#so many arsonists in one room

[shadowjokerao3]

Happy new years everyone!

From left to right

Mike Pines by @soniccrazygal

FoxTrap be me

Plush Mike by @kiramorganpotatoqueen

Into The Pit Mike by @pixlokita

And Rockstar Lolbit by @inkspottie

Of course the only ones enjoying a party are Plush and Lolbit

[toodelusionalforreality]

Arsonist

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: With time Azriel's feelings grow and become clearer. He struggles with the dilemma of revealing the bond to his lover and leaving it upto fate.

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. I've read this so many times for edits and I'm not even sure if it's any good. I appreciate all the love for Absolution, and this one offers a glimpse to their relationship in the past.

@theflowerswillbloom for you, love. Hope you enjoy.

Word count: ~5k

Warning: 18+ NSFW, intimacy+angst+smut, f!pleasures, p in v. [too many he/she/names??]

Documenting, filing, and cataloguing—the simplest of tasks for a seasoned Spymaster—should have taken no more than a few hours at best. And yet, Azriel glared at the stacks of paperwork sitting on his desk. As soon as he arrived home, he set out to clear them in hopes of sneaking out before any of his brothers pestered him about his recent disappearances, not that his affair was a secret. Half a day later, there he was in his gloomy office with nerves on edge. 

A simple mission of surveillance had turned into a hunt of hostile outliers along the southern borders, stealing weeks from him. Luckily, he hadn’t promised N an early return. He felt guilty nonetheless for leaving her with no word.

A sadistic part of his heart wondered if she cared about him—lying awake in bed, listening for footsteps on her stairs, or rushing home to see if he was waiting for her.

Once, he returned from a similar mission earlier than expected and let his shadows stalk her for two days to see how she spent the days without him. That night, Azriel decided he was a twisted man.

Sometime after noon, he accepted his fate. He had half a mind to fling the papers into Sidra and run to N’s smithy to surprise her. How childish of him. A grown man excited to watch his lover’s face break into a kaleidoscope of emotions. N wouldn’t run into his arms, he knew, like the romantics fantasised. She was not a woman of such calibre. 

N embraced every fleeting moment with a nonchalance that bordered on lethargy. And it seeped into their relationship as well. She loved him simply—with her generous compliments, intentional touches, and domestic ease around him. She always had a smile for him. Her hands always found his hair or cheek when they lay in bed together. Sometimes, they ventured as far as his scarred ones, brought them to her lips that delivered the faintest of kisses before she drifted to sleep. Her words were nothing but genuine and certain. 

Azriel could vividly see the expression on her face if he materialised before her. She would look at him with sincere eyes, bright as the morning sun, and the corners of her lips would tug into a smile. ‘So how long do I get to keep you this time?’ she would tease.

Maybe, Azriel thought, that is enough.

Knowing she missed him dearly enough to mock his departure every time. But she also kissed him every time, she held him to her chest every time, and she looked him in the eye when they made love every time.

A cool shade fell over the room. His eyes strained to find the lines and curves he marked in black. Sweat trickled from behind his ears. Gone was the unforgiving sun crisping anything that dared set foot on the ground. With a roar of thunder that shook every stone in the walls, rains poured down. N. Azriel gathered the papers away in no order and left for the one place he knew her to be. 

Standing in front of the locked doors, he felt like a fool. The rain beat down on his leathers, mocking him. The heat from the forge radiated out of the grilled window. She was there and had left not long ago.

What did he come here for? To protect her from a rain? Or did his heart latch onto the only viable excuse presented to him at the moment? Yes, he thought, that must be it.

Azriel headed down the path to her home at the centre of the square, a long walk from her shop on the outskirts of the town. I like to work in the quiet, she had said, imagine how tempting it must be when someone’s bothering you and you have molten iron in your hands. He knew she could fight, but the last thing he suspected of his delicate lover was making tools of death and destruction. 

He hurried, short of sprinting, to catch her before she was soaked like a street rat, cold and wet. He let out an amused chuckle looking down at his own leathers. The things the woman made him worry about.

N had left earlier than usual. The way she moved, she should be home. But when Azriel’s steps faltered along the wet roads, he wasn't sure.

The streets were bare except for the few still seeking shelter from nature’s onslaught. Save for the stark silhouette of buildings and blobs of life that swished and slashed through, nothing could be seen past the wavering white veil.

A lone figure caught his eye. Edging along the walls, it braved the storm—an arm pressed to the forehead, another around the torso, shoulders hunched forward and face averted.

She looked worse than a drenched rat. Her clothes clung to her, too light to protect her from the prick of rain. The satchel across her body sagged and sagged, the seams threatening to burst at the bottom, pulling her down with it.

Azriel cursed himself. He closed the distance between them in quick strides and stretched a wing over her head. It didn’t offer much protection, but it allowed her to look up at the godsend cover and face him with a knowing smile.

The space between her brows furrowed and her eyes crinkled at the corners. Drops of water tugged at her eyelashes for mere seconds before making their descent down her pale cheeks. Her braid turned into a tangled mess, tendrils sticking to anything in their path like claws curling into her skin.

‘Want me to take you home?’

She nodded once, without hesitation, without a thought. He smiled and took her in his arms. She was shaking. Azriel preferred flying above the clouds, but he decided against it.

Between ‌her two broken breaths, his shadows dropped them on the landing in front of her house. N clutched his arms as her feet steadied under her. Letting go of him, she removed her satchel. Her arms strained under its weight. It hit the floor with heavy, contesting clanks. Probably leftovers of her day’s work that she couldn’t leave behind unfinished, even in her hurry. 

‘When did you return?’ She asked, removing her muddied boots. The leather fought worse than her bag. 

Azriel followed her cue and removed his own filthy one. ‘This morning.’ As he took off his other boot, N unbuttoned her pants. He lifted a brow. 

She chuckled, her lips trembling from the cold. ‘I’d hate to clean the house in this weather. Take your clothes off too.’ 

He gave her a dirty grin before he looked over his shoulder. The staircase behind him led to the bar downstairs. He didn’t care to be seen naked. But N? She was only for his eyes. He adjusted his wings to span the width of the narrow space, hiding her from any intruders’ view.

‘No one comes up here at this hour,’ she said as she moved on to her shirt and the tunic underneath. Her legs gave a tremor even with his warmth next to her. 

Just an inch of her bare skin made Azriel’s mouth water. And she stood there in her underwear. Mother, how much he missed her. His eyes wandered over her body—pale, cold, wet—unabashed as he undressed and tossed his clothes next to hers.

N shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. She opened the door to her one-room apartment, undoing her braid. He held on to her hips and trailed her, planting kisses on her shoulder. Her hand found his as she led him into the bathroom. It was bright, unlike his own, white and pristine. It was spacious but not enough for him, for his wings. And yet, Azriel followed her without a complaint, like a starved dog catching the scent of food after days of hunger.

Hot water hit their naked bodies. He traced his rough, scarred hands along her skin. Firm, littered with healed cuts and white scar tissue, still the softest he ever had the pleasure to touch. N shoved his hands away as she lathered herself, only to laugh when they found her again. Azriel didn’t mind that he tasted more soap than her skin on his lips with each kiss. Gods, was he desperate. 

Usually, she queried him about his day, or why he took so long. Or made a crude comment about how much she needed him only to hear him growl with desire. That day, she smiled and cleaned them both in silence with no words to distract him from her soothing touch. A proper tease.

When he wrapped his arms around her stomach and tugged her against his chest, she smacked at him. His wings flared, sending bottles off the shelf nailed to the wall. His shadows caught them before they hit the bathtub on the other side of the room.

‘Stop it,’ she giggled, soft and sweet. ‘You’re wrecking the place.’

Azriel buried his nose into her hair. Covered in soap, he still smelled her past the fragrance of jasmine. Sharp and clear, with a hint of melting iron. ‘I’ll buy you a new place.’

She laughed. A full, open laugh that shook her body. Azriel smiled. His heart tightened in his chest.

The bond was meant to tie him to her, draw him to her. He was prepared for the craving for her body, the lust that devoured him. But this was deeper. This ran in his very soul—taking his breath away unless it was the same air she breathed.

N turned around and pushed him a step back. ‘A minute, Azriel. Give me one minute,’ she said through her little laughs. She stood under the shower, tipped her head back, closing her eyes.

She didn’t understand it. She wouldn’t know his need for her unless she felt it too. She loved him though. She never said those words. But he saw the signs. In the looks she gave him, in her smiles, in the way she cared for him sometimes after long missions.

Azriel waited for the bond to piece together for her. Eighteen months. And he hadn’t told her about his torment either. It was his to bear for the time being.

He held his breath and watched the heat bring colour back to her skin, her cheeks coming alive—supple and flush. Her hair shone brighter. Her body stopped shivering and yet she draped her arms below her ribs. 

Divinely simple and utterly bare only for him.

‘Your minute’s up,’ he whispered and stepped up to her, his hands on her hips.

She opened her eyes. ‘Hi.’ She smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

Finally.

She pulled him close by his elbows. Water ran down his back and wings. She turned them around and backed away. Azriel blinked. Her laughs filled the room. N stood by the door and dried her hair. 

‘You tricked me,’ was all he said. His hands were immobile by his side, too shocked by what she had done, by what he hadn’t noticed. He was a spy, for Mother’s sake.

‘I asked you nicely.’ She patted down her body, her teasing eyes on him. ‘Now get done quick. Or do you want to stand there all night?’ And she walked out.

Azriel narrowed his eyes at her form disappearing beyond the threshold. His wings twitched, and he rolled his shoulders. He was quick, alright. He turned off the water and was out and on her in a blink. N let out a yelp when her back collided with his dripping chest. Azriel sucked on her—her neck, her shoulders, her arms. He didn’t care. As long as he had her warmth and taste. 

‘Fine, I’m sorry.’ Another laugh escaped her lips as she struggled to break free of his hold. 

Crazed like an addict taking his first hit after withdrawal, Azriel gasped against her skin. ‘Only because you asked so nicely.’ He loosened his grip. 

N faced him. She held the towel to his body—drying his neck, chest, arms, and back—slowly leading him to her bed. She left his wings untouched. She took her time while Azriel peppered pecks on her face. Anything to quench his thirst. 

‘Do you care so much for me?’ He smiled into a kiss he left on her ear. Her attention made his heart flutter.

She grinned, ‘Gods no, I don’t want you to ruin my bed.’ 

‘Your bed gets ruined every time I’m here,’ he said, teasing the shell of her ear with his tongue. A shiver went down her spine, and Azriel basked in the scent that filled the room. Her scent. The one that cried out for him, desperate and needy as him.

N tamed her face, wearing the mask of a woman who had an agenda. She pushed him back and he fell onto the mattress. She moved between his legs, a knee perched at the edge of the bed, and caressed his cheek. Her eyes were soft and caring.

He wished for nothing more than to stare into them all his life. One look at them and every moment in his life he felt unloved and unworthy was erased from his being.

His wet hair stuck to his forehead, their tips scratching at his eyelids. N brought the towel to his head. She was as gentle as ever, but Azriel couldn’t waste a second without gazing at that beautiful face of hers. He shook out of her hold, ducking his head and turning. 

‘Stop acting like a child,’ she laughed.

He grunted, ‘You’re smothering me,’ but it sounded like a whine to his ears.

‘Then stop moving!’

With a sigh, he gave up. Gods, what he wouldn’t do for her. He sat still and N allowed him the mercy to look at her. He rested his hands on her thighs, rubbing circles with his thumbs. He couldn’t help the sighs that left his lips every minute. He smiled up at her, capturing every feature on her face with the eyes of a devotee graced upon by his benevolent god. 

When N deemed him less of a sodden pup, she ran her fingers through his damp hair. She untangled each strand carefully, tugged them away from his eyes, and let them fall in their natural disarray. Her nails raked through his scalp, from his hairline to the base of his neck.

Azriel purred under her fingers. It took everything in his body not to fight against her ministrations and crush her body against his. His wings fluttered.

N looked at them and back into his eyes. Azriel nodded, his wings opening into a spread close to his body, close enough for her to reach. Droplets littered the membrane, too light to slide off under gravity. She barely touched the towel to his wing, and it twitched. She waited for a breath and tried again. This time, it held still. She repeated her movements, each time more careful than the last, from one spot to the next as gingerly as possible. 

Azriel closed his eyes. His hands smoothed over her waist, his fingers digging into her tender flesh, and pulled her close. Warmth from her body hit his face. He leaned forward, resting his forehead between her breasts. He felt her heart beat under her skin. Steady, lulling. 

That’s when he realised. It wasn’t lust that drew him to her or his bond. It was her—the solace she promised—a world far away from the treacherous reality he endured in his job, away from the nightmares of his past that haunted him, away from the loud and rush of this unjust one. 

With her, he could be still. 

With her, he could breathe. 

With her, he could just be.

She froze every minute he spent with her, entrapping him in her delicately spun cocoon of comfort. She didn’t need her words, her touch or her body. She breathed and tension in his body and soul melted away. The ghosts that followed him around faded into nothingness. Every pain in his mind, forgotten. 

She offered him life. Ecstasy at its purest.

The fabric that separated her from his wings was gone, discarded. Her fingertips grazed the outer curve of his wing. Azriel buried his face into her chest. If she allowed, he would crawl into her soul and stay there in its protection, in its everlasting, glowing warmth. He wanted nothing more than her in his life. He feathered his lips over her sternum. His wings wound around them, begging for more. He tugged her closer and pressed a kiss to her heart. The one he yearned to possess. 

N settled on his lap. Her delicate body pressed against his desperate one. Azriel looked up. With a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, she nudged him out of his swarming thoughts.

‘You’re a handful, you know that? You don’t make it easy to care for you.’

He smiled. ‘I missed you.’ He smiled a lot around her as if she drew each one out from the very depths of him.

Mischief sparkled in her eyes. She rolled her hips against his, ‘Oh, I can feel that.’

Azriel groaned and eventually laughed. ‘You’re naked in my arms. And you’re touching my wings. Can you blame me?’ His eyes darkened when she moved her hips again. ‘Kiss me. Now,’ he growled.

And for the first time that day, N obliged. She kissed him long and slow. Her lips were soft, plush, and pulsing with life. Her breaths warmed his skin. She pushed her body into his, and for the first time that day, she set her desires free. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her fingers laced together on the back of his neck, pulling him close. She leaned back when he dipped and chased him when he pulled back. It was a dance she was a master at, syncing to his body’s rhythm as if she knew it better than him. 

Azriel adored her tender love, but he needed more. He grabbed her damp hair into a fist. N whimpered into his mouth and he swallowed it whole. He was determined to lay claim to every inch of her soul if that’s what it took to make her his. He tugged her hair, and she arched her back with a long moan. He ran his teeth along her beautiful neck she offered for his taking. Her hands only pulled him closer. 

His mate. His willing prey.

N wrapped her legs around his waist. Azriel crawled deeper into the bed and laid her down gently. He pulled back to admire her one more time, stroking her cheek as she smiled. He pecked her lips once and flipped her onto her stomach ripping a choked gasp from her.

‘Trust me?’ He breathed against her ear.

She nodded. He kissed the side of her neck, her shoulder, and all the way down her back, enjoying every shiver that rattled her to the core. He sank his teeth into her waist just to make her yelp and glare over her shoulder. When he soothed the spot with a lick, she rolled her eyes smiling. He kissed all the way up until he found her lips again. His body relaxed against hers with careful pressure. He sighed.

‘I missed you,’ he murmured below her ear. 

Doubt crept into his pathetic heart every time she eluded his words. Once in a while her feelings crept over the string between their hearts like a spider, too little a thing for him to notice, but present nonetheless. Invisible and lurking, and always out of his reach. With the bond in place for him already, though he should have been able to feel her emotions, he barely did.

He needed to hear her words. He needed her to say those words and some more.

‘Then what are you waiting for?’ She asked, as breathless as he.

Azriel chuckled darkly, ‘Tell me you missed me.’ His shadows emerged for the play. They swept her hair aside for their master to suckle on her neck.

‘I’ll show you if you stop teasing.’

The seduction in her voice alone tempted Azriel to destroy her until she was a mess for him, whimpering and declaring her love for him.

He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her face close. ‘Words first,’ he growled as his other hand closed on her breast. A thumb ghosted over her nipple before he pinched it between his fingers.

N looked over her shoulder, her eyes dark and wide. ‘I missed you,’ she kissed the corner of his lips, sucking on the skin she could reach. Azriel eased his grip and then she spoke again, ‘So much that I was dreaming of your fingers every night.’

Azriel laughed. His body shook over hers, the sound reverberating through her being. ‘Such a tease,’ he closed his eyes and nuzzled into the side of her face, ‘You sure do know how to get your way.’

He slipped his fingers between her legs and hummed as he ran a digit along her slit. N held her breath, her hands clawing at the sheets. He caressed the inside of her thigh until she whined. When he tucked his hand under her leg and pulled it aside, N gasped at the cold air’s kiss on her wet core.

Azriel breathed in her scent—a fresh, sharp, intoxicating sweetness that ensnared his senses right before she stole pieces of his soul. He teased her entrance with his fingers, her lips smooth and slick against his scarred skin. When he slipped them inside, her breaths shuddered into broken mists.

He worked her with slow and deliberate strokes, for his own sanity than hers. He etched every groove and bend of his favourite maze into his memory. He kissed her lips as he pulled his fingers out and spread her slick onto his neglected cock. The moan that tore from his throat was one he would be embarrassed for life. But her mesmerised eyes on his lips erased any notion of it.

He grabbed her hip and entered her slowly as she welcomed him with a sigh. He stayed still, listening to her stuttering breaths against the echoes of rain.

So intimate, so real. 

N laced her fingers with his on her hip. ‘I missed this,’ she whispered.

This.

Not 'you'.

Ignoring the stab in his chest, Azriel grasped her hands in each of his and tucked them under her chin. He pulled out until the very tip and drove back in. Her moan pierced through the cries of the storm. He repeated his movements, sliding out with care and sliding in with fury. His breaths turned into groans, angry and beastly. He bit into her neck, her shoulder, between her blades to stop more desperate words from spilling out.

