Princess YN had a great talent—one that set her apart even more. She was a dancer.

From the moment she took her first steps as a child, it was clear that movement came naturally to her. As she grew, so did her love for dance. She dedicated a good portion of her day to perfecting her skills, attending classes with the finest instructors in the kingdom. But it wasn’t just about learning techniques or rehearsing steps—dancing was her freedom, her escape, her way of expressing emotions words could not.

In the grand ballroom of the palace, with its gleaming marble floors and towering windows, she would practice tirelessly. The music would swell, and she would lose herself in it, her body moving with effortless grace. The palace staff often paused to watch in quiet admiration, for when their princess danced, it was as if the entire world held its breath.

But YN never danced for attention or praise. She danced because it made her feel alive. And if she had it her way, she would dance forever.

But beyond the peaceful lands of Eldoria, past the rolling green hills and glistening rivers, lay another kingdom—one far greater in size, power, and influence.

The Kingdom of Celestara.

Unlike Eldoria, which flourished with soft colors and open gardens, Celestara stood as a testament to strength. Its towering castles were made of dark stone, its capital bustling with soldiers and scholars alike. The people of Celestara were strong and disciplined, raised with a deep sense of duty to their homeland. Their kingdom thrived under an unshakable rule, one that had made Celestara the most feared and respected land across the continent.

And at the heart of it all sat King Choi San.

San was no ordinary ruler. He was a king who valued power above all else—not just for himself, but for his kingdom. He had inherited a land that had been built on blood and steel, and he ruled it with an iron will. His people loved him, for under his reign, Celestara never knew famine, never fell to invaders, and never saw weakness. But to outsiders, he was a name that sent shivers down their spines.

Because King San did not tolerate defiance.

It was not cruelty for the sake of cruelty. No, San saw his punishments as necessary—tools to maintain order. A merchant caught cheating his people was stripped of his wealth and cast into the dungeons. A noble who conspired against him found their house burned to the ground, their name erased from history. And if a kingdom dared to challenge Celestara, they were met with fire and steel. His warriors, trained from childhood, were unmatched, and his war strategies were so ruthless that no one dared to question his rule.

No one opposed King Choi San and lived to tell the tale.

He was ruthless, reckless even. A man who did not just command power—he relished in it. King Choi San was not content with ruling Celestara alone. No, he wanted more. He wanted everything.

War was not just a necessity to him; it was a thrill. The sight of his enemies kneeling before him, their once-proud banners torn and trampled beneath his boots, brought him a satisfaction that nothing else could. He did not believe in mercy. He did not believe in compromise. He believed in dominance, in bending the world to his will.

His father, the former king, had shared that same hunger. Before his death, he had left behind a list—a detailed record of the lands he had set his sights on, the territories he had dreamed of conquering but never had the chance to. It was a king’s unfinished legacy, a vision left incomplete.

San did not just inherit his father’s kingdom. He inherited his ambitions.

And he would see them through.

The list had dozens of names written in careful ink, each representing a kingdom, a nation, a people who had yet to bow to Celestara’s might. Some had already fallen, their lands absorbed into San’s ever-growing empire. But there were still many left to claim.

One of them was Eldoria.

A peaceful kingdom, untouched by war, ruled by a gentle king and adored by its people. A land that had never known the weight of a conqueror’s hand.

San had heard of Eldoria before. A place where flowers bloomed endlessly, where the streets were painted in soft pastels. It was the complete opposite of Celestara. A kingdom so delicate, so naïve, that it almost amused him.

Almost.

Because at the end of the day, Eldoria was just another name on his father’s list. Another land that would soon belong to him.

And King Choi San never left things unfinished.

So that was what happened to Eldoria.

One fateful evening, King Choi San arrived at the gates of the peaceful kingdom, not as a guest, but as a conqueror in waiting. He did not come alone—his army, clad in dark armor, stood behind him like an unshakable force, their banners casting long shadows over Eldoria’s pastel streets. The moment his presence was announced in the royal palace, a chill ran through the halls.

King Eldrin, YN’s father, knew why San had come. He had heard the stories, knew the fate of the kingdoms that had stood in Celestara’s path. But still, he held onto hope.

Inside the grand throne room, the two kings faced each other.

“I will give you one chance,” San said, his voice calm yet laced with authority. “Surrender Eldoria to Celestara. Swear your allegiance, and I will allow your people to live under my rule without bloodshed.”

King Eldrin did not hesitate. “I will not surrender my land,” he said firmly, but his voice held no arrogance—only reason. “However, I propose an alliance. We do not have to be enemies. Our kingdoms can stand together, share trade, strengthen each other.”

San chuckled, a slow, amused sound. “An alliance?” He leaned forward, his dark eyes glinting. “Tell me, King Eldrin, what does your peaceful kingdom have to offer me that I do not already have?”

“We have wisdom, knowledge, and beauty. We have—”

“I do not need beauty,” San interrupted, his amusement vanishing. “I need power. Strength. Land.” His fingers tapped against the hilt of his sword. “And I will not ask twice.”

Eldrin’s jaw tightened. “Then you have my answer.”

San exhaled, a mockery of disappointment. “A shame,” he murmured. Then, with a glance at his general, he spoke the words that sealed Eldoria’s fate.

“We march at dawn.”

The war did not last long.

Eldoria, despite its beauty, was not built for battle. Its people were artists, scholars, farmers—not warriors. They fought bravely, but Celestara’s army was relentless. Swords clashed, fires burned, and the soft-colored streets of Eldoria were soon painted in shades of ash and crimson.

Within days, the palace fell.

King Choi San did what he always did—he erased the royal family.

The moment the palace fell, there was no room for mercy. The king was the first to go, struck down in his own throne room, his crown rolling across the marble floor. The queen followed soon after, her desperate pleas for peace silenced forever. The crown prince, the last hope for Eldoria’s future, fought bravely, but bravery alone could not save him from Celestara’s steel.

San watched it all with a cold, unwavering gaze. Another kingdom conquered. Another royal bloodline wiped from existence. Just as it should be.

With the palace now under Celestara’s control, he prepared to leave. There was no need for him to stay any longer. His men would handle the rest—securing the city, ensuring the people understood that they now belonged to him. He had no interest in Eldoria’s ruins; his work here was done.

Or so he thought.

A soldier rushed into the war room, his armor still stained with battle. He bowed quickly, his breath uneven.

“My king,” he said. “There is word of another.”

San barely spared him a glance. “Another what?”

“A survivor. A princess.”

The words made him pause.

A princess?

San had not known Eldoria had a princess. He frowned, turning fully to the soldier. “And where is she?”

“We do not know.”

San’s expression darkened. “Explain.”

“She was not in the palace when we arrived,” the soldier admitted. “We searched every room, every hall. But she was nowhere to be found.”

The air in the room grew heavy. San’s grip on his sword tightened. He had never left a royal family unfinished. No loose ends. No survivors. And yet, here was a piece of Eldoria’s bloodline still unaccounted for.

His jaw clenched. “Find her.”

Thus began the search.

San’s men scoured every corner of the palace, tearing through lavish chambers, hidden passages, and forgotten halls. San was not a man who accepted failure. He ordered a deeper search—every stone overturned, every locked door broken open.

And finally, they found it.

A hidden room, tucked away behind the grand library. The entrance had been expertly concealed, nearly impossible to notice unless one was searching for it. But now, the secret was uncovered.

San arrived immediately.

The heavy bookcase that had once hidden the doorway was now pushed aside, revealing a narrow passage leading into a small chamber. It was nothing like the lavish royal rooms he had seen before. This space was simple—bare walls, a single candle flickering in the dim light, and a modest wooden desk placed in the center.

And sitting at that desk was a girl.

She had not heard them enter at first, her focus entirely on the parchment before her. Her delicate hand moved swiftly, ink staining her fingertips as she wrote something with quiet urgency. It was only when she sensed the shift in the air—when the heavy presence of someone else filled the room—that she finally looked up.

Her eyes widened.

San met her gaze, and in that instant, he knew.

This was her.

The missing princess. The last surviving member of Eldoria’s royal family.

She had been here all along, hidden away while her kingdom burned. Sheltered while her family perished.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The candlelight cast shadows across her face, highlighting the quiet shock in her expression. San took a step forward, his boots echoing in the small space. The girl did not move, her fingers still curled around the quill, as if caught between fight and flight.

He exhaled slowly.

“Found you.”

San was a terrifying man. His presence alone filled the small room with an unshakable weight, his dark eyes locked onto YN with an intensity that made her stomach twist. She had heard of him before—King Choi San, the ruthless conqueror. The man who had taken her home, erased her family, and claimed Eldoria as his own.

Her hands trembled, but she forced herself to move. Slowly, she stood from her chair, her gaze dropping to the ground as if in surrender.

But she was not surrendering.

Her fingers tightened around the ink glass on the desk. And before she could think twice, she threw it.

The small bottle spun through the air, aimed directly at his knees.

San’s reflexes were fast—too fast. He shifted at the last second, the ink missing its target. Instead, it crashed against the floor, shattering into tiny pieces. Black ink spilled in a messy puddle between them, staining the stone beneath their feet.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then San exhaled, his lips curling into something unreadable. Not quite amusement, not quite anger.

Slowly, he stepped forward, his boots avoiding the ink, his piercing gaze never leaving her face.

“Cute,” he murmured, voice low. “You thought that would stop me?”

YN looked up just as San took another step closer, his presence suffocating in the small room. Her heart pounded against her ribs, but she didn’t let her fear show. Instead, she lifted her chin and met his gaze.

“No,” she said, voice steady. “But this will.”

Before he could react, she pulled a small knife from the folds of her dress and lunged forward.

She moved fast, aiming for his chest, but he was faster.

San’s hand shot out, catching her wrist mid-strike. With effortless strength, he twisted it, forcing her to drop the knife. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as pain shot through her arm, but she refused to cry out. The blade clattered against the floor, useless now.

San’s grip remained firm as he pushed her down, forcing her onto her knees before him. YN struggled, but it was no use. He was stronger, unmovable.

Then, to her shock, he reached out and brushed the strands of hair from her face. It was a gentle touch, almost delicate. If it were anyone else, it might have seemed comforting. But this was King Choi San.

And from him, it was terrifying.

His fingers trailed along her cheek before tucking her hair behind her ear. His dark eyes studied her, unreadable, as if he were trying to understand something.

“You’ve got fight in you,” he murmured, his voice quiet, almost amused. “I like that.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine. This man had slaughtered her family, burned her kingdom to the ground, and now, here he was, treating her as if she were something… interesting.

Her hands clenched into fists. She wanted to scream, to fight, to run. But she was trapped.

San tilted his head slightly, watching her reaction. Then, he leaned down, just enough to whisper,

“But fighting me is useless.”

San looked down at her, his expression unreadable. His grip on her wrist loosened just slightly, but the weight of his presence remained suffocating.

“You know,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather, “I came here to kill you.”

YN’s breath caught in her throat.

Of course, he did. That was what he always did. He had erased her family, wiped out her kingdom, and now, it was her turn.

She lowered her gaze, staring at the ink-stained floor. Her hands trembled slightly in her lap, but she did not beg. She would not give him that satisfaction. There was nothing left for her anymore. No family. No home. No future.

So she closed her eyes and accepted her fate.

But then—

“But,” San mused, tilting his head, “you’re too pretty to kill.”

Her eyes snapped open, looking up at him in shock.

He smirked, his fingers once again brushing her cheek, this time lingering just a bit longer. “It would be a shame to waste something so… delicate.”

She stiffened, her stomach twisting with disgust. Was he toying with her? Mocking her? What was worse—death, or whatever fate he had in mind?

“No,” she whispered, barely realizing she had spoken. Then, louder, her voice rising in panic, “No—just kill me.”

San chuckled. Low, dark, entertained.

“Oh?” He crouched in front of her, their faces now painfully close. “Is that what you want?”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

San’s smirk widened. He was enjoying this—her fear, her resistance, her despair.

“Too bad,” he murmured, gripping her chin lightly and forcing her to hold his gaze. “I think I’ll take you instead.”

YN stood up slowly, her legs shaking beneath her, but her gaze remained locked onto his. She expected him to rise as well, to tower over her like the conqueror he was, but he didn’t.

San remained crouched, looking up at her from his lower position, his dark eyes steady and sharp. It was unsettling—how comfortable he was, how unbothered by her defiance. His face was close—too close. Close enough that if she moved even slightly, he would be able to feel the fabric of her dress brush against him.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

And then, she moved.

She dashed to the side, making a sharp turn around him. Her feet barely touched the ground as she made her escape, her breath caught in her throat. For a split second, she thought she had done it. She had gone around him. She had gotten past him.

But she had forgotten.

The shattered glass. The ink. The mess on the floor from when she had thrown the ink bottle at him earlier.

The moment her bare foot touched the shards, a sharp, searing pain shot up her leg.

She sucked in a breath, but she didn’t stop. She forced herself forward, reaching the doorway that led out of the hidden chamber. She had made it—just barely.

But then, her body betrayed her.

The pain was too much. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed just outside the room, her breath coming in short gasps. Her feet throbbed violently, fresh blood pooling beneath her.

The pain in her feet was unbearable. Tiny shards of glass had pierced into her skin, some embedding deep into the soles of her feet, while others cut shallow but still bled. Ink mixed with her blood, creating a dark, messy trail behind her.

She couldn’t run anymore.

Her feet throbbed, her breaths were uneven, and she could already feel the warm trickle of blood running down her heels. Every movement sent fresh pain through her body.

Behind her, the room remained silent.

She could feel him still there. Watching. Waiting.

And then—

A slow, deliberate sound.

The sound of boots shifting against the stone floor.

San was standing up.

He stood up, the slow, deliberate movement filling the space with an unspoken finality. His boots pressed against the shattered glass on the floor, the sharp shards crunching beneath the heavy soles. The sound echoed in the small chamber, a cruel reminder of the difference between them—her bare, bloodied feet and his untouched, armored ones.

He took a step forward.

Then another.

Slow. Steady. As if he had all the time in the world.

YN could feel the weight of his gaze on her, sharp and unyielding, like a predator toying with its prey. She knew—he knew—that she wouldn’t make it far. Even if she ran, even if she forced herself to her feet and pushed through the pain, it wouldn’t matter. He would catch her. He would always catch her.

But she wasn’t going to just sit there.

The moment his shadow loomed over her, she pushed herself back. Her hands scraped against the cold stone floor as she tried to crawl away, her injured feet dragging behind her, leaving smudges of inky blood in her wake. It hurt—oh, it hurt—but she didn’t care. She would rather die trying than just sit there and accept whatever fate he had planned for her.

Outside the room, the few guards stationed there shifted uncertainly. One of them stepped forward as if to intervene, as if to do something.

San didn’t even look at them. He simply flicked his fingers, a lazy motion, and they immediately hesitated. Then, without a word, they stepped back, leaving him to handle this alone.

YN’s breath was ragged as she dragged herself further, her palms burning against the rough stone. She felt helpless, weak, but she refused to stop. Even if it was useless, even if he reached her within seconds, she would not just sit there like a caged animal.

Her fingers curled against the cold floor as she lifted her head, looking up at him.

And there he was.

Towering over her now, his expression unreadable, his lips slightly curled as if in amusement.

San exhaled, tilting his head.

"Still fighting?" he mused, his voice low, smooth—dangerous.

His slow steps finally came to a stop.

She had barely gotten anywhere.

And now, he was standing right in front of her.

San sighed, his patience thinning. He crouched slightly, looking down at her with that same amused expression, but now there was something else in his gaze—impatience.

“Let’s not fight,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soft. “Come now. Let’s go home.”

Home.

The word sent a shiver down YN’s spine. Home didn’t exist anymore. Her home had been burned, her family slaughtered, her people forced under his rule. Wherever he wanted to take her, it wasn’t home.

Still lying on the cold stone floor, she shook her head weakly. “No.”

San’s jaw tightened. The amusement in his eyes dimmed slightly, replaced with something colder. He exhaled sharply through his nose, as if he were growing tired of this game.

"Fine," he muttered.

Before she could react, she saw a flash of silver—something in his hand.

Her body tensed. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew better than to wait and find out. Instinctively, she raised her arms to shield her face, bracing for impact.

Wrong move.

A sharp prick shot through the side of her neck.

Her eyes widened in shock as she felt something thin and metallic buried into her skin. It wasn’t a knife—it didn’t slice or tear. It just pricked, leaving a dull, numbing sensation in its wake.

A syringe.

San had stabbed a syringe into her neck.

Her breath hitched as a strange dizziness washed over her. The world around her blurred, her limbs suddenly feeling heavy, too heavy to move. She tried to lift her hand, tried to reach for the object lodged in her skin, but her fingers barely twitched before her body gave out.

Her head fell against the cold floor, her vision swimming.

Above her, the last thing she saw was San’s face, watching her with a knowing smirk as the darkness swallowed her whole.

San looked down at her unconscious form, his smirk lingering as he admired his work. She had fought, resisted until the very last second, but in the end, it hadn’t mattered. He was always going to win.

He exhaled, standing to his full height as he observed her limp body sprawled across the cold floor. The ink and blood smeared across the ground were the only remnants of her struggle.

Satisfied, he crouched down and slipped an arm beneath her, effortlessly lifting her into his arms. She was light—far too light for someone with so much fight in her. Her head lolled slightly against his shoulder, her breath slow and steady as the sedative coursed through her veins.

Holding her securely, San turned and walked towards the door.

The guards outside immediately straightened at the sight of their king emerging from the hidden room with the unconscious princess in his arms. They glanced at each other, uncertainty flickering in their eyes, but none dared to question him.

San stepped past them, his grip on YN firm but casual, as if carrying her was no different from carrying a mere possession.

Because that’s exactly what she was now.

San stepped out into the open, the cool night air washing over him as he carried YN in his arms. The moment his men saw him, they stiffened, their expressions betraying their shock.

They had all expected him to emerge alone, having finished the job like he always did. Instead, here he was—carrying the princess, unconscious but very much alive.

One of the lead guards, a seasoned warrior with a deep scar across his cheek, stepped forward hesitantly. His gaze flickered between San and the girl in his arms before he spoke.

"Your Majesty," he began carefully, "should we finish her?"

The other guards waited in tense silence, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. It was a reasonable assumption—San had slaughtered the rest of the royal family without hesitation. Why would the princess be any different?

But San had already made his decision.

Without looking at the guard, he spoke, his voice calm yet unwavering.

"No."

The single word sent a ripple of confusion through the men.

San shifted YN slightly in his arms, glancing down at her unconscious face before turning his sharp gaze back to the guard.

"I'm taking her back to Celestara," he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The guards exchanged uncertain glances, but no one dared to question him further.

San smirked, satisfied by their obedience. Then, without another word, he began walking towards his waiting carriage.

This war was over. The kingdom was his. And now, so was she.

With the princess in his grasp, he set off on the journey back to Celestara—his kingdom, his home.

And soon enough, hers as well.

YN blinked slowly, her mind hazy as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. Her body felt heavy, her limbs sluggish, as if she had been asleep for far too long.

Where was she?

She forced herself to sit up, her fingers gripping the soft yet unfamiliar sheets beneath her. The bed was large—far larger than the one she had in Eldoria. And the room…

Her heart sank.

This wasn’t Eldoria.

Eldoria was warm and bright, filled with pastel colors, soft fabrics, and the gentle scent of flowers in the air. But this place—this place felt suffocating. The walls were dark, nearly black, with gold accents that gleamed under the dim lighting. Heavy drapes covered the windows, letting in only slivers of light. The furniture was grand, elegant, yet cold, as if meant to intimidate rather than comfort.

She hated it.

Perhaps it was because she had spent her entire life surrounded by brightness, but the darkness of this place made her uneasy. It felt foreign, unfamiliar—wrong.

Her breath quickened as she swung her legs over the bed, only to wince as a sharp pain shot through her feet.

The glass.

She had run through shattered glass.

Carefully, she lifted her feet and saw the bandages wrapped around them, fresh and neatly done. Someone had treated her injuries.

