#please tell me about your paranormal experiences please and thank you

[bartxnhood]

middle of the night | c.b

colby brock x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

summary: sleep is almost nonexistent to you. a darkness takes over your mind, but colby is the light you need.

warnings: best friends to lovers, nightmare & gore scene, reader and colby being so oblivious to their feelings (JUST KISS ALREADY GOD.)

a/n: hi guys !! i’m not too sure what this is but i’ve been meaning to write for colby for a while so this is definitely something. i was slightly inspired by middle of the night by elley duhé (the song and the fic are not related in any way. the song just heavily reminds me of colby?) also, this one is slightly darker than my previous ones so read with caution. 🤍 enjoy !! feedback is appreciated.

requested open

not proofread

Copyright © 2023 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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you didn’t know when the nightmares started, but when they started they never stopped. they kept you up for hours sometimes, other nights you wouldn’t sleep at all.

it was agonizing, you could barely function during the day. you were beyond fatigued and drained. it has been like this for a couple of years now, and maybe you brought it upon yourself as you had messed with some pretty dark stuff when you were younger without the proper knowledge. you always joked to your friends that you were cursed, but as you grew older you started to believe it yourself.

when your close friends decided to take on the mystery of the paranormal you pretty much refused to have anything to do with it. as you were still dealing with the consequences of your younger self. despite your friends begs and pleads you still kept your walls up high. even the thought of going out with them to these locations made you sick.

but, one day kat came to you fully prepared for rejection but she wanted to rest her case.

“y/n, please. i don’t want to be alone” she begged, following you in the hallway of your apartment as you entered your room saying, “you won’t be alone, sam will protect you, and if he doesn’t colby is there for back up” katrina groaned, standing in your doorway. “you know what i mean. i don’t want to be the only girl.” you finally turned around and your eyes met with the girl. she was pleading silently. you ran your hands through your hair letting out a frustrated sigh,” fine. but if i get touched or I'm uncomfortable at all i’m leaving.” katrina grinned, and threw herself into your arms. “thank you so much, y/n.”

so, there you stood filming a video with your three best friends standing inside the conjuring house. you were doomed.

throughout the night, you felt like you were being watched. heavily. but still, you refrained from telling the guys knowing how excited they were to finally experience this. you couldn’t do that, not to colby at least.

ever since it was confirmed that they were going to the infamous house, he was so excited. you loved seeing that light in his eyes glow anytime you’d mention something related to the work he does. he loves what he does.

but, he loves you even more. he wanted nothing more than to make sure you were safe, especially in a place as dark as this home.

when he noticed your unusual behavior, he pulled you over to the side just to make sure you were okay. “are you sure you’re okay?” his hand lingered on your shoulder a bit too long, but you didn’t mind it. “i’m fine, it’s just a lot” you smiled, trying to assure his worries. “okay, well, if it’s gets to be too much let me know. i’m not going to force you to do this.” he was so kind to you. you nodded, “i know, now let’s go back before they start to miss us”

unfortunately, that night was when colby found out about your night terrors.

it was the early hours of the morning when you arrived back at the hotel, you bid goodnight to your friends and went to your room. both sam and cat, colby had rooms next to you so you were all close by.

you opened your eyes, finding yourself in a dark room. no sound, no light, no sense of anything in this room. just a void. you tried searching for anything just to get out. until out of the corner of your eye you see a tall creature lurking, its jaws unhinged comically, its teeth like a leech, beckoning you closer to its open maw, drool lolled out of its mouth, pooling at the floor.

“no..” you breathed, tears brimming your eyes as your breath thickened. “no!” you screamed. “y/n!!” you heard panicked screams calling out your name and your head whipped around seeing your friends. “no!! run!!” you yelled back, but it was far too late.

your friends scream in terror but make no effort to move as the beast grabs them, tearing into them, blood and entrails hit the floor, splattering onto your face. you were breathless, screaming colby’s name.

you jolted up, gasping for breath as your chest began to loosen. you were covered in sweat, tears staining your cheeks. the loud pounding at your door brought you out of your daze. “y/n?! it’s me, i heard screaming are you alright?” it was colby, you threw off the blankets and walked to your door, unlocked it, and then opened it to reveal a very worried colby.

when he first saw you, his gaze softened realizing that you were okay but then he saw you had been crying, your breathing was shallow and sweat pooled on your forehead. “what is it? what happened?” “nightmare” you croaked, he saw how shaken you were so he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

“shh. you’re okay.” his arms wrapped around you, but his touch only made you cry harder. the fresh image of him being ripped apart was still fresh in your mind. “it’s okay, i’m right here” colby gently rubbed your back, feeling your heaves.

his heart was aching, seeing you in so much pain. colby didn’t expect you to tell him what happened in your nightmare, all he was focusing on was being there for you. “will you stay with me, tonight?“ your voice hoarse from the screaming, you pulled away from his chest looking up at him. “just until i fall asleep.” colby nodded, “of course. i’ll be right by your side”

colby stayed up all night, making sure that if you needed him he was there. plus, it gave him the excuse to admire you. every crease in your skin, the way your eyebrows furrowed as you dream. he wanted nothing more than to hold you tightly, and never let anything harm you again. even the nightmares, he would find a way to stop those. even if it killed him. he never felt like this around anyone, only you. it’s always been you.

that was the best sleep you’d had in years, it has been so long since you had felt this refreshed. you were in the best mood, and everyone noticed but you only said you had a good sleep.

when arriving home, your friends dropped you off at your apartment but colby insisted on walking you in. and who are you to deny him?

“thank you again for last night.” you set your bags on your sofa, and he shook his head. “anything you need, i’m your man” you smiled, “still, it was just a lot. so thank you” “of course, y/n” colby hugged you, squeezed you tightly then pulled away. “call me, text me, or just somehow get in touch with me if it happens again. i’ll be here.” “i’m serious” he added

colby was serious, he cared for you deeply probably more than he should but he didn’t care. “i will, i promise” you grinned. there it was. that grin. it always made him feel fuzzy inside. “good” he nodded.

your thumb hovered over colby’s contact, debating with yourself if you should call him or just try to sleep again. after fighting with yourself, you finally pressed call and held the phone to your ear.

“y/n?” he answered, his voice sounding groggy. you must’ve woken him up. “did i wake you up?” “yeah, but it’s okay. what’s up?” you felt bad, you didn’t mean to wake him up. “i’m fine, just forget about it.”

he stopped you, “was it about her nightmare?” you sighed, “yeah.” “do you need me to come over?” he offered. “no, i’m okay really. just scared me.” “i can come over, i don’t mind at all.” “colby..” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “i’ll be there in fifteen.”

then, it became a routine. colby spent most of his time at your apartment, not that he didn’t mind, he enjoyed it. it was an excuse for him to see you twenty-four seven. but with his presence, somehow the terrors stopped. when colby was around you felt relaxed, you could rest. you’d lay on the sofa while he sat and watched your tv, or you were in bed and he was right next to you.

at night, when you couldn’t sleep colby, was still by your side. if he was working on editing videos you’d sit up with him and have a movie on in the background. or, if the both of you had nothing to do, you would just talk. talk until the early hours of the morning about anything. from childhood memories to what you two wanted to do in your future.

but one night, colby finally asked why you never wanted to do the investigations with him.

“i just know how bad they can get” you shrugged. he nodded, “i agree, but we always take our precautions. you know i wouldn’t let anything happen to you, y/n” there they were again. those damn butterflies. you nodded, “i know, colbs” you took a deep breath, sitting up. you figured it was better now than never to tell him.

“when i was younger, i went out with some friends to this haunted place. it was dark. like, very dark. and after that…the nightmares started.” you picked at your nails. “it’s the same one, every time. you, sam, and kat. this…thing is there. it’s tall, black and it’s just inhuman. it tries to attack me. but you guys are yelling, telling me to run, and then it..” you pause, you felt heat rush to your cheeks and your eyes started to tear up. “it rips you to pieces..right in front of me..” your voice was breaking as you explained.

he pulled you into his arms as you teared up. “it’s okay. i’m right here, i’m not going anywhere.” he rubbed your back “i promise. you’re safe, i’m safe. i’ll be here, any time, any day, i will come to you”

colby became the one person you relied on, he became your rock.

then he disappeared. vanished. he should’ve said no to her, you needed him. he was supposed to be there, he saw your messages but he was too drunk to help you.

colby regretted that night, he saw your desperation but he couldn’t be there. she wouldn’t let him. he didn’t even know why he continued to see the girl, maybe he thought it was the only way he could ever get over you. but when you stopped texting he thought you were okay now. maybe you didn’t need him after all.

but he was wrong.

your night terrors we’re getting worse, some nights you didn’t sleep at all. you tried all kinds of medication to see if it would relieve your pain. but it didn’t. one night, the dream was bad. worse than it had ever been.

you tried messaging colby, calling him a few times but he wasn’t answering. maybe he was sleeping. whatever it was you’d be okay, you knew you needed to stop being dependent on him. you were a big girl, you had to learn how to deal with your issues.

“hey, kat..” you breathed, picking at your lips. “i know it’s kinda late, but have you heard from colby?” you decided to call up katrina in hopes she could ease your anxiety. “yeah, he said he was going out tonight. a date or something.” “oh..” you hummed, “is everything okay? you sound awful.” she stated. “yeah, i’m good. just needed to tell him something. thanks, kat. i’ll see you soon” you hung up the phone, tossing it on the bed.

why did your heart hurt so much? why did you want to cry your eyes out so badly? you never realized your feeling for colby.

oh god. you loved him. you were in love with colby brock.

no, you couldn’t possibly be in love with him. that’s stupid, you guys were just friends..right? friends took care of each other…friends shared a bed occasionally..right?

you didn’t know how to deal with your feelings, you couldn’t tell him now as he was actively seeing someone or dating. you slowly began to disappear from the picture. maybe if you weren’t around him so much those feelings would slowly fade.

you were wrong.

colby on the other hand was missing you. the date didn’t work out. he wasn’t sure why he even tried dating when he was head over heels for you. maybe he did it not knowing how you felt about him, but now he’s never going to know. you had disappeared, ignoring everyone’s texts and calls. it was very concerning, especially for colby knowing how your night terrors affect your daily life.

everyone started to notice your absence, and it was only a matter of time before sam and katrina persuaded him to finally check in on you.

“you’re the closest to her, colby. it would only make sense if you go” sam argued looking at the brunette boy standing above him. “listen to him, colby” katrina agreed. “guys-“ the girl cut him off. “no, colby. it’s bad. she called me one night when you were out, she sounded like she had been crying. her voice was hoarse. whatever is happening, it’s bad”

that was the push he needed. colby had to see you.

you haven’t slept in a very long time the nightmares have been worse than ever and it has been going on for an unhealthily long time. you look absolutely run down and it’s getting hard to function. some nights you just refused to sleep, it was better to stay awake than to meet the monster occupying your brain. you were sure you had memorized every crack and crevice in your ceiling. you lay lifeless on the sofa, the silence was deafening. you were miserable.

you weren’t sure how long someone was pounding at your door, but you had finally come to your sense and had to answer it. you rose slowly from your position already feeling a migraine forming.

you weren’t expecting to see colby, he was the last person who you thought would show up. “colby..” you uttered.

colby didn’t know what to expect when you opened the door. but, when he saw you he felt sick. your hair was tied up but messy, and your eyes were black and whites bloodshot.

“oh my god y/n…” he croaked, entering your apartment. you sighed, you couldn’t face him. you didn’t want him to see you like this. at your worst. “how much sleep have you been getting?” you shrug, hugging yourself. “an hour” he blinks “a night?” “…this week” the color washed from his face, and he felt dizzy.

he wanted to cry, hold you tightly and apologize for all the pain you’re going through. “why y/n? why are you doing this?” he reached for your shoulder. you reply, “the nightmares are too much. i can’t keep going thru that” he shakes his head, studying you. “why didn’t you tell me?” “i tried, but kat told me you were out on a date and i didn’t want to both you because this is my problem. i need to learn how to go deal with it on my own”

“ y/n l/n, i told you to come to me whenever you were struggling. i care about you.” you finally faced him, you didn’t know what else to say. colby continued, “out of everyone in my life i’ll always care about you most” you feel yourself beginning to tear up, the lady of sleep was taking a toll on your body.

colby gently pulls you into a hug. “i’m so tired. i just want to sleep without being scared” you cry into his chest. he soothes your cries. “you need to sleep, y/n.” you shake your head against his chest, “i cant.” “ill be with you, kay? like old times” he offered, you were reluctant but he lead you to your bedroom and got your bed ready. which hadn’t been slept in for a long while.

your head rested against colby’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. he whispers “i’m sorry. i should’ve been here” “not your fault” you hummed, closing your heavy eyes. he rubbed you back gently, you didn’t know if you were just extremely tired or if your feelings for colby were resurfacing again. “i love you, colby” you paused, “i’m in love with you colby brock.”

colby wasn’t able to get a word in, because when he tried to he noticed how your breathing evened out and you were already fast asleep. his heart was now racing, you loved him? you were in love with him? he smiled to himself, kissing the top of your head. “i love you too, y/n.”

[wsdanon]

hi everyone \o/ I’m not even two episodes into ordem paranormal sdol, but I’ve been thinking a lot about aroace Guizo... so please take a messy little fic exploring that idea \o/!!

(and since I’m not even two episodes into sdol: please don’t spoil anything, and please forgive if I don’t have the voices down very well yet…)

cw for: references to homophobia, two queer people who don’t know they’re queer calling queerness/their own experiences “weird” in a neutral way

reblogs appreciated \o/!!

Guizo’s filming b-roll when Xande starts talking. Which is fine—he usually edits the audio out of b-roll, anyway, and Xande’s always happy enough to sit silently and listen to music if he does want the sound. 

What he says is not fine, though. 

“I could help you get a girlfriend, man.” Xande offers. “Like… if you wanted, you know? I could hype you up.”

Guizo sighs, and pretends he’s focusing too hard on getting the right camera angle to respond. He does not want to be having this conversation. 

“Just ‘cus everyone’s been teasing you about the kiss, yeah?” Xande continues. “I think your next kiss should be with someone you like, is all.” 

“You should let me kiss you then.” 

He didn’t particularly mean to say it—only realising after the words had already spilled from his mouth what it implies. And a quick glance away from the camera to see Xande’s wide eyes staring at him confirms that he’s taken it that way, too.

“What?” He continues defensively. “We’re friends, I like you.” 

“Oh.” Xande nods absently, eyes crinkling in a smile. “I meant like like.” 

Guizo gives up on filming. 

“I know.” He shrugs. “But why does it matter? It’s more likely that I’m going to transform into someone’s husband—or wife!—again before I get a girlfriend.”

“I could help you get a girlfriend.” Xande offers again. 

Guizo bites his tongue, refusing to let stupid words escape this time. He continues like he didn’t hear him. 

“But we’re friends, and I like you, so…” another shrug. “You can keep the mask on if you want.”

Xande’s hand comes up to touch his mask—almost like Guizo’s caught him so off-guard he forgot he was wearing it. Then he tugs it down, revealing red cheeks. 

“No, it’s… fine.”

