#also him being so happy getting to use the word psychopath

[ma1dita]

entropy

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.6k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where you both blur the lines between annoyance and admiration. You and Luke forge a promise of becoming partners in crime. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: something happy for the tl– this is the official end of the pre-established relationship arc!! contains two demigods hating their godrents and typical teenager mood swings (thanks for being patient during my hiatus! missed yall <3)

(posted 6/20/24, semi-edited)

—

Whoever said that finding where you belong is the key to happiness must have been lying.

That, or they’ve never known what it’s like to be a 15-year-old girl.

Sweat drips down the side of your brow bone in the middle of the summer heat. It’s a mystery why you’re still out here with the blistering itch of humidity sending everyone at Camp Half-Blood out to the lake to cool off during free period. You’ve never been friendly with the other campers anyway. It’s not for lack of trying—but toeing the line between being a total psychopath (because of who your dad is—THE god of insanity) and the biggest possible narc (also because of who your dad is—the worst camp director ever) didn’t exactly help your reputation in the past year of taking up space here.

And honestly… teenagers can be fucking mean.

The Aphrodite kids often laugh at your unkempt appearance, hair brushed only by the warm breeze and your camp shirt twisted and tie-dyed to your liking. You had a knack for getting into trouble with the Hephaestus kids after setting something on fire at the armory once… or twice. The Apollo kids were nice enough for as long as you’d sing a song—but there was no way you’d stick in the background arranging sheet music and playing guitar for them forever. Athena cabin was always too cool for you—with no one but little Annabeth Chase entertaining your endless chattering (but if anyone asked, you’d think it’s because they’re all sore losers when it comes to chess). The Ares kids were a little more your speed if only they would stop using you as moving target practice and the Demeter kids might’ve been nicer if you knew how to grow anything other than strawberries. 

It was nice to be included, you guess. Tolerated at best.

But it wasn’t the same as feeling like you belonged.

From the corner of your eye, you see Luke Castellan come back from lunch and dust kicks up from under your boots as you cross your legs in the lawn chair you sit in. Blinking harshly, you realize you’ve been squinting at the sun for ages. He’s seen you do weirder things since you’ve both somewhat acclimated yourselves to Camp Half-Blood’s culture, with you becoming a bit of an oddity as well as local entertainment with the shit you pull to get your dad to look your way. But it was something about the way you were so still under the sunlight that piqued his interest.

And quiet. You were never quiet.

Since you moved out of cabin 11 almost a year ago, his life has admittedly been a bit more peaceful, him finding his groove as a camper and…becoming everything that you’re not. Sure, he’s getting used to calling this place home, but where he shines, you’ve… struggled. Can’t say the same for him though—admittedly his life is kinda great right now.

If you needed a sub for volleyball, Luke’s your guy. Oh no, we need help bringing bushels of strawberries to the kitchens! Luke’s there to help. Someone needs a hand with sparring— there’s no one better than Luke Castellan! The all-star camper, and everyone’s best friend. He’s in talks to become cabin counselor by next year while you’ve had almost every punishment Mr. D can think of giving.

No dessert, shoveling pegasus shit, helping the nymphs on your days off, and the list just goes on. Sometimes you wonder if it’s your father’s way of keeping you busy so he doesn’t have to see you—it’s a miracle you haven’t been disintegrated yet by the god of insanity himself, but perhaps that’s both a pro and con of being his only daughter.

On his way out of his cabin, he stops short a ways away from the firepit, gaze falling upon the red tips of your hair hanging off the chair you lay on (chemically lightened by lemon juice and Kool-Aid you’ve recently learned to conjure). The piercings in your ears sparkle in the warm light—you and a few kids from the Hephaestus cabin pulled them off one late night with sewing needles and apples from the kitchens. 

It’s crazy what you can learn about someone by watching them from afar. Slightly creepy, and kind of concerning, but if anyone bothered to ask, Luke had an excuse for why he was always looking out the front window of cabin 11. The Hermes cabin was directly across the way from the Dionysus cabin, which housed its sole inhabitant, you. 

That in itself is a shitty excuse, he knows that, but… Luke worries. He knows he shouldn’t, but his eyes always subconsciously find their way back to you and whatever trouble you find yourself in—last week it was a pegasi stampede through the north end of the strawberry fields.

Yeah… you didn’t have a good explanation for that one either.

“Shouldn’t you be showing off and saving camp from a chimera, Castellan? Or kissing a baby, or something else super awesome and cool?” you mock, nose crinkling slightly.

He blinks, face falling as he stumbles off the porch towards you, a whisper of a smile still grazing his cheekbones. The sight almost makes you angry, really, and a part of him knows that he’s the bane of your existence. 

How rude of him to be good at everything and good-looking. Truthfully, it made his face very punchable, in your opinion—but the growing list of girls and boys that began to fawn over him after his growth spurt last winter probably think otherwise. 

“Only baby I see here is you,” he mumbles, pulling a chair up next to yours and flopping his dead weight into it, “What’re you doing here pouting all by yourself?”

Your eyes follow his movements and you can’t help but inspect all of him—from the lean muscles that ripple down his arms to the sweat that glitters as it kisses his cupid’s bow. 

He better not dare to kiss me even as a joke, you think, there would be nothing worse than that!

“Trouble? You know you scare me when you’re quiet. S’how I know you’re bothered by something,” Luke nudges your forearm jokingly, hands slightly sticky and smelling like cherries and smoke. His tongue is painted red from a popsicle he snuck out from the kitchens earlier. The sparklers he stole from the basement of the Big House still line his pockets.

No one ever looks twice at the golden boy, after all.

You shrug, kicking your legs under your bottom and staring back up at the clouds that hang overhead. Zeus could strike you down right now and you’d probably thank him. Death by the king of the gods seemed way more interesting than the personal hell of being at Camp Half-Blood you think, sputtering, “What’s it to you? Shouldn’t the camp hotshot have better things to do than hang around someone like me?” But the words feel heavy in your mouth, uncomfortable and clunky as you wet your lips with your tongue and clear your throat. Luke watches your eyes steel, turning away from him like orating a script to an imaginary audience. 

The world is your stage and you feel as if you’re but a performer that has to fulfill an act.

It’s easier somehow like this—to not let your feelings go rogue, or let yourself feel too strongly. All of your efforts have fallen short, despite your mother’s dying vow that these would be the best years of your life. But with one year down, sometimes you wonder if you’d stand a better chance out in the mortal world—hitchhiking your way back down south to the empty house you used to call home. 

Maybe a chimera would get you first. 

Or a hellhound. 

You could probably take a hellhound, right?

A smirk falls upon your lip, freshly bitten and raw and you realize he’s still there next to you. Luke is still watching you silently as his hand taps on the wooden arm of the lawn chair—a nonsensical beat that fills the silence that follows like someone feeling their way around a wound. His contemplation is gentle, even if your expression is festering the longer you sit together.

“You're literally the coolest girl here. Since when did you give a shit about what anyone has to say?”

Your face is stoic, amethyst eyes bouncing down the slope of his face and back up until they meet his that are honey-sweet. 

I CARE! a voice inside you wants to scream. It sounds like a little version of you stomping her foot until someone finally pays attention. But Luke’s eyes are already on your clenched fists and you haven’t made a single sound.

“Since when does Mr. Perfect know how to cuss?” you deflect, and he barks out a laugh, shaking his head yet nodding for you to continue. He knows that’s not what you meant to say.

“I can hardly believe that you of all people here think that I’m cool. I’m kind of a mess,” you try to reason, puffing your chest so that the breath makes your hair sway away from your face. 

“Sure,” Luke says as his chin rests against his arm. He blinks slowly, taking you in almost thoughtfully as he feels out his next words, “But you’re…you.” 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Mischief prances through his features and you absolutely hate the look he gets on his face when he thinks he knows better than you.

Egotistical piece of shit.

Your hand jabs out to shove his, all of his front falling over in a fit of laughter as he catches himself and suddenly he’s too close. Close enough that for a moment, you’re scared he might see right through you.

Luke Castellan is not someone who would ever understand the pressure that you currently buckle under. 

“You’ve got it all, you know? You can do whatever you want, your dad notices you. You’ve already found your glory by just being here… I mean all of us here want tha—” Your fist hits the wall of muscle in his abdomen. It’s haphazard and a cheap shot that probably hurt you more than him, but anger was the first emotion to surface (and you did say he was punchable—next time you’ll aim for his jaw). Luke huffs, slightly winded, though if anything his ego is the only thing coming out of this with a bruise.

“What?”

“What do you mean what, asshole? You think I want any of this?” you laugh coldly, reeling away from him like he’s burned you. Hands to your chest, scalded by his words, Luke is trying to find the misstep in his actions with his mind running miles a minute as he watches your brows furrow and you’re shaking like a pot about to boil over.

“I knew you wouldn’t get it.”

You’re not looking at him anymore, trembling hands doing more harm than good as you throw your stuff into your worn knapsack. This must be your last straw, you think, quickly thinking of your meager belongings packed underneath your bed and a letter to your dad tucked under your pillow. This is your sign to get the hell out of here. But as you’re tugging the canvas cloth over your shoulder, a gentle hand clasps around the straps, and a soft, “Hey, hey…” makes its way towards your ears and the frosty feeling that surrounds your heart.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Luke mumbles, spinning you to look at him as he sighs. Worry is a familiar feeling he’s acquainted with over this past year of knowing you, “Come on now, tell me. I’m a better listener than I am at speaking, obviously…” He catches the quiver in your lip with a graze of his finger, leading you back to your seat and placing your bag at his feet—making sure you can’t run, and even if you wanted to, you’re unsure of what else you have left to lose. 

“Everyone thinks I have it easy because I don’t let anything break my smile. But I’d rather be anywhere than here. I’m a joke, hones—”

“Don’t say that,” he interjects, quickly silenced by your glare.

“You think it’s all sunshine and rainbows that I see my godrent every day? That what, I’m lucky?” 

Luke simpers, curls falling over his forehead as jealousy clouds his vision. He has a few choice words towards his own father, but surely it can’t be all that bad. Anything must be better than a broken mother and a dreadfully absent father. 

“Hit me with it already, Trouble.”

“My dad loves me because he has to. But there’s no way he actually likes me. It shouldn't get to me that much, even if he hates the parts of me I got from him, but it does. No one here likes me either.”

You don’t know whether you should laugh or cry, opening up to Luke like this. All you know is you haven’t been vulnerable to anyone in a while—the last you tried to talk to your dad about your dead mother left you with more questions than answers.

Trying to gauge the look on his face, you avert your eyes, picking at the peeling polish on your nails as you continue, “I think my father is lonely here in a camp full of children that aren’t his own and almost a mortal lifetime away from his seat on Olympus. He has a wife who waits for the eternity they’ll have to spend with each other. And I’m nothing but a smudge on his timeline— a reminder of a life that he had before saving her. I'm the last thing that holds him back from being happy.” 

He listens. And then he speaks, almost blurting, “I’m my dad’s favorite—or so they say. So he likes me for all the effort I put into being his son, but he doesn’t love me. Not how he should. I can count the number of times I’ve seen him and my mom’s not dead, even if it’s easier to tell everyone that. But I’ve lost her anyway and he let that happen.”

That’s grim.

There are cracks of darkness in the sunshine boy after all. There’s a gleam of angst in both of your stares, daring the other to compete in this little pity party and seeing who would give in first. But neither of you break—shiny fractals of both your experiences blending into an understanding.

A middle ground.

A huff of laughter is released between the both of you, breathy and warm hitting your cheeks as you turn to each other like little kids giggling in secret. Perhaps you are— two 15-year-olds feeling weightless for a moment now that your shoulders shake without the pressures you place upon yourselves, and by this kindness alone, maybe.... maybe this place isn't so bad.

Someone calls out for Luke, figures hidden in the forestline. The moment quickly ends after that, a fuzzy feeling in your chest left behind, ignited every time your eyes meet his. It’s like he didn’t hear anything though, stuck to your side still grinning like you could give him the key to the city.

“If it matters, I like you,” he chokes out, clearing his throat as his eyes dart away from yours. By the time the blush rises to his cheeks your eyebrows have already shot into your hairline in disbelief watching Luke Castellan, camp’s pride and joy stumble over the simplest words he’s spoken all day.

You’re quiet again, which stresses him out more— frantic words ripping through his teeth in a blur of "Um, erm, not like... I mean in the sense that—" and your tongue pokes through your cheek in a bad attempt to stop a smile. You look soft—and thankfully not like you’re about to punch him, finally having the upper hand when it comes to him. Luke blinks slowly, shaking his head— "You're just really cool."

“You said that already.”

He shrugs, not really having anything more to say. The boy is embarrassed enough.

Have you always looked that pretty when you’re smug?

Snorting at his flustered state, you mutter, “Olympus would rejoice the day I be more like you, you know that, Castellan?” And he shrugs playfully, liking the way you don’t press on the topic when you could’ve gone for blood, “Olympus might fall if you teach me a thing or two.”

The warning bell rings overhead and Chiron's voice booms over the speakers— “CAMPERS, MONSTER TECHNIQUES WILL BEGIN IN 10 MINUTES. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY OVER TO THE AMPITHEATER.”

“I should go.”

“Sure. You’re teaching, right? New big gig,” you say nonchalantly as you expect him to leave and probably never talk to you again. You’re used to that by now, and whatever understanding between you doesn’t make you friends.

“Do you want to come with me?”

Oh.

Luke’s hands fidget at his sides, but his feet are planted deep into the dirt, his red Converse pushing the soil beneath him. He doesn’t want to leave. But he thinks that maybe if he had to, he’d leave a place like this for someone like you.

Maybe.

“Monster fighting is more your thing, isn’t it?”

He grins lamely, walking backward towards the woods with his eyes still on you, “You’ll find your thing. M’sure of it.” 

Rolling your eyes, you bend over to pick up your things again, “Yeah, yeah. Like anyone would want to hear me tell stories or do my little crafts.”

“Why the hell not, Trouble?”

Luke throws his hands up in the air before scampering away to join his friends. It's hard to admit, but he's got a point—maybe this is an idea your dad will actually appreciate. A shiver wracks through your body. You find yourself being excited about something to do at camp for the first time in a long time.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to stay a little longer, you think as you trudge into your cabin, unknowingly kicking your knapsack further underneath the bed. You flop onto the bedspread with your notebook out, brainstorming what a Greek Legends and Theatrics workshop would look like. If you can get your words onto a page, you could pitch this to Mr. D by morning. A spark shines in your eye like the glittery glow-in-the-dark stars that hang from your bedroom ceiling.

Hopefully this won’t end in you shoveling pegasi shit.

—

You’re standing at the edge of the dining pavilion, tray in hand as campers bump past your frame, rushing towards their tables to eat dinner. There’s no one at your table but your dad and the idea of proposing the idea of your workshop sounds so terrifying right now that your stomach turns. 

And then there’s Luke Castellan waving you over towards the Hermes table like a madman.

Huh.

You thought being crazy was supposed to be your thing.

He clambers up over the bench, all gangly legs moving towards you until he’s there grabbing your tray from your hands with a smile, “Come on, trouble. Still got a spot at my table. Chris just falls into it before I ever get the chance to call you over.”

You look at him like he’s stupid, your hands on the opposing side of your tray and the both of you are locked in a stalemate in the middle of the pavilion. Curious eyes make their way over to you both, and murmurs of excitement for a fight start to rise. Here’s the thing—it’s something to grab attention, but it being put on you without your control is a bit nerve-wracking, to say the least.

“We're not allowed to mix tables, Castellan.”

“Since when do you care?”

Since when do YOU, you think. Standing between comfort and chaos, your eyes meet your father’s, expectant as he watches you from across the room. There is comfort in the silence that would consume you at your table. You’d be able to eat in peace and hear your thoughts compared to the lack of elbow space at Table 11. Too many of them steal each others’ desserts, crack bad jokes, and kick each other under the table, but it still makes you smile. You choose the chaos instead, slowly making your way over to the Hermes kids who greet you with a loud cheer.

Children of mischief and chaos are like birds of a feather, after all. There is comfort in this madness too—and you think Mr. D almost smiles when his eyes meet yours once more.

You’re crafty when it's something you can fix; painting a picture of yourself that’s cool and interesting for others to see, but in reality, all every teenager wants is to fit in.

Who would’ve thought Luke Castellan was going to help with that?

“One of these days you’re gonna have to put the nice boy act in your back pocket, Castellan. I’m positively dying for the day you reveal yourself to me.”

Luke chuckles over a mouthful of mashed potatoes, shoulder knocking into yours intentionally, though the both of you are thigh to thigh on the crowded bench. You ignore the fact that one of his little brothers steals the cherry off your ice cream sundae, and he ignores the fact that his constant worry for you reveals itself as another, deeper thing—care.

“What you see is what you get,” he murmurs into your ear. Heat creeps up your neck and you look up to see your dad looking at you again, and then— “Hey, hey… eyes on me.” Turning to look at him, his breath hits your cheek, “You’re the only daughter of Dionysus. The only person I know born to be able to raise hell for a god. Gotta use it to your advantage more, Trouble. You’re not here to entertain anyone. You gonna let him win?” he asks.

Blinking slowly, you eat a spoonful of rice, cheeks full but not concealing your smile.

“Where’s the glory in that, right?”

—

“The gods envy us. They envy us because we’re mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.” -Homer

[kasagia]

Dancing with the devil IV

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: Unknowingly, you fall into a trap from which it will be difficult to get out. The only solution seems to be to make a pact with the devil himself. A devil who seems all too happy to finally get his hands on you. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~ PART V ~•♤♤♤•~

“It's a refreshing change. Don't you think, Y/N?” Your friend inquires as you sit on the windowsill, gazing out at the landscape of Kaitain.

You hum, nodding your head, keeping your watchful gaze on the ramp where the next ships are landing. A shiver runs through you as you recognise the familiar black Harkonnen orb. Whoever designed their ships must have worked hard to even make them look... disquieting. Y/F/N notices what you are staring at.

"Don't worry." You comfort her and hold her hand. "I won't let you marry that brute. There is no worse fate than being Harkonnen's wife."

"It's not that… just if it was someone else. Na-Baron, for example." You tense slightly at her mention of Feyd. Your eyes follow hers, and you notice her staring at him longingly as he walks out, surrounded by his soldiers. You feel bile rising in your throat.

"Na-Baron?" You ask stupidly, trying to ignore the sudden, unexpected feeling of jealousy. Which, of course, was a pure act of stupidity on your part. Because how could you be jealous of Harkonnen? And yet, you felt like gouging out your friend's eyes for staring at your Feyd for too long.

"He... isn't that bad at all. Despite what they say about him. He cared about me there - on Giedi Prime. In their crazy way... but thanks to him, the stay there wasn't so... terrible." You tense up and roll your eyes at her words.

As if there could be angels on Giedi Prime. As if HE could be something more than the cunning devil who breaks hearts, takes the souls and lives of innocent people. As if he could be something more than a bloodthirsty sadist raised by the most disgusting man who ever lived.

"Believe me, it's just a facade. The moment you let your guard down, he will show you his true colors. And this is a far cry from the image of his personality he painted in your head. He wants you to consider him your ally. This way, it will be easier for him to use you for his own benefits. Spying on his brother or something like that, I'm not sure yet. Maybe he's also looking for sexual release after his harpies are dead?"

"Y/N!"

"What? I'm just thinking out loud." You reply with a shrug. Your gaze remains focused on Na-Baron. Princess Irulan welcomes him and his brother rather reluctantly. She behaved quite similarly towards you. Except for her special coldness and malice reserved for you, to which you had become accustomed by now.

"You must know him very well to see through his intentions so quickly. I also remember that as children you were often in the company of him, Paul Atreides and Princess Irulan."

You flinch when Na-Baron's gaze suddenly turns to the palace. But you know it's impossible for him to recognise your silhouette among the palace's many windows... or at least you hoped so. Regardless, you decide not to tempt fate and walk away from the window, turning around to face your friend.

"That was a long time ago."

"But you must know him very well. Or at least the child he was."

"Trust me, he was never a child." You reply, pouring yourself a glass of wine. You don't want to tell her anything else.

You don't want to explain to her exactly when Feyd lost his childhood, when he stopped being your friend and the boy you played with, when you lost him, when the place of the charming boy from Lankiveil was taken by the bloodthirsty, psychopathic, brutal Na-Baron of Giedi Prime. Because only you knew the Prince of Lankiveil. And the memory of him will follow you to your grave.

Because you knew there was no salvation for him, that the boy you gave your heart to was dead, and his murderer was none other than the Baron. And all you have left of him is a shell. The one he gave you and the shell of who he once was were a living and painful reminder of what you lost because of the Baron and Princess Irulan. And because of your own fear.

"I'm bored." You tell Feyd as you sit next to each other in the feast hall.

Your parents, his brother, and his uncle are celebrating with the other great families the birth of the Emperor's (another) daughter, and you and the rest of the children are forced to attend the event until your maids take you away.

And this has been going on for you for ages.

"Act like a lady and don't whine." Feyd responds to you, rolling his eyes at you slightly. You punch his arm, causing him to gasp and look at you indignantly.

"Act like a child and don't talk to me like you're my mother."

"What do you want to do?" He sighs, shaking his head at you.

If he had to list his weaknesses, you would definitely be the first of them on his list. He was always waiting for the moment where he could free himself from Giedi Prime and his uncle's gaze to spend a few minutes with you. You gave him... a sense of freedom. With you, he didn't have to worry about how he acted—whether he was too soft or too lenient.

He could have just been a child for a while—a boy from Lankiveil he had almost forgotten about. A boy you seemed to like quite a lot. And he tried his hardest to show you that he was still able to find in himself nooks and crannies that weren't polluted by the Baron. Mentally and physically.

"To sleep. But I don't have my teddy bear and blanket." Feyd tries his best not to laugh, but he allows his mouth to open slightly, making sure to keep it closed.

He didn't want to scare you with his black teeth—an addition recently introduced on Baron's orders. Feyd couldn't quite get used to them yet. He remembered breaking all the mirrors in his chambers the first day he saw his new row of black teeth. Over time, however, he got used to them, like everything else on Giedi Prime.

"What?" You ask as he stares at you for a few too many seconds or minutes. Feyd clears his throat and manages to lower the corner of his mouth.

"Nothing. I may be not as soft as your precious teddy bear and blanket, but I can keep you warm. And my cloak is... possibly the coziest thing I have." He answers awkwardly, already taking off his coat. He wraps it around you without waiting for your response, remaining in his black military armor.

He knows that the next day he will have scrapes and bruises from too tight armor. He should have gotten a bigger one a long time ago, but the Baron seemed to insist that Feyd keep his old clothes for as long as he could.

"You allow me to nuzzle up to you?" You ask, surprised, as he wraps his arm around you.

Feyd didn't particularly like physical contact; sometimes he flinched when someone's skin touched his—a reaction he tried to hide. However, apart from you, there was one other person who also noticed it. And while Feyd should have hated the Atreides, he would remain forever grateful to Letto Atreides, who had invited him to spend the summer with his son, you, and Princess Irulan shortly after Rabban and he had moved to Giedi Prime. It was the best summer of his life since leaving Lankivieil. A moment of respite.

However, with you, sometimes he could afford to feel your body a little closer to him. Most of all, he WANTED to feel your body press against his. Which, over the years spent on Giedi Prime, was a very rare, even unheard of feeling for him.

"I allow you to rest on me and take a nap. My mother... my mother did this a lot with my father when she was pregnant and had to sit in on these meetings." Feyd says he has vague memories of his mother being pregnant with her third child and how his father acted towards her—before all hell broke loose on Lankiveil, when he could still be... normal.

"But I am not pregnant. And we are not married." You point it out maliciously, but your head is already falling onto his shoulder. You wrap your hand around his waist and snuggle into him. Feyd suppresses a blush as you unconsciously nuzzle his neck and inhale his scent. You were too innocent to know what it did, and he was too tainted for his body not to react to it. Despite everything, he controls himself and holds you, making sure you don't fall out of your chair.

"But you are tired, aren't you?" He hums against your ear, fully aware that you're about to drift off into his arms. And that he would rather kill himself than let anyone take you away from him.

"I am. And I also never miss a chance to hug you, my grumpy Na-Baron." He furrows his hairless eyebrows, unconsciously tracing patterns on your arm with his finger. He relaxes, seeing that his uncle has left the party. So did the young servant who served him. A shiver runs through him, but he ignores it. His focus is on you. On your slow breathing, on your smell, on your warmth, on how perfect you feel next to him, as if you were his missing half. And Feyd allows himself to believe for a moment that this may be the case—that you are truly written in the stars for him.

