#beck if you end up watching this shit your gonna DIE

[okcoolthanks]

Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no OH NO OH NO OH NO OH NO OH NO OH NONOB NOH NONONONONO ONONIBININOJJKB

WHY

WHO

WHY DID

WHY DID THEY DO THIS

HUH

[willywonderfan]

José x vampire Panchito 12

(José and Panchito arrive at Panchito's old clan, and as soon as they enter the door slams behind them.)

Panchito: Stay close to me José.

José: Sure thing dear...

(José snuggles Panchito's arm and he blushes, they traverse through the mansion and eventually get to the training room where the clan was waiting for Panchito.)

Panchito: Alright I made it, now release Donald!

?: With pleasure my old pawn...

(The leader tosses Donald to Panchito, Donald lands by his feet and he can see that the clan leader had bitten Donald.)

Panchito: ¡Qué carajo! (What the fuck!) You said if I come here and fight you, you wouldn't bite Donald!

?: I only said if you want to see him again, I didn't say anything about keeping him mortal...

(Panchito is visibly angry, thinking about all the loved ones Donald will end up outliving now, he then starts thinking about the night he was turned against his will and forced to join The Bloodmoon Elite because he had nowhere else to go. He clenched his fist and started swinging at the clan leader.)

Panchito: Willy you bastard, ¡Te voy a matar! (I'm gonna fucking kill you!)

Willy: Oh really?....

(Willy grabs a hold of Panchito's fist and turns him around to see José surrounded by the clan members who seemed ready to pounce.)

Willy: Now you have to make a decision, either you rejoin The Bloodmoon Elite, or I let my clan members rip your boyfriend to shreds!

José: Panchito, help!

(Knighty Knight placed his hand on José's beck to silence him.)

Knighty Knight: Shhhhhh....screaming will just make you easier to tear apart little one...

Panchito: Don't touch him you monster!!!

(Panchito rushes towards Knighty and tries to punch his face, but Knighty gracefully dodges.)

Knighty Knight: It's funny really, you thought you could land a hit on me...but you're too pathetic!

(He reaches for his sword and tries to stab Panchito in the leg to temporarily cripple him but Willy stopped him, saying that he only wants the clan members to fight using their vampire abilities, Knighty sighs and tosses his sword aside.)

Panchito: José, get out of here before it's too late!

(José tries to escape but the doors closed in front of him. He then feels two hands on his shoulders.)

Tito: Nuh uh uh mi pajarito (my little birdie) you're not going anywhere...

(Tito pins José against a wall and starts flirting with him in Spanish to piss Panchito off, and it worked, hours of fighting later and Knighty broke the rules by using his sword to try and slay Panchito, he took aim and threw it, but José ended up in the crossfire and got stabbed right in the stomach and he slowly started to die.)

Panchito: José!!!

(Panchito rushed to José and held him in his arms, crying a fountain as he saw José slowly die, during his last moments of consciousness José held Panchito's arms, kissed him on the beak and uttered his last words.)

José: Eu te amo... (I love you..)

(José losses consciousness and gets closer to death but isn't completely dead. Panchito cries and cusses in Spanish. Donald wakes up as a vampire with his hand on his neck where he was bitten.)

Donald: Ugh, what did I miss? ( he sees Panchito holding José's lifeless body.) Oh shit...

(Willy walks up to Panchito with a malicious grin.)

Willy: You know, your boyfriend's not dead yet( he takes the sword out of José's body.), you can either turn him into a vampire or watch him die...

(Panchito stares at José and then at Willy.)

Willy: So what will it be?...

[bts-hyperfixation]

Taehyung, 2, 21, 27. Preferably a Smut with some angst and surprise me with the scenario. Could it be a mafia au?

Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year – 18+

Taehyung Mafia AU

Warnings: Anal play, definitely some unclean sex practices, unsafe sex, mentions of death threats

I am so sorry about how late this is!

“Look baby, I already said I’m sorry I’m not going to be home for Christmas.” Tae sighed rubbing his temples as you refused to turn back to face him. You’d been fighting over this for a while now.

“It’s not that you won’t be home for Christmas Tae. It’s that you won’t be back for your Birthday or New Years either and I’m sick of it!” you finally deign to look at him. It’s clear he is close to snapping at you, but you are tired of the shit. You knew it was going to be hard to be with him, especially after you found out what he really did for a living, but you weren’t going to let this one go. This year alone he had missed: valentine’s day, your graduation, your birthday, his mother’s birthday, and Halloween, and you would be damned if he missed the next three holidays as well.

“You know damn well there is nothing I can do about this Y/N! You need to just drop it.” He huffs fixing you with his most intimidating stare. Unfortunately for him, you became immune to that look a long time ago. He was scary man to everyone else, but to you he would always be a teddy bear. It was long established he would never hurt you. You just stared right back. Your own evil glare far more threatening.

“I bet you could do something. You’ve never even tried! You are at his beck and call regardless of the day or time. I bet if we ever actually got round to setting a wedding date, he would call you away from the alter and you’d just fucking go.” Something akin to hurt flashes across his face but you don’t stop. “Namjoon cannot be your be-all and end-all Tae, one day you are going to have to be a big boy and make a decision for yourself.”

“What do you want me to do Jagi? Do you want me to let Namjoon shoot me for not being there? He will you know, shoot me dead, or worse you. Look I was a stupid kid when I entered into this, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m in. Namjoon calls I answer, or I die. That’s it no grey area.” His gaze softens when he sees the panic in your eyes, tears welling in the corners. The thought of Taehyung turning up dead because of you too much to handle. He reaches out his arms for you and you slot yourself in. You take a minute to inhale him, burying you nose into his jacket.

“I just miss you Tae.” Your voice muffled by his suit. He holds you tighter to him and kisses your head. He moves one hand to smooth down your hair.

“I know Y/N-ah I miss you too, but we have tonight so let’s make the most of it.”

A short while later you are wrapped up on the sofa. Taehyungs arm is wrapped lazily around your shoulder as you lean into him, trying to forget that he won’t be there in the morning. The hours tick by and episodes of the show on the tv keep ending. The two of you are fast asleep in one another’s arms. By the time you wake up the world is way too bright. You squint your eyes to look out the floor-length patio window.

“Tae… Taehyung wake up!” you tap at his arm panicked as he grumbles for you to leave him be ‘just a little longer’ “Kim Taehyung wake your ass up. I think we are snowed in…” his eyes snap open at that. Fear registering on his face when he sees the two feet of snow that was still growing. He glances at his phone.

*3 missed calls Namjoon*

NJ: Where are you?

NJ: You’re late

NJ: Don’t make me take away your little toy to regain your attention.

NJ: Kim Taehyung if you do not respond to me, I will be forced to take matters into my own hands. DON’T make me.

He hides the screen from you a little too late. Bile rises in your throat, but he sends you a reassuring look as he rings back Bangtan’s leader.

“This better be good.” You hear through the receiver.

“Hyung, I’m sorry I’m not there. It appears I’m snowed in. I’ve spent the last few hours trying to figure a way out. The windows are too protected and the doors all open outward. It appears we did too good a job fortressing my home from others that even I can’t get around it.” You hear a low grumble come from side of the phone as Taehyung’s boss considers the excuse.

“I can’t spare anyone to bail you out… as soon as your free make your way here… I’ll be checking in.” with that the line goes dead. You both let out a breath in relief and settle back into the warmth of one another.

“Looks like I’ll be home for Christmas after all.” Taehyung says trying to break the silence.

“Guess I’ll have to think of a present to give you now…” you joke, untangling yourself from him and the blanket. You sway your hips a little too much as you move away.

“I think you might be my present.” He licks his lips as he stares at your bum.

“I don’t know? Shouldn’t you be looking for a way back to your Joonie?” you tease bending over more than necessary to pick something up off of the floor.

“Looking at the snow, I just don’t think there is anyway for me to possibly escape until after my birthday… New Years even?” he makes a big show out of being disappointed, but he can’t stop the smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

“No, no, you should at least try.” You turn back to face him, batting your eyelashes in the most overexaggerated way you could. Your arms pull in a little to accentuate your cleavage.

“Keep doing that and your gonna end on the naughty list.” He growls, abandoning his ruse mush quicker than you.

“I don’t know what you mean baby. You really really should try to get back to Namjoon, I imagine Bangtan’s entire operation is going to shit with out you.” You casually check your nails, attempting to look bored.

“I just got handed a get out of jail free card. I’m going to use it.” He fireman lifts you off the floor and spanks your arse. You squeal and wriggle but its no use. He throws you on to the bed, barely giving you a moment to recover before he is discarding his shirt and straddling you. His mouth latches on to your throat leaving blooms of purple all over the exposed skin. He is ruthless in his marking, needing the world to know that you are his, even if that world will only be you and him until the snow melts.

You whine as he nibbles at the most sensitive area of skin right below your ear. You can feel his satisfied smirk against your skin.

“Still want me to try to get back to work?” he teases. You just wrap your hands in his hair and pull his mouth to yours. Tugging at his curls, you don’t let him go until you can’t breathe anymore. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you missed him. it’d been a long time since the two of you had been intimate. He hovers above you for a moment. His signature boxy grin plastered on his face. He takes all of you in. Hair splayed underneath you, blush colouring your cheeks, lips plump from the kiss. Perfect. Perfect and his.

“What?” you can’t read what he is thinking. Having gone from full on to heart-eyes in a matter of seconds has you extremely confused.

“Let’s set a date. I’ll tell Namjoon to go fuck himself, just pick a day and I’m all yours.” He nuzzles back into you waiting for an answer.

“May, just as the weather gets better.”

“Deal.” His lips return to yours, this time it’s much softer. All his love for you going into this one kiss. “Now let me ruin you.” He pulls at the hem of your t-shirt, dissatisfied when it doesn’t immediately come off. He rips it away instead. You pout a little at the loss of a good shirt, but he draws your attention back quickly. Hot opened mouth kisses trail up your stomach from your navel to your bare chest. His tongue circled one of your nipples, flicking the sensitive bud until its standing at attention. He tweaks it between his fingers making you grimace at the pleasurable pain.

“Please Tae…” you moan

“Please what jagi? How am I supposed to know what you want if you don’t tell me.” His feigned innocence dripping in his tone.

“Please Tae I need you.”

“Need me where?” he is practically laughing at how desperate you sound.

“I need you to shove your tongue so far inside of me I see stars.” Not a man to need to be told twice he dives straight between your legs. He makes quick work of your pants and underwear. You bend your legs and angle your hips towards him. You can feel the vibrations of his laugh flutter against you as he brings his lips to your core licking up your arousal before setting to work. He wraps and arm over your hips to stop you from writhing underneath his touch. So sensitive from not having his touch in so long. You cant help the jolt as his tongue slips from between your folds to between your cheeks, playing with the tight ring of muscles there.

“Tae” you try to make it sound like a warning, but it comes out more of a whine.

“You said you needed my tongue inside of you. You didn’t say where inside of you. You need to be more specific with your wording baby.” He doesn’t give you chance to respond before pushing into your hole. You keen at the sensation. The arm that was holding onto your waist makes its way to your clit, rubbing lazy circles in the opposite direction. He keeps the pressure just like that for a little while, lulling you into a false sense of security. You settle down and enjoy the lazy pleasure. You should’ve known better. Once your guard is down, two of the fingers from his free hand thrust inside of you. He curls his fingers, immediately finding the most vulnerable part of you. He takes his tongue away from you so he can watch as your face crumples in pleasure.

The orgasm that had been slowly building in the pit of your stomach is suddenly about to be ripped out of you. Your back arches as another finger stretches you out, inching you over the edge. His tongue returns between your cheeks as you ride out your high, pushing yourself down on the fingers he has left inside of you.

“God, I hope this snow never melts.” You pant

“Me too,” he tries to move back up and kiss you, but you push his face away.

“Oh hell no, you need to go brush your teeth before we go for round two. Next time warn a girl before you do that.” You laugh as he grumbles climbing off of you with an evident tent in his slacks. He shuffles fake dejected into the bathroom.

Masterlist

Christmas stories 🎄

[jjk-biased]

park jimin x reader

genre: angst, lil' fluff if you squint hard enough lmfao

word count: 2k words of big sad bros

synopsis: befriending the ever-shy boy park jimin had its ups and downs but you were there for him through everything.

masterlist

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

It was supposed to end on a somewhat lighter note. Laughter should’ve rang through the room by now from your remark, or at least a chuckle should’ve been heard from his lips as he denies your claim. He should’ve continued eating his pastries or at least change the topic to the song currently playing in Belle Vie.

There shouldn’t be silence. You shouldn’t hear the pitter patter of the rain outside from the cafe you’re in.

Anything but this.

You could still remember meeting his eyes. There he was, meekly hiding himself from the corner of the room to shield himself from the noise of your classmates. He was alone and it was as if he wanted it to stay that way.

You weren’t sure what was captivating about him. Was it the way his eyes told a different story? Was it how adorable he was as he avoided your stare when you approached him? Was it the small, unsure smile he returned when you looked at him?

You’d never know. But you were happy to be the first one to approach him.

“Hi! I’m Y/N.”

“O-oh… uhm… h-hello,” He trailed off, once again looking at anything but you.

You unintentionally chuckled, somehow frightening this shy boy more, and continued, “Can I ask for your name?”

“I-I’m sorry… I’m Park Jimin.”