Huh. Guizo wasn’t expecting him to actually say yes. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah…” he points at Guizo warningly, “but you can’t tell anyone, okay?” 

“Okay.”

He looks down at the camera in his hands. Then looks around for a place to prop it up.

“Woah, woah, what are you doing?” Xande asks—usually calm voice taking on a hint of panic. 

“Well the other one was filmed, right? I just wanted the good one saved as well.”

“Guizo, my angel, it’s not exactly normal for two guys to kiss, you know?” 

Guizo frowns, not taking the camera away, but not fully putting it down, either. Discomfort twinges in his chest at the reminder. But Xande is right. 

“I won’t film it then.” 

Not filming things goes against his very nature. He tries to say it without it sounding like he’s in pain, and he’s pretty sure he fails when Xande’s hand lands on his before he can move the camera. 

“No, no, you can.” His eyes are fixated on the camera, carefully avoiding Guizo’s. “Just… remember that, okay? Keep it hidden.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” And now he looks at Guizo, a small smile on his face. “I want it to be a good memory, you know? You should get to keep it.”

“Thank you.” 

If Guizo’s cheeks weren’t red before, they definitely are now. His face feels like it’s on fire. 

But he leaves the camera where it is, and moves back so they’ll be in frame. Xande comes with him, more relaxed than he was when the conversation first turned in this direction. 

Either he’s putting it on to make Guizo feel better, or he’s genuinely thought it through and decided he doesn’t care. At this point, Guizo doesn’t think he should press. He trusts Xande to tell him if doesn’t want to do something. 

Now he just has to figure out… how to do this. 

“Um…” 

He cups Xande’s cheeks, trying to keep him in place so he doesn’t do something stupid like miss. Xande doesn’t protest at the gesture. So, Guizo closes his eyes and leans in. 

It’s more of a press of lips against lips than anything. Which is maybe just what kissing is if you want a middle ground between a peck and using tongue. 

Xande’s hand cups the back of his neck, fingers curling into the short hair there. Then he tilts his head a little, and things feel… mostly the same, but a little less clumsy. 

Guizo’s entire body feels like it’s on fire now. And there’s a nervousness trembling throughout it. 

But apart from that, it’s… nice? 

It’s nice because it’s Xande. He doesn’t really see what the big deal is. 

He pulls away. 

“I don’t know how to do the whole…” he waves his hand around, “tongue thing.”

“Me neither.” Xande says quietly instead of teasing him for his lack of experience. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Xande pulls his mask up and moves away from him, eyes darting to the camera. Guizo goes to turn it off. “Was it nice?”

Maybe Guizo doesn’t get what all the fuss is about because he’s just bad at kissing. 

“It was better than every other kiss I’ve had so far.”

“C’mon, man.” Xande rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “That’s not a high bar to clear.” 

Guizo bites back a comment about how he can’t really see himself bothering to kiss anyone else unless it’s Xande. That would definitely be taken the wrong way. 

“I liked it.” He settles on instead. “Thanks again, man. Did you?”

“Ah, Gui,” Xande ducks his head, shy, “I did. But between you and me it was my first kiss, you know? I don’t have much to compare it to.”

Guizo almost drops his camera. 

“Xande!” He exclaims, voice pitching up with his distress. “Why would you—why would you say yes? It should’ve been with someone special!” 

Guizo doesn’t particularly feel strongly about that. But—especially after the teasing from his friends recently—he knows other people do. 

“You are special, Guizo.” Then he pauses, the words seeming to register. “Not in a gay way though, you know? But you’re my best friend.”

Guizo laughs, and claps his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. You’re special to me, too.”

“And the girlfriend thing is still on the table, by the way.” Xande says. 

He knows it’s just Xande being nice. But it still makes discomfort prickle through him. 

And, well, if Xande isn’t going to drop it…

“I don’t want a girlfriend.” He tries to say it as casually as he can. Like it’s no big deal.

“Ah, okay.” Xande nods to himself. Like Guizo has just confirmed a suspicion of his. “So you are gay.“

“No! I don’t want a boyfriend, either! I think.”

“You think?”

Guizo messes with the camera settings, trying to relieve restless, agitated energy. 

“I’m happy with what I have, you know?” He says, trying to sound as certain as possible. Because he is certain. “I’m happy with filming, and messing around with occult stuff and aliens, and being with The Five. I’m happy with you being my best friend. I don’t need anything else.”

“Oh. Okay, I get it.” Xande looks a little chastised. “I’m sorry, Guizo, I just—“

“No, no, it’s fine.” Guizo sits down as a substitute for lying down in despair. “I know it’s weird. You’re taking it really well, honestly.”

Before this, Guizo was never really worried that any of his friends would assume he’s gay just because he’s not looking for a girlfriend. Was never worried that they might treat him differently because of it. 

But Xande drawing that conclusion and not calling him a slur and running for the hills is good news, at least. Not that Guizo would think he’d do that, but you never know with people sometimes. And it is nice to know even if it’s not actually relevant to him. 

“It’s not that weird…” Xande protests. 

He flicks all his camera settings back to normal. He could probably film some ground shots to add some tension. Low angles, make the viewer feel small—all that. 

“It’s not even normal weird like being gay.” Guizo counters, tilting the camera up and panning it to the side. “It’s just weird.”

Finally, Xande sits down next to him, and nudges Guizo’s shoulder with his. 

“Okay, it’s a little weird.” He agrees. “But we like weird, you know?”

“I mean, I’m not bothered by it.” Guizo doesn’t stop recording, but he does stop focusing on filming. He leans against Xande. “But I’m glad you’re not, either.” 

“Of course I’m not!” Xande throws an arm around his shoulder. “And, Guizo, I’m serious—if anyone starts giving you shit about it, you just give me the signal and I’ll step in, okay?”

“Thank you.” Guizo says with a laugh. “What should the signal be?”

“Man…” Xande hums, thinking. “You make eye contact with me?”

Guizo bats at him. 

“What if I do it accidentally?” 

“Ah, true…” Another pause as he thinks. “Make eye contact with me and say my name.”

“No, no, that won’t work, either.” He bats at Xande again. “What if they ask me who I have a crush on, you know? I can’t just respond by looking at you and saying your name!”

“Also true…” Xande nods absently. Another pause. “Maybe we think of something later, okay, Gui? I’m kind of hungry.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

Guizo stands up, and offers a hand to Xande. 

This went… better than he expected. Not that he particularly expected it to go a certain way until they started talking and dread filled him. 

Honestly, if it wasn’t for all the teasing after the kiss he probably wouldn’t have even known anything was weird with him until, like… at least another few years. Maybe if the others started dating, or getting married. 

Now, though? Now that it’s been brought up, it’s hard to ignore. His lack of desire—the elephant in the room. 

But at least he has Xande. 

——

messy little thing… you can probably tell I was trying very hard not to place them in a location pfft

but I hope you enjoyed \o/!!

[dontbesoweirdkira]

For a cunty request can I have a time traveler reader with any of mafia? Maybe Vico or Tommy?

A/N: oh this is going to be hilarious! Thank you for requesting…stay cunty😘✨ (hopefully I did your idea some justice. I didn’t entirely know what scenario you wanted so just some general thoughts)

Warnings: ⚠️a little bit of Joe Barbaro ⚠️

Masterlist

Requests: open 24/7

I’ve chosen Vito because have you ever seen those memes where it’s like, “a victorian child would probably have an aneurysm over this”, yeah…that would be Tommy if you appeared in his timeline

Like that man is stressed the hell out enough! Don’t go ruining his life further with your shenanigans.

Besides Vito would definitely take this far better than anyone else with the exception of the characters from mafia iii. My brother has been to prison, shipped out to war, and now suddenly in the mob…he’s definitely seen some unspeakable shit..

Every soldier has at least one paranormal experience…for him it just happened to be your dumb ass.

He’s not amused by you in the slightest at first..what the fuck is an iPhone and why are you dressed like an idiot? Are you high on something or just unwell?????

“Look Lady, I really don’t have time for this shit and I have places to be. If you need something there’s a Salvation Army right down the block..”

Of course you keep persisting that you’re perfectly fine and that you’re actually from the future. I can just imagine Vito speed walking away with an exasperated expression plastered across his face; you're just continuing to spew nonsense as you follow him.

“I-I don’t want to hear you talk about your fucking bullshit future! Please just go away.”

This man’s blood pressure is through the roof at this point. He’s even trying to physically shoo you away, if it wasn’t for his background he would’ve taken you to the police department.

“Okay do you want a dollar? Huh, will that make you finally stop yapping?? Actually, here take 20 and go away.”

Eventually he just gives up. You’re the most hard headed individual he’s ever encountered and he let’s you follow him. You’re obviously not giving this up.

Partly thinks this is some kind of prank Joe set up to get back at him.

So naturally his first instinct is go go find Joe because if he has to hear the crazy shit you’re spewing, so does he.

Worst. Mistake. Ever.

At first Joe is also trying to get you to leave his buddy alone. Even offering you money just like Vito did earlier but then a light bulb goes off!

Joe’s main mission in life is to piss off Vito and for him…golden opportunity right here for free.

“Sooo…Y/N was it? Tell me, if you are from the future, will Vito always be this fugly?”

“Oh shut the hell up for once would ya? This is a serious situation we have on our hands and you think this is the time to be making jokes??”

“Maybe not fugly but he will end up being a grumpy old man with no wife or kids.”

Joe absolutely loves you and you’re now besties

“Oohhhh no. You two will not be in cahoots!! Joe stop fucking around.”

Don’t worry, Vito eventually comes around to you. He kind of has to now that Joe is riding this thing so hard.

Neither one of them truly believes you though. At least not at first. It’s kind of difficult to prove until the event you’re warning them about actually comes to pass.

You are able to tell them extremely detailed facts and information about themselves and the mafia. You warn them about Henry and give tips about different tasks.

This made them suspicious of you and blew you off as some kind of narc for knowing so damn much. It wasn’t until things started becoming true, they came running right back to you.

They’re both feeling a mixture of excitement, concern and confusion.

Joe doesn’t understand that you only know main historical events and wants you to give him the winning numbers to the lottery.

Vito on the other hand thinks you’re some sort of crazy psychic or maybe one of them aliens from the film he had just seen.

Either way you’re definitely not from here.

Ultimately Vito doesn’t entirely know how to handle all of this. I don’t think anyone would ever be able to fully process this happening. After all you’ve predicted and protected him from, he just accepts that you’re who you say you are.

You’re not a threat to him and Joe seems to really enjoy having you around so I guess he doesn’t really mind you either. He lets you stay at his place too. It’s the least he could do after all your help and the shit he gave.

At least you’re not as bad as that kid, Marty.

[ursachaotic]

Ok this might be a little weird and I want to tell this to you anonymously because I don't want to make you feel pressured into answering ^^' (let it be known I am a mutual of yours & I know we don't talk but I think you're really cool <:) Your genuine love for Gravity Falls and you excitement about The Book of Bill is kind of. Helping me rekindle old love for the franchise. I stopped interacting with it more or less involuntarily (bad experience with bad people) and felt bad that I can't get into it but honestly your interest did help me rediscover it, or at least start to do so. Like I've picked up my old Journal 3 a couple times this week, I thought about re-watching the show, I bookmarked the cheapest "to be released" listings for TBOB in the online shops in my country, I have the thisisnotawebsitedotcom bookmarked too. I've been picking up my hand-made-from-a-towel Bill plush and just looking at him. Thinking about trying to find his hat and make him a new bow because I took them off when it was just too awful to perceive.

I hope this isn't weird. I genuinely don't mean to be weird or trigger your anxiety or anything, I mean it. Your love for this show and everything around it is helping me a bit to rediscover my own, which is great, because as someone with interest in folklore, the paranormal and cryptids, GF was an amazing thing to discover. I myself made a grown up version of Dipper, who's a full-on cryptid hunter and wrote a lot of stories about him, later turning that concept into my own thing because it was too painful to keep but I loved all of the creatures I made and the lore and stuff. So I just took my ideas and moved it into my own thing, which is currently my most developed universe with my most beloved ocs.

This is lengthy. Sorry. Again, I genuinely don't want to creep you out, just, I'm glad I found you and your art and your comic and that you're so excited about your interests. Please know that you are never bad or annoying for loving what you love, please continue being so passionate about things, because it's really cool. You're cool. I hope you know that ^^ and, well, if not, I'm telling you. You're cool and your work is amazing.

(If you would prefer me to pm you feel free to post about it here or your personal? blog, whichever you're cool with, I'll probably see it and can just pm you with like "haha yeah I'm the long rekindled-interest anon" or you can answer this or just read & delete, I really don't mind if you don't want to answer ^^. Just, wanted to say this. Again I hope this isn't weird ;w; I swear I'm just a little adhd guy who used to love GF a lot, and possibly might be okay enough to start interacting with it on his own. And your love for the franchise helped.)

Hi this made me tear up (iN A GOOD WAY I PROMISE AHSDOFISADH I CRY WHEN I'M HAPPY LOL), this is seriously so, so sweet. Thank you so much for sending me this!! 🥹 I'm really glad that all of my silly Gravity Falls stuff has helped you get back into the show, and I hope you enjoy it and enjoy the Book of Bill if you get it!

Also, this seriously means a lot to me, especially because I'm actually really self-conscious about my interests and passions haha. I'm terrified of being seen as annoying, and there's been a lot of times recently where I've shut down out of the fear of being annoying about my interests. But I'm starting to not give a shit about whether or not people find me annoying online?? I want to be super vocal about something I adore so damn much cause it makes me happy! I've also been burnt out on drawing for a WHILE, but reading this book has given me so much inspiration, and drawing feels really fun and exciting again for the first time in a while! I struggle with depression a lot too, but my love for Bill and excitement about what's to come for the series has helped me feel really happy and kept me going for the first time in a bit. So, while I'm still scared of being perceived as annoying, I'm really happy right now and I want to keep doing stuff that makes me happy, even if that's just drawing Bill antagonizing me / my sona lmao. Seriously, thank you so much for sending me this! It's incredibly sweet and I'm really grateful that you did ;w;

Also you can absolutely reach out over DMs!! I would love to talk, but I hope you're having a wonderful day!! 🥹❤️

[sparrowhero]

i love ur shigaraki dating hcs post! could u do a current one as well? thx!!

Sure thing! thank you❤️❤️

Shigaraki Dating Headcanons (Paranormal Liberation Front Era) (LOV Reader)

READMORE FOR CURRENT SEASON SPOILERS!

The biggest change in him is confidence, the way he carries himself. As he's grown and developed with the last year of experiences under his belt, Shigaraki has finally grown into his own person out from under his teacher's shadow. He's still a bit of a clingy guy, I don't think that's ever going to change, and he's still going to glare at the occasional person who gets TOO close, but he's growing up and learning to deal with his jealousy his own way. Dabi now teases him that he's "all grown up" with his feelings. He tells him to shut up and go away. The more things change, the more things stay the same.

He makes sure the rest of the PLF knows what's up and to treat you with the same amount of respect he gets. You have pretty much free reign to do whatever you want and handle your own responsibilities while he's getting juiced up in Dr. Garaki's underground lab. He doesn't want you there at first, but honestly, hearing your voice every now and then and being able to hold your hand makes it easier.