"I am not grumpy." He says, rolling his eyes at your taunt and completely ignoring Princess Irulan's glare from across the room.

"You are. Like those funny green creature from Paul's book. You know, the old one with weird pictures."

If Feyd could, he would forbid you from meeting Atreides. Unfortunately, your parents seemed to insist on this special closeness to this family. And you loved reading. Same as Paul. Feyd's only consolation was that when Atreides didn't have a book in his hand, he lost any interest in you. Unlike him. He had your attention, regardless of what he was doing or what he might be giving you at that moment.

"Sleep." He mumbles and presses a kiss to your tample.

"Don't tell me what to do. I am not your wife." You mumble, half asleep, but you give in to him anyway and fall asleep on him. You press your cheek against his shoulder, and he begins to worry that his hard armour might accidentally leave a scratch on your cheek. He gently lifts your head and places his hand under your cheek to make sure you don't feel any sharp, protruding metal decorations.

"You are not... but you will be." He promises, fully convinced that you're already asleep and don't hear his little promise. He tightens his hand around you and listens to your calm breathing and heartbeat, wishing that he could listen to this beautiful music every day. Not only during boring balls that you both hate.

You sigh, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Your maid gives you a horrified look as you lunge at the mannequin in the training room. Stabbing the puppet several times with your blade, taking out your frustration and energy on him.

When you feel the air moving behind you and the added presence, you don't hesitate. You turn around, your blade colliding with Feyd's, and glare at him in response to his cocky smirk.

"I see that old habits die hard. Why don't you accept a real challenge instead of taking out your anger at this motionless pile of threads?"

"Why don't you do it instead of tormenting Atreides' drugged soldiers? At least I don't get dirty while playing with my motionless pile. Not like you." You say, stepping away from him. You let the hand with your dagger fall as you walk over to the table for a drink of water. You freeze, feeling the cool tip of his steel against your throat.

"How many times have I told you not to turn your back on your opponent? Besides..." He steps closer, his chest pressing against your back as he leans in to whisper in your ear. "Did you have the same fun with my harpies? Didn't you want to get dirty, and that's why you chose poison to kill them? And you accuse me of being a bloodthirsty, jealous beast... I guess we're more alike than you want to admit, my little, beautiful, dangerous, jealous swan."

"I… I have no idea what you're talking about." You whisper, tensing in his arms. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that you're alone in the room. He must have gotten your maid out of there somehow. You suddenly feel very vulnerable.

"You do not have? And that's funny. So why did I find a poison in your things the day after they died and just before your departure?" You frown and push his hand with the blade away from you. You turn to look him in the eye, too surprised by his accusation to do anything but say the truth.

"I have no idea. Whatever happened to them, it wasn't me. You know very well that I wouldn't kill anyone." This clearly catches him off guard, and you feel offended that he could be so sure that you took someone's life just because they had the opportunity to fuck him. You roll your eyes at him in annoyance and raise your blade in challenge. You might as well exercise a little while he does his investigation.

"Well… after all, swans don't like getting their beautiful feathers dirty with blood… but who else could do it?" He responds, dodging and blocking all your attacks.

You work harder, jumping away from him and trying to break through his protective shield. You sigh as you manage to get the blade close to his skin, but no telltale shield appears around him. The son of a bitch didn't even put his shield on when fighting you. No one could piss you off and humiliate you at the same time more than him.

"I don't know. I don't care." You growl, pushing against him and trying to draw his black blood at all costs.

You manage to kick him in the stomach, but when he falls, he drags you with him. You land on top of him, but he quickly changes your positions and pins you to the floor beneath him, keeping your wrists in a tight grip as he presses his blade to your neck.

"Do you? Doesn't it make you jealous just thinking that someone could be madly in love with me enough to get rid of the women who give me pleasure? What if you're next on my secret, deadly admirer's little list?" He whispers in your ear, and you shiver as he bites his lobe. He throws his blade aside, his other hand lazily exploring your body, abusing your breast as he squeezes it tightly and digs his fingers into it.

"We have no connections." You moan as his lips move to your jawline. He sucks gently, leaving no trace except a trail of his black saliva as it moves to your exposed neck.

"Not in public. But in the quiet of the night, in your gardens, of my corridors, of the halls of this palace—all these places remember many of our connections."

Unfortunately, he is just as stubborn, maybe even more stubborn than you, and he will do anything to prove that he is right. You gasp, biting your lip, as his hand goes under the fabric of your pants. Your traitorous pussy welcomes his fingers like a permanent resident. You tighten around him, and he chuckles lightly, feeling you already wet. You dig your knee into his stomach, trying to fight back, but he just positions himself between your legs, casually pushing your leg away as if it were just an intrusive, insignificant obstacle to getting what he wants.

"And yet you run from one man to another… but it's my fingers that fill you while you wait for someone to put a ring on your pretty feathers, my little swan." He mumbles against your neck.

You shiver as he pushes his fingers deeper into you, his cold metal Na-Baron signet teasing your warm, wet walls, only making you clench tighter around him.

His hips grind against you madly, his hard length pressing into your thigh as you moan softly, trying miserably to keep from making any grinding sound when all you want to do is feel him deep inside you, splitting you open for him.

"And you… you're pathetic for always looking for me and coming back." You respond, feeling your pleasure building within you. You grind away from him, angling his fingers just right, deciding that since you were already in this position, you might as well show him that you were using him and not him using you. After all, you were always the one who came, not him.

"I am." Surprisingly, he nods, caressing your clit with his thumb as the rest of his fingers penetrate you mercilessly. "And you come pathetically beautiful with my name on your swollen lips. We are both humiliating each other. And we both love it." And that's exactly when he pushes you over the edge. You lift up and connect your lips in a kiss to stop yourself from screaming his name, knowing full well that the guards are outside and could… really guess what happened between you behind closed doors.

You admit to yourself that you loved his plush, soft, full lips on yours, the way he caressed yours, the way his tongue slipped in unnoticed, you loved kissing him. His kisses made you more addicted to him than the orgasms he gave you. That's why you made sure you had them very rarely. Because no one else's mouth has ever given you as much pleasure as his.

In the frenzy of the kiss, he releases your wrist and cups his hand around your cheek. You sigh, biting his lower lip. This is the only warning you give him before you plunge your dagger into his back.

He screams as your blade pierces his skin. Your fingertips are sticky with his thick, black blood, but you don't care. You look him straight in the eyes and rip the dagger from his body, giving him another wave of pain.

"How many times have I told you to never let your guard down?" You ask, using the exact same tone he used as soon as he held the knife to your neck.

You push him away from you and stand up, straightening your clothes a little. He laughs hoarsely and shakes his head in disbelief, still looking at you and ignoring the burning pain in his back. He had wounds worse than a swan's bite.

He comes to you on his knees and takes your fingers into his mouth, sucking his black blood from them and never taking his eyes off you. You dig your fingers into the skin of his pale scalp and tilt his head back, breathing quickly as you melt into the gaze of his cold, oceanic irises and dilated pupils. You can't fucking believe he got so turned on by your stabbing. And that you, too, felt hot again.

"You are sick." You whisper as he lets your fingers pull out with a loud pop. His now gray saliva had replaced his black blood.

"Just like you."

Before you can deny it, the door to the training room creaks loudly. You pull Feyd up, forcing him to stand up, and you wipe his saliva off your fingers on your shirt.

"Michael. You always know when to come. Na-Baron and I were training and unfortunately he got injured."

"Yhm... very unfortunately." Feyd mumbles sarcastically. When you go to Michael, you step on Feyd's foot. You pretend it never happened and join the man's side. He smiles at you, his two-toned eyes hypnotising you for a moment, and a huge smile appears on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Feyd frowning. There is no better feeling than rubbing salt into someone's wound.

"Always here for you, my love." He says and places a kiss on your forehead. "You should go to the healers, Na-Baron. We wouldn't want such a small wound to do a serious harm to your health. After all, soon we will be celebrating... important events." Michael says this and wraps his arms around my waist, pressing me against him.

"Of course." Feyd growls and nods. He walks away, leaving the two of us alone in the training room, and closes the door loudly behind him.

"He insisted that I train with him. Believe me, I would never…"

"When you will be my wife I won't allow you to do such things." He interrupts your attempt to explain himself and takes your dagger, which is covered in Feyd's blood, from you. He throws it into a box of various weapons and turns back to you.

"Excuse me?" You ask, both surprised and annoyed by his condescending behavior.

"No worry, sweetheart. You are still learning." You feel like he slapped you. He treats you so condescendingly, as if you meant absolutely nothing, as if your opinion was not important to him at all. This sudden change surprises you and makes you even more nervous. However, you cannot understand the reason for his sudden rude behavior. Was it jealousy?

"You know usually women after such a... blunt statment doesn't marry the man who said it."

"Oh, you think you will have a choice?" He asks mockingly and plays with your hair, fixing your hairstyle to his liking. You push his hands away from you and glare at him furiously.

"Won't I?" You ask defiantly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"After my people attack your home planet? I don't think so."

"I beg you pardon?" You ask, completely shocked. He lazily, casually reaches for your chin and lifts it to look at you closely.

Your brain races like crazy, trying to ignore the fatigue in your muscles from fighting the Na-Baron as you wonder if he's just joking with you or if he really means what he said. A shiver passes through you when his fingertip brushes against your cheek.

"I told you. I want to achieve something. To prove myself in the eyes of the emperor. As we speak, my troops are boarding the ships on my home planet. Tomorrow morning, your father will receive notice of the start of war with my country. And you, darling, you will be a beautiful spoil of war. The proof of my greatness."

"You... all those meetings with me on my home planet... you didn't want to marry me; you wanted to explore and review our fortifications and the training of our soldiers. Test the ground before sending your men on my land."

"Your father's lands. You may be smart, honey, but you're only a woman. All you have is a title and a royal pussy. Although your mind and beauty are a dangerous combination. Maybe I should make you my wife instead of a concubine?"

"You… you can't… you won't." You shake your head, trying to deny what he just said. He couldn't just take everything from you, your whole life.

You try to control your emotions and not give him the satisfaction of completely destroying your world. He makes you feel so guilty; after all, you were actually the one who let him onto your planet and showed him around all the places he wanted. How could you be so stupid and naive? How could you not sense that he was more interested in your military and the weak points of your planet than in you?

"Oh, honey... don't insult your own intelligence now. You know very well that I can. You have nothing. No allies, no strong friend. I am your only serious admirer since Atreides. You're lucky I'm a gentleman. I will not touch you until your land, crown, and title are officially mine. And I will give you a good future. You could always end up in a brothel. Don't be a brat and appreciate it, my beautiful war booty."

His touch burns you in an unpleasant way. You want to bite off his hand, but you need to get more information from him to prepare some kind of action plan. You need to lower his guard just as he lowered yours.

"Why are you doing this? If you had married me, you would have had it anyway. Without any war."

"I told you. I want to prove my worth. To achieve something. In small steps. First, I will conquer one planet, then another. You have the honour of being my first conquest. And who knows? Maybe you'll even become empress by my side. Now smile nicely, darling. Your depressed face is ruining my mood."

So you smile. You put on a good face for a bad game and try to control your anger and despair. Because what can you do with them now? Nothing at all. You needed a different approach. Better. Smarter. You couldn't just give up your future without a fight; let him take over your country and do what he wanted to you. If you were going to be someone's property, wife, trophy, or whatever, you wanted to decide who it would be.

Michael was wrong. You had one secret ally who was much stronger than him. But you know very well that asking him for help will cost you a lot. Unfortunately, you were not in a good situation. You were in a hopeless position. So it required you to take desperate, risky, and embarrassing measures. This required making a pact with the devil himself.

" I need to talk with you." You say this as soon as the door opens for you, before you change your mind and run away. You tug at the sleeve of your silk robe and stare pleadingly into the ocean irises before you.

"At this time? What do I owe this pleasure to?" He mocks you, crossing his arms over his bare chest. You swallow, looking away from his muscles and back into his eyes.

"Feyd. Please." You say this seriously, looking around to make sure no one sees you at his door. He tenses a little, hearing the desperation in your voice. Wordlessly, he moves to the side, allowing you to step inside.

He closes the door behind you, and you shudder as you realise there's no going back. You close your eyes, taking a few deep breaths and trying to calm down. Feyd furrows his hairless eyebrows at your condition. He walks over to you and tentatively places a hand on your shoulder, not used to comforting... anyone. Not since the two of you were kids.

"Y/N. What happened?"

"I need your help." You reply and move away from him. Feyd sees you trying your hardest to control your emotions. The same way that even though he's happy about your late-night visit and the sight of you in that skimpy robe, you look terrified and disgusted that you have to be here.

"Y/N..."

"Michael wants to attack my home planet and dethrone my father. In the process, make me his whore or wife. He's not sure yet." You interrupt him and blurt it out before he says anything else.

This stuns Feyd for a moment as he takes in this new information. He would have smiled at the mockery and anger in your voice if his blood hadn't boiled at the thought that you could belong to anyone other than him. That anyone else would have the right to touch you like he did and has long dreamed of doing even more.

"Your duke that you've been parading around with and admiring for the last few months? The same one you hug and cling to at every recent party?"

"Yes."

"The one you gave the right to hold you and kiss you?"

"Yes."

"The one..."

"YES! This one!" You interrupt him, annoyed and embarrassed. You sigh, rubbing your eyes, and realise that screaming at him and venting your anger isn't the best idea right now if you want to ask for his favour. "Please, help me."

"And what I can do? You chose your fiancé. Or a lover. Whatever. What do you want me to do? Fight with him for your hand? And then get rejected by you? Thrown away when you don't need me anymore?" He mocks you, turning his back on you. He pours himself a glass of wine and sips it leisurely, making no move to turn towards you.

"Feyd. Please. I beg you. I... my people can't die just because of the whim of some man." You say, your voice cracking. Your throat burns from the dryness, and tears suddenly appear in your eyes. This is a very strange phenomenon considering that you have been crying for the last three hours in your chambers.

Your sniffling makes Feyd involuntarily turn back to you. This is a bad move. His heart clenches uncomfortably at the sight of your watery eyes and red nose. He wants to take you in his arms, run his hand through your hair tenderly, and sink into your touch.

"You know very well, little swan, that this is how most wars start. By the whim of one man." Feyd says, crossing his arms over his chest to somehow keep from touching you, from taking you in his arms and burying his face in your hair, whispering comforting words in your ear. He had to play this... unique opportunity well. If he won't have you willingly, he might as well have you by trick.

"I will do everything." He does everything not to smile, not to immediately make his demands. He has been waiting so long to have you that a few minutes more won't do a big difference to him.

"So get ready for the husband of your own choosing." He says icily, acting unfazed, as if the mere thought of someone else having you didn't make him want to murder every man who ever had the chance to touch you.

As if he didn't dream at night of having you by his side, of arguing with you every day, of having you with him forever on Giedi Prime, sitting on the throne next to him and being as terrifying as he is.

"Feyd..." You mumble and walk over to him. Feyd tenses, controlling all his muscles, stopping them from making the slightest movement towards you.

He watches your every move carefully as you approach him. The air between you is thick and full of tension. He swallows when you come within his reach and tries his best not to even touch you with his fingertip. However, all his control is put to the test when you stand directly in front of him and lean towards him.

Feyd clenches his fists tightly, so tightly that he feels the blood slowly seeping from where his nails dig into his abalaster skin. The familiar scent of you and your favourite perfume reaches his nostrils, and Feyd does the stupidest thing he can do at that moment. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply into your sweet, seductive scent.

"You can have me. Right now. Wherever you want. However you want. Wouldn't you like to? All you have to do is order some troops to my home planet and scare off Michael's army." You whisper into his ear, brushing your lips against his lobe. Feyd holds his breath as your lips trace his jawline and up to his neck, where you begin to kiss and suck his skin.

Feyd stands frozen, unable to move, allowing you to do whatever you want with him. He sighs as your two long, delicate hands slip under his black robe and caress his chest. His heart is racing as you play with his nipples, pinching them and twisting them in your fingers as you work tirelessly to leave as many marks on his neck as possible. He grunts, trying to stifle a groan as he feels his manhood respond to your caresses and begin to harden painfully.

He reaches for your hips and pulls you closer to him, and Feyd would probably give in to his desires if he didn't feel you tense up under his touch. He sighs and musters all his willpower to grab your arms and pull you away from him.

"You can't just... kiss me, come into my chambers dressed like that at this hour, and demand such things from me when all you show me is hatred and loathing. Don't act like a whore. I won't fall for it. I… not when I know you don't mean anything that you are doing right now." He says this without meeting your eyes, somehow unable to see your reaction. He lets go of you, as if touching you hurts him, and walks to the other side of his chamber, escaping to the balcony.

A cold breeze hits his skin. He sighs, gripping the railings tightly and holding on to them with all his might, as if crushing the marble in his hands would bring his full self-control back.

It doesn't take a minute for your scent to hit his nostrils again.

"And how I should act?! What do you think I can do?!" You shout after him, walking towards him. Feyd tenses, sensing your presence behind him, but makes no move to turn towards you. You sigh in defeat, and Feyd thinks you've given up when suddenly he hears your shaky voice and your pure panic as you try to convince him to help you one last time. "My people will die tomorrow morning, I… I'm begging you. Please, I will do anything, Feyd. Whatever you want."

"Then marry me." He replies, his back still turned to you as he stares into the distance at the Kaitain hills in front of him.

Even though he can't see your face, he can clearly hear the gasp of shock you let out. He imagines your beautiful, full lips falling open, your eyes widening, and you holding your breath as you process his words. He knew that this was the only way for now to ensure his right to you—to make a claim. He had too little time to try to change your opinion of him.

When you're finally "safely his", then Feyd can try to fight for your affections and prove that he is not the monster you think he is. For now, your anger will have to be enough for him. But he would eventually melt it. You loved him once; when you were kids, he might try to make you feel this way about him again.

"What?" You ask, shocked. Feyd slowly turns towards you, and this time he takes a step closer to you, making you both breathe the same air again.

"You have two options. You can agree to... your Michael's terms, marry him and be his property for the rest of your life... or you will marry me and I will protect you, your parents and your people from anyone's invasion." He replies calmly and unfazed, keeping his hands behind his back.

"And be yours property for the rest of my life?" You ask mockingly, almost furiously, with that gleam of mischief in your eyes that Feyd loved so much. This was his little swan. Finally.

It might have been nice to have your mouth and hands on him, but in your case, he didn't want forced submission. He wanted just that blazing fire that captivated him, where he could burn himself if he made one wrong move. He wanted it all... even if he had to gently steer you down the right path—down the altar to him and only him.

"Don't pretend to be so disgusted. We both know how you love some... aspects of being my property. A moment ago you were begging me, saying you would do whatever I wanted. Marry me then. What would you say?"

"I... you know I have no other optiom... neither time to assure I will have any other option. But we also know that I don't trust you and never will." He nods, knowing full well that trust will be the last thing he gets from you. But if Feyd valued anything in life, it was his honor.

"You have my word. I will protect your people as mine. Even better. My uncle or brother or I will never order to attack your home planet. You would became one of our closest ally and thus ensure your country the safety against anyone's invasion. It's a win win situation."

"And how you will win?"

"I will get you." He replies with a shrug, as if it were an obvious reward.

He sees the gears in your head turning as you silently consider all the consequences and benefits of marrying him. He knew clearly that this wasn't what you wanted, that your search for a husband was supposed to be completely different, that he was probably the last man you wanted as a husband, from whom you wanted a nice ring, whose planet you wanted to move to, but Feyd had been waiting for you for so long; he did so much to have you that the circumstances of your marriage didn't really matter to him anymore.

"You will get bored of me. You can't love or trust, not trully or neither can be loved or trusted by anyone else. You know that what's going on between us won't be sexy anymore when it will be no longer forbidden." Your words somehow hurt him more than the worst wound he received. He grunts, clenching his fists behind him, waiting for the unexpected, unpleasant lump in his throat to subside so he can somehow respond to your blasphemous words.

"That's how you see your future husband?" He finally asks, glad that he managed to keep his voice from shaking.

"I didn't say yes to anything yet."

"But we both know you will. You have tied hands. And we both know that you can't dance with them for a long, before you fall." His comment makes you even more furious. Feyd does his best not to smirk at your flushed cheeks and pursed lips. Oh, how he wanted to kiss those lips so much…

"Yes... but you can put chains on them instead of ropes and I will be even worse tied." You respond calmly, carefully analysing his words, looking for a trap—a hidden intention behind his actions beyond his obvious desire to marry you.

"I guess you have to take a risk." He replies calmly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Hmm. Such a convinient situation for you." You mutter, crossing your arms. His eyes automatically fall on the valley of your breasts, but he quickly tries to return his attention to your eyes. If everything goes his way, he'll soon be able to caress every inch of your body he wants.

"Very much. I got to call you my wife and all I have to do is to scare away some lord's family who shouldn't even touch you in the first place."

"I decide who touch me." You say, angry that he hasn't even put a ring on your finger yet, and he's already forbidding you from doing something.

"Not for long I guess."

He sees you biting your lip in anger. You take a step towards him, and Feyd thinks you're going to slap him, but you do something completely different. You cup his cheek in your hand and lean in to whisper in his ear:

"I hate you so much. With whole my heart. If you think this will somehow change my opinion of you, you are wrong. I feel exactly the same about you, and maybe even worse things than what I told you on Giedi Prime. You are the baron's spoiled nephew who only has to snap his fingers to get something. I hate you and I will hate you forever, no matter what you do, no matter how well you fuck me, how good or bad of a husband you are, my feelings towards you will remain the same as they are now." And with that, you press your lips to his, sealing your promise with a sudden, unexpected kiss.

Feyd moans into your mouth, feeling himself start to get hard again, which should be absurd in this situation, but he remembers times when he was aroused by… worse things.

"Is that a yes?" He asks, swallowing thickly as your lips leave his—too quickly for Feyd to enjoy the taste and softness of them.

"What the fuck do you think I can do in this situation?" You growl at him angrily, at which he smiles, unable to stop himself, showing you his row of black teeth. Surprisingly, you don't tremble in fear or disgust.

"I want to hear it."

"And I want a decent proposal." You reply in return, forever trying to argue with him.

You're surprised when he walks past you and goes back to his room. You stand alone on the balcony for a moment, taking a shaky breath and staring at the stars in the sky, wondering how the hell you ended up in this situation. Just a week ago, the idea of marrying Feyd would have seemed completely absurd to you.

You freeze in shock when he comes back with a small black box and actually kneels down in front of you.

"Y/N Y/L/N. The darkness of my life, the bane of my existence, the ghostly apparition that haunts my dreams, the heartless witch, the murderous siren, the deceptive nymph leading me to my death, will you do me an honour of beeing my wife and let me fuck our heirs into you?"

You would have smiled at this if his icy blue eyes weren't piercing through yours and carefully analysing your every little reaction. You don't even look at the ring he's offering you—a ring he clearly must be wearing somewhere close to himself. Your heart is racing, despite the fact that this isn't exactly the proposal you wanted. Despite everything, it is... in a strange and twisted way, a nice feeling.

"You could try better." You finally reply in a hoarse voice, suddenly aware of how dry your throat is.

"I am waiting for an answer." He growls, really waiting for your response.

If it weren't for the nature of the whole situation, you'd actually think it was cute. The way the most dangerous man in the world kneels before you, asking for your hand. You sigh, mentally preparing yourself before signing a pact with the devil.

"With great disgust and reluctance: yes."

"Yes what?"

"Haven't you already had your fun?" You ask, frowning furiously. He bites his tongue to keep from giggling, absolutely loving to tease you.

"I didn't even start, my little swan." You roll your eyes at him and look at him expectantly, sticking out your hand. But he makes no move to put the ring on it. You decide not to fight him on this one matter.

"Yes. I will marry you, Feyd-Rautha."

You can see from his face that he is remembering these words and that he is taking a mental picture of this moment. He takes the ring out of the box and, with unusual gentleness for him, takes your hand in his and slides the metal onto your finger.

The ring is nice. Made of white gold, its eyelet is a black onyx stone, which is held by engraved flowers on a metal ring. It was… astonishingly beautiful and thoughtful. And not as big as you assumed it would be. Y/F/N got a ring with a gemstone on half of her finger. You're surprised Feyd didn't give you something similar.