N touched his knuckles with her lips. She covered his hand with kisses, from his wrist to fingertips, worshipping every inch of his marred hand. She let her tongue slick over a particularly ragged part of his skin whose mere sight blurred his vision with vengeance for what he had endured. 

Azriel pinched his eyes shut. Letting go of her hand, he clutched her jaw. ‘Don’t,’ he hissed.

Foolish woman. She leaned into his hand as if it wasn't that of a killer, as if it wasn’t capable of offering nothing but a sweet embrace. She carded her fingers through his hair, cradling his face close. And brushed her lips over the length of the fingers that ghosted over them.

‘Azriel,’ she uttered his name as if it soothed her. As if she had been waiting for this moment just like him.

His hip bucked. ‘Say it again, say my name.’ 

‘Azriel.’

‘Again,’ he said against her skin, his voice coated in desperation.

‘Azriel.’ 

And she chanted his name with each breath.

His thrusts faltered. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. He wasn’t a worthy contender for her vicious tenderness. Yet, she gave it to him in earnest. ‘Touch yourself for me,’ he whispered in her ear.

Her hand obeyed. She moved her leg higher, offering her every depth to him. She circled her clit slowly, with the slightest of pressure. Her slick trailed down her fingers and she writhed under him. She gave him her moans; she gave him her body; she gave him her pleasure.

‘That’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good.’ He hummed at her misery, his cock delivering the faintest taste of what he suffered at her ignorance. 

Her cunt pulsed around him, gripping him until pleasure laced with pain with each slide. N whimpered and arched her back, pushing her hips into him. His hand on her jaw slipped to her throat, the only thing that kept her from curling away from him. She stared into his eyes, baring her soul for him. Her legs trembled, desperate to close, and his shadows crept up to hold them in place. She gasped when a few wisps searched for her soaked fingers and circled her skin. 

‘Shh,’ Azriel kissed her temple, ‘I know.' He pressed his tender lips to her cheek, a devastating contrast to his thrusts, ‘Come for me.’ 

And after a breath, she did.

The bond reeked of desire.

His and hers. His desperation, her relief. His longing, her content.

Azriel sank his teeth into her shoulder, hard—injecting the venom coursing through his veins into her, poisoning her with her own medicine, sharing the agony she inflicted upon him.

His heart was a house on fire, the mating bond a fuse, and she, the one with a match.

He pried her fingers away from her core and shoved them into his mouth. He purred at her taste, his chest rumbling against her back. With two staggering moves, he attained the same heavenly pleasure she did.

His hands wrapped around her, his legs intertwined with hers, and her body reaching out to his in a way that could only be described as a lover’s despair—the way they were meant to be. One and whole. Every breath, shared and stolen. Every touch, burning and soothing. 

Their moans stopped and their breaths calmed. Finally, the sounds of the world rushed back to his ears. The distant echo of the angry rain, the soft music from the bar below, the ghostly whispers that never turned into anything coherent. N sagged into the bed, loosening her grip on his fingers. 

Azriel eased her leg, massaging it with a careful hand. He kissed her cheek. ‘Talk to me,’ he said, ‘You okay?’

N nodded. ‘That was. . .’ she said between breaths, ‘intense.’

‘Good intense?’ He smiled against her shoulder, kissing the spots left by his canines where blood threatened to break through her skin.

‘“You should go on long missions more often” intense.’ 

He nipped her ear. ‘Say the word. And I will take you any way you want, whenever you want.’ He rolled onto his back, adjusting his wings under him. N looked at them with fascination. He pulled her to his chest, ‘Don’t unless you want to go again.’

She chuckled. ‘I can’t even look at them?’

‘You can do anything you want to them,’ he murmured to her lips, ‘Just give me a warning.’ His wing draped over her, the curved tip grazing up her leg as if agreeing to him, consenting to her. 

They remained silent for a long time, tracing swirls on each other’s skin. A moment frozen in time, drenched in comfort and warmth. Azriel ran his fingers through the lengths of her hair, damp more from his sweat than their shared shower. Every inch of her was marked by his presence. He smiled.

‘Azriel?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Next time come by sooner so that I can stop worrying.’ She was watching the rain through the glass door that stood between them and the balcony. Before he could remark, she added smiling, ‘The weather is nice.’ 

Azriel glanced over his shoulder. Winds howled—changing course every minute, spouting rain in every direction. The metal bird feeder suspended from the ceiling rattled and screeched. It swayed wildly close to breaking off its hinges. Water trickled along the walls, moving steadily towards the threshold.

He looked back at her and lifted a brow. ‘Nice? You’re about to be flooded.’

‘Maybe,’ she smiled up at him. Pulling a blanket over their bodies, ‘But I can do this,’ she wrapped an arm around his torso, pressing into him with a long sigh.

Azriel trailed his index along her cheek, down her jaw. He ached to let his will crumble and give in to his impulse. He only did it thrice after the bond snapped for him, too afraid to feel the nothingness again. He called to her through the bond—a gentle caress, begging her to follow him, pulling her closer than his physical body allowed, breaking the laws of the real world. 

He rested his finger on her heart hoping to feel something on her skin. An increase in heart rate, a hitch in her throat, or maybe the thrum of the bond’s stupid song that left him sleepless at night. Azriel would accept anything.

But her heart beat steadily, unaware of his desperation. The bond shimmered with his love, the light weaving through the thread until it met with her void again.

Ironic. The one born with the shadows had a heart aglow with love. And the other—warmth and light incarnated, had hers hidden in darkness. 

N placed a hand on his chest and perched her chin on it. She looked at him with curious eyes. ‘What?’

You’re my mate. 

The words were at the tip of his tongue. Three words and she would put him out of his misery. She would accept him, even if the bond never snapped for her. She would hold him close, kiss his lips, and tell him she loved him. She would rid him of some of his darkness.

A smile graced Azriel’s lips. He brushed her hair away from her eyes.

‘You hungry?’

[sparkles-and-trash]

dabihawks, fluff with some smut sprinkled in ~

There's not much that gets past Hawks.

Which, in turn, is why what Dabi has done is so impressive to him.

It's almost pavlovian at this point, but fuck it, Keigo is helpless against the beautiful arsonist.

Looking back at it, it's so painfully obvious. Little things, but so consistent it's silly.

Every time Keigo would meet Dabi's eyes before anyone else's in the room, he would get a real, actual smile back.

Well, a smirk, but that's basically the same, at least when it comes to Dabi.

If someone or something else caught his attention first, Dabi would barley speak a word to him for the rest of the day.

Whenever Keigo would choose to sit down close to, or even better, next to Dabi, he would get rewarded with some touches, shoulder against shoulder, hands against hands, or sometimes even casual wing touches.

If Keigo couldn't get close enough to Dabi for his liking the meeting would be plagued with a dark cloud over Dabi's head.

And a lot of pouting.

When things between them progressed, as did whatever this was.

For every kiss, for every caress, for every peck on the cheek, every nuzzle of noses, Keigo is rewarded with the most open, genuine smiles and sincerity Touya ever seemed to show anyone.

Also, he gained real name privilege, which was amazing.

Until Keigo's attention drifted, or if he were grumpy without proper reason, or if his attention was simply not tuned into Touya the way he wanted, and that privilege went out the window.

That only happened twice, but Keigo hated every second of it.

Dabi was public information, he was a public person.

Touya belonged to Keigo.

And Touya needed, no, demanded attention to thrive.

Neither of them could stand to fuck in any position where they didn't have to chance to look at each others faces properly.

They try sometimes, but it only takes a minute, tops, before one of them grows impatient and rearranges themselves to another, more personal position.

Keigo sometimes thinks he cannot physically take his eyes away from Touya when they do this, it's like a spell, like magic.

Touya is magic.

So yes, sometimes Keigo feels like he's been trained into giving Touya just the right amount of attention without even noticing it.

He also comes to realize he doesn't mind it, Touya's need for his attention at all times.

Actually, he comes to realize he kind of needs it himself, that need in Touya's eyes.

Nothing bothers him like Touya not seeking out his attention, no matter if it's because something valid like a meeting or work, or because something petty between them.

Keigo cannot fucking stand it, so he makes sure it happens as little as possible.

He makes sure to always give Touya all his attention, to shower him in affection and adoration, to always face him in their neediest hours.

The other options are simply no longer... well, they are no longer options.

So yes, Keigo needs Touya's demand for attention as much as Touya himself demands it at this point.

If he believed in such things, Keigo would even say they were meant for each other.

(He has in fact said so many times, and at this point he also fully believes it.)

A perfect match, indeed.

[v1olentdelights]

Across a Crowded Room

Spencer Reid x reader - 2k words

TW: fire..., mention of like passing out and being in a hospital, just regular cm stuff, and my bad writing of how a fire starts? maybe

Summary: It had been a couple years since you and Spencer had seen each other. What happens when he gets a case in your hometown, and you reunite?

a/n: I can only think about having a job as a florist, so that's what we are gonna stick with. Hope you enjoy :) I know people cant just up and move... lets play pretend, okay. and thank you @magic-is-beauty for reading it over!

It had been a couple years since you had last seen Spencer Reid. You had met in a coffee shop you worked at. It was silly, but you had seen him come in a few times and thought he was cute, so you put your phone number on his cup one time. You could see how his cheeks turned bright red and how he turned towards you with a meek smile. Thank goodness he saw your number, because for the next 2 years you and Spencer would be best friends and dating. That was until he moved away.

On one of your many dates Spencer had told you he had big news. You were thinking that maybe he had been invited to teach.

“I’ve been invited to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia!” he exclaimed. And for the first time in your relationship with Spencer, you felt disappointed. Well not necessarily with him, more so that he was leaving you. 

“Oh, that's great Spence.” You tried to sound enthusiastic and supportive. But even Spencer could tell you weren’t. 

“You’re not happy?” It was more of a statement. 

“It's not that I’m not happy, I am really happy for you! You have wanted this for so long. But you are leaving me, and I’m going to miss you.”

“Well, I thought maybe you could come with me? There are a lot of great opportunities, especially considering D.C. is right next door.” 

“You know I can’t Spencer. I have a whole life here, family, a job, there is too much.” You could see the light in his eyes dim slightly. “I’m sorry, you know if I could that I’d be there with you every step of the way.” 

“No, no I totally understand. I just wish you could.” 

You both had spent your last few weeks together well, but you knew what him leaving meant. There was nothing you could do to stop the impending goodbye. And you guys tried to keep in contact, you really did. But your lives moved on and there seemed to be less and less time for you to talk to one another, so you just slowly lost contact. 

Over that time, you had moved back to your small hometown to take care of your sick grandmother while you balanced school and her flower shop. 

The BAU received a case in Spencer's hometown, your run of the mill arsonist. It was nothing too crazy, they were sure to be back to home base within the week. Thankfully only a few people had died and fewer were injured in the last couple of fires. 

Upon their arrival he was hit with a wave of nostalgia. 

--

“Come on! I want to show you my favorite ice cream parlor! There is even a great bookstore next to it!” You were skipping down the street with Spencer's hand in yours, and you were going a bit fast but he would never admit that. 

You had been gracious enough to invite Spencer to stay with you in your hometown for a few weeks during his last summer (unbeknownst to you) with you. 

“I’m coming!” he laughed as he sped up his walking a bit. That afternoon was one of the most memorable days you’d ever had. You were letting Spencer in on a part of your life only a few got to experience. 

“Come on Reid.” Hotch's voice pulled him out of his memory. On their way to the station, he was watching his life pass him by the whole way there. The Sunday afternoon walks, the dates at the small ice cream parlor you loved. They passed 2 of the crime scenes, one of which was that diner, both burnt to a crisp. 

As they were setting everything up, the team could tell Spencer's mind was somewhere else. No one mentioned it though thinking it was just the feelings of being home arising. There wasn’t much to go off of other than the locations and how the fires were started, a match and gasoline.

Hotchner had ordered everyone to go back to the hotel and get a few hours of good sleep and then come back ready to work. 

Spencer had been pacing the room for the past couple minutes contemplating texting you. He hadn’t deleted your number, and even if he had, he would have recalled it from memory.

If he were to text, what would he say? He hadn’t texted you in over a year now. Would a sudden message be weird? Spencer honestly just wanted to know if you were alright, the idea of you being in trouble or hurt made him sick. Maybe he could just say he’s in town and see if you wanted to catch up before he leaves. He would decide tomorrow, hopefully after gathering more information about the unsub. 

After deciding a town meeting would best get the word out and maybe reveal a few suspects, everyone gathered in the town hall. They were giving a short but in-depth profile to the public. Spencer was mid-sentence about an arsonist's motives when he caught a pair of familiar eyes staring right back at him. 

It was you. He’d recognize your eyes anywhere. Derek's cough and Emily’s staring kept him talking, playing the pause off as him forgetting something. After delivering the profile he excused himself and looked for you in the crowd. He didn’t get far before you grabbed his hand, he whipped around to see your small smile.  “Hey Spencer, it's been a while.” For a moment you both were still, but as if his brain had restarted, he wrapped you in his arms tightly. 

“I’ve missed you.” Both of you not pulling away for a moment, just taking in the moment. “I was going to text you, but-” he cut himself off, you’d understand. You always understood. 

“When I heard the buzz around town I almost texted you too. But then I remembered you're the one who catches the big bad guy, I should probably let you work.” You let out an awkward laugh. The last time you had seen him was when you were saying goodbye. 

You had taken Spencer to the airport so you could say goodbye, it was filled with tears, mostly from you, and plenty of hugs. 

“I’ll call you every chance I get.” he reassured you with a kiss to the nose, bringing his hand up to wipe away your tears.

“I know, but what if you can’t? What if you get hurt and die? How will I know you’re okay?” you sounded pathetic honestly, it was obvious that Spencer would be okay, he was on a team with some of the world's best profilers and was incredibly smart. But it didn’t stop you from worrying. 

“I'll be okay, I promise.” he pressed a gentle kiss, holding you tightly. Then you watched him walk through security and onto his new life. 

“I’ll always make time for you.” He said it in a way that sounded desperate, a way that told you he really meant it. But he could feel the team's stares, he knew that not only would they be wanting an explanation as to who you were; but that he also needed to get back to catching the unsub. 

“You go do what you need to do.” You nodded to the team, “And call me if you have time for lunch or dinner, we can catch up.” you rubbed his arm up and down once before walking away. Oh, how he hated watching you leave. 

“Sooooo, are you gonna tell us who that was?” JJ asked in a teasing tone.

“A girlfriend?” Emily joked as she bumped into Derek. Rossi and David had an uninterested look on their face, but were totally listening in. 

“Yes actually. We haven’t talked in a while though.” he turned back towards the way you left, hoping to see you again. 

Now time was running out, if they were able to trust the timeline of the last 3 fires, today there would be another. There were police frequently patrolling the streets. There wasn’t much more that could be done. The police station was buzzing, everyone looking into people who were suspicious. However, since they lived in the small town, their observations and conclusions had to be taken with a grain of salt. 

Then there was the ringing of a phone, everyone stopped for a moment. Someone picked it up only to hear an address then the phone hung up. The force was gearing up and peeling out of the parking lot calling in for the fire department, as was the team. 

You were tending to some of your assortments in the back when you heard the jingle of your doorbell. 

“I’ll be with you in just a moment.” as you were finishing up you heard a liquidy sound from the front of the store. As you came out a burst of flames emerged in front of you, slowly your flowers began to catch fire. The posters and Styrofoam, the rug, everything was catching fire, but you couldn’t make your way past to get out of the building. The fumes were rising, you thought you could hear sirens faintly. 

Trying to move away from the flames you made your way to the back room. There was another door that led into the alleyway. However, the door was locked, you kept twisting and ramming into the door, but nothing worked. You began to feel dizzy and almost sick.

Stumbling back into the wall for some support you slid into a sitting position. They covered what to do in this situation in school, but not to this extent. Just as you were about to fade out you heard someone yelling. In an attempt to get someone's attention you yelped as loud as you could, though it wasn’t that powerful, the first responders could hear. 

You could make out someone's figure as they wrapped their arms under your legs and back and carried you out. 

Waking up you could hear the beeping of the hospital machines. Your hand twitches but it was held by something, though it quickly squeezed your hand. Opening your eyes, you saw your handsome Spencer looking at you. 

“Hey, you're alright.” he smiled at you as he grabbed the water next to your bedside.  “The shop isn’t going to make it, is it?” 

“No, I don’t think it is. But I’d rather you have made it instead of the shop. I’m sorry about that, but you should be pleased to know we caught the guy.” 

“Doing your job perfectly, just like I imagined.” grabbing his hand again you squeezed it gently. 

“I thought about you every day. There is this coffee shop down the street from my apartment and it's almost exactly like the one we met at. But you’re not there, so it's not as perfect. And when I take the metro home, I think about what I would say to you.” He looks earnestly into your eyes “I think about you all the time, and I regret not taking you with me.” 

“I couldn’t come then, you know that. I had too much to take care of at home.” He shakes his head slightly in understanding. “But I guess now that my shop is burnt down… I don’t have much else, my classes are online, and my lease is almost up.” It was almost comical how his face lit up.

“You could come back with me to D.C. I mean, only if you want to.”

You both looked at one another in a new light. You could truly pick up and leave now, and it made you ecstatic for the future. 

“Only until I find a place of my own for now.” You brought his hand up to kiss his knuckles. 

“Until you find your own place.” He smiled constantly. Unbeknownst to him, almost his whole team was standing just out of sight, eavesdropping, preparing for a gossip session with Penelope.

[writermai05]

Arsonist's Lullabye

Chapter 3: Smelling like a Bonfire, Lost in a Haze

Summary: Y/n and Zuko get to know each other. 

Pairing: Zuko x fem! reader (Live Action or Animated) 

A/N: Point of view switch starting now! Hopefully this works better than the previous chapters. Based heavily off of "Too Sweet" by Hozier (Yeah this entire series is based on Hozier's discography, SUE ME!). Very excited about this. Next chapter is probably gonna be shorter, but I promise I'll make it worthwhile. Should I make a taglist for this series??? As always feel free to leave comments or constructive feedback, as it helps me grow. 

