#buzzfeed unsolved reader inserts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

supernatural-bias · 3 years ago

Text

—THE FILL IN

—Getting called up to be a stand in mic operator was something they were used to. Being a stand in that is. But working on the most popular show at Buzzfeed all about the supernatural proves for an interesting experience. In more ways than one.

—Word count: 2.7k

—Extra: tagging @beep-beep1

It would have been nice to get a heads up.

I mean, (Y/n) was used to random calls durring spotty times in the day. To come be a stand in for this that or the other was their job after all. The sole purpose of their jobs contract was to litteraly be a substitute for whatever called. They'd been on sets as things from a water boy to just a cam guy and still got paid the same.

But this was a little out of the blue. Being called up at four in the morning (read again: four in the goddamn morning) for an emergency job to some fucking—mental, obscure, supposedly haunted, insane assylum in the middle of the country? Just to film?

Still, who were they to deny working along side the most popular show at the office right now. Anyone would be lying if they didn't say that Buzzfeed Unsolved was carrying the corporation at this point. Aside from the Try Guys that is.

Personally (Y/n) saw why they, they being the fans and people who tuned in, thought that way. In fact, in one of the earlier instances of their start for working at Buzzfeed, they had been on one of the first ever filmings for that show and had met Ryan Bergara before—allowing them to see why such a large amount of people had taken a liking to him. Ryan was a kind fellow, if a bit of a wimp when it came to interacting or even thinking about interacting, with spirits—along with some other guy that would sit by his side. All they had remembered was that he had a beard and redish-brown hair. And that he had quit the show a few episodes in opting for a replacement, not finding it that much his style.

Of course, (Y/n) being (Y/n), had to try and remember all this on the drive towards the sets location. It had been a year or two since that initial interaction after all, and they tended to not do their reasearch. Classic.

Aching feet touched a gravely asphalt road as they stepped out of their car with an almost inaudible groan, still stretching the exhaustion out of their bones from this mornings quite litteral wake up call. They would have to either set their phone on silent next time, or be prepared to cuss out anyone who's not their boss on the other end. Emphasis on the not their boss part.

Still, they rubbed their eyes while walking up to a hotel in front of them. It was nothing they hadn't seen before when traveling for work. Just a small, cream colored thing that was probably on its last limb, jumping paycheck to paycheck just to tie up loose ends if they had to guess.

They had been given directions via email this morning to meet up with Ryan before any shooting had begun. The team had wanted (Y/n) to know what was going on before just diving headfirst into an episode riddled with spirits and dumbassery.

Yeah. Probably a good decision. It was too early in the morning for any dumbassery.

All the same, they found themself in front of two rooms with faux gold numbers on them, the sickly yellow paint chipping from some corners. Both presumably Ryan and another guys room, Shane, they belived, based on the message that had popped up in their inbox.

Jeez (Y/n) hoped they weren't secretly a pair of giant assholes.

A quick knock on the peeling doors gave way to one, then two, swinging open with their respective residents quickly assessing their summoner.

It took Ryan a second, standing bleary eyed and disheviled in his rooms doorway, but eventually his eyes lit up.

"Oh hey! I remember you! Corporate told me we'd be getting a stand in for Jake." A friendly smile blossomed on his face, bringing his almond shaped eyes into a squint with the effort.

(Y/n) just nodded at him with a slow grin, choosing to assume Jake was the mic guy they'd be standing in for durring filming. They took note of the way Ryan spoke with a mix of polite professionalism and genuine joy, finding it a nice change of pace from the dry orders and comments they normally received at work.

This guy on the other hand—

"Ohh so you're the jack of all trades!" Somebody else had entered the scene durring the brief exchange between Ryan and (Y/n). A very tall somebody, practically reaching the tippy top of his hotel doorframe.

From in his own private domicile, Ryan shot Shane a look of disbelief and disappointment. But (Y/n) had to resist the urge to snort out loud.

It was funny to say the least, to have this random guy that looked more like a homeless dude crossed with a stereotypical white dad, call them the Jack Of All Trades at eight in the morning with the stupidest smile they had ever seen from someone.

Goddamn he was one goofy motherfucker.

“Really, man? Everytime. I swear—” Ryan sighed, but his face lit up again when he looked back over at (Y/n).

“So! Basically I’ve heard that this place well be heading out to is pretty haunted. Have been doing a lot of research this past week about it, so I dragged my buddy Shane all the way out here to investigate with me!” He said, basically bouncing on his heels with far too much excitement for the early morning hour. The person across from him nodded, casually admiting they knew how the show worked from the snippets they had seen.

“You’ll be hanging out with us all night, er, day I guess, trying to get some sleep. So be prepared for a lot of headaches. Little miss ghost hunter got plenty of sleep on the way here so he's ready and rearing to go.” Shane sighed, motioning his head towards Ryan. Ryan pretended not to notice, opening his door up wider.

“Here, you can get your stuff set up in here!” Thanking him, they stepped in. It was a bit new to say the least, staying in another person's room less than five minutes after meeting them, but worse had happened to them. And besides, less than average budgets were often used on shows that required a lot of traveling, like this one.

Once entering the small hotel room (Y/n) realized there was a door connecting the two boy’s rooms. They also noticed a large pile of various mic stuff in the far side of the room, conveniently placed on top of what they assumed would be their bed. Suppose somebody had thought it was best to think ahead.

Whilst sitting on the ground in a kindergarden remanicent criss cross applesauce pose, their fingers would halt every now and then from untangling wires. A feeling of something pricking the back of their neck would alert then of an unsettling feeling. Almost like they were being watched.

Yet every time their neck straightened itself up to look around and search for the source, nothing was found. Ryan was just laying on the bed typing on his phone, assumedly working last minute on the script for the video.

It was unnerving to say the least.

Shane eventually came into the room through the shared door, and gave them the same carefree smile.

Something about it felt—off to say the least. But they wouldnt be able to describe why even if you asked them.

He sat next to Ryan, and they started quietly talking about the plans for the video. (Y/n) turned back to the mess of technology, finally getting everything untangled and set up; and eventually stood up to walk over to the boys.

They met Shane’s eyes, and the pair glowed a soft red. Like a cars backlights in an early morning fog.

(Y/n) inhaled sharply and paused. They itched to rub at their eyes as if cleaning them off to make sure what they had seen was correct. But by the time they had blinked, the light hue was gone as quick as it had came.

"You alright?" Their gaze flitted to Ryan, his question taking a second to penitrate their brain.

"Yeah. Yeah no I'm okay sorry."

"Alright." Ryan hesitated. "Hey, could you come proof read something for me? I need to make sure you're okay with it before shooting."

Even while (Y/n) walked over to the side of the bed, that feeling of being watched didn't go away.

They had the feeling it wouldn't for as long as they were on this trip.

"And cut!"

(Y/n) finally lifted the mic they had been so graciously lugging around for the last three hours off their shoulder, an ache flooding their arm—! sure sign of a big bruise to come tomorrow morning. Compared to how disheveled Ryan looked just then though, and how he had been looking throught the entirety of filming, they would be okay.

"Great job. Really everyone. Absolutely amazing. Now can we please get the fuck out of here?" Ryan was still pointing his flash light every which way despite the cameras being off. "I swore I saw something a couple minutes back and I'd rather not end up with my insides on the outside."

"Yeah yeah whatever you big baby." Shane teased his friend while walking towards the exit, Ryan in the lead with everyone following in the pairs footsteps.

The trip out to the assylum hadn't taken long. Apparently Buzzfeed had taken the courtesy of booking the place out for the night so that way it would be devoid of tours full of spirit obsessed family's. (Y/n) hadn't been able to decide if they felt like that was a good thing or not. One the one hand shooting was ten times easier without mics picking up screaming children in the back ground. But on the other hand as Ryan pointed out, if they died no one would find them for at least a day. Fun. But at least now all they had to do was make the treck back to the vans. Nothing more.

"So (Y/n), what'd you think of your first time on set with the infamous ghoul boys?" Shane asked only after flagging the mic operator over to his side. His eyes scowered their face with a curious look. Like he was expecting a certain response.

"Technically it was my second time filming." Ryan nervously backed up that statement with a nod, still on edge. Shane just outwardly laughed at that. "And it was okay. Honestly the prospect of ghosts and stuff doesn't scare me, but I'd rather not stick around any longer." They shrugged.

"And I wouldn't call you guys 'infamous'." They accentuated their words with air quotes and a playful smile. "I don't really see any other ghost hunters names being tossed around as much as I see you two's."

"Please don't call us that. I prefer to think of myself as someone who gets paid to deal with Ryans bullshit." Shane playfully groaned, fidgeting with his ridiculous looking camera vest. Ryan just shot a panicky glare at him out of the corner of his eye sarcastically laughing.

The rest of the walk through the winding hallways—had it been this tedious of a path on the way in? Certantly didn't seem like it—was filled with the idle conversation between (Y/n) and Shane, Ryan occasionally joining in to keep his mind off things.

"Yeah I just think tha—"

Darkness fell over everyone in one fatal swoop, words respectively dying in everyone ls throats for a moment. More suprise than anything.

"Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!" Was what broke the silence. (Y/n) heard what they guessed to be Ryan cussing rapidly while hitting the side of his flashlight in hopes of turning it back on.

"Hey come on. It's not that big of a deal. We can find the rest of our way back with the go pros." (Y/n) attempted to soothe Ryan. When they turned to look at the big black blob next to them who they hoped was Shane, all they got in response was a simple claim that the cameras had fritzed out.

"Fuck!!"

"Calm down Ryan. If we die I'll give you my inheritance what about that."

"That not how that works dumbass!"

While Shane attempted to curb his shorter friends anxious shouts and groans, (Y/n) couldn't help but notice how relaxed he seemed. Yes, they knew that Shane didn't belive in spirits. Yes, they were well aware he had carelessly asked said spirits to muder him if they weren't too pussy multiple times. But they had to admit even they were a little spooked. And his attitude made no sense. It made them think of the weird thing that they had seen in his eyes back at the hotel. Or at least what they thought they saw.

"Come on. Let's bounce."

"Please don't say that." Ryan whined. Yet he still headed for the nearest exit, a pair of barely visible double doors.

(Y/n) went to silently follow before a small wisper made them freeze.

(Y/n).

Whipping around quickly, they had to resist the urge to hold the long mic out like a jousting weapon. Even in the pitch black it was better safe than sorry.

They hardly even heard the call of their name come.

"Hey. You coming?"

They snapped out of it to look at the source of the voice, seeing Shane a few yards down holding a pair of double doors open, the moon from the sky outside lighting up his lanky figure.

His shadow was even darker than the surroundings. Stretching across the barren hallway and consuming everything. Horns and wings protruded from his ba—

Wait. Horns and wings?

(Y/n) swallowed thickly and blinked. And it was gone.

"What planning on staying the night?" Shane goaded them again when they offered no reponse. But his smile held a silent message. An amused one. Granted none of any malicious intent, just like he knew something no one else did.

They mummbled a wide eyed no back in his direction. Shuffling down and out of the building and past Shane took a lot more nerves than they cared to admit, hairs standing up on the nape of their neck for seemingly no reason.

"Pretty fucking ceepy night."

Shane just grinned.

#shane madej x reader #shane madej #demon!shane x reader #demon!shane #demon!shane madej x reader #ryan bergara x reader #ryan bergara #ghost files #ghost files x reader #bfu #bfu x reader #buzzfeed unsolved #buzzfeed unsolved x reader #one shot #x reader #self insert #platonic or romantic

249 notes · View notes

artemisia-the-turtle · 2 years ago

Text

The gang as buzz feed unsolved quotes

Donnie:"I'm bad at feeling. I wanna be swept up in this. I really wanna believe in something outside the norm of, you know, physics."'

(name):"We better stock up on some knowledge here, otherwise, we're going to get murdered by ghosts."

Leo:"Goatman! I'm dancing on your bridge, it's my bridge now!" to Draxum

Cass:“Hey you demon fuck”

Mikey:"I did meet some of the most insufferable people. But, they also met me."

April:"Rock and roll, Buckaroo!"

Raph:"Hello, is this 911? The Devil is here, send God!"

Splinter:“If you wanna dance with the Devil then you gotta live with it when he sets you on fire"

Draxum:"ive run the permutations through my little computer, and all of them say, 'you're fucked'"

Casey Jr "Raph, every room you're in is a panic room."

#rottmnt incorrect quotes #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt x reader #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #source: buzzfeed unsolved #incorrect quotes #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt april #rottmnt casey jr #rottmnt casey jones #rottmnt draxum #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt reader insert

351 notes · View notes

catras-witchy-girlfriend · 4 years ago

Text

Catra lying in the center of Y/n's spell circle.

Catra: Here we go!

Y/n: *spellbook in hand* You're insane!

Catra: Rock and roll buckaroo!

#spop #romantic f/o #shera and the princesses of power #spop catra #catras witchy girlfriend #self shipping #witchy things #witches #f/o #witch!reader #witch self insert #source: buzzfeed unsolved

14 notes · View notes

chubbyreaderchan · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine being in a poly-relationship with Sebastian and Claude in a modern au. Whenever you come home from work you say "Hey there demons, it's me ya girl/boy!" And Sebastian just kisses your cheek while Claude is internally asking why he decided to mate with you.

#reader insert #sebastian michaelis #claude faustus #black butler x reader #BuzzFeed Unsolved

168 notes · View notes

ghoulfriendfam · 5 years ago

Text

Shane Madej X Reader

College Bookshop AU!!

Summary: You are in college and for the past eight months you have been wrapped up reading books from a mysterious recommender that is only identified as “S” in your look bookstore. You have been trying to piece together who “S” is for month to no avail- but when you meet a handsome and helpful sales clerk you think you might have found your man!

Part 1 of 5 ; Part 2 (I will link the updates as they come out!)

You woke up at the sound of your alarm. It was six am- which wasn’t any cause for excitement- but it was also Friday. Fridays were the best days. Fridays were when a new book would appear on that certain aisle, beyond the landing of the second floor of Calypso’s Bookstore, cradled within the wire holder that said “Recommendations ~ S” in chalk letters.

