#arson writes

[spacecowboyhotch]

The Brink

summary: you and aaron try for a baby.

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

contents: NSFW/18+/MINORS DNI, pwp, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint

wc: 1.2k

gif credit: @hotch-girl

an: first proper hotch fic ive written since sept of last year. hotch girls make some noise, it’s been a long time cominnnnn’! this isn’t beta’d so if there’s typos blame grammarly 🤪

cm masterlist | requests closed

“Oh god, Aaron, please,” You whine softly into the sheets, attempting to rock back against him.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you,” He shushes you gently, pulling back just a bit before easing back inside of you and staying still.

He’s driving you insane in the best way and all you can do is take what he’s giving you.

You’re so warm. The warmest you’ve ever been in your life, surrounded by heat, and while you generally prefer to bundle up in the cold there is no other place you’d rather be right now. There’s sweat pooling in the dip of your back, coating every inch of your skin that is practically suffused to Aaron’s. He’s draped his entire body over yours, his hips moving forward in a slow grind that presses the tip of his cock at the spot deepest inside of you.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed, but what you are sure of is that there was at least a bit of dusk peeking through the blinds when he’d first carried you to bed. You feel as though he’s consumed you— his hands, his mouth, they’ve been everywhere and you haven’t had a single complaint.

You’d told him that evening that you were ready to have a child with him in the most nonchalant way. As always you were perched in his lap, grinding down against him until he’d gone mad and needed you as much as you needed him. And when he had reached for protection like he always does, you grabbed his hand and fixed him with a look that made him feel like you wanted to swallow him whole.

Don’t. I want to try, Aaron. I want you to fill me up, you’d said.

His head had tilted, eyes scanning your face as he assessed you for what felt like an eternity before quietly asking you if you were sure. And when you nodded, opening your mouth to speak, he hadn’t even given you the chance because he lunged forward, pressing his lips to yours in a frantic, hungry kiss. You’d been frozen, succumbing to his mouth before your brain recalibrated, able to match his fervor.

It took no time at all for him to get you both naked, to have you cumming on his fingers and tongue. Aaron’s always giving in bed, but it is his way of taking. Your pleasure and his pleasure are almost one and the same, two veins that feed into each other.

“I love you,” He murmurs against the skin of your neck before pressing a series of kisses to the column of your throat, trailing them over the slope of your shoulder.

You shiver against his mouth, reaching back with a hand to bury it into his messy, slick hair, “I love you, too.”

“Are you ready for me to put a baby in you, sweetheart?”

This time your shiver is more of a shudder. You support your head in the cup of your palm, turning to glance over your shoulder at him as you nod frantically. “Please. Please.”

“One more time, sweet girl, ask me one more time. The way you beg…” He breathes, the sound hitching in his chest.

You notice that his eyes are cloudy, with love and lust, as he stares at you. Your mouth pulls up in a lazy, satisfied smile. Yes, you’re always happy to submit to Aaron, to have him scramble your brain until your only words are his name and some sort of pleading for more. But sometimes —unknowingly— Aaron submits to you too. Your every ask is met with yes no matter how long it’s been, how tired he is— in and out of the bedroom.

“Please, Aaron.”

“I’m right here. Right here, it’s alright, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you want,” He reassures you softly.

Despite that reassurance, he doesn’t quicken his pace or increase the force of his hips. He continues to grind into you, wanting to stay as close to you as humanly possible. To cum as deeply inside of you as possible, hellbent on it to take. And while you’re confused, this much different than how he usually works you both to climax, you trust him with everything.

“Look at me,” He breathes into your ear, and you do, your eyes meeting his once more.

There’s a desperation in his eyes, a wildness you’ve never seen before and you know that he’s just on the brink. His hips move sloppily against yours though there’s still no change in his methods. He feels like he’s acting on instinct, like some need in his body has taken over and he can hardly think about anything but you. The way you smell, the way you feel around him— tight and wet— the way you’re looking back at him with this pleading expression on your face.

The sight of him like this is what sends you over the edge, and you cum with a whine, somehow squeezing him tighter than you had before. He follows you, burying his face in the smooth skin of your back as he fills you with warmth. The groan he lets out is deep and filthy, his breath tickling you and making you squirm. It sends him deeper, and his hips buck forward, keeping every single drop of him inside of you.

If this doesn’t take, he doesn’t know what will.

He avoids putting all of his weight on you by turning you both on your sides, hooking a leg through yours, and wrapping his arms around you so there’s nowhere for you to go— not that you’re in any rush to move. Not that you could with how exhausted you are from being tangled in bed with him for so long.

“Incredible stamina,” You tease as you try to recenter your breaths.

“We’re never doing that again,” He huffs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You laugh softly, leaning into his touch, “What time is it?”

He glances behind him to the clock on his bedside table, and you feel rather than see his grimace. “Eight,” He says reluctantly, knowing what’s about to happen.

You glare over your shoulder at him, “Aaron, I missed my show.”

“Maybe next time, you should tell me you want to have a baby on a day you have nothing to watch,” He says matter-of-factly, mouth twitching as he tries not to laugh.

“I always have something to watch.”

“I’d deem it a worthy sacrifice.”

His words make you smile, heart going gooey. Any grumpiness about your show fades as you nod softly in agreement, “Yeah, me too.”

“And sweetheart?”

