#i love it and i wish there were more musicals like this

[5sospenguinqueen]

Please, Please, Please | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader

Summary:  What do you do when your ex-girlfriend moves on with another guy? Become needy and pathetic. But, when the guy brings you to tears, Max knows it's his time to save you from further heartbreak.

Warnings: barry keogan (i couldn't find any other men with her that worked), swearing, toxic relationships, pathetic max 

Requested: yes by many of you on the previous part 

Faceclaim: Sabrina Carpenter (she was used on the last one and yes, she's used a lot but I stole her song and her job so I'm also stealing her face)

F1 Masterlist

prev. || next.

part 4 will be the last part so it may seem a bit rushed but i didn’t plan anything else. sorry! these just seem to be getting worse as well, so i’m also sorry about that 

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maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by danielricciardo, liamlawson30 and others

maxverstappen1 a good effort from the team to start on the front row tomorrow 💪 let’s keep pushing tomorrow 🇺🇸

6,633 comments 

user1 twitter is claiming that max and kelly broke up

user2 okay but i actually can’t function until i know if max is free from kelly once more

user3 max please tell us if you and kelly have broken up

user4 i need max and kelly to be done forever this time 

user5 is it true that you broke up with kelly?

→ maxverstappen1 yes. now can we focus on the race

→ user6 @/yn_ln this means you can give him another chance 

→ user7 why would she want to after he ran back to kelly

(comments have been limited) 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by mclaren, actorbf and others

yn_ln surprise! if you have any questions, you can refer to my new single please, please, please 💋

13,850 comments 

user8 the two of them are so cute 

jennaortega i’ll give you all the kisses 

→ user9 i wouldn’t. not with all the men she goes through

→ oscarpiastri whoa now, there’s no need for that 

user10 don’t get me wrong. i’m loving all the new music. but my heart can’t handle all the new layers to this drama 

landonorris okay, little miss hollywood. that music video just proved you’d never do well in a film 

→ yn_ln oi, i act better than you do, mr hilton 

→ hilton we’d be happy to have you both

user11 ew, so she went from a hot motorsport driver to a subpar actor?

user12 wait, what? this wasn’t supposed to happen. she’s gone off script. max is single now, they were meant to be getting back together 

→ user13 she’s not his back-up plan. plus she’s way out of his league 

user14 don’t you think you might be putting strain on her new relationship? i doubt her new guy likes to see everyone preferring the old guy 

→ user15 hopefully that means he’ll leave and we can get her and max back

user16 has anyone checked on max?

(comments have been turned off)

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yn_ln just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, verstappencom and others

yn_ln how to lose a cake in 10 minutes 

16,334 comments 

alexandrasaintmleux the most beautiful birthday girl 

→ francisca.cgomes this dress is going to live rent free in my head 

→ yn_ln thank you for letting me show you both twenty different dresses

→ alexandrasaintmleux just wish you were taller so we could steal some of them 

→ yn_ln can’t believe you’d do this to me on the day of my birth 

→ oscarpiastri technically your birthday is tomorrow. this was just your birthday party

→ yn_ln thin fucking ice, piastri

user1 guys guys guys. verstappencom liked this. i repeat verstappencom liked this

→ user2 okay but that’s not max

→ user1 but it’s an advocate for max so 

landonorris dicaprio wouldn’t want you anyway. you’re too short

→ yn_ln i’ll make my boyfriend fight you 

→ landonorris i’m not scared of your polly pocket boyfriend

→ mclaren you can’t say stuff like this publicly, lan

→ user3 i swear none of them actually like her boyfriend 

→ user4 showing their support for max. he’s the only person who matches her beauty 

user5 no but the hand in the dress is somehow cute and hot 

→ user6 not with that guy. it should be max 

redbullracing happy birthday to our favourite popstar

replies

user7 what do you mean she had to pay for her own birthday meal on her birthday because her boyfriend wouldn’t

→ user8 not even wouldn’t but flat out refused 

→ user9 streets are saying it’s because he’s broke. not exactly like he’s raking in the job offers 

user10 so this man is lucky enough to get a chance with THE y/n l/n, then he refuses to pay for her dinner, and then he yells at her?? all on her birthday???

→ user11 he’s punching above his weight and clearly that angers him

→ user12 especially with the way she looked in that yellow sparkly dress today 

user13 someone clearly isn’t very smart. she writes a song for him - the first one she’s written recently that isn’t about max - and he does exactly what the song asks him not to do 

→ user14 how dare he try to embarrass our queen by yelling at her in front of so many people

→ user15 i’m starting to question if our girl does have good judgement. how could two men do this to her? 

→ user16 definitely doesn’t have good taste

user17 the audacity to yell at her in a restaurant of people, and then continue to do so after you were asked to leave because you were yelling at her

user18 and if i said i saw max verstappen pass them in the street, stop and turn, and start defending her, then what?

→ user18 he was literally yelling at this man whilst holding a crying y/n behind him, and rubbing her arm soothingly 

→ user19 we’d say you’re full of shit and have no tangible proof 

→ user20 this could be true because he was hanging out with charles and some of the drivers. and i just know alex sm got on the phone to her boyf and begged him to send the love of y/n’s life to save her

→ user19 pics or it didn’t happen

maxverstappen1 posted a new story yn_ln posted a new story

landonorris replied to maxverstappen1 i recognise the birthday girl's dress

landonorris replied to yn_ln who’s the 3rd person 👀 → wait why wasn’t I invited

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requests open

tag list

@omgsuperstarg @seonghwaexile @evie-119 @alejandrablacklupin @nina-or-anna-or-nora @shelbyteller @raynetargaryan2 @astroniii @raizelchrysanderoctavius @azuramicah @seasonswinter @chaoswithus @casey1-2007 @chemiru @strengthandstay @ivanag1rl@anayaverse @formulaal @ellelabelle @yara011 @callsignwidow @freyathehuntress @floweringlee @isagrace22 @sunny44 @lottalove4evelyn @danielshoe @paucubarsisimp @monacosprince @stereading @hoeforsirius @anilovessadbooks @armystay89 @cassofheartsss

sorry if i missed anyone. it wouldn't let me tag some of y'all

[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

[euphoria-looney]

Astro!

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader Squid Games!AU

m. list|next

"And goodness knows, The Wicked's Lives are lonely. Goodness knows, The Wicked die alone. It just shows, when you're wicked, You're left only, on your own." 'No One Mourns The Wicked' by Wicked the Musical

Divider creds: (?) and @dollywons

As a kid, all I longed for was someone to play a game with me that didn’t require some form of technology to keep both of us entertained.

Well, be careful what you wish for, because I have reached an all-time low, willing to kill people with children's games to earn money.

How much longer will I spend in this twisted game before getting killed? Maybe this is better whether I win or lose, I still gain freedom.

One choice is just the better option. 

That’d be losing winning.

Sure I would feel immense guilt, but I’d be free from debt… and then what? No longer needing to slave anyway from the amount of money I receive.

What then?

Could therapy even help? They’d probably send me off to a mental ward. 

Who's going to believe I won millions from playing some children’s games?

I looked around and saw the old man again from earlier, sitting alone in a space, I approached him, and he accepted to play with me.

“When I was little, this was one of my favorite games as a child.” The old man told us while we were walking into an open area.

“Really? I’ll be honest, I’ve never played this game before.”

As we finally found a point to play the game, we conversed.

—

“Did we do this to make a pact?”

He held out his hand, his pinkie and thumb sticking out, I laughed, wrapping my pinkie around his, pressing our thumbs together.

“Sir, no my gganbu- I think that’s what they called a really close friend right?”

—

Eventually we went all for nothing, this was the funniest game I ever played… I almost forgot the fact that I was going to die at the end.

“Ah, guess you won, betting all my marbles for your single one. Didn’t see that one coming.” I chuckled sadly.

He held my hand and placed the last marble in my palm.

“Take it, it’s yours anyway.” I looked up at him in shock, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“We are gganbu aren’t we? Remember we swore on it. And Gganbu always shares everything no matter what. You made this all possible.” My shoulder shook, as I could only stare at my shoes, my eyes felt like facets at the point. 

And then I felt these same hands embrace me, and I felt like a child all over again.

“What a great way to go.”

He pulled away, making me face him.

“Thank you. I had a good time.”

I hugged him once again, my tears overflowing on his shoulders.

He let go and I walked out of the gates.

Sniffles were all I could do before I heard the voice behind me.

“I remember my name now. My name is Il-nam. Oh Il-nam.”

I kept walking then flinched when I heard a ‘bang’ go off.

Surrounded by all these dead bodies, and these empty emotions, I pushed forward.

[Player 1, Eliminated]

—

Despite everything, I’m still having these selfish thoughts of staying alive.

We had just played ‘glass bridge’ leaving three of us here, dressed in suits, and eventually I was talking with Penelope, she’s the one that helped me out of the restraint we were in after we left for the first time.

“Hey, [name], just in case either of us can actually make it out of this hellhole, promise that we will take care of each other's loved ones, okay?” 

“Don’t say that, we’ll be okay.”

But she took more damage than any of us once the glass had shattered and was losing blood fast.

“Stay where you are, I’ll go get someone.”

I left and went to the guard or whatever they were, to beg, plead, for a doctor, maybe one that could’ve been on standby, but instead they walked past me with a coffin.

I could only stare at my once best friend standing over her bed.

I ran over there and held her body up, shaking her for some sign of hope.

“No, Penelope, please, no…”

—

Approaching the end game, we ate a feast, so fresh and nicely made, I felt the need to puke.

We place in the field shapes surrounding us, to resemble a squid, this was, Squid Game.

The rain soaking both of us, gray skies, and a single guard on the side.

Astro’s shirt still soaked in blood, his suit back on. He spoke before the game began, a knife in hand.

“I ended her suffering. You know she would have died anyway.”

The tears that once stained my face had been washed off by the rain, and now I could only feel disdain for the man I once knew in front of me.

“That’s bullshit, stop lying. She could’ve survived, they could have treated her.”

He retorted.

“I know what you’re like, you’re the reason I had to kill her. I knew you two would stop all this, so she didn’t die there. Even though we’ve gone so far, just to quit?” 

It seemed so similar to the time back at the manor.

—

“Damian had a lot happen to him as a child, are you going to blame him for this?” Dick sighed Damian behind him with no remorse for the fact I had slashes on my arm, not deep but painful. And though they wouldn’t leave scars, would that really matter?

He held a weapon against me while all I had was a stack of books now discarded and torn on the ground.

“[name]. You’re older than him, he’s still a child. You are the reason for this, it could’ve been avoided if you didn’t egg things on. Don’t blame Damian for your faults.” Egg him on? All I did was try and avoid him.

It wasn’t fair.

—

Now, if it wasn’t high before, my blood pressure had to be spiking. For that petty reason? Simply because he didn’t want all of this going to waste?

“Was that it? You killed someone because this might end?” My voice trembled.

“Yeah! You and that girl would have been the majority you needed to get out! Going home without anything! I couldn’t live with that!”

“And you think that means anything?! What?! one more life on top of the others you’ve stolen isn’t enough, and won’t be enough until you receive something?! You’d rather have one more dead than for all three of us to leave and somehow find another way to bring something, anything home?!” I shouted back at him.

I took my knife out of my pocket.

“It's over…”

“I won’t let you leave here with the money.”

3RD POV

While the VIP’s finally stood up to watch this entertaining last game.

Two people who have developed over time physically and mentally, once friends, were squabbling, fighting with very small amounts of energy, but a passion to win.

Both stabbed the other when eventually, player 456 was able to get the other on the ground and punched him over and over again.