“S” you always had liked how that letter was turned, not quite cursive but not quite print either. It was crookedly curved and yet- yet at the same time it was perfect.

Imaginative? Artsy? Creative?

It was crazy how easy it was to attach a personality to that “S”- to someone you didn’t even know. You see Calypso’s was a busy place- a community- filled with university professors, students, employees and hipsters. “S” could be anyone of them and you had reluctantly given up long ago trying to seriously figure out who it was. You could ask- that’s true- but then what if they weren’t who you expected- what if it somehow it got awkward and things turned wrong- what would you even say if you met them:

“I noticed that you were having a crisis back in September?”

Because you had noticed. They usually liked the classics- history too- and every now and again a few excellent thrillers. But in the middle of September the flow changed to “The Myth of Sisyphus,” “On Death and Dying,” and “Notes from the Underground.” No one reads those back to back by choice. Unless, of course, the choice is made for you by some existential panic...

Maybe you were reading too much into it. But there was something fantastic about trying to piece together who they were and what was going on with them. It was like a secret conversation- a private and personal aside with a stranger. And that didn’t just happen every day- well- except on Fridays.

Breakfast that morning was quickly hurried through, as even though the shop didn’t open till ten, you were impatient. Grabbing a stack of your class notes, you shoved them in your bag and wrapped up your in coat and picked up your umbrella. It was nearly summer- but the clouds were still going to have their final say before vacating for the hot month.

The rain was warm and steady as you walked down the campus side street past the Arts buildings and into the coffee shop that was across the street from Calypso’s. As you drank your favorite drink and half read through your assignments, every so often you’d glance through the foggy window of the shop, letting your eyes drift across the street. You could feel yourself hoping- hoping almost beyond your own acknowledgement- to spy movement on the second floor- like a child peeping down the stairs on Christmas Eve. But no movement was seen, to your expected but still irksome disappointment.

Returning, more earnestly to your work, the hours ticked by and soon it was 10:30. Quickly, you packed up your things and waved goodbye to your favorite Barista. In a half-skip half-jog you splashed through the rain and bounded up the curb to the bookstore. Pushing through the weathered door, the bell rang above you, a nice and familiar sound.

Inside the store was already bustling with the regulars- who were already taking up their common haunts. While you were an avid patron, you couldn’t beat the dedication of some of them. The romantic lit professors practically ran their office out of Calypso's and could, without fail, always be found nesting in leather armchairs with stacks of papers and red pens by their side. Near them were the groupie grad students, mimicking every word the professors said and eagerly shuttling coffee back and forth across the street. They were all on the first floor today- as always.

You shuffled your way by them and around the displays of best sellers towards the back, passing the Wiccan Craft Club- they gathered here every Friday too. Today it was Sigil cross stitching. Spooky- but fun. One day you had the notion to join them and see what it was all about. Maybe they could help you find who “S” was you mused.

Taking the steps two at a time, you wound your way up the spiral staircase to the second floor. The worn rugs that lined the upper aisles softly gave way under your steps, as you followed the familiar path. Your eyes lit up.

“The Spy Who Came in from the Cold”

Well, that was an interesting selection. They usually didn’t pick espionage books. Excited, you picked up the book and began reading the summary- even though you knew you were going to buy it anyway. A wry smile formed on your face. It was about East Germany. Two months ago “S” had recommended a nonfiction book “Anatomy of a Dictatorship” that was all about the Soviets involvement in East Germany. You could put some of the pieces together.

Tucking a copy under your arm, you went back downstairs to the checkout. It was 10 till 11:00 and your lecture began at 11:20, so you couldn’t really linger any longer. Placing the book on the counter, you began to shuffle distractedly through your bag for your money.

“Great choice,” Hummed an unfamiliar voice.

Your attention quickly redirected to the register. Leaning over the counter, happily scanning the book, was an unusually tall and lanky guy with bright eyes that shone right through you. You had never seen him before, and you were sure of that because you would have remembered it. As he moved his long unruly swirls of chestnut hair made a bob and you could feel your ears turn red.

“Have you read it?” You managed to say, your mouth suddenly dry.

“Yes, actually, I have read that one- and I venture to think that you’ll enjoy it too,”

He smiled. His face was by no external metric perfect- but it had wonderful sort of charm- a charm that was making your brain go all fuzzy.

“Y’know,” He mused putting the book in a bag, “It is surprisingly hard to actually read when you work in a bookstore.”

“Too many choices?” You laughed- a nervous god awful laugh- but he didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s the agony of my existence!” He exclaimed with comedic air, “Sometimes- y’know- I’d rather walk into the sea then make a decision.”

You giggled, pressing your hand up to your mouth to stop it from running away from yourself.

“That’ll be 13.95,”

“Oh!” You jumped, forgetting that there was an actual transaction going on, and swiped your card. In between the digits of your pin you stole several glances upwards at his name tag.

“Shane,”

Your ears got redder with the realization- Shane! Was “S” for Shane? The anxiety of being around such a cute guy soared- neigh skyrocketed- in an instant.

Taking the bag from him you blurted out a shaky: “Thank-you”

“Don’t mention it-” He beamed, “Come back soon!”

You nodded. There needn’t be any worry. You would be back- and on more days than usual. Ripping your eyes away from him, walked out of the store and into the rain. Putting your umbrella up, you began to walk slowly towards your lecture hall- and for once you were thankful that it was on the other side of campus. The long walk there would give you time to cool off from whatever had just happened.

He might not even be “S” you told yourself. So what- he had read the book- he works in a bookstore- of course he is well read- of course he reads things. On top of that, you had never seen him before today and you had been reading the recommends for almost eight months now. In all likelyhood it wasn’t “S” and to think so was just wishful dreams… dreams…

A smile formed on your mouth. Even if he wasn’t “S” he was still something- you could feel it- definitely- definitely something. As you rounded the sidewalk and strolled up the library lawn, “Come back soon” replayed in your mind and you knew that you wouldn’t hear a word of the lecture. And you didn’t.

#shane madej #buzzfeed unsolved #shane x reader #BFU #BFU x reader #reader insert #bfu fanfic #bfu au #shane bfu #shane madej x reader #buzzfeed unsolved x reader #buzzfeed unsolved fanfiction #bfu fanfiction

88 notes · View notes

love-pyramus · 5 years ago

Text

Come Back -BFU x Fem!reader

Marvel spoilers, cursing, it’s me. Also, blame Paige for this, not me (@logic-cat) Inspired by photo below

“Today we are investigating-” Ryan was about to do his intro when Shane interrupted him. “Ryan. Something feels off.” Ryan looks up. “Shane! Ryan!” (Y/n) yells. She is staring in terror at her hand which had turned to ash. “Oh my god!” Ryan yells. He stands up to try and help her but by the time he’s up she is completely ash. “Ryan?” Shane asks before he too vanishes. “No,” At first it’s a whisper, but it’s growing louder every time it’s repeated. “No. No! NO!” Then the screams start to come from outside. People were screaming, having just watched others turn to ash. But after his screaming fit, Ryan sat numbly in his chair. What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

A FEW WEEKS LATER

“Ryan!” (Y/n)’s voice echos out from where he had last seen her before both she and Shane vanished. Ryan stands up and sprints towards the voice. Shane and (Y/n) are both standing where they had been when they vanished. He runs towards them and envelopes them in a hug before feeling the pressure around him vanish. “Shane! Ryan!” (Y/n)’s scream repeats, the same as when she had vanished. “Ryan?” Shane’s voice echoes around. The noise becomes so loud and so consuming. Ryan can’t take it as he collapses to his knees.

Ryan jolts awake with a sob building in his throat. It was just a dream

FIVE YEARS LATER

Ryan and Brent sat in the car, having just finished an episode. They were in Amityville, doing an episode on the Amityville Horror. People started forming, seemingly in the same places that they had disappeared from. But if the people who turned to ash were back…? He quickly grabs his phone and quickly dials Shane’s number. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” There are tears in his eyes as the phone rings. No answer. Dialing (Y/n)’s number he begins praying. The line connects. “Ryan?” A voice Ryan had been trying not to forget came over the phone. “(Y/n),” he sobs. “Where are you? What happened?” There is a rush of air as the phone moves. “Ryan? What the fuck happened?” Shane asks. “I don’t know...five years ago the two of you turned to ash,” Ryan explains. “Ok. Ok. Where are you?” Shane asks. “Amityville,” Ryan says. “Well get back here as soon as you can!” Shane says, before hanging up. Ryan books the next tickets to LA, and the two get to the airport as quickly as possible. The six-hour flight seems too long to Ryan, where every minute feels like an hour, and every hour feels like a year. Finally arriving in LA the two get a cab throughout the chaos, and when they reach Ryan’s apartment Ryan can barely see for the tears falling down his cheeks. Opening the door Ryan isn’t even one step inside when a taller form hugs him. “Oh my god,” Ryan whispers. He’s praying this isn’t a dream again. “Are you real?” Ryan finally asks. Shane just squeezes tighter. “Ryan!” (Y/n)’s voice cut’s through the air and Shane lets go. He’s almost knocked to the ground by the force that (Y/n) knocks into him with. Shane joins in, and Ryan can’t believe what’s before him. He had them back.

#BFU x reader #BFU x fem!reader #Marvel/BFU #Ryan Bergara #Shane Madej #female reader #reader insert #buzzfeed unsolved #buzzfeed #x reader #buzzfeed unsolved x reader

84 notes · View notes

jincherie · 5 years ago

Text

mystery gang; unsolved |PT.2

☾ — pairing: taehyung x reader ☾ — genre: demon au, supernatural/paranormal au, buzzfeed unsolved au/inspired, smut (oncoming), f2l ☾ — words: 6.2k ☾ — rating: adult! this one is sfw, but final part will be nsfw ☾ — warnings: demons and haunted houses, supernatural & paranormal themes! this is the part where shit goes down, so be aware of that! also some angst ☾ — notes: part 2 of 3! the next part will be the resolution and the smut, so look forward to that!! also wow man first post of 2020!!!

ever since you met taehyung in one of your first year classes at university, you seemed to click and you hadn’t parted from each other’s side since. you’ve been his friend for a few years now, and your mutual interest in the supernatural and taehyung’s propensity for finding the spotlight wherever he goes led to the two of you starting up your very own supernatural investigation vlog series. friends isnt the only thing you want to be, and one night close to hallow’s eve when the two of you get a little in over your heads in a way you never have been before, you find out that maybe it’s not only you that feels that way.

— posted; 05.01.2020 || ⇤prev. | masterlist | next⇥

PART TWO

You wish that you could say that as the night goes on, your nerves begin to ease. They don’t, though; the church, albeit slowly, proves to be feeding into all your fears. You feel paranoid, as you often do while filming this show, but tonight it feels like something… more. As though there’s a little bit more substance to your worries than usual. Needless to say, you’re not a fan.

It begins in the largest part of the church, as you’d expect. The hall where processions were held, lined with pews and intricate statues in its better days, is far too big to be giving you any comfort. There is so much space, so much empty blackness, that it actually feels like it’s closing in on you a bit. Surprisingly, in between segments you record for the vlog, Taehyung ends up distracting you by bringing up all the other times you went to places allegedly home to ‘demonic’ energies. A part of you thinks he’s doing it because he knows you’re uneasy, but the rest of you is more annoyed that he’s making fun of you again. He knows you’re wary of demons!

“You know, I think you’re taking this much better than that last house we did—you know the one a state over?” Taehyung remarks, setting up a little camera so that it can record the two of you whipping out the spirit box.

“Please don’t remind me,” you say, placing a hand over your stomach to quell the nausea rising at the mention of it. “It was popular with our viewers, but at what cost.”

“Yeah, they were surprisingly fond of you looking like you were about to vomit,” Taehyung says, somewhat nonchalant—when you direct a glare his way you can see the cheeky smile on his face, though. “Anyway, that one wasn’t as bad as this one is meant to be, and you’re already doing much better! Kudos.”

“Don’t patronise me,” you say, taking the spirit box from him and moving to one of the seats you’d set up. It feels wrong, in honesty, like sitting down in this seat is inviting a whole lot of misfortune to fall upon you. You don’t bother telling Taehyung that you’re actually doing far worse than last time. “I won’t apologise for having a healthy fear of the unknown.”

Snickering, Taehyung finishes setting up the camera and flicks it on. The lights you have illuminate only the barest patch where you’re sitting. You don’t like it, you don’t like it one bit and you hate that it feels like something is behind you, hands hovering just out of your sensory range. The muscles along your back are tense and rigid and you do your best not to show it to the camera.

“And here I present to the viewers, the crowd—and ghost—favourite, the spirit box!” Taehyung announces for the camera, voice a little louder than you’re comfortable with. You restrain the urge to shush him only because you know he’ll make fun of you for thinking that being loud will attract the ghosts. “We’ll be asking some questions in an open forum for any ghosts, ghouls and-or demons to respond—”

You smack him, delivering him with a warning glare, and he simply chortles as he sits down. You clearly mouth ‘I’ll kill you’ at him, before sitting back in your seat and clearing your throat. “Right, yeah. It’s spirit box time. I literally… can’t put into words how absolutely overjoyed I am.”

Taehyung laughs at how you blatantly forced those words through your teeth, but otherwise remains silent as you fiddle with the spirit box and do your usual introduction for the viewers and spirits around.

“Please, use this as a medium to communicate with us. We’ll ask some questions now.” You finish up the spiel, turning the box over and leaning forward to place it on the pew between the two of you. It’s as you near the pew that the hair along the back of your neck rises suddenly, prickling and making your muscles lock up for the barest second. A breeze brushes across the skin and skims your ear, and you swear you catch a word that rides with it, soft and thin yet clear as day.

“Don’t…”

You shriek as your reflexes kick back in, hand slapping to your neck and a glare already on your face to direct at Taehyung—surprisingly, he seems bewildered at the sudden heat in your gaze.

“That’s not funny!” you scolded him, attempting to pat down the hairs that rose on your neck. “I told you not to whisper in my ear like that when we’re in demon places!”

