#☾ spirit writes ☽

[reztoru]

mdni 18+

tw / cw : smut, choking but gojo is on the recieving end, he cums inside oops

Satoru has had you sitting on his lap, riding him ever since he got home. Telling you, "You gotta work for it," but isn't it his job to do the heavy lifting? You sit pretty, and he takes care of you? Well, that's how it usually goes. However, tonight is different. But that doesn't mean you won't whine about it the whole time.

Pressing your hand against his chest and bringing your hips down to slam against his, all while keeping yourself propped up on your feet. As your thighs start to tense up, you know they'll be sore later, but who cares when your pretty boyfriend is letting you use his dick as your personal fuck toy. But it would be even better if he helped out a little, right?

"Fuck me, fuck- Please- please." You whine to him.

He begins to give in only when your hand slithers up his chest and wraps itself around his neck. Giving him a little squeeze. You feel his dick twitch inside you, followed by a groan and some pathetic moans. Feeling his fingers digging into your hips as he gives you a little thrust.

As your pussy tightens around him, his hips start to stutter and his resolve begins to weaken. And he quickly moves his hands to cup your ass. Digging his heels into the bed before plunging into you.

The sound of sloppy sex filling the room. A swirl of your sloshy pussy paired with skin colliding. As Satoru's moans blend seamlessly with yours, adding to the intensity of the moment.

"so good, toru… s'good. Feels s'good."

He moves his hands from your sides to hold the back of your neck, while sliding the other around your waist. Pulling your face down to his as your hand still grips his throat. Your lashes flutter as you feel him shoot his load inside you. Feeling your slick drizzle down to coat his balls.

And after letting out a final moan, you collapse on top of him. Both too tired to get up just yet, you decide to stay like that for a while. With Satoru running his fingers over the grooves on your back, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. Taking a mental note to just choke him the next time you want him to give in.

[deepestnightcolor]

☾ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ’ꜱ (ᴄᴏᴄᴋ) ʙʟᴏᴄᴋ ☽

ᴀ/ɴ: It is me - and I am back with some new smut. Next up will be Sam, but here, our writer needs some help. So please, if you will, take a seat and enjoy the show.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Elliott (SDV) x GN!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 3111 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: handjob, cursing, kissing, teasing, praising.

He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t. He had been staring at the piece of paper in front of him for hours now, and he could have sworn by now it was mocking him. “The big author can’t even write a teeny tiny chapter, huhhh? Yeah, that’s right,” he heard the blank piece whisper to him. His head gave it a voice and all, and he had to wonder; why would that piece of flesh up there betray him in such ways? It was part of him, for goodness’ sake!

Groaning, Elliott hid his face in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut to fend off that annoying, pestering, absolutely stupid voice that bounced around his head like a ping-pong ball, before he let his slender fingers run through his long hair.

Alright. He could do this. He was an author, after all. A creative, hard-working author. No bare sheet of paper would force him into surrender. He gripped his feather again, dipping it into the tin of ink next to him before he hovered it over the paper, ready to write, ready to finish this book! And…

Nothing. Nothing happened. He didn’t even hear the gears in his head turning like he usually did when he was searching for ideas within the depths of his brain. Another groan left his swollen lips – he had been biting around on them all day – and in moments like this, he wished he wouldn’t have quit smoking his pipe when he had moved here.

“What’s wrong with you, sweets?” A voice from behind suddenly asked, making Elliott’s eyes flicker to the window in disbelief. He hadn’t even noticed how the brightness of the day had slowly been replaced by the darkness as the sun had slowly found the arms of the ground to rest. He had agreed upon meeting you at his shed tonight as he was leaving your farmhouse that morning. He thought back bitterly; just mere hours ago he had felt like he could finish thousands of books; that the tip of his feather would break from all the writing he was doing. He hadn’t expected that it would be his spirit breaking from the terrible blockage that kept the well of creativity sealed. Tightly sealed, at that! Scandalous, utterly scandalous.

The brunet was so lost in his thoughts, perhaps even in quite some self-pitying, that he didn’t even realize his lack of answer. An act of rudeness he would have never forgiven himself for in any other situation, but this, this was different. He hadn’t experienced such a silence in his head in ages, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

Of course, all of this didn’t go unnoticed. You slowly put down the basket of freshly harvested vegetables you had brought so you and your lover could cook a meal tonight, carefully stepping up to him. You placed your hands on his shoulder slowly, gently beginning to massage them. You hadn’t ever seen Elliott this tense before, so full of… frustration. But you were glad to see that he almost immediately relaxed beneath the touch of your warm hands, his head falling backwards to lean against your chest, quite obviously seeking comfort. You brought up your hands to head and gently began massaging his scalp, your eyes falling on to the empty paper in front of him. So that was his problem – writer’s block. You yourself had been haunted by artist’s block or just plain lack of motivation when it came to your passions one too many times, which made you coo in understanding. You leaned down and kissed his forehead, getting a small, barely audible sigh in return. “Poor you,” you murmured, eyes trailing to his fist that was still tightly clenched around the feather. Usually, it was you that would have your emotions soothed by Elliott – there hadn’t been a single day in your relationship when this man hadn’t been calm, optimistic gentleman, only showing a sliver of anxiety when he had confessed his feelings to you. Which didn’t mean you weren’t happy to assist, quite the opposite, to be honest.

While you kept caressing your boyfriend’s long hair, your brain began forming an idea. Only yesterday you had come across an article that discussed about how blockades in creativity could be overcome by giving the brain a source of positive hormones, such as dopamine or even oxytocin. The problem about that was that people experiencing said blockage wouldn’t usually seek out such source themselves; too focused on trying to overcome the hurdle of not being able to do what they would like to do by simply trying to do it. The article also mentioned what could be the source of such positive hormones. You figured it was worth a try – seeing your boyfriend in such state of despair made your heart ache, and if you could be of assistance, you would try to be.

You rounded the chair your lover affectionately called his “writing chair”, taking a seat on the armrest. You were still massaging Elliott’s scalp with one hand, worry arising in the pit of stomach when there wasn’t even the meekest of complaints about how you were messing up his hair. However the fact that he had begun to melt in your touch felt good to you, like it always did. Elliott had always been sensitive to touch. Especially your touch.

 Running your fingers down his arms usually resulted in goosebumps raising on his skin and a shudder rippling down his spine. You playing with strands of his hair often meant for him to lie completely still, mouth agape and eyes closed. Yes, Elliott was weak for being touched, and not even writer’s block could change that.

“El?”

“Yes, my love?” He murmured, voice soft, yet not able to cover the frustration lingering in each letter. He wanted to write, or at least know that he was able to. You knew he would be restless until that was the case.

“Would it be okay…for me to try and help you?”

Elliott’s eyes fluttered weakly as he gave you a shrug. “You can try, however… What if I am helpless case? Forever robbed of the power to access my very own creati- ah!” You had cut off his stream of words by brushing your thumbs over his nipples, something that always got him distracted in one way or another.

“What are you doing, my love? Oh!” You rolled the hardened buds between your index fingers and thumbs now, eyes focused on the writer’s face. You never wanted to go too far, and Elliott’s face was, ironically, like an open book. And right now, he was wordlessly urging you to go on. Smiling to yourself, you let your hands wander beneath the white dress shirt he always wore, even in the comfort of his own home, soaking in the shudder that rippled through his whole body when skin met skin. “Pretty boy,” you assure him, shifting on the piece of wood you had found your seat on to get closer to his face, your lips meeting his jaw and pressing gentle kisses on it.

Elliott’s breathing was laboured already; the sensations your lips and hands caused making each nerve tingle, the skin your fingers brushed burning up instantly. Your hands slipped from beneath his shirt, the loud whine of protest giving your confidence a boost and the feeling of guilt all the same. This was about him, your boyfriend. The same boyfriend that gave you his all, each day and every day. “Just gonna unbutton your shirt,” you mumbled against his jaw, allowing your lips to brush along his cheek now before pressing a kiss to the warm skin. Your lover relaxed almost immediately, his hands reaching to pop open the buttons but were stopped in their tracks by yours.

You smiled at him and began to undo each button yourself. Usually, you would take your time, tease him a little. See how far you could push him until he took matters into his own hands and made love to you, but not this time. When his upper body was revealed, you allowed yourself a moment to just take him in. His chest was toned from working on his little boat and heaving and right now, it was raising and falling quickly in anticipation.

You leaned in again, your lips finding his jaw again, ghosting over his lips which he desperately tried to meet with yours. You allowed it, albeit only for a fleeting moment as you let your own continue their journey. You kissed his neck, your kisses leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as you made your way to his chest. You sighed wistfully, eyes flicking up to his face. “Aren’t you absolutely stunning?”

The praise made a blush spread on his cheeks, but the smile that caressed his lips like yours had done just moments before was quite telling.

You smiled, blowing hot air against the spot that you had just kissed, using the gentle moan that you were rewarded with as a guide to keep going.

You got up from your seat and stepped between Elliott’s thighs, who happily obliged by opening them up to give you more space. You found your new place on your knees in front of him, hunched forward to have free access to his skin. Again, you began to kiss and lick at his skin, before finally letting your mouth engulf his hardened nipple. Not wanting to leave the other one without attention, you took it between your index finger and thumb again, adding gentle pressure into your caressing. “Yes! Yes, please…”

You were pretty sure you would be able to get Elliott to cum in his pants just by playing with his nipples; a glance downwards showed you that he was as hard as a rock already, and you would have bet money that you would be able to feel a wet spot on his boxers if you reached your hands down his pants. His hips were bucking up when he particularly big jolt of pleasure when through his body, breathless begs spilling from his mouth. He absolutely loved your touch. He would have given everything to have this feeling engraved on his skin, to always be kept on this level of ecstasy that his heart was pumping through his veins with great vigour.

However, you knew you wouldn’t let him come from just playing with his nipples a little, after all, the perfect opportunity was right in the palm of your hand. Well, maybe it was wrapped around your fingers; just before you had left your house you had slipped on the two rings that your boyfriend had gifted you for your one-year anniversary. The two of them were elegantly simple, and you loved wearing them whenever you could, though taking a closer look at them, you decided they could be of advantage, and maybe Elliott had had the same thing in mind when he had gotten them for you. One of the rings was a little bumpy in texture, while the other was smooth and soothing against your skin. You decided it was time to test your theory, pulling away from Elliott’s nipple with your eyes already trained on the crotch of his pants, when you felt a hand on your head, pushing you back against his chest.

“More,” he ordered, voice rough around the edges, but still full of despair, showing you a side of the writer that rarely, if ever, got to see the light of day. “But your-“

His hand kept pressing your lips towards him, breathing heavy as his other one reached down. You could hear the buckle of a belt, a sound that was like music to your ears, and then you could feel him struggling against the fabric. His hips rutted in the air again, but you admittedly weren’t quite sure if it the sole attempt of getting rid of his pants or him greedily trying to fuck the air. Since this was supposed to be about him, you decided to obey. Your mouth pressed kisses onto his skin against and you made sure to switch between sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, and quick, hard pecks, each sensation luring a different reaction out of him.

“Holy shit, don’t stop.”

This time it was you that shuddered – Elliott cursing? Certainly a new one. You swallowed thickly as you sucked on the man, trying to leave as many marks as possible, and maybe, just perhaps, you were selfishly trying to get more curses around of him.

Finally, you felt him settle into the chair again, his pants down far enough to reveal his black boxers. Just as you had expected when your fingers brushed over his still clothed shaft your fingertips were greeted with a spot of precum. He was desperate after all, chasing every single feeling of you touching him, not able to get enough. Maybe he just didn’t want to get enough because this was the perfect distraction. The voice in his head had gone quiet, being replaced by another, needier one that whispered nothing but please, please, please. He knew he was on your beck and call like this, but there were little things he cared less about. He hadn’t ever expected that he could have reached a cloud this high, but here he was. Touched by the love of his life and chasing a orgasm- Oh Yoba. Your fingers had found their way underneath the fabric of his boxers and around his cock. Something was different, however. Something besides your fingers was pressed against his girth. His eyes fluttered open, landing on you between his knees. Did he ever tell you how pretty you looked down there? He knew it wasn’t very polite to have you on the ground while he sat on a chair, but oh goodness you began moving your hand. An exasperated gasp left his neck and his head fell back, the feeling of something cold mixing with the warmth of your finger. His hands wrapped around the armrests of his chair, knuckles turning white from how hard he was holding on – he was sure his soul would leave his body if he didn’t. He just couldn’t make out the feeling against his dick. There were your fingers, but also something bumpy, and something so smooth that. The combination made his heart stutter, his hips snapping upward to get more. Much more.

“Please, love. Please,” he begged, and how could you deny him?

Your thumb collected some of the slick that was leaking from his tip already, using it to lube him up a bit just to clench your fingers a little tighter around him. The way Elliott was panting and rutting his hips into your hand showed you that you definitely were doing something right, leading him to the source of dopamine and oxytocin.

Your hand began to move up and down his shaft, rings massaging the veiny skin with every move. From above you came breathless moans and gasps; Elliott’s head was completely thrown against the head rest, his thighs twitching with every move of your hand, with every flick of your wrist. You were pretty sure he even kicked the air at some point. And really, the man couldn’t handle all this pleasure that was washing over him. It was overwhelming, tearing him apart, burning him alive. Flashes of hot white entered his vision; the time he had been able to see straight and formulate coherent sentences long gone.

Mumbles and groans of “yes”s and “please”s could be heard, the sound of your fist working his slicked up cock filling the shed instead of frustrated begs for his lack of ability to write to end.

“You gonna cum for me, Elliott? Hmm? Pretty please…I wanna see you cum for me,” you cooed, turning your head to the side to press kisses to the inside of his thighs, only pushing him closer to the edge.

You moved your hand fast one moment, just to use your fist to glide over his length carefully the next. He never knew what to anticipate next, because whenever he could feel his orgasm being so close, close enough for him to be able to almost grasp it you slowed down again. And whenever the lingering feeling of his peak began to loosen up, you made sure his balls tightened again by allowing him to fuck your fist and massaging his balls through the fabric of his underwear.

This was torture, really. No, it was heaven. Heavenly torture, maybe, he didn’t care. He was so close again.

He wasn’t going to finish the sentence; the cry that tore from his throat doing just little to showcase that immense orgasm that ripped through him. His legs straightened out, toes curling as his back arched in, the air being knocked out of his lungs. He was pretty sure he could smell every single colour on this green planet, and taste sounds at that. Spurts and spurts of cum covered your hand, and the inside of his underwear. But that was a problem for future Elliott; his problem seemingly was surviving right now.

“Mhm! Mhm! Oh shit, oh shit, sorry!”

The man was squirming beneath your touch now, nerve endings alarming his brain that he was overstimulated already, but he would have rather forever endured writer’s block than for you to stop. The feeling of the metal against his cock was driving him wild; drool was slipping from his lips, onto his glistening his chest.

“Gonna cum, love! Gonna-“

Panting still, Elliott’s cock was throbbing violently in your hand, that had slowed its pace by now. Your eyes were fixated on your boyfriend’s face, watching him go through all the emotions that seemingly came with his orgasm.

It took him several moments of sucking in as much air as possible, not daring to open up his green eyes. If his head already was spinning like this, he didn’t want to know what the world would look like.

“El?” You asked carefully, your hand still holding firmly onto the base of his cock.

“Oh…my…,” he murmured, voice just barely above a whisper. “What…what was that? Against..against me?”

You bit your lip, slowly pulling your hand from the writer’s boxers, holding it up almost guiltily. Elliott blinked a few times, before leaning down to take in your hand. His corners of his mouth quivered, making you unsure if he was about to cry for a split second.

“I knew they would come in handy once,” he chuckled, closing his eyes once more. You chuckled as well, slowly getting to your feet. You were about to wander over to sink to wash your hands when slender fingers wrapped around your wrist. Elliott brought your hand to his mouth without hesitation, tongue lolling out to lick each digit, before sucking one after the other into his mouth. He looked up at you while he was doing it, enjoying the look of complete shock on your face. He released your hand and cautiously pulled you down in a kiss, letting you taste him on his tongue.

The overstimulating feeling, however, made him whimper and slowly pull away.

“Thank you, my love.”

You smiled, quietly kissing his forehead that was covered by a thin layer of sweet, pride swelling in your chest.

 The two of you settled into the silence, quietly holding hands when Elliott opened his eyes again, the green orbs falling onto the piece of paper that was resting on the table still. You sucked in a breath when he picked up the feather, hovering it over the paper.

And…

He wrote. A smile tugged at your lips, and you kissed his head, quietly making your way over to the basket. Thank Yoba you liked to read research papers when you couldn’t sleep.

[bratzforchris]

Latin and Pentagrams

Summary ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆: A night of studying turns into something much darker when you stumble upon an old Latin book and end up summoning something less than human

Pairing: Demon!Calum x feminine!reader

Warnings: 18+ content (this is much darker than my other works, minors dni!!!!!), horror/scary themes, religious-ish imagery, teratophilia (attraction to monsterfucking/non human characters), fingering/handjobs (f and m receiving), p in v, orgasm denial, size kink, overstimulation, pet names, thigh riding, temporary body modification, fluffy ending (i think that's all but let me know if i missed something!)

Word Count: 7.4k

Note: This is much different than what I normally write, so I hope you all enjoy! This was somewhat inspired by my conversation with a friend a few days ago about taking AP Latin in high school so! Inspiration! I plan on trying to get a few more Halloween fics up 😈

☾

“I actually can’t believe you’re studying tonight, Y/N.” Your best friend, Gaia, said, rolling her eyes and giving you a light, playful shove. 

“I have a big Latin exam tomorrow,” You sighed. “You know that.”

“You can have one night of fun, Y/N.” she said, giving you the “pleaseeeeee” eyes. 

“Latin is my hardest subject. Besides, I hate parties. I’d rather enjoy Halloween with a candy bar and some movies.” You mumbled, running your finger across the stick-and-poke pentagram tattoo you’d given yourself in eleventh grade. 

All your life, you had adored travel and studying the history and culture of other places. The day you’d gotten the offer to exchange at University of St. Andrews in Scotland was probably the best day you’d ever had. But there were days, like right now, where you wondered if it was worth the sacrifice. You didn’t get “breaks” as an exchange student, especially if you went to a university as prestigious as this one. Being a History major, with a minor in Classics, wasn’t quite the field for going easy on the studying. You would’ve loved to go to a smaller Halloween party with Gaia and a few other friends, but in your head, duty called. 

“All Hallows Eve, you mean? Be a proper Scot.” she chuckled in her Scottish accent. 

“Yeah, sorry. See you tomorrow?” You offered, shoving your glasses up the bridge of your nose. 

It was beginning to grow dark and the chilly, crisp breeze was blowing the orange and red leaves across the damp sidewalk, creating the perfect autumnal and slightly bewitching aura for the night. You two had been sitting on the steps of the main campus library, discussing your classes, the upcoming holidays and everything in between, but now, you could see the urge to go party etching itself onto your friend’s face. 

“Duh,” Gaia giggled, standing up and giving you a hug. “You going in there to study?” she questioned, craning her head towards the giant, regal-looking, cobblestone building. 

“Yeah…” You gnawed on your lip, antsy to get to your studying. “It’s the only place that has the books I need.”

“Well, don’t get to summoning any demons or spirits tonight,” she booped your nose. “When you do the ‘o, s, t, -mus, -tis, -nt’ thing for present tense endings it sounds like a fuckin’ pagan chant.”

“I won’t, I promise,” You hoisted your backpack up onto your shoulder. “Now, go have fun.” You turned Gaia’s shoulders so that she could march down the stone steps.

She waved goodbye to you, hurrying down the steps and across the quad. As you watched her leave, a feeling itched its way into your skin, burying deep inside your bones. It wasn’t quite melancholy, but you felt yourself wishing that you could tag along to the parties, even if you didn’t enjoy them all that much. 

You shook your head, getting rid of all those angsty thoughts. Giving your tattoo a quick rub with the top of your pointer finger, you marched up the stairs and unlocked the door, walking into the library, breathing in the smell of carpet and old, musty books. Being a student employee had its benefits some days, and access to the library after hours and on holidays was definitely one of them. You flicked on the light by the front desk and sat down, taking it all in for a few moments before pulling out your supplies. 

The library was old and had the aire of a medieval castle or church, what with its stained glass windows, large chandeliers over every table, and beautiful, soaring woodwork carvings. You kicked your old, crusty Converse up onto the desk and chuckled as you replayed Gaia’s warnings in your head. Maybe it was the difference in growing up in Scotland versus your American upbringing, but she was always much more superstitious and believed in the supernatural more than you did. 

For some reason, you remembered that old legend she had told you when you were a new student last year, something about how devil worshippers used to use this very library for their secret meetings back when the university first opened in the 1400s. You could almost believe now as you lit the candle on the desk with a lighter from your back pocket. The flame cast the desk in an eerie, orange glow, which added to the ambience of the flickering chandelier over table three and the blacked-out back of the library where you hadn’t turned the lights on yet. 