Word Count: 1,211

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Avatar: The Last Airbender, I am merely a nerd who hyperfixates a lot. Lots of divergence from the canon story lol. 

Warnings !: Insecure Zuko, mentions of burns, I think that is all? 

Wednesday came a lot faster than you had anticipated. 

The mundanity of Tuesday felt like nothing compared to the stakes of today. Perhaps delaying a conversation about whatever had happened between Zuko and yourself for another two days wasn’t the best of decisions.

Your professor broke you from your worried state, explaining about some assignment you were meant to complete in pairs. Perhaps it was the sour mood you were in, but frankly, even you were over these icebreaker activities. 

Gathering your things, you began searching around the room for someone to work with. Before you could actually move, you spotted Azula heading straight for you, the same standoffish girl you had met on the first day, with familiar golden eyes and her long black hair in a top knot, held with the same gold pin. Taking a seat right in front of you, Azula neatly laid out her things in a sort of rehearsed way. 

You hid the surprise that filled your body at the sight of her. Staring at her, you raised your eyebrows inquisitively. She merely stared back, with an expression of many layers. You relented, putting all your things where they were before, and slowly retaking the seatright across from Azula. 

“So are we going to get started or…” Azula trailed off, seemingly indifferent. 

You were utterly confused. Admittedly, your guys’ first meeting was shaky, filled with a sort of aggressive energy and tension that most people would wish to avoid. “Yeah…Can I ask you something?” Azula raised her eyebrows in approval. 

“Why partner with me?” Such a simple question, but you were sure that the answer would be interesting.  

Azula rolled her eyes. “No one in this class is worth talking to. I just chose based on convenience.” She replied pompously. 

Much to the confusion of Azula, you smiled at her response. 

“Really? Here’s what I think. You partnered with me, even after our awful first meeting, because it was convenient, but also because you secretly think I’m really nice and cool, and that we should be friends.” Your sarcastic and dry humor, paired with complete honesty and optimism was quite polarizing. Azula scoffed at your statement. 

“You psych majors are always so weird.” She replied, yanking a sheet of paper from you and beginning the assignment. 

“Why thank you Azula, I also think it would be cool if we were friends!” you replied before also getting to work on the assignment. 

Little did you know, deep down, Azula was grateful for the connection. 

~

Zuko had been anticipating class all day. He was just trying to enjoy his walk in the cool autumn air of Ba Sing Se. Unfortunately, everything in his brain was telling him that this was not going to go well, and that eventually, you too would come to see him the way that everyone else does. ‘No, she’s not like that!’ he screamed back. If she was, why would she have even bothered trying? 

By the time he had reached class, his thoughts were going a mile a minute. A back and forth of thoughts about you, questioning your character, and attempting to quell the darkest thoughts within his mind. That was, until he spotted you. 

You had sat in the same spot from the first time, but this time, your backpack was saving the seat to your left. Seemingly sensing his presence, your gaze moved from the notebook on the desk in front of you to Zuko. He sheepishly waved, and you smiled, gesturing for him to come as you moved your bag off the chair. 

Everything that Zuko had been feeling a couple minutes before this moment had stopped. The smoke-filled haze of his mind had been absolutely soothed at the sight of you. Moving as calmly as he could, he made his way to the seat next to you. 

“How were your classes yesterday?” You asked softly. This type of gentleness was unfamiliar. It was the kind of sensitivity Zuko had only ever received from two people in his life. He gulped back some air before answering. 

“It was fine. I worked at the shop after.” You nodded, going back to whatever you were writing down in your notebook earlier. 

~

Class went by without a hitch. It felt casual, as if it wasn’t a big deal, and maybe it wasn’t. This sense of normalcy was almost unheard of when it came to Zuko’s life. After the professor dismissed the class, you spent a little extra time packing all of your supplies. Zuko stood beside you, waiting patiently for you to finish. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me, but thank you.” You said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Zuko shrugged. 

“It’s alright. Do you have any other classes today?” 

“Nope. I’m done for the day, why?” 

“Let me walk you back to your dorm?” He asked, in a timid manner. 

“Really? You don’t have to-”

“I want to. My classes are done for the day, and the shop is right next to the dorms.” 

You were flattered by the sincerity in his voice. 

“Okay.”

The two of you took your time, basking in the cool afternoon air. The falling leaves and luscious greenery, even in the city, was absolutely breathtaking. You and Zuko had polite conversations, just learning more about each other. He told you about moving to Ba Sing Se, and how his uncle had come to own the Jasmine Dragon. You told him about growing up in the north, and how you ended up transferring to the University of Ba Sing Se. As you reached the doors of your dorm building, the conversation fell quiet. 

“Thank you, Zuko.” You said earnestly.

“No, Thank you, Y/n.” 

Confusion flooded your features. “What for?”

“For giving me a chance. I know I’m not the best person to talk to.” 

“Maybe you’ve never known the right people.” You replied. He laughed, somberly in response. 

“No, it was definitely me who was the problem.” 

You shrug, making proper eye contact with him. Within your eyes held a look that seemed to hold something akin to a sky full of stars.  “Isn’t it interesting how eventually, you will meet people that see more within you than you see in yourself?” Zuko felt like his heart was about to explode.

“Goodbye, Zuko. Get home safely.” And with that, you entered your dorm hall, leaving the fiery boy at an absolute loss for words. 

You will meet people that see more within you than you see in yourself. 

You had said it so casually, so nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t some new and big concept. For Zuko, it was. He had never felt the warmth of fire, just the searing burn. He was never able to breathe through the haze, rather he choked on the smoke. How could anyone possibly come to see him as the man he became rather than the boy that he was? Has he always been worth the time and trouble? Was this what Uncle Iroh had been trying to tell him? Was his therapist? 

As he mused over these questions, Zuko couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he'd been underestimating his own worth all this time…and he definitely needed to schedule another appointment with his therapist.

[googleitlol]

There was more I wanted to add to this but I didn't have the time today. I'll just post it another day cuz I rlly wanted to at least get this part out so enjoy! This time partly from Sun Wukong's POV!

Dove Masterlist

TW: Gore

Fire

You turn over in bed and let out a heavy sigh. It took longer than you wanted to get away from that crowd, no thanks to that damn ape. You would have thought they'd show more interest in Tripitaka, but seeing as the monks have a hall named after Guan Yin herself, you can still see why they were so persistent in their questions and requests.

Still, using your gift so frequently in such a short amount of time can take a lot out of you. It doesn’t help that having so many people surrounding you like that is something you are unaccustomed to. Or maybe it’s just been a while since you’ve seen so many people all gather like that, it wasn’t a common occurrence in the celestial realm. Sun Wukong didn’t make it any better, flaunting your gift like it was his own.

At least you can finally get some rest and time away from the demon. Having your own room, even just for a night, is just what you’ve been missing. Even if you feel drained, at least you have the time now to keep to yourself for a long while and get some proper rest. Besides, you doubt the monks will be in your face as much tomorrow as they were today. You’ll feel better tomorrow.

~~~~

This night really was proving to be more entertaining than the Monkey King had hoped.

When his Master warned him not to show the old monk his cassock, he thought the man was just being paranoid. Never did he think the old man would be jealous enough to set fire to his own monastery! It’s actually hilarious.

After leading the two men away from the Dove drowning amidst those others that stayed in the monastery, the elder requested to keep the beautiful cassock in his own room for the night so he could properly admire it. Tripitaka was hesitant to agree to such a demand, so Monkey did on his behalf. How was he supposed to know their host had the potential to be an arsonist?

Luckily, Monkey King already has everything taken care of. Not needing sleep like the rest of his party, the Sage was already awake to overhear the elder ordering the other monks to set fire to the wing where their group was shown to their rooms. Monkey was quick to make sure his Master and his steed stayed safe, borrowing a cloak from a celestial friend to protect them from the fire. And with his master sleeping safe and sound, now he can have some… fun.

If these stupid people were so intent on setting everything ablaze, who would he be to stop them? In fact, why not help them?

The Great Sage hovers over the controlled fire, the bustling sound of feet thumping to and fro to feed it making him smirk. Pressing two of his fingers together, the demon begins to recite under his breath softly, his words cutting through the air swiftly before lifting his head to the fire. Taking a great inhale, Wukong blows out a great wind from his lungs, directly towards the fire. It took little time before he heard the screams, and he tries to stifle his laughter before outright bellowing as the flames spread to the rest of the monastery, growing out of control.

He falls back on his cloud, barking with laughter as monks run out of the building with blood curdling screams. Some have to be quickly put out, running with the fire catching their clothes. It’s too good! Did not one of them think this plot could backfire? It’ll certainly be the last time any of them ever try such a stunt with–

Oh, now this is interesting.

One figure runs back in, his companions shouting in protest as he ignores their calls. Does he not see that the monastery was now a lost cause? Is there something he left behind? Why else is he running back in?

Curious as to what could spawn such bravery, Sun Wukong follows the young monk back into the monastery, careful to keep back a few paces so as to not reveal himself. It wasn’t very difficult, the man seems laser-focused on whatever his goal may be.

It’s amusing to the King, the way the monk frantically ducks over collapsing wood and bounds over burning debris all while doing his best to cover his face to stop the fog from breaching his lungs. Wukong strolls not too far behind, casually spinning his staff here and there as the man rushes around corners and weaves through the burning building. It’s a shame fire can be so harmful to those who aren’t immortal. Then again, it’s always fun to watch things burn.

The monk begins to slow, seemingly arriving at his destination. It only then makes Wukong realise he had been led to where the fire initially started, the wing his group was staying in. He ran like a madman to get here? But why would he… shit.

Sun Wukong forgot about the woman.

Her sleeping quarters aren’t protected by the cloak. The realisation strikes him just as the monk approaches her room. Just before he can open it, Wukong jumps into action, revealing himself as he grabs the man by his shoulder so he could turn the monk to face him. Before he can even make a sound, Sun Wukong lifts him by his shirt and holds him with one hand in the air. The young man yelps in surprise before screaming once he realises who the one holding him is. Seeing his face clearly now, the Sage also recognizes him as the monk who had first approached Dove before swarming her with the others. “Sneaking into the room of a woman this late at night?” Wukong raises an unimpressed brow as the man struggles to pry the demon’s hand off his garbs. “And they call me an animal.”

The man continues to squirm, clearly distressed. “You monster! Don’t you see we are all about to burn?!”

The King laughs. “Oh, I know you will. The woman? I’ve yet to decide.” He takes a moment to look back at the door, weighing his options in his mind.

The man stops in his feeble attempts at freedom for a moment to cast a look of shock on the demon. “Isn’t that your travelling companion?”

“Not by choice.” Seemingly unperturbed by his current predicament, the monk continues to pick at the King’s fingers. Wukong almost feels impressed by his persistence. “She did a kindness today, she doesn’t deserve to burn!”

“Seriously?! Then why do I deser– you know, actually, I don’t care.” Wukong mumbles to himself, glancing back at the room again. Why did he have to follow this stupid monk back to her door? If he managed to forget her, he’d have the wonderful gift of her absence in the morning. But if Master finds out he had the opportunity to help and chose not to, he may just recite that stupid spell until his head cracks open.

With a long and exaggerating sigh, the Sage sets the monk down. “How dare you remind me she was here. Now I have to stop her from burning.” His grumbles barely even reach the man before he kicks down the door to her room.

Stepping in, he takes a moment to take the sight of her sleeping form in again. Smoke fills the air, heat roasting the room with the flames just reaching her door frame, and she’s still asleep? Wukong didn’t expect her to be such a heavy sleeper.

Crouching down, Monkey King grabs her shoulders to shake her awake. “Hey, wake up.” He shakes her a few times only for the woman to slump back, unbothered. It’s like she’s practically dead. Is she? The King slaps her before quickly jumping back in preparation for her shock into consciousness, but it never comes. Huh. He gets back up to his feet to leave, Master can’t be upset if she just died in her sleep.

A loud snore stops his plan just as he goes to exit the room. Dammit. “Uuuuuggggggghhhhhhhh.” Sun Wukong groans, spinning back on his heel to go for the woman. When Guan Yin convinced him to help on this stupid journey, he didn’t plan on babysitting two incompetent humans. With a roll of his eyes, Wukong scoops the girl into his arms before exiting through the window. That other monk can find his own way out.

Now with the woman in his arms, Wukong finds a tree just far enough from the carnage to enjoy it. Letting the Dove down onto the ground, he sits back against the tree to watch in peace as hysteria infects those that still believe they can put out the flames. Their attempts are laughable, the King had missed watching such chaos unfold. During the years before his conflict with the Heavenly Court, there had been many villages he and his army terrorised, and watching fires burn buildings to the ground was always one of the best parts. There’s always such a heavy contrast between the screams of the damned and the melodic rhythm of the flames, dancing in every shade of orange and red.

Wukong supposes that now, the serene feeling in his chest comes from more than just a simple fire. He glances down at the woman lying next to him, her presence, while not as powerful as when she uses the gift, is no less welcome. The Monkey King could feel his heart steady, his mind quiet, and a sigh escape his chest as the feeling of relaxation encompasses him. Were it not for her snide comments and deathly glares– as well as the shackle on his head– Dove might be nice to have around. If she was always this passive, he’d actually enjoy her company. It would be a lie to say Wukong isn’t curious about the bird on this journey with them. Not a question he ever asks her can be given a straight answer. If it wasn’t for her hostile nature, he’d be more inclined to feed his curiosity and speak with her more, but that stupid circlet is already enough of a headache and he’d rather not add to it. He’ll give her points for cunning, it was admirable, if not for the fact that it was at his expense. Nonetheless, it’s nice to be in such a soothing presence without all the usual threats and jabs. Something rustles in some bushes only a few paces away, Monkey King sitting up immediately at the sound. His head snaps to the direction of the sound, his eyes meeting another’s, black and round, with barely any white visible. He looks to the small round ears barely visible in the dark cover of shrubbery and snout of a bear’s before frowning. Before he can investigate, the creature is gone, heavy footsteps lumbering into the forest.

A chase? This night keeps getting better. Sun Wukong jumps up to give chase before nearly falling onto his face, tripping. With a grunt, he lifts his head to look back for the source of his descent, finding the woman’s arms wrapped around his waist. His once excited expression drops, an almost silent growl rippling from his chest. “Even while unconscious, she thwarts my every move!”

Sitting back up, Wukong takes her arms in his hands before the girl tightens her hold, a small grunt escaping her form as she does. The King blinks, frowning for a moment at her twisted expression before looking back in the direction the creature had run. There was no sign of it anymore. With a heavy sigh, Wukong shifts to lay against the tree once more and continues watching the flames. It was probably just an animal running from the fire. After one last glance at the woman now holding him in a death grip, he turns his attention back to the burning building, occasionally looking over to the wing where his Master sleeps to make sure the area covered in that old cloak remains untouched by the fire.

~~~~

Yelling echoes through your ears. Children cry loudly, using the backs of their throats to let out blood curdling screams. Fire erupts from every house and shop, surrounding the village as a mass of bloody flames jump from building to building.

You trip, looking down only for your eyes to widen, the lifeless eyes of the little girl who lived in the house next to yours staring back, red coating her neck and pooling under her head. The sight nearly causes you to freeze in fear if not for the barely audible sound of metal colliding. The sound is a warning, and it's enough to get you to your feet.

The Eyes, they followed you. Golden and dull. They followed you home and they brought the demons with them. A rhythmic clink of metal makes your heart stop, each clash feels as though it shakes the ground, turning it from solid earth to sand. Turning, you see a shadowy figure, the Golden Eyes glowing as they approach.

As fast as humanly possible, you run, stumbling as you do. The clinking of metal follows, echoing through your ear drums, growing louder and louder. You clutch your ears and fall to your knees. It only grows louder. Eyes shut tight, you curl into the ground, tears staining your face as you weep. The Glowing Eyes sear into your mind as you beg it to stop.

Hands grab at your arms, not claws or talons, but hands. You just barely get back to your feet in time to be dragged along to find a way to safety. Another child, a boy, takes your hand. "Come on, we have to go!" At his words, you cry out, failing miserably to pry yourself away from his hands in a desperate attempt to get away. You’ve seen this part before, you can never unsee this part.

The boy pulls you along, looking around for anyone that could help. Someone who could—

"Jie!" You shout, your throat shreds as though the claws of the demon impaling the boy with his weapon tore into your neck instead. You stumble onto your back as a blade pierces through the boy. His eyes are pleading, his scream deafening as the blade quickly retracts, allowing blood to flow from the wound. You call out only to find your voice now gone, barely a strangled gasp. A hand grabs your arm, pulling you to your feet.

"Stop! Let go!" "Aagh! Son of a—"

Your eyes snap open to find the bright morning sun bringing about a new day. The smell of ash and cinders hang in the air heavily, as though traces of a distant memory linger in your waking life. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the outdoor lighting before you frown. Outside? But you went to your room before going to bed. When did you get outside?

“I pity your pillow.” A groan from under you makes your eyes bulge wide, the figure of the all too familiar Monkey King underneath you and rubbing his jaw and– why are you holding him in your arms?!

You shout, jumping back and up onto your feet as he remains nursing his jaw on the ground. “What are you… why– when did–” Your face flushes from embarrassment before your gaze lands on where the monastery was only a night ago. “What happened?!”

“Attacks me in her sleep and doesn’t even ask if I’m okay.” The demon grumbles, rising to his feet.

You feel your gaze harden. “What were you even doing? Why was I on top of you?!”

Monkey King stretches, walking past you and towards the remains of the monastery. “I was busy saving everyone last night. But don’t worry, I can just let you burn next time.”

This despicable little– wait. “Where’s Tripitaka?!”

“AAAAAAAAAAHHH–!”

“Sounds like he’s over there.” Oh, if only you had Guan Yin’s patience.

[whump-card]

Forged Divinity Unnamed Sequel: Chapter 2

1446 words

CW: dead body, like a real nasty dead body, dissociation, memory loss, amnesia, anger issues, past TBI

Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

Enjolras decided, since Leannan was catatonic, that she need to investigate the body. Some sick, sorrowful part of her needed to know how Phineas had died, and Leannan wasn’t about to tell her. She took one last breath of fresh air before ducking back into the shack.

