#and there is nothing i love more than a well thought out character

[kaiyunsim]

best lover —

pairing : bf!taesan x gn!reader

summary : after taesan works hard for the newest comeback you wanted to get him a gift... something perfect. but you don't know what exactly to get him so you get help from his roommate.

warnings : fluff, angst (just a little bit), tense confrontation, some music references, taesan gets kinda jealous, kind of a continuation of this fic

a/n : this lowkey made me relapse into the emo/punk genre and now i'm actively listening to them again ! taesan so silly here.

queueing : best lover - bibi, and july - heize + dean

[requested]

— wc : 4.8k — not proof read —

you’ve always known taesan was cool.

not in the tryhard way, not in the way people force an image to seem untouchable. no, he’s effortlessly cool. the kind of cool that comes from simply existing, from being so unapologetically himself that it draws people in.

his aesthetic is proof of that—dark clothes, silver rings, an ever-growing collection of band tees that he claims aren’t a collection but still seem to multiply every time you see him. his playlists are filled with gritty guitar riffs and melancholic lyrics, songs that feel like they belong in a coming-of-age film.

you love it. you love the way he leans against walls like a movie character, the way his fingers tap out drum beats on tables when he’s lost in thought. the way his voice gets softer when he talks about music, when he lets his guard down just enough for you to see the warmth underneath.

so, when their comeback is finally announced, when you see the hours of training, late-night rehearsals, and exhaustion culminate into something incredible, you know you need to do something. something that says, i see you. i see how hard you’ve worked, and i’m proud of you.

but what do you get someone like taesan?

he’s never been the type to want extravagant gifts. he shrugs off praise, mumbles “it’s nothing” when people tell him he’s done well. but you know he keeps every little note fans give him, that he still has the random trinkets the members bought him over the years.

so it has to be something personal. something that actually means something.

you think about it for days, running through ideas in your head. clothes? no, too easy. he already has everything he likes. accessories? maybe, but he’s picky, and you don’t trust yourself to pick out something he’d actually wear.

and then it hits you.

vinyls.

taesan loves music in a way that’s deeper than just listening. he collects records, always talking about how certain albums sound different on vinyl, how the warmth and crackle make it feel more alive. you’ve seen the way he runs his fingers over the covers, the way he carefully places them on his turntable like he’s handling something sacred.

but you don’t know enough about it.

you know the bands he listens to, sure, but not the specific pressings, not which editions are worth having, not which ones he’s been searching for. you need help.

so, you text the only person who would know and would be the most help.

sungho.

—

you: hey, random question, but do you think you could help me with something?

he replies almost immediately.

sungho: depends. am i gonna regret saying yes?

you snort. typical.

you: no, it’s for taesan. i wanna get him some vinyls, but i don’t know which ones he’d actually want.

a pause. then—

sungho: oh. you’re going ot make him a happy boyfriend for sure. sungho: yeah, i can help. you free tomorrow?

relief washes over you.

you: yeah. thanks, sungho. seriously.

sungho: don’t thank me yet. wait till we actually find something good.

you smile, pocketing your phone.

this is a good plan. a perfect plan.

now, you just have to keep it a secret.

the next morning, you wake up with a nervous excitement buzzing under your skin.

taesan is still half-asleep when you see him, his hair messy from sleep, the collar of his oversized shirt slipping down one shoulder. he looks soft like this, different from his usual sharp edges and guarded expressions.

“morning,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he can grumble in protest.

he mumbles something incoherent, eyes still closed, before reaching out and lazily wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

you laugh, poking his side. “i have to go out for a bit.”

that wakes him up a little. his eyes blink open, groggy but alert. “where?”

you freeze for half a second before forcing yourself to play it cool. “just running errands.”

his brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t question it. instead, he just tightens his grip around you for a moment before letting go.

“be safe,” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

your heart squeezes at that.

you brush his hair out of his face, letting your fingers linger for a second longer than necessary. “always.”

—

meeting up with sungho feels like a mission.

he’s already waiting outside the taesan's dorm room, dressed casually but still effortlessly put together, a stark contrast to the slightly chaotic energy you’re bringing with you.

“you look nervous,” he says, amused.

“because i am.”

he raises an eyebrow. “it’s just vinyl shopping.”

“yeah, but it’s for taesan,” you stress. “i can’t mess this up. i need to find something perfect.”

sungho rolls his eyes but leads the way inside the vinyl store, hidden in the corners of the busy streets.

the moment you step in, you’re overwhelmed.

rows and rows of records stretch out in front of you, organized into sections you barely understand. the store smells like old paper and something nostalgic, a quiet hum of music playing from the speakers.

sungho glances at you. “you know what bands he likes, right?”

you nod. “yeah, but i don’t know what he already has.”

“then we start with the basics.”

he guides you through the aisles, pointing out albums that fit taesan’s taste. some are obvious bands you’ve seen on his playlists, artists you recognize from the posters in his room. others, not so much.

“this one’s a classic,” sungho says, pulling out a worn-looking album. “he’s mentioned it before, i think he even has a t-shirt of them.”

it was the black parade by my chemical romance

you take it from him, running your fingers over the cover. “do you think he already has the vinyl?”

sungho shakes his head. “nah, he would’ve bragged about it if he did.”

you smile at that. taesan isn’t the bragging type, not really, but when it comes to things he loves, he can’t help but share them with you. you can already picture the way his eyes will light up when he sees the gift, the way he’ll trace the album cover with careful fingers before hugging you in that quiet, deliberate way of his.

this is good. this is exactly what you wanted.

you glance at sungho. “i think we’re on the right track.”

he smirks. “told you.”

you roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin.

this is going to be perfect.

if you can keep it a secret long enough.

you flip through the stacks carefully, the plastic sleeves crinkling under your fingertips as you skim the selection. rows of album covers stare back at you, some bold and vibrant, others muted and mysterious, each one a different piece of someone’s story.

sungho stands beside you, already pulling out records with ease, flipping them over to check editions and pressings like it’s second nature.

“how do you even know all this?” you ask, watching as he inspects a black-and-white cover, his eyes narrowing slightly before he shakes his head and puts it back.

he smirks. “taesan’s not the only one with taste, you know.”

you roll your eyes. “yeah, but you act like this is your second home.”

he hums, running his fingers along the edge of a shelf. “it kinda is. when i first moved into the dorms, i’d come to places like this just to kill time. got to know a lot about music that way.”

that makes sense. sungho has that effortless, older-brother energy, the kind that makes you feel like he’s always been one step ahead of everyone else. but even so, you know there’s more to it. something about the way he says it, like music was a comfort rather than just a hobby.

you glance down at the album in your hands. the artwork is dramatic, painted in deep reds and blacks, the kind of thing you could easily imagine taesan leaving out on his desk just because it looks cool. it was titled a fever you can’t sweat out this time, by panic at the disco

you hesitate. “what about this one?”

sungho looks over, and to your relief, he nods in approval. “solid pick. taesan likes them. they have that whole raw, gritty sound he’s into.”

you exhale, setting it aside in the growing pile of vinyls you’ve picked out. “good. i was kinda guessing.”

sungho snickers. “if you were completely guessing, you would’ve picked something embarrassing.”

you give him a flat look. “i wouldn’t do that.”

“you sure? no boyband vinyls hidden in that stack?”

“why are you acting like that would be a crime?”

he laughs, shaking his head. “nah, but taesan would probably combust.”

you grin at the thought. he probably would. his whole tough, brooding image crumbling the second someone dared to associate him with anything remotely bright and upbeat. you’ve teased him about it before, played pop songs in his presence just to watch him pretend he wasn’t listening.

but this isn’t about teasing him. this is about him.

you glance around the store, taking in the dim lighting, the faint sound of a record spinning in the background. a few other customers linger nearby, flipping through vinyls with the same careful reverence, but none of them seem rushed. it’s the kind of place taesan would get lost in, taking his time with every shelf, soaking in the atmosphere.

you wish he was here.

you shake the thought away before it can settle too deep.

“okay,” you say, straightening up. “i think i need at least one more.”

sungho scans the shelves before reaching over and pulling out a record without hesitation.

“this.”

you take it from him, studying the cover. it’s striking… american idiot by greenday.

“he’s been looking for this one,” sungho explains. “i remember him complaining about how it’s always out of stock.”

your chest warms. “then that’s perfect.”

sungho grins. “congrats, you officially have a good gift… or multiple”

you roll your eyes but can’t help but smile. “thanks for the approval.”

“anytime.”

you head to the counter, placing the records down carefully as the cashier rings them up. the prices make you wince a little. vinyl collecting is not cheap. but you don’t hesitate. taesan is worth it.

when you step back outside, the air feels cooler, a slight breeze brushing against your skin. sungho stretches beside you, squinting up at the sky.

“so,” he says. “how are you planning to give it to him?”

you blink. “uh. just... give it to him?”

he gives you a flat look. “you’re really bad at this.”

“excuse me?”

“c’mon,” he says. “you go through all this trouble, sneak around just to surprise him, and you’re just gonna hand it to him like it’s a bag of chips?”

you frown. “what am i supposed to do? make a scavenger hunt?”

“i mean, that would be funny.”

“sungho.”

he chuckles. “fine, fine. but at least make it a moment, you know? like, put them in a nice box or something. set the mood a little.”

you consider that. he’s right. you don’t just want this to be a casual exchange. you want taesan to feel how much this means.

“okay,” you say slowly. “i’ll think of something.”

sungho pats your shoulder. “good. because if you don’t, i’m telling him i helped.”

you gasp. “you wouldn’t.”

his grin is downright evil. “try me.”

you groan, shoving him lightly as he laughs.

but despite the teasing, there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. because for all the effort, all the second-guessing, all the overthinking. you know this is the right thing to do.

you just hope taesan sees it that way, too.

you and sungho are now wandering the streets, bags in hand, the weight of them a constant reminder of what you're keeping from taesan. there's a knot in your stomach, anxiety creeping in at the thought of what will happen once you return to the dorm.

sungho notices you fidgeting with your phone, eyes flicking between your screen and the road ahead. "you've been checking your messages like every two seconds," he says with a knowing smile. "taesan giving you trouble?"

"i... i don’t know," you mutter, glancing at your phone again. "he hasn’t texted yet. i think he’s mad."

sungho snorts. "he’s always mad."

you roll your eyes but can't help the tension building inside you. it's not like taesan to be suspicious like this. sure, he's possessive at times, but you’ve always been upfront with him. today, though, everything feels off. you know he’s probably wondering where you are, especially after leaving so abruptly.

after a few more moments of walking, your phone buzzes in your hand. it’s a message from taesan.

you open it quickly, your heart dropping when you read the text.

taesan: where are you?

you can almost hear the frustration in his words, even though they’re so short. you hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. the last thing you want is to reveal anything.

“everything okay?” sungho asks, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

“yeah,” you say quickly, typing back a response. "just... running… errands…"

you: just out. why?

you hit send and try to push the worry away. but it doesn’t help when your phone buzzes again, another message from taesan.

taesan: are you by yourself?

your stomach tightens. it feels like he’s fishing for something, trying to confirm his suspicions. you swallow hard. taesan doesn’t know you’re out with sungho. he probably thinks you’re just alone, maybe out with someone else. the thought of him jumping to conclusions makes you tense up.

“you need to tell him the truth, man,” sungho says, half-joking but still serious. “it’s gonna be hard to keep it up much longer.”

you bite your lip, looking at the text again. taesan doesn’t like being kept in the dark. but if you tell him you're out with sungho, there's no way you can keep the surprise a secret.

you: yeah, just me. out by myself.

you send the message quickly, almost immediately regretting it. the lie feels wrong in your gut, but you can’t risk ruining the surprise.

as soon as you hit send, another text from taesan comes through.

taesan: you didn’t tell me where you went. it’s weird, you know. don’t lie to me.

your heart sinks. this is exactly what you were afraid of. you can feel his frustration radiating through the words, even though they’re brief. taesan might not say it outright, but you know he’s pissed.

“is he mad?” sungho asks, eyes narrowing as he watches you.

“yeah,” you say quietly, looking at the screen again. “he thinks i’m lying.”

sungho tilts his head, his expression softening. “well, you kind of are...”

you groan, feeling guilty. “yeah, but if i tell him the truth, he’ll know what we’re really doing.”

sungho sighs but doesn’t press. “you’ve got to be careful, though. taesan can’t stand being lied to. he might feel like you’re hiding something else.”

you take a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety aside. “he’s just overthinking it. i’ll deal with it when we get back.”

you walk in silence for a bit longer, and the weight of the lie is starting to feel unbearable. but then your phone buzzes again. it’s from taesan.

taesan: riwoo just told me you’re out with sungho. why didn’t you say that?

your heart stops. it feels like everything is crashing down around you. of course, taesan would hear from riwoo. he always does. but you didn’t think it would happen so soon.

sungho laughs lightly, though it’s more nervous than anything else. “i mean, it’s not like you didn’t want him to find out.”

you stare at the message, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. “he’s so mad now...”

“you better fix it,” sungho says with a small chuckle. “he’s gonna blow up on you if you keep avoiding the truth.”

you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “i don’t know how to fix it. i’ve already lied twice.”

“well,” sungho says, “maybe you just gotta... tell him the truth at this point. no more hiding.”

but you’re not ready to do that. not yet. the surprise is too important to mess up now.

you type out a message, your hands shaking a little as you try to keep it steady.

you: i’m sorry. we just bumped into eachothee

you press send, waiting for taesan’s response with bated breath.

it takes a while, but finally, your phone buzzes.

taesan: it was a coincidence?

you let out a sigh of relief. it's not as bad as it could have been, but you still feel like you’ve messed up.

you: yeah, i went out to grab some stuff, and boom, sungho was there getting some stuff for the dorm too

you wait for a reply, and when it comes, it’s still not as angry as you expected, but you can hear the frustration in taesan’s words.

taesan: you know, you could’ve just told me. i don’t like when you hide stuff from me.

your heart drops, and you feel guilty again. you want to explain yourself, but you’re afraid it’ll make everything worse.

“he’s really pissed now,” you say quietly to sungho, who nods sympathetically.