Taehyung’s hands fly up into a position of surrender. “It wasn’t me! I didn’t do anything! You can check the camera if you want!”

The panic that had already welled within you and was on track to fade reignited at that, fear stopping your thoughts from flowing as they should. There’s an unmistakeably scared edge that enters your voice, “What? But I just—someone—something just whispered ‘don’t’ in my ear, I swear.”

From Taehyung’s face, it’s clear he doesn’t believe you—or at the least, doesn’t believe that some otherworldly entity or otherwise whispered a whole word in your ear.

“No way,” he says, confirming your thoughts. There’s something that flicks across his face though, something out of place but too ephemeral for you to catch. “It was probably just a creak. This place is old, you know.”

“A creak that sounds like a whole word?” You push your case a little more, but you’re already shaking your head in defeat. You know there’s no way to sway his sceptic ass. You think a ghost could appear in front of Taehyung right now, slap him across his face and call his father a whore, and he’d still try and explain it away. “Whatever. The tape will show I’m right.”

Taehyung huffs, clearly entertained—you wish you could be as at ease as he always seems to be. He waves his hand to urge you on. “Hurry up and get the spirit box going so it can be over and done with. I hate listening to it.”

“Fine, but I’m doing it because I was already going to and not because you told me to,” you grumble, reaching for the spirit box and doing your best to force from your mind what happened the last time you were in a similar movement. You look up just in time before turning it on to catch Taehyung looking right at you, a brow raised and something heady in his gaze.

“You’re such a brat.”

You bite your tongue and resign to only sending him a glare, flicking on the spirit box and relishing in the way Taehyung flinches as the harsh sound of static replaces the heavy silence in the air. To be honest, you don’t really like the spirit box either, but it gets results. Well, you think it does. Taehyung would be all too happy to argue the differ.

“Alright,” you start, voice a little shakier than intended. You clear your throat and try to clear your nerves with it. “Let’s get it. First, is there anyone here with us now?”

The static is almost deafening, the volume turned up high enough that some of the audio-crunching is borderline painful in your ears. The device is as jarring as ever, the rate at which it flicks through channels almost distracting enough to lure your attention away from how tense and thick the air feels around you. There aren’t any prominent sounds or words that come through, and you give it a few more moments before probing some more.

“Uh, oh boy… Who… is in this room with us? Meena, are you in here?”

Taehyung snorts. “Or maybe the priest, or the groom that was meant to be married to Meena—anyone? Hello? Man, I don’t think we’re ever going to get something from this stupid box—”

It’s as Taehyung is in the middle of taking the piss that the static morphs ever so slightly, sounds forming the barest edges of words.

“he… here…” Static, louder and louder and then softer, making way for another hint of barely comprehensible sound, “…on’t g… in…”

It’s not loud enough to really count as anything, and not loud enough that Taehyung even notices it over the sound of his own talking, but you can’t help the sudden feeling that gauges a place inside you. You want to leave so badly—you don’t think you’ve wanted to leave a place this much since that first house.

You don’t even realise you’ve become all that distracted until Taehyung’s voice brings you back to the present moment. He’s leaning forward, waving a hand in front of your face; you keep your gaze on the parts of him illuminated before you and away from the pitch black beyond his form. “Yoohoo, you still there? The ghosts aren’t responding to me, it’s your turn to ask them things.”

You roll your eyes, avoiding his gaze for the slight searching edge it has adopted. “Not all that surprising. If I was a ghost I wouldn’t want to respond to you, either.”

Taehyung lets out an offended noise, and just like that the session resumes as it normally would. You can’t shake the odd tension in your muscles, but you can only hope that the hall held the title of creepiest part of the church and that the rest of the night would be smoother, less spooky sailing from hereon out.

X x x x

The rest of the night has not gone by with smoother sailing, you hoped. There are more rooms than anticipated in this building, and painstakingly exploring each and every one is beginning to really take its toll on you. The walls and floors creak, moving with you and even in your wake, like there is another pair of footsteps trailing behind you. The only sound to permeate the air is that of the wood and the odd cricket from outside—when there is complete silence, and even the crickets don’t sound, is when you’ve discovered you hate it most. Because it feels like everything suddenly stops, and everything is then waiting for something to happen. You’re definitely not a fan.

You try and upkeep your usual antics with Taehyung, but this place is really getting to you. On more than one occasion, you swear you can hear the barest of whispers, and feel fleeting, featherlight touches on the parts of your skin bare to the air. There seems to be a common theme in what you swear you can hear: ‘he’s here’, ‘leave.’ It’s not the most ideal thing you could be hearing.

Of course, Taehyung isn’t hearing or feeling a thing. You really hate that none of this ever seems to happen to him, that he’s so damn… immune. If you knew being a sceptic ass would protect you so much, you might have tried your hand at it, but then again you think you’d have a lot of trouble forgetting the things that have happened to you so far.

About midway through the building and a little over halfway through your tour, you enter one of the last few rooms (which you view as simultaneously a good thing and a bad thing, since the last room on your list is the most haunted in the building). Well, enter is a strong word. The second you stopped in front of it, an awful feeling like ice sliding down your spine came over you. The most you were able to make yourself do was stick your head in before Taehyung took the opportunity to waltz on inside, completely unbothered.

“I hate this,” you grumbled, to anyone that would listen at this point. It took you a few breaths before your legs felt strong enough to follow Taehyung into the room.

It’s tiny, admittedly. You have no idea what it would have been used for, before the church fell, and you can’t really tell since any and all furniture in here has since fallen prey to decay and rot. It’s just as you take a few steps in that Taehyung halts, turns around, and huffs.

“Nothing in here,” he remarks, turning on his heel and marching out. “Boring. Come on, let’s go to the main room—the big paranormal breadwinner of this place.”

You sputter incredulously, summoning your thoughts as you turn to follow him. He makes it out the doorway but before you can follow, only a few paces behind, the door that had been wide open for the two of you to enter slams closed with such a loud, shaking BANG you almost topple in fright.

It takes a second for what happened to sink in, another for you to realise you’re now in this room in the dark alone, and another for you to feel the hairs along your neck and back raise all at once. Completely surpassing ‘fight’, you launch at the door and bang on it.

“Taehyung!! This isn’t funny!” You’re scolding him, but you know you didn’t see him anywhere near the door. “Can you let me out? The handle isn’t working in here. Oh, what the fuck, what the fuck—”

With one palm pressed to the door, you try the handle over and over and over again. It’s like it’s locked, or stuck, as though it’s been rusted over in the same place for years and refuses to budge. Except, that makes no sense, because it was literally just open, you were just in here and there isn’t a lock on this door’s handle so it should be opening—

It’s just as panic is beginning to touch the bottom of your lungs, the organs dipping into ice, that you hear the clearest utterance you have all night. A feminine voice, carrying the sadness of all the oceans and the urgency of fishermen when thunder starts to echo across that churning horizon…

“He knows you’re here.”

“Taehyung!” It’s a humiliatingly desperate cry that escapes you without consent, something a distant part of you is already scoffing over. What is calling for him going to do? You’re still stuck in here with this god-awful feeling and now that voice—

Before you can wallow and spiral any longer, there is a splintering sound and you only have a moment to step back before the door is finally swinging open. You aren’t sure how he did it, but you’re presuming it was by force—the handle isn’t even on his side of the door anymore. Taehyung doesn’t even hesitate before grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you out, eyes wide. You have the very sudden, strong urge to just launch yourself at him and cling, but even in the beginnings of your hysteria you somehow manage to refrain. It doesn’t help that you know all it would take to feel secure in this situation is being encased in his arms.

And probably also getting back in the car and getting the hell away from here.

“What the fuck was that.” You hadn’t realised it earlier, but your breath is coming kind of fast. You feel a bit like a frightened animal. “What the fuck—”

“The breeze,” Taehyung says, the answer coming easily. When you look at him, though, he doesn’t seem entirely convinced as he usually is. You’re too shaken to even rub it in like you want to.

“Whatever,” you dismiss, antsier and more eager to get out of here than ever. “Let’s just skip the rest of the rooms and get this big one over and done with.”

Taehyung makes a soft, noncommittal noise that you take as agreement. When you go to move though, he stops you.

“Look, I know the original plan was to spend the night in that room tonight,” he begins, dark cocoa eyes gentle as they hold your gaze. “But you’re getting pretty shaken up—do you want to do some spirit box shit or something instead and just go back to the hotel after?”

Your chest warms at his concern, chasing away a few inches of fear that had embedded themselves over the duration of the night. A part of you is resistant though, the prideful part that wants to see your word through to the end. That resistant part of you isn’t as big as the rest that is thoroughly freaked out, and is therefore quickly outnumbered.

Since the words seem to have gotten stuck in your throat, you simply nod at him, hoping your eyes convey how thankful you are that it’s his suggestion so you didn’t have to ask yourself. You kind of wish he’d also suggested you scrap the part of the plan where the two of you go into the room one at a time and spend five minutes there alone, but you suppose you can’t have everything. You still needed to come out of this with enough good footage for an episode, after all, and there would have been no point coming here and getting borderline traumatised if not for that.

Taehyung offers you a slight smile, low baritone more comforting than he probably realises as he speaks just once more, “Alright, we’ll do that. Now take a few deep breaths, you’re acting like a cornered animal.”

You simply mustered a snort, not bothering to tell him that’s exactly how you feel. You almost spare a thought to wonder who could have been harassing you this whole time—Meena? Her Fiancé? A demon?—but you shut it down before you can work yourself up any more, and do as he instructs. A few deep breaths later and you feel much calmer, less fried. You’re in no way ready to go into that final room, but you’re the tiniest bit more ready to accept that it’s about to happen.

The final room that you had on your list to investigate was, as you now tell the camera and viewers, the most allegedly haunted of them all. It’s a hidden room, through a concealed doorway behind where the church organ used to be and up a cramped, spiral staircase. You don’t know what the original purpose of this room was, either, but you do know that it’s the final location in the number of tales about this place where the bad things happen.

“So, if we are to believe, let’s say, the version that says Meena summoned and made a deal with a demon,” Taehyung says as you climb the staircase, and puts weird emphasis on the word as he says it, likely in an attempt to make you chuckle. Oddly sweet of him. “Then this is the room where she did that? The demon room?”

You do your best to ignore the spike of fear that shoots through your chest. “Yeah,” you answer, voice cracking. You clear your throat. “That would be… this room.”

You’re audibly unenthused, but you’re sure the viewers will love it. They always seem to enjoy you losing your mind.

Taehyung is trailing behind you as you climb the stairs, the wood creaking dangerously under your weight with each step. The only reason you can even see which step to take next is because of the torch in your grasp, although it has grown shakier in the past few minutes than when you first started the night. Now that you think about it, why are you the first one going up these stairs?! That is so unfair!

Then again, if you were going second and something grabbed you from behind…. maybe that would be worse.

You don’t climb very far, and as you near what you presume is the landing that leads to the final room, you can’t help but notice how much heavier the air has gotten. You can feel it all against your skin, dragging along as you walk through it. There’s a feeling beginning to trickle and swirl in the pit of your abdomen, too. It’s nameless, but you know instinctively it is not the kind of concoction that heals and soothes.

“So here it is,” you announce as the two of you arrive on the landing, staring across the few metres between you and the doorway to that stupid room. “The room of the hour, where most alleged bad things in the tales about this place went down. Well, besides the chandelier thing. That was… yeah.”

Taehyung is already looking at you, camera pointed your way, and you can tell from the look in his eye that he knows you’re stalling.

“Right, so, we’re gonna do the usual—go in, spend a few minutes alone, see if we can get a response…” You trail off, gulping and feeling a little nauseous as you describe your nearing fate.

“You want me to go in first?” Taehyung asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. You shoot him a glare.

“And have you stir up any spirits and-or beings that are in there for me? No thanks.”

He laughs, but it’s much quieter than you expect. Almost sullen, you sigh and begin preparing to go in alone. You’re avoiding looking at the door, because you already feel the weird vibes seeping out and you don’t want to look in and risk actually seeing something.

Taehyung helps you with the equipment, handing you what you need. When you’re done and ready to go in, he takes a few steps closer with you—and then he freezes. You figure that’s just where he’s choosing to stay until you come back out, and continue into the room.

The second your foot crosses the threshold, the first thing that registers is how much cooler it suddenly is. The dimming torchlight reveals that the room isn’t that big at all, but in the absence of light it feels like the blanket of cold, lurking darkness stretches on endlessly. It almost feels like it has a certain sense of gravity, pulling you in, making you dig your heels in on instinct.

Oh, you don’t like this. Is it too late to bail?

“y/n…” Taehyung says your name softly, and you hear it, but dismiss it soon after when you realise he’s probably about to try and spook you. You force your feet to take another few steps in, when Taehyung’s voice sounds out once more.

“y/n, wait—”

There is a chord of something different in his voice, something you haven’t heard in him before, that makes you pause and turn around; even if it means turning your back to the rest of the room and the abyss it holds.

Facing him for a moment, you catch sight of an indiscernible expression possessing his features—his brows are furrowed, mouth parted as though he is about to speak once more. He seems to be about to do just that when he catches sight of something over your shoulder and his eyes shoot wide.

In that instant, you get the very sudden, very strong feeling that something awful is about to happen, and you want to run.

You don’t get an answer or even a clue as to what he’s looking at. Taehyung begins to move, but he isn’t fast enough to beat the door that flies closed, a sudden and loud SLAM announcing the new barrier between you. It hasn’t even registered yet but your heart instantly stills and drops as a sheet of icy air plummets over you. For a moment, it is still, and silent.

And then, the worst experience of your life begins.

Legs that had begun carrying you back on instinct, stumbling over nameless items you didn’t get a chance to see, lock and freeze at the stark and unmistakeable sensation of a hand gripping tight around your bicep. It tightens, and then you’re being dragged, pushed back with your feet scrambling across the floor, until your back meets icy wall with enough force to make you cry out in pain. Distantly, you swear there is banging on the door, but you can barely hear it over the sound of your own pulse drumming erratically in your ears.