She avoided the body at first, opening a cabinet on the far wall. There were a couple small sacks of oats, but little else. She grabbed a handful out of one sack, letting it run through her fingers. It didn’t look contaminated, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t – Leannan’s Iowan immune system could handle a lot more than Phineas’ could have.

She cupped a hand under the tap of their water barrel, and dribbled some out into her palm. It looked clear. She couldn’t smell it, though, not with the overpowering stench of the corpse filling the room.

She tipped out the water and wiped her hand dry on her pant leg. Finally, reluctantly, she approached the corpse.

The bloat and maggots told her it had been around a week since Phineas had died. She couldn’t imagine what Leannan had gone through, how thoroughly he must have been in denial, to live next to a corpse that whole time.

She carefully pinched the blanket covering the majority of Phineas’ body and pulled it back. She immediately spotted what she was looking for.

Cloth bound their chest flat, as usual, but more strips were wrapped around their waist, strained dark with old, dried blood. Phineas had died of an injury – a slash or stab to the gut.

Enjolras threw the blanket beck over the body before she could digest any more details – the flies, the maggots, the no, don’t look – and covered Phineas’ mutilated face with it as well. Then she turned, and fled, stumbling out the door and gulping down fresh air, tears stinging her eyes.

If Leannan had been able to bandage up the injury while Phineas was still bleeding, still alive, that meant Phineas hadn’t died immediately. They had died slowly. The thought, the sight, the smell, it all made her nauseous.

Phineas was still a part of her, as horrible as they were. Rapist, arsonist, murderer, yes. Her little sibling? Also yes.

Her eyes settled on Leannan where he sat on the ground, and she quickly brushed away her tears. She couldn’t spare the time to mourn right now. She needed to get Leannan home, before anything else went wrong.

“Leannan?” She touched his shoulder. He was still… gone, his empty gaze resting on the ground. She scooped her hands under his arms and lifted him to his feet, then led him by the arm over to the pickup truck. This, finally, seemed to rouse him.

“Are we leaving?” he asked.

“Yes,” Enjolras said.

“Is Phineas coming with us?”

Enjolras’ heart sank. Something was really, really wrong with Leannan.

“Uh… Yeah. They’re riding in the back. Can you get in?” She opened the passenger door for him.

“Mhm.” He climbed into the cab, and Enjolras shut the door. Then she looked back at the shack.

A part of her wanted to do something – to bury Phineas, maybe. But the ground was dry and hard-packed, and full of rocks, and she didn’t have a shovel anyway. It didn’t feel right to just leave them there, to be scavenged by animals, but there was nothing she could do.

Then she remembered the gun.

She steeled herself, and went back into the shack and looked around. It wasn’t immediately visible, but there were only so many places it could hide. She found it soon enough, tucked behind the cabinet: the Barrett M95 sniper rifle. She slung it over her shoulder, not bothering to search for the ammo. She just wanted to have it, not to shoot it.

It was Mom’s. She couldn’t leave it there.

She stashed it in the bed of the pickup, and glanced back at the shack one last time.

She wished she could make it right. But things had gone wrong a long, long time ago.

~~~

Leannan slept as they drove, leaning his head against the window again. Enjolras couldn’t help but glance at him constantly, trying to take in every detail while still watching the road.

He still wore the clothes he had taken with him when he left Goat Island. They were weathered and dirty now, and too big on him. The scar on his left temple looked like a gnarled lightning strike or tree branch growing out of his hairline. The soles of his boots were peeling away from the uppers. He was tanned and freckled, and his hair was sun-bleached even paler than it had been when they first met. There was dirt under his fingernails, and crusted into the lines of his face.

They had been driving for about two hours when Leannan awake with a small yelp, and started looking around frantically.

“Hej, what…?” Enjolras started.

“Where’s Phineas?” Leannan demanded.

Enjolras couldn’t answer. She kept her eyes on the road, her jaw clenched.

“Where’s Phineas?!” shouted Leannan.

“They died, Leannan,” Enjolras said quietly.

“No! No, you left them behind! You left them behind on purpose!” Leannan was working himself up into a frenzy, “You promised! You promised they could come with us! You lied to me!”

“Phineas is dead.”

“Fuck you!” Leannan shrieked, with a level of vitriol Enjolras had never heard from him before, “Fuck you! I hate you!”

Without warning, Leannan grabbed the steering wheel and yanked it to the side. Enjolras slammed on the brakes to keep them from careening off the road. While she was occupied getting the car back under control, Leannan flung his door open and jumped out of the slow-moving vehicle.

“Leannan!” Enjolras shouted. She finally got the car to stop and threw it into park, then jumped out to follow him. He was running back down the road towards where they came.

“Leannan!” She caught up with him easily, between her taller height, better nutrition, and better shoes, and grabbed his arm. “Leannan, stop!”

He swung around and punched her in the face. It was a pretty weak punch, but it surprised her nonetheless.

“I hate you!” he screamed, twisting in her grip, “You always ruin everything!”

Those were Phineas’ words. Enjolras would recognize them anywhere. She pulled Leannan close and wrapped her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides, his back to her chest.

“I’m sorry, Leannan, but I need to take you home!” she said through gritted teeth.

Leannan screamed wordlessly in return, struggling like a wild animal.

“Don’t you want to see Shannon again?” Enjolras coaxed.

“Not… without… Phineas!” Leannan insisted in between attempts to twist himself free. Enjolras held him tighter.

“Leannan,” she felt a lump rise in her throat, “Phineas is dead!”

Leannan paused his fighting, panting hard. Enjolras could feel his thin body swell and deflate in her arms with each breath, rife with panic and anger. She felt the anger fade.

“I didn’t mean to,” Leannan whimpered.

Enjolras carefully loosened her grip.

“Didn’t mean to what?” she asked softly, already anticipating the answer.

“I just get really angry, sometimes, now, and I don’t know why, and Phineas was being a real jerk, and I just wanted them to stop…” Leannan’s words dissolved into soft, hiccuping cries.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is!” Leannan wailed, “It’s always my fault!”

Enjolras released him fully, turning him around to face her.

“When did you start getting angry?” she asked.

“When I got hit… in the head,” Leannan gulped, his hand going to the scar on his temple, “Phineas says it made me stupid and weird.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“No,” Leannan shook his head miserably, “Phineas says it was an accident.”

Enjolras tallied up the symptoms. Memory loss. Mood swings. Disorientation. A bad enough head injury, combined with some psychological trauma, would certainly explain everything.

“Leannan, I promise it’s not your fault.”

Leannan frowned up at her.

“You also promised you’d take Phineas with us!”

Enjolras sighed.

“I would have, I really would, if Phineas had been alive. But they’re not, they’re dead, they couldn’t come with.”

Leannan’s red-rimmed eyes drifted to stare past her. For a moment Enjolras was afraid that had dissociated again at the mention of Phineas’ death, but then he spoke.

“What am I supposed to do now?” he whispered.

“Come home with me,” Enjolras offered, “We’ll take care of you.”

He slowly shifted forward and, to her surprise, leaned against her, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

“You’ll take care of me?” he murmured, muffled by her shirt.

“Yeah,” she patted his back, “We will.”

~~~

Previous, Masterlist, Next

Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @thecyrulik

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Happy wip wednesday! Could I please have some arsonist neil? (also, im just curious if tsc made you want to start any new wips? I know it did for me lol)

WIP Wednesday (4/17) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 149)

10 I didn’t realize you were trying to talk to me, Andrew. I thought you wanted to be left alone so I turned my phone off to keep from messaging you back. But I was not ignoring you on purpose. I haven’t been to a movie in a long time. I like M&Ms, but they’re not my favorite. Having that many kids underfoot sounds like a pain in the ass. Which coworker? I don’t know their names. Just large man, girl, smaller girl. And you. That’s the team I’ve seen you with. Is it called a team? You’ve mentioned your brother before. I don’t think he hates you. If he hates you, why would he go to a movie with you? No promises. But if we ever go to a movie together, I will buy you your $50 soda. Goodnight Andrew.

Andrew reads 10’s messages twice, then starts a third time. He turned off his phone to ensure he respected Andrew’s wishes? Goddamn this foolish man. Andrew lets out a breath and starts to craft a response.

Andrew I was angry and I said something I didn’t mean. You didn’t have to turn off your phone about it. M&Ms are ‘fine’? What is your favorite candy then? Yes. It was horrible. I hate children. Large man’s name is Matt. He is indeed very large. Girl is Renee. Smaller girl is Dan, our captain. It’s called a crew. Aaron is complicated. And stupid, as I mentioned before. Do you rob banks in your spare time or did a rich relative die and leave you everything? Good morning 10.

Andrew takes his phone with him to the kitchen to grab his coffee, then goes to sit in the living room. He eyes his stack of books and plucks the one off the top. Before he can finish the first page, his phone vibrates.

10 Oopsie. Skittles. I’ve never really been around kids, but they seem unpleasant. Then again, so do most adults. It’s hard to type all this. Can we call again?

Andrew perks up at that. Instead of answering, he dials 10’s number. It takes two rings for him to pick up with a nervous-sounding, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Andrew returns. The next thing out of his mouth is, “Tell me why you think it’s okay to play with fire but it’s not safe to meet me in a cafe.”

“Uh, that’s hard to explain.” 10 answers.

“Try.”

[bi-bard]

Don't You Ever Tame Your Demons, But Always Keep 'em on a Leash - Dream of the Endless Imagine [The Sandman]

Title: Don't You Ever Tame Your Demons, But Always Keep 'em on a Leash

Pairing: Dream of the Endless X Reader

Based On: Arsonist's Lullabye

Word Count: 1,889 words

Warning(s): physical pain

Summary: (Y/n) has always been able to see and hear the dreams of other people. At first, they felt tortured by such a gift. However, when they catch the attention of the ruler of the dream realm, a new connection is made and relief is finally offered.

Author's Note: This one feels a bit like a stretch, but oh well.

HOZIER [2014] WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

--------------------

I remember when I first heard the whispers of a dream that was not my own.

Well, the first time after I was able to create lasting memories.

I was five. I was lying on the couch with my mom while we watched some silly movie that I never did remember the name of.

And then, the whisper. Quiet. It almost tickled my brain. I looked at my mom. She wasn't speaking, but I could hear the mumbling.

It was in another language. At my age, I couldn't even tell one word from another, never mind ever know how to place it. I looked to my mom again. I asked her why one of the women in the movie was talking so funny. She asked what I meant, I explained, and she was confused.

It took three occurrences of me asking why there were "funny voices" on the TV for my parents to sit down and talk.

I spent a few years going from doctor to doctor. Everything was fine. Well, that's what the doctors said. My parents weren't convinced.

I spent a lot of my childhood and teenage years in my room. I didn't like getting questioned. It was always about what I was doing or what I heard.

There was a while when I thought maybe I had a purpose.

Like I was meant to help people somehow. I gave up on that dream when I realized that I couldn't figure out who anyone was, so I couldn't help them.

I waited.

I spent forever coping and trying to hide from whatever was in my head.

There were days when I would barely hear anything. And there were days when the voices were so loud that I thought that I was going to lose my mind.

I was never able to stop it.

I stopped trying at about 20 years old.

I just... dealt with it. No purpose for it or way to stop it. All I could do was survive with it.

That didn't change until many years later.

I didn't fully understand where I was. I didn't know about the dream realm being its own plain of existence. But I found myself walking into some large throne room. It felt like I needed to be there. Like it was the right place for me to be.

"Hello?"

My voice echoed against the stone walls. I looked up at the ceiling. It was a moving image of space. Stars and swirling colors. Beautiful.

"Excuse me?"

I jumped when a voice pulled me out of my thoughts. There was a woman standing off to the side. I took a deep breath.

"Who are you," she asked.

"(Y/n)," I said. "And you?"

"Lucienne," she replied.

"Hi," I waved awkwardly. "Sorry, I don't... I don't really know where I am."

"You don't know?"

"No," I forced a chuckle. "I just... It felt like I was supposed to be here."

"I brought them here," another voice spoke up. We both looked to the stairs at the end of the room. "I apologize for how long it took for me to do so."

"That doesn't change that I don't know where I am or who you are."

A grin teased the edge of his lips as he walked down the stairs to meet me. "My name is Morpheus. I am the ruler of this realm."

"And this realm is..."

"The realm of the dreaming."

I laughed. I couldn't really help it. A man looked me in the eye and told me that I was in the realm of the dreaming, and he was in charge. It was hard to believe.

Both of them furrowed their eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, but... you weren't expecting me to believe that the first time you said it, were you?"

"I have yet to have many people question me."

I slowly nodded. "Well, why did you... bring me here?"

"Your power," he said. "You can hear the dreams of other people."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I tensed a bit. My parents had been firm in the belief that I shouldn't tell anyone about my gift.

"Is that so," he asked.

I didn't respond.

He stepped closer to me. I kept my eyes fixed on his. I refused to offer any indication of fear.

His hands moved up. He stopped them just next to my temples.

"May I?"

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"I believe it may help you."

I gave him a skeptical look before hesitantly nodding. What was it going to hurt?

His middle and index fingers touched my temples. My eyes closed for a moment as the voices in my mind slowly faded to silence.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes again.

"What did you do," I asked.

"Offered a temporary solution," Morpheus explained. "They will return when you leave here."

I slowly nodded again. I was starting to believe what he had told me before.

"It must have been so loud," he continued.

"Sometimes," I shrugged. "I... I never thought I'd experience silence like this."

"I am sorry that I did not intervene sooner."

"Why... Why did you?"

"I want to help you control this gift on your own. It will allow you to find peace by yourself."

"You could do that?"

"I hope so."

I grinned at him. "Okay."

I spent the next few weeks in that very room.

It was strange to think about how I was spending my nights in some other world trying to use some power that had haunted me for so long. Not to mention that those nights were spent with the ruler of that other world.

I had lied to my mom about it. She had asked about if anyone had found out and I shook my head and said no. I hated nothing more than the guilt twisting in my chest, but I didn't know how to explain it without her thinking that it was a new symptom.

Regardless of my guilt or how strange the situation was, it was working.

It was getting better. I was able to spend time in beautiful silence without Morpheus's interference. The first day that it happened, I almost cried. I had never known peace like that.

I remember how tightly I hugged Morpheus when it happened. He chuckled as I did. It was a huge milestone.

I was hopeful. I was finally taking steps forward that I didn't think were possible. It was a miracle.

Maybe my hope was why it went wrong.

It was easier to believe that I was to blame. Because if I wasn't to blame, then who was? I would rather know who to target my resentment and anger at than accept that some things are entirely out of my control.

No. I could never accept that some other entity with no connection to me would ever torment me in the same way I was capable of tormenting myself.

I had been walking home from work. I had just gotten through my door. And then, it was like a tidal taking down the wall meant to keep it from flooding the town.

Like drums. Slowly building. Voices crept up on me, louder and louder. I tried to ignore it. I tried to control it. I couldn't. It was a choir of screaming people. Wants and needs and silly dreams all overtook every part of my mind.

I remember the pain in my head growing. A dull ache turned into pounding. It was overwhelming. The tears welled in my eyes as a sob tore through my throat. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know who to beg for help.

My vision started to blur. Black dots filled the space that tears didn't.

I stumbled to the couch, putting my hand out to find the cushion before my vision went entirely dark and I fell onto it.

I collapsed on the floor of the throne room as soon as my mind escaped the waking world. The hard stone made my knees ache, but my focus couldn't even acknowledge that feeling. I let out a sob as I tried to cover my ears. It didn't work.

"(Y/n)..."

I could barely hear Morpheus's voice over the growing chorus. My nails dug into my skin as I felt my head pounding.

Another sob escaped me. The walls of the throne room shook with my pained cries. Morpheus didn't pause at the disturbance to his realm.

He knelt in front of me.

"Please, make it stop," I begged. I wanted to shout over the voices, but nothing escaped me other than some broken whisper. "Please."

Morpheus's hands touched mine. He gently guided my hands away from my head. I was shaking so much.

"Please..."

"Shh," he spoke quietly. "I am going to help you. I promise."

Two fingers from either hand pressed against my temples.

The volume was going back and forth. Like he was fighting against another force. I just kept my eyes screwed shut and fought the urge to reach up and claw at his hands or my face or anything else.

And finally, it was over.

A heavy sigh of relief came out as my body seemingly went limp.

Morpheus's arms wrapped around me, holding me close to his chest as I cried.

"I am so sorry," he whispered. "I pushed you to test these gifts. I led you here. I am sorry."

I didn't reply. I was too focused on getting my breath to even out. I didn't think it was physically possible to be exhausted in the dream realm. But here I was, feeling like I was on the brink of losing consciousness.

I slowly pushed myself to sit up again. I looked at Morpheus. My heart almost broke clean in half at the look of guilt written on his face. I moved forward and hugged him properly. One of his hands cupped the back of my head as his other arm wrapped around me.

"I am going to keep you safe," he promised. "I will never leave you to cope with this power on your own. Not again."

I closed my eyes and hid my face in his shoulder.

"I am so sorry."

"I forgive you," I replied. "I never blamed you."

He leaned back slowly. I grinned at him. He grinned back at me.

He stood up, taking both of my hands to help me follow his lead. "I am going to find a place for you to be at peace."

"Are you going to stay with me," I asked as he led me out of the throne room.

"If you will let me."

I nodded. "I would be much happier if you stayed with me, Morpheus."

His smile only grew.

The rest of that evening was spent in some comfortable silence. I laid back in a field of grass, taking the first calm breaths I had taken in hours. Morpheus sat next to me on the grass.

He would look at me from time to time. There was a cautious look on his face. I would grin at him. I knew that he was scared that what he had done wasn't enough, so I didn't stop him from trying to watch over me.

And that may have been the most peaceful night I had ever experienced.

--------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[shadowjokerao3]

The multiverse just got a lot more crowded… and chaotic.

