#ask-the-fifth-spirit

[wheneclipsefalls]

Little Gift - Latch

Neteyam photo by @cinetrix

Pairing: Dark Aged Up Neteyam x Human Fem Reader

Warnings: aged up characters, DUBCON/NONCON, kidnapping, MDNI EXPLICIT, yandered qualities, possessive behavior, slight degradation, interspecies intimacy, swearing, power imbalance, sub reader, dom Neteyam, manipulation, hair pulling, creampie, a lot more stuff but at this point you hopefully know whether or not you should read haha

Summary: Victory is finally his and Neteyam knows exactly how he wants to celebrate it.

A/N: A little unsure about my word choice but it's been fun writing from Neteyam perspective for the first time in this series. Enjoy!

Main Masterlist I Little Gift Masterlist

You belong here, perched on his lap with your head notched against his shoulder. So small and pretty that his legs barely register your body weight. He wraps a hand around your outer thigh to angel you further against him. This is perfect.

Everything is perfect. 

Pandora has rid of those Sky Demons and his prize, his little gift, is still here in his arms where you will always be. Those traitors are no longer here to tempt you with false promises of escape and a life outside of belonging to the Olo’eyktan. You may not realize it now but they would have broken you. It is only a miracle from Eywa that has allowed your beautiful spirit to stay in tack after all those years of inhabiting the same space as those treacherous creatures. 

The RDA may think that you are a gift given by them but in reality it is Eywa that has placed you on his lap.

You were created for him. Designed perfectly inside and out. 

His reward for all that he has had to endure. 

Now with you safely tucked in his arms and his People celebrating their freedom once more, he can rest. He is free to savor all that the Great Mother has offered him, although you prove to be difficult to rangle at times. That’s okay, he enjoys a good challenge. It makes your earned submission all that more satisfying. 

He’s not sure how long one human can cry for but it appears you are shooting for a record. Your tears have soaked the feathers of his Olo’eyktan attire but he doesn’t mind, not when you are snuggling into him for comfort. 

His plan of distraction worked wonders during take off but it was only a matter of time before your mind came back online and began worrying once more about the absence of people that never truly loved you. It’s to be expected however Neteyam is pleased to find that your response is not one of anger but sadness and seeking refuge. He couldn’t have asked for anything more ideal. 

He is your refuge, your one true home and the fact that you are learning that so quickly makes a sense of pride burst within him. 

The glittering gems of your new top compliment your own sparkling tears exquisitely. It had taken weeks for him to make but it was worth it. He would want nothing less for his pet on a night of such grand celebration. However, it becomes abundantly clear that he is not the only one who appreciates the outfit. 

It’s the fifth time Lo’ak has turned in the direction of the throne while dancing to check on you. Or at least, that is how his younger brother would be sure to phrase it but Neteyam is no fool. He can see the hunger in those eyes. Typical of his younger sibling to chase after what he can not have. What Neteyam himself possesses. 

Their eyes meet and it only takes a moment for Lo’ak to recover from being caught and roll his own back at his brother and turn to continue dancing. He’s not sure how much longer this game will go on where Lo’ak pretends to hold no interest. One way or another it will come out. Neteyam’s arm tightens around your waist, fingers running through your silky hair. 

It is then that he notices your little sobs have stopped and are now replaced with long deep breaths. It’s amazing that you are able to sleep through the banging drums and echoing calls but it seems that all of your crying has worn out your poor little body. Such a fragile thing you are. 

All the more reason to keep you close. And yet another reason he finds his mind swirling back to the idea of keeping you on a leash. Ideally he would carry you to and fro but there are times where he needs to have his hands available. With your habit to wander off he can’t risk having you fall and break your little neck. A leash would be the perfect solution.

Not to mention how good you would look trailing behind him, sweet little bow around your throat as a permanent reminder of his claim on you. 

His tewng [loincloth] is unbearably tight. It presses against your soft thighs but that’s not enough. For perhaps the hundredth time you shift in his lap, unable to sit comfortably on your red ass. You’ve given up on trying to convince him to let you stand but that doesn’t stop that supple little pout from gracing your lips every time you are reminded of the pain. Even in your sleep you try to wiggle and squirm from his lap. 

Of course there is another source of your constant squirming. A source that Neteyam finds his fingers dipping down to trace over as the base just barely peeks out of your tight pussy. 

This plug is much larger than the cute one you had stowed away in your old nightstand drawer. It had taken more than a fair amount of encouragement to slot that thick piece of plastic inside your cunt but the sight was magnificent. Complain all you want but the way your walls clench around it in desperation tells Neteyam more than he needs to know. 

It’s the largest size of his collection which means that tonight is the night. Tonight you will officially become his. Your pussy will soon forever have the imprint of his thick length inside of you, ruining you for any other man. Not that you would ever have the chance to be with another male outside of him again. Jared was the end of that line and the Olo’eyktan feels no hint of remorse for taking care of that pest.

Another flash of Lo’ak’s gaze.

Neteyam feels you stir when he lets out a deep sigh. However reluctant he is, it’s important to set his brother straight. Lo’ak has an overactive imagination after all and the last thing he would want is his little brother’s curiosity and desire becoming an interruption for the wondrous night the two of you are about to have. 

Those long lashes flutter open, throat caught on a sharp intake when he stands up and places you back onto the seat. Your dazed and confused look is one that Neteyam can’t help but coo at, the pad of his thumb running over your cheek. 

“Mawey, tiyawn [be calm, love]. I will be right back.” You’re already scrambling to your knees, finally keeping the weight off of your sore bum. “Be a good girl for me and stay put, yes?”

It’s a rhetorical question and one that he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before a kiss is placed on your hairline and the Olo’eyktan is parting the crowd. It’s obvious that there is a moment where you consider stopping him. You may be hell bent on never admitting it verbally but the other Na’vi put you on edge and being around him has become your one constant, a safety you can rely on. If not for his urgency Neteyam would take his time in teasing you on the matter. 

Your face always looks even more lovely with that deep shade of red, whether from anger or embarrassment or even both. 

Later, he reminds himself.  

The female rubbing up against Lo’ak looks more than put out by his lagged reciprocation. Her displeasure colors into slight shock when she spots her Olo’eyktan coming straight towards them. Lo’ak crosses his arms as his partner quickly signs the proper respect to their leader. Neteyam dismisses her easily. 

“Excuse me, sister. I require a moment with my brother.” Neteyam ushers Lo’ak away from the scene before giving her a chance to respond or offer to give them privacy. 

The fire’s light now just barely humming over their skin. The two brothers find a moment of solace on the outskirts of the celebration. Neteyam’s ears still buzz from the sensory overload it has taken for the past few hours. 

“If you’re going to ask me for another favor can it at least wait until tomorrow? There is a party, you know.” Lo’ak tall frame lazily leans against the nearest tree and he attempts to hide the way his eyes fly over Neteyam’s shoulder towards you by making a show of tying his hair back. 

“Funny considering how eager you were to grant me a favor earlier this morning.” Neteyam’s veiny arms cross over his chest, tail whipping back and forth in the cool wind. If Lo’ak is intimidated he doesn’t show it. 

“Aren’t I a wonderful brother?” Those sharp teeth shimmer as he makes a show of giving an over the top sarcastic grin.

“Lo’ak.” Neteyam growls. 

“Jesus, calm down.” Lo’ak groans, head thrown back against the bark. “She’s still your little toy.” 

“I am not stupid, baby brother. I see the way you look at her.” 

“Whatever.” Lo’ak bristles and makes his way to stomp off but he is caught by the upper bicep. 

“I don’t want there to be any…confusion.” Silence spreads between them, the only sound being that of Lo’ak’s harsh exhale. 

“I was only watching.” He finally says, voice dropping lower. 

“And you are free to.” Small steps bring him further into his brother’s space. “But let’s be clear about whose permission you need in order to touch.” 

“And I didn’t.” His arm is ripped from Neteyam’s grasp. “I’ve only ever babysat the little brat and done all that you’ve asked of me. If you are looking for problems to address I would start with her running off at every given opportunity. Take a look for yourself!” He flails an exasperated arm in your direction but Neteyam doesn’t even bother to turn. 

“I am aware.” There is no need to look in order to know that you have once again tried your hand at another escape. He can see it in his mind’s eye now, your small body carefully hoisting itself down from the high throne. Panicked eyes racing over the crowd in search of any Na’vi that could potentially halt your actions. All that before short legs race off into the darkness. “I’m giving her a head start.” 

It’s best not to let you go too far. Eywa knows you are very skilled at finding new ways to put yourself in danger, but a little chase is an exhilarating experience. 

“Oh yeah, you going to make me chase after her for you too?” Lo’ak spits out, urging Neteyam to roll his eyes at his brother’s antics. He resists however, that wouldn’t be very becoming of the Olo’eyktan. 

“I fear you would enjoy that far too much, brother.”

Instead of fiery words shot back the only line of defense Lo’ak puts up is a scoff and frowned expression, golden eyes simmering with words that he knows better than to voice. Neteyam can give his brother credit for that at least. He knows when he is stomping on dangerous territory. You, on the other hand, seem to be learning that lesson far too slow. It seems a cute tawtute like you are more of a hands on learner. 

“Can I be excused then, oh might Olo’eyktan?” He flourishes with a sarcastic bow. 

“Leave.” Neteyam bites out simply, forcing his eyes to remain trained on his younger brother as he joins the crowd again. It’s a safety precaution just in case Lo’ak gets a bad idea even after warnings. Much to the Na’vi girl’s dismay Lo’ak does not join her again on the dance floor and instead heads straight towards the fermented fruit. No doubt he will spoil himself into a drunken state. Unfortunately for him, Neteyam already has his hands full babysitting you tonight. 

He takes his time, however, greeting a few of the clan members and partaking in a small dose of alcohol himself. With your small legs it will take you forever to get a distance that makes this chase even remotely fun. However, once the drink is empty and he has done his dues as Olo’eyktan in the social event Neteyam can no longer keep himself at bay. There are other creatures of the night that could be waiting to catch a pretty prey like you.

Tracking you down is almost laughably easy with your sweet scent wafting through the air. A scent that only grows tenfold when he comes across a peculiar piece of plastic stashed in a bush. It’s the dildo that is meant to still be snuggled up in your little cunt. 

A sharp smirk cuts into his features. 

For such a smart little thing you really can be so negligent at times. With the dildo out your scent now goes from a dulled perfume to a thick fragrance that coats the air. He recognizes that aroma, he knows the way it tastes. Your arousal has only made you an easier target and now you have done nothing but take out the one piece keeping it plugged. Neteyam can envision so clearly that trail of slick that is sure to be marking your thighs. 

Such a messy little thing you are. Even after the way he cleaned you up so dutifully post launch, you have managed to turn into a wet temptation once more. 

The small footprints along the dirt are almost pointless in his pursuit now that he has your scent. They only serve as a confirmation that he is going the right way. It doesn’t take long before the sound of your sharp panting reaches his upturned ears. It’s then that the Olo’eyktan takes to the trees. He glides along the thick branches without a sound, gaining a bird’s eye view of your desperate running. 

The full on sprint you started off with has come down to a clumsy jog. Even with your small stride he’s sure you could make it a lot further if you would simply stop looking over your shoulder every other second. An action that has you stumbling and grabbing your foot to pick out a thorn from the underside. Little curses rise between your harsh breaths. 

And then your breathing is cut all together. 

The sounds of claws and wild yips echo through the greenery. By the sounds of it Neteyam knows it must be a small pack of aynantang [viperwolves]. They aren’t close, at least not yet. With your back turned and eyes blown out in silent terror he decides that now is as good a time as ever to interrupt. 

Neteyam lowers himself down slowly, muscular arms controlling his descent into a movement so smooth and silent that it is nothing more than a shadow. A shaky hand covers your lips, the little puff of your beating heart pushing your chest out even more. One long step forward and now he can watch your trembling from above, his toes almost touching your muddy heels. 

“Their bite is not as sharp as mine, pet.” 

You scream before the sound can be stopped, spinning so fast your heel that you land directly on your red bum instead. Even without glowing tanhi dotting your skin, those dilated eyes have a way of making you glow in the night. Even more so when they dazzle up at him with unleashed fear and vulnerability. 

You scramble backwards, clawing at the muddy ground until you are clumsily trying to crawl back onto your feet. Fine by him, it’s easier to close the height difference when you are back to standing. He grabs your right arms easily, pulling you back against him. The fight continues as you turn to bash your first against his abdomen, even clawing at his thighs but then another sound cuts you off again. 

They are closer this time.

“They hunt in packs.” Neteyam informs you. “Circle their prey until there is nowhere left to go.”

A rustle of bushes to the left has your squirming changing from running away to ducking behind Neteyam. He allows the action, sharp teeth peeking from his grin when he feels the way your soft fingers dig into his thighs. 

“My father was almost killed by a pack once. Even in his avatar form he depended on my mother’s mercy to fight the creatures off.” You shake like a leaf in the wind, your face pressed against his lower back when the sounds get louder. He almost feels bad for scaring you so much, tempted to bundle you in his arms and shush your worries away. However, that would ruin the lesson. You are the one that decided to run off carelessly into the woods without him and now you need to understand why you depend on Neteyam for everything. Why you owe him your submission and affection. 

“I wonder how you would fair.” A few more wolves prowl from the bushes, inching closer. They creep forward with a hesitance at the sight of Neteyam, driven only by curiosity as your scent continues to fill the air. 

“Teyam.” You whimper into his hip, now latching onto the strap of his loincloth to urge him backwards. 

“What’s wrong, pet? I thought you wanted to be set free?”

A vicious snarl rip from the right and you stumble to cling to his left side now. That startled little scream is just barely muffled by the way your face is pressed into his hip. 

He coos at your little pleas. “Has someone changed their mind, hm?” Any other time you would be barring your blunt teeth at him but he knows that in the height of your fear there is no resistance left for him. You’re too focused on the prowling beasts that flash their own teeth in eclipse’s glow. 

“Teyam please, let’s go!” Voice caught on sobs that threaten to rise, you can barely make the words out. 

Your fear is palpable, but not just to him.The aynantang [viperwolves] can sense it too. They circle and watch with more confidence as the seconds roll by. Periodically they flicker up to his looming form, as if checking to see whether or not he will be a threat against their newfound meal. It would be easy to scare them off, something Neteyam has done himself many times. He’s hunted these forests since he was a boy and his own scent is something that the creatures have learned to associate with danger. 

Standing here now, however, he keeps a neutral position and one that the pack hesitantly takes as an opportunity to cinch closer. A flash of his knife and that confidence would disintegrate until the pack would scurry off into another corner of the forest. 

Neteyam keeps it sheathed. 

“You’re the one that ran off, little gift.” He reminds you, voice calm and cool. 

“I know! I know! I’m sorry j-just please!” 

“Please what, tiyawn? You have to be more specific.” 

You struggle to respond properly, hands frantically switching from tugs at the straps to clawing up at his arms. Regardless, Neteyam remains unmoved, arms crossed over his chest as he observes the scene with indifference. “Please..please don’t let them-” You gasp rearing back when you spot another viperwolf emerging from the left. It’s been there for a while but it appears this is the first time your weak eyes have caught sight of it. “I’m sorry! I’ve changed my mind! Please, I’m sorry.” You cry out in a shrill voice, plastering yourself under his arm. 

“Changed your mind on what?” It’s tempting to look down and see the way you so desperately seek his comfort but Neteyam is wise enough to keep his golden gaze sharply pinned on the emerging creatures. 

“On wanting to leave! You can take me home just please-”

“Oh can I?” Your chin is snatched between two fingers, forcing you to crane your neck up towards him. That mask of indifference is gone, replaced only  by a fierce stirness you are terrified to be facing twice in one day. “And what makes you think that is up to you?”

It’s hard to look into your eyes directly when they are bouncing wildly in every which direction. Perhaps it is your pitiful way of tracking the oncoming predators, or maybe you simply can not handle facing his gaze filled with ire. Either way, it is adorable to watch your natural submissive nature emerge. And all from a few viperwolves. 

Poor thing, what would you do without him?

“I-I’m sorry.” You say, voice so small and timid that only a Na’vi would have hopes of hearing it. Neteyam’s chest rumbles with a deep purr, other hand finally coming up to run through your hair.

“I know you are, tiyawn. You just get confused sometimes, don’t you?” No response is given, instead just a gasp as another creature inches closer and you dash into his arms. This time he wraps one arm around your small frame while the other goes for his sheathed knife. The advance pauses, aynantang  [viperwolves] pacing from side to side instead. Your reaction is premature but Neteyam basks in it all the same.

From the heated breath and salty tears painting his lower stomach he begins to worry that your fragile body will soon give out and lose consciousness. Keeping you tucked under his arm is the best move, easily accessible for when he needs to scoop you up without retaliation. However at this point, it seems that you are willing to do whatever it takes to earn his protection.

What a short memory you truly have. Perhaps if you listened to him more diligently like a good pet should then you would already know that his protection has been yours since the first time he saw you. He would defend you to his very last breath. Whether or not you asked for it would be irrelevant. That being said, you’ve always had the sweetest way of begging so who is he to deny himself such a pretty chorus of promises. 

They flow now freely from your lips. Pleading, crying, and begging for him to get you out of harm's way. He simply shushes you, making no rush as a rigid arm tightens to pull you even closer. 

The creatures are scared off within the first few hisses that leave his lips. Knife dancing under the moonlight with a deadly promise, they yip away reluctantly. Still, there is an advantage to not letting you know how easy it truly is to scare them off so he tells you to look away, to keep snuggled against him where they can not so easily see your fear. 

You remain that way when you are lifted into his arms. Your thighs strain to wrap around his ribcage but you eventually manage to lock your ankles together. With your shaky limbs locked in terror you are barely in need of his supporting arm, but he wraps one under your rear anyways. You remind him of a small syaksyuk [Prolemuris] as you cling with fervor, lighting his amusement to new heights. 

The walk back is pleasant, even when your shaking doesn’t stop and your racing heart beat is louder than the stomp of his feet. There is still great peace to be found with you in his arms and the promise of a wonderful night in the air. After tonight you won’t dare to leave him, not now that you have developed a healthy sense of fear and even more so once your body has taken him fully the way it was meant to. 

He holds back a groan at the thought. Your smell is still just as potent as when you first ran and now it holds an extra tang of emotion that makes it all that much sweeter. He manages to pick up the tossed aside dildo on the way back, but that acts as fuel to the flames. 

He has sought after your true mating for months and now that he is on the cusp of finally making it a reality it is hard to keep a rational mind. The natural urge to pin you down and take what has always been his morphs into a feral urgency that infringes on his thoughts. Although, he is determined to take his time tonight because it is isn’t enough to simply fuck you into the ground or find pleasure in that first stretch. No, tonight is about claiming you in every way possible. 

About teaching not only your body but your mind that there is no one else it belongs to. No one else that can provide for you in the way he can. Utter and complete submission is his goal. But to get you there, that will take skillful maneuvering and coercion. Otherwise it would not be a quest worthy of his time or attention. 

However, there is still one more way he can lock you into his life. One permanent reminder that would forever keep you shackled to him. An action that would have your scent intertwined with his so much so that it wouldn’t matter if it took. Pregnant or not the message would be clear. The confines of his loincloth feel suffocating at the thought. Would your tiny pussy even be able to hold half of his seed? What a pretty treat it would be to see it spilling out from your perfectly pink and tight hole. 

Pace now quickened, nothing can take away his laser focus. Not even Lo’ak’s obvious staring as you are carried swiftly along the outer edges of the celebration. Nor Spider who tries to run across the crowd and apologize again. Neither make it to him because all that he can feel is the warmth of your softy body. The pulse of your heart. The essence that is entirely yours, filling his lungs. 

Once back in the safety of his kelku [home/house] you are smart enough to not flee from his lap. He manhandles one leg to be thrown to the other side so you are properly straddling him. A sense of shyness must fall over you because you are silent while nervously fiddling with the feathers of his traditional attire. Or maybe you are still too shaken up over the little viperwolf incident to do much else. 

Neteyam is unbothered by it, instead using it as an opportunity to let his hands explore. Not in a sexual way at first, just simple brushes that are sure to have you melting for him.

“Now you understand why you must stay by my side. Don’t you pet?” Voice as gentle as the hands that run up the back of your neck, he can feel goosebumps rise in its wake. Eyes still fixated on the feathers, you nod shakily. If it wasn’t so cute he would be tempted to reprimand you for such a half hearted response but it appears luck is in your favor. 

His knuckles paint a trail up the back of your neck before swiping over your left shoulder. His other hand softly gathers your hair to the other side so your skin is bared for him. He thumbs at the side of your throat, feeling your pulse flicker beneath his fingers. 

“Such a pretty thing like you is not safe out there.” His hands bracket either side of your face, large enough to span the entirety of your head and tilt it upwards. It gives him the perfect view of your expression when both hands smooth up towards your hairline before parting and dragging along your scalp. Lips parted and eyes fluttered closed, he knows he has pressed the right button. 

“Creatures eager to snatch you up.” Neteyam draws out, nails ever so gently scratching along your roots. The shiver that races through your body is powerful enough to be visual. Massaging at the area in long strokes proves to have you breaking into pieces. Body practically limp against him, the Olo’eyktan watches with glee. 

No wonder Sky People are too soft for this world, all it takes to disarm you is some well placed pets. 

“And they’d be successful too,” The tips of his fingers come together to circle your hair into a ponytail. A small sound exhales from your lips, leaning into his touch without resolve. “Have you between their teeth before you could even scream.” That dark tone washes over you in a way so contrary to the warning message, his lips mere centimeters away from your own. 

One little kiss, more of a peck really. That is all you get. Just enough to have you chasing after him, a motion that is hard to do when he has you anchored by the root of your hair. 

“And that,” Another soft peck to your cheek, “is why you are so lucky to have me.” Neteyam allows his lips to linger longer this time but it’s still just as soft, almost more of a whisper than anything else and with the way you are trapped, there is nothing for you to do but take it. The noise that catches in your throat proves it is far from the passionate affection you desire. 

“Isn’t that right?”

“Yes Teyam.” You puff, the softest whisper as you try to learn forward for more. He tutts in disapproval, a slow but firm yank to your hair following. “Y-yes Olo’eyktan.” You correct yourself with a squeak and much to his delight, the fragrance from between your thighs intensifies. He’s tempted to look now and see if it has left a spot on his loincloth. 

“There’s my good girl.” He grins and finally you are rewarded with his lips capturing yours. Although slow and tender in movement the heat of the kiss is all consuming, spreading a message that can only reflect his complete control over you. Several times you try to squirm or wiggle but the hand embedded in your hair shackles you into place. 

Unlike most times you become a fidgeting little thing, it’s clear that your efforts are to get closer, not further away. Neteyam is a nice man after all and so he indulges that desire. At least to a degree. He kisses you until you’re gasping for breath. He kisses you until slick is seeping through your mini loincloth. And he kisses you until those soft little lips are ruby red and chapped from the harsh treatment. 

It doesn’t matter to you, that much is clear by the way you whimper once he pulls away. 

“Don’t be greedy.” He smirks against your cheek.

Your greed only intensifies when he slips one hand down to untie your loincloth. His other hand remains embedded in your hair as a leash, one that proves necessary as you are eager to rut up against him. Perhaps he would feel guilty for the way you blush in shame after another tug to your hair. That is, if your reactions weren’t so delightfully endearing. 