"There. Was that so hard?"

It's a tricky question. Because, as much as that ring weighed on your finger, you couldn't admit that you hated the whole idea of marrying him with all your heart. After all, you could do worse than him... right?

Taglist for Feyd: @avidreader73

Taglist for DWTD: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran @hueanhdang @barnes70stark @forgedfromthestars

[frvnkcastles]

You’ve written before about groomers and abusive ex boyfriends. I was wondering if you’d be comfortable writing about running into an old abuser who’s obsessive, borderline psychopathic about you. Someone you’ve always hidden from but almost forgot about under the warm umbrella of franks protection. And then he’s there and you’re so scared you try to run, but Frank won’t let you. This guy takes Frank as some kind of psycho challenge and you don’t want him to get hurt, but also feel ashamed about your problems

I know it’s kinda dark so no worries if it’s too much! As always your mental health and wellbeing is the most important thing 💕

TRADE THE PAIN ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You’ve found a safe haven in Frank after an abusive relationship, but your ex resurfaces.

Warnings: Violence, language, references to past abuse but nothing explicit, hurt/comfort, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.9k

Author’s note: Thank you for your sweet words anon! I’m sending you so much love, I hope you enjoy this <3

Meeting Frank was the best possible thing that could have happened to you. He was everything you had dreamed of — kind, protective, charming and most importantly, he trusted you and respected you. He wasn’t perfect, struggling particularly with finding himself worthy of you, but he was ultimately a good man and you had absolutely fallen for him, just like he had fallen for you. He treated you like an angel, always gentle and caring with you, and after your previous relationship, it felt so good to be cherished.

In all fairness, it had taken you a while to warm up to him. Your ex had messed you up royally, and you were hesitant to trust another man so soon after escaping the toxic relationship, but Frank had quickly torn down your defenses and shown you just what kind of guy he was. Even when you learned about him being the Punisher, you weren’t scared. You knew he’d never hurt you, that his aggression was only towards those who deserved it, and that was more than you could say for your ex-boyfriend.

With Frank’s help, you changed your phone number and moved to another part of the city, giving you another chance at life; a fresh start. And you were more than excited to share it with Frank. He was understanding of your situation, even offered to go and take care of him for you, but you had insisted on moving on and forgetting about your past.

It worked a little too well, in fact. You were used to looking over your shoulder and avoiding places you knew your ex frequented, but with Frank by your side, that bone-deep anxiety slowly began to fade away. You felt safe with him, and it wasn’t just an assumption — you knew for a fact he was going to protect you no matter what, and it was enough for you to start letting your guard down.

That meant, however, that you definitely didn’t expect your ex to find you.

You and Frank had spent the evening at your favorite diner, occupying yourselves with fries and milkshakes and laughing about his caveman-like eating habits, and it had been the most fun you had had in years. Frank was a simple man but he knew exactly how to entertain you and keep you happy, sometimes with a humble date like this, and it was all you needed to smile and feel happy for days after.

But as you made your way back to your apartment, Frank walking you home, of course, you found your ex standing at the front door of the building. You spotted him from afar, and you froze on the pavement, pulling on Frank’s hand as he realized you had stopped walking, concern twisting his face while looking you over.

”What is it, sweetheart?” he rasped, trying to read your face, but he couldn’t tell what was causing the immense panic all over it. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, his warm presence consoling you as he stood in front of you, forcing you to look from your ex and over to him. He was right there, and he was with you. God, he was so good to you. Why couldn’t things just stay the way they had been for the past months?

With a scared tear rolling down your cheek, you nodded towards the entrance of your apartment building where your ex was standing with an impatient fidget. ”It’s—it’s my ex-boyfriend. He… he found me”, you shuddered, genuine fear turning your body rigid. Your heart was hammering in your chest so hard, it felt like it was going to burst through, and every part of your body was screaming at you to make a run for it. You wished you could have been relieved Frank was there with you, but you felt ashamed and embarrassed that your past was still causing you trouble and you couldn’t just be happy with him.

Turning around, Frank stared at the man who still hadn’t noticed you. ”Alright. Come on, I gotchu. This is your home and he ain’t gon’ invade it. Not while I’m here”, he decided, and despite your reluctance, you didn’t fight back when Frank tightened his hold on your hand and walked you straight to the front door.

At the sight of you, your ex’s face lit up. ”Finally, you’re here. I’ve been waiting for hours. I ringed your apartment but you didn’t answer so I figured you weren’t home. I can’t believe I found you”, he began rambling, as intense and obsessive as you remembered, and it instantly unsettled you. You tried to hide behind Frank, even if you felt bad that he had to be in the between.

”You need to leave”, you spoke up, but your voice was meek and careful, hardly enough to convince him. Thankfully, Frank was on your side.

”You heard her”, he said coldly when your ex remained right where he was. There was a mean stare in Frank’s eyes, and it was no wonder — he didn’t want you to worry, but he had dreamed of the day he could punch your ex in the face. Now that the opportunity was presenting itself, he surely wasn’t going to back down.

”Yeah? And who do you think you are?” your ex snorted, not exactly threatened, which you knew was a grave mistake.

”I’m her boyfriend. Now, I ain’t gonna say this again. Leave, and don’t even think about coming back”, Frank glared at him, taking personal offense in the fact that your ex had the guts to show up like this. ”Can’t you take a hint, asshole? She doesn’t want anythin’ to do with you”, he added, tilting his head at your ex like he was addressing a child.

That pushed him over the edge, and without warning, he swung his fist at Frank. With ease, Frank dodged the incoming punch, and officially in a fighting mood, he carefully let go of your hand and guided you a little further away just to be safe. You didn’t know what to say, so you obeyed and stood aside, watching as Frank grabbed your ex by the neckline of his shirt and punched him in the nose. He did it once, then twice, then once more, until your ex collapsed on the ground.

Frank was about to turn to you and take your hand again, but before he could, your ex had swiped him in the calf with a knife he had pulled from his pocket, causing Frank to stumble with a groan. You flinched, but you didn’t have to do anything when Frank was acting already, brutally stomping on your ex’s wrist so that he was forced to drop a knife. He snatched the knife from the ground and pointed it at your ex, and you were well-aware he wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

You were almost right — Frank wanted to bury the weapon in your ex’s guts, but he wasn’t going to do it in front of you. ”Get the fuck outta here. I don’t wanna see your face ever again”, he spat, his hands balled into fists as he waited for your ex to crawl up from the ground and run away.

And when he did, Frank wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders and steered you to the front door. ”Alright, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice much softer now, and it made you smile weakly. Even though he had a violent streak, he was always so tender with you.

”Yeah, thanks”, you spoke quietly, and he could tell you were still a little uneasy, but he chose not to comment on it as he took you upstairs to your apartment.

Once you were inside, you went to change into your PJs, needing the moment alone to gather your thoughts and feelings. You were grateful to Frank, but you also hated that he had to get involved. It felt like such a burden, like you were far more than he had signed up for, and it made you worry that he was going to get sick of you eventually. Your ex was your problem, so it didn’t feel fair to make Frank take care of it.

Little did you know, he wouldn’t have had it any other way. As soon as you had started dating — Hell, even before that, he had acknowledged that he was going to protect you with his best efforts, and that he was going to help you carry the weight of your past. You helped him too, after all.

You trailed out of the bedroom and saw the light on in the bathroom, so you swiftly figured Frank had gone in to take care of the cut on his calf. A bang of guilt for not looking after him hit you square in the chest, but you swallowed it down. You were feeling more calm now, the shock of seeing your ex slowly retreating, so you drifted back to Frank after grabbing some ice from the freezer.

You found him seated on the edge of your bathtub, his leg hoisted on top of his other one so he could get access to the torn fabric of his jeans. ”Is it bad?” you asked shyly, and quick to reassure you, Frank shook his head.

”Nah, it’s barely anythin’. Piece of shit’s pretty lousy even with a weapon”, he chuckled, trying to make light of the situation, and it did get you to smile.

”I’m sorry”, you sighed while walking over to him and taking his big hand in yours, so you could press the ice pack against his red knuckles.

He frowned while looking at your forlorn expression. ”Sorry for what, darlin’?” he questioned, and with a lick of your lips, you looked down at your feet. He wrapped an arm around your waist and reeled you in, getting you to sit on his lap while he wiped your hair away from your face.

”It’s just so embarrassing. I never wanted you to get hurt. Or to have to deal with him in the first place. It’s not your problem to fix”, you explained, shame loud in your voice. Frank was having none of it. Gently, he tilted your head up, so he could meet your gaze and give you a completely serious look.

”Hey, your problems are my problems now. What kinda boyfriend would I be if I made you deal with it all by yourself, huh? ’Sides, ya do know it’s kinda my area to fight assholes, right?” he reminded with a soft smile. You shrugged, but you couldn’t deny he was right.

”I just wish I didn’t have to worry about him anymore”, you lamented, and nodding in understanding, Frank leaned in to kiss your forehead.

”Lemme take care of it, aight? I promise, it ain’t gonna be a problem anymore”, he swore, and with a budding smile, you dropped your head onto his shoulder. You knew exactly what he meant, but you didn’t argue — if anyone deserved to be on the wrong end of Frank’s fists or gun, it was your ex. And the world would be a better place without him.

”I don’t know what I’d do without you”, you admitted sheepishly, and breaking into a grin, Frank caressed your hair.

”And you never gotta find out, little lady.”

[rosazoldyckk]

-Yandere! Killua Zoldyck X Reader Headcanons-

⚠️warning⚠️ mentions of obsessive/yandere tendencies, kidnapping, stalking and assassination.

Fandom: Hunter X Hunter. Character(s): Killua Zoldyck, Silva Zoldyck, Kikyo Zoldyck, Gon freecs.

*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧ 1073 words *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧

*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧ *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧ *.:✧*.:✧

Killua's love for you is intense. This new and rather unique feeling confuses him, and as much as he doesn't want to, he asks his mother and father about it.

Well, safe to say that Kikyo is absolutely FURIOUS that Killua is even thinking about something so foolish. She dedicated her whole being to raising her sons so that they could be the best assassins the zoldyck's could raise, and the heir to the family is thinking about love?? OUTRAGEOUS!!

Silva however, Is much more relaxed than his wife is and even encourages Killua to explore deeper into how he feels about you. To Killua, his father just wants him to be happy and free however in reality Silva wants a secured future for the Zoldyck family. So long as his son remains 'obedient' then all is well. (And maybe Silva can use you as a way to blackmail Killua if he ever becomes a hassle for the family)

Anyways. Now that Silva is on board, Killua is free to do whatever he wants with you!

No doubt that Killua politely asked Milluki to retrieve some information about you. (And by politely asked I mean threatened to destroy Milluki's dolls) And after Milluki being the ‘wonderful’ big brother that he is, Killua now knows all of your family's dark secrets that even you don't know.

Gon is the first to know about Killua's crush on you and in short he's super happy for his best friend! Gon is also just as encouraging as Silva is, even trying to spend some more time with Leorio and Kurapika so that you and you and Killua can have some 'alone time' (Gon doesn't know how crazy Killua is for you.)

Spontaneously walked up behind you one day in York new city and cut off some of your hair. Everyone around to witness it, including you, thought that he was some sort of psychopathic stalker when he was actually trying to be sweet. Even after all this time he still has it in a small ziplock bag underneath his pillow.

He really likes sleeping in the same room as you. Even when you don't know that he's there. You look so impossibly adorable, what with your tranquil expression and your gorgeous body. Killua couldn't help but wonder how it might feel to have you so at peace in his arms, with your steady and gentle breaths pushing against him. He wondered how it might feel to have your hands so securely wrapped in his own, with the softness of your skin soothing his.

Goes without saying that he'd 100% kill for you or torture someone in your name. What else could he do to prove his love? Must he rip out his heart and lay it on a bed of roses for you to acknowledge his undying emotions for you? If he needed help, than surely Gon, Kurapika and Leorio wouldn't hesitate.

Let's face it. Killua wasn't asking you out. He was telling you, you're now dating. He’s got a forceful side to him when it comes to starting the relationship.

If you didn't want to date him, that's just too damn bad because how are you in a position to refuse him when he’s the heir to the worlds strongest assassin family?

"We're not a couple, Killua! Stay away from me!" You screamed. Killua giggled as he looks up at you, a wicked smirk plastered on his face. "Yes... We are, Y/N. I've chosen you." He steps closer, making you gulp. "You're mine now~"

Killua wears the pants in your relationship. Well, he made the pants. He's the dominant one out of you two and he won't have it another way.

He's not delusional, just a boy who’s in love.

Killua may be a little immature, but boy is he smart. Growing up the way he did really gifted him with the art of manipulation and gaslighting to get his way.

Sometimes, he likes to make you feel foolish and pathetic. As a powerplay move.

He informs everyone including his family that both of you are dating. Even if it is not technically true. If Killua says your his. Then sorry, but there’s not much that anyone can do to help you.

Killua also forces his affection on you. (If you can even call it that). His favorite form of physical affection is hand-holding.

His favorite kisses to give are kisses on your knuckles. It's a gentleman's habit he learned here and there.

Call Killua a gentleman, and he’ll hold the title with pride

He'd give you the most bizarre but most expensive gifts (mostly from rich and fancy people that he’s had to assassinate). A whole bar of gold, a diamond necklace, rare animals, flower stems, the fingers of the people he’s had to kill, etc.

Killua isn’t overly expressive when it comes to telling you how much he loves you, Y’know since he didn’t really grow up hearing the words ‘I love you’ on a regular basis. So I think the farthest he expresses his love to you is through his drawings, and the occasional makeout session.

Killua would come to your home in the middle of the night with his skateboard and wake you up just so that he can tell you about the assassin life and how difficult it is. (As much as it’s fun to talk to you, Killua’s purely telling you so that you think twice about ever leaving him)

Now let's talk kidnapping...

If you got to a point where you couldn't take Killua forcing himself on you anymore and trying to flee, he would surely track you down in a short amount of time and then have you tied up tightly somewhere.

It saddens Killua deeply, to think that his love for you simply wasn’t enough to satisfy you, but he makes a silent oath to himself that he will try and be better, the second that he finds somewhere that will make sure that you never leave his side ever again.

His next step would be to inform his parents that a "guest" will be living with them for a while. And as skeptical the family is (an no matter how enraged Kikyo is upon hearing your arrival) they welcome you into their home. (On Killua’s demand) They don't even blink twice at the ropes wrapped around you or the collar tightened around your neck.

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 06)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): cursing--there's a lot of it--like a lot, psychopathic behaviors, being held captive, verbal and physical violence, degrading nicknames, talks of death and unaliving someone, strangulation, PLS READ WITH CAUTION BECAUSE THIS PART IS REALLY GRIM I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING

Word Count: 4200-ish

Tag(s): I'm tagging everyone who requested to be tagged prior to the long hiatus, pls tell me if you'd like to NOT be included in the tag list for future updates, thanks! @marvelousgoldroses @jay-2s-world @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cat-or-kitten @littleshadow17 @itzz-me-duh @geeksareunique @paisleebubbles @whateverrrrrrrrs @crazyunsexycool @louderfortheback @wifeyofeveryone

Author's Note: HI EVERYONE HOW ARE YOU?? I know this is long overdue, but pls enjoy the new part of love bugs! I'm so happy to be posting again and I hope you like what I've got in plans for this series. I think we only have one or maybe two chapters left for this story (depending whether I want to write an epilogue or not lol) but in the meantime, pls enjoy this part and don't forget to LIKE+REBLOG+COMMENT !!! thank you 🌹

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

The bullpen of FBI headquarters was still reeling in the aftermath of a Derek-Morgan-shaped hurricane.

Emily was just about to enter the vicinity again when she heard the tail end of Derek's furious words, right before Hotch had ordered him to retreat.

"What was that about?" Emily asked as she approached Rossi's side, eyes never straying from the two men who soon disappeared into Hotch's office.

Rossi never addressed Emily's question. Instead, he gestured for her--and everybody else in the room--to be quiet with a finger on his lips, before he pressed the unmute button on the telephone.

"Hello?"

The UnSub's head jerked at Rossi's unfamiliar voice. You were barely successful in getting him to calm down following Derek's unexpected outburst, but the sound of Rossi's voice was threatening to throw all of those poor attempts straight out of the window.

"Who is that?" he demanded warily. "Where's Agent Hotchner?"

"He had to step away for a second," Rossi notified. "I'm SSA David Rossi. I also work with Agent Hotchner and Agent (Y/L/N)."

"I know who you are."

"Yeah? I still don't know who you are, though."

A responding groan vibrated from the other line. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do you think I'm fucking dumb?"*

"No one thinks anything here, pal. Just wanted to know who I was speaking to, that's all." At the UnSub's clear signs of agitation, Rossi quickly added, "It'd be nice to know the person who clearly means a lot to (Y/N)."

Rossi's reassurance obviously managed to trigger the intended effect it had sought. Everyone could see how the UnSub physically deflated at Rossi's words, meaning that hopefully he was soon going to let his guard down.

"I can't tell you who I am," your assailant said, still adamant, although his resolve was wearing thin with each word he had stated. "You're just gonna use it to track me down and keep us apart."

The last syllable of his sentence was emphasized by the weight of his dagger on the side of your neck. You instinctively winced at the unwelcomed touch of the blade before schooling your expression once more so your captor wouldn't notice.

"I promise you, no one is going to do that," Rossi said.

"He's telling the truth," you decided to chime in, surprising everyone including the UnSub whose grip of the dagger had teetered dangerously closer to your pulse point at the sudden proclamation. "They are good people. They don't break promises or tell lies. I promise you, nothing will come between us."

The silence that fell next was heavy with the UnSub's hesitation. Bracing yourself, you forced your head to tilt back, locking eyes with him who was still standing like a guard dog right behind you.

"I swear, Darling," you vowed.

The lull in your voice--or perhaps the fact that you had called him darling in front of your team, which he could arguably take as a display of affection--must have stirred up something in his twisted mind. He actually preened at you before his eyes went right back towards the direction of the camera on the wall.

"My name is Arthur," he confessed.

A particular thread of memory in your brain immediately lit up.

Back in the bullpen, JJ and Spencer were finally returning with documents containing your phone records that they had promptly asked Kevin to gather. Spencer didn't waste any time before perching himself on his desk to start rummaging through the thick pile of files.

"Arthur?" Rossi repeated the name, eyes flicking over to Garcia with a silent request to start cross-referencing the name with the other names they had acquired so far in the investigation.

The tech analyst didn't need to be told twice. She began typing furiously on her laptop as Rossi's attention was drawn back towards the projector.

The UnSub hadn't moved an inch. His hand was still just as sturdy on your shoulder. The blade was also still just as cold as it pressed onto your skin.

One wrong move, and you would end up no better than a slaughter animal on the cold hard ground.

"Do you have a last name, Arthur?" Rossi asked.

The entire bullpen held their breath in anticipation. Rossi had planted the bait as strategically as he could. It was up to the UnSub to take it and slip up the one information that would give them a major lead to end this case once and for all.

But before the UnSub could respond, a muffled beeping resonated in the air, through the telephone line, and finally into the bullpen. The sound was enough to make your assailant faltered.

"I have to go."

It was the last thing he uttered before the line, along with the livestream, went completely dead.

The atmosphere was laden with restlessness as everyone tried to make peace with the fact that they had just lost the only mean of communication they had with you. Without the feed from the livestream, no one could possibly know what was going on. The team would have no idea if something were to happen to you.

They would have no idea how to determine whether you were alive or dead.

"Did you find anything yet, Garcia?" Rossi questioned, although in all honestly, it sounded more like a desperate plea.

The thick regret behind Garcia's eyes gave Rossi the answer he needed to know.

"I can't find any Arthur in our files, sir," Garcia informed.

"Anything from her phone records? What about the hospital?" Rossi tried again.

Emily shook her head almost remorsefully.

"Nothing yet," Spencer spoke up from his place on the desk. "Not a single thing stands out from her records."

"What now?" JJ sighed, exhaustion and worry beginning to decorate the lines on her face.

The whole bullpen stood still, as if everyone was waiting for a slice of miracle to descend into the room, holding a map that would eventually lead the team to where you were still being held captive. But such a map didn't exist in this piece of reality, and the BAU knew that they were running out of time.

"Garcia, did you record the livestream by any chance?" Spencer asked at last.

"Yeah, of course I did."

Penelope punched a few keys on her keyboard before the projector once again came alive with the footage from the livestream.

"Can you fast forward to the very end?" Spencer requested. "And then play it again backwards to the beginning."

"What are you thinking, Spence?" JJ wondered.

"I don't know. I just... maybe there's a detail we missed. At this point, even the smallest piece of clue is worth pursuing."

Several pair of eyes glued themselves on the screen as the livestream footage ran backward at a faster speed. Bated breaths waited in tension for just the tiniest hint that the team could scour to determine your location.

"Wait. What was that?" Spencer interjected. "Garcia, play that again."

"What? What is it?" Emily spoke up.

"Look at her hand." Spencer stood up from the desk, approaching the screen to get a better look. "She's knocking against the chair. Garcia, zoom in on her hand. The left one."

Penelope did as she was asked. "Is that--"

"It's morse code," Rossi muttered, realization overtaking his countenance.

"What is she saying?" JJ questioned.

"A-U--" Spencer began spelling out loud, "--T... Auto. She's spelling auto."

"Auto?" JJ's forehead creased. "As in... auto shop?"

"Her records said she went to a mechanic a week ago," Spencer recalled. JJ immediately rummaged through the papers on Spencer's desk, but the pages flipping inside of Spencer's mind moved at a thousand times more speed than any normal pair of eyes ever could. "Dinozzo's Auto Service, 894 Southwell Street."

"Got it," Penelope chimed in from her place in front of the laptop. "Dinozzo's Auto Shop. Originally owned by Carlo Dinozzo before it was passed down to his two sons after his death a year ago."

"Any of them named Arthur?" Rossi asked

"Nope. Luca and Piero."

"What about the employees?" Emily suggested.

"No. I'm not seeing any Arthur anywhere near that place."

"We profiled that the UnSub could be holding down a steady job in his everyday life," JJ said. "He might not even be related to that place. Maybe (Y/N) encountered him there by chance?"

"Nah, I doubt it." Rossi shook his head. "The bastard's too sophisticated to leave anything up to chance like that. He must have found a way to orchestrate it one way or another."

"There must be a connection somewhere, then. No way he just chose a random place off the map," Emily muttered. "We should cross-reference the name to anyone associated with the Dinozzos."

Penelope began to frantically type something into her laptop. "We've still got three names here. Oh, never mind. Two names, 'cause one of them is dead."

"What do we have on them?" Spencer asked.

"First is Arthur Doyle. He went to high school with Luca and Piero Dinozzo, works in a local company, and looks like he travels a lot for his job," Penelope explained. "There's also an Arthur Harrison, works as an accountant in the heart of Arlington. His dad and Carlo Dinozzo were long-time pals. Apparently, his dad was an accountant too and used to handle the shop's finances before Arthur inherited the office. Oh."

"What? What'd you find?"

"Arthur was engaged," Penelope murmured, "to a Claire Dumont. They were gonna get married last year but the wedding was called off just one month before the D-day."

"Where's Claire now?" JJ asked.

"She moved to Ohio shortly after the breakup, and... oh my God. Guess what?" Penelope looked up, her eyes widening almost comically. "She just announced her engagement three months ago."

Spencer hummed. "That could be the stressor."

An image of a woman suddenly appeared on screen, right above the paused footage of your hand. Everyone stared at the picture in shock.

"That's Claire Dumont," Penelope murmured.

JJ held her breath. "She and (Y/N) could be sisters."

"We've found our guy," Rossi declared. "Garcia, pull up every known address associated with this man. And hurry, we don't have much time."

"I have three properties so far connected to Arthur Harrison. Sending the addresses to all of your phones."

As JJ, Spencer, and Rossi rushed to exit the bullpen, Emily turned around and called out to the others, "I'm grabbing Morgan and Hotch!"

Without stopping to knock, Emily pushed open the door to Hotch's office, ignoring the slivers of tension dancing around in the air.

"We may have something," Emily announced to the room. "We think we know where (Y/N) is."

Your assailant--Arthur, as it turned out--pulled his phone out and pressed a few buttons in, silencing the beeping. Once the noise was gone, the room was quiet again.

He looked at you, then. Piercingly. You squirmed underneath his scrutiny.

"Wait here," he eventually said. "I'll be back."