“Hmm?” You hum as you lay back against him again, eyes slipping shut.

His lips are at your ear, his voice just a whisper, “I recorded your show. All of them, they always record.”

The smile on your face widens, making your cheeks ache, “You’re a perfect man.”

“I try,” He quips.

The two of you lay there for a while until he convinces you to clean up and order food. And as you sit with your feet in his lap, tuned into your show, Aaron glances over at you, his heart full. He hopes that this little slice of life you have together with get brighter with your growing family.

cm taglist: @ssahotchsbitch , @ssamorganhotchner, @kuolonsyoja, @heliotropehotch, @averyhotchner, @zetasaturno99, @art-and-thoughts, @ssa-montgomery, @thinking-bucky, @ashhotchner, @moonshine-evelyn, @emlynblack , @sunshinemunchkin, @angelfxllcm, @wheelsupmarvel, @jaspxr, @gspenc, @sadgirlml, @hotchs-bitch , @crowfootwrites, @wilbur-rabbit, @hotched, @greg-montgomery, @reidselle, @fightingdragonswithwho, @honeybrowne, @rousethemouse, @eternal-silvertongued-prince, @mayasreadingnook, @lesbianhotch

[arsonyard]

HI I POSTED ON AO3

its a porny part of Aether/Dewdrop from my long fic, wanted to post it sepparatedly cuz some peeps dont like long fics nor reader inserts so theres none of that in here, just Aeth and Dew fuckin ehheh

ENJOY THE PORN

gonna post the rest of the scenes that dont include my reader insert sepparatedly eheh

[arsonanddahlias]

Okay, so picture this. Soulmate au specifically red sting of fate. Growing up, Ray always makes sure to remind Julie that she is whole and complete without her soul ates, which leads to Julie not putting too much pressure on the whole soulmate thing. Because of this, she never really tries to follow the string and find her soulmate, trusting fate to bring them to her in due time.

Growing up, Luke was always super excited to find his soulmate, quite literally buzzing, desperate to follow his red string. Unfortunately, he lives too far away. Until his family decides to move to Hollywood, and Luke befriends the boys, including Bobby. One day they all head to Bobby's house, and Luke feels a tug in his bones to follow his string very suddenly. He does, and it leads him into the studio, where he finds.... The end of the string. He is inconsolable for weeks because how could cupid be so cruel

And maybe it stings a little that, when he dies, he still hasn't figured out why.

24 years later, Julie, who is 15 now, decides that she wants to try to look for her soulmate. She ultimately decides against taking flynn with her, because this feels personal, and begins following the string. It takes her a little way out of the city, towards a cemetery. Julie hesitates, but decides to continue on. She makes her way forward, until she comes upon a grave, with the string burrowing into the dirt. She stands for a moment, until realisation hits her like a train, and she falls to her knees, sobbing. She knows, logically, that this shouldn't matter, and that she is not alone, but she can't help but feel lost in that moment, like she misses this person before she's even met them. She sits at their grave, running her hands over the engravings, "Luke Patterson, 1978-1995, beloved musician, friend and son". And she can't help but cry for him, and for herself, because how could cupid be so cruel

[bamsara]

The Rehabilitation of Death

Chapter 17: Drunken Gods

On this day, The Lamb declares a holy day. For a wedding, for a feast, and for a festival to celebrate the grand harvest.

Despite his initial reservations (and after a particularly horrid nightmare) Narinder decides to attend, if just to please the Lamb well enough that they'd leave him well enough alone after. That's the only reason, surely.

With followers intoxicated, the cult becomes a ground of wild party, and Gods are not immune to the temptation of overindulgence.

There's music, fighting, flirting, more fighting. There are shenanigans all evening; including but not limited to: uncomfortable socialization, reminiscing on one's past, impulsive decisions of the close-proximity sort, hide-and-seek games, and sparring with drunken, uncontrollable bloodlust that may or may not lead to a near-mental snap with eldritch power when you remember something you weren't supposed to.

Read Tags/Notes for Warnings. Chapter Wordcount: 25,674

Happy Reading!

[ghostbsuter]

Danny got comfortable on the roof, leaning froward with anticipation.

A silent thump and a person slid next to him, Danny barely gave the red head a glance.

"Any reasons to be on the roof at night?"

He shushes the vigilante, eyes not leaving the spot. It has Roy crouching next to him, watching as well.

Out of nowhere, a vampire looking fella flew around wildly, not far behind a ginger woman on a hoverboard, flying after him.

The Lady is shooting lasers with deathly accuracy, the man (?) dodging barely. It had Arsenal hum at the show.

"That's my mom." Danny points at the lady. "The guy she's hunting keeps harassing me so she took matters into her own hands."

Cheshire Cat lands not far away from the two, head tilted with a silent question that had Roy nodding and she is leaping away to the next roof once more.

"Why not call the authorities?" He asks, appearing less tense and more friendly to the teen.

The kid whistles sharp with a grin before answering.

"Tried, unfortunately, he's super rich with influence and connection. So here we are." He shrugs.

While they watch the chaos a bit longer, Roy ignores the insisting buzzing from his comm, Cheshire Cat probably alarmed Oliver by now.

He looks up when Danny stands, stretching.

"What was your name again?" He quirks his brow with a smile.

"I don't remember telling you."