For reasons mysterious to him, humans have a habit of going against their natural needs. You are not exempt from this issue as you are constantly trying to deny your desire for him, even deny yourself the pleasure you so clearly require. It’s fortunate that you have him to override those silly concerns. And override them he does, quite easily since your body reacts like a live wire every time he is near. The smallest of touches have you aching for more.

Eywa has blessed him with such a responsive little pet and he has every intention of exploiting that sensitivity until you are screeching for him to stop. 

Small hands come to dig into his feathered mantle as he idly explores the curves of your stomach. He traces up until reaching the sparkling gems of your top. With two little flicks your hardened nipples are bared for him. 

It’s a rare experience to have you so cooperative as he bites and sucks at those little peaks. The emotions of that day have softened your resolve, a pattern that Neteyam makes a mental note of. 

He tunes into every sensation of satin skin beneath his fingertips. Atop his thighs. Prickling beneath his lips. Like a flower you blossom for him so exquisitely. Revealing petals that are just for him. Melodic whimpers that only he has the pleasure of inducing. The irritation of Lo’ak’s infatuation fades to the background with you so pliant in his arms. 

You are quickly driven to madness, or at least is how you plead when he continues to trace, worship and tease your small body. Neteyam is anxious too. His hard member presses painfully against the fabric of his tewng. However, being the first born son has taught him something that you very rarely exhibit: patience. The fruits of your labors are tenfold more exhilarating once following a period of yearning. 

And you yearn for him, little gift. So much so that your dramatic begging has him holding back a deep chuckle. 

A river of nectar flowing down your thighs, you act as if you will pitter into dust if not satisfied. 

It will be fun training you. Making you learn to sit patiently like a good pet when that inferno of fire burns deep within you. He can devise a plethora of creative punishments for when you inevitably step out of line. Neteyam looks forward to the long process. He wouldn’t want to succeed too quickly and cut the fun short.

Luckily your spit fire attitude is sure to draw it out, keeping him entertained and challenged for a long time. 

The reasoning is only further confirmed when he catches you sneaking a tiny hand between your legs. The grip in your hair finally releases only for him to sharply smack away your attempt. 

“Did I say you could do that?” 

You’re exasperated, pleading eyes staring up at him as a drawn out groan comes from your lips. 

“Well are you planning to tease me all night or actually do something?” 

You’re pinned onto your back in a heartbeat, this time his right hand curled around your throat instead of your hair. It may not be firm enough to cut off your airway but the oxygen in your lungs freezes all the same. 

“Oeyӓ tiyawn I have greater plans for my pussy than using your pathetic little fingers.” He growls into your ear, watching as you are too frozen in shock to bother struggling. “Because by the end of tonight it will be filled with my seed.” 

Your throat bobs with a thick gulp, stuttered words struggling to come forth but a tad more pressure against your pulse earns your silence. And to his fascination, your eyes roll back into your head. Fight it all you want, but it’s clear you have always thrived off of his domination. This power imbalance is one that you need. Satisfying that deeply locked away drive you have to be loved, pampered, controlled, and absolutely ruined.

Just in the way only he can deliver. 

Squeeze any tighter and his fingers might just lose circulation. Regardless, the dildos have done their job effectively and now you are more than ready to take him. It was always going to be a tight fit, but at least there is little risk of real injury due to his preparations. 

You appear less convinced on that matter when his unoccupied hand roughly tugs off his tewng. Wide eyes stare down to where his full length lays along your stomach. He has to admit that in a position like this the size difference does become ever more staggering but he has every faith in you. 

“Neteyam please,” You whimper, shiny eyes staring up at him for mercy.

“Please what?” He hums. His fingers curl to massage that special spot inside while his thumb playfully runs over your clit. It has the desired effect, watching as your begging turns towards a different goal.

“Please let me cum! Need it! Neteyam please!”

Neteyam shushes you tenderly, relieving some of the pressure from you little button when he feels your cunt clench around him on the verge of an orgasm. You’ve never looked more beautiful than now, naked and spread across the little nest of blankets and pillows he arranged just for you. Long hair splayed out in every which direction and eyes already coated in a haze, it appears as if you have already been fucked dumb beneath him. 

“Patience, little gift. You will cum on my cock soon enough.” 

Your alarm flares up once more. 

“No Neteyam I can’t! It’s too big, it’s impossible-”

A large thumb presses over your lips to silence you. At this rate you are going to work yourself into hysterics and that would unravel all of the hard work he has done to get you here. A few more intentional circles on your clit has those protests flying out the door. It’s clear you require his help to stay calm and compliant the way you are meant to. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t mind aiding.

Your chest rises and falls dramatically as you melt under the pleasure. And when his three fingers are replaced with the head of his cock lining up, you hardly even notice. As long as that little bundle of nerves is being stimulated, you are hyper focused on seeing out that ecstasy to a finish. 

A soft kiss dampens your screech when he slots in just the tip. Already his mind swirls from the sensation but Neteyam manages to reign in his focus. Little ‘no’ s and pleas fall from your lips to caress his. 

“Mawey, oeyӓ tiyawn [be calm, my love]. You are being so good for me.” Another inch and it feels as if his own knees are about to crumble from how tightly you cinch around him. Small hands fists into the fabric below as your eyes squeeze shut. Neteyam shakily grasps one with his right hand, placing it along his shoulder that is now exposed with the feathered attire out of the way. “You can touch, little pet. Good girls deserve rewards.” 

With your face just barely reaching chest level the Olo’eyktan is forced to bend into an awkward position every time he goes to kiss away your tears, but it’s worth it. Those blunt little nails dig into his lower back. It’s a shame they aren’t strong enough to leave marks that he can cherish.

The air from his lungs are pushed out in a rush as he plunges ever so slightly deeper inside your sweet little pussy. You tense and cry beneath him, scratching as his back in haste. Although mere seconds away from popping his load far too early he still manages to reach down and play with your poor little cunt until more of that sweet essence is trailing out. 

“You need to relax for me, pet.” Neteyam grits, tail curling erratically. “Going to suffocate my cock like this, little one.” And it’s true because in all of his years of sexual maturity not once has he ever felt a pussy so tight, so responsive, wrapped around him. It drives him to the point of insanity. It takes every last bit of resolve he has left to not shove the rest of himself inside and plow you into the floor. 

But Neteyam knows better than to break his toys. 

The next few minutes test his mental and physical stamina over and over as you slowly take him inch by inch. Every slow push of his hips causes a domino effect of tears and incoherent cries from your sweet lips. He kisses and soothes and pleasures your trembling body until you’ve learned to relax again. Only to then restart the cycle when you take one inch more. 

However, nothing prepares him for the end result. No amount of dreaming or training could ever have done the sight justice as he sees the  way your soft belly bulges when he reaches the hilt. The shape of him is clearly visible, twitching so deep inside of you that it threatens to drive both of you into sensation overload. 

The groan that rumbles from his throat is one that you have never heard before. So rough and unleashed that your glittering eyes dilate in response. It’s still painful, that much he can see from the look on your face. So despite every instinct in him screaming to ruin your little pussy until it can take no more, Neteyam remains in place. 

Your swollen nub is red from his sensual play, nipples not far behind as he laps and kisses them like they are the last meal he will ever have. That beautiful blush now heats down your neck and torso, as if tempting him to continual his oral fixation. It accentuates most importantly that bulge of your stomach until he can’t help himself anymore, large hand spanning over your tummy to press on that area lightly. 

“Can you feel me, tiyawn? Right here?” He presses again, your mouth opening in a silent scream. “Taking me so deep, pet. My good girl.” 

 And it’s then that it feels as if something has clicked. Your bodies becomes attuned to one another. Burning stretch morphs into something otherworldly, those soft features finally unscrewing into fluttering bliss. And he draws out ever so slightly to rut back in, your head falls back against the pillows. 

He’s waited long enough. Pinned long enough. Crawled after you long enough. Now all that his body can do is take what you so freely give him. His hips snap forward without restrain, spurred on by the little sounds that pulse in the back of your throat. Little fingers scatter between gripping his muscular back and tangling into his braids. 

The heat that travels from his ears to toes is so intense that it feels as if he may burst into an inferno. And he truly might, little gift. With the way you hug his cock so snuggly as if you never want to let it go, you may simply kill him. He would be happy to go that way. To leave this world drowning in the bliss of your destined union. 

And for once in his life, Neteyam lets himself fully go. He chases that peak with fervent desperation. He drinks in every reaction you have to give him. And when the pleasure becomes all too much for you to take. When you grapple to crawl away from him and the mind shattering climax that is around the corner, he pulls you back down with a hiss. 

“No more running, pet.” He commands, a growl emanating so deeply from his chest that he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. He hoists your left leg around his waist, effectively changing the angle to thrust in deeper. 

“Neteyam!” A screech like sweet honey from your lips as you finally tip over the edge. Body trembling so hard it takes that firm grip on your leg to keep it there, you crumble beneath him. His stamina is far from being drained as he rides you through it. Every wave of pleasure is stronger than a drug, leading him to cloud nine until he no longer wants to be anywhere else. 

“T-too much.” You gasp for air but your body is already succumbing to the onslaught. He can feel the way you are ramping up again. This is far from being over. 

“Give in.” Neteyam coos but the ring of that command is clear. There is no other option. That is the way it has always been because from the very beginning you have always been his. And sooner or later Eywa knew that the two of you would be here together, trapped in his love where you belong. 

“Oh God!” You cry out, body sliding up the floor with every thrust. 

Whether you find his queue by accident or on purpose is unclear but that first tug is enough to have his balls drawing up against his body, bracing to fly into bliss. There is a sticky mess between the two of you, slick enough to have those wet sounds filling the night air. Neteyam runs the flat of his nose over your sweaty temple and curve of your cheek. 

“My little gift.” He purrs, body on the brink of rupturing. He says it more for himself than you but is more than pleased to watch the way your eyes flutter close as the sound. Trembling, squeezing, and shattering around him, those are the moments your reserve of denial dries up.

That’s how it has always been. From the first night that he brought you home, tucked under his arm, you’ve had this other side that can be taunted out. Even that night as you had pleaded to be released only to have the gag put back in, his tongue had driven you to stillness. Your screaming of kidnapping had sizzled into a series of moans and ecstatic exclamations. 

There’s another side to him too.

The part of him that can finally bask in the one thing he has wanted for months. The part of him that yearns for reprieve day in and day out. The part that demands for rest- for freedom. 

Now he can finally surrender himself to the magic that the two of you create. To the sparkle that runs down your cheeks. To the sensation of being embraced so tightly by your little pussy. To the way his name has never sounded better from anyone else’s lips. Eywa has finally given him this gift, his sanctuary from every other pressure bestowed upon him. 

And now nothing is going to take it away from him.

Nothing will ever take you away.

Those are the thoughts that coerce his primal nature forward. The same that ramp the fire of his tongue demanding more from you. Pushing you further, harder, deeper. 

“You won’t let any spill out, will you pet?” He spits between grunts. 

“I-I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.” More of a chant on loop than anything else. One day you will beg properly. You will cry for his seed, for his babies. You won’t question whether or not pregnancy is possible as he fills your womb with his mark. 

You will wear that little bow on your neck with pride.

Neteyam forces his eyes open at the precipice. Even as his body convulses and cock pulses rampantly while painting your insides white, he won’t allow himself to miss a single moment. That imprint of your expression as he finally claims you past the point of return will stay with him. The drawn in gasp that is sucked in from your red lips when you feel that warmth will be what keeps him going on day after day. Major to minor details of tonight will be his soundtrack to perfection as he pushes himself to be the best Olo’eyktan possible. 

And when the day has worn him to the bone and those day dreams are not enough, there you will be. Waiting for him oh so sweetly. 

“I want to sleep.”

Your muffled whine coaxes a chuckle from the Olo’eyktan.

“Then sleep.” He responds, only looking up from your spread legs for a second. So peaceful and sweet you are now, almost drowned in the hammock’s blankets and pillows. The picture of innocence and beauty only to then trail his eyes lower and find the evidence of his primal claim. His bioluminescent seed paints your weeping folds and inner thighs. A new spurt erupts from your still clenching hole only for him to push it back inside with his thumb again. 

It won’t make much of a difference. There is no way your small body could ever truly hold all of it but that doesn’t stop him from teasing you all the same. 

“Looks like this little pussy will need training to savor my seed properly after all.” 

Eyes still closed you let out a groan, trying to rip your thighs from his fingers. You remain trapped as exhaustion finally overcomes you, only a small incoherent curse from your tongue before passing out. 

Neteyam grins, reaching up to straighten the little pink bow around your throat. 

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[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cherry Picking.

Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

Summary: After your first night with Spencer, you wake up and see that he's left you two dollars and a thank-you note on your bedside table.

Words: 2,3k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. lots of mentions and references to sex, but nothing completely explicit. the reader is quite dramatic and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This idea just came to me out of the blue, and I have to say that Sex and the City has had a bit of an influence. I love the chaos, the conversations between friends, and Spencer being the best man in the world (I'm picturing him kind of like in his season four version).

Saturday afternoon

“Two dollars?!”

Penelope's and JJ's simultaneous exclamations and surprised faces when you finished speaking were pretty much to be expected. They noticed a change in your expression and took a moment to compose themselves, as did the rest of the people in the room, who glanced curiously at your table from time to time. It was certainly a fascinating sight, three women having an animated conversation about their lives over milkshakes as if they were drinks, especially considering that one of them was pregnant and her belly looked like it was about to explode.

You didn't blame anyone for reacting that way, especially not your friends. You were still pretty shocked by what happened, especially by how thoughtless the man you'd developed feelings for and worked closely with over the past few years was. It was a unsettling to find a tip on your nightstand after one of the most memorable nights you'd ever had. You still remembered the excitement you felt when you went to Spencer's apartment yesterday to watch a movie as part of your fourth or fifth date. He seemed nervous when you started kissing more intensely, and the couch wasn't the best setting. The sensation of your body on his bed and his lips on your skin was incredible.

It was a good memory, extremely good if you took away the embarrassment of waking up the next day in his empty bed with money waiting for you, as if you had performed a service.

“Maybe there was a misunderstanding and the money was left on the table by mistake.” Jennifer spoke again in a reassuring tone after turning the matter over. “Spencer can be a little clumsy sometimes.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you listened to her attempt to provide an explanation for his actions. But given their friendship, this was to be expected.

“And he was in a hurry to catch his plane and go to his mother.” Garcia added with a forced smile, trying to lift your spirits. “It all makes sense.”

Yes, it was understandable that he was leaving in a hurry because he had to catch a flight to spend his weekend off with his mother. That didn't worry you, but there was something else that was curious.

“How do you explain the thank-you note?” You asked, taking out the paper and the two dollars you'd pulled out to show them as proof from your purse.

“It was a thank you for hanging out with him, a sweet gesture.” JJ said, taking a sip of her milkshake and patting her belly.

It seemed more like a sour gesture to you, that you had been left with your dignity on the floor. As you left his apartment, you didn't know whether to cry or laugh because it sounded like a bad joke that the only man you thought was decent and for whom you allowed yourself to have feelings would do such a thing.

“My love life is going downhill.” You said.

Just then, the restaurant door opens and Emily appears. After greeting her and apologizing for her late arrival, she asks about the cause of your apparent distress. As a profiler, she was astute enough to know something was wrong just by looking at you.

“What's wrong, honey?” She started talking as soon as she sat down next to you and took a quick look at the table. “Those milkshakes look good, I want one.”

“Spencer thinks I'm a prostitute.” You spoke up without thinking, which surprised Emily and caused her to briefly lose her grip on the menu.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Perhaps you were too direct in saying something that you had been trying to ignore for your own mental health.

“Just a heads-up, we've got a baby in the room. No need to say that word!” Penelope was the first to speak, gently covering JJ's belly with her hands. “He can hear you.”

At that moment, Reid and his comments about pregnancy data at every stage came to mind. You felt a little uncomfortable because you knew it was a little unrealistic to focus on the positives at a time like this.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, baby.” You looked regretfully at your friends and spoke to Jennifer's belly, giving it a gentle caress. “Don't listen.”

“I need context, please.” Emily said confusedly, trying to understand what was going on and why you had said what you had said.

You let out a deep breath, preparing yourself to recount the story once more.

“Okay, Spencer and I made...milkshakes. Very good milkshakes, really good if you know what I mean.” You tried to explain slowly, watching your words and your friends' expressions. “I woke up when he was leaving, he gave me a kiss on my forehead and said to keep sleeping, that he had to catch his flight.”

“That's sweet, but weird to know.” Emily commented quizzically, looking at the menu intently again. “What's the part...you know?”

“Oh, when he thought I was-” You stop yourself as you see how JJ looks at you. “A pie maker.”

You could tell from their expressions that they were about to laugh at your attempts to keep the conversation friendly.

“I woke up hours later to find two dollars on the nightstand with a thank-you note.” You finished the story. “To him, I'm worth two fu...sugary dollars.”

Prentiss stared at you for several seconds, waiting for me to tell her it was a joke. Only when that didn't happen did she speak. “That sounds weird and awful, but I don't think he would do something like that on purpose. Especially you, he really likes you.”

“He likes me enough to give me two dollars.”

When you finished speaking, you experienced a moment of discomfort in your stomach as your own words took effect. You were surprised to find that on a deeper level, what had happened was causing you more pain than you had anticipated.

“That doesn't sound like Reid at all. I've known him for years, and he's not that kind of man.” Penelope said with a frown, trying to reassure you. “I'm sure it's a mix-up.”

You were looking for the same thing and hoping it was just a misunderstanding, but your previous bad experiences made you think otherwise. You'd met enough men to know that they could always be worse. What was different now was that you really liked this particular man. You really longed for him to be different from everyone else.

However, things weren't always as you'd hoped. You'd invested a lot of hope in making your fairy tale come true, and it was starting to take its toll.

“Have you had a chance to speak with him?” JJ inquired.

“He's with his mother, I won't bother him.” You replied with a strange simplicity that made your friends suspicious. “I'm fine, I've calmed down.” You added as you saw their worried faces.

“I love you, but sometimes you scare me.” Emily said, watching you drink from your smoothie as if it contained a painkiller. “It's not okay to pretend that everything's fine.”

“It's understandable to feel a bit discouraged about this. Things may seem challenging at the moment, but I believe things will improve when you discuss this with him.” Jennifer's hand gently touched yours, offering a comforting gesture.

“I'm sure everything will be fine. You have our support if you need it.” Penelope joined in with the motivational words and gave you a reassuring smile.

You took the last sip of your milkshake and leaned back in your seat for a moment before replying. “I'm fine, girls. I don't plan to lose my head over a man, I promised myself.”

They looked at you with some skepticism, but you didn't flinch. You were confident that if you were mentally prepared not to be defeated, or at least not to look defeated, you would be well prepared for the day of the meeting.

You weren't going to lose your mind over this.

Monday morning

You were definitely losing your mind, and no cup of tea or internet video that promised to do so had been able to relax you one bit. You had been cooped up in the office you shared with Penelope for several minutes, pacing in your chair while everyone in the conference room waited for information about a new case and your presence. The mere thought of having to face Reid again was making you feel pretty uneasy.

All weekend, you had been trying to reassure yourself that you were doing well, that you were not hurt or affected by what happened, that it was just one more disappointment to add to the long list you had written since you were a teenager, and that it was normal for someone with your luck. You were not a princess, you were not going to meet a prince, and you were old enough to know that.

But being in the same building as your prince turned toad was not as easy as you had hoped. You prayed that your presence would not be necessary and that the jet would soon take off to take them all away, especially him.

A few sudden knocks on the door startled you. You automatically thought it was your boss coming to scold you for being late, and your blood froze.

“I apologize for the delay, Hotch. I assure...” You spoke promptly as soon as the door opened and a male figure appeared.

But obviously, it wasn't him.

“Oh, sorry, I'm not Hotch. But hey, how are you?” Spencer smiled at you and walked toward you, looking a little nervous.

“Fine.” You replied dryly, getting up from your seat to grab your tablet and some folders to carry into the conference room.

In your mind, you had planned to make a scene as soon as you saw him and make it clear that you didn't cost just two dollars. But after thinking about it a lot, the fear of losing your job over it was greater. And now it was a mixture of that reasoning with your feeling of paralysis at actually having him in front of you.

“I...I missed you over the weekend.” He stopped you before you could walk away, gently holding your hand. The feeling alone made you stop and look at him angrily. “I thought about you a lot, too much, and I bought you something.” He let go of your hand to pull a small box out of his pocket.

“How dare you?” You blurt out, taking a step back.

He looked a little uncomfortable and seemed to be in pain. “I'm sorry if I overstepped. I didn't mean to impose. Did I cross a line? I'm sorry, I just thought—”

“What? That you could embarrass me even more? Didn't I already go through enough?”

That's when you took out two dollars from your purse and gave it to him.

“Could I ask why this is?” Spencer was still frowning and looked just as hurt as you.

His apparent lack of understanding of the situation made you much angrier. You had thought he was probably the smartest man you had ever met in your entire life, but suddenly, in your eyes, he was an idiot.

“I'm refunding your payment, Reid.” You replied firmly, without hiding your frustration.

The confusion on his face seemed to multiply as he tried to understand. “What are you talking about? I gave you your money back.”

You tilted your head slightly to one side.

“Saturday morning, I left on the nightstand the two dollars you lent me a week ago when we bought coffee. You know I don't like being in debt.” Spencer began to explain calmly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and present the facts in a clear and concise manner.

Oh, you do remember lending him money at some point, or rather, inviting him for coffee that he said he'd pay you back. That day when his hair was perfect in the wind, when he smiled at you and told you some interesting facts about coffee beans.

“I mentioned it when I said goodbye, but you looked so tired that I left you a thank you note in case you forgot.” He went on to explain. “A lot of studies say that you wake up to full strength at least 20 to 30 minutes after you actually open your eyes. And you still had them closed when I said goodbye.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I...I thought you—” You fell silent as you saw the stunned look on his face. You didn't want to look crazy, so you quickly added. “I just thought wrong.”

“I'm sorry, I don't understand.” He said, a little embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no, I just...did you bring me a gift?” You changed the subject, taking the box he had previously offered you. Inside was a necklace with a cherry blossom charm.

“Your computer wallpaper is a picture of cherry blossoms. And I saw this necklace in a store when I was walking with my mom, and I thought you might like it. But it's okay if you don't want it—” He spoke fast until you interrupted him.

“I love it, thank you.” You smiled at him and took the necklace out of the box. “Could you help me with this?”

With some trepidation and uncertainty still present, Spencer positioned himself behind you with the jewel in his hands, carefully brushed your hair aside and fastened the necklace around your neck. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin made you feel a slight shiver.

“Thanks.” You said as you turned around to face him. You gave him a hug, though you were a little unsure.

He returned your embrace, feeling a sense of relief that things between you were okay. “You don't have to thank me.”

“It's not about the gift. It's just a way to say thanks for being you.”

Perhaps he was your prince after all.

[lucentloo]

Broken Vases and Hot Chocolate

Summary: A broken vase makes you believe the brief paradise you gained at the Potters will be shattered but James helps you realize that you won't get hurt again.

James Potter x fem!reader

Wc: 1070

Content Warning: Fem!reader, Black!reader, reader is Sirius' sister, flinching, past abuse, Mrs. Potter to the rescue with her emergency hot chocolate!, Comfort, James and reader are in a relationship.

A/N: Hello guys! I am posting one fic after the other and there might be more bc I've got a lot of free time but I wouldn't expect this for the future unfortunately. I hope you're enjoying the New Year and I hope you enjoy my fifth fic on this blog! Have a good rest of your day/night and make sure to have some water!