You shook the thoughts from your head and pulled your laptop and books from your bag. The last thing you needed right now was to get off track because you were thinking about some silly legends. You began to run through your conjugations and tenses, reciting the lines to yourself. The Latin rolled off your tongue making you sound rather scholarly and a bit haunting if you said so yourself.

“Ugh.” You grumbled when you reached the portion of the study guide on the history of Latin and paganism. 

You threw the book down on the desk rather angrily, but couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face when you read the bit about Latin in pagan chants and then looked down at the pentagram tattoo. It had been stupid at first, you poking the design into your skin just for the aesthetic. But now, the more you studied, the more you felt connected to the art. You decided to take a break from the studying, pulling your phone from your pocket and opening up Tumblr. The first thing you saw when you opened the app was a rather scandalous fanart as the header for someone’s fanfic. It showed a feminine reader fucking with a rather monstrous, demonic-looking creature. You smirked and bit your lip, crossing your thighs. You’d never tell anyone else, but monsterfucking was your guilty pleasure when it came to kink. There was just something about someone who wasn’t from this world using you for their own pleasure that turned you on. 

You sometimes wondered what that would actually be like. Would it be the same as fucking with a human? You shook your head and clicked your phone off, placing it face down on the desk. Standing up and stretching, you looked around the library. It was almost the perfect setting for Halloween night. You looked down at your abandoned textbook, remembering what you’d told Gaia about the books in here. Maybe you did need a different book to help you study. 

You pushed around the desk and trailed down the aisles of the library, using your phone as a flashlight, until you came to the 600s section where the university kept their history books. You stooped, running your pointer finger along the spines of the books. There were so many here that you could easily spend all night studying, but you knew you had found a perfect book when your finger landed on a thick, leather-bound book, spine inlaid with gold plating. 

You pulled it out, staring at the soft, leather cover. It didn’t have a title, simply a pentagram on it in gold that matched the spine. You sunk down, leaning your back against the bookshelf as you flipped the cover open. The pages were browned, stained, and written on parchment. You gnawed on your lip as you realized that this was a true, historical book. You flipped past the cover page and shined your flashlight on the back side. There, in swirly, beautiful cursive it read “authored 1416” by someone whose name you couldn’t make out. 

Why did your school’s library have this historical gem among the other, modern books? You shrugged, brushing it off and flipping through the book. The first few pages didn’t particularly catch your eye, just lines upon lines of Latin, as well as crude sketches of the gods. All stuff you had looked at and read before. You sighed, randomly flipping to the middle of the book. You felt a calling to that section for some reason. Maybe it was your boredom, or maybe it was the Halloween spirit bewitching you to do something different. You could see as you looked out the window while flipping the pages that it was completely dark now. The moon was high and full in the sky. You were definitely one for the aesthetics, and this was the perfect Halloween setting. 

Finally, you reached the middle of the book. It had taken you a while to turn the pages because they were such delicate parchment, but now, the image before you was worth it. It was different from the other drawings in the book. The sketch pictured a hulking man, about eight feet tall, with bulging muscles. He had soft curls and a devilish smirk about him in the picture. He would’ve looked almost normal, despite the height, if it weren’t for the pointed horns curving from his head and tail protruding from his rear. He had sharp, knifelike claws on his hands, but there was something about him. He was sinfully beautiful. 

The sketch was much more fine and detailed than the rest of the book. The Latin paragraph by his drawing was also much more detailed and beautiful than the sentences written previously. You noticed at the top of the page there was the name of your university, and you quickly read the paragraph, the Latin rolling off your tongue like you had been practicing for so many years. It was a set of directions, pointing you to the back of the library. 

You pushed off your haunches, walking back to where the book was pointing you. You almost wondered if a Wiccan practitioner before you had walked this very path through the library. It wasn’t hard to believe; the library was centuries old. As you walked, you cradled the open book in your arms. Gaia’s tale about the devil worshippers in the 1400s rang through your mind as you realized when this book had been authored while walking. You didn’t exactly believe in anything supernatural or even devil worshippers, but you couldn’t help feeling a slight chill in your bones once you had reached the back of the library. 

It was dark back here, much darker than the rest of the library. The only light shone from your dying phone’s battery as you hit a stone wall. You’d never been at the back of the library, and it was very clear hardly anyone else had either. The stones were damp and cool and cobwebs littered the corners. You read the passage again, running your hand along the rocks. You didn’t know why you were doing this. It was clear you had literally hit a wall. Maybe it was procrastinating that you had an exam tomorrow, or maybe it was the urge to do something for Halloween. 

You looked down at your tattoo once more before reading the instructions on the book. All it said was to look for the sixth stone, in the sixth row, of the sixth column. Your eyes searched the wall before finding the stone and pressing it. Nothing happened. You sighed, going to turn away from the wall and walk back to the desk. You couldn’t wait to rub it in Gaia’s face tomorrow that the “devil worshippers” of the library were nothing but an urban legend. 

Suddenly, the wall rumbled, two sides splitting to reveal a large wooden door with the same designs as the book carved into it. You stood in front of it, absolutely gaping. There was no way a stone wall had just split in half. There was no way there was another door inside the wall, leading to who knew what. You knew you should turn around, go back to the desk and continue your studies and then go home to your dorm. The last thing you needed was to get stuck in some old passage. 

But you didn’t. Your subconscious pulled you towards the door, and you pulled the rusty, metal lock open. You coughed as the dust blew towards your face, beaming your phone across the room you had stepped into. It was small and earthen, almost like a prison cell, but it had an almost magical vibe to it. At the far end lay what looked like a stone hearth, and your feet pulled you towards it. You looked down at the book as you walked. This was where it had led you to, and now there were further directions for you to follow. 

At the foot of the altar was another pentagram, and on the ledge were a few wax candles in bronze holders, a box of matches at their base. It was as if the matches had been placed there recently, but it seemed like no one had been in this room for decades. It lay dead silent and still, like a tomb. You picked up the box of matches, but nearly jumped out of your skin when the door that had led you here slammed shut. Looking down at your tattoo once more, you began to read off the passage from the book. The Latin spilled from your mouth like an incantation as you lit the candles and slid your phone into your back pocket. 

As you did so, a warm, sweet heat curled through your core, blossoming in your tummy before traveling down to your thighs. You didn’t know what you were expecting to happen. Were you actually trying to summon a fucking demon? The feeling was wonderful and exhilarating, and you felt called to continue the chant as it ran down the page. Surely if you actually summoned the being there would be a way to banish him…right? You ignored the warnings on the page, written in red ink that looked suspiciously like blood. Demons probably weren’t even real; if anything, you’d get a good laugh at this later. 

As you finished the words on the page, your skin began to prickle with goosebumps, the hairs standing tall. That had to be a coincidence. There was no way anything was actually happening. You were making it up, your mind bewitched with Gaia’s folklore and the spirit of All Hallows’ Eve. If warning bells were supposed to be going off in your head, they weren’t. The only sensation you had was your heart fluttering with excitement. 

Just as you spoke the last word, an unnatural, purple fog flitted through the room, swirling about the chamber and ruffling the pages of the old book. It curled faster and harder until all you could see was purple smog, and the sconces on the wall firing to life on one-by-one, without you lighting them. Here you were, alone in a sealed chamber that no one alive knew about, summoning god knows what. Gaia’s playful joke about bringing a demon to life floated through your mind. Despite not being one to be superstitious, something supernatural was happening in this room. You should’ve felt scared, terrified, horrified, any antonym for excitement, but you didn’t. 

As if you had been studying the passage for weeks, the Latin chant flowed from your mouth like you had memorized it, even though you’d only read it once. You repeated the lines five more times for a total of six with your eyes closed. When you opened them, the smoke had cleared somewhat. The only wisp of purple that you saw was slowly seeping out of the walls, being edged by an invisible wind. It curled towards the middle of the room, twisting in a tornado like shape, further and further towards the ceiling. You didn’t know why, but you covered your face with your hands. Maybe it was fear of nothing actually happening. You had fallen asleep at the desk while studying and would wake up in a few moments to nothing but an empty page on your computer. 

After a few moments, you uncovered your eyes, seeing that the smoke was beginning to fade away. All of what had just happened was blocked out when you noticed the absolutely enormous figure standing in the middle of the etched pentagram, the sconces casting him in a warm, orange glow. You fisted your eyes once more to just make sure you were really seeing what you thought you were. The half-human, half-mythological creature came into view, standing before you regally. He was even more intimidating in person as he stared down at you with dark eyes, but the only way your body responded was through a heated moan. 

The beast was absolutely huge. His shoulders were nearly as broad as you were tall, with bulging muscles and unholy pecs. His skin was tanned and littered with inked tattoos, depicting battles he’d won and scenes from his tales. His black curls fell to his pointed ears, serving as a bed for his red horns. Your eyes caught on them for a moment, taking in how they were wider at the base but curled upwards, ending in knifelike daggers that scraped the ceiling. He was probably nearly eight feet tall, covered in muscle all over, but the thing that really made you heat up was his face. 

His chocolate-brown eyes looked you up and down curiously as his plump, pink lips curved into a smirk that started at his cupid’s bow. Whoever this demon was, his face was littered with a bit of stubble and despite his uncanny appearance, you longed to kiss his face all over, feeling the hair and telling him just how beautiful he was. He was like something one could only dream of. 

His chest was heaving with heavy, agitated breaths. His fists were clenched in front of him, but you could see the deep, black claws that jutted from his fingertips. Although his skin was a completely normal shade for a human, it was clear he was closer to a beast than any person. His legs were thick and muscular, but appeared human under the crude, burgundy, fabric shorts he wore. His bare feet were like that of an animal, more clawlike, the same type as his hands. The thing that stole your gaze the most, though, was the red tail, tipped with a pointed heart that protruded from his rear, flicking with arousal as the tent in his shorts grew. 

“I…” You started, whimpering slightly. 

You weren’t scared per say, but the demon was rather intimidating, both in stature and how capable he looked of pleasure. He cocked his head, his brown eyes growing lustful at the noises falling from your lips. The adrenaline of the situation had worn off and now you were gasping for air as you realized you had just summoned a magical, sinful creature. The demon stepped closer to you, tail curling behind him, eyes trained on you. Your body responded to his gaze by heating up, the warmth curling through your belly as you surveyed him. You didn’t question your body’s arousal towards him; you were so syrupy-sweet with desire that you paid no mind. 

“It was you who summoned me, angel?” the demon asked once he was about three feet away from you. 

His voice rattled through the stone chamber, a deliciously deep bass that snuck its way into your bones, settling there. You clenched your thighs together in your sweatpants as your clit began to throb with horniness. You craned your neck slowly, eyes traveling up his spectacular body until you met his face. Even with your neck leaned back so far, you just barely could meet the creature’s eyes. 

“It was me,” You admitted, gnawing on your lip to keep any unwanted noises from escaping. “I…wanted to.” You said, picking your words carefully, fearful of how such a beast would react to what you said. 

The chamber fell dead for a moment, the only sound being the demon’s breathing as he looked you up and down. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, or simply just curious. You wondered if he knew how someone summoned him, or if he simply just popped up wherever the spell called. Your question was answered when he spoke, that beautiful voice flowing from him once more. 

“The book told you to summon me?” he asked, raising a brow. 

You could tell now that he was more curious than anything, surprise making its way onto his features as you studied his face. You glanced around the room, mulling over your answer before speaking. You thought of the way you had skipped the Halloween parties, opting to sit in the library alone, the way you’d unusually ignored your studies to find another book, the way you’d skipped the rest of the book to look at the picture of the demon before you, and then follow the directions on it. 

“Yes,” You said, your voice shaking. “I felt called to summon you.”

“Do you believe in the supernatural, baby witch?” he asked you. 

“I…I don’t know,” You didn’t even recognize the voice that was coming from you, the words high and tinged with a mixture of fear and arousal. “I'm just letting the Halloween spirit get to me!” You said, backing against the altar. 

The devil smirked, pushing his body against your own, pinning you to the altar. “Sweetheart,” he started. “I think a little more than the Halloween spirit calls you to summon a sex demon.” he growled. 

The noise rumbled up from his chest and you tentatively lifted your head to meet his eyes. They had darkened to an almost black color, full of lust. His lips had a hungry look plastered across them, smirking when he met your eyes. His hulking body blocked out the light from the candles as he stood in front of you, casting his body in a warm glow. The light glinted off his white, razor-sharp fangs as he smirked, licking his lips with his forked, black tongue. 

“I wanted to know what fucking a demon is like…” You mumbled.

“What was that, angel?” he asked, grabbing your chin in his hand and lifting it to meet his eyes. “You will not mumble when you talk to me.”

“I wanted to know what fucking a demon is like!” You yelped, backing impossibly further, your body jolting with fear, but a wetness growing in your underwear nonetheless. 

Your emotions were an absolute jumble inside your chest. You felt fearful and nauseous with horror, but your desire to know the sinful creature was epically stronger. The dampness in your panties was only becoming more prominent, clinging to your skin and agitating your clit. The creature had caged you in with his humongous body, looking down at you. 

“Well then, I’m happy to fulfill your desires.” the demon cooed. 

He was practically salivating as he looked at you, moving his large claws to hold your body in place. He gave off such an air of power that despite the physical filling of the room, his personality was filling the chamber so tightly, blocking out everything that wasn’t him. 

“I won’t hurt you, baby witch.” he said with an unexpected softness, stroking your cheek. 

His gentleness shocked you, removing the fear from your body. As his body pressed ever closer to yours, you could smell his delicious scent, and you longed to bury your face in his glorious chest and never let go. The scent was like that of cigarettes and cherries, intoxicatingly sweet and a bit smoky.  

“I’m not a witch,” You whispered, voice shaky. “You…you have me confused with someone else.”

“You summoned me by reading the Latin, I’m quite literally a demon, and you have this,” he reeled off, stroking the claw of his thumb over your pentagram tattoo. “All of that qualifies you to be a witch.”

The creature wasn’t really lying. All of those things qualified you to be a witch, or at least a beginner in practicing magic. You longed to go back in time and heed Gaia’s warnings about the supernatural and its creatures, but for now, you were enjoying the way this half-man, half-beast far too much. You nodded your head in a sort of acceptance, looking into his deep, chocolate eyes. 

You weren’t sure if he smelled the fear melt from your body, or if the acceptance was written on your face, but the creature pinned you to the altar with his claws, his hips pressing against your upper body. He wrapped his tail around your upper thigh, almost like a garter, but to your surprise, it wasn’t cold and slimy like you had anticipated. It was warm and the heat made your body seize with arousal. You slowly relaxed into the touch, humming softly. His body was hotter than any human should be, both sexually and temperature-wise. 

“Do you have a name?” You asked him softly, melting in his grasp. 

The book had just called him “The Powerful One”, but if he was going to call you names like “angel” and “baby witch”, you thought it only fair to have one to use for him. He looked at you curiously, cocking his head as he searched your expression. 

“I can’t share my name with you, pet,” he hummed. The noise sounded almost like that of an enormous lion, akin to a purr. He used his right hand to cup your face with intention, his claws scraping softly against the nape of your neck. “It allows those who know the demon too much power.”

“Oh…” You said shyly and a bit sadly. 

After a moment though, the thought fleeted from your mind. The demon’s name was flowing further and further from you as you rested comfortably into his soft, burning hand. You blushed as you wondered if the rest of his body was like his chest and hands. Would he leave your own heat burning with affection?

“Angel,” he crooned, stroking your cheek to bring you back to reality. “I have been alive a millennia. That allows one many, many names. Rex, Dominus Potens, Magnūs. They are of your choosing." His voice was gentle as he spoke to you, almost like he was a human man speaking to his girlfriend, rather than a creature that spent his life in the depths of hell. 

“King, Powerful Master, and The Great One?” You looked to the beast as the Latin translations sloppily rolled off your tongue. 

He nodded, a soft smirk painting his lips. You would’ve expected a sex demon to be much rougher and less kind with you, but his softness was like that of a giant teddy bear. The soft personality that was stored inside that monstrous body just made you even more hungry for him. You wished to grind yourself against his body with erotic moans, but you chose to gently stroke his abdomen that was at eye level with you. A happy noise grumbled its way up from the devil’s throat, encouraging you to continue your motion. 

“Dominus…” You said softly. 

The demon gave you a nod of approval, making you utter the word again. This time it fell more smoothly from your lips, and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes against the altar, wanting to know this magical beast. You were much too short to reach his lips, so you settled for puckering your own and leaving a kiss against his soft breast. His body heat ignited your own and you pushed yourself into him, knowing he would catch you. 

You longed to kiss him, and the creature could sense the feeling from radiating from your body. He was much too tall to stoop and kiss you though, his horns scraping against the ceiling, so he opted to pick you up by the waist, settling you on his hip, almost like a small child. Once he was sure you were set comfortably, he didn’t give you a moment’s more to think before his lips were on yours. 

The beast’s kisses were just like his personality; smooth and subtle, but with an underlying tone of something much more…promiscuous. Even though he was less than human, his empathy was like a wonderful, respectful man. He seemed to understand how small and fragile you were compared to him and he took that into consideration as he kissed you, his muscles bulging as he held you. He kissed you in such a frenzy that you felt high off his love, desperate for your next fix. 

You whined, grinding yourself into his hip as a whine escaped your mouth. To this, the demon deepened the kiss, turning it into a full makeout. You felt his mouth curve into a smirk as you kissed him more fervently. His forked tongue was providing you with overwhelming pleasure as whimpers and gasps fell from your lips. 

Whoever this demon was, his mouth tasted absolutely sinful. You had the urge to just let him rail you until you were beyond fucked-out. Your arms were wrapped around his thick neck as you cried out, practically riding his thigh. The feeling of the fabric rubbing against your clit, as well as the wetness in your panties made the movement pleasurable and you could tell the creature felt the same way. He was nearly growling, loud, erotic rumbles that burst from his chest in monstrous cries. 

“Please,” You panted out. “Please, fuck me, magnūs.”

“Are you ready for dick already, baby witch? Am I that pleasurable?” he asked with a smirk. 

You blushed, knowing your horniness was so visible, but you couldn’t be bothered as the demon’s own seductive noises just made your folds even more wet. “Yes! I am!” You cried out, riding his thigh frantically, trying to get yourself off. 

The demon placed your back against the altar once more, one of his hands holding you in place and the other gripping you under the ass. “So, you want to know what it’s like to fuck a sex demon, angel?” he asked with a smirk, running his tongue over his pearly fangs. “Need to get off on my unholy cock? Do you think you’ll be able to take it all?”

You whined against him, eyes traveling to the tent in his pants you had seen earlier. It was only growing larger, flicking underneath his crude shorts in unison with his maroon tail. The demon snapped his fingers, and suddenly, he was completely naked. You could now completely see his cock, and a moan immediately left you. He was already leaking pre-cum, the deep red organ pulsing with arousal. You had the urge to immediately drop to your knees and suck him off, offering up worship as his cum poured down your throat. 

“Do you think you can take it, baby witch? Or should I go back to where I came from? Forget this little rendezvous ever happened.” he chuckled deeply. 

You knew you would have a hard time fitting more than the head of his cock in your mouth. He was as thick around as your bicep, and nearly as long as your lower leg. Even the monsterfucking porn you looked at and read sometimes hadn’t prepared you for him. The sight should’ve made you nervous about trying to fit him into your cunt, but it didn’t. You simply longed for him to insert himself into your heat, fucking you until you couldn’t take it anymore as you worshipped him. 

“You came looking for me because you’re a slut, pet,” the devil teased you. “You love the idea of being stuffed full of demon cock, don’t you?” 

It was like he was reading your mind, but then again, you were staring so blatantly at his dick, practically salivating. You began to grind your pussy against his chest as he held you, begging him to touch you in any way he possibly could. 

“I can smell that you’re wet for me, baby witch,” he teased, but a tone of love laced his voice. “Are you ready to be split open on my dick?”

You nodded so quickly your head almost fell off. “Do more than that. Ruin my cunt. I’ve waited years to be fucked on a monstrous cock like yours.” You said, fluttering your lashes. 

“Angels aren’t supposed to be filthy,” he hummed. “But if you desire, I’m happy to obey your wish.”

The demon unwrapped his tail from your leg and used it to slowly tickle and tease your wetness through your pants, before he suddenly snapped his fingers once more, leaving you completely naked as well. He continued to tease your pussy as he craned his neck, beginning to softly suckle on your nipples until they were standing tall. He looked into your eyes solemnly when he lifted his head, brown eyes filled with lust. 

“Do you understand what it means to be taken by me, pet?” he cocked his head. “You will never be rid of me after this night. I will be embedded in you forever.” 

“Don’t care,” You whined, shoving yourself into him. “Just need you to fuck me now, Dominius!” You cried, beginning to give his cock that was only growing larger with arousal a handjob, stroking the veiny dick up and down. 

“Oh angel, you’re such a slut,” he chuckled, sliding one hand to insert into your heat. “Dom’t even care about the effects fucking a demon will have on you.”