“you should’ve just told him earlier,” he says, though his tone is more playful than critical. “now you gotta go back and fix it.”

you take a deep breath, realizing sungho’s right. you’re going to have to deal with the fallout when you get back to the dorm.

you decide on sungho’s dorm since taesan is rooming with woonhak and jaehyun so it would be perfect to wrap his gift all together and put final touched on it.

but once you open the door, you stand frozen at the door of sungho’s dorm, heart hammering in your chest. the moment taesan walks in, everything about the room shifts. his presence fills the space, and even though he’s not saying anything yet, you feel the weight of his gaze.

“so, this is where you’ve been?” taesan’s voice cuts through the silence. it’s sharper than usual, colder too. he looks at you, then at sungho, his eyes narrowing. “i thought you said you were by yourself.”

you feel your breath catch in your throat. his words hit harder than expected, but you force a smile, trying to keep your cool. “i was… i mean, i am.”

taesan tilts his head, his eyes scanning you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “i just bumped into sungho, we were talking, and i guess riwoo saw us leave together.” you’re already regretting how this sounds, but you can’t back down now. you have to keep the lie intact.

“bumped into sungho?” taesan’s voice drips with suspicion. “so it’s just a coincidence you were both out together?”

you nod quickly, hoping he buys it. “yeah, we were just… talking, you know? nothing serious. i just didn’t want to bother you while you were busy.”

taesan crosses his arms, studying you with a sharp gaze. “that doesn’t sound right.”

the air between you two feels like it’s crackling with tension. you swallow hard, knowing you can’t let him get too suspicious. “it’s really nothing, taesan. you know i wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

“you wouldn’t, huh?” taesan says slowly, his tone soft but with a dangerous edge. “then why didn’t you just tell me? why go through all this just to cover up some… coincidence?”

you flinch slightly at his words, the guilt gnawing at you. but you won’t break. you can’t spoil the surprise now. not when everything is so close to being perfect.

“i didn’t want to bother you with the details,” you say, hoping he buys it. “i just figured i’d spend some time with sungho, that’s all.” you glance at sungho for a moment, but he’s standing still, like he’s unsure whether to step in.

taesan watches you for a long beat, and you can see the wheels turning in his mind. his expression hardens. “so you thought it’d be better to lie to me, to sneak around?”

your chest tightens, the weight of his words sinking in deeper than you expected. “taesan, it’s not like that.”

“really?” taesan’s voice rises, a hint of frustration creeping in. “because that’s exactly what it sounds like. i don’t know, it’s just hard to believe that you’re not hiding something. are you trying to cover something up?”

you feel your heart race. this is spiraling out of control, and you don’t know how to stop it. the last thing you want is for him to think you’re doing something behind his back.

“taesan, please,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “you’re overthinking this. i didn’t want to tell you because i didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” you force yourself to look him in the eye, trying to convey sincerity. “it’s nothing, really.”

taesan doesn’t respond right away. he’s still standing there, arms crossed, eyes cold as he studies you. you feel like he’s dissecting every word you’ve said, trying to figure out if you’re being honest or not.

“so what, this is all just some coincidence?” taesan asks again, voice dripping with doubt. “you just happened to be with sungho, and riwoo just happened to see you leaving together?”

you nod quickly, trying to sound convincing. “yeah, that’s it. it’s just a coincidence, taesan.”

taesan lets out a long breath, his frustration simmering just under the surface. he doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push further. yet.

“you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” you say, trying to change the subject. “it’s nothing. seriously.”

taesan stays quiet, his eyes narrowing, still unconvinced. “i don’t know if i believe you, but fine. if you say so.”

there’s a moment of silence between you two, and you can almost feel the distance growing between you. you want to tell him the truth, but you can’t risk it. not yet.

“you didn’t need to lie to me, you know,” taesan says softly, his gaze softer but still guarded. “you could’ve just told me where you were. there wouldn’t have been any problem.”

“i know,” you say, your heart sinking. “but i didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

the moment you say it, you regret it. taesan’s eyes flash with confusion, but he doesn’t say anything. he just watches you, waiting.

“what surprise?” taesan asks, the suspicion back in his voice.

you hesitate, panic rising. you can’t tell him, not yet. not when you’re this close.

“it’s nothing,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “i just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

taesan’s gaze sharpens again. “you’re lying. i can tell.”

you want to scream, to tell him the truth, but you stay silent, your heart heavy with the pressure of it all.

“you’ve been hiding something from me, haven’t you?” taesan asks, his voice quiet now, as if he’s piecing everything together.

you look away, unable to meet his eyes. you can’t keep lying, but you can’t give in either. not yet.

“taesan, please,” you whisper. “just trust me. i don’t want to hurt you.”

he sighs, his expression softening just a little. “i trust you, but it’s hard when you keep lying to me. i just don’t get why you couldn’t tell me what was going on.”

you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. your throat feels tight, and your mind is racing, trying to figure out how to get yourself out of this mess.

“i’m sorry,” you finally say, your voice barely audible. “i didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

taesan looks at you for a long moment, his face softening a bit. “it’s fine,” he says quietly. “but next time, just tell me. no more lies.”

you nod, relieved but still filled with guilt.

there’s a long silence, and then you finally reach into your bag and pull out the vinyl and the trinkets you picked out for him. you hold them out to him, your hands shaking.

“here,” you say softly, voice full of apology. “i got these for you. i… i thought you’d like them.”

taesan takes the items slowly, his expression unreadable. after a few moments, he looks up at you. “you didn’t have to do this,” he says, his voice softening. “but… thanks.”

you smile weakly, still feeling the weight of everything. “i’m sorry for making you mad.”

taesan sighs, stepping closer to you. “it’s okay. just promise me no more lies, alright?”

“promise,” you say quietly.

and for the first time in what feels like forever, the tension begins to melt away. taesan pulls you into a hug, and you let yourself relax, knowing that you’ll have to make things right.

but for now, you’re just grateful that he’s still here.

taesan is silent for a long time, just staring at the vinyls in his hands. his fingers trace over the covers, his expression unreadable.

you shift nervously, waiting for some kind of reaction. was this too much? was this not what he would’ve liked? sungho had assured you it was a good choice, but now, standing here with taesan’s gaze locked onto the gift, doubt creeps in.

“you really did all this for me?” taesan finally asks, voice quieter now.

you nod quickly. “of course i did. you just had a comeback, and i wanted to get you something that actually fit your taste. something you’d really like.”

he exhales slowly, his grip tightening around the vinyls for a second before he looks up at you. his expression has softened completely, the cold edge gone. instead, there’s something else… something warmer.

“you’re an idiot,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. in fact, his lips twitch slightly, like he’s trying not to smile. “you could’ve just told me.”

“and ruin the surprise?” you huff, crossing your arms. “not a chance.”

taesan sighs, shaking his head. “you made me worry for nothing.”

“i didn’t mean to,” you mumble, guilt creeping back in.

he looks at you for another long second before stepping forward, wrapping his arms around you. his hold is firm, secure, like he’s grounding himself in your presence.

you blink, surprised at the sudden affection, but quickly melt into the embrace. his scent is familiar, and the warmth of his body makes all the stress from earlier fade.

“don’t do that again,” he mutters into your hair. “just tell me next time.”

you nod against his chest. “okay. i promise.”

he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his dark eyes still holding a bit of lingering frustration. but it’s different now. less about suspicion, more about the fact that you worried him.

his eyes flicker to sungho, and his warmth disappears just slightly as he levels a glare at him. “and you,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

sungho raises his hands defensively. “hey, don’t look at me like that. i was just helping.”

“helping,” taesan repeats, clearly not convinced. “spending hours alone with y/n, keeping secrets, sneaking around.”

sungho rolls his eyes. “yeah, yeah, i get it. i’d be mad too. but it’s not like that.”

“doesn’t matter,” taesan grumbles, still glaring. “you still got too comfortable.”

you groan, tugging at his sleeve. “taesan, please. it’s not like we were on a date or something.”

taesan clicks his tongue but lets it go, instead looking back at the items in his hands. now that he’s actually processing it, his expression shifts, like he’s finally realizing what you got him, without the worry of why you were lying.

“wait,” he mutters, flipping it over. “this album… where did you find this?”

you grin. “special store sungho knew about. he helped me find the best ones.”

taesan pauses for a moment, then looks at you again, softer this time. “you really went through all this trouble just to get me something i’d like?”

you scoff. “of course i did. i love you, you idiot.”

his ears turn red. it’s subtle, but you notice it. he looks away, clearing his throat. “you’re the idiot,” he mumbles, gripping the vinyls like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “but… thanks.”

he pulls you into another hug, holding you tight, like he doesn’t want to let go.

and just like that, everything feels right again.

[staryscorner]

When they see that you've been Sh

Warning: Mention of blood and self h@rm/cvtt!ng

Characters: Gyeong seok, Jung bae, Jun ho, The Salesman, Sae byeok- 

Pt1 | Pt2 | PT3 (In the works)

Gyeong seok- 

Since moving in with Gyeong seok life has gotten a bit tougher for you; having way more responsibilities than what you’re used to, especially now since you have a cute step daughter who you love with all your heart, but it was something completely new and you thought you were doing a bad job. So to relieve some of the worries you began to sh. The pain washed the worries away. Then one day when you were playing with Na-Yeon your sleeves went up a bit and she had notices come red marks on your skin.

“Mama what’s that?” she said pointing at your arms.

You put your hands behind your back 

“It's nothing sweetheart I just got a little boo boo just dont tell daddy ok?”

She just nodded and continued to play with her toys.

The next day it was Gyeong seok’s turn to take Na-Yeon to school. 

While he was in a small conversation with her a cat appeared in front of her and she began to pet it and said.

“Papa, Mama said to keep this a secret but imma tell you. She had red marks on her arms. It looked like a kitty gave her a boo boo.

After hearing those words Gyeong seok knew that something was wrong. After dropping his daughter off he ran home to see if what he thought was true.

You were cooking dinner and suddenly someone barged into the front door.

“Let me see your arms”

“Why do you need to see my arms”

“Just show them to me.” He said in a stern voice.

You had no other choice but to show him

“Why are you doing this!?”

“Well I thought you might not want to be with me anymore if I was a bad mother so to cope I began to do this” You said almost whispering

“Why would I ever leave you for that reason? I married you for a reason because you're perfect in my eyes. I'm also learning to be a father and loving husband everyday so don't think you're going through all of this alone.” He said as he held you in a long embrace.

You were in his arms crying like a baby 

“I love you” He whispered in your ear

“I love you too”

Jung bae- 

Although he’s always bubbly there's a serious side that would show at times and that time was now. He accidentally came into to the room as you were getting dressed and saw your bruised body 

“Y/N! WHO HIT YOU”

You looked at him standing at the door and realized that you forgot to lock it. He came in and sat next to you as he asked to see the bruises on your body.

“I did this to myself” you looked down feeling ashamed of saying it out loud.

He looked at you the brave person he had met was now a shell of their former self

“I want to help you so please don't do this to yourself because when you hurt yourself you hurt me as well.

He then helped you finish getting dressed and soon made you dinner before you both cuddled to sleep.

Jun ho- 

He knew something was wrong (he’s literally a cop) so when you started to wear long baggy shirts he had to find out what was going on.

So he asked you one day out of nowhere if you wanted to go on a vacation. He never told you where but he did say it would be a surprise. So after the long car ride you woke to the smell of the ocean and the sun beaming on you. You used to love the beach but now It was your worst fear.

He led you to the beach house that his family owned and after bringing all the louage in it was finally time to head to the beach. As he was waiting for you to come out of the bathroom he wondered if he was maybe overthinking things. When he heard the door creak you still had a baggy shirt over your bathing suit.

“Aren't you going to go into the water?” 

“Well um maybe not this time.” you said

“But you love going into the beach just take you have your bathing suit under right so just take it off”

As he was playfully lifting up your shirt he saw multiple cuts on from your stomach to your chest. You quickly pulled it down and just looked down.

“Is that the reason why you didn't want to go in… Babe, why didn't you tell me sooner.”

“Well…. because you have work and you seem to be busy”

“But I always have time for you. You mean everything to me and I want you to rely on me.”

“How about we get those bandaged up and later we can go out and have a dinner date near the beach.” He said wanting to make it up to you.

“I’d love that” You said giving him a kiss”

The Salesman- 

He loves to see the blood of his enemies fall, but not you he cares so much for you. He noticed that there would be blood drops on the bathroom floor which made him install hidden cameras in the house. When he would go back to check them he would see you enter the bathroom and come out after a few minutes with bandages all over your legs and arms. 

So on the day’s that you're not home he looks all over the house finding all the hidden blades and would slowly start removing them one by one until there was none. He even removed anything else that could be used. He even came home sooner so he could keep you company in the evening.

“What are you doing so early here”

“I just wanted to spend more time with you honey~” 

Without you realizing it you had stopped and it was now a thing of the past.

Sae byeok- 

She took it the hardest. Having someone that she loved dearly being in pain hurt her so much.

When she first saw the cuts and scars on your body she was mad, not at you but at herself for not knowing sooner. 

“I’m so sorry babe, how can I even call myself your girlfriend if I can't even protect you”

She kept apologizing non stop. You didn't want to see her like this. She was such a fearless woman and she was blaming herself for something that you did to yourself, it felt like a dagger to the heart.

You kneeled down and cupped her face with your hands

“Hey! Please don't blame yourself for this.”

After saying that you got up and went to your shared bedroom and grabbed all the blades and brought them to where she is and you just threw them straight into the trash can. I don't want you to suffer for something that I did so please stop apologizing.”

You then went down and kissed her forehead. “I promise I'll stop this…for you.”

Hear is pt2!!! =^▿^= If you have any other characters you guys want please suggest them!! :3 ALSO let me know if you want to be tagged in PT3!!

[dross-the-fish]

Love Never Dies- Thoughts and Reactions

This might end up being split into multiple parts but I am not finished talking about Love Never Dies. I did give it a rewatch to refresh myself and...oof. This play needs to be taken out back and shot because that is what it did to every single character in it. NO ONE looks good. Not even Christine. Let's start there. Let's talk about what this show does with Christine because we have completely reduced this character to nothing but her voice. What does Erik miss about Christine after ten years of pining? Her voice. He just wants her to sing for him one more time. The only thing he ever really mentions about Christine is her voice. Though I can't really fault him because if we're being serious about Christine's character...