You knew deep down that this was a mistake; your instincts screamed at you that you shouldn’t have followed Sirius when he begged you to come along. The intensity in his gaze, the way his heart ached for you to join him—along with Regulus—made it impossible to say no. With a heavy heart, you left your little brother in the care of those who had inflicted pain upon you and stepped into the unknown alongside Sirius at the Potters’ house.

Sirius was relentless in his reassurances, insisting that the Potters were kind and that you had no reason to fear them. He spoke with such conviction, claiming they would never raise a finger against you, but as the shards of glass glistened ominously at your feet, doubt clouded your mind.

You had been playing a spirited game of pass with James, the vibrant quaffle soaring back and forth between you, laughter escaping your lips like music on the warm afternoon breeze. But in an unfortunate moment, the ball slipped through your fingers, crashing into one of Mrs. Potter’s beautiful vases. The sound was deafening, a shatter so loud it seemed to echo through the air, alerting not only James but likely every neighbor on the block. In that instant, the blissful atmosphere transformed into one of panic, leaving you with the weight of uncertainty and dread.

James muttered a string of curses under his breath, his frustration palpable in the air. You flinched at the disturbance it caused, instinctively dropping to your knees to swiftly clean up the mess sprawled across the floor. The cool surface pressed against your skin as you worked, your heart racing. Sirius had mentioned that the Potters were generally more forgiving than others, so perhaps if you hurried, you could erase the evidence of your mistake before they noticed. You hoped that your diligence would spare you from their displeasure.

“Woah! Hey, what are you doing?” James asks as he watches the glass dig into your knees as you clean it up with uncovered hands.

“I’m cleaning,” you responded in what you hoped was a collected voice but knew that there were some cracks in there.

James quickly put on his deer slippers Sirius gave him for Christmas and stepped over the glass to stop your hands. “Sweet thing, you don’t have to do that, it was my fault the throw was too hard, come on.” He says gently as he brushes off the few small flakes of glass off your palm.

‘But I didn’t catch it. If you just let me clean it up then there would be less trouble and-”

You were cut off by James who put his on your waist and hoisted you up like you weighed nothing. He carried you over to the couch and set you down gently. “There is no trouble, just a knocked-down vase. Sure I might get in trouble with my mom but it was a vase given to her by my grandma, and honestly? My mom's been complaining about it for years.”

The only thing you managed to get from that was the fact that James might get in trouble with his mom. You thought Sirius said that the Potters weren’t as bad as your guys’ parents.

When James went to leave you grabbed his hands tight. Anxiety courses through you as the image of Hogwarts golden boy getting hurt flashes through your mind. That’s not right, he’s too good to be hurt like that. “Tell them it was me, that it was my fault.” Your words are desperate and pleading and James’ eyebrows furrow in concern when he starts to realize what this is all about.

“It’s fine, it was my fault and I’m fine with taking the blame.”

“But I don’t want you to get-”

“Nobody’s gonna get hurt,” James says with conviction. He raises his hand and slowly places it on your cheek. When he wipes away your tears you finally realize how much you were crying and shaking. You sniffle and try to hide your face in embarrassment but James wouldn’t let you.

“No matter what happens here, what you or anybody else does, no one will get hurt. I promise.” He says the last two words a bit softer as his hand travels from your cheek to the back of your neck so he can move your head to his chest.

You let him as you slump against him. You start crying even more and he doesn’t move or give any indication of how uncomfortable he is while crouching. “That’s it, just let it out. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

You hear the door open and hear the silence that follows. You try to move out of James' hold, and he lets you, but he keeps his hand on your back while he looks at his parents. Sirius gives you a concerned look but you look down in your lap.

“What happened, dear?” You look up as Mrs. Potter comes over to the two of you. You choke up before you answer and look over to the corner of the living room instead. When she follows your line of sight she relaxes and sighs. “Oh James, again?”

You look over to James who has now moved to help his dad and Sirius with the groceries. He wears a shit-eating grin as he shrugs. “That boy.” Mrs. Potter says and to your surprise laughs while shaking her head. With a single wave of her wand, the mess is cleared and your injuries are healed as she places her hand on your back as she stands up.

You both make your way to the kitchen. “Do you like hot chocolate? I say it’s a must in the holidays.” With that, your usual smile comes back and you nod. You make your way to where James and Sirius are talking by the counter.

“Thank you, James, for dealing with my mini freak out.” You say quietly as Sirius pulls you into his side.

James just smiles fondly. “How many times have I told you, sweetheart, it’s not dealing with you, it’s loving you. Two different things.” He kisses your head and squeezes your hand before going to help his mom with the hot chocolate.

“I still think it’s disgusting that he’s dating you.”

You laugh and nudge Sirius's side. “Sirius!”

He shrugs his shoulders and holds you closer. “Just saying.”

You smile warmly and lean in more, knowing you could use a few minutes of just hugging.

[p0orbaby]

In Vino Veritas

summary: you’re drunk, aitana is missing and whose house is this?

warnings: alcohol

a/n: this is cute, and it’s made me want to write for tana more

word count: 2.5k

-

The music pulses around the house, loud and relentless, like it has a personal vendetta against silence, and you feel it vibrating through your bones. It’s some mainstream electronic track, too cheerful for the kind of reflective mood tequila usually grants you. Everything around you is a little hazy, a bit too bright, and you’re squinting at it all, like you’re looking at the world through frosted glass.

The wallpaper here is too clean, too deliberately “vintage,” with little pink roses blooming in neat, identical rows. You imagine, briefly, peeling the wallpaper back, layer by layer, finding more roses, more decades of them, stacked on top of each other like memories no one wants to talk about. But that’s a thought for another time, another you, one not stumbling over someone’s overly expensive thrifter rug and nearly tripping on a pair of boots discarded in the hallway.

Where the hell is Aitana?

It’s around the fifth time you’ve drunkenly circled the house when you spot Sunglasses Guy, a figure that almost feels like a test placed here by some malevolent spirit—an obstacle on your journey. He’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter like he’s in a photoshoot, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Indoors, sunglasses on, even though it’s dark outside. He’s got that air of self-importance, like he’s convinced that sunglasses are mysterious, that people look at him and think, Wow, who’s that? In reality, they’re thinking, Why is this guy wearing sunglasses in the dark?

He nods at you, a slow, deliberate motion, clearly trying to make you feel “seen” in some profound way, as if this is a moment the two of you will remember forever. But all you remember is your drink, the way it sloshes precariously as you shift your weight, and the way he leans in, smelling faintly of something vaguely woody and way too expensive.

“Do you know what NFTs are?” he asks, his voice low, a little sultry, like he thinks NFTs are the new “what’s your sign?”

You stare at him, and the words that spring to mind are “sunglasses,” “pretentious,” and, inexplicably, “parsley.” You’ve no idea where “parsley” came from, but your mind clings to it like smoke on cotton. “NFTs,” you repeat, as though it’s the punchline to a joke he hasn’t told. He takes this as an invitation to launch into what sounds like a memorised TED Talk, and you wonder, briefly, if you could just interrupt him by throwing your drink on his shoes.

“Aitana!” you yell instead, desperate, cutting him off mid-monologue, which he handles with a slightly indignant flick of his eyebrow.

“Where’s my girlfriend? Have you seen her?”

The phrase my girlfriend makes you beam internally. There’s a glow that forms when you think of her, a warmth that starts in your chest and blooms outward. She is, after all, the reason you’re here. The reason you even pretend to tolerate these kinds of social gatherings, with their sunglasses indoors and their endless monologues about digital assets.

He blinks, trying to recover from the abrupt derailment. “Uh, blockchain—”

“Ugh,” you mutter, interrupting again, giving him a very distinct dismissive wave, the kind of wave that says Please stop talking or I will find a way to escape this dimension entirely.

A girl nearby spills beer on your shoes. She mumbles an apology, not that you’re in a state to care; you brush it off. Aitana is the focus, the centre. Shoes don’t matter when you’re looking for someone who does.

Then, finally—finally—you see her. She’s leaning against the far wall, her posture so casual, like she’s posed there on purpose, like she’s an ad for the kind of life you’re pretty sure only exists in those short films that play before foreign films at independent cinemas. She’s listening intently to some guy in an aggressively patterned shirt, nodding along like he’s actually saying something worthwhile, and you can’t help but marvel at the patience it takes to look interested when you’re not.

“Oh my god, she’s so beautiful.” It’s supposed to be a whisper, but it comes out loud enough that a girl nearby laughs. You’re only mildly mortified; who cares? Aitana has just noticed you across the room, and now she’s looking at you with that expression, the one that melts your insides, that says, There you are.

You start walking toward her, though “walking” might be generous. It’s more of a determined stumble, like a baby deer on its first attempt at standing. Your brain registers that you’re approaching her, but your legs aren’t quite sure if they’re fully on board. At some point, you even have to pause and grab a nearby chair for balance, flashing a sheepish grin at a couple nearby who look half-amused, half-concerned.

“Aitanaaaa,” you call, drawing her name out like you’re serenading her. She’s already moving toward you, though, weaving gracefully through the crowd like it’s easy, natural. You think, Of course she’d come to me. Of course she’d know that I need rescuing.

“Hi, cariño,” she says softly, her voice lilting with that soft Spanish accent that, even now, sends a thrill up your spine. And it’s so gentle, so warm, like she’s wrapping you up in some invisible blanket. You lean into it, the warmth, her presence, like a moth to a flame.

“You’re so pretty,” you blurt out, your words tumbling over each other in their eagerness. “Like, stupid pretty. Like, why are you even with me?” Your voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, as if the two of you are sharing a secret in a room filled with strangers. “I’m a disaster. I can’t even find the toilet in this place”

She laughs, this soft, lilting sound that feels like honey, thick and golden, spreading warmth from your chest to your fingertips. Her hand settles on your shoulder, steadying you, pulling you closer, and you realise how desperately you want to bury your face in the crook of her neck and just exist there, where things are quiet, soft. She smells faintly floral, and you realise it’s that same perfume she always wears, the one you borrowed once and promptly drenched yourself in until she told you, with a smile, that subtlety might work better.

“Why am I with you?” she echoes, the question hanging there between you, laced with a smile, with that familiar mischief. “Because I love you. And because you’re funny. And because you make my life interesting”

“Interesting?” You narrow your eyes, leaning back slightly, pretending to be offended. “I thought I made your life amazing. Like, top-tier, VIP-section amazing.” You’re about to launch into a whole speech, but your brain hiccups, lost somewhere in a thought that doesn’t quite finish. You grin at her instead, and she just shakes her head, amused.

She grins, and it’s that cheeky, self-assured grin that makes you both melt and want to argue. “That too”

It’s at this moment, this little pause, that you get an idea. It’s not necessarily a good idea, but it’s there, persistent, because your tequila-fuelled brain won’t let it go. “If you were a sandwich,” you say seriously, “you’d be the kind with all the best fillings. Like, avocado and caramelised onions and, like, artisanal cheese. And I’d eat you every day and never get bored”

She laughs, that infectious, melodic sound, and you feel a swell of pride that you can make her laugh like that, even in your current state. Her eyes soften, that look of adoration flickering there, just for you, and she reaches up to brush a strand of hair off your face. Her fingers are warm, soft, and your eyes flutter closed for a moment as they linger on your cheek.

“Come on, let’s get you some water,” she murmurs, her voice gentle as she takes your hand in hers, and there’s a comfort in that touch, in the way her fingers intertwine with yours.

As she guides you through the crowd, you find yourself staring at her hand in yours, marvelling at how naturally it fits, how perfect it feels, as though it’s always meant to be there. The thought makes you feel almost childlike in its simplicity, but you hold onto it.

“You’re the best, you know that?” you say as Aitana threads you through a crowd that’s moving with the sludgy, undulating rhythm of a creature with too many limbs. Faces pass by in flashes of laughing mouths and narrowed eyes, pupils blown wide by God knows what, maybe tequila, maybe… more. None of them matter, though. They’re simply the backdrop to this little tableau: you, lit up and fizzing, tethered to the only person in the world who’d think to take your hand and lead you to salvation (water) instead of just letting you unravel on the sticky floor of someone’s overpriced house.

She looks at you like you’re amusing, like she’s doing you this great favour by holding your hand in public. “I know,” she says, her mouth quirking in that way that makes your chest feel both hollow and unbearably full.

And then you stop—there’s an odd elegance to it, almost like a dance, because she half-turns, looking back at you as if she knew this was coming. Like she’s been expecting you to stop her and do something wild, something foolish. The patience in her eyes, well, it almost feels like she’s giving you permission to make an idiot of yourself. Again.

“I want to kiss you,” you announce, dead serious, as if declaring something truly revolutionary.

“We’re in the middle of a strangers house.” She says this lightly, but she’s already leaning in, her chin tilting, the light catching in her hair just so, like it’s the climax of some impossibly chic music video.

You want to tell her that kissing her here, now, with people everywhere and the taste of cheap tequila in your mouth, is the single most important thing in the world. That nothing in this moment matters, except her—your Aitana, who has somehow, against all reason and logic, decided to love you back.

So, when she presses her mouth to yours, soft, barely-there, like you’re made of fine china, you think you might just melt into the floor. The crowd around you recedes; they fade away, just shadows in the periphery, and it’s as if you and Aitana are standing in a bubble, suspended in time. You’re floating, really, an ethereal, drunk ghost of yourself. She’s kissed you like this a thousand times, but right now, it feels so outrageously perfect that you think, absurdly, that maybe you don’t deserve it. Like you’ve somehow won this cosmic lottery.

When she pulls back, you’re vaguely aware that your mouth is still open, probably looking ridiculous, but she’s smiling at you, all fondness and amusement, as if to say, “Yes, you’re a total disaster, but you’re my disaster.” It’s a little terrifying, if you think about it too long.

“See? This is why you’re the best,” you mumble, clutching her a little tighter, almost swaying in place.

She tilts her head, giving you this look that’s so completely Aitana, so fully her, it borders on cliché. “You’re a mess,” she says, but her eyes are bright, shimmering with something almost mischievous.

You shrug, proud, defiant. “I’m your mess”

“Yes,” she agrees, not even trying to hide her smile, “you are”

And with that, she’s tugging you along, moving with a fluidity that makes you wonder, briefly, if she’s choreographed this entire evening just for you. You’re half-convinced she’s orchestrated the entire universe to align with this moment—the sounds of people talking too loud, the stickiness of the floor, the faint scent of stale beer and expensive perfume all melding into a cocktail that feels uniquely yours. Aitana, your perfect Aitana, leading you through this mire like she’s guiding you through a rainforest or a canyon, somewhere treacherous and fraught with danger.

You stumble into what you desperately hope is the kitchen, but honestly, it could just as easily be a poorly-lit hallway or an oddly-configured living room. Someone has drawn a Sharpie mustache on a framed photo of a golden retriever; the countertop is littered with crumpled napkins and red Solo cups, each one bearing the lipstick marks of strangers.

“I’m gonna drink, like, four litres of water,” you declare, full of bravado, as she hands you a slightly dented plastic cup that smells faintly of gin.

“Good idea,” she replies, crossing her arms and watching you with that expression she gets sometimes, like she’s trying to contain her fondness, keep it manageable, as if loving you too much would somehow be irresponsible. Like her heart could actually explode if she indulged herself too much.

You take a sip, but you’re not really tasting the water. No, you’re watching her, the way she brushes a loose strand of hair out of her face with her pinky, the way her eyes are this exact shade of dark that you’ve spent hours trying to name in your head. Like burnt caramel, maybe, or wet soil. It’s frustratingly poetic, the way she looks at you, like she knows every ridiculous thing you’ve ever thought and loves you for it anyway.

“Aitana,” you say, fully serious, as if you’re about to impart some life-altering wisdom. “You’re my favourite person ever”

“I know,” she replies, but there’s something so gentle in her voice that you’re pretty sure she means it as much as you do. She reaches out, smoothing a stray hair behind your ear, a little gesture, the kind that’s both tender and practical, reminding you of the time she told you to cut your nails because you scratched her during a tickling fit. Practical, pragmatic Aitana, the girl who brings you plasters when you’ve tripped up the stairs and curses in Catalan when she stubs her toe but tries to blame the wall for it.

“No, but like…you don’t understand,” you say, stumbling over your words, the alcohol making you louder and sloppier than you’d like. You lean in closer, conspiratorially, like you’re about to reveal some great cosmic secret. “I’m so in love with you. It’s, like, a problem”

She laughs softly, the sound low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. She pulls you into her arms, your head pressing against her shoulder, and you breathe her in, that familiar scent that’s all her—floral and a little musky, layered with the faintest hint of some expensive perfume you’ve never bothered to learn the name of.

“It’s not a problem,” she murmurs, smoothing a hand down your back. “It’s perfect”

And it is. Perfect, that is. You’re here, tangled up in her, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic, messy cloud of tequila and love, and it’s perfect in this fragile, unsteady way. You’re her mess, her drunken mess, and there’s something so intensely beautiful about it, you think you might actually cry.

“I’m never letting you go,” you mumble, your words muffled against her shirt, which is soft and smells like laundry detergent.

“Good,” she replies, holding you a little tighter, as if she means it more than anything. “Because I’m not going anywhere”

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (vii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the paranormal.

A/N: hello. i am late again. i almost gave up but we are here. for better or for worse. i will most likely go back ad edit the second half again ok love u guys mwahmwah

Previous part || Series masterlist

Only after hours, nay, a full day of hunching over his desk, eyes red-rimmed and burning, four crushed cans of energy drinks next to him lending to him the nervous energy of a chihuahua, Bucky realises that there’s no beating it.

He absentmindedly takes another sip of the RedBull, flinching when the taste registers. Either he’d reached his threshold or the medicine flavour had begun morphing into something else entirely. The caffeine didn’t even work on him, so really, he was just placebo-ing himself into having energy. 

Every site he’s visited has had a vastly different interpretation; ones that don't match what he thinks has been happening, or the context past his past provides. Others are simply blatantly wrong based on the additional research he, in his infinite wisdom and totally accurate self-assessment tendencies, has been gathering in the last 3 days. 

The Star. Six of Cups. The Hanged Man.

Bucky knows he could ask someone in real life about this, someone who possibly had more experience than a simple website whose code broke every time he tried to scroll to the bottom. However, that would mean that he had to tell them his dead sister was probably haunting him out of her spite and hatred for the very fibres of his being.

Also, Bucky may be haunted by his dead relatives, but he’s not haunted enough to actually leave his room over it. 

Video consultations were also an option, but he’s convinced that if word got out that Bucky Barnes was half-convinced ghosts were following him around, it would make headlines for a mighty long week. 

Therefore, he resorts to shady, online websites that demand he pay up before giving him the results of the readings they’ve done for him. 

The “lady” that he paid to talk to using Steve’s credit card on mistytarot.com types for a very long time before a message comes through.

The thought bubble disappears for another half an hour, and Bucky thinks hat either she is a complete scam, or it’s run by someone who is about as technologically proficient as Steve was. 

But a message does in fact come through, and it’s enough to have him be covninced that the 20 bucks he blew on Steve’s card was worth it. 

Lady Lilia 

Considering that you think you’re being haunted, The Star could represent the absence of hope. Do you feel like you’re being trapped in darkness? As if you are being abandoned by the universe and with no room for healing?

B. Barneswell i forgot about it until now

Lady Lilia If your sister passed away a long time ago, the reason The Six of Cups may have presented itself is because you may be feeling like you're ensnared in the past, constantly reliving moments that hurt or confuse you, rather than finding peace. 

A frown grows on his face. 

Lady Lilia If you’re haunted by a person who used to be in your life and it is reminding you of past mistakes, The Hanged Man could be because feel like you're stuck in a cycle of stagnation, unable to move forward, as if these spirits are keeping you suspended in a state of emotional paralysis. 

However, if the cards were upright–

Bucky slams the laptop shut, inhaling and exhaling sharply through his nose.

From the corner of his eye, his phone lights up with the fifth missed call in the last ten minutes, but considering that he keeps that thing on silent, he never even noticed.

Shoving aside whatever he may be thinking for the moment, he checks the caller ID, only for feelings of confusion and despair to be immediately replaced with annoyance, or disgust even. 

He calls back anyway, preparing for the worst. 

“Did you drink all my RedBull?” Clint booms the second he picks up.

“No,” Bucky lies smoothly.

“Fucker, I know it was you. Pay me back. With interest.”

“No.”

Clint switches to whining. “You know I need that shit to stay awake at night. Some of us don’t have superhero cocaine in our system.”

“I don’t care, go to sleep at a normal hour.”

“Say, did you drink every last one?” Clint instantly switches to a curious tone for a second. “Because one of them’s not like the others.”

Bucky looks at the cans that littered his bedroom floor. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you what it is over the phone.”  

“Why?” 

“Let’s just say it’s not exactly allowed in the country, but–”

Bucky cuts the call and tosses it onto the bed. 

He runs a hand through his hair, softly exhaling while contemplating whether or not to continue the chat. Steve wouldn’t miss another 20 dollars, he had the wealth of a small prince with all that army back pay bullshit. In fact, Steve should ideally be funding more of Bucky’s endeavours. 

There comes a knock at his door.

Bucky immediately leaps off the bed, sprinting to the door, because he fuckin knows that knock, goddamn it–

He throws open the door before you get the chance to full body slam against it.

“Oh.” You blink, relaxing away from your stance. “Hey. How’d you know–”

“You do this every week,” he breaks in. “You do this multiple times a day.” 

“Don’t you dare say I’m predictable,” you warn, raising a finger. “I’ll start crying right here, then you’ll have to deal with that. You wanna see snot running down my–”

Bucky slams the door shut again, waiting to turn around. 

“Can you take me to the doctor?” Your voice is muffled through the solid wood.

It’s enough to make him hesitate, hand on the doorknob.

“What’s wrong with you?” he inquires.. 

“Nothing, I’m perfect,” you reply instinctively, before course correcting, “Wait, no, I’m sick.”  

He lets his head drop against the door. “Go to the fucking infirmary.”

“The infirmary told me to go to the hospital. Can you just take me?” you bug. “They won’t discharge me unless I have someone with me to drive me back.”

“You have a head injury?” Bucky asks, before following it with, “Actually, that tracks.”

“Rude.” 

“Ask Nat.”

“Nat’s in Lagos.”

“Ask Sam.” 

“Yoga.”

“Clint.”

“Really.”

“Glad to know I’m your first choice,” he mumbles, opening up the door. 

You send him a blistering smile. “You’re my favourite choice.” 

______

“You gotta take this turn,” you instruct, too close to the actual crossing. 

“The nearest hospital’s five minutes away, what the hell are you talking about?“ he points out, eyes on the road. 

“We’re going to the one on King’s Road,” you read off of Google maps. “Take that lef-– well, you missed that. Now you gotta make a u-turn.”

“What’s the problem with Chastain Park?” he demands. “King’s Road is half an hour away.”

“This one’s got all my files,” you insist. “Otherwise I gotta start over and it's so much effort.”

“Aren’t you in a database?”

“Yeah, but not a medical one.”

Bucky lets out something akin to a growl and a groan. “What's the time?”

“Like eight thirty?”

“What’s the time,” he emphasises, because he most definitely had another email due from another lady on the internet who he had sent his cards to a few hours ago. 

“Fine, it’s eight twenty two,” you shoot back.  “Did that make a big difference?”

“Yeah, it did actually,” he fires indignantly, “My life is radically different. You have no way of knowing.”

“Liar. You’re a lying liar, who lies.” You scoff. “And details are for losers.”