“Say Park Jimin… interested in going to the small cafe down the street?”

That was the start of an unlikely friendship between the ever-friendly Y/N and the resident cutie Jimin.

From a few meetings to being stuck by the hip, you two sure became a great duo. But Jimin still had reservations about himself, a nobody, and you, the ever-cheerful person who’d befriend anyone. You would remember Jimin always asking you why you hung out with him. He would list reasons why you were better off without him trailing behind you like a puppy.

“Because I like being friends with you silly!”

And you could see the storm in his eyes fade away just from that remark.

“Wanna go to the Hope Dance Studio oday?”

“I’ll just watch you dance, Jimin, and you owe me tea from Belle Vie.”

You two spent most of your days together and would often bond on your love for music. You discovered a new Jimin through dancing—a Jimin who forgot his stage fright and shyness everytime a beat plays. You loved this side of Jimin. It’s who he is. A dancer, born to perform on stage, yet held back by the timid persona he always went by.

Admittedly, you were secretly glad he was confident enough to show it to you. Only you.

Aside from the dance studio, you two were more than often seen in the small cafe by the school named Belle Vie. It was a cozy cafe that hosted a few stressed students or passerbys who wanted to stop for pastries. It was where you two always hung out after every school day.

As your highschool years went by, you began to lie low from the “popular” people. The famous Y/N who befriended anyone was still friendly, but you decided it was time to stick to those who will be there for you.

That was Jimin. You stuck by him as you went through countless breakdowns, stresses, and heartbreaks.

“You should forget that dork, Y/N! He was a player from the start. If you want, we’ll go egg his house soon because he deserves that shit,” Jimin’s eye twitched as he gripped the macaron in his hand rather harshly.

The two of you were once again in Belle Vie, though this time you were down in the dumps because your asshole of a boyfriend cheated on you with one of your friends.

You snorted as you stole one of the sweet delights from his plate, “The slytherin in you jumped out.”

He preened, mockingly laughing the way rich people do, “I try my best.”

“Thank you, Jimin.”

“Anything for you."

None of your relationships seemed to work. Maybe it was because you never seemed to find any sort of connection with them. Maybe it was because they never had any sort of genuinity to commitment.

Maybe it was because they weren’t Jimin.

It dawned on you on one of those quiet days where you ponder quietly as you gaze at the ceiling. Looking back, it really was Jimin who stuck with you through it all. He made you laugh every time he did his pranks (he was never caught), he made you smile every time he danced like a dork, he made you feel at home.

Squealing lightly, you fell off the bed at your epiphany.

“Holy shit… I like my best friend.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, your eyes widened. There are a lot more negative disadvantages to liking your only best friend. What if he didn’t like you? What if he thinks you’re creepy? What if you don’t become friends anymore?

That last question haunted you more than you liked to admit.

Jimin was your anchor, the one you found solace in when times are rough. Not being with him anymore just because your feelings got in the way.

You’d rather keep it in.

So you did. You kept that little crush to yourself and told not a soul. It kind of hurts to act that way, but it was for the best.

Jimin on the other hand began to grow out of his shell. Because you encouraged him, even in his bad days, you were able to help him be more out in the open. Soon, Jimin became one of the popular kids and you were more than happy to see him in his true element.

You once introduced him to your acquaintance and captain of the dance team, Jung Hoseok. He happened to be the son of the owner of the dance studio you two often went to as well. Jimin was soon recruited.

It was as if everything felt right when he accepted Hoseok’s offer. He was more than ecstatic. You were very much just as happy as he is.

“Congrats, shorty! Treat me to Belle Vie today?”

“You can’t call me that if you’re shorter… And shouldn’t I be the one treated today?”

That was the start of his way up to the big leagues.

You were left at the bottom. Probably forgotten, left alone at square one.

You didn’t notice it immediately. Your daily trip to Belle vie turned into every other day, then it became twice a week, once a week, until there was none at all. You couldn’t blame your sweet Jimin though. He became much busier after he joined the dance team.

At the back of your mind, it was hard to admit that he became too busy for you.

It was hard, really, to ask Jimin to hang out for at least just a day and be turned down time and time again.

“Hey! Can we go to Belle Vie today?”

You already knew the answer when his face contorted into an uneasy grin, the way he averted his eyes and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“I… uhm… have practi—”

“Oh! ‘S alright, we can just go out on a later date,” you cut him off to save yourself an ounce of dignity and scurried away before he could make it more painful than it is.

The unlikely duo weren’t seen together anymore anywhere.

You still went on with your day though. You wanted to support your sweet best friend through every competition he had, every breakdown he cried for, every problem he harbored.

It was different this time, you two couldn’t deny it. From strangers to best friends, then back to strangers.

The feelings you long since had have grown into something you couldn’t ignore. Despite every embarrassing moment you experienced from being turned down, the way his smile grew bigger every time their team won had your heart swooning. This Jimin, admittedly now one of the most popular heartthrobs of your school, brought your tummy butterflies that won’t die down.

On your fifth friendship anniversary, you decided it was time you get Jimin for just a day. Heck, just an hour with him would suffice. It’s been long since you two were together and why not hang out on the day that started it all?

“Chim, let’s eat at Belle Vie today. I’m not taking no for an answer,” You huffed in faux confidence, momentarily ignoring that little voice in your head who taunted at you.

“Ah… what’s the occasion?”

Are you kidding me?!

“June 13th! It’s our friendship anniversary dummy,” You grinned hesitantly as your voice wavered.

You never thought you’d have to remind him of this date. It was the other way around! He would surprise you and treat you to Belle Vie because you two were friends!

“Alright… I’ll meet you there.”

There wasn’t as much enthusiasm in his voice as he had last year. It was now blatantly obvious he wanted nothing to do with you.

You figured it was time for your last resort, confessing to everything you’ve felt. Maybe this time… Maybe this time he’ll have a change of heart.

Rain poured down when afternoon came. The clouds were weeping at the loss of friendship. Or maybe it was long gone and you just realized it now and the clouds were sad for another reason…

The two of you were sitting in the same booth you first did, the one nearest to the window. You both ended up getting the same food you always bought. You found yourselves in the same predicament you first met— awkward, silent, and nervousness.

Everything was the same yet everything was different.

The Jimin in front of you now, for example, was strikingly different from the Jimin you met. But you were still the same ol’ Y/N he first met.

You were finally fed up with everything he had thrown your way. Every rejection he made you face, every embarrassing moment you had to endure, every ounce of pain you had to feel.

“What happened to us?” You whispered, looking at anything but this stranger in front of you.

He raised an eyebrow, “Us? What do you mean? Don’t get carried away, Y/N.”

“You were never like this to me, Jimin… You always went to me for everything… Now we don’t even t-talk,” You cried out weakly, too hurt to prevent anything from not being said.

“I’m not gonna be there at your every beck and call, Y/N! I’m not gonna be with you forever! You’re not even my girlfriend! God, how clingy can you get!?” Jimin harshly let out.

Your eyes widened as his remarks flowed into your head and repeatedly taunted you. Tears welled up in your eyes, unable to believe that this is the person you called your best friend.

“I… I can’t believe I like you,” Your face visibly cringed when you said that word. That specific word that wasn’t even enough to describe the immense love you had for this boy who had chosen to hurt you with his words.

It was out. The secret you had for so long is finally out.

Instead of anything welcoming, however, Jimin only mumbled a “what?” out of disbelief. Maybe he wasn’t hearing himself correctly.

This expression of his told you more than you needed to know. Despite the tears now flowing freely, you asked him softly.

“H-hey… Do you know what Belle Vie means?”

You were met with silence. He stared at you as you tried to salvage this piss-poor conversation.

“It means Beautiful Life… and I’m glad to have experienced that with you, Jimin…”

He didn’t say anything back, just a weak, “Goodbye.”

And there was nothing.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

It was supposed to end on a somewhat lighter note. Laughter should’ve rang through the room by now from your remark, or at least a chuckle should’ve been heard from his lips as he denies your claim. He should’ve continued eating his pastries or at least change the topic to the song currently playing in Belle Vie.

There shouldn’t be silence. You shouldn’t hear the pitter patter of the rain outside from the cafe you’re in.

But it did.

Your longtime crush and now ex-friend walked out of the door, and with him left the five-year friendship you two built.

What a beautiful life, indeed.

permanent taglist: @luvinseokjinnie @97faerie @amoreguk

[actuallybarb]

The Aftermath ~ Part 4

Summary: y/n gets a card from happy hogan and vomits on the side of the road after telling off brad in the middle of an airport

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mysterio is the worst, trauma, it’s marvel what did you expect

Word Count: 1741

A/N: i know it’s reader insert but i’m emotionally attached to y/n... so, me

                                                         //////////

Let me tell you, getting lava to come out of the bottom of the Thames was pretty much the worst experience I’ve ever had in my life. And I thought Italy was bad.

Beck had a drone on standby, waiting to shoot me should I suddenly decide I’d rather die than destroy London.

I started destroying London.

It wasn’t easy. Beck told me I had to use all four elements to make it convincing, and it took all of my concentration. Listen, I’m damn good. I can make buildings crumble, I can make airplanes stop shaking in mid air, I know what the hell I’m doing. But all four elements at once? Let’s just say I’ll have a migraine for days.

I positioned myself at the very top of the monster so I could see what I was doing. I tried to do as much damage with as few casualties as possible, but I had to perform—Beck was watching.

I was waiting for Mysterio to come out and save the day, as planned, but then a red and blue blur dropped from the sky.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” I smiled, a full-blown smile. Beck had announced at the top of his lungs that he had killed Spider-Man. I didn’t take it well. I mean, what do you expect? I’d known Peter for a full year of school, and I was actually starting to call him a friend (to myself, of course, I’d let him admit that first) and then Beck just had to go ahead and drop that bomb on me.

Peter dove into the water and —

Oh shit he thinks this is a projection.

I hollowed out the middle of my monster and pulled him all the way up to my makeshift platform. Then his jaw dropped when he saw me.

“Y/N!”

I punched him in the shoulder. “I thought you were dead!”

“You’re working with Mysterio?”

“No, fuck him, he’s forcing me to do this.” I knocked some people off of the sidewalk and into the Thames. “He said he’d kill my family if I didn’t do what he said.”

Peter was gaping at me. “You’re the Avatar!”

I groaned. “Peter! You’re missing the point! I’m being forced to destroy London until you can kick Mysterio’s ass.”

He sobered up quickly. In complete honesty, he looked like shit. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheek was scrapped, and he was standing heavily to one side. Shit, just like I said. “Where is he?”

I thrust my chin toward Tower Bridge as I let my sludgy fist come down on a coffee shop. So much wasted espresso.

I had been at it for an hour, maybe two, when Peter shot some webs into the air without swinging from them. I took that as my cue to cool it, and I let the lava sink back to the Earth’s core. The Thames happily returned to normal, and I deposited myself on the uneven cobblestones by the Tower of London. The moment I touched down MJ ran past me with a weapon in hand, straight for the bridge. Odd.

“Was - was that monster thing... you?” Flash’s camera was pointed at me. I wanted to take his phone and chuck it straight into the filthy water, but all I did was look at him tiredly.

“We’re all just full of secrets, aren’t we Eugene?”

“You okay, kid?” A man with a goatee was with Ned and Betty and he looked vaguely familiar.

“Dead on my feet,” I admitted.

He nodded. “Let’s get back to your class.”

I would’ve fallen flat on my face if Flash hadn’t stepped forward and wrapped an arm around me. “Thanks,” I mumbled as I wrapped my own arm around his shoulders. “Where did everyone think I went?”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat, “Harrington said he got an email from your mom saying you weren’t feeling well, so you were gonna stay behind in Prague with some family then fly home. Everyone else was really skeptical, especially ‘cause Peter used the same excuse, but it’s not like we could do anything.” We slowly made our way back to the rest of the class. “Good luck explaining to Harrington how you’re back.”

“Think he’ll believe the truth?”

Flash’s eyebrows scrunched together. “What’s the truth?”

“I was kidnapped by Mysterio and he made me turn into an Elemental so he could become the new Tony Stark.”

I wish I could’ve told him I was making it up. I wish I could’ve made myself believe I was making it up. But I wasn’t. Reality really is shit.

Flash just chuckled half heartedly. “No. But that doesn’t mean he won’t let you go back with us anyway.”

We rejoined the class eventually, Peter still missing, but MJ quickly joined my other side and whispered in my ear, “I just kissed Peter.”

My eyes widened and I whispered back, “Holy shit that’s awesome,” but my heart wasn’t in it.

They’re really cute, and obviously happy. But I was starting to get attached to him. And now he couldn’t be mine. Not that he was to begin with, but a small part of me was hopeful.

“Y/N! You’re back!” Harrington’s exclamation could be heard over all of the class, so they all turned their heads to look at me. Joy.

“Yeah, turns out my connecting flight was the same as yours. Crazy how that works out, right?”

“Well, we’re glad to have you here. Okay, let’s all get back to the airport, we still have a flight to catch.”

The rest of them started migrating, but I stuck back. I don’t have a ticket. I can’t get on a plane without a ticket.

“Hey, kid, you okay?” It was the same familiar guy from before.

“I- I don’t have a ticket. M- Mysterio was the one who got me here, and I never thought so far as a way home, and-“ I was on the verge of tears, and before I could object, his arms were wrapped around me and he was patting my back softly.

