#i love writing arson hope i get the chance to

[heartilywrites]

Korra x female firebender reader pretty please 💗

It can start off as fluff and turn into smut AUGHAG <33

Obviously, the time is during s3-s4, reader writes numerous letters to Korra, yearning for her (but ofc they just act as very close friends through the letters) and then Korra comes back from the North Pole, but instead of disappearing to the swamp, she go sees reader instead. I think you and I both know where this is going 😻

THANK YOU HOPE THIS IS ENOUGH HAVE A LOVELY DAY <333

،، 𝓜ake it Better ; Korra

request guide | masterlist

resume: where Korra gives you a visit after three years of being away.

content warning: fluff and if you squint enough there's angst ; Korra x fem!reader ; r is a firebender ! ; ¡¡ MINORS DNI !! ; nsfw ; thigh riding ; fingering ; oral (r receiving) ; scissoring ; switch!korra n' r ; after care i think??? i mean, i believe it is some type of after care what i wrote- ; description of amber colored eyes for r ; no use of y/n

wc: 2.8k

a/n: this is my first smut in like,,, 8 months i think, be nice to me i cry easily /j. i didn’t really mention that r was a firebender that much, i got carried away- hope thats okay 🥺 ENJOY THANK U FOR REQUESTING :D

“ If I could figure it out, I'd take you back to my house so we could meddle about.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “𝓓earest Korra,

It's been a whole week since you left us, can you believe it? Things here are... not the same without you.

How have you been? I mean, it's been just seven days, but it's just weird, we haven't been this far since I met you. I hope you're doing okay, know that I will be writing you eventually! Everyone says hi, by the way, I'm sure you'll get a letter from them too, but just to let you know. Bolin is the most excited to receive a letter back, I've seen him practice his calligraphy, it's cute.

Write me back too when you have the chance! I would like to read about you.

Sincerely yours,”

Blue eyes read once, twice, even three times the letter with a weak smile on her face. Her fingers caressed your letter and streak your name.

Being back in the south by herself sure got the best out of her, she missed everyone, she missed you, but it was something she needed to do to get better. To be better and feel like she deserved you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Dearest,

Hey! I'm sorry for not responding back earlier, but it's been hard.

I've been good? I'm starting physiotherapy with Katara and it's something. Thank you for writing me, I can't tell you how much I miss you guys; Three weeks is a crazy amount of time to be away from you, hope you don't miss me much, blaze.

Can I ask you to do me a favor? Don't tell the others I wrote to you, I'm just now finding the correct words to write to you and I don’t want them to feel like I don’t appreciate them. I trust you, commander arson.

Yours always,

Korra.”

A little laugh left your mouth after reading the two nicknames the avatar had always used on you. Your heart skipped at the beginning, how she only wrote dearest without your name... That couldn't mean much, right? She was one of your best friends, even if your feelings for her were strong, your willpower to keep the relationship as it is was way stronger.

Your friends have talked to you about an opportunity were she may feel the same back and it was just a matter of talking it out, but then Zaheer targeted Korra again and all romance–talk went through out the window. It all sank after the result of the war between the red lotus and the whole team, the letter were all you had left of the girl and at that moment you wouldn't risk losing it.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Dearest Korra,

I'm starting to think that maybe this new job is not for me... The people is boring and I'm running out of ideas to keep the fun atmosphere, maybe I should go and work with Asami, don't you think, breeze? My experience on dealing with disasters may be of help if she needs a test subject for the inventions, I'm good at dispersing fire with more fire!

I can't believe it's been a whole year since we last saw each other... How is the physiotherapy going? I hope is going great, don't be so hard on yourself, Korra, I know you. Healing usually takes time and it's okay to go on your own pace... I lo am sending all of my good energy your way, know that I am always here for you, in the good and the bad, please let me know if you need anything. Hopefully we'll see each other soon.

Sincerely yours,”

The night that Korra was reading again that specific letter from you was the same night were she hit rock bottom with her whole healing process. A couple of tears ran down her cheeks after the last paragraph, only the moon knew how much Korra missed and loved you and having you say such words to her knowing how at some point the girl may get burnout from trying was what made the avatar fall in love with you. You knew her to a point where only if she looked in the back on her brain she may find how you were right and that made her feel warm.

  ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Dearest blaze,

Hey... I hope you didn't waited too long for me to write you back. I'm so sorry, it has been a really rough time for me and I didn’t feel like burdening you with my problems.

I did receive the last couple of letters you sent and I read them, I'm so grateful to have you with me. Thank you for not giving up on me just yet, you're the best.

Yours always,

Korra.”

Your hand was moving fast over the new sheet of paper while writing your thoughts on the last letter. How could she say she was a burden? You've make sure she never felt that way! Since meeting Korra you always worked on making the girl trust you with everything, you made your mission being her confident, the shoulder she looked for when she needed to cry and reading how she felt bad with herself made your heart burn with pain.

Even if by then two years have gone by, you felt like nothing has changed between the waterbender and you, hell! you could say that the bond was stronger than ever despite your heart's desire.

The letter just kept going and coming every now and then until at one point after six months over the three years, they stopped from Korra's side. You got worried, of course, but thought that maybe the white lotus was training her again to get her back in the game and that made her time very limited. Your mind found another way to keep occupied from those loud thoughts and you keep it that way.

Humming a melody made your throat vibrate and your index finger made a little little flame to lit up a scent candle and accommodate it on the table at your living room, you were getting ready to read a little bit when a knocking on your door made you stand up again.

When you opened your door, your eyes widened and you felt as if someone had hypnotized you. A short haired Korra was in front of you, wearing earth kingdom clothes and with an eye starting to swell, she smiled with a sad aura, but her eyes sparkled a little bit with excitement at finally seeing you again.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “My spirits, Korra... I'm– I– what happened to you?” you broke the silence, mumbling at the questions trying to come out your mouth all at once. You took her hand to get her inside your house, she just kept her eyes on you.

You were as beautiful as she remembered, dare to say even more than before. Your fire nation clothes hugging your body and that wonderful scent that characterizes you was what Korra had missed. She took a deep breath in to smell it again and was met with the familiar scent of your house as well, how she missed it.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I needed to see you.” she spoke, her voice sounded deeper than it was, you felt a tiny electric current travel your spine. “I just... I couldn't be far from you anymore.”

A smile began to creep on your face and your arms were quick to hug the avatar, she swallowed a grunt at the sudden hit of your body on hers as she missed that and hugged you back. A small sob was heard.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I missed you so much, Korra.” you whispered sobbing again. “You have no idea.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I missed you too.” her hand went to your head where she left tiny caresses. “I'm so sorry for disappearing, I've been trying to feel like myself again.”

You distanced yourself from her and looked at her with concern. Your hand reached hers and were fast to guide her to sit at the couch so you could talk to the girl.

For the first time, Korra let out everything she had been feeling and thinking after so many years and you listened to her cautiously, stroking her hand with your thumb to make her feel safe and to convince you that she was there, that it wasn't another one of your dreams. When she finished she looked back up to you and you smiled at her.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I can't even imagine how hard it is to you,” you said in a soft tone, your amber eyes looked down to both your and her hands. “You're so strong, Korra. Physically and mentally, you are the strongest person I know and I know you're capable of coming out of this. You will be okay,” your eyes went back to the blue ones. “You won't have to do it alone, darling, I'm here for you.”

The avatar softened her gaze at you, that was all she needed to hear at that moment. She felt fortunate to have you by her side even at the worst moments.

Her free hand made its way to your cheek were she left strokes just as you were doing with her hand, both colored eyes were fixated to each other with such devotion. Both bodies moved unconsciously to be closer together until the breath mixed, warm and hot meeting. Your mind was cloudy at such close distance, you were sure you hallucinated with her eyes twitching to your lips and were about to move and offer her coffee when her lips clashed on yours in such a unsynchronized way that it was almost funny, you pulled away for a moment surprised to the act.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Shit, listen, I–” she tried to explain herself before you interrupted her with another kiss.

This one was more harmonized than the first one, your hands had left hers and looked to rest on each side of her face, pulling her as close as the anatomy allowed you to be. At first instance, it was supposed to be a sweet kiss of reconciliation with your feelings, but a small moan had vibrated on your throat without your permission and Korra took it as an opportunity to deepen the gesture.

While her tongue was fighting with yours, both her hands moved to your hips and in a quick move she had put you on top of her while still attending your lips. When your lungs burned for air, her mouth was fast to make a trail from yours to your neck.

Your head was thrown back to give her more access, one of your hands tangled with the brown locks on her head. She stopped at a sensitive spot after hearing you sigh with such devotion, smiling a little bit malicious she decided to make a hickey by sucking the skin under her mouth making you do satisfied sounds that vibrated your vocal chords, after admiring her work that she knew would leave a dark mark, she tried to continue but was stopped with the fabric of your superior part, Korra distanced a bit to look at you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Can I?” was asked referring to the piece, you nodded a little bit and watch her hands take the belt off your waist and helped her to take off the whole fabric and letting it fall to the floor.

When her lips met your neck again, Korra breathe in your scent, delighted to how sweet you smelled. Your hips under her hands looked for more closeness by rocking a little bit to the front and that only action gave the girl an idea.

She pulled away again and made her hands guide your body to sit on only one of her legs, you followed without any complaint; Korra made you start grinding on her thigh, with tiny moans you were obedient to keep the action she did and when the girl raised her leg to apply pressure to your core making you let out a sigh of relief at how good it felt. Foreign lips went back to your skin, she was attending now your breast over your bra, making more hickeys on her way.

The calling of her name in a shaky voice made her look up to your amber eyes drowned in lust. “I need you, please.”

Her mouth took yours in a desperate kiss and was quick to stand up from the couch with you on her arms to make the well known way to your bedroom. Even if the avatar's body felt heavy by the constant fights she had before deciding to visit you, at that moment she didn’t feel exhausted, the hunger she had for you had substituted her tiredness.

With caution, your body was left on the mattress while the kiss continued. Korra made her way again to your breasts, taking off your last piece on the top her mouth attended your nipples making you moan at the sensation of her tongue moving while her hands were undoing your pants. When she got them off, her left hand slipped under your underwear to your intimacy. Iced color eyes looked at you with a smile at the feeling of wetness between your thighs.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “All that for me?” she raised an eyebrow, you could feel your face burn and tried to look away, but Korra's free hand made you turn your gaze back at her without harm. “Eyes on me.”

Her middle finger was tracing on top of your intimacy, making you moan in complain, you were about to talk again when one of her digits slipped in you now allowing you to moan with pleasure. The way her pace was slow was driving you crazy, your hips moved over her hand like asking for more non-verbally and she pleased by adding a second finger, the way your walls clutched over her fingers made her giggled a little bit.

She continued her action for a couple more seconds watching your expressions and loving the sound of your moans for her before she completely removed her fingers from you gaining a grunt.

She was quick to remove completely your last piece of clothes and move over to be between your legs, your eyes followed her curious to see how she was going down on you and when her lips got your clitoris along with one of her fingers entering again in your core, a loud moan came out of you.

Raising your back from the mattress, one one your hands went to her hair tangling brown locks to your fingers, another finger interfered in you and her pace got faster. Your free hand reached to squeeze your own breast while you were being taken care off and when a knot on your abdomen started to form you tried to call for the girl to tell her but was only able to moan out her name in a scream followed by your orgasm.

Your eyes got heavy but you forced yourself to stay awake when the avatar stood back up with your juices on her chin and a little bit on her nose, you smiled pulling her on a kiss tasting yourself in the process.

Your hands tried to undress the girl in a clumsy way while trying to comeback on yourself so she did it herself. Korra didn’t know what you tried to do, but surely stripped to her underwear. Just as she did, you took of her bottom piece and now forced her to lay on the bed.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What are you–” you put your finger over your own mouth on a silent expression.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Trust me.” you said hoarsely with a tired smile.

Your hands made her legs open for you to position yourself between them. Still sensitive after your first climax, you rubbed yourself against the southerner with such pleasure that you now were able to finally hear moans from her that made you smile. Korra was calling for your name between moans and heavy breaths she was giving, you folded over to kiss her and let the moans drown on both mouths. When picking a faster pace, both bodies started to feel the same knot on the lower area and after the waterbender got to her climax you followed her, now completely defeated you fell besides her.

Korra pulled you closer to her with her arms and hugged you tight, letting you rest your head on her chest. A couple of minutes were needed for both to recuperate, the avatar was leaving caresses on your head and tiny pecks on your crown.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “We'll find someone who can help you,” you spat, still hoarsely, now looking up to her. Amber eyes filled with compasion. “Don't give up just yet, I know we can find someone.”

Cold eyes looked at you with such tenderness and love before Korra pulled you in for a sweet kiss. “I love you.” she whispered over your lips, making you smile big. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I love you too,” you said back, leaving caresses on her cheeks. “I always have and always will, my love.”

[mint-yooxgi]

{3} - Fight or Flight - Yandere!Redcap!Mingi X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Fae!AU & Yandere!AU - Part of the CoDN Thrill of the Hunt Collab

Genre: Fantasy, Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Pairing: Mingi X Reader

Words: 9,085

Rating: Mature - 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Please read the warnings carefully, as this is a very heavy story dealing with many dark topics. This is also all of the warnings for this fic as it is one long one shot that I had to split into multiple parts, and I'm too tired right now to individually categorize all of these warnings to their respective parts. 8 ft tall Mingi. Slow burn. Violence: depiction of a massacre, a deer being slaughtered, as well as physical, verbal, sexual, and emotional, both alluded to and not. Blood and gore. Abuse: physical, emotional, verbal, and sexual, both alluded to and implied. Assault: physical, and sexual, both alluded to, implied, and attempted. OC has a really rough past, really this isn't for the faint of heart. Whipping, both alluded to, and done. Mentions of branding. Heavy themes of possession and ownership. Deception. Arson. Really, there's a lot of dark subject matter. Mingi falls hard and fast, thus, he simps a lot for the OC, but it's not a story written by me if Mingi doesn't simp for the OC. The reader is mentioned to be both tall and chubby, but it is not mentioned often, so it shouldn't disrupt the flow of the story when ready if you are not tall and/or chubby. I think that's everything, but if I missed something, please let me know! Smut: Biting/marking, outdoor sex, fingering (fem. rec), oral (fem. rec), hand job (male rec), come eating, overstimulation, Mingi has a dig bick, sex in a spring, really, it's very soft in comparison to the subject matter. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

P.S. If there are any spelling or grammatical errors, please ignore them. I did my best through many rounds of editing, but some are liable to still slip through.

A/n: I am SO sorry this took me LITERALLY forever to complete. I meant to have this out so much earlier, and actually posted on time, but it turned out much, much longer than I ever anticipated it being. I'm really proud of how this story turned out, and I didn't want to split it into multiple parts because I felt it would take away from the story as a whole. I'm super excited for you all to read this one, as I had a tremendous amount of fun writing it, and I really hope you all love Mingi's and OC's journey as much as I do. Huge shoutout and thanks to @anyamaris and @kwanisms for listening to me ramble and rave about this story both before and during the writing process, and for always encouraging me while writing! Also, huge thank you to @sanjoongie for being so patient and understanding with me as I write this all out in full. I hope you all enjoy! As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: Out of one horrible situation and into another, the cycle of abuse never stops. You've lived with monsters your whole life. So, what's one more?

P.P.S. Please don't let this flop guys. If you enjoyed it, please reblog!!!

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two

You were wrong.

Not only is this redcap the most infuriating fae possible, but he has no tact when it comes to handling you. Clearly, he’s never dealt with humans before, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. Every chance he gets, he’s shoving you around, pulling you harshly to your feet and snapping at you to ‘get a move on’ if you’re not moving at a quick enough pace for him.

Gone is the almost surreal atmosphere of peace the morning had brought you. Instead, as evening shifts into night, only irritation seems to fill the silence between the two of you. Whether he’s upset at himself for relating to a human or not is unbeknownst to you. All you do know is that he seems to dislike you more than he did the previous day.

“Are you done yet?” His voice cuts through the gentle sounds of the pond you’re currently bathing in.

Your head turns to stare at his back, noticing he stands a better guard than Windfel ever did. Not once did this fae turn around even to toy with you. Truly, he kept his word about being respectful about this kind of stuff, and for that, you should be grateful. Only, a creeping sense of dread begins to sink into your bones.

Slowly, you begin to make your way out of the pond, not quite feeling as refreshed as you should. The constant pounding of your heart within your chest reminds you that you’re still alive, and as you pull on the new clothes, you cannot keep your hands from shaking.

“Have you finished? I need to wrap your wound.” His arms are crossed over his chest, that much you can tell.

“I can do it myself.” Comes your somewhat sharp reply, looking around for where he put that roll of bandages he scavenged from a nearby town.

“No, you’re going to do it wrong.” He sighs, beginning to tap his foot against the ground. “I don’t want your wound getting infected again and slowing us down even further.”

Your features pull into a scowl. One which you are grateful he cannot see at the moment. You remain silent, tugging the loose shirt over your head once dry enough to do so. Only a grunt is given to acknowledge he can turn to face you, one which he seemingly immediately understands.

“Sit down.” He commands, walking over to you with another leaf filled with fresh paste in his one hand.

You comply, barely holding back your grumble of discontent. “Yes, General.”

The fae lets out a sharp breath through his nose, kneeling beside you on the ground. He says nothing as he begins to apply the paste over your now healing wound.

The cut on your leg is doing tremendously better in such a short amount of time. No longer does it crust at the edges, and the swelling has gone down significantly. There’s a small scab that rests over the deepest part of the cut, but the edges are much fainter than before, almost scar like in appearance. Sure, it still aches, but it’s nowhere near as horrendous or as infected as it once was.

Carefully, he spreads the paste over your cut. You notice his claws have retracted once more, and though he’s focussing intently on what he’s doing, he isn’t all that gentle. At one particular point, he adds a bit too much pressure to his fingers over the worst part of your cut, and you flinch.

A sharp hiss escapes you before you can stop yourself, and he removes his hand.

He says nothing as he discards of the leaf this time, reaching over to grab the roll of bandages. Wordlessly, he slides his one hand beneath your knee, tugging it upwards without warning.

Your initial response is to scold him, but given how close he is to you right now, combined with the fact that he is treating your wound, you don’t want to give him an opportunity to attack you. If he’s this good with treating them, then obviously he’s even better at causing them. Besides, there are ways he could torment you with the worst pain imaginable, all while making sure to still keep you alive.

It’s not like that hasn’t happened before. You would know.

There is no time, nor opportunity for you to be embarrassed right now. True to his word, he barely takes his eyes from your wounded leg the whole time he treats it. No roaming hands. No snide remarks, or suggestive comments about anything.

Whether he takes notice of the other scars lining your legs is unbeknownst to you, for he doesn’t comment on a single one. Instead, his brow is furrowed in concentration, his hands moving roughly around your thigh as he wraps the bandage around your wound. It’s almost as if he’s working subconsciously, letting his muscles repeat the monotonous motion of covering your wound without thinking. Almost as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

In the back of your mind, you begin to wonder about him. What was his past like? How did he learn to treat wounds this well? Is he truly as terrifying as you’ve been led to believe?

You catch yourself, blinking a few time to clear your vision. These are not things you should concern yourself with. You need to worry about yourself, and only yourself right now.