Without taking a second to breathe, Arthur flew past you and towards the direction he had appeared from earlier.

"Wait! Wait. Where are you going?"

The sound of steps ceased on top of concrete. You waited with bated breath for his response. But the only sound ever came was that of the metal door, and as quickly as you could count to three, he was gone.

At last, you were alone once more.

The traces of adrenaline had begun to dissipate out of your system, leaving you in a shivering mess inside that damp concrete room. Once again, you attempted with all of your might to free yourself from the state of confinement you were in. But the metal cuffs binding you to the chair only dug further into your skin the more you tried to escape, while the chair itself stayed nailed in place no matter how hard you tried to rock it.

After a few more minutes of futile attempts, you were forced to face the reality of your situation.

You were never going to get yourself out of that dingy place alone.

Huffing a breath, you knew that there was nothing more you could do except to hope that your team found the hidden message you had left for them to solve.

And with that last thought conquering every room your head, you let yourself succumb to the impending darkness.

You woke up gasping for air.

It took you a few seconds to remember where you were, to remember that you weren't back in the comfort of your apartment and instead, you were still holed up in the darkened cold room where your abductor had been keeping you captive.

It took a few seconds more to realize that the drowning dream you just had might have been a tad bit more real than you initially thought.

Still reeling in shock, you peered up and locked eyes with your abductor, eyes barely registering the empty bucket he was holding in one of his hands. It didn't take a genius to conclude that he was the one responsible for your drenched state.

"W-what?" you stuttered meekly. "What's going on?"

He only stared at you in response.

"Arthur?"

You shrieked loudly when Arthur threw the empty bucket against the wall, sending a resounding "bang" throughout the whole room and breaking the plastic object into two misshaped pieces.

"Arthur--" you gasped, searching for your voice that seemed to have disappeared beneath the layers of brewing fear, "--w-what... what are you... what's going on? Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk to you, you fucking bitch."

The beating inside your chest fastened. Before you could ask yet another question, Arthur had lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging your head back so you could stare directly into his eyes.

"You're a fucking liar," he seethed. "You lied to me. Everything you said was a lie, wasn't it?!"

"I don't--" you hissed, trying to ignore the biting pain in your scalp, "--I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Stop fucking lying!!!"

A sharp smack reverberated in the air.

It was only when the ringing in your ear grew louder did you realize that Arthur had slapped your cheek.

Hard.

Ignoring the tingling on the side of your face, you lifted your head once more. The room was spinning, tilting your balance left and right, but you held your ground through it all.

"What did I lie to you about, Arthur?" you asked carefully.

He threw something at your feet. It clanged against the hard ground below before landing face up near your toes.

It was your phone.

But the fact that Arthur somehow had your phone in his possession wasn't what caused the sick feeling to stir northward in your belly.

It was what you were seeing on the now cracked screen of your phone: a picture of you and Derek. A selfie that you had impulsively taken of the two of you in bed after one of your nighttime escapades.

For awhile there, you had briefly forgotten about that photo. It was another lost memory in the ocean of rubble left behind in the wake of your fallout with Derek. Seeing that photo again after such a long time triggered waves of emotions that you had been desperately burying for the past few weeks.

The longing, the guilt, the heartache.

The regrets.

The regret of ending your little arrangement so abruptly in such a hostile manner. The regret of not telling Derek sooner about the baby. The regret of maybe never being able to see Derek for one last time.

But most importantly, it was the regret over not revealing the truth of what your heart felt for him that was eating you alive.

"You're fucking him," Arthur fumed, eyes blazing with an indescribable fury that made your entire body shudder.

"Arthur, please... I can explain--"

"Shut the fuck up."

He stepped forward once more, crowding your personal place and rendering you helpless underneath his psychopathic gaze.

"Tell me the truth, and if you dare lie--" Arthur paused, his hand disappearing behind his back before it appeared again with a dagger that he promptly pressed against your abdomen, "--don't ever dream of meeting your child."

"Okay. Okay, I'll tell you the truth."

"You're fucking him, aren't you?"

The bile in your throat had tripled in size. Swallowing it down, you tried to even your voice out as you answered, "I was."

"Ha," he scoffed. "I knew it. You fucking whore. You're no better than any of them."

To your relief, he eventually chose to retract the dagger and stepped away from you, opting to circle the room like a distressed lion in a cage. But even with the blade no longer touching your skin, you knew very well that the danger wasn't over yet and that things could escalate even further in a matter of seconds if you weren't careful.

"Arthur," you called out to him softly, slowly, as to not startle him and risk doing something that would trigger a psychotic break. "Arthur, please. You have to listen to me. That arrangement ended long ago. It meant nothing to me. It happened long before I met you."

Arthur's voice echoed coldly as he replied, "I don't believe you."

"Please, Arthur--"

"That's his child, isn't it?" he cut you off, pointing the tip of the dagger at your belly. "What he said on the phone. He said my child. That's because it's his. You're having Derek Morgan's child."

"No--"

"I thought you were different. I thought you were the one." The dagger in his hand shook with venom. "But you're just the same as the rest of them."

"I'm not. Please, I'm not--"

"I have to start searching again. For the one. You're not her, which means she's still out there."

"Arthur--"

"I'll have to get rid of you."

"Arthur, please!" Your voice cracked, leaking of terror and desperation larger than anything you had ever known. When something wet touched the side of your nose, you realized then that you had started to cry. "Arthur, you have to believe me. I've ended everything with him. There's nothing between us anymore."

The words you uttered kept lingering in the air in a bubble made out of despair. But as if every single one of them had fallen on deaf ears, your captor paid no attention to them. Not even a single acknowledgment to your pleas.

Instead, he had begun taking careful steps forward. Silent and deadly, like a predator stalking its prey.

"Arthur, please! I choose you!"

To your shock, his steps faltered upon your words.

For a moment, you could taste relief on the tip of your tongue before it was washed away by the knowledge that you were not entirely out of the woods yet. But from the corner of your eye, you could see the slight loosening of Arthur's grip around the dagger. It filled you with enough hope to push forward.

"I'm choosing you, Arthur," you stated confidently, trying to convince him of your sincerity. "I don't care about Derek. I'm done with him. I'm done with my old life and everyone in it. I'm ready to leave everything behind to be with you. I choose you."

"You choose me?"

"Yes. I choose you to take care of me. To take care of this baby. The three of us can be a family. How does that sound?"

Seconds ticked into minutes. Minutes stretched into a long silence. The anticipation threatened to break your chest in half.

When he finally began to move once more, Arthur surprised you. He threw the dragger towards a darkened corner in the room, far away from his reach and, most importantly, far away from the possibility of it harming the growing life inside of you.

When Arthur took off the ski mask he had been wearing since the first time you opened your eyes in that harrowing place, you weren't at all surprised to see the face staring back at you. After all, it was the same face belonging to the man who had stopped his car for you when your own car had mysteriously broken down in the middle of the road just around two weeks prior. The same face who offered a business card of his friend's auto shop where you eventually went to get your vehicle fixed.

In retrospect, you should have been at least a little bit suspicious by the whole ordeal, but was it really your fault for choosing to put your trust in the good of humanity?

You knew there was no point in dwelling over what-ifs anymore. Arthur would've found a way, like any psychopath would, and you would've still ended up being tied up in this dismal room with him.

"Did you mean it?" Arthur asked.

You put on your best fake smile before answering, "Yes."

He grabbed you in his arms in just two long strides.

You wanted to throw up. You hated the feeling of his fingers stroking your back. You wanted to kick him away and get this piece of shit as far away from you and your baby as possible. You wanted to rid yourself of the lingering smell of him that had now undoubtedly transferred into your skin.

And maybe, you would've done all of those things if it was only your life that was on the line.

Unfortunately, fighting back was a luxury you couldn't afford anymore. So, you were forced to stay quiet instead, letting your captor whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if it didn't repulse you even being in the same room as him.

You were close to counting towards the 200s in your head when, suddenly, a clanking noise in the distance ripped your attention away.

In a split second, Arthur had peeled his arms from around you and got back on his feet. You knew then that he must have heard it, too.

You watched as he stepped away, dragging a crate from one corner of the room and placing it strategically underneath the only opening on the walls. He got on top of the crate to allow himself to peek outside, but whatever he saw must have startled him greatly. Because the next thing you knew, he had backed away from the wall in the blink of an eye, face crumpling in what could only be described as panic.

"The cops are here," he managed to sputter out.

"What?"

Your heart was hammering inside of its cage. The cops are here. You realized then that the team must have solved the clue you left them. They had solved the case, and they were coming to save you.

Derek was coming to save you.

"What did you do?!"

In a moment of weakness, you had allowed yourself to rejoice in the promise of freedom that you momentarily forgot you actually hadn't possessed it yet. The slip-up was miniscule, but it wasn't fleeting enough to escape the attention of your captor.

"You tricked me!" Arthur's voice boomed throughout the room, carrying rage unlike anything you had ever known. "I trusted you, and you lied to me! Again."

"Arthur--"

This time, there was no room for negotiation.

Arthur didn't even waste a millisecond before he dove forward. He was a lion, and you were the deer. His sharp teeth were calloused fingers, and they dug into your skin as Arthur tightened his grip around your throat.

"You lied to me. You lied to me."

He repeated those words like a mantra, his voice drowned out by desperate gasps as you tried to scour for what little bit of air you could still revel in. Your feet and arms shook beneath their restrains. Your head pounded from the pressure that had gathered inside your skull.

In that moment, death was imminent.

You could feel it coming. You could feel its claws clutching every single drop of life that was still remaining in your bloodstream. It was a battle between the two, and unfortunately, death was winning.

As the dark spots in your vision spread into a massive blotch, you allowed yourself to say goodbye. To life. To the world. To the memories of your loved ones whose faces you wished you could've memorized one last time.

To Derek, the one who could've been, the one you wished had been.

And to the child in your womb, the one you wished you could've met, the one you wished you could've saved.

When darkness came, you expected it to be cold and unforgiving, but as it turned out, darkness was easy. Simple. It welcomed you into its home with open arms, shielding you from the cruelties of the mundane world.

As it pulled you deeper into its abode, you could faintly hear the sound of your name being called repeatedly. It sounded similar. It sounded like home.

But this was your home now, so without turning back, you allowed darkness to lead you further down the dim path. Away from the pain and the heartbreaks of life. Far from the evil that lurked in the streets behind their well-crafted masks.

In the darkness, there was nothing.

In the darkness, you were nothing.

And nothing was exactly what you were going to be.

[cocogum]

The unconventional marriage between Yugo and Amalia.

Before I jump into it, I’m going to first talk about my personal thoughts on this moment:

💖💖💖❤️‍🔥❤️❤️‍🔥💕💕❤️💖💖❤️❤️❤️WE WON, WE GOT FED OMG THEY’RE SO CUTE TOGETHER, KISS MORE‼️‼️‼️‼️I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT MY WHOLE LIFE I’VE WATCHED YOU GUYS GROW UP FUCK‼️‼️‼️❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥✨✨❤️‍🔥💖💖❤️‍🔥😭❤️❤️💕😭😭😭😭😭✨💖✨🥰🥰✨💖✨❤️‍🔥

Now that we got that out of my system, let’s begin explaining what happened.

The scene starts with Yugo and Amalia, holding a bouquet of flowers, walking side by side together.

At first, I thought she was carrying the flowers for Armand’s grave but it turns out that they were both walking together TO THEIR WEDDING.

(now that I think about it, it actually makes sense that Amalia won’t be carrying flowers for Armand’s tree grave cuz like…she’s a sadida. Giving flowers to another sadida, especially a DEAD ONE sounds very disrespectful lol)

I’m guessing there was a slight time skip between the necrome war and the wedding because we can see Armand’s tree, which had been just a bud in Amalia’s hands during the fight, look like it grew up a bit underneath his parents’ tree shades.

Once the two walk up to the altar, they stand side by side and hold hands while facing the others who have come for them. We can see the Percedal family with Poo, Cleophee with Black Ink and Elaine, Dathura, Renate and Canar (Amalia’s two closest servants), Alibert with Grougal, Chibi, Adamaï, and Ruel. As well as Kerubim and Atcham (Joris doesn’t seem to be there though or maybe he’s just too short that we can’t see him 😭😭).

Not to mention that we can also see the elite eliatropes standing in the back and the sadidas too!

However, as soon as the two face the crowd together, Yugo decides to teleport him and Amalia away from the ceremony, causing the people to gasp at that sudden choice.

This was obviously not a planned decision that had been added to the occasion which is why even Amalia had been caught off guard by the act.

But once she takes a second to realize her surroundings, she knows she shouldn’t be afraid and so, she simply smiles back at Yugo knowing it’s just the two of them now, way up high in the skies.

They hold onto each other without the need to say anything, knowing full well that the other is just as happy to be together like this. To feel like for once, in a speck of a minute, there’s no danger to fight. There’s no big evil they need to defeat, no psychopath trying to eradicate the gods for vengeance, no big demon coming to have some fun, and no lost soul trying to live like in the old days.

They can finally enjoy the moment they’ve been waiting for so long, after so many challenges, unspoken words that needed to be said but couldn’t be told, and the many foes they faced.

For once, it’s just them up in the skies.

And that’s when they truly kiss without any regrets or doubts. They’re not thinking about anything else.

They can just think about themselves for now.

Here they are omg!! My babies are finally together!! 😩❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️❤️❤️❤️💖💖💖

Can you believe that? It’s been a lot more than six years that we’ve been waiting for this very moment and here they are finally married and happy to be with each other like this!! 😭😭

I actually DID NOT expect to see these two getting married in the last episode but I’m so glad I did cuz my heart literally jumped out of its place and made me choke on my soda (i chose pineapple flavor for some reason).

Now that we’ve got our feelings out of the way, it’s time we analyze this wedding scene much more closely.

At first glance, Yugo and Amalia’s wedding was very sweet and beautiful, something that was deserved for the two after being apart and filled with problems on their respective sides.

It’s so sweet in fact that it stands out from any other weddings we’ve seen in Wakfu (yes, even the attempted one with Count Harebourg and Amalia) but I’ll use Dally and Eva’s wedding as the main example.

Usually, when there’s a marriage in the World of Twelve, we’ve seen the white dresses and suits, and especially the glowing happy vibes that the wedding is giving. We’ve seen it with Dally and Eva’s wedding back in the OVAs.

Evangelyne was wearing a white dress while Dally was wearing a good suit that properly dressed him up completely. They had the Sadida ruler, King Oakheart, acting as the priest in charge of the wedding. They then exchanged their wedding rings and waited for the king to end the ceremony so they could seal it with a kiss.

That is what you call a proper wedding, a classic one to be more specific.

So when we compare their marriage with Yugo and Amalia’s, one can’t help but distinguish the differences in what happened during their ceremony.

And boy is it different.

First detail we can notice is the clothing. Amalia may be wearing the royal white cape but that is just what Armand wore. So the cape cannot count as classic clothing for the wedding because it is a common piece of clothing that the Sadida ruler(s) wear while on the job. It may not look very clear at first but if you zoom in on what Amalia is wearing, she seems to have put on the same usual clothing we see her wear at all times except that it now has the white color and the leaf is green, the color symbolizing how a new age came and the kingdom now has proper rulers.

We can technically say that Amalia’s choice of clothing for the wedding would be somewhat acceptable but since she has only changed the color of the same clothes she wears every day, we cannot count this as classic wedding attire.

As for Yugo, his clothes are much easier to declare that they are not fit to be worn for a proper wedding. He’s been wearing his hood and combat suit this whole time and even on this special day, he hasn’t taken them off.

It’s clear to say that these two did not respect the clothing rule for their own wedding.

Second detail we can notice are the rings. Usually, lovers often use wedding rings to symbolize their union as well as their commitment to one another. Dally and Eva perfectly demonstrated that rule by exchanging their rings with each other (despite how they’re actually brass knuckle rings but that still counts since that’s the iop way for ya lol).

Notice how neither Yugo nor Amalia has a ring for each other. Instead, they hold hands, symbolizing the union they have made between their people.

Third detail we can notice, there’s no priest. Unlike Dally and Eva who had the king for that, Yugo and Amalia did not choose anyone to begin the ceremony. They simply addressed their union by themselves.

Fourth detail we can notice is the audience. Compared to Dally and Eva’s wedding, the audience for Yugo and Amalia mainly consists of their friends and family. The others are the elite eliatropes and some sadidas.

Because of those stark differences, it’s clear to see that the ambiance in Yugo and Amalia’s wedding is far calmer and more private compared to Dally and Eva’s which is more public and much louder.

So now that we’ve got all the points that differentiate these two marriages, we’ve only got one question left:

Why are they different in the first place?

Dally and Eva are not royals and yet they seem to have filled all the boxes for having a perfect-looking wedding.

How did Yugo and Amalia, a god-king and a princess, manage to get a much simpler and calmer wedding compared to these two?

This wasn’t a coincidence. This wedding looks much smaller than what Dally and Eva had. According to Armand’s tree grave, which seemed to have grown up a bit, this suggests that Yugo and Amalia did have the time to prepare a bit more for their wedding but they simply chose not to.

In the special episodes, just right before Dally and Eva’s wedding had even been planned, Eva had specifically stated that no one bothers Dally for a week which implies that after that week of rest, these two must’ve gotten help from the sadidas to organize this whole event for them.

This means that Yugo and Amalia could’ve done the same thing and asked for something just as good, or better since they’re royals after all. But compared to Dally and Eva, they definitely had more time to ask since we know that trees don’t grow fast (I’m talking about Armand’s tree grave) and yet, it feels like they’ve just kept it simple.

But why?

My take on the matter is this:

Because Yugo and Amalia are not supposed to have a normal relationship. Therefore, everything they do usually strays away from anything remotely expected of them to have in a relationship.

For god’s sake, Yugo literally teleported him and Amalia AWAY FROM EVERYONE DURING WHAT SEEMED LIKE THE MIDDLE OF THE CEREMONY.

Their public wedding was specifically a political one. Which is why it would explain the lack of rings.

It was a happy political wedding however since Yugo and Amalia do harbor feelings for each other (suppressed feelings that they are now free to let out of course). But that’s when Yugo completely surprises Amalia, along with the others, when he brings her up in the skies, taking her away from everyone.

That sly dummy wanted her all to himself.

The wedding was so unconventional and they knew it. But they did not care. As long as they are together, they’ll be fine. After waiting for so long and finally having each other, properly planning their wedding doesn't seem as important anymore.

That’s why the ceremony was so different compared to the Percedals.

Note: Eva and Dally’s marriage was such a classic that Eva even had to wait for Dally to propose to her when she could’ve just been the one to initiate the first move. She even knew that Dally had been planning on asking for her hand and she deliberately waited. The only thing that isn’t considered classic in their marriage was getting children before the wedding lol

[dollcherray]

HI could I have a SMG3 x reader who is always smiling even when they are angry. Actually if reader would be angry they would be like "☺️💢" y'know?

So if you don't feel comfortable it's fine!

୨୧ BREAK A NECK ✮⋆˙

SMG3 X READER WHO ALWAYS SMILE

A/N: Ooo i like this one, i was a bit off because of the meds i took, so if i find something wrong when im better ill edit it😊👍🏼

Type: Romantic, fluff, headcanons

Triggers:some vague mentions of neglecting your own feelings but thats it.

Song recommendation: Break a neck

୨୧ First of all: he found your demeanor a bit creepy when he first met you, like how your always smiling is something that not much people could do, and the people who did it are either psychopaths or have some type of disability who keeps them from doing any other type of expressions.

୨୧ So when he met you he first thought there was something wrong with you but when he found out you were actually doing that on your own, he was creeped out a bit but tried to just ignore it.

୨୧ Smg3 would get extra close to you after some time when he saw you were very pleasant and cool to be around even with your creepy smile, he liked being around you after some time<3

୨୧ However, he doesnt really like to see you mad because you go all "😁💢" like a sociopath and he wouldnt like to fuck around and find out what you may be able to do to others since your reaction when mad is already creepy itself.

୨୧ But taking that aside, he actually appreciates your abilities to stay smiling all the time, its impressing, although, it does worry him sometimes because that can also mean that you are neglecting your feelings, he's not therapist but he does know that doing that is not healthy.

୨୧ If you do neglect your feelings, he would not be happy and would try to help you stop smilling some times, key word: try, he would not be like, 100% professional on it since he is not really used to comforting someone.

୨୧ He lowkey would find it strange if you stopped smiling at some point, like he got so used to you always smiling that if you actually stopped smiling Smg3 is going to be all like: "are you sick?! are you really you?!" and etc.

୨୧ If someone criticizes or make fun of your behavior, Smg3 would kick their ass for you, you wouldnt have to move a finger to get rid of them, dont worry, he got your back<3

୨୧ Would call you "smiley" or some shit like that, it would be either to tease you a bit or to genuinely have something to call you, either way, hes having fun with it.

[chihuahuawashere]

If Mikio was still alive I bet Taigen would try to kill him.

Like imagine if Mizu didn’t kill Mikio and really did just walk away from the ranch and left him behind with her dead mother and soldiers.

But Mikio was to scared to ever rat her out again so he’s still at the ranch with the greatest secret known to man.

The plot is still the same but after the whole London trip she goes back to Japan and reunites with Taigen who did just want a quiet life and be happy.

He lives by the shore with Ringo and they made their own noodle shop and people travel all around Japan to go to their shop because it’s /so/ good.

Mizu gets word of this and makes her way there all the way to the shore without being detected by anyone because they think that shes dead and by the time she gets there. The shop is fully packed with people and there’s a long line warped around the building

Mizu was surprised but also not surprised at the same time considering how good ringos noodles were. But she didn’t feel like wasting the rest of the day in a line so like a badass that she is, she walked right in getting people Who are waiting in a line for more then a day and rightfully got mad

But Mizu didn’t care about them all she cared about was seeing Taigen and Ringo again after disappearing to London. When she walked in it was much nicer then the noodle shop that Ringo used to work at with his dad. Everything was bigger and more spacious good for them.

But when she walked in she did make a noise complaint from all the people waiting in line and Taigen was ready to kick out whatever jackass thinking that they were better then the rest of them (trust me he knows that feeling all to well) so Taigen left his spot at the cash register to go punch whoever it was.

Only to drop his sword completely. He couldn’t believe his eyes at what he was seeing. Ringo told him that Mizu was gone. Dead in the fire, they couldn’t find the body but they thought that her bones must’ve melted or turned into ash in the big fire at the castle. In the beginning Taigen was in denial and searched weeks months just trying to find a body that’s similar to Mizus hoping to find her while the same time not at all. Couldn’t bear the thought of losing Mizu without having a proper duel or saying his true feelings.

He completely tackled Mizu to the ground hoping that it wasn’t just a ghost that he was seeing. He was a crying sobbing mess completely a wreck in a matter of seconds. Ringo rushed to the front of the shop wondering what in the hell is going on? What’s all the commotion? Only to see Mizu over Taigens shoulder and tackle the both of them as well- smashing them both onto the ground basically into human pancake. Ringo is also a sobbing mess even worse than Taigen.

But Taigen got out of the human pancake pile to announce to the whole shop that they are closing early too much of all of the customers and people waiting outside dismay. They were either shoved out of the shop or threatened saying that it is an important family matter that they need to attend to. Ringo was the only one being polite about it and apologizing and saying that they will get a refund if they come back tomorrow and also apologizing to all the people who are waiting in line for more than a day. 

Once everybody was out of the shop and away from the shop in general Ringo went back to the kitchen to cook up some fresh noodles for Mizu really quickly while Taigen was asking 1000,000 questions per millisecond asking all the questions that have been on his mind for so long. 

Ringo was also shouting questions from the kitchen also wanted to know how Mizu was still alive after all this time and where could he have gone. Mizu tried to answer the best I could without sounding like a complete nut job and a psychopath. But it’s already coming knowledge that Mizu is those two things. Mizu explain about going to London and killing the other two white people that were supposedly her father as well as going a little aventures washers in London and then meeting some really cool people.

But now he has back with you no more vengeance to venge and is ready for a quiet life. Ringo was more than happy to hear this news as he made his way out of the kitchen with three bowls of hot noodles handing one out to Taigen and Mizu and sat down with his. He was excited to go back to training of trying to be a samurai under the teachings of Mizu again.

Taigen saw this as an opportunity to try and court Mizu now. He didn’t care if Mizu was a man all he cared about was being happy and Mizu made him happy. Now that there wasn’t anything trying to killed them now, he had all the time on his hand to make this courting go absolutely right.