“Hey, you’ll be okay. I-“

But he was interrupted by none other than Spider-Man himself.

“Happy, hey- Y/N?”

Before I could really stop myself I launched myself into Peter’s arms and hugged him tightly. “God, he told me you were dead.”

His arms eventually reciprocated the level of tightness I was giving out. “It wasn’t a fun time for me, either.”

I let go eventually, mostly because I was starting to lose the feeling in my arms. I couldn’t even really say anything without tears getting in the way so I just stood there, awkwardly, sniffling.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” It was the guy, Happy, that suggested it. “Tickets, then showers, then clothes, then sleep. Both of you.”

“I could sleep for a lifetime,” I mumbled.

I don’t remember much else. I ended up between Flash and Brad, which wasn’t too bad considering Flash has comfy shoulders and the more I slept the longer I could ignore Brad. I kind of figured it was inevitable, Brad stopping me to finally have a talk, but I was hoping to avoid it.

“Why do you hate me, Y/N? I’ve tried to be nice to you, and all you’ve ever done in return is throw it back in my face.”

“Can we not do this right now, Brad? Or ever, for that matter?”

“No.” He grabbed my arm as I tried walking away. “I deserve an answer.”

I was exhausted. I was pissed. My mind was not in a good state. And I may have felt how real Brad was, but that didn’t stop my skin from crawling when his hand grabbed me.

I wrenched my arm out of his grasp. “I don’t owe you shit. Just because you deserve an explanation doesn’t mean I have to give you one.”

“You’re a first rate bitch, you know that?”

“And he finally drops the nice guy facade.” I probably shouldn’t have gotten so close to him, but I was not in the best state, mentally. Despite that little voice in the back of my head, I took a step closer and nearly bumped chests with him. “You’ve been trying to keep up this act so they can accept you, but you’re doing a real shit job at hiding the fact that you believe you’re just a scared twelve year old to these people. You’ve been letting their opinions about you control your life and it’s exhausting.”

“Like you’re any better.”

I took a step back and a deep breath. “If I let their opinions of me control my life I would’ve been dead a long time ago.” I shrugged. “I know what I am to them, and there’s nothing to change it. But that doesn’t mean I have to seek their approval. They’ve already made their decision about who I am - I have my whole life to make mine.” I shoved past him and finally made it out of the airport, just in time to see Peter give MJ a small peck before going to his aunt. Another punch to the gut. Reality: 1, Y/N: 0.

“Y/N! Sweetheart! We were so worried.” My parents, bless their souls, ran up to me and wrapped me in their arms. I would’ve burst into tears right there if Happy didn’t make eye contact with me and hand me a business card behind their backs. He lifted his hand to his ear and mouthed, ‘call me,’ to which I nodded simply for lack of a better response. “Let’s get you home,” they insisted. I was ushered into the car and driven straight home, but I didn’t hear a word they said.

My own parents don’t know what I can do. I could’ve died and they would never know I had abilities.

Holy shit.

I could have died.

“Stop the car.”

Dad looked back in concern. “Y/N, are you okay?” Of course I wasn’t okay, I was asking you to stop the car in the middle of the freeway.

“Dad, stop the car, I’m gonna be sick.”

He pulled over and I jumped out and emptied the trashy airplane food from my system. How could it be legal to serve that to people?

“Y/N?” Mom put a hand on my back and I almost lost it again. “Let’s get home and we’ll talk. Okay?”

Wow, did we have a lot to talk about.

tags: @eridanuswave​ @vampirestrawberries​

[largedenominationsplease]

you’d come over, right?

Summary: A year after Kiara and JJ broke up, they come home to the Outer Banks to deal with one of the hardest years of their lives.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: swearing, canon-compliant smoking, au, minor character death, cancer, current events

A/N: Alternate Universe: JJ and Kiara dated seriously for a long while, but over a year before this story, they parted ways. Set in present-day with current events, but most current events are only mentioned briefly for context. All characters aged 21+. Partially inspired by If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe and Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi and current events and Sad Feels™ and a sad playlist my sister made. Come cry with me... also on ao3

Shoutout to @alexandracheers​ for proofreading <3

Sometimes even the most beautiful things die. It’s the sad cycle of life. 

It starts with a spark, a first touch, a first look, a first kiss; 

a few embers of warmth, holding hands, secret glances, flirty texts; 

the roaring flames of passion, clinging to one another, leaving the party early, tangled limbs and tangled sheets; 

then the steady heat of a well-tended fire, cozy mornings making coffee, binging your favorite shows, texting to see how your day is. 

But, sometimes, even the most loved and cared for fires die. They go out with little warning or reason. What was a welcome flame in the hearth one night may be a bed of ash by morning. 

Their fire died a long time ago. It wasn’t anyone’s fault - no one was trying to douse the flames - it just went out. When they sat down and discussed breaking up - parting ways was a more apropos term - she hadn’t even cried. When he packed up and moved out, it was unceremonious. He even kissed her forehead as he left, like he’d done a hundred times before, only this time he wasn’t coming back. 

She still dreamed about him. Sometimes unbidden images of picket fences and a dog and home-cooked meals and potted plants intruded upon her thoughts. Once, when her period was late, she’d even dreamt of a curly-haired little boy with blue eyes - which was ridiculous because she was very single at the time. Did she even want to have kids?

He thought about her, too. Each new destination she traveled to brought new Instagram posts and awakened an ache in his chest he couldn’t quite place. That ache deepened when she revisited places they had gone together - unwanted memories flooding his senses. The smell of coconut still sent him spinning, missing the feeling of running his fingers through her hair, over the smooth skin of her arms and legs. 

What hurt so badly about their fire dying wasn’t that it died. What hurt was that it should never have died; that it died so quietly and suddenly; that one day it was there, burning bright, and the next it was a cold gray heap of coals. 

Even their friends were surprised when he moved back home. “Where is she?” and “What happened?” and “We had no idea you had any problems.”

Followed by the futile response of, “It was just time to move on.”

And they did move on, eventually. She traveled to forget and perhaps after a few months she could call herself truly happy - though there was always an ache of not having someone to share each experience with. He stayed at home, but he opened his own business and the familiarity of home soothed any wounds he sustained. Their fire might have gone out, but they kept the bed of ash in the fireplace, a shrine to what they once had, and it was more comforting than sad after a time. 

When the virus first hit, she’d been back in the states, on the West Coast. She messaged him:

Are you safe? Still have a job? Anyone sick?

Fine for now. You?

Fine.

When the protesting started, he knew she’d be in the thick of it. Not that he didn’t get involved, he just knew her passion for people and justice. He messaged her back this time:

You’re protesting, aren’t you? Are you safe?

Of course! But I’m being careful. You?

Staying safe. Protesting here, too. 

Hurricane Isaias wasn’t meant to be a bad storm, but she had still tracked it up the East Coast. Her suspicions were confirmed when it intensified.

Isaias didn’t wipe y’all out, did it?

No, blew through pretty quick. The Cut took a hit. Gonna take some time to fix it up. 

At first, after reading the headlines about the fires out west, he thought it was a joke. As they spread, he realized how serious it was and it worried him. 

You evacuated, right? The air quality is shit where you are. 

Yep. Gonna take a pandemic-friendly tour of some national parks further east.

Every new development meant more messages sent. Simple little check-ins that meant nothing and everything. It was a scary year the world faced, and even after all those months apart, the only thing they wanted was to find comfort in one another’s safety. On opposite ends of the country, the two of them tied together by current events and the memory of their relationship. 

Mid-September, while she was traveling away from the fires on the West Coast, he got a call from her mother. He hadn’t spoken to her mother much since they had broken up, over a year ago, but she still liked his Instagram posts and struck up conversations when she saw him around town. 

“Hey, Mrs. Anna.”

“Hi, JJ. I’ve told you, it’s just Anna.” Her voice was soft and as kind as ever, but held an edge of tiredness and strain he hadn’t heard from her before. “We have some… tough news, and we wanted you to hear it from us first.”

Colon cancer…

Kiara’s hearing faded into white noise as her mother spoke those words to her through the phone. Her mother went on to explain that even though they caught it late, the doctors were optimistic that her father would make a recovery. Treatments were set to start right away. 

“Mom, I’m coming home.”

“Honey, we know you’ve got traveling plans. We’ll be fine. We don’t want to interrupt your-”

“Mom, I can’t do much traveling with this virus. Dad is more important than any of that, anyway. I’m coming home.”

JJ cried when Anna hung up the phone. Mike was rough around the edges, and he was resistant to Kiara dating a Maybank, but once JJ won him over, he treated him like a son. Hearing this news was a punch to the gut - it was like losing a father. Even in the midst of his sadness he knew Kiara would be sent into a tailspin.

Hey. You okay?

She was typing in response, then nothing. He waited, seeing the little bubble pop up again and again and fade away each time. And then she videocalled. She hadn’t called him in months - not since they parted ways. The little screen showed her in her car, only illuminated by her dim phone screen and the passing street lights. Tears stained her cheeks, but she kept her eyes trained on the road. “I’m not okay.”

“You’re driving right now?”

“I’m coming home.”

“Kiara, pull over. It’s late. Get some sleep.”

“I can’t. They caught it late - he might… who knows how much time I have-”

“Kie.” His voice was soft. He was always soft toward her.

Her face crumpled as the tears fell fresh. He let her cry. He talked to her about nothing and everything as her tears subsided. She cried as she drove through the night, talking to him when she was calm, crying harder when the conversation lulled. She didn’t stop until she noticed he’d fallen asleep, the video call still rolling. It was after four in the morning. The pang of nostalgia that tore through her was enough to make her catch her breath. They hadn’t talked like that since they first started dating. A few tears sneaked out of the corners of her eyes, but she couldn’t tell if the memories or the fear of the future caused them. She found a safe place to park and fell into a fitful sleep in the back of her car. 

She made it home just in time for her dad’s first surgery. JJ met her and her mother at the hospital parking lot, all masks and six-feet of distance until she said, “I could really use a hug.” The three of them colliding into a group hug within seconds. 

JJ made sure the Carreras didn’t need anything as Mike went through chemo and more and more hospital stays. He ran errands for them since none of them could risk going out and bringing anything home. He did yard work since Mike hated an unkept lawn. Kiara always made sure to leave him snacks and drinks on the back deck as the North Carolina heat stretched into October. Aside from that, he willingly put himself at Anna’s beck and call. Anything and everything she needed done, he jumped at the opportunity to help. He would even come over in the evenings to play cards with Mike - masks included. Kiara’s heart ached as she watched her parents get along with him so well. She hadn’t realized how far he had wormed his way into their little family, but here they were, acting as though nothing had changed between him and their daughter, loving him like a son. He praised her mom’s cooking until she blushed and there were times he could make her dad laugh so hard they all forgot for a moment that cancer existed. Those moments were fleeting and oh-so cherished. 

Mike deteriorated quickly. It made Kiara sick to see her father become a cancer-wasted shell of himself. As optimistic as the doctors had been originally, the treatments weren’t taking well. As chemo wrapped up, his numbers were still dangerously high. November brought another emergency surgery that confirmed their worst fears. Mike moved home. They were told all that was left was to manage the pain and make him as comfortable as they could. They had perhaps a month left. JJ moved into the guest room to be as close as possible in case anything was needed from him. The four of them were left waiting as Thanksgiving approached. 

Kiara wasn’t sleeping. Maybe it was knowing her ex-boyfriend was staying down the hall from her, though that was an odd thing to focus on. More likely, it was the fact that her father was passing away right before her eyes, slipping through her fingers as she stood by, helpless. The sun had set hours ago, and she sat with a now-cold cup of tea in front of her at the kitchen table, mulling over each crazy event that had led her to this point. 

JJ wandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge to inspect the contents. “What are you doing up so late?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.” The words came out harsher than she had intended, but then again, she was exhausted in every single sense of the term.

JJ brushed off her roughness. “Hungry. Did you eat dinner?” He knew she hadn’t, so he set about making an extra sandwich.

After a few moments of silence, Kiara whispered, “It’s all my fault.”

“What?”

“It’s my fault,” she repeated, her lip trembling. “I always kept track of his appointments for him. He was always shit at remembering to go to the doctor. He should have had one last year, but I didn’t come home and I didn’t remind him. If I hadn’t broken up with you, I would have been here to remind him to go.” Tears shone in her eyes and on her cheeks.

JJ gave her a quizzical look, deciphering what she was saying. “I seem to recall being the one who left. But really none of this is anyone’s fault,” he kept his voice even, wanting nothing more than to hug her, to wipe away all the tears, and make sure she never had to shed another one again.

“I know, I know, it’s ridiculous, but it’s what keeps running through my head.” She reached up and readjusted the messy bun that her hair was falling out of. “But, for the record, I asked you to leave.” JJ raised an eyebrow as she said this, as though he didn’t believe her. The truth was, neither of them really remembered who had dumped who or why he had left in the first place. Nothing happened that they couldn’t work out with a little bit of effort. “Didn’t I?” she faltered.

He shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

“We just fought a lot, didn’t we?”

“Constantly. You were a bitch.”

She turned to him, mouth open. She slapped at his shoulder, “I know you did not just call me a bitch, bitch!”

He smirked at her. “Maybe you weren’t that bad. Apparently, I was a slob.”

“You are a slob,” she chuckled. Then she sighed and moved to heat up her tea. “But that’s no reason to dump someone. We just… fell out of love, I guess.”

