#ignore my bookshelf reflection

[capn-twitchery]

grace snowglobe update: it photographs terribly but tiny grace is acquiring a weird shiny white film where the glycerin is settling in places (normal, dw)

but it has perfectly placed itself to look like frost in his sideburns, but also inside his eyes to look like he's on the brink of tears always. fitting

[mggslover]

Reflections pt. 2

In which Spencer sees himself in a suspect, making him willing to do anything to protect her.

PART 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: crime x angst x hurt/comfort Content warnings: post prisoner!spencer (but no spoilers since i’m not on that season yet, can contain inaccuracies), reader cuts longer hair short, guns, reader isn’t the best person, emotional, vague mentions of sa and suicide, kidnapping, fade to black smut (so suggestive content) Word count: 5,8k A/n: turning a supposed to be one shot into a series is more difficult than i anticipated lol. i’m hoping you guys will enjoy this part as much as the first one :) i'd love to hear your thoughts!!

Vibrant flashes of the pixelated scenes on TV reflected against the motel room walls. You were reminded of how your mother always used to say that watching television in the dark is damaging to your eyes. You never doubted her. Never felt the need to confirm her words by looking it up. It’s in human nature to trust one another. It is only when someone betrays you — or when you betray them — that trust gets damaged.  You sit on the edge of the bed, mindlessly picking at the loose printing of the Caltech shirt you’re wearing — Spencer’s Caltech shirt — as you watch the umpteenth news segment since you left the state. “Authorities are still on the lookout for a suspect following the poisoning of three men. The men were murdered at a college reunion that took place inside a bar, their bodies found just a street away. These promising young men had bright futures ahead of them, which were brutally robbed by this suspect���“

The screen flickered to your passport picture, showing a list of your physical descriptions on the right. 

“She’s believed to be armed and dangerous. Please, come forward if you have any information on her possible whereabouts. The FBI have stated that they will not stop their search until they have the suspect in custody. Justice will be served.”

With a scoff, you grab the remote, the screen fading to black with a simple click of your thumb. 

Young promising men, my ass. Hearing that sentence out loud left you with a bitter taste in your mouth, burning your throat as you swallowed. You let out a deep exhale, your body falling back onto the hard mattress with a thud, allowing the darkness to envelop you as your thoughts swirled through your head. 

Your whole life you had run away from the things that scared you, preferring to flee than live with the reality of the situation. You’d made the conscious decision to change your behaviour once you had decided to walk into that bar. But one thing led to another, and without being aware of it at the moment, you’d found yourself in the same situation: fleeing. Only this time around, it was different. This time you were on the run. And it wasn’t a question of if, but of when you’d be caught.

Ignoring the remorseless pounding in your head, you roll over the mattress. The cheap sheets rustled underneath you in protest as you threw your legs off the side. Your hand patted the bedside table until you felt the switch on the night lamp, turning it on. The room, as a result, illuminates in a soft, golden glow. 

Your eyes adjusted to the light, slowly taking in your surroundings. You noticed a large bookshelf against the right wall that you swore you hadn't seen before. Although your mind had been so clouded these past days that it wouldn’t be strange if you looked over it. Curiosity got the better of you, and with steady steps, you walked toward it. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. The words played in your head as your fingers grazed against the dusty spines. When the melody came to its natural halt, you grabbed the book that your finger had landed on.

Gone Girl.

You scoffed a breathy laugh, “Obviously.” You held the book mockingly in the air, giving an ironic nod and tight-lipped smile toward the ceiling. “Thanks, universe.”

The irony hit you as you flipped through the pages. Maybe you’re more like the protagonist—Amy Dune—than you’d like to admit. Always having the need to orchestrate the outcome of your life, selfish enough to not care about the consequences it has for others. What if the universe is not trying to mock you, but merely giving you a hint? Were you supposed to change your appearance? It worked for Amy. 

Your feet carried you to the stuffy bathroom, the book still in hand. With your elbow, you turned on the light switch, cringing when you saw yourself in the mirror. The only sleep you’d gotten in the past days was in Spencer’s arms, and damn was it a good sleep. 

Sleeping with an FBI-agent sounded like a good plan. Well… at least to you. What are the chances of being a suspect in a crime, not being believed by anyone, and then being interrogated by a man who had heart eyes for you? There was no other option than to play into it, and you thanked yourself for taking those theater classes in high school. 

However, it wasn’t all a ploy. It affected you to have someone be so gentle with you, to have an absolute stranger care so much for your well-being. And when you kissed him… you knew your heart was involved too.

Still, your brain overpowered your feelings. The second you woke up, you knew you had to leave. They already knew about Natalie, and the more time you gave them, the more dirt they’d find on you. Taking that gun? Call it a precaution. Hijacking a car to get to the motel? Well, you stole it from a hobo. Could’ve been worse. 

“God,” you groaned, thinking back on the events of the past few days. You rubbed your eyes and dramatically slid your hands down your face.

Your eyes landed on the nail clipper placed on the sink. This is so, so bad. You placed the book down, then picked the item up, circling the cool metal around your fingers. The ghost of your face reflected back at you in the mirror. Oh, your hairdresser will kill you. But who will care if you’ll be locked away in prison, anyway? At least your humor was still working.

You brought the clipper to the ends of your hair, your thumb pressing down as you cut a lock. The sound sent shivers to your spine, a sour face impaled on you. 

“I swear to god Amy, don’t fail me with this,” you mumbled to the sky in a prayer. 

-`♡´-

3 Days Ago

Being frustrated was an understatement for the way Spencer was feeling. 

Once he left the bedroom, it took him less than a second to notice the slight gap between the cupboard doors. His pulse quickened, he stood frozen for a moment as he felt a tight knot form in his stomach. In a sudden rush, his senses came back to him. He took a leap toward the cupboard, slamming the doors open, and to his suspicion, he found the safe unlocked. His gun vanished in the same way as you had. 

He couldn’t help the string of curses that escaped his lips. His hands reached through his hair, tugging at the loose curls as his mind raced in every possible direction, none of them making sense. 

How could he have been so stupid? He’s a profiler, for Christ’ sake. It’s his job to read people, to see through their lies. His cheeks heated in embarrassment, recalling the disapproving looks of his team members when he told you that he believed in your innocence. 

You were innocent. At least, that’s what he thought. Now he wasn’t sure anymore. An innocent person wouldn’t run, and they especially wouldn’t steal the gun of a federal agent while they’re at it. 

He thought back on your arrest. It happened quickly. The team had received a call from someone at the reunion who had been taking a smoke break in an alley near the bar, the first to discover the bodies. Finding you was simple. Your behavior was suspicious on the camera footage. You looked nervous as you walked into the bar, wiping your clammy hands on your dress, scanning the room as if in search of something. When your eyes landed on the three men, your gaze grew cold. It wasn’t difficult to connect the dots when you rushed out of the emergency exit right after the men had accepted their poison-filled drinks. 

But now it was a completely different story. You could be anywhere. The uncertainty gnawed at him. He felt responsible for this, even though it wasn’t his decision to let you go. He’d been insistent on getting you out of that interrogation room as fast as he could. The guilt pressed down on him, the pressure on his ribcage accumulating with every second that passed. Every second that he didn’t do anything was another chance for you to run. Spencer had no choice but to call Hotch as he stepped into his Volvo. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t know what you were capable of. 

-

Spencer made sure to evade Derek’s sharp glances as he walked through the bullpen, headed straight for the small flight of stairs. 

Hotch was standing at the door frame, waiting on him. He never had experienced being scolded by his parents, but this sure seemed like a similar situation. Spencer swallowed, his hands tucked in the pockets of his pants, trying to hide his nerves as he braced himself for the words that were about to follow.

“I’ve informed the rest of the team,” Hotch explained, his eyebrows edged in an irritated frown. “The only reason that you’re on this case is because you could give personal insight into the unsub. We’ll discuss this afterward,” he added in a warning tone, “Behaviour like this is not tolerated.”

“I know,” Spencer muttered, his voice coming out hoarse. I don’t agree, but I understand. “I’m sorry.”

Aaron nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response. His body leaned forward, head tilted as he called the team to gather around the round table. 

-

“Man, you slept with her?!” 

Derek hadn’t even properly sat down before the criticizing jabs slipped out. The tone was instantly set, an awkward tension lingering thick in the air.

Spencer’s mouth opened, his fingers flexing, but before he could respond, Emily rose from her seat. “It’s in the past. Right now, we should focus on finding her before she’ll devolve.”

Hotch nodded in agreement. This discussion was pointless; there was no time to lose. “Garcia, can you go over her documents again?”

“Of course, sir. Uh, let’s see–,” her purple colored nails tapped against the keyboard of her laptop. “She hasn’t been very active in the last few years. Most activity was during college. She majored in chemistry.”

Spencer’s heart did a jump at the mention of chemistry. He barely got the chance to ask you about yourself, and he was fighting the urge to ask Penelope for more information, wondering what else you’d have in common. 

“Wait a minute,” Spencer wondered out loud when his brain made the connection. “Chemistry.”

“The victims were poisoned,” Rossi noted, connecting the dots.

Spencer suppressed the rising nausea by forcing his eyes shut. His knee tremored, anxiously tapping against the underside of the table. He really didn’t know you, did he?

Hotch’s furrow deepened. “Another confirmation that she’s the one we’re looking for.” He turned to Garcia, “Did we receive the results from the lab?”

“Not yet, sir. But this is interesting though,” her nails continued their rhythmic clicking. “She dropped out of college a couple of months before graduating.”

“You wouldn’t just do that,” Rossi mused. “Can you find any reasoning in her archives?” 

Penelope shook her head. “Not really. The whole thing seemed pretty sudden. She had good grades.”

Hotch leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Let’s look at victimology.” 

“Okay, so we got Shaun Dallas, Eric Zimmer and Nathan Johns. Tight buddies throughout college and they still seemed to be according to social media. Different majors, none of them chemistry.”

“She seemed disgusted when I brought them up,” Derek added, referencing your interrogation. “Said that nobody in college liked them.”

“Well, they seem like the standard gross jock types,” Penelope commented. 

“Does she have any history with them?” Emily asked.

“Uh, not that I can see,” Garcia replied. “I don’t even think they shared any classes.”

“What about them personally? Anything you can tie to her wanting them dead?”

“Let’s see, boy wonder…” Garcia mumbled in response to Spencer, eyes focused on the screen. “Here! I got something.” 

Everyone stared at her in anticipation. “Nathan Johns was involved in a Peeping Tom “incident” when he was fifteen. He had a habit of peeping underneath the bathroom stalls in highschool, and one girl decided to press charges with her parents. Claims were quickly shut down though, because, obviously, his father is a lawyer.”

Hotch’s lips pressed into a tight line. “What about the other two?”

“Zilch. Squeaky clean records.”

“Let’s leave that for later,” Rossi suggested. “We have more to say about her MO.”

“She poisoned her victims,” JJ chimed in. “That makes sense with her chemistry background. She’s also shown that she’s meticulous and pays attention to detail.” She continued elaborating, “She managed to poison the drinks without the bartender noticing and she made sure to keep an eye on Spencer as he typed in the code to his safe.”

The team nodded like-mindedly. Spencer bit down on his bottom lip. He didn’t have much of a say in all of this. He didn’t even know why he still tried to make sense of it all. Whether he genuinely believed in your innocence or if this was an attempt at finding a theory that would sooth his mind.

“She’s rather chaotic, actually,” he eventually spoke up. “She snapped during the interview when Natalie Fisher got mentioned. She took my gun while I was in the room next to her. To be more specific, she—“ he cleared his throat, “I woke up and she walked back to me before heading out. It doesn’t match the MO of the killings.”

“What are you suggesting, kid?” Rossi asked, confusion visible on his face.

“She doesn't have to be the unsub.” 

“Oh, come on, man. Then how do you explain the dumping of the bodies?” Morgan inquired, his tone laced with accusement. “She went from meticulous to dropping the bodies in the middle of an alley where anyone could pass by. She’s shown dramatic changes in MO before.”

“The bodies could have been placed there to set her up. The unsub must have known she’s disorganized, so positioning the bodies there could be connected to her. If the unsub is as diligent as we’re assuming, he could’ve easily disposed of the bodies in a place where we wouldn’t be able to find them. Instead, he dropped them right in the face of any passersby.”  

“Spence, I thought we’ve been over this,” JJ said, offering a sympathetic smile, her hand sliding over the table to reach out for him.

Spencer quickly pulled his hand back, seeing the obvious hurt on his friend’s face. Yes, they had been over this. He was positive that he would snap if he had to go through another “Are you sure you’re ready to be back? The change from prison to society is a huge change” conversation. 

“Did she share anything else that makes you think this way?”

Spencer blinked at Hotch's question. The moment was still fresh in his mind. He remembered how nervous he felt when he had asked you to take you to his place. He had replayed the hypothetical conversation in his mind a thousand times, how he would first open up about his past, wanting to make you feel comfortable enough to open up about yours. But when you kissed him the way you did, there was no space for any other thoughts in his mind.

“Reid,” Hotch repeated.

“No.”

“No?” 

“She said that she likes the sea,” he shared, the corner of his lip slightly lifting at the memory. 

“I feel safe in your arms,” you whispered, your breath tickling his chest as you lay your head on top of it. His arm was wrapped around you, tracing patterns on the bare skin of your arm, wondering if you could feel his pounding heartbeat. 

“The only other place I’ve felt this safe is at sea.”

He smiled as he gazed down at you. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Really?”

He felt the movement of you nodding. “It’s the only place that calms my mind.”

The sound of ruffling paper snapped him out of his thoughts. He lifted his head to see Rossi unrolling a large map of the country. 

Spencer could feel the prying eyes on him. Geography of the unsub is his strength. He inhaled a deep breath before leaving his chair, reluctantly walking toward the wall where Rossi had pinned the map.

“She told you that she didn’t have a place to stay,” Prentiss stated, her words sounding like a question for affirmation.

Spencer nodded, trying to focus on the case like it was any other. “She walked to the reunion, probably taken by cab, and then we found her walking around the area when we arrested her. So, she has no vehicle.”

“For all we know, she could’ve taken the first plane out of the country,” Morgan interjected.

Hotch clicked his tongue. “We alerted Border Patrol when Reid had called me, which was less than an hour after she had left his house. If we assume she’s chaotic, she wouldn’t be able to book a flight that quickly. The only place you can disappear this smoothly has to be a place in her comfort zone.”

“Can we assume she’s still in Virginia?” Rossi asked.

“I don’t think so,” Spencer replied. “Her picture is all over the state, and Virginia’s beaches are very populated, with a minimum of in the hundred thousands. Virginia Beach, for example, has a population of 453.649.”

“She doesn’t have a car,” Rossi thought aloud. “There are no records of her having a stable job, so she doesn’t have a lot of money in her pockets either. Knowing cab drivers, they won’t want to drive around for hours, which leads us to—“

“Delaware,” Spencer finished. 

-`♡´-

A sea breeze gently caressed your face, blowing through your cut hair. With your eyes closed, you cherished the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the scent of saltwater in the air. It was a nostalgic smell that came with a flood of memories: building sandcastles on the beach, running barefoot across the hot sand before diving into the sea, loud laughter as you splashed the water and got splashed in return. 

The flashbacks were a stark contrast to your current predicament. When you opened your eyes, it was dark. The sea in front of you looked black, only reflecting a small glimmer of the moon that hung low in the sky. The sand beneath your fingers felt cold. And there were no sounds of laughter, not even the sound of annoying seagulls. You were surrounded in absolute silence.  A crunching noise came out of the darkness. The sound so sudden and intense, similar to being whipped across the face. Though, your head didn’t turn. You knew who was out there. 

The sounds grew louder. Sweat started forming on your face and hands. Your fingers trembled as you reached into the pocket of your jeans, the tight fabric cutting into your hand as you pushed deeper until you felt the cool metal of Spencer’s gun.

“Don’t.”

The word cut through the air. Your grip on the gun tightened in an effort to keep your fingers from shaking. No words left your mouth as you carefully tilted your head. 

In front of you stood Spencer, exactly as you had predicted. But unlike your predictions, he was on his own. Was he here by himself to personally arrest you? To revel in your loss?

You continued to stare at him, though you weren’t really seeing him. Your vision blurred by the tears that had welled in your eyes. You blinked them away, focusing on his gun, which he held tightly in between both hands, aimed straight at your skull. 

“Is that a new one?” 

He seemed taken aback by your question, glacing down to the firearm in his palms. When he looked back at you, you stood in front of him, mirroring his stance, gun directed at his chest.

“I like this one better,” you commented, clicking the safety off.

Spencer cocked his head, maintaining his unwavering eye contact. He seemed to be challenging you. You clenched your jaw, anger boiling hotter inside of you. 

“Put the gun away,” he strictly ordered, though his tone remained unnervingly calm. It was too calm for your liking. He should be scared. At least show a sign of nerves. Instead he looked at you like you were a joke, like you weren’t capable.

“You’re not going to use it anyway,” he dismissively adds, fueling your anger.

“Yes, I will!” 

Your voice taunted as you took a step forward. Your legs trembled at the move, your heart thudded painfully in your chest to the point of nausea. It was difficult to comprehend the next words he spoke, your ears ringing before you even fired the shot.

“You didn’t kill those people,” Spencer declared. The words sounded like he was repeating a scientific fact. Like it was the only possible truth.

He then called out your name.

The word rolled off his tongue like it was crafted just for him to say it. Akin to a gentle symphony. His pronunciation was just as soft and full with longing as it had been when he breathily whispered it into your ear over and over again.

“I would’ve!” you shouted out, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. You strode forward until the barrel of your gun pressed into his chest, jabbing the cold metal into his clothed skin. 

He didn’t flinch. Instead of his breathing hastening, it slowed down. His eyebrows drooped as he looked down at you. 

“I would’ve,” you repeat just as loudly, digging the weapon harder into him. Pity remained on his face and you couldn’t stop the tears threatening to spill again. Whether it was from frustration or sorrow, you weren’t sure. 

“I would’ve, I would’ve, I would’ve!” 

The words tumbled from your mouth like a mantra, each repetition feeling like the only way to catch your breath. With every spoken word, you hit his chest, though your punches weaken with every syllable.

Spencer continued to watch you, observing you as he gave you the space that you needed. When you looked up at him, his eyes were glistening, triggering something inside of you.

A sob broke free from your chest. Spencer’s gun slipped from his hand in reaction, falling into the sand with a muffled thud. 

“I should’ve…” you choked out, the words a combination of an apology and a confession.

Spencer nodded compassionately, his hands reaching out to gently cup yours. 

 “Should’ve done it. Should’ve been me.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” he spoke reassuringly, carefully taking the gun from your limp fingers and tucking it in his back pocket. His hands quickly returned to yours, without you even registering his movement. “I know.”

“I’m so sorry,” you softly cried. The words weren’t meant for Spencer, but somehow, he understood. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you against the spot where your gun had been only seconds ago.

Sorries became the new prayer you desperately muttered against his chest. Sorries to Natalie. Sorries for being weak. Sorries for not giving her the justice she deserved. Sorries for dishonoring her when she needed you most. Sorries for everything.

The apologies to others turned into a plea to receive them yourself. Sorry for making you so naive. Sorry for making you weak. Sorry for giving you the need to run from yourself. 