I know I said I was done with the multiverse but I honestly couldn’t stop from making this. After 3 days the multiverse has expanded, many of these AU mikes being made between me and two very good friends of mine (will be in the tags below). In total there are 16 mikes here for shenanigans. Below this will be close ups of the groups they were drawn in with their name tags/nicknames and proper tags with who created them. Any mentioned stories can be found on AO3 as well.

First up are the plushies!

Plush (left) was created by @driftingvoid-155 (Void) and can be found in their story “Perfect Size for Hugging”

Plush Mike (right) is owned by @kiramorganpotatoqueen

Next up is the Mikes with the ability to swing in some way.

Mike Pines is owned by @soniccrazygal and can be first found in their story “Friends, Family, and Frights”

Wires is a Tokyo Ghoul Half Ghoul AU and was created by me, Void and @panaramic-art (Sean) with the story “Remnant and Blood of a Ghoulish Kind”

Ash is a Percy Jackson Half Blood AU created by Sean

Next is the bot boys! Mikes trapped in a suit of some kind!

All the way on the left is Rockstar Lolbit made by @inkspottie with the story “Laughing at Tragedy”

Next is the lovely Trap, a Mike stuck within Spring Bonnie, created by Sean. Can be found in “Spring(Lock) and Key”

And finally is Fox, Mike stuck within an unused spring lock suit, created by me who can be found in “Caught to the Bone, the Rise of FoxTrap”

Next we have the zombie boys!

We have Zom on the left created by Sean and can be found in the story “15 Year Old Zombie”

Vic is a zombie were-fox based in the Victorian era created by me and Sean. Their story can be found in “Franken-Fox”

Ok there’s not real connection with these 3 but they are still together.

Endy is an AU based on if Mike never possessed his corpse and instead became part of Ennard (baby gets ejected eventually) and then use an illusion disc to hide their form. Created by Sean and Void

Of course Glam Mike is from the comic Into The Pit by @pixlokita (yes I keep using the Halloween costume I really like it don’t at me)

Luster is a darker take on the wizard of oz, created by me and Sean. Can be found in the story “Soulless in Oz”

Finally, to round out the last of the mikes is these 3.

Clicker is a Mike based off the Last of Us (tv show specifically) created by Me, Void, and Sean.

Foxtrot is a serial killer Mike AU created by Void and can be found in “It Runs in the Family”

And last but not least is Petals, a mutated Hanahaki Disease AU created by me and can be found in “Lungs Suffocated by Lilies”

I hope you all like it this took so much time to make *~*

[toodelusionalforreality]

Arsonist

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: With time Azriel's feelings grow and become clearer. He struggles with the dilemma of revealing the bond to his lover and leaving it upto fate.

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. I've read this so many times for edits and I'm not even sure if it's any good. I appreciate all the love for Absolution, and this one offers a glimpse to their relationship in the past.

Word count: ~5k

Warning: 18+ NSFW, intimacy+angst+smut, f!pleasures, p in v. [too many he/she/names??]

Documenting, filing, and cataloguing—the simplest of tasks for a seasoned Spymaster—should have taken no more than a few hours at best. And yet, Azriel glared at the stacks of paperwork sitting on his desk. As soon as he arrived home, he set out to clear them in hopes of sneaking out before any of his brothers pestered him about his recent disappearances, not that his affair was a secret. Half a day later, there he was in his gloomy office with nerves on edge. 

A simple mission of surveillance had turned into a hunt of hostile outliers along the southern borders, stealing weeks from him. Luckily, he hadn’t promised N an early return. He felt guilty nonetheless for leaving her with no word.

A sadistic part of his heart wondered if she cared about him—lying awake in bed, listening for footsteps on her stairs, or rushing home to see if he was waiting for her.

Once, he returned from a similar mission earlier than expected and let his shadows stalk her for two days to see how she spent the days without him. That night, Azriel decided he was a twisted man.

Sometime after noon, he accepted his fate. He had half a mind to fling the papers into Sidra and run to N’s smithy to surprise her. How childish of him. A grown man excited to watch his lover’s face break into a kaleidoscope of emotions. N wouldn’t run into his arms, he knew, like the romantics fantasised. She was not a woman of such calibre. 

N embraced every fleeting moment with a nonchalance that bordered on lethargy. And it seeped into their relationship as well. She loved him simply—with her generous compliments, intentional touches, and domestic ease around him. She always had a smile for him. Her hands always found his hair or cheek when they lay in bed together. Sometimes, they ventured as far as his scarred ones, brought them to her lips that delivered the faintest of kisses before she drifted to sleep. Her words were nothing but genuine and certain. 

Azriel could vividly see the expression on her face if he materialised before her. She would look at him with sincere eyes, bright as the morning sun, and the corners of her lips would tug into a smile. ‘So how long do I get to keep you this time?’ she would tease.

Maybe, Azriel thought, that is enough.

Knowing she missed him dearly enough to mock his departure every time. But she also kissed him every time, she held him to her chest every time, and she looked him in the eye when they made love every time.

A cool shade fell over the room. His eyes strained to find the lines and curves he marked in black. Sweat trickled from behind his ears. Gone was the unforgiving sun crisping anything that dared set foot on the ground. With a roar of thunder that shook every stone in the walls, rains poured down. N. Azriel gathered the papers away in no order and left for the one place he knew her to be. 

Standing in front of the locked doors, he felt like a fool. The rain beat down on his leathers, mocking him. The heat from the forge radiated out of the grilled window. She was there and had left not long ago.

What did he come here for? To protect her from a rain? Or did his heart latch onto the only viable excuse presented to him at the moment? Yes, he thought, that must be it.

Azriel headed down the path to her home at the centre of the square, a long walk from her shop on the outskirts of the town. I like to work in the quiet, she had said, imagine how tempting it must be when someone’s bothering you and you have molten iron in your hands. He knew she could fight, but the last thing he suspected of his delicate lover was making tools of death and destruction. 

He hurried, short of sprinting, to catch her before she was soaked like a street rat, cold and wet. He let out an amused chuckle looking down at his own leathers. The things the woman made him worry about.

N had left earlier than usual. The way she moved, she should be home. But when Azriel’s steps faltered along the wet roads, he wasn't sure.

The streets were bare except for the few still seeking shelter from nature’s onslaught. Save for the stark silhouette of buildings and blobs of life that swished and slashed through, nothing could be seen past the wavering white veil.

A lone figure caught his eye. Edging along the walls, it braved the storm—an arm pressed to the forehead, another around the torso, shoulders hunched forward and face averted.

She looked worse than a drenched rat. Her clothes clung to her, too light to protect her from the prick of rain. The satchel across her body sagged and sagged, the seams threatening to burst at the bottom, pulling her down with it.

Azriel cursed himself. He closed the distance between them in quick strides and stretched a wing over her head. It didn’t offer much protection, but it allowed her to look up at the godsend cover and face him with a knowing smile.

The space between her brows furrowed and her eyes crinkled at the corners. Drops of water tugged at her eyelashes for mere seconds before making their descent down her pale cheeks. Her braid turned into a tangled mess, tendrils sticking to anything in their path like claws curling into her skin.

‘Want me to take you home?’

She nodded once, without hesitation, without a thought. He smiled and took her in his arms. She was shaking. Azriel preferred flying above the clouds, but he decided against it.

Between ‌her two broken breaths, his shadows dropped them on the landing in front of her house. N clutched his arms as her feet steadied under her. Letting go of him, she removed her satchel. Her arms strained under its weight. It hit the floor with heavy, contesting clanks. Probably leftovers of her day’s work that she couldn’t leave behind unfinished, even in her hurry. 

‘When did you return?’ She asked, removing her muddied boots. The leather fought worse than her bag. 

Azriel followed her cue and removed his own filthy one. ‘This morning.’ As he took off his other boot, N unbuttoned her pants. He lifted a brow. 

She chuckled, her lips trembling from the cold. ‘I’d hate to clean the house in this weather. Take your clothes off too.’ 

He gave her a dirty grin before he looked over his shoulder. The staircase behind him led to the bar downstairs. He didn’t care to be seen naked. But N? She was only for his eyes. He adjusted his wings to span the width of the narrow space, hiding her from any intruders’ view.

‘No one comes up here at this hour,’ she said as she moved on to her shirt and the tunic underneath. Her legs gave a tremor even with his warmth next to her. 

Just an inch of her bare skin made Azriel’s mouth water. And she stood there in her underwear. Mother, how much he missed her. His eyes wandered over her body—pale, cold, wet—unabashed as he undressed and tossed his clothes next to hers.

N shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. She opened the door to her one-room apartment, undoing her braid. He held on to her hips and trailed her, planting kisses on her shoulder. Her hand found his as she led him into the bathroom. It was bright, unlike his own, white and pristine. It was spacious but not enough for him, for his wings. And yet, Azriel followed her without a complaint, like a starved dog catching the scent of food after days of hunger.

Hot water hit their naked bodies. He traced his rough, scarred hands along her skin. Firm, littered with healed cuts and white scar tissue, still the softest he ever had the pleasure to touch. N shoved his hands away as she lathered herself, only to laugh when they found her again. Azriel didn’t mind that he tasted more soap than her skin on his lips with each kiss. Gods, was he desperate. 

Usually, she queried him about his day, or why he took so long. Or made a crude comment about how much she needed him only to hear him growl with desire. That day, she smiled and cleaned them both in silence with no words to distract him from her soothing touch. A proper tease.

When he wrapped his arms around her stomach and tugged her against his chest, she smacked at him. His wings flared, sending bottles off the shelf nailed to the wall. His shadows caught them before they hit the bathtub on the other side of the room.

‘Stop it,’ she giggled, soft and sweet. ‘You’re wrecking the place.’

Azriel buried his nose into her hair. Covered in soap, he still smelled her past the fragrance of jasmine. Sharp and clear, with a hint of melting iron. ‘I’ll buy you a new place.’

She laughed. A full, open laugh that shook her body. Azriel smiled. His heart tightened in his chest.

The bond was meant to tie him to her, draw him to her. He was prepared for the craving for her body, the lust that devoured him. But this was deeper. This ran in his very soul—taking his breath away unless it was the same air she breathed.

N turned around and pushed him a step back. ‘A minute, Azriel. Give me one minute,’ she said through her little laughs. She stood under the shower, tipped her head back, closing her eyes.

She didn’t understand it. She wouldn’t know his need for her unless she felt it too. She loved him though. She never said those words. But he saw the signs. In the looks she gave him, in her smiles, in the way she cared for him sometimes after long missions.

Azriel waited for the bond to piece together for her. Eighteen months. And he hadn’t told her about his torment either. It was his to bear for the time being.

He held his breath and watched the heat bring colour back to her skin, her cheeks coming alive—supple and flush. Her hair shone brighter. Her body stopped shivering and yet she draped her arms below her ribs. 

Divinely simple and utterly bare only for him.

‘Your minute’s up,’ he whispered and stepped up to her, his hands on her hips.

She opened her eyes. ‘Hi.’ She smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

Finally.

She pulled him close by his elbows. Water ran down his back and wings. She turned them around and backed away. Azriel blinked. Her laughs filled the room. N stood by the door and dried her hair. 

‘You tricked me,’ was all he said. His hands were immobile by his side, too shocked by what she had done, by what he hadn’t noticed. He was a spy, for Mother’s sake.

‘I asked you nicely.’ She patted down her body, her teasing eyes on him. ‘Now get done quick. Or do you want to stand there all night?’ And she walked out.

Azriel narrowed his eyes at her form disappearing beyond the threshold. His wings twitched, and he rolled his shoulders. He was quick, alright. He turned off the water and was out and on her in a blink. N let out a yelp when her back collided with his dripping chest. Azriel sucked on her—her neck, her shoulders, her arms. He didn’t care. As long as he had her warmth and taste. 

‘Fine, I’m sorry.’ Another laugh escaped her lips as she struggled to break free of his hold. 

Crazed like an addict taking his first hit after withdrawal, Azriel gasped against her skin. ‘Only because you asked so nicely.’ He loosened his grip. 

N faced him. She held the towel to his body—drying his neck, chest, arms, and back—slowly leading him to her bed. She left his wings untouched. She took her time while Azriel peppered pecks on her face. Anything to quench his thirst. 

‘Do you care so much for me?’ He smiled into a kiss he left on her ear. Her attention made his heart flutter.

She grinned, ‘Gods no, I don’t want you to ruin my bed.’ 

‘Your bed gets ruined every time I’m here,’ he said, teasing the shell of her ear with his tongue. A shiver went down her spine, and Azriel basked in the scent that filled the room. Her scent. The one that cried out for him, desperate and needy as him.

N tamed her face, wearing the mask of a woman who had an agenda. She pushed him back and he fell onto the mattress. She moved between his legs, a knee perched at the edge of the bed, and caressed his cheek. Her eyes were soft and caring.

He wished for nothing more than to stare into them all his life. One look at them and every moment in his life he felt unloved and unworthy was erased from his being.

His wet hair stuck to his forehead, their tips scratching at his eyelids. N brought the towel to his head. She was as gentle as ever, but Azriel couldn’t waste a second without gazing at that beautiful face of hers. He shook out of her hold, ducking his head and turning. 

‘Stop acting like a child,’ she laughed.

He grunted, ‘You’re smothering me,’ but it sounded like a whine to his ears.

‘Then stop moving!’

With a sigh, he gave up. Gods, what he wouldn’t do for her. He sat still and N allowed him the mercy to look at her. He rested his hands on her thighs, rubbing circles with his thumbs. He couldn’t help the sighs that left his lips every minute. He smiled up at her, capturing every feature on her face with the eyes of a devotee graced upon by his benevolent god. 

When N deemed him less of a sodden pup, she ran her fingers through his damp hair. She untangled each strand carefully, tugged them away from his eyes, and let them fall in their natural disarray. Her nails raked through his scalp, from his hairline to the base of his neck.

Azriel purred under her fingers. It took everything in his body not to fight against her ministrations and crush her body against his. His wings fluttered.

N looked at them and back into his eyes. Azriel nodded, his wings opening into a spread close to his body, close enough for her to reach. Droplets littered the membrane, too light to slide off under gravity. She barely touched the towel to his wing, and it twitched. She waited for a breath and tried again. This time, it held still. She repeated her movements, each time more careful than the last, from one spot to the next as gingerly as possible. 

Azriel closed his eyes. His hands smoothed over her waist, his fingers digging into her tender flesh, and pulled her close. Warmth from her body hit his face. He leaned forward, resting his forehead between her breasts. He felt her heart beat under her skin. Steady, lulling. 

That’s when he realised. It wasn’t lust that drew him to her or his bond. It was her—the solace she promised—a world far away from the treacherous reality he endured in his job, away from the nightmares of his past that haunted him, away from the loud and rush of this unjust one. 

With her, he could be still. 

With her, he could breathe. 

With her, he could just be.

She froze every minute he spent with her, entrapping him in her delicately spun cocoon of comfort. She didn’t need her words, her touch or her body. She breathed and tension in his body and soul melted away. The ghosts that followed him around faded into nothingness. Every pain in his mind, forgotten. 

She offered him life. Ecstasy at its purest.

The fabric that separated her from his wings was gone, discarded. Her fingertips grazed the outer curve of his wing. Azriel buried his face into her chest. If she allowed, he would crawl into her soul and stay there in its protection, in its everlasting, glowing warmth. He wanted nothing more than her in his life. He feathered his lips over her sternum. His wings wound around them, begging for more. He tugged her closer and pressed a kiss to her heart. The one he yearned to possess. 

N settled on his lap. Her delicate body pressed against his desperate one. Azriel looked up. With a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, she nudged him out of his swarming thoughts.

‘You’re a handful, you know that? You don’t make it easy to care for you.’

He smiled. ‘I missed you.’ He smiled a lot around her as if she drew each one out from the very depths of him.

Mischief sparkled in her eyes. She rolled her hips against his, ‘Oh, I can feel that.’

Azriel groaned and eventually laughed. ‘You’re naked in my arms. And you’re touching my wings. Can you blame me?’ His eyes darkened when she moved her hips again. ‘Kiss me. Now,’ he growled.

And for the first time that day, N obliged. She kissed him long and slow. Her lips were soft, plush, and pulsing with life. Her breaths warmed his skin. She pushed her body into his, and for the first time that day, she set her desires free. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her fingers laced together on the back of his neck, pulling him close. She leaned back when he dipped and chased him when he pulled back. It was a dance she was a master at, syncing to his body’s rhythm as if she knew it better than him. 

Azriel adored her tender love, but he needed more. He grabbed her damp hair into a fist. N whimpered into his mouth and he swallowed it whole. He was determined to lay claim to every inch of her soul if that’s what it took to make her his. He tugged her hair, and she arched her back with a long moan. He ran his teeth along her beautiful neck she offered for his taking. Her hands only pulled him closer. 

His mate. His willing prey.

N wrapped her legs around his waist. Azriel crawled deeper into the bed and laid her down gently. He pulled back to admire her one more time, stroking her cheek as she smiled. He pecked her lips once and flipped her onto her stomach ripping a choked gasp from her.

‘Trust me?’ He breathed against her ear.

She nodded. He kissed the side of her neck, her shoulder, and all the way down her back, enjoying every shiver that rattled her to the core. He sank his teeth into her waist just to make her yelp and glare over her shoulder. When he soothed the spot with a lick, she rolled her eyes smiling. He kissed all the way up until he found her lips again. His body relaxed against hers with careful pressure. He sighed.

‘I missed you,’ he murmured below her ear. 

Doubt crept into his pathetic heart every time she eluded his words. Once in a while her feelings crept over the string between their hearts like a spider, too little a thing for him to notice, but present nonetheless. Invisible and lurking, and always out of his reach. With the bond in place for him already, though he should have been able to feel her emotions, he barely did.

He needed to hear her words. He needed her to say those words and some more.

‘Then what are you waiting for?’ She asked, as breathless as he.

Azriel chuckled darkly, ‘Tell me you missed me.’ His shadows emerged for the play. They swept her hair aside for their master to suckle on her neck.

‘I’ll show you if you stop teasing.’

The seduction in her voice alone tempted Azriel to destroy her until she was a mess for him, whimpering and declaring her love for him.