“Losers can drive all the way back to drop you off at the infirmary and let them deal with you.”

You relent, flashing him a grin. “This won’t take long.”

“You say this every fuckin’ time,” he groans, before complying and taking a u-turn anyway.

“You’re fucking joking,” he states. 

“No, it’s actually called lying,” you correct casually.  

“Is this an abandoned hospital? What the fuck?” Bucky asks, staring up at the huge decaying building.  

The outside looks run-down, with cracked, weathered brick walls and broken windows. The entrance is blocked off with rusted gates, some sections of which have fallen over. As the car rolls up, the air is thick with a musty, damp smell, mixed with a faint odor of decay.

“Yes,” you say simply, opening the trunk of the car and pulling out all the supplies you had from last time. “Video time. Let’s go.”

“You didn’t have to lie,” Bucky mumbles. “I’d have showed up.”

You give him a deadpan look. “You famously never do.”

That’s fair, but also, that was the old Bucky. The new Bucky circa this week is a bit more… invested. He feels the need to gather some more information, and unfortunately, the only opportunity to do that is here.

So for the time being, he decides he will hang on. For purely selfish reasons. 

“Just tell me next time,” he grunts. 

You observe him for a second like you're about to call him out on something, but instead you simply say, “Okay.”

Bucky grabs his usual stuff– the spirit box, a lapel mic, while you levitate the camera. 

“Hello?”

You both look beyond the camera at the same time to someone stalking up to you.

“Who’s there?” demands a middle aged woman with straw blonde hair, wrinkles decorating sunburnt skin, and a navy blue jacket. 

“Uh–”

“Who are you?” she asks, cautiously stopping a few feet away.  

“We’re here on a video shoot,” you inform. “Just wanted to check the place out.”

“Oh, you’re one of them camera folk,” she says, ponting her flashlight at you. “Those ghost hutner types.”

“That’s us,” you agree, flinching from the bright light. “We're from The Graveyard Shift.”

“Who are you?” Bucky cuts in, because why should only the both of you explain. 

“I’ve been working security here for the last thirty years.” She shines her flashlight at the musty place. “Name’s Brenda.”

“Why does an abandoned hospital need a security guard?” Bucky inquires. 

“Management just underwent a shift. White collars are setting up a mall here, so they bought up the whole place, fired everyone and now they’re gonna build an all year ski world or something in there.” There’s a tick in her jaw as she draws it out. “Whole damn place is cursed. They better hope it only burns down.”

“Okay,” you drag out, giving Bucky a sideways glance. “Anyway, we’re gonna go check out the place. See if we can find some ghosts.”

“Oh, you’ll see ‘em, alright. Everyone who was collateral damage in the buyout is still in there.” Her voice is distant, arm coming to rest on her hip.  “You’ll have to hit up specific rooms. Y’all got a floorplan?”

“No, figured we’d just wing it.” You pause. “Hospital wing it.”

“Shut up,” Bucky replies on instinct. 

“You’re gonna be spending a lot of time in there if y’all dont know where youre’ heading. It’s a maze,” she continues, ignoring your brilliant joke. “I can show you the rooms, but I can’t guarantee that it has ghosts in there.”  

“Uhhh—” you begin. 

“It’ll cut down your time in half.”

“Deal,” Bucky says immediately, sticking out his hand for a shake.

Brenda sticks out her hand too, only to wince immediately, following it up with a curse.

“What’s wrong?” you interject.

“Damn back’s killing me,” she mutters. “You’d think death would stop the pain, but it’s not let up yet. Come on then.”

Both of your eyebrows knit together at her statement, but she leaves no room for a reply as she marches inward, one hand on the small of her spine. 

Bucky elects to use his phone flashlight, as if he keeps that shit charged above 40% at any given point of time. If anything is not going to make it out of the night alive, it was that thing. 

The air inside is stale and heavy, filled with the scent of mildew and old, rusted metal. All three of your footsteps echo in the silence, reverberating through empty halls with each cautious step. The moonlight  in conjunction with the flashlight casts long, unsettling shadows. The faint taste of dust lingers in the back of Bucky’s throat that he cannot get rid of. 

“Y’all gonna sleep in here tonight?” Brenda pipes up, swinging her flashlight around.

You look at Bucky with a grin that’s alarming.

His face immediately pulls into one of “What the fuck”

“No, we aren’t,” you announce instead. “But do people do that often?”

“You’d be surprised,” she comments. “You’re not the first folks we’ve had here with those fancy shmancy gadgets.”

“That explains how you have a tour all planned.” 

“We get a bunch of you every couple of months.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Bucky cuts in.

She pays him no need. “Y’all run a podcast?”

Bucky looks personally affronted. “No, we do not.”

“We run a YouTube channel,” you offer instead. “It’s for ghosts and stuff.”

“I see,” she considers, tone thoughtful. “So, this will go up online?” 

“Unfortunately,” Bucky murmurs.

“Have you caught ghosts before?”

“Not even one–”

“Several,” you chirp. “And we have a witch cat. Her name’s Alpine.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at you. “Since when is her name Alpine?”

“I gave her a bunch of options and she told me she liked that best.”

“The cat can’t talk.”

“To you. She and I chat shit everyday,” you dish back. “She hates that stupid fern in your room, she says it smells.”

That fucking fern was not even his idea. But Sam got it for him when he moved in, so there was a zero percent chance it would be leaving any time soon. 

“Tell her to fuck off.”

“Y’all got a large following?” Brenda interrupts.

“Building towards it.” You look at her before looking at Bucky. “Once we hit a sizable amount and Bucky becomes an official internet boyfriend, we’ll stop the series.”

He sends you a withering look. “We’ll be doing this till I die.”

“Nonsense, everyone loves you,” you dismiss. “You’re a pretty boy and extremely irritable. They think you’re hilarious.”

 His nose twitches, and he feels the need to clear his throat. 

“Your camera records ghosts?” Brenda asks again. 

“We’ve got a bunch of devices. We’ll catch it,” you sound confident. 

“Great, because here’s the first stop,” she says, pressing her shoulder onto a double door.

The door groans as she pushes, its hinges protesting with a long, rusty screech, the cold metal heavy under her hand. A stale gust of air hits your face, carrying the faint smell of rot as the door finally gives way.

She steps back with a small huff, stretching her back with a small, “Shit.”

The pale blue walls had turned greenish, wallpaper peeling away. Counters were covered with a thin layer of dust. Old tools laid unused on the surgical table, once stainless steel but now rusted. 

“A lotta deaths happened in this operating theatre,” she imparts after a bout of stretching. “They thought this place was cursed for a while.” 

The sterile, tiled walls are cracked and chipped, and the old surgical lights hang dim, their bulbs long burned out. The air still lingers with antiseptic that’s long since turned sour.

Bucky feels a little too acquainted with this setting. 

He doesn’t even realise his silence is palpable until you nudge his side, drawing his attention sharply back to you. 

“You doin’ okay?” you whisper.  

“Fine,” he says, tearing his eyes away from the tools and towards you.

It only twists his stomach a little. It makes him think of how different his reactions used to be even a few years go. 

“Old, dingy hospitals may not have been the best idea,” you admit to him, using the flashlight to shine a light in the corner. 

It occurs to him a second later once he forces himself to compartmentalise. 

“You okay?” he asks, voice low. 

“Yeah,” you reply, slowly looking around. “Just looks like my nursery.”

A small crease forms between his eyebrows. 

“Not gonna lie, mine was way prettier. Lot more mould on the walls,” you continue, tone light. “You know, timeless decor.”

His nose lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh. “Leviathan not into blood stain wallpaper?”

“Couldn’t afford it. Fuckin’ place kept referring to itself as Hydra’s sister org but had none of the budget,” you say, swiping a finger across the dust. “You’d think that at least some of the people that left would give alumni donations, but no.”

Bucky snickers at jokes literally no one else would laugh at. It feels good for once, not to feel the need to censor himself to make others less uncomfortable. 

You take a step forward, camera following behind you. 

You shine the flashlight around the room, noting all the surgical trays piled together. 

But something flashes on the ceiling. 

You swing your flashlight toward it immediately, only for the table beside you a few inches away to start rolling, making a loud whining noise as it did, snapping your attention towards it.  

By the time you finally bring the light back up towards the ceiling, it’s gone. 

“What the–” you mumble. 

“What?” Bucky asks, looking up from where he was scrolling through his phone. 

“Could’a sworn I saw–” you frown at the empty space now, only an old defunct looking camera staring back at you. 

“Red eyes?” Brenda inquires, looking at you. “Yeah, that happens.”

Bucky glances up at you, and then the wall. “Probably just the lens glare.”

You scrunch up your face at her. “How’d you know it was red eyes?” 

“That’d be the spirit of ol’ Doctor Damon, chief of neuro,” she says. “You’ll find him here or his cabin, but that’s a few floors away. He never liked climbing the stairs.” 

“Right,” Bucky acknowledges monotonously. 

“When he worked here, he spent so long in surgery that his eyes were always bloodshot. One day he just dropped dead from exhaustion,” Brenda explains. “So his spirit walks around here, red eyes, wheeling surgery tables waiting for the next patient.”

“What’s he doing on the ceiling?” Bucky questions, going back to his phone. “He did his surgeries suspended midair?” 

“Are you trying to gatekeep the ceiling?” you scoff. “Have you never seen Spiderman hanging upside down for fun?” 

Bucky finally lifts his sight from the phone. “The doctor is not an insect superhero, he would have no reason to be hanging upside down–”

“How would you know if he’s a superhero or not? What if he was bitten by a bat?” you challenge. “Like a bat…guy. Batman.”

He jeers. “Then he’s got a stupid codename.”

“Oh, and Captain America is poetic genius.”

“At least Sam has a codename, where’s yours?” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “Maybe you should have paid attention when your mother was screaming it las-”

“Shall we move on?” Brenda asks calmly. 

“Yes,” the both of you reply simultaneously. 

She doesn’t even bother looking at you, almost as if she’d seen it all in her lifetime. 

“Besides, sometimes you can see him sitting on one of the operating tables. He doesn’t just hang out on the ceiling like… bat…man,” she explains, leading the way back out. 

“See?” 

“See what?” you ask. 

“Nothing,” he replies. “There’s nothing to see. That’s the fuckin’ point.”

You shove him lightly. 

Bucky bites back a grin.

_____

The morgue is silent. 

The ceiling is low and chipped, streaked with stains of old water damage, the paint fallen away in patches. 

Against one wall, old, disused morgue drawers stand open and half-broken, the once-sleek stainless steel now speckled with rust. Some of the drawers are bent out of shape, while others are stuck, sealed tight from years of neglect. Inside some of the open drawers, tattered, yellowed tags hang loosely from the handles, swaying gently as the chill air moves through the room.

“This room’s self explanatory,” she says. “Sometimes, you can hear spirits still trying to claw their way out of the drawers but they never open.”

“Skill issue,” Bucky mumbles under his breath.

“Shut up, oh my God,” you whisper-yell, still mouth pulling into a thin line to stop from laughing. 

“What?” Brenda asks, suddenly from near the drawers. 

You had no idea when she even went there. 

“Nothing,” you reply, before thoughtfully asking, “Bucky, truth or dare?”

“No.”

“Dare it is.” You shine a flashlight at one of the closed drawers. “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you get in one of them for a few seconds. Let’s see if the ghosts come at you.”

“You're deranged,” he replies, incredulous. 

“It’s for science,” you insist. “How else will you know for sure?”

“I’m sure it’ll be comfortable,” Brenda quips. “Like a coffin.”

The both of you look at her together in silence.

She shrugs. “It’s what I’ve heard from them.” 

You look at her for a second more, before turning to Bucky. “Anyway, if you want I’ll come lie in there with you.”

“How does that make it better?” he exclaims. “I am not lying in the morgue.”

“Even if I’m in there with you?”

“That’s even worse–”

There’s a loud knock from one of the drawers on Brenda’s side. She looks down at it, almost like she was expecting it. Soon, there are further loud thuds that come from inside the remaining drawers. 

“Hey, Magda,” she calls, before more knocks come from inside. “You’ve got visitors. Say hello.”

You grab the spirit box from behind Bucky’s ear and hold it in the direction of the wall. Nothing registers.

“Animals,” he answers the question hanging in the air calmly. 

“The spirits?” Brenda replies. “They’re not gonna like that.”

Sure enough, a few of the drawers start rattling on their own accord.

You look at Bucky with an eyebrow raised.

“What?” he carps. “I’m not gonna go lie down in there, if that’s what you want.”

“Come on, take one for the team,” you whine. 

“You take one for the team.” 

“I’m literally the one pulling all the weight around here. You do it.”

Bucky doesn’t agree with you on the last part, but the first one is undisputably right. He makes a mental note to start contributing a fuckton more if he plans on continuing on in the series. 

The rattling around comes to a halt eventually. 

“If none of you want to get in there, should we move to the next one?” Brenda points to the door. 

“Yes, please,” you confirm, sending Bucky a glare.

She leads the way up the stairs while you both follow, bickering and shoving lightly.

Once upstairs, Bucky glances down the hall, only to  see a large double door that is noticeably different from the rest you’ve seen so far. There’s a fading rainbow drawn on the front, little footsteps painted onto the floor leading towards it.

Bucky hesitates, steps faltering. “Is that the children’s ward?”

“Yes,” Brenda looks over her shoulder briefly. 

For a second, he wonders. Whether it was worth a shot. He hadn’t heard from her since the incident at the house, and the tarot cards have been suggesting nothing but reasons to believe she may actually be there.  

“Are we going to check that out?” he asks. 

“No, there’s nothing there,” she shrugs it off. “No spirits. I’ve asked the others too.” 

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. “Are you sure?”

You shoot him an odd look that he refuses to meet. 

“Yep. Next stop’s the other way.”

Bucky spares the doors another long look, before traversing down the hallway with you. 

“Why do you wanna go to the children’s ward?” you query, voice low. 

“Just thought it was worth checking out,” he replies, voice steady.  

“We can always make a run for it and go check.”

“No,” he says, giving you a curt shake of his head, “it’s alright.”

“We’re right down this way,” Brenda calls, turning a corner and disappearing out of sight.

“Coming!” you call back before spinning to Bucky. “Hey.”

“What?” he responds, moving at his own brisk pace. 

You tug him back with you with force. 

“What are you doing–’ he hisses.

You link your arm with Bucky’s, pulling him along with you as you walk, shutting him up. He eyes your elbow looped with his and the proximity with which you walked beside him and all of a sudden, the back of his neck feels quite warm, extending down to his chest.

“I think Brenda’s a ghost,” you tell him casually.

Bucky stops in his path, drawn very much back to reality. 

“Keep walking,” you grit through a smile. “I’m pretty sure she’s dead. Why else is she totally chill with the ghosts here-”

“Because there aren’t any. It’s animals.”

“Why is she saying coffins are comfortable? Why is she talking to the ghosts and knowing exactly where they are and aren’t?”

“I can make shit up too, look,” Bucky comments enthusiastically. “Oh, down the hall is the isolation room. You’ll hear heavy breathing because that’s where the tuberculosis patients were–”

“That’s one of the isolation rooms,” Brenda’s voice echoes down the hall. “It’s next up.”

You yank your arm away from Bucky when he blinks, a bit surprised himself. 

“Are you dead?” you whisper-yell.

“Only ‘cause the government declared it,” he sighs. “Do you know what a fuckin’ pain it is to get undead.” 

“Come on.” Brenda beckons to the both of you with her flashlight. 

With a slight shove, the door to the room swings open easily, but the smell of old paper and mildew floods your senses. 

The bed is now a rusted, sagging frame, the thin mattress long since torn and discolored with age. The once-clean sheets have yellowed and frayed, with remnants of old stains. Thin, brittle blankets lie in a heap on the floor.

The walls are bare, save for a few faded medical charts and broken instruments that were left behind in haste. The small window that once offered a faint glimpse of the outside is now cracked and filthy. The weak, filtered light that struggles through the dust-covered glass barely illuminates the room. 

“Patients who were highly contagious were quarantined here. Some of them died without family by their side, so you can still hear their cries. Some of them have problems breathing, so sometimes you’ll hear it through the vents,” Brenda explains. 

“I bet,” Bucky drags out, sending you a “I fuckin’ told you so” look.. 

Down the hall, something makes a loud sound, almost like something had crashed into the floor. 

All three of you turn towards it. 

Brenda’s face flickers for a moment before turning back to its regular calm. 

“I think someone’s angry,” she decides. “I’m gonna go check it out.”

“Do you want us to come with you?” you offer.

“I’ll be okay, I’ve known these people all my life. We’re friends,” she comforts. “Oh, sometimes if you look out the door, you’ll see shadows of people in the waiting room down the hall. They’re just old families lingering around, hoping for better results but they always leave upset.”

“Is there no way to get them out of here?” you ask.

She shrugs. “Unless you find a way to fix their disappointment, I doubt they'll leave. They’ll stick around until something improves or changes.” 

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at the implication. If that were truly the case, and not just something he concocted in the deep, self hating crevices of his mind, then he had to figure out which part of the fucked up mess that he was had pissed his sister off enough to come back to let him know she was disappointed. 

You nod at her and she nods, spinning on her heel to exit the room, but not before she stops for a second, hand on the doorframe as she catches her breath, and one hand on her spine.

“Are you okay?” you sound genuinely concerned.

She flashes you a thumbs up, leaving without so much as another word. 

“She’s gonna come back with some bullshit about the hospital canteen staff dropping their pans or some shit,” Bucky remarks.

“Yeah no, that was me. I just wanted her out of the room so we could discuss something,” you wave it off quickly. 

Bucky stares at you.

“What? I dropped a cart. It’s not a big deal. Anyway, listen–”

“She’s not a ghost,” he states resolutely.  

“But what if she is,” you insist, a wicked grin on your face. “Imagine saying we got a ghost tour. By a ghost.”

“I can imagine saying that, yes. I have a very wide and limitless imagination.” 

“Ugh, what if we’re meant to help her find her way back?” You peer over his shoulder to see if she’s walking back. 

In the distance another crash sounds through the empty hallways. Bucky stares at you.

“I’m just making sure, it’s not like I’m hurting anyone” you insist, dismissing it. 

“You could've just closed the door,” he says, extending one hand behind him to slide it closed.

“Don’t do that,” you blurt out.

He stops, eyebrow raised.  

“I don't like when doors are closed,” you shrug it off. “Anyway, back to the point. We should totally figure out how to help her exit this realm.”

He slides the door back open slowly, narrowing his eyes at you. 

“EVen if she were a ghost, which she’s not– she seems happy here. Maybe,” Bucky comments, taking a seat on the worn out bed. “I can’t really tell.”

“She can’t be. Imagine being forced to roam the same hallways over and over again till the end of time.” you shudder. “Sounds miserable.”

Bucky shrugs, poking at the pillow, watching a cloud of dust fly up from it. “Routine sounds fine to me.”

“I’d hate it,” you counter immediately. “I hate routines. Fucking inescapable once you get stuck in one.”

Bucky watches you curiously as you shift up and down the small room. “How do you get anything done?” 

“I can get things done without a routine.” The camera follows your command, checking outside the window or the door occasionally facing Bucky. “Why?”

“Just asking,” he replies, checking the time on his phone. It’d been a while since Brenda had gone to investigate.

“And having a routine totally makes you an easy target. Haven’t you watched any assassination movies?”

“No. I didn’t like bringing work home.”

You look at him in surprise before your face splits into a smile. 

Something makes a noise from the wall adjacent to the door. 

You both look at each other, and he gets off the bed to go see what the deal is. The door is adjacent to the wall, giving him a clear look into the hallway that was still empty. 

A faint wail sounds through the vent above his head. You take quick steps towards where he was, and the camera follows suit, pointing at the grill on the wall.

You stand underneath it, spirit box raised as close as you could get it, but the damn thing picks up nothing. 

Another noise comes through, almost like someone was wheezing, before the vent rattles, stopping altogether.

You stare at it, before taking a gigantic inhale and exhaling obnoxiously, forcing all the air out of your lungs with a wheeze. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Bucky stares at you like you're insane. 

“Well, you can’t just back down,” you argue. “I’m gonna breathe louder than that thing.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles.

You give another gigantic inhale and exhale, rattling all the bones in your body, and the faint noise from the vent stops too. 

“We win,” you beam 

 “You’ve completely lost it.”

“Uh, no, I didn’t. I totally won.”

“That’s not what I–” Bucky starts but stops himself when you grin at him devilishly. 

He sighs, asking instead, “Should we go looking for her?” 

“I guess so,” you shrug. “We’re not exactly cut to be her saviours right now. I’m pretty sure she knows the layout of the hospital better than we do if she’s been haunting it for fifteen years.”

“Where did you get that number?” he demands. 

“Does it matter?” you urge. “Didn’t realise you’re a valid ghost only if you have a certain number of years in haunting.”

Bucky ignores you, taking off down the hall. 

“If you had to haunt a hospital or a ship, what would you choose?” you quip, matching his pace. 

“Hospital,” he answers without thinking much.

“Why?”

“I spent a lot of time in them,” he tells you, voice clear. “Steve’s mom was a nurse. We’d meet her there a lot when he got his ribs broken or his nose busted.”

The memory, though faint, is enough to pull a smile from him. 

“He also used to be sick a lot, so I used to come pick up his medicine for him,” he adds. “They used to know us by name because we’d be there nearly every second day.”

You exhale a small laugh. “Every hospital in the state of New York has a chart for Steve even now.”

“Fuckin’ guy just dosn’t learn.” Bucky shakes his head with affection-laced irritation. 

The hallways stretch out endlessly, dim and wide. A few doors line the walls, some ajar, revealing only darkness inside. The silence is unnerving, broken only by the soft sound of you and your footsteps.

Bucky looks over at you. “What about you?”

“What about me?” you hum, small smile still on your face. 

“What would you haunt?

“Ship, I guess,” you reply. “I’ve always wanted to be a pirate.”

“Should be your next job.”

“You gonna come with? We’ll turn it into a vlog.

“Fuck no.”

“Well, thanks for taking the time to really consider it,” you sing, not really offended. “Way to let me down gently, Barnes.”  

“What? It’s got nothin’ to do with you.” Bucky clarifies still, pausing before letting out, “I get seasick. Can’t be on water for more than five minutes before I’m throwing up all over the place. You want that in your vlog?”

It’s enough to elicit a laugh from you, that in turn makes the corner of his lip curl.

“We could always–

Right in front of him, something moves darts across the wall at the end of the hall.

It cuts you off mid-sentence too, the both of you glancing at each other before turning towards it again.

Against the glare of your flashlight, another shadow darts across the wall. 

“That’s what she was talking about,” you whisper, slightly in disbelief that she wasn't wrong. “Shadow people. Do you think they got to her?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, continuing to walk on ahead. 

“Um, hello?” you scramble to catch up with him. “Where is your self preservation?”

“Against what?” he asks stoically. 

“That,” you say pointedly at the wall, when another figure darts across the wall and disappears out of sight. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “It’s a shadow, the fuck’s it gonna do?”

“Haven’t you heard of shadow demons? Succumbing to darkness?” you chastise. 

Bucky stops walking, standing solidly in the middle of the hallway.

“Okay,” he says, refusing to budge. 

The hall goes silent, no movement other than the steady rise and falls of your chest. 

You stare at him. “Now what.”

“I'm waiting for them to do something,” he says. “I’m waiting to succumb to the darkness.” 

“You’re so annoying,” you bite, dragging him along with you. “And I’m tired, we’ve been walking for like, eight hundred hours. Let’s go.”