You whined, practically riding his fingers already, to which he offered teases of how wet you were for him. Your hands had fallen away from his dick at this point, so pleased by his fingers that you tangled your fingers in his soft, black curls. 

“Need you, Rex. Need your cock.” You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at how sexually frustrated you were. 

“Such a needy baby witch, aren’t you?” he hummed. 

You nodded quickly, tugging on his curls slightly. You were so full of lust and arousal that you would’ve said yes or agreed to anything he asked. The demon added another finger to your hole, slowly sliding them in and out. He used his tail to alternate caressing your face and belly, humming softly. 

“You need preparation for my cock.” he told you softly, explaining in a sort of way why he hadn’t pushed you to the wall and fucked you senseless. 

You slid your hand back down to his shaft and ran your thumb over his head. His pre-cum was warm and wet, practically drenching your entire hand. You tentatively brought your hand to your face and licked it slowly and sensually, savoring the delicious, sinful taste of him. At this, your demon made a pleased noise, pumping your pussy faster. 

“You need more than that, pet,” the beast told you. “Should I fuck your mouth so you can drink it like a sinner drinking holy water?”

You nodded so quickly, eager for him to go through with his words. “Oh please, magnūs.” You whined. 

By this point, you were riding the demon’s fingers, enjoying the way his claws felt inside your sensitive, wet cunt. He wasn’t letting you get off that easy, though. Suddenly the creature pulled out and gazed at you with a playful grin. 

“You didn’t think I was letting you get away with cumming on my fingers and not on my dick, did you, baby witch?” he raised a brow, taunting and challenging you. “I’m going to fill you with so much demon cock that you won’t know how to think and you will cum more times that you can fucking count.” 

Your devil lifted you so that your pening was placed directly over his enormous length. You could feel your wetness dripping onto him, making the organ twitch with pleasure. He was so tall and big that you had to wrap your arms around his torso as he held you under the ass, claws digging into your plump flesh. 

“Are you ready for my monstrous cock, angel?” he asked you, spreading your legs wider and placing his tip against your tiny, tight hole. 

“Yes! Please, Dominus.” You cried out, rocking yourself against it. 

Any of the fear or hesitation you had felt earlier melted away as the demon began to insert only the head of his dick into you. Even with his fingering, it took quite a few moments for him to fit all the way inside. You gasped out in a mixture of pain and pleasure once he was fully inside. It was unlike anything you had felt before. The creature’s dick was stretching your pussy beyond its limits, making you dig your nails into his skin. 

“Shhh, take it like the filthy angel you are,” the demon cooed, thrusting deeper into you. “You wanted this, I know you can do it, baby witch.” he coached you. 

You rocked your hips around him, trying to accommodate his massiveness. The only things falling from your lips were senseless sounds and whimpers as your body got adjusted to the feeling. “Feels amazing.” You slurred out, intoxicated with the ecstasy of him. 

“Your poor little pussy is going to be absolutely wrecked, pet.” he chuckled, beginning to suck on your neck as he rode you. 

The devil kept inserting himself into you, moving just wonderfully so that you could feel his dick nearly rearranging your insides. You didn’t know how much of him was left for you to take. Your walls were aching with the effort of taking him, but your demon was making you feel so good. He had taken such great care of your body and made it his own. You stared into his lustful eyes as he came suddenly, the same tingling sensation as when you had tasted his pre-cum filling your insides. 

“Oh god,” You panted out. “Magnūs, please.” Your nails were wrecking his back as he held you, his tail tickling in between your thighs for even more pleasure in your sensitive area.  

“Your turn, baby witch,” he cooed. “Cum all over my demon cock.”

You immediately did as he said, releasing so fucking quickly. The walls of your cunt tightened around his length, making you cry out. Your climax made your demon moan out, fucking you harder. With one last thrust, he shoved the rest of his cock into you, making you scream out in pleasure. You were fuller than you’d ever been in your life, and it felt amazing. The devil made a few erotic groans himself, shoving your hips down onto his dick to get the right angle for fucking you mindless. 

You could feel his balls, bigger than any you’d ever seen, slapping against your ass, leaving the most wonderful stinging sensation. His tail slowly snuck to your slit, tickling your electric spot while pounded into you. 

“It has been so long since someone summoned me,” he whispered huskily into your ear. “Thank you, angel.”

Just as he said that, he unloaded into you, your pussy being flooded with his cum. This time was more than the last and you screamed with pleasure, digging your nails into your back. The whole scene was hot enough that you immediately came around him, your walls clenching. The triple orgasm was better than any other man or toy could provide you. As soon as you finished, you slumped against his abdomen, panting heavily. 

The demon chuckled, slowly sliding his cock out of you and sinking to the ground with his back against the wall, still holding you. His dick had softened and you were laying over it now, enjoying the warmth. He was much warmer than any human man was, and it was an enjoyable sensation. He stroked your back with his claws, giving you a wonderful massage, while his tail rubbed up and down your legs. 

“You did wonderfully, pet.” he praised you, a purr coming from his mouth. 

You blushed, going to snuggle into him but pushing when you felt yourself stopped against his chest. You slowly reached a hand up and touched your head with wonder. “I…I have horns!” You exclaimed. 

“Did you read the terms and conditions at all, baby witch?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“No,” You admitted shyly. “You were just too sexy for me to care.”

Your demon laughed, kissing your forehead. “Don’t inflate my ego anymore than it already is, angel. But yes, there are certain terms and conditions. Your small, human body isn’t made to take a cock like mine, so my cum changes you to accommodate it. Look behind you.” he offered, giving your ass a smack. 

“I have a tail!” You said excitedly, stroking the new, pink addition to your body. 

The demon chuckled at how childlike with happiness you were. But he appeared a bit sad as he stroked your body up and down. “This isn’t permanent, angel. The summoning isn’t, so neither are the side effects.” he said, voice laced with sadness. 

“Wait…you mean I’m never going to see you again?” tears pricked at your eyes. 

You loved this demon with your whole heart and soul and you knew you were meant to be with him. That was the only explanation for everything that had happened this evening; the studying, the call to the book, the urge to summon this wonderful creature. 

“You can summon me whenever you like, pet. But the summoning only lasts an hour,” he smiled softly. “After that, I go back to the underworld and your body goes back to normal.”

“But what if I don’t want that?” You were beginning to cry. “I want to be with you. Please don’t leave.”

The demon petted your hair, kissing your face softly. “You’ll see me again, angel. Summon me whenever you like.”

You craned your neck and began to kiss him fervently, not wanting him to leave you. “Please, I need you.” You moaned. 

“Haven’t had your fill of me?” he chuckled, beginning to makeout with you. 

You continued to kiss, enjoying your new features, until the hour was up. You said goodbye to your demon, kissing his lips softly and promising to summon him again as soon as possible. But just as he was dissolving into the same purple smoke, he looked at you solemnly before speaking. 

“Calum. That’s my name, baby witch. Call me Calum.”

“Goodbye, Calum.” You whispered as he disappeared. 

Your tail and horns disappeared with your lover, leaving you fully clothed in the empty, stone room, just like before. You clutched your hands to heart, promising yourself that you would summon Calum again as soon as possible. 

✯ One Year Later ✯

You excitedly stood in your apartment, the same book from last year clutched tightly in your arms. This was the final time you would ever summon Calum for an hour. You both loved the wild, sexual nights, but you missed your demon during the day. You two had spent the last year practicing magic, with Calum’s getting just strong enough for him to pass as human for just under a year. He would be able to be his true form at home with you, but he had gotten so skilled that he would now be able to pass as your human boyfriend to your friends and family. 

You chanted the spell just like that Halloween last year, but this time, you used your demon’s real name when you called upon him–Calum Hood. The same purple smoke appeared just like all those times before, but when the fog dissipated, a “human” man stood in front of you. Calum was about 6’2”, with those kind brown eyes that you loved so dearly. He still had his luscious curls and beautiful tattoos, but the horns, claws, and tail were gone for now. 

He immediately swept you off your feet, spinning you around. “I missed you, baby witch.” he hummed, running a finger over your same pentagram tattoo. 

“I missed you more, Cal.” You sniffled, on the verge of tears as you realized you would get to see Calum every day now. 

You knew in your heart that Calum was still of the underworld, and that was what you loved about him, but you were ready for a new start. To be able to show off the soul you loved oh-so-dearly to the world. He would still have to go back to the underworld every now and then, but you were so happy you didn’t care. 

“Don’t forget that I’ll always be your demon.” he smirked as you buried your face in his neck, breathing in that same, sinful scent of cigarettes and cherries.    

[bookishgalaxies]

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐬? 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰!

☾☼✧☽ summary: some Mondstadt girlies helping you through finals

☾☼✧☽ pairing: lisa, jean, amber, and lumine (separate) x gn!reader

☾☼✧☽ type: headcannons, modern-ish au?

☾☼✧☽ warnings: FINALS STRESS

☾☼✧☽ a/n: tried my hand at writing these characters! I’m not taking requests for Genshin characters yet but I probably will soon. In the middle of the forever long Sumeru archon quest rn.

▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢

Lisa ✧

Is she flirtatious? Sure. Is she still an academic weapon from her years at the Akademiya? Certainly!

Lisa would assist you with your studies and review of topics.

She’s definitely one to run flash cards with you over tea and a few pastries.

“Ah, not quite cutie, but you’re close.”

You walk in the library with your shoulders slumped with a list of topics you need reference material for.

But she’s there with a stack of books for the topics you need

“I took a peek at your list and pulled these for you. No sense in you spending all that time searching when I know where they are.”

She would loan you her lucky pen ( quill??) to actually take your exam

Insisting that it got her through many exams successfully at the Akademiya

Definitely slips a relaxing alchemical concoction into your drink before the exam to calm your nerves

“Whether you pass or not, you’re still extra special to me.”

Jean ✧

Jean is adamant about following a healthy work and rest schedule.

She’s setting her watch to ring when you need to take a break and rest your eyes from reader

Insisting you drink a certain amount of water everyday to ensure you are hydrated.

She’s even planning/cooking your meals so your brain can have the proper fuel it needs to function at full capacity.

“I just want you to have everything you need to study well.”

She’s a busy lady, so…..don’t know how much she would actually help you study

Would probably find time to possibly quiz you on material once or twice before your exam

“You did well that time. I marked the areas need to study. I know you’ll do fine with them though.”

Jean will not budge on the fact you aren’t allowed to study or do anything mentally taxing the night before the exam.

She makes you a healthy meal, practically shoves water down your throat, and insists you get to bed early. She even puts her work away and goes to bed early with you.

Amber ✧

Oh Amber, the super encouraging one who is constantly reminding you amazing you are doing

She’ll see you struggling and come behind you to put a hand on your shoulder and say with a smile

“You’ve got it! If anyone can do it, you can.”

She lets you hold Barron Bunny while you study, petting him and scratching behind his ears.

You read quietly to yourself as he curls up in your lap, Amber can’t resist but take a picture so she can remember it forever.

Amber makes you flash cards and helps you go over them too!

She’s definitely one for speed rounds, wanting you be able to recall the knowledge quickly.

“You’ve almost got it! You’ll get it next time though.”

Lumine ✧

Lumine is a calming spirit through the whirlwind of studying and prepping

Imagining she would offer to read some of your material out loud to you if you wish, her voice calming your nerves as every second passes.

Lumine would ask you questions every so often as she read, to make sure you were still with her.

“I think that answer is good…make sure you’re remembering why that happened though.”

Lumine is an excellent cook and wants to ensure you stay fed. Unlike Jean though, she’ll make you whatever you are craving.

Sweet Madame? Done and perfectly cooked. Mushroom Skewer that she doesn’t have ingredients for? She’s out the door going to find the ingredients.

“Paimon thinks the traveler like reading to you so she can be around you.”

Yeah……Paimon may ruin the calming mood sometimes, but she means well!

The night before your exam, Lumine makes you your favorite desert and sets up a nice picnic for you <3

▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢

thank you so much for reading !!

stay hydrated and safe !!

[light-lanterne]

Not that I doubt your writing speed, but in the event that it takes you a while to get through your Bylerween stories to the point that they can't end up in the event... would it be possible to request a small summary of the things you'd planned?

hello ! thanks for the ask ~! there are all the reasons to doubt my writing speed, unfortunately, so by all means, a small summary is a perfectly reasonable request !! these are not the final synopses (maybe not even final titles), so please forgive how rushed and imperfect they are x.x

please be warned, though: out of the list with warnings for the event the @bylerween2023 mods posted, at least 90% of those themes are mentioned and alluded to in this post (let alone the stories themselves). proceed with caution.

an offering @boycattj, @byelerss, @catboy-cabin, @cosmobrain00, @dark-quill, @conanssummerchild, @fenixashes, @fluffyfangirl, @foodiewithdahoodie, @holyvirgilscriptures, @hyperfixationcentralsvoid, @rotisseries, @wheelersboy, @yearninginblue. forgive me for tagging you all in unfinished stories, but i thought maybe you'd find some of these concepts interesting >.<

- - - - - - - - ☽ day 1 — ghosts and hauntings ☾ - - - - - - - -

the old barn on cornwallis road

will's house is haunted. not by a ghost or a spectre, but by the cries and suffering of all the boys his father has kidnapped, tortured, and murdered over the past couple years. young as he is, there is nothing he can do but sit and watch as the boys perish, their resentful eyes following his every move as he performs his part in their abduction and killing, fantasies of escaping by himself nothing but a distant dream he'd be better off forgetting. that is, at least, until he meets his dad's latest victim. he's younger than the others, yet far more resilient and determined to escape. more importantly, however, he is kind and understanding with will and so, will's dreams of freedom slowly begin to include this boy. unfortunately, however, they remain dreams and will is instead forced to witness as mike's spirit and fight leave him as the days go by and the brutality lonnie enacts on him becomes worse and worse, his death an impending doom they cannot avoid,,, unless, of course, will manages to do something to save them both.

- - - - - ☽ day 2 — slashers, gore and body horror ☾ - - - - -

a sun to his moon

goat fae will has a normal, quiet life in his small community. he spends his days playing with his friends, cloud gazing, foraging for delicious berries and, quite literally, looking for greener pastures. one day, as he is making his way back home, he gets caught by a strong storm which forces him to seek refuge in an old abandoned barn, the pitch black darkness and his runny nose effectively restricting his senses to the point that he can only hear. and hear he does, when he catches a noise by his side and realises that there is someone in there with him. mike, to be precise; another lost soul who got caught by the storm. they can't see each other, or smell each other, but simply by talking they decide they really enjoy their time together and thus, when the rain stops and they're able to leave, they arrange to meet the next day and have a proper conversation. so they go, then arrive at their meeting spot, then come to a halt as they realise that they'd both made the same mistake: they'd assumed the other to be the same species as themselves when, in fact, mike is a wolf fae, the likes of which are notorious for eating goat faes.

- - - - - ☽ day 3 — demons, devils and exorcisms ☾ - - - - -

blood for the blood moon

it is the 16th century and will is having a tough time. his birthday is a week away and that would normally be a reason to celebrate, but this time he can't bring himself to cheer up even though he knows he should. in one week, his twin sister, jane, will be accepted into the town's council as their high priestess, her magic bringing peace to the village and convincing even the most religious old people of her goodness and pure intent. him? he's not special like jane. he's just a nobody who doesn't quite belong, who doesn't get invited to these events, and who can't even get his crush's attention, no matter what he does. mike hasn't always been a part of his life —or anyone's—; in fact, will can't even remember when they met. all he knows is that he cares so much about mike and it's entirely unfair that everything he does for him goes unnoticed. just last week, will helped him find clean water (just a couple days after the town's well was deemed poisoned), saved mike from biting into a rotten apple (the entire harvest had turned out wrong), scared off that nasty wild goat that kept following them both (its big horns a massive danger), and even warded off that stupid girl who keeps bothering mike even though he's clearly not interested (her broken arm should serve as a reminder to stay away, right?) he does all these things for mike and all will gets is silent stares and teasing smiles and he loves those, but he wants so much more and he doesn't know what to do and it's all making him so angry that he's beginning to believe a demon might've gotten into him, or something. but surely that can't be. demons are not real and will won't change his mind on the matter; not even if jane keeps bugging him about mike's red eyes and his supposedly dark, evil aura.

- - - - - - - - ☽ day 4 — psychological horror ☾ - - - - - - - -

the secret in mike wheeler's basement

there is a secret mike keeps in his basement. it's something important, something he treasures more than anything in the world. but he won't show anyone. not even dustin, when he visits for his weekly check-ins on his childhood friend. not even lucas or max, who only get to come back to hawkins every other month and can't bear the sight of mike's current home. not even el, who's tried to peek into mike's brain more than once only to be met by absolute darkness. and to be entirely honest, mike's silence is quite frustrating. the fight against vecna left them all tired and scarred and moving on from it all has been really hard, but they all still want to keep in touch and thus, the fact that they all make an effort except mike has left them a bit bitter. it's as if everything he's ever needed is there, in the basement, and the party would love to know what's got their friend so enthralled he can't even make time for them anymore. maybe will knows what's in there. he did come back to town for a few weeks sometime last year, during the summer; back then, will had wanted to show his then-boyfriend around town and there had been a couple clashes with mike, but as far as the others knew, everything had smoothed over when the boyfriend left suddenly and mike had will all for himself again. maybe it was then that mike showed will what laid beneath the floorboards, and maybe will held the answer as to why mike's entire house smells of acetone and dry blood. but there's no way of knowing. no one's seen will in a year either so as far as the party's concerned, mike's probably just obsessed with one of the weird life-like dolls he started making once he moved into the old creel house.

- - - - - - - - - ☽ day 5 — came back wrong ☾ - - - - - - - - -

a deal with god

will's life hasn't been easy: poverty, shitty dad, shitty classmates, shitty town. it all used to get to him, back when he lived in hawkins, but now, in retrospective, none of that is as bad as what his life is now. it could be worse, though. being abandoned in a dark, cold, alternate dimension is truly a horrible experience to go through at the tender age of twelve, but at least he's alive, right? more importantly, he's found a way to survive and, quite frankly, thrive in this place his friends called "the upside down". and sure, the powers he developed are big part of why he's even made it this far, but he dares say he's assimilated rather well in the ecosystem and he's almost ready to call this place home. but not yet. first, he needs to help henry destroy the other world. the one where he's been forgotten by the entirety of the town, and where his name is only ever uttered in mockery by everyone he ever loved. not mike, though. mike's the only one who still cares for him and continues to search for him even now, five years after will was taken and everything changed for them all. mike's the only one who's asked about him now that the gates are open and the "upside down" has filtered into whatever's left of hawkins, and he's the only one who seems willing to go on their own to try to find will. mike still cares, and will loves him for it, and that's why he's not going to let him go with the rest. a singular human surviving should do nothing to disturb his and henry's plans and so, will's decided he's going to keep mike alive. even if he has to lie and manipulate mike into coming with him, and even if he has to ask for henry's help.

- - - - - - - - ☽ day 6 — supernatural creatures ☾ - - - - - - - -

cruelty and the beast

(just going to link the original post i'd already made for this one >.<)

- - - ☽ day 7 — witches, wizards and necromancers ☾ - - -

the lost eden funeral home and crematorium

mike has always been fascinated by death. ever since he was a little child, he'd freak his sister out by bringing home carcasses he'd find in the forest, or by showing her the remnants of whatever poor critter he'd had to dissect during biology class. it is then no surprise that he'd end up working at a mortuary, embalming the bodies of the deceased every night and coming home with the smell of formaldehyde well ingrained in his brain. most nights, his time at the mortuary is filled with boring paperwork and the occasional facial reconstruction he has to slave over for the entirety of his shift. every once in a while, he is tasked with dealing with the result of a massive accident and struggles to catch his breath as he prepares up to a dozen bodies for their funeral. however his night goes, he tries to enjoy his job as much as he can, and he likes to think he's really good at it and can handle anything the world throws at him. ,,,that is, of course, until the night when he accidentally reads a passage out of his boss' necromancy manual and brings back to life the body of a young man who passed away under very violent circumstances. who, despite looking (and smelling) like a rotten zombie, seems to be a sweet and lovely dude who died far too soon. so, and because he is nothing but fascinated by the entire situation, mike decides to go a little further and try to bring the man fully back, no matter what it takes.

and that's it ! all the stories i was supposed to write for bylerween and which i'll slowly chip away over the course of the year x.x hopefully you found some of these entertaining ~!

[neteyamb]

ashes to ashes: chapter two

pairing: loak x f!omatikaya reader

summary: as a healer, y/n had taken an oath to treat every patient with their best interests in mind. this hadn’t been a problem, until loak’s petty injuries become a routine. she has to swallow her pride and feign concern, feign kindness, and face the ugly hate that has been brewing between them for years. 

tags: enemies to lovers, best friend kiri, mentions of blood, tension

word count: 1.6k

notes: i literally put one (1) drink into my system and feel the overwhelming urge to write them making out sloppily but i CANT yet. bear with me.

⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･

billie bossa nova

love when it makes you lose your bearings / it might be more of an obsession / you better lock your phone / and look at me when you're alone / won't take a lot to get you goin' / i'm sorry if it's torture though / that heavy breathin' on the floor / i’m yours, i'm yours 

nova – a star that suddenly increases its light output tremendously and then fades away to its former obscurity

maiya’s eyes were locked on you as you watched loak storm out of the hut, tail swishing wildly behind him. your shoulders were tense, and you stared at his back with a blaze flickering behind your eyes as if you were attempting to burn a hole straight through him. she pursed her lips before giving a resigned sigh. “y/n, dear, a healer must welcome someone in need with open arms. i realize you two have… issues, but eywa has chosen this path for you. do not throw it away for this boy. you have a strong heart and gentle hands, you will grow to be a fine healer.” 

your stomach dipped at her words, surprised by the comforting gesture. you were happy to work alongside such an understanding woman, but you felt misplaced as a medicine man. the title weighed heavy on your conscience; everytime you were faced with a bloodied guest, you doubted the purity of your morals. were you even upstanding enough for them to put their trust in you? a twinge of guilt filled your lungs, compromised your senses, and made your cheeks darken in shame under her kind eyes. you turned towards her and offered what you hoped was more of a smile than a grimace before resuming your work. 

✶✶✶✶

your apprenticeship left ample room for free time. you wandered the archery grounds, absentmindedly shuffling the stones under your feet. kiri would meet you there shortly for a round of target practice. you admired the way she carried herself, unburdened by responsibilities. this wasn’t to say that kiri didn’t have responsibilities; she frequently prepared meals with her mother, watched over tuk, and wove beautiful clothing articles for her siblings. sometimes she could even be found working with remedies at your side. but she was a free spirit, balancing these tasks with ease. no singular label tied her down.

as she approached the clearing, you offered her a beaming smile and waved her over with a bow in your hand. “hey girl, long time no see!” she shouted from the trees. “i saw you yesterday, kiri. although since then my life has drastically changed!” you sarcastically shouted back with an amused grin on your lips. a loud laugh waved through her body as she came to a stop beside you. “ready to get your ass beat?” she asked, removing an arrow from her quiver. you shoved her side lightly, “it depends, is that what usually happens to the winner?” 

the playful jabs continued throughout the training, ebbing away at the worry you carried in your chest from the day before. you two were tied, each with one target to go. you straightened your spine and pulled the drawstring back, allowing it to rest lightly on your lips. you squinted an eye, inhaling sharply through your nose before letting it fly to hit dead center. you whipped your head in her direction, smug. “wow, i can’t believe i’m the best archer ever. i’d like to thank my family and also eywa for this opportunity,” you teased. she smacked you lightly with her tail, a smirk on her lips as she released her own string. “a tie again. one of these days i’ll get you. sleep with one eye open, y/n.” 

you chirped at eachother the whole way back to hometree, eventually slipping into quiet, lighthearted conversation. you lay on your back, the grass tickling the nape of your neck as you chew your lip worriedly in a lapse of silence. “kiri,” you start cautiously, “have you ever felt like shit? generally? i mean, i love maiya like a mother, but i sometimes feel like i’m wasting my days in that hut. i don’t even know if i’m cut out for it.” you avoid her eyes, instead suddenly finding great interest in the trees above. she rolls onto her stomach, pinching her nose in thought. “sometimes. like, i don’t even know if i fit into any one role, i just wander. i think loak is the same; although he’s always training with dad, i’m not sure his heart is in it.” you tense at the mention of his name, chewing the inside of your cheek as you hum in response. of course, she knew you two weren’t on good terms, but he was her brother, and you weren’t daft enough to assume he would just disappear; nor would you ever ask her to censor her life for you. “and, y/n, you are not only a healer,” she adds. you meet her eyes now, pushing yourself to mirror her soft smile. she strays from the topic, leaving the sentence hanging with promise and assurance. 

you find yourself heading back to the healing hut in hopes of finding maiya. instead, a lone figure was hunched over your fieldnotes, too tall to be the elder in question. loak, with trained ears, hears you in the entrance despite your quiet steps. you march over to him, peeling the journal from his grasp. “that’s not yours,” you spit. although the journal held only facts and data of wildlife, you felt violated that he’d looked through it. he leans back on the counter, peering down at you through his brow with a coy smirk tugging at his lips. “your writing is illegible. it looks like it belongs to some blind kid.” you seethe, flashing your canines passively while you hurriedly flip through the pages, half-expecting him to have ripped some out. they were pristine, as you had left them. your eyes meet his again, viscous like honey from the irritation swimming in them. “what do you want?” he clenches his jaw and manually removes his gaze from your own, putting his arm out to you defiantly.

his bicep is marred with blood, now dry and coppery against his cerulean skin. you surrender, remembering what maiya had told you after his last visit. while you didn’t have your heart set on being a healer, you didn’t want to disappoint her. she relied on your help; no longer swift or energetic enough to make the trip for gathering. he allows himself to be led towards the mat, feeling your prodding fingers pushing him down to sit. dusk had began to fall on the village, leaving a cool breeze gliding through the flaps of the hut. you take a cloth to his bicep, which he still holds out for you quietly. he clenches his jaw at the pressure you apply, refusing to let out a hiss of pain in your presence. 

“looks like the trainee isn’t off to a great start. i’ve been here for about an hour,” he grunts. you furrow your brow, feeling it twitch with annoyance, and press the cloth harder into his wound. “ow, what the fuck?” he barks. “don’t be an ass, i’m the only one here to help you.” your jaw juts in anger, eyes trained on him for his next move. your interactions were like a game of chess; each word aimed at destroying the other’s ego. right now, loak was losing. and he knew it. quick to retaliate, he counters, “you’re hardly any help at all.” he was struggling to control his voice, hate rising in his throat like bile. but chess was a game of calculation; whoever breaks first is the loser. 

you narrow your eyes, nipping at your cheek in a feeble attempt to keep your temper in check. you dip your fingers into the fresh pot of yalnabark that sat near your hip. “if you were a better warrior you wouldn’t get mauled every day, you wouldn't need my help,” you jeer. loak’s stomach tenses with rage, causing him to stutter under your touch. “if you were a better warrior, you’d be on the battlefield instead of fawning over every scratch in the clan,” he snaps, ripping his arm away. 

it’s wrong to hurt someone who seeks assistance in your own healing hut. you know that. he was grasping for the upper hand, and overstepped. you could ignore it if you really wanted to. fuck it, though. you shove him into the mat, shouting curses in his face. he was able to keep up with your rapidly escalating anger, growling as he pushed you back. you jolt under his weight, hissing into his chest in a blind rage. a sly grin formed on loak's face, heavy amber eyes following the movement of your mouth as it cursed him to the moons and back. it was short lived as you weighed your options before choosing to knee him in the groin. his hand gripped your forearm as he groaned in pain, pushing you farther into the floor.

the anger you carried was usually shackled tightly, hidden desperately behind thick curtains. loak was the only person you revealed it to. and when you did, instead of the usual passive, clinical, and impersonal 'calming' techniques used by others, he’d bite back with equal force. you would dance with eachother using dangerous words and petty pushes. and the both of you craved it; an outlet to drown in. 

maiya chooses then to walk into the hut, watching you aggressively jostle eachother around like children. disappointment etched across her face as she towered over the scene. loak’s eyes follow yours to meet her gaze. both of your cheeks reddened as you fastidiously removed your hands from eachother. he scrambles to his feet, providing you with one last private snarl before leaving you alone in the hut with her yet again. you locked your jaw, anticipating her reaction with a clenched, dry throat.

⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･

notes: the devil over my shoulder was telling me to write y/n licking him during that scene, but im a child of god.

taglist: @weasleytwinwheezes

[bayofwolves]

The Return — King (rewritten)

you guys know about path of the heroes. (probably. it's the name of an original fourth spirit animals arc i'm writing.) but what you might not know is that another part of the project is to take the existing three arcs and rewrite them. not entirely, but tweaking and modifying for continuity's sake. there are some Pretty Big canonical divergences in path of the heroes (shane is alive, for one), and since my writing starts after canon has ended, i have some explaining to do. not to mention there being some plot points in canon that i am simply not a fan of.

this may take ages, and the new arc takes priority, but that's okay. since the original course of events stays mostly the same, i can easily just do rewrites of pivotal chapters for now.

such as this one.

i completed this a while back in the summer. i guess i just never posted it, despite being so proud! this is the last chapter of the return, where we get the long-awaited reveal of who the mysterious redcloak is. personally, i wish that the author had given this chapter to abeke instead of rollan. i needed to see what was going on in her head! that was really what motivated me to redo this one.

this sets things up for the next development of abeke and shane's relationship. in the brief timeskip between the return and the burning tide, the two inadvertently end up in the same vicinity, leading to some talks and growth in their relationship. they're healing. abeke hasn't forgiven him yet, but she's noticing more and more how he's changed for the better. i noticed that abeke's attitude towards shane changes between those two books -- she seems to think better of him in the burning tide. something had to have happened. so i took it upon myself to find out what :)

but that's getting ahead of myself. for now, here's the rewritten final chapter of the return!

content warning for themes of suicidal ideation and dissociation.

quick notes:

the title of this chapter has been changed from 'redcloaks' to 'king'.

anda is with abeke, rollan and tasha! he has been given a much bigger role in this arc. he and tellun, who has not been infected for the time being, were left at greenhaven while abeke and rollan journeyed to stetriol. however, zerif's conquest of the castle forced anda to flee. he narrowly escaped and tellun led him to the evertree, where they found lenori. she believed they would be safest with his old friends, as there were no more greencloaks to protect them; thus, the boy and elk started out for nilo and were reunited with abeke, rollan and their new charge, tasha. anda and tellun were therefore present throughout the events of the return and the burning tide.

tasha calls shane cousin. why? they are indeed paternal cousins! king irwyn had another brother and tasha is said brother's only child. thus, with drina deceased, shane mia and gar leaving no children, tasha is effectively lined up for shane's throne. (abeke and rollan can add kidnapping a royal person to their list of accomplishments.) there's a lot more to this but i'll go into it some other time.

this will go through some more edits before being fully published as part of path of the heroes' lore! i have some more cleanup to do.

okay enough preamble. read it under the cut!

Spirit Animals: Fall of the Beasts

Book 3: The Return

Chapter X — King

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓☽.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The chill wind that rose from the sea seeped into Abeke's bones. She shivered and pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulders, but made no move to leave her spot at the ship's rail. Her gaze, fixated on the fading shape of Zourtzi in the distance, remained unbroken.

She felt hollow. She had no desire to move, to speak, even to think. She doubted she'd be able to if she tried. It took all that remained of her willpower to draw in shallow breath after shallow breath. All the life had been drained out of her, the very moment Zerif's black spiral had begun to pulse on Uraza's brow. So there she stood, watching the conquered fortress grow smaller.

Perhaps the tears would come later. So far, she didn't have it in her to cry.

The absence of Uraza was like a wound, the ugliest wound she'd ever been dealt, throbbing with every dismal beat of her heart.

She was so lost.

So alone.

Abeke brought shaking hands up to her eyes and pushed until she saw stars. She willed her heart to simply stop. What life was worth living without her spirit animal?

Soft footsteps sounded behind her. Abeke didn't need to swivel around to tell that it was Rollan. She knew his footfalls, his voice, his face, better than she knew her own.

She didn't turn as her friend walked over to her, his steps measured and unsure. It was unlike him to move so carefully around her, Abeke thought. She could feel the pity radiating from him without even seeing his face. It all made Abeke want to jump over the side of the ship.

Rollan made no sound when he reached her side, only wrapped an arm around her shoulder. At the contact, a little warmth bloomed through Abeke's body. It almost brought tears to her eyes.

"How are you doing?" Rollan spoke. Concern was etched into the familiar curves of his face. Abeke wanted to lose herself there, in the steadying weight of his brown eyes, but she couldn't hold his gaze. She glanced away.

"Empty." The sun-tipped waves of the sea rolled below them. Abeke found strange solace in their neverending flow. "Lost. Alone." Her voice didn't sound like her own. It was as if someone else was commanding her body, as the real Abeke hovered above and watched everything play out. Like a ghost.

Rollan was silent for a moment, before he spun her towards him and pulled her into a tight hug. Abeke let herself be pulled and positioned in his arms, like a doll. But as the hug stretched out, she felt the cold sheet that covered her heart begin to melt away. 

"You're not alone," Rollan mumbled into her neck. Abeke dropped her head to his shoulder and hugged him back with all the strength she had left.

When they finally pulled back, Rollan's eyes were wet. Abeke's own throat had started to close, so much so that she didn't trust herself with words. She returned to leaning over the rail, but this time, her arm brushed Rollan's.

"She was there, and then in the space of a heartbeat, she was gone," Abeke recounted. She lifted her eyes to the smoke rising from Zourtzi – the last place she had seen Uraza. "She looked at me like I was a stranger. It was as if our bond had never existed." Abeke forced herself to keep her eyes on the horizon. She knew that as soon as she closed them, she'd see nothing but the moment Uraza leaped for her throat, replaying over and over.

"We'll get her back," Rollan said fiercely. "I promise."

Turning her head, Abeke regarded her friend through a film of tears. The love and worry in his expression was almost overwhelming.

Abeke sniffed and swiped at her face before the tears could fall. She didn't know how to respond – couldn't – but Rollan seemed to understand, like he always did. They stood side by side in the silence Abeke needed.

Awkward footfalls met her ears not long after, and Abeke felt Rollan turn through their connected arms. "Hey," came Tasha's voice. Her pale hair and green cloak came into Abeke's peripheral vision as the smaller girl stopped at her other side.

"How's Kirat?" Rollan asked softly over Abeke's head.

"Fine," Tasha murmured back. "Anda's tending to him." The exchange fizzled out, and Abeke soon felt the weight of both her friends' gazes.

Abeke blinked down at Tasha's hand, covering her own on the rail. When had that gotten there? "Abeke," the Stetriolan girl was saying. Unlike Rollan, who was always in sharp focus, her voice seemed to come from a long way off. "We're here for you."

Abeke pulled her head to the side. It was all too much.

A third set of footfalls sounded on the deck behind the three. Two short steps, strong and curt.

Curiosity compelled Abeke to look. As one, the three Greencloaks turned to take in the newcomer.

It was the Redcloak.

Abeke's eyes flicked over his sweeping scarlet cloak, his black leathers, the smooth wood of his mask. She had seen plenty of Redcloaks, even on this ship, but only one wore a mask so strange. Only one of them had no face.

Some of the fog that had settled over her body since Uraza was taken seemed to lift. Who really was this mysterious warrior that had saved them time and time again?

Something deep in her heart told her she already knew.

"Is everyone in your party all right?" the Redcloak asked. His voice was deep and raspy, almost reptilian in quality. Abeke tried to compare it to the voice she remembered from her past, the voice that still sometimes spoke in her dreams, but recognized nothing.

She realized after a moment that his gaze hadn't strayed from her.

"We'll survive," Rollan said for all of them. Abeke glanced to either side of her, noticing the wariness in Rollan's face and the way Tasha nervously clung to her wrist. "Now, how about explaining what's going on here? I think it's about time for some answers."

The Redcloak tipped his head to one side as he considered Rollan, his oddly pale eyes glinting under his mask. "Soon," he said simply. "Be patient. We're taking you somewhere safe."

"Yeah, and where is that?" Rollan countered, bitterness lacing his words. "If you haven't noticed, nowhere is safe anymore. Zerif can get to us anywhere. In Zourtzi, in Stetriol and even at Greenhaven."

Tasha drooped beside her. A distant part of Abeke wanted to comfort her, but what comfort could she give?

Strangely, the Redcloak seemed to droop as well. "So the rumours are true," he said with a sigh. "Greenhaven has fallen as well."

There was something so intrinsically familiar about his stance, his speech, his whole bearing. Abeke had mulled this over for many nights, but now, with him standing a mere ten feet away, she felt everything in her threaten to spill out. Her heart ached, and she had the strangest urge to reach for him. Could it really be him? After so long?

The masked figure stared out to sea for a brief moment. "You should rest. There are more battles to come."

Then he turned and made to stride away. With her heart in her throat, Abeke pushed away from her friends and staggered forward. "Wait," she called hoarsely. "At least tell us your name."

The Redcloak turned around and fixed Abeke with his uncanny eyes.

"You've saved our lives again and again." The pounding of her heart was deafening. She could barely hear herself over it. She stepped forward again, then gripped onto Rollan's shoulder for support; he had hurried to her side. "Tell us who you are," she repeated, "so that we might thank you properly."

The Redcloak hesitated. "I'm called King," he said at last. Was it her imagination, or had his posture softened a touch? "I am the leader of the Redcloaks."

King. A hush fell over Abeke's mind. King.

As he watched her with wide eyes, Abeke heard Tasha speak from behind her. "Thank you," she said quietly. "We are forever in your debt."

King only spared a glance to acknowledge her. He tilted his chin again, then moved to walk away once more.

Abeke watched as he stopped still, his back to them. She watched him slowly turn back around. And with her heart thundering in her ears, she watched him fix his eyes on her.

His next words came soft, low. "I used to be known by another name."

Not of her own volition, Abeke found herself shaking her head from side to side. No. No.

The Redcloak drew back his hood, revealing light blond hair. Then he reached behind his head and unfastened his mask. "You knew me as Shane."

The mask fell away.

Abeke couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. She didn't react to Rollan's gasp of shock and Tasha's startled cry of "Cousin?" Her surroundings melted into waxy darkness. All she saw before her was Shane.

Though it was unmistakably him, the boy she used to know was barely recognizable. His normally tanned skin was pale, like he hadn't seen the sun in months. Knobbly green ridges had replaced his eyebrows, giving him a fearsome, monstrous look. Worst of all were his eyes. Gone was the keen blue stare that Abeke remembered so well. Instead, she was met with glowing, reptilian yellow-green. They were twice as large as they should have been, and bordered by pebbled scales. Slitted pupils stood out at their centres, holding her captive. A shudder of revulsion rolled over her.

"What happened to you?" Rollan's voice came in a horrified whisper.

Abeke hardly registered the words. Her breathing was coming in ragged gasps, and she felt the prickle of sweat all over her body. Her hands were already slick with it. She clenched them into tight fists, ignoring the way they trembled.

Of course.

It was him all along.

He and his Redcloaks had fought for them in their every hour of need – but now they were at their mercy. They were still in the dark about their motives, and now they were surrounded by them. Abeke's heart seized with panic. Her thoughts flew to Tasha, Shane's rival for the throne, and Anda and Kirat, belowdecks with the rest of the Redcloaks. Would they be safe with Shane? What if his only reason for helping them was a twisted desire to collect the newly reborn Great Beasts for himself?

The memory of the mysterious red-cloaked figure coming to her defense in Amaya sprang into her mind. He had saved her life from Arax. In Zourtzi, too, he had protected her from Zerif. Was it possible he still cared for her?

Abeke swiftly banished those thoughts from her mind. Shane was the enemy. He would always be the enemy. And this reveal was proof he would never stop lying.

I'm called King. Abeke shook with barely repressed tension as she remembered his words. An image of Shane with the Devourer's crown atop his head and a wicked smile on his face flashed through her memory. I am the leader of the Redcloaks. She saw him at the head of the Conqueror army at Muttering Rock, almost obscured by their black masses, seated astride his giant crocodile. How did she not see it before? How could she be so foolish?

She knew who the Redcloaks were.

They were enemies.

Shane's eerie eyes bored into her. Abeke recognized them now as crocodilian. How could she believe, even for a moment, that he might have wanted to change for the better? The symbol of his betrayal was branded over his once-handsome face.

But Shane wasn't the only one who was different now.

Abeke was done taking chances.

And she had nothing more to lose.

Whipping the bow off her back in one swift motion, Abeke brought an arrow to the string and pointed it straight at her former friend's heart.

The world came back into startling clarity the moment she did so. She heard a scream from Tasha, heard Rollan grab the girl’s wrist to hold her at bay. Abeke kept her eyes locked with Shane's. Was it the rocking of the ship that was causing her aim to waver?

"I had hoped it wasn't you," she rasped. "I had hoped you weren't tricking me again."

Shane was silent, slowly bringing his clawed hands up.

"Abeke, he just saved our lives," Tasha said urgently. "Maybe we should –"

Abeke stared at her in blind fury. "Do you know the last time Shane saved my life?" she snapped. "He used it as a way to sneak into Greenhaven and betray us. He used me. I was nothing but a tool to him." Tasha flinched in the face of her anger and shrank a step back. Guilt flickered through Abeke, but she had no time to apologize. Resolutely, she turned her attention back to Shane and tightened her hand around her bow. "It'll be no different now."

"That's not true," Shane protested, with such force behind his words that it surprised her. "You were never a tool to me." His raised hands lowered and spread in a pleading gesture. "Much has changed since we last spoke openly… as I'm sure is obvious. Everything I've done with this mask, this cloak, this name, was not to deceive you, but to start anew and atone for my mistakes."