The Waynes couldn’t help but be relieved this was it, they’d never let her go again, they would make up for everything starting with making sure she would be okay.

“Found the location heading there soon!” They heard Cassandra on the other line.

Late, but they would make it.

—

[name]’s POV

I held my knife, before stabbing it into the field, next to his face, before limping over to the goal point, it felt miles anyway, the guard had his gun loaded and aimed at Astro.

There before me was the practical finish line.

I can’t… No, I refuse to if anything, playing this game has fucked me other the head, but I refuse for one second to let this game be the last thing I ever see Astro at.

“I wanna end here.” I face the guard walking back to them.

“Clause Three of the agreement. The players are able to end the game when the majority agrees, so if we both give up,  you have to end it right?” I stumbled over.

The guard spoke on the walkie-talkie while I gazed back at Astro.

“Astro.”

“Back when we went to the same school, we’d hang out together and study before leaving chasing after our purpose that called out for us. Nothing's calling anymore.” After all this time, he still is.

I smiled at him, that once gummy smile I adorned, one that I hated so much.

“Let’s go”

I extended my hand to him. 

“Let’s go together.”

He slowly lifted his hand.

“[name], I’m sorry.” 

And before I could react, he took that hand and grabbed the knife that I put right next to him, and impaled himself in the neck with it. 

Blood gushed out and he choked out blood.

I quickly went to his side, stabilizing his head.

“Astro! Astro!”

“[name]..”

“No, no, don’t speak! Hang on!” I was panicking, this can’t be the end of us.

“M-my mother, please take care of my mom. And…”

“I love you.” That made me freeze my erratic movements, I was sure he could’ve seen my eyes widen.

“Loved you since meeting you.” With that, he closed his eyes and I could only call out his name, and held onto his body, it was getting colder fast.

[Player 218, Eliminated. Congratulations, Player456]

—

3rd POV

“Believe in Jesus or go to Hell!” A guy holding two signs chanted outside in the rain, strangers walking past each other, a white limo rolled up on the side of the street, dumping a bruised and exhausted body on the sidewalk, the same guy chanting untied the girl.

“Believe in Jesus.”

The girl was in the bank depositing 4.56 billion dollars before withdrawing some out. Her hair a mess, eyes sullen and eye bags that dragged down her face, she seemed exhausted. Walking back to the store she once worked at, a sign stated ‘SOLD’ and next to it a reef, “Rest in Peace, Conny Claire, Died too soon, old shop owner that meant so much to many people.” Flowers that surround the message.

The girl that came there for a snack could only sink to the ground in shock, hands rising to cover her face, body shaking and quivering.

Walking down a store alleyway, Astro’s mom approached the girl.

“How have you been, here take some food for the road after losing…” She sighed, and patted the girl's back, walking back to her shop.

“Have you heard from… Nevermind.” 

The girl opened her run down apartment where she once lived and went to see all the old photos in the yearbook of classes she had with Astro and in all of the group ones featuring her, her classmates, and Astro she noticed how in each one he was looking at her, with those fond eyes.

She could only fall onto her bed, her tired state crept on her before she fell asleep.

Some time later, the girl kept her promise to Penelope and helped out her family, then left them with Astro’s mom, leaving a wealthy sum of money, they became a family… somewhat of a replacement for the other's loved one, and the girl left paying off whatever debt any of them had.

The girl was sitting alone at the pond, drinking some alcohol. Before an old woman approached her, a flower basket in hand, it seemed she needed to sell them immediately before they wilted away. The girl reached into her pocket, handing her some money before the old woman went off. 

Picking up the nicely wrapped flower, a card appeared, making the girl stumble at picking up the card before reading it.

Approaching a hospital, card in hand.

It was the old man.

“What is this… Who are you?”

“Pour some water for me. Please, [name].”

And there she sat, anger rising in her, but she couldn’t do anything against the man who made the games.

She sat listening to the man talk, about the homeless guy below them, about how everything he said about himself was true, how he missed the old days, him and his friend used to have the time of their lives, and how no matter if you're homeless or rich both lives are no fun. Then a clock struck.

She looked at the machine to see that his heart was no longer beating, instead a flat line appeared. Getting up, she closed his eyes.

That’s when she finally started her life again. She got it together.

So, at the first place, her life changed at the same bus stop, well across from it, the skies were clear and the sun was glaring into the area. It had been a regular day for her, working at her own company and all.

Maybe that’s why when she unlocked her car and stared right in front of her at that same place, she was shocked to see her father, Bruce Wayne, and his family.

That’s it for this part of Astro! Did you like it?

Also, unlike Squid Game, soon after [name] left, everyone that participated in Squid Games got arrested, which made it on the news, but was looked past after a few months, [name] made gravestones for Penelope and Astro.

Ofc the Batfam got the credit and got even more famous for uncovering this incident, which is also why they hadn’t ‘visited’ [name] and now are just getting to it.

Not the update you expected, but I hope you like it.

Any comments, advice and corrections are appreciated!!!

-ILoveeeMoney

Taglist time! ❤

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213 @crazycaoticsimp @elfollaburras3000 @czarinera @tiffyisme3760 @exactlynumberonekryptonite @gwyneveire @k-anaru @a-lurking-fae @nxdxsworld @ryuushou

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell anyone's name wrong and tag the wrong person.

[gublernatural]

for pop star!reader, bringing him to the grammys perchance? i think it would be silly <3

i love this so im skipping ahead to post-situationship into full blown relationship stage with them <3 my fave duo (also reader is def inspired by my girl t swizzle at award shows and im not sorry about it.)

"you're sure?" you asked one more time, just before the car doors were to open. spencer, whose face was almost as red as the dress you were wearing, sent you an eager nod.

he was torn; stuck between being excited to be by your side, but terrified to be in such a public space. there were days where he was still in awe that he has been able to meet, fall in love with, and now date such a strong, hard-working lady, but days like today he is reminded how much the whole world has come to love his lover.

"then, let's go," you smiled at him, ushering him to step out of the car. he obliged, then reached his hand towards you, helping you out. "thank you," you smiled at him, quickly, and then guided him to the building’s entrance. you waved at your supporters as you walked, still marveling at the impact you’ve been able to make.

you two ended up being split, spencer dragged away to your designated table and you to the red carpet. you took photos and completed interviews as quickly as you could without being impolite. you couldn’t help but feel like you were longing to be back with spencer. despite all of the fun you were able to have, everything just felt better when he was around.

“there you are,” you smiled as you finally made your way to your seat. “how was the carpet?” he asked, sliding your chair out for you. you shrugged in response, turning your attention to the first performer to take the stage.

spencer spent most of the show watching you with starstruck eyes. it was evident, even to those watching from home, how deeply in love spencer truly was with you. there was a literal sparkle in eye as you danced along to each performer, completely and totally enjoying yourself. this was the happiest you'd been in a while. you felt pretty, were at a celebration, and had your favorite person in the world by your side. spencer being in a fancy suit that matched your dress and having his hair professionally done had nothing to do with it, of course.

"this was is yours, right?" spencer whispered into your ear as his arm slipped around your waist. he held you close in anticipation as they introduced your category: best new artist.

this was the biggest moment of your career thus far. sure, awards weren't everything to you, but being recognized for the work you'd put out in somewhere as important as the grammy's would feel so good. you nodded, anxiously, trying to use spencer's proximity to ground you. you hoped the camera that cut to you while you were being named amongst your competitors could see the nerves that were coursing through your veins.

"and the winner is," victoria monet, last year's winner, announced. the world around you turn to static as your name was called into the mic. spencer was up before you were, cheering. tears welled in your eyes, overcome with pride and gratefulness. you hugged spencer and your producer, before heading up to the stage.

"um," you hesitated into the mic after hugging victoria, "i did not think i was going to win this," you laughed. the crowd laughed as well. beyonce was laughing at you. taylor swift was laughing at you. spencer reid was laughing at you. this was the best moment of your life.

"everyone in this category is so amazing and i wish we could split this award eight different ways. thank you to anyone and everyone who has listened to my music and supported me so far. i would not be here if it weren't for you." the first tear slipped from your face and you quickly brought your empty tear up to wipe it.

"thank you to everyone who inspired me and my music, and anyone who laid a hand in creating it with me. my mind is so blank and i can't remember all of your names," everyone laughed again. "and thank you to those i love," your eyes slipped to your table in the crowd. the camera cut to spencer, who had the biggest smile on his face anyone had ever seen. "i wouldn't be here without you guys. thank you and i cannot wait to make more music for you." you ended with a gracious wave to the crowd and cameras, before dashing back to your table.

you threw yourself in spencer's arms again. his cheek smushed against your shoulder as he mumbled, "i'm so proud of you!" you didn't answer, but he felt your smile get impossibly wider against him. after your brief moment of affection, you settled back into his side, excited to see sabrina carpenter's performance.

[girl-lostconnection]

I'm so sorry you have to deal with people being so demanding, and I hope that they actually listen to your post and stop, cause it's just really rude in general.

On the other hand, I, for some reason, keep thinking about your story of reader dying and the 141 grieving and how, for me personally, when it comes to one of my loved ones, no matter how much time passes, I just can't stop thinking about them, craving their love, the way that they loved, and how you can see the similarities in others but it isn't quite right, it still doesn't feel the same, and you're just never left satisfied when you want their love again and no one else can do that, because it's not them. You're still loved, yes, but it's not the same.

Idk. I just was thinking about that and was wondering if that's what they might feel. They still have each other and love each other, but I wonder if there are times when they want or feel like they need it to be like reader's way to feel better on some days, where little things that upset them were originally made better by something reader did, but now that they're gone they're just left with that feeling to simmer.

You know one of the things I had to learn while dealing with grief — it doesn’t become smaller. You just get bigger, you get more experiences the older you get and all of that grief is still there. But grief is just what is left of your love for the person who is no longer there.

I think for them it would manifest differently but I can definitely see Johnny trying his best to keep going because he knows he has three more partners and they have to keep going and they have to keep living. Because Reader wouldn’t be happy with them just ending it all, because there is so much more time left, so many things they haven’t done. I think for him it would be one of the things that would eventually result in early retirement. He already lost a quarter of his heart when he lost Reader, he doesn’t want it happening again. And as much as he loves being demolitions expert, he knows there is a different type of life out there. One that can give him and his partners stability and safety.

I think Johnny would be the person that despite it all still sometimes talks about Reader like they are still there. He mentions references to movies and music and books, he draws them in his sketchbooks, he mentions that “this is the dessert they always wanted to try”. With time it turns into a warm kind of nostalgia, the love that he carries with him, his grief manifesting in trying to compensate for everything Reader wouldn’t experience by living through it himself. And by living on. When his time comes he hopes to see Reader again and say “see? I did well, didnae i? It was a good life. A long life, like you wanted. Bet you are proud of me”

Like i mentioned before Kyle took it in one of the worst hits, he’d keep holding onto Reader’s clothes and mementos as long as he can. He googles obsessively brands of clothes, he finds exactly the same articles because even if these get ruined or good forbid someone throws them out — he will know what to order. It won’t be the same, but he could pretend that it is. He already pretends that he’s alright, he already pretends that the hoodies he’s wearing with Reader’s name and rank are just part of his standard uniform.

I feel like Kyle is a person who has never experienced a loss this big before. He never lost someone who was this close, someone who’s still in his head, someone whose voice he keeps hearing when he talks to himself. Kyle likes to imagine that Reader never passes on. That they are still there, maybe noncorporeal, maybe he can’t see them, but at this point he’d settle for anything.