Roy rolls his eyes, joining the teen to his feet. "So?"

"Danny."

He steps off the roof before Roy can react, a shout building up, until he sees the kid sitting on the hoverboard of his mother, her hand ruffling his hair.

"See ya, Arsenal."

They're long gone when Arsenal huffs, laughing.

"Until next time, Danny."

[smartass-hoot]

IF YOU COPIED SOMETHING BUT ACCIDENTALLY COPIED SOMETHING ELSE AND LOST THE TEXT YOU ORIGINALLY COPIED, JUST PRESS [ WINDOWS + V ] AND YOU CAN SEE YOUR CLIPBOARD HISTORY

[pellaaearien]

My love should wear a warning sign

Fawney Rig's been sold. Hob Gadling has some unfinished business.

“Fawney Rig’s been sold.”

Hob chokes on his hot chocolate, coughing through the scalding liquid before looking up at Johanna with streaming eyes. “What?” he demands, voice reedy.

Constantine’s eyes are dark and steady as she watches him. “Sounds like the money’s run out,” she says, not even trying to pretend that she’d come by the information incidentally. She’d been looking into this. Hob can see it in the sharp, bitter curve of her smile, the quiet relish with which she offers it. “The old man’s been moved to hospice for treatment. Sleep disorder.”

Hob knows the vindictive grin spreading across his face is the mirror of Johanna’s. Oh, Dream. You wondrous thing. He has absolutely no desire to get involved in Dream’s personal revenge, but this is something he has to do.

“Oh yeah?” he says casually, like the news is of passing interest. It’s… a little bit scary, actually, how little the knowledge that the house is empty now actually matters to him.

He’d have burned it to the ground regardless and knows he wouldn’t have lost a wink of sleep over it, even without Dream’s influence.

Johanna hands him a glass vial. Hob can’t tell what’s in it. It looks clear but he can feel the weight of it in his palm. The bottled potential. Hob eyes it, and then her.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“Free of charge,” Johanna says breezily, then turns and leaves.

(Read on Ao3)

[tenaciousgeckos]

[marcobodtlives]

My Roman Empire this, my Roman Empire that,

Well they’re my Burning of the Library of Alexandria

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Pen's Song-Story Writing Challenge Extravaganza Submission!

@alilbatwrites your song was "The Law" by Reach, here is a snippet based on that!!

When Hero got back to the league from saving the city, they had expected celebration, or at least a thank-you. What they got instead was… eye-opening to say the least. They opened the doors to a bunch of stone-faced, enhanced superiors.

“Uh…what?” Hero asked, confused, “did I cause collateral damage again? I thought I was careful this time!”

“It isn’t that, Hero,” Superhero started.

“You took Supervillain down in under two minutes,” another super stated.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Hero joked.

When they received no response, Hero faltered.

“It…it’s not a bad thing, right?”

“Hero, you know our League is here to keep the nation’s peace,” Superhero said, “and to eliminate security risks.”

“Well, yeah, I’d day I did pretty good out there,” Hero said, “so why do you all seem upset?”

The sound of footsteps behind them made Hero’s head turn. Two league agents put a hand on each of Hero’s shoulders.

“Superhero,” Hero asked nervously, turning back to face their superior, “what’s going on?”

“We took a risk letting you roam free with your powers of energy manipulation,” Superhero said, “your abilities have grown to an incredible strength, and now the risks outweigh the benefits. I’m sorry, Hero.”

As Superhero spoke, one of the agents jammed the end of a needle into Hero’s neck. Hero cried out in pain, feeling ice flood their veins.

“So that’s it- you’re just going to get rid of me because I’m too good at my job!?” Hero asked desperately, feeling their limbs turn to lead.

“Your powers will only increase exponentially from here,” another league member said, “if we don’t contain you now, we’ll never be able to stop you if you become a threat.”

Hero tried to wrench themselves from the agents’ grips, but they held them fast. Hero’s knees buckled just as a wheelchair with padded restraints came into view.

“Take them down to Containment Level 3,” Superhero ordered.

“N-no,” Hero slurred.

Hero felt themselves be lifted into the wheelchair. Straps tightened across their body just as their vision began to fade. Their head sank down into their chest as the drug sucked them under.

…

When Hero awoke next, they thought maybe the events from earlier were just a bad dream. Maybe Supervillain had defeated them, and they would wake up in the med bay with Superhero by their bedside. Hero opened their eyes to a stark white room. They looked down at their form and found that they had been stuffed in some kind of straight-jacket suit, the buckles going all the way down to their ankles. Hero jerked upright, trying and failing to free themselves. They tried to call on their power, but their movements were sluggish, and their energy barely materialized.

Hero fought back the tears that brimmed in their eyes. They had figured if they ever did get captured, it would be by some criminal, never by their own team, the people they fought beside every day. Now their team- their family- had them drugged up and restrained in a cell just like those criminals they had been taught to fight. When they couldn’t fight them any longer, Hero let the tears fall with a choked sob.

“Hey,” a voice echoed.

Hero looked up, sniffling. The door opened, revealing a league agent.

“What do you want?” Hero asked bitterly.

“Seriously?” the league member demanded indignantly, “I come all this way to save you and-oh. Right. The outfit.”

The league member unbuttoned their uniform to reveal a familiar, dark suit underneath.

“Villain?” Hero asked in disbelief.

