#tiny spark mighty flame

[eevylynn]

Tiny Spark, Mighty Flame 

Words: 1136 Chapters: 1/? Rating: Teen

Ships: Sterek

Include: Hale Family Feels, Werewolf Stiles, Pack Alpha Stiles

Read at Ao3

Among born werewolves, it was common knowledge that the prime age for a human to endure the bite of an Alpha and survive was typically during their teenage or young adult years. In fact, the youngest recorded case of a bite resulting in a transformation and not death was previously eleven years old, so imagine the Hale pack’s astonishment when they learned of a small seven year old who was bitten and miraculously survived, challenging the known boundaries of possibility.

It all started on an unusually warm summer evening in Beacon Hills. School had finally let out the week prior, and young Stiles Stilinski was beyond ready to enjoy his freedom. His best friend, Jackson, had spent the last two months of school being sullen and quiet before lashing out on Stiles furiously at the slightest provocation. Considering how close the boys were previously, the change hurt, and Stiles didn’t know what he’d done to cause his once valiant defender to turn on him. Maybe Jackson just got tired of Stiles’ energy just like everyone else..

THUMP

Not fully paying attention to his surroundings due to lamenting about the loss of his friendship, Stiles’ foot hooked onto a large root, and he tripped. However, he didn’t just land on the loamy, leaf covered grass like he expected. Apparently, the part of the ground Stiles hit was just low enough that it caused him to tumble down the nearby edge and down a hill.

“Owww,” Stiles groaned softly, as pulled himself up onto his hands and knees once he stopped rolling. Taking stock of his body, he saw a couple of brush burns on his palms that were bleeding just enough that they were gone with a quick swipe on his dirty jeans. He felt a sting on his left knee as he stood up, but it didn’t look too bad when he picked the leg of his jeans up to look.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles swung his arms back and forth as he looked around to see where he was. This wasn’t quite an area of the preserve he had been in before. With the Stilinski’s house edging the large wooded area, Stiles would commonly run out here to play and explore beyond the edge of his own yard. His parents were normally okay with it as long as he mostly stuck to the path, which he usually did…until now.

Stiles should probably find a way back to the path, but the hill he had fallen down was a bit steeper than he felt comfortable climbing up with his tiny little legs. So, he couldn’t really go back that way. As long as he walked along the edge of the hill, it would be okay for Stiles to continue to explore down here, right? After all, it wasn’t entirely his fault that he fell. His mom told him all the time that it’s not his fault that his brain was just running faster than most others’. That’s why he didn’t notice that root, and it’s not like he meant to fall. Now, he’s just searching for a way to get back on the path. Yeah, that’s what he’s doing. He’s going through this new area off the path to get back on the path. He totally won’t get in trouble for that.

Stiles had stumbled through a second thick grove of trees before he realized he wasn’t quite sure where he was. He took a left when his way was blocked by dense shrubs since he was sure the path went that way. Mostly sure. Like 60% sure. Maybe.

“Ennis, be reasonable.”

The sudden deep voice made the small boy freeze in place.

Continue at Ao3

[littlelightningbvg]

proper tag drop. FINALLY!

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Any rec for sterek fic in which Derek and Stiles knew each other before the fire?

Hi @dyke-yoonji! I sure do.

Shopping Cart Memories by osointricate

(1/1 I 807 I General)

For Autumn, who needed "more stiles had a cute kiddy crush on derek way back when” fic."

Shades Pulled Shut by OverMyFreckledBody

(1/1 I 1,530 I General)

Derek was there when Stiles' mom died.

Now it's Stiles' turn to be there for Derek.

Tiny Spark, Mighty Flame by eevylynn

(3/? I 4,833 I Teen)

Among born werewolves, it was common knowledge that the prime age for a human to endure the bite of an Alpha and survive was typically during their teenage or young adult years. In fact, the youngest recorded case of a bite resulting in a transformation and not death was previously eleven years old, so imagine the Hale pack’s astonishment when they learned of a small seven year old who was bitten and miraculously survived, challenging the known boundaries of possibility.

one, two, breathe by nemonight

(1/1 I 10,880 I Not Rated)

Empaths are cursed with great power and most don’t know it. Stiles never had anyone to tell him that he was an empath but he knew what he could feel was not all human. Stiles always thought that he couldn’t be the only one who was special. Turns out he was right.

Believing in Yesterday by Antistalgic

(6/? I 12,632 I Teen)

Derek was driving through the city when he suddenly hears a cry that made his wolf howl with pain. He barely manages to park before running to the source and finding little Stiles sitting on the pavement with a bloody scrape on his knee and tears in his eyes.

All But The Brightest Stars by useyrwordsderek

(6/? I 24,658 I Explicit)

Derek Hale met Stiles Stilinski when Stiles was six years old and Derek was sixteen, when Derek’s mother babysat Stiles after Stiles’ mom died. They didn't see each other again until Scott McCall was turned, ten years later.

In which Derek and Stiles both have to become a little less broken before they can help each other and themselves.

Burning House by witchgrassi

(1/1 I 46,113 I Not Rated)

For as long as he can remember, Stiles Stilinski has dreamt of the house in the woods.

Cruel Summer by PotatoJam64

(100/100 I 193,322 I Mature)

Scott gets bitten by what he claims was a wolf, but there are no wolves in California okay?

But there are Werewolves.

Derek Plays Lacrosse, Stiles has a massive crush on the man, and Scott's is the hot girl... (They're all 16 years old and in high school)

Burn with hellfire in the blue light of midnight by babisays

(20/20 I 203,189 I Teen)

Stiles met the Hale siblings when he was eleven years old. Now it has been six years since he lost his best friend Cora in the fire, and Derek and Laura left Beacon Hills.

Six years was a long time, so he didn't think he would ever see them again, but now he was wondering what the hell was Derek Hale doing back in Beacon Hills.

[aziraphales-library]

Lost Fic #151

1. I read a fic once where post canon (? I think?) Aziraphale was kidnapped/captured by demons as revenge and Crowley just invaded Hell as a giant snake and used his imagination to warp reality so that basically he was a basilisk and the demons were rats in the maze with him. And he just cronched his way to saving Aziraphale. I’m looking for this fic again if you know anything that sounds right? - @mousesizedragon-blog

2. Hello A-L Team, I'm looking for a fic where after the not-apocalypse, Aziraphale is still hesitating in admitting how he feels about Crowley. Crowley becomes upset and says something along the lines of "come find me when you're ready, you know where I'll be." Only Aziraphale doesn't. (He's particularly clueless in this one.) So A stays on earth for another several thousand years, gradually forgetting what C sounds like or looks like, until humans make earth uninhabitable and set course for, where else, Alpha Centauri, where Crowley has built a house on the shore and has been living all this time. I have tried every tag I could think of on AO3 and have come up blank. Any insight? Thank you so much! - anon

3. Hello!!! I’ve been looking for a certain fic for a while now, I read it on ao3 a while ago but can’t seem to find it again for the life of me! It started with the classic night at Crowley’s flat with them confessing and doing the body swap, however when they did the body swap their true forms sort of… burned??? when in close proximity but in a way that they could make it work yk. It was definitely explicit and it ended with them in a hotel room at the Ritz. Thank you for all that you do on this account btw it’s so helpful!!! - @gloriouspurpose69

4. Hello! Thank you so much for your bog it's amazing! your all fabulous people! I've been looking everywhere for this fic where Crowley is trapped in Hell and Aziraphale has to walk him out sorta Eurydice's style. And I swear I found it through this blog but the only one i can find similar on here is "A Mighty Flame Followeth A Tiny Spark" and it's not that one! All i remember is at the end Aziraphale has lost a part of himself and I think there is a follow up fic where Crowley has to take him to heaven to get it back??Please help if you can! Thank you so much! - @tyrograph

5. I lost a fic where Crowley keeps his hair pulled back and eyes covered, and hides other things, because Aziraphale makes a face or acts stiffly - which Crowley interprets as disgust at his demonic appearance and capricious fashion choices. When Crowley gets a headache from a tight hairstyle, he offers to go home so Aziraphale isn't inflicted with his disheveled self. Aziraphale tells him it's actually repressed attraction, and things progress from there 😁 likely E or M rating. - anon

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

[thecoolerlucky]

I Got Roped Into Being A Hero

Chapter 1: Kidnapped by The Hero

Contents (Warnings/Mild spoilers): Introducing Matchbook and how he became a sidekick to one of the strongest hero in the world.

Wordcount: 3,300+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some believed everyone's sudden gain in unique powers or features was due to the next step in evolution. Others said it was a crazy attempt at making a zombie apocalypse. The work of gods, a meteor that changed their biology, or the results of a secret alien invasion.

No one really had an answer. As far as everyone knew, it just happened. 

It sent the world into chaos, and it took a long time for it to be calm again. Not that it was without turmoil, but they had systems in place for that. All mighty heroes watching over the cities all over the world, helping take down those that decided to use their powers against the less fortunate like...

"Hey, Match, can you give me a light before you go?" The grungy, pot bellied guy with a toucan head said as he wiggled the cigar in front of him. 

You can't even use them right.

"Sure," Matchbook sighed as he let go of the sandwich shop's back door. The heavy weight of it slammed it shut behind him.