“I didn’t.” His voice was so soft he was barely even sure he had spoken. Based on the way Kiara froze, her back tense, he’d definitely said those private thoughts aloud.

She turned slowly, her face pale with lack of sleep and - something else. Was that anger? Or sadness? “You’ve had more than a year to confess something like that to me, and you choose now?”

JJ shrugged helplessly, unsure of what to say.

“That was the issue all along, wasn’t it?” Kiara’s voice shook, but she kept her tone cool, even. “You wouldn’t communicate with me.”

“Oh, come on, Kie, that’s not fair.” It was too late for a fight. They were both tired and emotional. This wouldn’t end well.

“What’s not fair?” Her voice had started to rise in volume and pitch as her anger increased. She wasn’t even sure why she was angry in the first place, but something about JJ’s confession caused her blood to boil. “The fact that you didn’t admit you still loved me when you left over a year ago? Or the fact that you choose to admit that to me while I’m exhausted and emotionally compromised?”

“Don’t be like that! That’s not what I’m doing.” JJ tried to keep his voice lower than hers, so they wouldn’t wake Mike or Anna, but the way her eyes flashed told him that wouldn’t happen. He grabbed her bicep and led her out to the backyard.

“Let go of me!” She pulled away from him, trying to hide the shiver that ran up her spine in the cool November evening air. “You don’t get to manhandle me and manipulate me into falling back into your arms like nothing happened.”

“That’s not-“ JJ ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. “You know I’m shit at communicating this stuff.”

“At saying ‘I love you?’ At being emotionally present? Listen, I know your dad was fucked up and he fucked you up, but you’re a grown-ass man now. You could have learned how to be there for me!”

“Don’t bring him into this!” They’d had this fight a million times before. The recurring theme of their demise being communication. Their fire had been sputtering under the faulty system they had in place long before they realized what their problems were - it was something neither of them wanted to admit. “Fuck it, Kie, even if I had wanted to get any better at communicating, you were no help. You held every single one of my mistakes over my head. There was no road to redemption for you.”

“No, no that’s not true. I tried to help you-“

“Only telling me what I did wrong wasn’t helpful.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again, stuttering in anger. “Well… if you still loved me so much, why did you leave?”

“Why stay when I knew you didn’t love me anymore?” JJ’s voice dropped and he avoided eye contact with her. 

Her eyes grew wide in realization. “You know what? Fuck you! I loved you until the day you left. If I had known you weren’t coming back I would have fought harder to keep you with me, and if you’re too dense to see-” He cut her words off, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her roughly. She melted into him, a single tear squeezing itself from her eye. He tasted of a coconut flavored vape pod and nicotine and the sea. He was just as stupid and lovely as ever. It only lasted a moment before she shoved at his chest, clearing her throat and turning from him to hide the blush rising to her cheeks. 

“I’m… I’m seeing someone,” she muttered by way of explanation.

“Oh.” JJ licked his lips, missing her more than he had before he kissed her. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know. Who is it? Why aren’t they here?” He hadn’t meant to add that last part, but he was curious. Who could she be seeing that wouldn’t support her during all of this? Who could she want to be with that wasn’t there, like he was?

“Um, her name’s Fern. I asked her not to come. I didn’t want her to meet my dad this way.” She started to walk toward the door, wrapping her arms around herself in the cold November evening air. 

“Kie,” JJ called after her. She turned slightly, to catch his eye out of the corner of her own. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything… I fucked a lot of things up. And I’m sorry about your dad.”

She nodded. “Me too.” With everything, she added mentally, and he knew she had.

Kiara and JJ wordlessly promised each other that they wouldn't let their differences ruin the upcoming holidays. So Thanksgiving passed uneventfully. It was almost a normal Carrera family holiday, besides the fact that Anna and JJ did most of the cooking. Mike tried once or twice to wander into the kitchen, but he didn’t make it long before having to sit back down. Kiara made him comfortable on the couch and they watched what little football was playing. She was sure to commentate on each play alongside him. The four of them ate extreme amounts of food, and laughed and played games. “Tomorrow we go get our Christmas tree,” Mike announced at the end of the night. Kiara bit her lip and glanced at JJ. He shrugged half-heartedly.

“That’s right, baby,” Anna replied, looking meaningfully at the others. 

And they did. They didn’t travel to the mountains, like other years, but they did go down to the local tree lot. Kiara made a big fuss about finding the fattest tree and over-scrutinized each one until she found the perfect Christmas tree, just like always. JJ had spent holidays with the Carrera’s before, but he had never been so intimately involved in all of their traditions. He thought Christmas might just become his favorite holiday at this rate. 

The weeks leading to Christmas weren’t all smooth sailing. Just a few days after Thanksgiving Mike was confined almost exclusively to a hospital bed in the living room. A nurse moved in a few days after that. He slept fitfully if he slept at all, and most days, the pain (or the pain medication) kept him from interacting with the rest of them. Kie would read to him in the evenings, starting with A Christmas Carol. He fell asleep after only a few paragraphs each time, so it took a long while to get through the story. All four of them watched classic Christmas movie after classic Christmas movie - many of which JJ hadn’t ever seen (to which Anna always replied, “That’s going on our list, then!”). Mike managed to stay awake for the entirety of Elf, his favorite. 

Christmas day was quiet. JJ cooked breakfast for everyone, and Anna gushed about how good his cooking had gotten. They had opted not to exchange gifts this holiday, instead filling their stockings with all their favorite candies and snacks. It had been JJ’s idea, and Kiara thought he might have been a secret genius for suggesting it. In the afternoon, Fern called Kie and they talked for over an hour. JJ thought she looked satisfied when she returned, but nowhere near as happy as one should be when they got off a long conversation with their girlfriend. It was probably just the current circumstances. She didn’t say anything other than, “What’s the next movie, Dad?”

Mike died two days after Christmas. He went in his sleep, which was exactly what he had wanted. No fuss, no doctors trying desperately to save him. Just a good night’s sleep where he peacefully breathed his last. He didn’t look the same as he once had. Cancer had changed him so drastically, his once strong imposing frame a mere shadow of its former glory. But his face was smoothed out, lines of pain, grief, and illness wiped away, leaving simply peace. He could have been asleep, but now he would never wake up. Looking at him, Kiara felt like she was drowning. Like every breath she fought to take just filled her lungs with more and more water. Her dad was her rock, and now she was sinking in a wide, dark ocean. She thought she might never breathe again. 

The funeral was tiny - it was only close family that attended - three days after he passed. The sky was clear and blue and the air was cold, typical North Carolina winter. It had snowed the day before, just a bit, so the ground was frozen and white. It could have been beautiful if it wasn’t so heartbreaking. Anna didn’t cry that day. She said she had cried enough. The snow started falling again that evening, once they got home, and she said that was Mike’s way of telling her he loved her. She loved the snow.  

JJ went back home the day after the New Year. Anna told him to stay as long as he wanted, but he said it was time for him to move on. She understood, hugged him tightly before he went, admonishing him to come around often. He said he would, and promised to help with anything she needed around the house, too. Kiara sat huddled on the front porch in a rocking chair, wrapped in a thick blanket with a cup of hot cocoa as he walked out. “You’re not going to say goodbye?” he teased kindly. 

She looked up at him, her eyes still bloodshot and sorrowful. He wanted to hold her. He wished she had never had to go through any of this. She didn’t deserve it. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “You’ve done so much for us.”

JJ shook his head. “It was selfish. I thought if I was nearby maybe it wouldn’t happen.”

“It was anything but selfish,” She insisted, standing up and wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She placed a cold hand on his cheek. “Really, J. We couldn’t have made it through any of this without you.”

JJ might have leaned too deeply into her touch, no matter how cold her hands were. It somehow felt colder when she moved away. He cleared his throat. “So what’re your plans now? Getting back on the road?”

“Not until spring. Mom won’t admit it, but she’s not ready to be alone. She’ll need some help coping. And honestly, I’m not itching to leave.”

“I thought you’d wanna skip out as soon as possible. Doesn’t Fern miss you?”

She squinted her eyes but didn’t say anything in response. “I’ll miss having you around, Maybank.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll still be around. I think your mom will institute Sunday dinners or some shit if I don’t come over regularly.”

Kie chuckled. “She really loves you. Dad does - did, too.” Her voice broke slightly.

“I love them, too,” JJ said, honestly. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before picking up his bags and leaving. Kiara caught her breath as his lips brushed her skin, warmth spreading from where he made contact. Her wide eyes stayed glued to his figure as he loaded up his truck and drove away. 

If normal could be achieved after a year like the Carrera women had experienced, they worked their hardest to achieve it. Anna threw herself into caring for the Wreck and it had the best off-season it had had in years. Kiara wrote songs and worked alongside her mother and even took some online classes. Anna did indeed institute Sunday dinners with JJ and he came to as many of them as he could. Life was slow to move forward, but Kie and Anna kept each other afloat, reminding themselves that Mike wouldn’t have wanted them to sit still crying over him. Step by step they picked up the pieces of their lives. 

Things went along this way for a couple months or so. The world was calming down, but not fully quiet yet - when was the world ever quiet? Kiara never thought she could enjoy the quiet slow life that was the Outer Banks during the off-season, but after the year she’d had, she wanted nothing more than simple domesticity. She said as much during one of their Sunday dinners, enticing a knowing smile from her mother and a surprising lack of eye contact from JJ. She cornered him on the back deck when he’d stepped out to smoke. She was grateful they had regained some of the ease their friendship had carried when they were younger. “Okay, what was that all about?”

He chewed on his lip, twisting his cigarette between his fingers. He’d given up weed a while back when they were traveling, out of necessity, but she was secretly glad he’d never taken it up again. “I’m leaving,” he said abruptly. 

“Leaving? Going where?” 

“Not sure yet. My cousin’s gonna watch the shop for me. Travel the states for a bit until it’s safer to leave the country. Then Mexico? Maybe.”

“When will you be back?” 

He shrugged, “Don’t know. Not for a long time.”

“Why?” Her mouth had gone dry and her words had run out. JJ was a die-hard salt-lifer. He might pack up and leave occasionally, but the Outer Banks was home, where he belonged. She thought that no matter where he went, he’d always end up back here. Home. How could he leave now?

He turned to look at her, urgency and honesty shining in his eyes. “I know he was your dad, and I probably don’t have the right to feel this way, but I…” 

“You lost him, too,” she said, understanding.

“Need a change of scenery.” He shrugged again, putting out his cigarette before walking back inside. 

Kiara understood better than most the need to keep moving, the change of scenery a welcome distraction. Traveling alone left a lot of time to think and soul-search. She didn’t peg JJ as the soul-searching type, but grief changed people; he needed time. She could support him in that.

“You’re going with him, right?” Anna asked sternly as she and her daughter washed dishes that evening. JJ had just left. 

“What?” Kiara nearly dropped the plate she was drying. 

“JJ told me all about his plans. Getting out of here for a while will be good for him!” She waved a hand over her shoulder, dismissing Kiara’s shocked expression. “He talks to me, too, you know? Always has.”

Kiara chuckled lightly, “So even though he and I broke up, he never broke up with y’all?”

“You shouldn’t have broken up with him.”

Kiara’s heart stopped for a moment, as she processed what her mother had said. “What do you mean?” She started slowly. “I thought you didn’t approve of me dating someone from the Cut.”

Anna sighed, setting down a half-washed pan. She turned to her daughter. “Your dad and I always wanted what was best for you. We thought that meant college, a solid career, marrying up. But we realized recently that that is never what life’s about.” She reached out and took Kiara’s hands, tears starting to shine in her eyes. “Your dad was from the Cut. When we first got married, we had nothing except each other but being with him was the best decision I ever made. He made me happy. I think I made him happy, too.”

“You definitely made him happy, Mom. But JJ and I fought all the time, we couldn’t sort things out.”

Anna scoffed, “Your dad and I fought, too. Fights happen, but you have to realize you’re not fighting each other, you’re a team fighting the problem. Once you figure that out, you can work through anything.”

Kiara shook her head, but she had a soft smile on her lips. “Mom, I just don’t know.”

Anna smiled, tearfully. “That is what life’s about. Nobody knows! What really matters is who is there to walk with you in the unknown. Who is there for you when you need them? Through the good and the bad. Your dad was that person for me.” She paused and looked at Kiara meaningfully, “So I’ll ask again: are you going with him?”

She shouldn’t, but while considering all of this somehow she felt freer. Her father had just died, she should still be mourning him, and yet she knew that he wouldn’t want her to wallow - she had to pick herself up. You knew this was coming, she heard his voice in her head. She hoped she would never forget what that voice sounded like. You knew I was going. Now that I’m gone, you’re free to live your life again. Live it, Kiara.

JJ finished buying his ticket for the ferry. It was cold out, more snow on its way. He had some time to kill before loading up his truck, but not much. He double-checked the straps on his luggage in the bed of the truck and was just beginning to contemplate how to pass the time when he heard his name being called. He turned to see Kiara running toward him, backpack bouncing wildly on her back. She was all flushed cheeks and shining eyes and curls tumbling around her shoulders. 

“I broke up with Fern,” her words came out in a rush as she drew near him before he could even greet her. “I broke up with her months ago.”

“O-okay,” JJ replied, heart pounding. A million thoughts ran through his mind. He had just seen Kiara, why hadn’t she mentioned it then? Or before then? Why had she come all the way here to tell him that?