Your breath comes in clouds, the flickering torchlight allowing you to glimpse it before the bulb bursts and you have only the moonlight filtering through a boarded window to aid you. You almost wish that you didn’t, though—

Because in the very next second, something begins to materialise in front of you, as though being formed from smoke and pools of shadow cast across the room. A long, lean body with inhuman proportions, one of the spindly limbs ending in a taloned hand responsible for the grip on your arm. A smell so foul it makes nausea roil in your abdomen crosses your nose, and the being finishes taking shape before you in the span of a saccade. Its skin is like shadow incarnate, dripping like tar into sticky pools on the floor and burning like ice where it makes contact with your own. Spikes and disfigured lumps litter its form, but you think that the most terrifying part must be its face.

For all you can see of it is a crown of curled, gnarled horns, gleaming white eyes and a mouth full of teeth half the size of one of your fingers.

Half a scream makes its way out of your mouth before the demon hisses, the sound immediately making you clam up. “Shut up.”

The fear that clenches around your heart in a vice grip is one you’ve never felt before, your knees feeling like jelly.

“It’s been so long since any human has dared come here,” the demon says, and it’s like he is grating along the nerves at the back of your neck with every word, plucking them one by one in a curdling tune. “You’ve been so fun to play with. Souls always taste better once they have been soaked in fear.”

Your eyes had been transfixed in terror on the way the demon’s teeth shifted with each word, drool slipping down some fangs and dropping by your feet. You don’t know if you would have snapped out of it were it not for the sudden increase in banging on the door, growing louder and louder with each second. You don’t know if it is the handle making that rattling noise or your teeth and you don’t have the mental capacity to dwell.

When his words sink in a split second after they enter the air, its as though you make a subconscious decision that differs from the rest you’ve made tonight. You’re cornered now, and you can’t run—your brain chooses fight so you may have a chance to flee.

“Get off me!” You lurch suddenly, legs lashing out and kicking even as you can barely control them. “GET OFF ME!”

Your boots meet his legs harshly, and it probably hurts you more than him, but when you suddenly recall the half-empty bottle of blessed water in your pocket and reach for it, throwing it across his face, its like you’ve poured a bucket of pure acid over his skin. Steam billows and smoke follows, and the demon lets out a scream so sharp you swear your eardrums burst, but in no way does the pain weaken his grip on you.

“YOU BITCH.” The demon howls, eyes clenched shut and free hand lashing blindly to claw at you. “I’LL RIP YOUR HEART OUT AND EAT IT BEFORE YOUR EYES, YOU—”

It’s like you’re suspended, floating in time as his claws swipe and almost miss you, but manage to slice lightly across your collarbone—it’s so close to your neck that you can’t help but scream, kicking harder. The demons eyes fly open and narrow on you, its hand raising again. Your eyes clench shut on instinct, not wanting to watch his claws sink as far into your skin as they were meant to the first time. It’s in the moment after that there is a familiar splintering sound, and the grip on your arm is wrought free.

With nothing substantial holding you up anymore, your knees collapse and you sink to the floor, eyes flying open upon impact that you know is painful but can’t quite feel. What you see is something you definitely aren’t ready for—it takes a moment for it to sink in.

Unlike the scene that your eyes had closed to, the demon is no longer the only other being in the room—there is something else, body shrouded in shadow yet cast in an odd glow that shifts and warps like oil beneath sunlight. At first, you think that it’s giant and hulking in mass, but you quickly realise that the shapes protruding from its back aren’t lumps or anything of the like, but large, leathery wings. They flick and twitch, before shooting out and spanning at an incredible length as the new creature shoots forward. The demon that was so close to you before is now on the other side of the room, slammed into the wall by a hand around its throat that glows with heat, a startling juxtaposition to the cold still sinking into your skin.

The demon isn’t about to go without a fight; it surges back, limbs lashing, but the new creature is too strong and pinned to the wall the pitiful being stays, screaming in rage. Curled horns stem from the newcomer’s head, catching moonlight on the ridges and gleaming as it turns its head and glances over its shoulder, at you. Instantly, your heart freezes once more, except this time in a different sort of terror.

Because you know the face looking at you right now— it’s Taehyung.

It’s not the same as the face that usually greets you—there are those inky horns curling from his head, his ashy hair is tinged red on the ends, and its longer than you remember. Beneath the eyes boring into you are black markings like upside down teardrops, and the irises themselves are different shades of violet and gold, split down the middle by a slitted pupil. There is a fang peaking out from the corner of his lips, and the tips of his ears have elongated and angled. The curves and lines of his face resemble the Taehyung you know, and this should give you some modicum of comfort, but as you continue to look at him it becomes more than apparent that this Taehyung…

This Taehyung isn’t the Taehyung you know.

There’s a certain amount of dissonance within you, warring reactions to the information currently overloading your brain, but above all else you find yourself almost hysterically, irrationally scared. You can’t move, can’t seem to breathe as the creature— Taehyung? — releases you from its gaze and turns back to the demon struggling in its grasp. Breath rushes back into your lungs and you have enough presence of mind to attempt to struggle back to your feet. It’s hard, though, with your gaze transfixed on the scene before you.

“I should have known there was something behind the stench of this place,” Taehyung’s voice as he speaks is a mere echo of what you’re used to, a guttural growl strung with rage that reverberates straight through your chest. With each word that leaves him, there is a glow that builds around his form, like St. Elmo’s fire. The demon quickly goes from enraged to terrified, and the observation has your own gut dropping. “But I didn’t think whatever it was would be stupid enough to try anything. You shouldn’t have come out tonight, you shouldn’t have laid your hands on her.”

The demons shrieking becomes diplophonic, tune changing from angry cries to desperate, pitiful pleas.

“I did not know it was you, lord! I did not know! I would not have touched the lord’s human if I had known!”

“Shut up!” Taehyung commands, wings flaring. The demon instantly obeys, but at the sight of Taehyung’s free hand rising with what you quickly realise is a dagger, coated in flames, it returns to begging and pleading with renewed vigour.

“No, lord, please! I did not know! Please do not slay me! I will leave, I will return to the underworld! I will never near your human again! Please, lord, do not—”

“You cut her,” Taehyung hisses, fury coating each syllable. “I cannot leave you alive.”

And then, faster than you can blink, the blade is embedded in the demon’s dripping abdomen, and it takes all of a split second for its to become engulfed in the same cerulean flames that coated it. Taehyung’s grip around its neck disappears and the demon crumples to the ground with a horrid, blood-curdling scream so piercing it makes your vision blur and head throb. Blearily, you watch as the demon twists and curls, warping across the ground before the flames flare and heat washes over your skin.

And then it is gone, the scream it left behind still echoing in the air until the only thing left ringing in your ears is your own hurried, frantic heartbeat.

The silence that follows is startling, the two of you seeming to be processing exactly what just happened. You’re going to need more than a moment to properly do so, but the adrenaline rush from this near-death experience seems to be propelling you back to clear thought sooner than anticipated. Without the demon here, it’s almost as though nothing happened and you were imagining the whole thing. But then, your gaze returns to Taehyung; the very same Taehyung that stands across the room and resembles the demon more in his inhuman features than he does your usual Taehyung.

There are still the slightest tendrils of fear clinging to your heart, and where you stand you can feel the weakness of your knees—when Taehyung turns around, against the protests of a distant part of you, you can feel those tendrils flare up and clench tightly.

There is still rage rolling off his form, and you can almost sense the heat of it from where you stand with the absence of the earlier chill in the room. His expression is furious as he turns to face you, taking a step forward. Unable to help it considering what you just went through, you flinch and press to the wall, the slightest sound escaping your mouth despite your best efforts to squash it.

Immediately, Taehyung freezes. Those mismatched eyes are boring into you again but this time they’re wide, concerned as he takes in your reaction and the condition you’re in, gaze zeroing in on your collarbones. In this moment, you’re scared of him, and you can see the second he realises it. Something indiscernible yet that ripples akin to sadness pools behind his iris’, and he braves another step closer, hand outstretched—a hand with talons just like the ones that had cut you before.

“Don’t!” You feel like it’s not even you talking right now, but you can’t stop the words from coming out. So much happened, too much happened, you can feel yourself beginning to freak out as your breath begins to come quicker and quicker. You haven’t had time to process this. For the third time tonight, you feel like a cornered animal. Except, you never would have thought that it would be at the hands of Taehyung.

“D-don’t come closer! Don’t—Just… don’t…”

Your gaze hasn’t left him and you can see, almost feel the way he recoils at each word; it’s like you’ve punched him in the gut. You can’t stop though, you’re so overwhelmed and you so suddenly and intensely want to leave—you need to leave. You don’t even realise you’re shaking until you take a step, entire form trembling. Taehyung doesn’t move, eyes following you, his brows furrowed and mouth parted as though he wishes to say something. He doesn’t, though. He watches you with a sense of resignation. The sight of him still in that form, standing so painfully and undeniably there, is what pushes you over the threshold.

All of a sudden it’s too much—too much, too much, too much— and you can’t hold it back anymore. Chin wobbling, you don’t even think about the equipment or anything you’ve dropped, you can’t bring yourself to think of Taehyung, you just go. In a blur, you’re out of the room, down the creaking, rotting stairs—you’re stumbling in the fear taking hold of you but there’s something else there, a bittersweet tinge of hurt, the tiniest hint of betrayal. You don’t have time to pick it apart.

Before you know it you’ve made it down the stairs, through the ruined hall and out of the church. The night is silent, not even a cricket daring to chirp in the wake of whatever just happened. It makes you feel alone, but not the kind that you’re trying to be so desperately right now. You can’t chase the feeling away, though, as you dash for the car and start it up.

As you floor it out of there and tear onto the main highway, breath still coming quick and uneven, you can’t chase the memory of Taehyung’s crestfallen gaze as it followed you out the door, either.

a/n: pls let me know what you think and if u liked it interact with a like or rb!! It helps me know how many people have read it and how many enjoy it & how well its received!!! thank u for reading!!!

⇤prev. | masterlist | next ⇥

818 notes · View notes

i-bleed-strawberry-milk · 5 years ago

Text

ＦｉｒｓｔＤａｔｅ (Shane Madej x Reader Fluff Fic)

(the first of a few fanfics about Shane Madej) ((this is also posted on my Wattpad so don’t worry if you see it there as well))

You're busying yourself at your desk, burying yourself in your work. You're an artist and writer for Buzzfeed, a job that comes with a lot of hours but the pays good. Shane has noticed how stressed out you've been, deciding that today was the best time to pop the question that he's been pondering for a few months now.

He's stood in front of his desk, staring over at you, "C'mon Shane, it's simple. Plus, even if she does reject you, Y/n isn't the type to ruin a friendship over something like this." Shane continues shuffling his feet, Ryan looks at him laughing to himself. He's never seem Shane like this, it makes him feel kinda guilty for teasing him, "Look man, she likes you, it'll be fine. She needs the stress relief anyway." Ryan puts a reassuring hand on Shane's shoulder. Shane glances over his shoulder, down at Ryan, who gives him a kind smile. Shane gives a stern nod, turning to face your desk again, you still haven't noticed the boys. Shane begins walking over, becoming more scared by the moment.

As he finds himself finally placed beside your desk, you once again don't notice until you feel the tap on your shoulder. You look up to see Shane staring down at you, he gives you an awkward wave. You take your headphones off, wrapping them around your neck, "Oh, hi Shane! What's up?" You ask smiling at him tiredly. "Well, uh, the thing is... Um..." Shane stutters, trying to think of the right words. "I'm listening." You smile reassuringly. Shane closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath, "I've been contemplating on asking you this for awhile now and seeing how stressed and overwhelmed you've been I thought that it'd be nice for you to take a break. With me. On a date." Shane kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see your reaction. Little did he know that you were smiling widely, "Are you asking me out?"

"Yes, but if you're too busy or don't want to, I get it." Shane says, turning his head away nervously. You're mentally screaming but decide to try be cool, "No! I'd love to, I need a break anyway." You say, rose tinted cheeks and a cheesy smile. Shane smiles widely, "Cool, great. What do you wanna do?" He asks cooly, seeming to have relaxed once you agreed. "I don't mind. Something lowkey and chill. Maybe we could just grab some McDonalds and relax in a park?" You suggest, not wanting him to panic trying to think of something really romantic. "Oh, you are romantic. I don't know if I can keep up." Shane jokes with you, "Well I'm glad to see that you've eased up." You laugh, Shane scoffs, "What do you mean 'eased up'? I am the epitome of ease and chill. I've been told I'm quite the charmer." He says this leaning against your desk with a big smirk on his face. You chuckle, shaking your head slowly, "Alright Prince Charming, go away and let me finish my work. I'll see you later." You giggle, looking back to your work. Shane walks off, giving himself a high-five. You both have the same goofy grins plastered to your faces the entire day, eagerly awaiting your date.

You look yourself up and down one more time before deciding that you look presentable. You chose to wear a black and white striped crop-top, a pair of high wasted mom-jeans, some old warn down vans, white adidas socks and some fishnet elbow-length gloves. You also have a pair of small hoop earrings in, tying the whole outfit together. You smile at yourself, you look good. The jeans and crop helped show off your figure, your particularly small waist and wide hips. You smile once more, then hearing a knock at your door. You quickly run to the door, maybe a bit too excitedly, deciding on leaving your phone so that you have zero distractions from each other. You grab your wallet and keys, taking your jacket down from the coat hook.

You open the door to Shane looking very handsome in a sweater, a plaid shirt and a big navy winter jacket. He also has his glasses on which isn't a usual occurrence but you love the way it looks with the outfit, making him look very sophisticated, "Looking very smart Mr Madej." You smile at him as he looks down at his outfit proudly, "Thank you. You look," He gulps slightly, looking your figure up and down, causing you to raise an eyebrow, "wow." You blush brightly, smiling softly, "Heh, thank you. I feel bad though, I feel like I underdressed." You say gesturing to Shane's clothes, as you begin walking to Shane's car. He runs ahead of you, opening the passenger side door, "No, you look great. Plus, by that logic, I could easily say that I'm overdressed." You thank him gently as you sit into the car, he closes the door behind him. He quickly runs over to the drivers side, you laugh as he enters, "Yunno what? Let's just agree that we're a pair of sexy bastards." You laugh. Shane gives you a look of fake offence as he turns on the car, "I don't appreciate being called a bastard, Ma'am." You chuckle at his statement, "Hey, at least I called you sexy." You state, shrugging your shoulders.