In the end they didn’t Open up the shop next day if anything they didn’t open up the shop until next week because they wanted to show Mizu The cute little village they’re in and all the stores and even their house that they shared with all the land that they have from making all there money off of the shop. They were pretty well off Mizu had to admit.

Ringo made Mizu move right in with them they had a room that was there guessed room but now it’s Mizus and she couldn’t complain it had a nice view of the ocean. After a week the shop opened up again and Mizu started working with them at the noodle shop working as a bodyguard basically keeping the peace in case someone tries to cause trouble. Surprisingly there wasn’t except the time she cut everybody else in line but it seems like everybody forgot about that incident.

It really was just peaceful living. And Mizu loved it but was also scared of it. Nice you really have a taste of what the peaceful life was like with Mikio and it sent chills down her spine. She didn’t want to ruin this one like she did with Mikio. So instead of being a lazy bodyguard Mizu tried to do more extra help around the shop.

But Mizu didn’t know how to do anything but cause pain and destruction wherever she turns.  just like I already told her she was like a monster. She would trip over herself or bump her elbow onto something or completely shattered a bowl or break the chopsticks either way there wasn’t a day that we can buy that some of the new that was Mizus fault.

And Mizu got more and more worried and anxious. She couldn’t lose this family as well. She couldn’t live with herself if she did. Ringo and Taigen saw the worry in her and decided to confront her when they were at home.

They basically locked up all the doors in the windows so Mizu couldn’t try to escape when confronting her but surprisingly Mizu didn’t try to run. Because Mizu has nothing to run away from now. She killed them.

So when Ringo and Taigen asked why she was so anxious and worried all the time how it wasn’t like her to be like that. She came out to Taigen that she was a girl.

Ringo was a true even after Mizus “death” he still kepted her true gender as a secret for all this. And was truly surprised that she told Taigen but was sooooooo happy to not have such a big secret on his shoulders anymore.

Taigen was /surprised/ to say the least. Actually that was an understatement. At the dinner table he had a whole sexual identity crisis going on in his head. He totally thought that he was okay with dating and marrying a boy only to find out it was a girl. Genuinely he was so confused but happy just knowing that Mizu was alive and that he was gonna marry her with way boy or girl Taigen was not gonna let her go.

Well Mizu explained about her from quaint and peaceful life on a horse ranch with her former husband and mom. And how she ruined that peaceful life by being “herself” (aka a monster). She even called her own mother saying “I gave you tea with gold leaves and you spat in it” Till this day Mizu blamed herself for ruining her chances with a happy and peaceful life. Her mother is dead and her husband… well she doesn’t know and she doesn’t want to find out.

Taigen is mad at this information and wants to kill Mikio because how in hell does he pass up Mizu?! Her powerful body is hot! And watching her kill people’s is sexy! And how dare Mikio betray her like that!

Taigen storms out of the house trying to clear his head. Damn he really wants to find this Mikio guy and kill him so bad! How dare he make Mizu hurt like this?! But then he stops pacing the stairs I was hands. How ironic keeping some self knowing that when he was younger he also did that exact same thing. Hurting Mizu and calling her a monster.

But it’s different this time! He doesn’t see her as a monster. He sees her as someone he can love someone he can fight for someone he can live for someone he can die for.

But in order to make Mizu see that he needs to show her exactly that. And just on que Mizu runs out of the house looking for Taigen only to see him right outside the porch. Mizu runs up to Taigen to try and cool his down telling him to not make any dumb decisions. But of course Taigen does exactly that. 

Taigen pulls Mizu into a kiss it was fast and sweet. He looks Mizu deep into her beautiful crisp blue eyes and told her that he’s gonna go look for Mikio kill him for hurting you come back with his head as proof and marry her and there’s no stopping him from doing that. All he asks is for Mizu to wait for him.

Mizu completely in shock just nods her head not really fully registering what just happened. Not until she sees Taigen go on a horse and rides away does it all fully click in her head that she now has to wait for her “husband” to come back.

How long does she have to wait? She doesn’t really know but she wishes she could come. She’ll love to see Mikio be killed. That was her husband after all. But she’s absolutely fine waiting for Taigen to come back to her.

Ringo on the other hand was watching this all go down threw the window and this is the most juiciest tea he got his hands on besides the old ladies that always sit in the corner of the shop gossiping about the village.

♥️ thanks for reading!!! 



[tragedycoded]

seven deadly sins tag!

Ohhh shiiiit thanks @the-golden-comet! And bbgirl @sableglass!!

Rules: which of your OCs would you assign to which of the seven deadly sins and why?

With the caveat that everything about the seven deadly sins I know from watching the movie Se7en and I am using the Wikipedia page as an instruction manual, let's gooooo!

Greed: Technically it's Royston. Of my five main OCs, he's the only one who acquires more wealth than anyone could ever possibly do anything with (look up how far a dollar went in the 1870s if you want to have a minor heart attack.) He doesn't give back to the community, only shares his Knowledge with one person, and thinks it's cute that he has multiple bounties on his head. But he's not avaricious, bc one would need to not be a...

Sloth: ... which Royston also is. And there's a lot of overlap between his psychopathic/attention-deficit traits and what the Church considered slothful behavior so hmmmm. Second answer is Khalid based solely on the fact he's physically inactive and can't run in ALM2.0 because Reasons.

Wrath: After seeing Hofer's performance in the Bad Ending, I'm never calling Royston the trigger-happy one again. This man's emotional repression is lethal.

Gluttony: Royston is a "dainty" and "expensive" eater (Thomas Aquinas's words, not mine.) He has a legit survived-a-stabbing-to-the-guts reason for this. Thomas Aquinas doesn't give a fuck.

Envy: [huge sigh] He's also vain, has a high opinion of himself, and gets jealous of Molly, Sullivan's horse, no fewer than three times in one novel.

Lust: I'm giving this one to Sullivan. I know I rip on Royston for being a horny little bastard, but Sullivan wilds out a bit in Book 2 and I say GOOD FOR HIM HE EARNED IT.

Pride: I have to call him out for something besides being a skinny nerd: Khalid. And I can tell you why in one word. I'm not going to, bc I don't want to end up in the search engine. But you all know what word it is.

Tag, suckers! <3

@lychhiker-writes @cowboybrunch @finickyfelix @saturnine-saturneight

@ashfordlabs @autism-purgatory @noblebs @aintgonnatakethis

@the-golden-comet @asablehart @mauvecatfic @leahnardo-da-veggie

@sableglass @gioiaalbanoart @words-after-midnight

@lavender-bloom @jev-urisk @wyked-ao3

[11queensupreme11]

Everybody fucking minds and always doing it the no sexy way 😞😔

Do love no war babygirls

If we're very decided we can solve all of this in bed! The sexy way

Or play UNO and whoever wins is the top

Sincerely, after watching the dress... Totally would think they're doing some kinky shit 🤣

Beelzebub: we can hold hands if you want 🥺 totally platonic no second intentions here

Percy: *didn't hear anything, cared no shit for what's happening, wants a hot dog with meat that probably is from a rat* what did you say?

Percy watching Sally being happier without her, her friends being happy with some girl... Queen, totally trauma, I'd cry and beg my mom to hold me even if that makes us miserable

Beelzebub, your yandere tendencies are showing. Giving her traumas and comforting her after. Get a man that can do both (please don't get you a man that can do that)

(Give us moooooore I'm starving)

(Waiting for what you're going to do with that, Percy progress- maybe fall is the correct word- is showing queen. Love it)

Anyway, can someone please draw them on their date? 😭 That's so cute, they're literally so perfect together, like that couple that is the black cat boyfriend with his golden retriever girlfriend and they're precious 💞

(Beelzebub worrying about her suicidal thoughts and he admitting he doesn't want to die so much... *Cheff kiss* we love an emo boy that is self aware)

Now, Loki?

Loki, my boy, your panic is beautiful to watch, horrific to endure.

I'm wondering how they are going to deal with being in the same harem? Fight to be the favorite concubine? Seduce their way to Percy's bed?

Percy: you're just a pathetic simp pretending to be an alpha man and you just go destroy mode whenever you're confronted with your own emotions. You love me so much that is making you look pathetic

Loki:

Him switching sides in the moment he accepts he loves her is gold.

He may be crazy, sadistic and a psychopath, but by the gods he's not going to fool himself.

He loves the girl, now he needs to kill all the other people that love the same girl.

Assassination! His favorite hobby! She's so much fun and they haven't even had sex yet! Wonderful wife indeed

And starting with Beelzebub is a wise move, you know? From all of them he's the one that she's the most comfortable with, he could play the slow game he's the one she'd fall at the end (you know, once she forgets about the other world, that he could make happen too).

Right now Beelzebub is that best friend that is the one for her (the other, even if I love them, aren't so close to her). He just needs to wait, fool her and she'd be his

(as if the other are going to let that happen, but is the scent, you know?)

Loki is right to be jealous of him, no one (with a dick) is close to her like him, she's herself with him and is the only one that likes him with his depressive tendencies.

He could say: Percy, for medical reasons, undress yourself and let me study your body. It may end in sexy medical porn, depending on my self control

And she wouldn't see no wrong.

Is Beelzebub! Her bestie! She can trust him with her security (poor navy girl, you can't never trust a man that much). Even if he has feelings for her she wouldn't worry about him doing anything to her, just worry about the uncomfortable situation.

Wondering if they're going to guilty trappe her to stay (You made us love you! We are learning to be open and to accept love and you want to leave us? Leave us in a world where we're fated to yearn for you for eternity and be alone again?), Percy would suffer whatever if she thinks she's saving people, such a naive and dumb girl, too good to this world.

This whole situation is pure chaos, they're planning so many things just to crash with each other. Would be funny to see them working together but also don't know how that situation would happen.

Anyway, thanks for the amazing chapter Queen! 👑

im sorry but this part cracked me up 😭

"for medical reasons we may need to fuck 😔"

"yeah sure ok"

😭😭😭

IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER!!

i had a blast writing this chapter lmao, and im currently writing another chapter (not the next one) that's gonna be even better

maybe... idk. all i can say is that beel digs an even deeper grave in this one chapter and i just love watching him lose his shit

[love-toxin]

permafrost - josh washington

a/n: I'm replaying the quarry rn so u know i had to pay tribute to the og lil meow meow <33

plot: you weren't so keen on reuniting with your friends at the same lodge the twins disappeared from a year ago, but for Josh's sake, you decided to relent and just have a little fun. who knew Josh's crush on you would be the thing that makes it so terrifying?

(cws: f!reader, mildly yandere josh, takes place mid-canon, UD spoilers, horror elements, a little bit of a fear kink, chasing, nudity, confessions, mutual pining, implied smut [pt2 perhaps?], knives, a little angst w/ fluff)

word count: 3.2k

You had never screamed so hard in your life, but you had also never been so close to death before. It stared you right in the face and in your state, with the cold freezing you to your bones and nothing but a towel to cover your damp skin, you had never been as vulnerable as you were in this moment.

The events of the night flashed by you in a daze, much like you had assumed your life would when you were about to die. Sam had offered the bath to you first and you had taken it gladly, happy to get warm after freezing your ass off while waiting for Josh and Chris to get the doors open. You were one of the first to get there because you were generally the most punctual, but apparently all that "butterfly effect" bullshit Chris was on lately actually had some truth to it. Because if you hadn't come early and almost gotten frostbite, then Sam wouldn't have let you in the bath first, and thus you wouldn't have been the one tricked out of the bathroom and chased throughout the house by the maniac in the mask who now held a knife over your throat.

"Last words?"

He snickered in that tinny voice and you just screamed louder, tears flooding down your face as you squirmed underneath him. The psycho had straddled your hips and held his other hand up to the hem of your towel, and it was impossible to tell whether he was holding it there to keep you decent or just taunting you for when he would rip it off and leave you exposed. You couldn't imagine it was the former, though, and it made you hiccup as you prayed it would just be over quickly. Nothing in your short life could have prepared you for your last moments here–laid out on the cold concrete of the Washington's estate basement, crying, nearly naked, and pinned by a psychopath who had probably already killed all of your absent friends. You just wanted out, and begged for mercy in a shaky voice.

"Aw…okay."

The killer paused, and if you weren't still trembling from the cold you would have thought you imagined it. You squeezed your eyes shut, thinking it might have just been another game–but they shot open again as soon as you heard the clang of the blade skittering across the concrete, the psycho having tossed it haphazardly out of reach. He lifted his arms and stuck his fingers beneath the lower jaw of the mask, and with a flourish, it was gone. And you could not believe whose face you saw underneath it.

"You convinced me. I guess I won't kill you after all!"

Josh Washington, your close friend and former classmate, laughed in your face. Laughed. In the way he would laugh at a corny joke or a video of someone slipping on ice. Not in the situation where he had threatened to kill you, one of his dear friends, and absolutely humiliated and terrified you in the process.

You were stunned into silence. Your mouth hung open and you had no idea what to do, what to say…but when Josh finally got off of you and grabbed you by the arm to bring you back up to your feet, you finally found the strength to grit your teeth and shove his hands off of you. The words "Is this a fucking prank, you asshole?!" escaped you long before you would have the strength to rethink them, and while Josh sobered up quicker than you expected he would, he still had a whisper of that grin on his face that just made you even more furious than you could ever remember being.

"I thought it would bring us together. Y'know," He stood back, and gestured vaguely around the basement like you should have known what he was referring to. "...Like you and the others brought my sisters together. Remember that?"

The tone of his voice brought that boiling anger down to a simmer, tampered down by a feeling washing over you that you hadn't felt for a while–guilt pried your heart open and sank into a wound you thought had closed, only to realize that it was just as tender as the day that tragedy had happened. And in that moment, you felt your defenses go up.

"I had nothing to do with that, Josh!"

"You didn't stop them."

"I tried!"

You felt a quiver in your own voice again, and arguing like this with someone you used to call a friend while he stood there, stoic, just made a fresh set of tears well up in your eyes. And you had done enough crying for the night, so with your hands reaching up to reassure the strength of your towel's hem around your chest, you took a step backwards towards the stairwell and mustered up the worst glare you could manage towards Josh.

"Do me a favour, actually: don't ever talk to me again. We're not friends anymore!"

With that you turned and stomped back towards the steps and took each one just as angrily, the concrete cold enough to hurt as you ventured back up towards relative safety. You knew Josh was following you by his own footsteps hurrying to keep up, but as you stiffly marched past the doorway and through the home theater to climb the stairs up to the main floor, his hand hovered over your bare shoulder just long enough for you to move out of its way.

"C'mon," He sounded desperate, and as much as you didn't want to care, you knew you did. That sad, kicked puppy expression was probably making its appearance on his face too, and if you turned to look at him you might even crack for real. "Come back! Come on, it was a prank. I wanted to get back at them, really…I didn't really want to hurt you, though."

You made it around the railing in the living room, up the second set of stairs, and all the way up to the landing before Josh managed to catch up enough to walk alongside you. His needy attempts at coaxing you into laughing this all off were beyond frustrating, and when you finally managed to get on to the second floor you turned to face him again. He stopped only two steps from the top where you took your stand, but even that much distance was enough for you to feel like you towered over him even though the opposite was usually the case.

"You had no problem chasing me around and watching me in the bath!"

Your hands clenched into fists, mostly in an attempt to keep from just slapping him outright, and your shouting caused him to flinch but not back down.

"Well, that's because I like you. Wouldn't you do the same if you liked me, given the chance?"

"Shut up, Josh."

You waved him off with a huff, and retraced your steps back towards the bathroom that you had been chased out of just a little while ago. The prints left behind by your feet when they were wet from the bath were still visible outside of the door, and even though you pulled on it to let it close behind you, a certain someone let it hit his forearm as he pushed his way in after you.

"Do you like me?"

"I did, before you fucking traumatized me!"

You threw those words over your shoulder as you bent down in front of your gym bag, the one you had lugged all the way up the mountain just for Josh's sake. And luckily for you, he offered you the same courtesy and had simply kicked it out of sight behind the tub so you wouldn't think to dress before he started chasing you. While the clothes you'd changed out of still weren't there, you rummaged around and found something else to change into–not exactly as flattering, but anything that offered you some decency was better than what you had now.

"I like you. I really, really like you a lot. C'mon." You were only half-listening to Josh's drivel, and when you turned to see him holding a hand out to you at your place on the floor, you scoffed and got back to your feet with your clothes draped over one arm.

"Did I not just tell you to stop talking? And get out."

This time, you did smack his hand away from you, and he pulled it back with a soft enough sigh that it almost made you feel bad for him. Almost, but not quite.

"Do I have to? I mean, I've already seen you naked. You've got a really nice body…"

"Out!"

And as per usual, whatever shred of sympathy you had for him evaporated the second he opened his mouth, and especially when he whispered that part under his breath. You put your hands on his chest and pushed him backwards, walking him all the way to the hallway before slamming the door in his face the moment he was over the threshold.

"Fucking asshole…"

You muttered to yourself as you dropped your towel and pulled your clothes on. You were so strung out even upon realizing that it was all a facade, and though you were still tense without your other friends around, knowing Josh he probably sent them on all kinds of wild goose chases just to get them out of the lodge and running all over the mountain. At least, that was what he did with Mike and Jess, and even so you were sure they were having a grand old time with that cabin all to themselves. It wasn't a specific kind of jealousy you felt over them–you had no interest in either of them, at least romantically–but you did have a sense of desire for what they had. They were so carefree. If only you could be more like that, maybe you would have reacted differently to what Josh had put you through–maybe you really would have laughed it off instead of sobbing like a baby and blowing up once it was all over. It might not have been a healthy reaction, but at least you wouldn't be feeling an oncoming wave of tears like you were now, only to wipe them away as soon as they showed up and stop in front of the mirror to try and cool down before you left.

You expected Josh to do as you asked and leave you alone, and at least get out of your sight for a little while so you could calm down. But when you finally opened the door again, he was still standing there. And if anything, he seemed relieved that you were scowling back at him.

"Please give me a chance. I'll make it up to you, I swear." Josh looked into your eyes and your defenses already started cracking. Right then, you had a choice–you could choose to keep that anger you had close to your heart, or…you could let it go, because if nothing else, he did seem pretty sorry and he had expressed it in that awkward way of his.

"Fine! Fine. Just…don't fucking do that again."

"Which part?" He backed down the second you shot him your signature dirty look, raising his hands up as a show of his surrender with a guilty smile still plastered across his stupidly pretty face. "I'm kidding! Kidding."

With that, and with the tension eased up a little bit, you stepped out into the hallway and wandered over to the railing. It overlooked the living room below and the huge, sphere-shaped art piece that hung from the ceiling that his dad had bought, and you let out a deep sigh. Maybe of relief, or maybe not. But either way you weren't as stressed as you were a minute ago as you looked out towards the window and watched the snow fall outside, even when Josh joined at your side to lean against it himself.

"...You didn't answer my question, you know."

"You haven't answered plenty of mine, so maybe you should cool it, cowboy." You brushed him off not to be a bitch, even though you had every right to. Rather…there was something else that you hadn't quite accepted, even though it sat at the back of your mind day after day. It had been something that you once thought about daily, wondering when and where would be the perfect time to reveal it–but after everything with Hannah and Beth, you locked those feelings deep, deep inside so as to not complicate things for your grieving friend.

"Fair, fair. But…I really need to know. Do you like me?"

The fact that he just breezed right over your answer was not only irritating, but it was something you so rarely saw him do that you knew he was genuinely serious.

"Josh, I really don't want to be having this conversation right now."

A few moments of silence passed between you. You naively wondered whether that would really be the end of the conversation once and for all. If maybe he was finally pushed enough to just let it go.

"Well, if you didn't, I would’ve expected you to just say 'no'."

Your fingers curled around the banister and you gripped it tightly in frustration, before turning to face him completely with the words already spilling off your lips.

"What does it matter, Josh? Do you really expect me to pour my heart out to you right now? I'm tired, and I'm cold, and-" And before you could finish, Josh moved in and hugged you tightly, squeezing you hard enough to keep you close but not quite enough to hurt. His hands fell to rest on your lower back but not an inch lower, his unexpectedly full arms holding you like you'd been locked into place against his chest. He had always been a bear hug kind of guy, but it had been a long while since he'd given you one.

"I'll keep you warm." He whispered, and while you expected his voyeuristic self to snicker and cop a feel while he had the opportunity, but that moment never came. He just kept holding you, swaying a little bit, and you listened to the snow and the breeze outside the window until he finally pried himself off of your very inviting body.

"Did…you seriously expect me to just fall into your arms after all that?" You asked, a soft scoff inlaid between your words to try and sell it, but no matter how hard you would try you wouldn't be able to brush that off. As much as you wanted to pretend you could keep holding Josh at arm's length, it wasn't going to last forever at this rate. The man himself just shrugged, a faraway look in his eyes even with the newfound space between you.

"That's what they do in movies."

What a naïve answer, and yet so quintessentially Josh. You rolled your eyes in jest, and yet as you crossed your arms over your chest you knew your friend was looking places he shouldn't. But you weren't going to stop him this time.

"If you liked me, then you should have just told me. You've given Chris enough crap about that with Ashley, so you just look like a hypocrite now."

"It's different."

You gave him a look that just said "How?" without you having to say it, and Josh shrugged again, although this time he couldn't keep eye contact and just kind of looked everywhere but at you. Almost like he felt somebody was listening in, and he didn't want to be overheard.

"I couldn't tell whether you liked me or not. I was afraid you wouldn't, and I don't…want to lose someone else again. I can't lose someone else that I love. It would kill me."

"You love me?"

He scoffed in a way that sounded like disbelief, like even questioning him on his sincerity about this was a laughable offense. "Of course I do. How could I not? You're beautiful, and you're always sweet with me. You've never judged me. You're a kind person." He shook his head, finally able to clue in and meet your eyes this time–and maybe it was because you were smiling now, fear replaced by endearment as you let his compliments wash over you. Not that you knew about it, but Josh had always been a firm believer that you didn't get enough praise, and only now that you thought back on your friendship did you start to realize how often he alone was the one giving it to you when nobody else would. "And I love the way you laugh, and I think you look so cute when you're focused on something. I like hearing you talk, and, and…a million other things. You make me so happy, and you're not even mine."

"I could be yours." The words left your lips so fast you weren't given time to process them, to temper them as you usually did to make sure you were saying everything right. Your hand flew to your mouth on instinct, clearly shocked at your own outburst, but Josh just laughed and his hands drifted back up towards your hips for him to grab them a little more firmly.

"So you do like me back, huh?" Even another eye roll didn't stop him this time, you're pulled into another hug and Josh squeezed you even tighter than he did before. It often felt like he's the one always making up for lost time, which made sense considering all that had happened with Beth and Hannah. You were certain he wished for even a smidgen of more time with them, as would you if they were your sisters. As would anybody. You'd probably even kill for it if it came to that, and you wouldn't have been surprised if he would too. So in a way....it all made more sense.

Those grim thoughts didn't last long at all though–mostly because there was a more pressing matter at hand, which was coincidentally pressing right up against your thigh and only shifted when you piped up with Josh's name.

"Sorry." He pulled back enough to give you an inch of space, his nose a little darker to match his ears as he grinned the same way he did when he was getting up to something mischievous. "I like feeling you up against me…I'm lucky you've never noticed."

"What, you think I might've done something about it otherwise?....Maybe I would." Before he could answer that, you pulled away from his arms and sauntered off down the hall, clearly moving at a brisk pace towards the door of Josh's bedroom. This had not been in the cards for you an hour ago, but something stirred inside you that you just didn't feel the need to repress any longer. Your life had been a horror movie for too long now, but if it was going to be that way, then you could at least get some satisfaction out of it before you became the final girl. You stopped at the doorway, a hand on it to steady yourself, and you looked back in Josh's direction. "You coming?"

[locallixie]

addict — taeyong

> summary . he never quite got over you after your fallout, you're like an addiction that not even rehab could save him from.

> genre . smut, angst, ex-lovers, ex-boyfriend!taeyong, yandere!taeyong, gn!reader

> warnings . dark themes, stalking, non-con, strong language, abduction, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, violence, general sexual themes, manipulation, minor masochism.

(word count) > 5.1k

By the time you clocked out, it was already pitch darkness. You had never noticed how long your shift was until now, the parking lot was also fairly empty compared to the daytime. You weren’t sure how you would get home since there was no train left, and buses as well. Usually your boyfriend was nice enough to pick you up after work, but that was before you ended things with the guy.