Your head hung low against him, your grip on his shirt tightening, your lungs constricting like it was painful to breathe. 

“You’re angry.” Spencer noted, noticing the change in your posture. 

You sniffled against him, not having the energy to lie. “Yes.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hair. The gesture made your stomach flutter. 

You felt conflicted by his kindness. How was he able to hold you so tightly? To choose to stay by your side despite the mess you were.

The delicacy of his touch parallel to the fury still simmering inside of you. 

“I am so mad,” you admitted in a resigned breath.

His hand slid from your head to your neck, gently cupping your jaw. “Let it out on me.”

You had to furrow your brows, not sure if you understood him correctly. 

“I mean it. Your body is full of cortisol and epinephrine. Stress hormones,” he explained. “You need to be relieved of those.”

His fingertips trailed lightly over your arm, and you followed his touch with your eyes. 

“Use me. Let me offer you relief.”

You stood frozen in place, swallowing the breathless laugh that almost escaped your lips, as you noted the genuine look expressed on Spencer’s face.

His eyes bored into yours, the hazel of his irises altering into a darker shade of brown.

Tentatively, your hands moved up his body, and only then did his heartbeat quicken. Your fingers continued trailing upward until you gripped his collar, the fabric soft in your tight grip. His eyes don’t leave yours, mouth just slightly agape as you pull him in closer. 

Then you kiss him — hard.

*link to smut (pt. 2.5)

-`♡´-

The ventilation quietly hummed in the back of the motel room from the shower you had just taken. After the intimate moment on the beach, Spencer had convinced you to take him back to the motel you were staying at. “They’re all fast asleep. They haven’t noticed me leaving” he assured you. 

It didn’t matter anymore if they knew your whereabouts, you’ve told Spencer everything anyway. How Natalie has been your bestest friend in college. How you were tied to the hip. How you never left each other’s sight — except for that one night…

You had cried in his arms, and he had let you. He held you close as you lay in bed. He comforted you with statistics about guilt and trauma, as you told him why you went to that reunion that night. It marked the anniversary of the week Natalie had died. Of the week you received an email from her: a final note. Telling you by the time you read this, she’d be long gone.

You hadn’t gone to her funeral. Didn’t even receive an invitation. You hadn’t been in contact with Natalie ever since she had called you from that party. You’d picked her up that night, taken her to the hospital, and left the second the doctors told you she’d be fine. 

You didn’t tell Spencer this part. You only told him that you expected there to be a memorial at the reunion, a way for you to have a proper goodbye. Your heart had stopped in the same way it had years ago when you walked into the bar and found that there was nothing. Nothing but loud music, colored lights, and drunk people. It was as if Natalie had never existed.

Your ears had rang. Your breaths came in short pants. With all your might, you suppressed the rising panic attack, using the last bit of strength to walk toward the three men you’d spotted from the start. The men that had done this to Natalie. Who had killed her, although not with their hands. 

Naive little birdie, Natalie had always called you. The sweet nickname now sounded more haunting as the three men stared you up and down. Your heart beated in expectancy, but then you noticed their dilated pupils. The way their breath reeked of hard liquor. Their lips still glossy with alcohol as they gave you a sluggish smirk. They hadn’t even recognized you. Naive little birdie.

Spencer had squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. “It’s okay.”

You had shaken your head, the memories tearing apart into small pieces in your mind. Quickly, you had finished your story, telling him that after that moment, you didn’t have it in you to walk past everyone again. Too terrified to see the laughs on their faces. Instead, you marched straight to the emergency exit.

The both of you stayed quiet after your confession. The air hung heavy with silence, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“We need to talk about it at some point,” Spencer brings up.

You nodded. Spencer had been kind to you, given you the time to process, but the conversation was inevitable. You hadn’t killed anyone. So someone else had.

“Someone is trying to blame this on you. Someone wants to see you gone,” he softly whispers, his voice cracking with emotion.

The subject made you feel uncomfortable. You had thought about it before. Plenty of times, actually. But every time you did what you did best: ignore it. It wasn’t as easy to disregard when someone was looking you in the eyes, their pain so visible.

Still, you shrugged, brushing aside his comment. “It doesn’t matter. I wanted them gone, and now they are. It doesn’t matter how.”

“It does matter.” 

The rise in his voice made you flinch, and he instantly cupped your hands, pulling you back to him. “‘M sorry. I’m just scared.”

It was strange to hear someone be so honest. Spencer had been honest with you from the start. He’d said that he would protect you, and he was still keeping to that promise.

You moved your hand to your hair, wanting to twirl  the locks as a nervous habit, but then realized most of it was cut short. 

“I guess we can tell your team tomorrow,” you settle on saying, swallowing as you envision their dirty looks.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows in a questioning gaze, leaning forward as he hid the small, grateful smile that lingered his lips.

You chuckled, feeling relieved by his response. You nodded your head against the pillow. “Really.”

The room returned to silence. Surely now deeply comfortable. No more questions that lingered in the air. The back of Spencer’s fingers lazily traced the side of your face. His warm hand trailed down the skin. His eyes flickered over your face, expression filled with awe as he grazed his fingers through your short locks. “Your hair looks pretty.”

A soft snort escaped you, “It looks horrendous.”

He responded with a breathy laugh, and you can’t help but smile widely back at him. 

“I think this suits you better. Not that I didn’t like your other haircut,” he quickly corrected himself, making you chuckle. “I like your face. The longer hair hid it. Now I can see you.”

Your cheeks warmed. Spencer did see you. Not just your appearance — he saw you. He had seen you from the moment your eyes had locked when he and his team had found you and brought you to the station. He had seen you before you’d even seen yourself. The thought of stopping your hiding, your fleeing, didn’t seem so scary anymore. Not when staying would bring you to him. 

The comfortable silence was interrupted by a low rumble, followed by a louder one. Spencer’s hand slipped from your hair as he placed it on his stomach. “I’m sorry.”

A bright, childlike laugh bubbled from your chest. Spencer snickered, grinning from ear to ear. He bashfully brushed his fingers through his messy curls. “I havent really eaten since we’ve gotten here.”

“Let me grab you a snack.” You crawled out of bed, legs still a little shaky as you stood up. 

“Do you have snacks in the room?

“No, but there’s a vending machine outside.”

He propped himself up against the pillows, his eyes following you as you made your way over to the bathroom where your clothes were bundled up on the tile floor. He let out a small sigh as you walked out of sight.

He naturally timed the minutes till the door creaked open again. You had washed yourself up in the sink, some water droplets still clinging to your neck. Your hair less frizzy now that it had been dampened. You wore your clothes from earlier, though one could tell they had been taken off of you multiple times.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, grabbing the key and some coins from the cabinet. And he believed you.

-

The door shut behind you, a cold breeze immediately hugging your skin. The LED lamps brightened the exterior corridor. The vending machine at the end of the walkway shone even brighter, catching your attention.

You walked straight toward it, curiously peering into the transparent door. You pressed the numbers for trail mix and beef jerky — something that could pass for dinner. You inserted the coin, impatiently bending down in front of the opening.

The rumbling sound of the machine was followed by a whoosh of air.

Then a sharp bang echoed through your skull.

Then you were gone.

-`♡´-

Shadows of bright lights flickered in front of your eyes, giving the illusion that you rubbed them too hard.

You forced your eyelids open, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were lying down, you would’ve stumbled. With effort, you scrambled yourself up into a sitting position, taking in your surroundings.

Four tiled walls enclosed you. The room resembled a lab: a sink with a counter to the left, an iron door on the wall right in front of you, and an air vent to the right. 

A bitter odor entered your airways, making you scrunch your nose. You turned your head to the left — a little too quickly — the throbbing pain catching up with you, making you groan in pain. 

Your hands shot to the sides of your face, trying to hold your head still in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. 

A warm liquid coated your fingers. You pulled your hand back and saw it was stained crimson. A gasp left you, followed by a string of whimpers as you felt yourself growing faint. 

You spotted a red first aid kit on top of the counter. On your knees, you slumped toward it, taking several breaks despite the distance only being ten feet. 

With clammy hands, you clutched the counter, inhaling a deep breath before dragging yourself up. Your body hovered over the table, and you reached your arm out to pull the kit closer to you. You fumbled with the lock on the box. “Open up, please,” you begged to whatever God that was listening.

The acid smell grew stronger, and it was then that you noticed the small vial next to the first aid kit. Its contents contained a light yellow solid. Cyanide — poison. 

The metal door creaked open, the sound stinging straight through your skull. You cried out as you fell to the ground. You backed away to the nearest wall, curling your knees to your chest just in time for the door to fully open. “Naive little birdie. You’re awake.”

PART 2.5

[st4rssky]

You wanna kiss me so bad..

☆ inspired by this silly post from Ro<3 ☆

“Are you kidding!? The main character is obviously in love with her best friend!” I huffed in frustration, feeling the heat of our argument pulse in the air. I had been going back and forth with Satan for the past fifteen minutes over the book he had so enthusiastically recommended.

He slowly lifted his gaze from the pages of his current read, a sly smile forming on his lips. “I see how it may seem like that to a novice reader like yourself, but I can assure you it’s not like that.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes with a laugh. “Novice? Just because I don’t have my own personal library doesn’t mean I’m a novice. I know what I read.”

Satan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, the smugness radiating off him like heat from a flame. “Ah, but sometimes the best stories require a deeper understanding. You have to look beyond the obvious.”

“Look beyond? Seriously?” I shot back. “The girl is practically pining over her best friend in every chapter! It’s like a neon sign.”

He tilted his head, pretending to ponder my words. “Or it’s simply a reflection of a strong platonic bond. Not everything has to be romantic, you know.”

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Sure, if you ignore all the longing looks and the way they keep finding excuses to be alone together.”

“Maybe they’re just really good friends,” he countered, a teasing glint in his eye. “You’re reading it like a rom-com when it could just be a heartfelt exploration of friendship.”

“Yeah, right. Tell that to the thousands of readers shipping them online.” I leaned forward, fueled by my conviction. “You’re just in denial because you like this book too much.”

Satan chuckled, shaking his head. “Or maybe I’m just more discerning. You should try it sometime. Might improve your perspective.”

“Discerning, huh? Sounds like a fancy way to say ‘wrong,’” I retorted, but a smile crept onto my face. The playful banter was what I enjoyed most about our discussions, even if it made me want to throw the book at him.

“God, you are so stubborn!” Satan replied, a smirk tugging at his lips as he chuckled. “It’s okay to be wrong, you know?”

I shot back, folding my arms defiantly over my chest. “You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

He paused, a flicker of mischief in his eyes. Silently, he closed his book, stood up, and took a few steps toward me. “Oh? I can’t make a fool of myself now, can I?”

Before I could respond, he backed me against the bookshelf, the hard wood pressing against my back. My breath hitched, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy. Satan's fingers brushed gently along my jaw, sending an electric thrill through me.

He held my gaze, his eyes searching mine, before flicking down to my lips. There was a heartbeat of tension, and then he leaned in, kissing me sweetly.

It was soft and lingering, the world around us fading into the background. My initial surprise melted away as I kissed him back, warmth flooding through me. When he finally pulled away, that teasing smile returned.

“So, am I still stupid?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

“HE KISSED ME?? WE WERE FIGHTING AND HE KISSED ME??” I exclaimed, pacing back and forth in front of Asmo’s bed, my heart still racing from the unexpected turn of events.

Asmo giggled lightly, his focus on filing his nails, a playful smile dancing across his lips. “Maybe next time he’ll get you naked~”

I stopped mid-step, turning to face him. “Asmo! Are you kidding? We were literally at each other’s throats one minute, and then—bam! Kiss!”

He tossed the nail file aside, leaning back on his hands, looking thoroughly entertained. “Sounds like a classic move to me. Tension builds, and then... surprise romance!”

“Surprise romance? I was ready to strangle him!” I said, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “And now I’m supposed to just brush it off like it’s no big deal?”

“Why not?” Asmo shrugged, grinning. “Kissing during a fight is like a plot twist! You know you’re dying to see where it goes next.”

My steps faltered lightly, my face flushing. I looked away, huffing under my breath. I hate it when he's right.

@l3viat8an mwah mwah<3

[maybe-boys-do-love]

I think pretty regularly about the claim against the queerness of BL that BL was originally constructed for and by women, especially straight cis women. To begin, the last clause of that statement frankly has no possibility for legitimate measurement. Even without the problems of queer identity formation and identification that might prevent people from identifying themselves as such, publishers and marketing analysts haven't actually been going out surveying sexualities. My bigger issue with the claim, however, lies in the implication that women ought to have no voice in the creation and depiction of queer male characters, when the relationship between women and queer men has been foundational for both at a broad level (and for many queer men like me, personally).

On my bookshelf, I have a collection of personal essays titled "Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Girls: true tales of love, lust, and friendship between straight women and gay men." I've had a preoccupation long preceding my engagement with BL with those types of relationships. I looked for it in media to feel represented. The ending of My Best Friend's Wedding where Julia Roberts character ends the movie dancing with her gay best friend was an even happier ending in my mind than romance. Then, there were the women who had their hearts broken by a gay protagonists coming-out narrative like Abby in Love, Simon only to reassemble it with a deep friendship. I had to adjust my ideas of queerness when viewing stories from cultures with gender segregation in schooling or more broadly. For me, gay male identity had a relationship to women (all shapes, sizes, and sexualities) at its core. We all lay distanced from macho masculinity and its orientations.

Queer men had a role in constructing many revolutionary female personas and characters that influenced women's self-perceptions and societal roles, for better and for worse. Think of the Euro-American fashion designers, the hair and make-up artists, the writers and directors who collaborated and/or shaped the great models, divas, and icons of the twentieth century, and likely prior (although the concept of queerness becomes a very different beast beyond Euro-America in the past 100 years). Behind the Screen: How Gays and Lesbians Shaped Hollywood, 1910-1969 by William J. Mann provides a wonderfully intricate and well-researched history about that work. Both women's rights and women's wrongs: queer men created them and queer men celebrated them, ideologically and in the marketplace, in a partnership that had a purpose for mutual freedom from puritanical laws and social expectations.

Did they always hone in on the realities of women's experience? Certainly not. Realism, as we know it, was neither in-line with the genre expectations at the time nor a fully-realizable possibility for men who only bore passing witness to their female allies. Witness always comes with its limits on perspective, but those limits are the forges of storytelling. Instead, these men, despite the areas of ignorance, designed complex and empathetic portraits of power, faltering, suffering, and striving, across the spectrum of feminine to butch.

I will forever kick myself for forgetting the book or article or post I read where a gay-identified man discusses how women might not have insight into all the aspects of every day gay life, but they see and create a version of gay men that's devoid of the self-pity and self-effacing irony gay men have portrayed themselves with historically, which somehow arrives at an emotional reality that feels more honest to his experience. That's the essence of BL for me. The queerness lies not in the accuracy of anal sex depictions or relationship dynamics--some reflect reality and some don't, so what? The creators of BL as a genre develop queer male characters that are soft, sensitive, and often without the artifices gay men have had to put on to endure. To quote a Carly Rae song, they 'Cut to the Feeling.'

Women's fictional prowess in writing queer men isn't novel to BL. One of the most notable examples is Mary Renault, a prominent queer English author in the mid-twentieth century of especially historical fiction, like The Charioteer, The Last of the Wine, and her Alexander the Great trilogy, among others. Enjoy here a elder gay man's engagement with her fiction for The Guardian. It's not simply that her books struck a chord with some gay men, they influenced their self-perceptions, influenced the genre of gay fiction, and garnered an even broader audience of support for queer characters, holding bestseller status prior to the legalization of homosexuality.

What's so noxious and ignorant about the criticism with which I started, even as some people bring it up with good intent, is the idea that an identity is created in isolation. Our experiences are not ours alone. We impact other people, and other people are watching us with care. Women have long had an outsized role in producing influential fiction and circulating it with joy over its observations about people and their social dynamics. Why set a boundary for them around queer men, when in fact we have a whole history of reasons to understand one another? Not all women will get it because they're not a monolith, and not all queer men will vibe with each or even any of the stories because neither are they. Still, BLs' observations might hold truths about queerness for some that other genres don't offer.

We actually have a few scholars offering evidence of BLs' influence, if so far limited, in queer self-concepts. In "Faen of Gay Faen: Realizing Boys Love in Thailand betwixt Imagination and Existence" by Kang-Nguyen Byung'chu Dredge, the author describes how in Thailand "gay couples recreate Japanese bishonen (beautiful boy) and BL imagery in their own photos." That essay's alongside many others that detail the relationship of BL to fan identities across East and South Asian nations in a collection, Queer Transfigurations: Boys Love Media, edited by James Welker, with the input of many Asian scholars (2022). I'd recommend it to people interested with the caveat that there's been massive political and cultural shifts regarding these topics in those regions since even 2022. Thailand's marriage equality law wasn't initially submitted until 2023! And the BL industry has grown dramatically.

Women and queer men and, in fact, plenty of people with gender identities outside of the western binary have built up these stories and this industry together. Women's contributions or exclusions of certain gay male practices don't necessarily make a work less gay. I probably sound like a broken record at this point trying to widen the breadth of queer inclusion on my blog.

Is there even a possibility for something not to be queer in my book? Well, yes. Boys kissing boys won't fall into that category, though, unless its played to disgust the audience and discourage queer relationships. And there are instances in many queer works, Western and BL alike, including media by queer-identified individuals, that disparage specific queer relational dynamics or behaviors or simply fail to evoke the full-force of queer desire. Of course, we all fail on these fronts sometimes, allies and queers alike.

What I will say is that many women were and continue to be as much as a part of my queer development as queer men, if not more than. I value their insights. I value how they have listened to me. I value their observations about what they see in me. I value their vision for my feelings and future even if it's not always what I have in mind for myself. They have an important place in my life and have every right to have an important place in queerly crafting BL. If we have an issue, let's do our best to name the actual issue rather than revert to over-generalizations about someone's identity.

[snootlestheangel]

Dog-coded Soap snippet from my work Silence is Golden But Consequences Are Red

Tagging a couple of mutuals to get a nice pat on the head for my sleep deprived miracle @gloard @bringinsexybackk69

Soap hisses as he stumbles into a bookshelf, the open wound in his side oozing blood with every little move. Ghost whips his head around at him, about to snap for being so loud, yet the words catch in his throat. He notices the bookshelf Soap had bumped into moved easily aside, and there is a small space that opened up behind it.

“In there.” Ghost whispers as he finishes moving the bookcase aside, and Soap quickly steps inside the tiny space in the wall. They’re plunged into darkness as Ghost moves the bookshelf back into place, and their little hiding hole is barely big enough for the both of them. Soap is pressed against the opposite wall, leaning against it as he squeezes his eyes shut to ignore the raging pain in his side. Ghost’s large frame can be felt behind him, and with the tight walls, Soap feels suffocated.

“Lemme look at it.” Ghost mumbles against Soap’s ear, gloved hand hovering over Soap’s wound. Soap obliges, dutifully lifting his shirt to expose the gaping hole. Ghost flicks on a small light, trying to block it as much as possible while still letting it be effective. He makes a small, unsatisfied noise as he touches Soap’s side and a trickle of blood runs down. The waistband of his pants are already forming a dark red spot, and his side is stained as he continues to freely bleed. Soap takes a shaky breath at Ghost’s touch, yet not from pain. It could just be the way his blood is rushing with adrenaline, or the blood loss, or maybe he’s finally lost it, but he can’t help but feel painfully aware of Ghost. Of his size, the way he’s forced to press up against him in the tight space.