Someone had—

Her stomach twisted.

San.

Memories of what had happened before she blacked out came rushing back. The invasion. The loss. His voice, smooth and taunting. The sharp prick of the syringe in her neck.

Panic clawed at her chest as she looked around frantically, searching for a way out.

But the door was closed.

And she had no doubt—it was locked.

YN sat at the edge of the massive bed, her fingers digging into the sheets as she tried to steady herself. The weight of everything crashed down on her all at once.

Her family was gone.

Her home was gone.

And now, she was here—trapped in a place that wasn’t hers, surrounded by walls that felt like they were closing in on her.

Her vision blurred as her throat tightened. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. But what good would that do?

She lowered her gaze to her bandaged feet. She couldn’t even walk. She had been so desperate to escape, but in the end, she had only hurt herself. And now, she was left completely vulnerable, at the mercy of the very man who had taken everything from her.

San.

The thought of his name sent a shiver down her spine.

The ruthless king of Celestara. The man who had murdered her family without hesitation. The man who had stolen her home and claimed it as his own.

And now, she was his captive.

A bitter laugh almost escaped her lips, but it got caught in her throat. There was nothing amusing about this. There was no way out.

She was truly, utterly defeated.

YN sat there for what felt like hours, unmoving, lost in the crushing weight of her thoughts. The silence of the room only made it worse, suffocating her, making her feel even more trapped.

Then—

Click.

The door creaked open.

Her entire body tensed.

Her fingers curled into the sheets, her heart pounding as she stared at the entrance, dreading what—or who—might step inside.

And then she saw him.

San.

He walked in like he owned the place. Which, of course, he did.

But that didn’t make it any less infuriating.

His presence filled the room instantly, his posture relaxed, confident—completely at ease, as if nothing was out of place. As if he hadn’t just destroyed her entire life.

YN swallowed hard, her throat dry.

She hated him.

She hated the way he moved so carelessly, as if everything was just a game to him. She hated the way he looked at her, like he knew she was powerless against him. She hated that even though she wanted to scream, to throw something, to fight—she couldn’t.

Not like this.

Not when she could barely even stand.

Fear crept up her spine, mixing with the anger burning in her chest. She hated him. She feared him. But most of all—she resented the fact that he had complete control over her now.

San stood in the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning the room before settling on her. A smirk tugged at his lips, slow and deliberate, as if he was enjoying the sight of her—small, wounded, and utterly trapped.

He took a step inside, and even though his movements were unhurried, they carried an undeniable authority. Every step he took echoed in the large, darkened room, the soft click of his boots against the floor sending a shiver down YN’s spine.

She gripped the sheets tighter.

He was terrifying.

And that was exactly what made him so dangerous.

He wasn’t just some brute who barked orders and swung his sword mindlessly. No, San was something much worse. He was calculated. He was smart. And worst of all, he enjoyed having control over people.

“You’re awake,” he mused, his voice smooth yet dripping with something sinister.

YN didn’t respond.

He didn’t need her to. He was already closing the distance between them, his movements slow, predatory, as if he wanted her to feel the power he held over her.

Her breath hitched as he stopped right in front of her.

She refused to look up at him. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

But San wasn’t the type to be ignored.

With an amused chuckle, he crouched down so that he was eye-level with her.

“Not going to greet your king?” he murmured, tilting his head. His voice was deep, teasing, but there was an undeniable edge to it. A warning.

YN finally forced herself to meet his gaze—and immediately regretted it.

He was too close.

Far too close.

His dark eyes gleamed under the dim lighting, filled with something unreadable. His sharp jawline, the way his lips curled ever so slightly—it was unfair how someone so cruel could look so good.

She hated it.

She hated that her heart pounded for reasons beyond just fear.

When she still didn’t speak, San exhaled sharply and reached out.

She flinched as his fingers brushed against her jaw, tilting her face up. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but that only made it worse.

“You’re trembling,” he noted, his voice quiet, almost mocking. “Scared of me, little princess?”

YN clenched her jaw, trying to will away the fear in her expression.

San chuckled. “Good. You should be.”

His grip tightened, just enough for her to feel it, just enough to remind her that she was at his mercy.

And yet—

The way he looked at her, the slow drag of his eyes down her face, the way his lips parted slightly as if he was enjoying every second of this—

He was terrifying.

And that made him even more dangerous.

San watched her, his lips quirking up in amusement at her stubbornness. She was scared, angry, and exhausted, yet still refused to take anything from him. It was almost admirable. Almost.

With a sigh, he reached for the glass of water sitting on the bedside desk. His fingers wrapped around the crystal, and he swirled the liquid inside lazily before turning back to her.

“Why don’t you drink some?” His voice was smooth, deep, like velvet laced with something dangerous.

“I don’t want water,” YN muttered, looking away.

San chuckled, low and rich. “Come on, princess. I didn’t poison it.”

He lifted the glass to his own lips, tilting it back ever so slightly.

YN couldn’t look away.

The way he drank—slow, deliberate—was unfair. A bit of water slipped past the corner of his lips, trailing down his jaw. He swiped his thumb across his mouth, wiping away the stray droplet before licking it off his thumb without a second thought.

Her stomach twisted, and heat crept up her neck.

San caught the way her eyes flickered to his lips, and his smirk deepened.

“See?” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. He leaned in, holding the glass out to her, his fingers brushing against hers. “It’s not poisoned.”

She hesitated.

San sighed dramatically. “Drink up, princess. I don’t want you to die.”

His words should have been comforting, but the way he said them—slow, teasing, like he enjoyed her discomfort—only made her more unsettled.

Still, she knew she had no choice.

With shaky fingers, she took the glass from him.

San didn’t move back.

He stayed close, watching her with dark, expectant eyes, waiting to see if she would obey.

And that was the worst part.

Because as much as she hated him, as much as she wanted to fight—he always got what he wanted.

San had no shame. Not even a shred of it.

As YN lifted the glass to her lips, tilting her head back slightly to drink, his eyes shamelessly trailed down to her neck.

He watched the way her throat moved with each swallow, the soft curve of her collarbone barely peeking from the loose neckline of her dress. His gaze lingered, unbothered, unapologetic.

San was no saint.

He never pretended to be one.

And right now, he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was enjoying the sight in front of him.

He tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening as he let his gaze drag over her slowly, taking in every little detail. The way her lips parted slightly after drinking, the way a stray droplet of water slipped down the side of her mouth.

Before she could wipe it away, he reached out.

His thumb brushed against her chin, slow, deliberate.

YN froze.

San’s eyes flickered to hers, his touch lingering just a second too long before he finally pulled away.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice smooth like honey, but laced with something undeniably sinful. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

YN clenched her jaw, gripping the empty glass tightly.

She hated him.

But the way he looked at her, like he could devour her whole, made her feel things she shouldn’t be feeling.

And San?

San knew exactly what he was doing.

“What do you want from me?” YN’s voice was sharp, filled with both exhaustion and defiance.

San simply stared at her, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. Then, with a slow, almost innocent tilt of his head, he said, “Nothing.”

Liar.

She knew he was toying with her. She felt it in the way he spoke, in the way he looked at her—as if she was some intriguing puzzle he wanted to take apart piece by piece.

She couldn’t let him do this.

Without thinking, she lifted her hand, aiming to strike him, to wipe that infuriating expression off his face.

But San was faster.

Much faster.

Before she could make contact, his hand shot up, fingers curling around her neck with practiced ease. He wasn’t squeezing—he didn’t need to. The sheer weight of his touch, the way his thumb pressed lightly against the delicate skin of her throat, was enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

With effortless strength, he pushed her back.

She fell against the pillows, her body sinking into the soft mattress as he hovered over her.

And then, for the briefest moment, San stilled.

His grip loosened slightly as he took her in.

Her doe eyes, wide and glaring up at him, holding a mix of fury and something he couldn’t quite place. Her lips, parted ever so slightly, her breath coming in uneven puffs. And her hair—God, her hair—spilled in every direction, a wild halo of silk against the dark sheets.

Beautiful.

He had always admired beautiful things.

But this—her, beneath him, looking like something he wanted to ruin—this was something else entirely.

His fingers twitched against her throat, and he let out a quiet hum, his gaze darkening as he leaned in just a fraction.

YN could barely breathe.

Not because of his hold—no, he wasn’t choking her. But because of the way he looked at her, like he was memorizing every detail, like he owned her already.

San smirked, his voice dangerously soft as he murmured, “You’re breathtaking, princess.”

San let go of her slowly, his fingers trailing from her throat to her collarbone before finally pulling away. He watched her for a second longer, his smirk never faltering, then—just like that—he backed up.

No words. No explanation.

He simply turned on his heel and walked away.

YN lay there, her heart hammering against her ribs as she stared at the ceiling, trying to process what had just happened.

The door creaked open.

For a moment, she thought he might say something, might throw one last taunt her way. But he didn’t.

He left.

The door shut behind him with a soft click, leaving her alone in the deafening silence of the room.

And yet, even with him gone, the ghost of his touch lingered on her skin.

A few days has passed. YN had barely slept, her mind too clouded with the events of that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. The way he had looked at her, the way he had touched her—the way he had enjoyed watching her squirm beneath him. She hated him.

She hated that she was here, hated that she was still alive when her family wasn’t.

A soft knock at the door startled her. A maid entered, bowing slightly before speaking. “His Majesty requests your presence for breakfast.”

YN frowned. A maid? She hadn’t expected anyone to treat her with respect—she thought she would be tossed into a dungeon, starved, forgotten. But no. She was being served. It unsettled her.

Still, she said nothing and complied, following the maid through the grand halls of the palace. The castle was just as dark and overbearing as she had thought it would be, its walls decorated with deep gold accents and tall, menacing windows. Nothing about it was warm. Just like him.

When they reached the dining hall, the large doors were pushed open, revealing an elegant table set with more food than she had seen in days. Her stomach twisted, but not from hunger. Because there, seated at the head of the table, was San. And he was already watching her. Her appetite vanished instantly.

San smirked, leaning forward slightly as he rested his chin on his hand. “Good morning, princess.”

YN swallowed, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

She refused to answer.

Instead, she slowly walked toward the table, forcing herself to keep her back straight as she sat down. The maid moved to pour her a drink, but she barely noticed.

All she could feel was his gaze.

San chuckled, clearly amused by her discomfort. “What’s wrong? Not hungry?”

YN clenched her jaw. Hungry? How could she eat in front of the very man who had stolen her kingdom, who had killed her family? She gripped the silverware in front of her, trying to steady herself, trying not to snap. But the longer she sat there, the more unbearable it became.

San leaned in slightly, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Eat, princess,” he murmured, voice dripping with mockery. “I don’t want you starving on me.”

YN clenched her jaw, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress beneath the table. She forced a smile, though her teeth were gritted in pure loathing.

"I wouldn't dare eat before His Majesty," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

San only smirked at her response, clearly entertained. He leaned back, drumming his fingers on the table before tilting his head. "That’s sweet of you, princess," he mused. "But I insist. I want my little princess to eat first."

Before she could protest, he reached for a piece of meat, slicing it with ease. He speared the piece with a fork and, without hesitation, held it up to her lips.

"Open."

YN stared at him, unimpressed. "I don’t eat meat."

San’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened.

"Too bad," he said, his voice void of sympathy. "You need to follow orders, princess."

His tone was firm now, leaving no room for argument. He wasn’t asking. He was commanding.

YN swallowed, her breath steady despite the way her stomach churned. She didn’t want to obey him—she refused to. But she knew how dangerous he was. She had seen it with her own eyes.

San was ruthless. And he would enjoy making her suffer if she disobeyed.

Still, she didn’t move.

San sighed dramatically, lowering the fork slightly. "Do I need to feed you myself?" he teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

YN clenched her fists beneath the table.

She had lost her kingdom. She had lost her family.

And now, she was losing control.

But what choice did she have?

YN hesitated for a moment, her stomach twisting in revulsion. But the look in San’s eyes told her there was no room for negotiation.

Slowly, reluctantly, she parted her lips.

San smirked in satisfaction and pushed the piece of meat into her mouth. His fingers brushed against her lips ever so slightly, lingering for just a second too long before pulling away.

She wanted to spit it out. Gods, she wanted to spit it out. But she didn’t. She forced herself to chew, swallowing the bite with as much grace as she could muster.

San watched her the entire time, his gaze sharp and unrelenting.

"Good girl," he murmured.

Her fingers twitched. She wanted to slap that smirk right off his face.

Instead, she reached for the glass of water beside her, desperately trying to wash away the taste of the meat that burned her throat like poison.

San leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he studied her. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

YN didn’t answer. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

San chuckled. He could see the anger burning in her eyes, the way her entire body tensed with barely restrained rage. Oh, how he enjoyed this. Watching her fight against her own pride, watching her struggle between her hatred for him and her will to survive.

"You’ll get used to it," he said lazily, taking another bite of his own food.

YN swallowed down her fury. She had to be careful. She had to be smart.

She wasn’t just a prisoner in this palace—she was a captive in his hands. And San was playing a game.

She just didn’t know the rules yet.

YN sat stiffly in her seat, her stomach churning with disgust—not just from the food, but from him.

San, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. He ate slowly, savoring every bite, his sharp eyes flickering toward her every now and then, like a predator keeping an eye on his prey.

When he was done, he wiped his mouth with a cloth, then tossed it onto the table carelessly. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world.

Then, without warning, he stood.

YN instinctively tensed as he walked around the table. His boots echoed against the marble floor, each step heavy, purposeful. She kept her gaze locked on the table, her fingers gripping the edge of her seat. But San didn’t stop until he was standing right behind her.

She felt his presence before she saw him. The heat radiating from him, the way the air around her seemed to shift. Then—

A hand.

Slow, deliberate fingers brushing over her shoulder.

YN flinched, but she refused to move. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her react.

San leaned down, his breath warm against the side of her neck.

"You surprise me, princess," he murmured, his voice smooth, deep. "I thought you’d be more difficult. But you listened. You obeyed." His fingers trailed up, brushing the strands of her hair away from her neck. YN’s breath hitched, but she kept her face blank, forcing herself to stare at the empty plate in front of her.

"Maybe you're smarter than I thought," San mused, his tone dripping with amusement.

Then, without warning, he grabbed her chin, tilting her head back so she was forced to look at him.

Her breath caught in her throat.

His eyes. Dark. Intense. Amused.

A smirk played at his lips, and for a terrifying moment, she swore he looked entirely too pleased with himself.

"Or maybe," he whispered, tilting his head slightly, "you’re just waiting for the right moment to fight back."

YN’s pulse pounded in her ears. San chuckled, his grip on her chin tightening just slightly before he let go. He straightened, taking a step back, but his presence still loomed over her.

"Either way," he said, voice smooth, "I’m looking forward to it."

As San spoke, his fingers lazily twirled a lock of her hair between them. The contrast was eerie—the way his voice was dark and commanding, yet his touch was almost gentle. Almost.

YN swallowed hard, keeping her expression blank, but inside, she was unraveling.

Why was he doing this? Why was he toying with her like this?

San hummed, his fingers drifting lower, brushing through the strands like he had all the time in the world. "Soft," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

She clenched her fists under the table. She wanted to jerk away, but his grip tightened just enough to keep her still. Not painfully—no, that wasn’t his style. He didn’t need to use force. His presence alone was enough to keep her frozen. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against the top of her head.

"You have no idea how much I enjoy this," he mused, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Seeing you like this. Trying so hard to keep your composure, when I know—" he tugged her hair lightly, making her tilt her head back just enough to meet his gaze "—that inside, you’re burning."

YN gritted her teeth.

San smirked, his fingers giving one last slow glide through her hair before finally—finally—he let go.

"Keep up the act, princess," he murmured, straightening. "Let’s see how long you last." And with that, he walked away, leaving YN sitting there, her breath uneven, her body tense.

Her hair still tingled from his touch.

She hated it. She hated him.

It had been days since YN had been trapped in this dark, unfamiliar place. The once-proud princess of Eldoria, now nothing more than a caged bird under the watchful eye of a ruthless king.

During those days, she had no purpose. No books to read, no people to talk to, nothing. Just the sound of the ticking clock and the occasional knock of a servant bringing her food.

And then there was him.

San.

He would come in whenever he pleased. Sometimes, he would simply stand there, watching her like she was some fascinating puzzle he was trying to solve. Other times, he would speak, his voice smooth and teasing, dripping with manipulation.

"Are you lonely, princess? You don’t have to be. You just have to behave."

"What a shame. You were once so free, and now you have nothing. But don’t worry—I can give you something. You only have to ask."

And then he would leave, always before she could snap back, before she could gather her words.

It was driving her insane.

Not the captivity, not even the fear—the boredom.

He wouldn't let her do anything. No dancing, no walking outside, no distractions.

She was starting to feel like a doll left on a shelf, waiting for the moment he decided to pick her up and play his twisted little games.

She hated him.

She hated how he controlled everything—her time, her space, even the very air she breathed in his presence.

And she hated that, despite everything, he still had the nerve to act like he was enjoying this more than she was suffering.

San sat in his grand chamber, the dim candlelight casting sharp shadows over his sharp features. He leaned back in his chair, one arm resting lazily on the armrest while the other traced the rim of his wine glass. His thoughts, however, were far from idle.

She was going to be here for a while. That much was certain. And since she was his now—his possession, his captive, his—it was only natural that he knew everything about her. So, he had sent his right-hand man to dig into her past.

It wasn’t an easy task. After all, he had razed Eldoria to the ground, left nothing but ashes and ruins in his wake. Most of her kingdom’s history had burned with it.

But his man was efficient, and somehow, he had managed to unearth something.

San read through the parchment, his sharp eyes scanning every word. YN—once a beloved princess, a figure of grace and kindness. People had adored her, and not just because she was royalty. She had been… good. She had spent her days tending to the kingdom’s gardens, running her fingers through delicate petals, ensuring that life flourished around her. She had a habit of visiting the commoners, speaking to them as if she were one of them.

She had been everything a ruler should be. San scoffed, amused. How naive. But what intrigued him the most was the last detail.

She had been a dancer. A dedicated one. Trained, disciplined, someone who had spent hours perfecting her craft.

San tapped his fingers against the table. A princess who danced. A girl who once moved freely, who now sat caged in his palace with nowhere to go.

He smirked. Oh, how he could use this.

San leaned back in his chair, his smirk deepening as he thought about it. A princess who danced, who tended to flowers, who was gentle—a true princess in every sense. She was nothing like the women he had encountered before, hardened by war or desperate for power.

She was delicate. Refined. Soft. And she was his now.

The idea of her being his personal entertainer amused him. The once-proud princess, forced to dance solely for his pleasure. The same girl who had glared at him with pure hatred, who had tried to fight him—kneeling before him, moving gracefully under his command. The thought alone sent a thrill down his spine. He wanted to see it. Wanted to watch her move, watch her surrender that grace to him.

His fingers drummed against the table as he made up his mind.

He would give her no choice. If she was going to be here, if she was going to belong to him, then she would have to earn her place.

And what better way than by using the very thing that once made her special?

The heavy doors to her room slammed open without warning, the force of it making the walls tremble. YN flinched, her fingers tightening around the book she had been reading. She barely had a moment to process before San strode in, his presence overwhelming, suffocating even. He moved with that effortless confidence, like a predator who knew nothing could touch him. His dark clothing contrasted sharply against the golden glow of the candles, his sharp jawline cast in perfect shadow. His eyes—cold, calculating—pinned her in place as he approached. He stopped right in front of her.

She had been sitting on the bed, legs tucked beneath her, the book resting in her lap. Now, she sat frozen under his piercing gaze.

San tilted his head slightly, studying her. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he had run his fingers through it moments ago. His lips curled, not in kindness, but in something far more sinister—amusement, control, ownership.

"You look so comfortable," he mused, voice dangerously smooth. "It almost makes me forget you're a captive." She swallowed, trying not to react.

He reached forward, slow and deliberate, and plucked the book from her hands. His fingers ghosted over hers for a second, a contrast of warmth and chill. He flipped through the pages lazily, before his smirk deepened.