Looking back at the fae, you notice that his eyes are glazed. Still, he stares intently down at your thigh. You can tell he’s not paying attention, for he bandages your thigh too tightly, tying it off without a second thought.

“It’s too tight.” A blunt comment which seems to snap him out of his thoughts.

“No, it’s not.” He clicks his tongue, standing back to his feet. “Quit complaining, and let’s get a move on. I’ve already wasted enough time waiting for you today.”

“Isn’t it dangerous for me to travel at night?” You remark, tugging the fresh pair of pants over your legs as he walks over to the tree line.

“Not with me, it’s not.” Comes his gruff reply as he begins to stalk deeper into the woods. “Keep up. I’m not stopping if you fall behind.”

Without another word, and with a deep sigh, you take off after him. That stem of red spider lilies you still have with you gets hastily tucked back into your pants pocket. Despite the petals wilting every day, you cling onto it. It means too much to you, and the fact that you were able to find a single stem in the wild still makes your head spin.

Your favourite flower, come to bring you home.

Surprisingly, you manage to keep pace with the fae quite well. You can tell he’s not travelling at his top speed, but the trek is still manageable, and your thigh doesn’t throb once.

Your ankle on the other hand…

Sometime over the course of the night, your foot had started going numb. Your limp has become more prominent, and with every step you take, pain shoots up your right ankle. You manage to bear it for quite a bit longer. That is, until you lose your footing, tripping over a sudden root in your path and falling to the ground with a loud thump.

An annoyed sigh greets your ears, followed by even louder stomps heading back in your direction.

“Are you that incompetent-“ A sharp intake of breath. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m always bleeding.” You push yourself upward, feeling pain shoot through your fingertips.

Oh, yes. You forgot. You cracked your nails.

Sitting yourself on the ground, you let out a sigh of your own. Gently, you go to raise your hands to your face in order to assess the damage. However, before you can get very far, two large hands envelope your own.

“You’re a walking disaster.” He clicks his tongue, studying your fingertips thoroughly.

His touch is not soft, but it’s not as rough as this morning. Still, he turns your hands in his without thought, tugging your arms lightly forward as he brings your fingertips closer to his face.

Your expression hardens, pursing your lips. “So I’ve been told.”

He says nothing, but you do notice his gaze flick upwards to your face. A moment later, and he’s letting out another sigh. “Is there anything else I should be made aware of?”

“Well, since you’re asking,” you reply smartly, pain and irritation ridding you of your normal filter. “I haven’t been able to feel my right foot for over two hours.”

He swears lowly under his breath. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were now my own personal doctor.” You snap.

A low growl greets you in response, and you freeze. With wide eyes, you meet his own.

“I would like to make it back to my home without any further setbacks.” He snarls. “Preferably with you in one piece.”

“Didn’t realize I was so important to you, General,” you tug your hands out from his grip, and surprisingly, you do not feel the sharp sting of fresh cuts adorning your skin from his claws. In fact, it looks as if he retracted them before he even started examining your hands.

A strange, yet welcomed fact which you didn’t bother to notice until now.

“You’re not.” He spits out his reply, standing back to his full height in the next second. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a bit with some supplies.”

Without waiting for a response, he takes off into the night. 

All you can hear are the sounds of the forest around you, and the faint stomping of the fae away from you as you drag yourself to rest against a tree. Finally, you feel as if you can breathe easier. 

There’s a war going on within yourself. You still want to make the general so mad that he kills you in a fit of rage, while another part of you is genuinely regretting that decision. Whether it happens or not, is still yet to be seen. At least you no longer have starvation, dehydration, and infection clouding your mind.

About an hour later, the fae returns to see you having stripped yourself of your pants. The bandage he had tied around your thigh rests to the side as you let the wound breathe, and it looks the best it has in weeks. Whatever that paste is made from has really helped, for now all that remains of the initial cut is a small scar, and a minor scab.

You notice he spares a glance at your thigh. “How’s your leg?”

Your brow quirks, but you school your features into a neutral expression almost as quickly as it comes.

“Well, I’m starting to gain feeling back in my foot.” You say, watching him carefully as he crosses the short distance between the both of you. “I told you the bandages were too tight.”

“Do you ever stop nagging?” His features twist in irritation as he crouches beside you.

Almost instantly, your breath catches, and your expression falls. Your throat bobs as you swallow thickly, averting your gaze to the side. Old memories, ones you had shoved deep down inside of you resurface, and bile rises in your throat.

“I suppose I should feel grateful for having you keep me from dying.”

“Feel whatever you want to, mortal,” he sighs, handing you a canteen of water. “I have no ties to you, and you have none to me.”

“Then, what do you call this?” Pointedly, you spare a glance down at your almost fully healed thigh, making sure to catch his gaze.

“Insurance.” He states bluntly. Not even a second later, his eyes fall shut, and he’s breathing out a long sigh. “Look, I’m getting tired of repeating myself-“

“I know.” You cut him off. “I’m useless if I can’t function properly.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to.” You turn your head, jaw twitching as tears prick at your eyes.

You’ve heard it all before. Over and over for what feels like your entire life. Friends, family… all those that were supposed to love you, to care for you.

You nearly scoff.

Love. What a useless emotion. You’re not even sure it exists anymore. Though, you’re sure your parents would argue that they did even this for you out of whatever twisted love they claim to have for you.

No. They wouldn’t know love even if it hit them right in their faces. 

No one has ever loved you. No one ever will.

“We’ll rest here until you’re fully healed, and then we’ll continue the journey back to the keep.” His voice, solid and stern, pulls you out of your own thoughts. “That way there’s no excuse as to why we need to make additional stops.”

“Yes, General,” your voice is much weaker than before, barely coming out as more than a hoarse whisper. It’s as if you’ve suddenly lost the will to fight. If you ever even had it in the first place.

A grunt is all you hear from him in response. In fact, that’s all you hear from him for the rest of the morning, and as the sun begins to rise over the horizon, you fall into a deep, restless sleep.

***

It takes two full days for your wound to fully heal. Granted it only took one for the cut to become nothing more than a scar, but it was better to be safe, than sorry.

Despite the setbacks, Mingi actually feels relieved now that he knows you won’t be able to slow him down since your thigh has healed. Looking after you hasn’t been so bad, either. Your company, surprisingly enough, can actually be quite enjoyable.

There are times where you don’t seem to filter yourself as heavily as others. He enjoys those the most. You have an attitude to you that he can appreciate. An attitude which reminds himself of his younger days, before he became the seasoned general that he is now. He honestly wishes he would see it more often from you, but every time you allow yourself to snap back at him, it’s as if you expect him to hit you for it.

Not only that, but the past few times you’ve fallen asleep, you seem to be tormented by terrors unknown to him. He can hear you thrashing against the tree you rest on, whimpering into the stillness of the night as your body attempts to curl in on itself.

It bothers him, and he doesn’t understand why. 

Ever since he saw you attempting to frantically crawl away from him that day after he had slaughtered that deer, something within himself has shifted. 

Mingi has always known he’s a monster. He was born a monster. He was raised a monster. He is a monster, and he’s never for one moment denied that part of himself. Of course, he has his own moral code he lives by, but again, he doesn’t enjoy wasting his time on easy prey. 

If it’s not worth killing over, it’s not worth dying for.

Besides, no one respects him for the minor kills. He wouldn’t have gotten where he is today if he took the easy path. He has a reputation to uphold, and killing people that are not even worth his time only makes people fear him.

Fear isn’t what can drive people to be loyal. Respect can.

No one gains respect by slaughtering countless humans here. At least, in his opinion. It would be the same as targeting children. Who gains honour from tearing apart the weak and defenceless? Certainly not him. He never has, and he never will. 

There’s no valour in that.

Still, there is something about you that irritates him to no end. Every time you call him general, he wants to rip your tongue from your throat. The way he catches you looking at him from time to time makes him want to gouge your eyes from your head. Yet, there’s something about the way you’ve come to rely on him, about being able to actually take care of something in such a way instead of destroying like he’s used to. Something about the way he feels as if he can just live around you, causes his guard to weaken and start to crumble. 

A vulnerability he hasn’t felt in a long time. A vulnerability that, in actuality, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt in his entire life.

Maybe that’s why you irritate him so much.

Stupid human making him feel stupid things he’s never felt before.

The sun sets in the distance, casting a golden hue across the surrounding area. A gentle breeze cools the humid air of the day, giving way for the crisp stillness that night is sure to bring.

Still, you limp along.

Your stamina has improved since your wound has healed, and you seem to be more keenly aware of your surroundings. Enough so, that Mingi can see the familiar shine of recognition behind your eyes as the forest begins to thin up ahead. 

“Shouldn’t there-“ you swallow, panting lightly. “Shouldn’t there be a town up ahead?”

A low hum in confirmation is all you receive in response as Mingi breaks through the tree line. He pauses, waiting for you to catch up. Taking the time now, he scans over the area, no annoying pests in sight. Of course, there are the town’s other inhabitants, but at least the pain in the ass seems to be gone for the moment. If his missing scent is anything to go by, Seonghwa hasn’t been home in quite a few days.

Perhaps those small set backs were more of an advantage than Mingi thought.

“Come on,” Mingi says, leading you towards a tavern across the way. “We’ll stay here for the night. I could use a decent rest in a bed instead of on the ground for a change.”

Eager eyes follow the both of you as you cross the short distance between the woods and the tavern, and Mingi can already hear the whispers floating in the air. He knows that he’s easily recognizable, given the red band tied around his upper arm, but hearing them comment about you sets his skin prickling.

The worst part is, he doesn’t know why.

Stepping inside, the familiar smells of malt ale and other fermented substances greet his nostrils. There’s a distinct stench of body odour, and malcontent lingering in the air that irritate his nose the further into the tavern he goes. The rowdy patrons are all around, laughing and jeering amongst themselves as he steps up to the counter. 

Even though he spares a glance over his shoulder to check, he knows that you’re scurrying after him as fast as you can. You seem to be able to feel the pointed stares sent your way as Mingi discusses lodging arrangements with the owner. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Mingi watches you shift uncomfortably on your feet, curling in on yourself as loud voices reach the both of your ears.

“Isn’t that that infamous redcap general?” A loud whisper cuts through the noise of the tavern.

“What’s a human doing with him?” Another hisses, and Mingi can feel his one ear twitch.

“You think he’s claimed her?”

“I don’t see a mark.” Such a smug comment causes Mingi’s jaw to tick in irritation. 

What ever happened to minding one’s own business?

“You think we could convince him to let us have some fun with her?”

“Maybe I should give her a mark of my own-“

“Watch your tongue before you lose it.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, his sharp gaze locked onto the fae that had uttered such a repulsive phrase.

A sudden silence encases the entire tavern, and even your eyes go wide. 

The comment from the general is so unexpected, it seems to even surprise him.

Mingi is acutely aware of all eyes on him now. Not even a drop of condensation falls against a single glass as he snatches the ward key from the counter. With his opposite hand, he pushes you along, only causing you to stumble forwards and towards the stairs at the back of the room.

“Don’t concern yourselves with business that is not your own.” Mingi snaps, practically shoving you up the stairs and out of sight from hungry, prying eyes. 

Eyes of which that seem to follow you all the way to the room. A fact which only serves to irritate him more, a scowl tugging at his features as he unlocks the door with the ward key. A moment later, the entrance swings open, and he’s dragging you inside.

“This was a bad idea.” He begins to pace, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I was fine the last time I passed through this town.” Your reply is much softer than he’s used to, and he spares a glance in your direction.

There you stand, still fidgeting in your spot. Your hands tug at the long sleeves of your shirt, shoulders curling in on yourself as you intently stare at the ground. Your eyes have lost that faint shine he’s come to know over the past few days, the brightness having dulled suddenly into a blank nothingness.

He bets you’re thinking about their eyes on you, and how everyone was gazing at you like you were a piece of meat. Even he can still see the way tongues ran over sharp teeth, lips curling back against fangs in malicious grins as the scents of excitement and thrill bombarded his senses.

His own lips draw back in a scowl, and he nearly growls.

“Do you understand what they were implying?” Mingi can barely keep his breathing under control as he turns to look out the window.

Claws dig into wood, fingers nearly snapping the window frame from the pressure of his grip. What only makes this worse is he doesn’t understand why those comments have set him off so much. It’s simply typical fae talk, no different than what his subordinates had said when you first showed up at the edge of their encampment.

Thinking back on it now, the thought nearly makes him snarl.

“It’s nothing I’m not used to with men-“

“They are not men.” Mingi snaps, his chest heaving as he turns to face you.

Immediately, you recoil back, mild shock on your features. That is, until you’re schooling your expression and taking a deep breath in.

“Why should it matter what they say, then?” You keep your voice low, steady. 

“It doesn’t.” His reply is quick. Too quick.

“Aren’t they your kin? Don’t you think the exact same way?” Your voice rises slightly, and the tears he can see shining in your gaze cause his chest to begin to ache.

“I have never- will never think that way.” Mingi shakes his head, fingers tangling in his locks and tugging exasperatedly at the roots. “I may not like your kind, but I don’t agree with treating them however we want to just because we can.”

His head is spinning and throbbing all at once. He feels both freezing cold and burning hot, and he cannot prevent his eyes from shifting from you to the door. His breathing, which he has always been able to master, comes in erratic pants, fangs bared as his claws scratch at his scalp.

“You had no problem with it before when it was your men saying it.”

A silence so deadly settles over the room.

In the blink of an eye, Mingi has you pinned against the wall. His arm rests over your upper chest as he looms over you, teeth bared in a snarl. Raised in the air above his head is his opposite arm, claws glinting beneath the light of the moon as he prepares to strike.

Only, the hitch in your breath pulls him back to reality.

Immediately, he stumbles away from you, staring at his hands in horror. He doesn’t register the single sob that echoes through the silence of the room like a knife, nor does he hear the frantic beating of your heart over his own racing in his ears. What he does catch, however, is the single tear that cuts a path down your cheek, and the way your trembling body collapses to the floor.

The moment you touch ground, you go limp, staring vacantly at the wall across from you.

Mingi’s hands drop to his sides, balling them into fists as he stomps over to the door. 

“I’ll be back.”

The last thing he sees before the door swings shut is you supporting yourself with your hands braced upon the floor. He doesn’t give himself time to think as he storms back downstairs and straight over to the bar, ignoring the pointed stares sent his way.

He needs time to think, to sort out the mess that is his head. Perhaps you could use this time alone, too. Besides, it’s not like you can escape the room you’re in. Only he has the key to get in, and it’s not like you can jump out of the window. The glass is too strong for you to break.

You’re trapped, just like you’ve always been since he caught up to you. Yet, for some reason, that simple thought makes his brow furrow.

He doesn’t want you to feel trapped…

Frowning down into his glass, Mingi downs his ale. A few moments later, and his glass has been refilled. What a perfect way to end the day: by drowning his sorrows in a room full of boisterous fae, drinking until even the most proper of them cannot tell up from down.

About an hour into his drinking, he senses a few other fae saddle up beside him. The scraping of the stools on the ground cuts through the noise of the tavern, and much to Mingi’s annoyance, the fae from earlier that were making comments are the ones that surround him.

“So, what brings you to town, General?” The one with muted butterfly wings on his back asks. He was the one who commented on convincing Mingi to have some fun with you.

Mingi takes another sip of his drink. “Hunt.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re with that human.” Another hums, small horns protruding from the top of his head. His skin has a slight green hue to it, and Mingi recalls the way he spoke about giving you a mark of his own. “Mustn’t have put up much of a fight, eh?”

A scowl mars Mingi’s brow, but he hides it behind the rim of his glass, downing the rest of its contents in a single shot.

“Surprised she’s not torn to shreds.” Another hums, leaning casually against the edge of the bar. He’s a bit shorter than the other two, but Mingi notes the way he bounces his one hand in the air, almost impatiently. “Or are you saving that for later?”

“Oh, you sly general, you,” the one with the horns nudges Mingi’s shoulder. “Lure the human into a false sense of security, then tear her asunder when she least expects it!”

The three fae share a laugh, fangs glinting beneath the light as their lips curl deviously in mirth.

“I thought I told you to not concern yourself with business that is not your own.” Mingi replies gruffly, slamming his now empty glass back on top of the counter.

“It’s not our fault you brought an unclaimed human into our midst.” The one leaning against the counter titters.

“Really, you should share some of the fun with the rest of us,” the winged one laughs, flicking his eyebrows in a suggestive matter.

“And what would your town’s overseer say if he could hear you now?” Mingi turns his sharp gaze towards the two fae on his right side.

If there’s one thing that Mingi can’t fault the pain in the ass for, it’s that he maintains good control over those that follow him. At least, those that reside in this town.

“Seonghwa’s not here.” The fae with the horns hums. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

Mingi’s jaw twitches. These fae have clearly done this multiple times with humans before, and gotten away with it despite Seonghwa’s rule not to touch any that enter the village under his watch. Though, with that specificity, Mingi isn’t that surprised.

“Come on, General,” the one with the wings taunts. “Think of how satisfying her shrieks of terror will be.”

A flash of you scrambling away from him in terror flashes through his mind, your desperate cries ringing through his ears.

“Humans are such weak, pathetic creatures, anyways.” The one leaning on the counter rolls his eyes as Mingi stands to his feet. “It’ll probably be the only action she ever sees in her life with how ugly she is. She’ll probably be thanking us by the end of it for make her feel desirable.”

An image, soft and pure, of you tenderly gazing down at that wilting stem of spider lilies flits through his mind, and Mingi tenses. A blink, and the once peaceful scene shifts, blood splattered over your face as tears cut fresh tracks through the dirt and grime smeared over your cheeks.

“Don’t you want to feel the warmth of her blood spilling onto your hands as you bathe yourself in its crimson flow?” The fae with the horns grins maniacally. “Taste its bitter scent as it drips down your tongue?”

Mingi’s hands, which are currently clenched into fists at his sides, begin shaking.

“Come on, General,” the one that’s leaning against the bar continues, pushing himself forwards to lean into the silent redcap’s back. “Let us have our fun. We’ll take her off your hands.”

“Yeah,” The winged one smirks, eyes glinting in the light of the tavern. “Don’t you know human meat is a delicacy around here?”

“Let alone one so young, and fresh,” the horned one snickers, his grin widening as he licks his lips. “Oh, I can’t wait to tear into her-“

Blood splatters across the top of the bar, and every patron turns to see what the sudden commotion is about. Not a sound can be heard for several tense moments as realization settles over the entire room.

The horned fae can do nothing but open and close his jaw, blood spilling from his mouth as he stumbles away from the redcap across from him. Horror paints his features for a brief second before anger is taking over, watching as Mingi drops the now severed muscle in his hand, the horned fae’s tongue thudding against the floor.

“I warned you.”

Without another word, Mingi is storming outside the tavern to get some fresh air. The rest of the fae around him immediately part to let him pass, low whispers following him all the way outside. His hand clenches repeatedly, feeling disgusted by the wet warmth that covers his fingers.

Normally, Mingi would revel in the feeling. He loves the way blood coats his skin when he goes in for the kill, not to mention maiming something that annoys him. Sure, he has his morals, but that doesn’t mean he won’t put in the effort when the time calls for it.