“And I’m coming with you,” she continued. 

“What?” JJ wasn’t one to be lost for words, but he couldn’t say anything else. 

“You make me happy. When the world went to shit you were the one person I wanted to know was safe. You were there for me and my whole family in the darkest few months of our lives and you really cared about us. I don’t care that we fought or that we will fight because being with you makes me happier than I ever thought possible.”

If she was going to say anything else, her words were swallowed up when he kissed her, hands cupping her cold cheeks. “I love you,” he said when she pulled back to breathe. “I never stopped. I didn’t know how to fight for you, how to stay, but I’ll do better. I can be better.”

She pressed another kiss to his lips. “Shut up, we’ll figure it out. We can do it right this time.” 

Sometimes things die. It’s a sad cycle. The brightest fires turn cold and gray. But with time, new sparks can settle in that bed of ash. With care a new fire can start, burning brighter than before. So, even though things sometimes die, sometimes those dead things lead to an even more beautiful beginning.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Secrets & Fury || Morgan & Blanche Feat. Agnes Bachman

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: Bachman House Ruins

PARTIES: @harlowhaunted & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Blanche make contact with the past. The truth is not meant to soothe.

CONTENT: brief mentions of suicide

The only thing left of what had once been the Bachman House was a few outer support beams and a wall, sticking out of the ground in a way that wouldn’t have been possible unless the ground swallowed the house whole. Which, in fairness, it did. Blanche remembered Morgan, Cassie, and herself throwing themselves out of the home and into the adjacent garden as the ground trembled and swallowed the cursed house… Blanche had never asked Morgan where the house went. Was the house still lingering below the soil or had it disappeared somewhere else entirely? Blanche stared at the dirt, grimacing at the patches of weeds that had feebly tried to break through to no avail, and decided that she would ask ahat at different time. There were no spirits here, not this time. The cool chill that ran up Blanche’s spine from time to time was the cold December air… And the dark, leafless trees that loomed around the area as if they were watching her. As Blanche painstakingly drew the circle in the dirt, she couldn’t help but feel as if she was doing this in front of an audience. Like this was a final test to see if it was worth it -- if she was worth it.

The silver, jeweled barrette kept her blonde hair out of her face, and every once in a while, she would reach up to run her fingers along the smooth, teal gemstones encrusted on the trinket. It made her feel better. Blanche remembered what Jasmine said about Focal Points, and even if it was false, at least it gave her peace of mind. At least it brought her closer to the one she missed most of all. Even that made her feel more powerful than before.

This was what she was doing when Morgan arrived. Blanche glanced at her, her hand falling back to her side as she gave her a strained smile. “Hey,” she said softly, and she grabbed her pink lighter from her pocket. Time to light the candles. “You can put it in the middle of the circle. What you brought of Agnes’, I mean.”

Morgan had tried to come early. She hadn’t been to the old Bachman house for even a drive-by hello since it had tried to collapse with her, Blanche, and Cassie in it. She couldn’t see the place as a benign victim of circumstance after having to face off against Hannah Bachman, hearing the ways she mimicked her own mother in her brand of cruelty. Pulling alongside the street now made her feel as though the wood and nails had been as complicit as Constance in the horrible things that had happened here. What she had expected to find, to get used to, she wasn’t sure. All she knew now was that Blanche had beaten her to the punch and settled into a circle inside the ruins. That’s what happened when you got too anxiously punctual people together, she guessed. “Fancy seeing you here,” she said wryly. “Our appointment isn’t for another ten minutes, Blanche.” She reached into her bag and took out the arm bone she had stolen from Agnes’ grave, wrapped in fabric. Deirdre had been able to identify her with just a touch: thick dark hair like Morgan’s, large eyes that were brown instead of blue, and an anguished look as she laid down in a rickety bed and worked a pillow around half her face, a pistol in her hand. She had been crying, Deirdre said. Morgan couldn’t think of any other way she might have gone, not with what she’d been made to live with. “Genuine, banshee-identified great great grandma Agnes,” she said softly. Agnes’ family title sounded strange, knowing that she had died only a few years older than Morgan. They felt more like equals now, women who had been ground up and bent into the wrong shape, who were tired, who just needed to catch a break for once. Morgan sat down just outside the circle, careful not to disrupt any of the markings. “You um...when you bring them here, you don’t have to see how they died, right Blanche? I mean, she’ll look…” Like there’s a massive exit wound on the side of her skull. “How she did when it happened. But that’s not something you have to carry, is it?” Morgan asked.

“I’m nothing if not efficient,” Blanche replied. The grin on her face didn’t quite reach her eyes, though she was pleased to see that Morgan looked alright. Blanche had been here for forty-five minutes already, but she wasn't’ about to tell Morgan that - she sought out the flattest part of the ruins and spent an absurdly long time drawing the circle. She looked sharply at Morgan, the question burning in her throat. How did great, great Grandma Agnes die? Not that it mattered, because she would do the seance no matter what, but she couldn’t help but think of the bullet wound inside Sammy’s skull and Winn’s chest, and how Bea’s head never sat quite right on her shoulders… But Blanche shook her head. “I’ve seen some pretty gruesome deaths,” she said. Blanche didn’t know Agnes, so she hoped her appearance wouldn’t stay burned into her memory like her friends. There was some part of her that knew this wasn’t true, she remembered spirits maimed in all sorts of ways… But as Blanche finished lighting her candles, she stood, brushing the dirt off her jeans. “She’ll look how she chooses too,” Blanche said, “If she’s been around since she died… Then she’ll probably have learned to change her appearance by now. But if she hasn’t or she doesn’t want too…” Blanche reached to fiddle with the hair clip in her hair again, chewing on her lip in thought. “That’s her choice. It won’t prevent us from doing what we’re here to do.” She examined her circle for the upteenth time, looking for imperfections. She could find none. With a small breath, she looked back to Morgan. “Are you ready, Morgan?” She waited for Morgan to nod, before going to settle into the dirt.

Blanche took a few deep breaths, glancing over at Morgan to really make sure she was ready, before she began reciting the sanskrit. The power Blanche felt flowing through her and the circle was almost on par with the deep seeded resentment in her soul. It was strange and exciting and somehow different than when they had been in her apartment. It was a mistake, Blanche decided, to not have come here the first time. Wind howled around them, the flickering of the candles erratic but never going out as it circled them. She was clear headed, drawing her energy from the back of her mind - rather, the back of her head, she supposed, where her great grandmother’s clip lay. She focused on that as she opened the portal of communication, the chilling wind whining in protest as she pushed forward. It was tiring, but slowly, a woman flickered into sight. Slowly, her transparent form grew stronger, and Blanche could make out her features and the frumpy old clothes she wore. With a push forward, Blanche ended the opening of the ritual.

“Are you Agnes Bachman?” Blanche asked, glanced at Morgan for confirmation before anything else.

Morgan kept her eyes trained on the center of the circle, like letting her hair blow the wrong way might turn everything around for the worse. She heard the wind in her ears, saw the small candle flames surge on their wicks. Doubt gnawed in her stomach, she’s not coming, she’s not here and she’s not coming and I’m never gonna know what really happened. Shit, was she awful for trying to reach out with her will and pull her toward them? For wanting her to be stuck here all this time, just to have someone she could talk to? Morgan didn’t have time to find an answer inside herself. A silhouette formed in a circle, then a face.

“Oh, shit…”

Agnes Bachman didn’t have a hole in her head. Her wavy hair hung just below her jaw, styled in waves Morgan had seen in fashion panels from the 1910’s. She had loose housecoat, or maybe it was just a regular day coat that had been retired after getting too big and patchy, hung heavy on her frame. (Morgan couldn’t figure out how that worked, the woman before her didn’t have a body, so how could anything be loose or tight or anything in between? And yet just from looking at her, Morgan could imagine the pointy ends of her joints and the ridges on her stomach from going hungry on and off for years.) She had a bemused half smile, one that was way past surprise, and a face that looked hauntingly like the one Cece had pulled out of the magic trunk. “It’s you,” Morgan whispered. “This whole time, I’ve been looking at… Agnes.”

“Is there someone else I would be?” Agnes asked. She had a high, tired kind of voice, not unlike the wind that had swelled around them only a minute ago. It was a reedy voice, torn up from too many cigarettes. Smoking was unladylike in Agnes’ time, but maybe she’d stolen her husband’s cigarettes, or bummed some off people with more money. Maybe after a certain point she had decided not to care. She looked around, taking in what was left of the house, the hole in its core, the stars above and the jagged, splintered ruins reaching through it like so many broken fingers. “I remember this place.” She scoffed, smirking. “It feels a shame I’m not more surprised to see it in pieces. You’re supposed to bond with the place you grow up. It’s how you maintain your ties with the earth.” She turned back to them, gesturing self consciously around her temples. “Is anyone gonna tell me what this party’s about...?” The smile she gave each of them was thin, like she was afraid something bad was going to happen. How often had she been blamed or yelled at for Constance’s mess? “One of you has to know something, if you’re pulling me cross-country to my old house.”

“Y-yes. I mean...we...uh…” Morgan fumbled for words and gaped at Blanche, silently asking for help.

Awestruck by her success, Blanche stared at Agnes in a sort of wonder. The wind grew calm around them, still lightly tugging at loose hairs and flame to let them know it was still there. She had done it. She pulled Agnes Bachman back here. Blanche gaped right back at Morgan, suddenly speechless herself. All coherent thoughts flew out of her head and suddenly she forgot how to speak any language whatsoever.

“Wha-” Blanche stuttered, and then realized she was the one supposed to be running this ‘party’. She almost leapt to her feet, but stayed rooted to the spot so she wouldn’t jostle the circle. “Agnes,” Blanche tried again. “My name is Blanche Harlow. I’m a local medium in White Crest. This is Morgan Beck, she’s your great, great Granddaughter. I’ve… We, rather… We’ve contacted you because we want to ask you about the past, specifically relating to Constance Cunningham.” Her words were formal, but they were at least confident.

“Is it alright if we ask you a few questions?”

Agnes hadn’t stopped looking at Morgan since she’d appeared. Morgan straightened her shoulders under her gaze and angled her head this way and that, trying to find the angle that would give her the most ‘respectable impressive descendant’ look, not that she knew what that was. Agnes smirked at Blanche’s fumbling and Morgan noticed an array of little smile wrinkles that gave her some comfort. She must have been happy, or something like it, for a little while.

“I should tell you,” Agnes said, leaning in with a conspiratorial look, “I told my kids not to settle down, so they maybe wouldn’t have any of their own. But I’m not surprised they didn’t listen to me. Kids never do, so don’t get any ideas.” She squinted taking in more of Morgan. “But that’s not going to be a problem for you, is it, sweetie?”

“No,” Morgan whispered. “I mean, I have a...I haven’t really discussed it with my girlfriend, we’re gonna wait fifty, maybe a hundred years first. That’s the kind of family planning you get with a zombie and a banshee!” She laughed, shrill and pained. Was this how you were supposed to talk to your grandmother? Did it matter when she only looked five years older than you? “I died. Because of the family curse. Seven months and change, so I’m still adjusting. But it’s fine! I mean, it’s not, but it will be.” She gripped her wool skirt, fighting the urge to crawl closer to Agnes.

“Girlfriend, you say? I’ve seen things get better for some girls like that in the last hundred years. I should’ve figured it ran in the family. Mama was right about something after all.” The smirk she gave was bitter, scratching an old scab on her heart, and if Morgan hadn’t already heard about Hannah Bachman’s dismay from Leah, she would’ve seen the cut her response had left in Agnes’ face. “Your death, sweetie, does that mean the magic doesn’t touch you anymore? Whatever you and your girl do, are you safe from it?”

Morgan nodded, eyes beginning to well. “Yeah, we are. The curse didn’t follow me after. We’re good. It’s just uh…” She looked sidelong at Blanche. “It’s Constance? She’s here and she is…” Evil. Cruel. A walking nightmare. “Really, really determined to make up for what her curse can’t do anymore. And I...we were wondering...if you could tell us what really happened. I read Lucrecia’s diary, but I want the truth from you. And before you say anything, I don’t blame you. I don’t know where it started in the family, but I know you didn’t deserve to carry this like it was all your fault, and I don’t blame you for what she did.”

Agnes straightened up. “I can’t talk about Constance,” she said flatly. “And the person who started that story was me, because it was true.” She turned to Blanche. “Can you put me back somewhere? It doesn’t have to be home, I don’t much like my new grave. But somewhere else, please.”

Blanche thanked every God that may or may not have existed that she had excellent memory recall. She backed off of Agnes, ready to do what she, as a private investigator trainee, did best: listened. The true extent of the Bachman curse had been made apparent to her when Morgan died violently in the middle of town and became a zombie, but Constance never put into thought that there could be life after death… Funnily enough, Blanche hadn’t put that much thought into it either, before she met Remmy. Blanche rested her hands in her lap, leaning forward on her knees as she concentrated on keeping the line of connection open.

“You can’t talk about Constance? Or you won’t talk about Constance?” Perhaps Blanche’s voice was a little sharper than it needed to be, but she wasn’t here to pull punches. She was here for the truth. After the truth was known… Well, then she could deal with Agnes. Agnes, from what she felt, would need to move on. But one ghost problem at a time. This seance wasn’t for Agnes, it was for Morgan. And, to an extent, though Morgan could never find this out, it was for Constance too. Constance deserved closure and peace - the last thing Blanche wanted for her was to Cordelia or Lauren Langley.