"Interesting," he murmured, snapping the book shut with one hand. YN clenched her jaw. "You gave that to me." San let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down her spine.

"I did," he admitted, stepping even closer. His knee brushed against the edge of the mattress. He leaned down slightly, enough that she could feel the heat of him, smell the faint scent of leather and spice. He reached out, his fingers skimming through her hair—something he seemed to love doing.

YN clenched her fists. She hated how he touched her so freely, how he invaded her space like he owned it. But most of all—she hated the way he made it impossible to breathe.

San watched her closely, his eyes dark with amusement. He had noticed it—the way she sat idly for days, locked in this golden cage he had given her. She had nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to talk to. So of course, she was bored.

But YN didn’t trust him, and she had every reason not to.

Still, when he spoke, his voice was almost casual. "I was thinking," he said, tilting his head slightly, "you must be getting bored."

She stiffened. Of course, she was. But admitting anything to him felt like a loss. She remained still, watching him warily. San exhaled sharply, as if her silence annoyed him. He shifted slightly, bringing a gloved hand up to her chin. His fingers were deceptively gentle as they tilted her face up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Are you?" he asked again.

For a moment, she debated whether or not to answer. But the way his grip tightened—just a fraction—told her it wasn’t a request. Reluctantly, she gave a small nod.

San clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "That won’t do." His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, lingering just long enough to make her tense. His smirk deepened at her reaction. "If I ask a question, little princess, I expect words," he murmured. "Try again."

YN swallowed hard, her voice quieter than she would have liked. "Yes."

San grinned. "See? That wasn’t so hard." He released her, taking a step back as if satisfied.

"Since you’re bored," he mused, turning slightly, "I think I’ll give you something to do."

She narrowed her eyes. "And what would that be?"

He glanced at her over his shoulder, that wicked smirk never fading. "You’re going to dance for me."

YN was furious. “You're making me do this act of shame for what?”

San merely raised a brow at her outburst, completely unfazed. If anything, he looked amused.

"Shaming you?" he repeated, stepping closer. His voice was as smooth as silk, but there was something sharp beneath it. "You think I’m asking you to shame yourself?"

YN clenched her fists. "You’re making me put on a show for you like a performer, like some—"

"Like a princess," he interrupted, tilting his head slightly. His smirk deepened as he took another slow step toward her. "And isn't that what you are?"

She was furious now. "This dance is part of my kingdom’s culture," she snapped. "You’ve already taken everything from me. I won’t let you exploit this too."

San chuckled, dark and quiet. "Exploit?" he mused. "You call it exploitation. I call it appreciation." Her glare only fueled his amusement.

She furiously stood up "By making me dance in front of you for your entertainment? You think that’s appreciation?"

He didn’t move. He just stood there, watching her, his expression unreadable. Then, in one swift motion, he reached out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her flush against him.

YN gasped, her hands instinctively landing on his chest. His grip was firm but not painful, his warmth radiating through his clothes. She struggled, but he didn’t let go. His eyes bore into hers.

"Do you really think I see you as just some performer?" he murmured, voice dropping lower. "I could have killed you, little princess. I should have."

His fingers trailed up her arm, slow and deliberate. "But I didn’t. I kept you. And now, I want to see you—your kingdom’s pride, your so-called untouchable grace." He leaned in slightly, his breath ghosting over her skin. "You can call it whatever you want," he whispered, "but in the end, you will dance for me."

YN felt the weight of defeat settle deep in her chest. It was suffocating. She had nothing left—no kingdom, no family, no power. Even her pride, the one thing she had tried so desperately to hold onto, was slipping through her fingers.

San had taken everything from her. And now, even in this moment, he stood before her, completely in control. Her shoulders slumped as she took a slow step back, gaze falling to the floor. She hated this. Hated him. Hated how powerless she was.

San watched her reaction closely, his smirk unwavering.

"See?" he murmured. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" Then, to her surprise, he took a step closer—not with the same overwhelming dominance he usually carried, but with something else. Something almost teasing.

"Here," he said suddenly, reaching for her hair. "I'll even braid your hair to make it beautiful."

YN’s breath hitched. "What—"

But she couldn’t even finish before she felt his fingers threading through her locks.

He was gentle.

She wanted to recoil, to shove him away, but her body wouldn’t move. She stood frozen as he worked, weaving her long strands between his fingers, moving with ease as if he had done this a hundred times before. San was good at it. Too good.

"Surprised?" he mused, clearly amused by her silence. "You think a king can’t do something as simple as braiding hair?" His fingers moved slowly, carefully, as if savoring the feeling.

YN hated how calming it was.

He was quiet for a moment before he murmured, "My mother used to do this for me when I was young. Before she died." That caught her off guard.

She dared to glance at him, but his expression was unreadable.

Then, as if remembering himself, San smirked again. "But I suppose that doesn't matter now."

He tied off the end of the braid, admiring his work. "There," he said, stepping back. "Now you look even more like a princess."

YN clenched her fists at her sides. "You're cruel," she whispered.

San only chuckled, dark and low. "And yet, here you are—letting me braid your hair."

The music played softly in the grand hall, but to YN, it felt like a cruel command rather than a melody. Her bare feet hesitated against the cold marble floor. Her body still ached, her legs not fully recovered from the injuries. Every step sent a dull pain through her, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop.

San sat on his throne, legs spread lazily, elbow resting on the armrest, fingers curled under his chin. His dark eyes never left her. They followed every movement, every step, every sway of her body with an intensity that made her skin crawl.

He looked hungry. Not for food. Not for violence.

For her.

YN’s breath was uneven, but she forced herself to keep going. The dance that once brought her joy, the tradition of her people, now felt like shackles binding her to his will.

San exhaled slowly, his gaze dragging over her form. “Keep going,” he murmured, voice low and smooth, yet laced with authority.

Her knees almost buckled.

His gaze burned into her skin, drinking in every movement like a man who had been deprived for too long.

YN gritted her teeth, forcing herself to continue. She could feel his eyes tracing the curve of her waist, the arch of her neck, the way her braid swayed with her movements. He was enjoying this.

Not just the dance itself, but the fact that he was the reason she was dancing.

San leaned forward slightly, his smirk deepening. "It’s almost a shame," he mused. "That a princess like you should be wasted on a throne when you were clearly born to move like this.”

YN nearly stumbled. And the moment she stumbled, she knew something was wrong. Her vision blurred, the golden chandeliers above melting into streaks of light. The grand hall, once a suffocating prison, now felt like it was spinning around her, pulling her deeper into an abyss she couldn't escape.

Her legs trembled beneath her, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She tried to focus—on the cold marble beneath her feet, on the heavy silence that replaced the music, on anything that could ground her. But all she could see was him.

San.

He remained seated, watching her with an expression that sent chills down her spine. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement, lips curling into that damned smirk. The world tilted again. Her body swayed uncontrollably, her limbs heavy, her strength slipping away.

Then—darkness.

The last thing she saw before her knees buckled was San’s sinister smile.

He didn’t move to catch her. He didn’t call for help. He simply watched as she crumpled to the floor.

San exhaled slowly as he crouched beside her, his sharp eyes drinking in every delicate feature. Her long lashes fluttered slightly, her lips parted as she breathed weakly, and her hair, now slightly disheveled from the fall, fanned out around her like ink spilled on the cold marble.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful to let go.

His gloved fingers traced a strand of her hair, twisting it between his fingers as he studied her face. She had danced until she collapsed—until her body could no longer obey her. And all for him. A slow smirk curled on his lips.

"You really are something, little princess," he murmured, his voice deep, filled with an almost lazy amusement.

His hand moved to her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down. Even unconscious, she looked defiant—like she was fighting even in her sleep. San leaned closer, his lips hovering just near her ear.

"I will break you," he whispered, his voice laced with a dangerous promise. "But I will put you back together as mine."

He pulled away slightly, his gaze sweeping over her unconscious form. Then, with no sense of urgency, he slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her effortlessly into his arms.

She was light. Too light. San clicked his tongue.

"You're still weak," he mused, as if speaking to himself. "I’ll have to fix that."

With long, unhurried strides, he carried her toward the grand doors. His boots echoed against the empty hall, the only sound accompanying them. The princess belonged to him now. And San always got what he wanted.

When YN's eyes fluttered open, she was met with a sight she did not expect.

The room around her was nothing like the one she had been confined to before. It was magnificent—grander, richer, almost suffocating in its opulence. Deep crimson drapes cascaded from the towering windows, gold accents lining every carved detail of the walls. The bed she lay on was vast, the silk sheets beneath her softer than anything she had ever known.

But none of that mattered. Because he was there.

San.

He sat on the bed, resting against the bedpost with one arm draped over the carved wood, watching her with unreadable eyes. But the problem wasn’t just that he was there.

The problem was that he was shirtless.

The flickering candlelight cast sharp shadows across his toned torso, emphasizing every defined muscle, every scar carved into his skin like war medals. He looked relaxed—too relaxed—as if he had all the time in the world to simply watch her. Panic surged through her veins like fire.

Her breath hitched, and before her mind could even catch up, her body reacted. She immediately sat up, the sheets pooling around her, and scrambled off the bed. Her bare feet hit the cool floor as she backed away, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the terrifyingly alluring man before her. San exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips as he lazily tilted his head.

"Running away again?" he mused, his voice deep, teasing. "How adorable." YN swallowed hard. She knew better now. Running wasn’t an option.

But being near him? That was just as dangerous.

YN's voice was hoarse when she finally found the courage to speak. "Why am I here?"

San didn’t answer right away. He simply stretched, his muscles flexing as he let out a lazy sigh, before tilting his head toward her. “Does it matter?” he said casually, as if her presence in his chambers was the most natural thing in the world. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, frustration simmering beneath her fear. “Of course, it matters—”

But before she could continue, San suddenly chuckled, his sharp gaze locking onto hers. “Why are you so scared?” he teased, lips curling into that familiar, maddening smirk. “I haven’t done anything. Yet.”

Her breath hitched, but she forced herself to stand her ground. She hesitated for a moment before finally answering, her voice quieter now. “In my kingdom… it is inappropriate for an unmarried woman to share a bed with a man.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then San let out a low hum, tapping his fingers against the bedpost as if deep in thought. His smirk grew wider.

"Ah… so that's what’s bothering you," he mused. His eyes darkened with amusement as he leaned forward just slightly. "Then I suppose… you should be grateful I let you sleep alone last night.”

YN’s breath caught in her throat.

San was playing with her. And he was enjoying it.

San chuckled, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down YN’s spine. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he watched her with that ever-present glint of amusement.

“You won’t be unmarried for long,” he said casually, as if he were discussing the weather.

YN blinked. “What?” Her voice came out quieter than she intended, confusion flickering in her eyes.

San didn’t hesitate. He met her gaze head-on, his smirk sharpening into something more dangerous. “I’m going to marry you.”

Silence.

The words hit her like a blow, knocking the air from her lungs. She stared at him, waiting for him to take it back, to tell her it was another one of his cruel jokes. But he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head, his expression unreadable now. Deadly serious. “I’ve already decided,” he continued, as if that was the end of the discussion. “You’ll be my queen.”

YN took a step back, shaking her head in disbelief. “No,” she breathed. “You’re insane if you think—”

San suddenly stood, and she immediately froze. He wasn’t smirking anymore.

His gaze was intense, piercing through her like a blade. “I think you’re forgetting something, little princess.” His voice dropped lower, the weight of his authority pressing down on her. “Everything here… belongs to me.”

He took a slow step toward her.

“The palace.” Another step.

“The people.” Another.

“And you.”

YN’s back hit the wall, her breath caught in her throat as San loomed over her.

“There’s no escape, YN,” he murmured, reaching out to trace a strand of her hair between his fingers. “So don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

His lips curled into a smirk again, but his eyes?

They promised that he never said things he didn’t mean.

YN clenched her fists, gathering the courage to speak. “I won’t marry you,” she said firmly, though there was still a tremor in her voice. “You’re… you’re way older than me.”

San raised a brow, his lips twitching in amusement. “Older?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, little princess, that’s hardly an issue. A few years mean nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “Besides,” he continued, tilting his head slightly, “older men are wiser. Stronger. More capable of protecting what’s theirs.” His voice dropped, smooth like silk but laced with quiet dominance. “And you? You are mine now, aren’t you?”

YN swallowed, refusing to be rattled. “Marriage is supposed to be based on love,” she blurted out, gripping the fabric of her dress.

San stilled for a moment before exhaling a soft laugh. “Love?” He said the word like it was foreign to him, like it amused him. His fingers reached out, ghosting over the ends of her hair as he watched her intently. “You think love is what keeps a marriage strong?” His voice was deceptively soft, almost hypnotic. “No, little princess. Love is fragile. It crumbles. But power? Loyalty? Fear?” His gaze darkened. “Those are unshakable.”

He leaned in just enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath. “And don’t worry,” he murmured, his smirk returning. “You’ll learn to love me eventually.” He pulled away then, as if the conversation was already settled.

YN’s heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to argue, to fight back, but deep down, she knew—

San never changed his mind.

San’s voice was smooth, almost reassuring. “You don’t need to worry,” he said, as if his words could magically erase her fears. “I’ll take care of you. Give you everything you could ever want. Shower you with fortune, with power.” His fingers traced the edge of a gold-embroidered pillow as he spoke, his gaze never leaving her.

But YN didn’t want that. She never had.

She clenched her fists at her sides, her heart twisting painfully. This was not what she had dreamed of. She had always wanted love—real love, the kind her parents had. She had spent her childhood watching the way her father would soften whenever he looked at her mother, the way they laughed together, the way they held each other with warmth and affection. She had wanted that for herself one day. Not this.

Not a forced marriage with a ruthless king who saw love as a weakness.

Her throat felt tight, but she managed to whisper, “This isn’t what I imagined.” San tilted his head, watching her with unreadable eyes. “What did you imagine, then?” His voice was calm, but there was something lurking beneath it.

YN hesitated. She didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want to give him more power over her. But at the same time, she needed him to understand. “I imagined… a family,” she admitted softly. “A husband who loves me. Who looks at me the way my father looked at my mother. I don’t want riches or power. I just wanted…” She trailed off, unable to finish.

San’s smirk faded slightly, his expression darkening.

Then he chuckled, shaking his head. “Love,” he mused, almost to himself. “You really think love is enough to build a life on?”

His fingers suddenly caught her chin, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm, unyielding.

“You’ll learn, little princess,” he murmured. “You’ll see that love is nothing but a fragile illusion.” His thumb brushed against her lower lip before he released her. “But don’t worry. I’ll give you something much better.”

He stepped back. “You’ll have me. And in time, that will be all you need.”

YN’s stomach twisted in despair. Because deep down, she knew—San never said things he didn’t mean.

YN took a deep breath, steadying herself. She knew San wasn’t someone she could reason with. He was a man who took what he wanted, who bent the world to his will without a second thought. And clearly, he had decided that she would be his.

But that didn’t mean she would accept it.

She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with quiet defiance. “I know I can’t change your mind,” she admitted, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll be happily married to you.”

San's smile didn't waver, but something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable, something dark. He took a slow step toward her, closing the space between them with effortless ease.

“You say that now,” he murmured, his voice low and almost amused. “But things change, little princess. People change.” His fingers reached out, barely grazing a lock of her hair before he let it slip through his fingers. “You’ll come to understand soon enough.”

YN clenched her fists, resisting the shiver that threatened to crawl down her spine. “I will never love you,” she stated firmly.

San simply chuckled, stepping even closer until she had no choice but to tilt her head up to keep looking at him. “Who said anything about love?” he whispered. His breath was warm against her skin. “You’ll belong to me—whether you love me or not.”

YN’s heart pounded, but she forced herself not to look away. If he thought she would break that easily, he was wrong. San studied her for a moment, then let out a small hum of amusement. “I like that fire in your eyes,” he mused. “I wonder how long it’ll last.”

Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her standing there—trapped in a fate she wanted no part of.

YN lay stiffly in the bed, her back turned to him. The mattress was soft, far more luxurious than anything she had ever slept on before, yet she couldn’t relax. Not when the very man who had destroyed her life was lying so close behind her.

She flinched when she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist, pulling her back against a solid chest. San held her close, his grip firm yet strangely gentle, as if he was claiming her but didn’t want to break her—at least not yet. His warmth surrounded her, but it wasn’t comforting. It was suffocating.

“Tell me something,” his voice was softer now, almost coaxing, as he rested his chin lightly near her shoulder. “Before all of this… before I came and took what was mine… what did you think your married life would be like?”

YN hesitated. She didn’t want to answer him. She didn’t want to let him in, to give him even a glimpse of the dreams she once held so dearly. But his grip around her waist tightened just slightly, a silent warning that he expected her to answer.

Taking a shaky breath, she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I wanted a loving husband,” she admitted reluctantly. “Someone who would cherish me, not own me.”

San didn’t say anything, so she continued, her voice quieter now, as if she were speaking more to herself than to him. “I always imagined a peaceful life. A home filled with laughter. Two children… an older son and a younger daughter.” A small, sad smile ghosted her lips. “I thought I’d marry someone who truly loved me, and we would raise them together, surrounded by warmth and kindness.”

San hummed thoughtfully. His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on her side, a stark contrast to the dangerous man she knew he was. “A husband who loves you, two perfect children… how sweet.” He chuckled softly, though there was something unreadable in his tone. “You dream too softly for this cruel world, little princess.”

YN swallowed hard, gripping the silk sheets beneath her. She didn’t want to hear that from him. She didn’t want him to mock what little hope she had left.

San sighed, his warm breath fanning against her neck. “Love is an illusion,” he murmured, his lips barely grazing her skin. “Power, control… those are real. And I am real. You are mine, whether you accept it or not.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

San felt it. His thumb brushed against her waist, but he said nothing more. Instead, he simply held her tighter, as if he could mold her into his world through sheer force alone. And YN, despite everything, lay there in silence, trapped in the arms of the man who had stolen her future.

Days passed, and to YN’s surprise, San was… different. Not entirely, of course. He was still terrifying, still the man who had destroyed everything she knew. But he wasn’t as cruel as before.

He no longer forced her into uncomfortable situations just to see her squirm. He didn’t toy with her pride as much, nor did he threaten her with the same intensity. He was still controlling, still possessive, but something had shifted.

San was still bad. Just… not as bad.

He still made her dance for him, but now, he ensured that she had the proper shoes for it. He still forced her to eat at his table, but he no longer demanded she eat meat. He even went as far as making sure her meals were tailored to her tastes.

And then there were the moments in between—when he wasn’t being the ruthless king, the tyrant she had come to loathe. Moments where he would sit with her, watching her read, commenting lazily on the books she chose. Sometimes, he would run his fingers through her hair absentmindedly, braiding and unbraiding it as if it was his personal pastime. Other times, he would simply exist in the same space as her, not demanding, not pushing—just watching.

It was unsettling.

Because YN didn’t know what he wanted. She didn’t know what his end goal was. He had taken her, claimed her as his future bride, yet he wasn’t forcing her into marriage immediately. It was as if he was waiting for something.

San had been lounging beside her, his usual confident smirk in place as his sharp eyes flickered to the book in her hands. “That book,” he mused, tilting his head, “seems dreadfully boring.”

YN instinctively wanted to argue, to tell him how wrong he was, but then she remembered where she stood. She wasn’t in her home, in her kingdom. She was here, in his palace, a prisoner no matter how much luxury surrounded her. So instead of fighting back, she simply lowered her gaze, her grip on the book tightening as sadness settled over her features. San noticed.

His smirk faltered for a brief second before he leaned forward, his voice shifting into something lighter, almost teasing. “Alright then, tell me—what is it about?”

She hesitated, her fingers playing with the edge of the pages. But after a moment, she softly answered, “It’s about a girl who lost everything and had to rebuild her life somewhere new.”

San hummed, watching her carefully. “Sounds familiar.” She stiffened, but before he could ruin the moment, he continued, “And? What does she do?”

YN glanced at him cautiously before her eyes flickered back to the book. “She learns. She makes friends. She finds purpose again.”