He put his fingers together and in a single snap they created a flame atop his middle finger. He offered it to Little Oscar's cancer stick. 

Little Oscar chortled the best he could and lifted his cigar to meet it. "I get it, you hate me asking." He jested, poking fun at the lad. 

"It's the easiest finger to light," he explained  and saw himself explaining hundreds of more times in the future.

After Little Oscar lit it and nodded gratefully, holding it between his beak, Matchbook left. 

He shook his hand to put out the tiny flame. He couldn't make flames bigger than that of a match hence the nickname he had since elementary school. 

He wasn't as gifted as his parents or sister. His mom was a fire manipulator and conjurer, while his dad could heal from injuries at a near instantaneous rate. And his little sister was a fire breather. 

She created sparks much like their mom, except in her mouth. They learned this when she accidentally sneezed as a kid and set Matchbook on fire. 

On the same day, he learned he was immune to heat, just like his mom and sister.

He kicked up a pebble as he strode the sidewalk. He struck it as much as he could on his way home, avoiding the construction specialist setup repairing a damaged city block from a recent villain attack. Most people didn't have too many powerful abilities, but those that did didn't hesitate to make a mess. 

He lost the poor pebble on the way when he kicked it into the fresh and still drying cement. He picked up his pace after that.

It was a long hour walk before he saw his apartment in the distance. If I still had my bike I'd get home so much faster. He recently lost it during a jelly Villain attack and the collateral claim had yet to go through for a replacement. I should move closer. 

Matchbook worked at that shop for a year and enjoyed the mundane task of making sandwiches. It made it easy and gave him time to think about-

"HEY!" A feminine voice shouted far behind him. 

He thought about looking back until a nearby  RuuMmbBBleEe of the destruction told him to head home instead. He subtly picked up the pace. I'm not getting caught outside during a fight. 

"HEY, SIR!"

Sir. I'm barely 22. He pretended he didn't hear them but they were getting closer. He wasn't good at power walking. I can't break out into a full sprint.

A hand firmly gripped Match's left arm to seize his motion.

Oh great. He turned around, holding a forced friendly half smile like he wasn't trying to ignore them a second ago. 

“Oh sorry, I didn't…” He trailed off. 

She let out an exasperated huff in front of him and hunched over to catch her breath. The parts of her blond bob cut hair that didn’t stick to her face from sweat fell forward as she did. 

It wasn't that hot outside, it was a crisp cool sixty degrees, with a light breeze through the buildings. Has she been chasing me for a while? I didn't hear her. 

His eyes drifted to the notepad in her one hand, and as she lifted her head, she smiled. Her glimmering determination reminded him of his little sister.

“Are you alright?” 

She nodded, stood up straight, and adjusted her white blouse. “Yes, sorry, sir.” Do I really look that old? You look the same age as me!  “I’ve been chasing The Hero around all day, and lost him, have you seen him?” 

“Which one?” He mentally kicked himself when he asked. Why did I ask which one? I hadn’t seen a hero all day. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, “this always happens. Why did he pick such a vapid name?” She removed her hand from her nose, “The Hero is his superhero name.” Matchbook heard the hint of disdain for that hero's name. Although he recognized it, he didn't keep track of any other hero's besides his mother and sister.

She rolled up her sleeves, unintentionally drawing his attention to her forearms. He took note of her muscles. More defined than I ever had. She’s in pretty good shape for a journalist? If that’s what she is.

He guessed by her question and notepad. 

“He's one of the strongest heroes in the world, the one who..." she curled her fist, and much like an elderly man complaining about his lawn, shook it at the sky. "Somehow has a backstory that can’t be traced back past surface level research. A person born with a power like him would have been talked about for years, glorified in the media, but it’s like he appeared out of thin air."

She continued her spiel and Matchbook bobbed his head, trying to think of the best way to get out of this conversation. He didn’t know this woman, he barely said a sentence to her and she explained all the inconsistencies with The Hero’s story. I’m not big into hero scandals. 

Regardless, Matchbook politely replied. "It sounds like you have a vendetta against him." I want to go home and relax, no matter how nice you seem.

"I do." She held up her notepad, "I have been chasing that idiot all over the city! So again, have you-" There was another loud bang, and turning back, the two could see the furrow of smoke not that far away. "seen him…?"

He glanced back at her. She looked ready to run toward it.

She's going to get herself hurt. He tugged her attention back, "I haven't, but by the sounds of it, if you don’t live nearby you should get to a shelter.” He noticed the few people on the streets were doing just that. There wasn't one that far from his apartment.

"No way, it might be linked to the hero!" If she’s willing to run into danger, she probably has a power to back herself up. 

He lifted his hand and the next eruption stole his chance to say goodbye. On the fifth floor, overhead, an object crashed straight through the building and partially into the one next to it. They both instinctually ducked at the noise, Matchbook covered his head and saw whatever the object was, it brought some of the second wall down with it and landed in the alley a little bit further back from where they currently stood. 

The woman’s arm whipped up and grabbed at his shirt. She got him by his uniform and yanked him into her. She threw them both back. Neither of them fell, only stumbled as a few pieces of the apartment came down. They fell into the sidewalk where he once stood, exploding into dust upon impact near his shoes. 

That wouldn’t have been a fun trip to the hospital. 

The streets were empty, everyone either got home or went to a shelter. He looked up, seeing that was his apartment. So, unfortunately, he didn't have a room to hide in. He ran around her, expecting to hear her steps behind him. She didn’t follow.

You gotta be kidding me. “Lady, we should get to a shelter! If there’s a villain we can get hurt!” He wasn’t quite running yet—he was slowly moving toward the direction of the shelter a few blocks away. 

She ignored him. She went toward the alley. What is she doing! 

He followed her. His objective was to pull her like she did him. 

Matchbook barely caught her whisper. “Which hero is that?”

He felt his eyes drawn to the entity standing there. The man was in a luchador wrestling outfit, adorned with a sparkling cape. Though, Matchbook tore his eyes away as it looked very very ‘form fitting’ bright red suit. That's a colorful outfit, he's probably some hero?

The man smiled, leaned at them, and threw himself forward and into the woman. Matchbook couldn’t track the speed he moved. Nor did Match move fast enough to get out of the girl's way when she went to dodge. 

The man got the woman with both of his meaty hands. He squeezed at her waist and she ordered him to let her go. His muscles and body looked to swell the longer he held her. His uniform threatened to tear at the seams.

He cackled as he shook her like a toy. “You're gonna be my little hostage.”

What should I do? I can't fight him, he's huge. He was bigger than most body builders, muscles the size of Matchbook's head. 

When he got close enough to her face, she threw a punch. It connected with his nose, making him coil back and cuss.

She whined as he squeezed tighter. 

He might kill her. Matchbook thought, his heart pounded in his head, along with a giant whistle from farther behind him. What if it's another Villain? He didn't want to turn around and find out. 

I don't know her. He heard the woman whine out again as the man laughed, ignoring Matchbook's pathetic presence completely. 

He threw himself forward, snapping the fingers on his right hand, and moved his tiny flame near the villain's cape. It didn't take long for it to catch fire.

He jumped back and shouted, "OH NO, Your cape's on fire!"

The fire spread faster than Matchbook expected, bringing that man's attention off the woman. She took her opportunity while being dropped to hit the hulking guy with a firm blow to his crotch.

The man hollered, weakly undoing his cape from the ground.

The whistling behind Matchbook got louder, he ran to her and got her arm. “Come on!”

She followed his tugging and the two could hear the villain getting up. “YOU BRATS!” He shouted. 

His feet pounded against the street like he grew with their fear, or at least Matchbooks. 

“TO YOUR RIGHT!” A voice yelled.

They ducked to the left as another being slammed into the paved streets. His palms collided with it first and he ran on his hands for a few extra feet, making humongous hawk wings that protruded from his bare back melted quickly and rejoined his flesh. The helmet clad, muscle ripped individual threw himself up and into a standing position. 

He stood much taller than the average hero, more the size of a villain. He dusted himself off, unscathed after his theatrical landing. He pressed a button on the side of his visor, staring directly at the woman and Matchbook, as them and the Villain were motionless during the escapade. His eyes were a vibrant, shimmering purple with meshes of pink. 

He walked calmly to them.

“Are you two citizens, alright?” His voice carried the same sweet sincerity as a grandmother who happily overfed her grandchildren. 

Match nodded.

"The Hero! I need to talk to you." She declared, forgetting about the trouble behind them. Not that Matchbook was any better.

The villain snapped out of his trance. Matchbook didn’t look back in time for the hunched man to hook his arm around his neck. He brought him up, “you stay back or I’ll kill him,” He flexed his much smaller muscles. Dangled up, unable to move out of fear that the grip would crush his windpipe, he felt small and helpless.

The Hero put up his hands and didn’t move. “Put him down.” He advised, keeping his eyes tracked on Match. I gotta do something.

Matchbook snapped his fingers again and put the flame to the man’s arm. He had never used it against someone like this, but he didn’t see much choice. The man cried out, dropped him, and the Hero snatched Matchbook up and brought him to the woman. 

“Is your throat okay?”

Once Matchbook was safely on the ground, he rubbed it. “I’m okay.” He was lucky the Villain didn’t put too much pressure on it.