Mingi doesn’t quite exactly know why he reacted the way he did. He put up with his men boasting about wanting to do much worse to you while back in the encampment. Yet, how three unknown fae could rile him up so easily only makes the confusion and anger he’s feeling all the more prominent.

It’s only because you’re still technically on a hunt with him. You’re not home free just yet. At least, that’s what he tells himself. He has to make sure you both make it back unharmed, and that includes not letting other fae take advantage of you.

No other reason. 

None at all.

Taking a deep breath in, Mingi lets the crisp night air fill his lungs. He flicks his wrist, more blood splattering against the ground as he scowls down at his hand. His whole body is tense, and he’s surprised his teeth don’t crack from the force at which he clenches his jaw.

He should probably check on you soon. It’s been a long day, and all he wants to do is rest. No more dealing with this stupid shit for the moment. It’s time for him to turn his brain off.

Besides, he could use the downtime.

Heading back inside after about five more minutes, Mingi flexes his hand. The now dried blood cracks over his skin, and a feeling of unease settles inside his chest. The other three fae are nowhere to be seen, and at the way a few of the other patrons spare looks his way out of the corners of their eyes, he can tell something is off.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

***

For half an hour, you do not move from your spot. 

Your ankle throbs as you curl up on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as best as you can. A familiar position, as you find your tears quickly depleting as your entire being goes numb.

Blankly, you stare at the opposite wall. You were this close to getting him to kill you, and you don’t know if you’re more upset at yourself or him for not seeing it through.

It’s not like you trusted him, nor do you necessarily trust him in general. However, faced with the same scenario you’ve played out so many times before, all you could see was that monster covered in blood, ready to strike you down once more.

There’s a bitterness that builds within your chest, but you don’t know if it’s at yourself, or the fae. You were so close to being done with all of this. Are you that horrible at committing to something, and seeing it through, that not even a fae wants to kill you? Are you that useless that you can’t even do that right?

Taking in a shaky breath, you finally push yourself up into a sitting position. Your whole body groans in protest, muscles aching due to the position you had been laying in on the cold, hard floor. Slowly, you pull yourself to your feet, mindful of the twinge in your right ankle as you hobble over to one of the side doors.

You’re pretty sure you saw a bathroom on the way in.

Time seems to pass languidly, and much too quickly all at once. By the time you pull yourself out of the tub, you have no idea if the redcap has returned or not. You didn’t hear his telltale footsteps stomping through the room, but you’ve learned that he can be quite light on his feet when he wants to be. Who knows how much time you have left to yourself, anyways.

As you’re drying off, you can faintly hear a commotion coming from the direction of the stairs. It seems as if one of the patrons has gotten too rowdy, for all seems to still a moment later.

You shake your head, wrapping the surprisingly fluffy towel around your plush body, and limping back into the main area of the room. The redcap is nowhere in sight, but there seems to be a fresh pile of clothes laid out on the bed. There’s even a clean set of undergarments for you, and as you look closer, you realize that it’s actually your old set. Upon a thorough inspection, they appear as if brand new, washed and dried to perfection.

Such a small gesture, whether through some form of magic, or something else, causes your heart to swell. It’s been a long time since you’ve had anything done for you like this, and to say it means a lot would be a tremendous understatement.

Feeling the material of your undergarments between your fingers, you let out a soft sigh through your nose. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you begin to change, managing to pull everything on quickly. There’s still a faint warmth clinging to the material of the clothes, as if they’ve been left out in the sun for too long, or have rested beside an open fire. It calms you, and breathing starts to become a little bit easier.

Standing from the bed, you can hear muffled voices begin shouting at each other from down the hallway. You figure them to be other patrons staying overnight, so you think nothing of it to walk towards the bathroom to hang your towel upon the back of the door. You’re sure you saw a little hook there before…

Just as you go to reenter the bathroom, the main door to the room swings open. You expect it to be the redcap returning from wherever it is that he went, but instead, what you see, or rather, whom, has you freezing right in your tracks.

Three unfamiliar fae stand before you. One has light green skin and horns, who seems to be bleeding from his mouth. Another has large wings, akin to a butterfly, with a neutral coloured pattern painted over them. The third is very human-like in appearance. He’s shorter than his two companions, with pointed ears, sharp teeth, and claws that adorn his features.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here.” The one with the wings steps forwards, a malicious grin tugging at his lips.

Naturally, you take a step backwards, your heart jumping into your throat. Your eyes dart between the three fae as they creep towards you, matching their pace with each step backwards you take. In the back of your mind, you begin to wonder if it was the redcap that gave them the key to unlock this room.

“Don’t act so coy, Doll,” the human-like fae drawls, his fangs prominent as he smiles wickedly at you. “We’re only here to have some fun. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Please, I don’t want any trouble,” you say weakly, lifting your hands before you slightly in a defensive position.

Boisterous laughter greets your ears as the door to the room swings shut behind them, sealing your fate. There’s no way the other fae is going to come back to save you now. You’re stuck, and this time, you really will die at the hands of three unfamiliar fae who look at you like an object they’re going to enjoy ripping apart.

“You should have thought of that before you waltzed in here without a claim, acting like you own the place,” the one with wings spits, and you can hear the green one gargle out something that sounds like a noise of agreement. Only, more blood escapes his mouth, and he ends up spitting it in your direction and onto the floor at your feet.

“You’re not going to look much different than that pile of blood once we’re done with you,” the human-like one says, a sick, twisted sense of glee lighting up his features.

“Until then, you live to serve us.” The butterfly winged fae adds sharply. “We’ll take all the pleasure we can from this pathetic body of yours, and after each round, you’re going to thank us for even bothering to touch you.”

You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, skin prickling in disgust as bile builds in your chest. Your stomach drops, and before you can think, you spin on your heel, attempting to make a break out the window.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The human-like fae blocks your path, grabbing your wrists in his hands harshly and holding you in place.

“Let me go!” You begin to thrash around to no avail, tripping over your own feet as you get dragged back and towards the one bed.

“Oh, this one has some fight left in her,” the winged one snickers, leaning casually against the wall as he observes the scene. “Looks like that general was too easy on this one. Guess we’ll have to make up for lost time.”

“You should be thanking us for even looking at a disgusting creature such as yourself.” The one that had dragged you towards the bed throws you upon it, wasting no time in pinning you down upon the mattress.

Your protests and pleas to stop fall on deaf ears. In fact, the more you struggle, the more it seems to delight the three fae closing in around you. Thrashing beneath his harsh hold only earns you a knee to the stomach, and you cry out in pain. 

Tears leak out of the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as you feel hands groping you all over as the fae above you keeps you captive beneath him. This scene is all to familiar to you, and just as with all those times before, no one is coming to your rescue. 

No matter how loudly you scream, no matter how much you beg, struggle, and cry, no one will care.

The only certainty that now awaits you is death.

“Stop struggling,” the fae above you hisses, his one hand pinning your wrists above your head as he adds more pressure to the knee digging into your stomach. “Shut up, and take it like pathetic human you are.”

The moment you see the fae reach a clawed hand towards your shirt, you stop breathing. 

It feels as if time stops. One moment the fae is above you, pinning you down unforgivingly. The next, he’s gone, the pressure on both your wrists and stomach completely having disappeared.

A sickening crunch echoes throughout the room, followed by an immediate scream of pain.

A blur moves through the room, and suddenly, you see a wing get tossed towards the window, followed shortly by another. The tearing sounds resonate through the room, followed almost immediately by muffled screams and pleas for mercy.

Only one figure remains within view, and as he uncurls himself into a standing position, his full height looms over the entire room. His towering form fills the space around you, and as you lay upon the bed, you feel as if you can breathe again. Never have you been so grateful to see that terrifying redcap standing across from you, but still you cannot prevent your body from shaking.

“All this for a fucking human.” A voice from the ground spits harshly.

Looking down, you see the green fae cowering in the corner, and the one with the once beautiful butterfly wings laying face down on his stomach. His back is completely torn asunder, blood coating the entire area as his wings lie in torn heaps upon the ground.

“You’re going to break code just for a stupid mortal?” The same fae hisses, pure anger on his features as he trembles beneath the redcap’s piercing gaze.

“You can’t kill us.” The one human-like fae by the window laughs. He seems to be holding his hands before himself, fingers severely deformed and sticking out in odd angles. Bones peek through his flesh, and blood coats every inch of his hands, but that does not prevent the way his whole body trembles as the redcap takes a menacing step towards him.

“You’re not dead yet, are you?” The general spits, gaze sharp as he pointedly looks between all three fae cowering around the room.

Frantically, they shake their heads.

“That’s what I thought.” He snaps, lips pulled over his fangs in a snarl. “I doubt any of you want to chance a duel against me given the state you’re all in. Not that’d you’d survive, even at full strength.”

Again, the three fae shake their head. Though this time, scowls adorn their features.

“Now,” the redcap’s eyes flash, a low snarl permeating the air. “Get out of my sight before I rid you all of yours.”

All three fae scramble for the door, the human-like one managing to trip over his own feet and land harshly on his broken hands. A sharp cry escapes him, and the horned fae ends up having to pull the other to his feet, soon supporting both broken fae as they tumble out of the room.

You can hear the redcap muttering under his breath, leaning down to pick something up from the floor. Not even a second later, and he’s crushed what appears to be a second ward key in his hand, tossing it over his shoulder without another thought.

He turns to you.

There you lie, stiff as a board on top of the one mattress. The other bed lays untouched to your side, but all you can do is stare with wide eyes at the redcap before you. Your gaze darts over the blood splattered on his skin, the red dotting his clothing in random patterns.

Your lungs burn, and your eyes sting. Yet, still, you do not move. No words escape you, not trusting your voice for the moment as you wait for him to move.

He takes a cautious step forward, but you fail to see the way his gaze softens as he does.

A whimper escapes you, another tear sliding from the corner of your cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he lifts his hands, palms facing upwards to show you he means you no harm. “Breathe.”

Oh, yeah. You should probably fill your lungs with air. No wonder your chest is burning.

A stuttering gasp escapes you as you heave a large breath into your lungs. However, the second you do, a harsh sob escapes you. Immediately, you’re scrambling back on the bed, a hand clutching over your stomach where that fae dug his knee into you. Your wrists throb, more tears blurring your vision as the redcap takes another step towards you.

“Stay away.” The plea is but a desperate whisper upon your lips, chin trembling as you attempt to curl in on yourself.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Still, he keeps his hands in the air, palms facing towards you. “You have my word.”

Your gaze catches on the blood staining his clothes, smeared over his skin, and you shake your head.

For a moment, you swear you watch his brow furrow, only for realization to line his features. He straightens, doing his best to move in the least threatening manner possible.

“Stay here.” His voice is low, an edge of worry lining his command.

Before you can even react, the fae disappears into the bathroom. You can hear the sound of water, followed by some frantic scrubbing. Then, more water trickling along with the movement inside the bathroom.

The whole time you sit on the bed, your gaze is locked on the little opening where the main door to the room and the door to the bathroom reside. You can faintly hear things being shuffled around you, and you swear you catch something dart across the room out of the corner of your eye. It’s small, and quick, but when you shift your head to look, all that greets you is empty space.

An empty room devoid of any of the mess you just witnessed stain it.

The blood splatters are gone, along with the tattered remains of the one fae’s wings. There’s even a fresh set of clothing at the end of your bed by your feet, completely identical to the ones you’re currently wearing.

You swallow thickly.

Turning your head, you begin to look around the room once more. Your eyes search for one thing in particular, and you find it resting beside you on the bedside table. It’s almost as if it had been placed delicately beside you after someone had realized the horrifying events that have just taken place.

The red spider lilies are crushed, the stem broken in two. The flower that means so much to you has been tread upon like it’s nothing, reflecting exactly how you feel in this moment. Only a few petals remain, wilted and dead, clinging to the plant for dear life in a final attempts to maintain what once was pure.

Slowly, you reach over and take the dying stem into your trembling grip.

A choked sob escapes you, and you’re quick to slap a hand over your mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut. The hand you have holding the flower also clutches at your throbbing stomach as your whole body shakes with the weight of your situation.

What you’ve been through - what you’re going through - you cannot take it anymore.

The hand that caresses the top of your head is soft, but the unexpected touch still makes you nearly jump out of your skin. Pain lingers in your gaze as you turn to see the redcap staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

No, not unreadable. You just cannot accept that someone is actually looking at you in concern, rather than pity for once.

He pulls his hand away, hesitant in the way he leans the slightest bit over the bed that you’re curled up on. His normally looming figure doesn’t seem so intimidating all of a sudden, almost as if his features have softened beneath the faint glow of the moon.

You watch him carefully, observing his every movement with a wary glint to your gaze. He saved you. He protected you, and you don’t know if that scares you more than if he had sent those other three fae after you like you had originally thought. His actions confuse you, and more than anything, you’re tired. 

Exhaustion doesn’t even come close to the immense fatigue you feel. You’re tired of the life you were given. Tired of the life you’ve been forced into. Tired of living.

Honestly, you don’t know what to do anymore. It seems accepting your fate isn’t going exactly as you thought it would, nor is it as easy as it seems.

“Are you hurt?” Though he keeps his voice soft, the sudden timbre cutting through the silence of the room still makes you jump.

You shake your head, hand tightening around that broken flower over your stomach.

His eyes glance the movement, and his expression falls slightly.

“I only wish to make sure you’re okay.” Again, he keeps his voice soft, tone steady as he meets your gaze.

You bite your lower lip, attempting to keep it from wobbling as a single sob wracks your entire body. Then another, and then another, until you’re breaking down before his very eyes.

Tears stream down your face as you continue to muffle your sobs behind your one hand. Your eyes squeeze shut, simply wishing to disappear in this very moment. You wish you had never been born, where nothing but servitude, injustice, and hell rule your life with an iron grip.

From the very first memories you can recall, someone has always been using you. Whether it be your parents, friends, or other family members, you’ve always lived to serve. No one has ever cared for you, and no one has ever fought for you.

It all feels like one big joke. A lie concocted by the monster stalking you through your every waking nightmare, ready to jump out and laugh at you for even thinking anyone could ever care for you.

Yet, despite the darkness swirling within, a light begins to peek through.

Softly, the bed dips as the fae rests a knee on the mattress. His hand strokes gently over your head, tentatively pulling you into his arms as he settles himself against the headboard.

“Shh, it’s okay,” his voice is calm, soothing. “I’ve got you.”

He holds you against his chest, cradling your head in the palm of his hand. He’s hesitant as he comforts you, making sure his arms are loose enough to allow you to pull away if need be. Only, you do not shy from his touch, instead finding it oddly satisfying that he of all creatures chose to comfort you.

Most important of all, you let him.

“I won’t let anything else harm you,” he says softly. “Not while I’m here to protect you.”

His one hand strokes lightly over your back, and though a shiver caresses your spine at the first touch, you find yourself melting into the warmth of his embrace. It’s soothing, and everything you’ve always needed but have never gotten in your entire life. A safety that shouldn’t be as welcoming as it is.

His body is firm and lean against your own. A solid foundation which holds you steady as you cling onto the fabric of his now clean shirt with your one hand. Your sobs are muffled into his chest, your sadness being absorbed into the material adorning his skin as he cradles you to him.

After some time, you feel his one hand shift downwards, placing itself over your own on top of your stomach. The warmth that you can feel radiating from his skin is welcomed, and it helps to ease the ache you feel lingering within. Softly, he begins to hum, his chest vibrating with the gentle sounds as he continues to cradle your head to his chest using his opposite hand.

The steady sound of his heart pulses beneath your ear, and the constant sound soothes you even further. You don’t realize it, but you curl in closer into him, breathing finally evening out as you start to calm down.

“Why did you-“ You swallow the dryness in your throat, sniffling lightly. “Why did you do that?”

Though your voice is barely above a whisper, you know he still hears you loud and clear.

“I… don’t know,” his brow furrows slightly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “My body just moved.”

You say nothing in response, unsure of how to reply to such an admission. You know that he cannot lie, but that doesn’t mean he cannot stretch the truth. Really, you shouldn’t be letting yourself be coddled by him, it’ll only make it hurt more when he betrays you in the end. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

You are so used to disappointment, of having false hope, that anything you believe to be too good to be true always is. Tomorrow you’ll wake up, and he’ll be back to despising your existence, only finding value in what you can do for him.

The same as it always was. The same as it always will be.

[cookie-de-baunilha]

Can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses? • If our love died young / I can’t bear witness • Still alive, killing time at the cemetery / Never quite buried • In my defense, I have none / For digging up the grave another time • And I confess, babe / In my dreams you’re touching my face • In dreams / I meet you in warm conversation • And I wake with your memory over me / That’s a real fucking legacy to leave • Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts / Flashbacks waking me up • But I felt a hole like this / Never before, and ever since • Give me some tips to forget you • I persist and resist the temptation to ask you / If one thing had been different / Would everything be different today? • So I peered through a window / A deep portal, time travel / All the love we unravel / And the life I gave away • I look in people’s windows / In case you’re at their table / What if your eyes looked up and met mine / One more time? • I look through the windows of this love / Even though we boarded them up / Chandelier’s still flickering here • And I won’t confess that I waited / But I let the lamp burn / As the men masqueraded / I hoped you’d return • Lantern burning / Flickered in my mind for only you / But you were still gone • Just between us, do you remember it all too well? Just between us I remember it all too well • Did you wish you’d put up more of a fight / When she said it was too much? / Do you wish you could still touch her? • Hey, Dorothea, do you ever stop and think about me? • And the road not taken looks real good now / And it always leads to you and my hometown • But are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? / I guess I’ll never know • I wish I could un-recall / How we almost had it all • Why the wound is still bleeding? • So if the story is over / Why am I still writing pages? • I guess sometimes we all get / Some kind of haunted, some kind of haunted / And I never think of him / Except on midnights like this • I’m addicted to the “if only” • But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss / I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs / The smell of smoke would hang around this long / ‘Cause I knew everything when I was young / I knew I’d curse you for the longest time / Chasing shadows in the grocery line • I tried searching faces on streets / What are the chances you’d be downtown? • I see you everywhere, the only thing we share / Is this small town • And I see your face in every crowd • I see you around in all these empty faces • Your arson’s match, your somber eyes / And I’ll still see it until I die / You’re the loss of my life • I wish you knew that / I’d never forget you as long as I live • I’ll be getting over you my whole life • Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? / Time went on for everybody else, she won’t know it / She’s still 23 inside her fantasy / How it was supposed to be • But it would’ve been fun / If you would’ve been the one • You said you were gonna grow up / Then you were gonna come find me • And it’s been so long / But if you ever think you got it wrong / I’m right where you left me / You left me no choice but to stay here forever • And if you wanna tear my world apart, say you’ll always wonder / ‘Cause I wonder

Will I always wonder?

— Taylor Swift, on being haunted by the what-ifs.

[squishmallow36]

It's all I wish to hear tonight, and you're all I wish to be, and this is how we all fall - Chapter Two

Summary: the garvar fic has turned garvarioli! We've done a bit of a time skip because I didn't want to write the dating and the blushing and the getting to know each other blah blah blah. So now they're just in a relationship and the fact I didn't feel the need to slowburn it is astonishing to me. Anyway Garwin's gonna be joining the Neverseen officially. Yeah that's pretty much the whole plot.