“Duh,” Villain said, “saw what you did out there with Supervillain. That was pret-ty impressive. But I knew your precious league wouldn’t like it. So here I am.”

Hero remembered the stories Superhero had told them about Villain, how they had abandoned the league years ago. They remembered the late-night, rooftop conversations with Villain, about how the league wasn’t what they seemed.

“Are you going to say, ‘I told you so’?” Hero asked dejectedly.

“Nah, you’ve been punished enough,” Villain said, “come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Villain worked to free Hero from their restraints. They pulled out a syringe filled with liquid.

“This is gonna counteract the junk they’ve pumped in your system,” Villain said, “the car’s outside waiting. We can be out of the city limits in an hour… unless you’d like to torch this place first?”

Hero shook their head, holding their arm out for Villain to administer the antidote.

“I just wanna go,” Hero said.

“I gotcha,” Villain said, helping them up, “leave the torching to me then.”

…

Villain drove off, Hero in the passenger seat, the league base ablaze behind them.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @thepenultimateword

[spacecowboyhotch]

Soothe & Sleep

summary: miguel always comes home to soothe your aches.

pairing: afab!reader x miguel o’hara

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, soft!miguel, kissing, biting, cockwarming, unprotected sex

wc: 1.3k

an: this was literally just an excuse to write cockwarming with miguel. not beta’d and barely proofread as i JUST wrote this like an hour ago lmao. might be ooc as ive only seen the movie once. in honor of Father’s Day for our favorite dilf 🥰

misc. masterlist | requests are open

You’re always needy when Miguel walks through the door. Sometimes there are days and days of missing him, short bits of contact here and there as he traipses through the multiverse, but none of that compares to having him standing and breathing right in front of you.

You know that he’s exhausted by the time he makes it home— and you’ve tried to quell your neediness, to show him you’re happy he’s home without latching yourself to him the moment he comes through the door. There’s something about him, about the love that you two share that makes moments away from him feel like an eternity, even if he’s gone just for a few hours. But, he never fails to come home to you and make you feel like he never left.

When he makes it home this time, you’re sprawled out on the couch, eyes fixed on a herd of meerkats that are trying to make it to a watering hole. The sound of a key in the door makes a smile spread across your face, but you keep your eyes on the screen, invested.

“They survived the jackals?” He calls from the door over the sound of him shedding his suit.

You pause the show, turning around to perch your head on the back of the couch. It gives you the perfect view of him sliding into a pair of boxers that he keeps in the foyer closet. “They survived the jackals two weeks ago.”

He sighs, closing the space between you so that he can cup your face in his large hands, “I’m missing too much, it sounds like you need to stop watching this without me.”

“Or, you could just stop going away,” You tease, raising up on your knees to press your mouth to his.

“If I could stay home with you, I would, amor,” He says longingly between kisses. He deepens the kiss, keeping you from responding to his rebuttal. The last thing he wants it’s to send you into one of your spirals, not when all he wants to do is show you how much he missed you.

Miguel’s hands trail down your body, slowly and softly. His fingers brush against your collar bones, the swell of your breast before taking their place at your hips and lifting you off the couch. You groan into his mouth— the way that he man handles you never fails to have arousal stretching through your entire body. Your hands raise to his hair, tilting his head back so that you can lick more deeply into his mouth, tracing over the points of his fangs.

He gets your legs wrapped around his waist, and walks around to the front of the couch, sitting you both down. Perched in his lap like this, he can grind you down against his clothed cock, which has been growing harder and harder since you kissed him.

You’re content to stay like this until the two of you lull into sleep. Sometimes he’s too tired to go any further than this, but that’s just fine. As long as you get to feel him, to taste him, to be completely surrounded by him after being apart for the last week. The way you miss each other shows— the kisses and grinding and groping grows frantic and rushed. Your skin is unbearably hot, seemingly only cooled by his hands or mouth. Only Miguel can soothe your aches, whether they sit in between your legs or in your heart.

“Need to be inside you,” He mumbles against your skin, biting down gently as his hands easily tear through your shorts and underwear with no warning.

“Miguel,” You breathe in surprise, pulling back an inch to look into his eyes.

“Let’s get you wet enough for me, cariño,” He takes two fingers and rubs them against your clit at a steady pace, licking and sucking at the bite mark left behind by his teeth.

In less than a minute you completely coat his fingers in slick, whimpers and moans spilling out of you at an increasing rate. He presses his fingers into your mouth and you lap at them eagerly as he removes his boxers and lifts you, lining himself up with you.

“I missed you, so fuckin’ much,” He sighs, head tilting back as you take every single inch of him. You’re hot and wet, gripping him so tight that it takes effort to breathe. His chest heaves, head swimming with everything you.

“Missed you,” You whine softly, tucking your face into his neck. He’s deep, it’s almost as if you can feel him in your lungs, taking up all the space inside of you— something you’d happily let him do.

“I know you did, needy baby,” He teases breathily, pressing several kisses to the side of your head as he rotates his hips.

The slow grind makes your breath catch, and you grow needy for more, wanting to build the pleasure that’s festering inside of you. You try to move your hips, to ride him properly but his hold on you tightens, tongue clicking in admonishment.

His lips fall to your ear, his voice firm and commanding, “I want you just like this. Can you feel how deep I am?”