I think Kyle was never one for religion but whenever he passes church he’d get in to light a candle and say a quick not even a prayer but sort of a wish. Like that’s the only way he can chat with you, like something holy could really pass his “I’m okay, love, I’m eating well. Last mission was shite, but you know how it is. You no longer come to me when i dream. Are you upset, baby? I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful next time, i know you don’t like me getting injured. Just please, come back. I can’t sleep well without you.”

Simon would probably have the hardest times adjusting to the absence of Reader, because he takes the longest time to accept their death. He tries so hard to pull away from the moment where he would need to actually process the notion that it finds him itself and hits him with the force of minivan.

There is aching that he can’t relief, there is itch he can scratch — there is a person who he could tell any of his jokes and who’d not just joke in return but laugh at it and this person is gone. They are not coming back, he can’t even find them somewhere to watch out of the shadows, he can’t stalk them.

Losing people like that is always the hardest because with living people you at least can call/text/send a letter with a carrier pigeon. You can come back and open old wounds, you can pick up the fight, you can look them in the eyes and get some closure. Simon is not getting any. He fights every step of the way, he drags his feet. He’s easily agitated, he feels like hitting his head on the wall every time something stabs him from inside reminding that you are gone.

He comes up with a joke and yeah, of course he can tell it to anyone out of 141, but he wants to tell it to Reader. He wants to tell it to them specifically because they’d have a funny response which they’d choke out of themselves by laughing so hard he actually starts laughing. He misses it. He misses them. He misses their smell, the feel of them, the way he could talk to them and they would just get him so well like no one else would. He doesn’t just lose a partner when Reader dies — he loses a friend.

Price is…Price is complicated. He’s one to bottle it all up and throw it so deep down it may never come up other in his subconscious habits. He makes tea for five people and not four, he shops for five, he still buys the snacks Reader liked, he starts planning celebration for their birthday just on the back of his mind until he catches himself doing it and just forces it all down deeper.

Price would be a high functioning alcoholic in his grief, but still an alcoholic. He drinks a little more than he should, he forces down a drink he’d previously wouldn’t because he knows his limits. But it burns and it numbs and for a few hours he can breathe again. Alcohol allows himself to loosen a lid on everything he feels, it puts safe distance between his feeling and him and he actually allows himself to process some of them.

He cries, he ruins his office, he punches through the wall, he routinely throws up. Once he gets so drunk he actually starts having hallucinations, intoxication so severe he almost chokes on his own vomit. Soap finds him just in time to get him help. After this he gets out on suicide watch for 72 hours and the team would start actually guard him in shifts.

Price still drinks but now next to him there is always someone who also remembers his limits and doesn’t let him overstep them. John hates it at times. He hates himself much more though. He hates Reader sometimes too, because that’s not fair that they are gone. Because look what a fucking mess he is, love, bloody disgrace to drink himself under the fucking table.

Price has the fastest adjustment to Reader staying deceased but at the same time he can’t fully process his grief. Part of him is scared that he will drive himself mad if he does, another part just doesn’t want to. It’s stubborn and unhealthy but so what. He’s a captain, he lost soldiers before, he’s gonna deal with it this way.

But i think he’s also the second person who retires straight after Soap because he finds a new almost obsessively-desperate purpose in keeping his boys alive and well. He may be a fucked up man but his boys already lost one of their own, he doesn’t want to drag them through his death as well

[daylighted]

I need more baby!reader Dean , I adore everything you write 😭

i think... it's about time... i give u guys what u want ( dean flirting with baby )

sam had his hands full with lore clinging to him, just as dean had intended for things to go. see, that was the only reason he'd entertained your bizarre wish of turning his dad's journal into a girl at all. not that he'd admit it to himself or anything, but it was true. sam occupied meant that there were no witnesses to the fact that, very quickly, his entire resolve was crumbling away due to all of the chipping you'd done at it.

you! this girl that was yes, once his car, but now was this full-fledged human being. you, who liked to be pressed entirely to the window as he drove, taking in every sight with your nose against the glass. you, who held a hand over your heart every time you got anxious, and then proceeded to tear him apart in one sentence because of that anxiety. and you, who cried your eyes out after you said something you thought was too mean.

dean was screwed — but he was thinking of it less like a bad thing now and more like something that could, possibly, potentially, be good for him? this was just as new to him as it was to you, considering he'd never had someone be so utterly devoted to him like you were.

you were brushing your teeth at the sink, humming a song to yourself in the process. he loved showing you music. each song became your new favorite. dean didn't know, really, if you liked them because he showed them to you, or you genuinely liked them, and honestly? didn't care. he was never going to deny the fact that, no matter what it was, you were too damn cute, humming along to whatever metallica song came on next in his (absolutely not specially curated) cd collection.

"c'mon, baby, i don't have all day," he grumbles, tapping the tv remote against his thigh to the beat of the song you hummed to. "you said you wanted to watch..."

he trails off, because he knows you really well by now, and knows you'll fill in the blank. which you do, excitedly spitting out the foamy toothpaste in your mouth and all but leaping onto the bed next to him. "the witcher!" you were a little unbearable after learning that you came to existence because of a witch. dean in all of his whipped glory, thought it was as endearing as ever. "put it on! now!"

"i'm tryin'," he laughs, holding the remote over your head as he scrolls through the options on netflix. "hard to focus when you're bouncin' around over there." goddamn, was it. "sit still, will ya?"

all it takes is one ask for you to, expectedly. unexpectedly, you've decided to settle right on his lap. dean was well aware of how snuggly you got at nighttime, but this was a new level to it. he is suddenly extremely focused on the tv screen, and definitely not on your bare legs wrapped around his, or your head nuzzled into his chest. or anything in between. please, god, don't let him focus on anything in between.

"did you know i love you?" his heart skips a beat every time you say it, even though dean is well aware of how you mean it. not like the way he wishes you would, but somehow somewhere in between what he wants and something platonic. the only type of love that you knew was this, and he didn't want to do anything to selfishly divulge you away from your feelings, however convoluted and confusing they were.

dean nods, his free hand coming up to trail his fingers through your hair. "i know." and dean did. you made sure to tell him once a day, which was another new thing for him. "love you too, angel."

he feels the scowl before you even voice your complaints. you were baby. he should call you baby. but something about the phrase, love you too, baby felt entirely too real and serious, and you could handle it, but he couldn't. not like this.

"there you go," you say, and instantly, dean's mouth tilts up in a smile, "trying to name me again."

your head lifts to meet his eyes, and he watches as the scrunchy irritation to your face melts into a warm smile. you always smiled when he did. you were a girl full of so much love, it just spilled out of every place it could. "it's called a nickname," he says, not for the first time, either. very common occurrence because dean cannot for the life of him stop calling you pretty names, "you can call me nicknames too, you know."

"no." you scoot up in his lap, and he has the willpower and strength of a fucking god, because he does not, in fact, whimper like he could have. could have! but didn't. you really should not fucking do that, but you don't know any better. he has to remind himself that you don't know that you sitting in his lap and gliding against him is enough to set his soul on fire.

dean raises an eyebrow up at you as you resettle on his stomach, your knees under his armpits. he sets the remote aside, his hands going to your waist to steady you. to steady you, he tells himself, even though you've never looked more secure in your life. "no? don't even want to try one?"

"you're dean, and i'm baby. that's just how it is and has been." you lean down quickly, and dean actually gasps, stuttering on his breath in his throat, thinking you're going to kiss him. he deflates when instead, you press your forehead to his, nose-to-nose. you don't know better. it's a constant mantra in his head. "you can't go changing it up now."

"you could call me baby."

your minty breath fans across his face, your eyes trailing over every inch of his face. you always look at dean so reverently. no one has ever looked at him the way you do, like there's nothing broken and nothing to fix, just beauty in every crevice.

"i don't want to." the honesty makes him grin, shaking his head in his amusement.

your hands come up to hold his face in between them, your palms flat on his cheeks, the scratch of his late-night stubble tickling against delicate skin of your hands. he knows it tickles, just by how you start to giggle. god help him. "i could call you angel. or sweetheart. or darlin'. i could call you babygirl."

something shifts in your eyes. it's subtle, barely noticeable, but you've got your face against his and he can see everything from here. he traces his fingertips along your ribcage through your shirt — his shirt, actually, but it'd taken up permanent residence on you. "no."

"no?" he echoes again, his head tilting to the side. your grip on his face tilts it right back, and dean can't help but laugh heartily. "don't tell me my pretty baby hates bein' called babygirl."

"stop it." you're blushing. your skin is warm beneath his hands, and all he wants is to reach under your shirt and feel it properly. a reminder to himself that you were real, and not some hyper-realistic delusion he'd been having for weeks.

it's all too easy to tip his chin up, so close to kissing you that his mouth opens and he feels the brush of your lips against his like electricity. "why? you're baby, and you're a girl. what's wrong with that?"

dean hadn't ever riled you up before. sure, he'd pissed you off, he'd endured plenty of verbal lashings from your sharp tongue, but this was new. this was the first indication that you loved him like he wanted you to love him.

"not funny."

"very funny, baby," and then suddenly, it's just as unfunny as you said, because your eyes fall to his mouth, and now he's a bit frozen in place. he bunches up the sides of your shirt beneath his fingers so it's raised enough for him to slip his fingers beneath, the warmth of your skin against his sending shivers down his spine.

you're going to kiss him, he thinks. you won't know what it means, and you definitely aren't going to know what you're doing, but he's already prepared for that. he'll guide you. he'll show you everything, actually, as long as you let him.

it's barely a proper touch of your mouth to his, but it's electric. he leans up to chase more of it, to seal the words into your mouth—

the hotel room door clicks as the lock releases, and dean stutters back with a jolt, his head knocking against the headboard. you turn your head to the door, not even bothering to move even though you really, really should, dean's a fucking wreck and you almost kissed him and—

"oh, come on, dean." sam's irritation is visible when he meets his brother's eyes, shrugging off the coat he was wearing.

dean lifts his shoulders in an exasperated shrug. "we are witching the witcher, sammy."

lore points at the tv screen. "you are not watching anything. you are queued up to watch cocomelon."

dean stretches his neck to look over your shoulder, and his expression flattens. he was fine with lore, he didn't have any qualms against her existence, but he was beginning to regret letting you swindle into creating her.

dean doesn't know if he's thankful or not when you climb off of his lap and go over to lore, already babbling about... god, what did you two even talk about? every time he tried to focus on the two of you together, he instead just zeroed in on you, and everything else went blank.

everything was still blank now. he watches your eyes light up with the weight of your joy, and he can't help but wonder if it meant anything at all, or if it was just a moment that you two had, and nothing more.

once again, all dean could do was hope it was something more.

notes. how many times will dahlia change her format for baby!reader: the people may never know. this came out sm longer than expected PLSSSS I JUST LOVE BABY & DEAN OKAY !!!

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @jensenacklesballsack @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @h8aaz @mahi-wayy @bejeweledinterludes @h8aaz @jjmbbg @valjy

[igorluvr]

‘T.O.P SECRET

PAIRING: choi seung hyun (T.O.P) x black!reader

SYNOPSIS: hiding a relationship with a popular k-pop idol was hard enough, with paparazzi constantly following and fans obsessed with him. would you be able to deal with it, or crack under pressure?

CONTENT: aggravating fans, negative self talk, fluff so sweet you’ll get a cavity, "mamas" (im sorry guys i love it)

AUTHORS NOTE: the instagram portion is heavily inspired by @rosones‘s “being an actress dating choi seunghyun” fics, pleaseeee go check them out !!!

word count: [1.2k]

EVERYTHING was starting to get to you. Having to be hidden by the man you wanted to marry was exhausting and genuinely taking a toll on your mental. The two of you met 4 years ago, with you being a backup dancer for one of his biggest music videos.

