#one of the things i value most in this world is comfort and the freedom to be yourself without judgement

[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

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

CAN WE HAVE DOEY BEING A PLATONIC YANDERE TO THE PLAYER?? I WONDER HOW HE WOULD ACT GIVEN HIS CONFLICTING PERSONALITIES AND EMOTIONS DUE TO BEING MADE OUT OF THREE KIDS

Yes, you absolutely can! This ended up being way longer than I first planed and I'm actually pretty proud of it :)

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me.

Platonic yandere Doey & Reader

★ When Doey first meets the Player, he is intrigued. It's not every day you meet someone who keeps cheating the grim reaper. As Doey spends more time with the Player, he realizes that they are different than most employes. You are nice and treat him kindly.

★ His conflicting personalities create a strange mix of curiosity and adoration inside of him. Especially after you stay to help the Safe Haven instead of working with Poppy. Plus, the Player has been through so much already. They really should take a break.

★ He goes above and beyond to make them feel comfortable and secure in their new home. He introduces them to the other toys, making sure they feel included and part of their little community. Tries to help them relax after what they have been through, also.

★Doey becomes emotionally dependent on the Player, deriving a sense of purpose and stability from their presence. The thought of losing the Player or not being able to protect them fills him with fear and anxiety, fueling his yandere tendencies.

★ All three parts of him agree on one thing, protect the Player at all costs. That means not letting them leave the Safe Haven. At least not without him. It comes from a place of genuine care, having concern for the Player's well-being.

★ He prioritizes their needs, ensuring the Player feels safe and loved. If the player were to reciprocate his care by doing things to make him feel valued, it would mean the world to him. If it's not too much, could he pretty please hold your hand? (please say yes)

★ The player's consistent care builds trust between them. That trust is very important. Never break it or you might regret it. Doey is still unstable at times, and he could still lash out at you if the wrong button is pushed.

★ Yandere Doey is very possessive, he is aware of this and tries his best not to be. He really wants to give the Player the freedom they deserve but at the same time he fears losing you to others and may become anxious if you spend too much time with another toy.

★ Those thoughts are silly, he knows it, you would never abandon him for a new friend. However, that nagging voice in his head tells him differently. It may end up with him subtly manipulating the Player. It was for friendship though so it's okay!

★ He might use guilt or even fear to keep the Player close, making them feel responsible for his emotional well-being. The thought of the Player getting hurt when he's gone fills him with all sorts of bad feelings. Ones he doesn't even want to think about.

★ By this time it's too late to go back. He is too afraid of being abandoned, if you suggest going off to finish what you started and killing the prototype he would have a panic attack.

★ His conflicting personalities are unified in their fear of the Player facing danger and he becomes visibly distressed. It's too dangerous! If you leave and never come back, what will he do? Doey may even go as far as physically putting himself between the Player and the exit if it comes down to it.

[plutosunshine]

What changes do you need to make in your life? Uranus in houses

Uranus in the 1st house

If you have Uranus in the 1st house, life is kinda asking you — maybe even pushing you — to embrace your individuality completely. Like, not just surface-level "I'm a little different" — but deep, radical self-acceptance. You're meant to stand out. You’re not here to fit into neat little boxes or live by someone else’s blueprint. And honestly, the more you try to "blend in," the more uncomfortable and restless you’ll probably feel.

Change for you often looks like breaking free from old versions of yourself — shedding layers of identity that don't match who you actually are inside. It's almost like you have to reinvent yourself several times through life, and each time you get closer to your truest, most electric version.

Also, people with Uranus in the 1st house sometimes shock others without meaning to — just by being themselves. If you've ever felt like people either instantly "get you" or are like, "Whoa, what are they about?" — that's totally part of your magic. You're meant to wake people up just by existing. So part of the change you might need is learning not to shrink yourself to make others more comfortable. Your energy shakes things up, and the world needs that.

Basically, life is asking you to be bold about who you are. Own your quirks, trust your instincts, and don't be afraid of people who don't "get it." Your real people will. ⚡

Uranus in the 2nd house

When Uranus is in your 2nd house, life kinda whispers (or sometimes yells), "Hey, your relationship to money, possessions, and self-worth isn't meant to be traditional." Stability in those areas? It's a moving target. You might experience sudden gains and losses, or your income might come from weird, unconventional, or unexpected places — like random side hustles, tech stuff, spiritual work, inventions, or just not the typical 9-5 route.

You're not supposed to cling too hard to stuff — money, belongings, even security in the "normal" sense — because Uranus wants you to find your true value somewhere deeper. It's like life challenges you to stay flexible, resourceful, and open to change. If you ever try to "lock down" your finances too tightly, life might throw curveballs just to remind you: "Hey, you can't control this like everyone else does."

What you’re really being nudged toward is a more authentic, liberated version of security — one that's based on your own inner worth, not just how much is in your bank account or what you own. That can feel wild sometimes, but it’s where your freedom and true abundance live.

Also, with Uranus here, you probably have some super unique talents or ways of creating value — like, skills that aren't "standard issue." Part of your life path is trusting that and not trying to be cookie-cutter about how you "should" earn or what you "should" have.

In short: you’re here to redefine what stability means — on your terms. And once you stop trying to do it the way everyone else expects, the real magic flows.

Uranus in the 3rd house

If you’ve got Uranus in the 3rd house, your mind doesn’t work like everyone else's — and that’s a huge gift. You're wired to think fast, differently, outside the box. Like, while everyone else is still putting the pieces of a puzzle together, you're already looking at the next puzzle two steps ahead. Your ideas can be brilliant, futuristic, and honestly, sometimes even too "out there" for people to immediately understand.

Life pushes you to communicate in your own unique way — whether that’s through writing, speaking, tech, memes, art, whatever fits your flavor. You’re probably not here to just parrot what’s already been said — you're here to spark new conversations. It’s very "I have something different to say, and if you don't get it, that's fine — you'll catch up."

Change-wise, Uranus in the 3rd house wants you to free your voice. Don’t water yourself down just to be understood easily. You're meant to bring new ideas into the world, even if it feels like you're shouting into the void sometimes. You’re also probably here to teach or influence people in unexpected ways — even just by chatting or posting online. You might drop a random comment that seriously changes someone's life without even trying.

Also, heads up: your day-to-day life can be kinda unpredictable. Last-minute trips, sudden changes in plans, weird encounters with siblings or neighbors — that's all very Uranus 3rd house energy. The universe likes to keep your environment stimulating, because your brain craves newness and movement.

So overall, life’s asking you to trust your strange, electric mind — and share it, even if it feels like no one gets it at first. You’re a mental pioneer. 🧠⚡

Uranus in the 4th house

When Uranus is in your 4th house, home and family roots are not exactly "normal" — and they’re not supposed to be. You might have grown up in a household that felt a little unstable, eccentric, chaotic, or just different from what most people around you experienced. Maybe there were sudden moves, surprising family dynamics, or a general sense that home didn’t always mean "predictable."

At a soul level, life is nudging you to redefine what home and emotional security mean for yourself. You’re probably not meant to live a super traditional, white-picket-fence kind of life — unless you totally reinvent what that looks like for you. You're wired to crave emotional freedom as much as emotional connection, which can be a weird balancing act. You want to belong, but not if it means losing yourself.

One big change Uranus asks from you is to detach from old family patterns that no longer support who you are becoming. You might be the one in your family who “breaks the chain” — doing life differently, healing old emotional wounds, choosing freedom over stuck loyalty.

Also, you may randomly move at unexpected times, live in unusual places, have a very unique home setup, or create a kind of “chosen family” of your own. Home for you isn't necessarily one physical place — it’s more about finding people and spaces where you can breathe, be weird, and feel truly safe being yourself.

If you ever feel like your foundation is shaking, it’s usually Uranus asking, "Is this still real for you? Or are you clinging to something out of fear?" And if it’s not authentic, life will eventually push you to shake it loose.

In short: your soul's mission is to create an emotional life based on truth, not tradition — and it's okay if it looks totally different from what you grew up with. In fact, it’s supposed to. 💫

Uranus in the 5th house

When Uranus is in your 5th house, life is saying loud and clear: "You’re not here to create like everyone else. You’re here to shock, inspire, and completely rewrite the rules of self-expression." Your creativity, your passions, even the way you love — it’s all electric, unpredictable, and absolutely unique to you.

You probably get flashes of inspiration out of nowhere — like one minute you're just living your life, the next you’re hit with a wild idea that’s lightyears ahead of its time. Follow those sparks. Your soul is happiest when you’re making or doing something that feels exciting, different, even a little rebellious.

When it comes to love and dating? Yeahhh... not exactly "by the book" either. 😂 You need excitement, freedom, and real connection — not just safe, boring routines. People who try to tie you down too fast or expect you to follow some romance script might make you want to run for the hills. Fast. Love for you needs to feel like an adventure, not an obligation.

Also, with Uranus in the 5th, you're meant to experiment with joy — find what lights you up and don’t be afraid if it changes over time. Hobbies, art, passion projects, even the way you relate to kids (if you have them or ever do) will all have a non-traditional flavor.

The big change Uranus asks of you is to trust your weird, wonderful self-expression, even if it doesn’t make sense to others. You’re not here to color inside the lines — you're here to invent whole new colors. 🎨⚡

And honestly, when you really let yourself play your way, life becomes magic.

Uranus in the 6th house

If Uranus is in your 6th house, life is basically saying: "You’re not meant to do work, health, or daily life the 'normal' way — and the sooner you own that, the freer and happier you’ll be."

You probably get restless with routines that feel too rigid or boring. Clocking into a 9-5 every day doing the same thing forever? Hard pass. Your soul craves freedom in your work life — meaning freelance gigs, weird career paths, sudden changes in job direction, or working somewhere that lets you be independent or innovative. Traditional setups might feel like they drain your life force unless they give you enough space to be you.

And your relationship to health is just as unique. Your body might respond weirdly to stress, routine, diet, or even conventional medicine. Sometimes it’s like your system is more sensitive to energy shifts — so listening to your own intuition, trying alternative healing methods, or mixing different styles might actually work better for you than following the "one size fits all" advice.

The big thing Uranus pushes you to change? Let go of trying to force yourself into boring, mechanical rhythms just because you think you “should.” Find your own rhythm. Make your day-to-day life feel alive, not suffocating. It’s about learning how to serve the world and honor your individuality at the same time — not sacrificing one for the other.

Also — random note — you might suddenly shift habits, diets, or routines overnight. Like, you wake up one day and think, "I'm never eating sugar again" or "I'm quitting this job today." And if you trust those intuitive jolts (and they come from real insight, not just rebellion), they can actually be super healthy for you.

In short: build a life that lets you work and live in a way that feels electric, free, and true — even if it looks totally different from what everyone else is doing. 🛠️⚡

Uranus in the 7th house

If you’ve got Uranus in the 7th house, life is basically setting you up for relationships that break the mold. The traditional "settle down, follow the script" thing? Yeah... not really your destiny. Deep down, you crave connection — but it has to come with a huge side of freedom, authenticity, and excitement.

You might attract super unusual, eccentric, brilliant, rebellious partners — people who are totally different from what your family or friends expect. Or your relationships might start in weird, sudden, out-of-nowhere ways. Sometimes it's instant sparks, sometimes it's chaos, but it’s never boring.

One big thing Uranus asks of you is to rethink what partnership means. You’re not here to merge into someone else or lose yourself in "we" — you're here to form relationships where both people still get to be totally themselves. If someone tries to control you or box you in, your soul is gonna scream, "Nope!" even if everything looks good on paper.

There can also be sudden changes in relationships — fast beginnings, sudden breakups, on-and-off vibes — because your partnerships are meant to reflect growth and evolution, not just stability for stability’s sake. Long-term, the kind of relationship that works for you is one that feels like a conscious choice every day, not an obligation you’re stuck in.

You’re meant to experience partnership as something that’s alive, surprising, and full of breathing room — not something that clips your wings. 🪽

In short: you’re here to build new models of love and partnership, ones that are real, free, and yours — even if they don’t look traditional to the outside world.

Uranus in the 8th house

If Uranus is in your 8th house, you are wired for deep transformation, but it’s not going to be slow, steady, or easy — it’s going to come in flashes, breakthroughs, and total holy sht* moments. Life doesn’t let you stay the same for long. You’re built to shed skins, reinvent yourself, and go through some seriously wild inner changes that shock even you sometimes.

The 8th house is about shared energy — intimacy, deep trust, merging resources, death and rebirth (emotionally, spiritually, and sometimes literally dealing with loss). Uranus here brings sudden shifts in all those deep areas. You might experience unexpected changes with money you share with others — inheritance, investments, debts, etc. But even bigger than money? Emotional intimacy. You probably don’t do closeness the "normal" way. You need freedom even in deep bonds — meaning you’ll crave deep connection but also fear losing your independence if it gets too entangled or heavy.

Part of your growth is learning how to let people in without feeling trapped. And honestly? You're meant to attract people who help awaken you — lovers, friends, mentors — not just keep you safe and cozy. Relationships with you can feel electric, transformative, and a little chaotic because you wake people up, and they wake you up right back.

Also, you probably have some crazy strong intuition about hidden things — emotional undercurrents, secrets, even metaphysical stuff like energy healing, astrology, or psychic phenomena. Uranus in the 8th house often gives flashes of insight into the unseen realms.

In short: you’re here to transform, to trust your inner flashes of insight, and to live through depth without losing your freedom. It’s intense, but you were built for this kind of magic. 🖤⚡

Uranus in the 9th house

If Uranus is in your 9th house, your soul is basically wired for exploration, expansion, and truth-seeking — but in the most wild, non-traditional way possible. You’re not here to just accept what you're taught; you’re here to question everything and find your own truth, even if it’s way outside the "normal" zone.

You might have an intense need for freedom through learning, travel, philosophy, or spirituality — but you’ll always approach those things in your own way. Like, traditional religious systems? Academic structures? "One-size-fits-all" beliefs? Nah, that’s not gonna cut it for you. You need room to roam, both mentally and literally. ✈️📚

Big changes with Uranus here usually look like sudden revelations that totally flip your worldview. One day you might believe in X, the next day you're like, "Nope, it’s Y," because a flash of insight hit you so hard you can’t unsee it. And travel? Yeah — you might have unexpected moves, spontaneous trips, or a restless need to experience different cultures and ways of thinking. Even if you stay in one place physically, your mind is always somewhere new, exploring.

In relationships and life in general, you need people around you who respect your mental freedom. Anyone trying to force you into their belief system or limit your thinking? Instantly a no-go for you.

The change Uranus is pushing you toward is breaking free from inherited beliefs and creating your own understanding of the universe — one that's alive, evolving, and completely yours. You’re here to be a trailblazer in thought, not a follower.

In short: You’re meant to wake people up to bigger, freer ways of seeing life — starting with yourself. 🧠🚀

Uranus in the 10th house

If you have Uranus in your 10th house, you are not here to have a "normal" career or public life — at all. Like, truly, you’re built to shock, inspire, and change the system by just being yourself out in the world.

You might have this deep, restless urge to do work that’s different, groundbreaking, or ahead of its time. Sitting at a desk doing the same thing every day under someone else's rules? Not it. You need freedom, innovation, and the space to carve your own path. A lot of people with this placement either blow up suddenly (like, overnight success out of nowhere) or have a career path that's full of random twists, turns, starts, and reboots. You're not supposed to have a straight-line journey. You’re meant to reinvent yourself publicly over and over.