He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her face close. ‘Words first,’ he growled as his other hand closed on her breast. A thumb ghosted over her nipple before he pinched it between his fingers.

N looked over her shoulder, her eyes dark and wide. ‘I missed you,’ she kissed the corner of his lips, sucking on the skin she could reach. Azriel eased his grip and then she spoke again, ‘So much that I was dreaming of your fingers every night.’

Azriel laughed. His body shook over hers, the sound reverberating through her being. ‘Such a tease,’ he closed his eyes and nuzzled into the side of her face, ‘You sure do know how to get your way.’

He slipped his fingers between her legs and hummed as he ran a digit along her slit. N held her breath, her hands clawing at the sheets. He caressed the inside of her thigh until she whined. When he tucked his hand under her leg and pulled it aside, N gasped at the cold air’s kiss on her wet core.

Azriel breathed in her scent—a fresh, sharp, intoxicating sweetness that ensnared his senses right before she stole pieces of his soul. He teased her entrance with his fingers, her lips smooth and slick against his scarred skin. When he slipped them inside, her breaths shuddered into broken mists.

He worked her with slow and deliberate strokes, for his own sanity than hers. He etched every groove and bend of his favourite maze into his memory. He kissed her lips as he pulled his fingers out and spread her slick onto his neglected cock. The moan that tore from his throat was one he would be embarrassed for life. But her mesmerised eyes on his lips erased any notion of it.

He grabbed her hip and entered her slowly as she welcomed him with a sigh. He stayed still, listening to her stuttering breaths against the echoes of rain.

So intimate, so real. 

N laced her fingers with his on her hip. ‘I missed this,’ she whispered.

This.

Not 'you'.

Ignoring the stab in his chest, Azriel grasped her hands in each of his and tucked them under her chin. He pulled out until the very tip and drove back in. Her moan pierced through the cries of the storm. He repeated his movements, sliding out with care and sliding in with fury. His breaths turned into groans, angry and beastly. He bit into her neck, her shoulder, between her blades to stop more desperate words from spilling out.

N touched his knuckles with her lips. She covered his hand with kisses, from his wrist to fingertips, worshipping every inch of his marred hand. She let her tongue slick over a particularly ragged part of his skin whose mere sight blurred his vision with vengeance for what he had endured. 

Azriel pinched his eyes shut. Letting go of her hand, he clutched her jaw. ‘Don’t,’ he hissed.

Foolish woman. She leaned into his hand as if it wasn't that of a killer, as if it wasn’t capable of offering nothing but a sweet embrace. She carded her fingers through his hair, cradling his face close. And brushed her lips over the length of the fingers that ghosted over them.

‘Azriel,’ she uttered his name as if it soothed her. As if she had been waiting for this moment just like him.

His hip bucked. ‘Say it again, say my name.’ 

‘Azriel.’

‘Again,’ he said against her skin, his voice coated in desperation.

‘Azriel.’ 

And she chanted his name with each breath.

His thrusts faltered. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. He wasn’t a worthy contender for her vicious tenderness. Yet, she gave it to him in earnest. ‘Touch yourself for me,’ he whispered in her ear.

Her hand obeyed. She moved her leg higher, offering her every depth to him. She circled her clit slowly, with the slightest of pressure. Her slick trailed down her fingers and she writhed under him. She gave him her moans; she gave him her body; she gave him her pleasure.

‘That’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good.’ He hummed at her misery, his cock delivering the faintest taste of what he suffered at her ignorance. 

Her cunt pulsed around him, gripping him until pleasure laced with pain with each slide. N whimpered and arched her back, pushing her hips into him. His hand on her jaw slipped to her throat, the only thing that kept her from curling away from him. She stared into his eyes, baring her soul for him. Her legs trembled, desperate to close, and his shadows crept up to hold them in place. She gasped when a few wisps searched for her soaked fingers and circled her skin. 

‘Shh,’ Azriel kissed her temple, ‘I know.' He pressed his tender lips to her cheek, a devastating contrast to his thrusts, ‘Come for me.’ 

And after a breath, she did.

The bond reeked of desire.

His and hers. His desperation, her relief. His longing, her content.

Azriel sank his teeth into her shoulder, hard—injecting the venom coursing through his veins into her, poisoning her with her own medicine, sharing the agony she inflicted upon him.

His heart was a house on fire, the mating bond a fuse, and she, the one with a match.

He pried her fingers away from her core and shoved them into his mouth. He purred at her taste, his chest rumbling against her back. With two staggering moves, he attained the same heavenly pleasure she did.

His hands wrapped around her, his legs intertwined with hers, and her body reaching out to his in a way that could only be described as a lover’s despair—the way they were meant to be. One and whole. Every breath, shared and stolen. Every touch, burning and soothing. 

Their moans stopped and their breaths calmed. Finally, the sounds of the world rushed back to his ears. The distant echo of the angry rain, the soft music from the bar below, the ghostly whispers that never turned into anything coherent. N sagged into the bed, loosening her grip on his fingers. 

Azriel eased her leg, massaging it with a careful hand. He kissed her cheek. ‘Talk to me,’ he said, ‘You okay?’

N nodded. ‘That was. . .’ she said between breaths, ‘intense.’

‘Good intense?’ He smiled against her shoulder, kissing the spots left by his canines where blood threatened to break through her skin.

‘“You should go on long missions more often” intense.’ 

He nipped her ear. ‘Say the word. And I will take you any way you want, whenever you want.’ He rolled onto his back, adjusting his wings under him. N looked at them with fascination. He pulled her to his chest, ‘Don’t unless you want to go again.’

She chuckled. ‘I can’t even look at them?’

‘You can do anything you want to them,’ he murmured to her lips, ‘Just give me a warning.’ His wing draped over her, the curved tip grazing up her leg as if agreeing to him, consenting to her. 

They remained silent for a long time, tracing swirls on each other’s skin. A moment frozen in time, drenched in comfort and warmth. Azriel ran his fingers through the lengths of her hair, damp more from his sweat than their shared shower. Every inch of her was marked by his presence. He smiled.

‘Azriel?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Next time come by sooner so that I can stop worrying.’ She was watching the rain through the glass door that stood between them and the balcony. Before he could remark, she added smiling, ‘The weather is nice.’ 

Azriel glanced over his shoulder. Winds howled—changing course every minute, spouting rain in every direction. The metal bird feeder suspended from the ceiling rattled and screeched. It swayed wildly close to breaking off its hinges. Water trickled along the walls, moving steadily towards the threshold.

He looked back at her and lifted a brow. ‘Nice? You’re about to be flooded.’

‘Maybe,’ she smiled up at him. Pulling a blanket over their bodies, ‘But I can do this,’ she wrapped an arm around his torso, pressing into him with a long sigh.

Azriel trailed his index along her cheek, down her jaw. He ached to let his will crumble and give in to his impulse. He only did it thrice after the bond snapped for him, too afraid to feel the nothingness again. He called to her through the bond—a gentle caress, begging her to follow him, pulling her closer than his physical body allowed, breaking the laws of the real world. 

He rested his finger on her heart hoping to feel something on her skin. An increase in heart rate, a hitch in her throat, or maybe the thrum of the bond’s stupid song that left him sleepless at night. Azriel would accept anything.

But her heart beat steadily, unaware of his desperation. The bond shimmered with his love, the light weaving through the thread until it met with her void again.

Ironic. The one born with the shadows had a heart aglow with love. And the other—warmth and light incarnated, had hers hidden in darkness. 

N placed a hand on his chest and perched her chin on it. She looked at him with curious eyes. ‘What?’

You’re my mate. 

The words were at the tip of his tongue. Three words and she would put him out of his misery. She would accept him, even if the bond never snapped for her. She would hold him close, kiss his lips, and tell him she loved him. She would rid him of some of his darkness.

A smile graced Azriel’s lips. He brushed her hair away from her eyes.

‘You hungry?’

[witchthewriter]

𝑴𝒂𝒄𝑮𝒚𝒗𝒆𝒓 & 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒐𝒚: 𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗

Paid story for @alohomorasomnium. Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: swears, talks of emotional and mental abuse, death, death by fire, fire injuries, past gaslighting, talks of PTSD.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶦˢᵗ

There had been an unusual number of cases coming in to the Charming Fire Department. Seemingly, it began as bored teenagers combined with stupidity, or backfiring getting out of hand. But then reports were coming in that fires were coming from houses, most were extinguished. Only part of the houses were damaged.

 No one had been hurt, but soon the fires were uncontained. They were ravenous and the firefighters couldn’t take control. Not without the help from the people of Charming.

  The Charming Fire Department was extremely worried. This town had many issues, but the police were the ones to handle that. But the fire department – it hadn’t been in this much use since the 80s when kids didn’t have anything else to do. And lighting fires was the best entertainment they could find.

      “This hasn’t happened to us before,” one of the younger firemen said in the breakroom.

“Not to this degree,” an older man, in his early fifties replied while scratching his incoming stubble. He was tall, with white hair and an air about him that made you assume he was a man of great authority.

    “It’s like the work of a serial arsonist,” a female firefighter said, Linda, who had first joined in her early twenties, now she was turning forty in a month. Her cropped dark brown hair wasn’t far off her skin colour, and she looked much younger than she was.

   “That means we’ll have to start working with the police?” the bulk of a man, Brad, added. He seemed … to bulge. Everywhere. It wasn’t just for looks though; he truly was that strong.

As were all the others. They had each passed the training course, but Linda was the one to beat. Everyday she still trained.

   The white haired man, Peter, nodded, while taking a long sip of his coffee.

“It will also mean that we’ll have new firefighters coming to Charming,” Peter said as he put the mug in the sink and walked out.

  “Shit, didn’t think this would happen in Charming,” Riley said. The newest recruit.

“Huh, neither did I, and I’ve been here nearly twenty years,” Linda said and left the room.

A police report had been filed when one victim was claimed from the flames. An eighty-year-old man with one child who was in a different country. He hadn’t been old enough to escape the flames. And He was found the next morning, well, his house was found. Charred to the ground, nothing left but a mass of soot and blackened wood.

  Unser stood with both hands on the sides of his hips. The smell was terrible, and he did all he could not to show it.

“Shit like this just doesn’t happen in Charming.” He mumbled to himself. He stood outside the demolished home, which wasn’t too far off the Charming primary school.

  Hale came up beside him, notepad already full of writing. He too could smell the aftermath of the fire. Not just smoke and ashes, but the residual smell of the body.

     “Think it’s linked to the club somehow?” He pocketed the notepad and tucked the pen in his front pocket. Handsome and tanned, he was nothing like his older brother.

  “They don’t do fires, not like this. And what would an eighty-year-old have to do with anything?”

The pair made their way back to their police cars. Boots crunching on the gravel, dirt and leaves. The smoke was still in the air. But both Unser and Hale were happy to get into their musty vehicle. At least it didn’t smell like roasted body.

It took a week for Opie to tell you about the photos he found. It was a continuous fight between wanting to tell you the truth of the danger but not wanting you to be so scared you felt you had to leave.

  He felt like a bastard. A completely selfish bastard for his reasons. He wanted to keep you close to him.

Opie had fixed your car and gave him back to you. It was a bittersweet moment because he adored the feeling of your arms wrapped around him as he tore down the highway. But he knew you needed your own freedom.

The problem with your ex made Opie lay awake at night. What good was being raised in a motorcycle club if he couldn’t handle one jackass? It was basically his duty to get rid of any scum that came into town. And this guy was just that. Some scum. Easily washed away with a whole lotta water.

  And this had nothing to do with the club – Opie was sure he could handle this asshole on his own. And these types usually backed off when they knew the woman wasn’t alone. When your ex-fiancé found out you were involved in biker shit, he would hit the road and never return.

When you saw the photos your heart plummeted. It fell straight through your stomach, and down,  down,      down,     to the gates of hell. Where you had escaped from only three months ago.

He used to pull shit like this all the time. Trying to control you, is what it ultimately came down to. Wanting you to be his and only his. That he owned you. You were a possession. Not a breathing, living person who deserved respect, no, he saw you nothing more than a doll to torture.

  The voice of your comfort snapped you out of your tunnel vision.                    

   “Do you want to talk about it?” Opie was sat in his living room, watching you in the kitchen. You couldn’t sit down, stand still, you needed to move. Otherwise, you felt trapped, no matter where you were, when you weren’t moving, you felt the walls closing in.

  Your words were quiet, but Opie moved so you didn’t have to raise your voice.

     “Moving to Charming was the reason why I would never have to talk about him, ever again.” Your voice shook, and you took a sip of your chamomile tea. But you couldn’t stop your body’s visceral reaction. You definitely had PTSD. Because even the thought of him could ruin your day.

Opie nodded; understanding.

   “I’m going to help you, if you’re okay with that?” His voice was a solace, and his words…god his words felt like taking off a backpack full of rocks.

  “I-how, I want your help but-“ your words came out in a flurried mess, and you rubbed your head with your sweaty hand. The tea had been Opie’s idea, even though he’d never had flavoured tea before.

He thought that what you needed right now was some fucking Valium, not tea. Liquor was the next best answer, but he knew you hated anything that impaired your senses.

So, this is what it was. Some shitty chamomile tea that was in the back of the pantry. Maybe he should ask if Tig has something?

  You stretched your neck this way and that, then your arms and your back. Your breathing slowed down a little but not much.

  “What am I going to do Ope? Charming was going to be my new home. My new way of life. I could envision my future-“ you spoke, gripping your arms around you.

It was hard to feel safe whenever Opie wasn't near. But what killed you was that your friendship hadn't developed into physical touch. You couldn't just go up and hug him and feel the fullness of safety.

No, you could only imagine it. Or stand a tad too close.

Bella whined as she watched you. And you gave her a sad smile. You didn't notice the tears or when they started falling.

Trying to hide them, you quickly turned away. You didn’t want him to see you so vulnerable. You worked with vicious attack dogs and turned them into fucking sweethearts. You were a badass. A badass with a stalker who wouldn’t let up.

    “Don’t worry about it. Just tell me his name and I’ll take care of it,” Opie got up from his seat, walked into the kitchen and put his cup into the sink. Then a strong hand was on your shoulder and you sunk into the touch.

Finally, you thought.

Then he rested his other hand on your other shoulder and bent down to kiss the back of your head.

It sent shivers down your spine. That act alone had such an affect on you. It was insane.

   Murmuring, Opie said, “I’ll make sure you’re safe. Everyone here, safe.” He motioned to the pack of animals in the loungeroom, and you laughed through your tears.

   The words brought a smile to your face which felt like a foreign feeling. There was only four beings that were able to make you smile right now; Bella, Dobby, Bea and … Opie.

Opie turned you around, so you were face to face. Well, face to … chest. But you looked upwards and into his deep blue eyes. In turn, he looked straight into your hazel eyes. Towering over you, you believed Opie’s words.

  But you had one question.

“Why?” you practically whispered it as you stared up into Opie’s own beautiful blue ones. You were a stranger. One that he had no reason to help, yet still he did, day after day.

  “Because you feel like home,” you knew he wanted to say more. There was a hesitancy, but you weren’t going to push him. Not today anyway. Not when you barely had enough energy left after a long day at work.

   Tig had been in and brought another two stray dogs who were covered in wounds. There were more dogs coming in then being adopted out. And that knowledge weighted on you, amongst everything else.

     “His name is Dalton,” you said quietly, almost as if saying the name would make the devil himself appear.

 Opie didn’t interrupt you as you told him about your past. How you had fallen in love with the image of a man and not the real thing. How, right after proposing to you in a very public place, you felt pressured into it. And then the relationship turned…deadly.

  After that, you called it off with him but he’d never left you alone. Dalton would always find a way to seemingly run into you.

Then you would get phone calls from private numbers, and have letters sent to your parents house, where you were staying at the time.  But none of it could be traced back to him. Not only was he possessive, but he was … incredibly smart. And manipulative. Even able to charm the officers who came to his house.

 Opie was silent, listening intently, wanting to hear every little detail.

   He held out a hand and you took it as he led you to the living room. As you spoke, you realised he had opened the window a little so the sunlight was peaking in.

Even through your trauma, Opie wanted to silently help you. He wanted to help you bask in the dusk.

  In the oncoming weeks, there was nothing from Dalton. No letters or pictures, only an upheaval of fires in Charming. It didn’t help your mental health one bit.

But Opie had started his hunt.

Hitting up every one of his contacts, he asked if they’d heard of a guy called Dalton. They had no pictures of him since you had burnt everything he had ever touched. So, they had to use his appearance, and more notably, his tattoos and scars. Dalton had a lion tattoo on his shoulder, and a scar down the right side of his arm, courtesy of you during her escape.

  He had photographed the healing process and sent it to you. Doing his best to make you feel guilt. You sure fucking didn’t.

The next part was asking around town, and no one had heard of this man. So, Opie left the contacts of a lone burner phone that was solely for information about the stalker.

  And still, the fires kept blazing. And no one knew which house it would be next. Sometimes the woods would be set alight and no one would be near to get hurt.

   But a lot of the time, Dalton had targeted young women. The ones in town who lived alone.

Unser had figured that out, and deemed the perpetrator likely someone who was on the road to revenge.

   “Motherfucker,” Jax had said one night. He had caught Opie as soon as the club meeting was done.

The night seemed darker than normal. As is a few of the lights had been knocked out. And the chill in the air gave Opie goosebumps. It wasn't even Winter yet.

Jax looked at Opie, but didn't move to get onto his bike.

“I know man, I thought this guy was just an asshole who couldn’t get over a crush. But he’s a fucking psycho.” The tall biker took a long drag of his cigarette than threw it on the ground and crunched it beneath his boots.

     “This ain’t on you man. I want you to know that. And you aren’t alone in this. Tell Kaelie that too," Jax's eyes were bright and sincere. And then Opie was off. Off to you. To home.

A week later, you noticed something. The fires seemed to be cloming closer and closer to Opie's house.

One every couple of houses Dalton would burn, always to the point of endangering a person’s safety.

  The hospital started to have an influx in patients with burns. Third degree was the least imperative. Now this was becoming more and more of an issue for the whole of Charming. Meaning, the club was going to have to get involved.