Your sweet personality and captivating look immediately caught his eye. The way you carried yourself made his heart flip, he knew you were the one. After filming was done, he asked you out to dinner and it was wraps from there.

Meeting Seung-hyun was the best thing that happened to you. Well it was, until a year into your relationship. As the days you were together increased, you wanted to show off your boyfriend more. You knew you couldn’t and that ate you alive.

Seeing everyone getting posted and taken out by their boyfriends always put a bad feeling in your stomach, knowing that could never be you. Sometimes you wish that he was a regular guy, that people wouldn’t bombard him with questions everytime he went out and that his fans weren’t bat shit crazy.

You knew how harsh the k-pop industry was, and wanted no part in it. Some idols were getting publicly shamed just for relationship rumors, so what would the people say if they knew you were together for almost half a decade?

It wasn’t his fault, but it affected how you acted towards him. You found yourself getting random attitudes to him—not wanting to talk when he tells you how you can’t go on cute dates, and overall just being cold. One day, in particular, was way worse than usual.

It was the morning of valentine’s day, your 5th together, and you couldn’t shake the sick feeling you had. Everywhere you looked was filled with couples. Your social media, stores, the streets— you couldn’t escape it.

Now you weren’t one to be ungrateful, but having to stay hidden on a day where couples were meant to be shown off made you feel a type of way. You wanted nothing more than to be flaunted by Seung-hyun. This was the man you wanted to marry, and you wanted everyone to know.

Getting out of bed, you saw that he was nowhere in sight. Not in the room, bathroom, living room, or kitchen. Heading back to your shared room, you picked up your phone and went to text Seung-hyun. Surprisingly, though, there was already a message from him.

mybaby💋 • 1m ago

goodmorning princess, come to the guest room. happy valentine’s day ❤️

You were confused by the message, still being dazed by the sleepiness weighing on you. Leaving your shared room, you dragged your feet to the unused guest room, which was all the way on the other side of the house

The both of you had a shared home, which was rather large due to him wanting to have space for his group and occasional parties. You didn’t object, not caring about the size. But it was times like this when you really regretted your decision.

After what felt like an endless walk through the hallways decorated with bright colors and pictures of happy times the both you shared, you finally arrived at the guest room. You sleepily opened the door, and as you stepped inside, you were greeted by a sight that left you speechless.

The room was adorned with an array of crimson red balloons, each hovering slightly above the ground. They wavered slightly from the faint breeze from the windows, their shiny surfaces reflecting the soft, warm light that shone in from the sunrise. Delicate rose petals scattered across the hardwood floor formed a path toward the center of the room.

At the end of the room, there were silver balloons hovering above the lounge couch spelling out 'i love you' in cursive. The way the chords echoed around the room made your heart swell with a mixture of surprise and overwhelming emotion. The whole scene made you want to burst out in tears, you were so lucky to have someone like him in your life.

Seung-hyun stood by the words holding a glittery bouquet of flowers, looking as handsome as ever with a gentle smile that made your insides flutter. “Happy Valentine’s Day love.” he spoke softly, voice almost drowned out by the music.

You could barely speak, nothing coming out but girly giggles and laughs. The effort he put into making this day special flooded your mind with warmth, overtaking your earlier frustrations. Everything about the setup felt so intimate, you could really tell how much time and effort he put into it.

“Seung-hyun, this is… it’s beautiful.” you finally managed to say, eyes watering as you walked into the room. You stepped over the rose petals, feeling a bittersweet twinge of happiness mixed with the indifference of knowing you couldn't show anyone how happy you were.

“I wanted to do something special for you, just for today,” he said, moving toward you to take your hands in his. “You deserve the world. I hate that we have to keep our love a secret, but I want you to know how much you mean to me, especially on days like this.”

Tears gathered at the bottom of your eyes, threatening to spill out.. You knew he cared, you really did, but the guilt of feeling like a secret in his life made it all so complicated. “I just wish…” you started, voice shaky, “I just wish we could be open about us. I want to show everyone how amazing you are, how much I love you.”

He took a step closer, the warmth radiating from him somehow able to calm the emotions raging inside you. “I know baby, but this is how it has to be right now. I promise, one day we can be public about everything. You just have to trust me a little longer.”

Closure seemed so far away. You nodded, wiping at your eyes before flashing him a small smile, not wanting your feelings to overshadow the wonderful effort he’d put into today. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Let’s enjoy the day together, okay? I have a lot planned.” A wide smile spread across his face as he lead you out of the room, leaving you to wonder just what he had in mind.

As the day went on, you went to various places enjoying each others presence. He took you all around town to the most private, romantic spots. You loved when he did this, it showed how much he cared for you, but there was a pit in your stomach that couldn’t seem to go away.

On your anniversary, the day started with the two of you waking up wrapped in each other’s arms, sunlight beaming through the curtains, emphasizing all the intricate details and curves on his face. You couldn't shake the feeling that today would be different, something about it felt special, almost electric.

After making you breakfast, Seung-hyun insisted on keeping the day's plans a surprise. He carefully arranged everything to ensure it would be the happiest day of your life, one you spent all with him. You found yourself growing more excited the more he gave little hints about what was to come.

The first stop was a remote hillside cabin that he rented for the weekend. Burrowed among the trees, the cabin was completely surrounded by nature, giving you the peace and quiet he knew you loved. When you stepped inside, the cabin was filled with soft music, candles adorned the tables, flickering slightly. In the center of the room you were met with your favorite dish on both sides of a small table.

“Welcome to our place, baby” he said, sneaking up behind you to place a kiss on your shoulder "Just us." There was no hiding the smile that grew on your face, you could barely believe how thoughtful he was to create such a romantic setting just for you.

The two of you spent the morning walking through the beautiful trails that spread out through the woods, taking in the vibrant colors of the scattered leaves as they crunched under your feet. Seung-hyun held your hand tightly, occasionally pulling you in to exchange soft kisses, transporting you to world that felt entirely your own.

After the hike, he led you back to the cabin where he had a picnic set up inside, laid out on a beautifully woven blanket. A bottle of chilled wine sat on the cover, alongside an assortment of expensive cheeses, fruits, and pastries. You both settled comfortably on the floor, commenting on the rustic scenery and sharing stories and laughter. The sound of the wind blowing through the trees outside was a soundtrack to the love that surrounded you.

He urged you to put on a dress, a beautiful white one— saying it would make the picnic that more romantic. After a few minutes of going back and forth, you decided to just put it on. You knew how stubborn he was and if it made his enjoy the dinner more, you'd do it regardless.

As the sun slowly lowered in the sky to sink lower in the sky, casting a warm golden shadow through the cabin windows, Seung-hyun suggested to watch your favorite movie. Claiming it would be a good way to end the day, you agreed and settled down to start the film.

Halfway through, though, you noticed Seung-hyun glancing at you more than he was watching the film. His intense gaze sent a rush of warmth through you, and you smiled softly, hoping to encourage him to share whatever was on his mind. Just as the romantic climax of the movie approached, he paused the screen and turned to face you, his expression suddenly serious. “Can we talk for a moment?”

“Of course,” you replied, intrigued and a little anxious about what he was going to say. Pulling away slightly, he sat up and looked deeply into your eyes. “You know how much you mean to me, right?” His tone was somber and genuine, wrapping you in immediate comfort.

“More than anything” you muttered, heart racing.

“Good,” he said, nodding, his gaze unwavering. “Because I’ve been thinking about us, about our future, and how much I want to make it real.” He looked at you with a slight smile on his face, eyes unable to tear from you like a magnetic force locked his gaze onto yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, nervousness creeping to the surface as you anticipated what was coming. “What do you mean?” You could hardly keep the tremor from your voice.

Seung-hyun reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. Your heart began to race even faster, an overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief swirling within you.

“I've never thought about marriage until five years ago when I met you. It’s like you flipped a switch in my brain, and suddenly, all I could think about was wanting to spend the rest of my life with you. I know we've had to keep things a secret, but I'm ready to tell the whole world about you. I want to build a life together, no more hiding or secrets.” he said, his voice calm but warm. “Let’s take this step so we can finally just be… us. Out in the open.”

With trembling hands, he opened the box, revealing a delicate silver ring that sparkled under the candlelight—an intricate design with a single gem at its center. The ring sparkled underneath the lights, losing you in it's beauty. “Will you marry me?”

Tears streamed down your face as a wave of emotions crashed over you. You weren’t just overwhelmed by the proposal, but by the amount of love and commitment in his eyes. You wouldn't have to hide how you felt, you wouldn't be a secret anymore.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, your voice breaking as you nodded fervently. “I'd love to marry you baby”

He slipped the ring onto your finger, and the moment it settled in place, you felt an overwhelming rush of joy. Seung-hyun scooped you into his arms, spinning you around as laughter spilled out of you and echoes off the walls of the cabin. He finally set you down, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the world outside, not the secrets, not the complications. Just the two of you, finally stepping into the light together.

“I love you so much,” he murmured as he pulled you into his arms, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve waited for this day forever.”

“I love you more,” you replied, heart racing, blossoming before you in vibrant colors. You melted against his touch, the future flashing through your mind in a golden glow.

Time seemed irrelevant in that moment as you bathed in the warmth of his touch. Here in your hidden sanctuary, a place created just for the two of you, nothing else mattered. Your love story was just beginning, and you couldn’t wait to write the next chapter together.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you mamas” he whispered, standing up to pull you into his arms.

You buried your face in his shoulder, laughter and tears intertwining in a beautiful melody. In that moment, all the worries and fears faded away. Seung-hyun whipped out his phone and went straight to instagram.

"Can't wait to show u off baby, been waiting for this for years" The typing on his phone intensified as his smile grew wider by the second. You drifted off to sleep in his arms as the soft sound of his fingers tapping against the screen rocked you to a peaceful sleep.

When you finally woke, sunlight beamed through the leaves of the trees surrounding your home, casting playful patterns on the ground. Seung-hyun slept beside you, chest rising up and down with each breath he took. He was so at peace, and it made your heart swell all over again.

There was a constant 'bzzzz' coming from your nightstand, causing you to tiredly snatch your head in the direction of it. For some reason, your phone was blasting with notifications. Opening it, you were met with an instagram post from your very own fiancé.

@.ttt ✓

♫ Daniel Caesar • Blessed

ttt my beautiful fiancé

liked by xxxibgdrgn and others

view comments…

@.seunghyunswifey wait are we so serious rn??

@.5bigbangs chat this is me like fr

@.liyahsarchives she’s so pretty i can’t even hate

@.than0sworlddd I mean she’s okay..

@.daeholuvr okay let’s see ur face then !!

@.iheartkenshin so happy for them omgg

Reading the comments gave you a whirlwind of emotions. While most were supportive and happy for your relationship, there were others that weren’t as joyful. They called you names, degraded you, even wished the worse on your marriage. You knew they were just crazy fans, but it still hit the deepest part in your heart.

Still, you were thankful for this. Being public about your engagement had its prices to pay, and this was just one of them. No matter how bad it gets, no amount of hate would overpower your love for Seung-hyun.

Looking over at him sleeping peacefully in bed, the morning sun radiating off of his face, brought you comfort. As long as you had him, everything would be okay.