To say he reacted negatively to your break-up proposal was an understatement, he smashed one of your vase in a fit of rage. You cut yourself on one of the shattered pieces trying to pick it up, the cut was still visible from that day. You were glad that he didn’t get physical with you, God forbid. But he was screaming and bawling his eyes out, practically lashing out at you which you thought was out of character of him.

You wanted to remember him as the once sweet and gentle boyfriend that loved you with all his heart, but the things he said that day was unforgivable. You never wanted to label your ex as being ‘crazy’, but he seem like he spiraled into insanity after you broke up with him. Constant calls and text messages, to showing up at your workplace, and he even tried to break into your flat once.

You could not believe it, absolutely not! He wasn’t like that at all when you two were still dating. Taeyong rarely had emotional outbursts, or put his hands on you, or anything of that sorts. You had to get a restraining order against him, and everything gone quiet since then.

“What the…” Coming home just to be met with flowers on your doorstep. You picked up the bouquet, there was a small card placed between the many thorns that the flowers had. Psychopath, really trying to see some blood from you.

You got shivers reading it, it was not just a simple ‘I love you’, it was from your ex-boyfriend. How the fuck did he deliver this to you? No outsiders could get into the building, and definitely no outsiders could get this far. How could he of all people?

You threw away the bouquet of flowers, not wanting to see it inside your home. You couldn’t deal with this, not after a long and tiring day at work. There wasn’t any forced entry into your apartment, but he tried once and you knew he was not afraid to do it again.

You stepped into the showers, hoping the water could wash away all of your anxiety and paranoia. If anything, something were to happen, you could still call the cops on him. Praying that he would leave you alone, it was just flowers. He probably had someone else deliver it, it wasn’t Taeyong who did.

With only a big t-shirt and underwear on your body, wearing less clothing to bed since it could get pretty hot in your room with the heater running all night. You didn’t want to get completely naked, you still wanted to have some modesty.

It was already close to midnight by the time you got into bed, you had to get up at five tomorrow. Sometimes you wished you could quit your job, not yet at the moment. You closed your eyes, releasing a long, dragging breath of exhaustion.

If only you and Taeyong didn’t have to end up like this, if only you could stay together like the happy couple you used to be. He would be here holding you in his arms, closely listening to you vent about how stressful your day was. But people change, and so do you. You both wanted different things, and that was what led you two down this path.

You wanted him to be happy, and you knew you couldn’t do so when all you do was work and work. You could barely stay awake to spend time with him when you were so tired and stressed out from hours of working, you even blew up on him once or twice before. You were the one that started fights, and you couldn’t bare watching him standing there and endured everything you said purely because of the stress and anger you had from your job.

That wasn’t right of you, so you chose to leave and give him freedom. However, judging from his response when you asked to split ways, all he ever wanted was you. Taeyong didn’t mind your anger, as long as he was still with you in the end of the day, he did not give a single care to any insult you threw at him. It was your love he wanted, he solely needed you and that was it.

Was ending things with him a good choice? That relationship was toxic, you weren't good for each other. It felt one-sided, and that shouldn't happen between lovers. You loved him, you really did. But you knew you could not keep on living like that, it was disaster waiting to happen.

Laying in bed alone after getting your own place, the sheets felt cold and too spacious. It was for the better, you were moving on to different things and that unfortunately did not include him. You wished the better for Taeyong too, that he would find someone else who could treat him well.

"[Y/N]..." You jumped awake, gripping tightly onto your sheets in a state of distress. You thought you heard something, or saw something even. As if the darkness was calling out your name, its voice deep and mellow of an unsettling familiarity. You laid back down, simply shrugging it off as a bad dream. Holding onto yourself, you could not help the sense of unease in your private living space.

Very soon though, you fell right back to sleep. You rather have some more sleep before your job start, there was no time to be feeling anxious or fear. If you could get a full eight hour sleep before waking up to go to work then you could not be happier.

Your bed felt a bit harder, and felt like it was moving almost. Opening your eyes, the sleepiness still coated your eyelids. Was it five already? You didn't hear your alarm go off. It was now the winter season, the sky at the crack of dawn could deceive you.

"You're up early." You felt shivers going down your spine, you never thought you would ever have to hear that voice again. His eyes was looking at you through the rearview mirror, hands still secured around the steering wheel.

"Taeyong, this is fucking crazy! I can get you arrested, don't you remember I have a restraining order over you?" You told. This was totally overboard, breaking into your place and kidnapping you without a second thought. How daring he has became? One who feared nothing, the consequences of which he looked down upon.

He laughed, driving away so casually like he had done nothing. Oh you poor thing, so loving that you had to distanced yourself from him 'cause you were worried about him. Not having a single knowledge, that he was ready to go against every law to have you.

The smile on his lips was once tender and loving held a different meaning with the situation happening in the current time. It wasn't love, it was a sickening obsesssion. The love he has for you was so overwhelmingly concerning, he could feel it rising in the back of his throat. Puking out his whole heart, the hallucinations were faint images of you.

It was not butterflies he felt in his stomach, you made him sick. Temptation, excitement, and the desire to do something that go against every one of his principles. Loving you caused him pain, muscles tensing up, sweating profusely, this sensation he often feel in his guts telling him that something bad was going to happen if you stay for just a little longer in his arms.

You gripped onto the coat that was laid on you, the one you got him for his birthday. Your skin was cold, your legs was bare and exposed for all eyes to be lingering. The heat was just barely keeping you warm, fighting with the cold wintry air that was now sneaking its way through the window panes.

“Where are you taking me?!” It felt like he have been driving for hours on end, you weren’t sure where you were as well. Outside was snowing more heavily than before, the temperature already dropping to the negatives.

Taeyong fixed his rearview mirror for him to have a better look at your face. “Back to where you belong,”

He glared at you, “With me.” Voice sounding deep and filled with betrayal. Yes, he was still salty about the break-up that happened almost two years ago. But he spent that time wisely, silently calculating a plan to take you away from the world. However to him, the break-up was an encouragement, it told him that he would have to try harder to earn you.

No bad intentions did you have when you said those words, you showed him how much you actually cared. Solidifying that you were this sweet and pure being in which he put on a pedestal and worship wholeheartedly. Everything you did, even when you ‘betrayed’ him, was a doing out of love.

“Taeyong, let me go! Before I call the cops—”

“With what?” Shit, your phone was no where to be found. He must have left it on your nightstand when he abducted you in your sleep. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to let you keep it, he knew you would threaten to call the authorities on him.

A silver object was shining inside of the seat back, you pulled out the Swiss army knife that he alway had in his car. Pulling out the knife blade, you attacked him. All senses was alerted, he held your wrist back from slicing his neck open. With one hand, he continued to drive with the very high risk of crashing.

“[Y/N]! You got to be out of your fucking mind!” The car drifted into the side of the road, the snow almost lifting it off the ground. It was right in front of his eyes, shining its sharp glory as it was about to see some blood.

The fight was cut short when you let out a yelp, it seemed that he had got you instead. Your forearm was sliced opened, you could feel each and every drop of blood leaving your body from the long cut. You screamed in anguish, trying to stop the bleeding but it kept coming and coming. The blood colored your other arm red, tears coloring both your cheeks.

The car door swung opened, he pulled you out to the freezing cold. It was such a rapid change that you felt like you were about to faint at any given second. The snow once white now just as red as your wound, there was so much blood for it to send you into a state of utter panic. Didn’t know what was going on, all you felt was lightheaded and nauseous.

Quite a surprise for him to be able to keep his composure at a situation like this, cleaning up your wound with the bottled water he kept in his car. Wiping the blood on both your hands with a most towelette, using a piece he tore off his shirt as bandages. That was all he could do for now, you still had a long way to go.

“That’s it, you’re sitting with me for the stupid stunt you just pulled.” He tensed his jaw, tying you up with duct tape in the passenger’s seat. You could do nothing but struggle. Tied up without a cellphone nearby to call for help, trapped in a seemingly never-ending car ride with your crazy ex-boyfriend.

At least the radio played music you could get by with, slow RnB melody that almost made you forget about what happened earlier. You blankly stared out to the window, white snow covered everything in sight. The road ahead was white, the trees was white, the sky solely had a touch of blue and orange as dawn began to rise.

A sudden heat landed on your thigh, it began to spread slowly on your skin. His touch tainted your skin once more, the warmth of his palm created such an odd sensation. The cold that numbed your senses, his hands felt so nice and soft. His fingertips running across your legs, the emotions that stayed under your body whenever he would touch you.

Inching closer and closer to your sex, rubbing it over your undergarment. No, you couldn’t! Your body would never listen, always opening your heart for the wrong person. You tried closing your legs, but he came back even stronger.

You let out a moan, feeling yourself drip onto his fingers over the fabric of your underwear. Just like that? You could never win, not when you were playing against Taeyong. He knew how to please you better than yourself, he knew exactly where to touch you to make you feel so good yet would leave you begging for more.

“Taeyong—! Stop–!” You didn’t want more, ‘cause you knew you couldn’t take whatever he was to give you. What more could you do? You were tied up next to him, you were dumb for not wearing more layers to bed. You were practically giving yourself up for him to do whatever he wanted to you.

Your underwear was pulled down to your ankles, his eyes were still glued to the road but his hand was fingering you in the passenger’s seat. You were making a mess of yourself, crying and moaning while you squirm in your place. Unconsciously widening your legs more for his fingers to go deeper, two already got you so worked up, more wasn’t much of a good idea.

He pulled on your hair by grabbing a fist full, you hated how he could be so rough yet so gentle at the same time. Rubbing his clothed crotch on your flushed cheek, your tears falling onto his pants as you stared back at him with glistening eyes that made holding back impossible. This man has gone mental, having you to suck him off while driving, just asking for an accident to happen as this point. Without a second thought, not one sane thought on his mind, he was in too deep to turn back.

He took his chance at the red light, his fingers tugging on the waistband of his brief. His cock was already quite hard, brushing against the side of your face as it stood in all its glory. Wiping away the tears on your eyes with his thumb, signifying the last time he was being nice. With no other word to be spoken, he forced his cock down your throat.

The swollen tip touching the back of your throat, gagging as tears began to build up in your sight once more. You have done this before, but it was difficult to get back to it so suddenly. Especially when you were so drained and tired and bleeding, with this on top of everything that happened, you weren't going to last long. Your consciousness was already falling in and out of your head, sooner or later he was going to notice.

"Oh God, baby, I miss you." Taeyong breathed out, gripping onto the steering wheel to stop himself from fucking your mouth. Your mouth felt so heavenly, it almost made him forget he was still driving. His hip lifted slightly, making his cock go deeper into your throat.

Nearing his destination, his eyes was trying its best to stay open. Before he could even park his car on the driveway of his house, his head tilted back as he emptied his load into your mouth. There was so much of it, some overflowing through the corners of your lips. Taeyong sealed your lips with his thumb, he knew you would spit it out which would be such a waste for all of the hard work you did. This was for you, all for you.

You had no choice but to swallow it down, the thick and slimy substance running down your throat. What a humiliation, crying in front of Taeyong after you blew him in a car. He turned you into a shameful mess, with his seeds dripping on your adorable face. You looked pretty like this, according to Taeyong that was. Only for him, the sight of you looking so cute yet lewd before him.

Pulling you up to him, "You're so good to me," He praised, pressing his lips all over your features. "I love you."

Holding you closely in his arms, letting you rest on his lap as he drove his car into the driveway. "Welcome home, [Y/N]." He carried you like a baby—his baby—knowing how exhausted and sick you were from the hour-long car ride. Sleep tight, Taeyong was here to take care of you like a good lover you needed. The only lover you needed.

You should just accept your fate, accept the fact that you'd never go back to how things was. However, isolation from the world was killing you. You itched to be able to step foot outside of your now shared bedroom, he would leave you at home by yourself while he was away at work.

Taeyong was good to you, maybe a little too good to be true. He would let you have anything that you want, except an escape from this hell. You want an expensive ring that you saw online? Sure, on your hand by the next day. You want some distance? It hurt him a little, but sure! You want him to let you go? Not a chance.

It seemed he had gotten wiser and much cautious, he was still the sweet and gentle Taeyong that you knew. The catch was, he no longer let you abuse his kindness. Whenever you were obedient, he would give you love and affection. But if you were misbehaving, he could shut everything down if he wanted to teach you a proper lesson.

For months and months of being stuck inside his house, your house as he stated, you quietly calculating a plan to flee without a notice. Studying his schedule, leaving early in the morning at seven and coming home around six or eight depending on the traffics. He would cook you breakfast everyday, up by a quarter to five to do so, which was around the same time as when you would wake up.

You has the whole house to yourself for about eleven hours for a day, long enough for you to get your things and leave by the time he would be returning home from his job. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, of course it wouldn’t be. The house was heavily monitored by cameras inside and outside, many rooms were locked up, potential weapons were also hidden beforehand by Taeyong.

There was a second plan, the thing was, it involved a lot of time and patience. But in this situation, you didn’t have a choice, did you? You started being nicer and less uncooperative and reactive, playing your role as what he wanted you to be, as what you used to be with him. You were scared of him, nonetheless—‘cause if a wrong move was to be made, he could snap until you could not recognize him.

Seeing a change in your behavior out of the blue, he did have suspicions. Overjoyed that things were back together once again, that thought slipped his mind. Taeyong allowed you to go out in public more than usual, though only with him but at least you got some fresh air once in a while. You couldn’t ask for help from any stranger on the street, you were in such a close proximity with Taeyong that you were sure he was waiting for you to slip up.

By some miracle, the one you had been hoping for to happen, you found a way to break the lock. You were in disbelief at first, but that was your ticket at escaping this monster. You packed some of your belongings into a small duffle bag, hiding it with all of the other luggages in your house so he wouldn't suspect a thing. He had a copy of the key to your apartment on his chain of keys that he would bring with him everyday. Along with his house key, the garage, his car, and one that you were unsure of where it would unlock.

When you were a hundred percent sure he was asleep next to you, it would be the perfect time to strike. You struggled out of his firm hold around your waist, took your bag from the closet, grab the set of keys that was still inside his jacket, and fled. Twist and turning as quiet as possible to not make any noise, at that moment, you were outside. You felt the wind blowing softly through each strands of your hair, getting as much fresh air as you could into your lungs. You were going to cry, you did it. Finally did it.

You threw your things into the backseat, you were ready! Ready to get out of this dammed place. You were too happy too soon, the engine wasn’t turning on. Shit, you twisted the keys again. Still nothing awoke. Not now! Why now?! Not when Taeyong was upstairs and sleeping, not when you were still in such a close distance with him.

The lights on the front porch suddenly turned on, catching your attention. Horrifying, utterly horrifying. To met with those soulless stare of his, no sadness, no happiness, solely disappointment existed under his features. You felt your heart beating faster as he neared, walking slowly and full of leisure while you began fearing for your life like the way you did when you filed for a restraining order on Taeyong.

“Get out.” He opened the car door, in his hand was a remote control of his car. You forgot that you could never win against him, you were naïve to think that you were a step ahead of him.

You stepped out, he held you back before you could make a run for it. The intense eyes and his grip tightening that could leave a bruise on your skin, you could tell he was mad at you. No, furious!

Back into your prison cell you were, the light was at the end of the tunnel but you were only at the begining. You weren't close at all, you had feeling that he already knew. He saw right through you like a glass pane, he read you like a book.

He was used to you treating him like shit one day and going back to the old you the other. Anyone would be fed up with your bipolar behavior, fed up with being slap then stroke. But not him, he would let you throw a temper tantrum then cry in his arms, he would let you punch and kick him even though the fault was yours.

Tears slid down your face, "You have to let me go, Taeyong, I'm begging you."

"I'll never, I need you in my life!" It felt like the grip he had on you was starting to cut off blood circulartion on your wrist. He too, was starting to tear up. He couldn't, he could never let you go. The day you'd break free out of his grasp would be the day he die, only death could be the thing keeping you away from him.

It was the love he had for you that blinded him, making him go against himself just for you. Was it you hurt or was it him?

"Taeyong, you're hurting me!" You mewled.

He broke down, "I'm hurting you?! Why don't you ever think about how you're hurting me?" His voice cracking with love-sick, he never wanted to paint you as a bad person. Though you were quite selfish for not considering his feelings when you said you wanted to break things off, you simply stood up and left without another explaination.

Falling onto the floor of your shared bedroom, where you slept and woke up everyday beside this man you once loved. His love was too much to bare, too supportive, too devoted, all too much! No one could love you like how Taeyong did, 'cause no one would be so infatuated with you to the point it mentally tormenting.

"You wouldn't know that, 'cause you were never there for me." He held you close, as if he was going to lose you again if he were to let his grasp just loosen a bit. Your neck was wet from his tears, his face digging into you. His soft lips teasing the sensitive skin on the side of your neck, choking you with the sins of his devotion.

The words was stuck in your throat, if you say something wrong he might get physical. He digged his nails into your back, as if wanting to rip you clean of all your layers, leaving you bare and shameful before his eyes.

"I'll fuck you back in love with me." Taeyong placed a kiss on your neck, whispering an invite to the place of no return. Touches of the devil drove you into a daze, staining your purity until nothing of yours was yours. Pushing him away was no use, his power over you was out of pure anger and nothing more. His hands moving down your spine caused you to shiver and squirm in his hold, his touches was warm and tender but loving was not the right feel.

Weirdly, it was rough—almost aggressive. You could say that he was letting out his wrath that had been kept deep down inside, solely through the way he chose to love you. You could feel it, by the way he initiated affection, his resentment manifesting.

His lips moving on yours, one that held all the love and lies he told. 'I love you' never felt so forlorn, it felt lonely in his arms for too many unknown reasons. You couldn't endure all of this, 'cause the more he held you the more you began to come apart.

Marks that he left wasn't love, it was to signify possession. A prized possession being missing was unforgivable. His teeth was sharp like the knives you plunged deep into his poor heart, biting at your fragile skin as if he wanted to drain you of your everything. Engraved into your body like a tattoo, no matter how much you could try to scrub it off, the hints of him would still stay wether you wanted it to or not. Even if you changed your skins, if only it was possible to do so, he was deep in your bones and your veins.

Taeyong stared at you dead in the eyes, the tears coated his glare. "I dare you to leave me again."

If he have to get physical, he would without a hesitation. He could break your legs so you'd never leave, it would be a doing out of love. He could make love to you so you'd be so dumb and fucked to hate him, it would be a doing out of love. He could get rid of other people from your life so you wouldn't be distracted from your relationship with him, it would be a doing out of love. He would be ready to do anything if it would leave you with nothing but him.

Pulling you up by your bruised wrist, you were pushed back to fall on the bed. Unsure of what his next move could be, he was so unpredictable to the point you could not tell if he was going to lash out at you or ask you to comfort him. You were caged in Taeyong's arms, the tension was rising in the room. You couldn't breath, or could you stop crying.

Stripped and humiliated before Taeyong, what a sight to admire. He laid hot kisses down your figure, you were like a garden of blooming flowers that he wanted to destroy. Your beauty was his, all your pretty flowers was a gift for him. Every inches of your skins were tainted with his burning fingerprints, you could never forget him now. He would always be right there, for every time you touched your naked self, for every time you see your skin. You would never feel clean, and could only shower in his love.

His wet tongue running up your body, you placed your hand on his head with attempts to push him away. He, of course, didn’t listen to your body language. Instead, going straight in for the kill. Using his mouth on you, yourself could not resist the pleasure. Dripping your unholy substance onto the sheets, wetted both your legs.

He stared back at you, teasing and all deviously, claiming his place between your legs. You tasted yourself when he went back up to kiss you, instantly knowing what his plan was to do. He was about to fuck you, he would always give you a reassuring kiss before he go inside.

Maybe it had been way too long since the last time you two went down on each other, ‘cause it felt like he had gotten bigger when he slid in. His hands holding both your legs, pulling you down onto his cock. Yelping from the sharp sudden pain from below, it tore you apart just a slight bit that was not enough for you to bleed.

“Please let me go.” One last beg before your pride died.

Taeyong just smiled, “I love you.” Pressing his velvety lips onto yours, hips quickly thrusting into a rhythm. All the sounds you made were shameful, you lost everything. Accepting the fact that this was your fate with nothing but utter despair, you would never get back what he stole from you. No, it wasn’t virginity, it was your ego and faith in humanity.

Your high felt like getting stab in your stomach, instead of bleeding out though, the fluid was a reminder that you had nothing but Taeyong now. Tears adorned your face, this was the reality you live in. Passing out under him not long after, you gave up and decided that you did not desire to see the face of the one who took everything you had from you.

This was an addiction, you were an addiction. Whatever maniac state you got him on would sooner or later make him overdose.

[ragingstillness]

Finally getting around to watching CM:E

Thoughts thus far:

Rossi is sad and I remain pissed that they killed Krystal for no reason

Grey!Em is still my favorite thing

Happy to hear some swearing, the original show needed more of it

Let Rossi say fuck 2k24

“Remote Garcias” “we’re not gonna learn their names” lol Luke stays savage

“Anglophile baking club” oh come on Garcia. We all saw how shockingly queer everyone at that party is. It’s a kiki, plain and simple

Weren’t Luke and Garcia going to go on a date? Oh it’s been three years

“Take your carbs and exit sir” I love Garcia so much

“Hoo-ha” lol, burn Goop to the ground

“Korean drama” it’s a BTS anti unsub

Garcia straight up flapping I love her so much

Damn the writers for this Krystal flashback

Emily is gonna eat this Deputy Director alive

Oh thank fuck at least the rest of Dave’s family is alive

The Galvez cheek kiss *eeeee*

That little head kiss, Rossi’s such a dad/grandad

Damn Sicarius how do you have the time to dig all these holes?

Hahahahahaha I picked up on Tara and Rebecca at the same time as Emily

Waha Tara being openly queer!!!

Paget is like a proud mama that someone in the BAU finally gets to be queer

Dang this cashier girl is like literally saying exactly what I do at work

“My floof” I relate to this girl so hard

“Jagoff!” “Fuckhead!” Get his ass Rossi

Damn this therapy talk is so accurate go Garcia

Garcia and Rossi’s friendship is my Roman Empire

Man I can’t believe Sicarius actually thought that he could control obsessional killers. Dude, they aren’t going to listen to you

Sicarius you anti-retail asshole. I will dream of smashing you in the head with an axe from the hardware store where I work

Emily and Dave walking together both with grey hair look so cool now

“Is everyone but me getting laid?” “I’m not” lol ngl I appreciate the increased sexual humor

That’s my girl Garcia! I hate what it’s gonna do to your mental health to be back but I’m happy to see you

Dude if you’re gonna be a criminal psychopath with these amazing computer skills, how are you not at least making money off of it? Like, there is zero reason for you to be poor. Normally I wouldn’t say that about anyone but dude, are you seriously providing these kill kits for free?

Wait a sec he actually /took/ the dog? He didn’t just kill it? Dickhead!

“This fucking guy” yeah Rossi, read my mind about most unsubs on this show

Rebecca and Tara’s height difference is kind of killing me in this elevator scene they’re so cute

Garcia are you wearing Rocky Horror earrings? Love that

Haha fine furry friends returns

Dang y’all is Rossi the only one allowed to say fuck? It makes him sound like a teenager that just learned all the swear words. Let Garcia say fuck 2k24

I can’t believe that it’s an actual plot line that COVID prevented serial killers from killing so they had to change it up and go online. I’m sure the writers thought it sounded cool but it just sounds silly. What, did Sicarius’ first kill kits also include PPE?

Also why are these guys so willing to kill themselves for Sicarius? They seem like devoted to the cause and frankly, so many of these guys are narcissists and we’ve just seen one defy Sicarius, why are they listening to him? Seriously? No matter what he has on them, why would they consider it more important to follow his orders than their compulsions?

“You two-faced little jerk” yeah I hope he heard that

Soon we’re gonna be seeing Emily’s daydreams about killing people, not just Sicarius’.

Seriously, the idea of Sicarius having money problems is so dumb to me. He’s been shown to have immense resources and technological capability as well as ample time to use them. There is no reason why he should be financially unstable. I get that stuff like private school is expensive but dude, DUDE, you’re running a network of serial killers! It’s not THAT expensive! I feel like this whole plot point is set up to humanize him to a degree and it isn’t working well.