You two share a room for convenience sake. Now that he's got a handle on his quirk, his memories, he doesn't think he needs to be separated from you any more than necessary. He knows now, more than ever before, that he couldn't and wouldn't ever hurt the person who has been there for him all this time.

It's after he regains his memories that he realizes exactly what drew him to you, and continues to draw him to you. "Don't reject me anymore." He had been rejected and ignored for all of his childhood for, his feelings pushed aside. You've never rejected him in that way-- even if his feelings for you weren't reciprocated at first, you never looked at him the way that the people in his memories did and offer that kind of hypocritical kindness.

He wants to destroy everything-- that's still true. He's hurt, he's angry, and he hates-- but it's different with you and his comrades. He wants the League to be the seed that his new society grows from, you especially. He wants to give you everything you want, no questions asked.

Since he has his image as the leader to think about, he can't snuggle up to you as much as he'd like-- he doesn't have the same kind of shamelessness that Dabi has. When meetings are over and everyone else files out, this is usually when he asks you to stay for a little longer so he can get his fill of holding you close. He really doesn't kiss you anywhere that someone can walk in on since being interrupted is one of his biggest pet peeves.

He first tells you the words "I love you" (to be perfectly clear, it's actually "I think I love you.") during the nonstop chase with Gigantomachia. You were right there by his side, covered in dirt, sweat and blood, but still tried to comfort him as best as you could. Offering your shoulder or lap as a pillow, trying to take an extra watch so he could (attempt) to sleep just a bit more. While he was out of it for a good chunk of that time period, that was crystal clear in his memory.

Note: If you're not among the baddest bitches in the League and can't handle yourself in a fight of this magnitude, you're spending a lot of time in Mr. Compress' marble. Sorry. It doesn't make it much easier and you DO need to leave it every so often, but Shigaraki would rather play it safe than risk you dying. He'd rather have your permission, but he'll settle for asking for forgiveness afterwards.

"I'm not THAT tired, really!" You protest as he gives you a long, hard look, clearly looking over your current state. "Compress. Marble." "NO!!" He sighs as he takes off his glove to do what he's been asked. "...Please leave me out of your lover's disputes after this."

It's probably BECAUSE he was a little out of it and going through it like few had before that he was able to say it so clearly, with so little hesitation. He says it during the downtime between Machia's activation cycles, resting on your shoulder, and then immediately goes unconscious before you can say anything back. A simple and pure expression of his feelings. The rest of the League would have been touched if they all hadn't been on their last legs too.

Shigaraki likes to nuzzle up against the palm of your hands when you can have a soft, quiet moment. It doesn't matter if your hands are warm or soft, callused or cold, all that matters is that they're yours. He could identify you just by this in a room full of a thousand people. You ground him, even when he risks losing himself to AFO's voice in his head.

You're one of the few things he'll argue with AFO about. At first, the old bastard was fine with you around because Shigaraki needed allies, experiences, and the 'reward' of you being around is a good control tactic in AFO's eyes, but he also didn't count on Shigaraki truly falling in love with you once he was in jail. If AFO had his way, it would have started and stopped at a puppy love he could have stamped out, but it's a little too late now. Watch your back as best you can, since anything that compromises his control over Shigaraki is considered a threat.

[arsonyte]

Crack A Smile, Sir (Egon Spengler x OFC)

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Rating: General

Author’s Notes: As requested by @spenglerposting, this fic is inspired by Joy Again’s “Looking Out For You”. Barely proofread (I tried!), please bear with me.

This is a love song for a girl who will never know it's about her I know it's pretty stupid, but I'm much too shy to tell her She's beaming that smile, all the while I'm all choked up on my own throat, I guess there is no hope

Sweat running cold down the back of his neck, Egon Spengler found himself facing an empty firehouse, almost five minutes before midnight.

Panting, gasping, clutching his suitcase against his chest, he chastises himself inside his head. Peter after all did warn him that he will be coming home to a dark lab if he didn’t stand up from his usual spot in the library. He didn’t tell him, amidst all the racket Peter was making (gathering all the librarian’s negative attention towards him, as usual), that he was too busy hiding in the library on that one miserable Christmas Eve. 

He was hiding from you.

You may be a contractor bio analyst/technician for the now-famed “Ghostbusters”, more like the friendly neighborhood Paranormal Exterminators, but you’ve known Dr. Peter Venkman, Dr. Ray Stantz, and especially, Dr. Egon Spengler from your time at the Columbia University. You were some wide-eyed biotech graduate student who may have been initially dragged into Dr. Venkman’s psychic “experiments”, but thanks to the wit and grace of Dr. Stantz, you completely saw through Peter’s machinations. Despite being unable to coax you into his wiles, Venkman still became one of your good friends, allowing you to consult and work with Ray regarding your research on plasma biology.

It was Dr. Spengler who was actually hard to crack. Ray’s closest friend usually worked at the back of their office, hunched over some energy-measurement meter of some kind, with sparks from his solder being reflected on those round spectacles. Whenever you talked, consulted, exchanged notes with the jolly Dr. Stantz, you’d barely hear from the other academian, unless he had to interject with a correction or an obscure fact which Ray would just enthusiastically confirm and explore. Most of the time, he’d just stay quiet in his corner, shoving another piece of Cheez-it in his mouth.

You somehow got used to the three differing personalities in the Parapsychology department -- the flirty Venkman, the enthusiastic Stantz, and the ever-elusive Spengler. However, the word “elusive” took on a new meaning that night you offered him the last Twinkie in the box you brought in that one long night you agreed to help Stantz and Spengler with their ghost research. The ever coveted Twinkie almost fell into Peter’s conniving hands, but by some stroke of luck -- you were the last person who got ahold of it (and despite you being a usual fixture in their department, Peter wouldn’t steal it out of a guest’s hands -- a lady guest’s hand even) and instead of eating it, you stuck your hand out and offered it to the sulking scientist who regretted not getting to do the groceries the night before. 

Things were never the same after that, but you -- being the oblivious scientist yourself buried in her own work, barely noticed it.

First it was those helpful comments when you were building your own version of a P.K.E. meter to help Ray test his plasma subjects. The helpful comments were also accompanied by a few tweaks by his own hands here and there, and completely ignoring your exasperated “Please let me do it, Dr. Spengler!” noises behind him. 

Then there was the unopened box of crunch bars left at your station. And the spare notebook that was just handed out to you, without any hesitations, when you ran out of pages in the middle of an experiment. And the expensive Parker sign pen almost thrust in your nose when your pen ran out of ink. And that one evening when you woke up in the darkness of the lab, having fallen asleep beside the microscope. You found yourself covered in a thick blanket you’ve never seen before, but it wasn’t similar to what Ray often used (which he just often took out Venkman’s cabinet). But it wouldn’t have been Venkman (as he’s busy dating his current psychic assistant), nor could it have been Ray (as he left the lab five hours ago to chase a lead). You started getting ideas when you heard the crunch of a Cheez It coming from the other room.

You swore that you were so close to making Egon Spengler smile (a feat that most of his students wanted to do before their graduation day), and you did see the corner of his lip twitch upward when you correctly assumed the correct equation to the experiment they were doing before they ran off to the New York Public Library. Well, right after that they were expelled by the Dean and you had to go looking for another department to work with to finish your mini-thesis. And the rest was history.

It was barely six months when you were looking for a part-time internship to cover your requirements and you got that phonecall from Ray. Enthusiastic as ever, almost hollering on the phone, Dr. Stantz talked about their first catch and the need to have someone come in and help analyze the subjects. Maybe come in for a few days, provide the results, and then back out. It wasn’t a full time job, the pay wasn’t going to be as steady, but it had everything you needed to work on your CAPSTONE project. Ray didn’t even have to beg -- you immediately said yes.

You did it for your studies. You can say that. You do wanted to graduate on time -- somehow. But somehow, there was that tiny voice in your head wondering if you would ever get the chance to make Dr. Spengler smile before you graduate. Little did you know, it wasn’t really Ray’s idea to invite you to join their cause.

It was almost as quiet as your lab days in Columbia, but it was chaos the moment the fire alarm was rung. Then there would be some days when the plasma subjects would pile up and you would find yourself sleeping over, curled up on the single sofa in the middle of the lab. Somehow, there were nights when you’d wake up in that same comforter you recognize from Columbia, and you couldn’t help but peer around the corner as if waiting to hear a bag of Twinkie opening itself. 

There was that one night when you finished your work early, turned in the papers, and almost crashed into the boys who just arrived on their remodeled Cadillac.

“Going somewhere, Y/N?” You heard Spengler address you with your last name after you greeted Ray. This wasn’t the first time you saw him in the Ghostbuster jumpsuit, but there was something that made you step back when he towered over you. (Spengler on the other hand, wondered if you were startled with the smoking ghost trap hanging from a cord on his hand.) 

“She’s got a hot date!” Venkman called out behind him as he entered Hook & Ladder Company 8′s double doors.

You barely noticed the “Huh” that escaped Spengler’s mouth, nor the way Ray signaled to him, crossing his hands back and forth, trying to deny what Venkman just stated.

“It’s not a date!” You were used to Venkman being ridiculous that way. “I was going to return a senior’s book-bound thesis--”

“That’s how it starts!” Venkman’s voice now came from within the doors, causing Stantz to palm his face. Spengler, however, wasn’t listening. “Where will your dinner be?” He asked as if he wanted to take you there, swinging the ghost trap out of the way so he can step closer to you without driving you away again.

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s just at the Galleria around the corner,” you gestured, making a face at Stantz, as if a plea for help to get out of the situation. “I’ll be back next week--”

He already had his back turned to you and Stantz when he looked over his shoulder and quietly asked, “Is the report on the Chinatown Ghost subject done?”

You blinked at him. “Yes,” you answered. “I left it on your desk.”

Ray wondered if you were that oblivious to see the sad glint behind Egon’s thick glasses. “Good,” he answered flatly. “See you next week.”

What you didn’t know was Egon actually hovered around Janine’s station the rest of the night, asking if there was any ghost incident call coming from the Galleria. Venkman left an off comment wondering if Spengler would like to haunt the restaurant himself.

It may have already seemed obvious to the boys, but it wasn’t that obvious to you. Or, you just didn’t want to recognize it, thinking that maybe Egon just thought of you as one of his good friends.

You start having doubts when you find a note underneath his microscope that read: 

If anything happens to us -- then this microscope set is yours. 

P.S. The black trunk beside the fridge is yours too. Take care of it. 

You’ve always noticed that black trunk beside the refrigerator, which you often piled the completed reports you have regarding the ghost cases. Pushing the wad of yellowing papers aside, you managed to clear the lid of the trunk and eventually unlocked it, only to discover dozens and dozens of petri dishes inside. The strong odor of molds filled your head.

“Huh,” you found yourself mimicking Egon during that night when you went to the Galleria. You wonder where the boys were. (There was a gaping hole in the roof that day you found the note, anyway.) The last thing you knew they were working on was an incident happening at a Manhattan High Rise in the Upper East Side, and about some Sumerian God named Gozer.

Luckily, they were back and hailed as heroes the next day. Of course, the work tripled, and the more testing and paperwork had to be done over the next few nights (with Janine now giving you an extra hand with all the chaos going on. You did help out with answering the phone too, after that Gozer incident.)

You never touched that black trunk again. But there was something in Dr. Spengler’s eyes when he saw you waiting at Hook and Ladder when they got back from that Manhattan high rise. For a moment, you thought you would be able to brag that you were able to see Egon Spengler’s pearly whites on Graduation Day.

Speaking of Graduation Day, it was getting closer. The more you had to focus on your culminating project, the more you started to miss appointments with the boys in Hook and Ladder 8. At one point, you felt bad talking on the payphone with Ray, telling him to find another analyst for the meantime as you had to focus on finishing your thesis.

“You mean to come back right, Y/N?” Ray sounded worried on the phone. It made you feel bad. “Someone’s gonna be upset if you can’t finish the numbers on the Granada Residence case.”

You found yourself chuckling. “Venkman hates that case. He’ll be fine.”

Silence was found on the other side of the line. “I wasn’t talking about Venkman.” That was the first day you started thinking about it. About him.

Towards Christmas, you were slowly pulling out your things from the Ghostbusters Firehouse, but these were mostly things you can fit in a box. You were a transient contractor after all. You were on the curbside waiting for a taxi when a tall figure almost bumped into you, carrying a giant brown box.

“Y/N?” The deep voice made you turn around, and you find yourself looking up at Egon who found himself staring at the brown paper box. “Y-You’re leaving?”

You smirked at him. “Didn’t Ray tell you, Dr. Spengler?” To your surprise, he only slowly nodded.

However, it was your turn to stare at the box in his arms. “Wait a minute--” you exclaimed. “Did you have the coffee maker fixed?”

Egon shrugged. That coffee maker has been broken ever since that incident with the containment unit. Luckily, you weren’t in that day the EPA stormed Hook and Ladder 8, but you were there when the repairs were being made. You had to work through a leaking ceiling and without coffee for days on end. You did get coffee from the deli around the corner, and you were kind enough to buy the boys their own cups of coffee during those days after the Manhattan High Rise incident.

“Yes,” there was some sort of glee in Egon’s voice. “And I’ve got a new bag of Arabica beans with a wonderful roast that I know you’re fond of--” He finds himself rambling amidst another taxi passing you by. “I was wondering if you’d like to have a cup of coffee with--” he clears his throat. “Us, before you go.”

It was weird. It was awkward. But it was Spengler. It was what made him Spengler. It suddenly felt something refreshing, almost rejuvenating.

“I can’t,” you wrinkled your nose at him as you looked at the nth taxi that passed you by. “I’ve got this report to present at the University.” 

Trying to ignore that crestfallen air forming about the man, you quickly muttered, “I will be back Christmas Eve though! I still have some more things to pick up.”

The “oh” that escaped Egon felt like a breath of fresh air. “On Christmas Eve?--”

You nodded. “I’ll be there,” you murmured as you tried flagging the yellow taxi that ignored you again. Fucking New York taxis. “Walker will be helping me carry the rest of the papers--”

You saw him blink behind those thick specs. “Walker?” Egon’s flat tone was returning. “The Guy from the Galleria?”

You shrugged at him. “Yeah, the classmate--” you corrected him. 

“Huh.”

You turned around to find him walking towards the Firehouse doors, his face obscured from you once more. “Let’s hope he doesn’t like coffee,” were the last words you heard from him before the door closed.

It was Christmas Eve. And that was the racket that Pete was making the library about. 

“Don’t be so silly Spengy--” he was exclaiming as he flopped on the chair beside the bespectacled, disgruntled scientist. “Those boxes will be out before midnight and you’ll never get to bug that girl about the mitochondria count on the plasmic sensor--”

“Venkman,” Egon said sternly.

“So what if Galleria Boy is there with her? What if he’s just there to hold her papers?” Venkman muttered while eating Spengler’s unfinished bar of chocolate to further aggravate him. “You fixed that coffee maker for what? A couple of dollars and not even one cup brewed--”

There was something that made Spengler look at the library’s Grandfather clock which was almost thirty minutes to twelve, causing him to grab all the books on the table and leave Venkman alone on his chair, who was starting to get the stink-eye from the library admin.