Something shifted in her tone—just the smallest change, but San caught it. Her voice grew steadier, her words flowing more freely as she continued. “She thought she would never find happiness again, but little by little, she discovers new things that make her smile. Even in a place she once feared, she finds something worth holding onto.”

Her eyes lit up as she spoke, the weight on her shoulders seeming to lift, if only for a moment. She wasn’t talking to the cruel king who had stolen her life. She was simply speaking about something she loved.

San didn’t miss it.

He leaned back, resting his chin on his hand as he smirked. “You really like this book, don’t you?”

She blinked, suddenly realizing how much she had said. The light in her eyes dimmed as she clutched the book close to her chest, lips pressing into a thin line.

San clicked his tongue. “Tsk. There it is again.”

She looked at him, confused. “What?”

He tilted his head. “You’re always holding yourself back around me. But just now? You weren’t.”

YN swallowed, unsure how to respond.

San let out a breath, reaching forward before she could react. His fingers brushed against the strands of her hair, twirling a lock between his fingers as he murmured, “I think I like you better when you talk freely.”

YN stiffened, heart pounding. But San just smirked, letting the hair slip from his fingers as he leaned back.

“Keep reading, little princess.”

San grabbed a towel and slung it over his shoulder, stretching slightly before making his way toward the bathroom. YN watched him go but didn’t say anything, just lowering her gaze back to her book. The sound of water running filled the room, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. A while later, the door creaked open, and steam drifted out as San stepped back into the room.

He was fresh out of the bath, his damp hair slightly tousled, strands sticking to his forehead. Water still clung to his skin, glistening under the warm light as droplets trailed down his chest. His robe hung loosely on his shoulders, revealing glimpses of his toned frame, and his presence alone seemed to take up all the space in the room.

But his sharp eyes immediately found her.

YN was sitting in front of the mirror, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the ends of her hair. She looked deep in thought, her brows slightly furrowed, lips pressed together as if she was hesitating over something.

San smirked.

He walked up behind her, his reflection appearing in the mirror as he placed both hands on the table, leaning down slightly. His voice was smooth, teasing.

“You want to ask something.”

YN jolted a little, her fingers tightening around her hair as she met his gaze in the reflection. He tilted his head, eyes flickering over her expression. “Go on,” he murmured, voice dropping lower. “Ask away.”

YN hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. It was obvious she felt embarrassed, her posture stiff as if she was trying to disappear into herself. San watched her through the mirror, waiting with an amused yet patient look, though there was a glint of curiosity in his dark eyes. After a long silence, she finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I… talk to a maid?”

San straightened slightly, tilting his head. His smirk remained, but his eyes darkened just a little. “A maid?” he repeated, sounding unimpressed. She nodded quickly, still not meeting his gaze.

He scoffed, stepping around her so that he was now facing her directly. “Why?”

“I just need to ask her something,” she murmured.

San didn’t like that answer. He was nosy about her. He wanted to know everything—her thoughts, her feelings, even the small things that made her nervous like this. And this? This was something she was clearly reluctant to share. That only made him more curious.

He leaned in slightly, one brow raising. “Ask her what?”

YN swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s not important.”

“Then why can’t you tell me?” he shot back smoothly.

She tensed, her grip tightening on her sleeve. She knew he wasn’t going to drop this. San was persistent, and if she continued dodging, he’d only make things worse for her.

With a deep breath, she finally looked down and muttered, “My period is going to start soon.”

Silence.

Her face burned. She didn’t want to say it—especially not to him—but she had no choice. She wished the ground would swallow her whole.

San, however, was anything but embarrassed. In fact, he looked entertained. His lips curved into a knowing smile arms crossing over his broad chest.

“That’s what you were so shy about?” he chuckled. “You act like I don’t know what a period is.”

YN glared at him, her cheeks still hot. “I just wanted to ask a maid for supplies, not tell you about it.”

San hummed, stepping even closer. “You need something? I can have it brought to you.”

She clenched her jaw. “I don’t need you to handle it.”

He grinned. “Too bad. You belong to me now, which means everything you need comes from me.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower. “Even this.”

YN shut her eyes, exhaling sharply. There was no winning against him.

San let out a low chuckle. “I’ll have the maids bring you what you need. Next time, just tell me. No need to be so shy.”

She turned away, wishing this conversation would end. But as she heard him chuckle again, she knew one thing—he was enjoying this way too much.

San’s chuckle lingered in the air as he turned away from her, still clearly entertained by the whole situation. YN, on the other hand, felt like sinking into the floor. Why did it have to be him she had to tell? Why couldn’t he just let her talk to a maid like a normal person? Still, at least he said he’d send someone with what she needed. That was enough for now.

She remained sitting in front of the mirror, her hands still gripping the fabric of her dress as San walked to his side of the room. He dried his damp hair lazily with a towel, the glow from the lanterns casting soft shadows across his bare torso. YN forced herself to look anywhere but at him, but it was hard when he was the only moving presence in the dimly lit room. San finally tossed the towel aside and stretched, rolling his shoulders. He caught her reflection in the mirror, smirking at the way she was avoiding his gaze.

“You look so tense,” he commented, stepping behind her again. “Still embarrassed?”

She didn’t answer.

San tsked and placed his hands on the vanity, caging her in. “We’re going to be married, little princess,” he murmured. “You don’t have to be shy with me.”

Her hands clenched into fists, and she swallowed down the frustration rising in her throat. She hated how he spoke so casually about it. As if her opinion didn’t matter. As if she had no choice but to accept it. She took a shaky breath. “You keep talking about this marriage, but I don’t remember agreeing to it.”

San let out a low hum, his fingers tracing the wooden surface beside her. “You’ll come around.”

YN finally met his gaze in the mirror, her expression sharp. “What if I don’t?”

San grinned, but it wasn’t the playful kind—it was dark, knowing, almost dangerous. He leaned in, so close that his breath brushed against her ear.

“Then I’ll make sure you do.”

A shiver ran down her spine. She wasn’t sure if it was fear, frustration, or something else entirely, but she hated how easily he got under her skin.

San finally pulled away, stepping toward the bed. “Enough talking. Get some rest,” he said as he slid under the covers.

YN remained frozen for a moment before finally standing up and making her way to the bed as well. She didn’t want to sleep beside him, but what choice did she have? He had made it clear before—she wasn’t allowed to sleep anywhere else.

As she lay down, she kept her back to him, her body stiff. But just as she was beginning to relax, she felt an arm snake around her waist, pulling her against his chest. San let out a satisfied sigh, nuzzling into her hair. “Good night, princess,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

YN clenched her eyes shut, willing herself to ignore the way her heart pounded in her chest.

The grand wedding was too much for her. It was lavish, flamboyant, and overwhelming in every possible way. The palace was adorned with the finest silks, golden drapes cascading from the ceilings, and chandeliers that glowed like captured stardust. The scent of exotic flowers filled the air, blending with the rich aroma of feast preparations. It was a celebration fit for a queen—his queen.

Everybody took part. Nobles from distant lands arrived in their most extravagant attire, offering their congratulations to the man who had conquered not only kingdoms but now a bride. The halls echoed with the sound of music, laughter, and endless chatter about the union of King San and the fallen princess of Eldoria.

YN felt suffocated. She stood stiffly in her wedding attire, the fabric embroidered with gold, heavy on her shoulders, as if it were trying to crush her under its weight. Her hands trembled in her lap, fingers tightening around the delicate bouquet she held.

This was it.

There was no escape now.

San was standing tall beside her, dressed in his royal robes, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He looked utterly at ease, smirking at the guests as if this was just another victory in his long list of triumphs. His hand found hers, his grip firm, possessive.

"Smile," he whispered in her ear, his voice dripping with amusement. "It’s your big day, after all."

YN forced her lips to curve slightly, but she knew it didn’t reach her eyes.

The ceremony proceeded like a dream—a slow, painful one. Vows were exchanged, oaths were sealed, and with a smirk playing on his lips, San lifted her veil.

Her breath hitched as he leaned in, his fingers tilting her chin up, his gaze burning into hers before he finally captured her lips in a deep, claiming kiss.

The crowd erupted into cheers.

She closed her eyes, feeling the world spin.

She was no longer Princess YN of Eldoria.

She was now Queen YN of his empire.

The wedding feast stretched late into the night, filled with music, laughter, and the glow of golden candlelight. YN sat beside San, her hands folded neatly in her lap, feeling the weight of the rings on her fingers—symbols of a union she had never wished for. The grand hall was alive with celebration, nobles raising their goblets in toasts to their new king and queen, but YN barely touched her food. She felt like an outsider at her own wedding, trapped in a gilded cage.

San, however, was completely at ease. He carried himself like a man who had won—not just a war, but her. He accepted congratulations with his usual smirk, his presence commanding the room. Yet, no matter how many people spoke to him, his gaze always found its way back to her. Watching her. Studying her. As if trying to figure out what was going on inside that stubborn little head of hers.

As the night drew to a close, he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Time to go, princess.” His voice was softer than usual, almost teasing, but it sent a shiver down her spine nonetheless.

She hesitated, but he took her hand, guiding her through the grand halls. His grip was firm but not forceful. People bowed as they passed, whispering about how stunning she looked, how perfect they seemed together. But only she knew the truth.

When they reached the royal bedchamber, the doors shut behind them with a quiet finality. The room was breathtaking—grand and luxurious, with deep crimson drapes and gold accents, the massive bed taking up the center like a throne of its own. The air was thick with the scent of burning candles and something else—something distinctly him.

She stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do.

San turned to her, watching her closely. “You look tense,” he murmured, taking a step forward.

She refused to respond.

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. Then, with an ease that made her heart stutter, he started undoing the layers of his royal attire. The heavy coat was the first to go, then the rings on his fingers, the golden chains around his neck. By the time he was left in just his loose white shirt and dark pants, he looked almost… different. Less like a conqueror. More like a man.

Still, she took a small step back.

She swallowed, forcing herself to glare at him. “Marriage doesn’t mean you own me.”

He exhaled a soft chuckle, his fingers brushing through his dark hair before he looked at her again—this time, without mockery. “I know.” His voice was quiet, honest. “But I will take care of you. No matter what you think of me.”

She blinked, taken aback.

San moved to the other side of the room, pulling off his rings and setting them on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked at her once more, this time without the sharpness he usually carried.

YN stood in the center of the grand chamber, the weight of her wedding dress suddenly unbearable. Layers of embroidered silk and heavy jewels clung to her like a second skin, suffocating her. She barely had the energy to stand, let alone deal with the exhaustion creeping into her bones.

San, lounging on the edge of the bed, watched her with an unreadable expression. She hesitated, gripping the delicate embroidery of her sleeves. She needed to take it off, but she wasn’t exactly comfortable stripping in front of him.

San, as if reading her mind, let out a quiet chuckle. “You’re struggling.” He pushed off the bed, walking towards her with slow, confident steps. “Want my help?”

“No,” she answered quickly, stepping back.

He smirked but said nothing. Instead, he strolled toward a corner of the room, where a silk robe had been neatly placed. He grabbed it and held it out to her. “Wear this after.”

She stared at it for a moment before snatching it from his hands. She expected him to watch, but instead, he turned his back to her.

Surprised by his rare display of restraint, she wasted no time undoing the dozens of tiny clasps running down the back of her dress. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. She hurriedly pulled the robe over herself, the soft material a welcome relief against her skin.

“I’m done,” she muttered.

San turned back around, his gaze flickering over her once before he let out a satisfied hum. “Better.” Then, without another word, he strolled back to the bed, lying down like he owned the world.

She hesitated before following, keeping to the very edge of the mattress.

San turned his head to look at her, his dark eyes holding a glint of amusement. “You act like I bite.”

“You do bite,” she shot back.

He laughed, low and deep, before closing his eyes. “Only when necessary.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her back to him, ignoring the way his voice sent an annoying warmth through her.

As she tried to sleep, she could still feel the weight of his presence behind her—the king who had taken everything from her. And yet, for some reason, he hadn’t taken this.

Not yet.

As she lay on the vast bed, wrapped in the silk robe he had given her, YN couldn’t help but let her thoughts wander. She had read enough books to know how forced marriages usually played out. The stories always spoke of cruelty, of brides being nothing more than prizes to be taken. She had braced herself for that kind of fate.

But San… didn’t do it.

Instead, he was—dare she even think it?—soft. Not in the way a gentle prince would be, not in the way fairytales promised love and warmth. No, San was still dangerous, still sharp-edged, but there was something different about him tonight.

She had expected him to take what he wanted without question. To claim her the way men like him always did in stories. But instead, he had turned his back when she changed. He had given her space. He had simply laid down, his presence commanding yet oddly non-threatening.

Like a kitten, she thought absently, though the image almost made her want to laugh. A very large, very terrifying kitten with claws that could tear you apart.

She shifted slightly, stealing a glance at him. He was lying on his back, one arm lazily draped behind his head, his dark eyes half-lidded as he stared at the ceiling. He looked… relaxed.

Not once had he touched her inappropriately. Not once had he made any crude remarks. (He literally choked you but ok ig)

Why?

She turned her face away, staring at the soft glow of the lanterns instead. Maybe this was just another manipulation tactic. Maybe he was waiting for her to let her guard down. Or maybe… maybe some small part of him actually saw her as more than just a prize.

The thought unsettled her.

Because deep down, she knew that if San ever decided he wanted something, nothing in the world could stop him from taking it. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what would happen if he ever decided he truly wanted her.

YN blinked sleepily, her vision still hazy from sleep. She stretched her arms lazily, her long sleeves slipping past her hands as she let out a small, muffled yawn. Her hair was a complete mess, strands sticking out in every direction, framing her sleepy face in an unintentionally adorable way.

Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, searched the room, expecting to see San beside her—but his side of the bed was empty. Still wrapped in the warmth of the blankets, she turned her head, and there he was.

San sat at his desk, his posture relaxed but commanding, one hand holding a pen as he wrote something with effortless ease. The soft glow of the morning light caught his features just right—his sharp jawline, his dark tousled hair, the way his white shirt clung to his frame, the top few buttons left undone, revealing a glimpse of his collarbone.

For the first time, he didn’t look like a monster. He looked… almost like a king should. Regal, composed, focused. Normal.

YN rubbed her eyes, still trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep. She tilted her head slightly, observing him, her lips unconsciously forming a small pout.

Why did he have to look that good in the morning? It was unfair.

As if sensing her gaze, San suddenly looked up. His piercing eyes met hers instantly, and for a second, neither of them spoke. His lips curled into a small, amused smirk as he leaned back in his chair.

“Did you sleep well, little princess?” His voice was deep, still carrying the remnants of sleep, and for some reason, it made her stomach do a weird little flip.

She blinked at him, still too groggy to properly respond, and just gave a slow, sleepy nod.

San chuckled, shaking his head. “You look like a little kitten.”

“I do not.”

But with her messy hair, half-lidded eyes, and small, sleepy pout, she absolutely did. And San looked far too entertained by it.

YN groggily got out of bed, her bare feet touching the cold floor as she stumbled slightly. She was still shaking off sleep, her body not fully awake yet. Without thinking, she made her way to the bathroom, craving the warmth of a shower to clear her mind.

By the time she emerged, she felt fresher, more alert. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders, the scent of soap and flowers lingering around her. But now, standing in the middle of the grand room, she realized—she had no idea what to do next.

Her life had always been structured, filled with responsibilities, duties, and expectations. But here? She had nothing. No routine, no obligations. No real freedom, either. Without really thinking, she turned towards the only person who did know what to do.

San.

He was still at his desk, leaning back in his chair, one hand propped under his chin as he watched her approach. His sharp eyes scanned her from head to toe, taking in her fresh appearance, his lips twitching into something close to a smirk. She stopped in front of him, hesitating. Now fully awake, she felt slightly embarrassed that she had come to him of all people. But she pushed past it and, in a soft voice, asked,

“…What should I do now?”

San’s smirk deepened, his gaze flickering with amusement. He rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, tilting his head as he looked up at her.

“You’re asking me?” he mused, his voice slow, teasing. “What a good little wife you are.”

YN’s cheeks heated instantly. “That’s not—!”

San chuckled, waving a hand. “Relax, princess. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

Her brows furrowed. Free? That word felt strange coming from his mouth.

San, sensing her doubt, leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to something softer. “Go walk around. Read. Sit by the window and braid your hair, since you love doing that.” His eyes glinted with something unreadable. “Or… you can just sit here and keep me company.”

YN bit her lip. None of those things felt fulfilling. But at least now, she knew one thing—San wasn’t planning to throw her back into isolation. For now.

YN stood there, fidgeting slightly, as the realization settled in. She didn’t know what to do. It was a strange, unsettling feeling—one she had never truly experienced before.

Back in her kingdom, her days were always planned for her. From the moment she woke up to the moment she went to bed, every decision had already been made—what she wore, what she studied, where she went, how she behaved. And now, standing here with the freedom to choose, she felt... lost.

San, who had been watching her closely, let out a small chuckle. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, looking effortlessly regal even in his relaxed posture. “What’s with that face, princess?” he mused. “You act like I just handed you the entire world.”

YN glanced at him, biting her lip. Maybe because, in a way, you did.

San tilted his head, studying her. Then, in a softer voice, he said, “You’re older now. You don’t need someone to tell you what to do every second of the day.” He tapped his fingers against the armrest. “So, tell me, what do you want to do?”

YN hesitated. She had never really been asked that before. What did she want? Then, almost instinctively, she looked up at him and answered, “I want to cook.” San blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. Then, slowly, a smirk stretched across his lips. “Cook?” he repeated, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

She nodded, a bit more firmly this time. “Yes.”

San exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Of all things…” He stood up, towering over her, before placing a hand under her chin, tilting her face up to look at him properly. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

YN swallowed, her breath hitching at how close he was. His fingers were warm against her skin, his touch gentle despite the sheer power he held.

Then, after a beat of silence, he let go and stepped back. “Fine,” he said lazily. “Let’s see what my little wife can do in the kitchen.”

YN had never felt this kind of nervousness before. She had fought battles of words, endured royal duties, and faced San’s unnerving presence more times than she could count. But this? Watching him take the first bite of the food she cooked with her own hands? It was a different kind of pressure.

She sat stiffly across from him at the long dining table, pretending to focus on her plate, but her eyes kept flickering toward him. He hadn’t said a word yet, just cutting into the dish and bringing a bite to his lips.

San chewed slowly, his face unreadable. YN gripped the fabric of her dress beneath the table. Is it bad?

Then, finally, he swallowed. He set his fork down, wiping the corner of his mouth with deliberate ease before turning his gaze to her.

“You were a princess,” he mused, voice slow and deep. “Raised in luxury, surrounded by servants to do everything for you.”

YN tensed, unsure where this was going.

“And yet,” he continued, dragging his thumb across the table absentmindedly, “you can cook like this?”

Her lips parted slightly. “I… I learned from the palace chefs,” she admitted. “They were kind enough to teach me when I was younger.” San hummed, leaning back in his chair. Then, to her shock, he smirked. “You’re full of surprises, wife.”

YN blinked, heat creeping up her neck. “So… does that mean you like it?”

San tilted his head, his smirk deepening as he picked up his fork again. “I don’t just like it,” he said, taking another bite. “I might just keep you in the kitchen forever.”

She frowned. “That’s not funny.”

San chuckled, the sound smooth and rich. “Oh, but it is.” He motioned toward her plate. “Now eat. You put in all that effort—don’t let it go to waste.”

YN exhaled, shaking her head but finally picking up her utensils.

And though she wouldn’t admit it, a small, almost unnoticeable smile played on her lips as she started eating.

San never thought he was capable of feeling guilt. He was a man who took what he wanted, ruled with an iron fist, and never once looked back at the wreckage he left behind. But YN… she had undone something in him. What started as twisted obsession had transformed into something deeper—something he couldn't even name. Love wasn't enough to describe it. He adored her, worshipped her in ways that made even him question his sanity. And yet, with every stolen glance, every soft sigh that escaped her lips when she thought he wasn’t listening, he felt the weight of his past actions press down on him. He had humiliated her. Broken her pride. Forced her into this marriage without a choice.