Trapped in the darkness, completely at his mercy.

“Take your shirt off, I’ll patch it.” Cold seeps across his skin as Ghost’s mask lightly brushes his cheek, and Soap’s eyes flutter close. He hisses as he pulls the soiled shirt over his head, tucking it into his belt for safe keeping. He can feel Ghost fidgeting behind him, and he allows a moment to rest his head against the wall, breathing deeply. Soft fingertips lightly grab his chin, forcing his head off the wall. His skin prickles at the touch, and he fights off the urge to lean his head back further.

“Bite.” Ghost orders, offering his glove to Soap. Ignoring the growing knot in his stomach, Soap obeys, biting down on the glove. Ghost’s right hand is still gloved, shoving the small torch into his hand.

“Hold this for me.” Ghost whispers against his ear, and Soap takes a steadying breath, trying not to focus on the chill sent down his spine at the faint traces of Ghost’s breath. Ghost moves so he can get a good view of Soap’s injury, and he rummages in his vest for the few first aid supplies he keeps on himself at all times.

Soap’s eyes shoot open as he feels Ghost’s legs against his, spreading them apart and forcing him into an awkward stance where he has little room to move. He grunts in pain as Ghost’s ungloved hand sweeps over the wound with a small alcohol wipe, cleaning up the area to get a good view of the wound itself. Keeping his head lowered against Soap’s side at an awkward angle, Ghost tosses away the wipe and grabs something else from his vest. He rips open a pack of sterile gauze, and wraps his right arm around Soap, pinning the other’s arm to his side. The light bounces against Soap’s skin at Ghost’s action, reflecting off the blood still there. Soap squeezes his eyes shut, a wave of dizziness washing over him.

“Steady, Johnny.” Ghost grunts, gloved hand gently pressing against Soap’s ribs to hold him in place. Soap presses his forehead against the wall once again, the pounding of his heart and the storm of emotions becoming all too much.

“Deep breath.” Ghost whispers, voice rumbling in the quiet. Soap obeys, taking a deep inhale. He lets out a harsh grunt as Ghost’s fingers suddenly begin to press painfully into his wound. Soap knows he’s just packing it, but the pain is almost overwhelming and he wants to spit the glove out, to beg for it to stop. But Ghost shifts behind him, and at the light brush of his mask against Soap’s cheek, he decides against it. Ghost quietly shushes him, and Soap takes a few steadying breaths.

“Deep breath.” Ghost orders, and Soap obeys. This time, Soap forces back a grunt and does his best to stay quiet, but a weak whimper manages to escape as he presses his head into the wall, pushing against Ghost. Ghost’s arm wrapped around him squeezes lightly as he pauses, letting Soap catch his breath once more.

“Easy, Johnny. Doing good, just one more, yeah?” God, this man is going to kill me, Soap can’t help but think at the deep rumble of Ghost’s voice against his ear. Soap looks over at him, barely visible in the weak light, looking as eerie as the stories describe him to be. Soap nods, closing his eyes once again. He takes a deep breath in, and Ghost finishes shoving the rest of the gauze inside the wound, with Soap managing to keep the noise to a minimum.

“Atta boy.” Ghost rumbles, and Soap squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to stamp down the small whimper building in his chest. He begs whatever higher power exists that Ghost hasn’t noticed the growing bulge in his pants. Ghost’s arm unwraps from around him as he delicately wraps Soap’s middle, a rough attempt at keeping the sergeant from bleeding out before they get the chance to make their great escape. Soap remains rooted in place, one hand against the wall to help balance himself, even after Ghost untangles himself and gives Soap as much space as possible.

“Put your shirt back on. We’ll give it another minute, and then we’ll head out.” Ghost whispers, and Soap nods, shaking hands grabbing the bloody shirt from his belt. He hisses as he tries to raise his arms over his head to get the shirt on, and has to stop halfway, chest heaving. His head is spinning, and there’s so many thoughts racing through that he feels numb.

It’s just blood loss, he tries to tell himself, yet to no avail. Not when Ghost’s hands are back on him, helping guide the shirt over his head. Not when he feels utterly helpless, victim to whatever cruelties Ghost decides to play on him. Yet, Ghost’s only harm towards him has been the teasing, the proximity of his existence so enticing yet not quite in reach. Physically, he’s there, against him, touching him. Yet he’s not committed. He’s not yet let Soap take the plunge.

He’s at the mercy of those red-stained hands, victim to a cruel twist of fate.

[en-gelic]

STARBOY - 西村力

SYNOPSIS・A bet that sparked feelings of romance and denial which she had tried hard to prevent them from rising to the surface of her heart. Playing a game he knew she was going to lose was the easiest avenue to get closer to her. GENRE・bet to lovers, fluff ⋆ riki x f!reader ( W )・skinship, alcohol, getting drunk, medicine ⋆ 2.3k EXTRAS・started a show while writing this and got so sidetracked for 3+ hours SERIES MASTERLIST 、 ✸ BOOKSHELF! ⋆

His voice resounded through your ears as your memory broke in shambles. His voice felt like red silk gliding down your skin. You stood in a daze as the filming crew waited impatiently for your lines. Racking your mind, you looked up to meet his sharp eyes piercing into yours as you finally went blank, and the director yelled through the speaker. Dozens of people broke their silence and came rushing to adjust makeup or fix hair. You listened as the director droned on about remembering your lines and scanned your surroundings. Craving the bittersweet feeling of an emotion you could not describe, you zoned in on Riki, watching as he reacted with laughter, a smile unknowingly making its way on your face. Feeling your eyes on him, he turned to you, causing your smile to drop immediately as you turned to focus on the director who abruptly stopped his scolding upon the arrival of the taller boy. He charmingly smiled at the director who folded almost immediately. “Can I borrow her for a minute?” The director relented and you followed Riki as he pulled you outside the set. He stood in front of you, leaning down so his hair—which was slightly wet from the scene you were filming— was touching your forehead.

“Are you that nervous about acting with me?” He teased, his toothy grin on display. “Your hair is drooling on my forehead, you idiot.” You answered, dodging weakly at his hair showering you with water as he shook his head to tease you even more. Without hesitation, he connected his lips with yours as small drops of dew from the water in his hair sprinkled around the two of you. He broke the kiss and leaned his head on yours, water from his hair dropping on your nose. “So you really were nervous about acting with me, weren’t you?” He spoke through his signature boyish grin. "Oh, shut up." You joked, pushing past him and walking back into the set where bewildered gasps were heard and hands were found with towels, drying your slightly damp hair. "What happened?" Your hair stylist questioned as she pressed you down on a seat with a hairdryer in her hand. "A wet puppy shook water at me." Was all you replied with a grin as you saw through the reflection, Riki grinning back at you.

"It's just a bet," You muttered. "No feelings attached." Downing the cocktail, your body instinctively retaliated to the bitter liquid rushing down your throat. Pulling a face, you held back the urge to cough and ordered another one. The bartender hesitated, seeing that you weren't going to hold out for long, but complied as you felt your consciousness slowly ascend from your body. You clutched your bag in an attempt to stay sane and tried to blink away the shaky figures in front of you. You made a weak attempt to protect your head that felt like it was rolling off from, failing miserably as the bartender caught your head before it fell onto the counter. You heard a notification ring from your phone and fumbled to get it, lifting your head up from the bartender's hand. The words on your screen seemed to be spinning everywhere as you quickly wrote a few words in a reply and laid your head back on the counter, promising the bartender that you would be up in five minutes. Without realising, you lost yourself in the darkness of sleep and only woke up to a relatively dim room. Through the banging in your head, you heard sounds of a video recede as you turned over, ignoring both logic and fear as they tried to make their way into your already painful head. Feeling yourself dozing off again, you felt something move beside you. Assuming it was a pet, you shut your eyes even tighter as if the effort would make it go away.

“Good morning, pretty girl.” It spoke. Sanity finally made its way into your mind as you soon resulted that it wasn’t something but rather someone. Someone you didn’t want it to be. Automatically, you shot up from your comfortable position and turned to the boy whose voice you recognized almost immediately. Eyes widening in horror, you watched as a vexing grin grew on his face as he pushed you back onto the bed. “Take your medicine before you make your headache worse.” He made his way around the room you realized was bigger than expected and left, leaving you on the bed in horror and embarrassment. You tried to recall your memories from the evening before but gave up as soon as you started. You took in the scenery around you and realized the pattern in black and navy blue. After briskly noticing a messy pile of clothes, you began to wonder how he found out where you were and how he brought you to what you assumed was his house.

“Did you sleep well?” His voice interrupted your thoughts as he returned with pills and water. You felt the bed sink beside you as you nodded, turning away from him, knowing that if you met his eyes, you would feel even more uneasy. His body shook with mirth as he tried his best stifle his laughter at your sheepishness. He pulled you to face him by the nape of your neck. Still without saying anything he smiled and wordlessly picked up the cup and attempted to hand you the pills. You eyed the pills begrudgingly as you pursed your lips. Your inability to swallow pills added to your embarrassment as it seemed too childish for your age. He read your face and held back his amusement. “Say ahh.” He voiced, leading the pills to your mouth. You didn’t open, refusing to embarrass yourself again. “If you swallow this, you get a reward.” He bribed after repeatedly trying to pry your mouth open. Your facial expression changed as you considered his offer. “It’ll be good, I promise.” He persuaded; his gaze glued to yours. Reluctantly, you opened your mouth as he dropped the pills in your mouth and gave you the water. Determination aided you in swallowing the pills as you downed more water to wash it away. “Good girl.” He praised as he put the cup away. His tone sounded as though he was speaking to a child, and you bit back a smile at his teasing antics. He moved to put his hand on your forehead. “Just making sure I won’t get sick after this.” He voiced before pressing his lips on yours, blocking your airways and making you feel like you were underwater. Pulling away to get some air, he glanced down at your clothes. “You’ve been in my bed for thirteen hours, so I’d recommend a shower before coming back.” You glanced at the clock realising that you had indeed been knocked out on his bed for an age. After choosing some clothes from his closet, you stalked into the bathroom which was one of the lightest parts of his house. When you were about to enter the bath he ran for you, you heard his voice outside the door. “Do you need help?” He asked, clearly poking fun at you again. “No thank you, Nishimura.” He chortled at your response. “We’re on first name basis now?” You grinned and threw up a finger and as if he could see it, he chuckled even louder, his footsteps receding out of the room. After enjoying a very long bath, you finally exited the bathroom, looking even more tinier in his clothes and stalked into the kitchen where sounds of chaos were heard. The smell of burn increased the intensity of the dying headache knocking at your head. You stood for a moment and watched as he attempted to cook for you, injuring his head every time he tried to stand straight. “Why is this tree trying to cook for me?” You asked, moving towards him as he turned to look at you. “It’s not my fault this dwarf got herself drunk and hungover.” “Touché” You replied as you grabbed a wiping cloth to clean the mess he created. You looked back to find him staring at you instead of the food. “You look cute in my clothes, pretty girl.” He said, turning back to the food which was now turning his favourite colour. Hiding your amusement and flattery, you moved him out of the way to try and fix another mess, which seemed almost impossible. You turned to face him, choking on your laughter. “Let’s just get takeout.” You suggested, moving him out of the kitchen, your giggles echoing through his living room.

“So in summary, you fell in love with him and now you don’t know what to do?” Wonyoung asks as you laid on the floor of the messy room you started to clean, but lost motivation to finish. “Yes, and I don’t think he likes me back, so I’m stuck.” She hummed in agreement. “But he took you to his house and let you stay over and almost burnt down his house trying to cook for you?” You nodded again as you picked up the bits of motivation you had left and stood up to finish cleaning.

“And you’re not going to confess because you’re scared?” She asked. “Well, when you put it like that, you make it sound childish.” “Because it is.” She retorted as you pulled a face. Sick of watching you fiddle around; she stood up to organise the rest of the bits you had scattered everywhere.

“You try falling in love alone— especially with someone you’re acting with.” You said, opening your closet which contained even more mess. Sighing, she continued; speedily finishing your bits and moving onto the new clutter from your closet. “If he says no, his loss. If he says yes, good for the both of you. As long as you don’t feel awkward if he says no, he’ll be the one who feels awkward instead of you.” Your phone rang, interrupting her advice as you quickly picked it up after seeing who it was. Wonyoung listened intently, sitting beside you. “I got invited to an event on Friday and I wanted to know whether you could come with me?” He asked, sounding shifty and awkward. Your friend looked at you and giggled silently about how she was cupid's daughter. “Sure.” You replied, trying to remind yourself to act natural. The rest of the call was an awkward blur until his friend called him, forcing the conversation to end. When it was over, you both squealed as you hurried into your closet to find something to wear. “I told you I was cupid.” Wonyoung said, smiling at how excited you were, clearly pleased at how well her plan was working.

You stared at his lips as though they were tempting you as he got his makeup done. He was falling asleep while the makeup artist finished up and you couldn’t help but stare at his resting figure. Satisfied with her work, the artist exited the room, allowing him to sleep for a few more minutes. With just the two of you in the room, you leaned closer to his face, mesmerized at how perfect it was. He looked like a sleeping angel—even with his mouth open. You brought your finger to his eyelashes, patting them gently before moving to his eyebrows, brushing them in the same manner. He didn’t move as you moved to his knuckles which were holding onto the chair. Seemingly asleep, you sighed and stared at him for a few seconds, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. Whispering the words you wanted to say to him the most, fooled by his sleeping figure. “I like you.” You whispered quietly, doodling with your finger on his hand. You repeated it again, as if it would transfer to him through his dreams. He moved his hand to catch your finger, leading you to hold his hand. Your breath hitched at his sudden movement. “I like you too.” He mumbled, his eyes flickering open as he looked at you. You stilled for a moment, you heart pounding in your chest. He broke to stillness as he pulled your wrist so that you were closer to him, his lips inching closer to yours. They brushed against each other, barely touching before the artist was back, unaware of what was going previously. You both pushed away awkwardly, standing up to finish getting ready.

The rest of the event was pure torture. For you, at least. You watched as others stared at him eagerly and felt your first twinge of jealousy over a boy you just started dating. Sipping the cocktail, you watched as he ended his conversation and walked towards you, ceasing the cocktail from your hands. “I don’t need my baby getting drunk in front of all these people.” He replied to your complaints. Instantly, your jealously melted away as you fought a smile from appearing on your face. You felt his hand leave your back and moved to your hand, drawing circles with his finger. He patted it twice and pulled you out of the room, everyone’s attention on the two of you.

Pulling you into a secluded spot, he peppered kisses all over your face, dodging your lips. You pulled a face. "Why are you pouting?" He teased, a grin lighting up his face again. "You haven't initiated the first step of dating." Confusion flooded his features. You brought your hand to his neck, and pulled him done, his lips meeting yours. "You do know you skipped all the other steps to get to this one, right?" He asked, smiling down at you. You connected your hands with his and smiled back up at him. "As long as it's with you, it doesn't matter."

✸ perm taglist (open) : @cholexc @07sleepykatz (ask or comment to be added !)

✸ taglist (open) : @riksaes @dimplewonie @itjengirl @zhounauts © en-gelic 2024.

[thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos]

Snack Pack nsfw

I have given birth

This is the longest smut I've ever written, and probably the best writing I've done yet thanks to @sophiacloud28's guidance (thank you fren <3)

Plz enjoy

Rise Leo (aged up 23-25) x reader

18+ MINORS DNI THIS IS FILTH

warnings: smut, fluff, established relationship (friendship), friends to lovers, fingering, oral (giving and receiving), choking (kinda, not really) p in v sex, aged up turts, reader is stubborn

Buzz. 

I noted the page number on my novel, setting the book down on the arm of my couch as I picked up the phone from its resting place on the small coffee table. My eyes squinted at the screen, the light jarring after reading for so long. 

Neon Leon: Movie night tonight? You bring the snacks.

I smiled at the invite and shifted the device in my hand to type out a response, but before I could, the phone buzzed again. 

Neon Leon: Besides yourself

My hand flew to my mouth to stifle a squawk as the phone slipped to the floor, the pink in my cheeks hot to the touch as my mind raced.

Did he know? No. He’s too dense. 

I huffed as I shook my head, picking the device back up from the carpet. I tried to ignore the flutter in my chest as I read the text over again. 

Besides yourself. 

I messaged him back, hands shaking. 

Y: What. 

Neon Leon: Bring those gummy bears you brought last time.

He was just trying to get a rise out of me, like always. Ass. 

Y: I’m busy. 

Neon Leon: Yeah…right. 

A few minutes went by, and I stared at the phone as he typed, then deleted his message several times. 

Neon Leon: Please? We can even watch one those bad movies you like so much

Neon Leon: I’m so bored. And wayyy more interesting than your book 

I rolled my eyes. 

He knew me so well. 

Y: Fine, jerk. I’ll be there at 8. 

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tossed my phone back on the table before going back to my novel. I could barely focus on the words on the page as my mind buzzed, now completely distracted around my friend’s smug, handsome face as I read the same paragraph over and over again.

Is he playing with me?

I had always wondered if Leo had an idea about my feelings for him; we had been friends since we were teens and my ridiculous crush had only gotten worse over the years- as much as I had tried to hide it from him. I just never wanted to admit it out loud; he would be insufferable if he knew. 

And if he didn’t feel the same, it would ruin our friendship in ways that would never recover. 

I tried to stuff those feelings deep down, where they would never see the light of day, but sometimes his teasing was so much that I couldn’t hide the blush on my face as he pushed the line, toying with me, which only encouraged him. 

That..That…little shit.

Sighing, I plopped my book on my face and let my hands fall onto the couch cushions next to me as I closed my eyes, his smug face painted in the darkness behind my lids. I could picture the curve of his shoulders, his lips tilted in that smile as he gave a snarky comment to his twin,  his eyes glancing in my direction, shining…

He’s such a jerk. 

I pried the book off my face and glanced at the clock on the bookshelf. 

6:00. 

I had two hours.

I could definitely get myself together, pick out a stunning outfit, and get down to the lair by then. 

If he wanted to tease me like this, push the envelope; two could play at that game. 

“Okay, Leo. I’ll bring the snacks.” 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

I looked at my reflection in my compact mirror, checking my makeup and hair once more before giving myself a flirty wink and slipping the small item back into my bag as I entered the lair. 

I looked good. 

The low cut shirt and jeans I had chosen were casual enough to look innocent, but perfectly highlighted my features and gave my curves that extra boost. It was the whole look together that really made it stand out from how I normally dressed around the gang.  

I flicked my hair over my shoulder as I walked in. 

That little shit was not going to know what hit him. 

As I strode past the living room, I almost didn’t register a choked noise to my left as I walked by.

I turned at the sound, spotting Donatello at the kitchen counter, coffee mug in hand.

“Oh…hey.” I offered him a small wave, my shoulders hunching as I realised how ridiculous I must look. 

He wiped the liquid from his chin and plastron, chuckling to himself. “...Hello and… good evening to you as well.” His eyes gave me a slow up and down before returning to my face, a smug look gracing his own. “Something fun planned, I take it?”