Abeke tilted her head to the side, steeling herself. She wouldn't let Shane's honeyed words ensnare her again. She was past this. She was stronger than this.

Her sweaty hands were making it hard to keep a firm grip on her bow. Could she shoot him, here and now? Did she have it in her?

With every passing second, she was less and less sure.

Behind her, she heard the worried voices of Rollan and Tasha. They were calling her name, trying to summon her out of her trance. It reminded her painfully of the last time she'd confronted Shane – the duel they'd fought in front of Kovo's empty prison. That time, too, she hadn't been able to finish him off. Something almost like instinct wouldn't allow her to.

She felt it now, some deep force within her, causing her arrowhead to tremble as she looked into the haunting face of her former friend. She let out a short scream, hoping to dispel some of her rage and pain. Sudden tears obscured her vision. "Give me one good reason why I should trust you," she challenged. Her voice came out raw and broken.

Shane stared at her for a long moment, and though it was impossible to read any emotion in those slitted eyes, Abeke thought she sensed immense sadness from him. "Let me speak plainly. The end is near."

Abeke gave a wry, husky laugh. Indeed, Erdas must be in her final days for the two of them to reforge an alliance.

"I know this is difficult, but I need you to trust me. To trust us," the boy said gravely. "There's something you need to see. It may be the key to saving Erdas, and perhaps the key to saving Uraza as well."

Abeke's eyes widened in shock. Hesitantly, she lowered her bow a few inches.

Shane wanted to help Uraza?

His slitted yellow-green eyes tracked her movement, unreadable, before they returned to hers. Something almost like hope lit his face. "Give me this chance, and I promise you, I won't let you down."

Abeke considered him for a long moment. Once, Shane had been a friend to her, a steady comfort even across opposite sides of the war. He had traded that all away for victory, using her as a pawn in his schemes before tossing her aside. He had made promises, and he had broken them. But now he stood before her, after saving her and her friends so many times, with a vow to save her spirit animal as well. Abeke looked at his changed appearance and felt horror. But now, she wondered if a better change was brimming below the surface.

Her bow fell to her side as the fight suddenly went out of her. She stared blankly at it for a moment, then took the arrow from the string and slipped it back into her quiver. She had thought about shooting it across the waves to release some of her tension, but decided against it. No need to waste an arrow. After all, she thought, turning dark eyes up at Shane, there are more battles to come.

She would place her trust in him for now. But for the sake of her friends, for Rollan, for the children they were tasked with protecting, she would be on her guard.

Slinging her bow over one shoulder, Abeke glanced over to Rollan and Tasha. Rollan, who knew her so well, must have read something in her hollow gaze that she herself was oblivious to. He was at her side in a heartbeat, touching her hand with his. Tasha followed in his wake, fitting herself against Abeke's other side with more uncertainty. Abeke slipped her arm around the other girl, surrendering the worst of her pain and anger to the ocean wind. Surrounded by the best things she had left in her life, she could breathe.

Abeke looked down at her friends, giving a weighty nod. Tasha returned it, then Rollan. They were with her. They would face this together. The thought renewed her strength.

With a deep breath, Abeke locked determined eyes with Shane. "Where to?" she asked.

Shane took a step forward and looked out across the water. "We sail for the Place of Desolation."

[amandacanwrite]

Little Witch ☽ The Hallowed Wilds ☾ Chapter One

POV ;; Aurelia ☽ 10 y.o.

Summary ;; Aurelia enjoys the typical day of a young witch protected by the Hallowed Wilds, drawn to the border of the forest where she meets an unexpected friend.

Warnings ;; mention of moths, other insects.

Author Note ;; Hello there! This is the first chapter of my original story called The Hallowed Wilds. It's a star-crossed romance infused with southern gothic horror elements. I'll be posting one chapter per week going forward. I already have 27 chapters written, and I'm hoping by the time I'm running out of chapters I'll be back to writing it again and nearly finished drafting it in totality. If you're interested in joining the taglist for this story, you can find the link for the sign up all the way at the bottom of the post. Last thing: I am someone who doesn't get triggered by much, but it's very important to me that anyone who reads my work doesn't become inadvertently triggered because of my writing. While these early chapters are quite light, this story does get dark at times. If you ever notice something I should have issued a content or trigger warning for, please reach out to me so that I can properly apologize to you and add the warning to the list. That all said, let's hop in!!

The wilds spoke to those that could hear it. Those whose ears were kissed by mother Eterna before their bodies took shape in the womb. She didn’t kiss just any soul, though. No, there was a payment to be exchanged and worth to be proven.

The Priestess had taught this to me since I could remember. This is how my coven lived. We served Mother Eterna, and in exchange, The Hallowed Wilds protected us.

Every day for the ten years I’d lived, I woke up, thanked Eterna for another day and set to work. The work was unique each day because The Priestess encouraged us all to listen to where The Wilds told us to go, for The Wilds had a will of its own and a plan for us.

On this day, The Wilds coaxed me to the River of Rye that separated our home from the village where the Deafened lived. I had no inkling what I would do when I got there, but I was certain that my task would become clear once I arrived, or maybe even somewhere along the way. That’s how it always worked. It was just my job to be quiet and listen for a whisper or wait for a gentle tug.

I dressed for the day in linen as white as starlight, and brushed through my hair with a comb carved from a deer’s antler, given freely by the stag for our needs, as all things were for us in the forest. I slipped on a light cloak made of moth’s silk and made my way out into the day.

“Aurelia, merry meet,” one of my sisters said to me.

I smiled as I passed her, turning to walk backwards so that I could see her as I made my way into the forests. The earth tingled against the soles of my bare feet, bringing with it a feeling of familiar comfort.

“Good morning, Cressida,” I said.

She was preparing more moth cocoons for spinning, it seemed. I wondered if her fingers tingled when she woke this morning, the way mine once had when I learned I was unsuited for the delicate work. “I’m excited to see what you do with the new silk sister.”

“And I’m eager to hear stories of your adventures when you return today,” she called back as disappeared into the trees, leaving the clearing and the rest of the coven behind.

I couldn’t see the River of Rye from where I stood, but I felt a golden thread tug me ever toward it. That thread reeled me in from the center of my chest. It wasn’t far from the clearing—maybe two or three miles—I could run the entire way if I wanted to.

I decided I did want to, in fact.

Somehow, the air in our ever-unchanging forest was different today. It sparkled and fizzled in an unfamiliar way. The sun shone through the boughs of the trees and cast new colors on the ground; rose and orange where there were typically shades of yellow and green. I set into a sprint, my hair flying behind me like the mane of a spirited mare.

Those new colors streaked together as I ran, turning into smears and smudges that hinted at shapes. It reminded me of Ophelia painting our huts with her beautiful, messy fingers—how the pigments came together to form images of flowers and the moon and the night sky.

This was my home, and I loved it as much as it loved me. I cradled it in my heart, as it had always cradled me. It was an even, happy exchange of energy between us—always given freely. Always.

My feet were wet and dirty when I finally made it to the River of Rye. Squirrels and bugs dances around my ankles, having joined me on my journey somewhere along the way. I stopped just at the opening into the wide-open space of that golden river and looked out at the village where The Deafened lived.

Winter had covered their roofs in thick blankets of snow. The world was so quiet with it — the sheets of ice absorbing most sounds that came from the village.

After a lifetime of spring, I wondered what the winter felt like. The Priestess said it was bitterly cold and brought death on its breath that choked the life out of the earth, but as I stared across the expanse of golden swaying rye, I wondered if there was more to it than that.

Surely a season that looked so beautiful and serene couldn’t be so awful. And with the winter brought times of generosity, even in The Wilds. We gave gifts at solstice and spread blessings even to the Deafened in exchange for the strange tools they would leave at the edge of the forest for us.

I wanted to touch that ice that fell in flurries from the sky, leave my hand print in it, and watch as more flurries filled in that imprint. The way snow erased any evidence that someone had passed through was fascinating to me. Tracks could be left in the mud of the forests—sometimes they would be there so long they would be preserved in stone. Snow was different—ever changing, ever making something new.

I thought perhaps that was my task today—experiencing the snow. But I didn’t feel the tug of that thread through the center of my heart as I stood there thinking about snow. No, it seemed I had made it to my destination for the day.

There was a strange cleaving—I couldn’t decide if I heard it or if I felt it. But with that cleaving came a powerful gust of wind that swirled my hair and bit at my nose and cheeks like needles. I’d never felt cold like that before. It stung and I could feel blood riding to my face to compensate for it.

I winced and backed away from the tree line, gently warming my face with my hands. That golden thread pulled me again, this time to the west.

I walked for a time, following the flow of the golden river, stepping over stones and twigs. My feet were silent as sleep as I walked. The Wilds told me to sneak—told me to hide. I wondered what manner of beast or creature I would encounter. I wondered what I would need to do. Wondered if I’d need to help them.

And then he was there, just beyond the massive trunk of an old oak tree.

I hid behind that tree as he spun slowly in place, staring up at the tree canopies that cast the ground in dappled light.

I had never seen a boy before.

I knew I should run away and tell The Priestess. She always told us that the Deafened were dangerous, especially the boys. But…

But he looked so enamored with The Wilds.

It filled me with a strange vicarious happiness to see him take in the forest—see the entrance to what I called my home. An unbidden smile curved my lips as he heaved an awed breath.

With his back to me, he took off his heavy coat with all those tedious buttons, and then took off his scarf. The Wilds were in a perpetual state of spring thanks to Mother Eterna, whose fertility never ebbed. The boy dressed for his village’s winter and must have gotten warm in the vernal heat of the forest.

He wore a billed cap on his head and hair the color of damp tree bark poked out at interesting angles. Flipping at the bill, dusting his nape and his ears. It looked so soft—like a rabbit’s fur or a squirrel’s tail. I wanted to touch it.

That desire drew me out of my hiding place, that golden thread tugging me closer, reeling me in and in and in. I could almost see it glittering in that small distance between us. I took a step toward him, then another, reaching out for him.

And then he turned and saw me.

We froze at the same time.

We were silent for a long time while our eyes devoured unfamiliar sights on each other. I traced constellations in the smattering of freckles on his tanned nose. His blue eyes flicked to my white hair, to my eyes and then to my linen dress. He flushed scarlet and looked pointedly away, seemingly put off or embarrassed by something.

When he broke his gaze he also broke the spell holding me there. After feeling frozen, I remembered who I was and what I was doing.

I turned and ran.

☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾

Join the Taglist Here.

[grim-wildwood]

Fruits in Ritual

These kinds of fruits are very common in every household and grocery store, yet many rarely think of the magickal properties of these sweet gifts from nature. Herbs are aromatic and sensual, but thinking outside the box, especially with food items, is a great way to expand your understanding of the craft.

Apples

•☽────✧˖°˖⛤˖°˖✧────☾•

Surround the Empress card from the tarot with apple slices (dried or fresh) and leave them on the altar for help with fertility.

Pour a libation of apple juice during your ritual to ask for the gift of insight or to seek help with life decisions.

Add apple peels to a large pot or cauldron of water with cinnamon, allspice, and/or ginger root to infuse your home with romance.

If you cut an apple in half, you will find a pentacle star in the middle. Press spell ingredients into the flesh or use it to symbolize earth on an all-natural altar.

Apple branches make gorgeous wands. Leave yours natural, or decorate it with gemstones, shells, sea glass, feathers, etc.

Burn apple blossom incense to enhance your connection to other realms.

The bitter seeds of an apple make excellent additions to mojo bags, spells, or amulets for protection.

Plant an apple tree in your yard to bless your home for prosperity.

Blackberries

•☽────✧˖°˖⛤˖°˖✧────☾•

Blackberry leaves can be used in sachets and spell jars for protection and prosperity.

Blackberries are considered sacred especially to Goddess Brigid.

A blackberry bush forming a natural arch is considered a good omen and a great aid to magickal healing.

One traditional use consists of crossing the brambles to get rid of evil spirits.

The leaves of the blackberries have stomach settling and anti-inflammatory properties.

Eat blackberries or drink their juice before divination.

Blackberry bushes were also used for home protection under the assumption that any malevolent spirits would be compelled to count all the berries, and that would prevent them from entering your home.

Juniper

•☽────✧˖°˖⛤˖°˖✧────☾•

Juniper has strong cleansing properties in magic. Traditionally, it was used in burial rites, in protective rituals, and to eliminate evil spirits.

The house can be smudged with smoke from burning juniper needles to cleanse the energy.

Juniper twigs are hung on the front door for protection from people with impure thoughts and from evil spirits. A properly planted juniper, with magick, care, and love, can protect the home from thieves and general bad vibes.

Juniper is widely used to remove unwanted love spells.

Juniper attracts good luck and protects against diseases. Juniper woods are burned, and their pleasant fragrance is suitable as an incense for ritual offerings during the autumn Samhain fire festival at the beginning of the Celtic year to honor the Gods and Lunar Goddess.

If you feel like your body has absorbed so many negativities and need healing, Juniper Berries can be used as an amulet to facilitate much stronger healing.

Juniper Berries can be used in love spells to draw love to your circle or eliminate undesired emotions and suitors.

There is also an opinion that magick wands and staves can be made of juniper. Juniper wands enhance the psychic abilities of the owner as well as protect them from curses and evil spirits.

Pomegranate

•☽────✧˖°˖⛤˖°˖✧────☾•

Pomegranate juice can be used as a symbol for blood in a spell.

Pomegranate juice and seeds can be used in love spells as well as protection spells.

Make an ink using pomegranate leaves and vinegar and use it to write fertility, prosperity, and protection spells.

Give pomegranates as a housewarming gift to bestow the blessings of abundance and prosperity on a household.

Hang branches near or above your door to ward off evil.

Drink the juice or eat the seeds while working with the moon. Meditate and ask for guidance, knowledge, or wisdom.

Oranges

•☽────✧˖°˖⛤˖°˖✧────☾•

Valencia oranges, associated with the high midsummer season, can be placed on the Litha altar.

Dried orange peel can be included in creativity sachets. For example, try combining dry orange peel and coffee grounds to break through writer’s block.

Oranges are a sun symbol. Use them in sun magick and solar rites.

Leave dried orange peel by the bathroom sink or wherever you get ready in the morning. Oranges have an energizing effect.

Associated with abundance, oranges make the perfect addition to spells of monetary success.

Blend dried orange into ritual incense. Orange peel blends well with a variety of other scents, particularly spicy ones.

During the solar holidays, fill your chalice with orange juice to welcome the sun back at Yule, or bid him farewell on Midsummer.

Combine a few drops of orange essential oil with a natural alcohol base like vodka, put it in a spray bottle, and spritz it over the altar for a lovely energy cleansing.

For the kitchen witch, make some orange marmalade from scratch and bless it for joy.

[mixelation]

"☾: how i thought people would respond to the fic" and "☽: how people *actually* responded" on A Silent Dog and Still Water for your ask meme

fic writing meme

oooh let's see. i actually kind of assumed it wouldn't get much attention? like it didn't seem like the type of OC story that most people wanted. mostly i thought people would think it's boring or confusing or maybe too mean spirited

i got mostly positive responses! and i think maybe parts of it were more universally cathartic than i thought it would be? oh, and a handful of the weird comments i get whenever i write about chronic illness, like "i feel so bad for her having to live like that" or "i don't get why people were that awful to her"

[taeswolfie]

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

☽︎𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏☾︎

Ch.15 - Ch.17

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Word count: 4.9k

Alan quickly grabs things while he talks to Scott in rushed tones. "They're coming back, so we don't have much time to talk."

He puts rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab. "Uh, what is that?" Scott asks.

"Rubbing alcohol. You don't want it to get infected, do you?" Scott shakes his head as Alan cleans the wound. "You'll heal the same." Scott grunts at the stinging from the disinfectant. "Just not as quickly, because of Derek."

"Okay, how do you know all of this? Actually, how do- how do you know anything? Is it because of Y/n? Do you know about her?"

Alan tapes a bandage over the wound. "It's a long story. What I can tell you is that I know about your kind and Y/n's kind. Your kind-" he tears another piece of tape with his teeth, "I can help." He puts the tape over the bandage and looks at the body on his table. "This... This is something different."

"Wha- well- do you know what did it?"

"No. But the Argents will. And this is the crucial part. They'll have some kind of record, or book. It'll have descriptions, histories, notations of all the things they've discovered."

"Wha- all the things? How many different things are there?" Scott asks, bewildered. Tires crunch on gravel and car doors open drawing their attention. Scott hides out of sight to listen in while Alan goes back to the body.

Chris and two other Hunters walk into the back room. Chris clears his throat to announce their presence. "I'm starting to think I need to buy a more prominent 'closed' sign." He turns to them with a friendly smile and Chris scoffs a bit. Him and the Hunters move more into the room as Gerard walks in after them.

"Hello, Alan." Alan's smile fades at the sight of the man and he takes a step back, glancing at Chris who gives him the tiniest of shakes of his head. He didn't tell Gerard about Y/n. "It's been a while. The last I heard, you had retired."

"Last I heard, you followed a code of conduct."

"If you hadn't noticed, this body is one of ours." Chris says.

"I did. I also noticed the gunpowder residue on his fingertips. So don't assume I'll be swayed by your philosophy just 'cause I'll answer a few questions."

"He was only 24."

"Killers come in all ages."

"All ages, sizes, shapes." Gerard agrees. "It's the last one that concerns us."

"How about you tell us what you found?"

Alan goes to the head. "See this cut?" He turns the head to show the thin cut on the back of his neck. Gerard puts on glasses and he and Chris look at the mark. "Precise. Almost surgical. But this isn't the wound that killed him. This had a more... Interesting purpose."

"Relating to the spine?" Gerard guesses.

"That's right. Whatever made this cut was laced with a paralytic toxin potent enough to disable all motor functions." He moves to the side and hovers his hand over the torso in display. "These are the cause of death. Notice the patterns on each side?"

"Five, for each finger."

"Each claw." Gerard corrects his son before Alan continues.

"As you can see, it dug in, and slashed upward, eviscerating the lungs and slicing through the bone and rib cage with ease."

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Chris asks.

"No."

"Any idea at all what killed him?"

"No. But I can tell you it's fast, remarkably strong, and has the capacity to render it's victims essentially helpless within seconds."

"If you're saying we should be cautious, we get it."

"I'm saying you should be afraid. Be very afraid. Because in the natural world, predators with paralytic toxins use them to catch and eat their prey. This prey wasn't eaten. That means whatever killed him only wanted to kill him. In fact, killing may be it's only purpose."

...

Since midday Y/n had been in her Spirit Writing trance, getting completely drawn into the influences of the other world. It's almost dawn when she finally comes out of it. She blinks as if waking up and her eyes dim to e/c as she sets her paintbrush down. She looked down at her hands to find dark paint smudged all over them. Her eyes then trailed up to the canvas in front of her, her possible answer waiting for her. What she finds wasn't what she was expecting. Granted she didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't this.

A burned hand digs it's claws into a pale arm. Four lines of red blood starkly stand out against the skin. The scene is dark with only a bit of brightness, like moonlight is shining on them. Thin trails of purple energy swirl around the hand and arm, seemingly binding them. Drops of red stain them, blood dripping from another source unseen.

Y/n has no idea what this could mean. The energy is obviously that of a witch, but is it her or someone else? And the blood being drawn. This resembles blood magic but Y/n doesn't even broach the subject in her grimoire. One wrong move and things could go wrong. She's not powerful enough for that. Not ready. So it couldn't be her magic then, can it?

She sighs and slumps in her chair, exauhsted and drained. She got an answer all right, but what the hell is it saying? Deciding she's too tired to think anymore of it she cleans up her things, makes sure her incense is finished burning, turned off her music, unlocked her door and gathered her belongings she left just outside. She turned her phone back on but didn't bother to check if she missed anything. She's just too tired. She changes her clothes and climbs into bed.

It seems she only slept a few minutes when her phone ringing wakes her up. She groans and blindly reaches over to answer without seeing who it was. "Who the hell is waking me up?" She grumbled into the phone.

"I need your help." A gruff voice answered.

"Derek?" She furrows her brows and cracks open her eyes in confusion. "How did you get my number?"

"Doesn't matter. I need you to help me."

"With what?"

"Just get down here." And with that he hung up. A moment later she got a message from him about where to meet. She glared at the phone screen.

"Who are you to tell me what to do, mister?" She asked no one in particular. She thought about ignoring him, but he did come when she went to him to help Scott that one night. I guess I owe him at least a visit. She sighed as she got up and got dressed. Before she left she checked her phone for messages and found several, mostly from Stiles from his tendency to rant. Apparently while she was in her spell Scott and Stiles figured out Boyd was the next Beta, they each went to find him, Erica knocked out Stiles and messed up his Jeep enough to where he had to take it into the shop. There he had a paralyzing encounter with the new scaley creature roaming town.