And yet, here she was. Cooking for him. Talking to him. Looking at him like he was a person, not a monster.

San watched her as she ate, completely unaware of the war raging in his mind. He could see the faint traces of her old self still lingering—the stubbornness, the quiet grace, the warmth she carried even when she tried to keep it from him. And for the first time, he found himself wanting something different. He wanted her to look at him without fear. He wanted her to choose him, not just accept him as an unchangeable fate.

San clenched his jaw, setting his fork down. He was not a man who apologized, not a man who begged for forgiveness. But for her? He would find a way to make things right, even if he didn’t deserve it.

San stood near the dresser, watching her through the mirror’s reflection. Her legs dangled off the edge of the bed, her bare feet swinging slightly. She looked small like this, lost in thought, her fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of her nightgown.

He sighed softly, running a hand through his dark hair before walking over to her. He crouched down, resting his forearms on his knees so they were at eye level. “You look tired,” he murmured, voice softer than usual.

YN blinked at him, a little caught off guard. He was always intense—dangerous—but tonight, there was something different about him. His eyes weren’t as sharp, his usual arrogance replaced with something quieter.

She shrugged, looking away. “I suppose”.

San hummed, tilting his head slightly. Then, without warning, he reached for her foot, gently holding her ankle in his large hand. YN stiffened, watching him closely, but he only smirked. “Relax,” he said, sliding his thumb in slow circles over her skin.

“What are you doing?” she asked, wary.

He lifted her foot slightly, resting it on his knee. “Something a loving husband would do.”

Her breath caught.

San’s touch was uncharacteristically gentle as he began to massage her foot, his fingers pressing into the arch, kneading away the tension she hadn’t realized she was holding. The warmth of his hands sent a shiver up her spine, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

She swallowed hard. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

YN’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She only watched as he worked, her heart pounding against her ribs.

San’s gaze flickered up to hers, and for once, there was no wicked glint in his eyes, no teasing smirk. Just something raw and real. “I know I’ve been… cruel,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I want to be better for you.”

Her breath hitched. She wasn’t sure what to say—wasn’t sure if she believed him. But for now, she let him hold her foot in his hands, let herself enjoy the rare moment of peace between them.

Because, for the first time, San wasn’t just claiming her.

He was asking for her.

YN sat there, her legs dangling over the edge of the tall bed, watching San with cautious eyes. She didn’t know what to expect from him anymore. He had been cruel, manipulative—everything about him had terrified her. And yet, in these past days, she had seen glimpses of something else. Something she didn’t understand.

And now, he was kneeling in front of her, holding her leg in his strong yet gentle grasp, his forehead pressed against her knee.

Her breath caught in her throat. The mighty king, the man who had stolen her life away, was bowing his head as if he was asking for forgiveness. It felt unreal.

San’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke, like he was afraid to break whatever fragile moment had settled between them. “I’ve hurt you so much, haven’t I?”

YN stiffened, her fingers clutching the fabric of her nightgown.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

San lifted his head slightly, just enough to look up at her. His dark eyes were no longer filled with their usual amusement, arrogance, or hunger. Instead, they held something else—something softer, more vulnerable. And the way he looked at her... how did he make his eyes look like that? Like a desperate plea. Like an apology.

She hated that it made her feel something.

His thumb brushed over her ankle, slow and deliberate, as if grounding himself in the touch. “I can’t take it back,” he murmured. “Everything I’ve done to you… I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He exhaled shakily, closing his eyes for a brief moment before looking up again. “But I want to change. For you.”

YN’s heart betrayed her by skipping a beat.

No. No, she couldn’t let herself believe this.

This was the same man who had humiliated her, who had forced her into a life she never wanted. She should push him away, tell him that no matter what he did, she would never forgive him. And yet…

Her fingers twitched in her lap. And for some reason, she didn’t move.

She felt lost. Confused. Torn between everything she knew and everything she was starting to feel. Her chest tightened, her throat burned, and before she could stop it, her eyes welled up with frustration. “Why?” Her voice was quiet, shaky. “Why do you do this to me?”

San looked at her, his grip on her leg tightening just slightly. His face remained unreadable, but his fingers betrayed him, twitching against her skin as if he feared she’d pull away.

YN swallowed hard, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. “Why do you make it so hard to hate you?”

She wanted to. She was supposed to. She should hate him for taking her from her home, for forcing her into this life, for every cruel smirk, every mocking word, every time he made her feel powerless. She should despise him for turning her world upside down. And yet—

He was the only one in her world now. No family. No kingdom. No one else. Just him. And somehow, that realization terrified her more than anything else.

She broke.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, one after another, until she couldn't stop them. Her shoulders shook, her breathing came out in ragged gasps, and all the pain, all the frustration, all the confusion poured out of her in waves.

San couldn’t watch it. He couldn’t bear it. He got up and pulled her into his arms without hesitation. His grip was tight—desperate, almost—as if he wanted to merge with her, to keep her so close that nothing, not even the pain he had caused, could separate them.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was low, rough, yet softer than she had ever heard it before. He pressed his face against her hair, holding her tighter, rocking her slightly. “I’m so sorry.”

She cried even harder.

Hearing that from him—this man who had only ever taken from her, who had controlled her life in ways she never imagined—made her sob until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

And then his next words came, whispered against her temple, like a vow only she was meant to hear.

“I promise you, YN. I’ll be a good husband.”

His arms tightened around her. “I’ll make this right.”

She wanted to believe him.

She clung to him.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gripping tightly as if he was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. She buried her face into his shoulder, her sobs muffled against his warmth.

San felt it. The way she held onto him—not out of love, not yet, but out of a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, he could make the pain go away. That he could fix what he had broken.

His arms wrapped around her even tighter, his hand stroking her back in slow, steady motions. “I know,” he whispered, his voice laced with regret. “I know I hurt you.”

She didn’t respond. Just held on.

And San swore, in that moment, he would do anything—anything—to make it better. To deserve the way she was holding him now.

Divider from @/cafekitsune

[nova-rogue]

ik people get so mad but honest to god the hill i'll die on is that if you are not willing to put in the effort to properly take care of and healthily maintain your pet you should not have one.

I KNOW i know they're comfort animals that bring you lots of benefits, no matter the creature, but some of you guys are literally causing so much fucking harm to your pets it's unreal.

cats are not meant to be fat and are rather athletic animals that need much more enrichment and exercise than most people are even remotely willing to provide them with.

birds require a lot of precise care and are not meant to be touched or pet in places people love to pet them.

reptiles and amphibians have really strict environmental needs and get stressed super easily.

fish need way more space than most people are willing to give them.

rodents need more space and better environments to safely thrive in than what most people are willing to give them.

different dog breeds require vastly different care methods and environments for peak health and functionality.

contrary to popular belief you CAN'T just adopt an animal and give them the bare minimum (food, water, litter box) and call it good. you NEED to know how to take care of them. you completely control the trajectory of their health and safety.

people are out here hurting and killing their pets and acting like they have a god-given right to do so.

[hyperbolicgrinch]

I'M BACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK YOU CAN SPRAY ME WITH THE GARDEN HOSE BUT I SHAN'T BE STOPPED IM GOING TO BARK AND BARK AND BARK AND BARK AND BA—

(once again I have to do a reblog because I couldn't contain myself to the replies word count 😌)

“No,” he growled and he didn’t have to look to know his metal arm was there.

I AM LOSING MY SHIT!!!!!!! THIS IS ABOUT TO MAKE ME GO DERANGED!!!!!!! I'M SCREAMING LIKE ARE YOU ABOUT TO DO WHAT I THINK YOU'RE ABOUT TO— OMG YOU ARE YOU ARE YOU LEGEND!!!!

“No!” A shout this time and he ran forward, past her ghost, and he knew how to call metal to him, how to command it so it would obey.

I'M NOT JOKING IM SCREAMING!!!!!! THIS IS STUNNING!!!! I'm holding my head in my hands!!! These lines are incredible and this build up is extraordinary!!! I love it so much holy shit

He built high walls around them, covered the walls with spikes, and dug his metal fingers into his chest until he bled, grabbed the bones and pulled.

I'm gagging!!! I'm on the floor and I am gagging!!! This blew my head off!!!!!! It's so panicked and terrifying and hectic and I am gonna cry!!? omg!!! you did an amazing job with this, like I cannot stress that enough!!!!!!!

Law would be safe if he got there, he knew.

👁️👁️ I put my hand over my mouth. I'm not playing. I sat there like 🙊

Kidd would tuck him inside himself, right where he belonged,

T h i s fucked me up. Exquisite. I am shookth. I.... Am screaming internally. I.... Am speechless. I am in love. Incredible incredible incredible.

and he ran, and ran, and ran, and—

—woke, sweating, panting, shaking, his chest aching from where he’d clawed himself, blood welling in the shape of his nails.

Hngggg. I love THISSSSSS!!!!! Gives off the vibe you're after so so so so well!!!!!!!! And sweet lord above!!!! 'where he'd clawed himself' 😳😳😳 'blood welling in the shape of his nails' 😵 cool so I'll always forever be thinking about this. cool. Cool. Cool. Poetic cinema. I'm crumbling apart. Sublime.

He sat there for a moment, trying to calm his breathing and found he couldn’t. He struggled out of his sweat-soaked blankets and stood on unsteady legs, going to the bathroom. He sponged himself off. He cupped his shaking hands under the faucet and drank.

Holding him in a vice like grip even as he bites and bites me. Omg these nightmares are fuckin' him up. Nooo, blorboi. 😭 (Glad to know Kidd getting nightmares is absolutely hivemind. 🤜🤛) I'm still honesty going insane about them though. I was. not. ready. Using like canon as nightmare fuel isn't new obviously but I just did not think of it and also the way you did it was so punchy and well done. Divine!

He went to Killer’s room, crawling into bed beside him, pushing his way under his best friend’s arm, warm skin on warm skin, pulling his long blonde hair over himself like a blanket.

I'M ASCENDING!!!! I'M THE MOST POWERFUL BEING IN THE WORLD!!!!!!!!! I'M UNTO A GOD!!!!!!!! THAT'S 👏👏👏 IT 👏👏👏👏 THAT'S 👏👏 THEM 👏👏👏 THEY'RE FOOKIN LIFE PARTNERS THEY'RE SOULMATES THEY'RE LIVING IN EACH OTHER'S SKIN 👏👏😭😭😭👏👏😭😭 WOW DREAMS REALLY DO COME TRUE!!! Kidd using Killer's hair as like a safety blanket too............. I'm stumbling. I'm wavering on the spot. I'm crying. YOU'RE SO CORRECT, THANK YOU

“Mm. Kidd?” Killer’s voice was thick with sleep.

“Yeah,” he whispered into the dark. “’S me.”

“’S wrong?”

oh no this lil interaction is so perfect. You're holding the atmosphere really well and you're dialogue is splendid 👌👌👌

“Nothing.” He chewed his thumb nail. “Nightmare.”

I'm crazy about this. It's absolutely perfect. Yessss. The brush off denial and then giving an actual one word answer. Oh, he is Kidding so hard!!!!! The chewing on his thumb nail too? Immaculate. Adds such a good detail and I'm messed up about it!!! Aghhhh!!!!

“The one about…?”

“Yeah.” Killer’s arm tensed, relaxed. A hug.

“What’d she say this time?”

no nonono no nono nah no like I'm so unwell about thisssss. I'm sobbing!!!!!!!!!! They don't even need to finish sentences. They on the same page and it's happened so much that Killer just knows!!! They've talked about it!!! They share things!!! It's crushing my soul that Kidd gets recurring nightmares omgggg. THE HUG THO!!!! THE WAY YOU WROTE IT!!! THE FEW WORDS BUT THE POWER OF IT!!!!! PERFECT!!!! (also if the she is Victoria......I am absolutely fookin going to lose my entire mind but I could just be completely insane I could be mad I'm wandering off on my own with painful assumptions oh no argh but either way, I am quakingggggggg, I am in the throes of your writing OMGGGGGGG)

“Same old same old. That we let her die.” His voice wavered as he said it and Killer pulled the blanket up higher, rolled over to put both arms around him, arranging his hair over him again.

Nyyooooooooo!!!! Skrungly trash man, don't cry!!!!!! Oh nooooooo!!!!!!! I was not prepared!!!!!! The voice waver!!!!!!!! Help! Help! Guards, help me!!!!! KILLER PULLING THE BLANKET UP!!!!!! tell everyone I love that I love them because I'm gone and shattered into a million pieces............... KILLER ROLLING OVER TO GIVE KIDD A PROPER HUG AND HOLDING HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'M ROTATING AROUND THE SUN I AM SHOOTING FOR THE MOON I AM COLLIDING WITH THE STARS I AM RICOCHETING OFF THEM AND PLUMMETING INTO THE BEAUTIFUL VOID!!! mwah mwah mwah perfect 😭😭😭 and KILLER PUTTING HIS HAIR /BACK/ OVER KIDD!!!!! OH SAY YOU LOVE SOMEONE WITHOUT SAYING IT OH SAY YOU KNOW SOMEONE WITHOUT SAYING IT OH SAY YOU CARE FOR SOMEONE WITH EVERYTHING YOU HAVE WITHOUT SAYING IT!!!!! I'M CRYYYIINGGG!!! He understands and loves Kidd so much shut up shut up everybody shut up 😭😭😭💕💕😭💕💕😭💕💕💕😭💕💕😭💕😭💕💕💕😭

“She didn’t mean it. We’ll go to her grave tomorrow, give her some flowers and a drink and she’ll calm down. You’ll see.”

HELLO??????!!!?!!? perfection incarnate. I'm obsessed with these lines. I'm obsessed with this concept. I'm obsessed with this ritual. I'm obsessed with how you've done THISSSSSS I'm obsessed I'm obsessed did I say I was obsessed!!?!?! I'm going to cry fr fr,,,, it's implies so much and is so big and so full of history and mending and tearing and I am going to scream I am going to SCREAM!!! I am living here for the foreseeable future. I shan't move on. AND LIKE KILLERRRR!! 😭😭✊💕💕 THAT'S MY MAN THAT'S MY BLORBO THAT'S MY LITTLE GUY YOU ARE DOING HIM SO MUCH JUSTICE YOU ARE DOING THEM AND THEIR BOND BRILLIANTLY AND PERFECTLY I AM GOING TO HURL (BUT IN A GOOD WAY) HOLY SHIT I NEED A LIE DOWN 👁️👁️👏👏👏💯💯🔥🙏🙏🙏 'she didn't mean it' is staying with me forever. Oof.

#kidd waking up from a nightmare seeking out his best friend for comfort no big deal

they are a bonded pair. Do not seperate. I'm so emotional about this. You GET IT YOU GET IT you just continue to GET IT AND I ADORE YOUR MIND

#d&h is currently 145 pages long and i get to write phönix aus der asche soon i am SO EXCITED to finally write that scene

phönix aus der asche has me in a chokehold and I don't even know her. Ooooo it's gonna messs me up, I can't waitttt (BUT HUHUHUU FIC HAS GROWWNNN AGAIN I'M SO HYPED FOR YOU!!!)

#but first gotta get through bitch you live like this 2

The fact that we don't have one bitch you live like this but TWO!!!!!! IF WE'RE WRONG WHY DO WE KEEP WINNING!!!!!! I'M SKIPPING WITH JOY AND ANTICIPATION!! GOOD LUCK GOOD LUCK YOU'RE GONNA SMASH IT (no pressure) 👏👏

✨ weekend wip exposure club ✨

rules: post 7 sentences or a snippet of an unfinished work

awwww thank you for the tag @hyperbolicgrinch :) :) :) :) It's Monday but we'll just pretend it's still the weekend shhhhhhh. That said, could I interest you in some soft sad snuggles?

“No,” he growled and he didn’t have to look to know his metal arm was there. “No!” A shout this time and he ran forward, past her ghost, and he knew how to call metal to him, how to command it so it would obey. He built high walls around them, covered the walls with spikes, and dug his metal fingers into his chest until he bled, grabbed the bones and pulled. Law would be safe if he got there, he knew. Kidd would tuck him inside himself, right where he belonged, and he ran, and ran, and ran, and— —woke, sweating, panting, shaking, his chest aching from where he’d clawed himself, blood welling in the shape of his nails. He sat there for a moment, trying to calm his breathing and found he couldn’t. He struggled out of his sweat-soaked blankets and stood on unsteady legs, going to the bathroom. He sponged himself off. He cupped his shaking hands under the faucet and drank. He went to Killer’s room, crawling into bed beside him, pushing his way under his best friend’s arm, warm skin on warm skin, pulling his long blonde hair over himself like a blanket. “Mm. Kidd?” Killer’s voice was thick with sleep. “Yeah,” he whispered into the dark. “’S me.” “’S wrong?” “Nothing.” He chewed his thumb nail. “Nightmare.” “The one about…?” “Yeah.” Killer’s arm tensed, relaxed. A hug. “What’d she say this time?” “Same old same old. That we let her die.” His voice wavered as he said it and Killer pulled the blanket up higher, rolled over to put both arms around him, arranging his hair over him again. “She didn’t mean it. We’ll go to her grave tomorrow, give her some flowers and a drink and she’ll calm down. You’ll see.”

tagging @wisdomofthegecko and @shitbewild if y'all got anything y'all want to share :D

[emeritusemeritus]

Can I sleep here tonight?

Title: Can I sleep here tonight?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x pregnant!wife!reader, Molly and Arthur Weasley (being absolute gems)

Timeline: Set post-war. George lost his ear a per canon but Fred is very much alive and thriving, married and expecting his first child. The burrow is mentioned for story purposes so it didn’t burn down and we’re ignoring canon once more.

Summary: George arrives at the burrow asking to spend the night, desperate to get away from Fred and his pregnant wife.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, pregnant character, brief mentions of war and previous injury, though no graphic description is included. Mentions of sex.

It's way past tea time, darkness settling all around as the last glimmer of winter sun fades into the hills when George Weasley apparates onto the familiar dirt road leading up to his childhood home. He's armed with only his wand and a small suitcase no bigger than a briefcase, only holding the basics.

Since the war, Molly and Arthur had kept up the old enchantments placed upon the Burrow as a precaution, the fears never truly leaving them. With a wave of his wand, George clears the enchantments and steps through the invisible barrier to get to the house. As he steps towards the little stone step that acts as the threshold to the house, the door is thrust open and a warm and solid body pulls him inside. He recognises the body as his mother the very second her height and smell come into focus.

"My boy! What are you doing here?  You look tired and peaky, is something wrong? I'll make you something to eat. Arthur!" Molly shouts loudly for her husband after fretting at seeing George on their doorstep without any prior warning, especially without his twin. Since opening the shop, them moving out together, the war, George's recovery, and Fred's wedding, the twins have been so busy it's been an endeavour to get them back home even for a simple visit. "Arthur!"

"Mollywobbles what is it?" Arthur shouts back, his voice getting louder as he moves towards the kitchen. "Oh hello son," he says as he walks into the kitchen, seeing George stood there clutching a small briefcase. Arthur instinctively frowns at the unexpected visit but welcomes his son with warmth, wrapping him in a hug, patting his back a few times before pulling away.

"Do you want a cup of tea dear?" Molly asks, already making her way over to the kettle and busying herself to make something to eat for George, regardless of his radio silence.

"Now Molly, it seems he might need something stronger than tea, right son?" Arthur asks, patting George's shoulder once. "Why don't be crack open some of my Knotgrass mead? I've been saving it for an occasion, no time better than the present." He ushers George to sit at the table and Molly rushes over with a large bottle of mead and two pint glasses, bringing over an elaborate sandwich on a plate for George.

"Thanks mum," George says as Molly places down the welcomed food, noticing that she'd used one of her nicer plates for him, not something that he was ever allowed when he was younger. 

"Cheers!" Arthur says, holding up his glass towards George's after he'd poured them, happy to have a drinking buddy at home.