“Finally!” Venkman boomed before being swapped on the shoulder by the elderly librarian.

But now, it was already twelve. He got there a few minutes to Christmas and the Hook and Ladder 8 remained empty. He must have been too late.

Egon Spengler walked over to Janine’s empty reception desk and slumped on a guest chair in front of it, still hugging his suitcase. He almost kicked himself by not making it obvious. Venkman hated it whenever Egon took his comforter from his cabinet and draped it over you whenever you were sleeping. It became a habit for him to leave a small treat on your table whenever you left or weren’t looking, and he found joy when you looked around wondering from who it came from, before opening it and putting it in your mouth. He decided one day to have the coffee maker repaired after he saw you exhaustedly asking him if he wanted some too before you trudged miserably towards the deli. 

It was the small things. He frowned wondering if he shouldn’t have tried to hide it, and maybe for once you’d be smiling at him -- not at Venkman who made those stupid jokes, not at Ray who enthusiastically supported your ideas, not that Walker kid he had no idea about and probably slept in his class a long time ago. Him, who thought about leaving his spores and fungi collection to you in case Gozer got him and the guys.

Leaning back against the chair and sighing, Egon peered in the dark and tried to gain some resolve about the situation. I guess she’ll never know. I guess it’s best she doesn’t know.

That was when the Hook and Ladder door burst open.

Spengler was too consumed in his thoughts to recognize the small steps that wandered in, only coming to his senses when that person opened the lamp on Janine’s desk.

“Dr. Spengs???” You exclaimed, staring at the Ghostbuster whose glasses were misting with the cold. Or was it? “You’re still here?”

He stared at you, wondering if he was just imagining things.

“Didn’t expect to see you here -- on Christmas even -- all alone,” you said unbelievably, shaking your head at him.

“But--” he started, setting his suitcase down to fix his glasses. He couldn’t believe it was you. “But I thought--”

You placed a hand on your waist and sighed. “I was here,” you answered the question he couldn’t finish forming in his mouth. “I almost cleaned the place if I wasn’t your contractor,” you laughed, brandishing the firehouse key at him. “All those journals on ghost formations--”

“Any self-serving thief would go for the proton packs--”

You shook your head at him. “Eh, I’m a researcher--” you laughed. “I’d be going after your journals.”

Was that a shadow of a smile on his face or was it just your imagination? Is this really happening?

“And that Walker guy--” he started slowly, brown eyes slowly appraising your figure in front of him.

You shrugged. “Went home to celebrate Christmas with his family. Left me alone running after the journal I left--” You picked it out of the mess that is Janine’s papers. “Here.”

A cold breeze came through the door. Suddenly, for Egon, it really felt like Christmas.

“So, will you stay and have coffee with me?”

You couldn’t believe it.

You are definitely going to brag to your batchmates that Dr. Egon Spengler had the brightest smile you had ever seen.

[insufficientchill]

👻🎩🧸 for the miscellaneous symbol headcanons ask game?

Ahh thank you so much! This was fun. <3 Con and Kell in combination, since they go together.

👻 - How does your muse handle feeling scared? Do they enjoy horror? Do they believe in the paranormal? What calms your muse down? Do they have any scary stories?

Conall is extremely good at compartmentalizing and, while he is frequently afraid (of falling, of failing, of not being enough), he remains extremely reserved and collected in most circumstnces. Even when he’s alone he tends to tell himself that he can’t be afraid—can’t in the sense of mustn’t but also can’t in the sense of isn’t able to, because pawns don’t feel. Kell mostly notices this as Conall constantly flexing and stretching his fingers, and, assuming they’re just sore from casting, Kell will catch hold of his hands absentmindedly while talking about something else and massage them the way he’d massage a comrade’s sword-hand after a long day on the road. Fortunately this does in fact help. 

Kell will happily tell you he’s a coward, but what he really means is that he’s not particularly bothered about honour or glory, and he’ll gladly cut a deal to end a fight quicker. Actual in-the-moment fear is something he’s almost desensitized to; he’s had a lot of near-death experiences, and at this point he’s good at laughing them off. He knows some hair-raising ghost stories and tall tales, and he also knows how to string them out as long as someone keeps buying drinks.

They both absolutely believe in the paranormal (how could they not). Conall doesn’t particularly enjoy horror—fiction generally is a luxury he doesn’t allow himself unless he feels it reveals something useful about the world—but Kell likes any rollicking story with twists and turns.

🎩 - What would your muse wear to a formal event? Do they dress more modestly, or do they go all out?

Kell hates looking too pulled together—it kind of undermines his whole easy-lazy-please-underestimate-me thing—so, unless under duress, his preferred formal-wear involves open collars, leather breeches and rag-and-bone-shop velvets. He sort of cultivates an air of decayed luxury, with mismatched jewellery and even more kohl than usual. Might swing for a black silk eyepatch, maybe. There’s probably some cologne going on (smoke, sandalwood, damask rose). 

Conall’s default approach to formalwear is to ask if what he’s wearing now will do, and if not, to find the plainest black robes possible: he’s just a loyal servant, after all. It's not the choosing that bothers him so much as the spotlight on choice; really he's fairly picky about what he wears day-to-day, as long as no one points out that he seems to have a preference. Kell has to cajole him into dressing up—c’mon, people are going to think I don’t treat you right—and even then he’s so unsettled by the process he just ends up telling Kell to pick something for him anyway. (He might, after too long trying on clothes, let his eyes fix on a silver-chain pendant for a moment—moonstone, set it sterling—and Kell might buy it for him, or nick it, depending on whether he likes the seller. Kell also tries to get Con to do “something nice” with “all that hair,” but Conall usually doesn’t got for it.)

🧸 - Does your muse own any sentimental objects from their past? What makes it/them so special?

Kell still has the bootknife that was his first dagger, left to him after its owner—a hard-living “old man” who, in retrospect, can’t have been more than 45 or so—fell in a meaningless little scuffle on the mountain road. It’s not a well-made or elegant thing—a heavy-bladed hunting knife, honed and sharpened down over years into a poorly balanced, oddly narrow blade that happens to fit between the joints of a knight’s full-plate—but it has a wooden handle polished to a shine by many hands, and it still serves its purpose. 

Conall has a pouch on his belt with a few things in it: a smooth river stone, a steel fishhook, a cracked and charred red gem cut for a pommel, a single dried flower, a twist of leather cord. He has no memory of what these things mean, but he takes them out sometimes to look at anyway. 

Miscellaneous Symbol Headcanons <3

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.8k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: threesome, nipple play, riding, unprotected sex, dom!taehyung, sub!?, restraints, blindfold, degradation, praise

A/N: it's my first time writing tgm smut in so long i hope it's okay ;;;-;

DAY TWENTY-SIX

Unable to fall deeply into sleep, when you wake fitfully at half past six in the morning, you decide to give up on it entirely.

A bath wakes you up slowly and gently, in no rush to clean yourself with a soapy loofah, the sweet smell of orange blossom lifting your mood just slightly. No matter how hard you scrub at your skin, Jin’s touch lingers beneath the surface like a tattoo, the reminder that you’d willingly chosen to cut him off from you that elimination day, and that your decision was keeping him from you.

The previous night, you’d spent hours with a hand cradling your cheek, trying to work out what the kiss even meant. A farewell, a consolation prize, a promise for patience? Either way, it just felt cruel to you. You rub harder, covering yourself in the foamed soap and watching it dissolve into the water.

By the time you dry yourself, well over an hour has passed, and the pangs of hunger start to flare off inside your stomach. You dress quickly, thoughtlessly, and sneak out of your door to the complete silence of the second storey. Nobody else seems to be awake yet, so you take your chance to go down and start on some breakfast.

The selection is relatively bleak to your lazy body, unwilling to make anything that requires the kind of effort the two eldest men tended to give for a meal. In the end, you tug some leftover curry from the back of the fridge, giving it a stir and setting it to heat up in the microwave.

The rhythmic whir and countdown combined with your lack of sleep is enough to have you feeling weak, slumping on the counter top. You rest your heavy head for a moment, pillowing it with your arm, and watch the dish turn around and around and…

“-matter, we’ll just wait and find out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust hyung. It’ll be fine. Can you pass me the- no, just beside it, the soy sauce- thank you. Should be ready soon.”

“Mhm, smells good.”

Adjusting to your sloped return to consciousness, it is the inviting smell that greets you after your hearing. A deep, meaty aroma is lifted with spices, making your mouth water.

The moment you shift, a sharp pain runs down your spine, settling at the back of your neck. You grunt, eyes squeezing shut at the ache.

“There she is. Must’ve been tired, poor thing.” The first one grows louder, sounding close to you as fingers reach out to tap your shoulder. “Wake up, sweetheart. Let’s get you something to eat.”

You groan again, lifting your heavy body up enough to prop your elbows on the table and press your hands against your eyes, willing coherence to sink back in. “Morning,” you croak, though by the way you feel, it could very well be evening.

The figure behind you - Yoongi, by his smooth rumbling voice - moves back around into the kitchen, and your ears perk up with the clink of bowls on the countertop. Blinking blearily, you yawn and focus in on the second person.

Jungkook is lifting a heavy saucepan and carefully pouring a stew into three bowls, the pink of his tongue trapped between his lips. “‘S that enough?” he questions, biceps flexing beneath his shirt as he hovers with the pan.

Yoongi nods once, fiddling in the drawer for spoons and chopsticks, and quickly hands you a set with your bowl, steaming lightly.

You smile gratefully, reaching out to feel the heat radiating off the ceramic. “Thanks, Yoongi.” The last of your sleep fades away, and you gasp suddenly, shooting up ramrod straight. “Wait - Yoongi, Jungkook! You’re back!”

“Keen eye,” Yoongi drawls sarcastically, but a fond smile plays on his lips nonetheless as he blows on a spoonful of broth. “Dad checked out of the hospital around 5. He’s doing really well.”

“Oh, Yoongi, I’m so glad,” you gush, relief filling your system.

Yoongi, however, seems to grow somber, eyebrows drawing together. “It wasn’t all good news, though.”

You freeze. “What? What happened?”

Like the news pains him, Yoongi grimaces. Jungkook, too, looks absolutely crestfallen. In unison, they open their mouths with matching frowns.

“The restaurant sold out of lamb skewers.”

“I didn’t see a single gho- Oh, yeah, the lamb skewers,” Jungkook tacks on, deflating. “But we stopped by a market on the way home to buy some lamb so we could make our own.”

“We?” Yoongi asks incredulously. “I didn’t see any ‘we’ when you refused to chop vegetables just now.”

Jungkook makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. “I just suffered a paranormal experience, hyung, I was too shaky to handle a knife.”

“You just said you didn’t see any ghosts.”

The youngest huffs. “I felt them.”

Your head darts back and forth, lamb stew forgotten as you watch the playful rally between the two men. Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat, raising a single brow. “What; was there a poltergeist petting zoo on the fourth floor I wasn’t told about?”

“Their presence, hyung. I felt their presence. Taehyung even said he could feel a chilling aura coming through the phone and into his body, but he thinks it could’ve just been Jimin’s feet.”

Yoongi presses a few fingers to his temples like he’s getting a headache. “You mean to tell me I had to get my sickly father to pretend you were his son all for you to stay the night, and the only thing that happened was Taehyung getting possessed by the ghost of Jimin’s feet?”

Jungkook blinks once. “There was a vending machine that gave out free lollipops,” he offers.

“A vending…” Yoongi sighs, eyes slipping closed. “Jungkook, I think that’s for patients who get low blood sugar. For emergencies.”

“Oh.” Jungkook considers this for a moment. “I took five of them.”

“Of course you did. Alright, eat up, please. It’s getting cold.”

You quickly thank Yoongi for the meal with a bemused smile, chest feeling light at having the two back in your company, and Yoongi in a visibly better mood than the past two times you’d seen him. The three of you fall into an easy silence for a few moments, but it doesn’t last long as the others in the house begin to wake.

Namjoon is first down, getting over his initial surprise quickly and rapid-firing countless questions to Yoongi about his father, ensuring he truly was alright. Taehyung and Jimin are next, the former just about barrelling into Jungkook and Yoongi, tugging them into a bear hug as Jimin watches fondly from behind. When a bleary-eyed Hoseok comes down, he notices the breakfast before the company, letting out a relieved groan at a mouthful of broth and promptly choking on it as he processes the presence of Jungkook and Yoongi.

Finally, it’s Jin that takes the longest to wake, and when he turns the corner and spots them, his only response is a wordless sigh, and a silent hug. Despite that, his emotions radiate off him in waves, and you don’t doubt there are unsaid words shared between him and Yoongi. To your surprise, he breaks away after a moment and pulls Jungkook into a tight albeit brief embrace as well, patting him on the back with a quiet murmur you don’t catch.

It feels right, comfortable and calming to have all eight of you back in the Villa together. The short absence feels so much more extended when you’re used to the same company twenty-four hours a day, and having them all back in your immediate vicinity again feels like a hit of some intense high. The relief rushes through your system, and you catch yourself unconsciously counting heads over and over.

“So I guess we just sit here?” Hoseok asks at one point, interrupting the blanket of quiet that had descended over you as you ate. “Do you think we should text Sejin and tell him to come debrief us or what? It feels like we’re in limbo.”

“No need.” A new voice resonates from behind you, Sejin himself walking through the doorway.

Taehyung narrows his eyes to the point of almost closing them, glaring first at the producer and then at the dormant cameras in the top corners of the room.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t rolling just yet. I’ve just been waiting a while for you all to get sorted. I figured you deserved to at least eat first, Yoongi, Jungkook.”

“Well, we’ve eaten,” Yoongi confirms, oddly stiff, an unreadable expression darkening his features. “I guess that means it’s showtime again.”

Jungkook looks up at him from his hunched posture leaning on the countertop. “I bet a lot of them missed you, hyung. The viewers. They seemed really worried on Twitter.”

Yoongi blinks, shifting. “Missed-? I- I suppose it was sudden. We should probably get this thing up and running again so they aren’t concerned.”

As Sejin nods in confirmation and pulls out his phone to relay the message, you nearly miss the quirk at Jungkook’s lips at changing Yoongi’s attitude so easily. The two of them seem at ease with each other like nothing you’ve seen before. No doubt due to the time they’d spent together last night, and it warms your heart to see them standing so closely.

“Come on, then,” Sejin announces, belatedly lifting his gaze and putting his phone back away, the cameras installed around the room blinking back to life with their steady red blip. “Let’s move to the couches again.”

“Just like the good old days,” Jungkook sighs dreamily.

Jin raises a brow, taking a seat in the center of the middle couch, the two youngest jumping in on either side of him like toddlers ready for a bedtime story. You do your best to ignore him, still feeling sensitive from the night before. “You mean ‘just like four days ago?’”

From his left side, Taehyung huffs lightly, though makes no effort to distance himself at all from the eldest. “Time is a social construct.”

“Can we make a start?” Sejin questions, perched on the corner of the coffee table with his hands on this thighs. “I doubt the viewers are here to listen to you bicker.”

“Right you are,” Taehyung notes, nodding sagely, “they’re here for the good stuff.” He shares a glance with Jungkook, and in unison the two of them place their hands side-by-side directly on top of Jin’s crotch, glancing up at the cameras expectantly.