God whatever props guy worked on these posts for the fake forum Sicarius is using had fun. There’s a user named George_Jungle_fkr whose post consists of “I have a waifu, too!!! She lives in the jungle. I fuck in the jungle. I kill in the jungle.” With a profile picture of George of the Jungle. No shit. Pause on that screen, it’s wild. User GetHungry1893 with a post about not judging people and a profile pic of a man with bloody hands sucking on a bone. User NotSoFast with a drag racing car profile pic and with a post titled “I’m getting more guns!” That then goes on to use the phrase “waifu” and *wink wink*. User Tiredoftheblood101 with a bloodspot clipart profile pic and use of the term “OP”, asking about how to kill his MOM (capitalization his). Also in the background a user named Anonymous1232 with the anonymous logo as their profile pic.

Wait Sicarius actually has a real job? He wasn’t just bullshitting about it so he could travel all over the country? What, is running this serial killer network like a side hustle for him? Wait wait wait and he’s going on business trips that the company is actually sending him on? Like he’s following their directives? And driving a company car? This is insane. If they’re gonna characterize Sicarius the way they have been, none of this makes sense. Side note: the guy playing Sicarius is actually a good actor and after some of the previous disappointments (Scratch and the Chameleon) it’s nice to see.

This DEI discussion between Sicarius’ daughter and the redneck neighbor was not something I expected to see in Criminal Minds.

“You fucking beta cuck” yeah pretty much what I’d expect from a guy like this. But also, hysterical to hear incel language being used in real life. Damn man, you just called his daughter a bitch? He’s gonna flay you alive! I wouldn’t provoke anyone like that, even without knowing they’re the head of a serial killer network. Anyone can snap you dumbass.

“Somebody should do something about that guy.” Oh of course she says this to the serial killer. Good lord. “I’m glad you’re not that somebody.” Oh honey yes he is lol. Or he’ll send someone from the network to do it.

Ha I just realized that I carried a case exactly like the kill kit cases when I worked for the Red Cross. Contained equally suspicious things (needles, gauze, etc), if you didn’t know what company I was working for lol.

“Those who bankrolled you” then why is he having money problems god this is so dumb! “I’m not putting a gun to my head” yeah I predicted this would happen.

More hysterical users on Sicarius’ platform: User NotSoFast at it again “I miss my family. Bad aim” User Ript4u, with a muscular torso pic talking about the fruitlessness of love, calling people lemmings, “simps,” “bitchboy,” “I will dominate,” and the delightful paragraph “These bitches think they’re got it all figured out. Walking on a cloud of happy thoughts and unicorn farts.”

Haha Garcia said fan fiction! We made it to the mainstream lol.

“Honey let it go” woman he called your daughter a bitch! I’d punch him for that!

Damn Tara you’re gonna get your gf fired

“Typical bureaucratic bullshit” yes YES the old man is out! Rossi ur a king

Is Sicarius really there in person! That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Oh wow he is what a dumbass! And so close to the bomb zone too! Did you want to get blown up too?!

Yeah bringing in domestic terror was a mistake.

“Excellent. I never wanted it in the first place” also kind of misogynistic to turn to Rossi after Emily rejected you.

“Wank-weasel” Garcia ur my spirit animal

“You’re a hedge fund manager with a badge. You have never done anything” get his ass Emily! I guess after Barnes the BAU has completely lost their patience for bureaucratic dickheads

“I just wanted you to hold my hand” they are soft gfs and I love them

About time one of the unsubs turned on Sicarius

Screw the propaganda that you can just make dogs eat people when they’ve been totally docile and relaxed their whole lives

Hey Sicarius, you remembering how annoying it is to do your own cleanup now?

Who the fuck is this guy Elias is hallucinating?

Genuinely curious how he finds time to make these custom foam inserts for the briefcases

Ok why is it taking so long to identify the victims found from Sicarius? This is set in 2022, DNA is fast and common.

Can’t believe this Tyler guy looked into Garcia enough to send her the encrypted locations but not enough to figure out she literally worked for the FBI. His anger over her handing over the info makes zero sense.

I know a lot of ppl hate Will for getting in the way of Jemily but he’s a very good husband. Patient, intelligent, cute. I like him.

“I believe you, but will Mom?” This new sibling energy between Rossi and Emily is everything. Also that burgundy blazer set is amazing on her.

I think Tyler has a little crush on Garcia. He just wants a woman who will kick his ass.

“Because of you I feel safe in our home” so cute literally so romantic I love them when they’re sweet

Only tangentially related but I’d love to see an episode where a serial killer breaks into another serial killer’s house. Like would it go “whoops my bad” or “you asshole you jacked my plan!” or would they just kill each other

Garcia’s little rant is hilarious

“I’m not a problem. I’m a delight. I’m a little dramatic but wonderful” yes you are Garcia

I almost believe the deputy director truly didn’t want to be overseeing this case. My guess, without watching the episode, is that he wants to prove he has some field experience so Emily can’t use it against him anymore. Also he might have a small crush on her and be a little afraid of Rossi. This season is full of men who like dominant women and I support that. I don’t support any sort of relationship between this man and Emily but I support the concept

“Bullshit. She broke your heart.” Welcome to working with profilers sir.

Also finally figured out what Emily’s scathing inditement of the deputy director reminded me of: it’s Hotch’s profiling of his team to defend them against Strauss

Emily’s smile when she finally got one over the deputy director, so pretty

Garcia and her ‘puter like she literally did the cat meme

Ok the orange crocs are a sin I would throw a folder at him too

Not surprised Will doesn’t have cancer but pissed they even teased us with it.

Haha Garcia is gonna make that dude keep the cat lol

Oh hey Sicarius. Nice to see you. Gonna kill a senator now?

lol Sicarius is like yeah I’m not sticking around for this freaky Oedipal shit. You can bankroll me, but I’m not into voyeurism on this

I know we’re supposed to be worried but 1) using a streaming site undercuts the tension of thinking a character will die and 2) that was the sexiest wheels up ever

Hahaha wow they didn’t even try to give us a realistic justification for Sicarius taking off his shirt

[tangerinesgf]

Speak No Evil (Tangerine)

Summary: Tangerine used to think that dying was his worst nightmare. But ever since Tokyo, Tangerine had been living a new sort of nightmare, one he couldn’t seem to wake up from. (5.8k words)

Cross-posted on Ao3

Tags/Warnings: angst (lots of it), mentions of blood, language, BSL, Tangerine being an asshole, non-speaking character, anxiety, denial, delusion, self-hatred, in short Tangerine is not having a great time here, Lemon is the best brother though, fluff at the end, happy ending?

A/N: This story has been my baby for almost a month now and I’m so excited to finally share it with you guys. It’s a lot of angst, but it gets worse before it gets better :) Sorry in advance, because I know it broke my heart just writing this. Another thing is that I have decided to make this a little universe so there will be more, since this is mainly Tangerine adjusting to his new condition and he doesn’t use a lot of BSL yet.

Also please a round of applause for @friedcheesemogu my beta for this fic, again thank you so much!!

Alright I’ll let you guys get on with it now, have fun!!

Tangerine used to think that dying was his worst nightmare. Countless sleepless nights plagued by the thought of leaving this life and especially his brother, Lemon, behind. He knew their job was dangerous, hell they dealt with all sorts of murderers and psychopaths on a daily basis. He knew that the risk of getting hurt or worse, dying, was always lurking around the corner. Still, he loved his job and he was really good at it. Everyone in the business knew "The Twins" and they were feared, especially after they pulled off that job in Bolivia. It gave Tangerine a sense of pride. 

Growing up in foster care meant neither he nor Lemon had a lot of money or belongings. So when both of them got recruited as ‘outside contractors’ and started making a ‘decent’ amount of money, Tangerine wasn’t afraid to let people know he had it. The luxury lifestyle suited him, the suits, the jewelry, and especially not having to worry about anything but his next job.

But high-end living aside, if Tangerine had anything, it was confidence. He was confident that he and Lemon could complete any job thrown their way. Sure they could be a bit messy and chaotic, but they always got the job done no matter what. Most of the anxiety came from his unconscious mind. The intrusive thoughts and repeated nightmares never stopped plaguing him.

Taking all of this into consideration Tangerine was pretty satisfied with his life. Or well, he used to be. Ever since Tokyo Tangerine had been living a new sort of nightmare. Everything about that job had been one enormous clusterfuck that had ended with both of them on the verge of death. And while Lemon’s stomach wound healed nicely, Tangerine wasn’t so lucky. 

When he woke up in the hospital the first thing Tangerine noticed were all sorts of tubes sticking out of him, making it almost impossible for him to move without damaging them. 

The second thing -- or better said the person -- he noticed was his brother sitting next to him. Lemon was fast asleep, but that didn’t stop him from holding Tangerine’s hand in a death grip.

When Lemon finally awakened, he couldn’t help running his mouth about everything that had happened during the time Tangerine was out, stopping multiple times to tell him how he had thought he’d lost him forever and how thankful he was to have him back. Not that Tangerine could say something back, because there was still a tube stuck in his throat helping him breathe. And even if he could, he didn’t feel like complaining about it. When he felt the blood spewing out of his neck, Tangerine himself had thought that would be the end too. 

“Seriously man, you have no idea how worried you had me.” Lemon said one last time before finally taking a breather. As much as Lemon kept on repeating how happy he was, he still had this sort of ominous/scared look in his eyes as if there was something he wasn’t telling him. 

He found out what that was soon enough. 

The bullet had not only hit part of his artery but had also chipped one of his vocal cords. When Lemon had brought him to the hospital they rushed him into surgery. The surgeons had done everything they could to repair/ replace the cord and add bulk to it. Unfortunately at this time in the process, they weren't able to tell if it worked and if it would heal properly or not, making it uncertain if Tangerine would ever be able to speak normally again. 

--

When Lemon heard for the first time while his brother was still unconscious he was terrified. Not necessarily terrified whether Tangerine would make it or not -- he was stubborn enough to survive a bullet in his neck --, but about how he would take the news. Tangerine always said everything that came to mind. He had no filter and everyone who knew him learned that fact the hard way. 

Lemon watched as whatever color Tangerine had left drained from his face when the doctor told him what the damage was. Between all the fancy medical terms neither of them understood, he could see his brother’s eyes widen at the words ‘vocal cord paralysis’. You didn’t have to be a doctor to understand what that meant. 

After only a few days in the hospital, Tangerine was getting annoyed. The only extra freedom he had gotten was sitting up because the doctors didn’t trust him enough to breathe on his own yet. Meaning he was stuck in his bed with that bloody tube down his throat for a week or two. In the meantime, Lemon had come to visit him every day, catching him up on whatever was on his mind. 

He’d spoken to Ladybug, said that he’d asked if he could come to visit. Apparently, he was ‘really fucking sorry’ and wanted to apologize. The very mention of that fucking prick made his blood boil, let alone the idea of seeing him. Lemon seemed to notice and quickly dropped the subject. 

Since talking was out of the question for now Tangerine had to find another way of communicating for the time being. They had originally started with a notepad, but Tangerine’s handwriting was unreadable to anyone but himself.

“I’m tellin’ ya man, this shit's just a bunch of squiggly lines. Who taught you how to write?” Tangerine had thrown his hands up in frustration as Lemon continued decoding his handwriting. 

The next day Lemon came to visit again, only now he had brought a tablet with him. That way Tangerine could just type what he wanted to say and they would be spared a lot of frustration. 

He wasn’t at all surprised when the first thing Tangerine typed was; This clear enough for ya, you fuckin’ muppet? 

Two weeks later, they finally decided to see if he could breathe on his own. It took Tangerine some time to adjust. The combination of the still-healing wound on his neck and having had that tube down his windpipe for a month didn’t exactly do miracles for his throat. Swallowing and even breathing hurt like hell. They advised him to breathe through his nose for now, to minimize the pain. It could take 4-6 months before they would know for sure if it was fully healed or not. In the meantime, he had to attend voice therapy to strengthen the damaged vocal cord and increase the chances of a full recovery. 

After 3 months of barely any improvement, Lemon started to worry about his brother. When they returned home from the hospital in Kyoto, he decided to move in with Tangerine to keep an eye on him. And although he could breathe through his mouth nowadays, his breaths were short and noisy. Week after week he watched Tan come home from his therapy appointment with that same look on his face. He was starting to lose hope. God forbid he admit that to anyone though.

“ ‘m fi-” Tangerine tried to get out, but got caught in another coughing fit as he always did when he attempted to talk. Even when he did manage to somehow push words out of his mouth it didn’t sound like him anymore. His voice was breathy and hoarse, it made him feel weak and he hated it. Lemon kept telling him to shut up and let his vocal cords rest, but Tangerine was as stubborn as ever, even without his voice. He knew the pain in his brother’s throat must be excruciating from the way he was holding onto his neck accompanied by the pained look on his face. It sounded like he was about to cough up a lung. 

When he finally calmed down Lemon offered him a glass of water along with his tablet so he didn’t have to speak. Even swallowing took much more effort than it should. The doctor had told them that because of his disfunctioning vocal cord, his windpipe couldn’t close properly while swallowing. Meaning it was easier to choke on water or food. Tangerine had to put all his effort into not choking while drinking. He didn’t always succeed at that, resulting in a similar coughing fit. 

“Please just give it a look, it might help you in the long run..” 

Lemon had tried to get Tangerine to learn BSL, British Sign Language. Since it seemed more and more likely that he wouldn’t fully recover from this, Tangerine would need some other form of communication. Something that didn’t require him to strain his vocal cords. Therefore, Lemon bought him a BSL book for beginners, just to get familiar with it. Unfortunately Tangerine refused to make any sort of effort to even look at it, still too proud to give in to what seemed to be inevitable right now. 

‘Don’t need it.’  he typed.

Tangerine held on to the fact that he was going to recover and therefore didn’t need to learn any sort of sign language -- at least before his next doctor's appointment. He’d thrown Lemon’s book in the bin where it belonged, not knowing Lemon had fished it out again just in case. 

It had been about 6 to 7 months since Tokyo now and this was the moment of truth. Although improvement could never be written off in the future, today they would be able to tell them whether or not Tangerine would make a full recovery. 

Tangerine was surprisingly positive going into this appointment, still hanging on to that spark of hope despite the lack of improvement in his condition these last months. How he did it Lemon had no idea, because was already preparing himself for the worst-case scenario. Of course, he didn’t want to exclude the fact that his brother’s vocal cord might heal, but it seemed unlikely to him at this point. He had tried to tell Tangerine that it might not work out and that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but he had brushed him off. 

‘I’m gonna be fine, don't worry, always am’. Tangerine typed, combined with a look that was meant to calm Lemon’s nerves but did the exact opposite. 

It wasn’t a complete lie though; anytime Tangerine got hurt he always came back from it no matter how bad it seemed to be and he sure had the scars to prove it. He had deluded himself into thinking nothing could touch him and if it did, that it wouldn’t have any lasting consequences. 

“Right…just don’t get your hopes up too much.” 

Tangerine dismissed his comment completely, shaking his head. With his attitude, Lemon was worried about how his brother would take it if he, in fact, couldn’t come back from this. 

--

Tangerine felt his blood run cold. He completely zoned out. 

It was like every emotional and physical feeling was drained from his body. He completely disappeared from the conversation with his doctor, who after another exam had told them that the chances of a full recovery were less than 30%. He knew that the progress had been slow or, well, almost non-existent, but Tangerine still believed he could pull through on this. He’d done it before. 

A strange feeling of fear settled in his stomach as the reality of his future sank in. 

No. 

No this couldn’t be it. It can’t. He won’t let it. 

When some feeling returned to his body, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder carefully shaking him. He snapped out of his trance as the shaking became more violent, causing him to inhale too much air at once. Fuck, not this again. He’d gone almost 2 months without a coughing incident. Apparently, it took only one setback to undo all of that. 

Lemon gently patted his back, while the doctor went to get him a glass of water. 

The younger brother tried to pay attention as Lemon repeated what he missed while spacing out. Again the subject of Sign Language came up, but Tangerine still wasn't having it. Deep down he knew it was his only option if he properly wanted to communicate with people again, but something inside him just refused to do it. 

Who needed sign language when flippin’ people the bird said enough. 

--

In the days after that Lemon watched his brother completely shut down. Tangerine didn’t make any effort whatsoever to communicate with him. Lemon had offered him the BSL book again when they got home, but he acted like he was allergic to it. He had hoped his brother just needed some time to wrap his mind around the whole thing. It was a big change, he understood if Tangerine just needed a few days. But a few days turned into weeks and Lemon seriously started to worry. Whereas before he’d constantly get annoyed with everyone and everything, and tried to talk even though Lemon specifically told him not to, now Tangerine just seemed to exist. That’s all he did, just mindlessly living. He didn't eat, barely drank and Lemon could see the clear weight loss. 

However, the thing that worried him the most was his lack of expression on his face. Tangerine was a very expressive person, especially with his face. He might not always talk through his emotions, but his face has always been an open book. Lemon was always able to tell what was going on in his brother’s head, except for now. Since the car ride home Tangerine has been completely blank. There was nothing going on on his face, which meant he was bottling everything up. It scared Lemon. He had never seen Tangerine like this before, not even after their first kill. 

Lemon had tried talking to him, of course, but was met with nothing but blank stares. Even talking about Thomas & Friends did nothing for him. All Tangerine really did was read, at least he hadn’t also discarded that. 

Lemon still went on jobs sometimes, nothing too difficult. Tangerine on the other hand never left their apartment. Besides each other, The Twins didn’t have a lot of friends. In their business it was really hard to trust people, never knowing if they had ulterior motives or not. Lemon had run into Ladybug a couple of times since Tokyo. Sure his inspirational quotes were annoying, but he had started to warm up to the man. Ladybug had asked about his brother multiple times, but Lemon didn’t tell him much, sensing that Tangerine wouldn’t want him to. All Ladybug knew was that Tangerine was alive and currently recovering. Knowing their job and luck, they’d run into each other sooner or later, but for now Lemon tried to postpone that as long as possible. Seeing Ladybug would set off a bomb Lemon wasn’t sure he would be able to contain. 

Sooner or later Tangerine was gonna break, he could feel it. It wasn't healthy to keep pushing everything down, especially for someone who used to talk as much as his brother. The longer he was gonna shut everyone out, the bigger the fallout was gonna be. For now Lemon could only watch as the brother he loved so much became a shell of the person he once used to be.  

--

There was nothing going on in his mind. No thoughts or anxiety, nothing. Tangerine had gone absolutely numb, almost emotionless. Pushing all of his feelings away had felt like his only option. A way out of his mind that kept on torturing him every fucking second. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

Every irritation, every fear was pushed down. There was no room for those anymore. Whereas before his mind plagued him with anxiety and intrusive thoughts, now there was absolutely nothing.

He had no trouble falling asleep anymore with his mind not running a million miles per hour. Tangerine knew that probably wasn’t good, but he wasn’t complaining. For once his mind was quiet, just finally fucking quiet. To him, it felt like a blessing. 

The only time he allowed himself to feel something was while reading. Transporting himself into this other world, with other people and their problems forced him to focus on that and not on himself. Within the first few days after he’d heard the news Tangerine had already bought all of the books on his list. He couldn’t, no, wouldn’t deal with his own issues, so he had to find other ways to keep his mind busy. But even those didn’t spark his emotions as he hoped. 

Lemon had kept offering him that bloody book, kept trying to talk to him, but he couldn’t get himself to interact with him. He buried the book in the back of his closet along with his tablet. Out of sight, out of mind, right? 

And when it was out of his mind, he could pretend none of this was actually happening.

He didn’t understand why Lemon was so concerned about him anyways. Tangerine could feel his eyes on him every time they were in the same room, they were filled with that look of pity. He hated it. If he couldn’t even get him to care about himself, why should Lemon? But he couldn’t exactly tell him to leave.

No- don’t go there. 

It was currently 3 am, and Tangerine sat staring into space. He couldn’t sleep, the pain in his throat burning more than usual. Where on the one hand, he wished he would just fall asleep, on the other hand, he wanted to wake up. Wake up from this nightmare that never seems to end.  

He was aching for a smoke. He missed the feeling of a cigarette hanging on his lips, how the smoke filled his lungs, and the calm he felt while blowing it out again. However, the doctor had strongly advised him not to smoke, noting that it would only decrease the chances of recovery and further damage his lungs. When they came home Lemon had scoured the house for cigarettes and threw them all out. Tangerine thought it was a bit overdramatic, but in the end, he was grateful for it, knowing that he couldn’t have resisted the urge. 

After another hour of nothing but purposeless staring he finally decided that maybe a glass of water would calm his throat and finally help him sleep.

As Tangerine stumbled into the kitchen he saw the light of the fridge brightening up the room. Shit. He had really hoped Lemon would be fast asleep right now. It was almost 4 in the morning, what the hell was he still doing up?

Then again he’s here too. 

For a minute he hesitated if he should continue, not in the mood for Lemon’s chit-chat, but then decided to just get it over with anyway. He really wanted to sleep and that wasn’t going to happen with the still-burning feeling in his throat. 

He tried to draw as little attention as possible, hoping he could be out of there within seconds. But of course, Lemon never failed to strike up a conversation with him. 

“Hey I was just thinkin’ maybe you could make some breakfast in the morning, I bought bacon and eggs.” 

Tangerine made no sign for Lemon to think that he had even heard the proposition, grabbed a glass of water, and walked away without any sort of reaction, leaving his brother alone in the kitchen once again.

What was the point of making it if he wasn’t going to eat it anyway? He supposed Lemon was looking for some form of normalcy that they once had. Before Tokyo, before-

He forced the memory out of his mind.

“You can’t keep this up forever you know. It’s gonna break ya.’ he heard Lemon yell from the kitchen. 

Fuckin’ hell. 

Why’d he have to go and say shit like that? Why won’t Lemon just leave him alone to deal with his misery on his own? He wasn’t going to break, he wasn't a glass that shattered when you put just a little bit of pressure on it. The whole shutting himself off was precisely to avoid dealing with all this shit and prevent anything from happening. Tangerine felt anger starting to emerge inside him as he slammed his bedroom door closed a little harder than necessary, a bit of water spilling over from his glass onto the floor. 

Deep breaths, Tan. Deep breaths. He thought to himself.

Even after the ache in his throat disappeared he wasn’t able to sleep. He just lay in bed, while staring at the ceiling. When he checked his clock again it was already 7:30 in the morning. 

Fuck it. He could try again tonight. Right now he needed a shower, a nice hot shower. He grabbed a new pair of sweatpants and a shirt and made his way over to the bathroom. The sound of running water already started to calm him down. After he had stripped himself from all his clothing, he stepped in, he hot water on his skin washing away all the anger from before. 

Hot showers wouldn’t solve anything, but they sure made him forget about it for a second. After washing his hair followed by another 10 minutes of just standing there, absorbing the warm water onto his skin, he finally decided to get out. Normally the mirror in the bathroom was foggy because of the shower, making it hard to see anything in it. Tangerine was usually already outside before the steam cleared, purposely avoiding looking in it. 

Today however it wasn’t. 

The mirror was right in front of the shower, making it impossible to miss your reflection while stepping out. Tangerine froze as he caught himself in the mirror or well… someone that looked like him. He could barely recognize the man staring at him through the mirror. 

Before, he regularly looked in the mirror. Always checking if every hair was properly slicked back and that his mustache looked nothing less than perfect, much to Lemon’s annoyance when they were on the clock. It was part of his look, part of who he was. He even had a full-length mirror in his room. That particular mirror was now covered up with blankets.

Right now he had no idea who he was. He looked pale, too pale, making the contrast in color between the bags under his eyes even bigger. Tangerine looked himself over, disturbed by the amount of weight he seemed to have lost. His once perfectly fitted pants, now hanging low on his hips. Since he was barely eating enough to keep him alive it was an expected consequence, still, really seeing it was different. He looked so small, so weak.

But that wasn't even the worst thing. No, the worst part was the huge scar on the side of his neck. A constant reminder of everything he had lost. Tangerine stretched his neck to the side putting it on full display in front of the mirror. Slowly he brought his shaking hand up, tracing the scar along the side of his neck. 

How did he become this? This…empty shell of his former self. 

It felt like all the emotions Tangerine had been pushing down for the past few weeks came rushing back up, hitting him like a truck. Every trace of the person he used to be was gone and it was his own fault. He had been shutting Lemon out since they came back, when he had done nothing but try and help him. A sudden feeling of guilt hit him. Had it been the other way around Tangerine would’ve done the same thing for him, only Lemon wouldn’t have been a complete arsehole about it.