[shomatoriashi]

03/03/25; 12:10am

yandere!sung jinwoo x fem!reader | jd!sung jinwoo x veronica!reader

notes: i fell in love with heathers the film and musical when i watched it a few years ago and have been dying to make an insert loosely based on it. i wasn't able to find the right character to be the j.d. to my veronica!reader-

until now.

this will be my birthday fic for jinwoo, and warnings will be put in place in case you readers wish to skip this story.

summary: wishing to come out of your comfort zone during your university years, you befriend a group of queen bees who seem to rule the campus with their wealthy status and beauty, rendering you to be nothing more than their servant as you are subjected to do their bidding as their unwilling gopher- but that all changes when a transfer student with haunting, grey eyes appears, turning your world upside down in the darkest of ways.

notes + warnings: unedited; dark content; purposeful ooc-ness (out of character) to help with fitting the narrative; power dynamic / bullying; death of major character(s); s-icide mention; suggestive themes; attempts at forced intimacy (not by jinwoo); alcohol use

alternate title: meant to be yours

{ i was meant to be yours | we were meant to be one | i can't make it alone | finish what we've begun | you were meant to be mine | i am all that you need | you carved open my heart | can't just leave me to bleed...! }

cha hae-in was bathed in a golden glow as she walked with confidence throughout the halls of the humanities building. with each step she takes, she catches the attention of numerous male students, with the young woman seeming to bask in such attention as she tosses aside her blonde hair just to give off that added touch.

being the star runner of the university's track team, hae-in had a body that millions of women envied and a personality that was too saccharine sweet to be considered genuine. she shows her kindness in ways that were only fit to benefit her. being the sole daughter- an heiress of a multibillion dollar company, it came as no surprise that she surrounded herself with people who would do anything for her-

which unfortunately included you.

heaving out a sigh, you run a hand through your locks of hair while trailing your gaze away from hae-in and towards the women settled next to her, yoo soohyun and blanche alicia. soohyun worked part-time as a model, while alicia was also an heiress to her family's own company. this is where your 'friendship' with these dazzling young women felt too much like a joke.

you had no special upbringing and would not inherit any riches from your parents. you were simply an ordinary woman who lived an ordinary life, being the sole child of parents who worked normal office jobs. you spent most of your school life hiding in the shadows, making decent grades in hopes of getting into a decent university so you could obtain a decent 9 to 5 job.

that had been your ultimate goal for as long as you could remember-

yet it all seemed to change the moment you turned 18.

you look back on your utterly boring life and felt as though it had been wasted by your apathy. you knew that you were simply going through the motions and felt a bit disappointed in yourself, which was why you made a promise- no, an oath to come out of your comfort zone.

you would enjoy your university years by befriending and associating yourself with people whom you would normally despise, basking in their glory as you would use their status to get into parties and try to... live a little.

which was why you found yourself living in the shadows of cha hae-in and her lackeys for the first semester of your freshman year.

being lost in your own thoughts, you didn't notice the way hae-in had casually slipped behind soohyun and alicia. she takes advantage of your distracted state and casually sticks her slender legs out in front of you-

making you trip as you land unceremoniously against the concrete sidewalk.

the wind was knocked out of you, and you felt your cheeks burning with humiliation. tiny scratches were seen on the palm of your hands from where you had fallen, yet what hurt more than the cuts was how your sense of pride had just been torn apart into smithereens.

"oops, sorry. i guess you were just walking too slow for my liking." hae-in began to giggle before looping her arms together with soohyun and alicia. "well, we're off to our appointments now to get our nails done, and since the salon was all booked up, i wasn't able to make an appointment for you." soohyun's voice was dripping with sarcasm, and you were left to wallow in your embarrassment and misery while fighting off your tears.

as your supposed friends left you behind, you were so caught up in your own intrusive thoughts that you failed to see the startling pair of glowing, lilac eyes taking in your form...

{ ... }

resting your cheek against the window, your eyes stare blankly at the scenery as hae-in began to gossip profusely with alicia and soohyun chiming in.

"i heard hwang dongsoo and kim chul were going to host a party at their fraternity tomorrow night!" soohyun was grinning now, and you swore you could practically hear her purrs of content (acting very much like a spoiled cat who's had her fill of cream). as she rests her cheek against the palm of her hand, you could see the purple ombre hues of her nails.

alicia joins in with her giggles, tossing her hair back while showing off her own perfectly manicured nails painted a baby blue with sparkles. "i honestly cannot wait. dongsoo has quite the reputation when it comes to throwing the craziest parties!"

hae-in simply smiles in response, her hands gripping at the steering wheel as she stopped at a red light. from the glow, you saw that her own nails were painted in a classic french manicure style, the white tips curving along her nails that made her already perfect hands appear even more ethereal.

your hands end up curling into fists, feeling the edges of your own uneven nails form crescent shaped marks against your skin.

as soohyun and alicia continue to rave on and on about the party, hae-in manages to silence them with the mere snap of her fingers. "why be so excited for tomorrow when we can have our own little pre-party tonight?"

alicia's eyebrows furrow as she runs a hand across her thick strands of hair (a motion you had come to realize she would do whenever she felt anxious). "but hae-in, we're only 18. we're not allowed to consume and purchase alcohol until we're of age. that's why dongsoo's party is such a big deal to us."

"oh i know that, but i have no intention of paying for anything." you catch the way hae-in's eyes gleamed mischievously while meeting your horrified gaze from within the mirror, "after all, that's why we have our little wallflower here."

she says your name, coating the syllables with a thick, syrupy sweetness that made your stomach drop with anxiety, "why don't you be a dear and... fetch us some wine coolers at the convenience store?"

before you could answer her, hae-in weaves through the streets with a calculated expertise, quickly approaching the glowing sign of the nearest convenience store before parking her sports car at a corner parking lot. she was grinning at you along with her lackeys, with their voices cooing at you to just do it.

fighting back the nausea, you toss open the back door and slam it shut, clenching your fists upon hearing the sounds of their laughters echoing from within the car. forcing down the anxiety and the impending nausea left in its wake, you enter the convenience store, their automatic sliding doors feeling very much like a death sentence.

the variety of colors seen in the products that decorate the aisles momentarily overwhelms you. your breathing comes out in uneven breaths, shutting your eyes for a few seconds before taking in the scenery. the cashier was a young woman who looked to be around your age, and she was currently focused on a magazine while blowing bubbles with her gum.

okay, perhaps luck was on your side after all. you couldn't get much luckier than having the most distracted person manning the cash register. knowing that you had to act fast, you head toward the back of the store, eyes assessing the drinks that lined the fridges. as you were searching for the wine coolers, you became achingly aware of the store's entrance sliding open as a new customer walks in.

a quiet string of curses escapes from your parted lips as you found the shelves that held all of the wine coolers. opening the fridge, you grab three glass bottles in a variety of flavors, planning to hide them beneath your hoodie when a dark figure seen from your periphery catches your attention.

he was tall-

by far the tallest man you had ever seen, dressed in dark pants and a jet black trench coat. he towers over you with perfect locks of ebony hair and full lips tilted up in a smile, and you found yourself caught within his grey eyes. for a brief moment, you were stunned, unable to say a word when this perfect stranger trails his gaze towards the bottles of alcohol in your hand.

"what do you have there?"

the sound of his voice breaks through your reveries, and you struggled to come up with the right words to say. "uhm, i... this is just- i-i'm just-"

amusement was seen in his gaze when he takes the wine coolers away from your hands. "you have freshman written all over you, sweetheart." he chuckles while holding the bottles close to his side, "let me guess..."

leaning down to reach your height, you had to hold back your shivering when he manages to whisper in your ear, "your friends set you up... they made you steal these bottles, right?"

words failed you as you were unable to respond to him, yet the way you thickly swallowed was damning enough.

"relax, i'm only here to help you, sweet thing." the terms of endearment he kept referring to you with made your knees clash together in response. as if he had hypnotized you, you felt as though you were caught up in a trance, allowing the perfect young man to lead you toward the cashier.

the woman looks away from her magazine, meeting his grey eyes as his charm seemingly made her laziness disappear. she sits straight up in her seat, swallowing her gum in the process as her shaky hands scan the bottles of alcohol. "u-uhm, i need t-to see your i.d. to make sure y-you're of age to purchase these."

truthfully, had you not been so awestruck yourself, you would have laughed at how silly this cashier was behaving.

a rich chuckle was heard coming from the devastatingly handsome man, "but of course." he reaches into the pockets of his pants to pull out his wallet, extracting both his i.d. and a sleek black debit card. from your observations, you knew that his name was sung jinwoo and that he was 20 years old (a mere two years older than you.)

the cashier's gaze lingers a bit too long on his license before shaking her head, "t-thank you so much, sir!" taking his card, she swipes it, allowing the payment to go through before returning them to him. jinwoo thanks the cashier and takes the bags filled with alcohol, walking out of the convenience store with you trailing behind him.

a haughty voice calling our your name makes you stop dead in your tracks. as if sensing your discomfort, jinwoo takes a protective stance in front of you, his cool gaze meeting hae-in. yet whatever annoyance that once twisted her perfect features all but melts upon seeing jinwoo.

trying to act coy now, she brushes aside her golden blonde hair, allowing her grey eyes to morph into a much more seductive look. "oh, who's your new friend?"

a bitter taste fills your mouth at the sight of hae-in flirting with jinwoo, and you felt a strange sense of red hot anger burning through you. somehow, you could already feel the dread making a deadweight settle at the pit of your stomach as you were certain that jinwoo would fall to his knees for her-

so imagine your surprise when he shoves the bag of wine coolers into her unsuspecting hands. "introductions aren't necessary, i know that you're the sole heiress to cha industries."

your eyes go wide upon seeing the shocked look on hae-in's face, with her taking a step back as she struggled to find the right words to say, "w-well, if you know who i am, then that should give you all the more reason to hang out with me..."

she was practically ignoring you, pulling out her claws with every intention of sinking them into jinwoo.

yet he further surprises you the moment he grips at hae-in's wrist, "sorry, but i'm not interested." his smile was achingly polite when he releases hae-in's hand, "i paid for your drinks in full and would like to have..." jinwoo purposely trails off before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "her as compensation."

"HER?!" hae-in's shrill voice of disbelief echoes throughout the parking lot, her nostrils flaring in response all while refusing to meet your gaze. unfazed by her outburst, jinwoo simply gives her a kind smile before leading you away from her. "if you'll excuse us."

your head felt like it was in the clouds now, your gaze taking in jinwoo as he was nothing short of a savior within your eyes. with your attention solely focused on jinwoo, you didn't see the way hae-in's eyes burned with hatred for you-

how she bit down so harshly at her bottom lip that it was enough to draw blood.

with soohyun and alicia seen hesitantly getting out of her car, hae-in could practically taste something metallic within her lips the moment she sees you getting into jinwoo's sleek vehicle. running on autopilot, she allows her feelings of disdain for you fuel her, calling someone she knew would be all too willing to help with her endeavors. she waits a few seconds, feeling a smile spread through her expression when he picks up on the other line.

"tomorrow, when you see us at the party, i want you to completely ruin this pest for me..."

{ ... }

admittedly, your mind was still spinning the moment you got into the car with jinwoo, your eyes drawn to his hand as he meticulously wove through the streets of the city. knowing that you had to say something to convey how grateful you were to him, you cleared your throat and hesitantly began.

"uhm, jinwoo... what happened back there, just- thank you, for helping me."

he looks back at you from his periphery, grey eyes shining with mirth while giving you a nod and a hum. the silence was deafening as jinwoo continues to drive for a few more minutes before turning into a parking lot. choosing a random spot, he parks the car before shutting off the engine, allowing his keys to swing back and forth as he focuses his attention on you.