“We’ve been here for two hours,” he reminds you, taking a turn into the corner that the shadows disappeared into. “You did this to yourself.”

“Fine, next time I’ll bring an electric scooter with me.” You huff. “And I won’t even let you use it.”

“Where’d Brenda fuckin’ go?” Bucky mumbles, eyes squinting into the darkness to see if there are any clues.

“Where are you guys going?” Someone pipes up from behind you, sending the hairs on his neck up. 

The both of you spin around instantly, arms clenched in a fighting stance. 

“Sorry, it's a habit to take the scenic route back.” She chuckles, unfazed. “Not a lot to do when you’ve been here so long.”

The both of you lower your hands slowly, letting out an exhale.

“Y’all ready to head out?” she inquires, coolly. “I think it’s time we all get some rest.” 

The walk back is relatively quicker, ater she leads you down a path she calls a shortcut. 

The only thing that slowls you down are the occasional stops you had to make for her back ache.

Right by the entrance of the hospital, she holds onto the door frame again in the midst of explaining who was haunting the basements. 

After a particularly hard exhale and a clamour to stand back up, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat to ask, “Have you tried this stretch?”

“What?” Brenda asks, eyes curious. 

“Learnt it in physio. Doesn’t cure it, but it helps,” he explains, craning his neck to the sides, before taking a step ahead towards her.  

You watch him in thinly veiled delight as he shows her exactly what joint to bend and in which angle, and the degree to which she had to pivot.

He even uncomfortably guides her shoulders in the strangest yoga session you’d ever witnessed. 

“Should help,” Bucky mumbles, taking a step away. 

She raises her shoulders and drops it, lips pursuing and bows raising in a look that seems impressed. The small hunch she carried wit her seems to have disappeared too. 

“Let’s go,” Bucky doesn’t wait for a thanks or anything, taking a step away from her and towards the exit. 

“Now that you’ve fixed her back ache, how do we fix her haunting the place?” you ask lowly. 

“She’s not a fuckin’ ghost, she’s fine,” he whispers back. 

“Nothing about what she’s said tonight is normal,” you argue.

The night is clear and cool when you step out, the musty scent of the building dissipating almost immediately.

“Just say bye, we’re fuckin’ leaving,” Bucky shoots. 

You sigh loudly, giving him a glare at his lack of helpfulness before plastering a smile on your face and turning around. 

“Well, thanks for everything, Brenda,” you say, turning around to stick your hand out. “We sure couldn’t have–”

But she’s gone.

“Holy shit,” you say. 

Bucky looks over his shoulder at the disturbance, before turning around fully. “Oh, fuck off.”

“I told you she was a ghost,” you gush. “You fixed her back ache and now she has crossed over to the other side.”

“Shut up,” he replies, looking all over the place for a sign of where she could have disappeared to. 

“You did it, Bucky, you helped a lonely spirit,” you cheer. 

“I did not.”

“Hey!” Someone shouts from afar, commanding your attention to the gate again. 

“Not again,” Bucky mumbles, eyes snapping shut. 

“More ghosts,” you point out excitedly. “Come on, Charon, ferry those spirits–”

“You ferry your own spirits, I’m going to sleep,” he interjects, fully intending on ignoring the person at the gate and simply getting in the car.

“What are you guys doing here?” A man pants, jogging up to the both of you before Bucky had the time to leave. 

“We were just taking a look around,” you say, sticking your hand out, much to Bucky’s displeasure. “We heard the place was haunted.”

“Ah, I see,” he replies, taking in your appearance. “Podcasters?”

“No,” Bucky replies instantly. 

“We were just leaving,” you cut in. “We already got a tour by this ghost, and Bucky totally sent her to the afterlife.”

“I did not,” he seethes. 

“She disappeared after saying ominous shit this entire evening, what do you call that?” you challenge. 

“Going home,” Bucky responds, frustrated that he was clearly not afforded the same privilege.  

“Uh–” the guy holds up his finger. “--not to intrude, but you got a tour by a ghost?”

“Yes,” you bubble over with excitement. 

“And this ghost… did they have a backache?”

Bucky’s interest piques, the irritation giving way to intrigue . 

“You know her?” you puzzle.

“Uh yeah, that’s Brenda,” he admits sheepishly. “She’s very much alive.”

Bucky would have sworn he had never been this elated in his life, but unfortunately he realises very quickly that he simply does not care.  

 “She said she was a security guard here– wait, who are you?”  you tilt your head at him, seemingly not upset at all. It reduces Bucky’s non-existent triumph even more. 

“Travis Dowell, Labyrinth Inc. representative,” he says, shaking your hand. “We’re–”

“--the company that bought the place,” you complete, eyebrow raised.  

“Yeah.” He nods. “Brenda was a security guard here for nearly thirty years. We had to let go of her when we bought the hospital. We’ve been trying to turn it into an apartment for years, but there’s a lot of red tape that we have to get past because of healthcare reasons.”

“Yeah, she told us that it got bought,” you follow along. 

“Hospital was in the worst financial situation possible. There was just no way out.” He shrugs. “But she was super attached to this place. She didn’t take the redevelopment plans well, so she’s taken it upon herself to make sure it never happens, I guess? I don’t know, she spends a lot of time here convincing people that it’s haunted so that people don’t build anything here. She’s got an apartment close by so she knows when someone’s around. You’ll probably find her there, if you want.”

“You guys know about her?” Bucky questions, crease between his eyebrows.

“Uh, yeah, we do,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We sorta ignore her. Her schtick’s annoying, but it’s not the reason we haven’t demolished this place yet. Once all the zoning issues get cleared up, the building’s coming down. And besides, all the PR’s just gonna have people pay a shit ton to stay here. You know, novelty of it being haunted, and all that.” 

“How’d you know we were here?” you ask pointedly. 

“We’ve set up motion sensors in the place?” he replies. “You may have seen them. The red lights in the operation rooms. We know she takes people there.”

“Oh, that’s what that was,” you turn to Bucky who simply shakes his head lightly. 

“Yeah, she really goes the extra mile.” Travis shifts from one leg to the other. “There’s raccoons in the morgue that start running around if she hits the door. What else… oh yeah, she’s made a hole in one of the isolation rooms to make noises through the wall.”

Bucky wonders what will happen of all the footage now that none of it was essentially real. It made sense why she kept trying to find out where the video was going to be posted and how many people were going to view it now, as if a large number of views were going to save her beloved building. 

“So you’ll just let her do whatever until the demolition happens?” you question. 

“If it gets her to stop vandalising our office downtown.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t make a difference to us either way.”

“Right. So the real horror…” you say. “...is capitalism.”

Travis stares at you, before raising and dropping his shoulders. “Sure.”

“Alright.” You blow out an exhale. “Well, was anything about tonight real?”

“I mean, she really does have back pain,” he adds helpfully.

You turn to Bucky. “Net positive, then.”

Sure. Why the fuck not.

“Okay, Travis, thanks for this. You’ve been an immense help,” you say aloud, hoisting the camera onto your shoulders. “You can watch us on The Graveyard Shift, if we can figure out what to do with all these videos now.”

“Sorry about that,” he replies, shoving his fists into his pocket. “Good night.”

You watch as he turns and jogs away to his car that was parked a bit closer to the gate than yours was. 

Bucky plucks the camera off your shoulder and places it under his arm, even though he’s well aware you can carry fifteen of them at once.

“That was fun,” you tell him, seemingly over it already. 

“I’m fuckin’ starving,” he replies. 

Bucky should be glad then, that he didn’t bother with the children’s ward, if nothing about tonight was real–

“Travis, wait,” you shout all of a sudden. “What about the shadows?” 

“What shadows?” he calls back, confused. 

“The shadow people moving across the hall from the isolation room?”

He raises his eyebrows. “We haven't heard reports of that.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Bucky mumbles.

“Hell yeah,” you reply, knocking into his shoulder. “Haunted hospital, baby.”

When you walk into the dining room, you don’t really expect anyone to be there that late at night.

But fiery red hair pulled into a ponytail and an oversized t-shirt perched at the kitchen counter catches you off guard, dulling the arguing between you and Bucky as you argue the logistics of Brenda having a hand in the shadow demons. 

“Took you guys long enough,” Nat keeps her mug down on the counter before hopping off the chair. You note that it’s the same one you got her a few weeks ago from the flea market, the blue ceramic one.

“Oh, hi!” you smile wide, when she pulls you into a hug. “I thought you were in Lagos.”

“I was,” she replies, pulling away. “Got done early.”

“Of course you did. Overachiever.”

In the end of the common room, Bucky can hear the faint sounds of late night infomercials play through the TV. Clint’s legs hung off the couch as he lay snoring in front of it, blanket dropped on the floor in a heap. 

“Hot chocolate?” she offers. 

“I’m good, we went to the drive-through before coming back.” You beckon with your shoulder towards Bucky. 

She finally turns to him. “Hey.”

Bucky gives her a curt nod, glad that she’s back safe. 

“Why were you out so late?” She gives him a onceover, before raising an eyebrow. “Together.”

“Hospital date.”

“Video shoot,” he says at the same time, glaring at you. You shrug. 

Nat’s lip trails up into a smirk. “Put on your big boy pants and finally admit your crush?”

Bucky drags a palm down his face. “I do not have a crush.”

“If you say so,” she concedes innocently, eyeing him over the rim of her hot chocolate.  

“Are you all in on this? Do you have a quota to reach?” he groans. “Why’s everyone asking me this?”

“Who is ‘everyone’?” you sound delighted. 

“If you don’t want people to call you out on our shit, maybe don’t walk around with heart eyes,” Nat comments.  

Buck’s look is ice cold, but Nat just gives him a wink when you laugh. 

“Hey, I needed to talk to you about something.” She turns to you. “You free for a second?”

“Always,” you reply in earnest. 

Nat leads you a few steps away, hand on your shoulder.  

Bucky takes his seat at the counter, stealing a sip from Nat’s mug. Of course, it was fantastic. Overachiever.

He tunes out intentionally, focusing on the fact that Clint was splayed out on the couch with the TV on a low volume. He knows for a fact the blonde was asleep, and probably would wake up with the worst neck pain in his life, but this was the life he chose.

After watching Clint nearly fall off the couch twice, he looks away, not intending on prying on your conversation but vaguely watching the interaction out of the corner of his eye.

He frowns at what he sees. Nat’s face has turned solemn while she talks to you in hushed tones. Your eyebrows were pulled together, arms crossed over your chest. 

Bucky feels a shift in the air, but he’s not sure what exactly has gone down. 

Nat finally tells you something surely, and you nod. She cups the side of your face and you force out a smile at her, before her hand drops.

The both of you make your way back to him. He turns his gaze back to the counter. 

“You owe me a hot chocolate,” Nat tells him, before giving him a quick kiss on the temple and stealing her cup right back. 

“I barely drank any,” he retorts, eyes still trained on you.

The TV clicks off and she drags a half asleep Clint back down the hall to his bedroom while the man rubbed at his shoulders, trailing behind her obediently. 

Meanwhile, you grab a glass of water from the tap, drinking it slowly as you head towards the elevator.

“G’night, Buck,” you tell him, passing by him.

“Hold on,” he says, voice less gruff than before as he watches you, face tight, “What’s going on?

You observe him for a few long seconds, but he gets the sense you aren’t exactly looking at him. Your eyes are slightly glazed over, and your mind is… elsewhere. 

“What do you do when people refuse to let go of something you’ve already escaped?” you ask finally.  

“What do you mean?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together tighter.  

“Do you feel like everyone’s eyes are on you?” you say, voice strange. “Like there’s nowhere to go?”

“Where is this coming from? What’d Nat tell you?”

It seems to snap you out of whatever funk you were in, at least partially. “It’s probably nothing.”

His frown only deepens. “Is someone threatening you?”

“No, nothing like that.” You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s gonna be fine.” 

Bucky stares after you as you press the button to the elevator. He isn’t really sure what to make of the what you just shared. He isn’t even sure he should ask Nat about it later on considering that she didn’t want him listening in now. 

He watches the light above the elevator light up before a ding sounds through. 

“Just so you know–”  

Bucky’s eyes snap back to you, one step in the elevator. 

“I had a codename, too,” you tell him. “I just never liked it.”

Bucky is only left staring as you disappear into the elevator, leaving him in silence. 

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Next part

[screeching-bunny]

Part 2 on the Yandere supernatural heram please.

Yandere! Supernatural Harem pt.2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Pt.1

Your first ever viable memory was of a supernatural creature. At the young age of three, you encountered an extremely tall woman with long black hair dressed in a white dress. Looking back at the memory, she ended up turning out to be an urban legend called Hachishakusama. The eight feet tall women loomed down over you and followed you wherever you went. Everytime she was nearby you could hear her utter the sound “po” over and over again. Anytime you brought this up to your parents they would just brush it off as you being imaginative and thought that you made an imaginary friend. “Would your friend like to join us for dinner tonight?” Never, would they actually take your comments.

It wasn’t until you got tired of her appearance did you actually start to confront her. With your limited variety of vocabulary and baby voice, you spring out the sentence of “Why you follow me?” Only to be met with silence as you stomp your little feet on the ground. Geez how rude of her didn’t she hear that you asked a question?

Suddenly, the woman reaches her arms out to grab you. The grip of her hug was strong and firm. You were barely able to move around that much. Your tiny little brain panicked as you struggled to get free. It was the first time that you’ve ever experienced real fear. Soon, the woman opened her mouth and said, “Won’t you come home with me child. I’ll make sure to take care of you and treat you better than your biological parents.” You didn’t get a chance to respond before your mother burst into your room and screamed.

After that incident your parents took you to a Buddhist temple so that you could be dispelled from evil spirits or entities. This however, never really worked because some form of shape or another they just kept on crawling back. When your parents thought that you were safe you were finally able to leave the temple. Your parents wanted you to be extra safe so they decided to move out of the house and buy a new one. Thankfully, due to this incident they were more aware and took your concerns about others very seriously from then on.

Another vivid memory that you could recall was when you were at the age of eight. It was at the time when your new neighbors moved into the house next to yours. Your father wanted to greet your new neighbors and took you along with him. You remember waiting on their doorstep as your father knocks on the door. A few minutes pass and he knocks again. “Maybe they're not home, let’s come back later.” Just then the door swings open and out comes a tall blonde man. “Hi, we’re your new neighbors. We just came by to greet you and welcome you to our neighborhood.” The blonde man stared for a second before saying, “Thanks so much for that and your formalities. You have such a cute kid. I have two twin boys about their age, do you think they could play together?”

Just like that you were in the neighbor’s yard with his two twin sons. They were definitely an odd bunch with long bangs covering your eyes. Even though you couldn’t see them, you could feel their eyes following your form. As time went on hanging around them wasn’t that bad; they were very nice to be around and listen to basically everything you said. The only problem was that they were overly clingy, everywhere you were they just had to be as well. Another red flag was that they would never allow you to see their eyes no matter how much you pleaded and pestered, they would never allow you to see their eyes.

By the time that you were in the fifth grade, you three were inseparable best friends. During your time with them however, students at your elementary school started to go missing more frequently. An incident that you could remember was when you told the twins that you liked some kid and were planning to confess soon. A few weeks later your crush was missing and a community search was sent out. No matter how hard everyone looked no one could find them, it was almost as if they had disappeared out of thin air.

As the years went on more creatures showed up to you but they seemed to be intercepted by some weird force. You made sure to keep this a secret from everyone but your parents. It wasn’t until your senior year of high school that you found out the truth about your two best friends. One day, you just got so curious about what their eyes looked like that you peaked at one of the twin’s eyes when he was his face. His eyes were pitch black and darker than charcoal. Even though you didn’t know it at the time, they were called black eyed children.

Safe to say, you were extremely creeped out by this discovery but were even more creeped out that they were planning on kidnapping you to some faraway place. Yeah heck no, so on the day of graduation, you decided to run away from home to get away from them. You then wrote a letter to your family basically saying, “Yeah, so my childhood friends aren't actually human and it’s best I leave before anything happens to you or me peace out, xoxo your child.”

Leaving home was pretty rough for you. You’ve never felt so alone before in your entire life and to top it all off you were a newly fresh adult. Making it into an adult transition was difficult and confusing but you somehow managed with that.

Blasting into the future now, you were in quite a predicament. Waking up with your limbs tied to a bedpost was not your ideal way of starting your morning but hey at least your kidnapper didn’t you hard rope. Instead, it was a really thick ribbon and lace that bonded your arms. Your eyes start to adjust to the light as your vision starts to get clearer you notice that most of the furniture is Victorian styled. Soon you hear footsteps reach to the and it starts to open.

“My love, it seems that you're finally awake. Oh how I’ve dreamed of this moment, I can’t believe that this is real.” Wow this was totally not creepy whatsoever. Taking in his appearance you notice his sharp fangs and long glistening hair. Yeah he is definitely a vampire, this is so annoying you really did not feel like being a blood bag right now.

“Can you please untie me? I promise not to run away.” Before you could get a response from him, the ground suddenly started to shake, and you could feel your arms being freed. As you get up to run from your captor, you feel the arms of someone grabbing your waist. In a blink of an eye, you feel someone lift you up and fly you away from the vampire. “GOD DAMN IT, NOT THIS AGAIN.”

[thesummerstorms]

You know that conversation you can have with Emmrich where he asks what your plans are for your body when you die?

I think Arsinoë accidentally horrified him. Not by clinging to non-Nevarran ideals about cremation, but by telling him she never thought anyone would care that much one way or the other.

She would be dead, so she wouldn't care. And honestly, a majority of compradi die as Fledglings without graduating; she thinks their bodies were probably burned (since you have to do something with bodies) but they certainly don't have funerals, so it certainly wasn't worth worrying about then.

Emmrich interjects, trying to wrangle his own shock long enough to point out that she's not a Fledgling now, so surely...?

Well if she dies now, Arsinoë all but shrugs, it would depend on the circumstances, wouldn't it? She isn't someone important like a Talon or the scion of an established Crow family. She certainly isn't Caterina Dellamorte, who warrants something verging on a State Funeral.

If she died, there is still a non-zero chance it would be at another Crow's hands, in which case it's anyone's guess what happens after.

If she dies honorably fulfilling a contract, then Viago might feel obligated to do something if he isn't pissed off at her failure and she's isn't still in Exile. He's her mentor, so probably he would manage at least a small pyre. Maybe even a flower or two for the flames if he's letting himself feel sentimental. Teia would probably be there because Viago was.

But just as often, when a contract goes wrong, there's no time to go back for the body. The mark get ahold of it, or whoever's left on the contract has to focus on survival rather than the dignity of a corpse that can't feel any of it.

But really, none of that would matter to Arsinoë, would it? She'd be off wherever dead souls end up going, or maybe in oblivion, who knows. She doesn't have any family to be horrified by her corpse unless you count Viago, who is Fifth Talon, has bigger things to worry about, and will get over it.

But anyway, why do you ask, Emmrich?

Emmrich is too aghast to answer clearly at that point because every single point of Arsinoë's answer goes so deeply against everything that is ingrained in him as part of the Mourn Watch, from the belief that a corpse just doesn't matter to her sincere belief that no one would care enough about her for any particular mourning rights.

And the thing is Emmrich does care. It's his professional duty to care, but he's also become fond of his young friend and he cannot handle imagining that she could die on this mission or the next and potentially receive no rites at all.

Cue Emmrich starting to plan how he's going to have Rook interred in the Grand Necropolis when the time comes. It may involve some string pulling, especially if (hopefully) she dies not on this mission but in the distant future, and even more so if he precedes her and has to leave the job in one of his colleague's hands. But Maker help him, there will be a plan and her death will be respected.

When it comes to light, Neve is uncertain and a little weirded out, but also a little offended by all this. She's fallen in love with Rook, but even before that, the respect between them would have warranted a pyre and Arsinoë's name on the Wall of Light if there was no one else to arrange things. Is this why she's never asked about what happened after Varric-

Lucanis is horrified by the idea of Arsinoë as one of the spirit-possessed skeletons in the Necropolis or one of the jewel-eyed skulls in its many niches; he snaps at Emmrich about Nevarran obsession and respecting Rook as Antivan.

Emmrich refuses to budge. She expected the Crows to do nothing for her. She deserves better, deserves to be remembered, even if she isn't Nevarran.

Lucanis seems fully stunned by the idea that Rook believed this in the first place, given Viago's attachment. Given Lucanis's own growing feelings. Emmrich does soften a little bit when he sees that Lucanis truly didn't realize, but he also doesn't fully divert his plans.

Gathering a grave-dowry is normally left to a lover or family member if the deceased was themselves unable, and Emmrich is neither. But needs must, and though his friend now seems attached to Neve and Lucanis, hearts can be fickle. A plan is better. So he puts away small things here or there, eyes which of Rook's enchanted rings and amulets she seems to favor just in case.

It almost helps him live with the knowledge that Arsinoë believed she would die unmourned. Almost.

[insidekatmind]

Party~ Blaise Zabini ~ Blaise Zabini

Wearning: +18, smut

Request: yes!

The Slytherin common room was buzzing with activity. The party seemed to go on forever, with glasses of Butterbeer and magical spirits being passed around. Green lights danced on the walls, and eighties rock music blared in the corners of the room. You, with a goofy grin plastered across your face, were decidedly tipsy.

Beside you, Blaise Zabini was watching the scene with his usual distant gaze. He was sober, as always. He never drank at these parties. He was just there to make sure you didn't get into any trouble.

Suddenly, someone shouted,

"Spin the bottle!"

A group gathered in a circle, sitting on the black and green carpet of the room. You, your eyes sparkling with alcohol, dragged Blaise by the sleeve.

"Come on! Let's play!"

"Y/n, no," he snapped, trying to hold you back.

But you weren't listening. You broke free of his grip and threw yourself into the circle, laughing. A blonde girl picked up an empty bottle and spun it quickly. The bottle stopped in front of Theodore Nott, who leaned down to kiss a fifth-grader.

The bottle spun again. And again.

When it was your turn, the bottle stopped on Draco Malfoy. The room erupted in laughter and whistles.

"Go, Y/n!" someone shouted.

"Come on, don't be shy!"

You stood up unsteadily, but before you could take a step toward Draco, you felt an arm around your waist. Blaise grabbed you in a firm grip and pulled you back.

"Y/n, stop," he whispered in your ear in a tone that brooked no argument.

You struggled to free yourself, frustrated.

"Come on, Blaise! It's just a game!"

"Not for you."

With a firmness you were not used to, Blaise picked you up, ignoring your groans and the curious looks of the others.

"I can't believe you're ruining my fun," you muttered as he dragged you out of the common room.

"I'm saving you from yourself," Blaise replied.

Just as you walked out the front door, "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" by The Clash began to play on the speakers. The guitar riff made your eyes light up and you began to sing at the top of your lungs.

"Should I stay or should I go now?" you hummed, stumbling down the dark corridor of the dungeons. Blaise sighed in exasperation, but there was a faint smile on his lips.

"If you keep singing like that, I'll put a Silent Charm on you," he threatened.

"You don't dare!" you exclaimed, laughing.

When you reached the door to your dorm, Blaise stopped. He placed you in front of him and looked you in the eyes.

"Y/n, you're a terrible drinker."

“But you still love me,” you replied, smiling softly.

Blaise shook his head.“Yes, unfortunately.”

As you opened the door, you turned to him.

“Are you staying with me?” you asked, sounding almost pleading.

Blaise hesitated, but then stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Just to make sure you don’t do anything stupid again.”

As you lay down on the bed, you hummed a bit more of the song.