Word count: 3011

TW: drug mention, murder mention, implied sex, swearing. This is the farthest into pg-13 territory I've gone but these idiots demand it.

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @remember-me-in-another-time @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death @dizzeners @thefoxysnake

The people who aren't on my taglist and I'm sorry for bothering you but you lost your minds on the last chapter so uh you did this to yourself (?): @camelspit @tw-5

On Ao3 (users only because, you know, AI) or below the cut

Previous chapter in case you missed it, but you don't really need it to read this :)

    “You know, if you ignore all the work camps, Sadlitzagvadtka is a lovely place,” Alvar remarks. 

    Ruy’s laugh drags Garwin’s attention from the bubbling Eventide River, bright green as it crashes against the rocks. 

    “I mean, you could say the same thing about the USSR,” Garwin muses. 

    “Yes, but we ignore those parallels, love. I don’t want to have to send you to the gulag.” Alvar replies, crossing one leg over the other as he takes a sip of his choyi. 

    Much like most of the foods of the non-Forbidden Cities, choyi looks nothing like how it tastes. The sludgy green slime is in a direct contrast to its strawberry lemonade milkshake flavor. Although how it doesn’t curdle is apparently “beyond human comprehension.”

    That’s just code for “we don’t know and we don’t want to admit it.” It was annoying at first, but it’s kind of become a running joke. 

    What the rest of the Neverseen doesn’t seem to grasp is that he does the same thing to them whenever he doesn’t feel like telling them about some cursed human shit. 

    They absolutely lost their shit when he told them about Twinkies. If they can’t handle apocalypse-proof snack cakes, there’s a hundred other food crimes several points higher on a logarithmic scale they won’t be able to conceptualize without their pathetic little elvin brains shattering. 

     Like pineapple on pizza. 

    Garwin can’t physically have less of an opinion, but the idea of having to explain the concept to elves makes him want to jump off a cliff. And not in the Sophie-teleportation way. 

    Hey--don’t think about that bitch. First she’s accepted into Yale with a full scholarship and now she has four abilities. Apparently she’s some sort of science experiment. I hope they transposed a decimal place. 

    “What am I in for tomorrow?” Garwin asks after a moment of silence. 

    Alvar opens his mouth, but Ruy interrupts him before he gets the chance. “Cállate, mi vida. Sharing any details would be a violation of the Neverseen code article seven, section three, ‘the council is always watching so don’t discuss confidential shit in public.’”

    “I call bullshit. You people are nowhere near organized enough to have an official code.”

    “Well, yes,” Alvar concedes. “But it’s more fun if you don’t know what’s going to happen. Besides, I’m sure Fintan has cooked up some interesting changes from when we swore fealty, so anything we tell you could be completely wrong by now.”

    “Yes, but I’m sure at least one of you have been involved in the planning,” Garwin argues. 

    “We can neither confirm nor deny that,” Ruy says, admitting his guilt. 

    Garwin rolls his eyes. I picked these dumbasses over going to a nice, normal, human, non-ivy league school ? I mean--at least there’s no finals. I guess. 

    He takes a sip of his choyi.

    “I promise it won’t be that painful,” Alvar says in an effort to remedy the situation, earning himself a glare from Ruy. 

    Garwin leans forward, head resting in his cupped hands. “And when did you become such a goody little two shoes rule follower, Exilium boy?”

    Ruy rolls his eyes behind his addler, because of course he has it on. We’re in public--well, sort of, as there literally aren’t any ogres in a hundred foot radius--and that means we’ve gotta wear the addler. 

    It’s like how Garwin also conditioned himself to wear the same sweatshirt almost every single day one school year like it’s his own personal security blanket but we don’t talk about that. 

    But now the elves have stupid capes, so that solves that problem. Even if he doesn’t have an officially licensed Neverseen cape until probably tomorrow. Unless there’s some elaborate scheme being planned. Which of course there will be. This is what happens when you take three or more gay idiots and tell them to plan something. 

    If it ain’t absolute batshit, what’s the fucking point? 

    Alvar’s smile falls as he pulls out his Imparter. He must be getting harassed once again. This is why Garwin doesn’t have one. Well, that, and the fact that he’s not a legal resident of the Lost Cities. Same thing. 

    “Y’all can see that I’m busy right now so I can’t answer a hail, right?” he says tiredly. 

    “Yes, indeed.” Garwin throws back the last of his choyi, smiling. 

    “The Fork Man wants me for some shit and I’m having a good day, so he will be getting ignored for a while. Are we really sure I can’t come out to the Bullshit?” 

    “Bullshit” is Garwin’s nickname for the Black Swan because it both represents their ideology and, at least in English, they can be abbreviated the same way. At least his pathetic short human life will be worth something, even if it is just an inside joke that’s more explanation than it’s worth. 

    “You know what Fintan’s orders are, and if you don’t wanna get burnt to a crisp, I’d recommend following them. Now, that doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing. It’s just a matter of self preservation. I don’t make the rules around here. If I did, we’d have to replace more Councillors than just the one.”

    Alvar rolls his eyes at his Imparter. “The Fork Man is being very insistent. I have a feeling I’m gonna have to drop you two off at home and talk to him. Be prepared for some shit to be going down soon, regardless of whether or not I have a chance to share details.” He turns to his imparter, inventing new swear words just to curse at the Fork. 

    Like he said, Alvar drops Ruy and Garwin off at “home”--their assigned room at a Neverseen facility Garwin’s not allowed to know any details about--to much argument. He shan’t be allowed to have all the fun without them but alas, ‘tis the way the world works sometimes. 

    The next morning, Garwin sleepily blinks himself back to the land of the living, snuggled into the crook of Ruy’s neck, but there’s no Alvar to be found. 

    He better fucking be okay. 

    Ruy’s hand absently twirls Garwin’s hair, and when he notices that Garwin is slightly less dead to the world than usual, he smiles. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

    “It’s still morning? Damn. Guess I gotta go back to sleep. Need my beauty rest.”

    “Bitch, no amount of sleep is gonna help.”

    Garwin huffs, turning away from Ruy. “Fuck you.”

    “So soon after last night, mi amor?”

    Garwin leans back to look at him. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”     

    “Yeah.” Ruy presses a soft kiss to his lips. God damn. If you weren’t so fucking hot, J wouldn’t put up with you. Love you, Rue. 

    Garwin kisses him again, pulling him close. 

    Ruy gently pushes him back. “Finny’s gonna be pissed if we miss the prescheduled time.”

    “Fuck Finny.”

    “Look, I get that you’re polyam. I know, no shit, Sherlock. But there is no way I’m going anywhere near him or near you again if you do. Man’s got his own harem.”

    “Ooh, please do elaborate.” 

    “Let’s see…I’ve heard rumors that he and Bronte are or were a thing. Not sure if they’re still a thing though, considering the war crimes, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they were. And then have you ever wondered about the alliance with the Ogres? Dimitar. Fintan. Yeah. Then there’s Fallon, one of the original three Councillors. And I’m not completely sure on this one but there’s a prisoner in Lumenaria and I’ve got mixed evidence but I don’t doubt it. Uh, then there’s J.R.R. Tolkien. You might’ve heard of him because he’s a human. And how could we forget Shakespeare. He’s…also a human. If I remember correctly. I’m sure there’s more that I’m missing because I have actively tried to ignore everything, but yeah.”

    With each name, Garwin regrets his life choices more and more. And more. “What the fuck do you mean Shakespeare? Like, the one of the William variety? The playwright?” 

    “Yeah. Sometimes Finny drops into iambic pentameter just to make us suffer. Are you really sure you want to be exposed to all of the Neverseen drama?”

    “Might gouge my eyes out but, eh, whatever. Sounds fun. If Yale doesn’t want me I guess I’ll have to cause large amounts of havoc instead.”

    Ruy smiles. “I’m going to go foraging for some semblance of a breakfast that doesn’t taste like dogshit. Don’t cause too much havoc while I’m gone.”

    “No promises.”

    Ruy shakes his head as he gets up, joints singing the song of his people--the Rice Crispy elves. 

    Garwin throws on some clothes and inhales breakfast before he’s led to a hideout he’s never seen before. 

    This one is really fucking bleak and really fucking disappointing. There’s probably tetanus on every surface of the grimy, ragged brick walls. It’s the exact kind of place where you should expect to have your body never found, but honestly if they’ve waited this long to kill him, that’s kind of their own poor planning. 

    A set of stairs leads into the even more murder-y looking abyss below. 

    Having no better options, Garwin slowly begins to make his way down without slipping on the mossy, uneven stairs and falling and bonking his head and dying. 

    At the bottom, he finds a room, larger than it seems like it should be, lit entirely by flickering, yellow candlelight. It catches on bottles of what appears to be wine set into racks every few feet or so. 

    He will never admit that this reminds him of a short story he was forced to read--and perhaps even enjoyed reading--in ninth grade English. 

    As Garwin steps closer to the middle of the room where a space has haphazardly cleared, he notices the first of many cloaked figures, white eyed lapels glowing in the dim light.

    In total, around a dozen figures surround him, and he searches for Ruy in the crowd. Well, it’s not exactly a crowd, per se, but it feels like one in the cramped space. 

    It doesn’t take much effort to find him, with his long, dark hair curling out and escaping the hood. 

    That being said, Garwin can tell who most of the figures are without trying. From Umber’s absolutely sunny disposition to Fintan’s concave ass, it’s not exactly difficult. It’s just a little dissatisfying that Alvar isn’t there.

    Fintan lowers his hood like it’s some huge reveal, whispering ominously, “Garwin Chang. You wish to join our order?”

    Garwin nods. “That’s…kind of why I’m down here. Although these wine bottles do look like they could be some fun.”

    A low, overprotective growl echoes behind him as his fingers trace the label written in fancy Trollish. One of the many, many languages not on Duolingo that no one bothered to teach him how to read. Hell, most of the time he can barely read English but that’s an issue for a different day. 

    “I trust you know you’re the first non-member of an intelligent species to join our ranks in a long while,” Fintan says. Garwin’s hand falls to his side. 

    “I wouldn’t exactly call Ruy intelligent, but okay.”

    That got a couple of snickers out of the crowd and a death glare from Ruy despite most of his face being cast in shadow. 

    “Well, you got me there. I was prepared to make a convoluted line of reasoning like I’m hopped up on a cola before all of those pesky safety regulations were introduced, but you made it for me instead.”

    Wait, is he an old man bitching about New Coke or is referring to when the recipe had cocaine? Or just…caffeine? And sugar? Any of the above interpretations are fucking hilarious, so it doesn’t matter which is true. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t an objectively best answer. 

    “The rest of the requirements are simple: do you promise to do everything in your power to help our world?”

    “Yeah, sure. Why not?” Garwin shrugs, smirking. 

    “Convince me.” Fintan’s icy gaze stares into Garwin’s soul. A threat behind his words.

    “I’ve been seeing Alvar and Ruy for months on end now. Do you really think I would go through all of that if I wasn’t committed? I could’ve blackmailed my way into a Yale scholarship long ago, but I’ve stayed. And for what? Because I almost care about this place not being a shithole. Also because there aren’t any taxes but we don’t need to mention that.”

    “Yeah, the cost of living is real fucking low when you’re mooching off of Alvar,” Ruy mutters. 

    Cállate. 

    …Holy fuck, Ruy has infected my brain. I don’t like this. How dare he keep sprinkling Spanish into everyday conversation? It’s like he wants to prove that he’s not an idiot to this human idiot because he knows, like, four words in a human language.     

    In reality, it’s because he lived in an undisclosed Spanish-speaking country during his time at Exilium and hasn’t broken the habit. But why be reasonable when you can be petty and bitter because he knows more Spanish than you do even after taking it for three years? 

    To be completely fair, he didn’t pay attention and convinced a kid to send him pictures of the homework and cheated on the tests, but in his defense, he didn’t realize he’d need it later in life. At least Google Translate exists all of its glorious inaccuracy. 

    “I bestow upon thee thou official codename: Elay.” Fintan says, bowing his head. “Alvar came up with it so don’t ask me what it means. Normally each person gets to pick out their own, but he was insistent and it’s not important enough to me to argue with him.”

    Yeah, that sounds about right. Gonna have to ask Alvar about it later. Maybe he’s avoiding me because he doesn’t want a full interrogation in the middle of this murder chamber. Yeah--let’s go with that. It’s better than imagining him in a Black Swan murder chamber. 

    Fintan takes a metal rod and heats it until it glows a faint red, bright in the dim light, knighting Garwin. And thankfully not sizzling his ears off in the process. 

    Fintan nods at a hooded figure Garwin only knows by his codename and that he’s a guster. “Trix, if you please?”

    Trix hands Garwin a bundle of dark fabric, emblazoned with a bright white eye. 

    It unfolds like the little bitch folded things always are, causing unattached pieces of concerningly neon fabric to fall to the ground. 

    As Garwin reaches to pick them up, it becomes all too clear that they’re not only bright pink and orange but also a very, very 80s leotard and legwarmers.

    What the actual everliving fuck?

    …and also maybe Fintan did mean New Coke. 

    It’s up to the stars above to decide which is a worse revelation. 

    “You know, Ruy, if you wanted me to wear this, you could’ve just asked. No need for all of this.”

    Ruy flips him off. He’s probably glare-smiling behind the hood though. 

    Garwin drapes the cloak part of the Neverseen uniform around his shoulders. It’s wonderfully heavy, like a weighted blanket, but surprisingly breathable. It’s probably made from a gnomish fabric which is weird because the gnomes hate their guts as much as plants are capable of hate. 

    And now I’ll finally be allowed to know why that is.

     The crowd begins shifting around him, escaping slowly up the narrow steps and light leaping away to god knows where, and soon only Ruy and Garwin are left. 

    “I got an update from Alvar,” Ruy smiles mischievously. “This should be a fun first assignment for you.”

     No fewer than three light leaps later, Garwin is in the Lodestar system, standing in front of a blonde boy with ice blue eyes. He’s immediately recognizable from Alvar’s stash of pictures he keeps to pretend like he’s still connected to his family. 

    He also knows Sophie, a regrettable decision. 

    “Meet our new son: Keefe,” Alvar says, mussing his hair. 

    Keefe flinches away. “Bitch, I’m literally only, like, six years younger than you,” he complains. “Also hasn’t my dad fucked your dad?” He puts air quotes around both uses of “Dad.” Fun family dynamic and it hasn’t even been five minutes yet. 

    “I do believe I was the one who told you about that.” Alvar turns to Ruy and Garwin. “I’ll take first shift babysitting.”

    “Nonsense. I don’t trust Garwin nearly enough to be by himself and you’ve been up all night causing problems and destroying half of Ravagog--”

    “--which is a perfectly normal way to spend an evening, thank you very much.”

    “--so you will be going home and you will take a nap. I’ll make sure Blondie here doesn’t have any tricks up his sleeve.”

    There’s a glint on Alvar’s eye that looks like he wants to argue, but a yawn cuts him off before he gets the chance. 

    Garwin almost has to physically drag him back home, partially from him being tired and partially from him not wanting to go to bed because some days he acts like a toddler. 

    “Sorry I couldn’t be at your coronation today.”

    Garwin kisses his cheek. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure sooner or later, Ruy’s gonna end up doing a whole reenactment except I actually get walled into the wine cellar this time.”

    Alvar laughs halfheartedly. 

    “And, besides. It’s not like it’s gonna change much. Do I still hate the elvin government? Yes. Is the Bullshit still a bunch of useless dumbasses? Yes. Are you still going to tell me shit that’s way above my pay grade? Abso-fucking-lutely. It’s just now I don’t have to steal your cape when it’s cold out. But I will anyway for old times’ sake.” 

    “Unmapped stars, you’re such a little shit.”

    Well, if you can’t make your boyfriend regret being with you, what’s the fucking point? 

  “And yet you’ve repeatedly chosen to not leave me to die in the middle of the neutral territories. So who’s the real winner here?”

    Alvar sighs, shaking his head. 

    God damn, he’s cute when he’s annoyed. 

[whatstheoccasion]

... hi there, everyone.

tw depression, family issues.

hi guys🥲 (gn), i... had a rough couple of months in which i had no time for the blog, or writing in general. i felt so bad for the amazing requests i got because i opened the ask box to gain some inspiration, but i could not. for the life of me. find it, and they were all amazing and that's the worst part: they were situations i was comfortable and under normal circumstances would enjoy writing, but i didn’t... get... anything from them, which was 100% my fault, and with time and place being scarce to write, i finally decided to give up on them.

it's KILLING ME, i'm so sorry but i just can't do it and i didn't want to keep you waiting any longer, i really wanted to come back with them written and done, but only at like, at the beginning of this year, i got a little spare time and i hopped on here and liked a few things and looked the requests once again... and then left again. jesus what i'm tryna say is i'm honestly sorry. ALSO, to the friends i made here: (if you're reading this i'm sorry i like you a lot and i'm sorry i wasn't able to answer you), if you really want to know, i dropped out of my 3rd year in law school.

i'm now trying a new career and balancing work on top of it bc my parents got tired of me changing majors (the FOURTH time i change since 2018 guys TT), i hid it from them for months because i was so ashamed, which only made it worse, so once they found out they kicked me out (they're so valid btw), but then my depression got worse until i found a job and tried to pull my life together. THAT'S A VERY SHORT!! WAY TO PHRASE MY ENTIRE YEAR UNTIL NOW, i refuse to trigger anyone with darker thoughts so yeah, that's the gist of it.

i'm better now though, found a new psychiatrist, i'm getting my drivers license, fixing things with my family, and i'm ready to give this blog another chance.

i hope you can understand, i'm so sorry but also so grateful to you guys, for all this love for my writing, the moments i got on here and read the rbs and comments and they were so good to me it made my day better, seriously. thank you so much.

now i am going to try and take things slow, but i'm also excited... so yyeah, not to sound like one of those ao3 authors that comeback once a year because their house set on fire and they commited arson and are now writing from prison, but yeah (they're also so valid btw).

anyways, thank you for reading up 'till here if you did, i hope you're having a great night and start of the week! i'm now writing some full blown fics and a few drabbles, all for one piece except for one tokyorev fic, but they're nowhere near done– it will take some time, but i hope you can enjoy it once they're out (one of them is my baby btw), and i also just miss reading fics, so i'll be rb fics a lot more now, don't be surprised if you see me on the tl these days.

anyways! bye, and i'm sorry, and thank you so much again, 💗

[moonbridgedaisies]

Writeblr Intro :) Please Interact!

Hey guys! I haven't really introduced myself on here, but I would love to connect with other writers and put myself out there, so here it is!

My name is Lynn, I am 20 years old, and I go by she/her pronouns.

Fun facts about me:

I play piano and guitar

I love to bake

I have a B.S. in Psychology and I’m hoping to pursue a medical career (wish me luck!)

I love to travel

Current Obsession: ☆ Stardew Valley ☆

What do I write?

Romance

Psychological Thriller

Smut lol

And just about anything else! I will take any request so long as it's not harmful!

Works In Progress:

Call Me Charlie? (title open to change in the future)

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Summary: Olivia, a student on antipsychotics, takes comfort in a vivid hallucination as her life falls into shambles around her.

Notes: This book is my baby. I love it and plan to publish it as soon as it's perfected.