You two are having a great laugh when you are coming out of McDonalds, "I cannot believe your level of awkwardness, 'YoU ToO.'" Shane laughs at your antisocial behaviour, you wheeze as he continues to make jokes about your cringeyness. "In my," You wheeze, "In my defence, I was never taught how to socialise." You two continue laughing all the way to the car.

You and Shane bought a box of 20 nuggets and some curly fries to share, along with a large coke, "That smells so good." You sniff the bag of food deeply, you sigh deeply, "Hot damn..." Shane laughs, "Would you two like to be left alone?" He chuckles. "Yes actually, you're ruining my date Shane." You say in a fake accusatory tone. Shane wheezes at your reaction.

You guys made it to the park a little late, getting distracted a few tines on the way, especially when you saw a guy guy making balloon animals. The parks closed when you arrive, "Aw man." Shane frowns. "Nuh-uh. I'm not having this. Gimme a boost." You say ushering Shane over. He has your cold McDonalds in hand, "You're not serious." He looks at you with raised brows. You nod your head sternly. He shrugs his shoulders, putting your food on the ground. He walks to you, bending down and putting his head between your legs, taking a hold of your thighs, "What are you doing?" You laugh, then screaming as he lifts you into the air on his shoulders. He laughs, stumbling around trying to regain his balance, "Shane, Shane, stop, I'm going to cry." You laugh nervously, tears starting to form in your eyes as you grip onto his hair tightly, "Ow! It's fine, you're fine!" Shane laughs, walking closer to the gate so that you can hang on to something other than his hair. He soothes your thighs as you cling to the gate for dear life. "See? You're okay!" You wheeze as you begin to stand on Shane's shoulders, "You okay?" You ask, your legs shaking as Shane holds your ankles.

"I'm okay, go on." Shane says as you take a step over the fence onto the other side. You jump quickly, falling to your knees. Shane gasps, "Are you alright?" You jump up, wipe off your knees and give him the thumbs up. He smiles, picking up the food and passing it through a gap in the gate. Shane begins climbing up the gate, you cringe watching as he scales the fence, "Be careful Shane." You wince as he jumps off the top, landing on his feet unlike you. "You good?" You ask sweetly, "I'm alright, thank you." He smiles at you gently. "Alright! Let's go!" You grab his hand, running towards the playground. You end up chilling on the swing set, pushing yourselves backwards and forwards for awhile as you eat your McDonalds, drinking your coke. After finishing your food you and Shane play around in the park for a bit. You have so much fun, you fall off the merry-go-round, you sit on Shane's lap and ride down the slide together, Shane gets stuck in the toddlers swing while you almost piss yourself laughing at him and Shane helps you across the monkey-bars. After awhile you're both really tired.

Shane lays his jacket onto the ground and bows dramatically, "M'lady." You giggle, bowing back, "Why thank you, kind sir." You and he chuckle as you both lie down onto his jacket. You stare up into the colourful night sky, sighing at the gorgeous sight. "Wow. The stars are beautiful, aren't they?" You say, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. Shane smiles, looking at you as you look off dreamily. He chuckles at a sudden thought, "Not as beautiful as you." He smirks. You laugh at the sweet line, "You did not just say that. That is the cheesiest thing I think I've ever heard you say." You shake your head looking over to Shane. "Oh really? I can get cheesier. Are you from Tennessee? Because you're the only ten I see." Shane smiles widely, proud of the reaction you gave him as you wheeze. "How about, even if there wasn't gravity on earth, I'd still fall for you." You wheeze even deeper, losing a lot of breath, "Oh my god!" You clutch your stomach. "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again." Shane laughs deeper seeing your reaction. You're crying as Shane continues his onslaught of terrible pick-up lines.

You wipe away your tears as you turn your head to look at Shane, who seems to have been staring at you. When you catch him, instead of blushing and turning away like he'd usually do, he smiles. He looks great in this setting, the pale white moons lights casted a beautiful shadow on his face. Shane just admired you from his position beside you, the way your hair fell, the way the light contrasts with your skin tone and the starry backdrop making your eyes glitter brightly. Shane's arms were open as his head was laid on top of his hands. You take this as an invitation to move toward him, resting your head on his chest, bringing one of your legs over his lap and hooking it around his legs slightly. Shane stiffens a bit, obviously not expecting you to do that.

He relaxes after awhile, bringing one of his arms out from under his head to your waist, massaging it gently as he pulls you closer to him. As he brings you closer to his side, he kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a bit. You sigh, content. You stay this way for awhile, you really couldn't say how long. You just stay, enjoying each other's company, talking about life. You start leaving after realising the time was 1:39am and that you'd lost track through your countless conversations.

Once you'd both gotten over the fence unscathed, you walk hand-in-hand to his car. Like at the beginning of the night, Shane opens the car door for you, closing it once you're in. He starts driving you into the direction of your house, your hands still interlocked. You sigh happily. Shane walks you both to your door once you arrive back at your house, "I had a lot of fun tonight. Thank you so much for this, I needed it." You rock your intertwined hands back and forth as Shane's thumb draws soft circles on the back of your hand. "Me too. I'm really glad you said yes." He says looking up from your hands. "I am too." You giggle quietly.

You smile cheekily up at him, "I look forward to our next date." Shane's eyes widen a bit at your statement, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "Goodnight Shane." You get onto your tippy-toes, pecking him on the cheek. "Uh, goodnight to you too Y/n." Shane says, grinning giddily as you make your way into your house, taking your hand from his, much to your own dismay. Once you closed the door behind you, you jumped up and down happily, squealing.

Shane reaches his hand to his face, brushing his fingers along the spot where your lips met his cheek. He smiles widely, high-fiving himself as he dances goofily back to his car.

#shane madej #ryan begara #buzzfeed multiplayer #buzzfeed unsolved #shane madej x reader #reader insert #fanfic #teeth decayingly sweet

172 notes · View notes

2-fandom-2-furious · 6 years ago

Text

A/N: BFU Reader-insert. Detective!AU, and the reader is a murderer.

TW: Some violence, but nothing major. Read on AO3

The office was cold and bland, the lighting poor. You faced what you knew was a two-way mirror, wondering if the officers who would interrogate you were on the other side, or off finishing up other business. You doubt anyone particularly cared how long you were left waiting. You checked your reflection, wishing your hands weren’t cuffed to the cheap table so you could at least work on making your hair look more presentable. It’s important to look your best at a reunion.

You jerked your head to face the door at the sound of the hinges creaking, throwing up a smirk and leaning back in your chair.

“Well hey, look who finally decided to show up! I was starting to think you guys chickened out or something; bribed Detective Lim to interrogate me instead.” You fiddled with the chain of your handcuffs, biting your lip in a poor attempt to hold back your grin.

In walked an easily identifiable figure. Short, but almost scarily buff, was Detective Bergara. His dark hair was tousled and messy, his suit askew, and the bags under his eyes were almost as big as the body bags you so frequently used.

“Boy, little Mr. B, you’re looking tired. Been losing sleep over something?” the grin continued to pull at your lips when you saw the man’s eye twitch. But to your surprise, a familiar smile greeted you. He placed down a mug of coffee on the table, his eyes twinkling with levity despite the clear exhaustion they showed.

“Didn’t think we’d be seeing you again for a while. Mind telling me your trick?” his weariness most certainly rang true in his voice. How he was still awake, you didn’t know.

“Ahh, you mean that little prison escapade. C’mon, you didn’t really think that old cell could hold me for long, did you?” you winked, and clicked your tongue for good measure.

The detective sighed, his face tugged down into a tight frown. Though, you weren’t too convinced of his anger.

“You want something to drink?” he asked gruffly, nodding towards a smaller table up against the wall. A water cooler and some paper cups rested on top, and you were tempted to say yes, your throat dry and scratchy from your hours spent untended and alone in the interrogation room, before the door creaked on its hinges yet again, and a newcomer entered.

Another familiar face, you’d come to find. Officer Madej, Ryan’s partner in crime. Or, just the opposite. His partner in stopping crime.

“Ay, the gang’s all here!” you cheered.

Officer Madej looked unamused, pulling out a chair for Bergara to sit in and handing him a manila folder, a few thinner, emptier folders in his other hand. He looked determined and businesslike. This wouldn’t do.

“Leggy, long time no see! Gosh, what’s it been, three months? I must say, you-”

You stopped dead, more out of shock than by choice. You blinked. Once. Twice.

You could feel a handprint forming on your cheek from the swift slap the officer had just delivered, and fleetingly attempted to lift a hand to touch it, before the metallic jingling at your wrist reminded you of your current predicament.

Detective Bergara broke the brief, but tense silence.

“Jesus, Shane-!”

“Nice to see you too, pal.” You resisted the urge to spit on the table, and instead sat up to better look the officer in the face.

“Talk.” The papers Officer Madej had been holding hit the table with a muffled thwap!, and you swallowed.

“What do you want me to say?” you gave a shaky attempt at a smirk, but you could tell by his narrowed eyes that Madej wasn’t entertained. “I’m not telling you how I got out of jail, if that’s what you’re looking for, so you can check that off your list.”

Shane huffed, and you flashed a quick glance over to Bergara, who seemed rattled.

“Ry, go to my office and grab the blue folder on my desk. I forgot it before heading over here, my mistake.” The officer’s eyes didn’t leave your face for a second. Ryan swallowed, but nodded and obeyed, leaving you alone with his partner.

“Go ahead then. Have at me, beast!” you spat, facing him dead on, though you had to crane your neck to make eye contact.

His fist made contact with your cheek, and you felt your jaw click. In a second, you were sprawled on your side on the floor, your chair toppled backwards from the force of the punch, and your handcuffs restraining you from going with it with a jolt strong enough to pull a yelp from you.

On the other side of the table, you could see him shaking his hand, his knuckles a stark pink contrast to his pale skin. Your breathing was wobbly, and your eyes were leaking tears, but your mouth remained closed. You caught his eyes, silent and defiant, and he grumbled under his breath before turning his back to you.

The door opened, a few inches at a time, and Detective Bergara reentered the room, folder in hand.

“Jesus Christ! What happened?! Shane, you can’t just slap people aroun-”

“They’re a murderer! A killer! I’ll slap them all I like, then I’ll put them back and jail, and slap em’ again a few months later! They aren’t gonna talk? Fine. But I’m not gonna sit here while they give us that smug attitude!” Madej slammed his fist down on the table, before jerking his hand back, wincing in pain.

Ryan stepped forward, hands held placatingly in front of himself, and stood between you and officer Madej, pushing the table out of his way.

“Alright. Let’s all just… settle down. Avoid slapping murderers, yeah?”

Shane huffed, running his non-injured hand through his hair absentmindedly.

“Yeah, you’re acting like a total Shaniac.” You began to grin again, though it only encased half of your face, looking a bit lopsided. Shane was done slapping you around; you were most likely safe with Ryan here.

The two men exchanged a brief, unamused look, before turning back to you.

“Come on, that was a good one and you know it.”

Silence.

“Look, I can feel my face swelling and bruising. Appreciate that I'm being humorous.”

More silence.

You began to wonder if the novelty of this cat and mouse game was wearing off. You commit a crime and run, they catch you, you get away, repeat. You'd always found great amusement in it, especially getting caught and having these little interrogation sessions with the boys, but things seemed different this time around. More business. More frustration.

Shane stepped forward, the sound of his boots on the tile echoing in the complete silence of the room.

Before thinking about it, you jerked back. The jingling of your handcuffs quickly reminding you that there was nowhere for you to go. Desperately, you sent a panicked glimpse at Ryan, who caught your gaze and planted a hand on Officer Madej's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“Relax. I'm done hitting them. For now.”

Officer Madej- no, Shane, hunched over awkwardly to offer you a hand to help right yourself, which you gladly took. Even once you were standing, he towered over you, a good six and half feet, was your estimate.

Once you were standing properly, Shane picked up the cheap and uncomfortable chair from where it lay on its side, and replaced it by the table. He gestured to it quickly, silently indicating that you should sit, then circled back around to the other side of the table. Ryan followed, grabbing his rapidly cooling cup of coffee and taking a gulp.

You watched them with an attentive eye, wary of Shane’s newly developed temper.

“Talk to us.” Ryan commanded. His tone was steely and unwavering, though one look into his eyes told you he was far more concerned, or even pitying, than he was angry.

Pity was worse than anger.

“Well, uh. I’m out of prison, if you didn’t hear.” You began. You cursed your inability to take anything seriously. Here you were, in an interrogation room with two professionals, who clearly had no problem slapping you around for information, and you were making snarky comments. If you were Shane, you would’ve hit yourself much sooner. The man was patient, you’d give him that.

“Mind telling us how you pulled that off?” Ryan began tapping his pen on that thick manila case file of his. Shane steepled his fingers, staring at you intently.

You heaved a sigh, wishing you had a joke that could push the seriousness of all of this away. Sure, you’d killed a few people. Did a bit of stabbing, stole some government information and maybe some jelly beans here and there. But that didn’t mean you were a criminal. Sometimes things just happen.

“I mean, you’ve seen movies, right? Some plastic spoons, a bit of time, and I was home free.”

Ryan took another sip of his coffee, and you took note of the way he wrinkled his nose in distaste; it was most likely lukewarm at this point.

“How I got out isn’t important, alright? The point is, I did it. And if you put me back in, just know I’ve got plenty more escape methods I’d like to put to the test.” You puffed your chest out, daring either of them to argue. They didn’t.

“Ok. So, we won’t talk about your prison break then. How about we talk about Vanessa ‘Nessie’ Loch?” Ryan smoothly slid a photo and a few newspaper clippings across the table to you, carefully avoiding touching your hand. You wanted to scoff at him; he knew very well that you were no threat to him by now.