The Hero sighed with relief, “good. Now, you two, stay back.” His eyes shifted, though his head barely turned. His pupils looked to expand as they twisted in the villains direction. “I’ll handle the villain.” The tonal shift made him jump.

The Hero’s face rose in a smile, revealing sharp incisors that Match didn’t see before. The wrestler, or villain dressed as one looked thinner. Matchbook didn’t know if it was because he was being compared to the Hero, or because of something with his ability. 

“You destroyed property, attempted robbery, and threatened a civilian’s life.” The Hero’s voice boomed, silencing everyone's hearts and breath. His statement was followed by an air vibrating laughter. 

It knocked the man on his butt. His muscles were reduced so much that he looked like he had been starving for two weeks in the tundra. 

“I’m sorry- I’ll g-go quietly.” 

The Hero grabbed his helmet, he tossed it off. It bounced on the floor like a toy as his own size increased. His white hair flourished in the open. 

“You’ll go quietly?” The Hero mocked as he swayed like a drunkard. 

The fear-stricken villain tried to rise to his feet, he bumbled to stand. 

The Hero stood over him, crouched down to grab him. He got the villain picking him up with one hand, wrapping it around his waist. 

“They’re never quiet.” 

The villain pushed desperately at his hand as the steadily growing Hero brought him close to his head.

Matchbook’s eyes couldn't look away when The Hero's mouth opened wide. It made the villain frantically yell, and it was quickly silenced by The Hero's tongue at his face. It partially coiled around the man's head before bringing him inside his maw.

Matchbook’s mind was blank. He could only watch The Hero swallow down the villain, his throat expanding as he did, and what was left outside flailing helplessly in the air.

The act disturbingly reminded him of a nature film, where a snake slowly, surely, and efficiently gulped down its prey. 

Except this man was very much alive. He kept struggling even though he was pretty much fully inside him. 

Match didn't know how long he watched. It felt prolonged but in reality it took a minute. The last bit of the villain vanished and The Hero exhaled into the air afterward.

The Hero’s previous devilish demeanor dropped and he smiled, childishly. He glanced down at his middle, "Secured.” He said a loud, while his midsection was lively from the movement within it. “Calm down, Villain, I'll take you in soon."

Villains eat people. Not Heroes. Matchbook thought still awestruck by disbelief. 

His shoulders then rose when he saw The Hero was walking to him again.

The woman's voice, slightly perturbed, but determined to talk to him rushed forward, "YOU'RE GOING TO ANSWER MY QUESTIONS THIS TIME!" She bravely stomped to him, disregarding the massive height difference between them now. She barely came up to his knee, if at all. 

She got within a few feet of him, so his stomach wouldn't obscure either of them from seeing the other. How can she even talk to him like that? Did she not see him eat someone? Does she not see the human-like shape inside him?

Matchbook took the opportunity to start walking backward from the madness.

The Hero put up his hands, as if she held power over him and his smile wavered anxiously. “I think you have mistaken me for someone else…” He poked at his stomach, “and even if I was the right one, I need to finish talking to my sidekick and get this criminal to the authorities.” 

“Sidekick?”

The Hero looked over at Matchbook and so did the woman, he froze once they did. Why are they looking at me? Why is The Hero looking at me!

Matchbook hunched inward, afraid of the approach. He stumbled over the curve and The Hero loomed over him. He dropped into a squat, used to the moving weight, and harmlessly smiled at Match. 

They were nearly level with one another—it didn't stop Matchbook's eyes from continuing to trail away from his face. 

“I saw your heroics while I was overhead trying to find this dastardly Villain.” Matchbook didn't need The Hero to gesture anything. “You did great.”

His hand reached out to pat Match’s head. The best he could do was tap it with his finger tips. “Are you another hero’s sidekick in training?”

He heard his question, his attention was too drawn to the woman who willingly tugged at the pant leg of his stretchy costume. Why is she okay with this? It’s not like he hadn’t heard about another person getting eaten but never had he seen it outside of shows. 

“HELLO?” The Hero waved his giant hand before Match’s face. “You didn’t get hurt did you?” 

The concern shoved Matchbook from his thoughts. “N-no.” His brain processed everything that had been said. “To both questions.” 

The Hero’s hands slammed onto the ground, eagerly. “That’s perfect!” His hand came up and grabbed Matchbook before he could react. “I’m in desperate need of a new sidekick!” The Hero, leaving little room for Match to rebuttal, threw him over his shoulder and held his hand over him securely. 

What is he doing?! Matchbook could barely wheeze out a, “huh,” as the ground was farther from him. 

“Don’t you dare run off again!” She said, as The Hero hunched back down, his body tensing as he did. 

“Now, citizen, please stand back.” 

The Hero nudged her with his leg and she complained further. “Quit it!” 

Matchbook’s vocabulary returned, “Hold on, I didn’t agree to be your-” The next thing he knew, the air was knocked out of him as they shot upward. Matchbook couldn’t hold in his scream as the contents of his lunch threatened to come back up.

He sealed his lips, still held and feeling the incredible force against his body. His eyes, barely open, saw the beautiful city they flew over. Something he would have admired if he was looking at it through a computer screen on the GROUND. 

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, clutching as hard as he could into The Hero’s flesh. Please, please, PLEASE put me down nicely!

The wind whistling fast past his eardrums slowly dissipated and he finally heard The Hero’s voice. “Whoops, I overshot the docks again!” 

He opened his eyes, squinting, as they were across the water. The docks were in the distance and they were flying much slower now.

“Just fly us back there! You have wings!” Matchbook whimpered, still clutching what he could.

The Hero laughed, “Ha, you’re right!” Then the force shifted and Matchbook felt his body being pulled upward, away from him as they were falling. “How do I do that again?”

“WHAT!” Matchbook shouted. They were rapidly approaching the water.

The Hero twisted himself and Matchbook in the air, He swung Matchbook in front of him, pushed him with whatever force he could, and got his back ready to strike the water. 

And the last thing Match saw before they struck was The Hero mouthing the word, ‘sorry’.

…

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Next Chapter

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I Got Roped Into Being A Hero!

[mads-weasley]

Prove It

Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Eira Torsteinsdottir (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Summary: Ivar's regime takes an even more dangerous turn, and Eira meets someone unexpected amid the chaos (5x13-14).

Word Count: 1.5k

Days passed in a blur of bandages, ointments, herbs, and salves. By the time Eira arrived back at her house, the sun was setting, and the temperature was dragging down with it as it descended. She tugged her thin furs closer to her body as she sat beside the small fireplace, staring into the hypnotic flames that danced before her. Eira became lost in the fire, their flickering light casting shadows on the walls of her small house. As she stared into it, her breath caught at the flicker of a memory…the way flames used to dance in her sister’s auburn hair in the sunlight. Solveig had been the lively one, quick to laugh, always moving. But that same fire had taken her, its destructive hunger swallowing the laughter, the warmth. 

Eira closed her eyes but the memory forced itself forward: the thick smoke filling their home, the heat pressing against her skin as she scrambled to find Solveig. Her sister’s screams had cut through the crackling wood, desperate and wild, and Eira could do nothing but call out her name over and over until her throat burned raw. When she opened her eyes, the flames before her seemed smaller, almost tame in comparison. She could still feel the sting of that night, even now, as vivid as the scars it left behind. Though not physical, they were found in the quiet ache that settled in her chest whenever she was alone. She’d lost her mother and sister that day…the day their village was raided, the day she and Vali became orphans.

In the months following the raid, they’d moved to Kattegat and started new lives. The siblings were rarely found without the other, and they were known children of the mighty Thorsten, the great Viking warrior and friend to Ragnar Lothbrok. Their name alone garnered them a certain amount of respect, but respect could only go so far. They had always had each other to lean on in times of struggle, but now Eira was alone, and the solitude was slowly snuffing out her spark for life. The only light in her life was Liv and the people she helped in Kattegat. The gods seemingly tormented her soul as love and hate wrestled for control. 

“Freyja,” she tearily whispered, grasping the pendant hanging from her neck. “Forgive me, but I do not understand why I am here. Why have you spared me? Speak to me, please. I beg of you.”

The next moment, the door to her house flew open with a deafening crack. She reached for a nearby knife, but it was too late. Two of Ivar’s soldiers had already stormed inside, their boots echoing in the tiny space as they roughly yanked her from her seat.

“Get up,” one growled, his breath hot and sour against her ear.

“What is this?” Eira demanded, struggling against their bruising grip as her feet skidded across the wooden floor. 

This was not the answer she was expecting.

Neither guard answered, dragging her into the icy night eerily lit by mounted torches. Eira’s furs were dropped in the process, and her thin shirt and skirt did nothing to stop the cold from seeping into her bones. They shoved her into the gathering crowd of panicking citizens, and her heart beat loudly in her chest at the chaos around her. Screams hung in the air as every resident of Kattegat was pulled from their homes. She glanced around frantically and caught the terrified looks of the people surrounding her, their eyes widening when soldiers with torches appeared, marching down the street.

What caused this?

A procession of gothi soon followed, and the guards' comment from earlier replayed in her mind. 

“You should respect your king…your god.” 

Eira’s stomach churned. This was for Ivar. It had to be. 

“Kneel to the god Ivar! Kneel down!” the gothi bellowed, his voice carrying an almost hysterical reverence.