The heat shot to my face. “Ah, just a movie night. The usual.” I turned to leave. 

“Uh huh, sure” He sighed as he took a sip from the steaming mug, eyes rolling over the rim. “Well, have fun with that.” 

As my steps echoed down the hall, I could hear his muttered words follow me. 

“.. both.. delusional.” 

Leo’s door was shut, soft light shining from the frosted glass windows, and the nerves suddenly caught up with me as my hand lifted to knock on the metal. 

What if he laughs at me? He’s been with so many women, he’d never be interested. 

I shook my head, clearing it of the thoughts creeping in as I breathed out sharply. 

That wasn’t the point. I just wanted him to get a taste of his own medicine. 

My knuckles rapped loudly on the door. 

“Come iiiin.” I could hear the smile in his voice as he sing-songed a muffled welcome. I lifted the handle and slid it over the track, steeling myself for revenge as it opened. 

—-----------------------------------------

The low light from his lamp casted a soft glow on my exposed skin as I stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind me, leaning back on the metal. 

Leo laid on his bed, eyes on his phone as he sprawled out lazily, arm draped over the pillow pile arranged for movie night. He tilted his face up to me, smile slowly fading into a look of shock as his phone dropped to the floor with a soft thunk.

He was frozen in place as he stared openly, surprise coloring his features as I felt his eyes drag over my figure before settling on my face. I smirked at him and let his own signature snark roll off my tongue. 

“I wasn’t sure what snacks you meant, so I brought some different options.” I raised an eyebrow as he blinked back at me, still speechless. I lifted the bag up from my shoulder, offering it to him. 

I chuckled under my breath as I watched him lay there, unmoving, until the rustling plastic seemed to shake him back to reality as he sat up.

“Huh? Oh…yeah.” He mumbled under his breath as he lifted a hand to his snout, closing his eyes for a moment as he breathed out sharply. 

When he reopened them, he flashed me a smile; but a wary look glistened over his eyes.

“You…ah…you really got dressed up for movie night, huh?” 

I shrugged my shoulders. “I figured why not, I rarely look nice anymore.” 

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer, but the guarded look didn’t leave his eyes. Leo leaned over to pick up his remote, flipping it in his hands as he stood. 

“So, I was thinking we could watch Scary Movie? That’s one of your favorites, right?” He turned to the tv, flipping through the channels, and shot me an eyebrow over his shell. “And don’t worry, I’m here if you get scared, quierda.” 

I rolled my eyes at him as I sat down on his bed, tossing the bag of snacks on the floor and scooting back into his pile of pillows against the wall. “Yeah. Right. It’s not actually scary, Nardo.”

He wasn’t going to get to me, I thought to myself. Not this time. 

Even if he was being really thoughtful right now. 

I watched his shoulders tense at my sarcasm as he stood at the side of the bed, flicking through the streaming channels that Donnie had hooked up to everyone’s rooms years ago. 

Finally finding it, he turned on the flick and flopped into the space next to me as he tossed the remote to his nightstand. He scooted in with a practiced ease, sliding in behind me so I could lean back against his plastron, so close and so far from each other- like we always do on movie nights. 

But this time felt different. 

I felt his chest rise and fall behind me, his breath heavy over my shoulder as the movie started on the screen. He cleared his throat softly, and I turned my head slightly to look up at him. 

“Do you need something? I can grab the snacks if you want.”

"No..ah, that’s not..” His voice trailed off as his eyes flicked down to my chest for a moment, his tongue dragging on his lip as his eyes slowly looked back up to mine. 

He cleared his throat again, and looked back to the screen.

I smirked to myself, looking back at the movie, satisfied to have finally won our little battle of wills. 

Maybe he’d think twice about teasing me again. 

As the flick played and the characters were introduced, I felt his arm move behind me, slowly lifting around the pillows as it settled gently over my shoulders. The hard shell of his chest against my back grounded me as my thoughts drifted, his breath on the shell of my ear just enough to send tingling sensations down my spine. 

I loved being this close to him, even if it broke my heart at the end of the night when I went to bed alone. The countless nights I had spent, staring into the darkness, seeing his smile float through my dreams as I fought through the tears. 

For all his flirting, he never meant any of it. 

It was just a game to him. 

A shriek from the screen jolted me back to the present, and he chuckled at me as I settled comfortably against him again. After a few minutes, I noticed a nimble finger as it started to trace slow circles on my shoulder, his eyes still glued to the screen. 

The blush crept into my face as I felt him lean in closer, breath hot against my neck. 

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" He whispers against my skin. I can feel his heart pounding behind me, the rhythm betraying his casual tone. "Like, for example, the reason why you look so…." 

My breath hitched in my throat at his words, his voice husking over my skin and causing a chill to seep through to my veins. I turned over my shoulder again to look up at him, blush on my cheeks and surprise coloring my features.

His eyes searched mine, looking for something as his fingers gripped my shoulder lightly.

“Look so what?”

He huffed behind me, looking back at the screen, not really watching the movie as his grip on my arm tightened.

 “What are you playing at, querida.” 

I bit my lip, moving a hand to his thigh as I started tracing slow, languid circles absentmindedly on his leg, my fingertips gently brushing over his grey joggers. 

“What…what do you mean, Leo?”

His leg tensed under my fingers as he swallowed hard, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"Well," he started, voice barely audible. "I mean..." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I know we’ve always been just friends, but..." Leo's voice dropped lower, huskier. "I don’t think I can take this anymore..." He trailed off, his eyes darkening as he watched my fingers swirl patterns on his clothed thigh. 

“...Leo..” I breathed his name, more like a prayer than anything else. 

Don’t say it. 

Don’t break my heart. 

"I want you." He admitted, his gaze intense as his eyes flick back up to mine. “If you want me too.” 

I paused, chewing on his question and wondering if he’s really willing to push the joke this far...or if he’s serious.

 “And if I said that I did? What..” A sultry look darkened my eyes as we stared each other down. “What would you do then, Leo?” 

My fingers searched a little higher on his thigh, and I could hear his breath hitch behind me. 

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear as his lips brushed against the skin. "If you did..." He whispered, his voice low. "I would make sure you never forget tonight." 

His hand moved to my hip, pulling me closer to him. "I've been waiting for this a long time, hermosa." He whispered, his fingers gripping lightly at the flesh of my hip as he pulled me closer to him. "I would worship every inch of you." His words are heavy with lust, dripping as they roll off his tongue. 

He released my hip and turned my head gently towards his; his lips hovering just centimeters from mine. "But only if you're finally ready to admit that you want me." 

My eyes widen at his words, gaze landing to rest on his mouth as he waits for my answer. His thumb stroked my jaw where it rested against my face, and I flicked my eyes back up to his as he stared at me. 

My heart thumps in my throat, pulse raging as I look at him. 

I can’t hide it anymore. 

“I…I want you, Leo.” 

His eyes blazed as the words rolled off my tongue, and he chuckled lowly before leaning in, closing the distance between us and capturing my lips in a heated kiss. His pout was softer than I imagined, pressing into mine with urgency and need as he cupped my face in his hand. 

He gently nipped at my bottom lip before diving in deeper, tongue intertwining with mine in a dance of soft pants and hums as his kiss overwhelmed me like a wave against the shore. 

My body hummed with the electricity of his lips against mine; his soft skin scrubbing over mine with such intensity I could feel myself shudder in his grip, each holding onto the other for dear life as passion gave way to gnawing hunger.  

His arm moved from my waist, hand groping and searching lower and lower until it rested at my inner thigh. Heat pooled in my center as he slowly traced his hand further down, lightly pressing his hand against my clothed center. I whimpered into his mouth at the pressure, my hand lifting from his leg to his face as I squirmed in his hands. 

I felt him grin against my lips as my noises reached him, his fingers moving with purposeful strokes over my clothed center, the jeans just enough of a barrier to make my head dizzy. 

Leo broke the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck, and nipped at the sensitive skin there as he spoke softly. 

“You have no idea how long I wanted to touch you like this, querida.” He murmured, heavy and slurred. His other hand moved to cup my breast, kneading it gently through my shirt. "Do you want me to keep going?" His breath is sharp against my neck; the heat everywhere and inescapable but so addictive. 

I nod against him as his fingers slipped beneath my jeans, and brushed at the bare skin above my lace underwear. He nipped at my neck as his hand slid under the fabric, and I sighed softly into his touch as he dipped into my folds, rubbing against my clit as his other hand gripped at my chest. 

“..you’re so wet, damn baby..” His voice sounded like it came from the clouds, so lost in the moment himself. 

His fingers continued to glide over the sensitive nub, teasing me a bit longer before sliding down to gently circle my entrance. I could feel the slick coat his fingers, making the erotic sounds echo as the movie continued on, completely forgotten. 

 "Y..yes...pl-please..fuck-" My hands gripped at his skin, so desperate for the pressure he was teasing me with. I could feel myself melting into his hands like putty, brain turning to mush as he explored and toyed with me.

His kiss was hot at my neck, yet cool instantly as air rasps over freshly kissed skin. He bit into my neck gently, chuckling darkly as I whimpered in his hands, more curses pouring from my lips as I trembled into his touch. 

"Such a dirty mouth," He teased as he withdrew his teeth from my flesh, his voice low as his hand shifted in my jeans. "But I think I like it." His fingers slid into me slowly, thrusting in and stretching as I panted and moaned softly in his arms. 

He kept his movements deliberate and slow as his fingers thrusted into me, and as he did he shifted his thumb to circle over my clit, swirling around the nub as he watched my face contort with pleasure from his spot behind me. 

I mewled softly as his hands brought me to new heights, finally filling the ache that had been gnawing at me for so long. I gripped his mask tails as he thrust those agile fingers into me, panting in pleasure and barely able to form a response. 

"I..h-hnnngh..L-Le-eo.."  

My eyes rolled back in my head, and I bit my lip to hold back a scream. 

A smirk snuck back onto Leo’s face as my words turned into unintelligible sounds of pleasure, my body writhing under his skillful touch. He increased his pace, his thumb pressing harder against my clit as I keened at the pressure. 

"Do you want more, preciosa?" He asked as his pout brushed against my cheek, voice dripping with confidence. "Because I can give you more." Leo nipped at my earlobe before sucking on it gently. 

My moan sounded like I was gasping for air as he licked at my ear, the sensations overwhelming as he’s everywhere on me, all at once. It felt like his hands were caressing every inch of skin, nowhere left undiscovered. He’s under my skin, in my veins, and it felt so good.  

I nodded as he let go of my ear with a swipe of his tongue, humming approvingly. His fingers thrusted harder into me, curling slightly, while his thumb continued its relentless assault on my clit.

 I can feel my body tensing, my walls clamping down around his fingers. 

His hand snaked up from my breast to my throat, briefly putting pressure there as he continued to tease my clit with his thumb, fingers curled deep inside me. 

As his hand wrapped around my throat, he leaned in, breath hot against my cheek. 

"That's right, baby, cum for me." He growled, and his tone shot a thrill through me to my core.  

He released my throat, giving me space to breathe as he watched my face contort in pleasure. I could hear him churr softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as he continued to turn me to putty in his hands. 

I turned my head to kiss him, pulling his face down to mine desperately as I came undone on his hand; the pleasure a blinding wave as it crashed over me and I moaned loudly into his mouth. 

Leo swallowed my cries of pleasure as I trembled in his arms, aftershocks of my orgasm tensing over my body as he slowly swept his thumb over my swollen clit, gently milking the last of my climax before pulling his hand out of my jeans. He brought his glistening fingers to his lips, swiping his tongue over them as he looked down at me with a cocky look on his face. 

“You okay, hermosa?”

My face flushed as I panted, eyes glazed with lust as I looked back up at him. 

What just happened.

He smiled down at me, eyeridge raised. 

“Sorry, I guess I was getting a little hungry.” 

This cocky mother-fucker. 

—--------------------------------

I blinked slowly at Leo as he licked the slick from his fingers, watching me pant against his chest as the flush left my face. 

He grinned down at me, and I turned back to the movie as I bit my lip, frustrated. 

That had just happened. What I had always hoped would happen. 

And it meant nothing to him.  

Leo. Fucking Leo. 

He won. 

Or at least, I thought he had, until I shifted against him and felt his cock pulse at my back. 

I shifted my hips again, curious to see if that was really what I had felt, and he audibly groaned at the friction, and shot a hand out to still my hips. 

“Careful, querida.” His voice was a gritted growl as he fingers dug into my skin, and I knew in that moment I had the upper hand again. 

I turned slightly, looking up at him through my lashes demurely and feigning innocence. 

“You okay, Leo?”

He narrowed his eyes at me, but released his death grip with a snort and looked back at the tv screen. 

When he looked away, I sat up to turn around in his lap, and slid my knees under me as I kneeled between his legs. 

His breath hitched in his throat as he stared down at me, eyes wide. 

I slid my fingers slowly up his thigh to the waistband of his joggers, a seductive smile painted on my lips as I watched him swallow hard, eyes darting to stare at my hand. 

“I guess I might want a little snack too…” I can hear my voice purr as the words rolled off my tongue, seductive and lustful. “But…if you don’t want me to…”

His eyes flicked back up to mine quickly, jaw set hard. 

“No, hermosa…trust me, I want you to…” His voice trailed off, something holding him back. “I just…ah..”

My eyes took on a mischievous glint as my fingertips slid just over the waistband of his pants. He breathed in sharply, eyes darting back to my hand before flicking up to my face. 

Why was he being so cautious? It’s not like he’s never done this before.

“Then sit back, Leon. Relax.”

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, but the caution still in his eyes as he leaned back against the pillows behind him. 

As he relaxed a little, I slid my hands to the waistband and tugged gently. He lifted his hips slightly, helping me pull off the grey joggers, revealing his hard, throbbing length as it laid on his plastron. 

I couldn’t hide my surprise at his size as I brushed a fingertip over his length, ripping a shudder from him. 

“Well, I can see why your ego’s so the size of Wall Street.” I can’t help the chuckle that left my lips as I gripped his length in my hand gently, his cock twitching in my palm as he groaned softly at the pressure.

I took his length in my hands as I gave him a sultry look, my eyes locking with his as I leaned down and placed a feather light kiss to the tip of his cock.

I steeled my resolve to get him back for moments earlier; he was going to be putty in my hands by the time I was done with him. 

 "You're bigger than I imagined."

I could hear his breath hitch as my tongue slid out, swirling over the tip before I gave his length another pump with my hand. He tensed as I took him in my mouth, tongue swirling as I bobbed my head down as far as I could go, coming back up for air with a popping sound. 

"F-f..fuck…you...you can take y-your time.., preciosa." He drawled, words slurred as his gaze was glued to my mouth.

I placed another feather light kiss at the head of his cock, holding back a grin as he whimpered in my hands. 

Who’s winning now, Leon. 

I could hear and feel him groan as I wrapped my mouth around him, my tongue teasing as I swirled and licked at him. His voice was strained as my head bobbed up and down, my mouth warm, wet, and ringing the most delicious sounds from him as I dragged my tongue up his length. 

He threaded his fingers through my hair, guiding my movements slightly as he thrusted shallowly into my mouth, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

It was a pretty picture, seeing him like this. 

"Does it feel good, Leon?" I asked as I paused briefly over him, eyebrow raised in a mischievous smile.

I didn’t give him time to answer, as I took his length as deep as I could down my throat. I felt his legs tense as I held him there, fighting the gag, and he groaned loudly, his grip on my hair tightening as the heat slid over him. 

I came off of him with a popping sound, and wiped at the line of spit from my lips as I looked at him and pumped my hand on his length, and repeated what he said to me earlier. 

"Do you want more, Leo?" My eyes took on a sultry look as I leaned down and slid my tongue up and down his length again. "Cause I can give you more."

His eyes narrowed as he watched me take him into my mouth again, his hips bucking slightly as my tongue swirled around him. His hands tightened in my hair, guiding my movements faster, deeper. He groaned, the sound almost a low growl. 

"Fuck…hnng-." 

He pulled me off of him for a moment by my hair, panting heavily as he looked down at me, eyes dark and blown wide with lust.

 "Not yet," He huffed, chest heaving as he tried to calm himself down. "I want to see you cum for me again."

 He pulled me to him, capturing my lips in a searing kiss, his tongue tangling with mine as he guided me to lay down on my back. The sudden gentleness brought a flutter to my chest, as his hand tenderly laid my head down on his pillows. He leaned over me, fingers gripping my shirt, as he deepened the kiss and painted his tongue inside my mouth. 

With a swift move, he lifted my shirt over my head, revealing my breasts nestled in my lace bra before him. I gasped at the movement, but the look in his eyes settled any shock I felt. 

He stared down at me, gaze hungry as he snaked a hand to my back, undoing the clasp quickly with one hand. The offensive fabric was flung somewhere across the room as Leo's gaze lingered on my bare chest, taking in the sight, the dusky rose of my nipples hardening in the cool air of his room. 

He leaned down, as if drawn to me, capturing one between his teeth and giving it a gentle tug, and a choked whimper ripped from my throat at the sensation. 

A hand slid down my stomach, tracing the curve of my waist until he reached the button of my jeans. With a flick of his wrist he undid it, and then slowly dragged the fabric down my legs, revealing the lacy lingerie I had worn for confidence. I could feel a low rumble from his chest vibrate through me. 

 "Fuck, you're beautiful," He whispered, his words syrupy as he trailed kisses along my chest, nipping lightly before moving to lavish attention on my other breast.

His fingers dipped under the lace, teasing at the wetness there before slipping inside my panties again and finding my nub, circling it lazily as he continued to swipe his tongue at my breast. I panted his name softly, mewling as he toyed with me. 

I gasped against him as he licked more deliberately at my breasts, but didn’t linger long, his face leaving my chest as he moved down my body, his hands slowly started to pull my lace panties down my legs.

Leo smirked up at me when he noticed that I had shaved. 

"Planning something, were we?" He raised a brow ridge at me, a chuckle on his lips as he settled back between my legs, underwear discarded. I blushed as he kissed the inside of my thigh, bodies now completely bare before each other. 

"I..I mean..I just wanted...I-I wanted to be prepared in case..."

His eyes sparkled with amusement as the blush swept over my face and chest, embarrassment coloring my features. 

"In case what, hermosa?" He teased, his breath tickling the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh as he moved his face closer to my center. "In case you got to have your way with me?" 

He chuckled softly, leaning in to place a feather-light kiss right above my clit, making me squirm as I cried out at the sensation.

"Don’t be embarrassed, quierda," He chided, his voice dropping an octave as he flicked his tongue out swipe at my center. "I'm just glad you finally got over yourself." 

His hands slid under my thighs, spreading my legs wider before him. 

I tried to ask him what he meant, but his tongue on my core stopped any thought I had. 

I mewled as it slid in between my folds, licking at my clit and swirling against the sensitive nub. My hips jolted, and his grip tightened around me as he continued to tease me with his flexible tongue. 

"No moving, preciosa." He murmured, breath sending shivers up my spine as it husked over my clit.

I gripped the sheets over my head as I trembled in his hold. 

Holy shit. 

He started to lap faster at my clit, more insistent; his fingers gripped my thighs tightly as he flicked and swirled his tongue at my center. He looked up at me through his mask, watching my face contort with pleasure as my breath came in short pants and huffs. 