Jin clicks his tongue like his dick being used as a prop is little more than a mild inconvenience, making no move to push their hands away.

They do, however, when Sejin flattens a stare at the two of them. The youngest properly chastened, the producer finally looks around at all of you as a group. “For the sake of continuity and coherence, we’re picking up where we last left off: Limited Edition week. Yoongi, you’re the only one to already have completed your prompt-” the man puffs his chest at this, sharp eyes darting to you as Sejin speaks, “-so you’re done for the week. Namjoon, Hoseok, Jungkook and Jimin, I’m afraid you’re left with very little time to complete yours. Because of this, you’re no longer required to wait for a text message to start your scenes, and I’m also postponing the Fan Favourite vote until Monday morning to give you some additional time. We’ll unfortunately have to merge it with the elimination meeting. Today is already Friday, so do the best you can.”

“We won’t let you down,” Jungkook promises fiercely, conspicuously glancing down at Jin’s lap as if he’s about to use it for emphasis again.

Sejin sighs, shifting back, continuing on as if he didn’t hear the strangely passionate pact. “If anyone has forgotten their prompt, don’t hesitate to ask, otherwise the show is back on as per usual. Producer Kang is coming in at midday to set up the confessional booth again, so from this afternoon onwards, feel free to use it again to share your thoughts. I’m sure the viewers will have their fair share of questions for you as well. Understood?”

Most of you nod, content with the update. You try and fight the sickly flutter of anxiety in your chest that creeps up at the reminder of elimination, focusing instead on the side of you that’s relieved to have this level of normalcy back, and secretly pleased to have your cards filled up for the next few days. It feels like it’s been longer than it has, and you shift in your seat wondering who will approach you first out of the four men yet to fill their prompt.

Perhaps it won’t be Jungkook; he pushes himself off Jin and tiptoes to Sejin’s retreating figure, asking for a reminder on his prompt with shy pink cheeks. The producer lets out a weak laugh of bemusement and guides him out of the front door to escort him to the producing van outside.

The others seem to know what they’re doing, and you spy Namjoon and Hoseok with heads ducked together, Hoseok grinning at something Namjoon’s saying. The two have been growing closer lately, almost out of nowhere, and you’re curious if they’ll stick as two peas in a pod when it comes to the game, too.

The four of you that remain chill for a bit, making lazy conversation on how strange it feels being back on the clock again. It’s nice, being able to enjoy the time relatively care-free. Despite the overall weirdness of the competition in context to real life, it’s become a comfortable familiarity, and you welcome it back.

You could happily spend the whole morning there, were it not for the sharp bolt of pain that rushes up your spine when you turn to listen to something Jimin has to say.

Gasping, hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck instinctively, you squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation. From beside you, it takes no time for Jimin’s hands to find you, gently settling on your back and arm as he asks you if you’re okay.

“I fell asleep on the counter this morning,” you admit, trying not to move your head at all as you speak, “I think it messed up my neck.”

As your eyes untense and open again, you see Jimin’s rounded in concern, first at you and then glancing over at Tae in sober worry. His teeth are running over his lower lip over and over, a habit that he does in moments of stress and helplessness, and through the ache you can’t help but feel warm at his reaction.

“When does it hurt most?” you hear Taehyung ask, and it’s habit that makes you turn your head to face him.

“Fuck,” you curse thickly, shoulders hunching up against the tight feeling, “just when I turn it. Feels like a tug that shouldn’t be there.”

Yoongi and Jin are silent, and from your new angle of vision, you can see their apt focus on you, Yoongi going so far as to be shuffled half off  his couch, ready to jump up and give medical aid.

“It’s probably a crick in your neck,” Taehyung asks, and you spot his mop of browl curls fill your vision as he crouches in front of you and looks back over his shoulder. “Right, hyung?”

Yoongi hums in agreement. “Sounds like it. I can get a heat pack?”

“I have some upstairs,” Taehyung answers, “I think a massage would help a lot. Y/n, do you think you can make it upstairs?”

You take a moment to consider this, and gently shift your head around with small motions. Up and down seems to be fine, and left and right hurt the more you turn. “I think it’ll be okay,” you decide, “I didn’t really notice it that much until just now.”

“Okay.” Taehyung presses his lips together and stands up again, holding out his hand to you. Slowly, with several check-ins, he guides you upstairs and into his bedroom, assisting you in sitting down on the bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows. You leave Jin and Yoongi downstairs, but Jimin insists on following, his hand warm against the small of your back the whole way up.

Feeling a little embarrassed at the fuss they’re making, you nonetheless soak up the chance to be at the center of their attention, Jimin linking your fingers together from the side of the bed as Taehyung rushes around, grabbing a single-use heat pack and some massage oils.

“You’ll need to turn around so your back is facing me,” Taehyung instructs, getting on the bed behind you. It’s a little awkward shifting around with three of you on the bed, and you unable to really move as freely as you’d like, but after a moment Jimin has replaced your original spot against the headboard, your knees bumping his as you sit cross-legged with Taehyung behind you. “Okay, that’s good. Just relax.”

Your shirt has a relatively low, round neck, and even though it’s not quite loose enough to push past your shoulders, Tae doesn’t want to make you take it off and risk hurting yourself further, so he just makes do, warming some oil between his fingers.

The soothing smell of lavender fills the air, and your shoulders go lax as Taehyung slips gently presses down on them with his still-dry knuckles, thumbs sliding up to hold your neck steady. As he pushes the hem down as much as he can and begins to slide his fingertips over your skin to spread the aromatic oil, you fight the urge to let your head loll back. It’s been a long time since Taehyung gave you a massage, and though you have no doubt he’d do it anytime in a heartbeat if you asked, you always felt strange approaching it. A crick in the neck was not ideal, but certainly a nice excuse to have his hands on you again.

In front of you, Jimin watches you carefully for any sight of pain. While a month ago you may have been intimidated or even put off by his intense stare, you know he’s there to make sure you’re alright, and you’ve seen him vulnerable enough to feel okay sharing this with him.

It is still a little awkward, however, and as Taehyung lets his fingers dip as low as they can between your shoulder blades, you send Jimin a crooked smile. “Do you want some popcorn?”

He scoffs warmly with a shake of his head. “If I’m bothering you…?”

You almost shake your head, sucking in a sharp breath through your nose as you fight the automatic urge. “No, you’re fine. I just don’t think me getting my neck fixed is very-” Your voice is abruptly cut off by a staccato groan punched out of you by Taehyung pressing his thumbs right into the knots on either side of the base of your neck. He crawls them up carefully but confidently, beginning to smooth out the tension, and you can’t help your eyes fluttering shut. “Very entertaining,” you finish, breathier than when you started.

“That’s where I’d have to disagree,” Jimin responds in a buttery whisper. With eyes closed, you don’t see him move, and are caught off guard by the tickle of sensation that arises on the sensitive skin of your inner ankle as he slowly sweeps a single fingertip in lazy circles around the bump of the bone. The touch isn’t particularly sexy in its location, but nevertheless feels dizzingly intimate with the knowledge of whose finger it is roaming the fine details of your body.

“I see how it is,” you manage to respond, but the fight is drained from you from both ends; Jimin at your ankles, Taehyung at the nape of your neck. Taehyung’s touch is distinctly heavier and more decisive than Jimin’s, and it becomes harder to resist lying back against him as he works at the sore muscles of your neck.

“My clients aren’t normally so chatty with someone that isn’t me,” Taehyung remarks from behind you, lightly flicking the side of your neck in playful complaint.

“Client?” you question with a pout he can’t see but can definitely hear. “Are we not even lovers, Tae?”

He hums, so low in his chest that it’s a soft growl, and his hands converge on your sternum, face coming forward to press at the side of your cheek as he hugs you from behind. Your heart rate picks up at the proximity; his lips so close to yours, but impossible to reach from the angle. “You know I can’t touch you like a lover should. Not now.”

“Would it be so bad?” you wonder aloud, even as you recall the rule that would get him kicked out should he touch you intimately. The rule wasn’t so harsh were it you to touch him, however. “I could.”

His breath comes out in a rush that tingles your jaw. “Don’t tempt me,” he warns, sitting back upright and pressing the sides of your neck to straighten you up again, “you’re injured.”

“I’m injured?” you retort, “I thought you were meant to be fixing me. You mustn’t be doing a very good job.”

This time, the sound that leaves him most certainly is a growl. His fingers dig into the dips in your upper spine with a ferocity that while measured is distinctly more authoritative. You feel manhandled into wellness, the pain malleable and easily manipulated by his touch. Your body is heavy, barely able to hold itself up, but inside you feel lighter than air, so thrilled to be at the receiving end of Taehyung’s dominance after such a long time under Jimin’s strong hand.

As if following your thoughts, Taehyung mutters out a low, “hyung?” Jimin hums in response, his fingers circling your ankle and letting the lax weight of his arm pin you to the mattress. “I want to touch her so bad.”

You let out an unfiltered moan as you hear Taehyung talk about you to the man on your other side as if you’re not even there, though his fingers never stop for a second, leaching away every last ounce of pain.

“You can’t,” Jimin replies simply.

“But you can,” Taehyung fires back. “Do you trust me?”

Your eyes open wide as you hear the hidden meaning behind his words. Jimin seems to recognise it, too, as he looks past you with lips parted in surprise. It takes him a moment, but he eventually does respond. “I trust you.”

“Get the blindfold.”

It’s clear Jimin is hesitant about letting Taehyung take control. Not the kind of resistance you’d expect he’d give someone else trying to dom him, but simply the delay of uncertainty, of inexperience. He gets up on his knees after a moment to reach into the bedside stand’s drawer, pulling out a soft black sleeping mask.

Taehyung’s hands finally slow, fingertips slipping just under the hem, fiddling with your bra straps. “Put it on, hyung.”

“Tae,” Jimin breathes, eyebrows furrowed in worry, but he goes along, slipping it over his head and adjusting it, lips pursed. You see the way his Adam’s apple bobs with a harsh swallow, his toes curling and staying tucked.

“How’s your neck?” Taehyung asks you, and in your daze at seeing Jimin gingerly submit, it takes you a second to even realise he’s addressing you. You quickly assure him it’s fine, and feel your heart race as he takes his hands off you and backs away, pulling you backwards as he does. “Lie down for us,” he commands softly.

Your breathing is elevated, and you can’t seem to calm it as you watch Taehyung in your peripheral pull up a chair to the side of the bed. His knuckles are white as he clutches the arms, but his face is darkly focused.

“You can’t fuck her with all those clothes on, hyung,” Taehyung states simply, and you can see the way Jimin’s brows lift above the blindfold.

Obediently, Jimin moves towards you, but with his vision obscured he pats around to find you, fingers running blindly up your side to seek out the lower hem of your shirt and lift it over your head. There’s something strangely exciting about Jimin being the one to disrobe you, when only Taehyung will see your naked body, and the clumsy way the older man fiddles with the zip on your jeans before slipping them off makes it feel like he’s touching you for the first time.

It takes him no time at all to unhook your bra once he finds the hinge, and soon enough your panties, the only scrap of fabric left on your body, are being tugged down your legs impatiently. Once they’re gone, however, Jimin’s hands hover uncertainly over you, awaiting further instruction.

Taehyung grins, though Jimin won’t see it, and wets his lips. “So you can be a good boy, hm? Who would’ve thought the big bad wolf was just a little puppy?”

Jimin swallows, nostrils flaring as he struggles with his own submission. He offers no answer, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind, sitting forward in the chair.

“Are you hard, Jimin?” The blue-haired man grits his teeth at the intentional lack of honorifics, but confirms reluctantly that he is. “Show us.”

After opening and closing his mouth, Jimin swallows hard again and his fingers pat against his waistband until he reaches the button, undoing it and dipping a hand in to release his cock. True to his word, he’s hard, the tip glossed with precum and angry red.

A wave of arousal rushes through you so strong that you clench around nothing, wanting nothing more than to push him back and take what you need yourself. But it’s fascinating seeing him like this, and you don’t want to even speak, too scared to break the spell Taehyung has somehow constructed.

The younger man just lets out a flat noise as if unimpressed. Jimin’s dick twitches as his cheeks heat in shame. “Tae,” he breathes, fingers digging into the tensed flesh of his still-clothed thighs.

“It would benefit you to give my name more respect than that. I’m not your boyfriend now, not your pet. I’m your boss. I say what you can and cannot do. So what do you say to me?”

Jimin’s lips are parted, a pretty pink that trembles if you look closely enough. He stays silent for a moment, thinking it through. “Mister Kim,” he says, going so far as to duck his head shallowly in an imitation of a bow.

A dark smirk tugs at Taehyung’s lips. “I like that,” he decides, “good boy. Why don’t you touch our girl, then? She’s arching so nicely for you, Jimin, I think she wants to feel you on her pretty little tits.”

Your eyes couldn’t be wider if you tried, fingers twisted harshly in the bedsheets on either side of you. It’s true, your back hitching off the mattress in need. Truth be told, you’re shivering in the desire to feel him anywhere, but the thought of him flicking at your sensitive nipples has you letting out a shaky whimper.

It’s not Jimin’s hands that greet you, however. Instead, he uses them to catch his fall when he hangs forward, face burying in the soft skin close to your right hip. You can feel the hard tip of his nose, the tickle of his eyelashes, and the plush warmth of his lips.

You tremble beneath him at the way his breath heats your naked skin in pants. Jimin navigates higher with his nose, running it over you, lips dragging against you just enough for you to catch scrapes of his bottom teeth occasionally as he works from left to right, seeking out the swell of your breasts.

It’s not long before he crawls high enough, but it feels like an eternity of absence has been broken when it’s not his fingers but his hot, wet mouth that closes over your nipple, sucking it in like a man starved.

You gasp at the sudden bloom of sensation, a moan getting clogged in your throat. Once Jimin reaches you, you can feel the confidence of his usual dom persona return in the intense way he laps and nipples at the stiffening peak, but the hastened breaths that have his chest heaving above you are entirely due to Taehyung’s invisible grasp on the both of you.

It’s not until Jimin fastens his teeth around your nipple and tugs once, harsh enough to make you keen and grab at his shoulders, that he moves to the other side, repeating the previous treatment with twice the hunger and desperation as before.

“Mm, atta boy,” Taehyung praises in a borderline sarcastic drawl. Jimin huffs through his noise noisily against you as he places sloppy kisses on the pebbled skin around your nipple, and your eyes roll back at the overwhelming situation you’ve found yourself in. There’s something unbelievably obscene about being at the whim of Jimin touch but Taehyung’s command, of hearing and seeing and feeling Jimin be just as affected by Tae as you are.

Jimin’s still mostly dressed, but you can feel the heat radiating from his unsheathed cock as it presses against your leg, and you will Taehyung to demand Jimin fuck you, feeling out of your mind with need.

“You want to taste her somewhere else, don’t you?” Taehyung asks after a few moments of ecstasy. Jimin groans lowly against you, and you feel his hair tickle your breast as he nods. Taehyung’s voice hardens. “That’s a shame. On your back, Jimin. Clothes off.”

You and Jimin whine in unison as you’re parted again, but the latter wastes no time in undressing, throwing his shirt, pants and underwear away blindly, almost hitting Taehyung with them.