So much happened in just one night and she wasn't there to help with any of it. She could have done something if she was there, she's sure of it. But sometimes she doesn't feel as sure as she did before. With what happened with Peter she's been feeling a bit powerless. She has these abilities but she doesn't use them. What good is a witch who doesn't use her gifts?

She sighs again and shuts off the screen. What's done is done. Just let it go and move on. She hopped on her bike and rode down to Derek's 'lair' which appears to be a railway depot. She watches from the sidelines as Isaac repeatedly runs the same path to get past Derek, each time being easily knocked back on his ass. Boyd and Erica watch from nearer to the pair until after another attempt from Isaac Erica jumps from the top of the train car, trying to get a sneak attack on the Alpha but he also knocked her down next to Isaac.

Derek rolls his eyes at the two. "Does anyone want to try not being completely predictable?" Erica jumps up and jumps onto Derek, arms around his neck and legs around his waist. She makes out with him for a few seconds before he throws her back down. He wipes his lips. "That's the last time you do that."

"Why, 'cause I'm a Beta?" She sasses.

"No. Because I have someone else in mind for you."

"I hope you don't mean my boyfriend or best friend." Y/n finally spoke up and walked into view, coming to a stop a couple feet from Derek. "Why did you call me here?"

"I need your help training them."

"And why should I?" She folded her arms.

"Because I helped you once."

"Yeah, you did. But then you sided with a homicidal maniac and then started turning teens left and right after you became an Alpha. Whatever I owed you became null and void. Me even coming here is more than enough."

"What would you even be able to do for us?" Erica suddenly spoke up making the two look at her. "You're not an Alpha. You're not even a werewolf. You smell different. What are you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Y/n gave her a half smile before she turned back to Derek. "I'm sorry, Derek. I can't help you. This is your pack and your mess. They shouldn't have been involved in the first place." With that she left the depot and went back home to get ready for school.

...

"Stiles!" Y/n called once she spotted him down the hall. She quickly made her way to him and hugged him. He sighed and buried his face into her shoulder. "I'm sorry." She said quietly. "I was trying to figure something out and I turned off my phone to focus better. I didn't realize it would take me hours."

"It's okay." His voice was a bit muffled against her.

"No, it's not. I should have been there. I'm sorry."

He pulled away and put a hand on her cheek. She turned into it slightly with a small frown. "It really is okay. You can't be there every time something bad happens."

"But-" He gives an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes before he cuts her off with a quick kiss.

She looks at him startled for a moment before smiling. "Better?"

"Much." She nodded. He smirked at her and put an arm over her shoulder as they walked together.

...

The magic trio sit on the steps together, Y/n and Scott facing each other, Stiles on the step above them looking between the two. "I'm so sorry about the other day." Y/n says to Scott. "I'm trying. We'll get through this. I know, because I love you." Scott smiles. "I love you more than-"

"Oh, my God!" Stiles interrupts. "I can't- you and Allison just have to find a better way to communicate."

"Come on." Scott pleads. "You guys are the only ones that we can trust. Is she coming to the game tonight?"

"Yes." Y/n nods.

"Okay? Message complete." Stiles seems to sigh in relief. "Okay, now, tell me about your boss." Y/n had been told what happened by Alan so she's unsurprised about the mention of her guardian.

"Uh, he thinks that Allison's family keeps some kind of, uh, records of all the things that they've hunted. Like a book."

"You mean a bestiary?"

"That's what I was thinking." Stiles pointed at her.

"What?" Scott asks.

"A bestiary." Y/n repeats.

Scott snickers as he smiles like an idiot. "I think you mean bestiality."

Y/n squints her eyes at him in wonder and confusion while Stiles speaks up. "Nope, pretty sure we don't. It's like an encyclopedia of mythical creatures."

"How am I the only one that doesn't seem to know anything about this stuff?"

"Okay, you know, you're my best friend, you're a creature of the night, my girlfriend's a witch, it's kind of like a priority of mine."

"Okay. If we can find it-"

"And if it can tell us what this thing is-" Y/n adds.

"And who." Stiles finishes.

"We need that book." All three chorus together. They all look at each other. Y/n smiles at the situation as Stiles grabs her hand and pulls her along.

Outside they stand in front of Allison who smirks up at the pair. "I think you mean-"

"No, we mean bestiary." Stiles firmly cuts her off. "And the two of you, I don't want to know what's going on in your heads."

"Okay, um, can you describe this thing?"

"Probably a book. Most likely old and worn." Y/n offers.

"Like, bound in leather?"

"Traditionally." Y/n nods. Allison mentions a book she had seen her grandfather with once. She gives Stiles another message for Scott and when he went to grab Y/n's hand she pulled away, instead sitting down next to her friend. "Yeah, no, I love you and all, but I'm not in the mood to run around." She smiles up at him and he sighs, leaving on his own to play messenger boy.

He comes back a while later panting. "Where... Does he... Keep it?" He gasped between breathes. Another set of messages and he's back with an inhaler that he takes a quick puff of. "You know, drug dealers have been using disposable cell phones pretty successfully for years."

"My parents check every call, email, and text message I send. Trust me, they'd find it."

"All right. Can you get the book?"

"Not without his keys."

Allison leaves soon after and Stiles all but collapses in the seat next to Y/n. "You know, now that I think about it, you could have stayed with Scott while I was with Allison and we could have texted back and forth for them."

Stiles groans and puts his head on the table. "Why didn't I think of that?" Y/n coos and rubs his back soothingly.

Later that night the teens plan to get Gerard's keys during the lacrosse game while he's busy watching it. The crowd groans in sympathy when a beast of a guy from the opposing team knocks two Beacon Hills' players to the ground. Coach blows his whistle angrily. "Come on! Is that thing even a teenager?! I wanna see a birth certificate!" He sits on the bench next to Stiles and Y/n. "Who or what is that genetic experiment gone wrong?"

"Eddie Obomowitz, Coach." Stiles offers. "They call him 'The Abomination'."

"Oh, that's cute." Coach mutters.

"I feel bad for his girlfriend." Y/n winces, then tilts her head in thought. "Or boyfriend."

Allison glances at Gerard next to her and feigns being cold. "I knew I should have brought a warmer jacket." She lightly jokes.

"You're cold." He points out. "Here, take my coat." He stands and starts to take off the heavy clothing item from his shoulders.

"Are you sure?" She stands with him.

"Oh, yeah." He helps her put it on and they sit again. When his attention is drawn back to the game she carefully digs in his pockets for the keys. When she has them she hides them in her grip, noticing the flashdrive on his keychain. The Abomination takes down another player eliciting another wave of groans in the spectators. "Good God, is it always this violent?"

She doesn't answer his idle question as she carefully holds the keys to her side and off the stands. Stiles smoothly walks by and takes them, looking around before heading back to the school to go through Gerard's office. He runs through the parking lot, pausing when he sees someone still in their car. Lydia Martin, and she was crying. He has to go, but his concern draws him over to check on her. "Hey, Lydia, what's wrong?" He asks when he gets close enough and she immediately rolls up her window. "Lydia, come on." He knocks on the window.

"Just go away."

"What's wrong?"

"Look, I don't need anyone seeing me cry."

"Aw, come on, Lydia." She doesn't answer and he thinks for a moment. "All right, all right. You don't want anyone to see you cry, I get it. But what if I called Y/n over?" He raised his brows in question and she glanced at him in slight intrest. "She's at the game so I can call her now and she'd be here in two minutes. How does that sound?" She gives a tiny nod and he does as promised. He called Y/n and told her about Lydia. She told him to go look for the bestiary and she'd be there soon.

When she got there Y/n leaned over and peered into Lydia's passenger window, lightly tapping on the glass. When Lydia saw her she unlocked the car and let her in. Y/n sat down and turned to face Lydia. "Hey, Lydie. A little spastic birdie told me you were upset."

"That's fairly obvious." Lydia gestured to her tear-stained face.

"What's wrong?"

She was quiet for a moment. "You're gonna think I'm crazy."

Y/n shook her head. "Lydia, there is literally nothing you could say that would make me think you're crazy, okay? Believe me, I've seen crazy people. You're definitely not one of them."

Lydia looked over at Y/n's reasuring look and relented. "Fine." Lydia then told Y/n about the things that have been happening lately. Things like seeing a guy walk barefoot through school leading her to the trophy case where she saw a trophy with Peter Hale's name on it. And then seeing a flower stick up out of the ice at the ice rink and seeing Peter underneath it. Most recently her mom waking her up to find blood in her sheets from cut knuckles that she got when she apparently punched a mirror, something she didn't remember doing. "I just don't understand what's happening." She cried.

"Oh, Lydia." As best as she could she pulled Lydia into a hug. "I believe you. And I'm not just saying that. I've had some weird experiences as well. I don't know what they mean but I'm gonna figure it out."

"How?"

She chewed on her lip in thought as she pulled away. She couldn't tell Lydia everything now, there's just no time, but she could tell her a bit. "It's hard to explain without rushing and confusing you more. But I'm not normal, per se."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll probably think I'm crazy now," she lightly joked, making Lydia roll her eyes and gesture for her to get on with it. "But... I'm not exactly... Human."

"What?"

"I'm not like regular people. I can do things others can't."

"What does that even mean?"

"I know I sound insane, I just can't explain everything now. But I promise I will as soon as I can."

Lydia frowned at her. "You do sound crazy... But I believe you."

Y/n smiled in relief. "Thanks."

While Y/n was talking to Lydia Stiles was looking for the bestiary in Gerard's desk drawers. Unfortunately he finds nothing, sending a text to Allison to let her know. Erica soon finds him and drags him to the pools where Derek awaits to question him. "What did you see at the mechanic's garage?" Derek asked.

"Uh, several alarming EPA violations that I'm seriously considering reporting." Derek smiles and looks down at the basketball in his hands, soon punching holes in it with his claws. "Holy God." He tosses the deflated ball to the ground.

"Let's try that again."

"All right, the thing was pretty slick looking. Um, skin was dark. Kind of patterned. Uh, I think I actually saw scales. Is that enough? Okay? Because there's something I really have to get back to." Derek gives him a look and he grunts in frustration. "Um, all right, fine. Eyes. Eyes are, um... Yellowish and slitted. Um... It has a lot of teeth. Oh, and it's got a tail, too. Are we good?" Suddenly the wolves are looking up at the balcony as the creature Stiles described looks down at the three. Stiles notices the change in their expression. "What? Wait, have you seen it? You guys have this look on your faces like you know exactly what I'm talking about." A hissing sound makes him look over his shoulder and the creature screeches at them. "Whoa." Stiles jumps and backs up next to Derek.

It jumps down where Stiles was and Derek growls at it in defence. It swipes at them and knocks Erica into a wall, knocking her out. Derek turns and pushes Stiles away. "Run!" The creature swipes at them again, this time nicking Derek on the back of the neck. He reflexively ducks away and looks around for what happened.

"Derek, your neck." Derek reaches up and soon starts to fall as he's paralyzed. Stiles quickly catches him. "Come on. Come here." He puts Derek's arm over his shoulders and stumbily hauls him away. "Where is it? Can you see it?"

"No, just hurry. Call Scott and Y/n!" Stiles digs into his pocket for his phone, but it fumbles and slips out of his grip onto the floor. His attempt to catch it made Derek slip from his grasp. "Stiles, you son of a-" Derek yells out as he falls into the pool. Stiles looks between Derek and the phone for a moment, weighing his chances of getting it before he drowns. Ultimately he goes for Derek first. He dives down, grabbing ahold of Derek and holding him up above water.

"Where'd it go?" He looks around. "Where is it? Do you see it?"

"No."

"Okay, maybe it took off." At that moment the creature screeches again letting them know that, no, it did not in fact take off.

"Maybe not." They wade in the water for a while trying to figure out how to get out. "Will you get me out of here before I drown?"

"You're worried about drowning? Did you notice the thing out there with multiple rows of razor sharp teeth?"

"Did you notice that I'm paralyzed from the neck down in eight feet of water?"

"Okay." Stiles pants as he looks around. "I don't see it." He starts paddling to the edge of the pool with one arm.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait. Stop, stop." Derek warns. Stiles does so and follows Derek's gaze to see the creature stalking around the pool.

"What's it waiting for?" It circles the pool a while before going to the edge and trying to put it's hand in, but it hisses and jerks away as soon as it makes contact with the liquid, scuttling as far back as it can. "Wait, did you see that? I don't think it can swim." Stiles watches as it circles more. "Okay, okay. Okay, I don't think I can do this much longer." Stiles stares at the phone on the ground and Derek quickly catches on to his idea.

"No, no, no, no! Don't even think about it."

"Could you just trust me this once?"

"No!"

"I'm the one keeping you alive, okay? Have you noticed that?"

"Yeah. And when the paralysis wears off, who's gonna be able to fight that thing, you or me?"

"That's why I've been holding you up for the past two hours?"

"Yup. You don't trust me. I don't trust you. But you need me to survive, which is why you're not letting me go." Stiles stares at him for a moment and then throws his arm off of him. "Stiles!" His voice is cut off by the water as he sinks.

Stiles quickly swims to the edge of the pool, hesitating when the creature is in front of him. Stiles rushes and grabs the phone as the creature gets closer and pushes himself away just as it reaches him. He swims back to be over Derek, keeping the phone above water, and dials Scott.

"Scott!" He yells out as soon as his friend answers.

"I can't talk right now." Is all Scott says before he hangs up.

Stiles looks at the phone in disbelief. He looks down at Derek in the water and the phone, debating calling Y/n. He decides it's no good as Derek's been down there long enough already. He grunts in frustration and tosses the phone away before diving down and retrieving Derek once again. They both gasp for air when they breach the surface.

"Tell me you got at least one of them!" Derek asks. Stiles' silence answers that for him.

"I'll see you later!" Y/n calls after Lydia as she starts to drive away, both girls feeling a bit lighter after having opened up to each other a bit. Y/n smiled after her and gave a light wave. Suddenly she heard a God awful screech, looking towards where it came from in confused shock. "Stiles!" Now very alarmed she quickly runs into the school, but she had no idea where the sound had come from. She focused and reached out with her magic, feeling for something to guide her in the right direction, and found she could vaguely feel Stiles' presence in the school. She hurried to follow the feeling, skidding to a stop near the pools. There she finds Stiles holding up Derek in the middle of the water. "Why are you in the pool? What was that sou- WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" She cuts herself off when she spots the creature on the opposite side of her.

"Derek paralyzed. That, very bad. Doesn't like water." Stiles quickly explained with short breaths.

"Good enough for me." She nods and turns her focus on the creature. "So, you don't like water?" Her eyes glow and she raises her hands palm up, manipulating the water into two tendrils that sway in the air. "Lucky me." She jerks her hand forward and the water tendril snaps like a whip at the creature making it shrink back with a screech. She keeps doing this each time the creature moves closer to keep it at bay while she tries to think of a better way to help.

"I can't stay up any longer. I need something to hold on to." Stiles pants.

"The diving boards." Y/n offers as she keeps looking at the creature. Stiles looks over at them and starts to make his way over. With a quick wave of her hand, Y/n helps him out by giving him a boost, getting him to the diving boards with less effort before going back to her original task. He reaches for the handles, but his hand slides off. The pair sinks for a moment only to be pulled out by a wolfed out Scott who tosses them on dry land and roars.

Angry, the creature dashes up the wall and dodges Y/n's water whips, tackling Scott to the ground. They growl at each other and it wraps it's tail around Scott's ankle, throwing him behind it and into a mirror. It shatters and Scott falls to the ground, the creaute hisses at him. Scott gets up and grabs a long piece of the mirror, brandishing it as a weapon. The creature slowly stalks forward, then stops in its tracks. It tilts its head in confusion as it stares at its reflection in the mirror shard. Scott looks at it in confusion until the creature scales the wall, hops up in the rafters, and crashes through the skylight, running away.

…

Gathering around the hood of a car Scott tells Y/n and Stiles how he and Allison has figured out the bestiary was actually a flashdrive on Gerard's keys. The flashdrive was now plugged into a computer that was propped on the hood of the car, Scott flipping through the pages. "Is that even a language?" Stiles asks.

"I think it's Archaic Latin." Y/n muses.

"You know Archaic Latin?"

"No, but I know a bit of classical Latin. Just a handful to translate some pages in my grimoire."

"How are we supposed to figure out what this thing is?" Scott wonders.

"It's called the kanima." Derek speaks up as he, and a now concious Erica, walk towards them.

"You knew the whole time." Stiles accuses.

"No. Only when it was confused by it's own reflection."

"It doesn't know what it is." Scott realizes.

"Or who."

"What else do you know?" Y/n asked.

"Just stories. Rumors."

"But it's like us?" Scott wonders.

"It's a shape-shifter, yes. But it's- it's not right. It's like a..." He trails off trying to find the right word, one that Stiles supplies.

"Abomination."

Derek nods. He goes to walk away, but Scott stops him. "Derek. We need to work together on this. Maybe even tell the Argents."

"What?" Y/n looks at him in slight shock.

"You trust them?" Derek asks.

"Nobody trusts anyone. That's the problem. While we're here arguing about who's on what side, there's something scarier, stronger, and faster than any of us, and it's killing people! And we still don't even know anything about it!"

"I know one thing. When I find it..." He turns and starts walking away. "I'm gonna kill it."

Ch.17

[reztoru]

minors dni - 18+

listen listen listen

Satoru who's messy when he's going down on you. Lapping at you with a watery mouth and leaving behind a slobbery trail. Acting like a starved man.

And you'd think with the way he lets out moans, he was the one on the receiving end of pleasure. He's so whiny and loud. Low groans stumbling out of him as he tastes your essence. And he moans with every suck to your bundle of nerves too.

Fully convinced he gives you head for his own pleasure, because when you're tugging on his hair and gushing on his face, his whines are almost as loud as yours.

Don't even get me started on how he gets when you go down on him. He can't even keep his head up long enough for you to look him in the eyes. Oh and when you spit on his dick, he might just cum from that alone. He can't help it when his baby looks so pretty tucked between his legs.

He's just down bad okay </33

[jaesqueso]

You’re next

pairing: co-worker!xiaojun x female!reader (feat the rest of the lets play ball unit as other co-workers)

summary: You go to the middle of nowhere for a team building of a company you joined only a few weeks ago, but can there be other games involved?

for the Game of Survival collab by @neo-shitty​​ and the What Makes Us Sinners collab by @junjungsunwoo​

word count: 5,132

warnings: strong language, suggestive but no actual description of anything, death, blood, descriptive murders, mentions of Squid Game, inspired by the movie “You’re next”

a/n: ok so here it is, my first time trying this genre, I had a lot of fun writing it and it ended up turning out bigger than I thought but I hope it’s not too bad and all these years of watching horror movies paid off 😅 hope ya’ll enjoy it! ❤

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

Nervousness runs through your veins as you approach the door. You just hope you got the wrong place, who would plan a team building event in a house in the middle of nowhere, so outside of town? But recognising the familiar vehicles on the drive way you must be right.

Taking a last glance at yourself on your phone you take a deep breath before lifting your hand to ring the doorbell. You hear steps inside approaching the door until it opens.

“You came!” You’re greeted by the adorable Shotaro that engulfs you in a hug. “Come on in, everybody’s in the living room. Well, not everybody, we’re still missing Yangyang, but he should be arriving soon.”

“Thanks.” With a small smile you let him take your coat and follow him to meet the rest of the guys.

Breathing in and out slowly, you try to calm yourself down. You’ve joined the company just a few weeks ago and you’re still not very familiar with your team so you spent way too much time debating on wether to come or not. ‘Please come, it will be good to get to know the guys better!’, you remember Jungwoo saying and honestly it was just a few hours before you’re back in the comfort of your bed, and you’d make points with the others, even if it was way too intimidating to be the only woman in the team.

“Guys, Y/N is here!” Shotaro announces you and everybody warmly welcomes you.

“You can sit over here.” Xiaojun scoots over on the couch giving you some space next to him.

The air between you two is intense, since you joined the company he was the one that has been guiding you and you could feel the sexual tension from miles away. He’s an incredible attractive man, not that the others aren’t, but there’s something about him. And you could tell he wanted to jump on your pants just as must as you wanted him to, you just hope the others don’t notice.

“Yangyang just texted me, he’s late so he said we could start without him.” Doyoung announces and everybody agrees.

You start playing all sort of team games set to “bond and build team spirit encouraging the communication” or whatever bullshit taken straight out of one of the most cliché books on the subject. But at least you get to share some laughs and find out more about the guys and you honestly feel like you’re growing a little tiny bit close to them.

And then there’s this one game. In pairs you have to draw randomly assigned shapes on a piece of paper over the other person’s back and they try to guess what it is. And who did you get paired with? None other than your office crush.

Xiaojun sits down first and you try your best to stop your hands from shaking as you hold the paper over his back. The thin layer of his perfectly fitted dress shirt allows you to feel every single muscle and you gulp, mind already imagining the piece of clothing gone.