Your Favorite Flowers Aren't Roses (barely developed)

Genre: Romantic Comedy

Summary: A girl gets the chance to come out of her shell and engage in some good ol' fashioned hookup culture, not knowing that she managed to start her adventure with the worst person possible.

Notes: I'm really excited to write this after Call Me Charlie?. I think I can do a lot with this story to make it fun and light after writing a psychological thriller.

Arson (barely developed)

Genre: Women's Fiction

Summary: After discovering her husband's affair(s), a woman must come to terms with what she really wants, out of her marriage and herself.

Notes: May or may not continue this story due to the blandness of it, but I'll see where it takes me!

Thank you for reading, feel free to message me, comment, like, or repost!

As mentioned before, also feel free to request something to write for you! I'll also do fanfics ;)

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb: Val has never considered love real.Not tangible, not attainable, nothing more than fiction.Until he came along.Dominant.Insufferable.Bossy.pyro didn't plan to fall in love,he didn't have time to until a stubborn cupidshot into his life like an arrow soaring through the sky.Now, he wants to prove to valentine that love is real and pyro won't give up on him no matter what.

Review:

He’s a cupid  who doesn’t think love is real.... until he meets the one person who has me rethinking everything. Valentine “Val” loathes Valentine’s day, he thinks love doesn’t exist but he’s great at his job. Cupids are forbidden from falling in love, but as someone who doesn’t believe in love, it shouldn’t be a problem.... that is until he meets Pyro. Pyro is a Dragon and a Santa, he’s lived a life of solitude and is just looking for someone to get the edge off, nothing serious. Yet from the moment Val and Pyro lay eyes on each other at a party they know there is a fire burning between them. The real question is, is it real love or will one of them run away before not give it a chance at all? Pyro is only looking for a no strings attached relationship but the moment he gets a bit of Val he knows he wants more... the only problem is that Val himself has issues about love and convincing Val to give into the real feelings between them is going to be. a lot of work. How can you convince a Cupid who doesn’t believe in love to fall in love with you? Pyro has his work cut out. This was such a cute and naughty read, I adored that we also got to see the events leading up to Val and Pyro meeting and then the after, especially since we get to see Xo and Arson again too! The relationship between Val and Pyro was cute, I especially adored how firm Pyro is about being verbal with what they’re both comfortable with and being upfront and clear about their limits and expectations as well as consent. Seriously nothing is sexier than being thoughtful, making clear and firm rules as well as asking for consent and laying out aftercare. Pyro was a 10/10 love interest. I seriously hope Maeve Black writes more about the other characters ( I am looking at you Dio and Dulce and of course the other two dragons Cinder and Blaze)!!

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

THE 1 YEAR REWATCH CONCLUSION POST

AND THERE WE GO, I REWATCHED THE ENTIRE SHOW!!!!! AND THE TAG IS ALMOST LIKE 900 POSTS NOW HOLY FUCK

Where to begin, where to begin... you're never finished talking about dcla shows, there 100000 things I wanna discuss and I have forgotten them all.

I've realized that I like Lutteo when they are friends. When they're just buddies joking around. I also only like their scenes in s3. Again, when they're just being friends.

I really change my opinion depending on the episode. If you ask me pre-s3 about who I want Luna to end up with, it's with Simón. I'll write 10 emotional posts about it. After 3x10? I want her to end up single. She'll be thriving as single.

I am grateful for all the context I've gotten for @soylunaoncrack. That blog will update much less now. Every day I change the queue, so sometimes it's 15 posts per day, other times 4, other times 28, other times 10, etc.

Luna, Ámbar and Simón really are the core three. The show is not the same without them. All three have a very special relationship with each other and I'd argue all three are soulmates - but I honestly think, as i've mentioned before, Luna is soulmates with Ámbar and Simón, but it's a little unclear if Simbar are soulmates. Maybe they're "accidental soulmates" aka, they weren't supposed to end together and then just fell for each other and became soulmates by chance.

Sharon could have done so much worse. So, so, much worse. But she didn't. She just sat in her car and stared at them. Like, when the adults got arrested and Luna was alone with Maggie and Rey? Sharon could have come and taken her. She could have come and kidnapped her or anything. I mean, I'm also happy she didn't, and she did commit arson, but I mean... yeah.

Emilia deserved better… but especially Amanda deserved better. Really really did not like what they did to her.

Ámbar!! My girlboss! I love analysing Ámbar's scenes tbh. How she acts, especially how she acts differently in all three seasons. How she wants to break free from Sharon already in s1, but she also goes back to being her perfect little goddaughter again, and again... until eventually, once Sharon's not around, she snaps and then breaks out and can become her true self.

But you know what scenes I love analysing too? JIM AND YAM'S SCENES!!!! :D I hope you will miss my little comment-analyses where I write little comments on screenshots, cause i'll miss them and I wanna use them in the future again. God, it's so fun just seeing them having their little love story in the background and how they slowly realize they're in love.

And I do think that, one reason Yam was so rude to Ramiro in s3 was because she doesn't like boys, and he was the boy everyone told her she was in love with - everyone else convinced her she liked him, everyone else said "you should date him". And so I think that, perhaps, if she was nice to him again, other people would think it was because she had a crush on him and try to make her date him again - and she didn't want that! It was much more about her than about him. And every time I say this, I feel so silly cause the only ones who does analyse Yam in s3 are Yamiro shippers, so they always come with "but she really loved him and was hurt". Which, valid! And I don't want to step on that! But, I also stand with my take on it. Yam is a lesbian and is in love with Jim.

I've really taken a swing on my headcanon of Nina's sexuality. I've really changed it so much. On the one hand, it makes sense for Nina not to be straight with the whole "hiding who you are", "discovering who you are", "coming out of your shell", etc. On the other hand, she's probably the straightest of the bunch. I remember a year ago, I liked the concept of her liking girls, simply because I had the idea of "oh her parents are so nosy but what if they think that she has a crush on a boy when she actually has a crush on a girl and they get surprised". But the further I watched, the more I realized "nah she likes boys". For an entire year I had an ace headcanon on her, but now after rewatching?? I don't think she's ace anymore. For starters, the way she just moaned "ROLLER TRACK!!" out loud, how she's always the one cracking dirty jokes and wiggling her eyebrows... I'd make the argument that, of course an ace person can enjoy and feel all that, but Nina... yeah, I feel like... no, she's not ace. Right now I see her as straight but perhaps... biromantic. Simply because I do like some small scenes with her and Luna.

But Luna to me? Will always be pan. And yes, it may be due to her whole color scheme being the pan flag and the pan flag even showing up in the intro everywhere and in the logo... but it's also that I feel like she's just such an... open spirit? Open for anything, you know? Plus, I have seen chemistry with both boys and girls for her. But I know that this headcanon really won't matter, cause in the end, she always will prioritize roller skating and friendship above anything else <3. Some people see her as ace, and I really get that. I've even considered that she's perhaps ace but panromantic. But... just taking myself as an example: I'm bi, but i'm not really... actively seeking romance. It's not that I don't want it, cause I do feel intrigued by it and I really see myself one day being in a relationship, it's just that... well, no one has really caught my interest and I also introverted and have never been someone who puts myself out there. If it happens, it happens. In the meantime, I love hanging out with my friends (who all are introverted and interested in romance, but too awkward to put themselves out there lmao). And when I am getting a crush, which has happened, then I go into a "haha nooo I don't have a crush whaaaat" spiral - similarly to how Luna is. She's literally the last person to know when she has a crush x)

Even if I bascially don't ship any of the canon ships besides like 2 of them, I do love how supportive the friends are of each other. It's so cute to see.

Well now I have been sitting and writing this for 1 and a half hour, it's fucking 3:30 AM!!! I gotta sleep!!

I'll definitely add stuff. In the meantime, how have you enjoyed my rewatch? Was there anything in particular you enjoyed me talking about? I wanna hear your thoughts!

And thanks everyone who has followed me on this liveblogging journey! It's been so fun! We'll see what's next! All I know now is that it's time to work on a new out of context video, as well as hopefully starting on that new AU...

[ginger-grimm]

Hi. Hope you're having a good day or afternoon or evening and staying safe. I just wanted to ask how do you feel about the fact that Alberto Rosende is an underrated actor who's really talented but he keeps being put in someone else's shadow, put in a love triangle and criticized, and getting completely trashed on in CF? It upsets me because he's been still stuck in this since Shadowhunters. And I just think he, Simon, and Gallo deserve so much better. Thank you.

Hello! I am, thank you.

I totally agree with you! I used to love Alberto's work as Simon Lewis and after it ended I lost sight of him for a while. I did see that he was on CF, but didn't start watching the show until last year. Once I had finally arrived at s8, I was excited to meet his character. And Blake Gallo did not disappoint at first.

Like, yes, he was a daredevil from the beginning, but now they've just turned him into another early days Severide, and that is not a compliment.

As I said in a previous post, Blake has such an interesting traumatic backstory that they never bothered to further explore. Yes, they did it here and there - but now he's nothing more than a tool for love triangles that no one cares for and whoring around (I don't mind a good ole man whore character but this is all just meaningless because nothing ever leads anywhere).

And the thing is, it's not just Alberto's talents that are being wasted. These days it really just seems like, unless you're Stella or Kelly, you don't get shit to do. For every "Kelly goes off to investigate arson" storyline we could be getting an actual, serious storyline for any of the characters that get none (Ritter, Hermann, Mouch, Cruz, Boden...) most of these people have been here since day one and all they get is arboted story arcs or comedic relief B-Plots.

I really loved early days Chicago Fire, because back then things felt more grandiose. And I think if the writers tried hard enough they could get that same feelings with the new characters, if they gave them a chance to properly develop. You know, not to turn this post about Alberto/Blake into critique on the show, but I miss when the rescues and cases they do actually felt worthwhile and exciting and when the mid-season and season finales made you itch waiting for the new season.

Now everything just feels watered down. I still watch the show, certain characters and moments have me holding on, but I can't stand them introducing characters just to write them off, recycle some storylines, never finish others, and waste the talents of their actors. I could not tell you what happened in s9 and s10 of this show beside the big moments like Casey leaving, Otis being born and Javi taken in by Joe and Chloe, and the Stellaride wedding.

[ssadumba55]

Hotch, Morgan & Reid x Fem!Felon! Reader Headcanons

Request: If you're not too busy, can I please request headcanons for Hotch, Derek, and Reid falling in love with a female convicted felon who did time in prison and is fighting for prison/justice reform as well as trying to prevent people from going to prison to begin with?

A/N: Literally had so much fun writing these, I don't get to write for this comfort show enough. Hope they're close to what you wanted, also just forewarning, none of the opinions in this are specifically mine and I tried to keep it broad and focused on what the request wanted. Timeline for each set of headcanons; after season 12 for Spencer's, Hotch sometime before he leaves the BAU in season 12/13 and Morgan's I'd say could work any season. Enjoy!

Spencer Reid

Spencer falls hard and fast for you, which is a surprise to everyone even himself considering his past with women.

You don't tell him you're a convicted felon, it's not something you mention on a first date after all and after that, after finding out he was an FBI profiler... well, let's just say you weren't bending over backwards to offer the information

You didn't even commit the crime (arson), but you had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and whoever had committed the crime got away, leaving you to deal with the consequences.

After serving the time, you were released but there was nothing you could really do. You couldn't live on your own with no money and because nowhere really wanted to hire a convicted felon, you moved in with family and began research into making the prison system more fair (and based around reformation).

But you couldn't keep the secret from Spencer for very long. He is exceptionally good at his job of being a profiler, and he notices the way you discuss the rallies and work you do.

It's then that you learn he also spent time in prison for a crime he didn't commit, although the criminal who framed him has been since dealt with and his rights have been restored.

He offers to help you catch the person who framed you and get your life back and the two of you, having seen the horror prison really is from behind the bars, both work on speaking out about prison reform

And sure, change isn't immediate. But the two of you move in together, giving you slightly more freedom

When he's not working on cases for work, he's working on your case. He even stays up late nights, trying to piece together things the investigators missed.

Usually, this results in you prying him away and pulling him to bed, reminding him that he's no use to anyone if he's tired

It's a long uphill battle but at least you're not fighting it alone

Derek Morgan

Derek has a lot of opinions on prison. He feels that it's a necessary evil to keep the bad guys off the streets where they can't hurt anyone anymore, but he also understands that the world isn't black and white. He knows that people get wrongly accused and that the system doesn't allow for actual reform

He's a little surprised to find out he's dating a convicted felon, sure, he had suspicions that you weren't telling him everything but he assumed it was something small, like maybe you didn't get along with your parents or something.

However, the fact that you've committed a crime in the past (and served the time for it) does little to dissuade his love for you. He cares about you either way.

He watches you struggle and crumble trying to find a job and eventually, he helps you find one working for some friends of his. He knows a lot of people and has a lot of different connections, it's no surprise he's able to find someone willing to give you a chance and hire you.

Still, he knows even with a job you struggle with the stigma. Everyone around you knows and even though they don't think less of you for it, you can't help but think less of yourself. Sometimes, you even go as far as thinking you don't deserve Derek. After all, his job is to put away criminals not date them. But he loves you and he reminds you of this all the time.

It's his idea to begin fighting for prison reform and to start making a difference in the world. He sees how much you're hurting and he tells you that you should get involved, make your voice heard. At first, it's really scary. Getting up there and voicing your opinion, but he's always got your back 100% and knowing that inspires you to continue to push forward.

The change you do sometimes feels little but at the end of the day, when you're laying next to Derek and he's sound asleep, you feel so much better knowing you're at least fighting to make a difference for people like you.

Aaron Hotchner

Hotch is arguably one of the best at what he does. And he knows how to do background checks. Basically, he knows from almost the get go that you choose to keep your felony to yourself, and yet, he doesn't force it out of you.

It's your choice to tell him when you're ready on your own terms and he respects that. He doesn't see you as a dangerous person, how can you be when you're so kind and gentle with his son.

A lot of people, however, would beg to differ. Even though they've never met you, they would flip if they knew what you had done. But he dealt with dangerous people everyday, you were far from anything near them.

Before you met him, even before you'd ever been to prison, you'd been a stark believer in prison reform. Being in prison, however, made that belief stronger. How could they just throw people to the dogs basically and make them fend for themselves, especially those who committed crimes out of necessity? It made you sick to your stomach thinking about all the innocent people or people who wanted to change, stuck fending for their lives

You weren't expecting Hotch to really understand. He spent his whole career putting people in prison. He got paid to do it, he didn't care what happened to them after that.

But to your surprise, he took an interest in your activism. He wasn't super involved but he would often ask you questions and offer to help you work on research.

He spends a lot of time away at work, but even during those times he would call and talk things over with you during breaks in the cases.

He doesn't understand what it's like in prison, not first hand, but he listens to all your stories and he agrees that there are better ways to handle people who commit crimes. Hopefully, one day, because of you, the world will come to see that as well.

[babu-haitani]

HELLO AGAIN THE AMAZING GREAT BABU!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️

Welcome back even though I don’t know what the hell does shadow banded means, I’m just glad your back with doing requests. I’m so excited to request this one to you.

Can I request a reader that looks like inosuke hashibira and acts like inosuke, even wearing his boar head 24/7 to hide he’s pretty face. He’s voice is the same with mitsuya’s and everyone is gonna be like why do like sound so much like mitsuya.

Inosuke reader x draken, Baji, pehyan, mitsuya, and Mikey.

I'm sorry this took so long!! but here it is!!! <3 Hope you would enjoy this!!!

Pretty (Tokyo Revengers)

Genre: Fluff, Chaos, Headcanons

Pairings: Draken, Baji, Peh Yan, Mitsuya, Mikey x MALE! Reader

KEN RYUGUJI (DRAKEN)

Out of all the characters you requested...I think Draken would be the only one who is not gonna pay mind to how you sound like.

But what he doesn't understand is...

HOW CAN YOU LOOK SO PRETTY AND YET SOUND SO MASCULINE?

You know that one audio meme that goes... "Maybe I'm gay?" from Big Mouth? yeah, that meme applies to Draken.

He doesn't like you romantically but because of his platonic liking towards you, he is confused whether that makes him gay or Nah.

Not only do you look pretty and sound masculine and also wear a boar mask... but you happened to also sound like Mitsuya...

And at this point, he doesn't even know whether it's Mitsuya talking or you.

Someone save this boy, he is confused af... T^T

BAJI KEISUKE

Baji x Inosuke Reader?...are you trying to kill me???

If you put this two in a room with me, I would probably die because of how deep their voices are.

You are probably friends with Baji, no questions asked...

You both like to commit arson.

Mainly spreading chaos all over Tokyo and ISTG...Toman is so done with the two of you.

Baji doesn't mind you're pretty face and deep voice tbh...what he minds is...

HOW COME YOU HAVE GOOD HAIR EVEN THOUGH YOU WEAR A BOAR MASK EVERY SINGLE DAY?!?!! HOW?!?!?!

High chance that Baji would make a plan with Chifuyu that is titled "Infiltrate Y/N's bathroom and find out what hair products he uses"

You nearly killed this man when he found out that the only thing you use on your hair was a cheap shampoo...He is so done.

RYOHEI HAYASHI (PEH YAN)

As much as I love Peh Yan...please leave me alone...

If you are with Peh Yan I just know it's going to be a scream-off! Not the Rock Metal type of Scream-off but the actual yelling.

Take note...you and he aren't arguing...you both are just yelling...

It's either you're talking about stupid things or! you both are having a contest on who can yell first.

Like Draken, he doesn't care if you look really pretty or the fact that you wear a boar mask. As long as you help with the gang, he is cool with ya!

but can someone please prevent this two from seeing each other? I'm scared...I feel like someone will break their vocal cords...

TAKASHI MISTUYA

The way I laughed is unexplainable XD

Mitsuya is responsible and we headcanon him as someone responsible and always serious but I've never seen someone write him as cheerful and would like to pull pranks on his sisters.

Since you sound like him, he would always make you come over and visit him and just play pranks with his sisters. XD

His sisters are so confused and he just ends up bursting into laughter.

But for some reason, his sisters like you more than him.

Maybe it's because you look pretty despite having a deep voice, you're face makes you less scary <3

He doesn't mind you at all, he just wants you to stay as you are and never change ^-^ <3

MANJIRO SANO (MIKEY)

Likes to mock your voice...like fr...

Also started to question his sexuality XD

Who wouldn't question their sexuality when they hear you with a groggy voice through the phone???!!!

Doesn't mind your pretty face...I mean what would you pretty face doo if it's gonna get beaten up later, right?

Thinks that your Boar mask is so cool and would secretly snatch it off of you and wear it as you chase him around but regretted when he tripped over a rock and face planted on the floor...

Draken is so tired of his rambling about how he might be gay because of your voice...

Someone really needs to save Draken...He is so so tired...

[cafeacademia]

His Favourite Gal | Part 1

Mob!Bucky x Shy!Reader

Summary: You begin working as a waitress at Bucky Barnes’ favourite club in town. Little do you realise that working on mob territory owned by the infamous King of New York, Bucky Barnes, comes with its quirks and you’re slowly pulled into the mobster life.

Warnings: Fluff, some mentions of drunk people, mentions of crimes (though nothing happens, it’s just mentioned).