What does she have outside of her voice? Nothing. Somehow LND Christine has even less personality than she did in the OG musical. She is a cardboard angel that other people pine over, try to control, or envy. She has almost no agency. I said before, I suspect that Andrew Lloyd Webber hates women and Christine does not come out of that unscathed. She spends pretty much all of the musical being bullied by Raoul, mothering Gustave, or being threatened by Erik when he and she aren't reminiscing about that one time they banged 10 years ago. Seriously what even the fuck was "Beneath a Moonless Sky?" For a song about how two characters couldn't resist each other neither of them seem particularly filled with desire. Christine is recoiling in horror and disbelief and Erik looks like a 15 year old who thinks sniffing his crush's hair is peak sensuality.

Mmmm....sexy. But whatever. Christine says at the end of the song she woke up to swear her love and was ready to dump Raoul but Erik had skedaddled so she ran back to Raoul. You read that right. Christine was going to pick Erik after they banged it out and he left and that is the only reason Christine is with Raoul. Seriously Andy? You're going to make her regret picking Raoul over Erik when she didn't even actually DO that? Erik made the choice for her?

*internal screaming* Erik, seriously, how are you going to be upset that she's moved on with Raoul if YOU left HER? Do you really think you have the right to coerce her to sing for you one more time when you were the one who broke it off? The hell is wrong with you? Of course when Christine resists he immediately goes to threatening her child.

When I say Erik is the WORST I mean it. He is reprehensible in this.

But this is about Christine. We'll get to Erik later. LND Erik deserves his own post.

There's honestly not much more to write about Christine. She spends a lot of time cowering from or trying to appease Raoul. She worries about her son and her death is honestly so unwarranted. When I say ALW's work has an undercurrent of meanspiritedness I mean shit like this. Christine hasn't really done anything wrong. I guess she cheated on Raoul 10 years ago? But well she was going to leave him and only stayed because her first option bailed on her? She didn't do anything to Meg. She's been living 10 years in an abusive marriage and her crazy ex who kidnapped her came back to threaten her kid and coerce her to sing his music one more time. Then she just...gets shot. She dies. It adds nothing to the story that she dies. It doesn't feel earned or justified in anyway. It just feels miserable for misery's sake. It's almost unceremonious the way they ax her off because it's not even intentional. Meg misfires the gun because Erik fucks up in trying to talk her down. Christine's death isn't even about Christine herself. It's about Meg and Erik. It's such a useless and stupid death to give this character. How old even is she? Supposedly she's around 18-20 in the original musical (we're ignoring the 2004 movie that puts her at 16) and this is 10 years later? She's barely 30 but she ends up a casualty to everyone else's vanity, jealousy, and selfishness. I feel like we're supposed to find it tragic but it doesn't hit. It's a meaningless and undignified end to a character that was given no agency over her own life or her death.

[hai7ani]

yves!! the kpop anon here :p i dont know if you already got an ask about this, but what do you actually think about bonten trio? a lot of people say they wouldnt get along, but i like to think that they would😭 what do you think?

Bonten trio

Ngl realistically they don't get along well at all. Especially Ran and Sanzu who has had some kind of vendetta against each other going on since Kantou Manji, so I think it'd be hard for them to be in the same room long hours without some stuff breaking out. I do think that Sanzu in general is a very difficult person to handle as well, hence why. There's of course more stuff between him and the brothers that has made them so hostile with each other.

I think this also applies to all of Bonten in general like they're not bosozoku kids who rev bikes and fight idiots who badmouthed about them anymore. They're wanted criminals who kills and trade drugs/weapons/prostitutes for a living, drive million-dollar cars and stay in penthouses all over the world. They live looking over their shoulders all the time.

Extras

Lore accurate Bonten trio?

Bonten trio only came to be because they're the most popular characters in Bonten, but I think realistically the Bonten trio should be Kakucho, Kokonoi and Takeomi. These three are the real pillars of Bonten. One's in charge of money, one's an advisor who Mikey listens to a lot and plans most things since he does have ample knowledge of the underworld, and one's his left hand who oversees most things in the organisation. Think of Mikey and Kakucho as K-Drama My Name's Choi Mujin and Jung Taeju. Sanzu.... he's always off doing his own thing if not serving Mikey, so I don't think he fits into the list, or he even wants to fit in at all. He doesn't like anybody, doesn't get along with anyone.

Kakucho and Ran

Kakucho and Ran have a decent relationship since last time. They're able to sit together and have a drink from time to time, talk about life, but both are smart and clever enough to respect boundaries and not overstep. They are good with words. But one time Kakucho tried advising Ran on something that he thinks Ran is doing wrong/going off track and Ran got pissed. But they don't argue/go back and forth like Rindou and Kokonoi would, like in Helheim where they quarrelled in front of everyone because of a girl. Instead, a lot of passive aggressiveness and stern tones are used between the two. Sharp mouths and clever minds at work.

Rindou

Rindou doesn't care about anything. I've thought of this before and I really can't see Rindou being involved in the organisation as much. I do think that he tried leaving Bonten after witnessing Mikey kill someone (during the shift from Kantou Manji to Bonten after their win in the Three Deities) and realising the weight of all this, but couldn't, so he stayed, but he doesn't like it. He has the mentality of "I didn't ask to be here, so why should I care?" Something like that. He was only dragged into Kantou Manji/Bonten because South lost.

Kokonoi and Kakucho

Kokonoi and Kakucho have a strict business-only relationship. Other than organisation stuff, do not fucking talk to me. But they're cool with each other to say the least. Nothing wrong with each other.

Takeomi (and Kakucho)

Takeomi has that relationship with everyone but he and Kakucho are the closest/have the most interactions because of their positions (even though it's also pretty clear that they don't fancy each other, Kakucho only entertains Takeomi because he knows how to separate work and personal, Takeomi can't). But even so, Takeomi picks fights the most, probably because of his age multiplied by his position that he thinks it's no problem to order the executives around.

I love this specific panel in chapter 212, I really liked the way Kakucho talked to Takeomi here, like damn Kaku you're quick with it 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Rindou and Takeomi

Rindou thinks the guy has a special vendetta against him because he keeps biting on Rindou at any chance he gets.

Rindou and Kokonoi

The two have nothing to say to each other. The two might be tied together by some stuff that requires Kokonoi's help since he's in charge of finance, but Rindou thinks other than that he has nothing to talk to with the guy. All of them in general have had interactions with Kokonoi because of this reason. He's a cool guy, but it's strictly business-only (no money no talk) with him.

Mochi

As for Mochi...... I don't know honestly. I don't know much about him because his aura in Tenjiku and his aura in Bonten are completely different. No backstory given either like ZERO. All we know is that he used to fight with the Kawata Twins before Tenjiku and he's a fucking beast. At least for the Haitanis they have delusional-enough fans to make things up. But for Mochi???? Can someone share us some thoughts... I'm not in that radar 😭🙏🏻

Mikey

I don't have anything to say about Mikey because I still don't understand his mind even after rereading the manga. Like. I don't know if it's accurate to say that he doesn't care? He lets them handle things their own way, which to him is considered very lenient (he can be more fearful if he wants, but he doesn't need to, because the others already know better than to get cocky around him) and only gives out approvals. Maybe if he wants something or a certain territory he'll give out orders. But he still has his own methods for handling certain stuff. I like to think that all of them are constantly trying to live under his radar so that nothing troublesome happens. For example, they're handling some stuff, and the one thing they always say as a reminder (either to each other or to underlings) is to "make sure Mikey doesn't know about this" or "make sure you're doing it right. You don't wanna piss Mikey of." Just something along those lines. They won't involve Mikey for petty stuff

Lol i know anon only asked about bonten trio but i wanted to take the chance and talk about the others too. Lmk if yall have any other thoughts lets chatttt

[maxdibert]

Your canon takes are AMAZING!!!!

Say, what do you think teen Barty was like? Or any other Slytherin from the Marauders era. I absolutely hate how he's made into a crazy, spunky, weird caricature by the fans- he's giving too much Pinkie Pie from that old Smile video iyky and for no good reason. Like??? Wasn't everyone shocked to learn he became a death eater?? Implying he didn't show his crazy side??

What little we know about young Barty is that NO ONE expected him to be a follower of Voldemort. His father had him completely under his thumb—or at least, that’s what Crouch Sr. thought. In fact, Crouch Sr. boasts about what a great student he was and the incredible grades he got. It was a shock to everyone to learn that the son of one of the wizards who despised dark magic the most and pursued dark wizards relentlessly was part of Voldemort’s cult. So clearly, Barty wasn’t an eccentric twink flaunting his psychopathy with witty, sassy, and sharp comments, because that image has absolutely nothing to do with what we’re told about Barty prior to Azkaban.

I think Barty was actually quite an introverted kid who got along well enough at Hogwarts because of who his father was. He was very focused on his studies and always tried to avoid drawing attention to himself. He was terrified of his father, who didn’t inspire respect but fear, being the patriarchal figure of the family with a terribly dominant character. Over the years, he probably accumulated a great deal of resentment towards him. He didn’t feel loved or supported, and no matter how hard he tried to please him, it was never enough because, for Crouch Sr., nothing ever was. So, one way to get back at him, so to speak, was to take an interest in what Crouch Sr. hated the most: the Dark Arts.

It’s common for people who grow up in oppressive environments with parental figures who are more of a threat than a source of protection to develop anxious and obsessive behaviors. It’s likely that Barty learned his lack of empathy from his father, who never showed any understanding toward him. As Voldemort’s influence grew at Hogwarts, I think Barty gravitated toward some kids involved in the movement. Voldemort probably saw him as an asset: the son of a high-ranking Ministry official who could be used to extract valuable information. So Voldemort essentially gave him everything Crouch Sr. never had: attention, validation, and affirmation. Voldemort didn’t show him affection, but he didn’t reject him either, and he even valued (or at least pretended to value) his loyalty and talent. That was something Barty had never received from a male authority figure, so he saw Voldemort as a substitute for the father who had always intimidated and rejected him. This explains his unwavering loyalty and devotion to Voldemort: Voldemort gave him a purpose, but more importantly, he gave him value.

Barty likely kept a low profile, avoiding being seen with Slytherins or people who might be connected to the Death Eaters, and collaborated with Voldemort in the shadows. I don’t think he was ready during his teenage years, no matter how radicalized he became, to confront Crouch Sr. He wouldn’t have risked rumors about the people he associated with reaching his father’s ears. So all those silly notions about him being part of a Slytherin gang are absurd because they don’t align with what we know about him in canon.

No, not at all—Barty waited for his moment to graduate, and that’s when everything he’d been bottling up came out. At some point, I believe he developed psychotic behavior combined with a compulsive need to prove to Voldemort that he was worthy, that he wouldn’t fail him, that if Voldemort trusted him, he would repay that trust by being his most loyal follower. Voldemort had given him the security his father never had, and that was the most valuable thing in the world to him. So he was willing to do anything to repay Voldemort for the sense of recognition he made him feel. And all of this came with the added (whether conscious or not) satisfaction of destroying Crouch Sr.’s reputation and hitting him where it hurt the most.

And, well, the rest is history. I think this version is much more coherent and consistent than the cheap caricature the fandom has made of him.

[xadenviolct]

Well...

I finished it.

And I mean, I took as long as I could, since I really didn't want to get to the end--mainly because, like with Iron Flame, we now know absolutely NOTHING about the fourth book and I'm in a perpetual waiting hell.

But at the same time, I couldn't hold off too long, because with every day, the potential for spoilers being seen increases, etc. And the very, VERY last thing I ever want is for any of these books to be spoiled for me.

With that said...

SPOILERS FOR ONYX STORM BELOW THE CUT!!!

I MEAN IT! BIG SPOILERS!

ALL-THE-WAY-TO-THE-END-OF-THE-BOOK TYPE SPOILERS!

Because I'm putting my thoughts, my reactions, etc. (which will probably all be kinda disjointed, and rather lengthy, so bear with me on that...)

So yeah--

YOU. HAVE. BEEN. WARNED!

Now that that is out of the way--

(and yes, I've had that gif saved here for this very purpose)

First, I'll say this--

I am so very glad we got other characters' views in a few chapters. I absolutely loved getting Imogen and Rhiannon, (and of course some Xaden POV) and I know--I know that Quinn's death hit a hell of a lot harder because it was in Imogen's view than if it had been anyone else's.

I absolutely sobbed with that one. Like, put-the-book-down-for-a-moment sobbed. Liam Mairi dying type sob.

It was just... oh my HEART. HURT.

And Andarna deserves the world, okay? No one -- dragon, human, ANYONE -- is allowed to be mean to her, to upset her.

I will literally fight those dragons for Andarna, okay?

(Yes, okay, ONE of them wasn't a complete ass, but the others? I wouldn't have minded Tairn roasting them all. Or taking a few eyes.)

I was also so damn sure Mira would be dead in this book. Which, yes, okay, she kinda did-- but not really. The big "this death really hurts" moment was with Quinn.

Which I'm still reeling about, okay. It hurts!

I will also say that I absolutely LOVED the way the title got worked in at the end.

I mean, my heart broke, and I hated it, but I loved it. I definitely figured he'd fall farther by the end of this book--I mean, it would have greatly decreased the impact of Xaden turning venin at the end of Iron Flame if we went and found a cure and he got better by the end of OS.

So while I was still expecting him to sink further into that darkness-- That doesn't mean I still didn't want to yell at Rebecca for doing it!

Although--I think I might be willing to grant a bit of "okay" on it, because that final push seemed to be Xaden being all, "NO ONE TOUCHES AND HURTS SGAEYL."

Which I am 10000% for.

Saving Violet was the catalyst in IF, saving Sgaeyl was the catalyst in OS.

And I am also THRILLED that she didn't break the bond! I know that was going around as a possibility, that Sgaeyl was so pissed, that Xaden would turn deeper into darkness and she'd break the bond, but I'm glad she didn't.

I NEED more Xaden and Sgaeyl. I just do.

(I am also firmly convinced that Naolin did similarly to Xaden--in that he pulled from the source to save Brennan, he turned but his motivations were sort of in the right place, etc.--and Tairn had to break the bond or Naolin did or something to that effect and that is just another reason Tairn is so anti-Xaden (especially) in OS. Because he went through it all with Naolin, and he knows (in that "I'm Tairn and I know everything" way) that there is no cure, no saving, etc. But he also trusts Sgaeyl, Violet, etc. at least enough to let them walk this and not just torch Xaden outright.)