Blanche leaned back, her head tilting to the side slightly as she examined the ghost. “Don’t you want to make sure the right one is known?” Maybe she didn’t, though. Blanche pressed her lips together for a moment. “I won’t be sending you anywhere,” she said, “Until we get some answers. And I’ll have you know… I’m very persistent.”

“Is there much of a difference as far as you’re concerned?” Agnes asked. Her squinting gaze turned on Blanche, running up and down to appraise her. Morgan’s mother had a similar look when she was trying to worm out of a conversation she didn’t want to have, but Morgan didn’t get the sense that Agnes was looking for points of weakness or ways to hurt Blanche. It looked more like she was working a puzzle. “If people think badly of me, it’s because I got the ball rolling. I don’t have any right to be sore about any tall tales that have gotten rolled into the truth.” She looked at Morgan again, smiling in a sad way that made the zombie’s heart lurch. “You should blame me. And I am sorry, I will always be sorry, for my part in your death. Even if it means you get to wait a hundred years to have a family with a woman you love--” she paused, staring off somewhere Morgan couldn’t follow. “It shouldn’t cost you what it has. Death is too high a price, especially after what you must have suffered. It’s not much of a life to begin with.”

“Don’t say that,” Morgan whispered. “I know you’re...yes, I was miserable and I didn’t get to do anything I set out to, but you didn’t cast the spell. You didn’t take one falling out and turn it into a hundred plus years of--”

“No.” Agnes’ voice turned to rock while somehow never rising above her quiet. “No, Morgan. I’m not going to discuss it in those terms. Or at all.” Agnes looked over at Blanche, checking to see if her point had been effectively made, but Agnes had never gone up against Blanche ‘I do what I want’ Harlow. She withered under the young woman’s look and pursed her lips as her position sank in.

“Listen,” Morgan said gently. “I’m going to get her back for what she did to you, to all of us. However hurtful, however awful or complicated, it didn’t merrit what she did for retribution. I’m going to make sure she…” Morgan winced, not wanting to throw her position in Blanche’s face. Of all her friends, she had been the most honest, and the most kind, about her position. “I’m going to make us even.”

Agnes’ face dropped with horror. “You what? You can’t. Sweetie, whatever you’re up to, you can’t do that to her. You have no idea what she--It was my idea to run away! I made her take all the risks. Crafting the glamours that would make us look older, hiding the money I’d stolen in her tree, hiding travel clothes, securing our transport. My mother watched me at all times, I was afraid we wouldn’t stand a chance if I slipped away somewhere I couldn’t explain. I was selfish and I was scared and I made her do everything for me, and then I--” She looked helplessly at Blanche again, her wish transparent in her eyes: please, please. “I let her fall for me too,” she said. “We were caught, the morning we were set to leave. Constance told the truth and I--I didn’t. She had given a story and I knew we were sunk and I wouldn’t see the light of day for weeks unless I did something different. I--”

Agnes’ reedy voice seemed to snap. Her silent appeals to Blanche were going nowhere; the medium only stared her down harder than before. And every, “hey,” and “you don’t have to be afraid,” that Morgan gave only seemed to make her more desperate.

“I said she was kidnapping me. That she’d hurt me.” Agnes said at last. “We had stolen pistols from the Logan’s house to protect ourselves. I told my mother to check her reticule, where I’d told her to put them and she thought it was proof. I didn’t know they were going to tell everyone or turn her into a pariah. I thought she would be run out of town, dropped on the nearest cart, never to return. I had no illusion of being forgiven, but gods help me, I did not know my mother would leave her with nothing and make her live like some poor animal. When I realized, it was too late.” Agnes clenched her airy fists, fighting the impulse to cry. “I would like to go back now. Send me back now and have done with it.”

Morgan tried to reach for her, forgetting everything except how badly she wanted to know the woman in front of her. “No, you can stay, Agnes. It doesn’t matter what happened before—”

“Now. I want to be gone now. Please. I will not answer anything else. I won’t.”

Anger was an emotion Blanche was used to, and the more Agnes said, the more angry she got. Fury and disgust twisted into her stone faced expression as she sat there, her arms crossed as Morgan and Agnes conversed. Finally, with a wail, Agnes turned to her, begging to be set free. “Coward,” Blanche said unkindly. “You’re a coward.” Blanche pushed herself up to her knees, as if she was going to move to stand. She didn’t, however, because her energy was being spent in keeping the connection open. Still, Blanche’s eyes flashed angrily.

“I’m not naive enough to say Constance is blameless. Constance is to blame for a lot of things -- Morgan’s death and the subsequent death of others in her path for revenge - but you…” Blanche shook her head, “You chose wrong and you lied. You lied to save yourself and threw the one you loved under the bus.” Blanche scoffed in disgust. Never before had she felt such anger towards another ghost. The closest that came was Lauren Langley, but even that held a different sort of anger than the rage that bubbled in the pit of her stomach now. If she could, she’d throw a fist in Agnes’ face.

“You are not to blame for Constance’s actions,” Blanche said, folding her arms over her chest. “She is able to make her own decisions and do what she will but… You are to blame for hurting her. You are to blame for lying. You are to blame for the misery that was thrust upon her as punishment for a crime she did not commit. You lied because you were a coward. And that -” Blanche jabbed a finger at Agnes. “- Is what you should feel remorse for. That is what you need to reflect on. And then you’ll be able to move on.” While Constance was on a warpath for vengeance that would end up destroying her. It was hard not to blame Agnes for everything.

With a sweep of her hand, the wind howled around them, growing louder as Blanche recited the end of the ritual that would close the communication with Agnes. She didn’t want to hear what Agnes had to say, even as her pain stricken face was seared into Blanche’s mind even as she disappeared from the circle. The wind quieted and the candles surrounding them extinguished. The ritual was over. Blanche slumped back into the dirt, exhausted, but too angry to give in to sleep.

“All of this…” Blanche said, sneering at the place Agnes once stood. “Because of a cruel lie…”

Morgan flinched at Blanche’s words as if they had cracked against her skin. She called out her name, trying to interrupt, “That can’t be the whole story, there has to be something else…” But Blanche’s fury had found its target, and though Morgan couldn’t fathom why, she understood that it would not let go. “Don’t be cruel. Blanche, please!” But please only got Blanche to say the words that would send Agnes back to wherever she had been before. Morgan grasped at the air as Agnes vanished, her face shut and clenched with shame. Something in the air lifted, like heat diffusing a cold room. Morgan continued to stare into the circle. There had to be something else. Maybe Hannah Bachman was the real culprit, for making her daughter so afraid that she wanted to run away in the first place. Maybe Agnes had sensed something unstable, even dangerous in Constance and took her change to back out rather than run away with someone who was willing to sign off on the misery of generations of people. There had to be something, because if Morgan’s family had been right about Agnes, then how was she supposed to split her vengeance between them? Who was she destroying Constance for besides herself if Agnes had tried so hard to beg her not to? Morgan’s gaze dropped from the air where Agnes had just sat and down to her own hands: discolored around the nails because she was between meals, protected by gold cuff bracelets on her wrist, so no one would see the bite that made her what she was. Ruth Beck hadn’t cared a wit that she was going to be avenged, Morgan wasn’t even sure if she believed it. Morgan’s father had lost his last tie to the earth when he saw her happy with Deirdre. Deirdre herself insisted the choice was hers to determine. And now the memory of Agnes’ horrified face stood frozen in Morgan’s memory. Was it still fair, and still enough, if this was for her satisfaction and hers alone?

“She was just…” Young? Stars above, could Morgan really say that without it getting thrown back in her face two seconds later? “She was scared. She didn’t know what was going to happen and we don’t know why she really…” Threw someone she supposedly loved under the bus. If Hannah was so dangerous, enough to run away from, why wouldn’t Anges have figured out that Constance was going to suffer without her protection? Wouldn’t that have been obvious? Was her ignorance to the consequences just another lie too? Morgan shivered, frowning into the ground. She was long used to disappointment, but she hadn’t thought that meeting Agnes would leave her more confused than when she’d started. “I don’t know,” Morgan sighed. Nothing she put together in her mind fit the way she wanted it to. “Whatever, why-ever she really did anything, she paid for it with her life and a hundred years of being hated.” Slowly, she lifted her gaze to Blanche, scrutinizing her expression. She had seemed more invested in Morgan’s family drama than she had before. Morgan had taken great care to keep her out of it as much as possible. “What was that all about, just a minute ago?” She asked gently. “I’ve never seen you like that with a ghost before. Is everything okay…?”

She was just - Blanche almost snarled the word ‘young’ right back at Morgan. Constance was just as young. She was nineteen. Blanche could remember, back in high school, where her only long term boyfriend broke up with her and how devastated she had been. If that situation had been anything like Agnes’, which it hadn’t, and Logan had wronged her in some type of way, Blanche would have wanted to curse him and his entire family too. The thought was snide, and filled with anger. She realized, with a start, that she was two seconds away from defending Constance’s honor, and that wasn’t right either. Constance had done wrong, Blanche reminded herself, her palms suddenly sweaty. She hadn’t meant to, mostly, of course. Maxine had been an unfortunate accident, and the incident with Nell… Blanche wanted to believe that she really didn’t know that Nell had been in the car until it was too late. And Morgan had said intentions matter. Blanche wanted to believe that, and she wanted Constance to give up this calling of vengeance on Morgan’s family because at the end of the day, Morgan hadn’t done anything wrong. Morgan hadn’t done this to Constance. Agnes, she thought the name with disgust, started this.

But that didn’t make Morgan’s target goal right either. She had the cold reminder that Morgan’s end goal was to torture and erase Constance from existence. The thought of her being in pain made Blanche… Well, it made her sick to her stomach. Constance didn’t deserve that. She needed to be at peace while she was still able. At least, then, she would be happy. She would be able to move past what Agnes had done, and it wouldn’t have to lock her into a toxic storm of resentment and fury.  At Morgan’s question, though, Blanche’s palms frew more sweaty, and she wiped them on her jeans. “I wasn’t wrong,” Blanche mumbled to her shoes, shaking her head. She refused to look at Morgan, instead turning to start gathering her things in her back. Her face had flushed, but it had been a little pink already from the anger she burst out with during the seance and from the exhaustion the clung to her. “In order to move on, Agnes needs to come to term with her choices she made while she was living. She can’t do anything to change them, not now,” Blanche’s lip curled in disgust as she carefully stuck the candles in her bag, straightening to sling it over her shoulder. She went to the magic circle she had so carefully carved into the dirt with a sharp stick and some chalk and destroyed it. While Blanche hadn’t listened to Granny’s teachings, she did remember that Granny said to never leave a circle unattended, just in case. Finally, she reached up and pulled the jeweled, silver hairpin from her hair, letting her blonde hair tumble down. Carefully, she put that in a separate pocket of her backpack. Her shoulders slumped tiredly and looked at Morgan, “I’ll talk to her again soon,” Blanche said, decidingly. “I’ll call upon her again and speak her more closely, once… this is all over.”

Silence froze and bristled around them; Morgan held her tongue. Blanche’s ire was hot and sharp as a needle fresh out of the fire. She didn’t have to say a word for Morgan to know she was angry at her too. For Constance. For being “unfair.” Maybe if she wasn’t the one crushed over her whole life and promptly murdered, Morgan could understand these good for nothing principles, or whatever strange projection was going on from Blanche’s angle. She’d confounded people on moral questions before. Only the stars above knew how many passes she gave Deirdre, and that was just for starters.

“No,” Morgan admitted quietly. “But I never said you were. That wasn’t my point.” The point was that Agnes’ mistake should have only destroyed two people, at most. Tragic, but contained. Constance had driven Agnes to the kind of misery that made her want to end her life. And then proceeded to do the same to every other Bachman descendant, those who weren’t horribly killed by her meddling out right. It was unbalanced to the point of grotesque. What pity, what understanding was there left when Constance’s last stand was with someone she’d never met, except to try and destroy? At least Morgan was taking a stand for her own family.

“If there’s another way to get Agnes to White Crest, some way she can be around without a circle, I’ll look after her so you don’t have to keep your hotel for ghosts open longer than you already have to. She’s my family, I should at least try to help her. I want to.” And she wanted to understand why Agnes was so opposed to her finishing this ugly game Constance had turned their lives into. Seeing Ruth’s total apathy at the news had been one thing, but Agnes’ horrified face sat heavy and sick in Morgan’s stomach. She shouldered her bag and dusted herself off, looking down at Blanche with guarded concern. “I still don’t know why you’re so determined to help me, but thank you, Blanche.” She reached out a hand to pull her up. “You need anything right now?” She asked quietly. The differences between them felt as strong as the similarities in this moment, certainly nothing that could be solved with a trip to a diner or a few twenties stuffed into Blanche’s bag. But Morgan was tired of losing people, and she had a sick, prickly feeling in her stomach, almost like guilt, and she was desperate to be rid of it.