Like a mind reader, he guesses every single shape you trace placing you two right in front of the race. When it’s time to switch you’re nervous you might not be as good and end up lowering your score but his touch, apart from leaving your heart beating faster, goes straight into your brain and it’s like you can see the paper on your back. With a flawless score you win the activity leaving the others cheering yet jealous.

“How can you not get it right? These were basic shapes!” Doyoung slaps the back of Haechan’s head.

“It’s all your fault, you’re the one who doesn’t know how to draw!” Haechan bickers back.

“Sorry Mark, I tried my best…” Shotaro lowers his head.

“It’s ok, it’s just a game.” Mark rubs his back giving the other an encouraging smile.

“But wait, I think there’s a tie.” Jungwoo points out and everybody looks at the score chart where it seems like the other two teams are in fact tied.

“I demand a new round!” Haechan quickly gets up with his hand in the air.

“I think we should swap partners though.” Doyoung rolls his eyes.

“That’s not fair, guys.” Jungwoo calms the atmosphere in the room. “We’ll do another round, each pair chooses which one will draw. And I guess Y/N and Xiaojun can sit this one out, it’s a clear win for you. Everybody agrees?”

Looking around the room you see everybody nodding and after deciding the roles they all get ready to re-start.

“I’m gonna get some more snacks.” You get up and head to the kitchen as Jungwoo initiates the round.

-

While you’re opening some packs of snacks placing them in bowls you feel another presence in the room, right behind you.

“Need help?” The whispering voice against your ear makes you yelp, a few chips falling to the ground.

“Xiaojun, you scared me.” You place a hand on your chest trying to calm your racing heart.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” With a smirk on his lips he helps you clean the mess. “I didn’t know you were that good at these games.”

“I didn’t know you could draw.” You grin turning your head to him.

“What can I see, there’s a lot of things about me you don’t know about.” He steps closer but you don’t move.

“I guess there are, I mean, we haven’t known each other for that long.” Biting your lip, your eyes never leave his.

“True,” he steps even closer, trapping you against the counter, “but we sure do make a great pair.”

“I’ll have to agree to that.” Your gaze drops to his lips as his tongue swipes across them before he closes the distance between you.

The kiss is hungry and desperate like both of you have been waiting for this moment since you walked into the office on your first day and you laid eyes on each other. Hands start roaming over the clothes as the your lips move more intensely and you get lifted to sit on the counter.

But suddenly there’s a noise, like glass breaking.

“Did you hear that?” You push him slightly.

“I’m sure it was nothing.”

Xiaojun pulls you back to his lips and you try to ignore the noise and succumb into your desires but then you hear screams.

“Something’s happening, we need go check it out!” You push him further and get your feet on the floor, running back into the living room where the noises came from.

Cursing under his breath, Xiaojun follows you.

-

“Get down!” You hear someone yell as you get to the door and instantly follow through.

Looking around you can see the windows are broken and there are pieces of glass all over the floor. All your co-workers are hiding behind furniture, except one.

“What’s happening?” You ask Mark which was the closest one to you.

“I d-don’t know, we were j-just doing the game and s-suddenly arrows started coming through the w-window…” Mark stutters clearly terrified with the situation.

“Arrows?” You scrunch your eyebrows. “What the hell is going on? And why is Jungwoo just laying there?”

“Shit!” Mark curses as you all take a closer look noticing an arrow pierced straight across Jungwoo’s chest.

“Jungwoo!” Doyoung crawls to him trying to wake him up but it was too late.

“What the fuck?!” Mark joins the lifeless body unsure on what to do.

And then you see Shotaro sitting next to where Mark was, hands on his head, torso moving back and forward as he whisper “no” over and over again.

“It’s gonna be ok.” Crawling to him you grab your arms around Shotaro’s frame trying to calm him down. “Where’s Haechan?”

At the sound of his name, Haechan groans from a hidden corner. Mark hurries to him only to see an arrow pierced through his thigh.

“He’s hurt!” He shouts in panic.

“Keep your voice down!” Doyoung warns him. “They might still be out there.”

“Who the hell is doing this?” Mark tries to pull the arrow from Haechan’s leg but the younger just groans more.

“Why are they doing this to us?” Shotaro’s voice is small as he looks at you with watering eyes.

“I don’t know…” You bite your lip trying not to cry too. “Does anyone have their cellphones? We need to call the police!”

“No service.” Xiaojun speaks for the first time since you two got to the living room, after checking his and placing it back on his pocket. “ But I think there’s a phone in the hall. I’ll give it a try.”

“Did you see anyone outside?” You ask still trying to understand what’s happening.

“It’s dark already and there are no lights outside.” Doyoung explains still trying to figure out how to help Haechan.

“How’s idea was it to come to the middle of nowhere anyway?” Mark sounds desperate.

“I think it was-” Doyoung recalls but gets interrupted when Xiaojun comes back.

“Phone’s off, whoever’s doing this probably cut the line.”

“Fuck!” Haechan screams and Shotaro’s cries become louder.

“It’s gonna be ok.” You hold him tighter. “I’m taking him to one of the rooms until we figure this out.”

Wrapping one of Shotaro’s arms around your shoulders you carry him to an empty room and help him lay in bed.

“We’re getting out of this.” You hold his hand. “We’re going to find a way to call the police and they’ll come to rescue us in no time.”

“Promise?” His pleading eyes begging you to be right.

“Promise.” Without certainty you just hope you’re not lying. “I’m going back to see what we can do.”

“No!” He squeezes your hand tighter. “Don’t leave me alone, please!”

“It’s ok Shotaro, I’ll be right back. Lock the door behind me so nobody comes in and only open if it’s one of us.” Nodding reluctantly he lets you go.

Once you’re gone, he starts to get up, grabbing the key on the night stand, when he notices a silhouette behind the door. He squints his eyes trying to understand what it is but before he can say anything he feels the cold of a blade swiping across his throat. Blood squirts all over the room, his hands not enough to stagnate the bleeding and his voice is gone right before his life.

-

Back in the living room Mark’s nerves kept getting the best out of him.

“Fuck!” He shouts. “What are we going to do?!”

“Calm down!” Doyoung yells back, hands holding his cardigan around Haechan’s wound, the boy still groaning at the pain. “We just need to find things to defend ourselves and maybe wait until the morning to go seek for help.”

“Wait until the morning?” Mark snorts. “Fuck this, I’m gonna get the police myself.”

“Mark wait!” Doyoung calls but the boy is already grabbing his car keys and walking out the door.

“Where’s he going?” You ask having just arrived to the living room.

-

Outside Mark runs carefully to where all the vehicles are parked, looking for his until he notices a particular one.

“Is that Yangyang’s car?” He tilts he head walking closer but suddenly his eyes widen. “Wait, is he doing this shit?”

Upon closer look he notices there are some words written on the window in red.

“You’re next.” He reads. “What the hell does that mean?”

Mark reaches for the door, opening it surprised it was unlocked, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw inside.

“Yangyang!?” His hands start shaking as he reaches for him, removing the jacket that was draped over the man’s torso. “Fuck!”

With a hand on his mouth he steps back from the vehicle after seeing Yangyang’s chest and stomach slashed, guts going past the skin. He keeps walking backwards, in shock with what he saw until he feels a hand on his shoulder. But instead of looking back he looks down to his stomach where the bloody blade of a sword shines against the moonlight.

The weapon slides back from where it came from and he falls on his knees, blood bursting through his mouth. The attacker’s foot pushes him all the way to the ground making Mark turn around to face him.

“Is this a joke!?” Mark’s last words before the sword pierces through his chest as the attacker finishes the job.

-

“We can’t just sit around and wait, we have to do something.” You mutter.

“Should we check on Mark?” Xiaojun questions. “It’s been a while since he went outside and we haven’t heard any car.”

“I think it’s too risky.” Doyoung comments. “If something happened to him we might be next.”

“We should find some weapons.” You look around the living room searching for things you can use.

“You’re right, maybe we should go into the kitchen and gets some knifes and other sharp objects.” Doyoung suggests.

“Yeah that makes sense.” You already make your way to the kitchen before you hear Haechan groan yet again.

“I can’t, I can’t!” He tells Doyoung who tries to help him up.

“Alright, you just wait here and we’ll be right back.” He puts him back down.

“But don’t leave me here alone!, I don’t want to die, please!” Haechan whines.

“I can stay here with him and you two can go get some weapons.” Xiaojun offers, already walking to the wounded boy.

“Let’s go then.” You tell Doyoung and you both leave the room.

Instantly you start checking every drawer and cabinets placing everything you can use over the counter. You can’t believe just moments ago there was a high chance you were going to get lucky right here and now you’re trying to find a way not to get killed.

“Was that door open when you came here earlier?” Doyoung asks noticing the exit to the backyard of the house was only partially closed.

“I don’t know… ” You tilt your head as you walk to it but stop when you see red marks on the floor. “Is this b-blood?”

“Damn it.” Doyoung follows the trail into the kitchen storage and carefully place his shaking hand on the knob slowly twisting it open.

You both scream when Mark’s lifeless body hits the floor, more and more blood spreading around the tile floor. In the wall behind where he was, the words “You’re next” are dripping in blood.

-

“What was that?” Haechan’s eyes widen and the muffled screaming sounds.

“I’ll go check it out.” Xiaojun starts to get up but Haechan grabs onto his arm.

“No, no, no! Don’t leave me here by myself!”

“What if they need help?” Xiaojun explains. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh man, why do I have to go along with every work activity?” Haechan keeps whining as he holds onto to his leg being left alone in the living room.

-

“Is he d-dead?” Doyoung stutters and you finally see a trace of fragility when he has been the most rationally and put together so far.

“I think so…” You state the obvious before turning around. “We need to go back- Doyoung watch out!”

Pulling him to you, the sharp weapon on the attacker’s hand that was sneaking behind Doyoung barely misses his arm. As you two try to avoid getting hurt by the sword that swings in your direction, Doyoung ends up slipping on Marks blood when you’re able to go around the counter heading towards the door. The boy sees his life flash before his eyes having become an easy target for the masked killer.

The sword lifts into the air and Doyoung closes his eyes but then nothing happens. He re-opens them and sees the attacker’s body falling right by his side, butchers knife stuck on his skull.

“Shit…” You pant having saved Doyoung but killed someone else instead.

“Thank you so much, Y/N.” He quickly gets up and away from the killer.

“No worries.” You take a deep breath, calming your heart that’s filled with adrenaline. “What’s up with the Squid Game masks though?”

“I don’t know, but let’s find out who’d behind it.”

Doyoung scrunches down and reaches for the black mask with the square shape, removing it to reveal the attacker’s identity.

“Jaemin?” He gasps.

“You know that guy?” You ask in confusion.

“Yeah, he was in the team before you joined.” Doyoung stands back up still shocked with the reveal. “He and this other guy, Jeno, were apparently doing some shady work and ended up getting caught transferring company funds into this bank account they had under a false name.”

“Is this revenge then?” You wonder.

“Mostly likely, after all, it was me that exposed the case to management… But they didn’t know, they just knew it was someone on the team.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I knew they were crazy, I just never knew they’d do something like this.”

“We need to tell the others. That Jeno guy is probably here somewhere too.” You suggest handing him the biggest knife on the counter. “Take that and go get Shotaro, he’s in the room next to the stairs. I’ll take what I can and go to the living room.”

“Ok.” He grabs the weapon and looks back when he reaches the door. “Be careful.”

“You too.”

-

“Get away from me!” You yelp startled by Haechan’s scream almost dropping everything on the floor.

“It’s just me.” Walking to him you start laying out what you brought on the floor.

“What took you so long?” He sighs in relief. “And what were those screams a while ago?”

“It’s Mark. He’s…” You can’t even say the others.

“No!” He cries.

“Haechan, where’s Xiaojun?” You suddenly remember. “Wasn’t he supposed to be here with you?”

“He went looking for you after you screamed, didn’t you see him?” He explains but you just shake your head. “Where’s Doyoung though?”

-

“Shotaro?” Doyoung knocks on the door where he believes he will find him but there’s no answer.

Reaching for the knob he opens the door only to see Shotaro sprawled over the bed in a pool of blood and the words “You’re next” written on the wall.

“Damn it, not you too…” Running his hands through his hair, Doyoung can’t help but feel like this is all his fault, if only he had kept his mouth shut.

-

“Doyoung!” You finally see him back in the living room but he comes alone. “Where’s Shotaro?”

“He…” His voice trembles and you can tell he no longer has strength in him to act strong. “He’s dead.”

“No!” Haechan groans both in pain from is leg and one more of his friends gone.

You remain silent, guilt taken over you. If only you hadn’t taken Shotaro to a different room and left him alone, maybe you’d have been able to save him, maybe he’s still be here with you, alive.

“Where’s Xiaojun?” Doyoung asks. “Don’t tell me he…”

“No!” You suddenly say. “Well, I hope not. Apparently he went looking for us but I didn’t see him, did you?”

“No. Should we look for him?” He suggest.

“Oh come guys don’t leave me here alone again!” Haechan whines.

“Here,” you pass him a couple of sharp knives you brought from the kitchen, “use this if someone comes in. But please don’t attack us.”

“Just…” He sighs. “Hurry back, please.”

“We will.” You promise and take two of the knives handing it to Doyoung, “Take one too.”

“Thanks. I’ll check upstairs and you search down here, ok?” He instructs and you nod. “If anything happens just scream and I’ll come running.”

“Same.” You two take a deep breath before silently going on your ways.

-

On the upper floor Doyoung glances inside every room, knife held high ready to stab anyone that crosses his path. Well everyone except the person he’s looking for. Suddenly he passes by an half open door and sees someone inside.

“Xiaojun?” He whispers grabbing the attention of the man inside.

“Oh, Doyoung.” He turns around with widen eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with Y/N.”

“I was but then you disappeared so we came looking for you.“ He explains. ”Why do you have that?”

“This?” Xiaojun looks down at the black mask with a white circle. “I found this here.”

“That’s what they’re wearing, maybe they’ve been here.” Doyoung wonders.

“Who?”

“The killers. Me and Y/N ran into one in the kitchen, he came at me and she…” He gulps, hard for him to recall the situation. “She saved my life.”

“She killed him?” Xiaojun’s surprised you’d actually be capable of doing it.

“Yeah…” Doyoung sighs. “But you’ll never guess who it is. Jaemin. And we think Jeno might be on it too.”

“Our ex co-workers? The ones you got fired?” Xiaojun recalls.

“How’d you know?” Doyoung’s eyes go wide.

“You just told me.”  With a smirk Xiaojun continues. “Hey Doyoung, do you mind taking a step to your right?”

“Sure, but why?” He asks while moving to the side.

Xiaojun’s grin is the last thing Doyoung sees before feeling blood running down his face when an axe punctures through his skull. His body falls on the floor, face down, like a rug doll. The killer with a black mask and a white triangle steps his foot on Doyoung’s head as he removes the bloody weapon.

“So it was really him, huh?” Jeno says lifting up his mask. “Fucking dick, I knew it.”

“And now we know for sure.” Xiaojun adds. “Good thing I wasn’t caught as well.”

“Yeah lucky you.” Jeno rolls his eyes. “But now we got something more important to discuss.”

“What?” Xiaojun steps back as the other gets closer, tightening his grip around the axe.

“You said she’d cause no trouble, just an innocent girl. And now Jaemin’s dead.” Jeno speaks through clenched teeth.

“I had no idea that was going to happen.” Xiaojun shrugs. “Who knew that little bitch had it in her.”

“I know she’s supposed to be your witness to get out of this mess but you know there’s no way she’s coming out of here alive, right?” Jeno scoffs.

“Well, you could’ve at least gave me some time to have fun with her in the kitchen earlier, but you just couldn’t wait to start the Robin Wood feast could you?” Xiaojun roll his eyes. “Can you at least let me try to get some before you do it?”

“Is that all you think about?” Jeno tries hard not to shout. ”She killed my fucking best friend!”

“Jeno.” Xiaojun places his hand on the other’s shoulder with a grin. “Collateral damage. The deal’s still on, and now it’s all for you.”

“Collateral damage!? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking about-” Suddenly there’s a noise coming from the stairs. “That bitch dies now and who knows, maybe you’re next.”

Putting the mask back on his face, Jeno walks out the door searching for you.

“Yeah, no problem, I’ll take care of this.” Xiaojun rolls his eyes staring at the lifeless body on the floor. “You’re welcome!”

-

After searching the ground floor without any success you wonder if you should go up and find Doyoung. Taking the first step it makes a cracking noise that echos all around the silent house so you hesitate to take more. While you’re pondering you hear someone approach the stairs.

“Doyoung?” You ask but when the figure turns the corner you recognise the outfit. “Shit!”

Jeno comes running down the stairs as you head to the kitchen and out the back door. He follows you closely, axe in hand and a mad thirst for your blood. Once outside you have no idea where to go so you just run and run until you find yourself in the woods. You can’t exactly see where you’re going but you know he’s right behind you so you know you just can’t stop running.

But since you can’t see the floor you also don’t see the aerial roots of a tree that you can’t avoid tripping onto and fall on the ground. You try to get up and back away but Jeno quickly hovers you and you can almost see the smile behind the mask. Your hands roam on your side trying to find something to save yourself as he straddles your lap lifting up the axe.

“Good girls should know to stay quiet and not get on big man’s business.” He laughs but then stops as he sees a grin grow on your face. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” Grabbing the rock you found on the floor you swing it against his head with all the strength in you, making his body fall to your side. “Well, big men should know to stay out of good girl’s business.”

-

“Step back!” Haechan screams ready to throw a knife at the person that entered the living room.

“It’s ok, it’s me.” Xiaojun calmly says lifting up his mask.

“You guys need to stop scaring me like this!” Pressing a hand on his chest, Haechan sighs in relief. “Why are you dressed like that? Don’t you know that’s what the attackers are wearing?”

“You know,” Xiaojun shrugs as he walks to the other, “just trying to blend in.”

“Well you should take it off, Y/N and Doyoung might accidentally hurt you.” Haechan advises dropping his weapon. “Where are they by the way.”

“Oh, they’re gone, Haechan.” Xiaojun gets on his knees next to his colleague.

“What!?” Haechan cries. “No, that can’t be true!”

“But it is.” Xiaojun grabs the knife the other was previously holding, running his finger through the blade. “I guess it’s just you and me now. Who do you think is next?”

“Next to what? What are you talking about, Xiaojun?” Haechan doesn’t know what’s happening but his body knows it’s time to be scared.

“Wrong answer, Haechan.” Xiaojun lowers he lips to the other’s ear and whispers. “The right answer is you.”

Haechan gasps as he feels the cold blade slowly and painfully enter his stomach. Xiaojun twists the knife around making sure to destroy his insides and make more and more blood come out of him. Haechan is quick to take his last breath, already weak from his first injury that has been bleeding for hours.

Getting up, Xiaojun gathers some blood on his fingers and starts writing the famous words on the wall: “You’re next”. But then he senses someone in the room. Before turning around he slowly lowers his mask to cover his face.

“Oh it’s you.” He lets out a relieved breath as he recognises the Squid Game outfit with the triangle shape on the mask. “Did you finish her? This one is gone too so there’s no one left and we can just end this.”

The other person stays quiet but Xiaojun is too much inside his plan to even notice, throwing his mask on the floor and continuing his rambling while he finishes the message on the wall.

“So you made me lose my witness but we can still make this work. They’ll just have to believe my story of the ‘bad men that came and killed all my friends so I had to pretend I was dead to save my life’ or whatever.” Xiaojun laughs thinking he’s a genius for this plan. “So it will take me a while to go back into the office, you know, emotional damage and what not. But I’ll say two weeks until they offer me that promotion because, well, there’s literally no one else. Then in no time I’ll be in the management board and get you back in so we can finish what we started.”

“So that’s why you did it?” Xiaojun stops in surprise as he expected to hear Jeno’s voice behind the mask. “All for a fucking promotion?”

“Y/N, it’s not what it looks like.” He turns around with his bloody hands in the air as he sees the axe Jeno had earlier on your hands. “Just let me explain.”

“You just explained everything, Xiaojun.” You remove your mask to reveal Jeno’s blood all over your face. “I had no idea you could do something like this. And you were in on their money scheme too? I guess a few weeks is definitely not enough to get to know someone. You’re insane.”

“Am I? That was not your opinion earlier when your legs wrapped around my waist, begging me to fuck your brains out.” He smirks. “C’mon baby, with those two idiots out of the picture you can be my new ally. Like I said before, we do make a great pair. In just a year we can be swimming in money on paradise island in the pacific ocean. What do you say?”

“I say fuck you, Xiaojun.” You swing the axe his way but he smoothly avoids it.

You chase him around the living room trying to hit him with the axe until he gets a hold of a bigger knife and starts attacking back. Somehow he’s able to get a hold of your wrists and knocks your weapon off your hand but your don’t give up pushing him onto the floor as you hold his knife away from you.

An intense battle as your bodies rolls on the floor suddenly stops when you hear skin being pierced with a blade. Blood starts coming out of his mouth as he looks down and see you were able to flip the weapon and stab him with it.