AND XADEN'S MOM WAS IN THE ISLE KINGDOMS!

I mean, there is still more there, I know there is. There's more to the story of why she left, why she never said anything, etc. etc.

But that was definitely a complicated bit of emotion in those chapters.

There are also so many more questions I have about Violet in regards to Dunne, to the temples and the gods/goddesses in general. Like, I know I need to reread OS too, with note taking and close watch and all that, but I still have questions.

What does it all mean? Theophanie was also built up as a major player and then she... dies. So now I wanna know who is even bigger than Theophanie--or is it going to come down to a Xaden versus Violet moment?

That will definitely be a very. giant. painful. moment.

And was it Garrick at the end? Or Bodhi? I'm pretty sure it has to be one of them, right? Like I said, I'd have to reread the whole thing--and especially that chapter with Xaden--but those are the only two that would fit his inner thinking criteria:

Male (since it mentions as a "brother")

Someone who'd known what he was struggling with (a la turning venin) for months, so basically from the beginning.

Someone he never would have ever thought would do it

I feel like it's Garrick, over Bodhi. Because Garrick left Imogen in Draithus, we didn't hear/see him again, and he's "missing" in Violet's chapter at the very end. (I cannot remember if Bodhi is mentioned or not...)

But it has to be one of them, right?

And now I wanna know why--to both of them! Either of them! Whoever it is--TELL ME WHY!

Pancheck is dead now, too, right? I was so sure it was gonna be Daddy Aetos being the asshole traitor but at the same time, maybe I just wanted to really really hate him for every other reason.

Still don't quite know why it was Pancheck--I'm pretty sure I missed several clues, that's for sure--but at the same time, he did know everything. He was perfectly positioned to be the traitor and all that...

And why was that the ending?

I seriously turned the page, and saw the "acknowledgements" starting on the next one, and I was all--

You have GOT to be fucking kidding me! That's it?! That's where it stops?!

I need all the answers.

What happened to make Violet ask/tell Imogen to take her memories? What happened in those "missing moments" to bring us to that point?

At what point did Violet tell Imogen to take the memories? WHAT memories (specifically) that happened in that missing time?

I knew I'd be completely reeling by the end of this book, but I didn't realize I'd be reeling this much!

And VIOLET'S SECOND SIGNET = INNTINNSIC!

Type of, but yeah. We're still going with that.

There are way too many things about inntinnsics that we don't know because of them being killed the moment it manifests, so yeah-- still many more questions.

And that is one damn powerful signet!

Now, I wanna know if she hones it, works on it, will it only be in dreams? Like, she can apparently meddle in them, influence them (subtly, perhaps, right now, but yeah--) so if we call it a dream-walking inntinnsic (or whatever "official" name the signet gets, IDK), but that's right now, right at the beginning.

Is it possible that she could meddle in conscious thoughts?

Aaric having precognition was something I figured out rather quickly, though; especially by that point when he tells Violet to guard Dunne's temple, etc.

It's like "oh yeah, he knows future things, etc."

And finally--

MARRIAGE? Wow!

I mean, I was kinda getting the vibe that it would happen at some point, sure. And then especially with that chapter's heading being about lieutenants marrying right after graduation, etc.

I just need to know the details. I mean, we all do, I'm sure, but when did that happen? Like, officially happen?

How?

Tyrrendor is protected because it's Violet's, by marriage (I'm assuming) and Xaden knows she'll do right for the people... But again, WHERE IS BODHI?!

What the holy fucking hell happened?!

Everyone knows Xaden is venin now, of course, and apparently a powerful one too. Is it possible to skip over steps? Like, can you go from an initiate level straight to a Sage (bypassing the asim level) if you channel enough and/or are powerful enough?

Again, I need to reread certain parts especially, but I'm getting the vibe that Xaden didn't just up a level. Or if he did, he'd been asim longer than we initially realized, so he's Sage level now...

I. DO. NOT. KNOW!

And I have so many questions!!!!

[my-stories-vault]

Chapter 6 ~ The Supernatural Wars.

Pairing: English Dean Winchester X English Reader

Blurb: When the residents of this Earth found out that they were but a draft in God's numerous stories, they decided to make noise in hopes that their creator would return. Nothing can be louder than the begs of the powerless, the cackles of the ruthless, or the unending destruction left in the wake of the most merciless wars any universe can ever see—here the bloodshed never ends. So, tell me how can two young soulmates, then, find love's shade of red under all this crimson gore?

Warnings/Trigger Warnings (18+): Language, gore, voilence, major and minor character deaths, thoughts of suicide (not graphic), substance abuse (alcohol and cigarettes), mentions of wars (I mean, it's in the name).

{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }

Chapter 6: Out Of Control.

It was nothing like you'd ever witnessed. People roamed in broad daylight, milling about teeming lands of grass, laughing and chatting. The land hugged a castle in the center and then was surrounded by more trees equidistantly from all sides in a circle.

The castle was nothing like yours. While you had been given a towering apartment building that only looked like a castle, this palace was an actual freaking castle. All that was left to make it royal were actual ponies and rainbows and princesses.

Well, you supposed you were sorta a princess now that this place was also technically yours . . .

'Aren't people scared of being zapped by lightning?' you asked premierly. It was only you, and every one on Dean's team in one of the BMWs while the other Leader was in his Baby with the whole of your team. "Bonding" as Sebastian liked to call it; you just thought that he was having way too much fun with the rearranging of people - it was too much power.

'The place is warded,' Raya said. 'And for what wards can't keep out, magic does. Angels don't see anything but a clearing right here.'

'Magic?' you frowned.

'We have in-palace witches, of course,' Dakota said with a smug grin. He was supposed to be the charming fellow.

From what you'd learned till now from this lot was that no one except Sebastian stayed with Dean majority of the time. There wasn't a "team" per se, just various team-ups based on which hunter was free when; for instance, Raya, Reed, and Dakota hadn't been hunting when they were offered this almost month-long "case".

Another uncomprehending discovery on your part was that taking care of Dean was no one's full-time job here. Not even Sebastian's. Everyone was free to do whatever they pleased so long as they finished their hunting quota and didn't disobey Dean if he ever issued an order. It was mostly democratic here, many suggestions were heard before Dean picked one.

Hell, even Dean had a hunting quota. Apparently, he didn't spend much time in one place. Always moving from one place to another, and he was popular for taking the toughest cases and wars. Even when the pager was quiet, he would venture out for the smaller cases alone and finish off nests in the dead of the night - not returning to his palace for months sometimes.

'That's . . . ?' Wrong. But you couldn't say it.

You were prosecuted for giving away a land that was a liability to humans and Dean was trustworthy after using witches on the land that he lived on? How was that fair?

None of Dean's team were unfaithful, was how.

'Cool, right?' Reed said, stoicly - you didn't know if he was being sarcastic. He was a taciturn, grumpy man who was dating the insolent Raya. They had two children out of wedlock in the Hunter's Programme.

'It is cool,' Sebastian said. 'We believe in believing that even monsters are tired of these never-ending wars like we are. I mean, don't you like imagining a world where there were peace?'

'Peace is a myth,' Raya said. 'Do you really think all our problems will go away without the wars?'

'No, but we would have simpler problems,' countered Sebastian. 'Like, what should I eat today? Or should I ask the girl out? I shouldn't be thinking about my will as soon as my first paycheck comes in.'

'If we don't have wars,' you indulged, 'wouldn't we all be jobless?'

'Maybe,' Sebastian said. 'But we would have lives.'

You couldn't imagine that. Your whole life, you'd worked to be a Leader of the wartime. As a hunter, a world without monsters was purposeless to you. You would have no reason to exist anymore - it will all be empty, a complex nothingness.

Your mother disapproved of these notions as well. She had encouraged Seth to chase a monster that would lessen the problems of humanity, but wouldn't eradicate them. She believed in playing smart. Just like she approved of B/F because B/F had selected a strategic monster.

The couple had awed everyone for their large achievements, and they had saved about a million lives, only not the world.

This was also the reason why Dean peeved her. Because he saved the world by murdering Amara. While those words won't ever see the light of the day, you could clearly see her mouth twitch at the corner upon Dean's name.

It was an expectation you had to make true too; you had five years for it, based on the loose timeline your mother had given you.

'We are here,' Reed said, as the car pulled to a stop in front of the proud castle, amongst the abundantly stretching greenery. The double doors were set apart from the driveways by a graceful staircase.

Raya and Reed were holding hands as they hurried out of the car and sprinted up the staircase as if the car was on fire - you assumed they were just that happy to see their children. The staircase was already occupied with people coming out of cars before and after yours, and some others who were going to and fro between the castle and the grounds. Dakota took his sweet time unloading his bags and then headed for the group of girls chatting across, on the staircase.

Your people were collecting at the tail end of your car, with their bags, huddled, waiting for your instructions. Sebastian was waiting for you to get off so that he could park. Your three cars had followed Dean's Impala to get spots in the garage just around the corner.

'I know what you're thinking,' Sebastian said. He could guess that any person would be nervous or intimidated.

You sighed. 'If they'd given the New Law before we traveled cross-continent, they would have saved our time.'

He snorted. Okay, he didn't know you were thinking that, but then he should've known you'd think little beyond work. 'Right. Well, we can only focus on what time we do have now.'

'True. But they also wasted resources,' you frowned.

Sebastian was about to politely ask you to suck up when it struck him - your definition of resources.

It wasn't money or weapons, all the Leaders were inherently filthy rich. You were talking about people as resources. As he tried, he found the thread of your trauma and pain laid under layers of weathered masks.

'That's always a tragedy,' Sebastian said soberly. He took your shoulder and squeezed making you almost jump out of your seat. You blinked yourself to a glare.

'That's right,' you said, brushing off his hand, not so subtly; Sebastian realized his mistake.

You left Sebastian to mull you over while you retrieved your bags.

You already knew the rooms and the ways to reach them, courtesy of the blueprints Sebastian lent to you. You would make good use of them since there weren't maids to tend to people exactly like they had done at your place.

You set your jaw before you could bring yourself to knock next to the nameplate. Sebastian's cheerful face peeked out and then his half-naked body greeted you as he let the door open. You tried not to gasp at the inappropriateness.

'Come on in,' said the towel-clad man.

You checked the hallway to see if you could drag someone else in. When you found no scapegoat, you opted to leave the door open when you took three measured steps inside.

'What's up?' he asked, in front of the mirror, drying his hair with a smaller towel. The rest of his body was still dewy after his apparent shower.

You averted your eyes to the full-length windows that oversaw the balconies. 'I-I-I didn't see any Offices on the blueprints.'

'Oh,' he threw his hair towel on the bed that was already cluttered with various objects. Your mind was already trying to decide how you would clean the place if the room were yours; the hand towel would go in a hamper for one.

'I'll take you in five,' he said, walking to the bathroom to hopefully dress up. 'Make yourself at home,' he said over his shoulder before shutting the door.

Your gaze swept over the room - it didn't make sense that a Governor would own this. You contemplated taking his words to heart and cleaning the area. Your dignity immediately vetoed the idea. You settled for closing the door and waiting outside.

'Have you ever seen a shirtless man?'

Your wide eyes met his curious ones. 'Excuse me?'

Sebastian shrugged. 'Beside me.'

Could you have him arrested too?

'I will not be answering that,' you huffed.

'You kinda just did,' he said.

'Do you have no manners?' you were exasperated.

His lips curled, 'Table? Sure I do. Social? Iffy.'

You rounded on him, squaring your stance. Your heels allowed you to reach a little above his chin, but he still had to look down at you.

He pressed his lips to not chortle.

'Listen, Mr Slay,' you said with the edge of a threat, 'I don't know how you operate with Mr Winchester, but you will treat me with the utmost respect from here on forth - is that clear?'

Sebastian wanted to add, "Or what?" but he decided that he'd played with you enough that day. If he was going to annoy you, he might as well let you grow a gradual immunity to him. Matter of fact, that was how he got Dean to like him.

'Yes, ma'am.'

It took him another minute before he could get you to the trailhead at the edge of the forest behind the castle.

'You go straight for five minutes and go left for another ten minutes. Yours is the one on the border.'

'You've made Offices in the jungle?' you asked, feeling horrified.

'Sets the tone,' he said casually. 'I'm going to go eat. If you see a monster, you've gone too far.'

You were too prideful to ask for better guidance, so you watched him jog away while you unslung your bow.

You didn't think you were lost, you knew the way back, you just didn't know the road forward. You'd been walking for twenty minutes and to no avail, there wasn't a single house in sight. You didn't reach the first person until ten more minutes of mindless excavating, it was around the time you'd been considering giving up and heading back anyway.

'Hey,' you said, trying not to be too expressive of your relief. 'Hi, I'm with the castle. Could you tell me where the Offices—?'

The woman in front of you curled back her lips in a growl-cum-hiss, her monster teeth descending over her make-believe ones, her eyes synthesizing into snake-like slits that were feral from going hungry for days.

You slid to your knees when she charged and you easily stabbed her with your arrow into her heart, the silver twisting with your wrist. You got out from under her to be jumped on by someone from behind. The forest floor smacked into your cheek and you grunted, but your hand had found your dagger and it was already inserted backward into her body, you twisted it to let the second, partnering Vetala crumble atop you. You crawled out from under her, dusting your dagger off from her caved-in chest cavity.

You sensed the presence before the hand encased your shoulder. You whipped about with your weapon raised, and it clanged against another sliver-iron blade before it could decapitate . . . Dean.

His eyes looked beyond you and on the two dead bodies. He seemed impressed; Vetalas were superior in strength, and agility, and had a great venomous bite - if you didn't act fast, you would never act at all. Besides silver, you learned that ravenous hunger was also a weakness for them, as it was for most monsters in this warring world.

'You're a good fighter,' he said.

'You don't have to sound so surprised,' you gritted, adding more weight to your evenly curved knife to prove your point. It didn't budge Dean's strength but he raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement.

'Duck,' he calmly said. And you released all energy from your feet to fall even before you'd fully processed his words. You heard the shriek above your head as Dean used his silver sword to impale the newcomer. You were more focused on Dean's feet though, there was another set behind him, in an attacking stance, gaining on him.