"that girl is clearly not a true friend, so why even bother hanging out with her?"

jinwoo's question causes your stomach to sour slightly in response. letting out a shaky breath, you play with the ends of your hair, trying to find the right words to explain your situation to him. gathering your thoughts, you decide to be honest with him. "i've spent most of my life simply breezing through it."

you could see jinwoo lift an eyebrow in response to your words, but keeps quiet, silently beckoning you to continue. "i am an only child, yet had always been mild mannered. i made good enough grades and was able to attend university with some scholarships. looking back at my simple life, something inside of me changed with a desire to... to live a fuller life. that's why... i associated myself with cha hae-in and her groupies to begin with, constantly living in their shadows just for a taste of something more-"

"like parties and stealing alcohol?" there was an almost mocking tone heard within jinwoo's voice, making your cheeks burn with a bit of shame. you couldn't find any words of protests to try and defend yourself, but jinwoo's sudden laughter makes you visibly relax.

"it's okay, i was young and foolish when i was your age too, and that wasn't too long ago." the sensation of his palm gently cupping at your cheek was what made you practically melt into him. he was smiling at you, grey eyes appearing as dark as onyx from beneath the night sky-

only to suddenly flash a glowing, lilac hue for a brief second before returning back to its hue of endless darkness. "if any of them hurt you, come find me."

before you could respond to his command, jinwoo takes out his keys from the ignition while opening the door, "come on, let's go get some ice cream. i found this great parlor not too long ago, and it's located within this exact shopping center."

the promise of delicious ice cream banishes the memory of his glowing eyes and biting words as you got out of his car and joined him, feeling your breathing hitch the moment he takes a hold of your hand and leads you towards the ice cream parlor.

{ ... }

jinwoo's words kept echoing within the confines of your mind, making you lose your focus throughout the day. he had given you his number the night before, yet you were still too hesitant to reach out to him.

you didn't want to seem desperate or needy-

yet the more irrational part of you didn't care.

you wanted to be with jinwoo regardless of the consequences.

with your thumbs poised over jinwoo's name saved on your phone, you were about to give him a call when your phone came to life, alerting you with a call from hae-in. as a habit, you pick it up immediately, letting out a silent string of curses as you answered, "h-hello?"

your name was heard on the other line, void of the prior anger you had witnessed from the night before. "hey it's about time you picked up! you didn't forget about dongsoo's party, right?"

you ignore the pinpricks of anxiety at the mere mention of the party, reminding yourself the reason you had befriended such an awful girl like hae-in to begin with. letting out a shaky breath, you clutch your phone even tighter, "you... aren't mad at me?"

a series of melodious laughter was heard coming from the other line, "you mean what happened last night? please, i can get guys who are more devastatingly handsome than that lanky toothpick. all is forgiven, sweetie, so come meet us all at the frat house, okay? we'll be waiting~"

hae-in hangs up the call, letting you know that she would not accept no as an answer from you. clenching your eyes shut, you take a moment to even out your breathing and strengthen your resolve, jumping out of bed to get ready for the party.

one party-

just one party-

you would take this chance to attend this single party before cutting off all ties from hae-in and her toxic world.

{ ... }

the atmosphere of dongsoo's event was stifling to say the least. the moment you entered the fraternity house, you saw no signs of hae-in or soohyun and alicia. not interested in partaking in any of the debauchery that was bound to happen, you decided at the last minute to simply mingle for a few hours before leaving.

you managed to find a secluded area near the dining room and kitchen, searching for a bottle of water when a booming voice was heard calling your name. stopping your search, you trail your gaze over the general area where your name had been called, only to stiffen significantly upon seeing dongsoo's towering figure making his way towards you.

"there you are, babygirl, been lookin' everywhere f'you." his massive arm captures your wrist in a tight grip, making the panic set in as he pulled you away from the kitchen and towards the stairs. "where are you taking me? let me go!" you attempt to pull your arm away from his grip, but he was too strong, practically dragging you along.

your heart was pounding, its palpitations nearly choking you as the anxiety and adrenaline courses through your veins. your pleas for help goes unnoticed as they were drowned out from the music and hundreds of people conversing and laughing together. your deepest fears were confirmed the moment dongsoo finds an empty bedroom, slamming the door shut before locking you within the room with him.

"y'know, y'don't look half bad... you're pretty in that stuck up type of way..." you tremble, nearly gagging when you could smell the powerful scent of vodka wafting off of him. a shudder of disgust runs down your spine when you felt his wet tongue lapping at your skin. tears of desperation were streaming down your face now, and in a latch ditch effort to get this fucking pig away from you, you gave his abdomen a swift kick.

thanks to his inebriated state, dongsoo immediately falls to the ground, letting out a grunt before vomiting his brains out just seconds later. the scent of bile reaches your nostrils, causing you to recoil before unlocking the door, making a mad dash out of the room.

tears kept streaming down your face, and you were solely focused on getting out of this place when a flash stops you from moving forward. you look toward the direction, only to see three familiar girls with their phones aimed at you, taking what had to be a plethora of pictures.

"hehe, say cheese sweetie!"

with hae-in's words echoing within the depths of your mind, you shove through the crowd and manage to escape from the house party. your sobs echo throughout campus as you blindly searched for a way home.

due to your tears nearly blinding you, you didn't see the dark figure that suddenly appears in front of you, causing you to crash against a hard chest as a voice calls out your name. "hey hey, calm down, it's just me...! what happened?"

you were still sobbing when jinwoo was felt framing at your cheeks, eyes filled with concern for you as he takes in your bloodshot eyes and face damp with tears, "what happened? who hurt you?"

all you wanted to do was forget, clinging to the front of jinwoo's coat while burying your face within his chest, "n-no, don't make me t-talk about it! i-i just want to forget, j-jinwoo, just please, take me away."

needing no further urging from you, jinwoo takes you in his arms and begins walking, keeping you pressed against his chest. surrounded by his warmth and the faint scent of his cologne, you felt safe and protected in his embrace, not daring to let him go even as he unlocked the door to what you assumed was his dorm.

pressing gentle kisses against your hair, jinwoo takes steady strides within his dorm room, leading you towards his bedroom while placing you on top of his mattress. he was about to tuck you in and let you rest when the sensation of your arms wrapping around his neck halts his movements. your tears had finally dried now, and you wanted nothing more than to have jinwoo-

"stay." you tell him in hushed tones, tightening your arms around his neck, "please stay."

letting out a groan of your name, jinwoo remains hovered over you, pressing a deep kiss against your lips before descending upon you. how you found yourself so intimately intertwined with jinwoo was a mystery. one moment you were basking in the sensation of experiencing your first kiss with him-

and the next, you felt him piercing through you, your bodies tangled together in a dance of intimacy that takes your very breath away. never once did jinwoo stop kissing you, feeling his hands caressing at your skin in such a reverent manner that takes your very breath away.

time became a lost concept to you when jinwoo finally lays beside you, wrapping his powerful arms around your waist before bringing you closer to his naked chest. pressing another lingering kiss against your temple, you felt your walls slowly crumble in response when you decided to tell jinwoo what had happened during the party.

"i think hae-in had every intention of using dongsoo to hurt me tonight... to hurt me in... immeasurable ways."

jinwoo tightens his arms around you, and you could hear the way his breathing becomes even more labored in response to your confession. you take his silence as a means to continue, wishing to soothe his concerns, "but i was lucky. dongsoo was nearly blacked out drunk and i was able to fight him off of me and escape."

"so you ran out of the house and into me." jinwoo finishes your story through gritted teeth, earning a nod from you. "y-yes... so despite how fucked up it was, i'm okay... i'm okay."

you didn't even realize that you had began crying again until jinwoo wiped the tears from your eyes, focused solely on comforting you as he takes you even deeper into his embrace. while he comforts you, jinwoo was able to distract you from the wisps that escapes from jinwoo's growing shadow, not even seeing the glowing lilac quality of his eyes while he silently commanded his soldiers to do his bidding-

all for your sake.

{ ... }

the party had ended when dawn came as hae-in walks with her friends back to her car. she giggles, basking in the memory of your teared stained face while taking another swig of alcohol from the glass bottle.

"that'll show that bitch for daring to make a fool of me!" hae-in twirls around soohyun and alicia, basking in their giggles while taking turns drinking from the same bottle of alcohol.

as their laughter continues to echo throughout the area, they remained blissfully unaware of how their shadows lengthened, revealing three ant-like monsters from the depths. hae-in was the first to react, feeling the strands of hair stand from the back of her head when she turns around to face the looming figure.

it was over before she could even scream as the scent of blood thickens within the horizons.

{ ... }

with jinwoo by your side, you felt like you could finally face hae-in and cut ties with her for good. by some miracle, you were able to go through the motions of your day, finishing up your classes with jinwoo texting you during your free time.

it was now late in the afternoon, and you were waiting with bated breath outside of your university's cafe. jinwoo remains by your side with a bored expression on his face, taking casual sips of his coffee before speaking to you,

"i thought you said that hae-in usually gets her lunch here?"

"she does." you tell him with a sigh, getting out your phone as you looked at the text you sent a few hours ago to come and meet you. yet it remains unread even now.

is it possible that she could have blocked you?

where could she be?

not only had your texts remained unread and unanswered by hae-in, but by soohyun and alicia as well.

"what is going on?" you ask no one in particular, yet still received an answer from jinwoo.

"come on, we've been waiting here for thirty minutes, and it's clear that they're not going to show up." jinwoo was standing in front of you now, hands lovingly framing at your face before leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead, "perhaps they wanted to enjoy a trip away from campus or something, using their connections to get some free time?"

you end up smiling upon hearing his explanation. after all, it made perfect sense to you, and it was something you could see hae-in pulling off with ease. giving jinwoo a nod, you loop your arms together with his, "lead the way, jinwoo. i'm starving and could use something delicious and hearty to eat."

basking in his rich chuckles, jinwoo places another kiss against your hair while grinning down at you, "and i think i know the perfect place."

{ ... }

three months had passed, and you failed to even realize that they were missing-

that hae-in, soohyun, alicia, and dongsoo had not been seen ever since the night of the party.

investigators had flooded the university with questions of when they had last seen the group, yet the copious amounts of alcohol they had consumed during such an event made their memories hazy as to what had happened that night.

with zero leads and the case steadily turning cold, the authorities were pulling at the seams for any clues with each prestigious family breathing down their necks to find their beloved children-

yet you remained blissfully unaware of their respective absences, basking in your newly found life of peace while remaining by jinwoo's side, trapped in a rose-colored lens as you failed to see the lingering darkness that trails behind jinwoo with each step that he takes.

{ ... }

despite only dating for a few months, when jinwoo asked you to move in with him, you said yes to such an offer with zero hesitation. the only thought that ran through your mind was how much you wanted to be with jinwoo, filling your days with daydreams of how jinwoo would spoil you as you woke up next to him.

with the boxes of your belongings unpacked, you trail your gaze towards your boyfriend's own boxes. none of them had yet to be unpacked, and jinwoo had even strictly told you to let him deal with it-

to never open any of those boxes as he would take care of unpacking his own belongings.

yet you, so stupidly in love with him, wanted to be a good girlfriend and help out your lover in some way. ignoring his own words, you unpack one of jinwoo's boxes at random, slicing open the tape with your scissors only to suddenly freeze in response.

settled within the box were some clothes stained a deep red, the faint scent of iron wafting off of the fabric causes the bile to travel up your throat. your hands were shaking, picking up what appeared to be a slender dress in what was once a champagne gold in hue. your mind immediately goes back to the horrific night of that party all those months ago-

with your mind painting a vivid image of hae-in wearing this exact dress.

what felt like ice courses through your veins, turning your body cold as you shivered in response to the sudden revelation. you didn't need to further explore the contents of the box to know that soohyun, alicia, and dongsoo's bloodstained clothes were tossed haphazardly into the box as well.

there was a sudden shift in the air as you felt the sensation of jinwoo's hands releasing your tight grip on hae-in's ruined dress. "i thought i told you to leave the unpacking to me?" jinwoo's voice was heard softly cooing in your ear, his tone void of any malice as they dripped with adoration for you.