And when it comes to your reputation? People might see you as rebellious, brilliant, eccentric — maybe even a little unpredictable. Some will admire it, some won’t know what to do with you — but either way, you’re unforgettable. Your energy shakes things up wherever you go, especially in the areas of leadership, fame, career, and achievement.

The big shift Uranus demands from you is: don’t force yourself into traditional definitions of "success." You're supposed to define success on your terms, even if nobody else gets it at first. When you stay true to your weird, genius path, that's when the universe really opens doors for you.

You’re basically a walking permission slip for others to realize they can be successful without selling their soul. 🔥

In short: You’re here to change the game — not play it. 🛸🌟

Uranus in the 11th house

If you have Uranus in the 11th house, you’re literally built to find your people — but it’s not gonna happen in a typical, cookie-cutter way. You're supposed to connect with wildly different, progressive, visionary communities — the weirdos, the geniuses, the rebels, the dreamers — the ones who don't just fit in but want to change the whole damn system.

You’re not meant to just be part of any group; you’re here to help invent new movements, ideas, and futures. You might feel restless or out of place in traditional circles because your soul knows you need a tribe that lets you fully be yourself — no masks, no small talk, no shrinking.

You might also notice that friendships and group connections in your life can be sudden, electric, and sometimes unstable. People can come into your life fast and leave just as fast — but every connection usually brings some kind of awakening or shift, even if it’s short-lived.

Career and dreams? You’re meant to dream big — not just for yourself, but for the collective. Like, you’re here to push humanity forward in your own way, whether that’s through tech, social movements, arts, spirituality, or whatever wild path your heart picks. And honestly, you're usually ahead of your time — you see futures that other people haven't even imagined yet.

The big shift Uranus asks of you is: don’t cling to old friendships, networks, or dreams just because they’re comfortable. Your soul craves growth and evolution. And sometimes that means walking away when a community no longer matches your vibration — even if it’s hard.

In short: you’re here to shake up the collective, connect with your soul tribe, and dream the future into being. 🌍🚀

Uranus in the 12th house

If Uranus is in your 12th house, you’ve got this deep, electric connection to the unseen — the collective unconscious, intuition, dreams, energy fields, things most people can’t even put into words. You’re wired to sense shifts before they happen. Sometimes you’ll just know stuff without knowing how you know. It's like you have a built-in cosmic antenna — picking up on vibes, future trends, hidden emotions, even collective spiritual shifts.

But here's the tricky part: because the 12th house is so hidden, a lot of this Uranian lightning might be happening under the surface, inside you — not always super obvious to you or others. You might feel restless without knowing why, or you might have sudden awakenings that feel totally random but actually aren’t.

Freedom, for you, is an inside job. It’s about freeing yourself from old karmic patterns, unconscious fears, and anything that cages your inner wildness. You’re here to break free from invisible prisons — things like self-sabotage, outdated spiritual beliefs, hidden anxieties.

Also? You’re super plugged into the collective energy. When society goes through chaos or awakening (and let’s be real, it does a lot these days), you might feel it in your body and soul before anything even happens externally. You’re like a cosmic early warning system. 🚨✨

The shift Uranus is asking from you is: trust your flashes of insight, even if they come from dreams, meditation, or deep inner nudges that don’t seem logical at first. And learn how to ground your energy so you don’t get overwhelmed by everything you’re sensing.

You’re meant to be a kind of hidden awakener — someone whose very presence, even quietly, stirs change in others on a deep, soul level. 🌀💫

In short: you’re here to awaken not just your own soul, but the collective dream — and it all starts with trusting your inner electric magic.

[nightscythe]

light sides of the primarchs' relationships

happy valentine’s day!! this one is a bit happier than the 'dark sides' one for obvious reasons. as always just my opinion. if there is anything else you would like to see, let me know! enjoy!!

18+, it's not necessarily nsfw but suggestive themes. based on pre-heresy interpretations.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the lion: the ultimate protector. you'd never feel unsafe in his presence. not just from legitimate threats, but.. waking up in the morning to find his arms around you, eyes watching you, lips ghosting your hair as though he would never be able to let you go. you're minding your own business reading a book or listening to others talk, and even though he's on the other side of the room he's still watching, calculating, making sure every single person near you is treating you well. if anyone did try anything? nice knowing them. you become his priority. his endless war. nothing will ever harm you again, except maybe him, on his endless war with making you feel every ounce of pleasure the universe can offer. ;)

fulgrim: is also your best friend, but not in the typical guy way. he's literally invested in every single one of your stories, he knows everyone's little secret, he comes back to you with tales he's learnt and weekly scandalous gossip. he knows everything about you. it's not even deliberate either, he's just so in sync with you that he could take a wild guess and still get it right. nights together can feature many things, all of which are thoroughly enjoyed due to his ability to perfect every single thing he does, but knowing there will never be a time you cannot talk to him about something? knowing he'd give you the best advice, more accurate responses, it's very comforting.

perty: you know everything with him is genuine. he would never lie to you, and that may be hard to swallow at first, but really? its a godsend. he'd not try to make you feel better by telling you a slight truth, he'd rather help you to move past it, work on the issue, etc. and that's why, a long way down the line when he does give you infrequent but honest words about his love for you, it means more than anything. there is not someone in the galaxy that you could trust more than this man, not with your life, your secrets, or your heart. and really, it would only ever get stronger over time.

the khan: enjoyably unpredictable. a man who values freedom always would be. he uses his instincts in everything and therefore it may not always be easy to know what he's going to do next. would encourage you to do things you may never have thought about, shows you new parts of the galaxy and introduces you to topics and concepts you knew nothing about before him. for that reason, he's an absolute storm when you are alone. completely unpredictable and completely dedicated to pleasing you. he's also just enjoyable to be around. he may be a touch arrogant and quick tempered, but he's witty, sarcastic, and excellent with his successful attempts to rile you up with teases.

leman: his love is very pure and built on a huge amount of respect. small gifts, tokens of appreciation, oh its all coming out with him. 'made me think of you' type thing and it's the most beautifully designed canvas that you know he wouldn't have just stumbled across. of course this is very different to how everyone else sees him, and no one would believe you. uses that to his advantage. loses all sense of practicality though when it comes to you and would probably show you 110% of his emotions even when he didn't intend to. his heart is in it, no half measures, you're his entire world now and as long as you will let him, he will love you for the rest of his life.

dorn: he is cold, but there is that burning fire that rages beneath. and when the cracks are fully formed? its impossible to ignore. he will not say I love you, but show you he loves you. there are never ups and downs, no maybes - its always a definite. if you need something? he gets it. you are worried about something? there is no need to worry for it any longer. he plans, he knows what to do to help you, he would never give reason to doubt that 1. he could protect you, and 2. his unwavering loyalty to you. does everything in his power to please you, particularly in the physical manner. when he's around, everything feels intense, and its oh so hard to ignore.

curze: he's trying. he is. you can see it each day. sometimes its not obvious, but he really does watch other people and try to imitate what they do to show you the love you deserve. because in his mind? you deserve it all. would he ever tell you that. no. he'd find it stupid. he'd rather keep it all to himself. but sometimes he bottles too much inside and it all comes out, all at once, every feeling he has. in that moment he just needs someone to hold him, reassure him, and be there to feel the love that follows. of course it isn't conventional, but even if he just taught you tarot, explained his twisted thoughts, tried to show you your fate - he's sharing a part of him that he'd not let another see.

sanguinius: effortlessly devoted, but not in the obsessive, overbearing way. you can see it in his eyes. he doesn't need to worship the ground you walk on or call in a choir to sing about you, you can just feel it. the small gestures. something so meaningful but so tiny that it almost snaps reality. helping you to braid your hair. trying his best to help you with something that he could have just ignored. listening to you with intent - not because he loves you so much he doesn't want to look away, but because he wants to hear you. listen to you. understand everything he can about you. it's so natural to him and warms you every time. something something doesn't care what time of the month it is either.

ferrus: always pushes you to be the best version of yourself. of course I have covered the bad side of this, but provided it's tamed, he understands there are limits, it can be rewarding. he will always reassure you that he doesn't need you to be perfect to love you, and would always encourage you to make decisions which benefited you - not anyone else. you'd also get to see his emotions, a rarity, knowing he only trusts so many to see him like that. a national accompaniment to this is that he pays a lot of attention to you. knows you extremely well. so if you ever argue, or don't talk for whatever reason.. be sure to engage the full ferrus apology - bedroom and all. crafts you really nice things too (of course)

angron: love is the only quiet he gets from pain. when you see him at ease, even for only a few moments, you can rest assured knowing that you were helping him. when he holds your hand, when he stands before you and defends you with his whole being, when he lets you fall into his arms and hesitantly wraps them around you. you know then that it's true. because he wouldn't do that for anyone else, and he couldn't physically do that if he did not have a moment of reprieve. and he knew as well that you gave him a chance, saw him for more than what everyone else did. that means more to him that anything.

rob: truly appreciates you. like, will show you, will make sure you know, will do anything in his power to make sure you're aware that the only reason he has an ounce of sanity left is because of you. you're the only person he will pause everything for, he will turn everything off to listen to you and your thoughts, he will actively seek your opinion on things he knows you would be happy to give it on, etctec. he just treats you like an equal. and considering who he is, that may be hard. but he does value you. yes he is pulled in every direction by all his duties but he knows where the limit is, and if either of you are reaching it, he will do what he can to make sure you feel happy and secure.

morty: it's those quiet moments that really stand out. when he lets his guard down for just a second, when he finally trusts you and knows that he would give his life for you until the very end. it wouldn't be easy for him to admit, and he probably never would admit it, but that one moment where he finally relaxes his shoulders and just lets you carry his burdens with him? it really does show a lot. and he would give everything for you. not even an ounce would be spared. it's easy to see it when he says it, that he loves you, even if he doesn't know the true meaning of the word. may not be conventional love, but to him, its everything.

magnus: there is not another who could love as much as he could. it's that simple. he's so utterly in love with you that he'd move heaven and earth just to see you smile. for a man with so many things going on, so many things to remember and do, he still keeps you at the very top of everything. finds little things for you that he'd think you like. recounts stories to see your smile. lays beside you and holds your hand whilst you tell him what's on your mind. it's routine for him, he does it without even thinking. nothing, and that is a hard nothing, will ever make him as happy as you do, and even when you're not around everyone hears your name, little snippets of his love for you, how much you mean to him, etc. he's so enamoured, so trusting, so in awe, that everything you do means something to him.

horus: incredibly intuitive and knows what you need before you do. has the tea and some fruit in his hands before you'd even mentioned you were thinking of having some. had someone prepare you a bath before you even said you were stressed. brought you some flowers when you were feeling down. cancels all his plans because you need someone with you. he does it to show he cares, knowing that sometimes he can be distant or busy, and it can be incredibly effective. also holds you incredibly tight. like your hand, when he embraces you, etcetc, it's like you're his security blanket in a way, which seems stupid because why does he need one, but actually he finds a lot of comfort in your presence.

lorgar: perfect if you want to be worshipped. that's how he'd treat you. and yes this has a dark side. but limited, not indulged or used for bad purposes, a good balance can be met. he's soft. his world would crumble without you. his exterior and how others view him is so different to what he's like with you that it seems wrong. but you are his everything. he would tell you it every day. he'd make sure you never forgot it. it may not be evidential to everyone, he's not proclaiming his love and devotion to anyone he sees, but to you its obvious. a silent prayer for your protection each day. for your good health. for anything he can do for you. and you'd know he'd burn worlds for you - just use that for the right purposes.

vulkan: a kind soul meant for love. he's not obsessed and devoted. he's not silent and brooding. he's what you think of when you have soulmate in mind. it seems to just come natural to him. he's your best friend, your lover, your everything - and he takes pride in that. he'd not need to burn worlds for you, he'd not watch you from the other side of the room without a world, he'd be beside you with his hand gently rested on you. it's just... normal? is that bad to say? but like the version of normal you always wanted, the normal in romance novels which warped our perceptions of relationships. you know. cute.

corax: incredibly loyal. quietly loving you from a distance until he's with you, then he's far more passionate and open. he's not one to have elaborate gestures done in your name, he probably wouldn't even do more than speak in a normal tone whenever others are around. but you know he's there. a brush of your hand with his when you look uncomfortable or worried. a glance in your direction every so often if you are separated. he'd always find his way back to you though, and you always know he's there at your side. and yes, very passionate when it's just you two, so much so you'd have first doubted it was the same person. he just saves it all for you. especially few things he's picked up along the way he thinks you may enjoy.

alpharius: you could never doubt his love. he'd never let you. it's so obvious that it's what makes telling him apart so simple. he just can't deny it when he's around you, he can't resist it at all. love is in everything he does. his touches as he walks past. his names for you. his insistence on always having you in his arms. it can be endearing. it is nice knowing that you are so loved, never a doubt in your mind that he does care. and if you do doubt him? he will change that. you won't ever doubt him again. you don't ever need to worry about his love for you, it won't change. he'll never stop loving you.

˗ˏˋ 𓅰 ˎˊ˗

[dashi-inu]

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ soundwave from transformers ⋆｡₊˚♬ ﾟ.

i never thought in my life i would redesign a mecha of all beings, but my stupidity got me here ... not knowing when to quit. i drool over his canon design in prime (and all iterations for that matter) but i decided to alter it for 1. me to understand and 2. fanservice; i just really want to draw sexy things with a sexy character u /// u

transformers are very sexy play-doh's and i wanted to have fun making a headcanon-based iteration of soundwave so here's some story and details about my little music player 🎵

soundwave is a foreign transformer! not from cybertron, but from a distant land whose inhabitants value music and dance in their culture. unfortunately, his spark was stolen from birth from his native planet by a quintesson scientist who placed soundwave's spark in a preset protoform. (cyberverse's scientist character was SO obsessed with soundwave i thought was too hot and interesting to ignore)

soundwave's spark still took on its natural form it was intended from the start, but had a trait only seen in quintesson species, the tentacles.

soundwave came to life beside another, the triple changer named blitzwing under the same scientist. (tfa blitzwing had multiple faces that made him quintesson-coded to me and my sibling @crow-cello)

though blitzwing was made to protect the judge, the innocent mistake of soundwave being the first entity he sees with his very eyes made blitzwing feel beholden to protect this mechanical beauty. it was love at first sight, but this part of the story does not end in happily ever after.

soundwave is then rescued by his native species, from who he was stolen from, no longer belonging to the scientist, yet, separated from blitzwing. while heartbroken that they are kept apart, soundwave got in touch with his roots, being taught that love comes back to someone through song.

indulging in his birthright as a music player, soundwave did not suspect that he was a rarity across this universe. he was seen as an exotic treasure to higher beings, sentinel prime's high council in cybertronian. the idea of owning a music box of their own was too tantalizing to resist.

soundwave felt like a prisoner in his own life, being kidnapped but never belonging for too long. when he was stolen by cybertronian soldiers for their high council, soundwave endured their perversion, becoming their indulgence than his own being as he was what they wanted him to be, their little music player.

until one sacred day, he saw a certain gladiator in the arena and was saved by his words ... d-16 was an underdog fighter, prized by the high council for his victories and in the same leaf, despised for his active voice against oppression. soundwave would sneak out of the confines of his many masters to learn and experience life with d-16. when he promised soundwave for a better world for robots like them, soundwave gained the strength and courage to dismantle the ones who only saw him as a trophy.

without d-16, he wouldn't have gained his freedom. soundwave believed that all those days singing his lovesong brought d-16 to him. thereafter, soundwave vowed to be megatron's most loyal right-hand, indebted to only serve him. what he did not imagine was that megatron would save blitzwing too.

now for some quick facts:

soundwave is a music box! 🎶 his heart-shaped plate is where he keeps his Cassetticons. (his babies)

stands on his tip-toes to portray his dancer side~ 🩰 very swift, flowy, and agile in dance. moves gracefully in battle.

as a mecha character, soundwave is comfortable in his nudity. (save for intimate parts.) heart-shaped plate is see-through and his glowing wires are the equivalent of body art/tattoos ❤️ canonly wears the least amount of armor in prime and showcases the most mesh. i believe as a stylistic choice-

[nathallly]

Spoilers For HSR and TWST!!