"So what's wrong son? Not that you're not always welcome of course," Arthur says, eyeing his son with a hint of suspicion as Molly takes a seat opposite George, placing down a cup of tea made for herself.

"Can I stay here tonight?" George asks, cringing at the slight awkwardness of his request, feeling like a child again.

"Of course you can!" Arthur says as if he's offended by the notion of George even having to ask.

"Of course you can dear, how nice to have a fuller house again! I'll put some fresh linens on the bed for you," Molly rushes up towards Fred and George's old room and with a swish of her wand, changes the bedsheets in no time at all. She returns to see the men chatting at the table and takes her place once again, reaching for her tea.

"Do you want to tell us what's wrong?" Arthur says, taking the lead. George sighs heavily, not wanting to say outright what the problem is but unable to think of a plausible excuse.

He sighs once more before admitting to the issue under his parents concerned gazes, "it's Fred and y/n."

"Have you had a falling out?" Molly quickly says, interrupting George. Arthur gives her a quick look which tells her politely to be quiet until their son has finished to which she nods and waits.

"Not exactly, it's just... I can't bare to listen to them having sex anymore. Silencing spells don't work, I've even tried muggle earplugs, well one, but that didn't work either! I only have one ear and it's still bad! Since Y/n got pregnant it's none stop, I thought getting pregnant was bad enough but bloody hell," George barely conceals a shudder at the thought of his twin brother and his wife having near constant sex in the same flat as him.

He picks up the sandwich and begins tucking in, not having time to get any food in his haste to flee the flat about the shop that he shared with Fred and y/n.

He turns his gaze back to his parents and is immediately surprised at the look they are sharing between each other. Both of them are smiling lovingly, a blush spreading on both of their faces, both appear to be speaking with their eyes.

"What?" George says with a mouthful of food, frowning, not understanding their reaction.

"Why do you think we had so many children?" Arthur suddenly laughs, earning a little giggle from Molly, a sound that George had never heard fall from his mother's mouth.

"I couldn't resist your mother when she was pregnant, just something about it," Arthur trails off as if he's daydreaming, a nostalgic smile plastered on his face. "The second she popped one of you out I wanted to try again."

George wants the ground to swallow him up in his entirety as he sits disgusted and uncomfortable. Was nowhere safe anymore? He finds his appetite has significantly decreased and is thankful that he'd finished the sandwich quickly; only praying he could keep it down if his parents kept talking about that.

"It's entirely biological son, it's what the muggles call 'hormones', or so I'm told. There's just something about seeing your wife carrying your child..." Arthur shakes his head slightly as he daydreams, a goofy smile still hanging off his lips as Molly swats his arm playfully.

"I'm going to bed," George mumbles, wanting desperately to get away.

"We'll keep it down tonight!" Arthur jokes earning a cackle from Molly as they both laugh at Arthur's attempt at humour. George grumbles the entire way up to his old bedroom, holding back a shudder at the very thought of not only his brother and y/n but now also his parents.

I need to move away, he thought.

[simtleman]

The Venice Express (Download Tray Files & CC)

So I've been receiving a few DMs asking me whether my lots are up on The Gallery or somewhere else to be downloaded. To be more specific, my Grand Express (Columbia Station) Lot seems to be getting a lot of attention (which I'm so, so glad!).

As you may already know if you follow my Tumblr, my game and therefore my save file is kinda messed up ever since the last update (mostly my UI), so unfortunately I don't think I'll be able to share that lot with you guys. However, I've decided to create a brand new train from scratch and finally contribute somehow to this thriving historical Sims 4 community I'm loving so much. I may not have the talent to create CC myself, but as a former stylist I sure can put things others have created together to make 'em look nice lol. Without further delay, allow me to introduce you to The Venice Express!

Clearly inspired by the legendary and breathtaking Venice Simplon Orient-Express, the lot consists of a three wagon train (two of them with private cabins, the third one featuring a lounge bar and a small kitchen), a log cabin and a recreation area with a wooden arbor. Here are some screenshots:

Private cabins (they're all practically equal):

Lounge bar wagon/kitchen:

Log cabin:

Before you go ahead and download it into your game, a few IMPORTANT disclaimers:

The lot is a 50x50. If you want the enviroment to look just like my screenshots, make sure to place it in the big lot on top of the hill on Mount Komorebi.

I use ReShade in all my screenshots, so lighting/colors may vary from what it looks like on your game.

I used items from a few expansions and packs (listed in picture below), so if you don't own them those items might be replaced with others.

Like all my builds, this is a heavily CC based lot. If you don't have a powerful PC, it might get laggy while trying to play with it.

Regarding the CC, I do not own nor take credit from any item included within this lot. All credit goes to their amazing creators.

The .ZIP file (3.19 GB) includes two folders: one for the Tray Files and another one with all the CC. I'm 100% sure all the CC I used is already public for everyone; if it's not, it's been definitely longer than three weeks since it has all been in my game and you (the CC creator) shouldn't be putting content behind permanent paywalls to begin with ;)

I did use bb.moveobjects on while building and have NOT playtested it, so you might have to move some items for them to be functional.

The lot is currently set as a Residential, but you can certainly change it to anything else... including a Residential Rental and perhaps making each cabin a different apartment.

That's all for me! This is the very first piece of content I share for others to download, so if you run into any kind of issues do not hesitate to let me know and I'll try to help best I can :)

If you do like it, please make sure to like this post (maybe even comment on it if you feel kind enough!) and please, please, PLEASE do tag me on your screenshots if you share them here on Tumblr. I'd love to see what you guys make with it!

Download: Mediafire

Enjoy ♡

[theislandoflosttoys]

Next up on the list is Green! ^^

Edit: Ok didn't realize how much I wrote for Green compared to Red....Whoops. Well, I'll add more for Red in separate posts in the future when I have the time haha.

Anyway, enjoy!! ^^

Hcs/Trivia below the line~! ^^

Though the boys are all the same age, they decided to choose different birthdays. Green's birthday is January 28th, making him an Aquarius, and the 'oldest' of the group. I forgot to include this in Red's post but Red's birthday is April 9th, making him an Aries! <3

Green is a free spirit, light hearted and friendly. He is the most sociable of the gang, intelligent and strategic, but also surprisingly prone to being volatile.

He often has similar stances on things as Vio, and thus when it comes to more work-related things he sometimes gets Vio to double check his work or get his opinion on things.

Green is hard to get a hold of, he is always on the go and can't stand still for the life of him, so it can be a struggle to track him down if someone needs to find him. But he does turn up on his own if given a bit of time.

He doesn't like small or confined spaces, and prefers to be outside in large open space or hills. He's more of an outdoor person if you can't tell haha.

He is surprisingly light. The first time one of the others picked him up they almost overbalanced because they expected him to weigh more.

Green is light on his feet, people often say that when he is sword fighting, it looks almost like he is dancing.

Prefers the sword as a weapon, but he likes to try new weapons; a Jack of all trades if you will. Blue made him some bladed boomerangs that quickly became one of his favourite to use. That and rapiers.

Personality wise he is also curious, adventurous and of course, brave. He is rarely rattled when in a difficult or stressful situation and thus is great to have in a crisis. He is not afraid to take the lead and direct others.

He is an extrovert, and thrives off interacting with others. He doesn't like the quiet, always needing to have some sort of background noise going.

He plays the flute and the harp in his spare time. He also likes to make maps! He likes to go on trips with some of the others to explore new areas and add to his maps.

Despite his friendliness, he doesn't get approached often as people come up to Red for example. This is because, he always looks to serious or like he is on his way to do something important so most people are either too intimidated or they feel like they might be interrupting him. He doesn't understand why, and the gang (mainly Blue) thinks it's hilarious.

He is the one who struggled the most with the decision to remain split, he had wanted to go back to being Link. It was something that he thought was a given, he never accounted for there to be an 'after' for him that wasn't merging. So when they didn't, it threw him off...badly. He didn't know what to do with himself, and coped badly. Definitely developed some identity issues and he sort of has a sort of elder daughter syndrome going on.

He got into a lot of arguments or petty conflicts with the other colours over this and it because very easy to set him off. For the most part the rest of them walked on eggshells around him, though Green didn't really have a problem with Blue as he also 'agreed' with him on the topic of merging to be Link again. The person he had the most issue with was unfortunately Vio, as he never felt the need to be delicate or nice about the topic and kept firm on his stance, which drove Green up the wall. This unfortunately left the two of them at odds, and their relationship/bond suffered a major blow. Which was equally as devastating as they were always close and had similar personalities/stances on things beforehand.

He for the most part reconciled with the idea of not merging again, but this took years. But he is still secretly bitter about it and still somewhat holds some resentment over the others, though it is not something he would admit to them. It is still a topic in the household that is somewhat forbidden to bring up.

Green works as a knight and a part of Zelda's royal guard. He often is asked to train the new recruits. He often is assigned more stealth oriented missions as well, due to his ability to be sneaky and light on his feet.

Due to his element he is more passively elemental, instead of casting his element like Red does. Green doesn't intentionally use magic it's just something that is part of him or follows him. Examples of this is include, being able to glide short distances or float for a short period of time. A breeze seems to follow him wherever he goes, he can be quite speedy as if he were wearing the pegasus boots, and he often walks without audible footsteps.

Appearance wise, I gave him a jellyfish cut! (Think Lumine from Genshin ^^). I also gave him more of hazel/green-brown eyes instead of just green both to add more depth but also to passively portrays his reluctance of being divided (Link had brown eyes). Similarly It's worth mentioning that both he and Blue both look more like the original Link compared to the others, though in different ways.

I gave him more feather-like ears in hopes of alluding to bird imagery. Surprisingly, they're one of the features he likes most about himself, despite how upset he was when they all started to look different.

He is 5'8" ! Putting him at 3rd tallest on the height scale. ^^

Surprisingly, he doesn't like children. He's kind, don't get me wrong, but he'd prefer not to be around them if he can help it. Almost takes a 'not my kid, not my problem' sort of stance haha. Somewhat of a neat freak, so that might be partially why lol (kids are so messy).

Vio💜

Blue💙

Red❤️

Shadow🖤

Masterlist

[chimuelo2005-blog]

Mel Medarda Deserves More Love, and Here’s Why

So, I've talked about Jayce, Viktor AND I've talked about Mel's nature, but I'm gonna talk about her again because in this blog we love empowered women; especially if they are also part of a minority. I'll do this point by section cause I don't want to miss anything major.

Mel Medarda is currently one of the best characters in Arcane, and I will die on this hill. The way people reduce her to "the black girlfriend" is actually insulting because Mel is so much more than just Jayce’s love interest; and it's very easy to put her in that role when talking about Mel's relationship with Jayce and Viktor, but I refuse to let people think that way. She is brilliant, calculated, and deeply complex in a way that makes her one of the most compelling figures in the show.

Her Design Is Breathtaking

Let’s start with the obvious: Mel is gorgeous. she's mine back off. Arcane’s art direction was already next level, but Mel? Mel was crafted to look like a queen. The gold, the intricate patterns, the warm tones—it all screams power, but in a way that’s elegant and beautifully feminine rather than aggressive. She doesn’t need to be physically imposing because her presence alone commands attention. Every time she walks into a room, you know she’s the most important person there, and that’s before she even opens her mouth. Her entire aesthetic is soft but untouchable—she is always in control, even when she’s playing nice.

She’s Not Manipulative for Fun—She’s a Survivor

I've said this in a different post, but I'll say it again cause I'm tired of the slander of my girl.

People call her manipulative like it’s a bad thing, but let’s be real—Mel isn’t playing chess because she wants to. She’s playing because it’s the only way to survive. She was exiled from her own home for being too soft, too sentimental, for valuing strategy over brute force. The Mel we see in Piltover is someone who has adapted. She had to become the smartest person in the room because the moment she wasn’t, she was disposable. That’s not just ambition, that’s survival instinct.

And despite all of that, despite the walls she builds, despite how careful and measured she is—Mel still cares. And that’s what makes her so fascinating. She genuinely wants Piltover to thrive. She believes in progress, in shaping the world into something better. She’s not some cold-hearted puppet master pulling strings for the sake of power—she’s someone who knows how dangerous power can be when left unchecked and is doing everything she can to make sure it’s in the hands of someone who won’t waste it.

Her Relationship with Her Mother Is One of the Most Tragic Parts of the Show.

Mel and Ambessa’s dynamic is brutal. Ambessa is not just a powerful general; she’s the embodiment of everything Noxus stands for—strength, domination, victory at any cost. And Mel? Mel was too soft for that world. Not because she was weak, but because she valued strategy over brute force. She understood that power wasn’t just about conquest—it was about control, influence, the long game. And for that, Ambessa exiled her own daughter. Let that sink in. Mel wasn’t cast out by enemies —she was cast out by her own mother for not being Noxian enough.

And yet, when Ambessa walks back into her life, Mel finds herself back in that role of the disappointing daughter—trying to prove herself, trying to stand her ground, but also clearly still carrying that childhood wound of never being enough for the person who was supposed to protect her. You can see how much she resents her mother but also how much she still wants to prove herself, how much she loves her. That's her mommy after all. It’s heartbreaking. The fact that she had to fight her, kill her, hold her as she took her last breath just proved how much Mel wanted Ambessa to love her in a softer way.

Her Brother’s Death Was a Turning Point for Her

I'm very pissed at the writers for not giving us more about kino's death and relationship with his family.

We don’t get much about him, but what we do know is devastating. He was killed because he wasn’t strong enough, and Ambessa used his death as a lesson to Mel. Like, imagine the trauma of that. Imagine losing your sibling and instead of comfort, you get told this is why you have to be stronger. That kind of loss doesn’t just hurt—it defines you in some way. It’s why Mel is so careful, so precise. She doesn’t make reckless moves. She doesn’t show weakness. She can’t. Because she knows what happens when you do.

And Mel didn't just lose her brother, she lost the one person who could've understood her. The man who she shared a mother with. Someone who knew how she felt because he lived it too. Once Kino was gone Mel had no one who actually understood her in that sense.

Elora Is More Important to Her Than People Realize

Elora isn’t just Mel’s assistant—she’s probably the closest thing Mel has to a real ally. Elora sees everything Mel goes through, from the political games to the personal struggles, and she stays by her side anyway. That’s not just loyalty; that’s trust. And the thing is, Mel trust her back. You can see it in the way she spoke to Elora compared to how she speaks to everyone else—there’s a quiet understanding between them, an ease that Mel doesn’t have with anyone else in Piltover. Elora might not be in the spotlight, but she was so important to Mel’s story, because she’s proof that even in a world where everyone is playing their own game, Mel wasn't completely alone.

Her death ended up breaking Mel. Elora was Mel's, the same way Viktor was Jayce's. The main difference is that Elora worked for her, and like someone said in my reposts on another post, that has to fuck you up some way.

She’s More Than Just Jayce’s Love Interest.

I can say it louder, but not clearer. Yes, I ship JayVik, and yes, Mel and Jayce’s relationship was not meant to last from the start, but that doesn’t mean she was just a stepping stone. She wasn’t some shallow romantic obstacle—she's her own person with her own goals, and she shaped the world in ways that go far beyond her romance with Jayce. If anything, Jayce was a stepping stone for her, not the other way around. She didn’t fall for him because he was pretty and charming (even though he is pretty and charming); she saw potential in him. She saw a man who could change the world, and she made sure he did.

And that’s what makes her incredible. She’s not just a survivor—she’s a visionary, one who refused to let Noxus define her and carved out her own kind of power instead. She played Piltover’s game and won. And honestly? That makes her one of the strongest characters in Arcane.

Mel Medarda in season 2 is everything. If you don’t love her, I don't trust you.

[salparadiselost]

(oops, I sent that anonymously by accident. This time I'll fangirl properly!)

I adore your TNG!Dick so very much, so absolutely Dick & Diana Thing (The New Gods AU). Thank you :)

Dick & Diana Thing (The New Gods AU)

--

There was a smack and suddenly Dick was on the floor. His baby was on the floor with a bruise welling up on his cheek and blood starting to ooze from his nose. Diana was standing over him, her hand still clenched in a fist. 

“You’re not the only one who mourns their home,” she hissed, her power swirling around her like a building thunderstorm. 

Dick stayed on the ground, blue eyes staring up towards the angry goddess would could kill him in a snap.

“Rome was burned to the ground by human follies,” Diana continued, her voice still shaking with anger. Her fury, though was already shifting and thickening. New emotion began to coat her words. “That is the way of the world. Civilizations rise and they fall through the hands of humans. Its a natural progression of all things and I’m sorry that you were alive to see it.”

Diana shifted her weight and Bruce’s heart leapt in his throat as she moved, coming closer to his son. He jolted, nearly throwing himself inbetween the gods, but he caught him when she settled into a crouch with his hand on Dick’s cheek. Dick cowered back, but there was no where for him to go, and he could only close his eyes when she touched the darkening bruise.

She said a word in a lost language and the mark began to fade under her palm. Dick’s eyes fluttered back open in shock. 

“Themyscria was older than Rome and I loved it dearly,” she said carefully. “It was an island nation populated by warrior woman who had committed themselves to their gods. They were fierce and fearless. You would have liked them if you had been created while they were thriving. You would have loved the tournaments they hosted amongst themselves.”

Her hand moved and Dick’s cheek was completely unblemished, like he had never been struck at all. She moved her fingers to his jaw, turning his head to take a look at her handiwork from another angle.

“What happened to them?” Dick asked softly as he let her move his head into a different angle. 

“Clark, Bruce and I hadn’t yet perfected the Trinity,” Diana explained, finished her judgement of the healed cheek. “We weren’t able to stop the spoiled godlings before they became a violent blight. An island nation is a beautiful place, but it is also one that gets trapped easily.”

Her hand remained on the curve of Dick’s jaw and she gently turned his head, making their eyes meet. Her thumb brushed over the small hill of his cheekbones like he was just a baby she was cooing over. 

“The spoiled godling had been a god of animal fighting. She had been born of humans jeers as dogs set upon themselves and torn meat from their bones.” A chill ran down Bruce’s spine and he wanted to tear Dick away from Diana and take him as far from her as he could. 

“Animal fighting isn’t so different than the idea that birthed you,” she mused, thumb still stroking Dick’s cheek as he remained frozen in her grasp. “Surely you saw it in the Coliseum. Surely that violence still lives inside you. There’s not much difference between you and the godling that torn my island apart.”

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | wc: 790 | tags: established relationship, former jock Steve, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, in fact he's so in love he would do anything for love | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy (@forgottenkanji) | AO3)

At first glance, Steve and Eddie weren't meant to be.

At first glance, they were two opposites, one the antithesis of the other. While Steve was the sun, Eddie was the moon. Day and night, summer and winter, light and dark.

But despite all the differences between them, they still worked. They complemented each other, creating a precious balance that made them both better. It's as if they only made sense with each other by their side.

There was only one difference between them that tested their love for each other: Steve's love of the outdoors and Eddie's utter hatred of it.

Steve, a former jock with a physique to match, found solace in the rugged beauty of nature. He relished the adrenaline of a challenging hike, the satisfying burn of muscles pushed to their limits, and the sweet exhaustion that followed a day spent under the open sky. Eddie loved that Steve's body was a true testament to his enduring love of the outdoors: the sun-kissed skin with constellations of beauty marks and freckles an invitation for adventurous hands and lips, his thick thighs and impressive stamina God's apology for Eddie's hardships.

Eddie, on the other hand, had always lived a different kind of life. A theater kid at heart, he thrived in the world of imagination and creativity. Dungeons and Dragons was his favorite realm, where he spun tales of fantasy and daring escapades. Physical activity, however, was a realm he hadn't quite embraced.

Early Sunday mornings were his sworn enemy, and the thought of a hike sent shivers down his spine. And yet, it was exactly what he had apparently agreed to do.

The soft morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room that Steve and Eddie shared. Steve, already dressed in his hiking gear, couldn't contain his enthusiasm for the adventure that awaited them. He leaned over and gently nudged Eddie, who was wrapped in the warmth of the blanket.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Steve whispered, a grin playing on his lips. "Time to rise and shine. We've got a beautiful hike waiting for us."