Eira stood rooted to her spot with her arms crossed tightly against the biting chill. Her heart hammered in her chest, but not from fear. Frustration burned hot in her veins. Ivar was no god. He was a man…a man so desperate for control that he draped himself in the gods’ names to disguise his own insecurity. The people around her knew it, too, but they were terrified of the man, of what he could do. Eira could see it in the way their shoulders trembled.

She had to get out.

A soldier stomped past her, shouting at an elderly man who struggled to lower himself to the ground. “Kneel, old man, or I’ll make you!”

The man whimpered, his frail hands shaking as he tried to comply. The guard soon ran out of patience and grabbed the man by the shoulder, shoving him down roughly.

Eira seized the moment. With the soldier’s attention focused on his victim, she took a cautious step backward toward the alley behind her. No one noticed. Another step, then another, her feet soundless against the snow-packed ground. She didn’t dare look toward Ivar’s chariot, feeling his piercing gaze scanning the crowd. If she turned, she knew his sharp eyes might find her, his cruel smirk confirming that she would soon be dragged back. 

By the time she reached the shelter of the docks, her breath came in quick, misty puffs. Eira stood on the dock’s edge, staring at the moonlight reflecting off the fjord’s icy waters. Ivar’s arrogant voice echoed as the ceremony continued across the docks, but she tried to block it out. To focus on anything else. 

Despite her efforts, the roar of the flames and the faint cries of the crowd drew her attention back to the ceremony. A pyre burned brightly against the dark night, its orange glow illuminating the docks even from a distance. Eira’s chest tightened as she caught sight of a woman hanging upside down above the pyre. Another innocent life taken by Ivar’s unrelenting hunger for control, for power. She clenched her fists as she hugged herself, the cold stinging her skin through her shirt.

When would it end?

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she turned away from the fire, only to pause mid-step. Just ahead, a man stood near the edge of the dock, his thick fur cloak pulled tightly around him. The flickering firelight illuminated the side of his face, revealing his identity. Eira’s instinct told her to leave, to avoid any confrontation, but something about his stillness rooted her to the spot. Slowly and cautiously, she approached him, her steps light against the snow-packed wood. 

“I thought you’d be beside Ivar,” she said quietly as she stood beside him.

He didn’t move, his gaze remaining glued to the raging fire. “Then you would be mistaken,” he replied softly.

“You are Hvitserk Ragnarsson, yes?”

He finally turned to look at her and instantly recognized her from earlier. She was the healer from the road. The one who’d been shoved to the ground by Ivar’s men. The one he’d watched with a curious eye. 

“I am,” he confirmed with a barely noticeable twitch of his lip, a forced half-smirk he’d picked up from his father that fell just as fast as it came.

Hvitserk’s gaze lingered on her as she stood before him. A combination of the moonlight and firelight cast a soft glow on her face. She was beautiful…there was no denying it. Loose blonde strands from her braid twirled in the wind, and her cheeks were reddened by the cold. It was her eyes, though, that he found impossible to look away from. As she stepped closer to him, he could see the depth of her eyes, a piercing blue like the sky before a storm.

His eyes flew back to the ceremony when a few screams ripped from the throats of the townspeople at the ceremony. A fresh wave of grief washed over Eira, hearing the brokenness of their cries. He’d grown up in Kattegat. She didn’t understand how he watched Ivar destroy it before his eyes. “Why are you doing this to your home? Your people?” 

“I…” Hvitserk stood frozen, his eyes flickering between the burning pyre and Eira’s searching gaze. She was right. He had been a part of this, hadn’t he? But what could he do? The gods wouldn’t let him leave. 

“You are just like him,” she whispered after a moment, the firelight reflecting in her glossy eyes as she moved away from him, instead facing the fjord.

“I am nothing like Ivar,” Hvitserk replied quickly. He slowly stepped up beside her and leaned against the railing, watching the water ripple in the silvery moonlight.

There were only a few feet between them, sounds of the ceremony and the fjord gently lapping against the shore filling the silence.

“I am not my brother,” he finally said, his tone softer.

“Then prove it,” Eira challenged quietly, a tear streaking down her cheek. Going back from where she’d come, she spared him one last defeated look over her shoulder. “For all of our sakes.”

message or comment if you'd like to be added to the tag!! <3

[luckyshotwrites]

Chapter 1 - Kidnapped by The Hero

Contents (Warnings/Mild spoilers): Introducing Matchbook and how he became a sidekick to one of the strongest hero in the world.

Wordcount: 3,300+

Side note: ENJOY!

_______________________________________________

Some believed everyone's sudden gain in unique powers or features was due to the next step in evolution. Others said it was a crazy attempt at making a zombie apocalypse. The work of gods, a meteor that changed their biology, or the results of a secret alien invasion.

No one really had an answer. As far as everyone knew, it just happened. 

It sent the world into chaos, and it took a long time for it to be calm again. Not that it was without turmoil, but they had systems in place for that. All mighty heroes watching over the cities all over the world, helping take down those that decided to use their powers against the less fortunate like...

"Hey, Match, can you give me a light before you go?" The grungy, pot bellied guy with a toucan head said as he wiggled the cigar in front of him. 

You can't even use them right.

"Sure," Matchbook sighed as he let go of the sandwich shop's back door. The heavy weight of it slammed it shut behind him.

He put his fingers together and in a single snap they created a flame atop his middle finger. He offered it to Little Oscar's cancer stick. 

Little Oscar chortled the best he could and lifted his cigar to meet it. "I get it, you hate me asking." He jested, poking fun at the lad. 

"It's the easiest finger to light," he explained  and saw himself explaining hundreds of more times in the future.

After Little Oscar lit it and nodded gratefully, holding it between his beak, Matchbook left. 

He shook his hand to put out the tiny flame. He couldn't make flames bigger than that of a match hence the nickname he had since elementary school. 

He wasn't as gifted as his parents or sister. His mom was a fire manipulator and conjurer, while his dad could heal from injuries at a near instantaneous rate. And his little sister was a fire breather. 

She created sparks much like their mom, except in her mouth. They learned this when she accidentally sneezed as a kid and set Matchbook on fire. 

On the same day, he learned he was immune to heat, just like his mom and sister.

He kicked up a pebble as he strode the sidewalk. He struck it as much as he could on his way home, avoiding the construction specialist setup repairing a damaged city block from a recent villain attack. Most people didn't have too many powerful abilities, but those that did didn't hesitate to make a mess. 

He lost the poor pebble on the way when he kicked it into the fresh and still drying cement. He picked up his pace after that.

It was a long hour walk before he saw his apartment in the distance. If I still had my bike I'd get home so much faster. He recently lost it during a jelly Villain attack and the collateral claim had yet to go through for a replacement. I should move closer. 

Matchbook worked at that shop for a year and enjoyed the mundane task of making sandwiches. It made it easy and gave him time to think about-

"HEY!" A feminine voice shouted far behind him. 

He thought about looking back until a nearby  RuuMmbBBleEe of the destruction told him to head home instead. He subtly picked up the pace. I'm not getting caught outside during a fight. 

"HEY, SIR!"

Sir. I'm barely 22. He pretended he didn't hear them but they were getting closer. He wasn't good at power walking. I can't break out into a full sprint.

A hand firmly gripped Match's left arm to seize his motion.

Oh great. He turned around, holding a forced friendly half smile like he wasn't trying to ignore them a second ago. 

“Oh sorry, I didn't…” He trailed off. 

She let out an exasperated huff in front of him and hunched over to catch her breath. The parts of her blond bob cut hair that didn’t stick to her face from sweat fell forward as she did. 

It wasn't that hot outside, it was a crisp cool sixty degrees, with a light breeze through the buildings. Has she been chasing me for a while? I didn't hear her. 

His eyes drifted to the notepad in her one hand, and as she lifted her head, she smiled. Her glimmering determination reminded him of his little sister.

“Are you alright?” 

She nodded, stood up straight, and adjusted her white blouse. “Yes, sorry, sir.” Do I really look that old? You look the same age as me!  “I’ve been chasing The Hero around all day, and lost him, have you seen him?” 

“Which one?” He mentally kicked himself when he asked. Why did I ask which one? I hadn’t seen a hero all day. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, “this always happens. Why did he pick such a vapid name?” She removed her hand from her nose, “The Hero is his superhero name.” Matchbook heard the hint of disdain for that hero's name. Although he recognized it, he didn't keep track of any other hero's besides his mother and sister.

She rolled up her sleeves, unintentionally drawing his attention to her forearms. He took note of her muscles. More defined than I ever had. She’s in pretty good shape for a journalist? If that’s what she is.

He guessed by her question and notepad. 

“He's one of the strongest heroes in the world, the one who..." she curled her fist, and much like an elderly man complaining about his lawn, shook it at the sky. "Somehow has a backstory that can’t be traced back past surface level research. A person born with a power like him would have been talked about for years, glorified in the media, but it’s like he appeared out of thin air."

She continued her spiel and Matchbook bobbed his head, trying to think of the best way to get out of this conversation. He didn’t know this woman, he barely said a sentence to her and she explained all the inconsistencies with The Hero’s story. I’m not big into hero scandals. 

Regardless, Matchbook politely replied. "It sounds like you have a vendetta against him." I want to go home and relax, no matter how nice you seem.