Sunday! Yuu. People have made the connection between him and Malleus sending everyone to a dream so not to experience the injustices and harsh realities of the real world.

And I havent seen the 2.7 story yet but I know that Sunday is now a fugitive and is going to join the astral express but what if he somehow gets isekaied into twisted wonderland.

And so I have some headcanons ( Sorry if somethings are inaccurate this is my first post like this )

Housewardans with Sunday! Yuu :

Riddle

He appreciates Sunday! Yuu’s Leadership and Knowledge and respects Sunday Yuu for mostly following the rules

Sunday! Yuu disargees with a decent amount of the rules due to how strict the punishment is for the most mundane things and dislikes the lack of freedom and authority that comes along but still follows the rules nonetheless

They understand it’s hypocritical of them to say the part about freedom and authority

Sunday! Yuu also respects Riddle for his leadership and dedication but disargees with the strictness of it all.

During book one, Sunday! Yuu has to confront their own childhood along with Riddle’s.

They both were manipulated and raised by parental figures in thier lives that forced down a harmful philosophy into them for their own gain

Like when Trey tells them about riddles mom Sunday! Yuu can picture Mr Gopher Wood.

And during the overbolt section with the flashbacks,Sunday! Yuu is fighting every urge for tears not to fall out of their eyes when seeing riddle’s childhood and seeing their’s and robin’s childhood along with it

Sunday! Yuu ends up sobbing with riddle while hugging him. They miss robin so much

After all that,Sunday! Yuu would try to help riddle be less strict on his dormmates and help him lead heartslabyul

Leona

Leona thought Sunday! Yuu was a stuck up before book 2

Leona also could tell something was off with Sunday ! Yuu so he was a bit wary of them

Sunday! Yuu saw him as a lazy and unfit leader before book 2 as well

With Sunday! Yuu kinda reminding him of Malleus yea they did not like each other

During book 2,Leona kinda respected Sunday! Yuu’s intelligence to come up with that plan but that also came with a scoopful of jealousy

When Sunday! Yuu saw the flashback sequence,They did sympathize leona but also saw it as leona giving up an already high position because he couldn’t get a higher one.

So in comparison to riddles heartfelt comfort,Sunday! Yuu actually had a debate (more like lecture) with leona about how being in second place is still in the leaderboard and how leona could actually make a difference if he tried

After all that,Leona respects Sunday! Yuu more but they still don’t really like each other.

Azul

Nuh uh, Sunday! Yuu doesnt like him from the start. Being the head of the oak family in penacony,they have met plenty of shady business people most from the ipc

On that note, Azul reminds Sunday! Yuu wayyyy too much of ipc Stoneheart Jade.Granting wishes for a price of equal value that ends up the price being way worse than the wish? Sunday! Yuu knows what azul wants and will refuse to give it under all circumstances.

Doesnt help that one of the tweels is named Jade too Sunday! Yuu almost had a heart attack after hearing his name lol

Azul is immensely curious about Sunday! Yuu and their halovain nature and their power of the harmony.Always sending the tweels to spy on Sunday! Yuu,but due to Sunday! Yuu’s experience with this kind of stuff they will always find their way out.

During book 3,Sunday! Yuu was scolding the firstyears nonstop about signing a contract with him. And was also pretty shocked about the merpeople and their forms.

During the flashback sequence, Sunday! Yuu would sympathize with azul but still would not forgive him for his actions and same with leona would have a lecture with him about how if others hurt you that doesnt justify you hurting others for your gain.

After all that, Sunday! Yuu still doesnt like azul but azul still respects and admires Sunday! Yuu’s power and ability.

Kalim

Kalim really likes Sunday! Yuu.Coming from the land of festivities, Sunday! Yuu’s sure knows how to organize a spectacular party.

Sunday! Yuu helps organize Kalims many partys and keeps him in check to the relief of Jamil

Sunday! Yuu finds Kalim quite enjoyable and sweet though pretty careless.

They also regularly checks out the Light Music Club and helps them with songs as they have experience with music due to working with robin

They sometimes sing there with the power of harmony but it took a long time to convince them to even try singing It brought back too many memories

I dont really have a lot for kalim Sorry! Because the overbolt was mainly for Jamil

Overall, Kailm and Sunday! Yuu like eachother pleasantly.

Vil

Vil likes Sunday! Yuu a fair bit. Sunday! Yuu has experience in the showbiz world from robin and understands alot of celebrity culture, beauty, social media etc so Vil sees Sunday! Yuu as a knowledgeable individual and respects them for that.

Sunday! Yuu respects Vil for his effort,determination and drive and often help him with management issues and other stuff of the like

During book 5,The first years begged for Sunday! Yuu to join VDC and eventually they caved.They actually got in as a performer due to their voice and experience with the field but they also became the producer of the competition on their own request.

Vil commitment to routine with his skincare, food, makeup reminded him much of himself and robin’s routine. Almost everything reminded them of robin, they miss her more than anything else

And when Sunday! Yuu saw Neige Le Blanc,they felt the urge to protect and hug him.The soft angelic glow and the sweet melodic voice was too much for Sunday! Yuu to handle.They were already having mental issues with everything reminding them of robin and with neige being very similar to robin Sunday! Yuu was having a mental breakdown ngl

And instead of Rook saving neige, Sunday! Yuu was the one to smack the apple juice out of neiges hand.The brotherly urge to protect was too strong even though it didnt really matter to Sunday! Yuu if Neige died or not.

During the flashback sequence ,Sunday! Yuu was dead slient,they were emotional but not as emotional with riddle’s.It still hit too close to home with all the acting and celebrity world.

This time Sunday! Yuu just had a mature conversation with vil about his jealousy and pride.

Idia

Idia thought Sunday! Yuu was an SSR morally grey villain ikemen in a video game.

Sunday! Yuu didnt even know who he was other than housewarden of Ignihyde and a social recluse.Though they’d often use Ignihyde technology due to that being the closest to the technology back in their world

But during Book 6, ooooh boy was it depressing,horrifying and dangerous all in a mechanical package.

The overbolt was insanly tough They almost exhausted all their energy to support the other housewardens.

And the flashback was chilling, The incident of ortho’s death, young idia’s wails and crys left Sunday! Yuu feeling horribly terrified,sortowful and empty.

They has experienced the loss of a family member since a young age too, and almost lost robin in penacony. What if like ortho, Robin had died when they were young? Would they be like idia today the thought was too horrible.

Sunday! Yuu didnt even say anything to idia afterwards but tears did fall from their face.

Malleus

Malleus is horribly down bad for Sunday! Yuu (platonic or romantic you decide).He is utterly curious about their halovain background, Malleus had actually thought Sunday! Yuu was a fae or an angel when he first met them.

Sunday! Yuu is also pretty interested in malleus and the mystery of who he is.As I said in the beginning they have some large similarities and they’d definitely get along.

They’d both rant to eachother about alot and theyd both listen to eachother and argee with eachother.

Malleus felt a real friend to Sunday! Yuu someone who understood them and their similarities often made them both seem seen by the other

Sunday! Yuu probably wouldn’t call Malleus tsunotarou, I’d imagine it’d be something like Mr draco/drago or something of the like

Book 7, Idk much about but Sunday! Yuu would essentially fight against a slightly different penacony and I’d think they’d have a different outlook on life to say the least.

[vacate-et-scire]

☆★☆★→ Call Me Back? ←☆★☆★

Synopsis: Reo doesn't love you, and you don't love him, right? But you're both liars to each other and to yourselves

Tags: [angst] [pre established friendship][shitty ending its comfort I just suck at endings][not a nice ending but not a bad one in terms of angst][You both being in denail][unknown mutual pining][miscommunication]

w.c 4.7k

a/n: I think this is the longest fic I have written so far and surprisingly it's for Reo.. basically saying the rest of my account is Shidou and Rin. It is NOT proofread and I do hate it but who doesn't like two friends that can't tell they love each other and also if you see this and like my writing, I'm doing a match up event for 100 followers starting on the 26th :D

It had always been so easy to be around Reo. No matter how different your worlds seemed, no matter the distance that existed between his wealth and your modest upbringing, there was a connection that felt natural, effortless. The laughter came easily, whether you were sharing snacks on lazy afternoons or getting caught up in competitive gaming sessions where the stakes were nothing more than pride.

You didn’t care about the lavish gifts he’d sometimes try to give you, the ones that were meant to impress. Expensive perfumes, designer clothes—it all felt like an attempt to buy your affection. But you’d never wanted those things. They never impressed you the way he thought they might. You’d much rather have a poorly written note that made him smile, one that carried his personality, than something shiny with a high price tag.

When you thought about the moments that meant the most, it was always the simple ones. The evenings spent binging on snacks that could only be described as “junk” food, yet they were filled with laughter and inside jokes. The way he would tease you for your competitive streak, then turn around and beg you for a rematch when you beat him. Or how, when you lost, he’d give you that grin of triumph, but it never felt like he was rubbing it in. It was just… fun. Simple. Real.

There were nights when you both stayed up talking, no agenda, just sharing pieces of yourselves. You knew about his pressures, the expectations that came with being Mikage Reo—the heir to a powerful family—and he knew about your dreams of independence. You had your whole life planned out. The university you were determined to attend abroad, the job you’d pursue once you finished school, the career that would give you the freedom you craved. No amount of wealth or grandeur could sway you from your path.

Sometimes, Reo would try to convince you to let him help, but you always politely declined. You weren’t interested in shortcuts. The hard work and grit that would get you to where you wanted to be was far more appealing than any easy way out.

“What’s wrong with a little help?” he’d tease, flashing a mischievous grin your way.

You’d roll your eyes playfully. “Because I can do it on my own. I don’t need anyone else to build my future for me.”

He would just shake his head with a chuckle. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

And that was the beauty of your friendship. It wasn’t about what you could offer each other in terms of money or status. It was about something deeper. The way he respected your independence, your drive. And how you never once asked for anything he could buy. You valued his company, his time, and the moments you spent together. You didn’t need anything else.

The bond between you two wasn’t built on pretense—it was built on shared understanding, laughter, and the kind of genuine moments people only experience when they’re not trying to impress anyone.

-

It was one of those nights when the air felt thicker than usual, the world outside humming quietly as you sat beside Reo on the balcony, the distant city lights twinkling like stars scattered on the earth. You were leaning against the rail, looking out over the view, and he was beside you, feet dangling off the edge of the low wall. For a moment, the silence between you both was comfortable, the kind that only happens when there’s no need for words. But there was an edge to it, something that had shifted recently—neither of you could place it, but it was there, hanging in the space between your breaths.

"How’s it been going?" you asked quietly, your voice gentle but carrying a weight of understanding.

Reo let out a slow sigh, running a hand through his hair. "The usual," he replied, but you could hear the tiredness in his voice, the subtle cracks that slipped through the mask he wore so well. "The pressure to be everything everyone expects me to be… it's exhausting. I can't even remember the last time I felt like I could just… relax. Be myself."

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you simply turned to face him, your gaze soft as you caught the faintest trace of vulnerability in his eyes. Reo Mikage was never one to let anyone see him like this, to share these moments of uncertainty, but somehow, with you, he always felt a little lighter. Still, he kept his distance, pushing himself to be the heir, to fit into that mold. It was as if he’d built a wall around himself, and you were the only one who seemed to see the cracks in it.

"I know it’s hard," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "But you’re allowed to be more than just the heir. You’re allowed to be you, Reo."

There was a quiet pause as your words hung in the air, and then he turned toward you. His expression softened, his lips curling slightly into a small smile. "You always know what to say."

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but inside, your heart was beating a little faster. There was something in his gaze, something that made you feel like he wasn’t just listening to your words, but he was seeing you in a way that was different from before.

And maybe that was why, when his fingers brushed against yours as he reached for the can of soda between you, the touch lingered a second too long. You couldn’t even call it an accident—it wasn’t, not with the way he hesitated, his hand barely leaving yours before he withdrew. The brush of his skin against yours felt like a spark, a tiny flame that started to flicker in the depths of your chest. It wasn’t anything monumental, but it felt… different. You couldn’t help but glance at him, only to find his eyes already on you, the faintest trace of something unreadable in them.

You didn’t pull away, though. It would’ve been too awkward, and somehow, in that moment, it felt like the right thing to do. Neither of you acknowledged it aloud, and yet, both of you were acutely aware of it, even if you didn’t say anything.

The rest of the night was quiet. But there were subtle things that began to shift. When you joked around, he’d laugh a little longer than usual, his gaze holding yours a second too long. And when you’d talk about your future—your plans to go abroad, to build your own life—he listened with a sort of intensity, the kind of focus he usually reserved for the most important matters.

Over time, your friendship with Reo began to shift in ways neither of you quite understood. The moments that once felt light and carefree started to carry a new weight. The way his hand brushed against yours as you passed the snacks or how he always seemed to linger a little longer than necessary when handing you something—those small, subtle gestures that had once been innocent started to stir something deeper.

It wasn’t anything overt at first. Just moments that seemed to stretch a little too long, a little too quietly. You noticed how he would sit closer than before during game nights, his knee occasionally brushing yours, and how, when you laughed too hard, his gaze lingered just a little longer than usual, like he was trying to capture the moment in his mind.

There were times when he would glance at you with something unreadable in his eyes, his lips curving into that smile of his—half-amused, half-wistful—and you found yourself wondering if there was something more to it. But you brushed it off, convincing yourself that it was just the comfort of your long-standing friendship. You were close. Maybe too close. But friendship was all it would ever be.

The more time you spent together, the more you realized how easy it was to slip into moments of closeness that didn’t seem to make sense. He would look at you after a silly joke, his eyes lighting up with that spark that made you smile back without thinking. You’d find yourself stealing glances at him when he wasn’t looking, your heart skipping a beat when your hands brushed in passing.

One evening, while watching a movie, you felt him shift closer to you. At first, you assumed it was because you’d both gotten too comfortable, but when his shoulder lightly pressed against yours, you froze. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he stayed there, his arm brushing yours once more. The proximity felt different. It was a closeness that wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, too. You tried to play it off, shifting awkwardly and pretending not to notice the way your heart was racing in your chest.

But you could feel his warmth beside you, and something in the air between you both shifted. There was no overt confession, no grand gesture. But in that moment, you both seemed to exist in a space where words weren’t necessary. The silence was enough.

Reo, as always, was the first to speak. But this time, his voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the screen, but his voice carrying an undertone of something more. Something that felt a little too intimate.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you just leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing. You both had been through so much—him with his family, you with your plans for the future—and yet, this simple act of being together, of sharing this quiet space, felt like it was everything.

“Me neither,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, even to yourself.

