I know it was only shy pyro x reader whom ever requested but I had an idea, ALSO, This is about trauma and what can happen. Fyi for triggers or something.
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You had smelt ash, the monster engulfing your domain, or what was left of it, the chaotic being left you blind in one eye. You sat there, numb, as the world around you distorted. A single tear fell from your cheek as your parents are now dead. You screamed hollow nothingness as silence left your vocal chords. You couldn't cry anymore, you couldn't think, you couldn't feel. Everything left you there, empty.
As the fire department fought the enraged fire, you sat there, hollow, broken. Noise came back to you, the world melded back together in your mind, but they're still dead. Voices whispered to you from beyond your subconscious, they always did when you were alone..... alone. I've never felt so empty.
For many minutes, you started into the fire that took your family's lives and half of your vision. "Excuse me." You've been to occupied with your mind that the queasiness and questions of "are you ok? " and "are you hurt?" Faded away from your thoughts, they never got a response from you.
Revenge. Your thoughts spoke again.
"Do you need help?"
You didn't realize that you were doing your best attempt at standing. You held onto her shoulder and limped over to the ambulance.
Over the years you had gone deep into mental illness, you were stuck in your child hood, you became a genocidal psychopath ,and you blamed your therapist for not helping you back then. You were rehabilitated to society's standards of normal.
Today was your first day out of the mental institution.
Numb. Regret. Why couldn't I save them? It's my fault I didn't save them. They wouldn't wake up, they couldn't wake up with a bloodied axe in their chests." You couldn't stop thinking of that day, what it made you do, what it made you do to that poor man, a hatchet right in between his eyes.
The memories sickened you, sickened to into insanity. You thought what would happen if you had done something about it.
You put a box of cereal into your cart as you thought deeply about that day.
"Do you need some help? " that woman's voice echoed in your mind. You almost went lurid but you calmed yourself. You do need help, psychopath, if only you were a sociopath, maybe you wouldn't be in therapy, but maybe the funny room still. Your mind mocked you.
"Oof." You ran straight into another man, with a quick sorry, you ran off. He chased you, he seems familiar. You didn't recognize him but he wasn't new to you either. You stopped, gasping for air as scarred skin came into view.
"Your skin, looks just like mine!" A childish voice came into ear shot. You turned around, afraid. Why were you afraid? You didn't speak back, you couldn't speak back. You stepped back as you ran into the closest restroom and flashback struck you.
Fire. Destruction. Him. He did this. Your mind echoed at the back of your head again. Revenge. You looked up from your mess of a ball you were and pulled out your boot knife.
"Hey, are you alright? I saw you run off after you grabbed my axe, I haven't bought it yet, could I have it back please?"
You looked down at your hands to see one hand wielding a bright orange and silver axe with a wooden handle and the other carried your knife.
Your eye brows furrowed at the door, wait till later, lead him into a safer place, then kill him.
You opened the door and handed him the axe as he shied away. His cheeks were dusted with color, his hair was unruly, and his cheeks sported the barely noticeable peach fuzz.
Maybe he will last a little longer than the others. Just maybe.
Little while after, you walked away with his number in your pocket and you smirked.
His stutter and slight confidence gave you ideas. It was perfect.
Nothing lasts forever.