Lemon is the closest thing to family he had, the only person who he truly cared for and he has managed to fuck even that up. Tangerine had never been especially good with people, (mostly because he just couldn’t stand them.) and that trait only grew with age. Though that didn’t include dealing with clients, he knew how to do that. In fact, they always preferred to talk to him instead of Lemon. He was a professional after all, or at least he had been. 

Not talking to Lemon had been a dick move, Tangerine knew that, but it made sense for him. In his mind, he chose not to talk to people. He chose to. For him, it was a conscious decision to keep his mouth shut, not a disability holding him back. 

If he was Lemon he would have given up on him by now. Hell, he’d already given up on himself if the state of him was anything to go by. 

What ensued was a staring contest with the mirror. The longer he kept glaring into the mirror the angrier he got, the walls he had put up for himself slowly breaking down. Until he finally couldn't take it anymore. All his emotions boiled over and he could feel tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He couldn’t stand to look at himself anymore, but his legs didn’t listen to his brain. Unable to walk away, Tangerine fell back on how he usually solved his problems; violence. 

With as much power as he could muster Tangerine threw his fist at the mirror, breaking it into a million little pieces. 

--

While his brother was in the shower Lemon was in the kitchen making breakfast. Usually Tangerine cooked some bacon or eggs in the morning, but he hadn’t done that in weeks. Given the fact that Lemon wasn’t a great cook, he had switched to breakfast cereal, which was edible. Tangerine didn't mind, but then again he usually only drank a glass of milk in the morning these days.

His attempt at conversation last night didn’t exactly work out as he had hoped either, resulting in Tangerine slamming his door. However Lemon took the small display of anger as a win for now. He has no idea how long he was planning to keep this up, but it was getting really fucking annoying. He didn’t want to be angry at Tangerine, he knew that what he was dealing with was a real struggle, but Lemon was just about done with it. He wanted his brother back.

He just sat down when he noticed Tangerine was still in the bathroom even though the shower was shut off at least 15 minutes ago. Normally he was out of there as fast as he could. 

Before he had even taken his first bite, Lemon heard what sounded like shattering glass coming from the bathroom. Tangerine.

“Fuck.” he sighed. He dropped his spoon back into the bowl and walked over to his brother. The door was unlocked per Lemon’s request, just in case something like this happened. Tangerine hadn’t said anything about it when he had asked, however to Lemon’s relief he had actually left his doors unlocked.

“Tan?” he asked through the door. When all he got in response was labored breathing he decided to go in. The only positive point he found walking onto the scene was that Tangerine, thankfully, already had his pants on. 

Tangerine was leaning on the sink, face in a pained expression as he let cold water run over his bloody hand. The water in the sink quickly turning red. Lemon’s eyes moved from his brother to the broken mirror. It wasn’t hard to piece together what had happened. 

He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow at him, giving him that ‘I told you ya’ look he always had when he fucked up. Tangerine was avoiding eye contact, knowing full well what Lemon was doing. 

“Gonna start talkin’ to me now, eh?” He asked.

Tangerine shot him a glare, finally meeting his eyes and clearly not appreciating the choice of words, but at least it was a reaction. Being angry was better than nothing at all. The barrier Tangerine had put up for himself had broken down and Lemon hoped that he could finally start picking his life up again. 

Lemon took the death stare as a yes, turned the water tap off, and ushered Tangerine out of the bathroom. “Go sit in the kitchen, I’ll grab the first aid kit.” 

“Don’t step in the glass!” he added once Tangerine slowly started to make his way over.

He snatched the medical supplies out of the cabinet and while he was busy he also grabbed the tablet and BSL book from Tangerine’s closet. He thought he had hidden it from him, but Lemon knew everything.

He found Tangerine sitting at the kitchen island slumped over the counter, holding his injured hand in the other. Lemon placed the book and tablet in his line of sight and took a seat next to him. He saw Tangerine look at it, but didn’t make any move to either throw it away or smash it into a wall. Progress, he thought. 

While Lemon started to remove the remaining pieces of glass that were stuck in his left hand, Tangerine grabbed the tablet with his uninjured one. Once he was done typing he slid the writing pad over to Lemon. 

‘I’ve been a real twat’ 

He refused to make eye contact with his brother. Tangerine had never been one to apologize. And even though this still wasn’t really an apology, it was a big deal for him. Lemon knew that.

He let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, you were.” 

Tangerine winced when the rubbing alcohol connected with his hand. He’d been through this a hundred times already but never got used to it. While Lemon disinfected his wound, he debated whether he should say something else or not. He probably should. Weeks of ignoring any sort of contact had him wanting to pour it all out. Only thing was that he couldn’t. Not really. 

Tangerine grabbed the tablet from where he had given it to Lemon. He erased the previous sentence and wrote a new one, again sliding it over to him.

‘why?’ 

He didn’t need to elaborate.

“‘Cause, you’re my brother, man. You’re stuck with me, even when ya act like a fuckin’ prick.” 

Tangerine takes a moment to take it all in, a comfortable silence falling between them. He didn’t know how, but he must’ve done something right in his previous life to deserve someone like Lemon. Because despite the fact that Tangerine had been a complete and utter asshole, he didn’t hesitate to stay by his side. He grabbed the tablet again, then slid it back over.

‘I’m sorry´ 

There was a beat of silence before Lemon answered him. “It’s okay, not like any of this is fuckin’ easy. Just…let me help you, okay?” 

Finally Tangerine looked up, meeting lemon’s eyes. There was a mix of sadness and hope in his eyes. “I know you believe you can do this on your own, but if today was anythin’ to go by…well.” 

He looked down again, ashamed that he let it go this far. It took him completely shutting off, ignoring his brother, and disregarding his own well-being, resulting in a complete breakdown for him to finally get the message; as much as he wants to, he can’t do this alone.

Tangerine slowly nodded his head, finally accepting his brother’s help as Lemon finished bandaging up his hand. He let out a sigh of relief, happy that Tangerine was finally ready to move forward. 

After he cleaned up the table Lemon sat back next to his brother and reached for the BSL book. Tangerine still looked hesitant, but leaned in anyway. 

“Let’s just start easy, kay?” again Tangerine nodded in response.

So that’s what they did. The brothers spend the entire rest of the day learning the basics of sign language. In these last few weeks Lemon had taken it to himself to already get familiar with sign language. He knew you couldn’t just learn it in one day, so he gave himself a little head start for when Tangerine would come around. It would be easier for his brother to learn it with someone who already knew some of the basics instead of starting from scratch. He’d also make sure to learn all the names of Thomas & Friends in BSL, but that could wait for now. 

Tangerine picked it up surprisingly quickly in the months after that, much to Lemon’s relief. On the other hand he could have seen it coming. Tangerine never did anything half-assed; if he set his mind to something it was gonna get done no matter how long it took. To Lemon’s surprise he’d even signed up to classes every week, and once in a while he went with him. It was really effective. Of course he wasn’t fluent yet, neither of them were, Lemon read that it could take years before someone was really fluent at sign language. For now though it was enough that they could properly understand each other. 

One of the first things Tangerine had done after Lemon insisted on teaching him the signs of those fucking trains was learn all of his favorite insults. He made sure that Lemon knew them too, cuz there was no way that he was gonna insult someone without them knowing exactly what he was scolding them with.

‘If I find your dirty fucking socks laying around my house one more time, I will throw them out the fucking window, you read me?’ 

His hand movements were still a bit slow, his brain still getting used to the fact that he needed to think of what he wanted to say and then translate that to his hands. However there was so much emotion on his face, that Lemon couldn’t help but feel as if he was actually saying it. 

Lemon was very chuffed to see how Tangerine seemed to regain his confidence and attitude a bit more everyday. He would have never thought he’d miss that eye twitch whenever he managed to piss him off. It put a beaming smile on Lemon’s face. 

‘What are you smiling about?’ he signed, giving him the usual ‘are you fucking serious right now’ look. 

He was dead serious about this, as he usually was over these stupid little things and Lemon found it adorable. It reminded him of how they used to share a bedroom when they were younger and how keen Tangerine always was on keeping in neat. The thought made his smile grow wider, failing to contain it no matter how sharp his brother was staring at him. Tangerine was still that little brother of his, no matter how many years had passed. 

Eventually Tangerine gave up trying to get Lemon's attention. He rolled his eyes and flipped him off before walking away, quite literally throwing his socks out of the open window. 

“Ah man, those were my favorites!” Lemon yelled after him. 

Tangerine didn’t look back, but he was sure that he was wearing that same old cocky grin on his face. Even though a lot of things have changed since Tokyo, he couldn’t help but be grateful that no matter what life put them through, they’d always come out on the other end. 

Together. 

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Like I said, I do plan on writing more stories in this ‘universe’, so if you have anything you want to see/read, please let me know. Next up: Tangerine and Ladybug meet for the first time again after Tokyo.

Taglist: @venusthepirate @bratdoll666 @assmaster37 @wrendermeuseless @waiting4ff @kpopgirlbtssvt @earth-elemental18 @sisterslytherinog @dontknownameauthor @avocado-writing @thegremlinofransei @sugarpenchant @notfrom-outerspace @stinygirl009 @violetexpress1 @thenarryparable @pugperson99 @ozym4ndi4s @thirstyfortangerine  (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed)

[yeonsols-garden]

Chapter 145 discussion

First of all, let's just praise Esol for how much better her art style has gotten over the years, especially her expressions! The way Junhyuk looks as he is talking to the trash that will not be named it's just amazing. The utterly dead look in his eyes. The blood smeared all over his face and clothing. The horror, boredom, and disgust that you can feel off of the screen as he talks down to this human feces as he is beaten and bruised is just immaculate and I will forever sing Esol's praises in every single review that I'm going to make because of how amazing her art style has become. The expressions and the detail are just so good I can rave about that alone.

Also ALL HAIL JUNHYUK FOR PUTTING THAT MAN IN HIS PLACE!!!

I needed this bastard to get beaten to a pulp so badly and to have the icing on the cake that Junhyuk not only decimated him (while being a so-called cripple mind you) but he has taken pictures of the bastard that shall not be named in such a vulnerable position…

The way my mouth hung open when I read him blackmailing this man! I was left gagged and ecstatic. I have never been prouder in my life!!! I wanted this so bad and got it so good. The way the page is shaded when he is saying his last words to the trash that will not be named THAT RIGHT THERE is SUCH a cold-ass panel. Everything about that radiates disturbing and unimaginable levels of fucked up but it's amazing! What makes it better is the way that it is implied that Junhyuk marred the bastard's face in some way with that pan of the camera to the glass shard!!! I already know something is going to happen in the future because knowing Esol and the mastermind this woman is she wouldn’t put a panel like that and not have it mean something. I love how she adds bits of foreshadowing to elude to what is going to happen in the future out in plain sight, it’s so good and such a fun game to play when I go back and reread the series for the umpteenth time.

I'm terrified for when the human equivalent of cow dung comes back because we all know better. It may seem like everything is “okay” now and resolved when it comes to the middle school bully situation but it is not. We all know he's going to come back cuz he's insane. This man is a psychopath and psychopaths wouldn’t know the words *leave us alone* if it slapped them across the face. If you beat him up he will come back and try again. This man got beaten by a cripple and even pissed himself it may be sweet revenge for us but he's going to come back and do something atrocious. I know he is and I'm anticipating when that happens because we already know Haesol is going to be involved, but that is an essay for another day.

(Let's all pray for our hearts because we already know Esol is going to rip that shreds and then feed it to a cow for it to s*** it out)

And as is typical with Esol and her amazing storytelling of course there's nuance after the scene. The fact that Junhyuk does not feel happy or even a bit of satisfaction from what he did does show that he is such a good person. It also shows how messed up his mental state was at this moment and I love how every artistic choice that was made in the next few panels that was done to show it. The black of the panels that indicate this is a flashback not only helps to show how bad his mental state was at the time and probably still is but it also adds to that air of unease.

This is a chapter where we finally understand how deeply that comment of “you and Yeonwoo are not normal” really hurt him. Because not only has everyone been telling him this but his recent actions of him beating up his bully are somewhat affirming this. It is ruining him because he feels as though there's nothing else he can do and he's right in a way. In a situation like this, there are so many factors that come into play as to why he cannot do anything. The police will not help you because when it comes to bullying and Korean laws regarding that everything is so messy and nothing is ever really done. The adults cannot do a thing because that bully's parents are probably rich, which is probably why he is allowed to get away with everything that he does. That little conversation that Junhyuk and the trash that will not be named had about him suing Junhyuk already hints at that. They cannot tell their parents because Yeonwoo will not allow Junhyuk to tell his parents what happened because of the mental scarring that incident did to him.

It really is a trapped situation, there are so many outside and internal factors that are preventing them from doing anything, and the fact that this is what Junhyuk feels like he needs to do to protect his best friend and himself is honestly understandable. With everything that has happened between them is however going to take a toll on his mental health.

His grappling with the fact that he did that is honestly just a sign of how good of a person this guy is. What he did was honestly probably not as bad as what that guy did to Yeonwoo but it has mentally scarred him. Junhyuk knows that. Junhyuk knows that but he still feels bad, he still has his morals about him, even in a situation where he is 100% in the right and the panel where he is looking at himself in the mirror and he sees himself is actually kind of heartbreaking.

The mental and emotional trauma that he has been carrying this entire time is so heavy that you can see how tired, how scared, and how confused he is from that expression alone.

This chapter also goes a lot deeper into Junhyuk's side of codependency in a way that is so compelling. He cares for Yeonwoo we know that but when Junhyuk said he told Yeonwoo what he did in the infirmary to keep him by his side I automatically drew parallels to when Yeonwoo was going to “jump” and kill himself. The intention of hurting yourself to scare the other or display pure terror in order to keep the other close to you is a theme with these two and it just shows how tied they are to each other. When Yeonwoo threatened to jump and Junhyuk saved him that look of terror at the realization that his best friend was going to die was the same one Yeonwoo wor when Junhyuk cried to him about how what Yeonwoo was doing, getting into situations that didn’t involve him only to ultimately also get beaten up being no different from self-harm is the exact same thing Yeonwoo did. Just in different font.

* Both of them are terrified of moving forward

* Both of them cling to each other like a lifeline

* Both of them are terrified of the other leaving them whether that is them getting better and going past their trauma or physically leaving them.

Junhyuk grappling with his dilemma of whether should he be friends with Yeonwoo because he feels as though he's not helping him. Should he even be allowed to be near Yeonwoo because he feels as though he is in fact hurting him? And that lashing out at the infirmary is really important because it really shows how Junhyuk is also scared of progress. Throughout the story, we get hints of Junhyuk and how uneasy he is about the fact that YW is changing so much. And even more paranoid that the reason for this change is haesol. This right here is honestly a really interesting and ironic revelation that he's scared of the change that is happening with Yeonwoo because he feels as though Yeonwoo is actively leaving him while he is still stuck in Middle School.

It parallels Yeonwoo so well because he feels the exact same way. That moment when Yeownoo is going to Haesol’s house and he asks Junhyuk if he is coming along when Junhyuk says no and leaves him and Nari to go YW himself at that moment is uneasy. Not at the idea of being at his girlfriend's house but because Junhyuk wouldn’t normally do that. Normally Junhyuk would come along and watch Yeonwoo like a hawk.

That right there is an example of how both of them are scared of moving forward and how their codependent tendencies constantly enable each other.

Junhyuk now realizing this is breaking. This moment is much more sad when you realize what the circumstances had to come to for him to come to that conclusion.

The angst is just so good.

Everything he does for Yeonwoo comes from such good intentions. Junhyuk at the end of the day sees Yeonwoo as his little brother. They have been friends since childhood, he’s seen his ups and downs and everything in between. Of course, he’s naturally protective and he cares for Yeonwoo so much. Junhyuk is willing to break up this friendship with Yeonwoo even if he knows he will be devastated by doing that. The moment just before his flashback leading to his perspective of middle school is more heartwrenching when you are actively thinking about this while reading it again. The platonic angst is actually killing me.

Junhyuk essentially grappling with his humanity and with his friendship with Yeonwoo. The conclusion that he comes to that is entirely logical when you understand his trauma and the circumstances makes complete sense but it doesn't hurt any less. It still hurt leaving Yeonwoo in the middle of the night crying, and wailing as he begged Junhyuk not to leave him.

I bet you Junhyuk cried heavy tears that night.

This flashback was honestly great and I loved it not only did it give me the satisfaction of seeing that piece of trash get absolutely dismantled but it also, in typical Esol fashion, gave us a psychological breakdown of Junhyuk and his mental state during the moment and why he comes to the conclusion he does.

Absolutely brilliant.

Now on to everybody's favorite MVP NARI.

Man, I love her so much she's absolutely amazing and I ship these two so hard. Nari is literally like the beacon of sunshine that we needed in this chapter because not only is she amazing at consoling Junhyuk and his whirlwind of deprecating thoughts of how horrible of a person he thinks himself to be for doing something that is honestly justified but the just subtle not so subtle closeness that these two share in this moment is just such good food omg.

Especially after everything that has happened recently in the roller coaster ride that is Junhyuk and Yeonwoo reconciling. Their make-up was great but it was very unfulfilling.

Nari consoling Junhyuk is something that has filled that gap of what Junhyuk and Yeonwoo’s reconciliation was supposed to be.

Junhyuk and Yeonwoo reconciling was good and amazing in the moment it was coming out but it could have been better. I know that Esol made it that way for a reason as everything is with her, she is incredibly intentional with everything that she writes but I was still left unsatisfied (as is probably Esol’s intention) and this chapter healed a lot of that.

This moment really solidifies how great of a friend Nari is and how in tune with her friends she is. Her ability to tell that Junhyuk is not okay and her not backing down and trying to figure out what happened to him is just top-tier friend behavior.

We love her for that.

Her advice is honestly great and when she tells Junhyuk that he is a good person and the trembling of his lip afterward as he cries… it's all so incredibly bittersweet.

Junhyuk airing out his thoughts of regret, pain, and confusion, it's just so raw and you really feel for him. He thinks he's just scum of the earth even though what happened was completely out of his and Yeonwoo’s control and how what he did was honestly justified given the situation he was in and the context of it.

I love how Nari, when she finds out that Junhyuk beat up a guy, as in really beating someone up to the point of death, doesn't berate him or judge him, no she looks at him like he is her friend because he is and gives him sound advice. She does this because she knows Junhyuk. She knows the kind of person he is and she knows that he will only ever get violent to protect those that are close to him and it touches my soul.

“You are a good person Nam Junhyuk I believe that you are a good person”

Never have I felt so much relief as I did when she said those words because throughout the chapter you feel the despair that Junhyuk is in and you genuinely want to tell him yourself that he is not a bad person and that the circumstances that have happened and what he did were not wrong. You want to scream and shout at your screen and tell him “You're not a bad person you were just pushed into doing a bad thing because of a piece of trash”. You just want to give him a hug and tell him it's not his fault and to have Nari do that and console him, take his hand, and say “You're not a bad person” It is just the most euphoric rush of dopamine I have had to date.

And the way the sunlight is just showering our girl and making her look absolutely stunning ESOL absolutely knows how to use the setting to her advantage every. single. time.

You look at Nari like the ray of sunshine she is in this moment because that is exactly what she represents. In the dark and despair that was the majority of this chapter us going through this journey of Junhyuk doubting himself, of him doubting his relationship with Yeonwoo, of him going down the spiral of self-hate and self-deprecation, her coming in and stopping that, telling him that he's a good person and reaffirming her constant claim that they are friends and that she'll be there for him and that she knows he's a good person

It is that good closure that we needed after chapters of despair and it hits. so. good!!!

It is just amazing and I know that there are things that I am not touching on because I feel as though there are deeper parts of this chapter that I'm missing but as of right now this chapter is honestly up there in one of my favorites. Even though it is not Yeonsol-focused, it is a chapter that does such a good job of executing the foreshadowing that has been sprinkled throughout while also giving us that satisfying conclusion to one of our beloved characters and the turmoil they have faced.

The comedy tag in the series is actually hanging on by a thread because at the end of this Junhyuk saying “You are one smooth talker”, even though this scene is emotional and as we watch the tears flow down his face while he devoers his corndog and Nari patting his back while scolding him gently for eating too fast, it’s just so comical you can't help but smile.

Leave it to Esol to add some light comedy at the end of a chapter like this just because. God, I love this woman

This chapter was honestly great and I really liked it but yet again I say this about like every single chapter because I'm obsessed with this series.

Now the next chapter through chapter 146 THAT chapter??? Best believe I'm going to go off when that essay comes along because the way that chapter is actually insane!!!

Yeonsol is so BACK

AND THESE TWO CAME BACK SWINGING!!!

I'll try to get that analysis out tomorrow because I'm so happy that my babies are back I miss them so much. But for this chapter, we definitely got a top-tier Nari x Junhyuk moment to add to the tally because it was bittersweet, relieving, and overall light-hearted that I can't quite put into coherent words how good this chapter made me feel.

[bettsfic]

Hi Betts! I love your writing advice and I've been following it for years, and it's been a wonderful resource <3 So I mostly write flash and/or short fic (the longest thing I've put out was in the 9k range) and I really like shorter stuff because I feel like I have more control and I really love the form of the short story, even if that stuff doesn't get as much attention in fandom. The thing is, sometimes when I go back and read my stuff I feel like it's underwritten, even if I still really like the prose and what's on the page. Something feels off with the pacing, say, or I just feel like I want to be in that world more, like there are more details to be filled in-- a general sense of incompleteness. Or, these past couple of months, I've had ideas I wanted to write that I know would need 10-15k to execute properly, and I just feel defeated because I don't think I have that in me as a writer. I'm not interested in writing novel-length fics or anything like that-- I just want to be able to convey what I want as economically as possible, but when I sit down to draft it feels like pulling teeth to break even past the first one thousand words. You got any tips?

the key to writing longer stuff is to ask questions of your narrative that take a long time to answer, and can only be answered by drafting it out. i wanted to work on a novella, 25k max, and now it's 110k just because i kept asking myself, "what is this guy's deal?" ("this guy" being the main character, who is based loosely off a guy i used to know and who i never understood even a little). on the way, other characters joined the conflict and then i wanted to know what their deals were too. i think it takes a lot of curiosity and having no idea what the thing you're writing even is in order to write something long.

another way to make a work longer is to create multiple, high-stakes anchor points. anchor points (or turning points, quest markers, whatever you want to call them) are events in a story that are more or less fixed. some of them are obvious: if you're writing a romance, one anchor point is going to involve a first kiss and/or a love confession. another one might be offering your characters a happy ending. if you're asking a lot of questions of your narrative, more anchor points will be created, complicating your path to the ones that were set early on.

the further back you start them from your anchor points, the longer the work is going to be. if i'm looking to write a happily ever after ending for two profoundly fucked up characters, and if i throw in more anchor points on the way (say, murder) it's going to take a lot of work to get them where i want them to be. continuing the murder example, if i have a character who has never killed anyone before and doesn't seem like they even could, i have to set up some kind of external arc that would lead them to decide to kill somebody, and also an internal arc to push them to that point.

an example (albeit kind of an extreme one) is an original character i made named layla, for the aforementioned should-have-been-a-novella. in early drafting and plotting, i wanted to make her a kind albeit determined person. i didn't know anything about her, and i didn't need to. she's not the POV character.

but as my main character became more complex, it seemed less likely that someone like him would fall for someone who didn't have a lot of depth to them or some kind of darker edge. so i thought, haha what if she's a psychopath? i wrote her that way for a while, but i wasn't vibing with that either. and then i thought, what if she thinks she's a psychopath but absolutely is not a psychopath? what would make her think that about herself? a sociopathic older sister, i thought. and what if layla is made to do awful things to protect a younger sister? and if so, what are those awful things she had to do? what was that like?

as an exercise, i wrote out her life story just to answer these questions, and it was so fun and cool to be in her head that i ended up making her a POV character. and whenever you add a POV, your word count basically doubles. (i guess that's another tip: write a lot of character POVs in one thing and see what happens.)

my last tip is what i call the spaghetti draft. a spaghetti draft is a draft in which you're throwing spaghetti at a wall and seeing what sticks. it's a process of intentional over-writing. you're throwing in backstory, you're describing ten cracked tiles in somebody's bathroom, you're pushing your dialogue so far the characters start to bore you. throw everything you can possibly think of into it until it is disgusting to you.

then you go back and pare it down. hopefully in spaghetti-ing, you've discovered more threads to tug, more questions to ask of your story, more paths toward what's still unknown.

i have a post that talks about (among other things) beefing up your interiority that might also be helpful.