“Mhmm,” You agree easily, though it takes much more effort than you let on to still your hips again.

“I want you to sit still, need to see if I can make you cum just from sitting with my cock inside you. You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” He knows that there’s no need for him to ask, but he wants to hear you say it.

“So good, I’ll be so good for you, I promise,” You answer immediately.

Miguel makes a soft approving sound in the back of his throat before using a hand to grasp the nape of your neck, pulling you back so that he can see your face. He grins down at you, noticing the cock drunk look in your eyes. He loves you in all states, even when you’re cranky or fed up with him for the day, but this is one of his favorites.

His fingers return to your clit and his hips move side to side in the softest, steadiest rhythm you’ve ever felt. It almost drives you mad, the teasing feeling of him inside of you with such tame relief. But then you feel something building inside of you, the pleasure sneaking up on you so quickly that you hardly have to prepare for what is unknowingly your first orgasm of the night.

“There you go, look at you. Cumming for me just from sitting here. You’re so easy for me, aren’t you?” He asks, in a soft condescending tone.

All you can do is whimper, and he kisses you as deep as he is inside of you. If this were anyone else you’d have the mind to protest, but when it’s Miguel talking to you like this you know that there’s nothing but love and adoration— wonder even in the way you submit to him.

Over and over, Miguel makes you cum on his cock until he can no longer take it, groaning loudly as he spills inside of you. You pleasantly shiver at the hot feeling of him filling you up, pressing your face further into the crook of his neck as you yawn. You’ve grown sleepy from the late hour and the draining feeling of your repeated releases, unsure of how much time has passed.

He kisses your temple and adjusts so that you both lay on the couch, though he doesn’t withdraw, pressing his hand on your back to pivot your hips and keep himself deep inside of you.

“Sleep, baby, I’ve got you,” He croons into your ear.

Falling asleep with him like this feels like a waking dream and you slip peacefully into sleep, breathing in his scent. You hope that your dreams will be of him, and just as sweet as this.

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in miguel stuff!

tagging some folks who might be interested (let me know if you want me to not!): @campingwiththecharmings, @stargazingcarol, @soft-persephone, @k-ra

[arsonyard]

Mountain and Cumulus chilling in the gardens

and something else ;)

[arsonanddahlias]

Trust me when I say I can't love you anymore, Chapter One

This fic has been completely stuck in my head for what feels like years, so here's Caleb character study with Reggie. Doing my best to break your heart. https://archiveofourown.org/works/40899150/chapters/102491910

Reggie wasn’t stupid, despite what everyone seemed to think. He’d created an elaborate facade for himself, realising pretty early on that if you lower people’s expectations of you, they’re much harder to disappoint. But he knew things, he knew that Julie was completely down bad for Luke (he’d learned that from Willie), he knew the quadratic formula by heart (thanks Mr Hegarty). Most importantly, he knew that Caleb Covington played chess, with the people at his club as the pawns. While the others had moved on, trying to regain something as close to a normal life as people who technically didn’t have a life could get, Reggie knew that Caleb was moving his pieces carefully, using his pawns to protect his King, readying his queen for attack. And Reggie knew that this game of chess that they were playing had no rules, no turns. If you didn’t make your move, you didn’t get one.

So there Reggie was, in the Hollywood Ghost Club, taking his turn. It was an unorthodox move, but he wanted to do something before it was too late, before Caleb enacted a plan it was too late to escape from. So, there Reggie was, in the Hollywood Ghost Club, sacrificing his knight to save the queen. 

Caleb rounded the corner, only letting shock paint his face for a second at the sight of Reggie outside his office. His face split into a sinister grin, as he offered his hand towards Reggie. Reggie looked at it, and then back at Caleb, without shaking. 

“Caleb”

“Reginald. Would you like to come into my office?”

“It’s Reggie. And yes, Covington, I’ve got an offer that you can’t refuse.” 

Caleb let out a small chuckle, before unlocking the door to his office, holding it open for Reggie to enter, before following him in. Caleb sat in a grand chair in front of a luxurious desk, looking the part of the villain. Reggie perched on the edge of a chair opposite him, feeling suddenly queasy. He had rehearsed this, but this place, this room, Caleb, it was all very intimidating. For a moment he had second thoughts, but the image of his friends desperately trying to escape Caleb’s grasp stuck firmly in his mind as a constant reminder of why he was here. 

“So, Reginald” Caleb started once they were inside. “Have you reconsidered my offer? Or- You said you had one of your own?”

“I’m here to trade my soul for Willie’s”

Caleb laughed. “Why would I want you over someone who has been loyal to me for over thirty years?”

“Because you’re losing power over him, and you know it's only a matter of time before he figures out a way to escape. Plus I’m powerful, we both know that.”

“Okay, if you’re so convinced that Willie will escape, what do you gain out of this deal?”

Reggie considered for a moment, deciding what cards to reveal, what pieces to move. “Because I want my friends to be safe. I offer you my soul, and in return you leave my family alone.” He looked up at Caleb with earnest eyes, hoping that honesty would gain him trust. “Plus I want to eat pizza” He tacked onto the end with a sheepish grin. 

“I can’t help but feel as if you’re offering me a price for something I can take for free” Caleb’s face was cold and analytical, and Reggie got the sense his soul was being read. It made him queasy, but he pushed through. 