Word count: Approx 3700

Navigation

A/N: Hi loves!! This is a remaster of my own original fan fiction that I’ve decided to take from my old blog and (hopefully) improve. I’ve been slowly remastering fics that I am particularly attached to and I worked quite a lot to get this one overhauled and rewritten!! There’s actually very little of the original writing left, it was interesting to see how different my style is now compared to three years ago! This was also my first ever series I’d ever written on my old blog, so aside from the fact that I love the story, it’s special to me in that regard. Enjoy! 💕

If you’d like to join my taglist, you can do so using my taglist form HERE

It was raining when you finally finished your shift three hours later than when you were supposed to be off for the night. It was tiring working for the dingy old bar, it looked just as sad on the outside as it did on the inside, the old brick discoloured, old panelling slowly peeling off the sides of the building. It was a wreck and so was your boss too. He couldn’t have cared less if you worked yourself down to the bone, as long as he had staff doing a job, he didn’t care.

“I’m expecting you tomorrow, we’re opening early.” He had told you on your way out and it took everything in your willpower not to groan and roll your eyes and tell him so eloquently to fuck off. It was almost a relief when you heard the heavy metal door slam behind you as you stepped out of the back entrance. The air was just as bad. It was thick with smog and cigarette smoke and something pungent, an overflowing bin or perhaps an unfortunate street animal, you thought.

You were glad when it began to rain harder. At least it seemed to make most of the drunkards along the main strip try to find shelter instead of bothering you on your walk home.

Pulling your jacket hood up, you stepped down from the doorway and made your way out of the alleyway and onto the back street. It was never good to walk home alone, especially at night and especially in the part of New York you lived and worked in. It was on the edge of mobster territory and while Bucky Barnes, the King of New York owned it, it didn’t mean it was safe at all. It was quite the opposite, the district was prone to all levels of crime, from pickpocketing all the way up to armed robberies, arson and shootings.

But, you realised as you walked up the street, spotting a group of drunk men up ahead, drink men with rifles too, that never ended well, that perhaps mobster territory might not be a bad idea, especially when there were people working for Barnes along the entire street and they were known to keep the peace.

You heard the casino before you saw it, but as you rounded the corner you saw the lights, the late night rain distorting some of the huge party lights that lit up the sky above the building. Stark’s was not the most prestigious club in town, but it was the most respected and most feared. And funnily enough, for a place called Stark’s, the billionaire did not own his own named club. As far as you remembered, you’d seen it in the papers a few years ago that Barnes had won it off Stark in a game  of poker. You’d never know if that was really true, but it definitely seemed plausible.

As you passed the casino, you glanced over towards the dark tinted windows, watching as people came and went, mostly men in suits. But you noticed a sign from across the road that was taped onto one of the windows, huge bold letters making you stop in your tracks for a moment.

Waiting staff needed. And you stared at it for a moment, contemplating. You… A bar waitress, surely it was not wise for you to sign up to work in mobster territory. That would definitely land you in more dangerous places than you were already in.

But the longer you stood there and thought about it, you began to wonder if it was actually a good idea. You could at least try, what did you have to lose? And before you could even come to a full decision, it was as it was made for you, because a group of rowdy men walked towards you and you immediately took the decision to cross the road, putting you right in front of the casino.

How bad could it be? The worst that could happen was that you just had to return back around the corner to your miserable little bar job. So, with a sigh, you grabbed the flyer and walked towards the entrance.

The bouncer was huge and intimidating. Of course, you had expected as much with the club having the notoriety that it did. It wasn’t long before you were allowed to enter, the bouncer telling you, “speak to Natasha at the bar”, and as you headed through into the casino, you assumed the absolutely stunning woman behind the bar right ahead of you was Natasha.

The club was bustling with people, though it was not as stuffy and loud on the inside as you had expected it to be. There was a clear divide between people dining and drinking at tables around the bar and the casino side of the club which appeared to be behind a velvet rope and deep burgundy red curtains at either side of the bar. It was far more high end than you had expected, seeing as the outside of Stark’s resembled a kind of fancy nightclub, but you supposed the King of New York did happen to own it.

“Are you here about the job?” The woman at the bar asked as you approached her. You wondered if it was your very casual clothing in such a formal setting that gave you away or the flyer in your hand. Either way, you suddenly felt very intimidated and very underprepared. Perhaps this had been a bad idea. You were a girl dressed in the dregs of your wardrobe while trying to get a job in the most respected club in the entire city. Not likely.

“I saw the advertisement outside, I hope that’s alright.” You said as you lifted the flyer in your hand and she held out her hand to take it from you. “Are you sure? We haven’t had many applicants because of certain activities.” She told you, but you knew what she meant, it was obvious. This part of town, even outside of mobster territory was swimming in crime. “I’ve got nothing to lose.” You replied. And it was true, you did have nothing to lose. No family, no responsibilities outside of your current job, which this would replace, no children, no pets, no side hustles. Nothing. And that probably made you a good candidate.

The woman smiled at you, her lips curving up into a smirk as she took a moment to look you over before she extended her hand across the counter. “Natasha.” She introduced herself, smiling as you shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.” You mirrored her smile and gave her your name before she let go of you. “Let me just get someone on the bar and we’ll talk.” She told you.

And moments later, you were following Natasha through the casino, passing by all of the business men, mafia family members and rich men and women who were chancing it at gambling games. Suffice to say, you felt even more out of place than you had done just moments beforehand.

“Where do you work right now?” Natasha asked as she let you pass her into an office near the back of the building. “I work in an old bar just around the corner called The Rabid Dog.” It was not a pleasant name, it always made you cringe whenever you had to tell people where you worked and you didn’t fail to notice the way that Natasha seemed amused by the name of the bar too.

“So you’ve done bar work? What about waitressing?” She asked as she gestured for you to sit down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. Natasha didn’t sit behind the desk, instead she just dropped down into the chair next to yours and rested one leg over the other as if she was having a casual conversation with a friend. “My bar serves food, so I do it on a regular basis and I also used to work in a restaurant a few years ago.” You explained, but before either of you could say anything else, the door swung open and you nearly fell out of your chair.

“Who’s this?” Bucky Barnes, the King of New York himself asked as he walked through the doorway. What had you walked into? You knew he owned the club, but you’d never expected to actually meet Barnes. “This is our new waitress.” Natasha said proudly as she stood. You knew better than to interrupt, but you gathered that someone must have noticed the look of confusion on your face because just as a second man entered the room, he said, “Does our new waitress know she’s the new waitress?” The second man asked. He was blonde, just as tall and muscular as Barnes, though he looked at you with less of a poker face and more of an amused smirk.

“Really? You just hired her like that?” Mr Barnes asked as he approached you. “I like her.” Natasha countered, both men giving her pointed looks, though Mr Barnes raised his brows and nodded before turning back towards you. “She likes you.” He repeated what Natasha had said. You couldn’t help but send Natasha a questioning glance. She had just met you minutes ago and she’d already analysed you enough to know that she liked you and you wondered if Natasha was much more than just a bar girl.

“Have you done waitressing before?” Barnes asked. “I just asked her that.” Natasha huffed. “Yes sir, waitressing and bar work.” You responded. “And do you have any family?” He asked next. “No sir, none at all.” You replied. “And you know this isn’t the type of job cut out for ordinary people, right? This club sees a lot of things.” Mr Barnes went on. “I do, sir.” You nodded.

“Buck, maybe we should consider-.” But Mr Barnes casually held up his hand to silence his friend. “You’re hired.” He announced, the entire room falling silent and all you could do was stare at Barnes for a moment, stunned that he had just hired you right there on the spot. “I am?” It came out a little more hushed than you had intended, Bucky nodding as he smirked at you. “Whatever your pay is at your old job, I’ll pay at least double, more if it’s not enough. Natasha will contact your old boss and get you ready for your first day.” And with that, Bucky Barnes and his friend left the room and Natasha looked over at you, watching as the astonishment slowly dissipated.

“I’ll let you know when you start work.” Natasha broke the silence and you glanced over at her. “Just like that?” You asked, still surprised. “Just like that.” She responded. “Don’t worry, Barnes wouldn’t keep me around if I wasn’t a good judge of character.” She winked at you and you wondered again if she was something more than just a bar girl.

The job, you realised after your first couple of days working at the club, was far more interesting and a lot more rewarding than your previous job at the old bar. The club was a scene for all kinds of happenings and while nothing nefarious really went on, especially under Bucky Barnes’ nose, you did overhear an awful lot of conversation.

You learned as well in those first few days, that while this was not where Mr Barnes resided, he used the club as a place to carry out some of his business meetings and discussions as well as a place to relax.

Barely a week into your new job, you were getting ready for your shift in the little back room. Lockers lined the walls with a mirror at the side of the door and comfortable benches in the middle of the room. Dressed in a simple, but pretty black dress, you tied the strings of your little demi apron at the back, though you paused, a little startled when the door was abruptly pushed open and Natasha stepped in.

“Barnes needs you.” Nat announced with urgency and you frowned at her. “He does?” You asked. “He needs someone to waitress him and the family tonight, he’s asking for you.” She informed you. “I thought-.” “Yes, I know normally we have security taking orders to the waitresses, but he’s personally asking for you to waitress them tonight.” Nat told you and you paused with a slight air of confusion about you. “Alright, I’ll waitress Mr Barnes then.” You nodded, quickly fumbling with the ties of your apron before you shoved your jacket a bit more firmly into the back of the locker and shut it properly, letting Natasha walk you through the club towards the private dining space they were occupying.

Nat rushed you into the room and closed the door behind you, leaving you to stand rather flustered in front of a cosy looking dining room with a round table in the middle. Bucky was sat at the furthest end of the room, his chair seeming to have a higher back than all of the others. At his left was Steve, who you’d been properly introduced to on your first day at work and on his right was Sam Wilson, who you understood was a very close friend of his.

“Sugar, you made it.” Bucky enthusiastically greeted you as you approached the table. You hoped that you didn’t appear too flustered and intimidated, but you were aware that there was only so much you could play off with smiles when you knew your eyes might give you away. “Good evening Mr Barnes, gentleman.” You nodded, finally taking a step into the room and approaching the table, receiving polite hellos and smiles from all of them. “Are you looking after us tonight?” Steve asked, sitting forward in his seat and casually leaning his elbows on the table. “I am, Mr Rogers.” You nodded, lifting your notepad and pen as if it were proof. “Allow me to introduce you to everyone.” Bucky waved you over to him and you took a few steps towards him as he went around the table naming everyone. It was quite easy to distinguish that the people sitting closest to Bucky were of more importance to him as he listed Clint and Scott, who seemed to be his security and Pietro who appeared at first glance to be a mentee as well as the rest of the group.

“C’mere sweetheart.” Bucky motioned you to come and stand next to him once they were all done ordering food and drink. You stood where he’d pointed to and he turned in his seat to face you. You felt your cheeks warm intensely as Bucky smiled up at you, his eyes so soft and sweet and you questioned for a moment how exactly this man was the King of New York. He was incredibly sweet looking and for a moment you found yourself melting on the spot. “Is that everything, Mr Barnes?” You asked. “Not quite, sugar. Add whatever you’re having to the list, it’s on me.” He grinned at you. “I – uh, sorry?” You asked, a little confused. “Are you sure, Mr Barnes?” You hesitantly met his eyes though you immediately broke eye contact. “Absolutely, please eat with us, doll.” Bucky’s voice went soft as he tilted his head back a little to see you better, his lips pouting ever so slightly. “As you wish, Mr Barnes. Thank you.” You smiled at him, speaking softly before jotting your meal on the notepad and rushing out of the room.

You nearly bumped into Natasha as you made your way towards the kitchen. “He wants me to eat with them.” You blurted out before even making your presence known. “He what?” Nat frowned. “Mr Barnes wants me to order my food and drink and eat with them.” You repeated, more calmly this time. “Really?” She looked at you wide eyed. “Does he not do that with other waitresses?” You questioned, ripping the order out of the notepad and handing it to the kitchen staff. “No, he’s never done that before, never requested it either.” Nat shook her head. “Are you sure?” You surely couldn’t be the only one he’s ever asked. “I’ve worked here every night for three years and not once has he ever requested that.” Nat said with a single raised brow. It was definitely unusual. “I’ll get someone to call for you when the food’s ready. Let me get their drinks together.” She told you, waving you away before she went to look at the order you’d brought in.

You waltzed into the private dining room with a large round tray balanced expertly on one hand. The glasses on top gently clinked together as you walked. Handing out their orders, you took your drink last. You noticed quickly that all the men around the table had shifted and there was now an empty seat next to Bucky. “Come and sit with me, doll.” He patted the empty chair. Steve hopped up to pull it out for you and you obliged, gently sitting yourself down in the chair and turning slightly to face him. You didn’t want to assume you could speak unless spoken to, so you politely kept quiet while Bucky noticeably studied your face. “Tell us about yourself, sweetheart.” He smiled, sitting back in his chair as he picked up his drink and took a sip.

“I’ve been around and lived in a few different places. My parents passed several years ago and it’s just been me ever since, so I moved back to Brooklyn.” You did appreciate the soft look on Bucky’s face as he listened to what you said, almost like he felt sorry for you. Before you could continue though, Bucky rested his hand over yours and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry about your parents, truly I am.” He spoke just above a whisper. “Thank you, Mr Barnes.” You gave him a tight lipped smile. “Call me Bucky. We’re with family, which means we’re all on a first name basis, alright?” Bucky gripped your hand gently. “Alright, Bucky.” You nodded, mirroring his smile.

You told him more about yourself and for a moment, Bucky seemed anything but a mobster. He asked you about the books you liked to read and talked to you about the subjects that seemed to make your eyes light up and your smile a little wider. As the evening drew on, you became comfortable enough to share a few timid little jokes, which elicited chuckles and laughs from even some of the most scary looking men around the table. One of them, Drax, who was terrifyingly huge and angry looking, clapped his hand over his chest and roared with laughter the first time you told a joke, which completely took you by surprise. What surprised you more was how easy it was to make Bucky laugh and how down to earth and sweet he was.

By the time everyone had eaten and spent some time drinking and chatting and enjoying themselves, you had warmed up to all of them, especially Steve, Sam and Bucky. All of them though, were soft and charming on the inside, showing you a side to them you were unsure anyone else in the club was ever going to see. They were intimidating on the outside, exuding a terrifying confidence, but on the inside they were all sweet and gentle and caring and it absolutely melted you.

And after you had said goodbye to all of them and made your way back to the locker room, Clint, one of Bucky’s closer family members, followed you in. “Barnes wants me and Scott to make sure you get home safe.” He told you. “He’s requesting we give you a lift back in his SUV.” Clint added, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his middle. It definitely seemed unusual, especially to be personally driven home. As far as you were aware, not even Natasha, who seemed very close to the family was ever given a lift home. But then again, judging by her reaction to Bucky wanting you to dine with them earlier, you supposed this was all rather new for them, just as much as it was for you. “Alright.” You nodded as you opened your locker, pulling off your apron and putting it away before you took out your jacket and bag, quickly getting them both on before letting Clint escort your towards the back exit.

“Hey doll, hope you don’t mind the spontaneous ride home.” Bucky grinned, far too pleased with himself that he was having his men not only drive him, Steve and Sam home, but also you. Of course it meant he had a longer way home, but Bucky didn’t care. Seeing you all off to your houses was important to him and why seeing you off specifically was important, Bucky was starting to wonder why.

After sliding into the SUV and getting comfortable on the soft, plush seats, you were driven home with gentle, quiet chatter between Bucky and Sam, Steve joining in occasionally until you arrived at your apartment building.

“See you the day after tomorrow, sugar.” Bucky smiled, leaning towards the open door to speak to you as you got out of the car. “Thanks for the ride home.” You waved at all of the men in the car, Scott getting out to escort you up to the front door of the building, the car waiting until they had seen you safely into the building and the door shut behind you.

Sitting down in your bedroom, safely back in your apartment you laid down in the soft blankets, replaying the evening in your head, realising you were smiling to yourself when you remembered that Nat had said no one had ever been asked to dine with Bucky and his family before. It brought warmth to your cheeks as you settled in for the night, looking forward to your next shift at Stark’s.

Bucky Taglist (OPEN):

@losers-official @barneswidow​ @megantje123​ @anchoeritic​ @struggling-bee​​

[shotorozu]

hi hello! so i saw your requests were open and i had an idea sitting for a while now

i always listen to anime playlists (especially haikyuu ones) and i'd wonder what mha characters (bakugo, shinso, and todoroki) think if they saw their s/o listening to those

i think their reaction would be pretty hilarious especially when the playlist titles are "committing arson with tendou" or "hiding bodies with kuroo" (these are real playlists btw)

anyways i hope you have a good day! you don't have to do this request if you dont want to, take your time!(◍•ᴗ•◍)

their s/o listens to anime playlists

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, todoroki shouto (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, quirk not specific

headcanon type : fluff, crack-ish (x reader)

note(s) : those playlists will have the best songs, but also the weirdest titles to ever exist 💀 anyways, i decided that i want to make a separate masterlist for requests because of that new tumblr update. also,, this is quite short?? there’s not that much detail in the nuances this time around.

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

i headcanon that bakugou has a picky music taste, so if he likes the music that’s in your playlist— then you probably have a good taste in music

“what song is this?” he asks when he’s driving you both to a date, his sudden peak of interest has you beaming

“oh, it’s from a playlist i found on spotify, i have a bunch of them. you could probably look through all of them.”

once the car reaches a red light, katsuki takes this chance to browse through the playlists you had— and that’s when he finds it.

he finds the playlists and their names, but they’re all named so,, oddly specific. ‘shaking ass with bokuto’ ‘making bank with kuroken’ ‘hiding bodies with oikawa’

his reaction is literally like this emoji🤨 clearly appalled by the strange names. “who the fuck named your playlists??”

“why, is there an issue?”

“first of all— i know you like that shitty volleyball anime, but HIDING BODIES WITH OIKAWA?? WHAT ARE YOU ON?”

you chortle at his reaction, and he doesn’t have an option to react— due to the red light turning green.

he can only grumble. you’re lucky that he loves you regardless of your weird spotify playlists.

he won’t say that outloud, but if it was any other person, he would’ve threatened to chuck them out the car

okay but you still have a music taste, so katsuki does end up using the playlists 😭 the bakusquad thinks he went crazy

shinsou hitoshi

he doesn’t really care about what your music taste is. doesn’t matter if you listen to the chainsmokers, or clairo. because it’s not like you’re the type to judge HIS music taste

but he does really like your choice of music, and he frequently allows you to blast music during random hours of the day.

hitoshi waits for you to finish showering on his bed, listening to the music you chose to blast while you were in the shower

you suddenly call out to him, “‘toshi, can you switch the song? i think i accidentally left it on shuffle.”

the purple haired boy chuckles, remembering the last time you left your playlist on shuffle, “got it, what song do you want me to change it to?”

“you pick!”

he walks to your phone and opens up spotify, but he can only blink at the amount of odd and nearly absurd playlist names

he can only read each playlist in silence, questioning the motive behind each playlist

why are you like this??🧍

he eventually does change the song, and when you finally get out of the shower— he’s silent.

“‘jumping off a cliff with bokuto kotarou’ is quite an interesting name.” he simply says, a knowing smirk gracing his usually tired features

“y-you saw THAT?”