"I do." She held up her notepad, "I have been chasing that idiot all over the city! So again, have you-" There was another loud bang, and turning back, the two could see the furrow of smoke not that far away. "seen him…?"

He glanced back at her. She looked ready to run toward it.

She's going to get herself hurt. He tugged her attention back, "I haven't, but by the sounds of it, if you don’t live nearby you should get to a shelter.” I noticed the few people on the streets were doing just that. There wasn't one that far from my apartment.

"No way, it might be linked to the hero!" If she’s willing to run into danger, she probably has a power to back herself up. 

He lifted his hand and the next eruption stole his chance to say goodbye. On the fifth floor, overhead, an object crashed straight through the building and partially into the one next to it. They both instinctually ducked at the noise, Matchbook covered his head and saw whatever the object was, it brought some of the second wall down with it and landed in the alley a little bit further back from where they currently stood. 

The woman’s arm whipped up and grabbed at his shirt. She got him by his uniform and yanked him into her. She threw them both back. Neither of them fell, only stumbled as a few pieces of the apartment came down. They fell into the sidewalk where he once stood, exploding into dust upon impact near his shoes. 

That wouldn’t have been a fun trip to the hospital. 

The streets were empty, everyone either got home or went to a shelter. He looked up, seeing that was his apartment. So, unfortunately, he didn't have a room to hide in. He ran around her, expecting to hear her steps behind him. She didn’t follow.

You gotta be kidding me. “Lady, we should get to a shelter! If there’s a villain we can get hurt!” He wasn’t quite running yet—he was slowly moving toward the direction of the shelter a few blocks away. 

She ignored him. She went toward the alley. What is she doing! 

He followed her. His objective was to pull her like she did him. 

Matchbook barely caught her whisper. “Which hero is that?”

He felt his eyes drawn to the entity standing there. The man was in a luchador wrestling outfit, adorned with a sparkling cape. Though, Matchbook tore his eyes away as it looked very very ‘form fitting’ bright red suit. That's a colorful outfit, he's probably some hero?

The man smiled, leaned at them, and threw himself forward and into the woman. Matchbook couldn’t track the speed he moved. Nor did Match move fast enough to get out of the girl's way when she went to dodge. 

The man got the woman with both of his meaty hands. He squeezed at her waist and she ordered him to let her go. His muscles and body looked to swell the longer he held her. His uniform threatened to tear at the seams.

He cackled as he shook her like a toy. “You're gonna be my little hostage.”

What should I do? I can't fight him, he's huge. He was bigger than most body builders, muscles the size of Matchbook's head. 

When he got close enough to her face, she threw a punch. It connected with his nose, making him coil back and cuss.

She whined as he squeezed tighter. 

He might kill her. Matchbook thought, his heart pounded in his head, along with a giant whistle from farther behind him. What if it's another Villain? He didn't want to turn around and find out. 

I don't know her. He heard the woman whine out again as the man laughed, ignoring Matchbook's pathetic presence completely. 

He threw himself forward, snapping the fingers on his right hand, and moved his tiny flame near the villain's cape. It didn't take long for it to catch fire.

He jumped back and shouted, "OH NO, Your cape's on fire!"

The fire spread faster than Matchbook expected, bringing that man's attention off the woman. She took her opportunity while being dropped to hit the hulking guy with a firm blow to his crotch.

The man hollered, weakly undoing his cape from the ground.

The whistling behind Matchbook got louder, he ran to her and got her arm. “Come on!”

She followed his tugging and the two could hear the villain getting up. “YOU BRATS!” He shouted. 

His feet pounded against the street like he grew with their fear, or at least Matchbooks. 

“TO YOUR RIGHT!” A voice yelled.

They ducked to the left as another being slammed into the paved streets. His palms collided with it first and he ran on his hands for a few extra feet, making humongous hawk wings that protruded from his bare back fizzle out and back into their flesh. The helmet clad, muscle ripped individual threw himself up and into a standing position. 

He stood much taller than the average hero, more the size of a villain. He dusted himself off, unscathed after his theatrical landing. He pressed a button on the side of his visor, staring directly at the woman and Matchbook, as them and the Villain were motionless during the escapade. His eyes were a vibrant, shimmering purple with meshes of pink. 

He walked calmly to them.

“Are you two citizens, alright?” His voice carried the same sweet sincerity as a grandmother who happily overfed her grandchildren. 

Match nodded.

"The Hero! I need to talk to you." She declared, forgetting about the trouble behind them. Not that Matchbook was any better.

The villain snapped out of his trance. Matchbook didn’t look back in time for the hunched man to hook his arm around his neck. He brought him up, “you stay back or I’ll kill him,” He flexed his much smaller muscles. Dangled up, unable to move out of fear that the grip would crush his windpipe, he felt small and helpless.

The Hero put up his hands and didn’t move. “Put him down.” He advised, keeping his eyes tracked on Match. I gotta do something.

Matchbook snapped his fingers again and put the flame to the man’s arm. He had never used it against someone like this, but he didn’t see much choice. The man cried out, dropped him, and the Hero snatched Matchbook up and brought him to the woman. 

“Is your throat okay?”

Once Matchbook was safely on the ground, he rubbed it. “I’m okay.” He was lucky the Villain didn’t put too much pressure on it.

The Hero sighed with relief, “good. Now, you two, stay back.” His eyes shifted, though his head barely turned. His pupils looked to expand as they twisted in the villains direction. “I’ll handle the villain.” The tonal shift made him jump.

The Hero’s face rose in a smile, revealing sharp incisors that Match didn’t see before. The wrestler, or villain dressed as one looked thinner. Matchbook didn’t know if it was because he was being compared to the Hero, or because of something with his ability. 

“You destroyed property, attempted robbery, and threatened a civilian’s life.” The Hero’s voice boomed, silencing everyone's hearts and breath. His statement was followed by an air vibrating laughter. 

It knocked the man on his butt. His muscles were reduced so much that he looked like he had been starving for two weeks in the tundra. 

“I’m sorry- I’ll g-go quietly.” 

The Hero grabbed his helmet, he tossed it off. It bounced on the floor like a toy as his own size increased. His white hair flourished in the open. 

“You’ll go quietly?” The Hero mocked as he swayed like a drunkard. 

The fear-stricken villain tried to rise to his feet, he bumbled to stand. 

The Hero stood over him, crouched down to grab him. He got the villain picking him up with one hand, wrapping it around his waist. 

“They’re never quiet.” 

The villain pushed desperately at his hand as the steadily growing Hero brought him close to his head.

Matchbook’s eyes couldn't look away when The Hero's mouth opened wide. It made the villain frantically yell, and it was quickly silenced by The Hero's tongue at his face. It partially coiled around the man's head before bringing him inside his maw.

Matchbook’s mind was blank. He could only watch The Hero swallow down the villain, his throat expanding as he did, and what was left outside flailing helplessly in the air.

The act disturbingly reminded him of a nature film, where a snake slowly, surely, and efficiently gulped down its prey. 

Except this man was very much alive. He kept struggling even though he was pretty much fully inside him. 

Match didn't know how long he watched. It felt prolonged but in reality it took a minute. The last bit of the villain vanished and The Hero exhaled into the air afterward.

The Hero’s previous devilish demeanor dropped and he smiled, childishly. He glanced down at his middle, "Secured.” He said a loud, while his midsection was lively from the movement within it. “Calm down, Villain, I'll take you in soon."

Villains eat people. Not Heroes. Matchbook thought still awestruck by disbelief. 

His shoulders then rose when he saw The Hero was walking to him again.

The woman's voice, slightly perturbed, but determined to talk to him rushed forward, "YOU'RE GOING TO ANSWER MY QUESTIONS THIS TIME!" She bravely stomped to him, disregarding the massive height difference between them now. She barely came up to his knee, if at all. 

She got within a few feet of him, so his stomach wouldn't obscure either of them from seeing the other. How can she even talk to him like that? Did she not see him eat someone? Does she not see the human-like shape inside him?

Matchbook took the opportunity to start walking backward from the madness.

The Hero put up his hands, as if she held power over him and his smile wavered anxiously. “I think you have mistaken me for someone else…” He poked at his stomach, “and even if I was the right one, I need to finish talking to my sidekick and get this criminal to the authorities.” 

“Sidekick?”

The Hero looked over at Matchbook and so did the woman, he froze once they did. Why are they looking at me? Why is The Hero looking at me!

Matchbook hunched inward, afraid of the approach. He stumbled over the curve and The Hero loomed over him. He dropped into a squat, used to the moving weight, and harmlessly smiled at Match. 

They were nearly level with one another—it didn't stop Matchbook's eyes from continuing to trail away from his face. 

“I saw your heroics while I was overhead trying to find this dastardly Villain.” Matchbook didn't need The Hero to gesture anything. “You did great.”

His hand reached out to pat Match’s head. The best he could do was tap it with his finger tips. “Are you another hero’s sidekick in training?”

He heard his question, his attention was too drawn to the woman who willingly tugged at the pant leg of his stretchy costume. Why is she okay with this? It’s not like he hadn’t heard about another person getting eaten but never had he seen it outside of shows. 

“HELLO?” The Hero waved his giant hand before Match’s face. “You didn’t get hurt did you?” 

The concern shoved Matchbook from his thoughts. “N-no.” His brain processed everything that had been said. “To both questions.” 