“Do you really want to risk it? Do you want to risk losing Willie? Do you want to risk losing your power?”

This re-caught Caleb's attention, and he ground his jaw. “And how do I know you wont pull one of your little… stunts and leave?”

“I’m trading you my loyalty. If I leave, our deal is broken and you can hurt my friends. I mean, I came here voluntarily d-didn’t I?” Reggie was becoming more overwhelmed and hesitant, desperately hoping Caleb would stop looking for holes in his offer before he found any. 

Caleb shot Reggie his signature predator grin. “Pleasure doing business with you, Reginald.”

This time, when Caleb held out his hand, Reggie took it. He grit his teeth so Caleb couldn’t see his pain when the stamp burned. 

***

Alex and Willie weren't talking, instead they were just holding each other. It was something they liked to do, more confidently so now that they were dating. Something about the closeness was comforting, like they were more solid together, like the world couldn’t rip them apart. 

“I will never stop fighting for you” Alex whispered softly, almost like it was a secret, but the words rang so true that Willie believed that Alex would scream them from the rooftop. 

Willie pulled away from him just enough to look into his eyes, searching for hesitation but finding only love. 

“I know. I’ll always come back to yo-” Willie’s breath hitched in their throat, as he felt his guts suddenly pull upwards. 

“Willie? Are you okay?” 

Willie’s wrist burst into searing pain, and he untangled it from Alex’s waist just in time to see the purple stamp there float gently from their wrist and dissipate softly in the air. 

“Willie? Was that-”

Alex was cut off by Willie being very suddenly thrust backwards by an invisible force. They tumbled off of the sofa in the garage and onto the ground, where he lay for a few seconds, panting, before pushing off of the ground into a sitting position. Alex flew to his side immediately, placing a careful and gentle hand on their back.

“Willie?” 

“I- I think that was my soul”

***

“I just don’t understand why he would give you your soul back! Just out of the blue!” Alex was pacing again, anxiously biting his fingernails. “He has to be up to something.”

“And we’re on the runway.” Luke commented.

Julie smacked him on the arm before reaching into her bag and pulling out a fidget cube, silently handing it to Alex. As soon as it was in his hands, he stopped pacing and stood in front of the three teens on the sofa. “Maybe Caleb got injured? That would make him lose some of his power, right?” She queried, looking towards Willie for any confirmation. 

Willie shook their head, “If he was injured, I might be able to take my soul from him, but I’d have to be actively trying. Today it was like it was… pushed back in without me having a chance to see it coming. I’m with Hotdog, something is wrong. There’s no reason that after.. After 30 years of owning my soul, he’d just give it back.”

“I feel like this is a discussion we should all be here for. Where’s Reggie?” Luke chimed in, trying to sooth the anxiety growing in his own gut by delaying the conversation. (He knew it wasn’t good for Alex to delay it but he really needed a second to think.)

Alex thought for a moment, “I couldn’t find him. Maybe he’s with Ray?” 

“I’ve been with my dad all day, he’s not with him. Maybe he just needed some time alone, I mean, I’d need a break if I spent all day with Luke.” Julie shot a teasing grin at Luke.

“You do spend all day with me, dipshit” Luke shot back. 

Julie ignored him, turning back to Alex. “He’ll probably show up later with some crazy story about an adventure with a crab on the beach. Take some time to chill out and hug your partner, then we can have a band meeting later when Reggie gets back, and I can call Flynn in the meantime to update them.” She stood up and took his hand, giving it a quick, comforting squeeze. “Don’t stress it, babes.” 

Alex shot her a confused look, but she just smiled at him and walked out of the studio. Luke followed, giving Alex a side hug before running after Julie like an excited puppy. 

Alex turned back to Willie, “I think somethings wrong. I can feel it in my gut.”

“I know. I feel it too.” Willie stood in front of Alex, taking both of his hands in their own, one with the fidget cube uncomfortably wedged between. “Or maybe that's my soul, still kind of getting used to it.” 

Alex gave him a small smile. “I just can’t help but think that Reggie’s in danger. Or that Caleb-” He cut himself off with an abrupt gulp, unable to finish the sentence. 

“We’ve always figured it out before. I’m sure everything will be fine”

Everything was not, in fact, going to be fine.

[bamsara]

Do you mind

[iii-han-nah-bae-iii]

My heart burns for you. They can all smell it.

The smoke

The fury

The anguish.

They stare at me as if I'm a burning building of unrequited love,

The flames inside I tried so hard to extinguish.

Every smile, every beat of my heart, and every glance in your direction triggers the alarm.

They all know.

They’ll burn me at the stake if they find out.

I'm not safe here

- HB

[whumblr]

Duct tape

Finally finished! Just don't have a cool title but whatev, this covers it.

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

-

“I bumped into your neighbour this morning and he looked like death warmed up – bit like you do now,” Zayne pointed at Jay, “only more sniffly and red-nosed – and he looked like he couldn’t wait to have an early night. So I thought, well, that kinda puts a damper on things, doesn’t it.”

Jay followed him pacing about, not liking one bit where this was going. Especially since he was hiding something behind his back.

“Because I had plans for tonight,” Zayne continued, “And I don’t want to drag him out of bed to come up here and see what kind of bondage evening we’re engaged in.”

Not liking this one bit!

He finally got both hands from behind his back to reveal a roll of duct tape.