Eddie groaned, a muffled protest escaping from beneath the covers. "Can't it wait? It's Sunday morning, Steve. I need my beauty sleep."

Steve chuckled, his fingers lightly tracing circles on Eddie's back. "Come on, love. The early bird catches the worm, or in our case, catches the breathtaking sunrise over the hills. Trust me, it's worth it."

Eddie peeked out from the covers, one eye squinting against the morning light. "Can't we catch the sunrise from the comfort of our bed?"

Steve's laughter filled the room. "As tempting as that sounds, there's something magical about witnessing it from the top of the trail. Plus, fresh air and the sounds of nature – it's the perfect way to start our day together."

Eddie sighed dramatically, dragging himself into a sitting position. "You and your love affair with fresh air. I swear, it's a conspiracy against my cozy Sunday mornings."

Steve leaned in, planting a soft kiss on Eddie's forehead. "I promise it'll be worth it. And hey, I'll even let you pick the playlist for our drive to the trailhead."

Eddie's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Anything I want?"

Steve nodded, a playful glint in his eye. "Anything. As long as it gets us up and moving."

With a theatrical sigh, Eddie finally relented. "Fine, fine. But you owe me breakfast at that little café we passed last time. And I get to pick what we do for the rest of the day. Deal?"

"Deal," Steve agreed, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Now get dressed and let's make this Sunday morning one for the books."

As Eddie reluctantly began to accept the idea of leaving the warmth of their bed, he let the warmth of Steve's smile envelop him instead. It wasn't that he suddenly liked Sunday mornings or breaking a sweat for anything other than what he had planned to do with Steve once they were back here in their bedroom. He knew he would hate the burning in his legs and lungs every step of the way, but all that seemed like a small price to pay for Steve's joy and happiness. What was an early morning and the discomfort of working his untrained body for a few miles if it meant sharing moments with the person who made even the earliest of Sunday hikes something Eddie would look back on fondly.

So when they finally reached the top of the hill, Steve turning to him with sparkling eyes and asking, "Didn't I tell you? It was all worth it," Eddie couldn't help but kiss him, long and deep and sweet.

Everything was worth it for Steve.

[cleolinda]

Silent Hill 2 commentary: Opening & Eastern South Vale (3)

Notes below start at 43:26.

PREVIOUSLY ON: We get to the cemetery, meet Angela, pick up New Game+ items, and squint at a church door.

Check the first post for full spoiler policy ("anything but the big reveal") and content notes. I'll put content notes specific to this post under the cut.

Content warnings: Blood and body horror in the combat, with a discussion of the enemy design. Discussion of suicidal ideation as a theme. Discussion of verbal abuse, slight allusion to child abuse.

43:26: A(nother) billboard for Pete’s Bowl-o-Rama, a fan-favorite location. I’ll take us there once we’ve met up with Maria. 

43:40: The auto shop, which serves as a tutorial for basic concepts. 

44:55: I look for a legible calendar, wondering what year Silent Hill “stopped being a town.” We do actually see 1982 and 1983 later on, but it may also be that Silent Hill is a thriving town in another dimension, and maybe people who come to Silent Hill for psychological reasons are in ghost-town dreamworlds. I think that Silent Hill 2 doesn’t give you “answers”; it gives you the tools to build your own interpretations. 

45:40: Our first Glimpse of the Past, Bloober Team’s effort to put in homages (I mangle two different pronunciations of this word together in my nervousness. I was a French/Spanish double major and I'll never recover from this) to what they’ve changed or removed from the original game. This one is the original location where you find the radio, your first monster, and your first weapon. Here's a Dan Allen Gaming video comparing the Glimpses to the scenes they’re referencing, so you can see that. 

All images are ©2024 Konami Digital Entertainment, and captured from my gameplay in January-February 2025.

47:30: Here’s the car where you get the Key of Sorrow for the “Stillness” ending (my favorite). You have to have the chainsaw for this, because otherwise, you don’t yet have a weapon to break the window. The key isn’t there for me because I haven’t gotten the prerequisite “In Water” ending yet. You can see Ian get the key on his stream. 

49:26: You reach town (Achievement: “Enjoy Your Stay”) and get the map of South Vale. The musical cue there sounds very Twin Peaks to me. 

49:50: You see on the map that we came in on Wiltse Road. You need to remember this for a quiz (there will be a quiz) a million hours from now. All the streets in town are named for authors (per Lost Memories: Silent Hill Chronicle), and this one is named for David Wiltse, who wrote a book called Home Again. I don’t have any plot details, but the title makes me think of Mary as the person who was “home” to James, and we'll see a record titled "The Long Way Home" in the second commentary video.

50:58: The flower shop. I have a lot to say about this, and these are both kind of pet themes for me:

1) There's a flower motif throughout the game, including paintings, fabric prints, and actual plants. Florals in general represent Mary; white flowers represent Mary, and red flowers represent Maria, as in the “Ms. Cassondra” note (which I mispronounce) here. “Red and white flowers together are unlucky” may be Cult Stuff (update: it's Cult Stuff), but IMO it’s mainly the idea that Mary and Maria are not... compatible realities. I wasn’t sure if it was a Japanese (Team Silent) or Polish (Bloober Team) superstition, but I haven’t found anything to that effect. 

2) One of the reasons I wanted to discuss spoilers up front is that I wanted to bring forward Mary’s monologue from the end and discuss how “I was so angry” changes what little you've seen about her up to that point (saintly dead wife, Madonna figures on literal pedestals), and yet it’s woven throughout the imagery of the game before that (anger management posters that may reflect her, not just James; the roar stun that monsters have representing verbal abuse). And in a flashback, she says, “I don’t want any damn flowers,” the flowers that James tried to bring her. The flower shop itself and ads for it appear throughout James’ version of Silent Hill because that specifically hurt James, I think. 

54:06: We run across a giant insect, a “creeper” originating in the first Silent Hill game (this is Ian’s lane). James, who generally pulls out his melee weapon when enemies are nearby, goes into the Texas Chainsaw Massacre-inspired animation from the original game. I start yelling at him to be civilized. 

54:24: “What is this?” The blood trail that will lead you to the combat tutorial. Everyone mocks James for not figuring out that it’s blood, but I’m just saying, it looks nasty and it might be more than just blood. 

56:57: Following the trail, we see our first Lying Figure. James naively calls after it. I can’t defend him on this one. 

57:25: Lindsey Street was named for author David Lindsay. I’ll stop citing Wikipedia when it stops being well-sourced and concise (emphasis mine): 

“A Voyage to Arcturus has been described as the major 'underground' novel of the 20th century. The secret of Lindsay's apparent originality as a novelist lies in his metaphysical assumptions. Like the gnostics he seems to have viewed the "real" world as an illusion, which must be rejected in order to perceive genuine "truth".”

But also, The Haunted Woman: 

“There Isabel discovers a strange staircase few can see, which leads upwards to three doors. She chooses one, which opens onto a room that appears to exist only part of the time; what might lie behind the other doors remains a mystery. In the room she reencounters [the owner of the house]. There they find new insights and are able to express themselves in new ways, but are unable to recall what has transpired there when they leave. They develop a disturbing parallel relationship in the mysterious room....”

This may resonate with Maria as a parallel Mary in an unreal world.

58:50: Then we take a detour to Vachss Road, so I can get the “Do Not Enter” Glimpse of the Past. Did not mention: per Lost Memories: Silent Hill Chronicle, this is named after Andrew Vachss, author of the hard-boiled Burke mystery novels, but also an attorney/social worker/advocate for abused children. As such, this may have relevance to Angela’s back story. 

1:00:00: We return to the blood trail and find the alley leading to the combat tutorial. Discussion of the fact that traversals are marked with white cloth... like half of Silent Hill. People also mock James for crawling into a derelict garage, but I want to point out that 1) he throws all caution/reason to the wind whenever he thinks he has a chance of finding anything related to Mary, and 2) the only reason he does his is because we make him, and maybe “Ugh” is directed at us. 

1:03:27: Save point. Two floral prints in the room: curtains with a red flower print (Mary, but possibly Maria?), and a blue-flowered bed sheet that I am pretty sure comes from James and Mary’s house—I’ll leave it at that. Also: (presumably) Mary’s time of death (9:10 and 15 seconds) is on every single clock in the game. Trust me, I looked. 

1:04:50: A tutorial to find a health drink (30% heal?), and also disappointment in an empty cabinet. 

1:06:00: Combat tutorial with a lying figure. There’s projectile acid vomit (“AH, GODDAMMIT”) and pooling blood, as well as body horror: the lying figure design incorporates a body bag, a straitjacket, corset lacing, platform shoes, and creature designer Masahiro Ito seeing a coworker shamble down the hall in a hoodie. 

Did not mention: the vomit attacks were not meant to represent Mary’s cough or any kind of chemotherapy side effects, but Masahiro Ito likes that interpretation.

I refer to the shoes as “stripper heels” (I did realize afterwards that those usually have a separated heel) because we will end up at a literal strip club later in the game; the game implies that James has been to similar clubs and may have lost his wedding ring at one, and so this may be why these deeply out-of-place shoes turn up on some of the monsters that confront him. James seems to have a thing for legs in particular. 

I say more about this in the second video, but I feel like both the lying figures and the mannequins (which are two pairs of legs that punch you in the face) are aggressive manifestations of that, as if to say, “Oh, you like this? Fantasizing about other women’s legs while your wife is sick? HOW YOU LIKE IT NOW??” I don’t consider having these monsters as our enemies to be rank misogyny so much as aspects of this man’s fantasies coming to life in a very hostile way—a subversion of them. But I also remark now and then, I don’t like being a person who constantly beats these things to a pulp—but I'm also having to defend myself. This is survival horror, and that’s kind of how it works. Your mileage may vary. 

(As I was rewatching the commentary, I did realize that the shoes kind of remind me of “those are his hooves you bitch.”)

Did not mention: this Takayoshi Sato (character designer/CGI director) quote about sex and death combined, which says to me that the monsters’ fetish quality was not necessarily indicative of James’ fixations:

"Psychological horror has to shake human's heart deeply. Shaking people's heart deeply means uncover people's core emotion and their core motivation for life. Everybody is thinking and concerning about sex and death. Everything. If we want to scare, shake, or touch the users or spectators, then we have to think about sex and death deeply. To make like a death scene, somebody died or monsters died, we tried to mix erotic essence. This is kind of a visual and a core concept."

I’m not saying it’s an ace-friendly approach, but that was Team Silent's vision that Bloober Team has carried forward.

1:07:36: Genuinely, James says “It’s not human” (so he doesn’t have to feel bad about killing it) because there is an actual achievement (“A Human Being”) the first time you kill a human nemesis. It’s a thing. Did not mention: I’ve always thought it was interesting that movies and games will feature hordes of dehumanized enemies (zombies, monsters, orcs, robots, clones, masked henchmen, etc.) so the heroes can mow them down and we don’t think less of them for it. Explicitly being told that James is killing things that “aren’t human” allows us to beat and shoot hundreds of enemies to death in a game partly about the morality of killing without feeling bad about it. 

1:09:00: We get our first syringe (100% heal). Discussion of the oscillating fan in the corner, and how fans represent cycles and repetition. You will see them a lot, sometimes very large and obviously symbolic ones. It's also the color of James' car, a color that frequently turns up on objects/locations I think are from his subconscious.

1:10:34: Mary’s voice on the radio. The subtitles may give something away. See Ian’s stream for a full-spoiler discussion of what she says. 

1:11:30: A Glimpse of the Past just outside the fence. In the original game, James sees a body that looks a lot like him. Discussion of time loop theory (which I love), and how Bloober Team ran with this concept and put dead bodies with the James model throughout the game. You can even think of them as the times James dies when we play. What this means is that we put James through the time loop—the repetition of this roughly 24-hour period of confronting all kinds of horrors and also himself—every time we play this game. See also:

Dan Allen Gaming: Silent Hill 2 Remake - Is James Stuck in a Time Loop?

Nubzombie: Let's Talk About Silent Hill 2 Loop Theory

1:13:13: The Bible verse allusion on the license plate: Matthew 11:28, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” And there's the Car Color again. Did not mention: It took me almost a week to realize that "rest" may refer to the healing drink we find right above it. 

1:14:30: We find the body of a James who clearly had a bad day: features are unrecognizable, but you can see that it’s his jacket and boots. Discussion of alternatives to time loop theory: there’s a later scene with Eddie (this is what I allude to and stop myself, just because it was too much to get into) where there are bodies around the room of people Eddie presumably killed, and they all look like James. Because James can’t see Eddie’s version of Silent Hill (Silent Hill seems tailored to each person), it may be that James’ mind simply pasted himself onto people who are personal to Eddie, but James can’t see. In that vein, that may be why James sees himself in all the bodies throughout the game—are they maybe even other visitors who didn’t survive?

Alternately, and I have to credit Ian for bringing this up: there are two endings where James does choose to end his own life, and there are subtle suggestions throughout the game either that James wants to die, or that exhort him to not give up. It may just be that James seeing himself dead all throughout town is suicidal ideation. 

So, if you don’t like the time loop theory, there are alternative interpretations. I do, however. 

1:16:20: We also pick up a note that ends in “Sometimes you have to look behind.” Discussion of Orpheus and Eurydice. You can read this as, “Sometimes, you just have to look behind,” you should look back on your past, and to the truth that James can’t admit (again, this is the big spoiler). But you can also read it as, “Sometimes, you just have to look behind,” you shouldn’t look back, but sometimes you just have to, like Orpheus turning to look at Eurydice and losing her. In some of these endings, “looking back” and accepting the truth means that James comes to understand that Mary is not coming back, and he loses her for good. This sounds like a nice headcanon on my part, sure, but there’s one more thing later that makes me think I’m not just making this up. Remind me when we get to Rosewater Park if I don’t mention it there. 

Addendum: Ian has since emailed me with the revelation that the filmmakers of the upcoming movie adaptation, about which I have very mixed feelings but that’s a discussion for another time, have said they are really into an “Orpheus and Eurydice” interpretation, so I was apparently onto something here.

1:18:15: Martin Street save point; I didn’t mention that it’s named for the author David Martin because I couldn’t figure out which David Martin this referred to. 

The “LEM3232” license plate Bible verse, as discussed at Silent Hill Heaven:

This presumably refers to King Lemuel, whose sayings are listed in the book of Proverbs. However, there is no chapter 32 in Proverbs. It could also be a typo and meant to be LAM, or Lamentations. Unfortunately it, too, lacks 32 chapters. Lamentations 3:23 reads: Although he causes grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love.

I would say this reasoning is far-fetched, except that it fits really well. 

Next post: Tons of locations in town itself, Pyramid Head's Great Knife, and additions/corrections.

(SH2R commentary master post)

[mbirnsings-71]

🐺🐺🐺🐺 i said 20 but i want my own chunk of ur twiau too

Okay so your order of 12 sentences for Twicraft AU coming right up! (Also I apologize if this isn't the best or exactly 12 sentences but I wanted to get it out before I lost the idea-)

-------------

Scar's in the garden, watering his sunflowers, when a bird perches on his backyard fence. Usually this would be nothing Scar would worry about, something he wouldn't even bat an eye at under normal circumstances. Birds are common enough here in Hermit Hills that he always hear them chirping and chittering about, especially since he lives near a heavily forested area of the small town. It's normal... that is if birds were the only creatures that lived in the forest near his house. In Hermit Hills there's many creatures that use the forest to their advantage. Birds, Squirrels, Bobcats, and all sorts of werecreatures that dare not want to make their appearance known. They're actually not easy to spot, seeing as they'll usually just blend in with other animals that they look similar to, but Scar knows how to spot them. He's been attacked too many times by both werecreatures and vampires that at this point he's gotta know when either might possibly be at his doorstep, which is why he's pretty sure this bird is a werecreature at the very least. The bird that perches over his sunflowers is an owl of some kind, (what kind specifically is beyond him, but the bird is all sorts of different shades of brown and pretty to say the least) with void like eyes that seem a little too intelligent to just be a normal owl. Now he could be wrong about this, but his gut's telling him that this is a werecreature and well he's not about to get another attack on his roster, Cub would actually kill him if he did that. So with bated breath and an ever steadily climbing heart rate in the act of trying to appear normal and unbothered, he just decides to stick to his normal gardening routine while trying not to pay the owl any mind. Water his flowers (his Sunflowers are thriving, but his lilacs and poppies could be doing better in all honesty), check to see if his small amount of homegrown vegetables are ready to be harvested (none yet it seems), and dig up any weeds that look like they could threaten his plants... all easy enough things to do while he feels the owl's eyes on him, seemingly watching each and every action he does.

If anyone wants to make me write; send me any of these emojis (💍|💀|🐺|👑) and I'll write about the corresponding au :D

[lostinwildflowers]

Romantic Flight

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Katsuki is the Chieftain's son, and a lot of pressure is on his shoulders to be the best. He finds comfort in you; as you do in him. He can't bring himself to tell you his feelings until a threat imposes itself on your friendship.

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: Swearing(it's Bakugou), mutual pining, harsh language, best friends to lovers, also kind of idiots to lovers, angst to fluff, also slightly hurt/comfort, happy ending!!!

A/N: HI GUYS!!! I'm so excited to share this fic with y'all! This is the first of 5 HTTYD x MHA fics that I'll be writing over the next while! Please let me know how you liked it! I don't really write for Bakugou that much, so any feedback is appreciated. Much love! -Birch<3

Useful Info:

Naugost - pronounced Nuh-gaw-st (not like August)

Tyr - Named after the Norse God of War

Romantic Flight - by John Powell - The inspiration for this piece!

Part ii. Dragon Island- Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

Part iii. To Befriend a Dragon - Shoto Todoroki x Reader

This is Naugost. Most of the year, it’s warmer than the fire from an angry Nadder, with winds that will knock most people off of their feet, minus Mrs. Hoster, she’s sturdier than a Gronkle.

This island is so far off the maps that not even migrating dragons could find us. That’s how our village likes it, secluded and safe up in the mountains of Naugost, where we thrive off of the deep valley set in the middle of our island.

At the edge of the valley, set next to the waterfall that nourishes our farmland, is the house of the Chieftain, and his son, Katsuki. The chief is hardly ever around, always leading patrols to protect the edges of our territory, and making sure there is no contact with the outside world.

And his son? Well, Katsuki doesn’t always agree with him. He wants to expand our tribe, so he often sneaks out to explore. His desire to leave and escape made him competitive, and that’s where our story begins.

“Tyr, what the hell are you doing?!” the shout comes, the blonde-haired man’s voice deep and angry. The Monstrous Nightmare he was sitting upon, Tyr, was glaring up at him, smoke drifting from his nostrils in anger with his rider.

“Y/n’s getting away, she’s gonna beat us in this damn race if you don’t get your ass in gear!” Katsuki yells at the dragon, pointing to your disappearing figure over the small hill. The deep ruby-colored dragon growled at Katsuki, but lunged after your Deadly Nadder regardless, rushing forward so fast Katsuki yelped as he flew backward.

He managed to stay on, though, and clung to Tyr’s horns as he glared down at his dragon. Katsuki could hear your whoop and holler as your dragon threw the last sheep into your net, securing your win. Bakugou groans as he flies over the finish line, where you had landed your dragon, Gretta, and was smiling mischievously up at him.

“Shut your damn mouth,” Katsuki grumbles as he lands next to you, “This damn dragon won’t listen to me one damn bit.” A laugh falls from your lips as you pet Gretta on the neck, and you take in the appearance of your someday chieftain-to-be.

His golden locks were long and shaggy, with just a few braids at the base of his neck, one with a charm you had gifted him last year. He wore his flight suit, the deep red tones of his armor and padding matching the deep red set to his eyes, and the under colors of Tyr’s wings.

You blink once to stop your ogling, but a smile regains your lips as you snap back, “Maybe you should actually train your dragon instead of just ordering him around.” There was no malice behind your words, just a twinkle in your eye that you knew would just push Katsuki over the edge.