And maybe that was the issue. Maybe you both knew, deep down, that this was something more than just friendship. But neither of you dared to speak it out loud. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

-

Reo was acting strange. Well, stranger than usual. You noticed it a few days ago, but it wasn’t until now that you started to realize something was different. He was still his playful, affectionate self, but there were subtle changes. He’d call you more frequently, texting to check in on your day, asking about the little things, the details that he never cared much about before. He started showing up at your place unannounced, offering to drive you to class, waiting outside after work to grab coffee—small gestures that, at first, seemed like his usual friendly acts.

At first, you thought you were just reading too much into things. After all, Reo had always been affectionate—playful, a little too clingy sometimes—but it was just who he was. You didn’t think anything of it. You didn’t want to.

One evening, you both sat at his place, watching some random movie that neither of you were paying attention to. Your legs were tangled together on the couch, your head resting against his shoulder. His fingers lightly brushed through your hair as he casually turned the volume up.

It was the closeness you were used to, nothing new. But the tension in the air was undeniable. His hand, which had casually landed on your knee, now lingered there. You shifted, and Reo adjusted so his leg brushed against yours. The small, gentle touches, the unspoken connection—it all felt so natural. So… familiar. Yet, in the back of your mind, a small voice kept reminding you that things had been different lately.

Reo cleared his throat. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice unusually soft.

You turned to him, a little surprised by his tone. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. You?”

He paused, his eyes flickering to yours before quickly looking away. “I’ve been thinking… about a lot of things.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push him. “What kind of things?”

He hesitated, as if the words were caught somewhere between his chest and his mouth. Finally, he spoke, but it was quieter than usual, almost as if he was uncertain. “I don’t know. Just… about us. About how you always seem to know just what I need.”

You blinked, confusion flickering across your face. “Reo, we’ve been friends for so long. You know I’ve always got your back. You’re like family to me.”

Reo's expression faltered for just a moment. “Yeah, family. Right.” His voice trailed off as if he was trying to mask something deeper, something that wasn’t quite right. You didn’t catch it, though. To you, it was just another typical moment in your close friendship.

As the night went on, you both chatted and joked around, just like always. But your words stuck with him. Maybe it was his attempt at courting you—he wasn’t quite sure—but every time you responded with your usual platonic affection, it only reinforced his uncertainty. He didn’t know how to turn this friendship into something more, but he could feel that familiar warmth growing inside him every time you smiled at him. Every time you’d laugh, he felt that little spark. But when you called him “family,” it felt like a wall went up between you two.

The next day, you were hanging out at your favorite spot again, and Reo was acting more distant than usual. His phone buzzed, and he picked it up, reading something with a frown. He quickly stuffed it back in his pocket and shifted in his seat. You noticed, of course, but you didn’t mention it.

“What’s up?” you asked casually.

He glanced at you but then quickly looked away. “I’m fine. Just… thinking about a few things.”

“About what?”

Reo rubbed the back of his neck, looking more flustered than he usually did. “You know… maybe I’m just overthinking things. Forget it.”

It was as if a light bulb flickered above your head, and the pieces finally began to fall together. Reo was acting weird because he was interested in you. But the idea felt ridiculous, and it only made sense if you were misinterpreting his signals. You’d been friends for so long, and now suddenly, he was acting like he cared about you in a way that wasn’t just friendly. You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. No way.

You could feel the awkwardness stretching between you both now, as though there was some unspoken barrier that neither of you could cross. Reo’s attempts at deeper affection fell flat as you kept responding with the same ease, the same nonchalance. He was used to being loved and adored, used to being in control. But with you, it was different. It always had been.

That night, he finally said it—the thing that had been on the tip of his tongue all this time.

“I just… never mind.” His voice trailed off as he stood up, his frustration simmering. “Forget it, okay? I didn’t mean anything.” Only to immediately clam up, backtrack, regret.

You looked up at him, frowning. “What are you talking about, Reo?”

He didn’t respond at first. He just shook his head and muttered, “I’m sorry. I’m just… I don’t know anymore.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable, before he grabbed his jacket and walked out without another word.

Over the next few weeks, Reo threw himself into his work with Nagi, both of them pursuing their shared dream of becoming the best in soccer, and while it was mostly Reo's dream, it always has been, Nagi was his 'treasure' and key into the professional leagues. You noticed the subtle shift as he started spending more and more time with Nagi—long hours in practice, late-night strategy sessions. The calls and texts from Reo became less frequent, his absence more apparent. It left you with an uncomfortable emptiness you hadn’t expected.

At first, you were relieved. Maybe he’d gotten over whatever had been bothering him. But as the days wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. And you couldn’t help but wonder if it was your fault. Maybe you had pushed him away without realizing it. Maybe his feelings had been more than you had given him credit for.

You began to notice how much you missed him—the laughter, the ease, the way he could brighten any room just by being in it. You missed his presence, his warmth. And it started to sink in that you might have missed your chance to admit that, perhaps, you felt the same.

But now, he was slipping away, and you were left wondering if it was too late.

-

The game had ended, and Reo was still riding the high of his win as you stood at the edge of the field, waiting for him. You had come to watch, not because you had to, but because you wanted to. You had always supported him, even when his focus was more on the game than on anything else. He always seemed to forget to acknowledge you at times like this, but you didn’t mind. That was just how he was.

When the game ended, you waited for him near the stands, feeling the cool evening air wrap around you. Reo found you quickly, as he always did, a smile on his face as he jogged up to you. “Hey, you came,” he said, a glint of surprise in his eyes.

“Of course I did. How else would I know if you’re any good?” you teased, smiling back.

“Of course, you know I’m the best,” he said with his usual cocky grin, but there was something behind his eyes. Something softer.

The walk home was quiet, an almost uncomfortable silence hanging in the air between you both. You’d gotten so used to the easy banter, the casual conversations, and now there was this strange distance. It wasn’t that you were upset with him—not entirely—but something was missing, something that had been there before. You glanced at him, watching as he kept his gaze straight ahead, hands tucked into his pockets, his face slightly tense as if he was trying to keep something from spilling out.

You couldn’t ignore the feeling that had been nagging at you for the past few days—the weight of the silence.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Reo,” you began, your voice hesitant, but your heart felt like it was already halfway out of your chest. “I… I got accepted into the university I’ve been working for. The one abroad.”

His stride faltered for just a second. He stopped walking for a moment, turning to look at you, his expression unreadable. “You got in?” He asked, a mix of surprise and something else, but you couldn’t quite place it.

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep the pride out of your voice. “It’s been the plan for a while now. I’m… going soon.” Your chest tightened, a mix of excitement and sadness flooding through you as the words left your mouth. It was everything you had dreamed of, but now it felt so heavy.

You looked over at Reo, and his smile was a little too tight, his eyes almost shadowed. He opened his mouth, but no words came out immediately. Instead, he turned his face away and began walking again, his steps slower now, as if weighed down by something.

“I’m… proud of you,” he said quietly, still not looking at you. “You deserve it.”

The silence between you deepened, suffocating almost, until Reo finally broke it again. “I’ve… I’ve been scouted,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For a soccer program called Blue Lock. I’ll be leaving soon too.”

You froze in place, your breath catching in your throat. “Blue Lock?” you repeated, trying to make sense of his words you didn't know if that was good, but he always told you getting scouted by a big team or youth program was one big step towards his goal. “But… that’s huge, Reo. That’s amazing.” A part of you felt like your heart had just been ripped out, though you couldn’t understand why. Maybe it was the fact that you were both about to embark on separate paths—two dreams pulling you in opposite directions.

“I know…" he continued, his voice slightly strained. “I’ll be gone for a while. A long while. I don’t even know what’s going to happen after that. Things are just… changing, and…”

He trailed off, and for the first time in a while, you saw the cracks in his façade. It was the first time he didn’t seem sure of himself, didn’t have the answers.

Your stomach twisted painfully, and before you knew it, the words slipped out. “Reo, why didn’t you… why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He flinched, his eyes softening for a split second, before he looked away again. “I didn’t want to… I didn’t want you to think I was just… going to leave. I didn’t want things to change, but they already are, right?” He stopped walking again, turning to face you, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re going, and I’m… leaving too.”

It was then that everything seemed to crash down on both of you at once. You stood there, facing each other, caught in a whirlwind of feelings that neither of you had fully processed until now. You had both been avoiding the reality of it, pretending that things would stay the same, even when they couldn’t.

The words started to tumble out of you, overlapping and colliding with his own. “Reo, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now, with everything changing—”

“I don’t want to lose you, okay?” Reo blurted out, his voice raw and desperate dominating yours. “I never wanted things to be like this. I—I don’t even know how to do this. I don’t know how to… let you go.”

Your heart stopped, and you stood there, frozen. His words echoed in your mind, but there was something more beneath it, something unspoken, hanging between you two like a fragile thread.

“I don’t want to lose you either, Reo,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But we can’t keep pretending like things won’t change. They already are. We already are.”

You could see the hurt in his eyes, and for a brief moment, you thought he might say something more, something that would bridge the gap between you two. But the moment passed, and instead, he just let out a shaky breath, rubbing his face with his hand.

“I guess we’ve both been holding on to the wrong things,” he muttered, a bitter edge creeping into his voice.

And that was it. No more words. No more attempts at fixing things. The space between you had become too vast for easy fixes, and neither of you knew how to close the distance anymore.

Reo let out a breath and looked down, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I… I should go…. Call me later?”

You nodded, unable to find the words to stop him. The emptiness settled in quickly, and as Reo walked away, you felt something in your chest snap, even though you couldn’t quite say what it was.

It wasn’t just that he was leaving. It was that, for once, he was being honest with himself—about his feelings, about everything. But the timing, the way everything had come to light, made it too late.

-

The days after that evening with Reo felt like an endless stretch of time. You focused on your studies, your new life, and the overwhelming rush of excitement that came with your acceptance into the university abroad. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t perfect, but you were moving forward. Every day felt like a step toward independence, toward the life you had always planned, and you couldn’t afford to look back.

The first few days after your conversation with Reo were quiet. You couldn’t call him. You just couldn’t bring yourself to. Not when everything felt so raw, and not when his words, filled with uncertainty and bitterness, still echoed in your mind. You told yourself it wasn’t worth dwelling on. But still, it gnawed at you—why hadn’t he called? Why hadn’t he answered when you tried?

Eventually, the urge to reach out became too strong, and you grabbed your phone, fingers trembling as you dialed his number. The seconds stretched into minutes, but there was no answer.

You tried again. And again. Until the hours passed, your frustration growing with each failed attempt. Your chest tightened, and a bitter feeling pooled in your stomach. Was it something you said? Something you did? Had you been too abrupt when you told him about your future? Or maybe… maybe it was something else. His life was about to take a new direction too, wasn’t it?

You tried not to overthink it. You tried to tell yourself that it wasn’t your fault. That maybe, just maybe, Reo needed time to himself too. But even as you sat there, staring at the phone screen, the silence felt suffocating. Your mind spun in circles—why hadn’t he called back? You had been so close, you had been his constant, and now… now, he was gone. No word, no explanation. The uncertainty ate away at you.

And after that, you didn’t try again. Days turned into weeks, and then months. Your life was in full swing—uni life, dorm life, new friends, new experiences. It was all overwhelming and exhausting, but it was yours. And yet, every time you caught yourself thinking about Reo, you couldn’t remember why it had hurt so much back then. Maybe it had been the suddenness, the unfinished conversation, the realization that your paths were diverging.

But even as life carried on, you still found yourself replaying that moment—the last time you saw him. His words. The way he looked at you, like something had shifted, but neither of you had known how to face it.

That day, you were sitting on your dorm couch, textbook open in front of you, trying to study. You glanced up absentmindedly, the sound of the sports channel filling the background as white noise. It was just a game, something to pass the time while you tried to focus. But then the camera panned to the field.

Your heart skipped a beat.

There, on the screen, a match between the U-20 team and Blue Lock, the program he'd told you about, the feed was pre-recorded, this would have happened hours ago back in Japan but was only coming to you now. But there was no mistaking it. It was him. Your best friend.

You froze. Your heart thudded in your chest, the weight of emotions you had buried deep in your heart suddenly resurfacing, sharper than ever.

Without thinking, you grabbed your phone from the table beside you, fingers trembling as you flicked through your contacts. You stared at his name, sitting there on your screen, and the weight of the decision hit you harder than you expected.

You hadn’t called him in months. You hadn’t even thought about calling him after those first few failed attempts. But now, now you wanted to reach out.

You hesitated, then pressed the call button and let it ring.

Each second felt like an eternity. Your heartbeat matched the rhythm of the call, and just as you thought it would go to voicemail again, it clicked.

Reo’s voice, so familiar, so distant, crackled through the line. “Hello?”

What did you say now? 'Reo I love you and I know you haven't called me back since I left and we'd probably never see each other between my school life and your soccer career but I saw you on TV and almost balled my eyes out because I miss you so much? No.'

So you settled "Hey… It's me… You told me to call you back? But uh.. you never answered…" "...I miss you"

[hotpinkboots]

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ | (Insanely)Tall!Business Woman!Wife x GN!Reader: Fluff Alphabet

She loves any position where she can kiss your forehead.