“Ah, yeah. Her.” You found sudden interest in the fake-marble tile. White and black, an interesting choice to go with brick walls.

“Let’s cut to the chase, chop-chop, huh?” Ryan crossed his arms, and Shane gazed expectantly at you.

You found yourself seriously wishing you’d taken Ryan up on his offer for water earlier, your throat was dry and uncomfortable. Come to think of it, the whole room felt dry and uncomfortable.

“If I said I didn’t kill her, would you believe me?”

Their matching cocked eyebrows and unimpressed looks told you the answer was a flat ‘no’.

“Look, ok, I was having a rough day. I go into the store lookin’ for some Pop-Tarts, and this lady’s got the last pack of them! What else was I supposed to do?”

Quite literally anything else, your useless hindsight supplied.

“Alright. Well, looks like that case is solved.” Shane leaned over to scribble something brief on one of Ryan’s notes, then reached into his own folder and retrieved more clippings and pictures.

“How about Eric Daly? Did he buy the last of the pizza rolls?”

You prepared a quick rebuttal, something about how impressive it was that Shane managed to fit his whole humongous head all the way up his ass, when you stopped dead. You didn’t recognize the man in the photos he’d presented.

“For all I know, he might have. I’ve never seen that guy before in my life.”

Shane growled under his breath.

“Come on now, It’s a little late to be playing dumb. If you can admit to one murder, you can admit to another. You’re already going to prison for life, I doubt your seventh murder will make that much of a difference.”

Ryan’s eyes darted between you and Officer Madej, dark and curious. You held your ground.

“I’m being serious! I’m quite proud of my work, thank you, and I’m a bit insulted you think this was me.” You snatched one of the evidential photos from Shane’s grasp.

The body was covered in scattered and messy stabs, though they looked more like tears. He was fully clothed and blood-soaked, most likely dropped off at a random spot in a fit of panic on the actual murderer’s behalf.

“Look at this! This is like an amateur's work, but shittier!” You slapped the picture back down on the table, reveling in the way both Shane and Ryan jolted at the smack! that resonated through the room.

“Alright, ok. So what, then? We have a different killer to handle?” Ryan asked, more to himself than you or his partner, though the both of you replied anyway.

“Looks like it, yeah.”

“We can’t take another murderer, we already have to chase this one around constantly!”

You chose to believe that was the shock talking.

“This is a pretty small town. You're the only murderer we've ever had to deal with, and you're easy to catch. It's keeping you contained that's hard. But we don’t know how to actually catch a killer! Especially not when we already have one to deal with!” Ryan babbled.

You watched with interest as the detective tugged at his hair and paced the room, looking frazzled.

Officer Madej remained still, though you could sense his unease. His posture was unusually stiff, and his fingers were idly tapping against his leg. The tall man's brown eyes shifted around the room, following his partner's erratic pacing.

You cleared your throat after a moment, allowing both men a second to turn to you, before making a proposal.

“What you boys need, is someone who thinks like a killer, no? Someone with, say, experience?”

Ryan squinted at you, the corner of his mouth turning down.

“What are you playing at?”

“What do you think?”

Oh, how you wished you weren't restrained to this ridiculous desk. You could have so much more fun with this if you could move around just a bit more. It's hard to feel suave and persuasive when you're stuck looking up at your captors from a cheap plastic chair. You pictured yourself grabbing Detective Bergara's ridiculous tie and holding him by it; seeing the easy-to-earn terror in his eyes as you 'convince’ him to let you go free (read: blackmail and threaten him). You channelled the image of yourself trapping these boys in their own interrogation room, played it out in your head. With a deep breath, you mulled over your next words.

“Look, you've got a first-time murderer on your hands. I can tell just by the one picture you showed me. But I'll bet whoever your killer is got a rush from it. I bet it won't be long until it happens again. You need someone who thinks like a killer. Who is a killer. And you don't have too many options. What do you say yours truly gives you a hand? In exchange, oops! I somehow get ahold of the key to these here cuffs.” You shook your wrist a bit, allowing the quiet metallic jingling to accentuate your offer.

Madej opened his mouth, his expression clearly showcasing his plan to condemn your idea. Luckily, Ryan spoke first.

“What, so you expect us to trust you? Just haul you along with us when we investigate? Let you sniff out the murderer like some sort of bloodhound?” Ryan’s tone was incredulous. He threw his arms up in a gesture of frustration and exaggerated sarcasm. “We have actual search dogs for that! You just want us to let you loose. I’m not stupid!”

This time around, Shane was the one looking concerned, while Ryan freaked out. You wondered briefly if he’d hit you too. You weren’t sure you could survive a blow from an arm like his.

“I’m not saying I want to put my nose to the ground and track the killer’s fuckin’ blood scent, Jesus! I’m saying that if anyone would know a murderer's way of thinking, it would be me. Contrary to popular belief, my first kill was an accident. It seems like the same goes for this person. If you guys want to catch them, my help and experience couldn't hurt.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, his expression hardening further.

“Except for the fact that it could hurt, because you're a killer, and walking you around town like a pet on a leash is gonna wind up with either you escaping, or you killing us, then escaping.”

You tried not to recoil at the severe glint in the man's eyes. Yeah, alright, I deserved that.

You looked up at the detective, attempting to appear more remorseful and less like a kicked puppy.

“You really think I’d kill you guys? Pssh, come on!” you did a good job of concealing the offense you’d taken at his words. “If I wanted to kill you two, I would’ve by now. I was just having fun, none of us have gotten hurt.”

“Yet.” Shane pointed the nib of his pen at you, his tone even.

“Alright, fair. But do you guys really- I mean, you actually think I would hurt you guys?”

“You’re the most notorious killer in the country right now, I’d say some caution here is fair.”

You rested your elbow against the table, and your face against your hand, and looked up at Ryan. You’d always been careful to avoid harming or threatening the boys; you enjoyed toying with them, sure, but they’d done nothing to deserve harm. It was a bit hurtful that they didn’t trust you even a little.

But, they weren’t lying about the whole ‘most notorious killer in the country’ thing.

“I only kill people who deserve it. You guys are like my friends, in a weird, not-really sort of way. I swear, I don’t want to kill or hurt you. I’m not gonna comment on the escaping part, though.” You winked.

You paused for a moment to examine the boys. You quickly noticed they’d loosened up since they had first entered the interrogation room, something you allowed yourself to take a brief moment of pride in. Most killers only managed to stress their interrogators out more; they played with their minds, drove them nuts. You had put them at ease.

“I doubt your ‘help’ would be worth the risk of losing this town’s most dangerous citizen.” You could just tell that Ryan was beginning to sway. His voice held less conviction than it had before, and his eyes seemed a bit unfocused. He wasn’t sure. You moved in for the metaphorical kill.

“Well, firstly, I’m flattered you think of me as the most dangerous citizen, but I really think that award should go to old man Harlot. Have you seen that man drive? He’s probably killed 80% of our local wildlife.” You flashed both men your signature smirk, wanting to jump for joy when you heard Ryan’s muffled chuckle. He feigned wiping his nose to cover his smile. “Second, I can guarantee you’ll have your killer behind bars sooner than you ever could without me. And, whether you accept my help or not, you both know I’m gonna slip out of your grasp one way or another anyway. Might as well get something out of it, yeah?”

You cocked an eyebrow, another rush of pride jolting through you when Ryan playfully rolled his eyes. Yes! Damn, I’m good!

Shane looked significantly less impressed with your guile, his arms folded in his lap and his sharp eyes glued to you.

“Come on, Ryan, they’re playing us. We can do this just fine ourselves. Getting assistance from a criminal is the lowest we could possibly stoop.”

Ryan looked momentarily scolded. You moved in before he could change his mind.

“Oh, don’t be so grouchy, Madej! Just because you know I’d do your job better than you is no reason to be bitter. Just let me get rid of this amateur for you, and I’ll be out of your hair. I can’t have anyone taking my place as most notorious and feared killer, after all. It’s my pleasure to get rid of the competition!” You leaned a bit in the tall man’s direction, supporting your head in your hands and resting your elbows on the table.

Doubt encased the officer’s face, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he directed his focus onto Ryan; it was his decision, he was in charge.

“I mean…” the detective began hesitantly. You attempted to appear innocent, giving your best puppy dog eyes. Across from you, Shane was tense. He shot a brief glare at you, before turning back to Ryan, his expression soft but disapproving.

“Alright. You’ve got yourself a deal, but the first time we catch you trying to pull something, it’s back to eating Insta-Potatoes in prison, understand?” he jabbed you on the nose with his pointer finger, his stubbly jaw set in a scowl.

You jumped up from your chair, throwing your non-cuffed arm in the air and whooping.

“Yes! Yeah! You won’t regret this, I swear! I’ll be the fastest killer-catcher in the west! Yee-haw, boys!”

You could tell the last two lines caught them off guard. Ryan and Shane gave each other a look, before Ryan broke out in giggles, Shane following a few seconds after, albeit much more subdued.

“Ok, ok. But we need to get on this case. Now. The longer we wait, the less fresh the evidence is. Keeping you in the prison is inconvenient as hell, so our first order of business should be finding somewhere to store you. Shane?”

The two men excused themselves to converse, on the other side of the two way mirror mind you. You were, yet again, left to your own devices. You fiddled with your chain casually for a moment or so, then moved in to trying to chip your initials into the table. It didn’t work, and you were pretty much out of things to.

You mentally replayed the events of the past hour or so. Half hour? You didn’t know. A clock would be convenient in here. How long it had been shouldn’t matter, however. You had confirmation you weren’t going back to jail, and the death penalty was illegal here. You’d be fine, and back home eating Pop-Tarts before you knew it. You allowed yourself to relax.

-~-~-~

After another 15 minutes had passed, you moved on to trying to scoot the table closer to the water cooler. Your throat was beginning to sting with how dry it was, and you had nothing better to do. Just as you were within reach, however, the door opened, and in waltzed your two favorite technical enemies.

“Alright. We’re gonna uncuff you for just a second. If you try to run, Ryan will tase you.” Shane warned. Ryan held up his Police issued taser and stepped closer, holding it steady, though you had enough experience to know it was real without the up-close look.]

“I already told you guys, I’m gonna help. No running here.” You held up a placating hand and smiled reassuringly. Shane got to work, kneeling to push the key into the keyhole. With a clink and a small hand movement on Shane’s part, the cuffs dropped.

You took your few seconds of freedom to flex your wrists and look at the red rings that the cuffs left with distaste, before Shane snapped them back on.

“Get some water, and we’re leaving, ok?”

You nodded, thankful your hands were cuffed in the front rather than behind your back, and filled a paper cup with water. It was lukewarm and tasted vaguely like chlorine. Your throat seemed to think it was perfect, however, because you felt 10 times better almost instantly.

“Ok, let’s go then.” You allowed Ryan to lead you out of the building, taking note of how empty it was. It was most likely later than you thought, and you wondered when the adrenaline would wear off and you’d finally pass out.

Shane helped you clamber (rather awkwardly) into what you assumed was Ryan’s car. His civilian one, not a police issued vehicle. It was nice. It smelled a bit like Chipotle, but nice, nonetheless.

“Should I be concerned that you’re loading me into this car, not telling me where we’re going, with no other witnesses besides you two, who are trusted officers of the law? Is the murderer about to become the murderee?”

You heard Ryan wheeze, an amused mumble of ‘murderee’ accompanying giggles under his breath. Shane merely scoffed at your comment, and assisted in buckling your seatbelt.

The rest of the drive was quiet, though not necessarily uncomfortable. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and you could feel yourself begin to slump in your seat. You woke with a start when Ryan took a swift and steep turn, your head clunking against the car window painfully.

“Huh? What?” you frantically looked around, taking a moment to register your surroundings. Right. Ryan’s car.

“Easy does it. We’re almost there.” Ryan’s voice was hushed, and Shane was snoring softly in the passenger seat.

You remained awake for the last few minutes of the ride. The neon sign of a motel caught your eye, and as you turned to read it, Ryan flicked his blinker on. Into the nearly empty parking lot of the motel you went.

“This is it, huh? Any reason you chose this particular place?” you asked, your handcuffs jingling indistinctly as you rested your hands on the buckle of your seatbelt.

“It’s cheap and unsuspecting. Randomly selected.” He said simply. An acceptable answer.

Click. After a brief struggle, you had the belt off. You waited for Ryan to wake Shane up before opening the car door.

“Hey, big guy. Hope you’re ok with sleeping in a $50 room with a the killer and I for a few days.” The detective gestured theatrically at the ratty building, grinning when Shane merely shoved him away by his shoulder and groaned.

Ryan helped you out of the car, and the three of you entered the foyer of the motel. Ryan, in all of his exhausted, messy glory, booked one room for all three of you, and dropped the key back on the desk twice while trying to pick it up.

You made eye contact with the desk attendant, who was desperately trying not to stare at the cuffs on your hands. Poor girl, this was probably a lot to process.

As you began the walk to your shared room, she called after you, telling you to remember to be courteous of the other guests, and you chuckled, wondering just what she’d made of the situation. Nothing good, your mind settled on.

You passed out instantly upon arrival to the room. The mattress felt like hell, and you knew your back would ache in the morning, but you were tired enough that it didn’t matter. Shane flopped uncaringly beside you, while Ryan began organizing spare sheets and blankets into a makeshift bed on the floor.

“Ryan, when I develop back problems from these awful sleeping arrangements, you’re buying a Tempur-Pedic for me.” Shane groaned, his face burrowed into a worn pillow. Ryan merely scoffed from across the small room, shucking his suit jacket off onto the floor and stretching his shoulders with a yawn.

You could feel your mind go blank, the two boys’ muffled words echoing around, sounding as if you were underwater.

-~-~-~

You woke much later than your new roommates, feeling groggy and detached. The room smelled like lukewarm breakfast, free and courtesy of the motel, most likely.