“You want to fight me?! I’ll whoop your ass right now,” he yelled as he slid down Tyr’s wing and to the ground, but as he marched up to Gretta, Tyr knocked him to the side with his head, the dragon heading straight for your outreached hand.

A soft chuff falls from the dragon’s mouth, and Katsuki frowns at the sight of his dragon being so affectionate toward you. You slide onto the ground as well, petting Tyr on the nose before glancing over at your best friend, who was picking himself up off the ground.

“Doesn’t look like I need to, Katsuki,” you giggle as you offer him your hand, which he rolls his eyes at, but begrudgingly takes your hand, knowing the crowd was watching you two.

You two were the perfect pair- the chieftain’s son and a council woman’s daughter. It was almost like the two of you were made to lead your island, but you both were set on being friends.

Katsuki grunts as you haul him to his feet, giving him a firm clap on the back as you smile and wave at the crowd, who was cheering for the both of you. The blonde was quiet next to you, and at first, you think he was sulking, but when you turn to look at him, he was already looking at you.

He’s looking at the way your (colored) eyes take in the members of your tribe. He’s noticing the way your hair is windswept from the intensity of the race. He sees the kindness in your body language as you wave to your family and friends in the crowd. He sees how beautiful you look.

He knew you were an amazing person, he wouldn’t be friends with anyone less than extraordinary. But he liked the fire to your soul, the sparks that seemed to fly when he was around you. In every way you were electricity and fire, everything he could ever dream of in a woman.

And that’s why he couldn’t tell you his feelings. You were too perfect for him, and he was already lucky enough to have you as a best friend.

“Kats? You okay?” you ask gently as you wave your hand in front of him, his frame freezing when he realized he was caught. He shakes his head back and forth to clear his mind before he nods at you with a frown.

“I can’t believe you beat me. Again,” is all he says as he stalks off, and you roll your eyes at him but follow his figure as he walks off. You give two short whistles over your shoulder, and the two dragons fly off, released from the pressures of the race.

“You’ll get me next time,” you say softer, a gentle smile resting on your lips as you playfully bump your hip into his own, his body not even flinching at your assault.

Then, fast as lightning, he moves.

His right hand comes up to pin both of your wrists above your head, trapping your body flat against a beacon tower. Katsuki’s knee lands between your thighs, parting them open as he leans in close to you.

Your heart slams against the walls of your ribcage, suddenly silent at the close proximity. You can feel heat rushing over your face, and you knew it wasn’t because of the Naugost winds.

“Gotcha,” is all he whispers, his voice deepening a few tones as his eyes drop to your lips and then back. Your mouth is parted open, your (colored) orbs dancing back and forth with his own red ones, panic and nerves running through you.

“Ehm, excuse me?” a soft voice cuts in, and Katsuki releases you slowly, holding your gaze as he takes a step back and spins around.

“What do you want?” his voice is harsh, not soft like how it was with you a few moments ago. You see red hair over Katsuki’s shoulder, and recognition runs through you.

“Kirishima!” you yelp as you slide around Katsuki, lunging toward the tall redhead in a makeshift hug. Kirishima laughs as you jump into his arms, swinging you around once before setting you on the ground.

“Great job out there, Racing Queen,” Kirishima jokes, and Katsuki frowns at the simple nickname. When did you start talking to Kirishima? Katsuki thinks, taking a step back and watching the two of you chat for a moment.

The blonde sees the way your eyes light up when you talk to the burly blacksmith, how excitedly you talk with your hands as you explain how you won. It pissed him off. He hated how at ease you seemed with this other guy, this guy that he didn’t know that well, but knew couldn’t treat you as well as he could.

“Oi, Y/n, I’m leaving,” is all he says, turning on foot before walking away from you. You can see the dejected slope to his shoulders, and you assume he’s upset from his second loss to you at the sheep contest.

Kirishima also watches him go and mumbles, “Kinda feel bad for him, you know? You’ve been him twice in a row now, that’s hard on the chief’s son.” You sigh and shrug, “Yeah, but he’s my best friend, he’ll pout for a bit and then get over it.”

But would he? What was that moment against the beacon tower? He was… different. 

You can’t stop the swirl of thoughts in your head, but you are interrupted when Kirishima rubs at the back of his neck and bashfully starts, “So, I was thinking, we’ve been hanging out for a while now, and I think you’re pretty cool. Would you maybe want to go on a date with me?”

Your body stills at the question. A date? With Kirishima? You blink up at the burly man. Once. Twice, and then it clicks in your head that you need to answer him.

“Sorry!” you blurt out, rubbing at your eyes before glancing in the direction Katsuki left. You put on a bit of a fake smile but reply, “Sorry, I’m a bit tired from my race. I’d say that sounds nice, but I really need to go check on Katsuki right now. I’ll chat with you later? At the Great Hall?”

You don’t miss the way Kirishima’s face drops, and you feel your chest tighten at the crestfallen look on his handsome features. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him- there wasn’t anything you disliked about Kirishima.

He was tall, handsome, and had a great job. He worked hard to provide for himself and his mother and even helped out the other farmers when he had time. Kirishima had one of the best personalities in your tribe, and there were plenty of women lined up to talk to him.

He was sweet, kind, and overall a gentleman. But there was something missing, and you didn’t quite know what it was.

Kirishima wasn’t anything like Katsuki, you reasoned. Katsuki was your best friend, and strong in so many other aspects. He was an incredible fighter, he was very strong, and always protective over the weak. He had empathy but only showed it to those who deserved to see it.

As the chieftain’s son, you knew he bore a pressure on his shoulders, but he did it so well you hardly could notice. Katsuki would make an excellent leader and father someday.

Father? Where’d that come from? You wonder, a soft warmth rushing over your cheeks and a wave of butterflies flooding your belly. You’re brought back to Kirishima in front of you when he shuffles on his feet and nods, “Sounds good, Y/n, I’ll catch up with you later. Great job on your race today!”

You thank him as he turns away, his shoulders also slumping down in defeat. You watch him walk away but glance back to where Katsuki disappeared too.

Little did you know, Katsuki had stopped around the corner, listening to Kirishima ask you out. After the word “date” came out of the redhead’s mouth, Katsuki left. He didn’t want to hear you accept another man’s courtship with him present.

You were his best friend. You were the one he had axe-throwing competitions with. You were the one he raced against to catch the most sheep. Hell, you were even the one to challenge him to see who could catch the biggest fish bare-handed.

You did everything together, so why did you want to choose Kirishima? Katsuki couldn’t help the thoughts from flooding his brain, so he set out to where he knew no one would find him.

—

Three long whistles fell from his lips as he settled into his saddle on Tyr’s back, the Monstrous Nightmare seemingly having calmed down from the race. The sun was setting over the central ravine of Naugost, and Katsuki knew most people would be setting out for the Great Hall for dinner after the race.

He didn’t really feel like having his loss shoved in his face, so he set out for Brokeback Point, the furthest edge north of the island, where the cliffs were steep and no one dared to rest. Waves crashed against the steep red crags, the roar of the water helping to quiet the racing thoughts in his head.

His thoughts of you. He knew he needed to tell you eventually, but with how happy you seemed with Kirishima, he didn’t think he could ruin it. A sigh falls from his mouth as he rubs at his eyes, and Tyr lays down next to the chieftain’s son, resting his head on Katsuki’s lap.

Katsuki huffs once, but keeps his mouth shut, instead rubbing the dragon on his snout and watching the sunset to his west. It was peaceful, being out here alone. It was half the reason why Katsuki didn’t want to become chief.

He enjoyed his freedom, being able to fly off to other islands, and mark all the different kinds of dragons around, and what habitats they liked. He wanted to know if there were people around, and if they were going to be a threat to his home. To you.

It was so much, sometimes, being the chief’s son, and that’s why he found so much solace in you. You understood him better than anyone, you were there for him when he needed a shoulder to lean on.

That’s why he-

No. Katsuki’s crimson eyes flutter shut at the thought, his brow creasing into a frown. He couldn’t think those words about you, not yet at least. Not when you were wrapped up in the arms of another man.

The sound of wings flapping a moment later has his eyes snapping back open. It was the figure of a dragon that was headed straight for him, the sun setting behind the beast, only leaving the figure outlined by its silhouette.

Tyr raises his head but takes a deep breath to smell the air before relaxing his neck back to the ground and shutting his eyes to rest. Katsuki glances at the relaxed state of his dragon at the approaching shape in front of him.

A Nadder. Not just any Nadder. Gretta.

The purple-tinged dragon lands further inland than Katsuki and Tyr, and you slide off of her silently as you walk toward the pair. Katsuki sends a silent prayer to the gods to help him stay calm and normal as you walk up to him, a silent air about you.

“How did you find me,” is all he says. It’s not even worded as a question, it’s more an open-ended statement. Your face is stoic, but you take a step toward him, shrugging your shoulders once.

“I have a Deadly Nadder, remember? One of the best trackers out there. And,” you glance off toward the sunset, where you see a Thunderdrum jump up out of the water and fly off toward a distant island. But you continue, looking him straight in the eye, “You weren’t at dinner, and you didn’t seem okay when Kirishima showed up.”

Katsuki groans and turns away from you before muttering, “I don’t want to hear about that damn redhead.” You’re quiet, calculating a response. You don’t get the chance to say anything, because he pipes back up, “Listen, I know you’re here to tell me about how you accepted his courtship invitation. I’m happy for you.”

Katsuki’s voice was anything but happy though. It was strained, a tension to his voice you’d never heard, and you place a hand on his shoulder to try to get him to face you.

You try, “Kats-” “Just leave it,” he cuts you off and knocks your hand off of his shoulder, “I want you to be happy, even if that means you marry that big dumb blacksmith.” “Katsuki!” you yell, your eyes closing in frustration.

The blonde turns toward you then, shock evident on his features at the heightened sound of your voice. You sigh and take a step forward, facing him shoulder to shoulder.

You grab his right hand with your own, his palm rough and calloused from his training. Katsuki is silent as he watches you, his eyes sharp and waiting, not so different from Tyr’s fiery gaze.

“I didn’t,” you whisper. Katsuki’s red gaze bores into your own (colored) one, but no recognition flashes over his features, so you insist, “I didn’t, you know, accept his offer. I couldn’t.”

“Stop joking,” is all he replies with, moving to tug his hand out of your own, even though it's the last thing he wants to do. “Katsuki Bakugou, shut the hell up and listen to me,” you state firmly, your grip tightening on his large palm.

-Start music-

He freezes at the use of his full name and the curse words, something you never say, and you take the opportunity to thread your fingers through his own. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you, and you know how tense the moment is just by how still he is.

“I didn’t accept his offer,” you say again, and you shuffle on your feet as you squeeze his hand, “But I didn’t deny it either.” You can see the hope in his eyes start to fade out, the idea of you still wanting Kirishima lingering in his mind.

“Kirishima is nice,” you murmur, “He’s kind, and handsome.” You can feel Katsuki’s body harden at your praise of the redhead, but you continue, “He’s always nice to the dragons when fitting them at the smithery, and he even picks flowers with the village’s little girls.”

Katsuki shuts his eyes and whispers, “Please, Y/n, don’t tell me how much you like another man to my face,” and then they reopen and he finishes, “I don’t think my heart can take it.”

You just give him a smile and bring your intertwined hands up to rest over your heart. You hold his gaze evenly and you push, “Kirishima is great. But he’s not amazing.”

The blonde-haired man swallows thickly, but stays quiet as you mumble, “He’s not the chieftain’s son. He’s not a hardened viking that knows every in and out of our island.”

This catches Katsuki’s attention, and his eyes widen as your voice and words overtake his brain, “He’s not my best friend, he’s not the one who whoops my ass in axe-throwing competitions, and he’s not the one who takes me fishing in the summer.”

The smile is growing on your face, and you suddenly get shy and look down at your boots as you mumble out, “He’s not you, Katsuki.”

You hear your name fall off Katsuki’s lips, but you don’t look up. He says your name louder this time, using his free hand to cup your cheek and tilt your face up to meet his crimson gaze.

“What are you trying to say?” is what he says. He needed to know if you were saying what he thought you were trying to say.

You lean into his touch, somehow both familiar and foreign, there was a softness to this touch you’d never felt, and you gaze into his eyes as you utter, “It’s you, Kats. It’s always been me and you.”

You see his gaze soften, and the weight of you being with another lover is lifted off of his shoulders. He leans into you, his nose brushing against your own as his forehead rests against your own. You can feel a new, intense wave of butterflies rush through your stomach at the intimacy of this touch, one you’d never experienced before with anyone.

Katsuki’s voice comes out deep and gravelly when he asks, “Y/n, how will you have me? Will you have me as your own? Or just as-” “Shut up and kiss me already,” you rush out, pulling him closer to you by his shoulder.

A groan falls from his lips at your demand, but he’s not one to argue as he leans forward, capturing your lips for himself. It’s everything he’d ever imagined and more. It's different. Your mouth was sweet, the tang of apple cider hanging onto the edges of your lips.

You were warm against him, soft and pliable in his hands. Katsuki slides his hand from cupping your face to the back of your head, grabbing your neck, and pulling you flush against him. You gasp at the movement, and he takes that opportunity to deepen the kiss, his teeth coming to bite down on your lower lip before swiping his tongue across it as an apology.

The growls and rumbles of your dragons behind you make the two of you pull away, and while you swivel your head to look at the two peeping flying reptiles, Katsuki is left watching you.

When you turn back toward him, you see an intensity to his gaze that makes you lower your eyes, but he tuts and gains your attention before whispering, “Lady Y/n L/n of Island Naugost, will you do me the honors and go on a flight with me?”

You giggle at the cheesiness of his ask, something so out of character for him, but you nod with a wide grin and respond, “Chieftain-to-be Katsuki Bakugou of Island Naugost, I would love to go on a flight with you.”

He smirks down at you, leaning in slowly to press a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away, throwing out three short whistles, and bringing Tyr to your sides. He rubs your neck softly before releasing his grip on you, climbing up to sit in Tyr’s saddle before offering you his hand.

“Milady?” he asks, his fingers reaching for your own. You glance toward Gretta before looking back at the blonde waiting for you and you give her two short whistles, and she immediately heads back towards the mainland.

You clasp onto Kastsuki’s hand, and he pulls you up into the saddle behind him, giving you the chance to wrap your arms around his waist. Tyr reaches back to nuzzle your foot, and you smile down at the moody Monstrous Nightmare as you settle into your seat.

“Are you ready?” Katsuki checks in, glancing over his shoulder only to find you resting your chin on the pad of his armor. He feels his heart flutter in his chest at the distant look in your eyes, and turns back straight to hide the pink dusting his cheeks. And it wasn’t from the sunset.

Tyr shuffles to the edge of the cliff, the deep oranges from the sunset glinting in harmony with the deep red of his scales, and in a few large flaps of his wings, the three of you are airborne. Katsuki lets Tyr fly smoothly around several small islands and rocky outposts on the outskirts of the island, the only sound being the pull of air on your clothes, the flapping of wings, and crashing from the water below you.

While flying wasn’t new to you in any sense, there was something so intimate and caring about the way Katsuki flew Tyr around. You could feel the connection between the two of them, and while they disagreed occasionally, like earlier in the day at the race, you knew they had a deep and intricate bond.

You lean forward from where your chin was resting on Katsuki’s shoulder and gently press them against his cheek in a soft kiss. His cheek is warm under your touch, and he turns toward you as you pull away, his eyes catching the shyness in your own (colored) gaze.

“C'mere,” he mumbles, turning so that you could slide up and into his lap. He made sure Tyr was flying smoothly before pulling you around to sit in front of him, with your back to Tyr’s head.

You were facing Katsuki, and with the sun setting behind him, he was gorgeously backlit. His features were hardened, yes, but the soft light helped smooth out his usual frown and scowl. 

He looked down at you and brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear before whispering, “I’m not sure where we go from here, but we go together, alright?” You nod and offer him your hand, “When we get back to the Great Hall, I want us to be together.”

Katsuki cracks a smirk and taking your hand, mutters, “Hell, you can’t get rid of me now, Y/n/n, you’re stuck with me.” You giggle, which quickly becomes a playful scream as Katsuki grabs back onto Tyr’s horns and you are whisked off into the light of the dying sun.

A lifetime of memories of just being friends with Katsuki would remain at the front of your mind, but you were excited to see where this flight would take you. And while your future was uncertain with the tough blonde-haired viking, you knew that he was going to protect you until his last breath.

[toasterdrake]

i've been thinking ab this for days and i need to put it into words now bc oml. i've always wondered why, despite the ending sweeping my feet out from under me, i was wary towards httyd3 throughout. and fuck, it was right from the start.

that initial shot we get of 'busy, busy berk'? that right there, instantly tells me that these characters and this world have been treated poorly. maybe i'm a little influenced by the shows, i'm fully willing to accept that, but is it realisic to imagine hiccup - a man dedicated to learning about dragons and doing what's best for them, now surrounded by people who share that view - would allow them all to stay on berk?

sure, maybe a larger flock develops because toothless is alpha now. but there's a lot more space around berk than that tiny outcropping of rock the village is built on. even before peace with dragons they had expanded off it! and the dragons they rescue from trappers are no excuse. berk is a 'well-kept secret' of dragon trainers, but those are wild dragons that can live anywhere.

not to mention, we never actually see any other tribes in the movies, and hiccup describes those they encounter as people who 'run for the hills' when they see dragons. so, presumably, they don't share the viking sentiment of 'no i got here first i'll fight you to defend it'. and honestly, the world is wide.

don't get me wrong, i like hiccup's flaw of prioriting dragons over humans. but if anything, that backs up my point that hiccup wouldn't let them live like that. even with food demand mitigated and domestication rampant, can you imagine the territory squabbles alone? these dragons aren't meant to live on top of each other like that. the only times we see them doing so is under whatever form of mind control.

sure, it's a fun concept and makes for impressive visuals. sure, the movie includes realising to some extent that way of living is detrimental. but my gods they don't have to uproot their lives to do it, and by all rights it shouldn't have been allowed to happen in the first place. can you imagine a berk that has not just metaphorically but physically expanded and thrived beyond its closed borders, built new homes to last on new land?

it's that extreme reaction for the sake of emotional impact that ruins the steady reinforcement of this franchise's themes. this is why i don't trust dean deblois with httyd any more. this is why story and character is more important than anything else in a piece of media, why overlooking that driving force for the sake of anything else will not work.

[kairospy]

I love everything you say about regulus and I do hate fanon regulus so give me your top fics that portrays regulus how you see him!

hi!!

firstly, thank you so much!! i was truly beginning to lose hope, i thought everyone had ended up on the "reg is tiny, shy, and has social anxiety" agenda

anyway, i haven't been reading much jegulus (or solo Regulus character studies for that matter) because his character has changed so much i cant get into it as much as i used to.

that said, i do have recs, just not many:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46332772

silver eyes drowned in mirth (rebellion in his blood) - illu_gremlins Word Count ~ 21.6 K In this Regulus is competent, has a genuine temper, confidence and self-esteem suitable of a Black who's not ashamed of his last name (I read it ages ago, so I don't remember it fully, but the writing was phenomenal)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42741441

Angel of Death - otrtbs Word Count ~ 13.3 K Okay so both Regulus and James are fucking unhinged in this, just a fair warning. This fic not only crosses the line of Morally Grey, it spits on it. This is Morally Demented but there's just something about it Bonus: the writing??? beautiful

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40208016

it's cold on the floor - brtyls Word Count ~ 4.6 K This one's bartylus but could be read as platonic This fic is closer to how I envision the Dark Mark situation (as in he wasn't forced into it but actually wanted it)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43026552

the cross necklace - basiliscus Word Count ~ 7.6 K …this is filth. 80% smut. but listen, i think that's how Regulus would behave in an intimate context. All confidence and so sure of himself that James just folds. like a lawn chair. My imput: this man would be so controlling, i die on this hill. And James would thrive being bossed around by his very intimidating boyfriend. (This is me asking for more eager james and cool & collected regulus who no one can make blush)

And that's it, I'll post more recs as i find them though :)