“how could i not? you asked me to change the songs, did you?” and he’s not wrong. “2 hours is a pretty long playlist, don’t you think? that’s a large ass cliff.”

“i hate you,”

“well i love you too.”

rip to you 💀 he’ll hold this moment above your head.

todoroki shouto

his music taste is IMMACULATE, but he does seem to share your music taste when you guys get together, doesn’t matter what kind of genre (just maybe not noise music)

shouto would be that type of person that would actually listen to the songs you recommend him, and he’ll share his piece of mind unlike some people

everytime you and shouto go somewhere, he plays three songs of his choice first— and for the rest of the car ride, the music choice is up to you.

“it’s your turn, Y/N. you can pick your music,” he says with a small smile, when he sees that you’re ecstatic to have the aux cord

you were feeling particularly lazy that day, so you decide to open your playlist through voice “siri/alexa/google, open ‘burning ushijima’s farm with oikawa tooru’”

MAN IS SO CONFUSED WHEN HE HEARS THAT, and he whips his head in your direction— staring in confusion

luckily, the car has reached a stop light— because he would’ve accidentally slammed on the breaks. “burning ushijima’s farm with oikawa??”

“oh, thats the playlist i have. do you prefer the ‘committing arson with tendou satori’ playlist instead?”

and he’s wondering on WHY YOU HAVE not one, but— TWO PLAYLISTS DEDICATED TO FIRE?? “love, do you actually want to commit arson with those characters?”

like,, he’s RIGHT there. icyhot is right beside you 🙄 “oh well, it’s quite the name for a playlist, isn’t it? and the songs are amazing too!”

shouto blinks, and turns his head to face the road— “it’s,, something, i suppose. but the names are quite lovely. they fit you.” he says with a small genuine smile

HUH?? that really did surprise you.

shouto ends up downloading several of your playlists on his phone— ultimately scaring the dekusquad when they see it on his phone.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[whump-a-la-mode]

Ok so I had a prompt idea? We’re all familiar with the “villain is sent to a ‘rehabilitation center’ that turns out to be secretly torturing the villains there” trope, but consider this: scared villain is captured by a kind hero and sent to a villain rehabilitation center, and villain has never experienced such warmth and kindness! Not to mention frequent visits from hero to check up/see how they’re doing. Maybe it’s no good but just a thought I had; I love your writing so much!! 💛🌼

(No pressure though, I know you’re probably busy!)

Oh, I absolutely love this prompt! Evil rehab centers are all well and good, but I’d never thought of one as being a source of comfort. I hope you like this! I was going to do some more with it, but it was already running a little long ^^

Thanks so much for the prompt!

CW//Arson, burning buildings, smoke inhalation, fear of death, gross food, mentions of torture, animal disease

As though singed by smoke, Villain’s lungs burned.

Even as they gasped, they felt as though they could not inhale a single breath. Yet, somehow, they had enough air to keep going.

It wasn’t as though they had a choice.

They were unsure, at that point, if their legs were truly moving at all. They had lost feeling in them far too long ago to be able to verify such a thing. Somehow, though, they were moving forward. Even if they wanted to, they didn’t know if they could stop, with momentum pushing them as it was.

Everything was riding on this. Days of keeping ahead, of leading the chase. If they stopped moving for just a moment, it would all be wasted.

And their life would be over. If they stopped running now, there would be no Villain left.

In that instant, they understood what it was to be a rabbit. When there was a fox on your tail, there were no do overs. No second chances. It was run or die.

As long as they could, they were going to run.

Villain couldn’t remember the name of the building in which they had managed to find the briefest of respites. Despite its sprawling size, there was nothing truly remarkable about it. Perhaps it did not have a name in the first place. At some point, it had been some sort of industrial complex-- the home of half a dozen separate companies, each clashing and butting up against one another.

Yet, the structure had long since been left to rot. They had a feeling that mold clinging to every corner had something to do with that.

Just a week ago, they would never have dreamed of so much as going someplace like this. The air smelled rotten, and breathing it left a sour taste sticking to their tongue. Not to mention the fact that several animals of varying size and danger had already claimed the rotten complex as their home.

But, they weren’t the same Villain they had been a week ago. Stumbling upon the building had felt like a gift from above, and, the night prior, they’d managed to get some honest-to-god rest among its sodden carpeting.

It was the most rest they’d gotten in days, despite the fact that, halfway through it, they’d awoken to a diseased rat with its teeth buried in their forearm. They’d had worse awakenings.

After shooing away the animal, they’d managed to sleep an hour or so more. Then came the worse of their two awakenings, that night.

The shouting voices of heroes.

Villain didn’t know how they’d found them. There was no trace, no trail. They had no vehicle-- instead moving through the woods on foot. ‘On foot’ was quite literal in that instance, considering the fact that they’d lost their shoes three days ago to a patch of quickmud.

But, still, they’d been found.

They didn’t no how long ago it was, that they’d been awakened by those voices. With the darkened building’s clocks hanging stubbornly on the wrong minute and hour, there was no way to tell how long it had been.

How long they’d been running...

Villain skidded around a corner, hissing as their foot caught on an uprooted carpet tack. Had they been this way before? It was impossible to tell-- all the halls looked the same.

The halls repeated, just as the heroes’ footsteps did.

How were they not tired?

Maybe because they’d eaten. And slept. And had water.

Villain had found that stream the other day, though...

Everything about them seemed to be repeating. The walls. The footsteps.

The lies of the heroes.

“Just stop running! We don’t want to hurt you!”

They couldn’t count just how many times they’d heard those words. Lies. Of course they were lies! Or, perhaps, it was their own sick attempt at a joke. We don’t want to hurt you, we just want to kill you!

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not just yet.

Another corner was taken with haste, and their nostrils were overwhelmed with the scents of rust and oil.

The garage was massive-- reaching further upwards than the shreds of sunlight filtering through dusty windows could reach with their furthest rays. Its concrete floor stretched out, seemingly, all the way to the horizon-- dotted only by support beams, and whatever scattered machinery and supplies the company had not deemed valuable enough to bring along.

The source of the scent of gasoline was quite rapidly made apart. Stacked haphazardly in the corner, red gas containers stood. Their reek alone made it well known that they were far from empty.

But the gas was far from Villain’s main concern regarding the garage.

In the past few days, they had become awfully good at finding exits. It was with a ruthless instinct that they scanned the room for one.

But, in the end, they reached a terrifying conclusion.

There was one exit. It was the same door as the entrance. The garage doors on the other side of the chamber had long since been chained shut, and there was no time for lockpicking.

The heroes flooded in.

It was with an exhausted hopelessness and steadfast stubbornness that they kept running forth. Of course, with their terrible luck, they did not make it very far. A rebar pipe caught their toes, sending them sprawling onto the concrete, pain shrieking from a thousand different, tiny wounds.

For a few seconds, Villain let themself breathe. They figured that, at the very least, they should let themself enjoy their last moments alive.

Their relaxation did not last long. They refused to die laying down. Trembling from exhaustion, pain, starvation, dehydration, and terror, all at once, they staggered to their feet. For a moment, their vision blurred, before solidifying once more.

Half a dozen heroes fanned out before the entrance, guarding it ruthlessly. Faux looks of concern painted their countenances.

From the array of aches and pains swarming Villain, a single one, all at once, made itself known. Something pressing up against their leg.

Their lighter.

Their trembling gaze flicked to the pile of glimmering red gas cans. It was behind them-- only a few steps back. If they could just...

“Villain!” The person in the front of the group called out-- Hero. “There’s nowhere else to go. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You just need to come with us. You can’t survive like this much longer, you know that!”

No. What they couldn’t survive was the heroes.

But, they didn’t have to.

Villain took a step back, inching towards the pile.

“Come on, buddy!” Another hero called. “What are you so afraid of?”

It was the heroes who should be afraid. Another step back.

“There’s nowhere to run, Villain.” Hero spoke once more. “Just come with us. No harm will come to you, I swear to it.”

No.

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not today.

They took the final step, until they were mere inches from the pile. With a well-placed kick, and a horrible clattering, the cans toppled from their precarious pyramid. The reek of gas grew tenfold as brown liquid spilled out, onto the concrete below.

Stepping back from the gasoline-- they were ready to go, not just yet-- they reached into their pocket. The heroes had no time to identify the object they pulled out. By the time they realized what had happened, the lighter had already been thrown.

The flame leapt into the air with such force that Villain was thrown back, tossed to the concrete like a ragdoll.

The faux compassion on the heroes faces turned to an emotion that was very, very real.

Fear.

Spreading so fast that its growth could be heard, the inferno pounced, grabbing onto the base of a wooden support beam and licking its way upwards.

“Everyone!” Hero shouted-- terror in their voice overpowered by sheer determination. “Get out! This building’s not stable.”

“W-what about you?”

“If I’m not out within five minutes, send someone in after me.”

“Are you certain?”

“We’re heroes. And, sometimes, that means saving villains, too.”

Despite their clear reluctance, the other heroes, one by one, nodded, allowing their terror to spur them to flee.

When the last of them was gone, only two remained in the garage. The villain and the hero.

Villain looked upwards, watching as the flame reached the top of the support beam and rippled onto the ceiling.

There were only two ways this could end. They knew that.

Either Hero lost their nerve and fled, allowing their prey to escape, or they both perished in the flames.

No matter which came to pass, there was only one thing that mattered:

They would not die by the hands of a hero.

“You’re scared.” Hero began. Another stupid speech. “I know. I know you’re scared. This last week has been hell for you, I know that. But it doesn’t have to go down like this. You can still make the right choice. 

Please. Come with me. I don’t want to hurt you. Believe it or not, I don’t want you to die!”

“You’re a bad liar, you know.” They croaked.

Villain’s lungs were already torn from gasping. The slowly-rising smoke only served to salt their wounds.

Before them, a flaming ceiling tile fell, spraying them with embers.

“You don’t want this! I know you don’t! You don’t want to die!”

“Why do you think I’m doing this?! Of course I don’t want to die, you fucking idiot!”

“Then come with me!”

“It’s like you don’t even hear yourself.”

The building shuddered as a support beam splintered and collapsed. The force of it sent Villain, once again, to the concrete, bathing their face in smoke. As they scrambled to their hands and knees, they could not help but let out a shuddering cough.

“Villain! Watch out!”

“Wh-”

The ceiling tile struck their head, burying them under its accompanying rubble.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Warmth... and music.

They awoke to warmth, and music.

The first of the two came in the form of something soft, heavy, enveloping them, making them feel as though they were buried within a cloud. The music, too, seemed to surround them-- there were no words to it, just the soft, lulling tone of a piano, accompanied by the occasional splash of waves.

It was confusion that first whispered to Villain, when their leaden eyelids at last agreed to open. Above them sat an off-white sky, stretching out to meet with a light blue wall. They blinked once more.

Where...

The chase the heroes the running the building the gas the fire the rubble the-

Villain jolted upright, tossing off of themself a heavy, fleece blanket. Trembling fingers gripped the mattress below them as they scanned the world around, instincts kicking in, searching frantically for an exit.

The room was small, walls colored a soft, baby blue, and lit by a pair of lamps with warm, orange bulbs. The few items of furniture were made of a light brown wood-- three small nightstands, two in corners, and one next to the bed in which Villain lay.

Next to one of the stands was placed a small writing desk and chair, while the other was accompanied by a potted plant, petals just starting to emerge from its buds. Embedded in one wall, a window stood, a small radio perched upon its sill.

The door was at the room’s far end, next to their bed. A wooden door with brass handle-- easy to break down.

But guarded.

Before the door, a figure stood-- a person dressed in a bright flannel, from the breast pocket of which stuck an overabundance of pens.

They did not look particularly strong, but, then again, neither did Villain. At the sound of their movement, the figure turned to face them, a smile growing upon their round face.

“I didn’t even notice you waking up.” They hummed. “Good morning.”

There were two options for escape: The door or the window. Neither was particularly desirable, but they had to choose one...

“Hey, buddy.” The stranger’s voice felt almost as warm as the fleece blanket. “You’re looking a bit like a deer in the headlights, there. I’m sure this is all a bit overwhelming, and I’m sure you’re pretty confused. I’d be confused too, trust me.”

No. There was no confusion in Villain’s mind. They were focused on one thing, the only thing that mattered: Getting out of here!

The flannel-wearing figure took a few steps towards the bed. In instinctual panic, the villain scrambled to their hands and knees, shuffling backwards until their spine was flush with the headboard.

“Hey, hey, shhh.” They hushed. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll stay right back here, okay?”

“L-Let me out of here!”

The figure frowned.

“Bud, I’m not sure that you’d last another day out there. Not in the state Hero found you in.”

Hero. Of course they were working for Hero.

“I’ll explain everything, alright bud? But let’s just start here. My name’s Doctor. What’s yours?”

Villain only then noticed that they were shaking like a leaf. Whatever this method of torture or interrogation or whatever it is was, they wanted no part in it. They just wanted to go home! To get out! Warm bed or not, this was a prison. They were sure of it.

But, the bed was comfortable, and there wasn’t a single rat in sight...

��How about this...” Doctor coaxed. “You tell me your name, and I’ll tell you what’s going on, okay?”

A trade. Information for information.

Was it worth it? They supposed there was little use in lying.

“V-Villain. My name’s Villain.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Villain.”

“Now, wh-what is this p-place?”

Doctor nodded.

“This is the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center. We’re in the city, right by the river. Next to the botanical gardens, if you know where that is.”

They were really telling them the location of their prison? Surely it would have been better to keep such a thing secret. That is, assuming they were telling the truth.

“I believe you’ve been asleep for about... seventeen hours.” Doctor glanced to their watch. “Yep, just about. You’ve been here for maybe half that time. After you got caught in the fire, Hero brought you to the hospital. They bandaged your wounds and brought you here. I hope you slept well.”

Villain almost laughed at that, before a realization struck them. They had slept well. Sure, remnants of the specter of fatigue still haunted them, but for the first time in days, they felt awake enough to think clearly.

But, this was still a prison.

Right?

Prisons didn’t usually have soft beds and fleece blankets, but...

No. It was a trick. This was a prison, and they were a prisoner.

“Let me go.” Villain insisted, though it was halfhearted. “Y-You can’t keep me here! I’m leaving. I need to leave!”

Doctor frowned again, biting their lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Villain, but for now, you’re going to have to stay here. But, I promise, you’ll like it here.” They sighed. “I know you’re scared, and confused, and a thousand other things. But, here, you’re safe. There’s other people here-- quite a few of them, in fact. And, at one point, they were all like you. But ask any one of them. This is the best place for you to be.”

Other people?

“Where are they? W-What are you doing to them?!”

Doctor smiled.

“They’re in our main wing, right now. I believe everyone is eating lunch right about now. I don’t know about you, but where I come from, lunch isn’t a form of torture.”

Villain pursed their lips.

“Then, where am I?”

“This is our arrivals wing. You’re going to stay here, for a few days. Until you’re comfortable, and we can make sure all that smoke is out of your lungs. Then you can join in with everyone else. I’m gonna move over to the side of the bed now, okay? I won’t touch you.”

Even with the warning, Villain couldn’t help but flinch as Doctor approached. They moved to the nightstand at the bed’s side, plucking a small, red box from its surface.

“Hero told me to give this to you, when you got up. It’s not exactly the most nutritious thing to start your day off with, but I think you deserve something tasty.”

They offered the box. After a moment of hesitance, Villain snapped it from their hands, drawing it close to their chest. Was it a threat? Some kind of warning? Morbid curiosity took hold of them, prompting them to open the box’s lid.

Chocolates.

A dozen chocolates, laid out in the design of a star.

“I can eat these?”

“Go ahead.”

Without hesitance, this time, they popped one of the candy pieces into their mouth. Its flavor overwhelmed them, strong enough to nearly knock them over. It’d been days since they’d eaten anything that didn’t come off a bush or from the dumpster.

“Um...” Villain looked back up, closing the box. “So, when are you going to kill me?”

Doctor laughed.

“Hero will be visiting tomorrow. With how long they can talk for, I think you’re only in danger of dying of boredom.”

This was a prison. Of course it was.

Yet, as they glanced down at the box of chocolates, they could not help but forget all thought of panic and escape.

[angelssdecay]

Why Xiao isn’t just some edgelord, an essay by yours truly (or: I need sleep)

Before you read!! 

This was mainly written because I kind of got tired of Xiao being labelled as ‘edgelord’ a lot of times and while I have nothing against it when it’s jokingly said (after all I call Childe a ‘clown’ all the time or Klee ‘Arson child’ haha, you get what I mean) I also feel like him getting meme’d as that leads to a lot of mischaracterization. I’m not here to attack anyone or anything!! Just sharing my personal thoughts about him influenced by his canon lore in game + headcanons I developed while writing fics for him. I hope you don’t mind my brainrot.