Taehyung lets out a cheeky smile as he ducks out of the way, before steeling his expression again and standing up to join you at the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as Jimin lies down beside you, head propped up on the pillows.

Making him wait in silence and darkness for a moment long enough to make Jimin hold back another whine with a bit lip, Taehyung suddenly reaches out and rakes his nails up Jimin’s chest from his lower stomach to his collarbones, flicking his nipples on the way.

Jimin hisses and almost comes clean off the mattress, arms flying down, but Taehyung catches him at the wrists and tugs his arms up with a roughness that takes Jimin by surprise, leaving him pinned open with reddening lines across his torso.

“Fuck,” he curses, head thrashing back and forth once in frustration. He looks overwhelmed already, though you’re beginning to suspect this is his first time subbing, at least in many years. “T- Mister Kim, Mister Kim, please.”

“Y/n’s going to take what she wants now, Jimin,” Taehyung instructs gruffly, sending you an expectant gaze for you to get up, “and you’re going to give it all to her. Isn’t that right?”

“Please,” Jimin repeats brokenly, fingers curling in the open air as Taehyung holds his wrists up.

Heart racing violently in your chest, you find yourself straddling Jimin with barely-restrained excitement. His cock is lying against his lower abdomen, leaking steadily, and the moment you reach out and take it in your hand he lets out a low, keening sob, thighs lifting as if to curl in on himself.

“Colour, Jimin,” Taehyung demands, loosening his hold on the man’s wrists briefly.

Jimin lets out a frustrated whine, foot stomping against the mattress. He’s panting like he’s run a marathon, even with your hand still on him, and it almost seems like he’s about to end the scene with the pained look on his face. “Dammit, green. Fuck.”

Taehyung pauses for a moment, but suddenly a booming laugh is leaving him as he stares down at the figure on the bed below him, with restrained arms hanging uselessly in the air. “Oh, you dirty fucking boy,” he gushes, bending down to nip at the already-swollen flesh of Jimin’s lips, making the older boy whimper, “you love this, don’t you?”

Shaking his head, Jimin can’t hide the way blood rushes to his cheeks, tinging his face and neck pink as his cock pulses in your grip. It encourages you to move again, and you lean down to spit on it, hearing him hiccup wetly at the feeling of it before you’re jerking him off steadily to spread the slick around.

As much as he tries, Jimin can only hold back the sounds of pleasure for so long, and by the time you’re straddling him, lining him up at your entrance, his chest is heaving and every breath out is tinged in a moan. He all but trembles in anticipation as his tip bumps against you, and you suck in a single slow breath to prepare yourself before you’re sitting on his cock, feeling it part your walls deep inside.

Jimin shudders, and his arms, still in Taehyung’s grip, tug towards his own face to cover it, fingers curling into claws at the flood of sensation.

“Is it good?” Taehyung asks rhetorically, allowing Jimin to pull his hands over his face before cruelly spreading them wide again, leaning down until their noses touch, voice dipping to a gruff whisper, thick with arousal. “You don’t get to hide from us.”

You’re propping yourself up with one hand on Jimin’s heated chest and another on the mattress, letting yourself adjust to the intrusion, and you see the way his lips tremble every time you clench around him.

Though it hasn’t really been that long, you feel the stretch more than usual, especially without the foreplay involving any fingering. But, if you’re honest with yourself, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

There’s something so divine about rocking your hips against him and having his cock open you up through your own movements. You control the pace despite the whines and weak growls of complaint, and you take your time with it. While Jimin might prefer more friction, more motion, you’re enjoying the deep grind, his pelvis pressed to your clit every time you lean forward.

You look up from him, at Taehyung holding him down for you. His hair is messy, but no more than before, and he’s still fully dressed. His eyes are dark with lust and glimmering with excitement, and once he feels your gaze he looks up at you sharply. Your heart jumps, and you squeeze unintentionally around Jimin, making him groan.

Still looking at Taehyung, however, at his sculpted lips, strong gaze and hooded lids, you’re overwhelmed with the urge to lean forward and kiss him. It’s like a string is tied between the two of you, being cranked tighter and tighter. It would be so easy just to give in and-

“Don’t be mean, Y/n. Jimin is being good for us.” Taehyung grins at you, teeth glinting. “Make him come.”

Jimin’s chest hitches, and his hips rock shallowly up at you, unable to get the momentum to do much more. Still, it causes him to drag against your walls, and the pleasure shoots up your core at the feeling. Inspired by both your own pleasure and the need to please the two men with you, you steel your thighs and begin to ride Jimin in earnest.

It’s harder than you expect to keep a rhythm up. Every time you get a good downstroke that reaches your g-spot, it makes your legs tremble, and before long your thighs begin to ache. Nonetheless, you’re determined as you watch Jimin’s blindfolded face contort in pleasure, and you shift your position and bounce harder.

In the back of your mind, you hear Taehyung praise you, but you barely spare him a glance, chest lowering so that you can put all your energy into the tight motion of your hips. Your fingers dig into Jimin’s shoulder, and his muscles tense beneath them as he tries to reach out for you.

Every time he’s reminded of the grip Taehyung has on his arms, Jimin thrashes just a little beneath you, but his cock just keeps on getting stiffer inside you, and as you suck in harsh lungfuls of air, you know he’s getting close.

The sounds that leave his parted lips are nothing short of pornographic, losing all sense of shame or hesitation as he approaches that peak.

You fight off your own orgasm, tightening around Jimin as you try and hold back and distract yourself with him. You’re losing stamina quickly, the rhythm falling apart into unsteady jerks and bounces.

Taehyung watches you carefully, before bending down again and biting right into the plush flesh of Jimin’s cheek, addressing him only after he soothes the blooming red with his tongue. “Why don’t you return the favour and fuck her a little, my good boy?”

Jimin sobs, and his abs tighten as he attempts to get up, but Taehyung just tuts, instructing him to do it right where he is. Clearly too far gone to protest, you feel Jimin prop his feet up against the mattress with a shaky sniff. That’s your only warning before he makes full use of his core strength to piston his hips up into you with toe-curling speed, purely seeking out his own end.

You cry out, knees buckling at the first thrust, and your chin hits his shoulder awkwardly, almost biting your own tongue. Clutching at his arms, you attempt to hold yourself up enough not to bear your dead weight on him, and go along for the ride.

Even from his unwieldy position, Jimin manages far better than you did, and his his moans quickly raise in pitch and shorten in length, until he’s whimpering in desperate yips, thrusting up into you with such ferocity that your teeth chatter.

He’s deep inside you, deeper than he’s been before, and your eyes begin to well at your own impending orgasm.

Closer than you, however, Jimin freezes for a split second before he’s shuddering violently and spurting inside you. Taehyung holds onto him for a moment longer before he releases his wrists, and suddenly you’re being caged in by Jimin, his arms holding you flush against his heated torso as he grinds his cum into you, still blindfolded and barely able to catch a breath.

It’s this rocking motion that tips you over the edge, your clit gaining enough friction to break the dam, and you sob hard as the pleasure wracks through you. There isn’t a single inch of space between you and Jimin, and just as you think you’re in pure ecstasy, you feel Taehyung’s hand tangle in your hair, stroking it as his lips brush the shell of your ear with praises intended for the two of you.

Your face is wet and your body is trembling uncontrollably as you let your climax run through you, and when it fades you feel hollowed out, boneless.

Jimin is clearly the same, because he quite contentedly lets you lie atop him, panting just as hard as you are. His eyes remain closed long after Taehyung slips the blindfold off, pressing kisses to Jimin’s eyelids and the flush on his cheeks.

After a sweet eternity, you gather enough energy to roll off Jimin and sit up, separating yourself from him. He sighs out weakly, and you’re shocked to see just how drained he seems. For a moment, your heart stutters, but as you reach out and grab his hand, matching Taehyung who has his other one sandwiched between his, a drunken smile stretches across Jimin’s face.

“What the fuck?” he asks breathily, chuckling slightly despite his exhaustion. A single eye cracks open, looks up at the two of you with a warm gaze, before slipping shut again. “Oh my god, I can’t believe… I can’t believe that.”

“Can’t believe you liked it?” Taehyung questions, and even after the scene you hear a tinge of nervousness in his tone.

“God, Tae, I think I get it now,” Jimin gushes, voice lowering into a sleepy slur, “it’s- that was fun.”

Taehyung beams, squeezing Jimin’s hand fondly.

Jimin sighs in bliss. “And next time I’m going to edge you so much you cry, Mister Kim.”

The smile drops off Taehyung’s face in an instant. “Hey! That’s not fair. I let you come.”

Whatever protest Jimin would normally fire back is dissolved in his post-orgasm bliss. Instead, he just hums sweetly, entirely unbothered by the sticky mess his lower torso has become.

“Come on,” you jibe softly, feeling your own skin growing tacky, “let’s get you in the shower.”

Jimin groans at the thought of standing up, but Taehyung is having none of it, digging his hands under Jimin’s back to lever him up like a crowbar. “Yeah, we’re not gonna stop taking care of you just because you busted a nut, asshole. Get up and let me clean your dick like the good dom I am.”

Though Jimin huffs all the way to the shower, as the two of you clean him up, dry him off and dress him in a pair of Taehyung’s sweats and a baggy shirt, his eyes never stop gleaming for a second, not-so-secretly enjoying every minute of it.

The three of you spend an hour or so post-shower chilling in Taehyung’s room before hunger overcomes you one at a time. You’ve certainly missed lunch, but there is plenty still left in the fridge, and Jimin takes on the duty of reheating it as a silent thank you for the scene.

He’s quieter than usual, and you know it has to do with the intensity of it, at least for him. It was a big deal, actually submitting to another, and both you and Taehyung keep a close eye on him, filling the silence between the two of you so he doesn’t feel the need to exert himself, but keeping him close nonetheless.

At one point, Jimin goes upstairs to take a nap, insisting he’s fine on his own, and Namjoon and Hoseok return inside from where they’d been having a picnic of sorts (or perhaps fucking on the lawn, though they refuse to deny nor confirm your teasing accusation). The four of you put on a random reality show you’d been meaning to watch, and it isn’t long before Jungkook is joining you too, piling on the couch between the two subtle lovebirds. When Jin comes down, he half-watches from the kitchen, preparing some side dishes for dinner, but Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

Your mind doesn’t linger on the thought for long, getting distracted by the dating show that somehow is just as ridiculous as the one you’re on, and you let the time slip by as you watch episode after episode. It’s nice to rest up, aching a little bit in a new place than before, but satisfied.

When Yoongi comes down, you’re so caught up watching television that you don’t even see him. It’s not until he cuts into your line of sight and holds out a decisive hand that you blink into focus and notice his presence.

“Y/n. A minute.”

You stare at him for another minute, brain not catching up. Yoongi huffs and bends down, grabbing onto your hand and tugging you up off the couch.

The others stare at you in bewilderment, and you return the confused gaze over your shoulder as he tug you out of the room.

Stumbling through the hallway, you furrow your eyebrows as he leads you up the stairs, almost frantic in his pace.

Arriving at your own door, he throws it open and pulls you inside and shuts it behind you. Your brain catches up, and you let out an uncertain laugh. “Yoongi, you already did your prompt, you don’t have to-”

You’re cut off by a pair of lips on yours.

Yoongi’s body knocks you back and pins you firmly to the door as his mouth slants against yours. Both hands cupping your face, he kisses you like there’s no tomorrow, tongue darting out slightly to flick at your lips.

You let out a surprised moan that gets entirely swallowed by him, knees weak and held up only by his hold. Frantic, hurried, his kisses convey a thousand praises, and your mind whirls with the sudden passion.

This close, you can smell the musk of his cologne. It dizzies you, and you feel as if his hands on your cheeks and his lips on yours are the only thing anchoring you to the world. They move against you, exploring your mouth with a desperate sweetness. You can’t wrap your head around it, can’t catch up, and so you let yourself drown in it instead, clasping at the fabric of Yoongi’s shirt to hold yourself steady.

When you finally part, he rips himself away with dazed eyes, pupils blown with desire. “Y/n,” he breathes, staring at you in wonder as if for the first time. He steps back again, after a moment, touching his swollen lips with a disbelieving smile. “I really tried, you know.”

You frown in confusion, stepping forward to get closer again. “Tried what? Yoongi, I don’t understand.”

“I tried not to fall in love with you like the rest.”

You have no words, mouth hanging open. Before you can think of anything to say, he’s moving past you and letting himself out of your room, the door half-ajar as his footsteps recede into silence.

You stay up in your room for what must be hours, replaying his words over and over in your head, lips tingling.

You miss dinner that way, too occupied in your own thoughts to even notice the knock at your door. Even as the sky darkens outside your window, you feel too wired to sleep, running through every single interaction you’ve ever had with Yoongi. Reading them in every possible way you could.

Working out if you would be telling the truth to say it back.

Your mind runs in circles, unable to land on a single answer, on a single perspective or truth or belief.

Late into the night, and further to the early hours of the morning, you force yourself to think about every other member in the house, too. About how they treat you, how kind they are to you, the way they look at you.

About the way your heart races when you’re around them, even as they comfort you with their presence alone.

You manage to fall asleep shortly before sunrise, eyes aching and body exhausted, every line of thinking and internal interrogation whittled down to a single two words.

I’m fucked.

[boydiisaster]

HI ITS LATE NIGHT AND IM HAVING OM BOYS BRAINROT UHHHH if your asks are still open, I couldnt tell from ur pinned post so if ur asks were closed im super super sorry D: but,,could I request poly headcanons of Satan, Barb and a FTM MC? thanks sm :DD -✨ me im sparkle anon now yup yup

poly headcanons with satan and barbartos

reader: male, he/him pronouns (please dni with this work if you're fem aligned)

tw/cw: dysphoria mention

author's note: i've always wanted a specific anon omg hi!!! and requests are almost always opened, i'm just a slow writer who finishes his works then instantly deletes like half of it cus he doesn't like it anymore [weep] but thank you for requesting these two!! i hardly ever get requests specifically for satan and barb so it makes me very happy <333

satan

I personally headcanon Satan as someone who loves baking, so trust me when I say that you will never go hungry with him as one of your boyfriends. He'll constantly ask if you've eaten today, ready to whip you up something if your answer is no.

He sends you cat pictures all the time. He even asks if you have any other social media outlets where he can send you more cat pictures. You would tell him no, but due to his detective skills you doubt your accounts would stay a secret to him for long.

Satan loves movie nights. Horror movie nights with you are a blast, especially when you watch Devildom horror movies. The Human Realm's slasher and paranormal movies don't compare to how scary and bloodthirsty the Devildom's are. When you get scared, Satan holds you close and rubs circles into your back, whispering that it's okay. He even offers you some of the cat-shaped suckers that he regularly buys from the candy store.

He reminds you to take off your binder every day. Satan literally sets a timer once you put on your binder, and once it's passed 8 hours he contacts you. Satan is smart, but he's also the type to panic easily, so even if you keep your binder on for more than a minute after his timer goes off he'll freak out and worry that by going a little over the scheduled time your ribs will shatter like porcelain.

(I headcanon Satan as trans ftm, but for these specific headcanons let's say he's cisgender.)