"That's it, hermosa," He panted encouragingly against my wet heat. "Let go for me, baby." He pressed two fingers inside me, curling it just right, hitting my G-spot as he continued to lick and suck at the swollen, sensitive nub. 

"..hnngh...f-fuck...L-Leo-oo.."

I panted his name as his fingers fucked into me, the sensations overwhelming and turning my brain to mush again. His tongue kept the pace at my clit, building at the pressure as it crested inside me. 

In seconds I was moaning his name loudly, trying not to scream, as his fingers pumped into me and I came apart in his hands. 

Again. 

His tongue kept swiping at my center as I rode out the waves of pleasure, twitching, until he slowly withdrew his hand and leaned back, looking down at me with a satisfied smirk and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"I told you I could make you feel good, preciosa." His tone cocky as he licked his lips clean of my arousal. "And that was just the appetizer." He stood up, towering over me from the foot of the bed, his hard cock bouncing against his plastron at the movement as he watched my breathing return to normal. 

"Ready for the main course?" 

A fucked out look glazed over my eyes as I gazed up at him, a vision of sex appeal towering over me.

I bit my lip.  "You’re such a cocky asshole, you know that?" 

He smiled as he crawled over me, legs slotting between mine as he took me in his arms and kissed me deeply, sweetly, as our tongues danced languidly. 

He broke the kiss briefly as he rested his forehead on mine.  “You love it.” 

I giggled in his arms, nodding, and his lips crashed back into mine, mouths and tongues meeting and parting like waves as I’m swept out to sea under him; where I’ve always wanted to be. Leo groaned into the kiss, his cock twitching against my body as his hips ground into mine, both of us desperate for each other.

He broke away for a moment to look into my eyes, his own filled with something warm and bubbling as he takes in the flush on my face, the way my chest heaves against his. 

He leaned down, nuzzling into my neck, nipping at the skin gently, ripping a shiver straight to my core as he whispered hotly in my ear.

“Have I told you how much hearing you moan my name turns me on?" 

He reached down between us, aligning his cock with my entrance, and slowly pushed his length in.

A strangled wail flew from my lips as he sheathed himself fully inside me with one fluid motion, filling me so completely that I had no conscious thought left in my mind but him. 

He started to move, setting a slow pace at first, but soon picked up speed, his hips snapping against mine as each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through us both, the sounds of skin slapping against shell drowning out the movie on his small tv.  

He panted next to me, voice ragged as he thrusted into me. His hands rested at either side of my head, so all I could see was Leo, Leo, Leo. 

I breathed his name like it was holding me to this world as he fucked me into his bed, my nails clawing at his shoulders as my eyes rolled back in pleasure. He was so deep inside me; I felt so full, like he was in the back of my throat with every thrust. 

"Fuck, you feel so good baby. Just like I thought you would-" He grunted, thrusting harder as the bed rocked underneath us. 

I could hear myself moaning and panting into his shoulder, but all I could feel was his thick cock thrusting into me, fucking my brains out.

"I...hnnngh….”  I tried to answer him, but couldn’t manage words. 

As he picked up speed again, shifting his hips for a different angle, he rammed harder into me as I gasped into the skin of his arm. I could feel the pressure building, felt another orgasm close as he continued hitting against that spongy spot deep inside.  

"That's it, quierda. Let go for me," he encouraged, huffing into my ear as his voice strained with his own efforts. I could feel his legs tense against mine, and wondered if he was close too. 

The pressure released like a flood, fast and wild, blinding heat taking over as I started to come apart once more, my body convulsing around him as I came on his cock as his hips bucked roughly into me. I screamed his name, voice shattered and strained like broken glass. 

He followed me over the edge, his own release exploding from him in a torrent of ecstasy. He buried his face in my neck, biting down as I felt the heat seep into my veins, melting into me in a thick, syrupy feeling of need. 

When he finally pulled out, he collapsed beside me, panting heavily. Leo wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close as he tried to catch his breath. The room was spinning, and I felt like I was vibrating into his embrace.

"I can’t believe we’ve missed out on that for years," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. 

I chuckled with him, but the sound grew quiet as my smile started to fade, as I realised what this might mean. 

What this might end. 

I can’t lose him. 

I lifted my head back, turning so I could look him in the eyes. 

“...Leo?”

His gaze was drowsy as he looked down at me, a blissful look still smeared on his face as he propped his head up with an arm. 

“Hmm?” 

I almost don’t want to ask him. 

But I have to. 

“...Are…are we…do you..” My breath caught in my throat as I chewed on my words, eyes darting down to a scar on his plastron. “...are you going to act like this never happened tomorrow?”

I saw his chest heave as he froze in place on the bed, arms tensing around me as the silence grew deafening between us. 

I closed my eyes, the weight settling on my chest as I came to terms with the quiet. I moved from his arms, and turned to get up from the bed before his hand shot out to stop me. 

“No. Not ever. I..” His voice was shaky as I turned back to look at him, and he took me in his arms in one quick motion, wrapping me completely into his embrace and pulling me down into his lap. “..I..want this, whatever this is..with you.”

He’s messing with me.

He didn’t mean it. 

I choked back the lump in my throat. “Do you mean it, Leo.”

He looked down at me, eyes misty, and cupped my face gently in his hands as he pulled me in for a soft kiss. 

His lips anchored me to him as the ache in my heart threatened to pull me out from shore, the everything that I had ever dreamed now right here at my fingertips, pouring his love into each sweet kiss at my lips. 

He pulled back to hold my face in his hands. 

“I’ve wanted this since I was a teenager in love with you.” His thumb brushed over my cheek. “You were just too stubborn to admit it, and I didn’t want to lose our friendship.” 

The tears rolled down my face now, fat and wet as he pulled me into his chest, laying us both back down onto the pillow pile as his arms tightened around my trembling body. 

“Yeah…” I sniffled. “I guess I was a little stubborn about my feelings.” 

Leo chuckled, his laugh echoing around the small room. “Who knew that all it would take was a lame pick up line.” 

I pinched his leg, earning a yelp. 

“Watch it.”

tags: @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @zombiesnips-blog @4evrdreamin5

let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

[bogbees]

instead I'll write up the Kakashi perspective on Iruka's lonely existence ✨✌️

Kakashi had politely ignored Naruto falling into step besides him. Just a glance at the boy, and he had known there was something on his mind, as he wore a very contemplative look on his face, eyes and mouth scrunched up, his arms folded across his chest, humming in thought.

Naruto definitely had a question for him. And who was he really, to avoid answering whatever it was until he knew exactly what it was.

But, the boy ended up following him home, and it wasn't until they were on Kakashi's doorstep until he opened his mouth with a. rather strange question, "hey, can I look at your apartment?"

To which Kakashi had paused, utterly bewildered by it. Team seven had come by a couple times, so Naruto surely knew what his apartment looked like; like every other jounin apartment in the jounin barracks.

"Any particular reason for wanting to see it?"

"Recon." Naruto nods his head confidently.

Huh. Alright. He opens his door for Naruto's entry. Might as well see where this is going.

Naruto doesn't really move from the genkan, just studies the room from where he stands. Which, makes sense, it's a studio apartment; the only thing not visible is the small cramped bathroom with the barely enough room to stand and piss toliet and the sectioned off pathetic box of a bathtub. He'd probably be better off bathing outside in a barrel. Or an oil drum. He hoped he'd never had Iruka over, he'd be ashamed of never meeting the man's standards for a good bath.

So, he's not entirely sure what Naruto's looking for here. There's not much really to gather. A few posters, wall hangings, the bookshelf with all his books neatly put inside, his bed with the shiruken print comforter. The few personal trinkets scattered across his windowsill behind his bed's headboard. The plant struggling to thrive with Kakashi's weird schedule.

Naruto turns to leave after a moment, "kay, thanks Kakashi-sensei!"

Kakashi furrows his brow. "What did you get from your recon mission?" He may as well turn his own curiosity of the situation into a learning experience for Naruto.

The boy shifts his weight, humming, "well," he starts, debating if he should actually tell. But then Naruto turns to look up at him, and Kakashi is briefly startled by how much worry is written on his face, "it's about Iruka-sensei."

Kakashi's not sure he can keep the shock from his own voice, keep the look of surprise off his face, "Iruka-sensei?"

"Yeah, Iruka-sensei. He's... his room..."

"What about his room?" Kakashi asks, not quite understanding. Surely Iruka's living space had more stuff in it than Kakashi's did. The man was pretty much village bound, he had more time to collect things, more reason to decorate his surroundings if he had to be there all the time. Kakashi imagines he'd indulge in that behaviour, at least get a better couch. Maybe one of those new PS2 consoles to play that Icha Icha video game coming out.

"It's pretty empty," Naruto says.

That doesn't sound correct, Kakashi thinks.

"I checked, with Sakura-chan's house, and Sasuke's apartment, and hell my own. But, well, that's Sakura-chan, she has a house with a family, and Sasuke and me are orphans too, but the village gave us our stuff. So it's not really... and then I remembered you, you're kinda like him! Old. So, I figured you'd be the best to gauge it."

Kakashi feels more confused now. "Iruka-sensei's apartment is empty?" He flippantly gestures to his room, which really, was probably less filled than the average jounin, and definitely more empty compared to the average chunin or matured genin's.

Naruto nods assuredly, "yeah, nothing on the walls, weird echo, everything's plain. He doesn't even really have any groceries."

Kakashi furrows his brows. That didn't sound right. Iruka was by far the most... surely... Wouldn't his home be a reflection of him? Warm, bright, homely, welcoming.

Naruto shouts goodbye and Kakashi remains posted in the genkan, considering, thinking, wondering.

Kakashi isn't entirely proud of himself for stalking Umino Iruka's movements around the village. But well. Naruto had planted a seed of intrigue in his brain, and like any good hound, he had to sniff it out, find the source. Satisfy his cravings.

And for all the time he's heard his fellow shinobi mock their village bound comrades, the ones teaching or keeping up the bureaucracy of the tower, stuck behind desks, Kakashi always figured those shinobi would enjoy being home.

But. Iruka seems to leave early every morning and rerurn home late in the evening. He hardly ever seems to spend time under the roof he calls home.

He's always outside it, inside the village.

He seems to enjoy home, in the sense of the village being home. But not...

He's at the academy in the mornings, the tower in the afternoons, running around the archives or T&I, in the evenings. Sometimes he's just wandering the streets seemingly aimlessly. He's always stopped for a conversation, everyone seems to know him, smiling wide upon his arrival. Sometimes he'd sit on a bench in the park and just people watch for hours on end.

Especially on weekends or his days off.

Kakashi didn't really know what to make of it. He himself enjoyed spending time in the village a much as the next shinobi, but he also enjoyed doing nothing in his room.

He was starting to get a feeling there was something Iruka didn't like about his apartment. And he wanted to figure out what it was. It'd probably be exciting to finally understand what all this was about. Get a peek into Iruka's person, snoop around for his interests, check out the books he read, maybe he collected VHS tapes instead. Figure out the brand of tea he enjoyed the most.

So one morning after Iruka went to work, Kakashi took meticulous care to undo his stupidly intricate and complicated wards, and nearly two and a half hours later, he was in.

He doesn't enjoy it one bit.

Bare white walls, a layer of dust, a strange uncomfortable echo, no signs of personality, no signs of anyone ever living here beyond the crease in the simple white bedsheets. He spies a picture frame hanging by the bedframe, but it's still got the example image inside it. The eerie feeling of standing in a graveyard overcomes him as he stands in the middle of it all. Of the nothing.

He doesn't enjoy it one bit.

He hears a noise, turns and finds Iruka in the doorway, staring at him, all shadowy and not looking like a person with the bright light of day illuminating the space behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Iruka asks, confusion evident in his voice.

"Building management assignment. Surveying for structural damage."

Iruka's eyebrows furrow not believing him for a second.

"I'll be going now," he nods, his fingers halfway through the signs for a teleportation jutsu by the time he finishes speaking. He barely catches the hard look on Iruka's face before he finds himself standing on the roof of his own building, the ceramic tiles quietly clattering beneath his feet, proof of his existence.

It hits him. There's no proof of Umino Iruka existing. Not beyond his interactions with the village. He has nothing in his apartment that tells anyone he's alive.

And Kakashi remembers watching him sitting on a park bench, smile on his face, clearly loving the life around him.

[thisuserislilsilly]

Summary: In the last church standing on a distant Imperial world, Neran ponders on the truth of the Imperial belief

Pairing: None

Genre: Drama/Angst

TW: Pretentious mf (that's me :D) attempting to write some philosophical debate, gore, violence, blood and a shameless attempt to do a similar thing to the glorious short story "The Last Church"

Goblin tag squad: @cardinalcanis @finchly-tintinnabulation @artemisareia

@echo-of-damnation @meervalv0 @druidwolf21

@jaghatai-khock @platinummice

Insight and discussion of the topic helped by: @echo-of-damnation (thanks bro)

The faith of a man, the faith of all humanity

Caspiel smiled as he closed off the book he was reading, fondly caressing it's decorated exterior as it stood up from the old wooden chair and walked the little distance between his resting place and the bookshelf in which he had taken the old book from; it fit right into the space in which it belonged and, too, made some of the dust accumulated on the shelf spread everywhere like a swarm of tiny locust abandoning it's nest. Nodding solemnly, the scholar of the Ecclesiarchy sighed as he returned to his chair scratching his chin pondering in what did the Emperor wanted him to learn or reflect upon reading those passages from a long dead Saint that had written His will on those pages.

Finding himself on that position, the man did not heard the footsteps approaching the empty church, nor the knocking on it's front door announcing the arrival of a guest or a pilgrim unto that "holy" place of worship. It wasn't until the third time the stranger repeated the motion for Caspiel to turn his focus again on the physical space he was in, rushing to open the door and see who could be disturbing him at those hours.

The stranger took slow and heavy steps inside, closing the door behind him as his tired bare feet dragged themselves on the grandiose structure in front of him; despite of his tremendous height he looked up to the adorned ceiling and the decorated walls, even a creature such as him felt small in that place, he felt his heart heavy not just because of the travel there but for what he had to do now as well. Caspiel took all of this just by having a quick glance at the giant, but soon he ignored the big bulky ragged man and went on to accommodate another chair beside his on the lone table at the corner of the church; if the stranger wanted to join him he was more welcome to do so, but being a mutant (most likely) stripped the man from the honor of being offered such treatment by the Pontifex.

"I am coming, I'm coming! Please do not fret, I'm here!" His warm, high pitched voice rang out in the halls of the church as the man peeked through the door "Yes?"

"My deepest apologies for the intrusion, but may I speak with the priest?" The tall stranger wore a simple robe that covered everything but his face

"Hmph, the Pontifex, you mean?" Caspiel huffed, weary of the common population confusing his title for that of the Old Religion "I'm here, my child, what is it?"

"I have come far, my only wish was to rest and speak of the Truth, if you could instruct me"

"I can and I shall, welcome to the church of our beloved Emperor" Caspiel made a little bow and fully opened the door

As the giant stood there like a fool, the holy man went on to take a cup from the cellar next to the church, a small structure only entered by a passageway that the ecclesiarch had the key to open and know which fake wall was it the indicated, a small aside room in which wine and other delicacies were stored for celebrations, holy ceremonies or, as it was the case now, the welcoming of pilgrims to restore their strengths and give them some time to mingle and learn of the Imperial Truth. With deliberate steps, the stranger walked over to the table and stared at it, then looked back at Caspiel who was now exiting the cellar.

The two men took a seat and for the next few minutes Neran attempted to articulate as best as his clear lack of social skills could the reasons why he was there in the first place. He recounted how his pilgrimage had started many years ago, in a world long gone by now, taken by Xenos forces, and that his only goal had been to pledge himself into a quest to find another great church of the Imperium and worship the Emperor in gratitude for having saved him and his family from the devastation of said planet, He knew where he was going, but he did not know how to express himself before the Emperor and was longing for some teacher to instruct him in the best possible manners in which to address the God-Emperor of Mankind.

"I have never seen such beauty in any kind of structure before" The stranger smile seemed forced, but a genuine attempt at socializing

"Then, I am afraid, your pilgrimage has taken you too far away from the light to pass through any church" Caspiel made a loud chuckle "This is not, by far, the most impressive chapel built to our Lord even in this sector!"

"Is that so, Pontifex? If I may ask, where should I find it?" The stranger tilted his head

"You expect me to start babbling on without knowing even your name? Heh, first there are introductions, then there is the knowledge"

"Once again, I have been away far too long to even remember human's customs....my name is Neran" The giant went to offer his hand

"Pontifex Caspiel Sera, humble servant of our Imperial Emperor and in charge of this planet's churches"

"I am pleased to meet you" Neran replied, gazing into the man's eyes "Could you help me?"

"I can, if your heart is willing" Caspiel pointed to the two chairs "Please, take a seat"

"I think my weight may damage it" Neran said truthfully, innocently

"Oh!" Caspiel laughed soothingly "If it does I do not care, we will be able to fix it later"

Without being able to protest, Neran took off his robes and gave it to the ecclesiarch, his pale snowy white skin seemed to glow under the candlelight but he did not seem to care, nor took any interest in how "cold" he was, telling Caspiel they did not have time for any of that, yet the faithful man insisted. He returned with the largest hoods he could find on the entire church, excusing himself for not having the exact size of Neran figure but ultimately having to conform with what they had. On that note, Caspiel took a better look at the semblance of the pilgrim, feeling shivers run down his spine once he saw the empty blackness that were the eyes of Neran, the only light on them was the reflection of the candles and nothing else, a mutant, definitely a mutant.

"A laudable reason for coming such a long way, dear Neran" Caspiel nodded as he placed a hand on his chin, pensive

"It is as much as I can explain" Neran looked to his feet

"No need for feeling shameful about it, you haven't been the first pilgrim to come here, nor your story is the most extraordinary of them all"

"How come? My planet was destroyed, my height is far larger than yours....yet you've seen stranger situations?" Neran lifted his head, hopeful

"The Emperor treats all his children equally, even if they come from a large pool of scenarios" Caspiel took a sip from his beverage "Just in this last century I had to watch as a whole company of guardsmen entered this very church and used it as a temporal infirmary; the bones popped out of their joints, blood pooled from their severed limbs, some had lost their sight and hearing yet there they were, cheerfully singing praises to the Emperor and me for having saved them!"