“So I got us precaution.”

“I’ve got some very nice speakers that can easily drown out any screams,” Jay tried, gesturing at the speaker towers and feeling his life going down the drain for even making such a suggestion.

“No, Jay, come on, the man’s sick, you can’t boombox him out of bed like that. No, this should do fine.”

“Since when do you possess empathy? You’d totally blast me out of bed like that.”

“Don’t make this anymore kinky, now.”

Zayne snapped forward and by backing away, Jay effectively helped in his own tackle. He stumbled back where Zayne’s leg was waiting to give him that nudge and he lost balance. Two fists in his shirt pushed his world upside down and, just before he smacked down, held him up inches above the floor to lessen the blow.

Out of concern for the wrong person.

Zayne grinned down on him, and then abruptly dropped him.

The soft drop flat on his back still forced out the breath he’d been holding.

“Now be a good, considerate neighbour and let the man have his peace.”

“Let me have my pea—” Jay started, but Zayne dropped on top of him, punching out the remnants of that sentence in an oof!.

He flinched at the sound duct tape being unrolled and watched as Zayne cut a piece with his teeth and tore it off.

Zayne held it out in both hands and inched closer down to Jay with a smile that would make serial killers bristle with envy.

“No no no wait!” He stretched out his hands, resting one against Zayne’s shoulder to keep him at bay. This felt like being restrained. His one defence mechanism taken away. Not so much a physical defence. Heck, tie his hands and it wouldn’t make much of a difference, not like he can fight Zayne off or try to stop it. But his voice taken away, his only means to make it stop through begging, the one thing that would at least make him pretend he didn’t just take what was doled out, his one means of fighting back. No.

“Don’t make me tape up your hands as well.”

Jay abruptly pulled his hands back.

The constant whispered stream of “nononono”s turned to an indignant hum and Zayne forced the single strip over his mouth.

“Oh, yes,” Zayne crooned. He held Jay’s face gently in his hands, cupping his cheeks and swirling both thumbs over the duct tape, smoothing the wrinkles out and pressing it into his skin. “This really brings out your eyes.”

The fear in his eyes, most likely.

Because what on earth did Zayne have in mind that he had to tape his mouth shut, what on earth was he planning that would hurt so fucking much that he would scream until his neighbour would call the alarm number?! What on—

His mind screeched to a halt when Zayne pulled his knife from his pocket.

And Jay found himself conflicted. He felt his body relax, because usually he could handle the knife. He could hold back on his screams when Zayne was carving him up, as he was forced to hold back and not cut too deep. Then again, if he was going for the same old, then why did he—

He tensed up when Zayne reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. Eyes went wide and he whimpered high in his throat as he watched Zayne pull out a lighter.

“You did well with the electricity. Time to level up to see how you handle the heat.” He flicked the lighter open, eyes fixed on Jay’s.

Jay wanted to fully tell him how he would handle the heat: not well. He wanted to scream and explain in full detail how not well he would handle this so there’d be no need to actively test it out. He already had the answer! But all that left his throat were panicky moans and distressed groans.

And going by the eager look in Zayne’s eyes – and his preparations – he knew exactly how not well this was going to go. But still, he was eager to see if Jay could prove him wrong.

“Unbutton your shirt.”

For a split-second Jay was glad for the duct tape, because he was sure his lips would have trembled at this.

Shaky fingers moved down and Jay nudged up on his elbows, glancing up at Zayne for permission, to pull his button-up away from under him. He’d rather it didn’t get caught in a fire. For… more reasons than one; reasons that wouldn’t just make Zayne roll his eyes.

He reached down to pull out his tee, but a hand on his chest encouraged him back down and Zayne settled back over him.

He protested when the knife cut into his collar and slowly carved its way down, cutting the shirt open – carelessly nicking a bit of skin on his stomach – and he let the cotton fall to the side to expose Jay’s bare torso.

“Shh, you got tons of white t-shirts. Besides, this one will be ruined anyway, with blood and cuts. And maybe…”

Jay drew up in panic as the lighter flicked on with a soft tchk, backing down again when Zayne brought the little flame closer to his face. Then, with a soft hum, he lowered it to Jay’s abdomen and held it to the tattered fabric of his t-shirt.

Jay whimpered hard as the fabric caught in the flame. He flailed and moved to put it out, but Zayne caught his hands.

“Ah-ah,” he chastised, and watched Jay squirm, felt his hips buck against his knees, when the growing flame started nipping at his body.

Before it could grow to an uncontrollable size, Zayne squashed the flame out.

“Scary, hm?”

He scooted up a little, catching Jay’s waist in-between his knees.

“Don’t worry,” he crooned, “I’m not turning this into an open fire hazard.” And he raised the lighter, holding it under the blade.

Jay’s eyes went wide and he flinched at the little tchk and the little flame that popped up. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it, watching as Zayne held his knife above the flame. Zayne watched the flame with equal fascination, now slowly swirling the blade directly into the flame. His eyes snapped to Jay’s, catching every bit of fear as he turned the blade over.

He snuffed the little fire out and put the lighter back in his pocket. His now free hand rested over Jay’s wrist, pressing it painfully against the wooden floor.

Jay’s stomach tensed as the fiery blade teased down over his chest, u-turned under his belly button and moved back up over his abdomen. A path of uncomfortable, foreboding heat tingled over his skin, until Zayne held the knife over the side of his ribcage.