Warning(s): None! Fluff all the way ✨

All images from Pinterest

~~~

Attractive (What do they find attractive about their partner?):

Everything. She would only marry the finest person in the world. You're perfect. But her favorites?

Your eyes. She makes eye contact with everybody she meets - for intimidation? Sometimes. But usually for business. She's listening, and her focused eyes always show it. Yet, when she makes eye contact with you, it's because she cares deeply. She wants to see your emotions, know how you're feeling, and she can read eyes like a book.

Sometimes it intimidates you, but she's only looking so intently because she loves you.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

No. She's busy, and she's not a person who likes kids very much.

C = Cuddle (How do they like to cuddle?)

Loves any position where she can kiss your forehead- which, due to her 13 foot tall height, usually involves you laying on her chest. She'll cuddle any way you want, she's not picky about it, so long as she won't accidentally crush you. Your wife is also very fond of hugging you like a plushie. She rubs her cheek against you affectionately.

D = Dreams (How do they picture their future with their S/O?)

Exactly the way it is- the two of you being comfortable and happy. You're both free to do literally anything you want with the amount of money she has. She'll hire people to build onto her Manor if you want a new room for something. She'll plan grand galas and show you off to everybody. She'll love you forever.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

"You are my freedom."

She has stability and a schedule. Too much of it, even. It's not that she doesn't take time to be by herself and enjoy life, it's that she's always doing something 24/7. Relaxing in bed? Yes, but also while calculating how much money she's made every month for the year. Enjoying the sun? Yes, but she's also doing bicep curls with 1,700 pound trees. You teach her to just sit for once and do nothing. The first time she managed to sit still, with her eyes shut and her always-working body slack with relaxation, she turned her head to you and quietly said, "Beloved, you feel like freedom to me."

F = Feelings (When did they know they're in love?)

She saw you concentrating. You were concentrating hard on something you love doing. You were immune to anything going on around you, immersed in your own world, practicing the skill you love the most. She has a deep appreciation for hard working people, but you were truly different. She'd never seen a person work in such a heartfelt way, rather than focusing on a task that had nothing to do with their personal interests. She realized she was in love with you when you were being yourself.

G = Gratitude (How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their S/O does for them?)

Yes! She makes a point to tell you often how grateful she is for you. Will tell you how she appreciates the way you reach up to kiss her hand, how grateful she is that you tag along even on her boring business trips, etc. She may seem cold and untouchable sometimes, but she tells her employees how much of a good job they did when they successfully complete a task very well (so that they feel valued and continue working hard). If she compliments her employees, you can only imagine how often she compliments her S/O.

H = Honesty (Do they have secrets they hide from their S/O?)

She's usually upfront about many things- she trusts you enough to be married to you, so you'll know just about everything. There are a few things from her past that she's quiet about, but overall, she trusts you with most things. After all, she sees you as one of the only truly trustworthy people in her life.

I = Injury (How would they react if you got hurt?)

Would lose her mind.

Silently, of course. When she's upset, she's subdued. A bit passive aggressive, sure, but when she's angry, she tends to be overly formal and quiet. She won't overreact. Your wife would call for help on your behalf, then politely ask who did it to you and where you last saw them. She doesn't usually take people out by herself. It's messy and suspicious. She'll hire somebody else to do it for her. But the moment somebody touches you, she'll hunt them down herself and "take care of them". She's tall, strong, and would easily crush someone against a wall with little effort. It wouldn't be hard to take them out, nor would it be hard for her to find who did it.

She has eyes everywhere.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous? How do they deal with it)

When She's Jealous (<-Jealousy Headcanons!)

K = Kiss (How do they kiss you? How do they like to be kissed?)

Kisses you tenderly. Will lean wayyyy down and smile that sharp smile of hers at you, nudging your chin up softly as she brings her warm pink lips to yours. She likes to kiss you gently.

She likes to be kissed gently in return! Likes to know that she's adored.Wouldn't be opposed to a makeout session, but tongue grosses her out sometimes (you can lick the roof of her mouth to get her to exclaim in disgust lmao). She also doesn't want you to get cut on her sharp teeth.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

She does. She's not afraid to pursue things in any aspect in her life, including romantically. Says "I love you" early on in the relationship, because she knows she loves you. There's no "testing the waters". She loves you and she knows it.

M = Memory (What’s their favorite memory together?)

Everyday, she has fun with you and thinks, "This must be my favorite memory with them", but then she realizes that it's not her favorite, because she loves every memory. She doesn't have one. She couldn't possibly choose.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Yes. Money. She has it. A ton of it. As shown in the Fluff Headcanons, she spoils you so much. You even get an allowance.Loves to come home with gifts for you- not so often that you expect it (because she wants it to be special), but enough to show her deep love for you.

O = On Cloud Nine (What are they like when they're in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?)

This huge woman loves to brag about you. Not to everybody, but to her closest employees who she sees as friends. Generally, she keeps it pretty neutral and doesn't gush about you, but when you're actually WITH her, she always has a hand reaching down to rest on your shoulder, or is checking on you by flashing a little glance your way.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

The only nickname she uses for you is "beloved". Straight to the point. You're her beloved. When she isn't calling you her beloved, she just uses your name because she loves it so much. One time, though, you straight up tried climbing her like she was a jungle gym. She was shocked, yelled "DARLING????", and was extremely amused (but also was annoyed about her custom tailored suit being pulled at).

Q = Questions (What are the questions they’re always asking?)

Always asking about you. Little details, big details, random details, she wants to know all of it. She has an insanely good memory and won't forget anything you tell her about yourself. Even so, she still writes down your likes, dislikes, things you like to do, etc. and stores them in a filing cabinet with your name on it.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

All she needs are three things: 1. You 2. Chocolate covered strawberries (she adores them. only eats them at midnight or when it rains. her special treats) 3. A book She'll curl up with you in a blanket big enough to engulf her (so it's HUGE you'll drown in it be careful). Watching the rain fall against the windows, reading a book to you quietly.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/S/O up?)

Rarely does she get sad- she's very focused on the now and is capable of fixing things or finding another way around any difficulties. But occasionally, you'll find her staring off into space with a blank expression. Contemplating the past. She'll try to catch herself and instantly goes to give herself an (intense) pep talk in the mirror, and moves on with the day. The same goes for you. When you're sad, she prefers to get you back on track rather than sitting and comforting you. Every aspect of her life is fast, so sometimes she doesn't realize that you may just need to sit, talk and receive a hug. But if you ask for it, she will.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Work, work and more work. She loves talking about work- what she did a week ago, what she did today, what she'll be doing tomorrow. But she also loves to talk about random things. Will spout off suddenly about "MARRIAGE IS JUST COMMUNISM IN A DIFFERENT FONT! But not us of course, our marriage is perfect and I love you." or something. She yaps a lot and loves talking to you about anything and everything. Will also happily listen to you ramble about things you're interested in.

U = Understanding (How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?)

Your Gigantic Wife™ does have trouble slowing down. She might miss things, sometimes, and misread your emotions or not notice if you're feeling a certain way. But she's also extremely observant. Expect her sharp eyes to stare at you within the next hour as she realizes "my beloved is unwell." So, yes, it just takes a moment.

V = Value (How important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?)

Her relationship with you is immensely important to her. She loves you unconditionally, and values you just as much as she values her work, which is an insane amount of love.

W = Wedding (When, where, and how do they propose?)

When? Whenever she feels truly safe with you, and you feel truly safe with her. Where? On top of a mountain, at sunset, with her hair blowing in the wind like a glorious lion's mane. She timed it perfectly. How? She didn't get down on one knee, she kneeled on both knees because she wanted to be your height for it. She'd never get down on the ground, either- she wanted to do it this way to also show her reverence for you. Proposed when the two of you were alone, so there wasn't any pressure for you to say yes if you didn't want to.

X = XOXO (How affectionate are they? In public/in private)

She's more affectionate in private, but doesn't have a problem with being affectionate in public. Her love language is words of affirmation. Will compliment you in both public and private. If you're more physically affectionate, your wife will provide it for you. In public, it's holding hands. In private, she'll cuddle you. Both are difficult due to the height difference, but you make it work.

Y = Yearning (How well do they cope when they're separated from their S/O?)

She copes just fine. If she's going to be gone for a significant amount of time, she writes letters to you twice every week. Doesn't have trouble being without you for awhile, just misses you.

Z = Zeal (Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship?)

Most certainly! As stated, she'll kill for you (by doing it herself if needed), spoil you, and love you. Congratulations on marrying the tallest woman in the world I hope you guys are happy :3

~~~

~Love, HotPinkBoots

[torialefay]

Moon in Sagittarius 🚩🚩

toxic-ish!minho x fem!reader angst; (based on astrology) 🔞

✨ synopsis: your boyfriend minho doesn’t do well with being told no. he is objectively toxic, but eventually becomes less terrible.

✨ word count: ~2k

✨ 2nd part in my Minho as Your Boyfriend Astrology Series (check my masterlist for full series)! together, let’s take a look into minho’s natal chart to see what type of boyfriend he would be!

✨ i will give a brief synopsis of what each chart placement means throughout the series (for all my non-astrology friends out there <3) and how that would affect lee know in a relationship

✨ author’s notes:

(1) i do brief compatibility readings w/ skz members! if interested, send your natal chart to my inbox, as well as which member you’d like me to read for OR if i think there is one member best suited to you <3 (i am verrrrry much behind on these, but feel free to send them. may take a few weeks)

(2) the aspects in this reading are based solely on my opinions and interpretations! nothing about a person is set in stone simply because of astrology. please don’t use anything i say as canon :)

✨warnings: toxic minho, slightly suggestive at the end

Moon in Sagittarius:

• The Moon is the ruler of emotions. It is also who you could feel yourself to be, if all was stripped from you. Many people relate it to the “psyche” or the unconscious. It represents the parts of ourselves that are most fundamental, that we may not even understand. It also reflects our “baseline” energy that we radiate while sitting quietly, being content with our own company. It is the part of ourselves that we really want to be SEEN and understood, even if we do not see or understand it ourselves.

• Sagittarius is the mutable fire sign. They are passionate people who are deeply intrigued by the world around them. They are known for needing a sense of freedom and individuality. They do not like to be tied down. In the same regard, they value exploration, adventure, and meeting new people. They see others as unique individuals and can likely meet them wherever they are at emotionally. Sagittarius people are quick thinkers, witty, and fun-loving.

• Long story short: Moon in Sagittarius people can often have light-hearted, often shifting emotions. They do not like to feel like they are pinned down to any one place. They do not like being told what to do. They will, however, bring a fun element to any time of relationship- platonic or romantic. They are fiercely loyal and passionate about those they love. They do not always feel comfortable with their emotions, so they tend to be flighty and try to run away from this. This is not a great coping mechanism and can lead to a lot of problems in expressing themselves emotionally and what they need from someone else.

As your boyfriend:

• Minho takes you on the most fun, most elaborate dates ever. He’d always find cool new things to do. And of course, he’d want to take his favorite person with him.

• He loves going home with you to meet your parents and learn more about where you grew up. He may have a nature that doesn’t come across this way, but he would inherently love getting to understand you better and see new places.

• He wants to travel with you!!! He will take you literally anywhere you want to go. And when you do, it’s just your own little world. Just the two of you.

• You have the most intellectual conversations ever. He has a lot of abstract ideas about life, and he isn’t afraid to talk to you about them. He likes to know the way you think about it too.

• You have a core group of friends that you hang out with as a couple. It’s not too big of a group, but getting together with them and having a night to cut loose is super important to him. And he loves the fact that he gets to do it with you.

• Friday night, you started to get excited as you heard the keys jingle in the lock of your shared apartment with Minho.

• Today had been a really tough week at work, and all you wanted to do was have a nice relaxing weekend with your boyfriend to decompress.

• Well, if we’re being honest, you felt like you’d crumble away to nothing if you didn’t get it. The stress was that bad.

• “Hi jagi,” Minho greeted you as he came through the hallway to the living room where you were sitting.

• “Hey honey! Please come sit with me. I need to rant about my day,” you pouted.

• He pulled a wide smirk across his face. “Well now you sound like me,” he teased.

• He walked over to the couch and plopped down next to you, letting his hand rest on your thigh.

• “Okay, what’s going on?” he asked.

• “So you know how I told you about the girl I went to high school with who just started at work? The one that’s a bitch?”

• Minho laughed. “You think everyone you work with is a bitch.”

• “You do too,” you stared at him.

• “I do not! Jisung is alright,” he smirked again, knowing that one would get an eye roll out of you… And it did.

• “Anywayssss, that girl. I’m already overwhelmed with stuff I have to get done to meet my deadline at the end of this month, and then she strolls up asking if I can help her with all of her shit too. Knowing damn well how busy I am. I see her over there laughing her ass off on the phone all day long. If she’d stop, then maybe she’d get something done. And THEN, after I told her I couldn’t because I had a bunch to work through as well, apparently she went to one of the main managers and complained that I wasn’t a good co-worker. Saying that apparently I should ‘give her a hand since she’s new’… I mean who goes to a manager with that shit and doesn’t even do a damn thing all day? All she does is gossip and talk shit. So NOW, I have a meeting with our manager Monday morning to talk about it, AND she’s spreading this all around that ‘I’m so horrible to her.’ Like genuinely, the only thing keeping me sane right now was knowing that I was coming home to you.”

• “Aww honey, I’m sorry.” Minho took your hand in his and brought it up to his mouth to plant a kiss on the back of it. “I can cook or we can order some food in and have a good night together. Whatever you want to do tonight. Just let me know what you want.”

• “I don’t want you to have to cook. I really just want you here with me. Maybe we could order some take out and then do a movie? I’m just super drained. Maybe tomorrow we could do something more fun.”

• “Tomorrow? I have plans with the boys. Felix, Jeongin, and I planned a camping trip for the weekend. It sounded like fun. But whatever you want to do tonight, we’ll do.”

• You shot up off the back of the seat. Surely you heard him wrong.

• “You’re doing what tomorrow?”

• “Going camping with Felix and I.N…”

• “Well, it would have been nice if you’d talked to me about that sooner… Or, I don’t know, maybe have just asked?”

• “Asked what? Asked if it was okay?” Minho scoffed.

• “Well, yeah?” you replied, furrowing your brows in confusion and frustration. The fuck is he being like this?

• “Sorry, I didn’t know I needed to ask for your permission to hang out with my friends,” he said sarcastically.

• “It’s not ‘asking for my permission.’ I’m just asking you to check in with me first- to talk about it...- is that so awful?”

• “I mean I would say that telling me that I either am allowed or aren’t allowed to see my friends is pretty awful. I’m an adult, y/n. You’re not my fucking parent.”

• Your blood was boiling at this point. The last thing you wanted to do was to “parent” him. But goddamn, wouldn’t it be nice for him to just see if maybe you needed him for the weekend? Or maybe if there was something he forgot was going on? Or to just let you KNOW about it? Jesus fucking Christ, here we go again.

• “I’m not trying to ‘parent’ you. I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m just asking that you COMMUNICATE with me what you want to do so that I know in advance. This is the second time this month alone that you've done this… And to be honest, I really don’t want you going.”

• “Here it is,” Minho rolled his eyes with an annoyed smile. “You always do this. The second I mention wanting to spend time with the boys, you’re suddenly all disapproving,” he let out a strained, sarcastic chuckle before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry if you ‘don’t want me going’, but you don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

• Minho let out a deep breath before putting his hands on his knees and using the pressure to pull himself to standing. “I’m going tomorrow. Let me know I guess if you want to spend time with me tonight.” He looked down at you before walking away to the bedroom.

• And then, the house went quiet. For a long time.

• At that point, you’d decided to just give up. Your boyfriend was a conceited asshole and there was nothing you could do about it. You were upset, but you knew that crying wouldn’t help. After all of this shit, you just wanted to sleep.

• Problem: Minho was in the bedroom. You were too exhausted to fight anymore, now not even hungry to think about dinner. Instead, you just balled yourself up on the couch and went to sleep with a resentful heart.

• An hour later, Minho came creeping out of the bedroom to find you lying peacefully on the couch. He bent down next to you.

• “Jagi,” he whispered, brushing his hand along your shoulder.

• “Jagi,” he said again, a bit louder this time. You stirred a little bit.

• “Honey, please wake up. I need to talk to you,” he said as he saw your eyes slowly open, a confused look coming over your face.

• You took your time to sit upright. Another conversation about his little "boy’s trip" was the last thing you wanted right now.

• “What is it?” you mumbled grumpily.

• “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did earlier.”

• You didn’t say anything back. I mean, what could you say? It was the truth.

• “And I’m going to work on that. To work on talking to you about things better, I mean. Maybe I can have a hard time doing that sometimes.” He never would admit when he was wrong. But this was a start.

• You just looked at him, trying to give him a facial expression for him to go on. You weren’t satisfied yet.

• “And I decided I’m going to stay home with you instead. You need me more than the boys do.”

• “Okay, you don’t have to do that, Min. You can still go, but I just needed you to understand where I was coming from.”

• “And I do understand now. That’s why I’m staying with you. I made up my mind. That’s what I want to do,” he said with a proud smile.

• You let out a soft chuckle. “You’re always gonna do whatever you wanna do, huh?” you joked. You finally flashed him a smile. The first smile you’d had all night.

• He just looked at you with a grin, giving a little bit of side eye. “If that’s true, then what if I wanna do you?”

• You tried to tease him by pushing him away, giggling a little in the process.

• “You better cut it out,” he said, pulling himself back to you until he was hovering right in front of your face. “I get to do whatever I want, remember?” He smiled as he inched his lips closer, but stopped himself right before letting them touch yours. “I made my mind up. I’m gonna do you. Whatever I say goes, Jagi.”