“If I go, there will be trouble…”

Blaise sat down in a chair next to you, smiling to himself.“You really are a hopeless case, Y/n.”

“I know,” you muttered, closing your eyes. “But you’re staying anyway.”

You look up at him with your eyes darkening with longing. "have you always been this sexy?" you mutter looking up at him.

his smile turned into a smirk as his eyes darkened as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. "Oh, always..."

you look up at him with longing and kiss him.Blaise wrapped his arms around your waist as he returned the kiss, pulling you closer to him. He quickly lifted you up to straddle him as his tongue battled with yours for dominance in the kiss.

You moan into the kiss and grind against him.Blaise deepened the kiss as he smiled, his hands traveling lower. Pulling back, he pressed small kisses to your neck, softly nibbling on a spot on his neck that he knew you loved.

"Blaise" you moan closing your eyes in pleasure as you grinded closer but he stilled your movements holding you still.

He smiled, biting your sweet spot a little harder before licking and sucking the red mark he made "Do you like it, love...?"

You moan and nod "yes so much" and try to grind against him again and Blaise smirks a little and you moan.

Blaise smiled, marking your neck as he slowly slid his hand up your thigh, squeezing it. "I know you do, mi amor..."

You continue to moan and cling to him even more. Blaise chuckles against your neck, before biting a little harder as he moves to your collarbone, marking you more and more.

"Blaise is so beautiful" you whisper dreamily. He smiled at that, sucking a deep mark on your collarbone, his hands sliding under your shirt "You're so adorable, my love..."

You whimper in pleasure at the nickname he gave you. Blaise smiled at you, slowly lifting your shirt and throwing it on the floor "I know you like that nickname..."

You gasp and grab his shirt. "Blaise I need you."

He smiled, loving the effect he had on you. He raised his hips a little to grind a little on your pussy making you moan. "Yes? Do you need me, hm..?"

"Yes please Blaise" you murmur desperately seeking more friction.

"Mhmm... And what do you need it for, love...?" He hums, grinding his erection against you.

You whimper and grind yourself more against him. "you know..." you murmur whining. Blaise chuckled, his grip on your waist tightening slightly "But I want to hear you say it, love. Tell me what you want me to do..."

You whimper and lean into him more "please Blaise I need you to fuck me" you whisper desperately as you grind against his hardness and he grunts.

He chuckled against your neck, gently biting the sensitive part "Mhmm... you're so needy, aren't you, love...?"

You moan and nod. "yes please Blaise, I beg you" you whisper desperate for him to do something.

Blaise smiles, his hand moving up your thigh again "You want it that bad, hm..?"

You nod biting your lip. "please" you whisper looking up at him.

He chuckles softly, his grip on your hips tightening "You're so desperate for me, love... you don't even make it a challenge..."

You whimper and take his face kissing him. Blaise smiles, pulling you closer as he kisses you back, one of his hands cupping your chin as he pulls your head back. He moves his kisses from your mouth to your neck, starting to leave more small marks on your flesh.

You moan and clutch at his shirt again. He pulled away from your neck, grabbing the hem of his shirt with his other free hand and tossing his shirt to the floor. “Mhmm… I like it when you hold me like this, love…” you whispered seductively.

You bit your lip at the sight of him shirtless. Blaise chuckled, his smirk turning into a smile at the action. He grabbed your chin again, bringing your eyes back to his. “Do you like what you see, my love..?”

he smiled as you began to touch his body, pulling you a little closer to him. “Yes? Do you want to feel me, love..?”

You look at him with desire and lust. "yes please"

Blaise chuckled, his grip on your hips tightening. He moved your body against his, letting you feel him completely “Mhmm… come on then, love… touch me as much as you want…”

You moan and continue to caress his body. He moans, your touch is like fire on his skin. He smiles, his grip on your hips tightening “Oh, I love the effect I have on you, my Love…”

You moan even louder and resume grinding against him. Blaise gasps and grips your hips even harder at the movement “Mhmm… you’re so needy… so desperate for me…”

He smiled, throwing the rest of your clothes on the floor as he leaned back against the pillows. His eyes were darkened and filled with lust as he looked at you.

He started kissing you out of pure passion as he rubbed his erection near your entrance before thrusting in with a quick thrust making you both moan.

Blaise moaned, pulling you down onto his knees and grabbing your hips as he moved you against him. "Mm-shit.." he whispered, lifting his hips against you.

You moaned and started bouncing on his cock. "You're so big." You muttered, moaning as Blaise slapped your ass and then moaned against your neck, his grip on your hips tightening as he helped you move towards him. "Oh, shit, you're so tight."

You moaned, continuing to bounce on him. "You're squeezing my cock." Blaise muttered, increasing his thrusts and you continued to moan.

He moaned, pulling you closer to him, biting your sweet spot in your neck. "Mm-shit... just like that, love..."

You moaned and bounced even more, your pussy was squeezing his cock tightly. "I'm so close" you whisper moaning.

Blaise moans against your neck, his grip on your hips tightening as he increases his thrusts. “M-me too, my love… just a little more…”

You moan nodding and grinding and bouncing more.He pants, his grip getting so much tighter that it would leave a bruise mark on your hips “M-my god…”

He moves the hand that was holding your chin to your waist, trying to pull you further down towards him “J-just a little more, love…”

You moan and bounce more. “It's so big Blaise, I can't take it anymore” you moan in pleasure. Blaise grabs your hips and starts fucking you fast and you moan.

He pulls you into a passionate kiss that was a clash of tongues. Blaise moans as he moved your body against his even rougher. “I-I love… I'm going to…” he whispers through the kisses.

You moan into the kiss and nibble his lip and then he comes and he follows you by cumming inside you making you both moan.

You collapse on his body humming satisfied. Blaise nibbles your neck “M-my god… you drive me crazy, my love” he whispers.

You hug him softly trying to catch your breath. He wraps his arms around you, making you lie on his chest, one hand in your hair as his chest rises and falls “That was… incredible…”. You nodded softly hearing those words.

Blaise hums in agreement, one hand caressing your back while the other is still in your hair “You are so beautiful…”. You blush hearing those words.

He chuckles, smiling softly as he kisses you back, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to his chest. He was holding you so tight to him, as if he was afraid to let you go “You feel so good against my chest, love…”

You smile softly and cuddle closer to him. “Stay with me all night Blaise” you whisper softly.

Blaise chuckles, wrapping his arms around you tighter “Of course, my Love. I’m not going anywhere.”

[riverashifts]

⟡ 𓂂 ˚ ☆

⌗ R1V3RASHIFTS : welcome to my (very) long dr list! don't be afraid, it doesn't bite... just letting you know i most definitely won't post about each and every one of these as some of these are more personal (or embarrassing..) than others. if you have questions about any, feel free to send an ask whenever!

꒰ྀི　K-POP　꒱ྀི　realities  𐙚

⁰⁰¹ 𓈒 enhypen eighth member

⁰⁰² 𓈒 enhypen seventh member

⁰⁰³ 𓈒 enhypen twelfth member

⁰⁰⁴ 𓈒 enhypen eighth member (poly)

⁰⁰⁵ 𓈒 enhypen eighth member (gg)

⁰⁰⁶ 𓈒 stray kids eighth member

⁰⁰⁷ 𓈒 æspa fifth member

⁰⁰⁸ 𓈒 newjeans sixth member

⁰⁰⁹ 𓈒 (g)i-dle seventh member

⁰¹⁰ 𓈒 itzy sixth member

⁰¹¹ 𓈒 le sserafim sixth member

⁰¹² 𓈒 3racha fourth member

⁰¹³ 𓈒 tomorrow x together fifth member

⁰¹⁴ 𓈒 xdinary heroes seventh member

꒰ྀི　OWN GRP　꒱ྀི　realities  𐙚

⁰⁰¹ 𓈒 bratz!

⁰⁰² 𓈒 monster high

⁰⁰³ 𓈒 idol stars (unnamed grp)

⁰⁰⁴ 𓈒 v.e.x

⁰⁰⁵ 𓈒 by the stars (bts) (vers. 1)

⁰⁰⁶ 𓈒 by the stars (bts) (vers. 2)

⁰⁰⁷ 𓈒 eclipse

⁰⁰⁸ 𓈒 atlantis

⁰⁰⁹ 𓈒 celeste

⁰¹⁰ 𓈒 loveloop

⁰¹¹ 𓈒 lovex

⁰¹² 𓈒 honey

⁰¹³ 𓈒 mydol / miraculous x idols

⁰¹⁴ 𓈒 marvel x idols (unnamed grp)

⁰¹⁵ 𓈒 (unnamed nct type grp)

⁰¹⁶ 𓈒 moxie / a2k

⁰¹⁷ 𓈒 girls planet 999 (unnamed grp)

⁰¹⁸ 𓈒 produce series (unnamed grp)

⁰¹⁹ 𓈒 yin&yang

⁰²⁰ 𓈒 punk punk

⁰²¹ 𓈒 retrograde

꒰ྀི　K-POP SOLOIST　꒱ྀི　realities  𐙚

⁰⁰¹ 𓈒 holly

⁰⁰² 𓈒 king

⁰⁰³ 𓈒 nabi

⁰⁰⁴ 𓈒 star

⁰⁰⁵ 𓈒 quae

꒰ྀི　MIRACULOUS　꒱ྀི　realities  𐙚

⁰⁰¹ 𓈒 nagara

⁰⁰² 𓈒 vespera

⁰⁰³ 𓈒 miraculous academy

⁰⁰⁴ 𓈒 mydol / miraculous x idols

⁰⁰⁵ 𓈒 miraculous (feat. idols)

⁰⁰⁶ 𓈒 miraculous x marvel

꒰ྀི　HOGWARTS　꒱ྀི　realities  𐙚

⁰⁰¹ 𓈒 golden trio ('80 liner)

⁰⁰² 𓈒 golden trio ('76 liner)

⁰⁰³ 𓈒 golden trio / slytherin boys

⁰⁰⁴ 𓈒 golden trio — chosen one

⁰⁰⁵ 𓈒 modern golden trio

⁰⁰⁶ 𓈒 hogwarts (feat. idols)

⁰⁰⁷ 𓈒 beauxbatons student

⁰⁰⁸ 𓈒 canadian school student

꒰ྀི　MOVIE / SERIES　꒱ྀི　realities  𐙚

⁰⁰¹ 𓈒 general marvel

⁰⁰² 𓈒 miraculous x marvel

⁰⁰³ 𓈒 marvel (feat. idols)

⁰⁰⁴ 𓈒 black widow

⁰⁰⁵ 𓈒 agatha all along

⁰⁰⁶ 𓈒 business proposal

⁰⁰⁷ 𓈒 descendants — enchantress

⁰⁰⁸ 𓈒 descendants — queen of hearts

⁰⁰⁹ 𓈒 descendants — mad hatter

⁰¹⁰ 𓈒 pokémon

⁰¹¹ 𓈒 outerbanks — pogue

⁰¹² 𓈒 outerbanks — kook

⁰¹³ 𓈒 outerbanks — kook-pogue

⁰¹⁴ 𓈒 the fosters

⁰¹⁵ 𓈒 ever after high

⁰¹⁶ 𓈒 criminal minds — spencer

⁰¹⁷ 𓈒 criminal minds — jemily

⁰¹⁸ 𓈒 enhypen next door

⁰¹⁹ 𓈒 h2o

⁰²⁰ 𓈒 k-12

⁰²¹ 𓈒 hometown cha cha cha

⁰²² 𓈒 narnia

⁰²³ 𓈒 spirited

⁰²⁴ 𓈒 how to train your dragon

⁰²⁵ 𓈒 part time idol

⁰²⁶ 𓈒 princess diaries

⁰²⁷ 𓈒 the princess switch

⁰²⁸ 𓈒 princess & the pop star (princess)

⁰²⁹ 𓈒 princess & the pop star (pop star)

⁰³⁰ 𓈒 the school of good and evil

⁰³¹ 𓈒 percy jackson

⁰³² 𓈒 percy jackson (feat. idols)

⁰³³ 𓈒 the thundermans

⁰³⁴ 𓈒 wizards of waverly place

⁰³⁵ 𓈒 sky high

⁰³⁶ 𓈒 squid game

⁰³⁷ 𓈒 to all the boys i've loved before

⁰³⁸ 𓈒 wednesday

⁰³⁹ 𓈒 twinkling watermelon

⁰⁴⁰ 𓈒 starstruck

⁰⁴¹ 𓈒 lemonade mouth

⁰⁴² 𓈒 shameless

⁰⁴³ 𓈒 yellowjackets

꒰ྀི　BOOK / FANFIC　꒱ྀི　realities  𐙚

⁰⁰¹ 𓈒 renegades (marissa meyer)

⁰⁰² 𓈒 renegades (feat. idols)

⁰⁰³ 𓈒 the lunar chronicles (marissa meyer)

⁰⁰⁴ 𓈒 heartless (marissa meyer)

⁰⁰⁵ 𓈒 you don't have a shot (racquel marie)

⁰⁰⁶ 𓈒 the folk of the air (holly black)

⁰⁰⁷ 𓈒 shatter me (tahereh mafi)

⁰⁰⁸ 𓈒 chanwitch (fic)

⁰⁰⁹ 𓈒 say please (fic)

⁰¹⁰ 𓈒 hideout (fic)

⁰¹¹ 𓈒 the tale of geoji & jinsil (fic)

⁰¹² 𓈒 dollhouse (fic)

꒰ྀི　FAME　꒱ྀི　realities  𐙚

⁰⁰¹ 𓈒 actress & singer

⁰⁰² 𓈒 actress (louis partridge)

⁰⁰³ 𓈒 actress (mikey madison)

⁰⁰⁴ 𓈒 model & actress

⁰⁰⁵ 𓈒 rapper

⁰⁰⁶ 𓈒 actress (fics to movie)

⁰⁰⁷ 𓈒 katseye sixth member

⁰⁰⁸ 𓈒 k-drama actress

⁰⁰⁹ 𓈒 nepo baby (taylor swift)

⁰¹⁰ 𓈒 nepo baby (gracie abrams)

⁰¹¹ 𓈒 1950s actress

⁰¹² 𓈒 band (unnamed atm)

⁰¹³ 𓈒 bake off competition show

⁰¹⁴ 𓈒 lifestyle reality show

⁰¹⁵ 𓈒 minecraft youtuber

⁰¹⁶ 𓈒 learn/travel/vlog

⁰¹⁷ 𓈒 author

⁰¹⁸ 𓈒 sugar baby / singer

⁰¹⁹ 𓈒 boysworld

꒰ྀི　MISC.　꒱ྀི　realities  𐙚

⁰⁰¹ 𓈒 idol school

⁰⁰² 𓈒 ideal fan / better cr

⁰⁰³ 𓈒 y/n experience / better cr

⁰⁰⁴ 𓈒 wag / better cr

⁰⁰⁵ 𓈒 concert experience

⁰⁰⁶ 𓈒 eternal summer

⁰⁰⁷ 𓈒 eternal summer (multi)

⁰⁰⁸ 𓈒 waiting room — circular room

⁰⁰⁹ 𓈒 waiting room — cloud castle

⁰¹⁰ 𓈒 waiting room — bookstore/cinema

⁰¹¹ 𓈒 waiting room — storyline

⁰¹² 𓈒 jeu imaginaire

⁰¹³ 𓈒 pirate life

⁰¹⁴ 𓈒 fantasy world — royalty

⁰¹⁵ 𓈒 fantasy world — charmed

⁰¹⁶ 𓈒 fantasy world — unnamed

⁰¹⁷ 𓈒 fantasy world — supernatural academy

⁰¹⁸ 𓈒 christmas wonderland

⁰¹⁹ 𓈒 royalty

⁰²⁰ 𓈒 women-only paradise

⁰²¹ 𓈒 boarding school

⁰²² 𓈒 idol school

⁰²³ 𓈒 farm life / minecraft irl

⁰²⁴ 𓈒 eternal childhood

⁰²⁵ 𓈒 cottage witch

⁰²⁶ 𓈒 village life

⁰²⁷ 𓈒 iykyk 😝

⁰²⁸ 𓈒 spy academy

⁰²⁹ 𓈒 college life

⟡ 𓂂 ˚ ☆

[gallusrostromegalus]

I must ask how my Most Favorite Boys, Jushiro Ukitake and Shinji Hirako, are doing in AEIWAM?

When Shinji returns to his post as Captain of the 5th after his exile, he is DETERMINED to not repeat his past mistakes and actually get to know the shinigami serving under him. He needs... Some kind of event, something people will voluntarily attend, where they'll tell him about themselves, and with a bit of structure because he is an awkward sod, and social interactions need RULES, DAMMIT-

"Now hang on-" says Shinji after staring at the blank office wall in silence for the last thirty minutes. "-that's not a bad idea!"

"...Is he okay?" Lieutenant Momo asks quietly.

"Oh yeah, he's always a little freak. Talks to himself and gets a lot out of the conversation." Also Lieutenant Hiyori nods. "You don't need to worry until he breaks out the craft supplies."

"He just pulled out a bunch of markers and construction paper." Momo pointed to their captain as he scribbled furiously on the paperwork he was ignoring.

"Aw. Fuck." Groaned Hiyori. "Well this is gonna be cringe as hell."

***

A few nights later, most of the fifth division assembled in the auditorium, slightly confused, but they had been promised there would be no additional work from this meeting, and there was an open bar, so they were in figurative and literal high spirits.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Fifth Division, welcome to TONIGHT'S GAME!" A cheerful and showman-like voice called out over the speakers, and the stage curtain rose to reveal a brightly colored game show stage where there had not been one before.

"Tonight's lovely contestants are- all the way from payroll, it's Fifth Division Tenth Seat Tenya Danshin!" The voice called out as the familiar face of their payroll and scheduling manager trotted out onstage and took his place behind the first of three podiums. There was some scattered and genuine, if confused applause from the audience.

"He's Big, he's Bad, he's just a little Bizarre, he's Josuke Araki!" The voice continued as a notably tall and muscular member took his place behind the middle podium with a wave and broad grin. There was more clapping and a few cheers this time.

"Currently being dragged onstage by my lovely assistant, it's my second favorite Lieutenant, Hiyori Sarugaki!" The voice continued as Hiyori was wrestled onstage and behind the third podium by Momo. The audience whooped and snickered at the spectacle.

"FUCK YOU, YOU FREAK!" Hiyori roared, flipping off the audience and the figure behind the final podium on the other side of the stage.

"I'm your host, ME! I've been here the whole time!" Grinned Shinji, dressed in a rather snappy three piece suit and holding a microphone. "WELCOME, all my lovely division members and Hiyori, to Tonight's Game! Now, you all know how to play, right?"

"Um. No. Sorry sir." Muttered Tenya as Josuke shook his head.

"You didn't tell us shit!" Hiyori growled.

"That's RIGHT!" Shinji's Cheshire Cat smile shined under the spotlights.

"You see, I wanted to get to know everyone in the 5th a little better, and there is nothing quite like a game show to get people to reveal some truly startling sides of themselves, but playing the same game over and over would be boring! So, every night we play Tonight's Game, the game is a different game than last time, and the contestants will all start with blank slates!" He explained, entirely too pleased with himself. "So- the only way to win is by learning, the only way to learn is by playing, and the only way to begin is by beginning, so without further ado- Momo, will you please bring out THE LIE DETECTOR."

The small curtains at the back of the stage opened, and Momo rolled out a cart with a strange device covered in dials and switches with a long antenna and a large lightbulb on top.

"Thank you Momo! Now, the clever bastards in the 12th whipped this up for me so I have absolutely no idea how it actually works, but I am assured this is the latest cutting-edge in Veracity Technology. Let's turn it on and try it out! Tenya-!"

"Yes, sir!" Tenya snapped to attention. "No need to be formal, I'm only your host, not your captain right now." Shinji waved. "Tell me Tenya- Do you have any children?"

"I- Um, my wife and I have three children, two little boys and our infant daughter?" He stammered, confused.

DING! The Device charmed, light bulb lighting up bright green.

"That is CORRECT!" Shinji grinned. "You get a point!"

There was another chime as the screen on the front of Tenya's Podium lit up and displayed a "1".

"Oh, I see!" Laughed Tenya.

"Josuke!" called Shinji.

"Capt- Host?" Josuke stopped mid-salute.

"Very good! Tell me Josuke, do you live in the barracks?" Shinji asked with genuine interest.

"Uh, no. I live with my Mom." Josuke shook his head.

DING! Said the device.

"That is Correct!" Shinji nodded approvingly. "You get a point as well!"

"Oh, so, every time we tell the truth, we get a point?" Asked Josuke.

"Very quick on the uptake my friend!" Shinji winked. "Of course, as the game goes on, the questions are going to get much harder to answer Truthfully..."

Oooooooh! Gasped the audience, invested now.

"What happens if we lie?" Wondered Tenya.

"Even if we did- how would he fucking know?" Hiyori rolled her eyes.

"You can try it and find out!" Shinji grinned with more than a hint of Menace. "Hiyori! It's your turn!"

"Ugh. What?" She groaned.

"Tell me, When is my birthday?" Asked Shinji.

"I don't know and I don't care." She smirked, sticking her tongue out at him.

BZZRK! The Device buzzed angrily, and the light flashed red. OHH! laughed the audience.

"What the FUCK?" Yelped Hiyori.

"Ooh!" Shinji winced, thoroughly enjoying himself. "I'm afraid that is INCORRECT! According to the screen back here, you spent the better part of THREE MONTHS tracking down a specific part to repair my sound system and traveled halfway across the planet to deliver it personally to me on my birthday. So not only do you know, you DO care, and for that I'm afraid I'm going to have to dock you two points."

Hiyori's screen lit up and displayed a "-2"

"WHAT THE HELL?" Hiyori wailed. "You didn't even see me when I gave you that Banana Plug or whatever-!"

"I did not!" Shinji grinned. "-but The Device knows, and is infallible!" "That's terrifying!" Tenya laughed nervously. "Alright contestants, the questions are going to get harder now, so consider your answers to them carefully." Shinji warned, a finger up to his lips. "Contestants- does any of your underwear have holes in it?"

"...Can we refuse to answer on the grounds it might get us in trouble?" asked Josuke.

"Yes! But you won't get any points for that round, and you may not win our Lovely Prize this week. Speaking of- Momo! Will you please show our contestants what they're playing for this week?"

Momo emerged from backstage with a large, blank sign, which she turned over and held over her head for all to see.

AN EXTRA WEEK OF PAID VACATION

OHHH! exclaimed the audience, with a few audible mutters of Damn, a whole week? and How do you get on this show?.

"ALL MY UNDERWEAR HAS GOT HOLES IN IT!" Shouted Josuke, now with heavily-motivated enthusiasm. Laughter exploded out of the audience, thoroughly entertained.

DING! chimed the device, and the score on Josuke's podium went up.

"Josuke taking an early and shameless lead!" Beamed Shinji, delighted that his plan was working. "Tenya?"

"I-ah, I don't think so?" Tenya blushed. "I bathe the kids and get them ready for bed while my wife does the laundry." He tried to explain.

BZZRK! The Device contested, red light flashing and the audience howled with laughter.

"Uh-oh, that's Not Correct!" Grinned Shinji. "According to the device, a significant amount of your clothes have holes in them, and you don't notice because you get dressed in the dark. You didn't outright lie though, so you will only not get a point instead of a deduction."

"WHAT?" Yelped Hiyori, outraged.

"Yeah, that's fair." Tenya winced. "Seriously though- where does this thing get it's information from?"