“Jax, what is going on? What are you not telling me?” Tara asked one afternoon. She was a part of one of the surgeries of the fire victims.

Usually nothing shocked her, but this ... this did.

   “I have no idea, babe,” Jax shook his head and ran his hand through his hair.

“This has to be some sort of-“

     “Well, it’s not! This isn’t some retaliation. This is…different. Clubs don’t target entire fucking towns.” There seemed to be a simmering to Jax that Tara could feel. A heat: anger.

“I’m getting … scared, Jax. What if something happens to one of us, or someone at the club. I’ve never thought of a situation like this before.”

   “No, no. Nothing is going to happen to you. Okay? Nothing.”

And Jax meant it. Now it wasn’t just an Opie investigation, the whole club was apart of this too. They had a common enemy, and any issues they had with each other would be pushed aside.

     Two weeks later, after the fires, you were told by Opie that the club wanted to help. Embarrassment had flooded you. It felt like something so dirty had now been aired out.

  “Opie-“ you started, turning to him, but he continued talking.

“No, they want to help. They truly do. Because we all know who is lighting these fires. It’s all connected, and once we take him out, everything will be fine again.” His arms were on either side of your shoulders and when you looked up at him, you sighed. Leaning your head against his chest, he wound his arms around you and held you tight.

    “We’re in this. And that dickbag isn’t going to touch my- uh- you.” Opie coughed at the end there, trying to conceal his mistake. But he did see you as his Kaelie. His girl. He wanted to be your protector, your provider. The one you could rely on no matter what.

   He wanted to be your other half.

Not used to physical attention, you leaned into the hug, and grabbed at him just as fiercely. You thought your feelings for Opie were obvious. But it was like he didn’t have a clue.

  How long did it take for a man to realise another person’s feelings. And it wasn’t all one sided? He had let you come into his home. Live with him. This was more than friendship, right?

Right.

   But neither of you would dare admit it.

  “You’re just going to have to trust me, okay?” Opie said when he explained the plan to you.

Jax, Tig and Chibs were involved, and you had to suck in a breath when you heard the details.

  It took you a moment, but you nodded and agreed.

“Now, go pack a bag, we’re going away for a while. And while we’re gone, the boys are going to look after the house. Gemma’s even going to come by.”

Your heart dropped, it ached. You didn’t want to leave Bella, Dobby and Bea. They wouldn’t handle strangers, and what if they thought you had abandoned them?

  But Tig would take good care of them. You knew that. But what about your cats? They only liked one dog.

You guessed they just had put up with this until Dalton was caught and everything could go back to normal.

   With your pack full of things you would need for a couple weeks, you got on the back of Opie’s bike and held on tight. Just as you were leaving, three bikes turned up. Jax at the head, with Chibs and Tig trailing him.

 They all stopped.

And Jax handed Opie an envelope.

  “Be safe, brother,” Chibs had called, and nodded towards you as well.

“Will do,” Opie replied, and gave you the envelope. Jax gave you a sad smile.

     “I wish we could’ve gotten to know each other on better terms,” he said with that prince charming smile.

  You looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do this-“

     “We know,” Tig interjected, “but I haven’t seen a person care more about the dogs I bring in than me. And I have to say, that’s fucking badass. So, don’t worry. Everything is going to be handled.”

You almost shed a tear. Who thought a bikie club could be so … caring?

   “We’ll see you later,” Jax said and Opie flew off into the night.

With the shining bright stars above you, and the blur of ground beneath you, how could you feel anything but delight?

  Especially when you got on the highway and flew and flew.

You felt like you were flying. A moment of freedom. Something that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

The Charming Fire Station was bright red and looked like any other towns'. There wasn’t anything special about it. Nothing than the red chipping paint that Dalton sneered at as he walked into the building.

    He had been everywhere in the world, with the most beautiful scenery. France, he remembered, when he proposed to Kaelie. In the moment she had said yes. And his heart was full. Or what he thought was his heart. But then she left him. She packed her things and wasn’t even going to say goodbye until he showed up during his lunch break.

   She hadn’t been counting on that. Dalton had noticed the change in her disposition. And he was weary of her. Luckily he had caught her. But she was still able to escape. But not without leaving a memory.

  The scar on his arm tingled and as soon as he saw someone his demeanour changed.

He kept on walking into the station with a grin on his face and a pack over his shoulder. Blonde, tall, tanned and muscled, he was the perfect face for all firefighters.

   “Well, you must be the new transfer,” Riley said, and shook his hand. Keening, Riley tried to keep just as much power in his own shake as Dalton did with his.

  “Sure am,” his Southern drawl made women swoop to him like birds to a call. And some men too.

Riley nodded his head and beckoned him forwards, already enchanted.

As he walked through the red fire house, he was greeted by a few faces, none he would ever care about. Although he would remember their names and birthdays. But when the fires started, he wouldn’t care who got hurt. It wasn’t his fault anyway.

  If Kaelie had just stayed where she was supposed to, none of this would have happened.

[ghostismybbygorl]

Okay heres how id vibe with cod characters

First off i think my call sign would be 'mouse'

Bc im small i can scurry around places pretty quick and i can escape out of a situation fast as well that or cause i sneeze like a mouse

Id be a sniper and demolition expert ngl

Price

Legit i would call him dad 24/7 not like in a daddy kind of way but like legit a father figure

he'd just roll his eyes and accept the fact that he has another kid he has to take care of

100% would smoke a cigar with him though id smoke those tiny cigarillos (my brother smokes cigars and ill smoke a little with him)

Gift giving is my love language so whenever id visit a new country id buy him a cigar from there

I have a hat like his and i WILL wear it around and mimick him

Id do the grunts and everything

I feel like id be on more missions with him than anyone else

Definitely would hang out in his office to keep him company and annoy the shit out if him

Soap

Dont let anyone near us

Like

AT ALL

wed be doing diabolical shit especially since im an arsonist and free will plus military grade explosives plus mouse and soap. have the fire department on speed dial

We'd be the reason price is greying faster

100% stealing his shirts and hoodies they'd be so big on me

Im gonna be up front with this one

We'd be fucking. I'm down bad for this man

We'd annoy the absolute piss out of ghost. He can handle one soap but TWO hes gonna need the backpack leashes for us

Quoting vines and tiktoks ON THE DAILY

Jam seshes in the car would be 100% perfect

We'd have a snap streak and its only stupid photos we take

Im recording everything he does i know damn well hes always in a silly goofy mood

Definitely in the blunt rotation

He's definitely the type to find my snack rations and eat them in front of me

Lots of hugs and kisses for this man

Except when he eats my snacks

Wed play fight all the time. When i'm really close with someone ill start "beating them up" (just be faking to fight you)

Ghost

Oh this poor poor man

Have sympathy on him because he's going to try to avoid every ounce of my being

And i wont stop that

Im giving him hugs left and right this man needs some love

I feel like once i start cracking dark humor jokes he'd open up to me

100% would be making the most absurd worst dad jokes and laughing about it

We'd text on the daily mostly just me sending him memes and him sending a 👍🏻or a 👎🏻

Im stealing his hoodies and his masks

Id probably piss him the fuck off to be honest

Id give him so many gifts to make him happy i know he crinkle's his eyes when he smiles

In the blunt rotation too but i think he'd just join for the company and not smoke that much

Id be over in his room if im overstimulated and i don't want to deal with people

Id have him proof read my fanfiction and he'd be my personal dictionary cause i cant spell for shit

Gaz

Did i say big brother vibes cause HE WILL BE MY BIG BROTHER

Id steal his hat so many times but like not in the ride a cowboy kind of way

Id buy him the most ridiculous hats and he will 100% wear them

I feel like he was a spondgebob kid so i know damn well we'll be quoting some of the lines

Part of the blunt rotation as well

When I'm upset he's the one id rant to

Definitely would vibe in a room without talking to him in general

He's most definitely the one to keep me from being unhinged

Totally would listen to murder podcasts together

So at my previous job we had to wear full body harnesses and we played this game called the carabiniere game where you take a carabiniere and hook it on to someone without them knowing and you see who can put the most on them

Soap, gaz, and i would be playing it 100% all the time with each other.

Id also grab them by the harness and pull them around or clip myself to them

Let me get a video from my old job and just put em here and id just explain

Okay back to writing

Laswell

Once again id call her mom and she's just gonna have to deal with it

Id definitely spend time with her outside of work (especially since she lives in maryland my family lives up there) which gives me more of a reason to visit her lol

Shopping sprees i feel like she's a frequent shopper at tj maxx and target

I also feel like she gives the best life advice so id come calling if im in a predicament

Okay so i am partially fluent in spanish, my god mother and best friend are Mexican so I've been around Mexican culture the majority of my life

Alejandro

definitely calls me niña or cariño

I feel like he'd roast my spanish and doesn't correct me if i say something wrong

100% my drinking buddy

I feel like he'd be very protective over me

Id be his date (platonically) and hed be mine to all the family gatherings

Fucking Mexican families are so much fun too. party my tia throws one and im there two shots of tequila in my hand listening and damcing to music

We'd text on the daily i feel like he'd frequently visit me and my family in the south as well he'd be the life of the party at my tia's parties

Rudy

He's the one that corrects my spanish and WILL only speak spanish to me until I understand whst he's saying

Insert him pointing to a random object and says it in spanish

I feel like we wouldnt bond much but we would you know?

I also feel like he gives great life advice

Graves

Id kick him in the balls

He's the type of guy i avoid or ruin his reputation

Absolutely despise him

Completely roast that motherfucker

Drop kick him

He pisses me off so much

Gives off leo and cancer energy

OHOHOHOHHH AND AT THE BETRAYAL SCENE DONT GET ME STARTED

Id 100% try to fight him even before Alejandro would

Tbh id probably get killed by one of his shadows bc of it

König

Sweet babe i would help him through an axiety attack

PIGGY BACK RIDES FOR SURE

id hug him every-time i see him

Definitely would say uppies and have him put me on his shoulders

He definitely wont see me at all ( im 5'4) so he would definitely have to crouch down to see me

His nickname would be bear cause of how big he is

I feel like when he'’s comfortable around you he’s very out going

I have no clue how to speak german but i will act like i do

He's in the blunt rotation as well

Thats all i got for now 😊

[girlinlotsoffandoms]

day twenty six - thrown out of a window

notes: the end is in sight! thanks for sticking around!

read on AO3 or below

Kelly’s repeated involvement with OFI had been the source of many, many arguments between him and Stella in the past. After his time in Alabama put a huge strain on their marriage, Kelly really cut back on full-scale arson investigations and only let his ‘fire cop’ side out when he had Stella’s full support.

Kelly had a natural talent for arson investigation and denying him the opportunity to use that talent was doing him, the CFD, and the city of Chicago (and beyond) a disservice. Stella never wanted Kelly to feel like she was holding him back, and he’d earned her trust again after Arizona, so she tried to be on board with Fire Cop Kelly coming out every now and then.

Things had been going well for Kelly; he was focusing on Stella, their relationship, and his job at the firehouse. Truck was going through a lot of changes and Kelly wanted to be there for Stella as much as he could.

Then the fires started.

At first, they were small. The fires only caused structural damage but it was clear they’d been intentionally set. Chicago had itself a serial arsonist.

Very quickly, the fires got bigger and more dangerous as the arsonist grew bolder. More injuries were reported as the arsonist moved on from abandoned buildings to stores, businesses, and apartments.

Two firefighters died after a collapse at a department store fire, which was a loss felt by every member of the CFD, and others were injured in a fire at an office building but it was the members of Truck 81 getting trapped and nearly dying during an apartment fire that did it for Kelly. The arsonist needed to be stopped so, with Stella’s blessing and a whole lot of anger and determination, Kelly made a temporary jump to OFI. 

Time was of the essence but there was a lot of evidence to get through. The arsonist was careful but the bigger and bolder he got, the sloppier he became. A pattern became noticeable and, whether intentional or not, clues were left behind at different scenes.

The police were helping as well, turning over any recovered CCTV footage from the fires to OFI. Between the camera footage and tips called in, Kelly and the OFI team finally had a lead on who the arsonist was and where he was hiding. 

It was just after sunset when the OFI team rolled up to a rundown motel near the city limits. It was a seedy looking place, just two stories tall and in desperate need of renovations. Half the rooms were boarded up, there were cracks in the walls and rust on the railings and stairs. The motel had closed a while ago but the accompanying police officers said they wouldn’t be surprised if people had taken to squatting in the empty rooms. 

One by one they searched through the rooms. While there were signs of obvious squatting, none of the rooms so far had shown any recent activity. 

Until they arrived at the room on the corner.

Kelly was the first one through the door and right away, he knew they’d found the right room. The walls were covered with newspaper clippings of the fires, those that mentioned deaths and injuries were front and center. Bottles of accelerants and empty gas cans were scattered on the floor, along with boxes of matches, lighters, and other fire-starting mechanisms.  

Seager radioed the others to report what they found while Kelly moved further into the hotel room. He knew PD would come and process the room and hopefully give them an ID on this guy, but Kelly was more interested in trying to figure out this guy’s next target.

As Kelly approached the back of the room, a sudden rush of movement caught his eye. A door on the side of the room burst open and a man rushed towards Kelly. There was a quick fight, but Kelly was soon overpowered. Before he even knew what was happening, Kelly was crashing through the back window and falling to the ground below.

Pain engulfed Kelly’s body as he hit the cracked asphalt below. His vision blurred and he fought to stay conscious but he was in agony. Through the ringing in his ears, Kelly heard yelling and thundering footsteps growing louder as they came closer. 

Kelly’s last thought, before he gave into the overwhelming darkness, was the arsonist’s face and the overwhelming knowledge that Kelly had recognized him.

… … …

It was a slow night at Molly’s, just the 51 crew and a few regulars in the bar. Stella was behind the bar and had just served Violet and Carver another round of drinks when her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, which normally meant she wouldn’t answer, but there was a gnawing feeling in her gut that told her to answer it.

“Hello?”

Stella listened for a minute, her eyes growing wider and wider as each second passed. “Is he okay?!”

After another minute Stella threw her dish towel on the counter, grabbed her keys, and started rushing towards the door. “I’ll be right there!”

“Kidd, hey,” Herrmann said, grabbing her arm gently before she made it around the bar. “What’s going on?”

“That was Seager. The serial arsonist OFI was looking for? He just threw Kelly out of a second-story window.” Stella looked at Herrmann and noticed she had the attention of everyone else from 51. “I need to get to Med.”

… … …

It took about an hour for all of the team from 51 to make it to the hospital, where they joined Stella and the OFI team in the waiting room. Apart from the initial update Seager and Van Meter had been able to give Stella when she arrived, they hadn’t heard anything else about Kelly’s condition. 

It was another 30 minutes before Dr. Ripley came into the ED with an update. 

“Lieutenant Severide is going to be fine,” he shared. He gave the group a moment to soak the news in, knowing the group in front of him cared greatly for his patient. “He’s got a pretty bad concussion, some broken ribs and a broken shoulder from the fall, but those should heal up just fine in a few months.”

“Our biggest concern is the fractures on the C5 and C6 vertebrae.”

“He broke his neck?!” Stella cried, the shock and fear making her voice louder than she intended.

“He did,” Dr. Ripley confirmed. “But ortho and neurology have both been in to see him. He’ll be in a neck brace while the fractures heal but as of now, there’s no need for surgical intervention. Neuro has also ruled out any deficits and paralysis. As he heals, Lieutenant Severide might experience some weakness and nerve pain but we’ll get him a referral to physical therapy for the rehab process.” 

“We’ll be keeping Severide overnight to monitor his concussion and get a handle on his pain. He’s being moved to a room now and then you guys are good to go see him.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ripley.” Stella said, sincerely.

Dr. Ripley nodded and headed back into the ED. The waiting group of firefighters and arson investigators all relished in the relief that Kelly would (eventually) be fine.

“That Severide luck strikes again,” Capp murmured.

“What luck is that Capp?” Cruz asked. “The bad luck that keeps getting him hurt or the good luck that has him surviving?”

“Uhh, both?”

Stella snorted and that helped break any remaining tension in the waiting room. Kelly Severide was a lucky guy…whether it was good luck or bad seemed to change in the blink of an eye. 

… … …

Kelly Severide was miserable. The neck brace and sling were uncomfortable, his entire body hurt, and no amount of pain medication could completely get rid of the throbbing ache in his head.

Seeing the team from 51 had been nice. Kelly had missed seeing everyone and while he liked the OFI team, they weren’t his team. They kept the visit short since visiting hours were almost over but they were all just happy to see Kelly awake and relatively okay.

When just Stella and Boden were left in the room with Kelly, Seager and Van Meter entered.

“Severide, how are you feeling?” Van Meter asked as he came to a stop at the foot of Kelly’s bed.

Kelly shrugged (or tried to) his good shoulder. “Not my first time going out a window.”

“Hopefully it’s your last,” Stella said, fixing him with a glare. “Take the stairs next time, hmm?”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.”

“The arsonist you were chasing,” Boden started. “Did you get him?”

“We did,” Van Meter answered. “PD is holding him at the precinct but he’s not talking yet.”

“Who is he?” Stella asked.

Before Van Meter could answer, Kelly jumped in. “Martin Carlisle.”

“That’s right,” Van Meter confirmed, raising an eyebrow at Kelly. “How’d you know that?”

“I met him in Alabama. He was an arson investigator from California, I think? He ended up getting sent home early for spouting all this crazy rhetoric. He presented a few times and had the most outlandish takes. Every time he got correct or even questioned he’d get mad and just spew even more nonsense. He got hostile so they sent him home.” Kelly explained. “No one knows for sure what happened to him after he got sent home but rumor was that he got fired.”

“Any idea what brought him to Chicago?” Seager asked.

“None,” Kelly mumbled. “But Carlisle did get into with me and a few others as he left. I’d check and see if there were any suspicious fires in Houston, Atlanta, and Seattle before he came here.”

“You think he’s done this before?”

“Maybe? I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Van Meter nodded and finished jotting something down in his notebook. “We’ll look into it, thanks Severide.”