———————————————————————

✨ author’s note: moon in sag has a lot of wonderful aspects as well, i just chose to write on the more angsty side of things :)

✨ if you enjoyed, please consider liking, commenting, and/or re-blogging <3

[beanghostprincess]

How would you rank each strawhat based on morality? Of cours they are all good people, but some are certainly more and others slightly less

I mean... I don't think morality is something we can make rankings of because it varies depending on your philosophy and a good person isn't always the one following the conventional, Kantian rules of morality. But I know where you're coming from. I guess I can just base it on my own understanding of what morality is, which basically follows the whole "an action is good when the outcome affects positively the majority of people/makes somebody external to you feel good/doesn't harm anybody external" (aka selflessness and altruism) and "an action doesn't have to be necessarily good and you can still be a good person because your initial intentions were good, even if the outcome wasn't the one you expected". So, basically, this ranking is based on altruism, selflessness, and the way their actions affect others and what are their views on society/how they behave with others. I also have in mind why they do the things they do and if their positive actions are done out of selfishness or pure altruism.

1- Chopper

Isn't it obvious? His whole character is literally about helping others. He's a caretaker who looks out for everybody and the common well-being and happiness. He has a strong sense of morality that's based on other people's joy and freedom, and he fights for the rights of every human being despite their background. He doesn't care about whether you're evil or not when it comes to your life, always saving the ones who need saving. His vision of the world is pretty simple, honestly. Besides, kindness is often related to naivete and he's well-known for that too. He treats people with respect, and kindness, often mimics others to fit in, and the only times he harms people is to fight for what he thinks is right (which is pretty often related to basic human rights being violated in a medical sense). Being a doctor doesn't make you morally good, but being this type of doctor specifically definitely does. He'd pretty much sacrifice himself if it meant helping others, using himself as a tester for various antidotes. He's by far the nicest straw hat. He's both selfless and altruistic and he even has his own set of morals that involve protecting humanity's basic rights when it comes to living. Wanting to cure every illness and make a world in which nobody can die before their time is basically his whole character.

2- Brook

What sets Chopper and Brook apart from the other Straw Hats is that they are pretty active in their altruism and try to do good for people unrelated to them. His whole thing is quite literally making others laugh from happiness. He's a musician. His whole life before joining the Straw Hats was to be in a crew full of artists who lived to make others happy with music. That's the most selfless passion ever. His cheerful and jokester personality is pretty much meant to cope in a funnier way to make others laugh and save them from being worried about him. He keeps wanting others to be comfortable and together as a family, he enjoys unity from spending so much time alone but it doesn't come from a place of selfishness, because he keeps wanting others to enjoy their time together. He might need/want company, but the way he asks for it is in a very polite way and he never wants to bother other people. His whole character is literally focused on wanting to go see Laboon and make him know he's alive. He could've tried to k word himself in the years he spent alone, but he didn't because somebody else was waiting for him. He might be a pervert but he asks for consent, having in mind what women want and he doesn't push things further if they don't want to. Brook is the definition of a very jokester gentleman with knowledge for consent and a very selfless attitude towards life, valuing others' needs before his own. Although he doesn't hesitate to cut people in half, he only does this to his enemies and, y'know, pirate life. And often it's either needed or they don't even end up dead, so... The reason he fights is to always keep others safe, rather than worrying about his own life (even though he's already dead yohoho!). I think he's one of the characters, along with Chopper and Robin, that value life the most and that's what makes them so good at protecting others.

3- Jinbe

The reason why Jinbe is third is because his sense of morality varies from Brook and Chopper's more empathetic and nondiscriminatory way of protecting people. Jinbe tends to follow logic within morality instead of instant emotions and I personally value more people who extend their empathy to everyone without a second thought than genuinely thinking about it first before acting. He has his own set of morals and what he considers to be right or wrong. He thinks first before doing anything and considers the outcome of whether saving somebody is plausible or not in the situation. That doesn't make him selfish, but just a logical person. What sets the difference between the other two and him is that Jinbe won't help everyone and Chopper/Brook will not hesitate to do so. Jinbe's caring side is mostly shown to be to his loved ones and he doesn't generally extend that behavior to people outside of his circle. He literally refused to look after Luffy because he didn't know the guy, even if he was Ace's friend. He acknowledges he can't help everyone and just takes care of his people. And when he does that, he does it in the most selfless and self-sacrificing of ways! He would die for his loved ones without hesitating and his whole character arc is about Jinbe deserving a break from looking after everyone instead of enjoying his own life. They quite literally have to force him to follow what he truly wants and yet he still goes back to help his people before joining the Straw Hats. So the reason why Jinbe is third is because he's just like Chopper and Brook, except that he acknowledges the reality of the world and uses a more logical approach, being more personal when it comes to taking care of people. Also, he wants to keep peace around the world and the way he approaches people is in a very respectful manner and tries to keep conflicts at bay, which is directly looking out for common ground and pacifism. I almost forgot to mention his whole deal with the liberation of slaves, and that's obviously something that makes him an even greater person. He fights for a cause, against the unfairness of the world. He makes the world a better place.

4- Robin

I've had a hard time trying to think about whether she should go before or after Jinbe, but after some time debating it, I think this is the right place for her. Her whole character is basically all about learning how to live and love because she never had the chance to do so after so many years of suffering on her own. Her concept of helping others might be more altruistic than Jinbe's because I view her as somebody who would follow Chopper/Brook's standards and help everybody in need, instead of only keeping her protectiveness to her morality and circle. However, even if she's more altruistic and empathetic with outsiders, her view of socializing is more cynical than Jinbe's. She chooses a more abrupt way of fighting for what's right and instead of looking out for common peace and ground, she doesn't mind cracking a few necks and spines. She has fun with chaos and dark imagery, unlike Jinbe, who's a very caring man. And she is caring too! The sweetest! But Jinbe worries more about what could happen while Robin is still learning how to have fun and just vibes. She has this bit of selfishness and enjoyment for chaos and having a good time that Jinbe doesn't have because he's calmer than her. She's calm but she enjoys the fun drama, and Jinbe cares about his surroundings' well-being more. The way she treats enemies is crueler because Jinbe is polite while she doesn't care about cracking a few necks. Even if she's more empathetic towards strangers, looking out for the general peace is conventionally better for society than cracking people's necks, so, yeah. And she's a revolutionary and their views might follow a set of morals about freedom, but the way they deal with social issues is very arbitrary. Basically, she's a sweetie but she has a bit of a dark side.

5- Usopp

He's the sweetest guy of all time and normally wouldn't hurt a fly and he goes all the way to make everybody feel comfortable and have a sense of unity. However, the main difference between Usopp and the others (this is where the ranking kind of starts being more and more different in terms of complex morality) is that he's selfish out of fear and self-defense. A thing that is completely natural and proof that thinking about himself and his loved ones first doesn't make him a bad person, just careful and human. Selfishness is often seen as something bad and against the benefits of society as a whole, and it might be, but it doesn't make him a bad person (that again, I don't think we're able to judge this either). The cool thing about Usopp is that he's a growing character. He keeps learning more about himself every day and, even if he's a "coward", the bravest thing somebody can do is fight against fear. Especially when it comes to insecurities and when you're probably about to die. He isn't altruistic in the sense of risking his life for a stranger (unless he feels guilty about it or has the need to do so) but he is the kindest in the sense of embracing friendship and support. He brings domesticity and comfort to quite literally everybody he encounters. He's easy to befriend and to talk to. His whole thing about lying comes from trying to cheer up his mom about his dad leaving them, c'mon, even if he was suffering because of her illness. He fights for the ones he loves even if he's scared, and when he refuses to fight is when he doesn't know the people that much and, to be honest, fair. Nobody should be forced to sacrifice themselves for people they don't care about and I personally don't think that can talk about morality. Besides, the way he jokes around and does his little shenanigans with Luffy not really caring about the chaos around (besides when, y'know, personal safety) only makes everything I said more obvious.

6- Sanji

Sanji is a very... Complex character. The duality of men, basically. When he's kind he's at his best and when he's creepy he's at his worst but then he also has this view on how much people's lives matter depending on what he personally thinks. He's very emotion/trauma-driven, so perhaps that's why it's really hard to tell whether he follows a conventional morality or his own. His whole character arc is about him realizing that he's kind, empathetic, self-sacrificing, and everything the Vinsmokes aren't. But he also has a calculative and cold side that shows up when he doesn't give a single fuck about the people he's talking to. Basically, Sanji can be both the nicest and the meanest guy in the world depending on what he thinks of you, but he'll never let you starve due to his own morals of "nobody should die of hunger". Like he might beat the shit out of you but he's making you a damn risotto before the fight. Sanji is a very kind soul and he looks out for others and always puts them first, but his morality is pretty much focused on his past experiences. He also has these preferences for women, which are not morally correct (if you view this term as equality) because, unlike the other characters, he doesn't view their lives in the same way. However, that doesn't mean he hates men, he just puts women on a pedestal. He will put others first no matter what but if he doesn't care about you he won't give a single fuck. He literally was about to leave those kids in Punk Hazard and only helped because Nami said so. When he has to help somebody he cares about, though (or anybody, really) he always ends up self-sacrificing for the greater good. But it's not really coming from a place of "this is a good thing to do" but from a "their lives are more important than mine and I like to feel needed". Even if I do think he also does this out of empathy and love, both things coexist. He tries really hard to please others. He finds joy in feeling needed but also in making others happy, so it really is a mix of trauma and genuine kindness. He's quite literally the whole "doing good things because it feels good but also because it helps people, and helping people makes me feel good" but I don't think he does it in a selfish way, because he doesn't even realize he's doing it to feel better in the first place. He just doesn't value his life the way he should. So, TL;DR: Sanji's a selfless character when it comes to the people he loves and when his morals are at hand (huge difference between the other characters, who help people without having in mind those things), but if he doesn't care, he genuinely doesn't care. His self-sacrifice might come from a place of wanting to feel needed, and that could be seen as selfish, but I don't think he actively thinks about it. He just acts. The reason why he's number 6 despite being one of the kindest characters is because he canonically has preferences and uses his own morals to decide what to do instead of valuing everyone's lives equally. Besides, his whole thing being creepy with women (even if it's just a running gag) makes him less likable. But this is post-ts Sanji's fault mostly.

7- Franky

He's a family man. He puts his family and the people he loves first. He has his priorities and follows his morals about masculinity and that's it. Great pal that cares deeply about his loved ones and would beat the shit out of somebody if that person were to hurt him/them/his ideals. The reason why he's number seven despite seemingly being so nice at first, is pretty much because of his background. The whole Franky family? Beating up Usopp? Stealing the money? He was into very dark stuff, man. Mafia type of shit. That doesn't mean he's a bad person but his morals are pretty questionable, and they basically follow the "Protect family, protect home, protect ideals, befriend cool people, beat up people I don't like". He's very... American. I mean. He is technically canonically American and it makes a lot of sense if you think about it. He befriends people quickly but he can despise them just as quick too. Once again repeating the whole "only looks out for the people he likes or for his morals/what he loves" but if he isn't interested in something he'll just... Don't do it. But, yeah, he might be pretty empathetic because he resonates with all the sad stories he hears and doesn't hesitate to save people, but as I said, it's not really an "I save people because all people deserve to be saved" and it's more of an "I like this person so I'm gonna save them" which is exactly what happened with Usopp back at Water 7/Enies Lobby. I must say he's also kind, helpful, and energetic and loves to spread fun around the ship to make people happy. Seeing the ones he loves full of joy makes him complete, and that comes only from love. But he doesn't spread that love the way the characters before him would, you know? The reason why he's here is both because of his past and his behavior toward helping others which is basically about turning them into friends right away (which, you know, is exactly what Luffy does too).

8- Nami

She's a bitch. In the best of ways. But she's still a bitch. I'm always the first one to say she's one of the kindest characters. Her heart is just so, so big and she treats people in need with so much love it's obvious she has motherly traits and just loves to take care of people. However, the girl is greedy. She's greedy. Selfish. A liar. A thief. A bitch. A flirt. A queen, basically. To me, she's the best of the best and she would go on top if we were talking about best characters, but here we are judging based on morality and... She's just that. A bitch. With a very warm heart that just freezes the second she gives no fucks about you. You know, she's not evil, she just uses people to her advantage because (especially back at the start. Arlong Park things) she isn't used to trusting people. She has really obvious trust issues and she pretty much only loves a few specific people in her life. She would do anything for them. And yet, even when she loves somebody, she's still a manipulative menace. Morally speaking she's fucked up because she looks only for herself and the ones she cares about, and when she needs to run to save her ass, she does it. She doesn't leave anybody behind if she knows it's gonna be THE end, but if the one who's with her is only gonna end up hurt and not dead (usually Usopp. RIP Usopp) she's running for her life. Also, she's shameless and uses the strength of the Monster Trio to her advantage and I absolutely love it. She's the brains, let the others protect her fr. She knows she can fight, she's just scared af of dying and I find her so real for that. She likes teasing people and wrapping them around her finger to get what she wants! She doesn't care about anybody except for her crew because why would she? They're pirates! And she only does it when it's either about kids (she has a huge, soft, warm spot for them) or somebody she grows fond of. So, she's a sweetheart and a very caring girl to the ones she loves (or she's the meanest too, as a sign of true tough love) but she gives in between -10 and 0 fucks about others and will steal from them, no hesitation needed. She breaks so many morality norms within society that she makes the perfect pirate. Honestly, it looks like she's the only one in the crew interested in the part of being a pirate that's about stealing and treasures. I love her so damn much...

9- Luffy

A lot of people are going to disagree with me on this one, but this is the one part of the ranking I'm 100% sure about. And it's not even hard to explain: Luffy is selfish. He's a very selfish pirate. But he's empathetic, kind, and really easy to befriend if you manage him to like you. He also sees the good in people. But he isn't altruistic. He only helps people he chooses to help because he either likes them or finds them interesting enough or perhaps he owes them one or whatever. He loves people in such a huge way that, if he likes you, he'll do anything for you. Anything. But he only helps people he considers his friends/acquaintances without wanting to be seen as the hero of the story because he's literally just helping a friend out. If he doesn't care about somebody, he will just ignore them. Or be straight-up mean to them. He has no filter and if he hates somebody, he does it explicitly and without any remorse about it. He might be extremely empathetic and sacrifice his well-being but only when it comes to the people he cares about. Otherwise, he'll just groan in pain and boredom. On the other hand, Luffy is also Chaotic Good (haha me too!), and he has his own morals. They consist of freedom and liberty. He will help to free a whole village. Or prisoners. Slaves. Even if they aren't his friends. But only because all of his ideals are about freedom and choosing how to live your own life. It just bothers him personally. And it's not even "I'm helping these people be freed because they deserve it" it's more of a "The concept of cutting somebody's wings makes me so fucking furious I'm gonna make this everybody's problem. I don't care what these people do after this adventure, but they should be able to have the freedom to choose". So, yeah, basically Luffy follows his ideals of "I do whatever the fuck I want" and "Don't hurt my friends. Don't go against freedom. Or I'll beat you up". He's very stubborn, too. Chaotic. He doesn't think about how his decisions will affect others. He's a very independent person when it comes to decision making but he's also very needy in the sense of needing people around him to feel safe because he is, after all, an extrovert who loves his friends/family to death. Luffy is selfish because he does whatever he wants, even if he's empathetic, kind, and understanding. Those concepts can coexist perfectly.