It was a strange fury that had settled in Blanche’s stomach, and she didn’t understand it. Blanche knew Morgan held different opinions on the whole subject and that their end goals were different, so she wasn’t understanding why she was so upset at Morgan’s insistence that Constance was the only one in the wrong here. It wasn’t fair - none of this was fair. Perhaps Constance had been right in that the Bachmans - that Agnes Bachman and whatever that thing Cassie, Morgan, and Blanche had confronted in the house so many months ago - were the evil ones. Whatever that meant made Blanche’s head spin because she also knew that no matter what, killing Morgan was inexcusable. How was it possible to care so much for a ghost that did something so horrible to a friend? And was she so determined to help Morgan, or was she determined to help Constance? Couldn’t there be a way for her to help both? Why was the answer one or the other? Blanche was sick of having to choose and she was sick of having to ask herself hard questions and she was sick of having to think.

Not for the first time, Blanche felt that fuzzy, static feeling in her head.

“You could summon her, or she could travel herself,” Blanche finally said, her tone devoid of any true emotion. “What I just did isn’t anything other than opening a line of communication. If I don’t close the line, she could get stuck in the circle. That’s why, even after you dissipated wrong Agnes, I had to close the ritual. But it’s not a permanent means of keeping them here.” She swallowed, wrapping her arms around herself as she shook her head. Blanche was quiet a moment as she hoisted her bag over her shoulder, and looked at Morgan. There were words on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t quite find them. Confusion and anger melded together, and Blanche realized that it might be better to not say anything at all. “I don’t need anything, no.” Blanche said. “I’m going to go home though, I’m… I’m tired.” It wasn’t a lie, she realized. She was exhausted, and Blanche wondered if she hadn’t overdone it. There was supposed to be a balance so she didn’t feel like complete shit afterwards. But as she turned on her heel, giving a quiet goodbye to Morgan as she trudged back to her jeep, she started to think that maybe the energy she spent on the seance wasn’t the only reason why she didn’t feel well.

[stories-sometimes]

I’ve Made A Huge Mistake{10/?}

Peter Parker x Reader, Quentin Beck x Reader

Summary: Peter just wanted to enjoy his trip to Europe, maybe even confess his feelings to his best friends.But along came a mysterious new hero to ruin those plans. Peter and his class are aged up and in college.

Warnings: Violence in later chapters, manipulation, age gap

Word Count: 1673

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Peter awoke, every atom in his body in almost unbearable pain. He felt a patch of dried blood on his cheek and the bruises forming under his eye. No matter how quickly he healed, he’d always go through that moment of agony. He looked down, noticing a bright orange football shirt draped over his torso. He looked around, seeing three other men, all with orange body paint and the Dutch flag painted over them.

“Hi.” The one to his left greeted him.

“Where am I?” Peter asked, still dazed.

“Municipal holding facility.”

“They said they found you unconscious at a train yard. Very dangerous.” Another said.

“We gave you the shirt because you looked a bit cold.” The final explained.

“Thanks,” Peter replied, his consciousness slowly coming back, “You guys are really nice, You speak really good English.” He continued to ramble.

“Welcome to the Netherlands.” They said in unison.

“I’m in the Netherlands, right now?” They all nodded in response, dread quickly filling Peter. “Guard!” Peter shouted, rushing towards the cell’s door.

“The guard’s on a break, properly talking to his wife.”

“Yeah, she’s pregnant.”

“Oh ja, what luck.” Peter wrapped his hand around the padlock, easily breaking it and stepping out of the cell. He left the facility unseen by the guard and made his way to the marketplace outside. He limped his way over to a man by a vegetable stall.

“Excuse me sir, can I borrow your phone.” The man immediately passed it over with a friendly smile, “Thanks, everyone’s so nice here.” He pondered on who to call. Calling her might put her in danger, MJ and Ned wouldn’t be able to do anything with him in the Netherlands, May would just freak out.

“Hi Happy, I messed up, I, I need a ride. Where am I? Um, sir, where am I?” The Dutchman answered, “Could you say that into here?” Peter handed the phone back over.

“Broek op Langedijk.”

“Thank you.” Peter said before walking out of the town centre. There was a vast tulip field a few minutes away, where Peter saw Happy’s jet landing.

“Peter, are you okay?” Happy asked, concerned as he stepped off the jet.

“Wait.” Peter raised his hand, still paranoid about Beck’s illusions. “Tell me something only you’d know.”

“What?”

“Just tell me, please.” He was desperate now.

“Okay,” Happy racked his brain for a second. “Remember when we went to Germany? You pay-for-viewed a video in your room? They didn't list the titles, but I could tell by the price it was an adult film at the front desk. And you didn't know how I knew-”

“Okay, okay, you can stop.” Peter cut him off, feeling heat rush to his cheeks.

“Come on, you need to relax.” Happy instructed once he was stitching Peter up.

“Don't tell me to relax, Happy! how can I relax when I've messed up so bad? I trusted Beck. Right? I thought he was my friend so I gave him the only thing that Mr Stark left behind for me and now he's going to kill my friends and half of Europe.” Peter snapped, “And, and she’s with, doing God knows what. I can’t get a hold of her, so I don’t know if she’s safe or dead in a ditch. She’s trapped with him and I didn’t do anything to stop it. So please don’t tell me to relax.” Peter continued, tears threatening to spill. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t shout. I just feel like I’m letting Mr Stark down. I can’t do it, I’m not Iron Man.”

“You're not Iron Man. You're never going to be Iron Man. Nobody can live up to Tony. Not even Tony. Tony was my best friend. And he was a mess. He second-guessed everything he did, he was all over the place. The one thing he did that he didn't second-guess was picking you. I don't think Tony would've done what he did... if he didn't know that you were going to be here after he was gone.”

“Thanks.” He mumbled.

“Tony really liked her.” Happy mentioned.

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely, when he first met her she walked into the lab, straight away corrected one of his calculations and then immediately started apologising profusely. And all Tony could do was laugh, that this teenage girl waltzed into his home with all the confidence in the world, then switched into this sweet little girl who didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. He thought it was all hilarious. He thought she was good for you. She was smart, kind, supportive and willing to put up with all the shit that comes with dating a superhero.”

“Oh, we, we weren’t or aren’t dating.” Peter turned slightly red at the implication.

“Never really understood that.” He muttered under his breath, “So, where to Spiderman?”

“Um, pass me your phone.” After Happy handed it over, Peter pulled up Instagram, finding Flash live streaming.

“Ello governor, cup of tea for you? I'mma be in London soon.” The voice rang out.

“We’re going to London. And I need a suit.”

“I’ve got you.” Happy pressed a button, opening a hidden compartment to reveal Stark’s old on-board building station. Peter grinned and got to work.

Across the ocean, in London, Beck was leading her up a bridge across the Thames, giving a spectacular view of the city.

“Shouldn’t you be preparing for the elemental attack.” She pointed out as they reached the top of the bridge tower.

“We’ve got another hour, I just need to show you something.” He dragged her by the hand out to the centre of the bridge. He wrapped a hand around her waist. “Look at that.”

“It’s beautiful.” She replied, admiring the multitude of skyscrapers clashing wonderfully with the historical buildings of the city.

“And see that bridge there.” He pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“Your friends are gonna be trapped there in about an hour.”

“What?!” She said, starting to panic a little.

“Shame that’s exactly where the elemental’s supposed to attack.” He noticed her breathing and heart rate increase rapidly. “Oh, you thought I didn’t know what you told them, that you know about my dirty little secret.”

“How did you -”

“I’ve had a drone following you since we first met.”

“And all your stories, of your wife, your world.” She knew it was a lie, but part of her still wanted to wake up from this nightmare and go back to the sweet Beck she thought she’d known.

“All bullshit. I meant it when I said you were perfect. Beautiful, kind and stupidly naive enough to believe my lies.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Maybe, but I’m also the future. And the fate of your friends rests in my hands. So once this is all done, you’re gonna stick to my story, play the role of the supportive little girlfriend to the world’s newest hero. And if you can stick to that, your friends might survive. Alright.” He said menacingly.

“Yes.” She replied, feeling as though her world was crumbling around her. Beck clenched his jaw, squeezing his hand over her waist, just enough to make it hurt.

“What was that?”

“Yes sir.” Beck leaned in to rest his forehead on the side of her head, kissing against the shell of her ear.

“Good girl.” Beck mocked as he pushed her top up slightly to trace his finger over the bare skin. Every touch made her want to throw up, but she tried to hold it together for the lives of her friends. Beck left the room momentarily, when he came back he was dressed in a grey morphsuit, two drones floating by his sides. “You’re all we have Beck.” She overheard Fury say a few minutes later.

“This is what I feared. God help us Fury, God help us all.” Beck said dramatically. “Okay people, no Avengers coming we’re good to go.” He slipped back into his regular voice. “EDITH.”

“Yes Quentin.”

“Show me my loose ends. Once the show’s going, execute the kill order on my command.”

“Kill order, you said they’d stay alive.” She walked back towards him.

“Just a precaution sweetie.”

“Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt them.” She begged.

“I know, but until I’m certain they won’t say a word, I’ve gotta keep an eye on them.” He smiled threateningly. She stepped back for him, face dropping. She felt trapped, helpless in the situation. Forced to sit back and help this villain or watch her friends die.

Taglist Open:

@cool-ontherun-world 

@eleventhdoctorsangel 

@chubby-tink

@eridanuswave

@squishychar1ie

@sincerely-cronch

@charmed-asylum

@lukesbabylon

@cutie1365

@smilexcaptainx

[heckyeahitsnick]

Her Soul is Like Magnolia

Written By: @heckyeahitsnick​

Pairing: Harry Styles/OC

Word Count: 20,979

Warnings: Some explicit/foul language

Summary: 

Magnolia “Mags” Rahman believes in hard science, has a tendency to stick her foot in her mouth, and is a lover of all things horror and Halloween. Harry Styles likes to toe the line between fact and fiction, strangers and friends, and normal and paranormal.  

Harry Styles has a ghost problem.

Mags has a Harry Styles problem.

An au where seeing is believing and everyone is trying their best to treat each other with kindness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 1: October 24th, a week from Halloween

“You’re stepping on my foot.”

Mags broke herself out of her stupor, visibly shaking her head. She stared at the person the voice belonged to, trying to orient herself and gather her bearings, and saw that it was her coworker, Liam. “Oh,” she murmured apologetically, “Sorry.” She was so exhausted at work, counting down the minutes until her shift was over at the campus bookstore so she could go home and curl up with Pumpkin, the adorable black cat she adopted only a month ago when it was love at first sight. Grad school was a vicious beast that she had yet learned how to slay. She probably hadn’t slept in the last 48 hours, busy with school, work, and occasionally binging B-rated horror movies on Netflix with Pumpkin. In her drowsy state, she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions, like accidentally charging the last customer the wrong price, shelfing the Twilight series under the Biography section, and stepping on her coworker’s foot. She was just so tired.

“Okay? Thanks for apologizing? But you literally haven’t moved. You’re still stepping on my foot!” He pointed at her white sneakers atop his (knock-off) Timberlands.

She gave him a playful glare and replied, “You’re so high-maintenance,” before shifting away from him.

“Okay, well, I just came to tell you I’m headed home a little early,” he paused to eye her with vague concern, “Are you sure you’re okay to close up?”

She snorted, “Does my answer even matter? It’s not like you’re gonna offer to close up for me.”

He grinned good-naturedly, “Yeah you’re right. Makes me feel like less of a dick though.” Putting on his coat and gathering his backpack, he quickly headed for the door as if the devil was chasing him, ignoring the peace sign Mags threw at his retreating figure. Probably eager to go home and chug some beer, or like start a fire, or whatever it was that boys like to do. Mags wouldn’t know. She couldn’t possibly even attempt to understand the male psyche.

Like for example, Mags looked at the only customer in the bookstore, frantically pacing through the aisles and muttering incomprehensibly to himself. His curly hair was tussled and frayed, not in the intentional bedhead way that some people, like her ex-boyfriend, styled it in an attempt to look good but actually coming off as a douche, but in a way that indicated he’s probably been constantly running his hand through it. Probably exam stress, she mused, considering the boy’s current state. He was tall too, she observed, but that was overshadowed by his hunched shoulders, head facing down, and of course the frantic pacing.

“Dude. Are you okay?” Mags called out in a voice slightly louder than usual.

No answer, as if he didn’t even hear her. She realized she should probably be a bit more cautious. The customer honestly was acting very strange. He could probably be planning to rob the bookstore. She was the only employee left, her slight build and big brown eyes (which her friends called doe-eyed but Mags herself considered to look more like a fish) weren’t enough to intimidate anyone. She laughed softly to herself. Like anyone would rob this bookstore. College students never paid with cash and Mags probably had negative three dollars to her name and an even lower will to live. If someone held her at gunpoint asking her to hand over her wallet, she’d probably wouldn’t be able to stop herself from bursting into laughter. Besides, he looked like a college student himself. An English major, she guessed, considering his pretentious wool coat and heeled boots. She did a double take. Glittery, heeled boots apparently. She would know, she’s dated her fair share of them.

You’re being so foolish, Maggie-Girl, she scolded herself with the affectionate nickname she gave herself and that no one (read: especially Niall, her roommate’s, Marisol’s, boyfriend) was ever allowed to address her as.

The draft Liam let in earlier caused her to shudder. Wrapping her yellow cardigan tightly across her chest, she longingly gazed out the window. The weather was the perfect crispy fall weather, with orange leaves littering the sidewalks and she sighed, wistfully thinking about the brisk air sure to greet her as she biked home. If only the boy would leave, she could be on her way!