"Surely, they were clinging on to life because of the medical treatments given to them" Neran pointed out

"Oh no, no, no!" Caspiel shook his head "It was their faith in the Emperor, they knew He was going to save us"

"Yet they died, all the same" Neran blankly pointed out

"Is one way of looking at it, dear boy. But the other, hopeful, insight is that they were taken to His wings after their souls stopped being in here with us, they went to a better place by His side"

"I do not comprehend that" Neran furrowed his eyebrows "I was told, even scolded, that we do not have a soul, that there is no place where we go to or that we keep living after...this time on the galaxy that surround us"

"Then surely whoever told you that was dearly mistaken!" Caspiel slapped his knee, some of his beverage spilled itself unto the wooden table "We go back to His grace when we die, we enjoy of the most exquisite of peace and calmness our hearts can imagine; our duty to Him is done, so we rejoice in this thought" The Pontifex took one of Neran hands "By the Golden Throne, you're so cold! Here, let me have your rags, I will give you proper clothes"

"How could you be so sure of this? Of the fact there is something to enjoy in the, supposedly, other side we all go to when we die?" Neran seemed to remember exactly the point of the conversation where they had left it before the interruption

"Because it is the confirmation we all have a purpose, son. Because in this we understand the set duty He has tasked us with has an ending, has a reward at the end of all the strife and sorrow"

"You talk of these things as if they were inherently bad" Neran pointed out "Strife let's us overcome our passions, our flaws that we have to fix or otherwise the struggle would go on forever. If we did not had strife, inner fights, then we would never be the better version of ourselves. If sorrow is absent from our lives we grow cold, not to ourselves but to the pain of others, to the suffering of those in need and we lose our...purpose as you call it"

"But it is what ills our existence. We have fights because life is a constant battle against the threats that surrounds the Imperium, that want to see humanity die and suffocate. We have to stop that, or the cycle will see death for our children and our children's children" Caspiel leaned forward, seeing Neran words as a challenge "Sorrow comes from our happiness being taken from us, no human that has known it has been able to enjoy life as they did before knowing this cursed emotion"

"Yet after we know it, we can understand better what people meant for us" Neran paused, closing his eyes "Moret, one of my children, meant so much to me as he taught me with his acts and few words the meaning of being a Father, of taking care and raising another being and seeing them flourish; but I did not realize this until I held his lifeless body in my arms"

"I am sorry to hear your loss, Neran, but before he had passed away you HAD his company, you enjoyed the moments you had with him; now that he's gone you are never going to be able to be with him again...until you two reunite in the Emperor" Caspiel sighed

"How will I know it is him? How will I know I am in the presence of the Emperor and of my son?"

"I cannot tell you, only His word can" The Pontifex pointed out to one book that occupied it's own personal shelf, the Lectitio Divinitatus

At the sight of the book, Neran whole body language changed; he tensed up, showing his white perfect teeth and stood up, growling like a beast approaching the book, he took it and passed a hand through it's pages, each passage filled his heart with more fury, with more rage. Caspiel stood up and slowly walked to be at the man side, watching that the book didn't suffer damages and that it was handled as respectful as possible.

Neran huffed and grunted, mumbling something to himself that the Pontifex wasn't able to catch.

Neran opened his eyes widely; he understood now what drove that man to. do such a thing. It was his faith, his will to believe there was some grand power that could take the reigns of the situation instead of him, a being that could respond for him and because of his blind belief on them. There was no need to use logic, nor there was any kind of doubt that all of what was needed of him was to stand firm on his creed for the rest to solve itself. Instead of facing Neran, all of what Caspiel needed to win over whatever the pilgrim threw at him was to believe in the Emperor.

"This....this book is the reason all of this...all of it! It is the seed of Mankind fall! This is the reason we have rejected progress, spilled thousands upon thousands and trillions more of blood, our own blood, in the very same planets that have seen the birth of our species!" Neran took it with both hands and slammed it into the ground, Caspiel screeched as it kneeled beside of it "It is blasphemy, the worst kind of it! Written by a snake, a liar, a deceiver, a pawn of Their grand games! Taunting us, laughing at our very own incompetence!" Neran looked to the sky, his voice echoing in the church

"Have you gone mad?!?!?!" Caspiel looked up at Neran with a horrified expression "This is the very sacred texts the Imperial Truth was built upon! Centuries! Centuries of our faith carrying us through the worst darkest times of Mankind, of the confusion in the face of adversity, the pinnacle of our faith in Him at the sight of the heretic! Have you got no respect for the Holy Scriptures of our Lord?!?!"

"I have no pity for the reason we have stopped ourselves from learning of our ancestors, of progress, of advancing upon the technologies and the knowledge of those who came before us! You stand there and tell me we have rejected Artificial Intelligence, Blanks, Navigators and the very knowledge of the Warp because it is what the Emperor wanted?!?!" Neran voice bellowed, shaking the walls and breaking the stained glass surrounding them

"Has a Daemon possessed you?!?! Are you an apparition designed to test my faith?" Caspiel stood up, his knees all wobbly, holding his Imperial Aquila up high "You shall not break me!"

Believe just like he had done millennia ago to receive nothing in return, all of what Lorgar had done until that belief destroyed him. A change on his brothers, the reason for His family to fall apart and break, all because of faith in one man that thought himself above the stars, above everything. By the stars, now Neran understood the reason a Necron overlord had called him "Fool" all those centuries go, when they first clashed their armies against one another.

Caspiel crawled backwards to a display of "Holy armaments" located at one of the altars of the church; there he broke the protective glass in which they were held in and with a trembling hand raised the blessed bolter of the Saints and shot three times to the chest of Neran. The giant swayed from side to side, staring into the eyes of the ecclesiarch as his clothes began to fill with blood, but no groan nor pain came out of Neran lips; Caspiel, shaken to his very core, shot him again, yelling prayers and litanies of hatred against the heretic with many of the bolter rounds landing right on the head of the giant; shots that otherwise would've killed a baseline human being no matter how strong or imposing they could be.

"I could had never prevented this...Oh Father...I could had never loved you, nor you could had loved me" Neran felt his chest heavy, falling to his knees. He was having emotions, and he despised that

"Vade retro Daemon; I, Caspiel Sera, proud believer in Our God-Emperor, vanish you to the hells in which you came from" The Pontifex repeated in shock over and over again

"Is this your victory Father? Is this why have you died for...sacrificed so much for? Brainless puppets willingly throwing away all of what could save us from ourselves?" Neran looked up to a painting depicting the Emperor on the Great Crusade

The Pontifex screams became wailing of pure raw terror as Neran took a step forward and then another, chunks of his brain matter fell to the floor as blood poured down his head; he seemed relentless, resembling a Daemon possessed human from the books Caspiel himself had read a thousand times on the span of his life. As a last resort the faithful man threw the gun at the giant and held his Aquila up high once again, thinking this time it would work just like last time.

The doors of the church opened once again, this time by the sheer force of a massive hit given by an Astartes; it had no insignia, his armor was grey and there were no distinctive marks or badges that could distinct his Chapter or Legion of origin. For a hopeful moment, Caspiel thought it had come for him, to get rid of that abomination in front of the Pontifex, but his jaw dropped and his skin paled as he gazed into the flamer the Marine carried in his arms. Only then did Caspiel understood what awaited him and the chapel.

"Humanity does not need you Caspiel, it never needed you or any of your brothers and sisters" Neran voice was a weak whisper in the wind

"In the Emperor's name, die!!!!" Caspiel yelled once again, for his final time.

"Molochar" Neran whispered and turned his head to face the Astartes "Burn everything, no ashes shall remain of this place"

The Marine nodded and without emitting even a singular sound, he lifted the flamer and all of the stained glass, beautiful paintings, lustrous carpets, painstakingly crafted regalia, renowned armory and sacred texts burned all the same; the smoke raised to the ceiling faster than the flames that too were about to devour everything Neran gaze noticed when he first saw all the splendor.

Caspiel cried, lifting his hands up to the sky as he watched his life's work and countless other contributions to that church reduced to ashes that would spread once the wind blew on them. He screamed in incomprehensible words and curses to the one that had made this; his mind not yet grasping the magnitude of what it all meant. From the doorframe, watching the destruction coming down unto the Imperial Truth believer, Neran spoke over his work.

"I am Neran Solticence, we are the Painless Mutes and this...this is humanity's future"

[arwenlalaith]

Dating App Mishaps (Ch. 18)

Ship: Alex Blake/Reader

Summary: Alex didn't have Tinder by choice...but that doesn't mean it isn't going to come in handy.

Word Count: 1057

"To new beginnings," Emily proclaimed, then clinked her wine glass against Alex's, before taking a hearty sip.

"New beginnings?" Alex asked quizzically.

Emily shot her a pointed look, nodded toward the framed photograph featuring you and Alex together – one of the rare G-rated pictures taken during your time together – on the nearest bookshelf. "That's a new addition," she added needlessly, seeing as it hadn't been there the last time Emily had been in the apartment for their usual post-case decompression.

"Oh. Right," Alex said with a little laugh. "To new beginnings." In truth, she hadn't really thought of it as being new (or a beginning, for that matter). Things with you were different, to be sure, but different in a way that felt intimate and familiar.

Intrigued by the almost flippant remark, Emily raised a brow, studying her for several long moments. "So, it's going well with Y/N, now that the two of you have stopped pining for each other like hapless idiots in love?"

"Hapless idiots is a bit of a stretch," Alex said with a roll of her eyes. Emily just gave a snort of amusement as she took another sip of wine. Choosing to ignore that, Alex said, "Things are going well. It's...different now that we're – shall we say – serious."

"Different how?"

Alex chewed her lip a moment, deciding how best to explain it. Finally, she blurted out, "I'm afraid she's going to get bored of me!"

She half expected Emily to burst out laughing at that (which would have been fair), but instead she nodded sagely. "Do you want my advice?"

She was surprised to find that she was, in fact, interested in hearing what Emily had to say... "Sure, why not?" she said with a little shrug, anticipating more than a little teasing.

"I've had, shall we say, dalliances of this ilk before..." At Alex's pointed look, she held up her hands in self-defence and said, "What? It can't be that surprising..."

Alex gave a snort of amusement, which Emily chose to ignore.

"The trick, I think, is the same as with any relationship... You have to keep things interesting," she said with a little shrug. "It's not rocket science."

With a quirked brow, Alex replied with a cheeky, "Just chemistry?"

"Smart ass," Emily muttered with a roll of her eyes, though there was no heat behind it. Before Alex could reply with an equally smart aleck-y remark, her phone buzzed on the coffee table, your name flashing across the screen. "Speak of the Devil..." Emily said with a wicked smirk.

Alex raised a brow at the expression on Emily's face. "Dare I ask what's going on in that twisted mind of yours?"

Emily made a dramatic show of sipping her wine, all the while looking like she was plotting great mischief. "Tell her to come over..."

____________

When you arrived at Alex's door, you glanced down the hall – first one way, then the other – making sure that no one was watching. Then, you unbuttoned the long coat you wore over the bright pink bra and panty set you wore. You pulled the little compact mirror out of your purse, glanced at your reflection to check your lipstick, tousle your hair.

Finally, striking a pose leaning against the doorframe, you rang the doorbell.

When the door swung open, however, it wasn't Alex on the other side, but Emily... "Well, well, well..." she purred upon catching sight of you, letting her eyes rake over your body, "Isn't this a surprise?"

For a few moments, you stammered in surprise, struggling to form a response...until you heard Alex laughing in the background. "I told you she'd come running," she said, approaching you as Emily dragged you inside.

"What, umm... What's..." you continued to stumble over your words as your mind struggled to catch up to the situation.

Rather than answer that half-question, though, Alex said, "You remember Emily from that night at the club?" It was a rhetorical question, but you nodded anyway. "Well, Emily doesn't believe me when I tell her you're a good little girl for Daddy," she continued.

You swallowed thickly, not entirely certain what situation you'd arrived into, but you nodded anyway.

She leaned in until her lips where ghosting over yours. "We can't have rumour getting out that you're anything other than perfectly obedient, can we?"

"No, Daddy," you said, barely breathing, but never breaking eye contact.

"So, you'll behave yourself?"

You nodded.

"That's my girl," she cooed, then stole a teasing kiss. She pulled away abruptly, circled behind you to pull your coat off your shoulders, then smacked your ass. "Assume the position," she demanded, indicating where Emily was sat in one of the armchairs, patiently waiting.

You glanced at Alex over your shoulder, as if seeking out confirmation.

"I'm waiting..." Emily drawled, rolling her sleeves up her forearms.

The slight note of impatience in her voice had you immediately obeying, kneeling at her feet, hands clasped behind your back as you waited for further command. When none seemed forthcoming, you asked, "How can I make you happy?"

"Did I say you could speak?" she snapped, smacking your cheek once, twice – gently enough that it didn't hurt, but not without a sting to it. "Open," she ordered.

You let your jaw drop open and she slipped two fingers into your mouth for you to suck on, quite effectively silencing you.

"You'll refer to me as Sir," she said, "Understood?" You nodded, gently, so as not to shake her hand too much. This obedience seemed to please her. "You're going to be a good little cocksleeve for me, aren't you?"

Alex chuckled then. "The little whore loves to be used like it's the only thing she's good for," she said.

"She knows her place," Emily observed, "You must've trained her well."

You couldn't help but let out a little whine as you continued to work your tongue along Emily's fingers. You could feel your panties growing damp from their words alone and you could barely wait, daring to hope they'd keep true to their promises...

[sadinasaphrite]

Friday Nights Ch 6 - Complete

Hey all, the final chapter of Friday Nights is up! Thank you all so much for reading and for all your support!

Read on AO3!

Gale awoke to the sound of Tara’s scream.

He awoke all at once and lurched upward, half sitting up on his elbows. Beside him, Astarion jolted awake with a shout.

Tara. Where was Tara? What happened? What was wrong? Adrenaline flooded through his veins, but sleep still clung to his mind like cobwebs, leaving him disoriented and confused. Gale blearily looked around. The room was dark, illuminated only by the streetlights outside, and he was only able to make out shapes and shadows in the dark. His eyes flitted over the familiar shapes of his room, looking for something out of place: nightstand, dresser, two bookshelves, laundry basket. His eyes passed over the open bedroom door and his blood ran cold.

A dark figure loomed in the doorway, standing perfectly still. The details were obscured by shadow, but the silhouette was tall and broad, wide enough to fill the whole door frame. Gale gave a shout, alarmed enough that articulating actual words was impossible. Astarion floundered in the bed beside him, rolling onto his back to sit up.

The figure burst into motion and charged toward them, a knife in hand and raised to strike. There was no time. No time to think. No time to plan. Only an instant to react.

Gale shoved Astarion off the bed, away from the intruder.

The knife came down.

Pain erupted through Gale’s shoulder. Fucking hell, that was no knife! Instead of a sharp, clean cut, his shoulder felt like it had been ripped open. Something scraped across his scapula and he screamed.

“Don’t touch him!”

Astarion scrambled to his feet and lunged for the intruder. He slammed the man against the bookshelf, books rattling and tumbling to the floor. The stranger raised an arm defensively and Astarion sank his teeth into the man’s forearm. The intruder roared, jerking back and knocking a few more books off the shelf. With a snarl, he reached into his pocket and threw a handful of powder into Astarion’s face. Astarion shrieked like a wounded animal and scrambled back, wiping frantically at his eyes. The scent of garlic lingered in the air.

“Astarion!” Gale forced himself upright, his injured arm hanging limp at his side. “Who are you? Get out of my home!”

The intruder cursed in a low, gruff voice, then ripped the weapon out of Gale’s shoulder. Gale cried out, a new explosion of agony rippling off the wound and down his arm and back.

The man ignored Gale and focused on Astarion, who was still coughing and wiping at his face. He raised his weapon— a wooden stake, not a knife —and lunged for Astarion once more.

“Look out!”

Astarion lurched to one side and the stranger crashed into the nightstand, sending a lamp toppling to the floor.

Gale called upon the energy within him, fingers flicking through the motions that gave the magic form and shape. Electricity radiated through him, pooling down his arms, crackling and sparking along his fingertips. He seized the intruder’s forearm and poured lighting into the stranger. Silver runes burst into light along the intruder’s jacket, enveloping the man like a shield.

Gale’s heart dropped as he recognized runes for reversal and redirection. Before he could pull his hand away, his own spell was reflected back onto him. Lighting surged through him, sparking across his skin and crackling through every cell of his body. Gale fell back onto the bed, muscles seizing with paralysis.

“Gale! Fuck!”

Astarion dove for the stranger once more, but this time the man was ready for him. He landed a solid punch to Astarion’s jaw with a crack, and Astarion dropped to the ground like a stone. The stranger stomped on Astarion’s throat, pinning him to the ground.

“Finally,” the stranger growled, “Cazador’s last spawn.”

Astarion thrashed beneath him, snarling and gurgling as he scratched futilely at the boot pinning him. Gale lay on the bed, only able to watch as his muscles still jittered and spasmed, his limbs unresponsive to his will.

“Found yourself a nice little setup, huh? Cozy little apartment with your own personal bloodbag?” Keeping his throat pinned with one boot, he stomped on Astarion’s ribs.

Astarion made a strangled shriek and writhed. Gale tried to shout, but even his diaphragm betrayed him, his breath coming in sharp, irregular gasps beyond his control.

“You thought you could get away with this?”

Stomp.

“Thought you’d escape what you bloodsuckers did?”

Kick.

“They’re all dead because of you! Fucking vamp! I’m the only one of us left!”

The intruder stomped on him again, ribs breaking with an audible crack. Astarion arched his spine, throwing his head back with a scream that only came out as a rattling wheeze around the boot. With his mouth open wide, Gale finally saw what he’d missed after so many months living with Astarion. Behind Astarion’s lips, still bloody from when he’d bitten the intruder’s arm, were fangs.

The final piece clicked into place. The mystery around Astarion unraveled in macabre glory, the picture finally complete. Gale shoved it aside. There would be time to discuss newfound revelations later. First they both had to get out of this alive.

Gale’s finger twitched at his command. Then his foot. Then a knee.

“But now it’s over,” the intruder continued. “I’ll get my revenge. I’ll kill you, then your bloodbag.”

Astarion snarled and hissed, baring his fangs at the man. Gale closed a fist.

“Then I’ll take your fucking head to Cazador’s manor and burn the place to the ground.”

Another kick. Gale bent his knees, control returning to him muscle by muscle. The hunter raised the stake over his head.

“Then I’ll kill every last bloodsucking— Argh!”

Tara swooped down from where she’d been hiding on the ceiling fan and lashed out with her back feet, claws raking across the hunter’s eyes. He screamed and reeled back, but snapped his free hand out and seized Tara by a wing. She yowled, twisting to rake at his arm, and he threw her across the room. She hit the wall with a sharp snap, then crumpled to the ground and fell still.

Gale’s vision turned red and his mind went absolutely blank with seething, boiling rage. He launched himself off the bed and slammed into the hunter, knocking him off Astarion and sending them both sprawling to the floor. His injured shoulder burned with agony and his limbs still twitched and jolted, muscles barely within his control. The hunter roared and pulled away. Fueled by fury and fear, Gale followed. He seized the man by the hair and yanked with all his strength, pulling the hunter’s head back and exposing his throat.

It was the opening Astarion needed. Astarion sprang forward and ripped the hunter’s throat open with his teeth. Blood sprayed over them, splattering across the room and spurting in time with the hunter’s racing heart. Astarion closed his mouth over the exposed artery and drank. The hunter gurgled around the gaping hole that was once his throat and scrambled for the stake, only for Gale to kick it out of reach.

The hunter thrashed and gargled, then slowed, then stilled. Astarion pulled away with a gasp, blood dripping down his chin.

“Is he—”

“Yes,” Astarion said.

Continue reading on AO3!

[elizabethcore]

HYPERFICATIONS/MOONKNIGHT FANFICTION

Thank you @spider-biter for the suggestion

... hey- so this took me a while but hi I have written Jake and Marc's hyperfixations, based on 'spider-bitters' suggestion, of Jake loving dirivng and marc loving 80s classics :)

Relationship: y/n and the moonboys are together you are aware of moonknight and the D.I.D and you are dating all of them.