The Hero’s hands slammed onto the ground, eagerly. “That’s perfect!” His hand came up and grabbed Matchbook before he could react. “I’m in desperate need of a new sidekick!” The Hero, leaving little room for Match to rebuttal, threw him over his shoulder and held his hand over him securely. 

What is he doing?! Matchbook could barely wheeze out a, “huh,” as the ground was farther from him. 

“Don’t you dare run off again!” She said, as The Hero hunched back down, his body tensing as he did. 

“Now, citizen, please stand back.” 

The Hero nudged her with his leg and she complained further. “Quit it!” 

Matchbook’s vocabulary returned, “Hold on, I didn’t agree to be your-” The next thing he knew, the air was knocked out of him as they shot upward. Matchbook couldn’t hold in his scream as the contents of his lunch threatened to come back up.

He sealed his lips, still held and feeling the incredible force against his body. His eyes, barely open, saw the beautiful city they flew over. Something he would have admired if he was looking at it through a computer screen on the GROUND. 

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, clutching as hard as he could into The Hero’s flesh. Please, please, PLEASE put me down nicely!

The wind whistling fast past his eardrums slowly dissipated and he finally heard The Hero’s voice. “Whoops, I overshot the docks again!” 

He opened his eyes, squinting, as they were across the water. The docks were in the distance and they were flying much slower now.

“Just fly us back there! You have wings!” Matchbook whimpered, still clutching what he could.

The Hero laughed, “Ha, you’re right!” Then the force shifted and Matchbook felt his body being pulled upward, away from him as they were falling. “How do I do that again?”

“WHAT!” Matchbook shouted. They were rapidly approaching the water.

The Hero twisted himself and Matchbook in the air, He swung Matchbook in front of him, pushed him with whatever force he could, and got his back ready to strike the water. 

And the last thing Match saw before they struck was The Hero mouthing the word, ‘sorry’.

…

THANK YOU FOR READING AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!

Next Chapter

Catch up, see some maps/art, or check the latest release dates down below  ↓ ↓ ↓ 

I Got Roped Into Being A Hero! (Synopsis/Chapter List)

[sterek-ao3feed-archive]

Tiny Spark Mighty Flame

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49256476 by eevylynn Among born werewolves, it was common knowledge that the prime age for a human to endure the bite of an Alpha and survive was typically during their teenage or young adult years. In fact, the youngest recorded case of a bite resulting in a transformation and not death was previously eleven years old, so imagine the Hale pack’s astonishment when they learned of a small seven year old who was bitten and miraculously survived, challenging the known boundaries of possibility. Words: 1136, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Ennis (Teen Wolf), Kali (Teen Wolf), Cora Hale, Claudia Stilinski, Talia Hale, Laura Hale Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Pack Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Hale House Fire (Teen Wolf), The Hale Family Loves Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Good Mate Derek Hale read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49256476

[ao3feed-ineffablehusbandz]

A Mighty Flame

A Mighty Flame

by Foul_Fiend (F0ul_F13nd)

A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark

-Dante Alighieri, Paradiso

Words: 1000, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Inferno References (La Divina Commedia | The Divine Comedy - Dante Alighieri), Biblical Themes (Abrahamic Religions), off-screen violence, our Boys are fine though, Corporal Punishment, Flogging, not the fun kind, Philosophical bickering, Bitter Crowley, Hell is Terrible (Good Omens), Crowley wants Aziraphale, Aziraphale wants Crowley, Crowley Goes Too Fast

From https://ift.tt/D302uoi https://archiveofourown.org/works/45204358

[radiobelle23]

All the KinnPorsche fics that had me in a chokehold - completed recs because I know we all have PTSD from incomplete fics

So here I am after thousands of years of being off tumblr for one reason. KINNPORSCHE. Now if you’re like me and you like to hyper fixate on things, then you know what’s it’s like to spend hours trying the find the best fics to satisfy that boost of serotonin. So here I’ve listed all of my favorite KP fics I’ve read on AO3. Now, I mainly read smut but I do enjoy a little fluff every once in a while so WARNING: I’m gonna list some of the most toe curling, smut filled fics of them all here, some summaries are VERY EXPLICIT. I do read Vegas/Pete and Kim/Chay fics as well but this is primarily dedicated to my two favorite kingpins. Originally this was going to be a complete/incomplete rec list but I then realized it was going to be a monster of a rec page. Anyways ENJOY !

Update 10/1/22: Happy spooky season! Can I just say that I honestly did not expect my little list to blow up like this? You guys all fed into my praise kink, not gonna lie. And some of the authors saw it!?! I am not worthy!!! You all deserve the love!!! I realized I left out a couple fics and I am back to right my wrongs! So any * you see has been added since the orig post date... I might need to make a second list.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Kings Tree - LuckyDragon

Summary: Kinn was seven when he woke up one morning to discover a small silver circle on the back of his left wrist.

Chapters: 14/14 Words: 78,474

In the Eye of the Beholder - asleepby2

Summary: Rich, the latest recruit to the main family's famed security detail, has no idea what exactly the two dons have going on and he's determined to find out.

- or -

Kinn and Porsche as observed by an oblivious fool.

Chapters: 3/3 Words: 7,883

tiny spark, mighty flame - BeStillMySlashyHeart

Summary: In a world where the touch of your skin with another could reveal your soulmate, Kinn keeps his collars high and his gloves on. What happens when he's not allowed to do that anymore?

Chapters: 11/11 Words: 29,452

A Little Wicked - midnightsurge

Summary: “There is a way to get her off your back,” Kinn seems reluctant to say. “I don’t know how willing you’d be to go through with it.”

Porsche raises an eyebrow.

Kinn sighs and finally spills. “If she thinks you’re with me, she won’t dare approach you anymore.”

Porsche freezes. He stares Kinn down.

-

Porsche never pawns the watch. Kinn never kidnaps him. Somehow they still fall for each other.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 11,146

Paperwork Promises - surrealsunday

Summary: Filing paperwork and tending to the needs of rich, stuffy executives was never Porsche’s dream career, but a job is a job. That job is made a lot less easy – but maybe a bit more interesting – when the boss he’s been avoiding since that very first day in the elevator, gets a lapful of coffee and an eyeful of Porsche. Just when Porsche was getting used to the monotony of the every day…

Executive Bossman Kinn | Assistant Smartass Porsche

Chapters: 8/8 Words: 80,533

fool me once (fool me twice) - perfumes

Summary: Porsche wondered if any of it was real. It sure seemed real at the time, when Porsche chose scissors to Kinn’s rock, when Kinn looked back at him with such devastation. Such love. It felt real when he’d looked up from the fish they’d caught and said: So kind. Why do you keep your smiles to yourself?

Now, Porsche wore handcuffs again. He left them lying alone in his cell. He could barely look at them.

Perhaps, Porsche had only seen what he wanted to see. Perhaps, he had only ever been a replacement to Kinn. Until the real thing came along.

“I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago,” he said. “But I need your help. Will you give it?”

Vegas smirked.

-

(Or: When Kinn believes Tawan over Porsche, Porsche asks Vegas to help him fake his and his brother's deaths to escape the mafia world. Years later, Kinn visits a small, private beach and orders a drink.)

[Episode 9 Canon Divergence]

Chapters: 8/8 Words:  30,528

Parallel Love - PrinceHeart

Summary: “Do you take Porsche Pachara Kittisawat as your lawful spouse?”

Kinn’s jaw clenched at that, then he reminded himself why he was doing this.

“I fucking do.”

Or where the only solution to bloodshed, violence and disaster between the two mafia clans, is simple. An arranged marriage.

Chapters  20/20 Words:  64,154

between the sheets - DasWarSchonKaputt

Summary: “And who’s that?”

“Oh. That’s Porsche. He’s Khun Kinn’s live-in boytoy. He’s harmless, mostly. Just a pretty face.”

--

A boyfriend can go so many places a bodyguard can’t. As the threat of a potential leak in their security forces looms large, Khun Korn hatches a plot to place an added layer of protection around his heir presumptive. Enter Porsche, former bartender, current bodyguard, and reluctant fake boyfriend of Kinn Theerapanyakul.

Chapters: 8/8 Words:  70,456

cravin’ - yeetlegay

Summary: It’s only when Kinn is two knuckles deep in Porsche’s ass, his teeth buried in the meat of his thigh, that it occurs to Porsche he probably isn’t that straight.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 1,847

Trials & Tribulations - rainbowcolored7

Summary: In which Kinn is a renowned lawyer for TK & Associates, as well as a certified bastard, and Porsche is his new assistant who isn't sure whether he'll scald him with hot coffee or fuck him before he decides to quit.

Chapters: 3/3 Words:  26,348

Your teeth round my organs - androktasia

Summary: “Aren’t you meant to finger me?” Porsche asks, breathless, as Kinn smears lube around the rim of his hole. Kinn looks up, pausing his movements, and Porsche shifts slightly, almost unconsciously, as though trying to get him inside.

“Where did you hear that?” Kinn asks.  

“I watched some porn,” Porsche says, and Kinn raises an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. He remembers the kind of porn Porsche likes – shrieking women lying back and taking it from coarse, grunting men. “Gay porn,” Porsche clarifies after a moment.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 3,148

Weak Spot - tessalane

Summary: Kinn nods and clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m – I’m taken.”