Your legs swept out Dean's from under him. He lost his balance and fell backward right onto the monster, knocking the male to the ground. You used your momentum to somersault diagonally over Dean's frame, your faces aligning a foot apart for a second before you were straightening and plunging the dagger down so that the rousing Vetala would never wake again.

'Was that completely necessary?' Dean groused as he sat up.

'No; just as your surprise wasn't,' you said, feeling smug. Your expression fell when you heard more unseen hisses follow.

'How big can a Vetalas nest be?' you asked.

'With our economy and luck?' Dean scoffed; shouting: 'Run!'

He was on your tail, his sword flashing dangerously. You kept an arrow nocked in your bow even if you planned to use your daggers primarily - since if you shot a Vetala, they'd need the weapon twisted into their hearts to fully die anyway.

Dean was shouting instructions from behind you until you reached a rope ladder. You started climbing at a run. Dean forewent the rope and was clawing his way up the bark, somehow faster than you were.

By the time you reached the top, Dean was kneeling with his sword raised, his eyes trained under you. You scrambled to get your legs on the platform that was made over the branch of this tree. Dean's sword swished inches below you and got stuck into the Vetala's heart that had chased you up. Dean let it go with a twist and it fell atop its partner who screamed in grief and horror. You cut down the rope ladder so none of them tried to climb up again.

With delay, you noticed the railing; it was a watchtower that Dean had shooed you onto.

'Help me dismantle this thing,' Dean ordered, already striking blows on the screws that held your platform up with a pocketknife.

'We lost them!' you exclaimed in alarm.

'We compromised our position,' he said, nodding towards the trees beyond the enormous trunk of the one you were on. 'If we leave this place, they'll track us back to our treehouses.'

You couldn't argue with that logic no matter how much you'd've liked to. Even now, the Vetalas were clamoring under your position for a drop of blood and the flesh of your meat.

'I,' you swallowed with difficulty. 'I don't know how to swing away.'

'I know,' Dean said, untying a knot around the trunk. 'I remember.'

It took you a moment to stare at his profile to understand that that was the exact reason he'd left a rope ladder for you to climb up with; no one else from his side knew about your climbing problem yet. You pulled yourself to your feet and started working on the other ropes.

'How long were you watching me walk off the wrong path?' you asked, unable to keep disdain from your voice.

He shot you a "get-real" look. 'I wasn't. I saw you from my window, and then I saw the monster. I brought you here instead of the offices so we wouldn't lead them in.'

'How did you know it was a monster?' you demanded next.

He gave you a wan look. 'No human walks on the ground unless it's enchanted, Y/N.'

He said it so obviously that you felt like facepalming. If you see a monster, you've gone too far.

Monsters are usually kept away from human civilizations unless they've gone feral. Or unless you walked into their territory. You were so used to owning the lands that you didn't realize that all the humans would be on the trees here. If you'd run back, you would've easily exposed all the treehouses to the Vetalas, so Dean had given you a lucky break by saving you.

'Thanks,' you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. Dean either didn't hear you or he ignored you; either way, you were grateful.

'Do you trust me?' he asked when all the ropes and screws were undone. He held up a hand for you to latch onto, his other hand grasping onto the single last rope that still kept you uplifted on the teetering platform. You had your own hands clutching the bark of the tree as if that would keep you from falling the thirty feet. Heights never made you nauseous until they resembled death.

Between death and Dean, you would gladly choose the latter; 'No. But I don't have a choice.'

His lips curved into an almost snarl, he shook his head. 'You're unbelievable,' he said, guiding your hand around his waist so that you were holding him from behind.

'Thanks,' you said pettily. You didn't see Dean's eyes roll.

'Hold tight,' he said, checking your grip.

You had to stifle your yelp of terror when he let go of the rope and the construction under you unravelled. But you were already flying. Dean's hands changed branches, and your eyes squished shut, holding onto him like a vice. Wind rippled your pony in short bursts and every rise and fall made your stomach swoop with fretful adrenaline.

'Alright, get off,' Dean tapped your hands, panting from exertion. You opened one of your eyes like a cartoon character and glanced around him to check that it was indeed safe to let go. You then pushed away from him like he was made of hot coals.

He turned with a sigh and a hand through his hair. He laid a critical eye on you while he caught his breath. He wouldn't be winded normally, but with the added weight, he'd felt the strain in his arms and the roughness on his palms.

'How do you not know how to climb trees?' he demanded.

You frowned, 'You didn't care before.'

'I didn't know you were a Leader then,' he pointed out.

Your lips curved further down. 'I'm a quick study, Mr—'

'That wasn't my question,' he cut you off, stubbornly waiting for the correct answer.

You exhaled sharply, your eyes veering over his shoulder. '. . . We didn't think it was important.'

'We?'

'My mom,' you sighed. 'In her defense, we didn't think I was going to ever be deployed.'

'You were next in line after Gordon,' he reasonably said. 'You were the most significant candidate. Even Seth knows how to climb trees.'

You crossed your arms. 'That's different. He's a Firstborn.'

'And you were first-in-line. It would be acceptable if you didn't know how to make ground-level construction, or even underground, for that matter. But you were an heir to Europe - you should know about treehouses!'

Ground-level houses were a feature of Asia and underground was a strong suit for America. Treehouses were a proud European quality. So on and so forth. While all the Firstborns were compulsorily made to learn all forms of living, the first-in-lines were given the education of the Continents which they may or may not rule one day.

Your parents just found that a waste of time and energy, especially on you. They were gamblers of sorts, risk-takers for a better word - and they took the risk of never educating you about treehouses, letting your skills instead be used on the battlefield just because there was a large chance you'd never leave America and instead serve as a hopefully valuable hunter to your brother for the rest of your life.

'I'll learn it,' you assured Dean with a taut jaw.

'That's not the point,' he said, exasperated with you. 'You almost got yourself killed.'

You winced at the accusation. 'I understand that I threatened the sanctity of the Offices. I'll refrain from entering until I learn—'

'You're not listening to me,' he said, an octave higher as if you weren't physically hearing. 'You almost died.'

'I know. That's bad rep, I get it.'

'No!' he threw his hands up in frustration. 'It's like talking to a wall,' he turned away, telling no one. Your fuse sparked as it often did around Dean.

'Excuse me?'

He met your steely gaze. 'Is anger the only way I can get you to speak human?'

'If you mean irrationally, then you're on the right path,' you said, your hand on your dagger that you barely resisted the urge to pull on him.

'Do you ever listen to yourself?' he got in your face despite noticing your hand on the offensive.

It was with a magnanimous effort that you kept your mouth shut. You felt like your head would explode with the veins throbbing in it.

He was your superior. No matter how much you hated it, that was the truth now. And you couldn't talk to a superior the way you would talk to everyone else . . . 

'Sorry,' you bit, lowering your eyes. It was a blow to your ego.

He took a literal step back in surprise. A wave of disturbance disrupted his fury. It was exactly what you should've said, but it was exactly what you wouldn't.

His brows creased. 'I'll . . . Let me drop you back at the compound.'

'As you wish, Mr Winchester,' you obliged.

He hid it from you, but his face fell. You had been his last interaction that didn't treat him like he was always right; you weren't supposed to treat him so formally, like he was so separate from you, so far removed. He felt like an alien again. His loneliness hit him square in the chest again, like the last person who could've understood him, failed.

It's your fault. Must be; he pushed you too far. He shouldn't expect anyone to get it, anyway.

No one needed you.

You were under the impression that the whole day, you would work with the people and then, at night you could practice on trees.

So far, Dean had left the palace for a high-profile case, in unspoken words, leaving the palace in your hands. But no one seemed to need you.

For example when there was a problem with the supplies; someone called Sebastian, even though you were standing right across the room. A supply run was organized and no one asked you on it.

All the major meetings were happening at the Offices. All of them were impromptu. By the time the news could reach you at the palace, they would already be done with it, and be gone on their separate ways for different cases.

Everyone kept going and coming back like waves of the ocean, chatting among themselves happily. Since your team's rooms were on a shared floor with some of the hunters, they'd been included in the hunts. But there was no place for another Leader.

You considered taking a case of your own, but as luck would have it, Dean banned you from cases without a treehouse skill. Something which you contemplated storming over to him about - but that would only make him angrier with you, you'd decided. He was your superior, and he could do what he wanted with you.

You tried to sway some of the crowd in your favor by going to a weekly bonfire. Not only did people refuse to talk to you properly, but they also talked behind your back, literally, and you heard several of them spreading ill-meaning rumors about you. You didn't bother showing up to make friends or save face again.

As a last resort, you dedicated all your hours at the camp to the safer side of the forest where children aging from five to fifteen would learn the skills to be hunters. Technically, they didn't have a category for you either, or any equipment to teach you. So, you picked a tall tree you liked, requested for nets from Salem, the instructor, and started learning on your own - experience was a better teacher than any human, anyways.

Benny's gifted gloves were stashed in the drawers of your room, so you were operating with the torn and abused training gloves from the basket they had at the entry of this little training center. They were abysmal: they stunk your hands and would occasionally slip on the rope—but you didn't want any reminders from the night Lay died.

You'd refused a harness from a concerned Salem and told her that a net shall suffice you. You would not be treated like a child.

If you wanted to be respected, you needed to earn it.

This was the line you would repeat every time you fell into the net with a force that would punch the air out of your lungs. The net was so hard that it also started leaving a small patchwork of bruises across your skin. It would have been good fodder for children to laugh at, had you gone in front of them - but you weren't leaving the training center without climbing a significant fucking portion of the tree.

'Lady L/N?' Salem called up to you. You were one-fourth of the way up on the tree.

'Yes?' you called back. Your body was hot and burning from the exercise that day. Your head was slightly faint from falling and from being forced to climb in a horizontal manner all day. Your fingers seemed to be developing ulcers. And the worst of all was the sweltering sweat that seemed to ooze from every available pore of your skin.

'We're closing!'

The students were sent home around seven but Salem tended to wait back until eleven. For the first time that evening, you looked up and saw the night sky.

You remembered having lunch at four, with the other children of the centre. You also remember how you took a plate, flustered with all the points and whispers in your direction, and ducked into Salem's cabin to have a quick quiet scarf down before you headed back to your training post - the tallest tree in their program.

You dared to look down now - it made your heart drop to your stomach when you actually saw the height difference. You swallowed, focusing on the mini Salem Rodriguez on the ground.

'Hand me the keys,' you said, like every day. You would be locking up.

She nodded. You tightened the hold of the rope around your right hand and prepared to let go with the other. She stepped back and made a motion to throw the object high into the air (at least seven feet, attributed to how tall the tree was).

A moment later, the keys came sailing across the air and you pushed off the bark on the swinging rope to catch it mid-air. You had to slide down a few paces and swing more to the right before you could reach it with a hand in the air.

You were so happy that you simply caught it that you forgot you were hurtling back towards the tree. Your right side slammed hard into the thick wood, your knuckles scraping harshly against it to make you lose your grip. And you fell.

Face-first, this time. The net hit your left side and you moaned in pain.

Salem wanted to rush forward like she did with all her other students - they would wear a harness and rarely fall on nets which hurt - but she knew how you would scold.

You took a minute before you shakily pulled yourself up, groaning. Some sweat got into your eye so you had to blink harder.

Salem gasped, 'You're bleeding!' She couldn't control her mother-hen instincts now; she walked, gracefully on one of the thin tightropes, balancing herself flawlessly.

You glanced down, but couldn't find a wound - then again, your eyes weren't focused. Your free aching hand reached your forehead brushed away the sweaty hair, but came away with blood. Your temperature was so warm from the exhausting day that you didn't feel a difference between the two.

Oh. A head wound, you frowned.

'I'm fine,' you protested as Salem crouched over you. She examined you despite it.

'It's not deep,' she breathed out. 'But you're bleeding a lot. I think I have a first-aid in the office.'

'Please,' you exclaimed. 'I don't need your help.'

She seemed to disagree. You silenced her by raising your hand.

'Shut the place,' you handed her the key back.

What a wasteful night, you thought. With much more effort and much less elegance, you walked out of the net.

You were brisk as you fled the center and practically ran across the safely marked trail back to the palace. You burst out of the trees and took the backdoor into the palace.

You were anxious to get to your room without any encounters - you didn't need anyone to know that you were injured even without going to any hunts. None of them would get hurt tree-climbing.

In your haste, you crashed into a large wall-like body. You cried out when it affected your right side this time. You stepped away holding your right hip.

When your eyes shifted from the chest your face bumped into, your eyes found the boisterous Sebastian.

'Sorry,' he laughed in amusement, but it died out soon. In the dark, it wasn't apparent, but when his eyes raked over your body, he stiffened.

'I wasn't looking,' you said, your own way of apology. You dropped your hands to the sides to not appear weak.

You made to rush past him when his hand caught yours. You hissed in pain when it tugged on your throbbing left side. He dropped it immediately.

'What's wrong?' he asked.

'Nothing,' you emphasized. 'If you could please keep this to yourself . . . .'

He raised his hands in surrender.

'Should I send Selina to—?'

'No!' you half-yelled. 'I can take care of myself!' You almost ran after that. Away from these meaningless concerns, away from this annoying and senseless small talk.

The hot water beating your body felt so much better. The whole time, you were fighting tears of frustration. Fighting, and succeeding.

This was just a minor setback, right?

Of course. Even if you had your own palace, you would have to learn treehousing and tree-climbing at some point.

People would need me there, your irritation barked back.

You hadn't done a single productive work in two weeks since you arrived here. Nothing noteworthy except the tree lessons.

You tried to console yourself by considering how well you were doing with the hammocks - the first lesson in treehousing. If you could sleep in a hammock all night without falling - it would be a success.

That happened once a week, at the center. The one time you'd gone, you'd managed your four hours without meeting the net they'd set under the trees. Of course, the real challenge would be to sleep much longer in there, like all the children were supposed to - but you were an adult, sleep was foreign to you anyway.

After that one night, just to make yourself feel a bit better, and to practice, you'd been constructing a hammock in your bedroom every night and sleeping in it in spite of having a perfectly well-constructed, largest-sized bed they could find.