Please reassure him that his boyfriend's ribs aren't made of glass and that they won't break so easily. He's panicking, MC, help.

barbatos

Despite not having much free time on his hands, Barbatos tries with all his might to give you the perfect relationship. Pretty much every free moment he has is spent with you, minus the moments where he just needs alone time.

Overall, he's a very caring but stressed out lover. An out-of-character headcanon I have is just to relieve stress he blasts heavy metal and trims his hair in the bathroom of his room late at night when Diavolo is asleep, cup of black coffee and a late night sweet beside him. (He's not one for energy drinks, so I'm sorry if you like them.)

Barbatos actually gets flustered quite easily! All you need to do is make a move to hold his hand in public and already you've got an embarrassed demon on your hands. His face always resembles a tomato after you're done complimenting his cooking, as well.

"Thank you, MC," he'll say behind a gloved hand, trying hard to not let you see him in such a vulnerable state.

Unlike Satan, Barbatos isn't as worried about your ribs. He'll still remind you to take your binder off of course, (if you wear one), but he knows your ribcage isn't going to burst if you wear it for a little longer than you're supposed to.

Just don't wear it for more than an hour after you're supposed to. Then he'll turn into Satan.

"MC your ribs are going to crack please take your binder off."

If you experience dysphoria, Barbatos is always there to try and make it a bit more bearable. He offers masculine compliments or goes as far as to suggest putting a spell over you to help. He even asks if you'd like him to talk to Diavolo about paying for you to start testosterone or get a surgery. He knows it's incredibly expensive in the human realm to do so, but there's nothing a little bit of magic and the literal Prince of Hell can't accomplish!

satan and barbatos

Sometimes you and Satan go up to the Demon Lord's castle to deliver some lunch for Barbatos, just to make sure he remembers to eat. He's so busy taking care of other people that sometimes he forgets to take care of himself. It happens, and it worries you, but you needn't fret because Barbatos has you and Satan to care about him.

Satan's brothers are so jealous of all the food Barbatos and Satan cook for you, especially Beel. It embarrasses you to no end the looks the other six brothers give you after your boyfriends cook you up what could qualify as a gourmet meal from Ristorante Six.

"It's not fair!" Leviathan whines as Satan sits a heaping plate of delicious human realm food down in front of you. "Why does MC get the special treatment just because he's your boyfriend?!"

"That's exactly why he gets the special treatment. You just answered your own question," Satan hums, smug grin on his face as he watches Levi nearly tip back in his chair from trying to demonstrate how angry he is.

You smile awkwardly and while Satan's back is turned offer up a piece of chicken. Leviathan takes it happily, mouthing "thank you."

"MC?"

You jump, banging your knee against the bottom of the table. You wince. "Yes?"

Satan gives you a playful smile. "You're too nice for your own good." He then pecks your cheek. "That's why I love you."

Sometimes the three of you will go out shopping together, always stopping by bookstores or tea shops before hitting your actual destination, which is sometimes just a larger, more fancy bookstore or tea shop....

It's okay though, because afterwards you make a trip to Madame Scream's and buy some desserts for each other. It's cute whenever Satan or Barbatos pick out a dessert they want you to try and mask it by saying "It just looked good, I thought you would enjoy it."

Barbatos leaves you a kiss on the back of your hand once your day is over and he has to get back to the Prince, saying that he loves you and that he'll see you tomorrow, throwing in a "darling" or "love" somewhere in there. It's romantic. Him and Satan make the best boyfriends, especially if you're fond of old books or creepy curses. The entirety of the dark academia aesthetic makes up your relationship with those two. Throw in a bit of baking and that pretty much sums up your boyfriends and you.

It's adorable, though. Everyone's jealous, especially Mammon.

[mouseturdies]

Heeeeyyy!!! I know it’s been a while, but I just thought of a SBI paranormal fic, soooo <3

Ages don’t matter, and it can be a crack fic or a serious fic.

Okay, so it can either be a SBI ghost hunter AU, being more angsty and/or serious. or They are just a normal family (Bio or adopted) and they live in a extremely haunted house with a medium, being crack fics.

But i’m thinking Techno and Wilbur are twins in there mid 20’ Phil is in his 30’ and Tommy is like 15-17. Techno is kinda a skeptic of the paranormal and Wilbur is a hardcore believer, like he believes waaaayyy too much. Tommy is a medium because why not, and Phil believes, he’s just not as invested as Wilbur.

Crack fic idea: (they don’t know Tommy’s a medium) One of the SBI members walks into Tommy’s room to see him talking to a wall or just talking to himself, they ask him who he’s talking to, he says some person (your choice). They are hella creeped out, and in Wilbur’s case, he’s making Tommy describe in detail how they look and then Wil and Tommy go on google to see the history of their house. (Tommy not doing it willingly)

Crack fic idea pt. 2: (They know about Tommy being a medium) SBI is having dinner, completely normal dinner, and then out of nowhere Tommy turns to look at Techno, not directly at him but just over his head. And says “Tech, there is someone behind you” or something, Techno pauses and is on the verge of tears, Wilbur is probably getting his ghost equipment, and Phil’s got a small smile on.

Hunter fic idea: SBI is on a investigation checking out someone’s house for them because they have been having weird experiences. They are doing their thing checking stuff out, getting some evidence. And then suddenly, things get a little intense. A lot more things start happening and Tommy’s starting to get affected, He has a huge headache and he’s really nauseous, and just completely drained of all energy. SBI is having none of that and tells the ghosts to leave Tommy alone and that they are leaving. They all get in the car and as soon as they leave the property, Tommy feels so much better, still extremely drained though. It can either be angsty or super fluffy (preferred), and you can do whatever else you want with it, get some more action. :)

This can be on ao3 or wattpad, whatever you are comfy with :). My wattpad and ao3 are the same (mouseturdies, please don’t ask), please give me credit and @ me in the fics because I wanna see them :D

Thank you so much, Lovely <33

You are beautiful and remember this is a safe space :D <333

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

[golbrocklovely]

season two finished a week ago, and i still couldn't get this out on time....

anyway, here's my review for the finale of season two

aka "The Hauntings of Cosmo Hotel (w/ FazeRug)"

so, while i was excited bc this was the finale, i also wasn't excited bc… for some reason, any video with fazerug ends up being kinda mediocre (but not bc of him. i actually think he's a fun person for them to collab with). but i had high hopes.

and this episode did not disappoint :)

okay, so starting off with them exploring the hotel… i hope for their sake they are the only ppl there bc dear lord they were SO LOUD.

when they later talked about room 11 and how ysidora chills there a lot, i was like "please not another maddie moment" sksksk

and then them entering room 4, i gotta be honest - what do they think a grandma smells like? bc they say that often. i'm assuming it's just florals, but still.

the history of this hotel sounds really cool. and honestly, i like the more lighthearted places. them facing demons every investigations, while fun, can feel like a lot. but this place seems pretty chill.

snc hiring a guy to play guitar music is hilarious to me. i would love to know how that conversation went down. and then for them to change into nice clothes, only to change back afterwards? omg i love them so much lol

also colby in that purple velour looking shirt….. wear that more often please. thank you.

also also i love that he can't button the shirt up all the way, he has to show just a bit of chest. what a slut haha

so… into the investigation:

idk if them hiring the guitar player really did anything, but you know what? i'm all for them taking a chance to see if it would. plus it was fun and only lasted a solid 3 minutes max. and again, their spiffy outfits were worth it.

that being said, the light outside…. not paranormal. you expect an 175+ year old building to have constant, non-flickering light fixtures? okay babes.

okay so the psychic/empath guy: i kinda sorta have a lot to say about him, but then i also kinda don't. i don't know why, but i just don't like him. something about him feels off to me, but i can't place why that's the case. the whole time, i was just side eyeing him, and it wasn't bc of what he was trying to show the boys (but i didn't particularly like that either). i wish i could explain the way i feel about him, but the best way to describe it is… i feel like he's lying, or at the very least, i'm sketched out by him.

that being said, i think the experiment that he did with the boys was good, and i think they should do similar things like that in the future, just to open themselves up. personally, my problem with his technique is that what he should have been doing is telling them to stand in a certain spot and then ask "what do you feel?" instead of saying "there's a ghost touching your back, do you feel that?" bc that just makes them hyper aware of their back, so of course they're gonna be suggested to feel a pressure on their back when it could be their clothes, the chair they're in, or just their mind telling them to feel pressure. and the same thing with just standing in one spot and staring at something for a while. personally, i don't think they were really seeing anything, so much as they were just staring into the darkness and their eyes were starting to play tricks on them. you can't jump from barely being empathic to seeing figures. but, if they felt like this helped them a lot open up, then i guess it's fine, even if i didn't fully agree with it. i feel like there are so many other ways for them to open themselves up. like maybe doing a tarot reading (or getting one done) before their investigation or even just sitting down and meditating would be an easier way to open themselves up.

the sls camera and the rempod together - fucking match made in heaven. bc honestly, for a hot minute there, i was thinking their equipment just might be broken or whatnot. but seeing that there was something there that was setting the rempod off….. omg please use the sls camera more thank you.

also, just a funny side note, there was multiple times during the night that faze almost ran into sam's arms. it was adorable.

colby, you want me to do WHAT to the like button?????? lmao

the boo bear and the ovulus not working or not giving much is good bc neither one of those things are fun to listen to. personally, i don't think the boo bear really works. and the ovulus is just strange to me.

and i've said this before, but i don't like when they use the spirit box without headphones on or something. bc i literally never hear (and neither do they) what they think it's saying.

colby is really the only one good at the estes method, both when he physically does it and when he asks questions. sam never remembers to either ask control questions, or make the connection that maybe the ghosts aren't in the room with them, but just in the hotel. that being said, i think it was cool that clearly they were talking to something and they just wanted to party lol

the psychomanteum is cool, but again, i don't really think it's paranormal. but i'm genuinely curious as to why sam sees stuff that colby never sees. maybe, this is the way the sam is empathic. maybe he sees stuff, while colby feels. while i LOVE colby finally opening himself up to these empath tendencies he has, i would love for sam to do the same thing.

colby saying he's "becoming the empath"…. this boy is playing with my feelings now. i've been saying for OVER A YEAR he was empathic and now he's just like "yeah i am :)"

the estes method this time was really cool. clearly they were talking to ysidora and getting immediate answers back. also, idk why, but colby looked… extra in trance this time around. literally the only time he didn't was when he sneezed.

overall, i would rate this episode like a soft 4/5. i genuinely enjoyed myself the whole time i watched it. not to mention all the cool new stuff they did. it's too bad that this was the finale and not like the second to last episode where they could go into even more detail about their empathic nature and using newer devices and whatnot. i'm excited to see what they do for season three/uk trilogy. i know the uk has got some crazy places so i can't wait to see what they do there. hopefully it comes out sooner rather than later :)

(side note: ignore any spelling/grammar mistakes i made. i'm tired and have no energy to go back thru and read lol)

[xtrashmammalstefx]

How To Piss Off An Old-Fashioned Ghost (A Zak Bagans SMUT!)

WARNINGS: Smut, cussing, all that jazz.

Special Thanks to: @xcazzax​ who never fails to give me ideas and inspire me to write shit like this. 

We were about to investigate the mecca of haunted hotels. The one place you go to and know you made it as a paranormal investigator. The majestic and infamous Stanley Hotel.

To say the guys and I were ecstatic would be an understatement. I swear you would think we were kids at Disneyland we were so excited. So much so we agreed to take a different approach to this one.

You see normally we’d investigate a place for one night, take a quick nap, and then be on our way home or to the next haunt the next day. For this one though we knew we had to do it differently. After all many people purported having things happen to them during the night whilst everyone else was asleep. So we got ourselves the most haunted rooms and were gonna sleep there the whole night with night vision cameras recording us the whole time.

“Ready to get it on with a cowboy?” I asked Aaron as we were being checked in.

“You know he only goes for the ladies right?” he said. “As in he’d probably react more to you than my bearded ass.”

“Yeah but…”

“Uh, Y/N, did you want your own room or..?” Zak asked.

“I told you I’m not chickening out of the plan,” I said.

“Plan?” Aaron questioned.

“Remember when the guide mentioned Mrs. Wilson having shit fits when unmarried couples share the bed in her room?”

“Oh…” Aaron nodded. “Wait...since when are you and Zak a thing?”

“We’re not,” Zak said. “Which will only add fuel to the fire.”

“Exactly,” I smirked.

“This isn’t an excuse for you two to bone is it?” Nick asked.

“What? NO!” I snapped at him.

“Dude! We’re literally gonna be in front of a camera the whole time!” Zak said starting towards the elevator.

“Yeah ‘cause sex tapes aren’t a thing,” Aaron said. I smacked him on the arm as we stepped into the elevator.

“Dude this is strictly work. As in we plan on remaining professional at all times,” Zak explained. “And the same goes for you two, alright? No scratching your nuts or your ass in front of the camera.”

“And for the love of GOD let’s hope none of you wake up with morning wood,” I added. All three men raised an eyebrow at me. “Oh come on last thing anyone wants is for our careers to go down the crapper all because you all woke up and revealed tents in your pants.”

“She does have a point there,” Zak said shrugging.

“Pun intended,” I muttered making them burst out laughing.

Later that night Zak checked in with our guys while I made myself comfortable under the sheets.

“All good here bro,” Aaron said over the walkie.

“Yeah everything’s good to go here Zak,” Nick added.

“Alright see you in the morning,�� Zak said putting the walkie down. He got under the sheets beside me and turned off the light. “Ready?”

“Let’s do it,” I whispered. Zak laid down and I draped my body over him. “Night babe.”

“Night, gorgeous,” Zak said leaning down. His lips pecked mine. It sent a jolt through me; as though his lips had finally found the home they always wanted. My heart drummed in my chest as Zak deepened the kiss.

As his lips lingered on mine he wrapped his arms around me and flipped us over so that he was on top. I pulled back and chuckled. “Babe it’s late,” I said as Zak peppered kisses on my neck. I moaned. “We’re gonna get a noise complaint!”

“Only if you’re too loud,” he said bringing his lips to mine. I ran my arms along his bare back pressing my body closer to his. I guess our act worked a little too well, for not even a moment later Zak screamed. “GAH FUCK!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked as he got off of me.

“Something scratched my back,” he said. “Oh fuck!” He was suddenly tumbling over off of the bed, landing on the floor with a thud. I switched the light on and joined him.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, Mrs. Wilson just nudged me off the bed,” he said.

“Turn around so I can document this,” I said before running to get a camera. Zak turned his back to me the second I got back. “Holy shit.”

“What?” I took out my phone and took a picture of it. I showed it to him and the blood left his face. On his back were three intense scratches. Tiny droplets of blood spurted out of them. “SON OF A BITCH!”

I grabbed my toiletry bag and dug out bandages, a small towel and alcohol. “Bite the blanket,” I said sitting in front of his back.

“What?”

“I’m gonna clean them up,” I said unscrewing the cap. “Bite something before people call the cops on us for murder.” I poured alcohol onto the towel and ran it down Zak’s back. Thankfully he listened and bit down on the blanket so rather than a scream he let out a muffled groan. I blew on the wounds gently then applied the bandages. “Okay you’re good.” I put my first aid stuff and the camera away and checked the night vision cam. It was still running smoothly and caught every single moment of the attack. Once I was done I put the night vision cam back in place and rejoined Zak.