10- Zoro

I don't think I need to explain this much, honestly? He's very introverted and doesn't let people in easily, so he just doesn't care about people who aren't in his circle. He fights for his loved ones to death and holds the people he loves close to his heart, to the point of doing anything for them. But... But his morals are basically shit outside of that. He used to kill pirates for bounties without any hesitation. He still pretty much murders the people they fight against without any remorse. And, y'know, they're pirates so I'm not judging here. He's selfish in the sense of being a very protective person with his things and his personal space, and he can come off as rude to outsiders because, well, he is genuinely rude to them because he genuinely doesn't care about them. Unless he befriends somebody, strangers to him are just strangers and he couldn't give less of a fuck about them and their tragedies UNLESS they're going through something that goes against his own/or a nakama's morals. I personally think he's a sweetheart, but if we're following moral codes about the well-being of society as a whole and how much positive impact somebody does? He's, like, the last one to choose from the crew. He cares about Kuina, his swords, Luffy, and his Nakama. Perhaps he befriends somebody along the way but it always feels more like just respect and not really a friendship. Not saying Zoro is a bad person for his introverted personality and cynical behavior, I just think he's very intimate with his circle and will only do what he thinks necessary instead of focusing on selflessness and altruism as a society. He's pretty strict about the pirate code and he follows those rules solemnly, so he does have a type of morality, but he doesn't focus on society's well-being. He doesn't mind causing chaos if he gets what he wants. He's just chilling. Passing by. I honestly think Nami/Zoro is a great friendship because they're both little shameless bitches. TL;DR: Zoro loves crew only. Fuck other people. Might respect acquaintances. Strong pirate/swordsman moral code. But he isn't an altruistic/society/people person.

[astroyongie]

could you make a reading on "what your stray kids bias says about you?", if it's not too much to ask? 🥺 your ateez one was rly accurate!!!

What Does Your Bias In Stray Kids Say About You

Bangchan

I know a lot wants me to say that "it's because you have daddy issues" but hey, yes and no? some of you just went through very poor interactions when children and lack of something in that aspect which lead to poverty in love and inner self 

also you guys are like him, workaholics and always trying hard to prove your point on things, projecting a lot on Chan like a role model 



Minho

most of you like to travel, like nature, the beauty of the landscapes. you always try to reach accomplishment in everything you do, because Minho is like a motivation that you see yourself in, someone that represents hard work, something you want to reach 

also a lot of you is just anxious kids, some of you struggle so much with mental health, depression, insomias, anxiety disorders. you find Minho reliable and confronting during those times 



Changbin

He represents everything for you, not only because he can be an ideal self and a comforting figure but because most o you go a lot through inner conflicts, you doubt yourself, you sometimes hate yourself and you find that Changbin helps you learn about loving now self and being a better person

Hyunjin

You like him because he is a very family guy and he represents the morals and the values that you hold very dear as well. mos to you are family-driven people, that want to have kids, marry, etc. also some of you might be religious or believers

some of you have a very strong manifestation and feel somehow connected to Hyunjin (delulu alert)

Also just like him, you have a head on the clouds, you are easily distracted by things, you forget things easily and you lack direction. if you don't have people nagging you or pushing you you are unable to do things by yourself

a lot of you are also very undependable just like him and enjoy your own freedom while others are social butterflies and just match his social skills and energy

Han

Okay first thing is, most of you are sexy people, very feminine people

other than that, you mirror Han in a way, of being very co-dependable on people you love and care, as like without them you feel lost and without direction. you need them to live your life because your head is like Han's just free of issues and chaotic

also it feels like many of you avoid taking decisions, and avoid things that hurt, like him you withdrawal easily from things an that because you have a way too ùany difficulties on making decisions, you prefer others to do it for yourself

also a lot of you are also very loud people sine you mirror than a lot, you like talking and laughing loudly, you like showing happiness and jo and also are helpless romantics

Felix

Okay so you guys are also big delulus, and mostly you are helpless romantics and Felix's idol image represents everything you are seeking in a partner, someone nice and gentle, soft, deep voice that can take care of you. that's what you want, what you like. you have very high standards of love

but also Felix represents everything you have wished to be, someone that everyone likes, someone that is appreciated and talented. he helps you self develop in your own way and because of that you feel connected to him

Seungmin

You like him because just like Seungmin you feel like a cast ou in life. most of you have a lot of issues with your emotions, you represent them a lot and often feel disconnected from them; Seungmin is a way of comfort like a puppy that you need whenever your emotions don't make sense. a lot of trauma happened to you as well

some of you have dealt with very problematic and toxic relationships, either love, friendship, or family, and again, for you Seung-min is a reminder that you aren't alone int his world

Jeongin:

You don't really know why you are attracted to Jeongin, there isn't an explanation for it either, because in a way you feel it's wrong to be attracted to him (especially if you are older than him) and he also makes you question all of your values. that because most of you are in total disharmony between what you want and what you have learned to be wanting. he represents the misalignment of values that you fight against

[charcubed]

I'm curious, what are the main reasons why Dean is your favorite canon bisexual in media? Love your meta and that video btw

Ooooo, anon, thank you for the kind words and for giving me an excuse to talk about my love for bisexual icon Dean Winchester <3

I'm going to be really annoying (sorry) and quote part of my meta first. It summarizes and articulates many of my thoughts on this. And then to further answer your question I'll add a bit under it!

From the very beginning, Dean Winchester has been a character tied to classic elements of American masculinity. He was introduced with a superficial veneer involving those elements, but almost immediately the early episodes provide a look at the complexity of his character underneath it. Over the years, that complexity was further explored, and he came to embody a study in things society would often have us think should be incompatible contrasts: the gruffness and grit of hunting life and its associated masculine iconography, paired with his open and deep emotional care for the world; unabashed love for classic rock, superheroes, and horror movies, as well as unabashed joy connected to TV dramas, chick flicks, and childhood favorites like Scooby-Doo; life on the road with a muscle car, but the desire for a home base with creature comforts he can make his own; motivation to always help people, but the clear longing for balance with personal domesticity and relaxation so he could save not only others but also himself.

As a whole, his character functions as an effective deconstruction of toxic masculinity and stereotypical American heroism. And while much of Dean’s most masculine traits and interests are said to come from his father’s influence, part of his journey is loving those parts of himself on their own merit not because he ever had to but because he wants to. He is not his father, and he redefines those valued parts of his identity so they are his and his alone. He also crucially learns to recognize and joyfully embody that those masculine traits were never all that he had to be, working through and overcoming shame and hesitancy along the way. The result? He’s “good with who he is.”

He and the audience are encouraged to see that there are no rules his identity and interests must subscribe to, on a micro or a macro level. The message is to disregard predetermined destiny or duty. Free will means his life is his to determine, his family can be what he makes of it and how he defines it, and what he needs and wants do not ever have to be mutually exclusive. Dean’s journey is about freedom from outwardly-imposed limitations–whether those limitations come from his father’s example and the God altering his story, or from the pervasive societal ideals and network/executive interference outside of it. Dean can and should contain multitudes, all at once.

In this way, Dean’s story is a powerfully queer narrative that acts as metacommentary. In the fullness of its execution, it is also specifically a deeply bisexual narrative.

The not-so-hidden truth is that Dean is canonically a bisexual man. His story was afforded something that’s rare for most characters and almost nonexistent for queer ones: fifteen years of lengthy, nuanced development.

[...]

Again: Dean’s identity journey is about how he can and does contain the capacity for multitudes, and it’s part of what makes him such a compelling character. He can like “this” and “that.” He can be attracted to women and men. Or, as writer Ben Edlund and director Phil Sgriccia said in a DVD commentary, Dean has “the potential for love in all places.”

I wanted to include the above verbatim because it spells out something specific: Dean's narrative is bisexual in its bones. Supernatural evolved to become a queer text, but the specific ways the show and Dean as a character evolved are very intertwined with and informed by the fact that Dean is a masculine bisexual man. SPN is a story that was not meant to be about being queer, but as it became about freedom through free will, those themes were then leveraged and emphasized in connection to queerness because of Destiel. And by the end, the free will narrative and Dean's journey as a bi man are utterly inseparable, because Dean's fight for true freedom is tied to his love for a man and their untraditional family in a way that higher forces are trying to hinder.

You cannot cut out or edit or remove Dean's bisexuality from the story, or several narratives and plot lines (not just Destiel) would at minimum be misunderstood or at maximum fall apart. And yet, simultaneously? Dean's bisexuality is also far from being the sole important thing about his character because he is written with such nuanced complexities and across so many years of material.

Of course, add onto this the overall unique situation that surrounds Supernatural as a piece of media. People talk at length about how there will never be anything like it again, including me; that's obviously true from multiple different angles and for multiple different reasons, with Destiel being prime amongst them. But a related yet distinctly significant branch of that topic is there will never be another bisexual character who is written and evolves quite like Dean.

Was Dean supposed to be bisexual from the very start, out of the mind of Kripke? Who can know for sure, but probably not. Were certain writers and members of production deliberately putting more queercoding and subtext into Dean's character/story from the very start? Who can know for sure, but potentially yes, and certainly the answer becomes unarguably definitely yes the farther you get into the show. That's part of my love and passion for him too, because all of that is deeply unique and incredibly cool.

Dean's bisexuality evolved in a way that (against all odds) actually feels organic, seamless, and like it's simply a part of his character that's been there all along. The effect when you look at Supernatural as a whole body of work is that Dean's always been bi, and his expressions of and acknowledgements of that part of him ebb and flow depending on situation–which is a very relatable notion for many queer people. And as those writing the show became more committed and certain about that piece of who Dean is, so did he, in nuanced and subtle ways skillfully embedded into his story by design. It's bafflingly, impressively cohesive; gives him an incredibly realistic feel; matches his overall character growth; and rings true to his demographic, age, personality, and experiences.

Dean and his story and the situation(s) surrounding both are simply incomparable, and that will be true forever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

...also. Well. I simply love him, y'know? For even more reasons unconnected to this. How can you not, right? :')

Thank you for asking, and thanks for reading this bi Dean manifesto!

Putting my video that you mentioned here for anyone who's not watched it:

My new magnum opus, please stream, etc.

(or watch on Tumblr here)

[kidspawn]

Hi it seems i am in your asks once more but I do have a legit question: You mentioned parts of your personality are taken from the characters in TRC, but who would you say you relate to the most? Why? If you can’t choose or have more than one, then why each of them?

Ooh wow this is a really interesting question wowowow. Yeah, I mean, I think that's a common sentiment among fans of the series I've noticed, because the characters are so multifaceted and feel so human. And so it's definitely easy to latch onto the characters and project parts of your personality onto them (as with more fictional characters, but TRC characters are sooooorhjerjejej) and discover a lot about yourself through your exploration of these characters. I think, especially over the last year, I really latched onto them to help me make sense of the place I'm in in life? I tried to keep this more character-analytical with a personal flair and got carried away, so please forgive the word count.

I take bits from each of the characters, of course. Blue, with her independence and her desire for freedoms and her confidence in identity as it grapples with how valuable she is to others. Gansey, with his boundless anxieties and his propensity to needing to behave more grown up and his "unerring weapons of destruction" in the form of words. (There is something to say about how I resonate with Gansey when it comes to presenting different sides of yourself to your friends and not having anyone to be yourself with.) Noah, who I have such a soft spot for because I know how it feels to feel like you are less than you used to be, and to fear being forgotten and ignored.

However, to segue, I had someone recently say: "I don't know, but there's something very pynch about you." Well, whatever the fuck that means. Did not clarify if that was a compliment, and the person it came from could have MEANT IT EITHER WAY. Anyway:

Adam motherfucking Parrish. I don't think I'm subtle about my fondness for Adam. My connection to this character really boils down to more extrinsic parts of my life (my relationship with college, school, work, my intricate and endless parental issues, the constant survival mode draining you) and how I process my place in the world. Which, and pardon me if I vent a bit here, but the idea of being lonesome is one I've felt for quite a substantial part of my life. And I don't resent it, nor do I see it as a bad thing. I am very good at being alone, being singular, and while that does make me feel lonely sometimes, it also means I'm very established in myself and my company and being my own person. Another thing I resonate with deeply in Adam. I see a lot of discussion over how Adam is "too stubborn" or just needs to "accept some help already" and I can't help but feel that comes from people who don't understand that some people have been raised to believe everything in life is transactional. Or, more so, that accepting help and charity from others often leads to them holding something over you. Or it gives them leverage on you. Or, really, they own a part of your success and comfort. There's a part of Adam that values his autonomy, how he has worked for what he's got, and I know how important that feeling is. To be honest, every personal issue I've ever had, I've always had the comfort of knowing I worked for what I have, where I am, and everything I ever will have. I am also very aware this is not the best mindset, to buckle down and refuse help from anyone, but that's also a product of not ever being proven wrong that people want to lord something over you when anything in your relationship goes wrong. I could go on and on about how Adam's relationship with his parents and his autonomy are always deeply personal to me. I guess I feel a sense of alienation and loneliness and being utterly unworthy or even capable of love on the level other people are, and that's a very early-Adam sentiment that hit close to home. Also, the theme of his not becoming his parents haunts me on a near daily basis and his arc in The Dream Thieves is sjbejjdjsjdwjje. As a side note, I also find the way he thinks and processes information and the people around synchronous with my thought processes. I'm largely analytical and methodical.

I'll also say, from a pure storytelling standpoint, Adam's journey in The Dreamer Trilogy (spoiler free as well as I can manage) demolished me because that's almost exactly what I've been coping with the last year or so. "I made a plan. I had a way out. I got it. This is not what I want. I am unhappy and don't know who I am and keep making parts of myself up to try and find it." There's a reason TDT is so valuable to me. I resonate with Adam's personal journey and his approach to his self identity, I'm just REALLY funny about it, because that's how I cope.

Speaking of being funny about it, it took me years to admit how much I related to Ronan. I know I just went off about Adam, but I've gotten the Adam comparisons a lot. It just makes sense to point out. Ronan, however, really drives home a very raw and emotional aspect to me, and it was one I didn't recognize until like... well like until I got hit with a particularly brutal depressive episode and spiraled to rock bottom. I realized a few months ago, in an incredibly dark place I don't take pride in dwelling in, that I was deeply unhappy with where I was in life. I remember just laying in my bed and staring at the ceiling and wondering what the point of anything was. I felt very empty, and gaping, and full of desire for something and I had no clue what it was. I would just tie this up neatly and say that I was Ronan's age while reading The Raven Cycle, and Ronan's age reading The Dreamer Trilogy and his mental health was almost beat for beat my own internal monologue and that was a very uncomfortable place for me to be, frankly. Ronan's mental health journey is so beautiful and intricate and complex and RAW. Like, wholeheartedly one of the best depictions of early adult malaise.

Anyway, let me direct your attention to this quote that has been a pervasive mantra in my life since I was blessed enough to read it: "calm down, Ronan, stop being needy, Ronan, get yourself together, Ronan, you're always the car crash, Ronan". Changed lives, actually. My life. Because what THE FUCK was that. I think there's an emotional intensity to Ronan I deeply feel in myself, and a tendency to feel everything at such an all-consuming level it bleeds onto others and it feels like too much. That idea of being needy, being out of control, of breaking everything, of existing and loving and causing grievance by being that way. And you cant change it, you can't do much to alter it, all you can do is find people who understand it and appreciate it. It's a very othering feeling, for lack of more sufficient terminology.