"...Hiyori?" Shinji leered playfully at his lieutenant.

"Yeah, it's all got holes. They come that way- Two for my legs and one for my torso." Hiyori snarled.

DING! agreed The Device.

"That is *technically* correct, which is the BEST kind of correct! You get a point!" Shinji cheered, and so did the audience.

"FINALLY!" She shouted, but her eyes narrowed with competitive enthusiasm.

---

The game continued for an hour, with a mix of group and solo questions, but equal chances to score points awarded to all contestants. Josuke was shameless but ill-informed, causing him to fail several rounds, Tenya was honest even as his face flushed red and he crumpled behind his Podium. Hiyori did her best to be only as honest as she had to be, and as the game continued, they came to a three-way tie.

"Before we begin the final round-" Shinji said, intoning a gentle sincerity. "Contestants, you've been so honest with me. Like. Alarmingly Honest with me. So I need to be honest with you- I do know how The Lie Detector works."

There was a scandalized gasp from all three contestants and the audience.

"Okay- I *sort of* know how The Device works." Shinji admitted. "I don't know what 'Wiffy' is-"

"YOU MEAN THE FUCKING WI-FI?" Howled Hiyori.

"Oh, like you know how it works!" Shinji glared.

"It's using a radio frequency to transmit Data instead of an electrical pulses like internet usually does." She scoffed. "-AND I KNOW HOW TO PRONOUNCE IT!"

Shinji glared. "...I should deduct a point from you for insubordination."

"You can't do that, you're the Host, not the Captain!" Said Josuke cheerfully.

"Yeah, unless Host is a Military rank, it's arguing, not insubordination."

DING! Agreed The Device.

"DON'T GANG UP ON ME!" Shinji wailed. "Fine, fine. Anyway, I might not know how Why-Figh works, but I *DO* know how the device knows if you're lying or not. Would my Lovely Assistants please come to the stage?"

Momo emerged from backstage, wearing a labcoat and holding another device with an antenna that matched the Lie Detector, followed by a middle aged woman holding a Baby, an older woman, and Mashiro Kuna.

"Akkiko?" Tenya yelped, and his wife laughed manically.

"MOM??" Wailed Josuke.

"MASHIRO??" Hiyori bellowed, jumping up onto her Podium. "YOU SOLD ME OUT?!"

"FOR A BAG OF CORN CHIPS!" Mashiro cackled.

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN PAY HER?!" Hiyori howled at Shinji.

"She was gonna do it for free! I talked her UP to a bag of corn chips!" Shinji protested. "But YES! You've all been deceived! Hoodwinked!Bamboozled, even! Which brings us to our Final Question!"

The crowd roared with excitement.

"I started this game because I wanted to get to know everyone better- but I have to ask, how well do YOU know each other, and so I must ask you all if you know these people as well as they know you?"

There was a loud OOOH! of intrigue from the audience.

"Just to make it extra-exciting, all of these questions will be worth up to three points!" Shinji grinned, then slowly turned to the first Podium. "Tenya."

"Oh god." Tenya laughed nervously.

"Your lovely wife. You've been married for ten year now, so you theoretically know what she looks like, right?" Shinji teased. "So, for a potential three points and week of paid vacation- Do you know what color Akkiko's eyes are?"

Akkiko giggled, turning around as Tenya leaned as far forward on his Podium and squinted at her. With a deep sigh, he slumped over the podium in defeat.

"...I do not." He groaned and Akkiko cackled.

"That is CORRECT!" Shinji cheered.

"I'm not good with colors." Tenya tried to explain. "-this morning I actually asked her what color MY eyes are."

"YES! That's what I was waiting to hear!" Shinji shouted, pumping his fist in the air. "All three points!"

The audience cheered loudly.

Shinji turned to the next contestant. "Josuke."

"Oh no." Josuke giggled.

"What is your mother's favorite food?" Shinji asked.

Josuke stared blankly.

"SURELY you are not living in your mother's house and NOT COOKING FOR HER, are you?" Shinji asked with no small amount of menace.

"You're never going to get married if you can't cook!" Tenya nodded in agreement.

"I COOK!" Josuke protested. "...sometimes." he added, cringing.

"-So. What do you make for your beloved mother, who works so hard taking care of her adult son?" Shinji teased.

"LOTSA STUFF THAT'S WHY I DON'T KNOW!" Josuke wailed. "I COOK KATSUDON, I COOK RAMEN, I COOK CURRY, I COOK OMURICE- I EVEN LEARNED HOW TO COOK WESTERN FOODS LIKE LASAGNA AND CHILLI CHEESE DOG-! DING! Went the device, Josuke's mother holding the radio.

"Was your favorite in there Mrs. Akari?"

"Yes! I like Chili Cheese Dog." She smiled. "I always eat seconds!"

"YOU ALWAYS EAT SECONDS OF EVERYTHING I COOK I DON'T KNOW WHICH ONE YOU LIKE THE MOST!" Josuke wailed.

"That is also true! He is a very good cook! And single!" She nodded up at Shinji.

"-And he's single!" Shinji grinned at the audience, some of whom whistled back. "Three points, for your culinary skills! Which means we have a Tie!"

The audience tittered with speculation and excitement.

"...Hiyori." Shinji grinned.

"You're a dead man as soon as you sign off on my vacation time." She glared.

"I mean, I can end the game right now." Shinji wagged his finger at her. "-But I can't resist the opportunity to humliate you. Now, You and Mashiro have been living under the same roof for longer than Josuke and Tenya have been alive, so to be fair to them, I'll ask you about someone you've met more recently but should still know pretty well-"

Hiyori squinted at him.

"-What is Momo's Favorite Animal?"

"What?" Hiyori laughed. "-Everyone knows it's Penguins!"

"Really?" asked Josuke. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I didn't know that either and I've served under her for decades now!" Said Tenya.

"What? How do you guys NOT know that?" Demanded Hiyori. "Her phone background is a Rockhopper Penguin, she's got a Fairy penguin squeeze toy in her desk for really long phone calls and she's always talking about wanting to go to the Tokyo aquarium in the living world to see them in person! She's even got a HUGE collection of penguin plushies in her r-" DINGDINGDINGDINGSING!! rang the Machine as Momo furiously pressed the button, face red as a beet.

"Wow!" Shinji smiled. "I'm surprised! You seem to know Miss Hinamori really well!"

"Uh, duh? We're colleagues." Hiyori rolled her eyes.

Momo sighed with relief.

"Interesting! Follow-up question- What's Mashiro's surname?" Shinji asked.

Hiyori blinked. "...uhhhhhhhh..."

"You heard Kensei yell it at least six times a day for the last century you jackass!" Laughed Mashiro.

"UHHHHH..." Hiyori paled, and the audience roared with laughter.

"Hmm... I seem to remember you pretending you didn't care about my birthday, and yet, you do- For you to remember her favorite animal and in such detail, Momo must be VERY IMPORTANT to you!"

The audience giggled Momo turned scarlet again and slowly crumpled into a ball. Mashiro vibrated with excitement beside her.

"Yeah?" Hiyori glared at Shinji. "She's the smartest person in the whole damn division and does half your job for you? If I win, I'm giving the week off to her just to watch you flail around without her! No wait- I'll set up the webcam and we can split the week off, go to the aquarium AND watch Shinji squirm like a worm an a-! Uh? Momo? You okay there?" She asked, finally noticing Momo laying on the floor, borderline catatonic with embarrassment.

"This is FASCINATNG!" Shinji grinned. "You are apparently so immune to embarrassment that you have somehow made it bounce off you and target Momo!"

"What's to be embarrassed about? I like her okay?" Hiyori blinked. "She's great! I wanna work with her forever!"

Shinji leaned forward on his elbows, chin in his hands and stared at Hiyori, positively vibrating with excitement.

"What?" She glared.

"You are. SO CLOSE. To comprehending something." He said, wide-eyed and delighted. "It's fascinating to see someone on the precipice like this."

Hiyori stared blankly at him. clueless.

"So you like Momo. We've established that." Shinji said, attempting to throw her a bone. "H- how do you think Momo feels about you?" Hiyori slowly lowered her gaze to Momo. The entire audience watched in hushed fascination as Hiyori frowned at the situation, thinking hard-

"...Momo?" Hiyori's voice was suddenly nervous. "Do you- have I just been annoying you? Becuase I can stop-"

Momo Hinamori was abruptly on her feet, crouched atop the Podium, fists balled in the front of Hiyori's shushako, pulling the blonde's face up so it was mere inches from hers. "HIYORI SARUGAKI YOU ARE THE MOST INFURIATING WOMAN IN THE UNIVERSE!"

"Fuck!" Hiyori yelped. "I'm really sorry, I'll- I'll leave you alo-"

"I'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO DO, MISSY!" Momo continued, grabbing Hiyori's face. "YOU'RE WINNING THIS GAME, YOU'RE SPLITTING THE WEEK OFF WITH ME, YOU ARE GETTING A HOTEL IN THE LIVING WORLD AND THEN *I* AM GOING TO-'

In the videotape of the game that mysteriously appeared in the ninth division later that week, the next forty-seven seconds of sound had been obscured by a single, loud, continuous "BLEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" sound, but Mashiro was visibly looking up some of the terms being shouted on her phone, Josuke's mother sprinted up to cover her son's ears to no avail, Akkiko was pointing between herself and Tenya with excitement, and Shinji's jaw fell so far open it looked like it had become unhinged from his skull.

"-AND IF EITHER OF US CAN WALK IN THE MORNING, THEN WE'RE GONNA GO SEE SOME PENGUINS!" Momo finished, staring Hiyori down with a terrifying blend of romantic fury and bloodthirsty lust.

Hiyori stared up, wide-eyed and expressionless, face clearly offline as she underwent several psychological and spiritual awakenings before her she slowly broke into a slow, stupefied grin "Oh you like-like me!"

"...Yes." Momo sighed, deeply pained and affectionate at once as the audience howled. "You're okay with... all that?"

Hiyori saluted Momo with an enthusiastic "-Yes, SIR!"

"NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M FUCKING TALKIN' ABOUT!" Shinji whooped with joy, jumping up and down, the audience on their feet with applause. "POINTS AND VACATIONS ALL AROUND, AND FOR BEING THE *MOST* HONEST, THE WINNER OF TONIGHT'S GAME IS MOMO HINAMORI!"

The audience cheered wildly as Momo scooped Hiyori up like a princess and carried her backstage.

"THAT'S IT FOR TONIGHT'S GAME!" called Shinji over the din. "GOODNIGHT EVERYONE, AND GOOD FUCKING LUCK!"

---

As for Jushiro Ukitake, he appears on a special guest episode of Tonight's Game with fellow Captains Soi Fon, Byakuya Kuchiki and Retsu Unohana to play "Never Have I Ever" and *that* episode is widely considered to be one of the most scandalous and unhinged of all the games on Tonight's Game.

[lua-magic]

Sixth lord and your Karmic Debts.

Where ever in your chart, your sixth lord goes, there you have karmic debt, which you have carried from your past lives.

Hence, you have to serve there.

You usually can't expect anything from that House, as that house is one of the reason you are here on this Earth to finish your pending karmas.

Sixth House is of debt and diseases, and that is why, sixth house Lord Wherever it sits, you have to fight for that house.

Sixth lord in first house 🏠.

You have to fight battle for your body, you might be surrounded by lot of debt and diseases in your life

First house is personality and sixth house is of "service " . More you involve yourself in service, your personality will get better.

This placement also indicates you have lot debts from your past life, so don't be surprised when people around you, takes your money and never return it, or you don't get return on your investments or on money you spent, it is because, you are here to clear all your pending karmas.

You have fighting spirit, but use this spirit to serve others and not to fight with others.

You are extremely compititive person and can't take No or or handle failure and your own stubbornness becomes problematic to you

Sixth lord in second house 🏠

Hee, you have lot of pending karmas towards your own family, and you have to serve your family.

Your family might not appreciate you that much, not you get enough love and support back, but instead of fighting with them verbally as second house is also of words, be silent and work for them.

Sixth lord in third house.

You have karmic debt with your siblings and you have to serve them.

This is good placement as you will fight for your desires.

Sixth lord in fourth house 🏠

Fourth house is of mental peace, and sixth lord here, will disturb your peace of mind.

But, when you do sevice and charity, or provide mental support to someone in need you get peace.

Sixth lord in fifth house

Here, you have to use your knowledge to serve others.

You can't use your knowledge to benifit yourself, you have to use it, for betterment of people and society.

Sixth lord in sixth house 🏡

It is good, because you will fight with your debt and diseases.

Use this combination to help others, instead of fighting with them

Especially, when you have Ketu in sixth house, don't use your energy to fight with others instead of fighting for them.

Sixth lord in seventh House 🏡

It is little problematic combination if you are fighting with your partner.

But you can use this combination to fight for your partner and serve him/her . You have karmic debt towards your partner.

Don't make promises when you are happy and don't break relationship when you are sad.

Sixth lord in eight House.

You have karmic debt towards your in-laws and you have to serve them

You might face problems in your inheritance and you have to fight for your gains and Money.

You use knowledge of Astrology and occult to help others and use your occult knowledge as a tool to serve others.

Sixth lord in ninth House 🏠

You have karmic debt towards your father and teachers.

Don't take or borrow more money from your father or teacher instead serve them, and help them.

Sixth Lord in tenth house 🏠

You have Karmic debt when it comes to your work, si if you think your work doesn't pays you enough, then it is because, life is giving you chance to pay your debts

Take your work as a service and use it to help others..

Sixth lord in eleventh House 🏠

You have Karmic Debts towards your elder siblings and your social circle

So, don't be surprised if people come to you ask or take your help often, because only by helping others you can pay your Karmic debt.

Sixth lord in twelfth House 🏠

Twelfth house is of house of loss and sixth house is of house of eniemies, debt, and diseases. Native will loose his eniemies, and debt. It is a good placement.

Native does has problem with overthinking, problems in letting go and following his daily routine.

Native must learn to forgive his eniemies, and let them go, otherwise it will trouble him mentally and he will loose his sleep and peace.

Service to mankind is service to god.

[hoonieyun]

letter from: jongseong ⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

on the fifth day of christmas, you asked me what's on my wishlist and i told you all i wanted was forever with my boo... -ariana grance "true love"

pairing: park jongseong x reader

genre: romance/fluff - marriage proposal

warnings: nothing really but always 18+

summary: jongseong proposes on christmas day

christmas herald masterlist ⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

word count: 2932

The drive up to Jay’s winter family cabin up in Northern Washington was long but scenic. It had a lot of beautiful sights and fun pitstops that you’d never see back in South Korea. The two of you were vacationing in his home state for the holidays and after spending a few days in his hometown, your plan was now to drive up to his family’s winter cabin and spend Christmas there with just the two of you. 

You and Jay have been together for almost 3 years now, January 1st would not only be bringing the new year but also marking the 3rd year of you and Jay’s relationship. You two have known each other since Jay moved to Korea from Seattle and it just so happened to be that your mom was from Seattle but moved to Korea when she met your dad. The two of you have been inseperable since. 

Growing up together people would often make comments about how you two looked perfect for each other or just assumed that you two were dating and although you weren’t at the time, you couldn’t help but imagine a life where Jay was your prince charming– until about 3 years ago during your first year of University where Jay drunkely confesses that he’s had a crush on you since the two of you were 16. He embarrassingly tried to ignore it the next day but when you returned with a confession of your own, the two of you would spend the next few weeks dating and this eventually led to him finally asking you to be his girlfriend as the clock struck 12am on the new year. 

The last 3 years of your life have been magical and spending it with your best friend who just happens to be your boyfriend made it all the better. Both of your parents already knew the two of you would eventually end up together, the only question was when. 

“You doing okay, honey? We’re almost there.” Jay says, his calm voice pulling you out of the memories of the last 2 Christmases that you’ve spent together. When you first started dating you spent Christmas with both of your parents, then the next year only with your parents because Jay’s moved back to Seattle, and this year you spent a few days with his family before making the drive up to the cabin like you were doing now. 

“I’m alright, don’t worry honey.” you respond, giving him a warm smile, one that he returns with his own. Warmth. That was a word you could use to describe Jay: warm. 

Even on the coldest nights in Korea or here in Washington where it seems to be cold about 80% of the year, being around Jay was the warmth that you needed to forget about the freezing cold that threatened to nip at your skin, creating goosebumps that littered your body. Even when you weren’t feeling cold, Jay’s warmth was able to provide you with a type of serenity and solace that no one else could. Like he was this beacon of light that instantly soothed you whenever he was around. His kind, caring, and affectionate demeanor was what drew you to him. You truly were the luckiest person alive to be on the receiving end of Jay’s love and you wouldn’t trade him for anyone else in the world because he let you feel the love and warmth you deserved to feel in a world that seemed to be freezing over with an icy cold pandemic that caused people to be unkind and mean spirited. 

Jay glances over at you with that smile that you loved so much, grabbing your hand with his and pressing a kiss onto your knuckles, “I can’t wait to spend this time with you. It’ll be unforgettable.” he says before placing another warm kiss on your skin and setting it back down on your lap so he could drive with both hands on the wheel like the responsible guy that you knew him as. 

After another pitstop to use the restroom and taking photos of the snow covered trees, you arrived at the cabin just a few hours before the sun would start to set. It was Christmas Eve and you and Jay planned to just settle in and have a calm day when you arrive and on Christmas Day you would have a wonderful dinner cooked by Jay and spend Christmas cuddled up in front of a fire most likely watching a Christmas movie you’ve seen x amount of times. 

“We’re here!” Jay says enthusiastically, running out of his seat and over to your side of the car to open it for you but not before puckering up for a kiss as he helps you out of the car. The two of you unload the trunk of your things, just a few bags of clothes and food to last you the week as you’d be there until the New Year. The cabin was beautiful, it was surrounded by the tallest of trees that were covered in snow, several string lights were strung from different trees, and the cabin itself had its own charm. It had high reinforced windows, beautiful oak logs and panels that made up the cabin itself, and near the front of the door you found small footprints in the snow that you could assume to be from a family of deer somewhere in the snowy forest. 

As Jay brought your bags and his into the cabin, you quickly check the hidden compartment of the trunk that lifted and revealed a section that was hidden into the bottom of the trunk itself. There laid your Christmas gift that you hid from Jay before you left for the drive to ensure he didn’t see you pack it into the car. You shut the compartment back up when Jay called for you and decided that you’d bring the gift in another time when Jay was preoccupied with something, perhaps while he’s cooking dinner tomorrow. 

“Coming, honey!” you shout, closing the trunk and carefully skipping over to Jay who waited for you at the entrance of the cabin with his arms open. You quickened your pace as you got closer causing you to slip on the ice on the patio but of course, Jay, your knight in shining armor, was there to catch you before you could even come close to falling. A gasp leaves your lips but it leaves just as quick when you realize Jay has caught you with his strong arms wrapped around your waist. 

“My savior!” you say dramatically, acting like you were about to faint from the situation and Jay decides to play along; throwing your legs into the air and catching you bridal style. “Fear not my lovely maiden! Your knight in shining armor is here to save you from your cute clumsiness.” he announces, walking the two of you and plopping you down onto the couch that was in the living room just a few feet from the front door. “Hey! I’m not clumsy…” you say, pouting.

“Aww, honey– yes you are.” Jay responds, placing a kiss onto your pouty lips in the middle of his sentence. 

The rest of the day goes by fairly quickly as you and Jay spend most of it lounging around in each other’s warmth, laid up on the couch with his arms wrapped around you while you watch various Christmas movies. 

Soon enough, you’re yawning and looking out the window to be met with the big and bright moon gleaming into the cabin through one of the windows; the shadows of snow falling from the sky bleeding into the moonlight. “Sleepy?” Jay asks and you look up at him, head still on his chest before nodding. “Off to bed we go!” he says, picking you up again bridal style and taking you to the bedroom where he tucks you in goodnight with his arms acting as an extra layer of warmth to the fluffy blanket covering the two of you. 

“Goodnight honey.” Jay says with a kiss to your temple, his low and sweet voice almost lulling you to sleep. 

“Goodnight, my love.” you respond quietly, sleep soon taking over as yours and Jay’s light snores fill the room. 

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

It’s Christmas morning and you’re awoken by the scent of pancakes, bacon, and eggs on the stove; an indicator that Jay is in the kitchen cooking up breakfast for the two of you– before you’re even able to throw the thick blanket off of your body, Jay is emerging from behind the bedroom door and walking over to your with bright eyes and a smile; holding a breakfast bed tray with the most delicious smelling and looking food. Eggs, just the way you like it, a stack of pancakes, crispy bacon, and a cup of hot cocoa in a mug that the two of you had made in a ceramic class one day when you first started dating. 

“Babe!” you say with a bright eyed pout as you watch him come closer with the tray of food, Jay’s smile only getting bigger. “Breakfast for my queen.” he says as he sets it down over your legs. “This looks so delicious, thank you my love.” you say, sharing a kiss as a thank you to him for his kindness. “Did you eat?:” you ask and he nods, “Just a bit, don’t worry I’ll bring myself a plate over, i just want you to have a bite first.” he explains and you scrunch your nose at him with a small smile. 

You soon take a bite of the pancake’s and it’s probably the best pancake you’ve ever had. Jay was a great cook but it’s the simpler foods that he cooks that is your favorite. It induces a nostalgic feeling like you’re 4 years old trying pancakes for the first time and it becomes your hyperfixation for the next month or so where that’s all you can ask your mom to make when she asks you what you want to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner. 

Like Jay. You would choose him at any time of the day. 

You cut him a small piece of the pancake and he takes the bite before excusing himself to grab his own plate so the two of you could have breakfast in bed together. 

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

It’s about 5PM when you’re doing the finishing touches to your hair and makeup for a Christmas dinner prepared by Jay. Your hair is done in simple voluminous curls that falls over your shoulders that hold up the black velvet dress you’re wearing with red bows and white fur accents. It’s cold but the warmth inside of the cabin allow for you to wear a dress so that you don’t freeze to death during your dinner with Jay. 

You could smell the food he’s cooking from your bathroom and you can’t wait to eat whatever delicious food he’s cooked up. 

“YN, honey! Dinner is ready, my love.” Jay shouts from the dining room and as if you teleported into the room, you’re walking in just as he’s finished setting up the table. He’s wearing a simple white button up that hugged his toned arms and physique and a warmth in your stomach begins to settle as you look at Jay, thinking about a life where he was your husband and not your boyfriend. 

“Wow, you look… wow” Jay says, truly at a loss for words at your beauty. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck as he wraps his arm around your waist; slowly dipping you into a kiss like you were in a romance movie of a lifetime. 

“Let’s eat.” Jay says, pulling out your seat and pushing it in as you sit down; always a gentleman. 

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

You’re just about done with dinner when Jay suddenly clears his throat. “I know we agreed to not get each other gifts, but I couldn’t not get you anything.” he says and you teasingly narrow your eyes at him as he grabs a small wrapped box from the cupboard in the kitchen. “Did you really hide it up there?” you ask with a chuckle. 

“Of course, I knew you’d never find it because you can’t reach up there.” he jokingly says and you pout at him as he puts the gift in front of you. Urging you to open it with his eyes, watching you with excitement as you carefully tear into the wrapping paper. 

The item inside leaves you speechless, mouth agape, as you pull it out. Inside was a glass snowglobe, a ballerina in a pink dress spins as you shake the snowglobe. “How did you find this?” you ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. Jay explains that he spent months looking for it and one day when you guys were in Seattle, walking around downtown, the snowglobe caught his eye. He urged you and his parents to continue while he sneakily bought it and rejoined you all at a food stand. 