“Rest up,” Seager added. “The CFD needs you.”

Seager and Van Meter left after that, heading back to OFI to look into the information Kelly had given them. 

Boden stayed with Kelly and Stella for a little while longer before heading out himself. He had things to handle on his end and he had some calls to make: he wanted to find our more about this Carlisle guy.

Once they were alone, Stella ran her fingers through Kelly’s hair. He’d gotten quiet since Van Meter and Seager left and Stella knew he was lost in his thoughts. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kelly moved his eyes to look at Stella. “It’s just a lot.”

“You know this isn’t your fault, right? Whatever choices this guy made, the destruction he caused, that’s all on him.”

“I know.” 

And Kelly did know. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard of an arsonist making things personal like this. Hell, thanks to Hadley, this wasn’t even the first time he’d been on an arsonist’s hit list. Their actions were completely their own but innocent people had been injured, good firefighters had been killed, his wife and her team had almost died. The fact that Carlisle could’ve done all of this as some sort of revenge plot against him made the guilt feel worse than the broken neck. 

“It still sucks though.”

“Yeah, it does.”

Stella knew her husband well. If Carlisle had done all of this to get back at Kelly, she knew he’d carry the guilt with him for a long time. He wouldn’t be carrying it alone though; she’d be there, helping him carry it, every step of the way.

[aries-writingblog]

Enemy Fire: 22

Summary: There's a new kid in town, and she's got a city to usurp.

Pairing: Jason Todd × F. Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: language, mention of death, violence

AN: photos are from Pinterest

“Let’s say we have a hostage situation.” Tim began, setting his scene. He snatched Dick by the shoulder and instantly kicked his knees out, shoving him down. He wrapped an arm around his throat, holding him to his body. “There’s two gunmen and seven hostages, one of the guys is holding a woman to him like this as a shield. What do you do?”

Dick lifted a brow, slightly confused on how he had been roped into the situation. He’d have thought this particular training exercise had faded with time, but it seemed every vigilante went through the same initiations.

“Take out the gunmen.” YN responded, as if it were the simplest thing she had ever heard.

“Which one?”

“Both.”

Tim tightened his grip on Dick’s throat— causing him to let out a small squawk. Duke’s lips curled into his mouth and he bit down on them, his eyes wide. Damian only lifted at brow (because his answer had been the same in this little exercise and he had been chastised accordingly).

“There’s a hostage involved.” Tim stated incredulously.

YN shrugged, her hands digging into the pockets of her sweatpants. Jason snorted, tipping his head back to the chair head rest. He watched through half opened eyes, using his socked foot to spin the desk chair half way and turn back.

Dick shot a glance to his cynical brother, only for the undead to wiggle his fingers in an acknowledging wave.

“I’m neutralizing the threat and getting the majority out alive. Win- win.” YN argued, shifting her weight from side to side. Quickly growing bored of the games they played.

She had been trapped in the Batcave for the entire morning, listening to them prattle on about vigilante rules. Informing her of everyone’s roles, testing her in scenarios, such as the one she currently, assumably, got wrong. Again.

“Uh, no— it’s definitely a lose-lose.” Duke interrupted, startled at her blasé statement on another person’s life.

Before arriving at the manor, Duke hadn’t seen so many differing opinions on superhero-ing. Then he met the Justice League and the Titans, and various other, disenfranchised heroes. Most of them always agreed: save the people you can, and do no harm.

Then he met Stephanie, who’s main goal was to save people, disregarding property damage. Cass, who saved everyone, no matter their side. Jason, who had his own complicated history and penchant for violent delights. And Damian, who seemed to be likened to YN.

Damian was still young, he had time to change his path and he had been performing wonderfully under guidance. But YN felt different.

She was older, more cemented in her ways. And she was a meta; Destructive in her very nature.

“She’s worse than Damian.” Tim moaned, dropping his grip on his older brother’s throat.

Damian scowled, narrowing his eyes at the frustrated young man across the room. He had been perched on the couch in the Batcave, fairly interested in the newest arrival in the Mansion.

He hadn’t dealt with many meta’s up close. They only showed up occasionally in Gotham— more common in Central City. Though, that place had too many to count and they showed up out of the woodwork.

And this Meta was a curious specimen. A pyrokinetic, perhaps arsonist, considering she had set fifteen fires in the city. Or perhaps just an assassin, seeing as she had formal training from somewhere that rivaled Jason’s League and Batman training, and she attempted his life.

Either way, she was in Gotham for a reason; Unspecified by Todd, even though he had argued on her behalf, heavily.

“Your main goal is to get everyone out alive and as unharmed as possible.” Dick instructed, pushing himself to his feet.

The woman arched a brow, leveling her gaze.

“Sacrifice tends to be necessary.” YN explained simply.

Dick sighed. He almost deflated, he had been hoping this one would be easier. He’d trained many heroes, he took pride in his work. Guiding others was what he was good at, something he found that came naturally, somehow.

But every now and then, he hit a roadblock. With a trainee, such as YN. The good news, was that he had been able to train her type. The more depressing news meant that they were on a long journey, and progress was going to be slow.

“What if she was a mother?” Tim asked, his last ditch attempt at swaying her.

“People die everyday. It’s what they do.” She declared, impatient with their feeble arguments. “What difference does it make? It could be her, a seventy year old man in Japan, a toddler in France.”

Quiet fell over the group, all the vigilantes sparing glances at each other.

Dick’s glance went to Jason— asking if he had made the best decision in trusting her. Jason’s multicolored eyes hardened, keeping his steel gaze level.

If he could change, from Robin, to Arkham’s Knight, and then to the Red Hood, anyone could change. He had to believe in that. Otherwise, what would he be?

Would he still be The Knight? Still hellbent on his revenge, stuck in a cyclical kaleidoscope of delirious, half conscious anger and betrayal.

Or would he be that boy from the Narrows— the boy blunder, Robin? The boy who struggled to survive. Who never truly believed things would get better. Too headstrong and self confident; Practically killing himself to prove his worth to his mentor.

She had to be capable of change. It had to be possible again— he wasn’t a fluke, it could happen again. For her.

“The difference is the people who love them.” Dick explained.

The doors of the elevator opened, revealing Stephanie and Cass.

The two girls had been busy that morning, leaving this round of training to the boys, but decided they would join after they returned. When they walked into the wall of tension, they shared a glance. Realizing they had entered at the wrong time.

“Attachments get you killed. People should know better.” YN snapped, spinning on her heel and finding her own way to the corner of the room and stormed up the stairs.

Cass and Steph slowed to a stop, joining the others in staring after her.

“Maybe we should’ve left her in Arkham.” Tim suggested, almost sheepishly.

Jason barked a ‘hey’ in offense, on her behalf. He leaned forward in his seat, preparing himself for an argument. Dick scrambled to stand between the two, also in preparation.

“Whats going on?” Stephanie demanded.

“Jason brought a psychopath into the house.” Tim cried, his hand flying out to gesture where the staircase was. The door at the top slammed closed.

“Yeah, and I can ask if she’d be willing to clip the wings of a certain red bird. She’s got the time.” Jason growled.

“Shut up.”

“Boys!” Dick shouted, his stern voice ringing through the cave. Though their arguments died out, the tension lingered. “She just needs time. Look at Damian— he’s turned out fine.”

“Yeah, he’s a real peach.” Tim muttered. Damian barely acknowledged his hostility, opting instead to take the high road.

‘So, she failed the hostage simulation?’ Cass signed, leaning forward into the conversation.

“Terribly.” Duke nodded, agreeing with Tim. Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes at the exaggeration. “She killed several hostages, at least. And the gunmen.”

“I think I’ve found my newest best friend.” Stephanie decided, before another argument could break out. She jutted a thumb over her shoulder. “Cass, you coming?”

‘Right behind you.’

Jason watched them board the elevator again, to begin their search for YN. He supposed it was good that the girls were in the Mansion.

YN had been surrounded by testosterone for far too long. The whole place reeked of men, attempting to mark territories and set boundaries. Ignorance and simple minded natures seemed to flourish between the walls of Wayne Manor.

It would do her good to be able to relax around women. He hoped it would be a comfort at least.

“All of you people are so stabby.” Tim decided, breaking the silence. He turned and marched off deeper into the Batcave.

Duke wasted no time in following him. Dick, on the other hand, wavered between the two groups.

Jason made the decision for him and got up from his chair. He started for the stairs, just in time to hear Damian mutter:

“I like being stabby and you won’t change my mind.”

Followed immediately by Dick’s sigh.

“These are ready when you are, madam.” Alfred called out, leaning his rake against the rose trellis.

YN shoved off of the wall she had leaned against, stalking closer.

Calling on the flame, it gathered in her hand— veins lighting up in her forearm as she held it steady.

YN had stumbled upon Alfred’s garden by accident. She had escaped the so called ‘training’ in the BatCave, her heart still racing from their judgmental monologues.

Adrian’s conditioning had been tough— bone shattering in intensity. How did they expect her to change overnight? Especially when she didn’t know the right answers— she didn’t know what they wanted to hear.

Luckily, Alfred didn’t ask any questions when she nearly fell over herself upon entering his garden. She had simply observed for a moment; Watching as he raked piles of leaves and pulled up dead plants— tsking at himself for another plant lost.

When she asked if he wanted help, he gestured to the piles.

‘It would be a wonderful soil nutrient to have the ash of those leaves, if you don’t mind.’

And she certainly didn’t.

The itch to release her fire had been building for hours, and he was offering the outlet.

YN let the fire slip between her fingers, like molten lava; Cascading down to the wheelbarrow of leaves.

The dried tinder lit immediately, the leaves curling inward as they shriveled. Embers sprung to life, flames running rampant.

Satisfied, YN turned, planning on returning to her previous place of sulking, until her eyes landed on broad shoulders. Standing in the middle of the garden’s archway.

Her eyes met the billionaire’s, expecting at least a few questions about her current actions.

Bruce only cracked a small smile, nodding to the fire behind her.

“It’s not the strangest thing I’ve seen between these walls. I have a house full of boys— things are lit on fire more often than I’d like to admit.” He joked. Alfred snorted, but otherwise made no acknowledgement of his boss’ sudden presence. “I wanted to ask for your time.”

This time, it was Yn’s turn to laugh— a short burst that sent her head tilting back.

The heat of the fire blazed pleasantly at her elbow, lapping at her patiently.

“You’re the one in charge of it.” She accused, hands dropping to her hips.

Bruce glanced down to where the flames licked her skin. She was seemingly unfazed and unharmed.

“You have free reign of the grounds, here.” He supplied, shoving his hands into his pockets. YN snorted, a roll of her eyes following. “Let’s go for a drive.”

“No.” She replied, slowly.

From what she had gathered from Jason, and the overall behavior of the others, they still didn’t quite know how to act around her.

To them, she was an arsonist. She had killed before, and who knew when she was going to snap again.

‘Jason brought a psychopath in the house.’

It was her own fault, she supposed.

“It’s safe. Pinky swear.” Bruce held his hand out, pinky finger extended.

YN eyed it, cautiously.

Bruce Wayne. Billionaire, playboy, Gotham Heartthrob, masked vigilante— offered pinky swears?

She would have thought he was mocking her if his face wasn’t so sincere. He had been a father for quite some time, she supposed. This dork behavior was probably just second nature.

Who knew Batman was secretly a dork in a cape?

YN sighed through her nose, reaching out to link pinkies for half a second before she dropped it and brushed past him.

Bruce only smiled and followed after her.

“You’re telling me that on his first night as Robin, Jason slipped off a roof and landed on top of the thieves?” YN repeated, wiping her fingers on a napkin. “And you’re asking me to believe it?”

Bruce nodded, a reminiscent smile on his lips as he took a sip from his cup.

“As I live and breathe.” He declared.

“Shit.” YN laughed, shaking her head.

It was difficult to think of the Jason she was coming to know as inexperienced. A young boy, who truthfully had no business in tights, fighting crime.

“He did lots of things when he was young.” Bruce recalled, fondly.

YN hummed, taking another bite of her burger.

Bruce had done just as he promised. The pair got into one of his sports cars, he drove them into the city, where he bought fast food, and then drove them to the outskirts of town.

They parked on a large hill, a lookout sight, that was a portion of the nature reserve turned park.

As they sat on the hood of his car, YN could see all of Gotham. The sunset glow was reflecting off skyscrapers, streetlights had begun turning on. The streets were packed with people driving home, to work, out to meet friends.

Not sitting with a billionaire eating greasy burgers and fries, watching the setting sun.

Her life was getting stranger by the day.

“You remind me of Damian, when he was first dropped at my doorstep.” Bruce decided, dunking a few fries into his ketchup. YN sipped her drink, allowing him to chew before continuing. “Headstrong, stubborn. Distrustful.”

She sucked in a breath through her teeth.

“You really know how to compliment a lady, playboy.” She teased, poorly suppressing a smile.

He chuckled, shaking his head.

So far, she had been perfectly pleasant company. Bruce had done everything he could to soften his masculinity. If what Jason told him (and the swathes of information he pieced together on his own) were true, she would only resent the male ego.

It had worked wonders.

YN had actually warmed up to him. Carrying a conversation without complaint, answering questions; Though a little vague, he took what she gave.

He was beginning to see why Jason had taken a liking to her.

“Jason lobbied for your freedom—“

“Stop.” She interrupted. He did as she commanded, falling silent and waiting for her to keep going. YN ducked her head, averting her gaze. “I’m already confused in this whole situation, I just want to go forward.”

Jason had broken down, eventually, and finally gave her a partial explanation.

They had sat together in her room for hours that night. He had been in the proverbial doghouse for most of that time. She nearly strangled him every time he brought up a new, more interesting point.

When he told her he ordered the hit on her, she actually put her hands on him. Pressing against his Adam’s Apple, attempting to cut his air supply.

She had eventually sobered up, and taken a deep breath.

She was still confused on the whole thing— the motives behind every action baffled her. But YN decided it would be easier to ignore it all instead of trying to understand these people.

Bruce, however, took her statement to mean she was taking the high road. To move on.

And that took miraculous strength.

“You’re going to be a fantastic vigilante one day.” Bruce muttered.

YN shot a sideways glance at him, her lips pursed.

He apparently hadn’t heard the reports from his children, yet. Nor had he seemed to be deterred by the news reports.

She wondered what his plan was. Because he had a plan; That much she was sure of. There was no way he was letting a meta into his home, in on his secrets, without something.

Besides, he was Batman. Vigilante grandé.

His backup plans had backup plans.

But his face read a different story. A much simpler one.

“You gambled on me.” She confronted him, shifting to face him instead of the city.

“It was an informed decision, trust me.” He stated. Yes, he had searched and scraped information from as many sources as he could. And he made a decision based on everything he had learned, but in the end, he hadn’t learned much about her. Most of his information was vague and came from Jason. “I told you, Jason wasn’t going to let anyone misunderstand you. No matter how much damage you’ve dealt to the city.”

YN wrapped her remaining food back in it’s wrapper, placing it on the hood. Her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket for the umpteenth time that evening.

She assumed it was Jason, or the group chat she had been added to earlier that day. The girls cornered her in the kitchen, more than happy to include her.

Damian didn’t seem to hold issue with her, and Dick had taken a special interest in forming a friendly attachment with her.

She was becoming quite popular with the Bat Family.

They all seemed to believe she was something she wasn’t. In one way or another.

“Still— feels like a dangerous decision.”

“I’ve made plenty of those.” Bruce assured her. Nostalgia swept his thoughts, taking him down memories he hadn’t thought of in years. “I’ve comforted enemies, dined with those who tried to kill me. You have fire power, Superman is indestructible; My superpower is forgiveness.”

“That is… incredibly cheesy.” YN laughed, breaking the tension that had settled over the conversation. Her fingers picked at the paper wrapper, her eyes remaining in her lap. “How do you do that without losing yourself?”

“Forgive, but don’t forget. Learn from experiences. Show compassion.” He advised. He felt like a hypocrite, saying these things to her, after all he had done. “It’s never easy to take this path, but it’s worth it.”

YN hummed, pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs.

His words were familiar.

“You kinda remind me of my mom.” YN spoke softly, as if she couldn’t decide if she wanted him to hear or not.

Bruce smiled.

“I take that as one of the highest compliments from you.”

[outpost51]

Playlist tag game

many thanks to @void-botanist for the tag!!

Rules: post a screenshot or a list of your playlist titles and tag some friends. If you're tagged, send op an ask about one of their playlists.

so. funny story. i....have. a lot. lmao

putting it under a cut for the sake of y'all's dashes

no pressure tagging (grabbing a bunch of you since i haven't done a tag game in a while): @sparatus @thetrashbagswasteland @writernopal @tabswrites @manicdepressivedaisy @nightingalesighs @commander-krios @princess-prawn @kiran-wears-science-blues @aceouttatime @straypurplebread @discoeffect @bambino1294 @breadedsinner @beelzebby666 and leaving it OPEN feel free to hop on and tag me i love music

two wrongs.

badder.

to be anointed in gold.

f*ck me yourself, coward

though she has shown me where her bones lie

white dove

six seeds

i don't wanna be your friend

there is no fog in the next town

desire

bare to the bone

pushing buttons crossing lines

damage control

he's a liar

fallen star.

the stars we wander, the hands we're dealt

thy will be done

lightning tracers

it's alright.

confidence interval

the space between relays

gone but not forgotten

three lost stars.

decaying orbit.

kerosene.

the hundred-year distance

advanced security measures

no room for innocence

stay.

o, icarus

toxic bastard syndrome

avi. avi. commence. stars.

i'll follow you anywhere.

i'll follow you down.

if not, winter

playing with fire

and she was an arsonist

cat::mouse

it's alright. i'm fine.

shimmer/scream

you were always my favorite

for love, i will handle your sins.

tell me lies.

blinding neon.

once bitten.

sparks on the pavement

if you don't grieve it didn't happen

harder places

no strategy

easy doesn't do it

record player static

racing comets

fuck em only we know

the last laugh

neon gravestones

voices

the boy who cried wolf

i was their revenge.

power surge

john can't dance.