Rolling your bodies once more, you straddle his lap, removing the knife from his hands and holding it in the air. You take a deep breath as you watch his bushed face. Only know you notice the sun is rising as the light from outside shines illuminates his bloody features.

“Tell me, Xiaojun, was it worth it?” You ask for his final words. “Betraying all your colleagues for a few bucks?”

“I’d do it all over again.” Xiaojun has the audacity to speak with a smirk that makes the anger boil in your veins.

With a scream you lower the knife straight into his heart, finally ending the nightmare. But before you can celebrate the fact that you managed to survive this crazy night someone bursts through the front door.

“Police! Drop your weapon and step away from the body with hands in the air!”

Before you turn around and claim your innocence, you look down and realise you’re the one wearing the killers clothing with a knife in your hand and you’re pretty sure they saw you kill your colleague, how are they going to believe you?

Fuck.

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

taglist: @yokshi-unbeliebubble​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @nc-teen​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @yutahoes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @dimplehyunn​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @iknowyuno​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @bebskyy​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @ne0cultur3technology​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @nurenciye​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @luvjeongjaehyun​​​​​​​​​​

unable to tag: @chenleyang @doahflix @criminalmindsz

[sociallyanxious-eros]

.·:*¨༺ About Me ༻¨*:·.

First of all, pardon if I say any wrong terms in english, my first language is brazilian portuguese, I'll highlight any term I'm not certain of the right english equivalent. I'm a 23 y.o neurodivergent brazilian with lots of special interests, but this blog is about my paganism interest. Gender is a confusing topic to me yet, so let's say my gender is a question mark, however, I use any pronouns. I'm going through the process of choosing a proper name, for now, anyone can call me Eros. I'm also ace-spec (specifically greysexual).

┍━━━━━━━━━━☽【❖】☾━━━━━━━━━━┑

╰┈➤ ❝This is not a safe space for TERFs, bigots, or anyone part of right-wing ideology. Not only I disagree with this type of people, I'm their enemy, 0 tolerance.❞

┕━━━━━━━━━━☽【❖】☾━━━━━━━━━━┙

»»———- I am not a witch (yet) ———-««

Paganism is a special interest of mine since I was a kid, but I never got into practicing it because of my agnosticism. I have a hard time fully believing that there are Gods or Goddesses. Until now, my personal belief is that entities and spirits do exist, but I have a hard time believing they played such a big act as creating the universe or stuff like that. I do believe they help our personal lives. This is one of the main reasons that make it hard for me to practice.

»»———- Why the name Eros then? ———-««

As I said, I'm still not 100% found of the name Eros. But I'm using this one for some reasons: 1. It combines my paganism special interest with my +18 special interest (yes, I do have a special interest in that); 2. I really enjoy the pronunciation and that it starts with a vowel; 3. I wanted a name easy to say and write in my home country (Brazil); 4. The whole meaning of the word, its derivations (erotism, erotic, etc), and the divinity itself (Eros) does relate to me a lot

»»———- What about the username? ———-««

It's "socially anxious" because I do have social anxiety and I find it funny combining that with Eros.

»»———- What I'm into actually? ———-««

I really love anything related to elemental spirits. Gnomes, fairies, nymphs, anything nature related. Patheon-wise, I'm more into norse and celtic mythology, but I also enjoy the greek one a bit.

[barovianbitches]

In the Shadow of the Svalich Woods -Nadia cel Tradat

Death had followed Nadia like a plague since her birth. Mama had been gone for so long before Nadia saw her again, leaving something else to take her mother’s place in raising her. She was but a baby when she was left with her uncle, the Beast of Barovia, Vasile cel Tradat, where she was raised among the warriors and magicians that made up the Untamed. Vasile, who never married or had children of his own, was happy to take in his niece and care for her as his own. He was never opposed to the idea of children, but he never had the time or patience when the possibility of conquest loomed. What better to share the fruits of the warpath than with an impressionable child?

The Untamed were known for their indomitable spirit, not their seasoned child rearing techniques. Nadia had no children her age within the clan, leading to the young girl spending much of her time either by herself or observing the rigorous training of her aunties and uncles. Idle hands were the devil’s playground, and even at a young age she proved it right time and time again. However, Vasile was much more of a… Nontraditional parental figure. He firmly believed in exploration, independence, and self-discovery. After all, it was how he found his love for the blade. This ideology left Nadia to her own devices for long stretches of time.

Her uncle was not the man, or, well, thing that truly raised her, though.

It began with dead things. Barovia has its fair share of predators and prey, wolves kill deer while looming creatures snatch travelers from the road. Such is the way of life. But a five year old disappearing for an afternoon, only to reappear after dark and clutching what looks to be a femur? Not a common trait for a child so young to not only return, but to be completely unharmed and unaffected. While other children would play make believe and spend their time beneath the feet of family members, Nadia enjoyed searching the forest surrounding the campgrounds, leaving for hours on end and somehow managing to find what was left of a mountain lion’s meal. Birds, squirrels, rabbits, and various small prey all found their way back to the camp.

“We have a little hunter on our hands!” He proclaimed when Nadia returned one evening, her skirts and palms slicked in animal blood, cradling a feathered lump in her arms. “A very nice catch, little micek! Soon, you will run with the rangers and great soldiers of the Untamed, hunting the monsters of this land, and soon, Strahd himself!” Her capabilities were celebrated that evening with song and dance, earning her the nickname “kitty” from her uncle. Vasile simply chalked it up to Nadia’s unconventional upbringing, even by Vistani standards. She would grow out of it soon enough, perhaps picking up the sword or bow.

The years passed. In the blink of an eye, she was no longer a child, but a blossoming young woman. She was quieter than Vasile had anticipated, never quiet coming out of her shell while around others. Given that she grew up around such a rowdy bunch, her uncle assumed she might have become a man of the people, like him. But, no such luck. He was not going to push his one and only niece, if she enjoyed her books and time alone, so be it! Vistani tradition described the women of their clans as great seers, the keepers of the knowledge of the Fates themselves. With such knowledge, they would be the great guides and leaders of the clans. By extension, such was Nadia’s fate as well.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Her morning began like any other. Nadia was both an early bird and a night owl, never sleeping more than intervals of six hours. Late in the evening, she would read and write her thoughts, long after the festivities of Vistani evenings were complete and the other warriors were asleep. Then, she would rise long before the Barovian sun rose behind the thick blanket of clouds. It was quite a bit of time for one to be awake. Almost too much time spent wrapped in her own thoughts. She kept herself busy enough, though. On the days that the clan wasn’t traveling, she would explore the area, keeping extensive notes on the areas of land of which they stayed.

The rich, velvety tones of plum and cobalt dominated the space, casting a deep, mystical aura that beckoned all who entered. Lengths of patterned fabric, each a unique tapestry of intricate designs, draped across every available surface, creating a sense of warmth and intimacy within the small space. The interior walls of her caravan were adorned with artful crown molding, intricate designs that seemed to dance along the periphery of the room. Glistening gold metal accents occupied around the perimeter of the small windows, catching the ambient light like distant stars in a midnight sky. These golden embellishments lent an air of regal elegance to the otherwise humble surroundings, blending seamlessly with the tapestries that covered the caravan's walls. 

Trinkets and curiosities covered nearly every available surface, creating an eclectic and captivating atmosphere. A collection of items from dozens of places that the clan had visited. Animal bones, delicately arranged in mysterious patterns, adorned shelves and tabletops. Specimen jars filled with exotic plants and preserved creatures, suspended in ethereal preservatives, added an otherworldly touch to the caravan's interior. A faint glow was cast off of these jars, possibly from some bioluminesce, creating soft lighting even with the curtains drawn and candles snuffed.

In the corners of the caravan, stacks of books awaited curious minds. These tomes were bound in leathers of a multitude of different shades, their pages filled with mythology, religious studies, and knowledge of the arcane. Ribbon bookmarks of various colors and lengths protruded from the pages, each hinting at her favorite parts. Every time they passed by a town with a bookshop, her uncle made sure to bring her at least three new additions to her treasure trove.

Incense burned in a small dish, filling the room with the scent of a delicate, sweet aroma, tinged with hints of exotic spices and earthy undertones. The scent reminded her of her mother’s perfume; a blend of pear and raspberry, middle notes of osmanthus, vanilla, and cinnamon, burning from a base of cedar and wine. She didn’t mean to leave it burning, but judging by the open book beneath her pillow, Nadia had fallen asleep in the middle of a chapter. 

She felt the beginnings of a headache creep from her temples into the corner of her vision. Nadia had not eaten since the evening before yesterday, a careless mistake that she made frequently when settling into a new area. There was simply too much to explore, too much to unpack.

An audible groan left her lips as she stretched out in her bed, the silky sheets begging her to lay there for just a bit longer. But she couldn’t. It was a perfectly good morning, the cold air of the late fall attempting to slither in from a crack in her window. She was thankful for the coming winter. Soon enough, it would be time to leave Barovia, get ahead of the frigid blizzards that would rake the lands for at least the next six months. While she adored the silence of the snowfall, the breath that mother nature held in those dark days, she much preferred the milder season outside of the demiplane.

Rising out of bed, she lit a long matchstick, using it to light a beautiful circular lantern that hung from the wall beside her bed. The glass, a light purple, illuminated the interior of her little home further, allowing her to see the colors of her interior design. The interior of the caravan had transformed over the years, evolving in sync with the woman who had spent her youth and adulthood within its intimate confines. It had grown with her, like a living entity. Little hints of her past were scattered throughout, like time capsules of her memories.

A well-loved black bear stuffed animal, perched on a cushioned seat, stood unblinking, only retaining a single button eye. Its faded fur and worn features were testaments to the countless hours of companionship it had provided her in those formative years. Alenka, she recalled calling the bear when she was younger. The presence of the toy, tucked amidst a sea of rich colors, spoke of a youthful innocence that still lingered within her. 

Nadia reached for a well-worn kettle, the flicker of another match slowly bringing the small wood stove to life. While the water began its slow journey to a boil, she selected a quaint teapot, one adorned with intricate patterns that matched the caravan's aesthetic. The fragrant aroma of tea leaves filled the air as she carefully spooned them into the teapot, a hint of anticipation in her movements. Her fingers moved deftly, as years of experience guided her in this ritual. She listened for the telltale bubbling of the water in the kettle, and as soon as it reached the perfect temperature, she poured it into the teapot. The gentle clinking of porcelain and the satisfying sound of water meeting leaves filled the space. 

As the tea steeped, she reached for a single mismatched teacup, made from a fine bone china from a far off city. Blue roses curled around the cup and its saucer, intertwined with brambles and pinecones. The scent of brewing tea mingled with the memories that clung to the caravan's interior.

She slipped off her nightgown, trading it for a warm chemise. On went the tall wool socks which fastened to her garter belt, standing and stepping into her boots. Her outer layers were followed by several heavy skirts and a wrap-style bodice that was lined with soft animal pelts. Smoothing the fabric, she pulled a beautiful triangular shawl over her shoulders, carefully tying it in the front. It was a gift from her mother, embroidered with small black birds along the hem. 

She glanced at the strip of worn leather that made up the covering for her eye. Nadia paused, looking over it momentarily, before leaving it where it was neatly folded. It was early enough, she didn’t need it.

Picking up her perfect cup of morning tea, she made her way towards the door of the caravan, passing a small altar created on her dresser. She sipped from the cup, the warm liquid soothing her very soul as she looked over the picture she observed hundreds of times before. Several snuffed candles surrounded a yellowing portrait of herself as a baby in the lap of her beaming mother, her uncle poised behind them with a hand on her mama’s shoulder. Despite its fading colors and disintegrating corners, it was still one of her prized possessions. 

Nadia smiled to herself, kissing the pads of her middle and pointer fingers before placing it to the picture. Nadia was the spitting image of her, right down to the sharp downward slope of her nose and full cupid’s bow. Vasile always said it himself. You look so much like her, misek. 

She couldn’t help but feel a sharp tug at her heartstrings. Nadia missed her so, not a single day crossing her mind that she did not think of her. It was difficult growing up without her, without any knowledge of her father, only having her uncle and the clan. It took a village to raise a child, and yet she still longed for some semblance of maternal protection.

“Good morning, mama.” She murmured under her breath, picking up a golden starburst necklace hanging from the picture frame. Fastening it around her neck, she held the locket between her fingers, running a thumb over the points of the star. 

Finishing her tea, she gently set the cup aside to clean up later, high on a shelf. From there, she gathered her essentials for mornings like these. A small journal, a bit of ink, and a quill. Whether to write her observations or compose something herself, her moments of silence were precious. Soon enough, when the sun rose, her uncle would rise, and so would the rest of the camp. Quickly, she made her way around her caravan, snuffing candles and incense, putting everything she could back in its proper place.

Moving to the door, she retrieved her belt, looping it around her waist and fixing several pouches and pockets to it, as well as the sheath concealing a dagger. Next came the cloak, a heavy item from her thirteenth birthday from Vasile. Despite it having been seven some odd years since then, she still was swimming in the obsidian colored fabric, it enveloping her whole. Finally, simple leather gloves to keep the nipping cold away. 

As she went to unlock and open the door, the metal stuck a bit, frost laden across the plated exterior of the caravan. At Vasile’s request, all wagons in his fleet were armored with great plates of green-purple metal, forcing the image of large beetles. Nadia’s breath floated in the air before her as darkness still engulfed the camp. She heard the soft huffing of the ox, still sleeping off their fatigue from the last week of travel. Instinctively, she paused, perched on the stair step of her wagon, one pointed ear perking a bit and simply listening.

In the early hours of a late fall, almost winter, morning, the world around her little bubble was wrapped in a hushed stillness. The darkness outside was punctuated only by the soft murmur of the world awakening. The gentle rustling of leaves, long surrendered to the season's chill, hinted at a world in transition. The distant call of a solitary bird, an early riser like her, broke the silence with its plaintive song, a reminder that life persisted even in the cold. A soft breeze whispered through bare branches, creating a gentle, intermittent rustling as it passed. 

Just how she liked it. Nadia stepped down onto the ground, quietly closing the door behind her with a click. 

Moments like this where she was entirely alone was the only time she was able to go without her eyepatch. No one could see her, no one was going to judge her for her looks. It was perfect, this moment was perfect. Nadia wondered what it would be like to travel the land alone, to be on her own wholly and truly. Would she be lonely? She didn’t think so. Already, she spent so much of her time alone and to herself, what difference would it make? But something small whispered to her that she would miss her people, her uncle, all of the wonderful Vistani who raised her with everything they had.

Nadia stepped out of the cozy caravan and into the biting cold of the dark frosty morning. The frigid air rushed to greet her, causing her breath to materialize in soft, misty puffs. The caravan's wooden steps creaked faintly beneath her as she descended, a sound that resonated in the silent pre-dawn stillness. 

The world was draped in an icy shroud, and a crisp chill permeated the atmosphere, numbing her cheeks and fingers. The darkness still held dominion over the land, the sky adorned with countless glittering stars, like diamonds strewn across a velvet cloth. A faint, silvery moon hung low on the horizon, casting a subtle glow over the frosted landscape.

If you asked her, she would know every single constellation, having spent an entire year of her youth charting the stars of Barovia.

The forest, stretching out in all directions, beckoned to her with a mysterious allure. Its tree branches, adorned with delicate ice crystals, glistened in the faint moonlight. The world was a silent tableau of winter's beauty, a stillness that seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the first gray light of the Barovian day to awaken it. As she stood at the threshold of her home on wheels, the forest's call was impossible to resist. It whispered of untold adventures, concealed within its depths, and she felt the irresistible pull to explore the secrets it held. With a shiver of excitement, she ventured forth, her footsteps creating a soft crunch in the frost-covered grass.

With each step, she ventured deeper into the Svalich Woods, their trees standing tall and proud, stripped bare by the relentless onslaught of the season. Despite their stark appearance, the forest held an undeniable allure for her, a familiar and comforting presence that had been her solace for as long as she could remember. The ground crunched beneath her boots, the remnants of frozen leaves and twigs yielding to her gentle presence. 

The citizens of Barovia whispered tales of horror about the Svalich Woods, weaving stories of terrifying creatures that lurked within its depths. But she paid no heed to their fears. To her, the woods had always been a friend, a sanctuary that embraced her with open arms. She knew the pathways intimately, the trees seeming to part and guide her way, their ancient trunks whispering secrets that only she could understand.

The frosty air carried a crisp scent of pine and earth, mingled with the subtle aroma of snow. The ground beneath her boots crunched with every step, the sound muffled by a carpet of fallen leaves and frost-kissed grass. The silence was broken only by the occasional caw of a distant crow, echoing through the forest like a melancholic melody. Despite the chill, there was a sense of tranquility in the woods, a peace that settled over her like a comforting blanket. As she ventured deeper, the woods enveloped her in a quiet embrace, their twisted branches forming a natural canopy above her head. The patterns of shadows and moonlight danced on the forest floor, lighting her way. In this serene haven, she felt at home, her heart attuned to the gentle rhythm of nature. 

It was places like this where she felt at peace, where she was able to commune with the force that had called to her and guided her for so many years. A gentle voice that spoke to her, something that had kept her company even in her moments alone. Nadia could hear it speak, an ancient voice that at first didn’t seem to form words and yet she understood all the same. 

“Are you here this morning, oh great one?” She smiled, a bit of sarcasm playing in her tone. There was a distinct pause as she spoke to the dark stillness of the woods surrounding her, nothing for miles besides the camp in the direction she came from. Nadia was alone by all detectable means, but she knew better.

She chuckled, humming a bit as she moved through the undergrowth, brambles clawing at her skirts. “You have been so quiet lately, I was worried that you may have left.” The Vistana continued to no one in particular. “Won’t you come out?”

Nadia waited another moment longer, her keen eyes searching the woods around her for any hint, any sign of the being she chatted to. “How surprisingly coy of you. Are you angry with me?” She prodded, looking up towards the sparkling sky curiously.

Finally, a voice broke the silence.

“No, my dove. I would never be angry with you. Did you rest well?”

[strbymacaroon]

❀ 500 word Sneak Peak... ❀

Shushhh!!

Don't call me weird, but I was watching the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and that one song- 'Hellfire,' inspired me to write a priest fan-fiction! (Not of the villain of course! But, of a AOT character!)

not profread!

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

The light wind blew the melody of sweet songs, light dancing around in soft fragments, the stained glass catching it, and displaying the colors on the marble floor. 

Clean, white, pure, just like the women and men inside the sacred building. If not, they are here for just that, cleansing, white, and purity. Forgiveness for the sins they have committed. 

A beautiful hundred foot ceiling above their heads, painted in the most rich of colors and pictures. Demonstrating the beauty and depth of what Christ has done for his people. 

A stage decorated with soft pastel flowers, a white fabric draped over the stand of where Father preaches each morning of Sunday. Some bread and wine next to him when he did so. 

And, today was a simple day. Just confessions. People repenting the sins they had committed since their last confession. However, there was something different about today. 

Father was being observed by the Nuns of the church. Along with their novitiates. Sisters in training. Most were young, eighteen to nineteen, the oldest being twenty-four. They were always a delight to have over, along with politeness. Father never minded their company. 

Quiet as a mouse and beautiful as a dove. Along with their dedication to their religion. Father loved the company of each one. Each of them huddled around each other, watching with eager eyes. 

Father approached the next person, placing his hands together, and holding them around the cross by his neck. “For you, my child, are you ready?” His tone was soft, comforting, and warm. Just like a blanket fresh out of the Laundry.  

“Yes.” It was breathy, almost nervous. Fingers pressed against the soft white fabric of her dress, trembling slightly. Father was used to that. She thickly swallowed, “Anything for my God and Savior.” He smiled kindly, nodding his head. Bringing their foreheads close, two slender fingers pressed together. Dark brown eyes peering into the girl's light blue ones, drinking up every emotion shooting through her body. 

Nervousness, uncertainty, anxiousness, excitement, and eagerness. The eyes always reveal so much about the person, that’s why Father preferred to look into them. He always knew what type of person he was talking to just by looking into their eyes. 

She looked up, watching as Father bent his knees to reach her height. He was so much taller than her, so much bigger. It was intimidating. The novitiates watch closely. Leaning closer in hope of catching Father’s voice again. Kind yet deep, intimidating but interesting. 

All the women were practically leaning out of their seats. This priest in particular always causes this reaction with the novitiates, considering how young he was. A mere twenty-six years old. 

His fingers gently pressed against her upper chest, “In the name of the Father,” her left than right shoulder, “and of the Son of the Holy Spirit," his eyes caught her's a final time, "Amen.” He backed up, watching the women. 

The novitiates watched as the woman bent her head down, hands pressed together against her lap. Closing her eyes and staying still. 

It was a way of separating the sinner to the saint. The blesser to the blessed. Father always was more than willing to help the sinners relish their sins. It was something he loved about his life, it made him feel closer to God. 

It was his heaven. This was his heaven.

A brief pause, a deep inhale, then

“Bless me Father Jean, for I have sinned.”

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