It wasn’t just any snowglobe. It was the exact snowglobe you had when you were younger and dreamt of becoming a ballerina. Your dreams however, are cut short due to a knee injury, and the snowglobe was the last thing that helped you cope with your dreams as a child. You lost the snowglobe when you had moved cities for college and were devastated when you lost it in the move– and here you were now reunited with the beautiful object that reminded you of your youth and now also serves as a reminder of the kindness and love that Jay has for you. 

You give him a tight hug and endless kisses as a thank you that he doesn’t decline, returning with a hug even tighter and accepting all the kisses you wanted to give to him. 

“Well, I’m glad you ended up getting me something because I got you something too…” you confess and Jay raises his eyebrows with a little smile as you walk away to grab your gift. You had sneakily brought it inside from the car when Jay was in the shower. 

His gift was fairly large so he instantly ran over to you so that you didn’t have to carry it from across the room to where he was sitting; the two of you moved to the living room to open his gift. 

“Merry Christmas, honey.” you mutter and Jay gives you a smile before opening the box, mouth instantly open before he could even fully see the item inside of the large black box. 

“You did not…” Jay says, looking over to you and you’re just nodding excitedly as he continues to open it, pulling out a glossy deep blue guitar that had little white spots that fall into the consellation of taurus– Jay’s sign. 

He had been looking for this guitar for almost 2 years now and had no luck, luckily for you– you were able to find it one day when one of your friend’s was parousing around in the UK. They instantly called you to ask if that was the guitar and you nodded, telling them that you would send the money to purchase it and whatever cost the shipping would be, you’d paid for it. 

“I can’t believe you found it, oh my god…” Jay says, placing the guitar on his thighs as he slightly plays with the strings, a small tune rings through the cabin as he adjusts the tuning. “Thank you, baby. Oh my god I’m speechless…” Jay says, getting up to give you a kiss on the lips like it was the first time you two had ever kissed. 

He puts the guitar back in its case, “I’ve actually got one more gift…” Jay begins to say. 

“YN, you’re absolutely the best thing to happen in my life. I can’t imagine a life without you– you’ve taught me a different type of happiness that I wouldn’t find in anyone else. 

You’re the person I look for when I walk into a room. 

You fill me with love that I’ve never felt before. 

You allow me to make mistakes and encourage me to learn from them. 

Growing up our parents and everyone around us seemed to have this premade story that we would end up together and I held that story in my heart, knowing that it wasn’t just a story but it would eventually become the truth. 

Our story. 

You’re my best friend, my teacher, the love of my life…” Jay says, kneeling down on one knee and pulling out a small red velvet box. 

“YN, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?” Jay asks as tears are falling from your eyes. 

You’re saying yes before he can even finish the question, jumping onto him with a hug as he chuckles at your reaction; engulfing you into a warm hug. “100% yes.” you mutter into his neck as the two of you stand up onto your feet. He gently places the ring onto your finger and once again the two of you share a kiss in front of the fireplace, snow falling outside, and the moons shining into the cabin through the crystal windows. 

A kiss that feels like it’s your first kiss together and in many ways it is. It’s your first kiss as fiancés and you can’t wait to have your first kiss together as husband and wife. 

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[sturnioloskyline]

This one’s for matheeeeewww🙃

After the Sam and Colby video reader is paranoid and makes Matt stand outside the bathroom while she uses it because she scared to do anything alone..

watch guard

pairing: matt x fem!reader

warnings: paranormal activity, paranoia, anxiety, language, kissing, extremely fluffy, not proofread

summary: while ghost-hunting with the triplets and sam & colby, you get scared and need someone to look out for you.

thank u for the request, anon! 🤗

you, matt, nick, and chris had been looking forward to this moment for a while. today, the four of you were collaborating with sam & colby in the driskill hotel, famous for being haunted by many spirits.

although you were very excited to make content with sam & colby, you couldn't help but feel a little uneasy about the ghost-hunting aspect. you always believed in ghosts and spirits, and paranormal activities just seemed risky. the last thing you ever wanted to do was piss off a ghost.

the six of you stood in the lobby of the hotel, planning out the next portion of the video. you were going to split up into groups to use different methods all around the hotel.

“okay, here's how we're gonna split up,” colby told the group, glancing around at each of us. sam stood next to him, recording the interaction on his camera. "sam and nick, y/n and matt, and me and chris."

everyone looked to each other and nodded. you silently celebrated being paired with matt. you were already nervous, and matt was the one person who could possibly ease your nerves at the moment. the two of you were sent to the fifth floor, the most haunted floor in the hotel. sam and colby gave the two of you equipment and a camera, and sent you off.

you and matt entered the elevator, waving goodbye to the rest of the group as the door slowly moved shut. matt leaned over and hit the fifth floor button, stepping back and taking a deep breath the calm his own nerves before looking at you.

you were staring at the ground, zoned out. you chewed on the skin of your thumb while bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet, both telltale signs of your anxiety. matt eyes immediately softened when he saw the way your eyebrows were furrowed in worry, his own fears dissipating so that he could focus on you.

"baby," matt stepped over to you, tucking a few loose strands of your hair out of your face. you snapped out of your trance to look at him, relaxing solely at the feeling of his fingertips brushing against your cheek. "what's wrong?"

you bit the inside of your cheek, shuffling closer to matt. matt let his arms wrap around you, resting his chin atop your head.

"matt, i'm scared," you admitted, blushing lightly out of embarrassent. matt chuckled and pulled away, kissing your forehead.

"i know, i get it," matt affirmed, grazing his fingers up and down the side of your arm. "all of this ghost shit is creepy. but i'll be by your side the whole time, baby. you have nothing to worry about."

you smiled at matt's sweetness, causing him to grin back. you stepped up on your tiptoes, closing your eyes and puckering your lips expectantly. matt's grin grew as he closed the gap in between you, sealing your lips with a sweet kiss.

suddenly, the elevator dinged, opening to the fifth floor. matt took your hand in his, interlocking your fingers for security. he led the two of you out into the hall, walking around and keeping an eye out for anything interesting.

the longer you explored the floor with matt, the more you began to feel the two drinks you had with dinner weighing on your bladder. you didn't want to inconvenience the group while you used the bathroom, so you decided that you'd better go now.

"matt?" you asked softly, lightly tugging on his hand. he stopped and turned to look at you, waiting to listen to whatever you had to say. you squirmed sheepishly under his gaze. "i need to go to the bathroom."

"oh, okay," matt kept hold of your hand while looking for any indication of a restroom nearby. however, the two of you were only surrounded by rows of hotel rooms. matt walked over to one, opening the door and holding it. "here, just go in here."

your fear immediately came rushing back. for some reason, the idea of using one of the hotel rooms was frightening. you had no idea what spirits were roaming around, and whether or not these rooms were connected to them. matt caught on to your reluctance, squeezing your hand to silently encourage you to tell him what's on your mind.

"what if the bathroom is haunted?" you shyly asked matt, chewing on your lip. matt smiled softly, not being able to help himself from finding your fear cute.

"i don't think anyone's gonna get mad at you for using the bathroom, y/n," matt reassured, chuckling. "but i'll be right there with you, if you want."

"please?" you smiled, causing matt's heart to swell. he pushed the door open for you, letting you enter the room before him. you walked over to the bathroom, turning to face matt. "okay, can you just stay by the door?"

"mhm!" matt nodded. you sighed, pushing the bathroom door closed. your heartbeat quickened at the feeling of being alone. but as if reading your mind, matt's muffled voice travelled through the door. "i'm right here, not going anywhere."

the small reassurance made blood rush to your cheeks, and the reminder of how much you loved matt made you forget about the potential spirits around you. you finished up in the bathroom, opening the door to find matt right outside the door, just like he said he would be.

you couldn't help yourself, sticking out your arms and wrapping them around matt's neck. matt's arms snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. he smiled into your hair, placing a kiss to the top of your head. the two of you swayed softly in silence, enjoying each other's company, before matt slowly pulled away with a content sigh.

"should we go back to the lobby now?" you asked matt. he checked the time on his phone and nodded, taking your hand in his own and leading the two of you back.

"did we even get anything?" you giggled at matt, suddenly remembering the reason you had gone to the floor in the first place.

"just some random clips of us walking around," matt chuckled, shaking his head. "it's okay though, i had a good time."

you and matt looked at each other with love, enjoying the last few moments you had alone with each other in comfortable silence. matt kept hold of your hand, occasionally squeezing it to signal his affection.

"i love you," he whispered when you two were in the elevator.

"i love you too, matt."

...

author's note: no one asked but i just want to let you know that i write by splitting my screen between tumblr and cody ko

[corkinavoid]

Fun Facts about Fiance to a Star

Lore/relationship drama of Phantom family and those connected to it, this time. Long post, be warned.

It all started like a fairytale - Madeline Walker was the fairest in all lands, beauty and grace, genius magical prodigy, skilled with a sword, kind, loyal, and fierce. When she first came to AMITIE, young and full of stars in her eyes, Clockwork had warned her not to dig too deep.

She did not give his warning much thought.

Over the years, a lot of men tried to win her over, but she declined all of them. Vlad, who had fallen in love with her at first sight, decided to be smarter than most and claimed the place of her best friend, hoping that later she would notice him. Madeline did not. Instead, she had fallen - both literally and metaphorically - all over Jack Fenton, who, unlike all others, had never given much thought to her beauty or genius. Jack only saw a girl who was just as interested in studying otherlings as he was.

The three of them together - Maddie, Jack, and Vlad - had created lots and lots of trouble during their years in AMITIE. It was Jack who once overrun the fifth floor by a giant plant spirit - a weave of a charm gone wrong. Even now, years later, it is not recommended to bring any plants on the fifth floor hence they may come to life. It was Vlad who accidentally forced a blessing of Nocturn over a whole class of White Golds, and Clockwork had to spend a week trying to release them from their forever sleep. It was Maddie who engraved an explosion charm into her staff, which backfired splendidly a month later - the ceiling of the cafeteria still has a few scorch marks from that day.

And it was all them together who created the first unmarked door.

It was a breakthrough, a path to the Other Side, an accomplishment like no other. For the first time, humans could come to the Other Side at will.

Unfortunately, it also meant that otherlings could come into the Mortal Realm just as easily. But nor Maddie, nor Jack or Vlad knew it then.

Excited at the successful experiment, the working door to the Infinite Lands, Madeline proposed to Jack then and there, and he, overwhelmed by his happiness from all sides, agreed instantly. Vlad was forced to accept it - he did not like it, but Maddie made her choice, and he could not convince her otherwise.

Just a year later, Jazz was born. And, by sheer coincidence, the second unmarked door had appeared, not in the research labs in the underground floors, but on the eighth floor, by Vortex's classroom, without anyone noticing.

It was not long until the Darkest Pariah had noticed these new paths. And, when he went through out of curiosity, what did he find? A place full of mages of all sizes and shapes. Ancients - his subjects - teaching humans of the ways of magic. And a charming maiden with hair as bright as fire and a wicked grin on her lips, with magic like no other. It must have been destiny.

Yet, when he asked, the maiden turned him down, just like she did with every other man. She claimed she was already married. Pariah did not understand - her soul was untied, which meant whatever marriage she was speaking of has not been official in his understanding. So, finding no other way to claim what he already thought of as his, he stole the love of his life and brought her to the Other Side.

She fought him. Again and again, every day, until Pariah saw no other way than to simply charm her into accepting him.

A year later, the Wandering Star was born. Maddie insisted on him having a human name as well, but Pariah never liked how 'Daniel' sounded.

Meanwhile, as Pariah was enjoying his play-pretend at a family, back in the Mortal Realm, both Jack and Vlad were going insane with worry. They kept searching and searching for Madeline, first together, then separately after a fair share of arguments between them. It was Vlad who had finally found her through many trials and dangers. In Pariah's castle. With a kid.

Long story short, he stole her away, together with Danny, and brought them both back to the Academy. The charm Pariah put Madeline under fell just as they got to the Tower, and Vlad, in his frenzied and panicked state, confessed to her at that moment. He told her he could protect her and do it better than her oaf of a husband, he would accept the half-otherling kid, he would do anything for her. He already did everything for her, he stood in the way of a burning curse that was guarding Pariah's castle...

But Maddie, overwhelmed by a sudden flood of memories that came back after Pariah's charm fell, pushed him away and ran to find Jack, leaving the heartbroken, cursed man where he stood.

In the next few years, everything seemed to go back to normal. The doors - each and every one that spawned over the Tower - were sealed and locked away. Jack and Jazz reunited with Maddie, and Danny was accepted into the Fenton family easily. Clockwork offered them to stay, to live in the Tower - if Maddie or Danny ever stepped out, they would immediately be found by Pariah. The Academy was the only place that was hidden from his gaze.

Danny grew and learned more and more. He met Tucker when he was five - the boy's family were magi-blacksmiths, and they moved to the town near the Academy to have access to its research and labs. Later, they both met Sam. She was undergoing a course of Trait control in the Tower since her familial plant powers were amplified by a blessing granted by Undergrowth. Sam bragged about a prophecy that spoke of her gaining unlimited power in the future.

Vlad, who disappeared shortly after Maddie's return - supposedly to gain control over the remains of the burning curse that were left in his body - came back when Danny was eleven. Yet, he didn't try reconnecting with Fentons, nor did he speak to Danny about anything. He buried himself in research and, slowly, merged in the background. Just another unfamiliar face in the crowd, another researcher in the Tower.

When Danny was twelve, he found one of the sealed unmarked doors. What happened next, everyone in the Academy remembered as the Time Catastrophe: when re-opened by a child that had way more power than he could control, the door did not lead him to a different place. Rather, it led him to a different time. Clockwork later explained it as a mistake caused by the fact he was personally mentoring Danny most of the time, so the boy must have unconsciously picked up a thing of two from him, from the Ancient of Time.

In any case, through that door came Dan. And it went... Not very well, but by the end of it, the older, different, wrong version of Wandering Star stayed in this dimension. After all, it was an accident that brought him here, and there was no way to send him back. Jack and Maddie offered him to join the family, of course, but the man declined. And, seeing that he was not the Child of King to the Other Side, not the one Pariah was looking for, Clockwork let him leave the Tower. He became a mercenary - a wanderer - and wasn't that ironic, given his name.

Everything came to an end two years later, when Danny turned fourteen. The Rift, a giant portal to the Other Side, opened over the Tower, and countless demons came through it. And, at the front lines of the otherling invasion, was the Darkest Pariah.

On his right side was Vlad and a girl who looked so much like Danny.

The demons, born over the years from Pariah's loss, grief, and anger, could not get through the walls of the Tower. Guarded by the oldest Ancient, it stood tall and protected by numerous shields the Ancients have created over the ages. Fentons were safe inside, but... There was no one to stop Pariah. The Ancients, bound by the Crown, could not fight the King, only defend themselves. So, in his attempt at luring the ones he desired out, Pariah sent the demons to towns and cities around, threatening to keep killing everyone they find until the Academy gives him what he wants. And he wanted Maddie.

When she heard about it, she knew she had no choice. One life over hundreds, maybe thousands of others, it was a simple decision. Yet, before she could make it, a child stood up in front of Pariah.

Danny, who cared for his mother and called Jack his father, despite knowing he was not born to him. Danny, who spent his life in the Tower, closed off from the wide world because of Pariah's obsession. Danny, with two friends by his side, an ice blade in his trembling hands and silver in his eyes that spoke of anger, of hurt, and of a burning desire to protect those he loved.

The Rift was closed only half a day after it was open.

Darkest Pariah met his end at his son's hand.

To the outside world, the Rift had been an unfortunate catastrophe caused and later handled by the mages of Academy. Only a handful of people - and the otherlings, of course - knew the truth, and none of them really wanted to share it.

Vlad, narrowly escaping death with the help of Dani, was made to stay at the Academy, where Clockwork could keep an eye on him. He never confessed it, but everyone was sure he's been the traitor who told Pariah of Maddie's and Danny's whereabouts.

Dani - Vlad's poor attempt at recreating Danny, the reasons for which he also never told another soul about - had spent nearly a year in Frostbite's care. At first, she remained loyal to Vlad as her creator, but over time, with the help of many talks with both Danny and Clockwork, she learned the whole ugly truth about everything that happened. Since then, she never spoke to Vlad and never returned to the Academy, spending her life as a free spirit and roaming the world.

Soon after the fall of Pariah, Maddie, who was now free to leave the Tower, decided that her life as a mage and researcher had come to an end and left it behind. Jack followed her, deeming his wife more important than magic. They offered both Jazz and Danny to go with them, but Danny could not leave the Tower yet - not because of someone or something keeping him there anymore, but because of the responsibility that fell on his shoulders after Pariah's defeat. He was the Heir now, the rightful Prince to the Other Side. Jazz stayed behind as well, for many reasons, starting with the fact she did not want to abandon her brother and ending with her own goals, most of which were related to magic.

Two years later, Clockwork had given Danny a scroll with a long-forgotten prophecy that tied him with one of the Gotham princes.

-------

This is the very brief run-through Danny's life before the events of Fiance to a Star. I skipped over a lot of details here, like how Sam's prophecy turned out, for example (short answer to that is pretty much 'unfortunate plant possession'). If you have any questions about other characters, feel free to ask them! Depending on how much I get, I might end up making a whole another post with answers.

Oh, yeah, by the way, about Fenton/Phantom. Fenton is Jack's last name, and, naturally, both Jazz and Danny have it. Yet, Dan and Dani technically do not belong to the family, so after Jack and Maddie left, Dani jokingly offered Phantom as a last name for Danny, Dan, and her. Since they are phantoms of each other, she thought it was poetic. The boys thought it was a great idea, and later, Jazz was also included in the Phantom family. It wasn't long before Sam and Tucker also started using it, so now they are a weird mix of friends and family that all go by one last name in certain circles (among otherlings, mostly).

[strwbrrs-r-nice]

- The Spirit And The Queen -

You better count yourself lucky that the Queen is benevolent, for the spirit will do as she asks, and no soul wishes to face the wrath of the Fifth Spirit.

i’ve always wanted to draw them as darker/scarier versions of themselves, and i finally did! shoutout to the following edits on tiktok that inspired me to make this:

kavmee.ae // aurelia // nicki

alternate version under the cut

[littleslaywrites]

we need a little christmas | aaron hotchner x reader

summary: aaron comes home after work one day to you decorating for christmas

word count: 1.1k

cw: f!reader, pure fluff

The candle you had lit filled the room with the smell of pine. Boxes of old decorations you brought when you moved in with Aaron sat next to bags from the Target run you took with Jack that afternoon. 

You have always been a decorator, looking forward to every holiday. Even in college, you decorated the door of your dorm at every chance possible. To you, it was never too early to decorate. 

Even though Halloween was your favorite holiday, Christmas started right when the clock struck midnight on November 1st. Your Christmas playlist was in heavy rotation from that point on, and a shopping spree for anything festive would always follow. 

You had restrained yourself this year, it being your first living with Aaron. That was, until you were in Target with Jack, simply there for an after school run for some laundry detergent. Jack dragged you into the section with the blow-up santas and snowmen, causing your eyes to wander to the rest of the decorations in the surrounding area. 

Before you knew it, you had piled the cart with a snowglobe, a nutcracker, two packages of lights, window clings, assorted throw pillows, and a Star Wars ornament for the tree (Jack’s choice). 

Back at home, you opened up the supply closet to get out the boxes of old Christmas decorations that you hadn’t even seen since moving in with Aaron. You were singing along to your favorite Christmas songs while transforming the living room into a winter wonderland. You made sure to keep a space for the tree, ornaments finding themselves in a pile next to the area. Jack sifted through them, choosing his favorites and asking you about ones you’d collected throughout your lifetime.

You’re in the middle of arranging snowflake shaped pillows on the couch when Aaron walks through the door. The smell from your new candle brings back memories of past Christmases, and he smiles at the picture of you and Jack decorating. 

“What’s all this?” he asks, looking down at the half-emptied boxes on the floor. 

“I thought it was about time to get decorating for Christmas,” you say, setting the last pillow down. 

“Are you aware it’s not even Thanksgiving yet?”

“You should be glad I waited this long,” you smile, moving back to collapse one of the empty boxes. “Usually I’d start right after Halloween.”

He just laughs, making his way to sit with Jack on the floor. He looks through the ornaments, each one a reminder of your past before him: the In N Out logo (your first job), an illustration of your sorority house in college, a macaroni one with your fifth grade school picture. His heart feels warmer at the thought of your lives coming together, the potential of all future ornaments being shared memories. 

“Do you want hot chocolate?” you ask, reaching for some mugs in the cabinet above the sink. 

“Sure,” he says, watching Jack hurry to the kitchen to help. Aaron would’ve never chosen to decorate this early, or at all, really. He never had the time, nor the sense of style to do anything beyond put up a tree. Looking around at the half-done decor, he feels grateful for your festive touch. He might tease you for your eagerness to celebrate, but he feels the homeliness that comes with the care that went into the decorations. Seeing you open the powder packets of hot chocolate mix, he feels even happier that you’re bringing some Christmas spirit into Jack’s life. 

Aaron gets up, joining the two of you in the kitchen. He listens to Jack’s retelling of your shopping trip as you all sip your drinks. You smile as you meet Aaron’s eyes, shining with love. Eventually, he tells Jack to do his homework, forcing him to take a break from decorating. 

Setting his mug in the dishwasher, he looks at the way you study the living room. He’s sure you’re thinking of where to set whatever other decorations you have. His hand rests on your shoulder from behind, and you turn to face him, a hand going to hold his jaw. 

“I love it,” he says, his eyes leaving yours to observe your work. 

“I’m glad,” you say, following his gaze. “I was worried you’d think it was too early to decorate.”

He pulls you into a kiss, hands running through your hair. “Not at all,” he replies, “next year you should start even earlier.” 

Your smile widens. The prospect of a “next” always makes you smile, no matter how many times Aaron says it. Your heart flutters just like it did on your first date 3 years ago when he asked where you wanted to go for your “next date”. 

“Someone still needs to put up the lights outside,” you say, hinting at a job for him to do. 

He pulls you closer for one last kiss before intertwining your fingers with his, making your way to the box with the lights inside. You take the box outside while he gets the ladder from the garage. He sets up the ladder, sifting through a small box of pushpins, and you sit on the ground untangling the lights. Slowly but surely, the knotted mess becomes a strand that you hand up to Aaron on the ladder. 

After about forty-five minutes, the house is fully covered with the lights. He plugs them in, lighting up the place with red and green. 

“It looks beautiful,” he says, standing back to admire the way they twinkle. He pulls you close, arm around your shoulder. You look up into his eyes, the brown shining with the reflections of the lights. He kisses you in, the warmth of his activity heating you up in the cold. “I see why you were so eager to decorate.” 

You rest your head on him, absorbing the moment. The two of you stay there for a few minutes, letting the spirit of the season envelop you, before going back inside to continue setting up. 

When Jack finishes his homework, he’s eager to suggest that you go get a tree as soon as possible. Aaron explains, to his dismay, that it would be a few weeks until you all took a trip out to the tree farm to ensure it didn’t wither before Christmas could come. For now, the pine scented candle would have to do. 

That night, when you lay your head next to Aaron, you see the lights illuminating his sleeping face. You smile, content in your love for your little family. You promise yourself that the decorations will go up even earlier next year, or next holiday for that matter. Snuggling up to his chest, you fall asleep to the thought of what gifts your boys would want to see under the tree.