You ruffled for something comfortable in your walk-in closet. You wouldn't admit this to anyone - and no one needed to find it out either - but you liked sleeping in shorts and a loose top.

The only advantage of less workload right now was that you didn't fall asleep atop a pile of books or papers, and certainly not in your work clothes. Now, you actually had time to change and time to choose where you wanted to fall asleep.

You picked the satin shorts and the buttoned shirt that was two sizes too large on you - it was your brother's, and when it got too small on him, you stole it. It was old enough that the print had been stripped after multiple washes. It was the only piece you owned of his; it comforted you on dismaying nights as such.

You also treated your wound and downed a painkiller along with a granola bar from your nightstand to avoid acid reflux from the medicine.

You were trying to decide whether you would read a political book or a monster book in bed when there was a knock on the door.

You froze first, in surprise. Then, you were annoyed.

Sighing, you headed for the door and hid yourself behind it, only letting your face pop out.

It was Sebastian.

'Are you decent?' he asked.

'I'm in my night dress,' you gritted out.

'So decent,' he pushed your door in, forcing you to open it wide.

You huffed, 'How dare—?'

'I see you bandaged it,' he pointed to your head. 'Good.' He suddenly shone his pocket torch in your eyes, 'Doesn't seem like a concussion.'

You batted his hand away, 'Mr Slay—!'

'Did you eat?' he cut you off again. 'You must've taken an Ibuprofen.'

'What does that have to do with your invasion of my privacy?' your voice was razored, and your eyes were daggered.

'I'm hungry,' he said innocently.

It threw off your anger. Just like Dean, Sebastian was another person who dared to play with your anger. At least you could scold Sebastian for it.

'I'm very close to filing a complaint that will blotch your reputation darkly, Mr Slay,' you warned.

He pressed his lips. To you, it seemed in fear. But he was actually suppressing his smirk because he thought it was funny.

'Maybe I phrased it wrong,' he said. 'Would you like to have dinner?'

You blinked in bewilderment.

Of all the things, you did not expect a dinner invitation.

'The kitchens are closed,' you pointed out. 'The cooks have gone to bed.'

The last dinnertime was ten o'clock. It was eleven-thirty now. You usually missed dinners these days because you would stay out till midnight to practice. In the mornings you would be ravenous with your breakfast - going in during the first slot at six while most hunters couldn't be bothered to be drug off their beds until ten.

There, Esmeralda, the Head Chef, and the only person native to this palace you could somewhat tolerate besides Salem, would whip you up something special before you made your way to the center again as the first student around eight - again, most kids wouldn't show up until ten.

'Aw, I think you'll like our new cook,' he said, with a grin that made you suspicious.

You debated the consequences of your actions before your curiosity won you over in Sebastian's favor.

He only gave you enough time to put your fluffy slippers on before he was chatting your ear off all the way down. You barely heard a word because you were fuming at him for not letting you change, and throw some make-up on. He said the food would get cold and that that would hurt the chef's feelings—something you didn't want to risk.

Inside the large, cavernous space of the kitchen, a single station was making the sound of pots and pans. One half of the room was dedicated to five hundred stations for cooks to either help the Head Chef cook food or to help themselves - after all, the palace consisted of about a thousand people.

Not all the stations were always used, with one-third of them leaving for hunts almost daily. But it was very useful in the days of balls and such.

The other half of the room was long tables of the mess which was only full to its capacity in peak hours. Other times, it was groups of people scattered about, laughing and chattering at the only time of the day when none of them had to worry.

Now, the room was empty. Emptier than the mornings. You never came to kitchen except in the slots because you didn't know how to cook - so, you'd never seen it like this before.

There were about five or six groups of people sitting wide apart, having cooked for themselves. Their disheveled appearance indicated that they'd returned from hunts. You envied them for that.

Sebastian led you away from the mess and towards the only working station on the other end. As you drew closer, you wanted to run away that much farther because you recognized the face.

'Hey,' Sebastian greeted. You wanted to clap a hand over his mouth because you still hadn't decided whether you should run or not.

A point that ran moot when the "chef" spared a glance from his skillful work.

Was there something this man couldn't do?

Dean's eyes locked on yours, and he stilled for a second.

'Hey,' he said, suddenly wary. 'What's she doing here?' he didn't look away from you.

You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you. His eyes danced down your figure and you became extremely conscious of your clothing choice.

To make matters worse, 'Cute shorts,' he smirked tiny.

Sebastian chuckled. 'You don't mind feeding another mouth, do you?'

Dean shrugged. 'So long as she tells me what happened there,' he gestured to his own forehead.

Another deep blush took root in your face. You were trying to remember a time more embarrassing than this. Both the boys were looking in your direction for an answer.

'I fell,' you said, your voice so low that the sizzle of the pan ate it.

'What?' Sebastian said.

You frowned scathingly. 'I fell during tree-climbing, okay?' you ground out, bracing yourself for depreciating laughter.

. . . None came.

'Too bad,' Sebastian said, leaning against a counter. 'So, we were on this pagen God case,' he started, and launched into a detailed narration of his recent-most case with Dean, with animated hand gestures and all.

It happened so fast that you needed a second to process it - he switched topics so quickly as if it didn't matter to him. How could this not matter to him - this was fuel against you - this made you non-perfect to be a Leader . . .

Dean only paid one ear to him, adding a comment or two to tell you the real version instead of Sebastain's exaggerated one.

You didn't know what to do with yourself. You weren't comfortable enough to lean against a counter, so you settled for standing stiffly still, with your hands by your side, as if in attention, about to start a march.

Dean added food to three plates when he was done and gave one to Sebastian, allowing him to take a breath. He gave you the other plate and walked away without a word.

'C'mon,' Sebastian enthusiastically said. 'And then,' he resumed, somehow still with some energy, 'Dean, the hero, saved the child by swinging over the inferno and grabbing the child by one hand. He threw the kid in the water and then swung back only to kick the monster in the chest and poof!' he made waves of fire with his free hand to indicate the incineration of the Feral.

'I'm not a hero,' Dean interjected, grabbing the first seat on the first table of the mess he first came across.

You didn't say a word. Once again, you were envious. Hunting sounded like such a blast and a good vent. It made you scowl harder at the food as you took your seat against Dean's.

Sebastian hovered for a second. 'Anyways, bye.'

Panic seized you, and you snapped your head up in alarm. Dean seemed to have the same reaction: 'Where are you going?'

'Oh, I promised I'd drink with the B2,' he winked. 'You know, Boa and Baz,' he explained when he saw the uncomprehending look on your face. 'Thanks for dinner, boss,' he saluted mischievously. And he walked away with his plate.

You never thought you would be upset with Sebastian leaving.

Now you were alone with Dean. He seemed just as upset as you. So he focused on his food, grumbling some curse words for his right-hand man.

You decided that if you shoved food in your mouth, it wouldn't have a place for your foot to go in.

First bite in, and you almost moaned. Your decorum held up, but you were flabbergasted by how delicious the meal proved to be. While you disliked the cook deeply, his culinary skills were extraordinary.

You tore off a few more bites of your scrumptious burger, wishing you could have good meals like this every day.

You loved Esmeralda, but she was an excellent European cook, and Dean's taste seemed to be more American. It reminded you of your homeland . . .

'Is it good?' his voice startled you for no reason. There was a thread of insecurity in his eye as if your response would matter.

You gulped your mouthful and nodded slowly. 'Yours is the second-most tasty burger I've ever had.'

He seemed equally offended, amused, and curious. 'Who's the first?'

You hesitated but he had so kindly cooked for you. Surely, you could repay in answers. Even if they were very personal.

'My father,' you admitted.

He looked surprised.

You offered a friendly smile, 'He cooked once for me. Well, if we're keeping count, he's cooked fourteen times for me.'

Dean tried hard to keep his poker face. If he knew that he could get you talking with food, he'd have done it a long time ago.

You seemed pensive. 'They were my rewards. For doing well in my training.' You mused then, 'Clearly a hard man to please.' You chuckled sadly then. 'I wonder what I did to get this,' you lifted your plate to show him with a self-criticizing smile as if that was supposed to be a joke.

His heart took a hit.

'I can cook for you as many times as you want,' he blurted out before he could think about it.

It confounded you. Your eyebrows raised, 'That's not necessary, Mr Winchester. I'm sure you have better things to do.'

Your walls had gone up again.

He couldn't stop himself, 'Can't you just take it when someone's being nice to you?'

'You don't have to do me a favor,' you repeated, getting more defensive.

He realized that the moment was lost. It made him sad and frustrated. And the most annoying part was that he seemed to care. For an inexplicable reason, he couldn't help but feel like he needed to care about you. And it was very vexing that you wouldn't let him - that you made it so hard for him.

'Fine,' he mumbled hotly.

With the atmosphere ruined, you both ate in silence.

He was getting up after he practically inhaled his food when another group passed by.

'Hey, D-dawg!' one of the men uttered.

'Hey, Sonny,' Dean grinned.

'Some of us are heading to the waterhole to kill some wraiths and have some dives. One day job. You in?'

'Hell yeah,' Dean said. 'Meet me out in twenty.'

They all approved in murmurs and exited lazily, laughing and cheering. Dean also felt excited, his previous tiredness disappearing.

His quota for the week was done, but he wouldn't say no to some extra adrenaline. Plus, it had been ages since he got time to swim at the nearby lake. It would be a good way to wind down after the Leviathan fiasco which was just calming across his continent.

It struck Dean that it would be a simple hunt. Despite his earlier anger, he turned to extend that invitation.

Only to find you had slipped away.

He saw you at one of the sinks, putting your plate in the dishwasher and then scuttling out of the kitchens without another look in his direction.

He sighed. If you wanted to be difficult about this, he couldn't help you. Slightly miffed, he cleared his own utensils and went to grab his hunting duffel.

You didn't see Dean for another month.

Mostly because you changed your schedule a little, allowing you to avoid the castle outside of the five hours where you needed to sleep for four and do the shower stuff for the other one. You were putting in extra hours at the training center because you were pissed about being benched on hunts. You'd even requested Esmerelda to store some food in the fridge for you at night which you could heat up in the mornings before anyone came to the kitchen - running a microwave was as far as your culinary genius went.

You were now proud to say that you could climb the trees - slowly, but without a freaking rope. You could construct a treehouse alone even if it took you a little more time than the natives to make and find the raw materials on your own. You could swing amazingly, lifting your own body weight gracefully; it was the best part so far.

Today was the first day at your Office after Salem had officially cleared you.

You adored your treehouse.

It had two windows for cross-breeze, and a desk with a chair that had excellent lumbar support. You had your own coffee maker. And even a little material to make your own hammock if you decide to sleep over. There was a short balcony with a railing that faced other treehouses in the area; you could see the Offices slowly filling with people who yelled platitudes to each other.

As the first one there, from four in the morning, you saw it all unfold in front of you, observing more than interacting. You also kept your door open as a sign of welcome . . . even though no one took you up on that.

Until noon, that is.

A lean, muscular figure trotted in.

'Hey! You're working!' Sebastian said as if cheering.

You shot him a dirty look.

'Hi, Lady Y/N,' Selina said, pleasantly, and much more formally. She subtly nudged Sebastian to behave.

As if Sebastian would ever change.

'Ms Doll,' you acknowledged, 'Mr Slay.'

'How have you been?' Selina asked softly.

'Good,' you smiled, meaning it for the first time. 'Did you climb up?'

She seemed to blush at that. 'Mr Slay was kind enough to offer a ride.'

'Ah,' you nodded. Selina or Sal or Lay hadn't needed to learn the tree-related stuff, and Boa and Baz knew how - they'd taken classes with Seth before joining your team. Most warriors knew how, yet as there had been a large possibility (according to your mother), that you would only be a wife to someone and not a Leader yourself, she had told you to learn it (when) if it was required.

You had stopped telling her that even if you were never a Leader, your chances of becoming a wife were slim to none. You had seen enough marriages to know how that shit ended.

'How can I help you two?'

'Well, I've been looking for you,' Sebastian said. 'Do you know we're hosting a fundraiser?'

That sent a jolt through you.

'Excuse me?'

'Tomorrow night, actually,' Selina gently said. 'You've been so busy at the center that we weren't sure you knew.'

So that was why you shouldn't avoid the people you don't like; it comes to bite you back in the ass.

'Well,' you paused, trying to swallow that pill. 'Thank you,' you said, mannered even if you felt like a deer caught in the flashlight of the hunter who would murder it.

'I don't think you feel good anymore,' Sebastian said. Selina nudged him again.

It nettled you enough to compose yourself. 'I will be there.'

'With whom?' he asked back.

Selina hurried to add, 'The theme is a masquerade. Everyone's with a date.'

'A theme?' You'd never had a theme before!

'Hunters like fun,' Sebastian shrugged. 'It was my idea,' he added, probably just to annoy you.

You scowled furiously at him.

Dressing was not the problem. The date thing was.

As if grasping for straws, 'What about Boa and Baz?' They were celibates. They'd sworn off dating and marriage and in general everything like that because of their magnanimous commitment to their Continents. It ran in their family.

'They're coming together,' Selina said. 'You can go with anyone platonic as well.'

'Would you like to go with me?' you asked, earnestly and relieved.

She turned tomato red. 'I, um, I—'

'She's going with me,' Sebastian said to her. 'As a date,' he had no qualms about declaring it.

Of freaking course.

It was all you could do to not let your face fall.

'I see.'

'I'm sorry,' she comforted.

'Please don't be,' you quickly stopped her. 'I'm happy for you,' you meant that, with like five percent of your heart. The other ninety-five was judging her choice.

She seemed to know your heart, but she gave you a tentative smile.

'Anyways,' Sebastian said. 'Dean hopes you'll show.'

You couldn't figure out if he was lying or not.

'We'll leave you to your first day. We hope it's good,' Selina said. You were grateful for her.

They turned to leave, Sebastian guiding your Chief Medic off to the grounds.

You sullenly twirled your dagger in your hands. You didn't want a date, but you didn't want to be the only person who showed up without one either.

Then again, you loathed the whole notion and concept of needing another person to do anything.

Oh, how Sebastian found new ways to torment you.

That same evening, you noticed the lights flicker on in the treehouse right in front of you. The closest one to you, and the farthest from everyone else's. In fact, even yours was a bit ways away from the others'.