"but i suppose i can't hide it from you any longer." he sighs, taking your limp form into his lap while burying his face within your shoulder. "you know i had to do something to all those people that hurt you, right? you know how much i had fallen for you when i saw you at first sight?"

your body trembles in response to his confession, making you dimly aware of his words when he lets out a sigh, "i didn't think anything would happen the moment i transferred here, yet... the sight of you was enough to bring me to my knees. i had seen you trailing behind those rotten women with your head bowed low, had seen how they saw you as something meant to be forgotten."

his reverent touch was felt against your hair now, with his lips trailing down your temples before pressing a lingering kiss on your skin, "i knew then that i had to claim you as my own, to somehow protect you from their selfishness."

jinwoo's breathing becomes ragged now when you felt him gripping at your chin, "when you came to me that night, running straight into my arms with tears running down your face, i had seen what they had done to you. i had every intention of killing each and every one of them a painful death from how they had wronged you-

but the sight of your crying face stopped me... and i chose to comfort you instead; keeping you in my arms while allowing them to disappear by other means."

there was a crazed expression seen glimmering within jinwoo's eyes, with those irises flashing violet as his hands continue to frame at your face, "so i got rid of them with the intention of staging their deaths as mere suicide, just to protect your happiness- just to protect your peace. you understand where i'm coming from, right? that i did it all for love- that i did this all for us."

your lips remain parted when jinwoo finishes his confession. you knew that this man wasn't normal, that he was a monster you had foolishly fallen for. you knew that he was capable of destroying you, or taking your life away with a simple snap of his fingers-

yet there was a single thought that runs through your mind, repeating itself over and over again in a neverending mantra-

for how could you ever reject a monster who loves you so deeply?

knowing what you were getting yourself into, you lean closer to jinwoo to capture his lips in a searing kiss-

sealing your fate with jinwoo as you willingly tied your life together with his.

end notes: lmao this totally wasn't inspired by the indie horror film piggy either lmaooo what do you mean??

and happy birthday jinwoo 🙂‍↕️ i hope you enjoyed this unhinged story dedicated to you.

ps - if this ends up sucking really bad, i apologize and won’t write stories like this ever again 😭

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[stonedficz]

hi this is it. title is a pun. ENJOYYYYY‼️‼️‼️‼️

Most of my publishes will include music. Music is a HUGE part of writing for me, as it helps me set the tone for my work. If able, please listen as you read!

schlatt x streamer!reader

✰ star shaped ✰

ch. 1 ❛ talk about being roux ❜

you were a whore for him. parasocially, of course.

Spending the past 4 years of your life obsessing over someone online was the most entertainment you could find besides trying to pass your college classes.

You had been a fan for years - literally, since 2020. You weren't there for the start of Schlatt's career, but by God, you wish you could've been. He gave you some inspiration to livestream/vlog stream just for fun. You had seen almost every video as soon as it released, every live, everything. Now, you just wanted to be like the big angry guy you watched videos of on your laptop, but better.

Maybe it was your college aspirations, the lack of support from your family, or something else - no matter what it was, you were here. 5 followers on twitch in.

Despite the lack of viewers, you continued streaming happily. You were meal prepping for the next week of work and school to try and save money. It just so happened to be a good content idea as well.

"So, if you look here," you patiently looked and pointed down at your frying pan, showing the camera and 3 viewers your pov. "- the roux is starting to burn. I'm gonna have to take it off the heat and try to add some more milk to fix the flavor. I don't have any more garlic powder so I can't remake it unfortunately." you frowned as you set the pan on a different eye, gently adding more milk. Your eyes flickered down to the chat on your phone.

"whats a roux"

A heavy sigh left your mouth, you had been at this for 2 hours. Streaming, that is. Now you didn't have the patience to answer questions. Then you saw a notification.

BigGuy is live now! Streaming: fixing my minecraft house

"Alright my friends, I think it's time for me to go." you smiled at the camera and waved. "The roux needs my whole attention, so I'll see you 3 later!" God, you were a terrible liar. You hit end stream pretty abruptly, immediately clicking on the notification.

"Hey guys, thanks for joining in," Schlatt breathed as he sat in his chair, turning side to side. He just looked at his screen blankly for a few minutes, occasionally making comments. TTS hadn't started yet but you were anxious to get your message in first. Anything to get his attention.

"Remember, TTS starts at 25 you broke bitches. I don't wanna hear about it being too expensive. Postcards are 50! Let's see what's in the mailbo-" He was cut off by the normal loud TTS voice.

"hi handsome! good to see you on again! I finished up my stream right when you started. have a good time <3 - cookkizkill" you typed in at light speed. Somehow, someway, the past 5 streams you had made it in as the first TTS donation. Pure luck.

"Oh God, not you again you little fuck. How do you manage to get the FIRST TTS in every damn time??? Competitive ass bitch. But thank you anyways.” he yelled and laughed, opening up his mailbox in the game. It didn't matter that he made fun of you - that was his persona, it didn't mean much. All you cared about was being seen. God, you were obsessed.

It went further than this. You GENUINELY were interested in Schlatt - you didn't even know his name. You were the obsessive, love-at-first-sight type. You still thought about a sweet boy from a coffee shop when you were in your junior year. Once you liked something, you had to have it. Unfortunately, millions of other people felt the same. Yuck. So.. now it was this. You sent donos, dm’ed him, everything you could to kindly, gently, and hopefully get him to put you on his channel. That was the boost you needed. Socially, and egotistically.

The dream: meet schlatt. Didn’t matter if it was in New York, at a meet n greet he would never do, or for media.

You knew you wouldn’t make it big enough to quit your job - you didn’t want to, you just wanted to be able to show the internet your life. You wanted others to find community.

—

You continued to watch the stream, he was playing Minecraft, drinking, the usual. Messages were flooding in. Soon enough though, it was 10 pm, and he was about done.

POV: Schlatt. 7:03 pm

“Ahh fuck,” he sighed, sipping on a glass of whiskey. “What’s up fuckers? Welcome to the stream, welcome,” he nodded and chuckled as he watched the people and chats flood in. “Remember, TTS starts at 25 you broke bitches. I don't wanna hear about it being too expensive. Postcards are 50! Let's see what's in the mailbo-“ he was cut off by the first TTS donation. It was the same person from the past few streams. Somehow, they managed ro get first dono more than twice in a row. “Lucky fuck.” He muttered under his breath.

“hi handsome! good to see you on again! I finished up my stream right when you started. have a good time <3 - cookkizkill"

"Oh God, not you again you little fuck. How do you manage to get the FIRST TTS in every damn time??? Competitive ass bitch. But thank you anyways.” He yelled and chuckled - rubbing the thin beard on his chin and his mutton chops for comedic effect. He knew a lot of people wanted him, lusted over him, loved him - but he couldn’t help but smile when people gave him a normal compliment. It felt good to be talked to like normal. Normal normal normal. He knew he wasn’t that, but it didn’t matter, being a star always had it’s perks.

“Alright, guys, lets get in. Fuck all of you shaming my house. FUCK YOU.” He yelled, furrowing his brows in faux anger.

—

3 hours had passed. Schlatt ended up building a new house, opening letters, and getting spammed with donations. God, that felt good. ‘Money, money, money, bitch.’ He thought to himself.

“Alright guys,” he let his tongue swirl in his jaw. “I’m fucking plastered. I’m done for tonight. Hope you enjoyed!” His cheeky smile flooded thousands of screens as he ended the live.

“Motherfucker.. jambo, i’m so fucking tired.” He complained, letting Jambo jump into his lap. His hands grazed over his fur as he headbutted schlatt. He yawned, sipping the last of his glass of whiskey. Jambo jumped down, awaiting their bedtime routine. “Moowwww!” Schlatt looked down at him.

“Alright, alright. I’m not feeding you again though.” Schlatt shut out all the lights in his office, slowly making his way into his bedroom, then his bathroom. He got onto insta when he was done getting ready for bed.

“Shiit, that’s a nice ass car.” He muttered to himself, scrolling. His thumbs grazed the screen hesitantly.

“I wonder..”

Every now and then, he would look at his message requests to see the ridiculous things people sent him. Family photos, death threats, achievements, etc. Every week though, there was the same username. “cookkizkill” managed to catch his eye. She never harassed him. Belittled him. Judged. Spammed. Begged. Nothing. She was overly normal in how she messaged him - and by God, she did it everywhere. Though, no matter what she sent, she said thank you, and wished him the best. Odd. Peculiar. Weird.

“Hmph.” His brows furrowed. He was intrigued. He looked at her messages frequently, never replying. If he replied to one, everyone would expect him to.

He opened the chat request.

cookkizkill

hi handsome! i finally hit 5 twitch followers. yesterday i hit 200 subs on yt. thank you for being a great influence!! i know i wont be huge, but I’m thankful i get a chance to share my life with people. thank you for your stream today! i hope to be on one with you sometime <3

5 minutes ago

accept request?

Click.

[simandy]

Hello! I wish to share your joy, it is very infectious! Would you mind explaining to me what is going on in Brazil today? I am very happy for you!

Love from India 🫶🇮🇳

Many things are going on in Brazil right now and has been going on for centuries. I really wish i could explain everything to you but it would mean this ask would become book length. Even I don't know what everyone here is going through because there's a lot going on everywhere and in places i don't even know they exist.

Either way, I see how happy we get when we get attention for something that isn't samba or soccer, you know. It's like the little joys in life. It's actually like being a child who was raised by parents who won't stop telling strangers "how good my kid is at this sport! At this specific activity! I will make sure they will only be noticed for this aspect by everyone!" "Hey have you seen my kid who is good at soccer and nothing else?" Or "my kid will become a doctor", and every single adult your parents talk to will only address you as a future doctor.

Yet you love poetry. You love arts, you love cinema, you love acting, you love writing and you love music. You dream of being known as an artist, not because being good at soccer is bad, but because you're more than what you're always framed for.

Winning 1 oscar, best international movie, is like if someone caught this kid drawing in art class and then told them: "you're truly an artist!" And this is the first time someone finally noticed anything in them that isn't related to what everyone already "knows". It's freedom. Even more if they were drawing a soccer ball.

[gardenwalrus]

The Beatles speaking about themselves in DISC (12 October 1963) [George & Ringo section here]

[PAUL] We’re not unapproachable… It’s fab - the success and all that - but I wish people wouldn't think that because we’re successful, we’re unapproachable. It’s not true. We’re just the same now as we always were, and I hate it when maybe someone who lives in the same street now ignores me because they’re frightened I’m going to turn my head away.  I think in the last year or so, I’ve grown up a lot. I’m still the same old Paul McCartney, but I seem to have learnt a great deal more. For instance, I know there are times when I must behave myself! When you’re in the public eye for most of the time if you’re caught out doing anything mischievous the comeback’s on the group, and the rest of the Beatles shouldn’t have to pay for any mistakes I make. 