Despite the fact that the scrambled eggs would most likely be rubbery, and the bacon lukewarm and wet with grease, your stomach growled. You lifted your head, bleary eyes examining the room in search of food. Next to the puny tv, on a scratched and beat up dresser were two paper plates, one with bacon, eggs, and soggy toast. The other was piled with small breakfast donuts, powdered and glazed, and you took a moment to thank whatever gods may or may not have placed the pastries in this blessed motel room.

You haphazardly tossed your legs out from under the covers and took several faltering steps towards the dresser, immediately going for the donuts. While shoveling the sweets into your mouth, you took a moment to appreciate the lack of metal cuffs jingling and chaffing around your wrists.

Speaking of which: where were your ‘captors’?

You looked around, quickly noting that the bed Shane had taken up 80% of last night was now empty. Though, you were pleased to note that Ryan was still curled up in his nest of blankets, fast asleep. He looked peaceful, and you were glad. He deserved to rest, he’d been working so hard.

Working so hard to catch your dumb ass, your inner voice reminded, and you felt a mix of pride and guilt swell in your chest. You’d done good work for yourself maybe, but you’d almost ruined poor Ryan. Look at him, he’s got anxiety!

You returned to the bed, satisfied with your weak attempt at breakfast. Whatever, you didn’t have to run from the cops today, you were working with them. You could afford to treat yourself a tad.

You re-settled yourself amongst the blankets, sighing contentedly, and prepared to go back to sleep, when the motel room door creaked open; a grating noise that practically sent chills up your spine. You didn’t bother to open your eyes.

“Goodmorning, Shane.” You greeted.

“Good afternoon, more like. You and Ryan have been sleeping all day. Time to get up, we have work to do.” Shane set an armful of paper bags down near the door with a soft rustling, and closed it behind him. He easily stepped over Ryan’s sleeping form and stood before you, towering above you and radiating disapproval. You rolled over.

“Look, I’ve had a stressful past few days.” You began, relishing in the tired sigh the tall man used to mask his mirth, “And I’d really appreciate it if you could just let me get a few more hours of rest before making me do your job. Thanks.”

Things were silent for a moment, which you took to mean success. You nuzzled your head further into your shitty pillow joyfully, and took a satisfied inhale of air, stale as it may be.

Then, with one swift movement, Shane yanked your blanket off of you and across the room. You gasped indignantly, sitting up and pointing an accusing finger at the scoundrel.

“I told you, it’s time to get up. Oh, and thanks for eating all of the powdered donuts. Clearly murder isn’t your worst crime to humanity, you absolute glutton.” He joked, snatching the pillow Ryan was clutching like a teddy bear and chucking it at you. You allowed it to hit you in the head, falling back dramatically and faking a weak cough.

“Tell… Ryan… I love him…” you wheezed through harsh breaths.

“Rest in piss.” Shane deadpanned.

From the floor, the detective himself groaned, his eyes fluttering open and the dark circles beneath them somewhat lessened.

“It’s like fuckin’ six in the morning, would you knock it off?” He groaned.

Both you and Shane directed your gazes to the small alarm clock on the bedside table. It read 1:03 PM.

“Hate to break it to you, but it’s 1 o’clock, and we’ve got things to do. Get up, get dressed, get fed, and let’s catch us a killer so we can let another one go.” Shane gave you a firm pat on the shoulder, and brushed past you to the bathroom.

Ryan was up like a shot, on his feet and running his hands through his hair, as if that would make it look any less like a blob of melted dark chocolate. Not like you could judge though, you were certain you looked even messier than them. A good night’s sleep in a shitty bed will do that to you.

“Shane, I believe I heard you say something about a Tempur-Pedic at Ryan’s expense last night?” You called, stretching your arms above your head with a groan.

He didn’t respond, and you took the sound of the sink running to mean he was either brushing his teeth, or taking a weak excuse for a shower. You hoped to anything and everything holy that it was the first option.

“Alright, I’m gonna shower real quick, and we’re leaving.” Ryan said to no one in particular, and thank heavens he did, because you hated that plan and were happy to say so.

“What about me? I have a reputation to keep up! I’m not going around town all sweaty and ruffled.”

“All you have to do to keep up your reputation is murder people, no one cares if you smell like sweat and day old clothes when you do.”

You hated it when he was right.

“Alright then. Let’s hit the town, boys. I’ll put on my killer-wrangling boots, and we can stop for Dairy Queen, my treat.” You stood from the bed, swinging your arms by your sides loosely, and flashing Ryan’s credit card to him with a wink.

His eyes widened, hands immediately patting his pockets. He stared at you, disbelief coloring his cheeks a rusty pink.

“I’ll wait in the car!” you teased, jingling the detectives keys in your other hand and making a break for the door.

“Hey!” Ryan called after you, but didn’t bother to give chase. Shane did that for him.

In the end, he ended up simply waiting in the car with you, though he insisted on holding onto the keys for you. Ryan was quick to finish his shower, stumbling out of the side door to the room and shooing Shane out of the driver’s seat.

“So boys, where we heading?” you asked, stretching yourself out comfortably in the backseat.

“Oh, you’ll see.”

#Buzzfeed unsolved #bfu #bfu fanfic #bfu reader insert #reader insert #shane x reader #shane madej x reader #ryan x reader #ryan bergara x reader #bfu x reader

43 notes · View notes

tacticalvisor76 · 6 years ago

Text

Pushed through cold to finally finish Christmas writing and Christmas irl things b LESS.

#mod mumbles #@ my friends : i hope that you like your reader insert gifts #cause g oS h i hated everything i was writing for a while #after taking some meds and gettng some water #i'm going to watch buzzfeed unsolved now #and go t b e d

9 notes · View notes

supernatural-bias · 3 years ago

Note

i am graciously asking for something sweet with ryan, oh amazing writer. 🤲🏽

Ryan was a bit nervous

As usual

The dreaded demon episode, as he referred to it. The one time a season he would ever investigate anything remotely demonic

So for entertainment value, and secretly the feeling of protection, he had brought along a new intern he'd been chatting with

Shane was a bit unsure with having this new person just walk on in to join the show, but after meeting them himself he warmed up

"Nice to meet you. I'm (Y/n)."

The boys took a liking to you pretty much immediately; Shane matching your carefree adittude and Ryan sharing his belife in the supernatural with you

The episode went smoothly. Even more so than usual, your playful banter and minor pranks blending right in with the average antics on set. Ryan even found himself forgetting about the prospect of demons every now and then opting for chasing you and Shane around

You liked to proclaim yourself as the self titled demon expert, only second to any priest out there

It was funny, but also gave Ryan an excuse to have you back on set every season and to see you more than just random lunch breaks. Which regrettably were few and far between when you both worked in seperate deparments

Buzzfeeds fans seemed to like seeing you as a recurring guest, some even looking forward to it

Pretty soon you became known as the third member of the Ghoulagins. Between the Shaniacs and the Boogaras there was a place for people like you

Along with a place in Ryan's heart

#ryan bergara #ryan bergara x reader #shane madej #shane madej x reader #ghost files #ghost files x reader #bfu #bfu x reader #buzzfeed unsolved x reader #buzzfeed unsolved #headcanons #x reader #sweet #fluffy #request #self insert

93 notes · View notes

authoressskr · 3 years ago

Text

Firmly Team Ghost!!

Unsolved | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! I am a BIG fan of Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara and their show Buzzfeed Unsolved (soon to be Ghost Files in the Watcher Network on Youtube), so this is inspired by a few of their episodes! 😂👻

If you like what you read, reblog so others can find my stuff!🥰

--------------------------------------------

Bucky’s warm hand grew clammy as he rested it in your palm. “I still don’t know why we’re doing this-” he looked to Steve, “this is a terrible idea”. Obvious fear showed itself in Bucky’s voice, but Steve simply shrugged. He clapped a large hand against his best friend’s back and stared ahead and the old house that sat before the group. “Because someone is adamant that ghosts are real, and Nat and I just wanna see for ourselves”.

“Right- so why are we here?” Bucky tightened his hand around yours, his protective instincts never taking a day off. You couldn’t seem to recall the details of the conversation that landed you, Bucky, Nat, and Steve in front of one of the most haunted houses in the United States, but you regretted ever taking part.

----Two days earlier----

Bucky let loose a loud groan as Nat made her pick for movie night: The Conjuring. “What’s the deal, Barnes? Too scared?” Nat tossed a handful of popcorn into her mouth, relishing in her favorite activity- giving Bucky shit. Their sibling-like relationship always manifested in silly arguments and bouts of rough housing that often ended with Sam and Steve at their wit’s end. “I just prefer slasher flicks over the paranormal ones. That’s all”.

He stole her bowl of popcorn and placed it in his lap, offering some to you before diving in himself. Nat scooched forward in her seat, her expression betraying an even mix of disbelief and annoyance, “Hang on- you’re telling me you’d really rather watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre or some shit over this? This is one of the best horror movies ever made! What do you have against the supernatural?”

Steve had tried to stay out of it, but he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Nat, don’t get him started-” he practically begged, but it was too late. Bucky shot Steve a look and Nat made eyes at you, clearly confused. Placing a hand on Bucky’s thigh, you pulled his attention, “Um, do you two maybe wanna clue us in?” Steve let out an exasperated huff and took a long swig of his beer, motioning for Bucky to do the honors.

“Steven here doesn’t believe in ghosts, like an idiot-”

“Oh, I’m the idiot?”

Bucky flew into the same argument he used every time he debated with Steve about the supernatural over the course of their long friendship, “Then where does the energy go? HUH? Energy can’t be created or destroyed, Steve! So we gotta go somewhere when we die!” Steve just rolled his eyes as he always did, taking yet another long swig of his beer,“We go into the ground, Buck! You die, you get buried, you decompose! That’swhere the energy goes-”

“That’s just your body, man. I’m talking about your energy!”

“When did you become such a hippie, Buck?”

Bucky grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it at Steve, landing a few pieces in your hair as collateral damage. He gently freed the popcorn from your locks and took your hand in his before whispering a quick apology. With Bucky distracted, Nat snatched her popcorn from his lap, “listen to your friend there, Barnes. Ghosts aren’t real! You know I love you, but you look like the Charlie Day red string meme right now”. Bucky stared at her with a blank expression, his lack of pop culture knowledge making itself obvious. With another laugh and a “never mind”, Nat motioned for the conversation to continue.

“Anyway…” Steve cleared his throat, “What do you think, huh? Nat and I are skeptics and Buck is a believer- what about you?” Three sets of eyes rested on you, everyone curious to see who you’d side with. “I totally believe in ghosts- Why wouldn’t I? I mean, we’ve seen some crazy shit: Norse gods, armies from space, Thanos- believing in ghosts seems like a no brainer after all that”. Bucky slung his metal arm around you with a proud smile, pulling you in close to his body, “See? She gets it”.

But his cheeky smile disappeared just as quickly as it came when Nat presented the group with a challenge. “There’s actually a pretty famous house not far from here. It’s from 1907 and everyone says it’s crazy haunted- there’s even an alleged demon in the basement”. Even with your unenhanced senses, you could’ve sworn you heard the rapid beating of Bucky’s heart. His warm hand suddenly grew clammy, and his breathing hitched in his chest, the mere thought of another encounter with the paranormal sending a chill down his spine.

“Yeah, come on, Buck. Let’s settle our century long debate: Are ghosts real?” Steve’s cocky grin pushed all fear from Bucky’s body, and with a handshake, he agreed. ��Fine! Let’s do it. Just don’t come crying to me when you get possessed”.

“I actually know the people who own the house- long story, don’t ask- I’ll call them and ask if the four of us can have a little sleepover party”, Nat let loose a dark laugh, “it’ll be fun”.

----Now----

“Fun” was not the word Bucky used to describe the plan for the evening as the four of you stood outside the famed house, staring at it in the setting sun. “You two are here to balance us out! We’re the skeptics, you’re the believers. It’s gotta be even!” Steve took a long look at the small, seemingly normal house, “This place is nice, actually. I’d live here-” he grabbed his bag from the car and headed up the front walk, “your friends lookin’ to sell, Nat?” He disappeared inside with Nat hot on his heels, the two of them eager to get inside the house that they believed to be completely free of any ghosts or ghouls. But Bucky could feel the fear creeping up his spine, “I still think we should’ve brought holy water. Wouldn’t have hurt…”

“You don’t have to do this, Buck. We could take the keys and ditch their asses if you want”. Seeing your hulking, super soldier boyfriend so scared was rare. He leaned his body against yours, his massive frame dwarfing you in comparison.

“No, it’s- it’s fine. Can’t let those two get any bragging rights. I’m just gonna spend some time with my best girl”. His hand found yours in search of a reassuring squeeze, and the two of you headed inside for your date with the darkness.

Steve was right. If it weren’t for the possible haunting, the house would’ve made a lovely place to live. Imagining the cozy living room and surprisingly spacious kitchen as your home was easy, especially with Bucky by your side- and he intended to stay there all night. He wanted to accompany you everywhere, partially for his own sanity, but also for your safety. He didn’t want you stepping away to get a glass of water and ending up possessed by the house’s darkest resident.

But Steve had other plans, “Okay! Well, I say we split up and look around so we can get acquainted with the ghouls.” Bucky’s mouth ran dry at the thought of actually exploring the house. He’d found a tiny amount of comfort in the living room, and planned to stay there until sunrise- but knew Steve would tease him if he did. “Um, okay, yeah- let’s explore. Just as long as we’re respectful, you know?” Bucky threw a pointed look at Nat and Steve, hammering his point home, “you don’t wanna ask a spirit to show itself or antagonize them in any way- don’t tell them to touch you or-”

“HEY, GHOSTS! WE’RE HERE!” Steve shouted into the air, “COME SAY HELLOOOO.” A sickly pallor took over Bucky’s expression as he begged Steve to stop, but Nat just had to jump in. “YEAH! AND IF THERE’S ANY DEMONS HERE, SHOW YOURSELVES! LET’S PARTYI DARE YOU TO GRAB ME! PULL MY HAIR! WIGGLE ME AROUND!” Steve collapsed into a fit of laughter, spurring Nat on even further. “COME PULL MY BONES OUTTA MY BODY! RIP MY HEART OUT!”