“And who is the lucky one?” His uncle snorts, clearly not buying it. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and scans Kinn as if his nephew would say, “ha, sorry, I was just joking.”

Kinn seems hesitant for a moment, but then he turns around and points at Porsche. “It’s Porsche.” He holds out his hand and fakes a smile aimed at Porsche. “Baby, come here.”

What the actual fuck?

Chapters: 11/11 Words:  35,920

give it to ya like you never had it - mirrorofprinces

Summary: “Porsche is extremely close to signing. In fact, he has a final meeting with the execs on Monday morning. The only condition is that he wants to request his first partner, and it’s you.”

Kinn takes a long drink of his whiskey, sets the glass down, and runs his tongue over his teeth. “So you had to meet with me, urgently, to tell me that a beautiful boy wants me to fuck him, thinking I’d say no.” He drums his fingers on the bartop. “Which means there’s a catch.”

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 7,448

right here beside you, i’m still - P1n3appl3_p3n

Summary: When Kinn gets sick, Porsche steps in to lead the major and minor families. They are grossly in love.

In his five months as head of the minor family, this is his first meeting with other clan heads without the weight and presence of Kinn, and to some it probably appears like blood in the water. Porsche much prefers to sit at Kinn's right hand, but he knows he can manage on his own.

His grin is careless, a careful veneer. Time to show these assholes the minor family isn’t one to be underestimated.

“Let’s begin.”

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 3,869

You picked a dance with the devil, You lucked out - aby01

Summary: Feral alphas are devastatingly violent, brutally vicious and absolutely loyal. To have one under your control means great power. Kinn has been looking for his own for years now.

He just didn't think he'd find it in a mouthy beta that tricks him out of his favorite watch.

Chapters: 4/4 Words:  34,025

Note: this is a A/O/B fic, if that’s not your preference genre then skip ahead... But you should really try anything once 😉.

Make Me Come Undone -  ahdriking *

Summary: Porsche fucked up. He fucked up badly.These are his consequences. Kinn teaches Porsche a lesson in trust, and being careful what he asks for. Unfortunately for Porsche, some lessons have to be learnt the hard way.

Chapters: 1/1 Words:  15,108

give him something to believe in. - Skamtrash *

Summary:  vegas and kinn make a bet to see who can fuck their bottoms better. the couples fuck next to each other to see who will win, pure filth ensues.

Chapters: 1/1 Words:  4,134

The Things We Do For Love - Hissnoiice - A/O/B fic *

Summary: He loves in the way a Theerapanyakun does. Kinn is his father's son afterall, looking after what is his has been ingrained in him since birth.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 8,021 

If You Like Series

like real people do -motherfleckers

Summary: A series of fics set in a fluffy AU where Kinn is a celebrity singer and Porsche is a bartender in a small beach town. That's it, that's all there is.

Works: 2 Words 20,279

speeding through all of these red lights - foreigncars (lunarsoo)

Summary: “I’d like to work for you.”

Porsche didn’t expect his words to draw such an easy laugh out of Kinn. He can’t say he doesn’t like the sound of it, but it’s a little disappointing that he gets to hear it at his expense.

“Why would you want to work for me, Porsche? You know what I do, right?”

- Alternatively, the one where Porsche asks to work for Kinn instead.

Works: 4 Word: 90,539

What I Would Do - TheObsoleteOne

Summary: Kinn was always in control - he had who he wanted, when he wanted and how he wanted.

Of course Porsche would end up being the exception.

Works: 3 Word: 36,042

note: author does not have a series summary so i placed the summary for part 1 instead. Part 2 is a Kim/Chay one shot that I found cute. Part 3 as of now is incomplete, hoping the author finishes because I really did like this series. I still placed it on the list because part 1 ended well and is worth a read.

Readers Choice - here's where I gush over some authors

Note: Can I just give a round of applause to the following authors for having multiple works ready for me (and you) to spend countless of hours - and I literally mean hours reading through. 

iffervescent  

Note: this author also happens to have all of the sexy scenes from the KP novels translated... just saying 👀....

The power in the taking

Summary: They warned him, when he started working for the Theerapanyakun clan. Forget leadership, forget duty to his people, forget all that – they warned him. Kinn Theerapanyakun, clan heir: obsessed with power.

Porsche should have fucking listened.

Chapters: 2/2 Words:  17,005

Public Consumption

Summary: Porsche agrees to be in a gay porno. Kinn doesn't work here.

Chapters: 1/1 Words:  13,598

and its VEGASPETE counterpart

Brand Recognition

Summary: Vegas wants his top billing back. Pete likes being on the bottom.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 6,910

Sample Tasting * 

Summary: Porsche wants Kinn to ask. Kinn just wants the answers.

Chapters: 1/1 Words:  10,037

Note: also part 3 of Public Consumption 😉

Intent to Cherish -  A/O/B fic

Summary: A mouthy beta runs off with Kinn's watch. He goes to get it back

Chapters: 4/4 Words:  47,670

Knowing him, knowing you

Summary: They do the threesome thing, every now and then.

Kinn and Tay meet Porsche

Chapters: 1/1 Words:  12,619

Note: Okay so i couldn't resist throwing this Kinn/Prosche/Tay fic in here, so good and so smutttttyyyy

SourwolfZiam

The Crown

Summary: “Your Highness” Porsche greets after opening the door and finding Prince Anakinn standing there. He keeps his voice flat and emotionless as if he was addressing the King or his General. He bows his head for a few seconds, not looking him directly in the eyes as he’s taken to doing the last few months.

Porsche doesn’t miss the way the way the corners of the prince's mouth tightens at his tone.

“Lieutenant General” Prince Anakinn – Kinn – returns, his voice carefully neutral.

-

Lieutenant General Porsche and Prince Kinn are together and in love, until they aren't anymore.

This is a love story.

Korn is the villain.

Chapters: 6/6 Words:  25,752

Mr. and Mr. Theerapanyakun-Kittisawasd

Summary: The life of the It couple in Thailand, billionaire Kinn Theerapanyakun and supermodel Porsche Kittisawasd.

Works: 2 Words:  8,634

fortunehasgivenup

the undone and the divine

Summary: In the aftermath of battle, all that's left is need.

Need to touch, to feel, to be certain that one is alive and whole.

Kinn and Porsche give in to their need.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 1,587   

but you’re everywhere (yes you are)

Summary: What if Porsche, upon remembering the kiss on the pier, went to Kinn and said that he remembered? What if there was no diamond auction? What if they'd had a different start?

Would it make them any softer?

(No.)

Chapters: 3/3 Words:  92,424

even though you’re not mine, you’ve got that look in your eyes

Summary: "He doesn’t do that kind of thing."

What Yok means when she tells Kinn this: Porsche doesn’t engage in sex work.

What Kinn hears when Yok tells him this: Porsche doesn’t take men as clients.

One day, Porsche is struggling to make ends meet, enjoying the occasional hook-up in the back of Yok’s bar. The next, Anakinn Theerapanyakul is offering him an obscene amount of money to get added to his roster of “friends”.

The money’s good, the sex is better, there’s no way that this can backfire, right?

Chapters: 2/2 Words: 26,805

The One Where Porsche and Kim Are Gym Buddies

Summary: When the Phoenix comes up to Kim at the gym and introduces himself as Porsche, it's only polite to reply. They're both in the fighting circuit after all.

One conversation leads to another and soon they're gossiping about their romantic lives.

Romantic lives being the rich dude who's been railing Porsche into next week and the cute guy that Kim can't help but want to spend more time with.

It's nice having a friend who doesn't know your brother.

Chapters: 2/2 Words: 19,598

Happy reading! I will be making a separate list for the current ongoing fics, hopefully by the time i get started they'll be close to completion. Let me know if your interested in the VegasPete or KimChay list, I dont have as much but still good to spread.

kurtstiel

i'm the one for your fire 

Summary: This series is canon compliant with the exception of Kinn and Porsche being in an established Dom/sub relationship.

It will explore various aspects of a Dom/sub dynamic with lots of bratty Porsche and doting but firm Dom Kinn.

Works: 5 Word: 39,660

gone was any trace of you *

Summary: Kinn is looking at Porsche like he’s seen a ghost.

Porsche blinks and the haunted expression is gone, Kinn smoothing it over with something neutral, but there’s still something fragile at the edges of it, like a crystal figurine balanced on a ledge. Kinn’s body relaxes in a way that’s purposefully casual, tucking his outstretched foot back onto the bed.