I know it sounds stupid coming from me, but I don’t want to be classified as anything, and if I had more time, I’d like to relax and take life as it comes.  I had a taste of really relaxing when Ringo and I went to Greece.  The only part we didn’t like was having to take the garlic from all the food, and there were times when I longed for a good old steak and chips, or a few cheese slices. I’m on a slightly different food kick now. Bananas, meringues, pancakes and crepe suzettes.  In spite of this I’ve lost a lot of weight in the last few months. I suppose that’s from running around, but as long as I feel healthy, there isn’t too much to worry about.  The biggest moment in my life that I remember is getting my first bike. I must have been about seven.  But the funniest thing is, I always used to pedal backwards and it took months to get me to do it right!

+

[JOHN] I want to write a book… I love doodling. You know, I want to write a book and when I eventually get round to it I want to fill it with Lennon-type ramblings and cartoons.  If I wasn’t what I am today, then I think I would like to have been a cartoonist. On the other hand, if I did too much drawing, I’d finish up with square eye balls to match my glasses! I don’t like specs, but I have to wear them. It’s as simple as that. I chose black square frames because I think they suit me best. I’ve gone right off what you call ‘beatle-neck’ jackets. Got sick of wearing them. Instead I’ve started going in for four button suits with two vents at the back, preferably in a heavyish material. I’m always looking for changes. You get a bit fed up with wearing the same gear all the time. But one thing I won’t change is the colour of my socks. I always stick to black and navy blue, and usually elastic-sided boots.  I suppose my likes and dislikes are the same as everyone else’s. But there are one or two things that make me hopping mad. For instance, I can’t stand it if someone plays one of our records in public knowing we’re there.  Another thing I hate is people who go out and buy all these wild rhythm and blues records without really understanding them but because it’s the thing to do. Maybe I’m biased, but to me, music is sacred. I love it in most forms, and even have an album of the stuff by Stravinsky, along with The Shirelles and Chuck Berry.  I like people to be natural, and perhaps a little offbeat, but not way-out. Those way-out cats are only trying to attract attention. Don’t think I’m hitting back at the groups who are supposed to copy us in dress or music. I just think they’d stand a much better chance by being themselves and, if possible, trying to think one jump ahead. 

[jtophat]

I LOVE THE DEMIGOD PONYBOY AU :D

more please! 🙏 (no pressure though!!)

You’re wish is my command because this AU has spinning around my head like it’s on a wash cycle

So a basic overview of Ponyboy’s powers in the AU:

The basic demigod abilities (battle instincts, more athletic than an average person, can read Ancient Greek)

However, he doesn’t have dyslexia like most demigods. He still has ADHD but we’ll get into why later

He has the predominantly inattentive type (unlike Soda who has the hyperactive type) and gets high grades in school so the only reason they were able to catch it and diagnose him is because his parents were looking at for it because of Soda’s ADHD

He has pretty basic healing powers. While he may be more medically inclined than someone who isn’t Apollo’s kids, it doesn’t come as naturally to him as it would to someone like Will

Like Will could probably successfully give someone CPR without breaking their ribs on a medical basis. Ponyboy would still be successful when giving CPR, he just might break a bone along the way

Ponyboy’s main weapon is a bow and arrow. He has naturally good aim (even if it’s him shooting a gun or something, he’ll still be accurate) but he doesn’t have the insane abilities that Kayla has. As in, it’s not his specialty

Ponyboy would be pretty damn good at music though. He’s a little guitar playing country boy

It started with him stealing his mom’s guitar as a kid and teaching himself how to play it (his mom hasn’t touched it since he was born). He’s a good singer too, just too shy to do that around the gang

However, his major powers come from the fact that Apollo is the god of poetry

He’s good at all kinds of poetry, and a type of poetry is epic poetry. That’s the kind of poem that the Odyssey is. He’s a natural storyteller

His brain is hardwired for understanding language and that’s why he didn’t get the dyslexia that most demigods have

He could learn a language easier than most people if he wanted, he just chooses not to because he doesn’t feel like it

But basically this version of Ponyboy is going to grow up to either be a famous author or musician (if the monsters don’t get him first)

[mrsfezziwig]

Dear Stray Kids: Bang Chan

As part of the cheer up week for our lost children, I want to write to each, starting with our glorious leader.

𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇 ℬ𝒶𝓃ℊ 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃,

Young man, do you know that you don't need to be so humble? I wish you could see yourself the way that Stay does because it hurts that you don't believe you deserve all the love, awards, and commendations you have! For a long time, I have wanted to tell you that you need to let yourself shine! We all know you went through hell during training, that you may have considered ending your life, and that the Stray Kids members saved you. Watching you go through the loss of a member was painful even though I was not there to see it first hand and I hate that you apologised for something out of your control. JYPE is wrong to do that to you and we know that you must have been traumatised by it. We love that you would see us weekly like our therapist and obviously we miss you being part of our weekly routine but honestly, more STAYs get why it was necessary than it may seem. Some of your comments about yourself really broke us, because it was clear you truly don't see the absolute pureness that lives inside you. Before I never believed in Star Children, those sent by the universe to bring light and peace to as many lost souls as they can but now I absolutely do because you are one. Please make time to nurture your own mental well-being because even the strongest break eventually and, I can't lie, after Moonbin died and you said you couldn't eat or sleep I thought we would lose you to the Hell that South Korea can be too.

For some reason, you don't let yourself bask in the fact that you did it—you survived it, you became everything you dreamed of and more. You were tenacious and full of sheer will to make it, so please don't let your love for the other members stop you from letting your light shine. Give yourself more lines and more centre time because you earned it, and Stay wants to see your bright soul and smile more than your abs. Not that we are complaining, but I think most Stay would agree. Hearing your voice and seeing you dance is far more valuable. We want to see you relax and let loose as the idol you should be rather than hiding your light under a bushel.

'Genius' is an adjective I will forever link to you, because it was your raw emotional intelligence that saw how the members would fit together so perfectly. Not only that but your ability to find beats out of nowhere just shows that music is your purpose for being here. I love watching the recording behind-the-scenes videos just to see how, even when exhausted, you glow and laugh, proving your soul was crafted for music. Somehow you take the most everyday noises and mould them like clay to satisfy the ears and if anyone says you guys are 'just' noise music then they haven't even bothered to listen to your songs.

For many of us, Stray Kids make those hard days easier and help us handle the times we want to disappear. Thank you for being a leader who is steadfast and immovable, bringing so much joy to people all over the world. Just by being the respectful, kind, honest, and down-to-earth man you are, you show your younger fans what a real man is, who deserves their love and who does not. Some people say you are the reason for demanding such high standards in their relationships, and for me, as someone old enough to be your mother, I am relieved knowing that someone is teaching today's teens what is right and what to demand from someone.

Stay love you so much, and as a fandom, we want you to get some sleep! Please take a break and some time to absorb the past 7 years and rest. Honestly, if we received a statement that you were taking a couple of months off or maybe even a full hiatus, we would probably rejoice because your health is so important to us! It’s true that you are nearing 30, and if you don’t take the time to decompress while pushing yourself so hard, it will affect your long-term health! Rather than another album, we want to see you chilling for a bit, shaking off all the stress of the nonstop comebacks and touring. We’d prefer longevity over more music; you’ve been pushing for 14 years. Letting go a little isn’t illegal, and we all want a healthy, happy, fulfilled Christopher Bang over Bang Chan the idol.

Love yourself as much as we do, and we will never have to worry about the mistakes and the fear that you will burn out. You are human, so being self-critical is normal; however, it's obvious that the pressure of your trainee years has made you terrified to stop working. You never, ever, ever, EVER have to worry about whether you are doing enough, working hard enough, or putting on the best performance because your humanity is what we love most. Even bleary-eyed and with your hair sticking up everywhere, you are perfect in our eyes. So, take a break, for fuck's sake, we aren't going anywhere at all! And when you make it back refreshed, hop on a live so we can see your face and chat a bit. No matter what the future brings for you, keep that child-like love for the world that you have and we will smile indulgently at you all the while. It is obvious that that is the genuine you, not the forced persona of so many idols. That you are universally loved by kpop stans, not just STAY, speaks volumes about your authenticity and humble nature which is something I have only ever seen for you.

On that note, I shall go now. I pray you finally accept just what an unstoppable force you are, that the kids accept your hugs and there is never another pineapple in your burger!

With love from

𝒜 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎

[thanosw0rld]

the june heat was starting to fill the room. su-bong lived for moments like theses. he swatted at namgyus hand lightly, lazy grin on his face. “no promises.”

“i know. im like your own personalised heater.” glancing over to the window, su-bong watched as the blinds moved slightly with the breeze. the sun peaking through the curtains and casting a yellow glow to the wall. it made his heart thump with happiness. here he was. sitting comfortable, wrapped in a blanket with the person he loves the most. watching him type away, in his own little world.

su-bong wished for moments like theses when he was younger. he wished for comfort and safety and love. to be loved.

he didn’t think he was going to make it out of the games. being stabbed in the neck by myunggi had thanos thinking he was going to die. thankfully he didn’t. nothing but a few weeks in hospital and a scar under his chin. he remembered namgyu in hospital by his bed every day and night. fighting with hospital workers to let him stay overtime. he was su-bongs rock. su-bong was namgyus rock.

“do you want to have a picnic later?” su-bong murmured, eyes heavy with sleep as he rubbed his eyes. “in the park or the beach- like those aesthetic tiktok’s. we can have strawberries and fruit and sandwiches. it’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” calloused fingers made their way under namgyus shirt, settling on his waist.

su-bong was someone who needed touch. he couldn’t keep his hands off namgyu. whether it’s holding him, leaning on him- even sitting on his lap. it was his love language. physical touch.

soft butterfly kisses were pressed against namgyus shoulder as thanos lazily watched the boy work on the laptop. he didn’t give himself enough credit, su-bong noticed. his boyfriend was definitely gifted in the music department and su-bong couldn’t be more prouder.

with the two boys sober for a few months now. they’ve learnt to pick up new hobbies. su-bong has picked up cooking, thanks to jun-ho. he also has gotten a habit of painting. nothing too special. he likes to paint the colours of songs he listens to. some canvases propped up against the wall of their small apartment, littered with colours like dark grey and black for sadder songs. a canvas painted with light strokes of yellow and pink. if su-bong remembers correctly; it’s from one of the songs he listened too with namgyu. the two of them dancing in the kitchen one evening.

it was his favourite painting.

“baby why did you buy another box of cereal- we already have two.” su-bong walked into the living room where namgyu was seated, holding two boxes of the same cereal brand with a frown on his face. “you could’ve at least got a different flavour man.”

namgyu barely looked up from his laptop, fingers tapping out a rhythm on the desk as he worked through a beat. a pencil was tucked behind his ear, another one twirling between his fingers as he scribbled some lyrics in his notebook. the moment thanos walked in with that tone, though, he knew he was about to get called out.

“hmm?” he finally glanced up, feigning innocence as his eyes flicked to the two cereal boxes in thanos’ hands. “oh. yeah.” He blinked, tapping the pencil against his chin. “i, uh… forgot we already had two.”

it was a terrible excuse, and he knew it. namgyu wasn’t even trying to sound convincing. he just gave a lazy shrug and turned back to his laptop, adjusting some levels on the track. “besides, maybe i wanted another box. maybe i like this brand. maybe i need two extra just in case.”

he shot thanos a smirk, the kind that said you already know i'm full of shit, so why even argue? “and you wouldn’t have even noticed if you weren’t out here investigating the pantry like some damn detective. just let me buy whatever i want, man.” he leaned back in his chair, stretching.

[mikimeiko]

Moulin Rouge! (Baz Luhrmann, 2001)

[rubikor]

welcome to Natlan!