The room fell silent.

Everyone in the group waited for something- anything- to happen. Steve and Nat both hoped a fire would suddenly roar to life in the fireplace or an unseen force to drag them across the room, but nothing happened. “Okay, well, now that we got ‘em all riled up, let’s get exploring.” Steve turned on his heel and headed for the back bedroom, leaving the three of you behind. But three turned to two when Nat took off in the opposite direction to start her adventure in the kitchen.

Bucky, however, remained rooted in place. A cold sweat trickled down his spine and his pupils remained blown with fear as he stared down at you. “Don’t worry Buck, I’m gonna stay right here”, you squeezed his hand, “this isn’t an episode of Scooby Doo where we let fuckin’ Fred give us orders. He and Daphne can split up all they want, but this Velma is stayin’ by her Shaggy”.

And for the first time since arriving at the house, Bucky smiled. “Holy shit, Steve and Nat really are Fred and Daphne, aren’t they? Only, Steve doesn’t have an ascot and I don’t remember Daphne being so deadly…” The loud laugh that escaped your lips made Bucky smile. And with a gentle tug, you pulled him down the hall.

Bucky remained by your side, his fear rendering him eerily silent. “Hey, come on, this could be fun!” you pulled him into a random room and flipped on the light, “okay- let’s pretend we’re buying the house. What would you change about this room?” Bucky scanned the contents of the small room, eyeing the child-size bed and pink, floral wallpaper.

He thought long and hard about the question, picturing himself buying and remodeling a house with you. Just the thought of doing so brought a smile to his face, and any thought of the supernatural faded away. “Okay, um, I’d obviously get rid of all the kid stuff…maybe this would be your office? That way you don’t have to do your work at the kitchen table”.

He told you about the large, wooden desk he’d get for you and the tall bookshelves he’d line with your favorite novels. He imagined a comfortable armchair for reading and all kinds of art hanging on the walls; he built you the perfect space. “Damn. Now I wanna live here for real”, you leaned against his body, picturing the ideal, cozy room Bucky designed just for you- until a sound made you jump.

A distinct sound filled the room, like someone knocking on the wall. The three loud knocks sent a chill running down Bucky’s spine, until he heard Nat burst into laughter. “Gotcha!” she laughed at the shocked expression that colored your face and Bucky’s. “I was thinking we could order some pizza, I’m fucking hungry. You guys in?” You shared a glance with Bucky, the two of you experiencing the exact same thought- as you often did. “Um, you’re gonna order pizza? Here?” In no time at all, Steve appeared in the doorway, “did someone say pizza?”

With the four of you in the same room, the rest of the house should’ve remained silent- but an eerie scratching sound echoed through the room. “Ha. Ha. Ha. So funny, Nat”, Bucky rolled his eyes at her, but instantly clocked the confusion she wore. “That um, that wasn’t me”, she looked to Steve, “Rogers?” But Steve shook his head. A hush fell over the group as four pairs of ears strained for any other sounds, but nothing came.

“Um. Anyway…” Nat shook the eerie feeling from her mind, “it’s just a house- of course I’m gonna order pizza. I’m hungry”. Nat whipped out her phone and headed for the living room, placing an order for enough pizza to feed the enter 107th. But you and Bucky couldn’t believe how casual Nat was. There’d been such a clear indicator of something in the house, and all Nat could think about was deep dish from Romano’s.

Back in the living room, you laughed and joked with the group as everyone practically inhaled their food, and Bucky almost felt normal- until he heard an eerie sound. A loud ‘creeeeak‘ rattled down the hall and into the living room, pulling everyone’s attention. Bucky instinctively inched closer to you, either to protect you or find reassurance for himself, as the sound faded out. “Okay, what the fuck was that?” Bucky stared down the dark hallway in the direction of the sound. He was definitely curious about the origin, but not so curious that he’d go searching for it. “Relax, Barnes”, Nat sighed, “this place is over a hundred years old- it’s got a lot of creaks and groans in it. You know, just like you”.

Steve quickly reminded her whose side she was on, and she apologized for the friendly fire with a less than sincere ‘sorryyyyyy’. “OH! I totally forgot, I wanted to give you guys a little history about the house!” She pushed her pizza aside and cleared her throat before diving into the house’s storied past, “Like I said, it was built in 1907 by a German guy, Bernard Schiefer. He lived here with his wife and their daughter, but the daughter died in the house when she was seven. People say she’s still hanging around here…”

“Oh, a little girl ghost?” Steve piped up, his mouth full of pizza, “Those are always the creepiest ones! I wonder if she’ll talk to us”.

“Well, she only speaks German. So unless you remember some Deutsch from your days fighting the Nazis, you’re shit outta luck”. Nat tried to continue to her story, only to be interrupted by Steve. “Hallo, mein name ist Steve Rogers”, he proudly proclaimed, shooting a wink at Nat. Everyone waited for an answer from the little girl’s ghost, but the room remained deathly silent.

Nat turned to Steve with narrowed eyes, ��really? You spent all that time in Germany and all you can say is your name-”

“I was introducing myself! Some of us have manners, Natasha. I can say other stuff- just give me a second…” Steve searched his brain for the right thing to say, finally settling on a single word, “Flugzeug”.

“What does that mean…?” Nat eyed Steve, still unimpressed by his less than fluent German.

“Um. It means airplane”.

Nat rolled her eyes and let out a loud huff, slumping in her seat with plenty of dramatic flair, “airplane?! That’s all you can come up with!” She launched packets of parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes at him, forcing him to duck for cover. “Hey! Don’t give me that!” Steve raised his hands in surrender, “I was in Germany eightyyears ago-I’m shocked I remembered that much!”

“ANYWAY, Steven. After her daughter died, Mrs. Schiefer refused to leave, and she died in the house six years later”. As Nat regaled the history of the house, Bucky felt his heartrate quickening. It took everything in him not to climb into your lap when Nat revealed that the house had served as a mortuary after Mr. Schiefer sold it in 1927- and he could’ve passed out when she told the group who bought the house in the 80’s. “So then a cult bought the place when the mortuary closed- this was kinda their headquarters”.

Bucky slumped back into the couch cushions, groaning a dramatic “oh, perfect”. He’d been ready to leave the second the group arrived at the house, and the mention of a cult had him regretting ever stepping foot inside. You leaned your body against his, pressing a few soft kisses to his cheek. His cold, metal hand found yours and gave it a gentle squeeze, finding solace in your touch. With you by his side, a newfound confidence surfaced inside him. He opened his mouth to tell Nat that it was time to go, but a sudden sound stopped him.

The loud crash of a large shelf falling from the wall rendered everyone silent. A cold sensation pricked at your skin as you stared at the decorative pieces that lay strewn across the ground as a result of the fall. No one was anywhere near that shelf, and even Steve struggled to come up with a logical explanation. You stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to reason his way out of the seemingly unexplainable phenomenon.

“Um, I know what you’re thinking, but this place is over a hundred years old!” Nat interjected, “I’m sure the walls are full of dry rot. And there has to be termite damage. It’s not a ghost!”. With another bite of pizza, she resumed her story as though nothing had happened”.

“The cult was…dark. They definitely sacrificed animals down there… the inspector found a lot of weird stuff. And there’s some strange shit painted on the floor- like, symbols and stuff. And no one can cover it up or remove it- no matter how hard they try. Apparently, that’s how the demon ended up down there- all those sacrifices and rituals attracted some dark force that will never leave…” The room fell silent for a split second until Nat let out a loud laugh, “ya know, if that shit were real”.

As the weight of Nat’s story settled in, a feeling of uneasiness crept through the room. Even Steve felt a chill run down his spine at the thought of ritual sacrifice happening just one floor below his feet. But Nat remained unphased.

“So then my friends bought the place when the bank foreclosed on the cult! They didn’t know about all the weird stuff and just wanted to do some renovations to restore it to its former glory- but apparently that didn’t go so well”.

“What, um…what do you mean by that?” You knew you had to be strong for Bucky, but hiding the shakiness of your voice seemed impossible. “Apparently, ghosts don’t like when you fuck with their environment…” Nat smirked, “doors slammed, cold hands grabbed at peoples’ wrists, and the contractor swore he heard voices coming from the basement…”

Steve opened his mouth to make what would’ve been a smart-ass comment, but he changed his mind when the basement door suddenly flew open. “And what’s your explanation for that, huh?” Bucky pulled you closer to his side, “let me guess, the air conditioning blew it open?” Nat stared at the now-open basement door with wide eyes, her gaze drifting down the darkened stairs. “There’s um…” she finally said, “there isn’t any air conditioning…”

Without warning, Bucky sprang from his seat on the couch, “That’s it! We are not sleeping here tonight”. He hurriedly grabbed his bag and yours, slinging them over his shoulders and searching for the car keys. “We’re taking our shit and going home-” he held out a hand and beckoned for you to join him, but Nat didn’t give you the chance. “Wait, you can’t leave! We said we were gonna have a sleepover-”

“Sleepover cancelled! Make fun of me all you want. But I’m not staying here tonight. I’m taking my girlfriend home where she won’t get possessed by demons-”

“Come on, Buck”, Steve made it to his feet and crossed the room, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “at least stay till 3am…that’s the witching hour!” Bucky shook his head emphatically, rejecting Steve’s attempt at negotiation. “Well I’m happy that the witches get their own hour, but it is 9pm and I am not staying here six more hours”.

“Five hours?” Steve begged.

“No.”

“Four hours?”

“No!”

The room fell silent as Steve and Bucky remained locked in a standoff. Then suddenly,

“Three hours?” Nat chimed in.

“Oh my god- NO!” Bucky pinched at the bridge of his nose, overwhelmed by the ridiculous antics of his friends. “Did the two of you not see that shelf fall off the wall? Or the basement door fucking fly open? You know, the basement that contains a DEMON?!” Steve shot a look at Nat, his calm and collected façade crumbling ever so slightly- but Nat remained cool. “I mean, those are pretty small things. The house is old! I’m sure the frame of that door is super warped and that’s why it opened. No big deal. No reason to ruin our sleepover!”

She put a hand on the bags slung over Bucky’s shoulder, giving them a slight tug. “Come on, I don’t what you guys to leave. It won’t be as fun if you go- it’ll just be me and Rogers sitting around in a house without wifi-”

“Hey! Rude!” Steve called from across the room as he finished off his ninth piece of pizza, “I’m fun!” Nat rolled her eyes and directed her attention back to you and Bucky, her eyes pleading for you to stay. Bucky looked to you with guilty eyes, not sure what to do. He wanted to keep you away from all the ghosts and ghouls, but Nat seemed really disappointed that you were leaving. You gave him a little nod, assuring him it was okay to stay a bit longer. “Okay, fine. We’ll stay till midnight and then I’m taking my girl and we’re leaving. Deal?”

Nat gave Bucky a firm handshake and launched herself at you, enveloping you in a hug. You sometimes forgot what a softie she really was under her rough and tumble exterior, but moments like this always served as a reminder. “Alright, well if we only have a few hours, we better get to the fun stuff!” Nat shot across the room and dug through her bag, her hands finally emerging with a ouija board in hand. “Let’s talk to the spooks!”

She set the board and planchette on the coffee table before fishing a few candles and a box of matches from her duffel, “if we don’t have a séance, what’s the point of us even being here?” But Bucky refused. He was not about to invite any dark energy into his life, and asked you not to partake either- but you didn’t need much convincing. Nat practically begged Steve to join her in using the board, but as he wiped the pizza grease off his hands and outstretched them toward the planchette, he felt a chill prickle at his skin.

The planchette began moving on its own, unseen hands directing it in a few lazy circles. “Holy shit-” Nat leaned forward, watching the eerie phenomenon with wide eyes. But the speed picked up suddenly and directed the planchette in a wild figure eight pattern, forcing everyone to freeze with fear.

“We- we need to get the fuck out of here. Now”, Bucky grabbed your hand and led you outside, dropping the bags at your feet. He made you promise to stay outside before heading back in to grab Steve and pull Nat away from the Ouija board. And as you stood outside in the dark, waiting for Bucky to return, you couldn’t help but notice how eerie the house looked. It had appeared so cozy and inviting only a few hours ago, but the sharp shadows cast by the silver light of the moon made you uneasy. A heavy sigh of relief left your chest as Bucky, Nat, and Steve burst through the front door and joined you on the front lawn.

“You better have left that fucking Ouija board behind” you shot a pointed look at Nat, “we don’t need that shit following us back to the compound”. She gave you a small nod, her eyes still wide with disbelief. Steve and Bucky loaded the car hastily, eager to get away from the darkness that dwelled within the house. Bucky slid into the driver’s seat and threw a look your way- a look you knew to mean “we were right”. But he wasn’t about to rub the victory in Steve and Nat’s faces when Nat’s hands still shook with fear.

The drive home was quiet. The four of you reflected on the mind-blowing event you’d just witnessed, and Steve’s preconceived notions about the paranormal crumbled all around him. “Well, I guess we’ll never know if ghosts are real or not…” Nat suddenly said, “maybe we could go to another haunted house next weekend! I know there’s one upstate, and-”

“What do you mean?!” Bucky shouted, “we WATCHED planchette move ALL BY ITSELF! How is that not enough proof?” Nat just laughed and rolled her eyes as she pulled up the location of a different haunted house,“Ugh. Believers always swear that everything’s a ghost. Am I right?” She nudged Steve for some back up, but he remained silent.

“I mean, come on, Buck. Haven’t you ever heard of magnetic fields? Or uneven foundations? There’s plenty of logical ways to explain the planchette doing that-”

Bucky stared at you with disbelief, shaking his head in utter shock. “Okay, Nat. That’s fine,” you offered, “you don’t have to join Team Ghost…yet. We’ll hit another house next weekend and see how you feel then. Gotta get you a replacement Ouija board”. Nat’s confident smile wavered ever so slightly, signaling to you that she was closer to joining Team Ghost than you thought.

------------------------------

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @mrsdrysdale18 @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @cwbucky @duchessoftheheart @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @masteroflightningz @evangeliamerryll 💜

382 notes · View notes