“You were in the bathroom,” Kinn says. He phrases it like an answer rather than a question

Or: Porsche left Kinn in their bed with nothing but a note. In the aftermath of the shootout, Kinn can't stop thinking about it.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 11,097

all of me (is all for you) *

Summary: The water has saturated Porsche's white shirt completely, soaking through the vest beneath. The translucent material clings obscenely to the swell of his pecs. His nipples are clearly visible through the sheer material, hard and pebbled, with the unmistakable shape of the metal barbells pierced either side of them.Porsche’s head jerks up to check if he can still hide them from Kinn, but it’s already too late. Kinn is standing across the room, staring in Porsche’s direction, entire body coiled tight like a spring.Or: While Kinn is away on a business trip, Porsche gets his nipples pierced as a surprise for their anniversary. Kinn comes home earlier than Porsche expected.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 9,940 

And

Please leave comments and kudos to the authors, they deserve all of the love and more 💞

***yeah im gonna need to make another list...

[eevylynn]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

Oh, this is gonna be fun. Honestly, some of my favorites are ones that I haven't even posted yet, but we're going to ignore that, lol

You're Good (7576 wc) || Rated E || Sterek || Future Fic

“I’m comfortable with my life,” Stiles told Lydia, and he was. He had a job he loved, his pack was safe, and he got to see them regularly. Yeah, there was one thing he would like to change, but there's only so much he can do to change that one thing. Stiles was pretty sure that dating other people wouldn’t help. Or Stiles agrees to let Lydia set him up on a blind date, not realizing who exactly she had in mind.

That Boy is a Monster (1836 wc) || Rated G || Pre-Sterek

Derek almost blacked out at that point, that is until he felt two hands grab him and force him back up towards the surface. Gasping for air as soon as his head broke the water, Derek moved his eyes towards the left to see who his savior was. “Stiles?!” He yelped, “You’re a–”

A Different Kind of Hook (3258 wc) || Rated T || OUAT Female Hook

What if Milah had become Captain Hook instead of Killian Jones?

Tiny Spark, Mighty Flame (4833 wc) || Rated T || Ongoing || Eventually Sterek

Among born werewolves, it was common knowledge that the prime age for a human to endure the bite of an Alpha and survive was typically during their teenage or young adult years. In fact, the youngest recorded case of a bite resulting in a transformation and not death was previously eleven years old, so imagine the Hale pack’s astonishment when they learned of a small seven year old who was bitten and miraculously survived, challenging the known boundaries of possibility.

His Little Miracle (651 wc) || Rated G || Sterek || Kid Fic

Stiles never expected to become a father at nineteen, but that’s honestly the least surprising thing about how his child came to be.

[littlelightningbvg]

The Window. A Kiss Good Night. - not a thread or ask, but def. has happened. The Dollhouse. - gifs don't follow the ask, but dan has likely caught her awake playing with it out on the porch. The Owl. A Restful Night.

- @bizarromuses

[writemekpop]

Let Your Hair Down | Liu Yangyang

5K Follower Series Ep. 18

Summary: You’re not just Yangyang’s stylist… you’re his secret girlfriend. That secret is getting harder and harder to keep…  

Genre: Secret relationship AU, suggestive

Word Count: 0.8k

Prompt: “My lip gloss is all over your lips”

Gif: @hyucks

“Just one more kiss, baby, I’m beggin’ ya.” Your boyfriend Yangyang pouted his pink lips at you. He was sitting in the salon chair, refusing to behave.  

Your cheeks darkened. “Yangyang, we can’t! What if someone catches us?” 

You started working as an SM hair stylist six months ago. You were instantly attracted to him – and then an elevator breakdown left you stuck for six hours alone together, with nothing to do but each other. You’d been secretly dating ever since. 

You swivelled Yangyang’s chair so that he was facing the mirror, and stood behind him. You pulled out your combs, trying your best to get into work mode. 

You caught Yangyang’s naughty grin in the mirror. Your heart did a flip. 

You combed your fingers through his soft hair. Yangyang’s eyes slipped shut at your touch, and he relaxed back into the chair. He looked so handsome like that, when he wasn’t trying. 

Your gaze fell onto the tiny mole at the base of his neck, the one that made him purr when you kissed it – and the moment suddenly felt intimate.

As you massaged the gel in, you dared to drag your nails lightly across his scalp, and Yangyang let out a low moan of satisfaction. 

You froze at his sudden outburst. You were acutely aware of the curious stares from other staff members across the room, so you nudged Yangyang’s chair with your foot, silently urging him to play it cool. 

“Noona, can I ask for something?” Yangyang asked. His face was the picture of innocence, but you knew that tone in his voice. It meant trouble.  

“What is it?” 

“Can you style the front of my hair… like you did in the music video?”

Your whole body tensed. You knew exactly why Yangyang requested that style - because in order to complete the look, you had to stand in front of Yangyang and bend over him.  

Yangyang parted his knees, giving you space to stand. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to smack that devilish smirk off his face or kiss it off. 

You sucked in a breath and leant forwards over Yangyang to reach the front of his hair. This position meant that Yangyang’s face was just inches from your chest. 

He was so close that your necklace was dangling in front of his eyes, but you knew he was just staring down your top. 

He twisted your locket between his fingers, humming appreciatively. 

“This is pretty,” he whispered. 

You ignored the sparks of excitement beginning in your core and continued to style the front of his hair. 

Yangyang cleared his throat. “I think you’ve… g-got something on your top.” 

You frowned. “Oh really?”

“Don’t worry, I got it!” He hurriedly said. Then Yangyang brushed a miniscule speck of fluff from your blouse, directly over your right breast.  

“I just wanna make sure it’s all gone,” he said, grinning from ear to ear as he patted your shirt many more times, to the point where he was basically fondling your breast. 

“You’re such an idiot,” you muttered. 

You quickly scanned the room – everyone had gone.  

You suddenly grabbed his face between your hands and pushed your mouth onto his. You kissed him madly, deeply, tongue melting against his. 

Yangyang’s eyes shot open in shock, but soon he was kissing you back just as passionately. His hand caressed your waist and then slid lower to squeeze your ass. 

Eventually, you willed yourself to stop. Yangyang’s eyes were hooded and his cheeks were flushed dark red – but the funniest thing was the pink glittery gloss smeared over his lips and chin. 

“My lipgloss is all over your lips!” 

Yangyang smiled a slow, lazy smile. He brought his fingers to his lips, wiped off the gloss and popped two fingers into his mouth. His warm brown eyes never left yours.

The gentle flames raged into a mighty fire inside you.

You grabbed Yangyang’s hand and yanked him out of the chair. 

“Where are we going?” Yangyang said. 

“No time to talk.” You pulled him into the nearby broom closet and clicked the lock shut.  

“We’ve only got thirty minutes before the shoot,” you said, frantically unbuttoning his shirt. “You liked it when I did your hair, right?” 

He nodded, already panting. 

You leaned into his neck, speaking in a whisper. “Well, I’m about to mess it up so bad I have to do it all over again.” 

Yangyang smirked. “Baby, you just read my mind.”

​—

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[aziraphales-library]

Hi! Could you remind me of a fic where Crowley gets taken to Hell and tortured, Aziraphale makes a "deal with the devil" that if he passes several trials (related to sins) he gets him back. The last one is to get Crowley to come willingly, because they tortured him by having Aziraphale 'rescue' and then cruelly reject him, so Aziraphale blindfolds him to get him to the elevator. A lot of love, apologies and reassurance from Aziraphale + letter and poetry quotes.

Hello! Yes, this is...

A Mighty Flame Followeth A Tiny Spark by elf_on_the_shelf (E)

The world fails to end, and an angel and a demon walk away unscathed - much to the chagrin of their respective head offices. Their former sides are angry, but not without ideas. One of them, in any case.

Hell comes back for Crowley, kidnaps him and tosses him into the deepest, darkest pit. Aziraphale goes after him, like he always will. Nothing will keep them from their own side anymore, not even having to make a deal with Lucifer himself.

What follows is a journey though the nine circles of hell, but even more so a journey through the bonds we form, the reasons we choose the people we choose, and the power of the love we have for those we hold dear.

Mind the tags!

- Mod D

[sareen-momos-stuff]

My take on the amazing Kinnporsche soulmate au "Tiny Spark, Mighty Flame" by BeStillMySlashyHeart

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38828970/chapters/97094835

[carolofthebell]

Fireflies and Songs

Azula is too old for the lullabies Mother sings to Zuko. She doesn’t need or want any fussing or pampering. “I’m not a baby,” she declares, “Leave me alone so I can sleep!”

Then Ursa will sigh and open the box. The gentle tinkling tones herald her surrender.

But now mother is gone and there is nobody for Azula to banish from her room. No servant would dare presume to coddle the heirs to the crown. Laying awake in her bed she hears only the soft sound of poorly suppressed sobbing drifting through her open window from the direction Zuko’s.

At last she huffs in frustration and heaves herself up off the downy bedding. A princess must do everything herself it seems. She stalks over to the shelf that holds the box and flips open the lid.

No sound emerges.

She tries the lid again and again before hurling the useless box away from her, suppressing a shriek of rage that would definitely bring a servant.

It strikes the wall with a discordant clang. The lid snapping off and spinning away as it clatters to the floor.

Something gold winks at her from within the wreckage and before she can decide to move she’s already on her knees, digging her fingers into the cracked wood, heedless of the splinters cutting into her soft flesh. With a mighty heave she rends the box in two, but no music emerges, only tiny jagged disks of metal clattering to the ground around her knees, sounding nothing like the music she’s searching for.

Azula heaves in great lungfuls of air. Mother took it; she left, and she took the music from Azula’s music box with her.

Fire sparks to life in her hands immolating what’s left of the music box. It licks across wood and metal alike seeming to dance between gold and blue in time with the sound of the blood rushing in her ears. Azula stares at the flames until there’s nothing left in her fingers but powered ash. Then she allows the dancing after-image of her own flames lead her back to her bed. She’s out before her head hits the pillow.