“I think I’ll just sleep down here the rest of the night,” Zak said.

“Alright, um, night I guess,” I said before pecking him on the cheek. I switched the light off and started standing to get back into bed.

“Y/N?” Zak’s voice made me freeze and turn back.

“Yeah?”

“I know I shouldn’t but…” he never finished what he was saying. Instead he leaned in and crashed his lips to mine. The same jolt I’d felt before was back, only this time it was stronger. My whole body melted into his and we laid back on the floor.

“Do-Do you think we could…” I said as he sucked on the skin on my neck. “I mean with the camera right there?”

“Camera’s aimed at the bed,” Zak said. “As long as you don’t make too much noise we should be safe.”

I smirked. “No promises, Bagans.”

He kissed me one more time before helping me off with my shirt. We tossed aside along with my shorts, and panties. Zak’s lips pecked at my breasts. His tongue flicked at my nipples causing a moan to escape from my lips.

“Remind me to apologize to Billy later,” I said.

“I think I’m just gonna have to edit this footage myself,” Zak chuckled. Feeling more excited now I reached down and started nudging his pajama bottoms down. Zak got the hint and pulled them off; his length springing out hard and thick, just like the rest of him.

“Mrs. Wilson is gonna kill us,” I laughed.

“You forgot to ask me if I give a fuck,” Zak said lining himself up with my entrance. “Which, by the way, I fucking don’t.” He pushed in.

I held on to him as he moved inside me. The feeling was something out of this world. I mean sure, I’ve been with other people before (as I’m sure Zak has) but none of those experiences compare to the one I was having with Zak. It was like my body was made for his, and vice versa. I thrill of it only added to it. After all Zak wasn’t exactly the ‘fuck on the job’ kind of guy; on the contrary he was professional at all times. So seeing this change in him now...it felt kind of ballsy...like we were kids again breaking the rules.

Apparently Mrs. Wilson thought the same. “OW FUCK!” I screamed after feeling a sharp pain in my arm. Zak froze.

“What’s wrong?” I pulled my arm back and touched it gently. When I pulled my fingers back they were slightly wet.

“Mrs. Wilson punished me,” I said. I felt him brush his hand on my arm.

“That bitch!” he cursed.

“It’s okay, just-just keep going,” I urged him.

“You sure?” he asked.

“I need to cum real bad so yeah I’m sure.” Zak started thrusting again.

A few minutes later he groaned. “Please tell me that was you,” he said.

“What was me?”

“Fuck!” he groaned. “Mrs. Wilson just scratched my ass.” I fought back a giggle and instead addressed the old bitch.

“Alright if I say I’m going to marry him will you please stop?” I asked Mrs. Wilson.

“Wait what?” Zak looked at me shocked. “You serious right now?”

“Zak, I’ve loved you for so long,” I said. “And, if you’ll let me, I very much want to spend my life with you.”

“I want to spend my life with you too,” he muttered.

“So...does this mean we’re officially engaged?” I asked.

“I-I guess it does,” Zak said.

Very well… I heard someone whisper.

“Did-did she really just give us her fucking approval?” Zak asked laughing.

“I- I think she did,” I chuckled furiously before getting back to the other subject at hand. “Now are you gonna fuck me or do I need to see if Billy is available?”

Zak stopped laughing and growled furiously. “You’d have to be insane if you think I’m gonna let another man fuck you instead of me.” He started thrusting harder, and angrier. He was so wild with rage that his cock hit me right in my sweet spot.

“OH FUCK!”

“Huh you like it when I fuck you there?” Zak asked before hitting the same spot again.

“Fuck baby, yes yes yes,” I moaned. “Right there, right there, right there.” Tension started to brew within me. “Fuck I-I think I’m gonna…” My body tensed up and I tightened around his length, damn near screaming his name.

My body trembled as I came down from my high and as I did Zak tensed up and I felt him twitch inside me. He groaned as he emptied himself inside me. Once he was empty he collapsed beside me.

“Who knew pissing off ghosts could be one hell of a turn on,” I said breathless.

“Pretty sure that was the best sex I’ve had in my life,” Zak said equally breathless.

“I know that was the best sex I’ve ever had,” I said.

We passed out soon after. The next morning we met up with Nick and Aaron in the lobby.

“So how’d your plan go?” Aaron asked.

“Amazingly,” I said blushing.

“Really?” he looked at me curiously.

Zak then approached us with Billy in tow. He wrapped his arm around me and pecked me on the forehead.

“See, I told you it was just an excuse for them to bone,” Nick said.

“Dude during an investigation, really?” Aaron judged us hard.

Zak and I just snuggled into each other and flipped him off.

He judged us still a year later as we enjoyed our wedding reception.

“DURING AN INVESTIGATION!” he went on and on.

We ignored him though and just focused on each other, soaking in the love we felt as Mr. And Mrs. Bagans.

[astroyongie]

OH MY GWAD I WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR PARANORMAL ACTIVITIES PLEASE. I also have one but I think it's just a nightmare so I don't know 🤷‍♀️

Nightmares can be provoked by negative energies so let me know about your experience ! I would love to bring insight to it !

As for mines oh my I have so many ! I will try to say a few in some different categories ^^

Spirts:

I will try not to say much because I swear I had many weird encounters, so I will try to tell the ones that marked me. Before it's important to say that as a "Passeuse d'Ame" I often see spirits through black figures, images or auras. I have seen some floating in my ceiling, sometimes I see them by the corner of my eyes, or I can sense them through smell or their energy. Those type of experiences I am so used to it that I don't pay them attention anymore.

One particular time I was sleeping and I woke up from the bedroom door opening. I saw a figure coming through and of course I thought it was one of my sisters, so I asked them what they were doing. Since I got no answer I asked again before throwing my hand into the figure. I let you imagine my panic face when I touched nothing but air and when I turned out the light there was nothing there as well.

The Hat Man. Have you ever heard about this spirts ? They are huge black male figured, full of negative energies that stuck with you and devour and feed themselves through sickness, unhappy energies and anguish. To give you guys the context last year in 2020, my aunt lived and died at my house (Back in France) due to cancer illness. During that time I suppose you understand my house was very charged in energy and I was unable to clean it because one, I was still in another city for my studies and two I couldn't cleanse it with her there. Anyway first time after she passed away, me and my family kept feeling a strange suffocating feeling. At first I tried to rationalize the thing, saying that it was a psychological reaction from the grief. However I did cleanse the house because well, it was needed. When I arrived at the room where my aunt passed away, and I started doing my cleansing ritual, I have never felt such big and dark energy. I was unable to breathe in that room, every time I tried to speak the prayer, words would get stuck in my throat. I called for my sister for some help- She stayed by the entrance of the room, I gave her a paper with the prayer and she said it repeatedly in high voice while I continued the ritual inside the room. That's when I understood something was wrong because never in my life as a practitioner I had been confronted to this. I won't be telling how I got it out of the house, but basically after I was able to banish it from the house, that figure kept appearing in my dreams and even my sisters, my parents and even my partner who dreamt of that figure several times (usually he dreamt of that figure standing by the foot of the bed looking at me). It was a tall black figure, wearing a hat and a long coat. Anyway even after the banishment, it didn't wanted to leave us alone. That shit literally followed me to my student apartment. One night both me and my parter saw it. We were having a movie night and suddenly the cats left the room, but since we were focused on the movie we didn't care. Then we heard a loud THUD. We looked at the window and both saw a hand knocking strongly against our window and the lock of the window (heavy mental) going up and down very slowly. I would lie If I said I wasn't afraid because I wasn't used to deal with such spirits. But I was still able to banish it for good and even if it wasn't happy, after a few weeks of banishing and ignoring it, it left and never came back.

Angels/Spiritual Guides:

Again context. I didn't believe in "angels" at first, like I was pretty much only focused on spiritual guides but my partner who's from Guadeloupe have people in their direct family that are mediums, so she believed in it. thanks to them I was able to get more in touch with my guardian angels. But still for me angels are creature with so much light power that it's almost impossible to see or have communication with them. Believe it or not, but one day when I was sleeping in our shared apartment, they woke up before me and decided to do an angel reading on the bed. I was awake by the soft touch of a hand caressing mine and when I opened my eyes at that moment, they giggled and said "Sorry Abel (the name of their angel) loves to touch to show its presence".

After that, there it comes my first ever encounter with angels ? I guess. So after that incident, they kept telling me that I need to speak with my own angels, that I was too closed in my practice and needed to expend. For one of the first times that night I decided to pray them. Basically telling them they could communicate with me if they had anything they wanted to tell me. That night I dreamt of them for the first time. In my dream there was 3 figures standing by my bed. I couldn't see faces, they didn't speak. Nothing. They just stood there. A few days letter I kept trying to communicate but nothing. until I had a dream. Without seeing all details, I only saw three beautiful white and blue wolves. They were there in front of me. They were magnificents. My dad in my dream told me "Go get Minou (my beloved passed pet cat) before they take it from you". In the dream I woke up before I could reach her. One week later my cat got sick from kidney disease and after a few days, sh left us, which left me more heartbroken than anything. It was a very impactful moment for me. By losing Minou who I had since my 3 years old, it was like losing and letting go of my old skin and strangely my "spiritual gifts" grew stronger after that. I cursed them out so much, I blamed them so much. But I later understood that one can't progress in spirituality without closing doors

Nightmares/Dreams:

It was mostly all related to sleep paralysis and nightmare where you constantly "wake up" but you never know if you are truly awake or not. It has been a while since I had any sleep paralysis (and thank god it's honestly not fun at all). In total I think I had 6 sleep paralysis until know and in all of them, I always see the same thing. a creature in the corner of my bedroom, slender and dark, with empty dark eyes, almost the same size and posture as Gollum from lord of the rings (After the first time I saw it I draw it, my family Is scared of it lol). Sometimes it wouldn't attack me, other times it would jump on me which made me unable to breath. Fun fact is sometimes I felt like it was unable to see me or it didn't know I was able to see it. Sleep paralysis first started when due to grief I had shut my spirituality down. Seems like the more I tried to surprise it the more it came to me.

I do a lot of lucid dreams. Like a lot. 3/4 times a week without exaggerating. Most of my dreams are lucid where I am able to see myself sleeping or I am aware of my surroundings, of smells, touch, colors, physical sensations. In some of these dreams I have encountered people that would tell me to rely messages (I only understood some were dead after I woke up). One time it happened during the night of new year. There was a boy around 25 years old in a bar counter. I approached him and he smiled at me, telling me I needed to find his dad and tell him he was sorry to die during the new eve. I watched him drank his sadness away and understood the boy had died in a car crash alcohol related during new eve. Many dreams like that happened to me.

I also have these dreams sometimes where I dream that I open my eyes and see a little child with big green eyes coming into my room. That thing gets on it's knees at the edge of my bed, looking at me and asking me to come and play with it. Of course I always refuse. Never accept folks. Never accept.

Things I don't have an explanation for:

In my childhood house in Portugal when I was a kid (around 10 years old), there was a period that every time we went to sleep, me and my sisters (who were in different rooms) would listen someone run around the house. My house is in a very small town (500 people max) and in the middle of the forest in the north of the country. My dog who was outside would always bark like crazy each time and I swear we whole listened to this thing running around the house like circling it for 5/6 times before disappearing. My dad would tell us it was a fox or something so we didn't got scared. Truth is, no one knows until now what the hell it was.

Another story with my partner where one day we were sleeping in the same bed and I swear I don't know if I was sleeping or awake but I was murmuring. I keep turning, I didn't understand what I was doing (I was asleep yet I had fully conscious of my surroundings) and at the end of my "speech" my partner woke up in panic and afraid. They was sweating and their skin was very hot to touch. I was strangely awake as well and I only told them to go back to sleep. Still today I have no idea what I did or what that meant.

[othersideofprobably]

Good morning, I’ve just woken up and had a plot bunny, please bear with me:

Harry and Draco are some degree of friends (co-workers, drinking buddies, bowling league besties, dating, etc…). The specifics don’t matter because that’s not the point of this story.

What is the point though, is that Narcissa is fed up with rooms and wings of the Manor feeling like malevolence is still living there. She’s tried the usual things of exorcising dark stuff but the vibes are still hanging around.

Draco mentions this to Harry, Harry brings up the idea of those paranormal home investigator shows where there’s a psychic carrying a handful of crystals & sage, and a home inspector with a carbon monoxide meter & mold test kit.

(I haven’t seen these shows, just heard about them on tumblr, please don’t yell at me.)

Draco’s like, There could be non-magical reasons the Manor is whack?

Harry’s like, I’ve seen that place and it is so old. I would not be surprised.

Narcissa’s just kinda like, I am wealthy enough to try this cute experiment and visitors sound lovely. We shall have a plate of cucumber sandwiches.

She invites all the shows and they all say yes and it’s a crossover episode because I say so which means they ALL are on the front lawn getting a lecture about safety and the Manor’s history on the same morning.

Assorted aurors and other folks who can deconstruct a Dark object are there. I haven’t decided yet if it’s only people who can ~blend~ with muggles or if the comedy would be greater if there’s some folks who can’t be subtle.

Either way, every non-magical visitor gets a magical escort/partner. You may swap out if your pairs interact and want to switch, But You Do Not Leave The Muggles Unattended.

Cue the sage psychics walking into a spotless dining room and saying ‘yes, there is a mild disturbance here. Lemme flap my arms about a bit.’ while their assigned wixen is looking into the camera like they’re on The Office because some Big Bad Shit happened here and the muggle psychic is adorably wrong.

The home inspectors do find leaks and raccoons and jacked floorboards and stuff, but in places where it makes no sense so they’re kinda pulling their hair out. But their assigned wixen are having an absolute ball of a time learning about the mundane intricacies of buildings. And some of these notes truly end up being The Fix That Was Needed for a room because a magic-resistant mold spot that induces creepy feelings and unpleasant memories is still a mold spot that can be taken out with MoldX or a little bleach.

Also this is an everyone-lives AU because I say so and want Sirius and Remus and Tonks (and maybe Moody????) and Fred to be there.

I can’t decide what’s funnier: if the portraits are told to be silent but that moving around to watch the guests is ok as long as movement is not seen, OR everyone plum forgot to tell the portraits and they’re chattering with the guests, too.

“Wait, wasn’t Mr. Basset-Hound-Face in the room with the copper fireplace? Who has a copper fireplace?? what is with this house?! And the little girl in the 18th century court gown was over- Wait. If I have learned anything from that one art history lecture I took, there is no WAY *this* period-accurate ruff would be painted/drawn in *that* style.” turns to their wixen, “If you want me to overlook this and not make a big deal out of the anachronisms, you had better have some very good alcohol at the end of this project.”

Anyway!

In the end, something worked and the Manor feels better. It could be that stuff got fixed/exorcised, it could be that some of the Energies were so offended by all these muggles traipsing around that they just up and left. Who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

((If it weren’t obvious, this story is not scary, it is a lighthearted combining of worlds.))

Ok, please someone write this with dialogue and what-not because I want to read it, thank you.