And I think this translates to how Ronan loves. And let me say, while I have the floor, seeing people APPRECIATE how Ronan is with people he cares about has been incredibly healing. I acknowledge that my approach to friendship (and relationships but I wont focus on that too long) which is with a single minded focus and relative intensity, is not the kind of friendship people enjoy (i was very kindly reminded of this not too long ago) nor do they want to be around it. Because Ronan throws himself into his friendships and his loves and his passions, and when he actually cares it is with such an intensity I remember reading it and just going "oh ok this isn't weird this is normal" because... I don't know. There's something very disorienting about viewing friendship (and i keep a very small but very close circle) and relationships as something worth protecting and preserving and not having that met in equal measure. It's such a beautiful trait of Ronan's and in a very roundabout way reading how he loves, is rewarded for how much he loves, and continues to love in such an earnest and shameless way is very healing for me. I've said time and time again that my favourite thing about Ronan is how he loves. I think it's easy to assume Ronan is all "pshaw, fuck everything" but at his core he is a kid who feels a lot and has been punished by the world for how and who he loves, and has been through tremendous loss and grief. Also, maybe the possessiveness upon which he approaches his circle rings a little true who knows. (I may or may not have been given the designated dog motifs and guess what I don't care i think it's funny). This is all too say, I've definitely had more therapy than Ronan does and I think I'm a lot healthier with my expression here than Ronan but uhhh yeah.

Side note that while my relationship with religion is not in any way the same as Ronan's, I do navigate a comfort and solice in my dalliance with catholicism. Here's another Ronan quote that hit close to home omg:

"Ronan gave in to the brief privilege of hating himself, as he always did in church. There was something satisfying about acknowledging this hatred, something relieving about this little present he allowed himself each Sunday."

Idk idk I don't view religion as a reason to hate myself but I definitely see it as an outlet. It's a complex little thing that brings me comfort. Idk i love Ronan's relationship with religion.

Anyway, I digress on the Ronan love. I think on artificial and intricate levels I resonate with Ronan and that has been a journey of self acceptance and acknowledging parts of myself I deeply dislike or carry shame towards. Or whatever. That could mean nothing. I also think driving someone's car is a very intimate act though that's very series-compliant and less a Ronan thing. Also miscellaneous habits and beliefs of his that upon my reread made me swear out loud because fuck writing "Ronan Lynch" on my list of characters who define me WASNT PART OF MY 2025 PLAN.

Anyway, to veer hard left to Henry fucking Cheng. This will be brief because I was never involved in the mafia. (As far as I know?) Nor was I ever held for ransom. No, but I heavily relate to Henry's brand of yearning for understanding, companionship, and the ability to express oneself in a sincere way. Henry Cheng I fucking love you. I cannot verbally express how much his "overfull on secrets and underfull on friends" sentence warped me. I will write him into everything I can because he deserves genuine friendship.

Alright alright alright this was a whole more than I intended. I wish I could apologize but I won't because it gave me the opportunity to ramble about Ronan, who metaphorically came up behind me and beat me over the head with his themes of growing up and grappling with your identity. Most character of all time. Also I got to talk about Henry a bit. And Adam, who I love. Which should've been the first sign I was Ronan aligned.

ANYWAY YOU SHOULD DO THIS EXACT THING BECAUSE I YEARN TO KNOW. Actually, if you read this (anyone I mean it) please drop an essay on the characters you relate to and why. OK, bye.

[simplydnp]

So OKAY here are a just few parts of dans birthchart that made me scream into the void because of how scary and crazy accurate it is (disclamer: This is is actual birth chart and was not written by a phannie even if looks like it is bc accuracy lmao.)

''His neck and upper chest are erogenous zones. He generally doesn't jump into a new relationship. If he does, they feelings grow gradually. A partner who makes him feel safe and secure is ideal for him. Once committed, his love is long lasting and sincere. He has have strong values and others will find it hard to sway him in this area. Sensual, the world of touch and smell is most appealing to him. Complex or mysterious partners are not as intriguing as simple and genuine ones.'

''He is amorous, not a peaceful and calm lover but a passionate one with a strong temperament. He is demonstrative in love, and usually fully enjoys healthy pleasures and life to the full.''

''He is hard or reserved at times, and doesn't always know how to express his emotions. He may be frightened of showing his love, and this can lead to disappointments, break-ups, lack of satisfaction. He has doubts, can be suspicious, worries too much, possibly jealous but more likely insecure. He will learn how to be happy in love, to be at ease with himself and to control his jealousy or gain more assurance and sense of self-worth in the second half of his life, possibly thanks to a mature person, who helps him learn to trust.''

''He must have a job that allows him many freedoms, something non-routine. He likes change, possesses a lot of energy and knows how to influence others in spite of his originality. He may have difficulty expressing himself, especially when young. He does not talk much, he does not speak just for the sake of it, but when in the mood, can talk a lot in a big burst of conversation. He may prefer to work in remote and quiet places. He is discrete and philosophical.''

''In the first half of life, he may hold onto his past, childhood, or the freedoms of life when there are fewer responsibilities. He is sensitive, loyal, and wonderfully warm and nurturing. However, happiness and satisfaction come from accepting and embracing responsibilities. Denying his need to excel in the outside world has a way of holding him back. Learning to be more self-sufficient improves his life many times over.''

''He is good-hearted and generous, possessing a good character. He likes well-being, comfort, a life of ease, without problems. He has good relations with his social circle. He is easy to approach. All the same, he may fall in love easily. He has a successful partnership and professional life. People usually trust him.''

''He has a love-and-friendship union. An unproblematic, quiet relationship. A few hiccups, but nothing really serious. Faithfulness.''

''He loves to court and be courted, and needs to feel very special. Warm, generous, and even grand. Though really quite loyal to partners (remember that love is THE most important thing in his life). Thrives on attention from lovers or love interests.''

So... are you screaming with me? LOL

one of my favourite things is to pontificate about love and how it's seen, felt, and shown. security seems to be something important to dan, so seeing it brought up here repeatedly is fascinating. along with the desire for performance/entertainment. (á la needing to feel special too)

the 'does not talk much' was throwing me for a bit of a loop, but i think it's fair to say that we really only experience dan when he's comfortable and willing, therefore open to being more talkative.

'complex or mysterious partners are not as intriguing as simple and genuine ones'.... well. i think we all know who that pertains to 🥺 'he has a love-and-friendship union' something something real best friends companions through life actual soulmates

'he will learn how to be happy in love, to be at ease with himself and to control his jealousy or gain more assurance and self-worth in the second half of this life, possibly due to a more mature person, who helps him learn how to trust' something something for the first time in my life i felt safe.

my only dispute is that dan's talked about enjoying having a purpose (& how touring wad was great bc of it), so while he enjoys the freedom of a 'upload whenever' mindset, i think he likes having more structure. not the pressure of it being entirely set in stone, but a framework.

now, i don't intend to come off as rude or insensitive so i apologize if i do:

generally, i don't put a lot of stock into stuff like this--birth charts, tarot cards, psychics. it's something i struggle with as a very science & logic minded person. however. there is something to be said in that the stars are gay for dan and phil. cause the more angles we look at it, the more we can't deny the destiny of it all

[witchthewriter]

I feel like this is gonna be a really weird request. But if you’ve seen zootopia, would you be okay doing a character profile [birth chart, mbti] for Nick Wilde?

Not weird at all! It was really interesting to do this one. Happy to do most characters ✧ ₊・🦊・₊✧

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞: 𝑁𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑒

𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈

𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑷 | 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝐷𝑒𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟

Nick loves a mental sparring session with someone who can challenge him. ENTPs enjoy playing devil’s advocate, partly because it allows them to showcase their quick wit and partly because it helps them to clarify their thoughts. We can see throughout the movie that Nick obviously loves rocking the boat; but he always has a life jacket.

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑵𝒆𝒖𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒐 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅

(Taking into account that the movie is aimed at children). Nick was Chaotic Neutral; not caring about the law (obviously) or about anyone but himself. Until Judy comes along. She has a direct influence on him; character development. And he changes into Chaotic Good.

𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔

Upright: New ideas, curiosity, thirst for knowledge, new ways of communicating Reversed: Self-expression, all talk and no action, haphazard action, haste

This card is often associated with curiosity, intellectual agility, and a mischievous streak. It can represent someone who enjoys stirring up intellectual debates or challenging others with their wit and cleverness.

𝐒𝐔𝐍

𝑺𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒑𝒊𝒐

Scorpio's mysterious nature and ability to perceive things that others pass by unnoticed can be both captivating and intimidating, leaving others both curious and intimidated by the possibility of learning more about the hidden facets of their personality. That's why I think Nick is a Scorpio Sun; seems to know more about others without them saying anything. He's very perceptive, intuitive, observant, insightful and obviously clever.

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍

𝑳𝒆𝒐

He feels safe in moments when he can impress others and get praise and admiration. Many Leo Moons' have a desire for money and social status, and have a strong ability to get it. They also have a talent for drama and creative activities.

𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆/𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓

𝑮𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒊

Gemini is linked to the winged messenger, Hermes, aka the Greek god of wealth, luck, language, and travel—so Gemini Risings tend to be strong linguists who just have a way with words. For that reason, they’re often seen as tricky or clever. They eventually become masters of communication, learning exactly the right words to use and judging when to speak up and when not to speak up.

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐘

𝑨𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒖𝒔

I think what's overlooked is Nick's forward-thinking and interests. His character can be very compressed and put down to 'sly, quick and unrealiable.' But when he feels comfortable and safe, we see that he has a lot of creative and innovative ideas. He enjoys exploring possibilities beyond the conventional.

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒

𝑨𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒖𝒔

Aquarius Venus individuals value intellectual connections and are attracted to partners who stimulate their mind. They appreciate independent thinking and enjoy engaging in intellectual discussions and debates. That's exactly how I see Nick; needing to have a partner that can keep up with banter and bickering, but also intellectual conversations about the world around them.

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒

𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒖𝒔

Mars in Sagittarius individuals have a strong sense of adventure and a desire for freedom. They are enthusiastic, optimistic, and have a broad perspective. They possess a pioneering spirit and enjoy taking risks.

[eve-to-adam]

I LOVE your art, especially as a fellow (albeit amateur) artist who’s OBSESSED with the whole Wars of the Roses period rn. In that vein, I was wondering if you had any advice/good resources as to researching fashion for character design reasons? Thanks!

Hello! :)

I'm excited to hear about other people - especially artists - interested in the Wars of the Roses era! I know that nice feeling - that thrill of excitement you get when you try to create something like this. It seems sublime to me! <333333

I don't know exactly if you want my advice and recommendations to be general or strictly about WOTR and implicitly the Middle Ages, but I will focus on the second option, because the process is the same.

Before starting, I want to specify that this is strictly my approach and that there are multiple ways to achieve the same result, as long as they make you feel comfortable.

My first advice would be this: try to be sure what exactly you want to illustrate. Although sometimes indecision can lead to unexpectedly positive results, most of the time it can cause your characters/illustrations to lack substance, which is caused by a lack of consistency. It's one thing to create a complex character and completely different to end up with an inconsistent one. What I want to say is that you have to make sure that you draw some specific barriers in order to obtain an optimal result. Try to figure out your character's personality before you dress them - don't forget that clothes are as important a component in character development as the details regarding interests/ambitions/favorite food, etc. Depending on the status, the concerns of your character and the context in which they are, you can deliberate the shape and color of the outfits. Taking into account these aspects, you allow yourself to deliberate: what kind of outfit would X wear? Does it match their personality? Is it having the desired impact? Shape, length, pattern? What about the colors? Are they expressive enough to give us a clue about the state of our character? What do we want to express through that outfit?

My second advice: Be creative! Use the resources you have to create the most original outfits. Of course, here it depends on how you approach the problem - you can recreate outfits up to 100% if you want to make a study or your own artistic documentation, but I, personally, put more value on originality.

For example - and this is a purely personal approach, not a standard to follow, because each of us wants to experiment and express things differently - when I create outfits, I tend to take elements from different pictures and combine them in this way so as to result in a completely new outfit. (There are times when an entire outfit takes shape in my mind just by looking at a pair of sleeves, or there are times when I sketch the entire outfit and have to search the entire internet for a suitable collar for this type of outfit. Or, I simply realized in the middle of the process that my character would not seem like the type of person to wear such a robe). Of course, considering the process, you have artistic freedom, so you can afford to illustrate totally original elements.

At the same time, try to give credibility to the character. Above we were talking about the substance. Well, one of the rules of character design is world-building. Many works of animation or comics with the fantasy genre contain elements inspired by the Middle Ages, and this is because the stories always have their origin in reality. Your character is only a part of a larger whole called the Universe. Depending on the genre of your story, the character must be an integral part of it, so you must take care of the particularities. If the narrative takes place in 1450, your character must have an appearance corresponding to the respective times. If the character serves in the army, we show them in the uniform specific to the period imposed by us; we also take care to give it a certain rigidity, hardness. If it's a detective, we introduce distinct elements such as the coat and hat, etc. Of course, speaking of fiction, we allow ourselves certain liberties for the sake of design.

Although during my university studies I was told to keep the character design as simple as possible, I chose not to follow this advice, lol. Because simplicity does not characterize me. The reason I'm bringing this up is BECAUSE if you're not familiar with the details/ haven't mastered the approach yet, it would really be advisable to keep the character design as simple as possible. Here is the reason: Originality. Particularity. When you create your character, especially if there is a long line of characters in the background, you must take into account the fact that the viewer must be able to tell them apart. Try to give each of them one or more distinctive signs, which can mean practically anything - a mustache, a mole, a longer neck, a special body shape, a patch on the eye, a more atypical hairstyle. I will not say that this aspect can necessarily be achieved through clothes. Here's the reason - imagine that your character is 5 m away from you and is looking at you. Under all those layers of clothing, how can you tell for sure who it is without that distinctive mark? Your character must be unique, it needs to stand out with something. Your character must be recognized by the public, even from a distance.

The rest depends on your tastes and your personal approach.

When I start working on an outfit, the first thing I think about is: what can I do and what can't I do? Did the clothing item I'm thinking of really existed or is it just a product of my imagination?

In most cases, I turn to the illuminations from manuscripts, tapestries, illustrations, portraits, paintings, etc., because absolutely nothing is more delightful than consulting the source directly.

Manuscripts that I have used over time in my creative process:

BnF Français 599 (De mulieribus claris).

Compilation arthurienne de Micheau Gonnot. Gautier Map, La Queste del Saint-Graal, La Mort le roi Artu.

Français 995.

BNF Fr874 (Héroïdes d'Ovide).

Croniques abregies commençans au temps de Herode Antipas, persecuteur de la chrestienté, et finissant l'an de grace mil IIc et LXXVI.

Paintings. You can use them to search for other such examples on the Internet:

Cornelis Engelbrechtsz - Konstantin & Helena.

Hans Holbein - Virgin with Child.

Hans Memling - Altarpiece with Virgin and Child, Jan de Witte and his wife.

Hans Memling - Maria Portinari.

Eliseo Sala, Malinconia o Pia de' Tolomei.

Antoni Peris - Altarpiece of the Life of Virgin - Altarpiece of the Nursing Madonna.

Filippo Lippi - Portrait of a Woman with a Man at a Casement.

Simon Marmion - Exterior of St. Bertin Altarpiece Wings. 1459.

These books may also help you. I chose the ones that also contain illustrations:

Herbert Norris – Medieval costume and Fashion.

Kathy Elgin – Costume & Fashion. Source Books.

Mary G. Houston – Medieval costume in England and France. The 13th, 14th and 15th centuries.

Francis Grew, Margrethe de Neergaard – Shoes and Pattens.

Talbot Hughes – Dress design.

I hope my answer was helpful! :)