-            I suppose that a lot of Xiao’s characterization as an ‘edgelord’ comes from his wildly dark history and the way he expresses himself (like growling when he’s thinking about his past memories) that is quite different from other characters in Genshin when he’s not like this because he wants to but because he’s been shaped by his trauma that reaches wide into the past and the fact that he doesn’t belong in the human world   -          he is stuck in the mortal world while having to defend it from otherworldly beings and forces that threaten to destroy the fragile balance between both worlds, and it’s a task he fulfils with pride because it was given to him by Rex Lapis, the god who saved him from his former master – 

-          an evil deity who had abused and used him and forced him to commit atrocities that still haunt him to this day; he never wanted to kill, he never wanted to have to take away someone’s dreams but he was helpless to resist and in the end he stained his hands with so much more blood than he ever wanted to   -          taking his trauma and the way he talks about it and labelling it as ‘edgy’ is plain disregarding towards the pain he went through in his early years when his innocence was stolen from him and then utterly destroyed until Rex Lapis saved him and gave him his life back, a duty he can be proud of and the chance to regain a bit of his former gentleness because that’s who he is deep inside: a kind and gentle soul that never wants to hurt anyone

  -          not to mention the trauma he experienced by having to watch the only family he ever had, the other Yakshas, perish one after another – whether it was because they were consumed by the darkness they fought and killed one another or because they died in battle – he wasn’t able to save any of them and while it’s never talked about in-game lore I doubt that their deaths didn’t leave a mark on him that lasts till today. To be heralded as the last Yaksha is surely not a title that Xiao is proud or happy about.   -          to get to his character trait of him usually keeping his sentences curt and to the point (like his good morning line ‘’We're wasting time. Let's go.’’) and him growling when he thinks about his sorrowful past that probably made people label him as edgy – does it really surprise anyone that he doesn’t talk like humans from Teyvat talk when he’s a) not human and b) has spent almost all of his life in solitude?   -          which would obviously lead to him being extremely used to dealing with emotions and humans; despite having such a kind and selfless heart (more to that later) but he’s just not used to conversing with humans - mainly because Adepti need to keep their distance from humans lest their adeptal energy will harm them   -          when Xiao kept his distance from humans all these years, it was for their own good (something he says during the first meeting with the traveller and something I think he firmly believes in because past encounters with humans never went well for them and again, he doesn’t want to hurt anyone and certainly not humans)   -          and while he’s gotten used to living in solitude I don’t think he actually enjoys having to live like this – he’s incredibly lonely and suffers from it - and just like every living being he longs to have someone to talk to and who understands him, even appreciates him although this is something he wouldn’t dare to wish for because it’s something that can’t be fulfilled (Lumine: sikes you thought you can stay alone forever, yeah too bad for you I’m here for you now)   -          it was stated in the article about Xiao and his creation process how curious he is about the human world despite trying to hide it from others (and himself too because longing for something you can’t have or take part in hurts like hell and god knows he’s experienced enough in his life) -  but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t yearn to experience those feelings of warmth and love that most humans as well   -          and when I say love I don’t necessarily mean romantic love although I don’t count it impossible for him (though it would take a long time for him to break down his own walls and find the courage to love and be hurt, and I think abrupt love confessions would frighten him because he simply never experienced it before – a life of bloodshed and battle certainly don’t help with understanding his own or other hearts)   -          no, what I mean are the different kinds of love he’s seen humans share with each other – a mother’s love when she puts her child to bed with a goodnight kiss, a friend’s platonic love when they hug their friend who’s sad or simply out of joy – it’s all things he never got to experience for himself but secretly longs to experience as well (fight me on that because I’ll die on that hill)   -          and this also leads to me firmly believing that he doesn’t hate humans no matter how often he ‘mocks’ traditions and customs – it’s mainly to hide his own curiosity and longing to join them knowing that he doesn’t belong with humans. But he certainly doesn’t hate them no matter his words because you can’t guard and protect someone without loving and caring for them. If he truly despised humans he would have never risked his life and soul for as long as he has to protect them.   -          and he knows that he will never receive any gratitude for the suffering he endures, nor that anyone will pray to him, or even pray for him to come home from battle safely – all he has left by now is himself and his duty he proudly continues to fulfil to honour his fallen comrades and his contract with Zhongli – and yet he keeps fighting such a thankless and seemingly endless battle without any complaints or lamenting his cruel fate; if that isn’t kindness then I really don’t know anymore   -          not to mention that if he truly was an ‘edgelord’ he’d be lamenting his cruel fate or curse at everything for forcing him to live such a life devoid of any warmth and joy – but he doesn’t. Because no one survives thousands of years with a heart full of hatred and no one understands that better than him who has fought against the lingering wrath and hatred of fallen gods.   -          and while Xiao himself doesn’t believe that he is kind (after all both his hands and soul are stained by blood, he’s nothing more but a weapon or so he would say if someone told him he’s kind) it’s his selfless and devoted nature and his love for the simple things in life – a nice dish of Almond Tofu, flowers, the soft tunes of a flute - that make him such a gentle soul – he just doesn’t realize nor acknowledges that part of himself   -          so if someone loves him they have to love all the cracks in his soul and try to pour their light into them, be patient with him because it will take him a very long time to get used to all these feelings, to the reassurance that he is loved and also deserves to be loved, after all this is so foreign to him and very likely to frighten him but in return he will love unconditionally and be forever loyal as he is loyal to the land he continues to protect 

...and what more could anyone ask for, right?

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello 🥰 Whump fic idea :)TK lands in the hospital, again. But this time they're serious, serious injuries, he is under a respirator, he is not breathing on his own, the doctors do not give him much chance of survival, they even advise it would be the best to prepare for the worst and say goodbye, just in case. Owen calls Gwen, she's arriving the same day with Enzo and baby junior. When in the hospital they find out how it happened and that it's mostly Owen's fault (I don't know, for example, he allowed Tk to enter the unstable building to tend to the patient, or whether he made someone else angry and this person unloaded it on TK, or Owen decided to do something reckless and TK wanted to save him or it is The arson situation from 2x12 so Gwyn arrives pregnant, without a baby of course), Gwyn slaps him twice and Enzo punches him right in the nose, breaking it, for risking TK's life. Fortunately, despite the bad prognosis, TK wakes up, but after he took his sweet time being in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 3: the meetings for those in my wake

thanks for the prompt! i really loved writing this one though i need to confess to toning it down a little? idk but with the way it was going it didn't feel right to have enzo break owen's nose. i hope you still like it!

ao3 | 3.3k | major character injury, coma, angst with a happy ending

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news.

TK got in a fight.

TK overdosed.

TK was shot, he’s in the hospital.

Over and over, until the first words out of her mouth whenever Owen’s name flashed up on her screen were, What’s wrong?

Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas. Gwyn suspects it’s partly TK’s influence—he’s been more than enthusiastic in getting to know his baby brother, and Isaac has latched onto TK despite only seeing him in person every few months or so. But they’ve talked as well, she and Owen, and they really are doing better. They’re almost like friends now, which is why Gwyn thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Owen?” Gwyn repeats, louder this time, her heart leaping into her throat. She sits down heavily on the sofa as she waits for Owen’s response; there’s only one thing that could make him cry like that, and tears prick at Gwyn’s eyes as she imagines TK hurt again, or worse.

“Gwyn,” Owen eventually manages to gasp out, voice wrecked. “Gwyn, it’s TK. He’s… You need to get here. You need— It’s not like last time. They don’t know if he’s going to— They don’t think— It’s bad. Really bad.”

Owen breaks off, crying harder, and Gwyn claps a hand to her mouth. She remembers well how devastated he’d been when he called about the gunshot, but this a whole other level. Gwyn’s head spins with the potential implications of that and she finds her breath coming in sharp gasps, but it’s Owen’s next words that knocks it from her altogether.

“They think we should say goodbye.”

The rest of the story comes haltingly—someone got angry after his son couldn’t be saved on a call, he came to the firehouse, he attacked TK—but Gwyn barely hears it. Her boy is in the hospital again and this time…this time he might not be coming home. She can’t understand it; she spoke to him just two days ago, they made plans for he and Carlos to visit for Isaac’s birthday, and now…

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn,” Owen finishes. She feels a flash of that age-old urge to scream at him, but she fights it off, not wanting to wake Isaac.

“I’ll be on the first flight over,” she promises, then ends the call, sliding off the couch to the floor. Her phone falls from limp fingers and harsh sobs tear from her throat, muffled by the press of her fist against her mouth.

Enzo finds her there an hour later and immediately takes her in his arms, not complaining about her tears soaking his shirt. When she tells him what happened, he insists on joining her, and Gwyn allows herself to take that shred of comfort and run with it.

She thinks it’s the only comfort she’s likely to get right now.

The next flight isn’t until morning, so Gwyn spends a sleepless night packing and unpacking their suitcases and making phone calls with the firm and her clients to cancel everything for the foreseeable. She has the brief, terrible thought about whether she should pack funeral attire, which almost sends her into a panic attack as reality hits her all over again.

Enzo saves her from it, gently guiding her to bed, but not before she packs the clothes anyway.

Isaac seems to pick up on her mood when they’re hurrying out of the house, remaining mostly quiet aside from the odd question about where they’re going. He perks up considerably when he finds out they’re heading to Austin, babbling about seeing TK, and Gwyn has to blink hard to keep from crying again. Enzo reaches over to take her hand, and he barely lets go until they’re landing in Austin.

*

The entrance to the ICU looms before her, and Gwyn feels stuck. There had been a part of her, still, that had hoped to find TK miraculously awake and on the mend, like the last time she had made this trip. She doesn’t want to believe that he’s here, hurt, maybe dying.

But he is, and she’s forcefully reminded of that fact when a kind-looking nurse approaches her hesitantly.

“Ma’am? Can I help you?”

Gwyn blinks at her, her brain taking a moment to catch up. “I, um. I’m here to see my son. TK Strand.” She pauses, then shakes her head, cursing herself internally. “Tyler Kennedy Strand.”

The nurse’s entire demeanour changes, a sympathetic smile taking over her face. “This way.” She leads Gwyn through the ICU, then points at a door near the end of the corridor. “Tyler’s room is just there. I promise, we’re doing everything we can for him.”

Gwyn nods absently, her gaze stuck on the door the nurse had indicated. She walks forward slowly, the room seeming to get further and further away until, suddenly, she’s standing on the threshold, and she sees her son.

TK is barely visible, his face half-obscured by the ventilator, half by bruises, and heavy gauze covers his forehead. His arms, resting limply at his sides, are littered with scrapes, and if Gwyn squints, she can just about make out more bandages peeking out from under the hospital gown.

She’d thought that seeing him would make it all real, but she feels separate from everything somehow, only one thought going through her mind on repeat.

This is not my son.

A quiet whisper draws her attention to the figure sitting at TK’s side. Gwyn has to suppress a gasp as she takes in Carlos’s appearance; she hasn’t seen him in person since the wedding last year, and his pale face and red-rimmed eyes cut a stark contrast to that day. He hasn’t noticed her yet, wholly fixated on TK, one hand gently stroking the tufts of hair poking out above the bandage. His lips move and Gwyn knows she should walk away, but instead she finds herself leaning closer, straining to hear Carlos’s words.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he’s saying. “I know you’re fighting and I know you’re going to try as hard as you can to come back to us—believe me, Ty, I am praying every day to see those pretty green eyes of yours open again. But I—I want you to know that it’s okay if you can’t. If it gets too hard, if you need to let go, you can. I already miss you like crazy and I really, really, don’t want to live the rest of my life without you, but the thing I can’t stand more than that is the idea of you suffering.

“Come back if you can, but if someday you find you can’t, remember that I love you and we’ll be okay. I promise.”

Carlos sniffs and ducks his head to place a gentle, lingering kiss on TK’s cheekbone. It’s such a tender, intimate moment, but it quickly shatters when Carlos looks up and spots her, his eyes going wide. “Gwyn. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.”

She waves him off, willing herself to finally step into the room. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have said something, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Carlos nods, giving her a small, sad smile, which Gwyn does her best to return. She pulls up another chair and sinks into it, reaching out to take TK’s hand. She’s startled by the coolness of his skin, and more tears burn in the back of her eyes.

“What did the doctors say?” she asks, clearing her throat and twisting her body towards Carlos, though her eyes never leave TK.

“That it was a miracle he made it through surgery,” Carlos says, sighing wearily. “Eight stab wounds, too much blood loss, damage to his organs, broken ribs—that’s all bad enough, but they’re most worried about his brain. He took at least two blows to the head, and add that to the fact he wasn’t breathing for a good few minutes… They keep saying not to speculate, but we all know the odds here.”

Carlos’s voice breaks and Gwyn reaches out to comfort him, feeling sick to her stomach at the revelation. Why anyone would do this to her boy, she can’t comprehend; she finds herself both wanting answers and feeling unable to take any more.

Owen chooses that moment to appear in the doorway, looking every bit as wrecked as he sounded on the phone. “Gwyn,” he says roughly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Carlos moves as if to give them privacy, but Gwyn shakes her head at him, cutting off his protests before he can even get them out. “You stay with him, Carlos,” she tells him. “We’ll talk in the hall.”

They head to a quiet spot not too far from TK’s room, and Gwyn turns to face Owen, holding her arms. “What the hell happened, Owen? Why is our son lying in there, not even breathing on his own?”

A flicker of a frown crosses Owen’s face. “I told you—”

“No, you didn’t.” Gwyn clenches her jaw, staring him down. “You said he’d been attacked, not that some maniac had used him as their personal punching bag.”

A few more seconds pass before Owen relents, sighing. “There was a call,” he starts, voice heavy with sorrow. “A car accident; dad and his kid were trapped inside. We got the dad out but the son was stuck pretty good. It took a long time to free him and by then it was too late—EMS did their best, but he was gone.

“The dad went ballistic, screaming at all of us, but especially at TK. We don’t really know why, but it was probably a convenience thing; TK had been the one to break the news, he was the closest person—the guy wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He threatened him, tried to hit him—the cops had to arrest him eventually, but you know TK. He refused to press charges, said that the dad was just in shock and that he understood.”

Gwyn smiles a little at that; her son has always been too forgiving for his own good. It’s never come back to hurt him this badly before, though.

Owen pauses, throat bobbing as he seems to work up to the next part. His voice is quiet, and he seems reluctant to meet Gwyn’s eyes. “He showed up at the firehouse a week later—the dad, I mean. He said he wanted to apologise and, I swear, Gwyn, he really did seem genuine. None of us wanted to let him near TK, but ultimately it was TK’s decision. They went round the side of the house to talk; when neither of them came back after twenty minutes, we went looking.

“By that time, the guy was gone, and TK was…” He stops and shakes his head, swallowing hard. “He could barely breathe. Tommy and Nancy did what they could and they got him here quickly, but we have no idea how long he’d been like that before we found him.”

Gwyn’s head snaps up, a white-hot anger flashing through her. “I can’t believe you,” she hisses. “You left our son alone with a man who had already threatened him for twenty minutes, Owen.”

Owen frowns. “I told you, he seemed genuine. And TK—”

Gwyn can’t help it; she slaps him. “Don’t you dare,” she grounds out, crowding into Owen’s space. “Don’t you dare act like this was his fault.”

“I wasn’t—”

Her arm moves on instinct, but before she can connect again, a hand closes around her wrist. Gwyn turns to find Enzo staring at her, brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Gwyn, what’s going on?”

She shakes her head and takes a step back from Owen, freeing herself from Enzo’s grasp. “What’s going on,” she responds tightly, “is that he is part of the reason why my son is half-dead in there.”

Enzo gapes between them. “What?”

She ignores the question, needing to focus on anything else to keep her anger from overwhelming her. “What are you doing here anyway? Where’s Isaac?”

“He’s with Grace and Judd, they offered to babysit so I could come here. What—”

“Hang on,” Owen interrupts. “What is he doing here? I figured he’d stay in New York with the kid.”

“Isaac is TK’s brother, Owen,” Gwyn says, turning on him again. “And Enzo has just as much right to be here as any of us; he was more of a father to TK than you were sometimes.”

Owen’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Him? You’re joking, right?”

Gwyn isn’t sure what happens next, who starts it, but soon they’re all yelling, insults and accusations flying around the ward. There’s a furious nurse heading their way, but before she can say anything, another voice cuts through the argument, quiet and trembling but still somehow powerful.

“Get out,” Carlos says. “All of you.”

They all turn to him, Gwyn’s lips parting in shock. Owen takes a step towards him, holding his hands out in a gesture that’s probably meant to be pacifying.

“Carlos—”

“I mean it, Owen,” he snaps, harsher than Gwyn has ever heard him before. “You all screaming at each other is the last thing any of us needs, least of all TK. The only person to blame in all this is the guy who attacked him, and he’s already in custody; he’ll get what’s coming to him. If TK—” Carlos breaks off, clenching his jaw and staring down at the floor. He closes his eyes for a moment, before breathing out shakily and looking back up at them. “If anything changes, I’ll call you, I promise. But you can’t be here right now. Go, please.”

Carlos doesn’t wait for a response before turning on his heel and going back into TK’s room, reassuming his position next to the bed. Gwyn watches him for a second, nodding when Enzo pointedly takes her elbow.

“He’s right,” she says, directed at Owen. “We should go.”

Owen glares, gearing up to argue again, but he must think better of it as he suddenly slumps, all the energy draining out of him. “Right,” he mutters. “Right.”

They file slowly out of the ICU, closely watched by the hard eyes of the nurse from before. Gwyn spares one last look before forcing herself forwards; if getting here was hard, walking away is a thousand times worse.

*

Three weeks pass with no change and, crucially, no improvement. Gwyn spends more time with Carlos than she ever has before, and she hates that it’s her son being comatose that has brought the two of them closer. A tentative peace exists between her and Owen and she knows—truly, she knows—that the attack wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing that could have stopped it.

But she can’t help but be angry that, once again, her son was seriously hurt and she wasn’t around.

She takes Isaac to see TK once, when the worst of the bruises have faded a little. She worries that he’ll be scared, and he does seem to hesitate when they reach the room; in truth, Gwyn hadn’t wanted to bring him at all, but he’d kept asking about TK and she’d found herself helpless to do anything but acquiesce.

They still haven’t told him what’s going on. No-one knows how to. All Isaac knows is that TK is a little hurt and he needs rest, and even that knowledge seems to upset him.

Once he gets used to the sight, Isaac stretches his hands out to the bed. “TK,” he says simply, looking pleadingly up at Gwyn.

She hugs him close, trying to smile for him. “TK’s asleep, sweetie,” she explains. “He needs rest.”

“When wake up?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

*

Three weeks pass, and the doctors start talking about options and next steps. It’s obvious what that’s code for—they want to pull the plug. They’re told to take all the time they need to discuss it but, ultimately, the decision will be Carlos’s, as TK’s husband and next of kin.

Gwyn knows what choice he’s going to make; it’s the same one she, or anyone else in his position, would make.

That doesn’t make it any easier to bear, for any of them.

Gwyn finds him in the hallway, bent over with his head in his hands. She goes over and quietly sits in the chair next to him, placing a comforting hand on his back.

There’s a long silence before Carlos sniffs and turns to her, his face the picture of devastation. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Gwyn,” he whispers, voice cracking. “How am I supposed to just give up on him like that?”

She shakes her head. “You’re not giving up on him, Carlos. You’re letting him go.”

“I don’t know how to do that either.”

“None of us do.”

Silence again, but this time, it’s Gwyn that breaks it first. “Listen, Carlos, I know this is hard. God knows I wish none of us were even here. But we are, and we have to do what’s best for everyone, including TK.”

“I know that,” Carlos admits. “I just don’t want to lose him.” He closes his eyes and leans into Gwyn, allowing her to wrap him in a hug. “I wish we had more time.”

Gwyn’s heart breaks all over again, and she squeezes his shaking shoulders. “We’ve got time,” she says, though she knows that’s not what he meant. “As much as you need.”

The sob she’s answered with tells her there’s not enough time in the world for Carlos to say goodbye to TK.

*

The call comes in the middle of the night. Dread pools in Gwyn’s gut as she accepts it and lifts the phone to her ear, her hands trembling.

“Owen?”

“Gwyn. TK, he—he woke up. It was only for a few seconds, but he woke up, Gwyn. The doctors said it was a miracle; they think he might actually recover.”

Gwyn gasps, a sob crawling up her throat as the news sinks in. It’s everything she’s been praying for ever since that first call, and all she can think about now is getting to TK.

“I’ll be at the hospital in fifteen,” she says. She ends the calls and raises her hands to her face, wiping away the tears beginning to fall from her eyes.

Maybe this nightmare is finally coming to an end.

*

TK is off getting tests when Gwyn arrives, but she’s finally allowed back in the room an hour later, Carlos and Owen on her heels. The ventilator has been removed, replaced by a nasal cannula, and his eyes are open—barely to slits, but Gwyn doesn’t care. TK is awake and alive, and that’s all that matters.

As soon as she’s in the chair by the bed, she reaches out for him, her touch feather-light as she strokes his cheek. “My brave boy,” she whispers wetly. “My brave, brave boy.”

TK’s head rolls on the pillow so he’s facing her and he mumbles something that’s probably meant to be a greeting, but the words jumble together and come out as gibberish.

Gwyn thinks it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

They’ve all been briefed about the risks of brain damage and all the potential lasting consequences which could impact the rest of TK’s life. But right now, as she holds TK’s hand with Carlos on his other side and Owen at her back, Gwyn chooses to take solace in the constant rise and fall of TK’s chest and the heart monitor beeping out a steady rhythm.

There’ll be enough time for worry later; for now, her son is alive, and Gwyn can’t think of anything else that's more important.