Warnings:

• in no way is this a representation of D.I.D I am useing what I know from Moonknight

•I may have written more for marc as I personally hate driving and love 80s movies-

• gif is not mine

Status: fluffy (with some subtle sexual references)

Words: 1529

To 'spider-bitters' thank you so much for your suggestion! I loved it im sorry it took me way too long to finish I started it ages ago- and I just couldn't finish it- but I've finished it now I hope that it's what you were after :))

JAKE LOCKELY-

The door slammed shut slightly.

"Shit- bad mission?" You asked pearing around the bookshelf

"mhm, the guy got away, and the- Steven wouldn't shut up and squuiling and then konshu yelled and- Steven Shut it" Jake yelled at the near by reflection

"jakey it's okay the missions over now okay? and don't yell at Steven I'm sure he was just exited over the mission" you suggested, his ancient Egypt little mind was estatic over his new job as an Egyptian gods avatar.

"I guess so, but still konshu was ugh" Jake put his hands on his head and knelt down on the couch

"what would you like to do? ignoring Steven and Marc and konshu and stuff what would you like to do?" you asked, Steven loves reading and talking about ancient Egypt but right now Jake doesn't really seem to care much, about anything really other than Marc Steven and you

"ugh I'm so sick of them" Jake lowered his head more and groaned

You walked up to him and kissed his head and played with his hair "you don't mean that, don't say that...I'm sure they where loud and...exited all night but come on, well do something what do you wanna do?" cheering up Jake was a challange, especially without using sex-

"mh, we could go somewhere...like I could drive us?"

"mhm sure that's fine, where do you wanna go?" You asked pulling him up to his feet.

"I don't care, just wear something comfortable" you nodded

_______

"you okay y/n?" Jake asked whilst gripping the wheel

"huh- mhm" you defenintly got caught by Jake

"your staring at me alot, more than usual"

" mhm you just look pretty when you drive" you smiled

"driving? well I'm glad you like it, I love driving"

Jake gripped the wheel tighter.

"mhm well you need to drive the limo alot"

"uh well, I don't need to, konshu can usually get us places, but I prefer to drive"

To you driving is nothing but stressful, especially at night which is all Jake does the idea if hitting someone or getting hurt in a massive metal container isn't your idea of calming, but it's clearly Jakes.

"heh really you prefer to drive? it's stressful to me" you admited

"mhm I love it, I can drive you places now" he smiled

"Id like that, driving at night seems stressful"

"I can see senorita, I'm a good driver" Jake smiled smuggly

"Steven shut it" you got used to the three of the boys bickering through the reflections

"context?" you asked nudging Jakes shoulder

"ugh Steven wants to go home. but I want to keep driving" Jakes wheel turned slighlty

"hey no you can stay on the road, I'm not tired yet, let's keep going you like driving" you put your hand on Jake's thighs, one of the only places he's actually sensitive.

Jake adjusts himself and smiles "mhm okay but I have to deal with Steven and Marc complaining until we get home"

"eh just ignore them, keep driving"

"thanks, it's nice you know? how can you find it stressful it's calming you can listen to music and drive smoothly you're in control and you can choose where you go the leather seats are nice and people respect me because I have the black sleek limo and the wheel feels nice on my hands especially when I'm used to punching people the leather wheel feels nice on my hands, and the street sounds are lovely and the traffic lights at night look lovely"

Jake never talked about things on earth being 'lovley' other than your body- but Jake rarely smiled and when he did you didn't think it would be about driving his limo.

"uh sorry I didn't mean to, yeah" Jakes got silent and kept driving.

"no no it's fine you can keep talking your voice is amazing and when you look happy talking about driving it's really nice" you smiled whilst staring at him.

Jake smiled "thank you”

________

MARC SPECTOR=

"Love I don't mind" marc said smiling slightly and sitting on the couch.

"You never mind, come on pick something" you knew marc was a bit sick of your romcoms and classic Disney films, Steven loved them and Jake sometimes got you to watch horror but marc never seemed to care. "You can choose, we should take it in turns"

Marc selected the romcom section within Netflix, you pulled the remote away, "nu uh, what do you want to watch?" You asked nudging him.

He looked around slightly at the reflections "uhm maybe lilo and stitch?"

"That's Stevens suggestion isn't it?" After the stitch tote bag he bought and all of the pins is ordered it was obviously not Marc's suggestion.

Marc groaned "I don't think I mind what we watch love, you can choose really" you switch to action films "action?" He shook his head a bit, "I get enough of that on the job, and at home" He smirked and sat closer to you.

"Very funny...choose somethinggg" you whined " something of your choice" he has moved his head again to the reflection in the metal cup, you pulled his face towords yours.

"Stop listening to them, what would you like to watch?"

"Hm maybe alien?" He asked slowly.

You nodded and searched for it.

"Ive never watched it before" you admitted.

"What?! Really it's a classic? It's so intense and cluasteaphobi ? But in an interesting way and James Cameron is such a good director, and the main character is so badass and she's so strong and the twist- and how have you not seen it?" Marc rarely got this excited, his 'work' was exhausting to him and he didn't care for ancient Egypt, not nearly as much as Steven, but his face lit up when he was able to info dump about this film.

"I'm happy to watch it" you finished searching and clicked on it, based on the release year terminator and back to the future (along with their sequels) where recommended.

"Have you watched terminator?" You shook your head no, "back to the future?" He asked, you shook your head.

"Oh my god, you need to watch all of these films y/n" he said and leaned forward to the tv grabbing the remote and scrolling through

You had never seen these 'classics' that were recommended, you had seen of them and knew some things about them but never spent the time to sit down and watch them.

"Oh temrminstor two is the better one James Cameron can really do sequels with strong female leads this and aliens, not alien that's the first one but the sequel aliens is oh my god so good we have to watch that one and-'

Marc rarely spoke this quickly, or sounded this happy, you were more than okay with having a classics 80s movie night with Marc.

"Wanna stay up all night and watch all the classics I've never watched?" You asked, his face lit up.

'yeah yeah yeah of course, maybe a sleepover? I'll grab the pillows and stuff" he jumped up and ran to the bed, you moved the couch back and moved the coffe table out of the way.

Marc came back with many pillows and blankets and arranged them on the floor.

"I can do that, you set up the movie lists" you smiled he eagerly nodded and grabbed the remote from the table adding 80s classics to the watch list.

__time skip___

"Aliens now? Well did you like alien? Cause the second one is usually determined as better because James Cameron can really do sequels and she's really badass, and then breakfast club? That's a very different type of movie but it's still really interesting" Marc was so excited during these films telling you all about the directors and all of the cgi vs handmade objects.

So far you had watched alien, back to the future, back to the future two, Indiana Jones and goonies you were about to start stand by me but marc really wants to watch aliens.

You agreed and he put on aliens, about 10 minutes in though you started falling asleep, with no idea what time it was marc had turned the tv off and lied down into the bed holding you with plans of watching aliens, stand by me and terminator tommorwo.

-------

Thank you for reading!! <3 leave any suggestions in the comments you would like me to write :) please let me know if I missed anything in the warnings or update section :) thank you

[jasper-pagan-witch]

2024 Grimoire Challenge Review - January Week 1

Well, I had to wait until Wednesday to get out of the house and get a binder and some paper for my challenge grimoire this year, so I basically speedran all of the December prep and the first week of January, because I will never learn and never improve on this habit of mine.

Keeping in line with other grimoires I've used in the past (such as the Epsilon Ledger and the Delta Book of Tarot Spreads), this red binder has been named the Eta Binder. I wrote down my proper name (let's go, trans mages!), tacked @2024-grimoire-challenge onto it to remind myself that that's what we're doing, and gave it a date of working. Since I started on Wednesday, that's 1/3/2024 (because I'm an American) to an unknown end date.

I had to scramble to come up with a list of 52 plants and stones to work on. I just went through the list of herbs and teas offered by my local ("local" being half an hour away) spice shop and capped it off with some Missouri flowers. For the stones, I just flipped through Judy Hall's Crystal Bible (somehow both a really good and really bad reference book) back and forth a bunch of times until I had a list of crystals I hadn't already done dives about.

As for my magical study ideas, I mostly just threw shit down that I've been interested in or have just gotten interested in. I gave each deity I worship their own bulletpoint and also split up the specific areas of pop culture magic I'm digging more into. I made sure there was a blend of comfortable old stuff, brand new stuff that I'm not sure of, and things that are generally outside of my purview.

Through the power of "work had too many 3-ring binder dividers", I have split my binder into seven sections - 1 is Plants, 2 is Stones, 3 is Work-Related Notes, 4 is Spells Designed (if I complete any, they'll be moved into my spell binder that also houses all of my correspondence lists), 5 if Journal, 6 is currently blank, and 7 is Empty Pages.

Then I finally got started on the actual projects. For the plant and crystal prompts this week, I used an integer generator online to choose two numbers randomly and received caraway (aka Carum carvi) and muscovite (aka KAl2(AlSi3O10)(F,OH)2), so I used my normal research process for the two. It was actually pretty fun, if you ignore the fact that my hand hurt so much because it ended up being 4 pages (well, 2 pages but front and back) EACH of information drawn from books and digital sources that I was all but copying word for word.

As for the Work-Related Notes, that's where I've saved things like my Definitions page, Spellwriting 101 (in my practice), and a page about my Common Tools.

I will admit that I skipped the year outline, mostly because the passing of the year means near nothing in my craft. I don't celebrate any particular "magical holidays", I don't work by the moon cycle, I'm definitely not Wiccan and thus don't celebrate the Wheel of the Year, seasons just mean whether or not I have to wear a coat, and I don't care about matching particular workings to days of the week. I'm starting to think I'm just a deeply boring person, upon reflection.

Then we get to the Work Spaces / Altars page, and oh boy! I don't actually do...workings at my altars, so they're probably better described as shrines. I have my Primary Work Space (my wooden desk, the metal microwave stand I've stolen from somewhere, and the tiny red bookshelf under the microwave stand) that is an absolute MESS at every given point that holds whatever the fuck I'm working on, regardless of what project it is. I have a Thoughtform & Spirit Shelf (which is actually a partial shelf) in my big red bookshelf that holds the anchors for my thoughtforms but also my PokeFamiliar. I have five altars around my room that are currently holding seven deities, a candle for an eighth deity, the Lokifam, three spirits, the Unknown Benefactor, the symbol of an animal spirit I want to reach out to at some point this year, and Jasper's Casper (an adorable little ghost that my coworker and her daughter crocheted for me to celebrate the first anniversary of me working at the library).

Shit's a bit cramped in here!

And today, I'm writing about my Personal Practices that have made it into my craft. I'm actually working on this now, but I paused to write up this summary. It's pretty neat to think about all the stuff I've done that I still do.

Results: My hand hurts and my head is throbbing, but c'est la vie. This is a really fun challenge, and I hope it goes all the way through 2024, unlike when I tried to do the 2023 challenge and the host of that one vanished into the aether.

[onedirectionlover0723]

　　　　 ⚠️ Attention ⚠️　　

This story includes Larry.

It also contains s*x and other words and expressions.

I do not intend to be direct.

Also, I am not familiar with this app...so forgive me if there are some oddities.

Harry's POV┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A summer day...the sun was shining and the asphalt reflected its heat. Beautiful blue sky without a cloud in sight...the sun's rays pierced people's skin mercilessly.

Despite the heat, I wore a deep hat and a large, flabby, butt-covering hoodie. The hat had a strange, bobbing shape, and the hoodie looked like something fluffy was moving inside....

The hoodie in the heat...it was as hot as a sauna. Hurrying back to my house, I took off my hoodie and hat. I was drenched in sweat.

I take a shower in the bathroom and sit naked on the living room couch.

It was cool and wonderful.

But the wiggly thing that landed on my lower back was in the way. I don't like the fact that it's fluffy and tickles me sometimes.

I patiently ignore it and stare at my phone screen. The news is on TV, but I can't get any of the content out of my head. I'm watching a reel video on my phone, but I can't get into the content at all.

I'm bored.

Because of my cat ears and tail, which show emotion in vain, I'm taking a break from TV and live performances. It would be a big deal if they found out about this...I wonder if I'll be sent to a research institute....

I touch my tail while thinking about that.

For now, I want to get rid of this tail and cat ears to escape my leisure time, but I don't know how.

A few days ago, I had a dream that I became a cat... and when I woke up in the morning, this is what I saw. I thought that if I dreamed of becoming a human being, the cat ears and tail would disappear...? I thought that I would be a human, but I am a human except for cat ears and a tail, so it's probably impossible.

I'm going to get my head mixed up.

When I talked to Liam about it, he chuckled and didn't believe me. "Well, I'll check it out." He even jokingly said, "Well, I'll look into it.

Niall seemed to be sick, so I decided to tell him later.

I didn't tell Louis anything...I wonder if I should. ......

As for Zayn...we haven't kept in touch and now suddenly I asked him "I grew cat ears and a tail...do you know what to do?"

At any rate, I decided to tell Louis.

I open the home screen of my phone...and select the message app. I'm not sure whether to call or message....

I decided to send a message because I might not be able to pick up the phone right now.

"Hi Louis, I've grown a tail and cat ears, can you help me? I can't pull it off...they are attached."

I texted, and attached a photo of the cat ears and tail.

Later that evening, I received a reply to my message from Louis. "Hmmm...that's a disaster. By the way, it's not April Fool's Day today, okay?"

Hmmm. Reply-wise, he probably doesn't believe me.

Anyway...I decided to have him come over to my house and take a serious look.

"If you don't believe me, come to my house. :("

I sent him a message and he replied right away. It looks like he'll be here soon.

...For now, I'm going to clean my room, put the books back on the bookshelf... put the cushions back where they belong... wash the dishes... put them back in the cupboard... vacuum. ....

I hear Louis ring the doorbell, so I open the door and invite Louis in.

Louis is really attached and gapes at my wiggling tail.

"What... was that real...? What is this...?"

Louis is touching my tail, and I twist around, my face a little red from the tickling.

"Hey, Louis, that tickles..."

I giggle and Louis runs away, Louis sees this and pulls me towards him, tugging on my arm.

"Your ears...they're real, too. They're attached."

Louis mutters as he checks the base of my cat ears. His breath tickles against my ears.

I tap Louis' hip with my tail.

"You're tickling me... will you stop?"

I say and run out of his arms...,

I succeed in getting him to believe me for now...so we decide to take our time and have an early dinner together.

I stand in the kitchen and start making tacos for now. They should be delicious.

As we both ate our tacos...I thought about how I would never know...how to make the cat ears disappear.

Should I try cutting them off with scissors? →No, that would be too painful.

Should I try to become a cat? →Rejected because I don't know what that means.

After all, it was difficult, and we started talking about unrelated things.

Just when I was almost finished with my taco...Liam called me. I think I may have found a way. I was a little surprised that he didn't believe me.

I was a little surprised because I thought he didn't believe me. I decided to ask him anyway.

I called Liam and pressed the speaker button and put it on his desk.

"Hi Liam, I thought you didn't believe me. So? What's the method?"

Harry speaks to Liam over the phone.

"Hi Harry, I'm not saying I believe you. It's just...a friend of mine said he had read a weird book about it, so I borrowed the book and read it for fun. And...it said something about a cure, so I thought I'd pass it on to you anyway."

I nodded, even though Liam couldn't see me over the phone.

"Have s*x with someone you love...just because. That's it. That's it."

Liam said and hung up the phone.

"Wait, wait, Liam?"

I tried to speak to Liam impatiently, but the phone was already off the hook. Louis was laughing hysterically next to me.

"Seriously, ...s*x..."

Louis says, laughing hysterically.

"You talk about it like it's someone else's business, but you're the one I love, okay?"

Harry follows Louis' cheek; Louis nods with a satisfied chuckle.

"Okay...I knew…I'm sorry...it was ...... funny."

Louis chuckles.

Later we spent a hot night in bed and Louis was making cute noises about how nice my tail felt. As if he were a cat.

Then the next morning ......... smells like last night... Louis is sleeping peacefully next to me, wrapped in a blanket, his messy hair so cute. I tuck his bangs over his ears.

The sheets are a mess...clothes are scattered....

I check my tail and cat ears...they are gone!

I am unintentionally pleased out loud, but also a little disappointed. I was pleased to find that my tail was gone, but a little disappointed because I could no longer use it to bring Louis more pleasure during s*x.

Well...it doesn't matter.

Now I can perform live...in public...on TV.

I kissed Louis, who was sleeping peacefully next to me, and jumped out of bed, grabbed my phone and called my manager.

[kassiedoodles-xo]

The Forces Of Destiny — Part V:

"Beyond the Mirrors Sorrow"

— a fanmade ninjago season —

Word Count: 3489

Warnings: blood, implied death, implied war/battle, heavy self doubt

“I’m sorry, what? Memory? So we’re stuck in some sort of creepy mind maze?” Jay's usual was replaced with unease as he stammered.

“The passage on the wall. That's what it meant, didn't it.” Morro added, stepping closer to Yuki.

The girl sighed, turning fully away from the window, now pacing back and forth in what seemed to be her bedroom. “We were sucked into my spell book.” she raised her eyes, seeing how the ninja looked at her for an escape plan “i’m sorry. I've got nothing.” she lowered her gaze.

“ We’ve gotta get out of here, what if we try to get back into the Archives?” Nya suggested.

“Maybe, they are a part of my memories now.” Yuki answered, heading for the door, her friends following suit.

Leading the way, Yuki’s hand steadily reached for the handle, yet her heart pounded in her chest as anticipation filled the air. With a deep breath, she opened her bedroom door, the intricate embellished door swinging open. They walked through the threshold, freezing in their places when they saw the room in front of them.

They were back in Yuki’s bedroom.

Confusion washed over everyone as they deadpanned, staring at the disheartening sight that was Yuki’s room.

Breathe, just breathe. Don't let them see you panic.

No matter how many times they walked through the door, they alway ended up back in the bedroom, as if the memory of the palace kept leading them back. Not allowing them to leave.

Kai furrowed his eyebrows in confusion “How the hell are we still in the bedroom!?”

“This is seriously fucked up. How are we supposed to get out of the spell book if we can’t even break out of your bedroom?” Jay ran his hand through his hair, his unease growing.

“Come on Yuki, think. You have to remember something from your training.” Morro urged, desperation uncharacteristically starting to creep up in his eyes.

“I’m sorry” Yuki sighed in defeat “I really don't remember anything about this.” Her shoulders slumped, she looked away from the group, unable to face them after admitting her failure.

Shit, shit, shit.

Useless, useless, useless.

The ninja paced back and forth, trying to ignore the restlessness that echoed in their footsteps, the realisation of their fruitless attempts weighing heavy on their shoulders. The familiarity and comfort of Yuki’s bedroom now fading, being replaced with a cold prison of frustration.

Yuki searched every book in her bookshelf for answers, every magical artefact, every secret entrance, with no avail. Every answer would lead back to her bedroom.

Lloyd ran his hand through his hair, deep in thought “there has to be something we’re missing.” he muttered, pacing the room.

He looked up, his eyes settling upon the broken vanity mirror in the corner of the room. His eyes narrowed “Has that,” he paused , a moment of uncertainty stopping him. “Has that mirror been broken the entire time?” he questioned, pointing to the mirror in question.