People walked from one treehouse to another on ropes. There was a single rope to walk on, and two to hold at the midwaist level while you did. Only a few treehouses had planks to cross with. Most people swung away if they could. All child's play for natives here, of course.

You didn't know who the treehouse belonged to until a tall man walked out to light his lamp; you hadn't even known he'd been in there the whole day in the first place—he must be stealthy despite his large frame. You gazed at him, slightly distracted, impressed by his broad shoulders and bowlegs that went on for days, a lean waist, and a muscular build.

It wasn't until the soft glow of the fire that lit up his face that you realized you knew the man.

As if sensing your eyes, he looked up to catch your stare.

You couldn't look away fast enough. You pretended to get busy with the files on your table - you'd been given a stack from the treasury to distribute income amongst the hunters. You were on the eightieth file. The ones done neatly stacked by your feet. You would ask Boa to pick them up the next day.

When you sneaked a glance up, he had disappeared inside. You let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding.

Don't be a coward, your mind yelled at you. You had to talk to Dean anyway to tell him you were ready for hunts.

Grabbing a fortifying breath, you marched across the tightrope - or well, you trembled on your feet like a toddler walking for the first time, with a death grip on the side ropes. You were very happy when you reached the solid ground of his balcony.

You knocked on his door rhythmically.

When it swung in, he paused, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

'Y/N,' he said, a shiver ran down your spine, seemingly affected by his deep baritone.

Maybe there's a nip in the air, you attributed it to the climate.

Anyhow, it should be annoying that he would call you by your name. Formalities are necessary in colleagues.

As if demonstrating, 'Mr Winchester. Hello.'

'Hi?' he asked, more than said.

'I would like to discuss my joining on the hunts.'

'With me?' he quirked a brow, stepping in.

'Yes,' you told his turned back. You wished he would talk face-to-face. 'Who else?'

Sebastian, Dean thought.

'Right,' he didn't put up a fight though. 'How good do you fight?' he asked, retaking a seat in his chair.

'Well,' you said. 'My record is a nest.'

Dean opened his mouth but changed his words last minute. 'Are you gonna come in?'

You were reluctant. 'You didn't invite me in,' but at least you stepped inside.

Dean sighed. This woman.

'I don't care, okay? You can walk in any time you want.'

'If that's what you want,' you folded your hands in front of you.

He hated that posture of yours. He moved on.

'How big a nest are we talking?' he asked.

'Thirty in vampires, or seven Wendigos,' you smirked. 'Give or take.'

Dean liked those numbers. 'A night?' he confirmed.

You shrugged, but he could feel the smugness radiating off of you. 'Solo,' you added.

He nodded, sold. 'Alright. You can start when we have a hunt for you in the foreseeable future,' he told you. 'Or you can join a group that's going.'

'Oh,' you said, shoulders drooping. 'I thought, uh, I could start after the fundraiser?'

'Look, you and I - we only get cases no one else can take. If it gets too much for me, I'll let you have one, okay?' Dean said. 'For now, I'm good, so maybe you can entertain the idea of joining others.'

That diminished your hopes further. Dean took extra cases with people because he finished his own with bonus time; he was that good.

As for the other people: after that bonfire, you knew you weren't welcome.

He was essentially saying that you would never be hunting.

Figures, your heart panged; they never have needed you - only because you can climb now, doesn't mean that they'll start needing you. They must have far better people who can replace you here.

'Thanks,' you said with a tightness.

You looked beautiful.

A crimson satin gown that hugged your figure exactly, it had a sweetheart neckline so it perched at the end of your shoulder blades delicately. It touched your skin till your knees, curving to your body curves and slanting smoothly towards the floor. After your knees, it flared out backward like a train and grazed the ground from there. It was frilled, giving the gown a passionate look. It had white gloves that came up to your elbows.

Your hair was done up in curls, a few left out, purposely messy, that framed your face like curtains. And the make-up made you look like a doll.

These people didn't fail to make you feel like one too—like you were breakable and replaceable.

Patriarchy, one; you, zero. These were the same Governors who had wanted your advice back at your castle - in your jurisdiction.

With Dean's strong presence, many conversations had turned to compliment you and never returned to what actually mattered.

What was even more degrading was that they started to woo you. It was different to bring it up during the Debutant Ball; it's a devious occasion where everyone can unofficially court you. But this is a fundraiser, and you are not up for fucking auction - if only someone could tell these horny, lonely bastards.

You flounced out to the balcony with your third drink in your hand. May Lay forgive you from the Heavens above - but you were getting slammed if this is how everyone was going to treat you for the rest of your Leadership.

Your hopes to be alone and have a pity party were squashed when you saw Dean on the balcony, doing what you were going to.

Before you could turn around and hide in another corner, he noticed you.

'Y/N, hey.'

You silently cursed the Universe.

Your smile was strained as you walked towards him.

'Mr Winchester,' you said.

'Having fun?' he asked, dully.

You were about to lie through your teeth when you noticed that his attention was already elsewhere. He was looking at the moon, eyes lost, and expression contorted with . . . grief.

'. . . Are you?'

He snorted, sipping from his flute. 'Yeah. I'm the life of the freaking party.'

He was; everyone wanted two cents of his time. You wished you could be in his lieu. What was his problem? He had everything.

'What's wrong?' you pried.

He took a deep breath. 'I can't stand it.'

'What?'

'The fanfare,' he frowned. 'Doesn't feel like much time has gone by since Jess—' he couldn't finish the thought, so he finished his drink.

Okay . . . you were wrong - he didn't have everything. You had to remind yourself that people cared about more than their work.

You had just the one response but saying "sorry" had gotten you nowhere last time.

'Handling grief is the only thing that practice can't perfect,' you said.

He gave you a strange look for that.

'You sound experienced.'

'Aren't we all?' you gave him the ghost of a smile.

'You're doing a really bad job of comforting me,' he claimed. 'If that's at all what you're doing.'

'It gets easier, if not perfect,' you shrugged.

'So give it time?' he scoffed. 'That's your big brilliant advice?'

'No,' you said. 'Forgive yourself, it'll get easier.'

'What does that mean?' he stood straighter.

'Everyone doesn't move on for a different reason,' you said. 'You have survivor's guilt.'

'You don't know anything about me,' his jaw clenched.

'You're a survivor,' you informed him, 'like me.'

A buzzer cut his answer short. He fished out a pager, already distracted from you.

'I need to go,' he murmured seriously.

He rushed away before you could ask him if you could help.

You hadn't even finished your drink when you sensed a presence behind your back.

'Everything okay?' you asked, turning, expecting Dean.

But it was the French Governor: Neel Simone. He was a hateful fellow who had taken an apparent fascination with making your life hell.

'Lovely night, yes, Lady?' he said or sneered.

'I've had my fill,' you said, gesturing to the gorgeous scenery from the balcony. 'I'll let you have yours.'

He blocked your side-step. You shot him a glance of caution.

'Cut the shy girl crap,' he definitely sneered this time.

Your brows shot up.

'This is all your fault,' he accused. He stumbled a few steps towards you which was when the stench hit you, making you cringe immediately.

'You're drunk.'

'Well, I was supposed to be the Leader,' he snarled. 'But then you come along! Older by a fucking month!' he spat at your feet.

A piece of information floated to you.

'You're a Secondborn.' One of his ancestors was once a Leader, you recalled. His older sister had passed away when she was young.

Complicated and stupid rules dictated that only a Firstborn man could replace your Leadership. You were a Temp only till that time when a Firstborn man turned mature. Even a Firstborn woman won't take your place because what was the point of replacing a woman with another when they could wait out for a man on the horizon?

Unless of course, any woman, Firstborn, or Secondborn, or just off the street - whoever she was, if she married a Firstborn man already in the ruling, then no one could replace her.

A Secondborn won't ever replace you now because it was too overwhelming to shift between Leaders, man or a woman. The only way another Secondborn would replace you was if you were fired, or if you died.

You grew wary as you got the feeling as to why Mr Simone was here.

'They send a wussy like you from America - this was my only chance!' he yelled drunkenly, advancing on you.

Your weapons are in your purse, sitting next to your date's, Esmeralda's, purse, along with the damn masquerade masks. (Yes, you asked your sweet, sassy, widowed cook to go with you platonically.)

He had over three inches on you. With your heels, you covered that difference and then some. His inhibitions were lowered which would make throwing him off the balcony easy if you placed a kick right.

But then, like an arrow it struck you, Not my jurisdiction.

'Walk away while you can, Mr Simone,' you requested, as sternly as you could. He may not be able to kill you, but people will believe him over you, no questions asked.

'You're threatening me!?' he grabbed you by the shoulders. His bad breath hit you full force and you tried to step back, but he had an ironclad hold on you. You were extremely uncomfortable with proximity to this man.

'A weakling like you - how dare you - how dare they!?'

You were surprised his cries weren't drawing out any people; the ballroom was adjacent to this balcony. Then again, the music and chatter were booming from the inside, and the translucent glass was vibrating in celebration the last you'd seen it.

'I'll show them I'm worthy,' he bared his teeth. 'I'll show them I belong instead of you! You can't even lift a fucking finger against me!'

To your shock, he didn't attack you the "traditional" way. You realized with a shudder of horror that he was talking about assaulting you as another way to prove his manliness. His lips zoomed towards yours like a smelly insect you'd never want in your mouth.

You did what any woman would to a freaking rodent - you smacked him - across his cheek, making his skin ripple there.

His hands on you loosened.

'You bitch!' came his cry; to you, it sounded afar. Your ears were buzzing with anger - all you felt was disgust.

You didn't let him come any closer after that. Your kick landed on his family jewels, and he let loose a shuddering screech, falling to his knees.

You grabbed him by his hair and dragged the man forward to the edge, raising him to his knees by his joke-worthy strands, twisting them painfully.

'This is why I'm the boss, bitch!'

'I'll have your job!' he gritted out.

You were afraid of that. You smashed his head on the cement railing, breaking his nose. You gritted your teeth when his blood stained your glove.

'Say that again,' you dared him. 'In fact, go ahead. Tell them you got beaten up by a girl,' you teased. 'The one you're supposedly good enough to replace.'

His bloodshot eyes watched you with hatred.

'Here's what you're going to do,' you said. 'You're going to go in and pretend this never happened. Make a weakling's excuse for your nose.'

'I'll file a complaint,' he said with a watery smile, trying to assert his dominance even when he was on his bony knees.

You snorted in amusement - men never learn, do they?

'Go ahead,' you encouraged again. 'Then, I'll have no qualms about killing you like your most tormenting nightmare. And I won't make it easy either - I'll haunt you to the ends of the earth until you are begging me to take your pathetic excuse of a life!'

His eyes widened in realization.

'You attack me, I attack you,' you explained to his alcohol-addled brain. 'Even-Steven. You have my job . . . Well, nothing's stopping me then, is it?'

Suddenly, he started laughing.

It made you nervous.

You heard a sound when you realized that the music had halted. There were whispers behind you.

A terrifying prickle on the back of your neck gave you a clue.

Your hand released his head. As if in slow motion, you whirled about.

Officials were staring in your direction with disapproval, all their lips set in frowns. Dean, in lead of them, had donned his mask back on, but he had a grim look in his eyes, his jaw clenched in an anger you'd never seen on him before. He must realize what a huge mistake he'd made vouching for you to Mr Singer and Mr Turner now - and he must loathe you for breaking his unsaid trust.

Your previous threat was null and void to Simone because you'd just been found on the scene of crime literally red-handed. Now, whatever way the man twisted the story, they would believe him - because what proof did you have?

Your stomach seemed to fall out of your body, in fact, it felt like you were free-falling yourself. Tears started to corral in your e/cs.

You were doomed.

Your hands came to hold you up, crossing in front of your chest. This time, you wouldn't stop yourself from crying, even if you would go do it alone.

Because you'd just cost yourself your career.

If only you'd run instead of . . . .

'Excuse me,' your voice wobbled.

For the first time in years, you were crying openly—without covering your face. Tears were streaming down steadily, and you could only pay so much attention to know where you were going. You were also vaguely aware of people parting to make way. You heard your name being called, but it chased you away faster.

You thought of going to your room, but your heart had other ideas. Your legs carried you away towards the forest.

To the training centre: The Treexcel School.

You saw the lights on at Salem's treehouse, so you ducked out of that path. Heading, instead, for your tree. You didn't know what you would do there - it wasn't like this contraption of a dress would allow you to climb anything.

But you found yourself curling up at the base of the tall grace of nature. Sitting on the ground felt nice - natural. None of that swaying in the air, holding on for your dear life.

You missed underground activities.

After tonight, I might get deported. There, problem solved.

Your parents won't even accept you back in America after the stunt you pulled and Europe won't want to see your face now . . .

It was as if a dam snapped in you. The weeks of suppressed toils and troubles came a-knocking, knocking your heart down. Loss and grief ravaged you - all that journey, all that wasted time and hopes, all those lives . . . And it's all on you.

Despite having lost people along the way, you couldn't help but fear your mother's looming disappointment the most still. It was as if someone was squeezing your breath out as if your lungs were articles of washed laundry someone was twisting.

You hid your cries in your knees when your legs came up to your chest - helping you keep yourself together because it felt like you were falling apart.

And you let it happen because it may be the last time you're allowed to feel it.

A/N: What an ass, that French dude 😑. Btw, how do you think Dean will react 👀?

Tag List.

@hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @globetrotter28 @aylacavebear @emma1998sblog

[admirationandromantics]

As You Wish

Another request! Trying to keep up writing while doing school work, but this is the best I can do at the moment, lol. I have to say, this one does contain spoilers for one of my favourite movies The Princess Bride. Basically, you and Chris watch it together. Anyway, hope you like this.

Word count: 2,5k (unedited)

im evil and wanna give you this prompt real bad wether you write it or NOT Chris and reader- bonding over loving princess bride and watching it together. Flirting the whole time like "lol that's so us" "i know right.." leading to.. "as you wish" being said right before he absolutely RAVISHES THE SHIT OUT OF YOUUU -@brwnbnny

I grab the bowl, putting the popcorn in it while Chris gets the glasses. He puts the ice cubes in them, before taking the bottle as well and moving everything to the living room. I finish up before following him. He’s already sitting down on the couch, clicking on the controller to find the movie. I walk up to him, putting the snacks on the table. 