“No…” he tried. But with his lips firmly stuck together, he only managed to keep a distressed moan stuck in his mouth. The meaning was clear though and he hummed his protests, shaking his head.

The hand on his wrist tightened, knees settled firmly against his waist, ready for Jay to fly up.

And he pressed the flat of the blade abruptly over two ribs.

Jay howled. Best he could. His back arched and his body shot up, a full on somatic reflex to get away from the burning pain.

The hand on his wrist shot to his chest and Zayne leaned his full weight on him to keep him down. Jay took advantage and tried to claw at Zayne’s arm, to get him to back off. But Zayne didn’t let up; he blocked the flailing with his shoulder and used his full strength to keep Jay from fighting too hard and to keep the blade firmly against his skin.

His body writhed against Zayne’s legs, feet scrambling and attempting to kick off from under Zayne, a desperate attempt to squirm away. Panicked eyes shot to his ribcage.

His skin seared, it fucking sizzled. Pain burned through him, heat spread through his skin as if it too was trying to escape from under the blade, burning everything in its path.

Then after what felt like an eternity – but was more likely not longer than ten seconds –  Zayne ripped the blade away.

Jay’s shoulders fell back against the floor, his hands fell away from Zayne. Pain still lingered and crackled under the reddened skin, as if wanting to burst free. He breathed hard through his nose, taking long deep drags, unsuccessful in getting all his air back.

Luckily, Zayne gave him a small break to catch his breath. He let his palm hover over the burn. “Ooh, that’s hot. Like you absorbed all the heat.” He then let his fingers brush near the blade and hummed. “Well, not all of it. Once more.”

A groan of protest rose to something that would’ve been a screech if Jay’d been able to scream as the blade pressed over a new rib.

“Ah, see, that definitely would have woken someone up,” Zayne said with a wicked smile.

Well, now that he didn’t have to hold back anyway, Jay didn’t see any reason to not voice his pain. He squeezed his eyes shut against the biting pain. He twisted his body, trying to get away, but Zayne held him firmly in one place, caught a flailing hand and pinned painfully it under his knee.

“Careful, careful,” he muttered absentmindedly, as he pulled the knife away again.

Jay fell back, chest heaving, trying to catch his breath. He felt like he was nearing a limit, his body languid and slow as it burned through all adrenaline. But Zayne wasn’t finished yet. And the throbbing, searing pain turned sharp.

A hot line rested over his shoulder, and suddenly the heat pressed into his skin.

The knife slid deep with ease; fire followed every micro-inch along the way. The blade probably wasn’t as hot as before, but against the sensitive open cut, every bit was too much.

Jay frantically shook his head. He tried to beg, but his sounds for “Please!” and “No!” all sounded alike, all mingling into the same distressed pained cries.

At this point, even without the duct tape and with him full on begging, he doubted that Zayne would stop. Going by that inquisitive hum and the glint in his eyes, Zayne wasn’t done yet.

Skin parted easily, again and again, deeper than usual. Zayne now probably also figured out that he wouldn’t have to hold back as usual with the tape muffling Jay’s screams. Or maybe that had been the point of all this? Maybe he hadn’t felt like holding back tonight.

Only after several hot cuts were carved into his chest, his shoulder, ripped through the sleeve of his shirt down his arm, until the blade lost most of its fiery touch, did Zayne finally sit back.

Blood seeped out from the wounds, but not freely, almost like it had to be squeezed out. Still, Jay tensed when a drop tickled down his ribcage over the sensitive irritated burns. Zayne wiped it away with the fabric of Jay’s cut shirt and the friction of cotton against the burn made Jay wince hard.

Zayne’s fingers teased over his cheek, almost affectionately as his palm turned up and he ran his knuckles lightly over his cheekbone. Then, finally signalling the end of this session, his fingers brushed down and he started picking at the duct tape.

“Slow? Or in one go? Rip it off and you wouldn’t have to shave tomorrow. Or for a while even, maybe. Bonus.”

Jay grit his teeth and hummed twice.

“One go?”

Another hum.

“Okeydokey.”

A scream was pulled free along with the tape.

Zayne snorted softly and twisted his lips to hide a smile.

“What?” Jay snarled in-between gasps of breath.

“Nothing, nothing.” He pushed himself off of Jay and got to his feet. “Go apply some lotion, or something. This shouldn’t scar but treat it well.”

Jay too scrambled to his feet and hurried to the bathroom, tearing out his first-aid kit. He hissed as he applied cool lotion to the two burns, but it also instantly brought a relief that his body had been waiting for. And his mind as well; it had been screaming for water, for something to cool the burns, for anything that would prevent this from scarring and infecting and--

He glanced up in the mirror and he saw why Zayne had to laugh. The skin around his mouth and across his cheeks was all irritated, red and wrinkly from that goddamn duct tape. The red stood out against his pale skin and crossed a path over his mouth. A single stripe that made him look like a permanently annoyed and unimpressed Joker.

A level of annoyance certainly was present, but he wasn’t unimpressed…

Leaning heavily on the sink he stared, almost a little detached, at the cuts, the blood, and the discoloured burns, all demanding his attention.

He just really wanted to crash. Follow Hank’s example and go for an early night.

And he would.

-

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