Yuki looked up from her place on her luxurious bed, the look of resignation in her eyes now replaced with intrigue. The two exchanged a glance before approaching the mirror, the strangely large shards of glass glinting in the sunlight that shone in through the window.

Lloyd picked up one of the pieces, carefully examining the edges as Yuki observed, suddenly noticing something peculiar. They looked directly into the glass, yet no reflection stared back again; instead they saw a flicker of an image, like an old tv with a bad signal.

“What…What is that?” Lloyd breathed, squinting his eyes to see better.

Zane approached, leaning closer to study the image intently “These aren’t just any images” he said slowly, realisation dawned on him as he examined the events he saw in the glass. “Wait, this happened last week.” Yuki finished, her eyes widening as she recollected the private events in the glass.

The ninja gathered around the shards, wide-eyed and astonished at the discovery. Morro spoke up “So they’re your memories.” he stated, unsure of how to use this information.

Before Yuki could answer, the ninja felt a strange sensation as they looked further into the replaying image in the glass. It was almost hypnotizing, as if they were being drawn into the image. They could feel every emotion course through their bodies the more they looked. The pain, the sadness, the joy, the love.

Soon they noticed the darkened surroundings of Yuki’s bedroom. They stood in awe as they tore their gazes away from the fragment of glass Lloyd was holding, the sight rendering them speechless. The autumn sun was nowhere to be seen, instead being replaced with the darkness of cold, heavy rain clouds.

Looking back down, Lloyd felt panic rise in his chest, his hand now empty, the shard missing.

“GREAT! Now we’re not only in the spellbook, we’re also in some mirror memory” Cole grunted, crossing his arms dramatically.

Yuki could only analyse the setting, “the last thunderstorm was last week” she whispered under her breath, realisation slowly building up as she looked around more. It was the small details she noticed.

The dresses on the floor.

The colour of the bedsheets.

The mess on her vanity.

The colossal bell of the palace chimed loudly, Yuki’s heart raced, as cold sweat dripped down her neck.

It's Midnight.

Without hesitation, she pushed the group into the closet; her movements, usually full of grace, now filled with urgency. Confusion clouded the ninja's faces as they huddled together into the limited space, Yuki brought her finger to her lips, signalling them to be quiet.

In the cramped confines of her closet,Yuki and Lloyd felt their chests rising and falling, almost touching as they hid. Their eyes met in a fleeting moment. Lloyd’s green eyes, like a verdant forest, held the promise of springtime. Yuki's purple eyes, like a symphony of amethyst hues, holding the depth and secrets of a twilight sky. They looked away, eyes shimmering with a mixture of pain and regret.

His eyes are pretty- SHUT UP!

Only inches apart, yet those inches seemed insignificant as each exhale seemed to bring them closer, their warm breaths mingling as Yuki glanced at his lips in a moment of weakness. His lips parted slightly as his ears became tinted with red, the intensity of their closeness crashing over him, leaving him breathless.

She turned around quickly, in the hopes no one saw her reddening cheeks in the dim lighting. Heat radiated off her body, a magnetic pull that moved her closer to the blond behind her, his hand lightly grazing hers.

The team observed the unspoken tension between the two, exchanging knowing glances.

The sound of their own breathing sounded deafening as they heard the bedroom door open, barely audible footsteps ominously echoing through the room. They looked through the gaps in the closet door, Yuki held her breath as she saw herself, the memory of herself, walk into the room.

“Was that you?” Lloyd asked, unable to resist the urge to speak, his voice below a whisper. Yuki swung around, clasping her hand over his mouth. With his reflexes kicking in, he instinctively reached out, his hands falling on the girl's hips to steady her. Now fully pressed together, the fabric of their uniforms doing little to stop the body heat from radiating from each other. For a moment, time stood still as they shared the silent embrace, Lloyds heart pounding in his chest as he unconsciously pulled her closer.

Cole cleared his throat quietly, breaking the intimate spell, the two looked at each other for the first time, realizing their proximity to each other. They flushed red, silently distancing themselves.

Focus.

Yuki turned back around, continuing to watch the memory Yuki erratically pace back and forth as she ripped her hair tie out, allowing the ponytail to fall, silky pink hair falling messily over her shoulders like a waterfall of vibrant petals. Her hair tumbled in free disarray, now a wild cascade of pink.

.

Her usually regal and graceful demeanour shattered within seconds, her movements were filled with a sense of restless energy as she leaned on the vanity.

Tears glistened in the dim light of the moon as they streamed down her face, unrelenting anger filling her. She raged against herself, anger filling her like a tempest.

“How could I have let that happen? Are you fucking stupid? You're supposed to protect your people” her voice filled with anguish as she scolded herself for the failed mission.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

It was as if memory Yuki was a puppet and her rage was the puppet master, in the midst of her rage, she became almost primal as she kicked and punched her surroundings.

“So. Fucking. Useless. And you call yourself a queen” she let out a sarcastic chuckle “ You're a failure, not a leader.” The memory lashed out, throwing the small items on her vanity, sending them across the room.

Useless.

Useless.

Useless.

In a moment of uncontrollable fury, memory Yuki launched her spellbook at the mirror with a broken scream, unable to look at her reflection. All she saw was incompetence. The shattering glass sounded through the room like an agonising symphony of destruction and defeat.

Silence.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

The group watched in stunned silence. Indeed, they have seen Yuki angry before, on the battlefield. Her calm and gentle personality was replaced by raw painful emotions that sent shivers down their spines. It was unnerving to see their usually happy friend be consumed by such intense anger. At herself.

They felt a pang of hurt wash over them, guilt filled as they remembered the times they came to Yuki for comfort after missions, yet never asking how she felt. She was always strong and resilient after all.

They continued watching the memory play out, observing memory Yuki surveying the aftermath of her own violent rage, the room resembling the battlefield that caused the outburst in the first place.

She looked into the broken shards on the floor, her broken up reflection staring back up at her. A fractured image of someone she didn’t recognise anymore. The torn curtains hung like wounded soldiers, the soldiers that she sent to battle. The items on the floor scattered like her emotions.

Why did I give that order? I sent children to their death.

An overpowering sadness engulfed her, the weight of her actions falling heavily on her. Silent tears traced the delicate features of her face, she fell to her knees, a scream of emotional and physical pain piercing through the air. Sobs wracked her body, she winced as he clutched her side, the warmth of her blood a testament to the lives she could not protect. Her blood seeped slowly through the purple ninja uniform, she struggled to catch her breath, each gasp for air burning her lungs.

Her wallowing in sorrow was interrupted by the shrill ring of the landline phone, startling everyone. She struggled to stand, still grasping her side she stumbled towards the phone, with trembling bloody hands she picked up the receiver.

So much blood. Innocent blood.

She steadied her voice as she spoke, the urgency in the voice of the prime minister was palpable. Her words clipped and curt as she acknowledged the situation.

“Yes. Yes Mr Prime Minister, I am aware of the situation. Yes, send out the emergency units straight away, save anyone you can. Please report to me tomorrow morning.” It was clear she was being summoned for an emergency meeting the next day to address the severity of the destruction caused by the failed mission.

They ninja remembered Yuki having an emergency meeting and missing training the following day, yet they never realised the circumstances that occurred before the summoning.

With a heavy heart, memory Yuki set the receiver down, turning on her heel to exit the room, leaving a small trail of blood drops behind her. As she reached for the handle, she paused. She turned her head, her gaze momentarily falling on the closet, before quickly walking away. The door slammed behind her as the team sat in silence for the following moments pondering the depth of the memory in front of them

Yuki stared out the closet, unable to bring herself to look at her friends, her chest tightening at the remembrance of the failed mission.

Cole's heart ached, the scene of Yuki berating herself playing in his mind, a sombre expression spread on his face. The pillar of strength he could rely on anytime now seems to crack .

Morros' demeanour was shaken, memories of their younger days flooding his mind. He remembered the shy little girl with a bright smile that was scared of anything. He knew firsthand the weight of not living up to your role, his heart unable to bear to see Yuki feel the same way.

Jay's usual obnoxious attitude faltered as Yuki’s distress played back in his mind. Yuki was always a fearless leader, filled with grace. She was the annoying sister he never had. His heart was heavy with sorrow.

Nya blinked away the tears that brimmed her eyes. Her role model for courage and resilience now seemed scared and broken, reminding her of herself when her parents were taken. Her friend's deep pain empathised with her.

Kai clenched his fists, his jaw locked in anger. How could she blame herself like that for something that was beyond her control? Her unwavering loyalty to the team and her people was a rare quality. There has never been a time where she hasn’t been there for him.

Zane’s usually stoic robotic expression softened as his gaze fell upon the girl in front of him. He always felt like Yuki was filled with determined resolve, failing to see the true vulnerability that lay beneath.

Lloyds heart ached at Yuki’s anguish. She had been his mentor, his friend, his comfort and more; and yet as the leader of the ninja he failed to see that not even she can be strong and resilient in the face of adversity.

Yuki opened the closet door, exiting the cramped space at long last, her thoughtful stare landed on the trail of blood left behind.

An eye for an eye, you bleed the same.

She always maintained the facade of perfection, she presented herself as the strong and composed queen, embarrassment washed over her as the illusion of grace shattered just like the vanity mirror. She ignored the suffocating gazes of her friends, every spark of pain and every tear was a testament to her failure.

She wished she could hide, to retreat back into the safety of her childhood solitude, wishing to lick her wounds without the looks of pity surrounding her. Her friends witnessing her weakness was almost unbearable, shame dragged her into the dark depth of her mind.

Her arms crossed. She wanted to apologise, to explain herself, to tell them to not view her any differently, but the words were caught in her throat. She was choked by the humiliation that consumed her thoughts.

As the pressure intensified, no one dared to utter a word. After years of team work and friendships they knew Yuki well, anyone who knows Yuki well will know that she will never admit to any weakness. Yet it was finally Cole who broke the silence.

“Yu-chan,” he began, his gentle voice filled with brotherly concern “Why didn't you say you were injured?”

Yuki’s haunted gaze momentarily flickered to Cole, she shrugged. “As long as I'm not dead, I'm fine.” she replied simply, her tone flat.

You’re not fine.

The team looked at each other with concern and disappointment, as if the breach of trust left a mark on the foundations they built together.

Kai stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’re a team, we have to look out for each other.” he said firmly.

Yuki pursed her lips, forming a thin line, as she shook Kai’s hand off; his hand fell back to his side, his eyes flickered with hurt and surprise. He stepped back, looking at the girl he barely recognised, the girl who usually welcomed physical contact. Now distant. His warm gesture was replaced by cold rejection.

I’m sorry.

Before anyone could react, a picture frame fell from the wall, crashing loudly to the floor, tearing the thick silence of the room. Startled, they turned to the frame on the floor. Yuki tore herself away from the path of crimson drops on the marble flooring, her heart beating violently in her chest as she kneeled in front of it; her gloved fingers quivered as she picked it up.

The rest gathered around the picture, seeing the familiar picture of their entire team, captured moments after victory. But there, right across where she stood, a singular crack adorned the glass, as if the fracture tore the fabric of their bond.

The cracks in the frame echoed the cracks she felt within her self worth, the fissures in her facade threatened to destroy her composure. Her own struggles leave deep scars that taint the entire team.

Nya stepped forward, her voice regretful while trying to change the subject “What a shame.” she remarked, “That frame was so pretty.”

Yuki gulped thickly and she gripped the picture tighter, her knuckles turning white as her composure threatened to break. Her eyes wide, she stared with a hollow gaze at it, she barely managed to speak up “Except… I never had this picture hung up in my room. This is in the photo album in the monastery.” The ninja held their breaths. “This doesn’t belong in my memories.” she finished.

Panic rose in her chest, cold fear filling her. Confusion etched itself onto everyone's faces as she stood up, unease swept through them, a common question pondered in the air.

If the picture wasn’t part of my memory, what is it doing here?

They exchanged wary looks, silently processing the revelation, Yuki slowly turned around, facing her friends for the first time. Suddenly, a pulling feeling filled their senses, the fabric of reality shifted and manoeuvred around them. The walls seemed to melt away like candle wax,

They scanned the room with trepidation. Yuki's hand now empty, the picture now vanished, only leaving a whisper of disquiet.

“Are we?” Zane pondered as he looked around the bedroom. “Are we back?”

Lloyd approached the vanity mirror, his sharp eyes falling upon the shard of glass which transported them towards the painful memory, now neatly placed back in the frame of the mirror. Almost as if it was never disturbed.

“Everyone! look here!” Lloyd called them over, touching the sides of the shard, feeling the magic emitting from it, pulsating with power in the rhythm of a heartbeat.

The ninja stood in front of the remaining shards of glass, each gleaming with images of certain memories, a sense of clarity dawned on them.

“Yuki, we got out the moment you found something that doesn't belong in your memory right?” Jay inquired, watching as the girl nodded, enlightenment settling over her as her eyes widened.

“We have to look at my other memories and find the thing that doesn’t belong.” She remarked, her lips slightly parted at the revelation.

“If that shard ended up back in the mirror, and you broke the mirror with your spell book-” Morro started, his tone slightly tinged with a note of uncertainty.

“- The mirror is likely the way to close the rift that started this.” Nya finished.

Yuki stared at the mirror as the words sunk in, vulnerability lingered in the depths of her eyes dancing like shadows, a heavy pit settling in her stomach.

She couldn’t rid the feeling of guilt that seemed to eat her– the haunting memory of her throwing the spell book, and the glass shattering, even more vivid now after reliving it. She should’ve been more careful, she should’ve been more cautious, she should’ve been more–

Her train of thought was interrupted by the presence of the green ninja beside her, close enough for their shoulders to press against each other, a comforting feeling in the whirlpool of her self blame. He hesitated for a split second, briefly stuck in his own anxiety. He reached down, grabbing the girl's hand in his, delicately squeezing her hand three times reassuringly.

“It's not your fault Kiki.” Her head whipped around at the use of the nickname, one he hasn’t used in a while. “No one could’ve predicted this happening.” His voice was like a soothing balm to her emotional wounds, like a healing tide that washed over her.

Please don’t lie to me. 

Please.

Not now.

She searched his face for any dishonesty or doubt, only finding warmth. She allowed herself to lean into his touch for a second, the comfort of his presence knocking down the wall of guilt.

Even if everything will go back to how it was after the mission.

&lt; Previous | Next >

♧Masterlist♧

Summary: A mysterious rift between time and magic tears the fabric of the realms. Yuki, the master of magic, the purple ninja and the queen of ninjago, must find the powerful spell to fix this. In an unexpected twist, the team is transported into the depths of Yuki's spell book. The ninja must navigate through the chapters and memories of all the queens, finding the thing that is jeprodizing peace.

In a risky race, the ninja must piece together fragments of memories to uncover the truth. Will they succeed in fixing the rift? Or will Dark secrets unravel a mystery that changes the fate of everything?

TAGLIST: OPEN

@shatteredhope123 @spinjitzu-spy @crikkit-kitterton @stupidgayartkid @urkittybby @queenoftasilk

Feel free to ask to be added!

© This is the exclusive property of Aleksandra Niewiadomska. Do not claim as your own, repost on other sites or translate my work at all.

[theprissythumbelina]

Alyss gets kicked out of Martin Denard's house

As a bit of scene setting, this is after Nicolette and Alyss have met, and they have traveled to Pratchin looking for answers to (spoilers). Denard and Alyss are not cousins in the blood relation sense of the term, members of the same covens refer to each other as cousin and follow strict rules of hospitality and reciprocity in accordance with ancient witch tradition. Also, I personally have nothing against Doctors of Theology.

______________________________________________________________

“Cousin,” Denard began, swirling his wine. “I must ask, what brings you to me? As your coven-bound kin, I welcome you, but curiosity occupies my thoughts.” 

Alyss pushed a bit of mushroom-stuffed duck around her platter. She looked more aware, more present than Nicolette had ever seen her, but tension gathered at the corners of her mouth and eyes. “I was living with a shared cousin of ours, in Redelsville. We had a falling out, and I was no longer welcomed. I can assure you-”

“But Redelsville is on this side of the ocean, and you, well, you are not. What brought you here, to the Republics?

Alyss gripped her fork tighter. Denard continued blithly.

“Because, forgive me, I received a letter, from an old friend of mine. Your mother, I believe? We once met on a trip to old Ritania, and have kept in correspondence ever since. She asked for my advice, you see.”

Alyss muttered something. He tilted an ear. 

“I’m sorry, my cousin?”

She raised her voice. “Aunt.”

“Ah, your aunt. Yes, your mother was Juliya, not Andressa. My apologies. People must have always confused you for your cousin growing up. I imagine that happens less so these days. Such a shame she was taken from us, and so young, too. It is always the best ones, you know.”

Nicolette was frozen, staring at Alyss. Alyss was frozen, staring at Denard. Denard continued, ignoring or ignorant of the tension in the room. 

“It was wonderful to hear that her body had been identified and given the proper rites. That must have eased your soul, even if you could not attend. Though, seeing you now, I do wonder what injuries you sustained. You certainly do get around quite well, to my eyes. I cannot help but question if it is an injury of the soul, in which case I must confess myself disappointed, that you would allow such a weakness to keep you from where you are sorely needed.”

Nicolette tore her eyes away from Alyss to gape at Denard in horror. She glazed back at Alyss, fork now visibly trembling in her hands, as Alyss spoke with a harsh rasp. 

“What the hell do you know about souls?” she intoned. 

“Dear cousin,” Denard smiled, “I don’t mean to offend you. But you must dedicate yourself to the defence of your nation, and accept that your steps are guided by the hand of the Gods. To lose your faith in the face of trials and tribulations is to-”

“What the hell,” Alyss interrupted, her eyes cold and colorless, “Do you know about faith?”

Denard spread his hand to show off the impressive bookshelf at his back. “I am a Doctor of Theology. I have dedicated my life to the understanding of faith. You know, in your heart of hearts, that the paths we walk are not our own. Your cousin, rest her soul-”

“Died,” said Alyss. “Was that her path?”

Denard hesitated. He cleared his throat. “The gods work in mysterious ways, cousin.”

Alyss launched herself across the table.

____

Nicolette pulled their bags from the maid and went to where Alyss was sitting, staring blankly into the night. She didn’t move as Nicolette bumped her with her bag, or as Nicolette knelt next to her and pressed her handkerchief to Alyss’ split lip. A glint of light in her lap caught Nicolette’s eye, reflecting the streetlight.

Nicolette touched the back of Alyss’ hand gently, and held it up for a closer look. Shining silver on her pointer, index, and thumb, was a perfect metal cast of Alyss’ fingers, down to the ridges of her knuckles. Nicolette tapped a finger against it, and finding it cool, pulled the whole thing off. It stuck, then slid off easily, leaving behind unmarred skin. Nicolette turned it over in her hand. On the thumb of the cast was a half-melted emblem. 

“Nicolette?” Alyss whispered, moving for the first time. Her eyes slid from Nicolette’s face to her hand. 

“Yeah,” said Nicolette. “I’m here.” 

Alyss licked her lips and shifted weakly. “What’s that?” 

Nicolette looked back at the impressive house. “I think it was one of his forks.”

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@thetruearchmagos @dyrewrites, I hope it was worth it and you like it.

Also @teacupsandstarlight and @supersumc since you both have asked to be tagged in snippets before