“So, have you seen it before?” I ask, sitting down beside him. 

“I actually have” he smiles, looking over at me. I give him a surprised look, after all, he doesn’t strike me as the type to have seen these types of films. 

“You’ve actually seen The Princess Bride?”

He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head a bit before meeting my confused gaze. 

“I have, hard to believe?” 

“A little. When did you see it?”

“Long time ago, come on, lets just watch” He smiles, leaning back, hand laid on the back of the couch, arm crooked open for me. I shrug, letting it go. We could talk about that later. I lean back, head nuzzled against his shoulder, legs plaid over him. 

He starts the movie, and since it’s not the first time watching for either of us, we keep talking during it. I watched intently in the start, loving the “As you wish”-parts, but eventually, his babbling won me over, making me join in on the discussion. 

“She’s literally treating him like horseshit” He says, taking another bite of the popcorn. I roll my eyes at him. 

“Character development, Chris” 

“She falls in love with him because he does everything she asks without complaint” 

“And you don’t?”

“No, I- ohhh…” 

“That’s what I thought” I laugh, kissing his cheek. He shakes his head, hand going to my neck, pulling me in for a real kiss. We don’t pause the movie, and when he pulls away, he looks me up and down, breath hot and heavy. 

“You love me because of more than that though?” he whispers, a small smirk playing on the edge of his mouth. I smile, biting my lip. 

“You know I do, Handsome” 

We continue watching, after several times having told him that nothing will happen until the movie is done. Of course he talks during the fight scenes, especially when they’re fencing. 

“Oh, imagine me with a sword!” he exclaims. 

“And now, imagine me with it” I smile, looking over at him. 

“That’s hot, but honestly, I don’t think you would’ve managed to lift it” 

I punch him in the arm, making him act jokingly offended and hurt. I shake my head before turning back to the screen again. The man in black is at the last test, picking which cup to drink from. 

“I actually don’t remember how he did this” Chris admits, leaning back and watching curiously. I keep shifting my gaze between him and the screen, watching his reactions. 

“Oh my god, can this guy just pick already?” He asks impatiently, sighing. I shake my head, putting my hand on his thigh, knowing he’ll soon remember the answer to the test. 

“Ohhhh, they were both poison…” 

Finally, the guy has gotten to the princess, and I take hold of Chris’s hand, knowing what’s to come. As the character bicker, I look over at him, his mouth finally shut while he watches the screen intently, fully entranced with their fight. 

“It’s him! Come on!” He yells, of course remembering the twist. 

“And she throws herself down after him? Oh my god…” 

“It’s romantic!” I argue. 

“It’s insane” 

“I would throw myself down a hill for you” I smile, and his demeanour instantly changes. 

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really” I laugh, leaning over, a playful smirk on my lips. His hand goes to my waist, pulling me closer. My breathing gets heavier, but he interrupts my protest to watch the movie. 

“Or maybe I could throw you somewhere else…” He whispers, lips ghosting over mine, his hot breath on my chin. I lean forward, kissing him quickly before pulling away. 

“You know, we never do pay attention to the movies we watch together” 

“Yeah, it’s a lost cause” He smiles, leaning over me, grabbing my thigh. My finger goes to his mouth, signalling for him to stop. 

“But this is the exception, because I love this movie” I state. His mouth opens, capturing my finger between his teeth, tongue making contact with it. 

“Christopher!” 

“Okay, okay! We’ll finish the movie” 

I laugh as we sit back up again, easily noticing the bulge in his pants and the small flush on his cheeks. Oh god, he’s adorable like that. I bite my lip, making sure not to rile him up more, knowing he’s not going to be able to contain himself. 

“We’re not going to survive!”  “Nonsense, you’re only saying that because no one ever has”

I look over at Chris, but his head is already turned to me, knowing what I’m about to say. 

“You know… That’s something you would say”

“I probably would”

“And the best part is that you wouldn’t mean it in a funny way, you would actually mean it” 

“Well, technically the odds are against surviving, but if no one has, then the chance is higher that you would. Let’s compare this to gambling..”

“Here we go” I sigh, putting the movie on pause to let him explain his theory. 

After he’s done, we continue watching, with the occasional input of “that's so us” or “that's something you would do/say”. I lay myself on top of him, nuzzling into his neck, the popcorn on his lap. As the princess comes on screen again, wearing a long light blue medieval dress, I point. 

“That’s my favorite outfit in the movie” I whisper, hand lowering into the bowl, taking a few pieces of popcorn. He hums, studying the outfit. 

“It’s pretty, you would look great in that” 

I let out a small laugh, turning my head to look up at him. 

“Are you saying you want to see me in medieval wear?”

“Haven’t you talked about seeing me as a knight before? This is the same” He defends. I force my attention back to the movie, now imagining him in armour. Fuck, this couch is going to get water damage if I keep thinking of him like that. 

We both watch intently as the princess about to kill herself, a dagger to her chest. And then, Westley interrupts her. 

“There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in the world, it’d be a pity to damage yours” 

I bite my lips to stop myself from bursting out laughing, the heartfelt moment when she realises she’s alive goes right over both of our heads. 

“That is something I would say” Chris admits, and I give him a small nudge. I look up, seeing his gaze is down on my chest. I grab his chin, tilting his face up. 

“Eyes up here” 

“Those are pretty too, but that wasn’t what I was admiring right now”

I shake my head again, leaning against him as his arm tightens around me. He doesn’t even try being subtle about looking anymore. I can’t even remember every time the others have caught him before I have, on group functions. 

The movie finally finishes. Over an hour of flirting and built up tension is released as the end credits roll, and he immediately pushes me down on the couch, body pressed firmly into mine. 

“Chris!” 

“Oh, I have waited long enough” he whispers, voice low, tone scarily firm as his hands wander over me. His fingers pay with the hem of my top, hooking then slowly moving underneath it. I already feel my body heat up, remembering all our talking and banter. He wants this so bad, and he’s been waiting for hours. So have I, panties soaked. His knee goes between my legs, letting me grind down on him. 

“Tell me, tell me what you want” he whispers against my neck, leaving soft, needy kisses from my jaw to my collar. 

“Take me… right now” 

“As you wish…”

“You don’t know what that does to me…” I whisper, arms going around his neck to pull him closer. His hand makes its way down under the hem of my pants and panties, feeling my soaked folds with his fingers. 

“Oh, I think I know” he smirks, closing the distance and meeting our lips. He dips his fingers into me, causing a loud moan to erupt from my chest. He uses the opportunity to put his tongue in my mouth, exploring every corner, and swallowing every single whimper. His thumb goes to my clit, rubbing soft circles, not too hard, but so soft that I push myself into him, craving more. 

“You’re desperate” He chuckles, noses brushing against each other. 

“For you? Of course I am” 

He lets out a low groan from my honest reply, the words sinking in, making him realise that the teasing would have to end. I know he wants me badly, we both do, so he might as well just give in. The fingers inside me hurriedly move out, making me feel empty and needy. 

Luckily for me, he doesn’t waste time, pulling off his shirt in a swift motion before working on me. I help him, sitting up as he drags my top over my head, revealing my chest. 

“You were not wearing a bra this entire time?” 

“No” 

“And you didn’t tell me?” He smiles, leaning over me again, groping one of my breasts harshly, taking me by surprise. 

“Fuck, Chris! Y-you seemed like you were already struggling through the whole movie” I whimper, throwing my head back on the couch. My legs go around his torso, pulling his pelvis into mine, our pants still in the way. 

“How considerate of you… Now, let me return the good deed” 

He sits up again, both hands going to my hips, grabbing the hem of my pants before dragging them off and throwing the piece on the floor. Body leaning down over mine again, he takes in the sight of my soaked underwear, hands caressing my inner thighs. Fingers slowly moving upwards in an almost ghostly manner, making a cold shiver run down my spine as I let out a needy sigh. He grabs my panties, and I suddenly hear a ripping sound, followed by the cold air hitting my wet heat. I look down, shocked. 

“You did NOT just rip my panties off?”

“Shut up, I’ll buy you new ones” He breathes out, seeming like he’s in a completely different headspace. 

“And judging by your reaction…” He moves his fingers over my folds again, throbbing with need. “... I just turned you on even more”

His tone is dark and husky, completely unlike his usual manner. Voice coming from the depth of his chest as he breathes heavily, as if even talking feels difficult. Without warning, he leans down, lips and tongue meeting my heat, pleasure running through me from every little touch. My thighs automatically try to close in on him, but he holds them apart with ease, groping my skin till it turns red. I don't even notice the pain of it, too obsessed with the mixed feelings coming from my whole body. 

My core builds up easily, considering he knows my body like he knows himself. Just too much. My legs give out, shaking as I finish on his lips. I try to steady my breathing, but he doesn't give me time. I didn't even notice him taking his sweatpants off. Instead of waiting, he uses the opportunity to coat himself in my juices, slowly pushing into me. 

We both give out loud moans, and he throws his head back, holding onto his base as he little by little goes deeper. Once he’s all inside, he leans over me again, brushing some strands of hair off my face before kissing me. I let him in, again trapping him with my legs around his torso, pushing him as deep as he can manage, making him hit my cervix. I gasp, the small pain being overrun by the pleasure of him on and in me. My arms go around his shoulders and neck, and he bends down his upper body, pressing us together and kissing my neck as he starts moving. 

“Fuck… you know to make me a mess” he growles, biting the skin on my jaw. 

“C-Chris…”

“Mmm, I love hearing my name like that” he whispers, his breath hot against me. I can already feel him getting hotter and sweatier, pounding into me while steadily upping his speed, almost making the whole couch move with him. 

My fingers run down his back, nails grazing his skin as I meet his lips with mine. I open my mouth, letting him in as I do the same, exploring him inside, dancing around each other. My hips buckle into him, back arched while he gropes my breast, the other hand going to hold himself up. His muscles flex as he does, making me want him even more. Blonde hair resting on his forehead, almost sticking to his skin. I bite down on his lip, making a needy moan escape him. 

He goes faster, leaning up and gripping my hips to push himself as deep as he can. His hands leave red imprints on me, matching the blue and purple suction marks and red bites. I moan with every single push. The roughness is getting to me, every pound making him hit my cervix, making me cry out in pleasure and pain. I don’t tell him to stop, I want him to do this, to take me. 

“I’m gonna…” He whimpers, unable to finish the sentence. I understand him, nodding my head as I try to keep breathing, head dizzy and body sore, but still activated from the ecstasy running through me. His thumb goes to my clit, and I grind my hips down on his finger and cock, craving the extra stimulation like I’ve never done before. 

He pushes into me one last time, thumb still rubbing my clit as we come at the same time, riding each other out. We both cry out, loud moans sharp before the deafening silence filled with our breaths. He lays on top of me, head on my chest as I wrap my hands around him, bodies sticking together from the workout. 

“So, I guess quoting your favorite movie really gets you going, huh?” He chuckles, tilting his head to look up at me. I shake my head in response, brain foggy and vision blurry. 

“Well, then you’ve got another trick up your sleeve then” I smile, ruffling his hair. He only laughs in response, grabbing my hand by my wrist and leaning over me again. He captures my lips on his, this time filled with care and comfort, the softness of it making me sigh. As our bodies slow down, the air feels colder. 

“Let's take a shower?” I offer, already getting up. 

“As you wish”

[youdontknowhowtodiequietly]

@tuehquestionmark hiya! i saw your comment and i'm addressing it in a reblog bc i hate writing long paragraphs in the comments (i'm on mobile so it's hell on earth)

Love the argument for Andrew as The Desolation. I can still argue for The Web and I'll get into that in this post, but The Desolation being his fear is actually such a good argument. I also agree Kevin can be The Web; I was actually going to say that in my initial post but I had just given The Web to Andrew and Neil so I thought it was a bit overkill. I think what we should bare in mind is these characters are sick as fuck (pos) and they have so many intricate little fears and I love them and Nora did such a good job RAHH-

Okay, enough with all that. Lemme explain my main point about why I think Neil is The Web, far more than I think The End is (I'm not shitting on your point, btw, I can totally see why his fear is The End as well)

I think The End was Mary's fear, through and through. It's why she ran in the first place. I know most people see The End as just the Death fear, but it can also 100% be the end of anything - a relationship, a project, a book. When it becomes a fear it is when you are terrified of what might happen After. Of what might happen to you, yourself, now that you have nothing you feel is worth living for. I think it can probably manifest itself a lot more in codependent relationships and the fear of them Ending.

Initially, Mary was not afraid of Neil dying, she was afraid of losing him and never seeing him again because she likely knew the conditions of the Ravens and the fact they have no contact with their family once they join. When they ran, however, it definitely also became about dying, but I think the core element of it was losing Neil for whatever reason.

So I think The End is Mary's fear, and I think her actions because of that fear contributes towards Neil's fear of The Web.

We see that Neil is a skittish little critter. He hadn't stayed in one place for probably for longer than 6 months, for about 11 years (I think he was 7 when they ran, and he was 18 when he joined the Foxes) until Palmetto. That shit 100% created attachment and commitment issues. He was terrified of getting close to people, because he saw that as a Venus Flytrap. He knew that if he got attached to someone, he wouldn't be able to run again.

The scary thing about The Web is, for the most part, you don't realise you've been caught until it's too late. A fly does not realise the predicament it has got itself into until it sees the spider coming.

Neil did not realise how close he'd got with everyone until it was too late and Nathan came for vengeance.

Nathan is just one side of Neil's fear of The Web. It's the one thing he's been Aware of for all those years. The Moriyamas' are the other side, and he did not see those coming until it was too late.

The Moriyamas', I think, are the true Spider in Neil's story. They have been watching for a very long time, but it wasn't until Neil got caught, struggling and screaming in their Web, that Ichirou came crawling down to see to its problem.

Neil gets out (some-fucking-how), but he knows that the Spider is only up the Web, waiting for his next slip-up.

Which I think is how Neil's fear can also be The Eye. Until Ichirou, his fear is being Known and Seen, and when Ichirou comes along, it's the fear of Always Being Watched. There's a bunch of fics out there of Neil getting injured on caught and think "But what about Ichirou?"

But I still think Neil's fear is The Web through and through.

neil josten's fear is The Web

andrew minyard's fear is also The Web