She glanced at her watch and decided, screw her self-preservation. She stepped out from behind the check-out counter and headed towards the boy. He barely noticed her, continuing to drag his fingers frantically through the spines of the books on the shelf. Mags just now realized they were standing under the horror section of the store. Weird.

“Hey, um, dude. Are you okay?” She asked with a voice that she hoped sounded professional and confident but probably came across as a mix of “wow-I-don’t-get-paid-enough for this” and “maybe I don’t wanna die?”

Her presence seems to finally break him out of whatever trance he was in. He looked up at her, taking Mags aback. He’s kind of cute, she thought, if she ignored the bluish-purple bags under his green eyes and his pink lips twisted into a frown. Potentially a robber, possibly a murderer who likes to creep out female employees in bookstore by having a near breakdown in the horror section, sure, but at least he was nice to look at.

“What?”

Mags gave him an ironic smile in return. “Ah, you speak! Thank god. I was beginning to think your only talents were to burn a hole through the carpet.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “What?” he repeated in frustration.

Maybe I gave him more credit than he deserved she thought to herself. Out loud, she said, “Look. Technically, we’re closing in 5 minutes. You looked like you needed help. What’re you looking for? Maybe then we can both get out of here.”

His eyes darted nervously to the side. “A book,” is his brilliant reply.

“Yeah? I figured?” She said, stretching out her word because at this point, who cared if the boy could tell she thought he was ridiculous. This was definitely a strange scenario and she wondered if her own sleep-deprivation caused her to dream up this handsome boy with vague answers and possibly three functioning braincells. She briefly had a thought that this was like a reverse You situation, where he was the Joe to her Beck, but she quickly stopped her overactive imagination “Any book in particular?”

“Yeah, um,” the boy quickly straightened up and looked her in the eyes, as if he finally came to the realization that he was coming off a little odd, “I’m looking for a horror book. Obviously. But like, something non-fiction? Like about, y’know. Ghosts.“

“Ghosts?” She cautiously prodded, “but non-fiction? Like…paranormal accounts?”

“Yes! Like, I dunno, spooky shit. Stuff, sorry. Paranormal stuff about like haunted houses,” His eyes brightened, and his word tumbled out faster with a tinge of hope. “Hey! You wouldn’t happen to have a How-To book about how to cleanse a house that’s haunted?”

Mags tried. She really did try. Not the fake trying like when she tries to make it to her 8 am class every Tuesday morning and ‘accidentally’ snoozes her alarm. Not even the fake trying she does when Marisol makes her do sit-ups at the gym for their weekly (read: monthly) workout and she taps out after 5. But even trying her hardest meant she could not stop the laughter that escaped her mouth.

“Haha, I’m sorry, what?” She laughed, her face in disbelief and amusement, clutching her stomach, “You want what? What is this? Did you end up watching too many episodes of Buzzfeed Unsolved ‘cuz honestly, I’m not sure you got the right bone structure to be Shane. You’re funny though, I’ll give you that!”

The laughter and words began to trail off because the boy, his face completely changed. The hopeful, pleading gleam that was in his eyes suddenly hardened in anger. Mags quickly tried to reign herself in, registering that he was not amused, and she’d accidentally offended him.

“I –“ She began, ready to start apologizing because she realized she completely read the room wrong.  “Forget it!” He cut her off, quickly stuffing the book he had in his hands back into the bookshelf.

“Whatever.” He peered at her nametag disdainfully, “Don’t offer to help if you don’t intend to, Magnolia,” spewing her name out like it was poison in his mouth.

“Wait! I’m sor – “

“Forget it. Sorry I asked!” He exclaimed, abruptly walking past her, his shoulders jostling hers and she whipped around to try and apologize once more.

But he left just as quickly as Liam did. Like the devil was chasing him.

Mags turned around and pulled out the book he had in his hands (and totally shelfed in the wrong place), trailing her fingers across the blue leather bound and golden imprinted letters. “Exorcism: Encounters with the Paranormal and Occult,” she muttered to herself, and then looked up at the door that the boy had exited from. “Nonfiction.”

She slumped against the bookshelf, mentally kicking herself. Why don’t you ever think before you speak?! She berated herself morosely. Had she taken a second to assess the situation, she would’ve registered his worried eyes and another emotion that she couldn’t quite place. Could it have been…fear? She eyed the book in her hand. What could that boy possibly be afraid of?

Her phone dinged with a text message. She pulled it out of her pocket and immediately groaned reading the message from Marisol.

Pumpkin just shat (shitted? shatted?) on the living room carpet J  Can’t wait ‘till ur home.

If Mags was an English major, she’d probably see an irony in this. Or like a metaphor, because she shat all over that boy’s concerns and like the shit was representative of like…. being a dick? But she wasn’t an English major. Obviously.

The only thing her soon-to-be-chemist brain could come up with was: well, fuck, isn’t karma a bitch.

_______________________________________________________________________

Day 3: October 26th - 5 days until Halloween

“Be honest with me. Am I gonna die?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Niall!” Mags exclaimed, shifting her backpack onto her other shoulder, “For the last time! I. Don’t. Know.”

“But look closely!” He pestered, shoving his arm into her face, whining. “Tell me this rash doesn’t look bad. It’s red! And like, rashy! And it itches, Mags, it itches so bad! I think it’s infected!”

She backed away from him and shoved the offending arm away, quickly muttering an apology to the guy in a suit and tie behind her, before facing Niall again with widened eyes (well, wider than usually because Fish Eyes, remember?). “Seriously, Niall, I really can’t deal with you before I’ve had my morning tea.”

“But I – “

She cut him off. “And rashes can’t be infected! Now can we puh-lease talk about something else? Anything else. I’ll literally discuss your sex life with Marisol right now if it means we can stop talking about your nasty-ass rash!” This time, she ignored the glare from the man in the business suit; she can’t be blamed for his eavesdropping.

While Niall, in typical Niall fashion (taking everything literally), began to recount a tale about his midnight rendezvous with Marisol, Mags let her mind wander. She impatiently tapped her foot against the floor, sparing another glance at her watch, while also giving her own mental nod of approval at the store’s festive decorations (fake spider webs and caution tapes that adorned the doors and counter). For a chain that had a slew of ridiculous redundant names for their drinks (she will always bemoan the fact that people don’t realize that a chai tea is literally translated to tea tea), they sure knew how to get into the Halloween spirit. The line at Starbucks was long she noted, and with four people ahead of them, she and Niall would be late for their lecture if things didn’t speed up. Mags just knew she should’ve made her own cup of chai this morning, but it never tasted the same as when her mom made it, and all it would do is make her more homesick.

Niall briefly interrupted her train of thought with a quick interjection, “Yo, Maggie are you listening to me,” to which she responded with a quick lie, “Yes!” followed by a “And don’t call me that!” with a soft jab to his ribs.

The gears in her mind shifted, wandering to the boy from the bookstore last night. She couldn’t stop thinking about him last night on her bike ride home, during her stern lecture with Pumpkin about the importance of using the litter box, all the way until she finally went to bed. What was he so scared of? She pondered while also still scolding herself for handling the situation absolutely in the worst way. Though she didn’t mean to, she doesn’t ever intend to come across as so rude and aggressive. She just had a knack for blurting out the wrong thing that made it hard for people to see that she actually had a heart of gold.

Well, maybe not gold, she thought. That was giving herself too much credit. To be sure, she interrupted Niall’s ramblings with a quick interjection, “Hey quick question. Would you say I have a heart of gold or like…a heart of bronze?”

He was used to her antics; his blue eyes didn’t even hesitate before meeting hers. “Are we using an Olympic scale? Like gold would be first place and like the kindest person ever?” Acknowledging her nod, he held his fingers to his chin, making the universal thinking face as he mulled over her question.

She barely heard his answer (“Maybe a happy medium, like a silver heart? You suck at first impressions but once ya get to know ya, you’re super sweet,” the blonde mused in the background) because something, or more like someone, caught her eye. She watched him walk past her, exiting the Starbucks. Her eyes locked in on a pair of glittery boots and trailed up a pair of black jeans, a burgundy hoodie, and finally, green eyes that looked even more sleep-deprived than last night if that was possible, until she stopped at the black beanie that did little to contain the escaping brown curls.

It was the boy! The boy from last night!

“It’s him!” She shouted to Niall, dragging him by the arm so she could catch the boy before he left, ignoring Niall’s cries (“Wait, we were next in line!”)

“Hey!” Mags shouted, ignoring the grimace of the man in the suit, as she chased after the boy with a disgruntled Niall slowly trailing behind. She followed the boy outside, desperate to get his attention. “Ghost boy!” she shouted, somewhat hysterically, “Wait!”

Finally, he turned around, just registering that the crazy girl running on the sidewalk was trying to get his attention. His eyes widened in surprised and then narrowed with recognition, as he frowned.

“I - What did you just call me?” He said, his voice huskier than Mags recalled.

“Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name last night. I needed to get your attention! I needed to apologize.” Her eyes took in his appearance. He looked even more haggard than yesterday. His face seemed sunken in and his skin dull. He was still really handsome, if her heartrate was any indicator, but he looked worse for wear.

“Look,” she continued, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to like, laugh at you or anything. Let me make it up to you! I can probably help you find the book you’re looking for! My conscious is like, really annoying, and I couldn’t sleep last night ‘cuz I felt so bad and I looked up a shit ton of books about hauntings. Nonfiction ones! For whatever mysterious reason you need them for.”

His brows furrowed and his frown deepened, “What?” He shook his head from side to side, as if to shake away his confusion, “Look s’all good. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out on my own,” He turned as if to walk away before adding as an afterthought, “You curse a lot, y’know?”

Before she could even respond, she was interrupted again (which was probably a good thing because her knee-jerk response was to say “No shit sherlock”) by Niall coming to a stop beside her.

“Mags, what the actual fuck? We were next in line!” He bent over slightly, resting his hands against his knees as he paused to catch his breath from the strenuous five steps he took from the Starbucks door to where she and the boy were standing. He looked up and nodded, “What’s up, Harry?”

“Hey Niall,” the boy, Harry, said as he eyed the pair of them cautiously, like he didn’t want anyone to think he could be associated with them. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Wait, Harry!” Magnolia cried out, making immediate use of his name, “Seriously, tell me what’s wrong! I can help!” But her cries fell to deaf ears as she watched Harry walk off, his shoulders in his seemingly perpetual slump, one hand jammed into his pocket and the other holding his coffee cup as he crossed the street.

“So,” Niall began, “Couple of things to unpack here. We don’t have coffee, I’m a little more out of shape that I thought I was, and we’re definitely late for class so I suggest we should just skip it and grab some food.” He finally straightened up and looked at Mags, as if was an afterthought, “Wait. How d’you know Harry? Did you sleep with him?”

_______________________________________________________________________

Day 4: October 27th, 4 days until Halloween

On days like this, Mags truly does take a second to appreciate the finer things in life. The fall foliage that lined the paved pebble pathways on the university’s campus only contributed to the magical spell of October. As maple leaves fluttered downwind and the cool wind blew against her skin, she embraced the enchanting atmosphere of the autumnal weather, taking in the beauty as college students hurried past her, a colorful, warm blend of red scarves, brown coats, olive sweaters, and all. The breeze that blew through her dark hair didn’t even bother her, when usually she’d be grumpy considering how long it takes her to tame the thick, wavy locks into an acceptable amount of frizz. Despite having an o-chem midterm waiting for her, she slowed her pace to truly enjoy the bliss she was in. Mags paused on the cobblestone to close her eyes and breathe in the cold air, a small smile slowly forming on her face. Nothing could ruin the feeling of contentment that she was feeling right now and –

“What’re you doin’?”

A deep baritone disrupted her. She stands corrected. Maybe she could be bothered. She took a longer second to herself, keeping her eyes closed and steadying her breathing before planning to huffily face whomever (whoever? Whomstever? Times like this really made Mags rejoice at the fact she wasn’t an English major) decided to ruin her moment of peace.

The same voice let out a chuckle. “Hey, are you planning to open your eyes anytime soon?”

It took her a second, but Mags recognized that voice. Ghost Boy! Harry! She whipped around towards the voice, her hair following along and sharply striking her face and shoulders as she settled her brown eyes on Harry. She was so happy to see him, even if he did ruin the coming-of-age, dramatic introspective Bollywood moment she was having to herself. Magnolia gazed at him, taking the surprisingly peaceful silence between them to truly assess him. His green eyes peered back at her, glistening from the cold breeze, pronounced by the dark purple bags that seemed to have worsened overnight. His cheekbones jutted out just below, and lower, his pink lips settled in an expression she couldn’t quite decipher, but she’d guess wistful if she had to. He seemed to be in better spirits, dressed in a chunky caramel cable-knit sweater. Maybe it was how cozily he was dressed or perhaps it was the softness enhanced by his sleepy demeanor, but Mags was hit by a sudden wave of endearment for him. For a boy she hardly knew! She shook off the weird feelings that washed over her and broke the silence.

“Harry!” She quickly recalled all their past encounters and decided to approach this conversation with a little less well-meaning aggression and exuberance. “Harry,” she calmly tried again, “I’m so glad you’re here. I really, really need you to listen to me. I am really and truly sorry I laughed at you the other day.” He opened his mouth to respond, but Mags bulldozed on, not wanting to lose her chance. “I – look, I have knack for saying the wrong thing but I promise that I really want to help you with –“ She paused as she realized she never knew what exactly seemed to be plaguing him, but persevered nevertheless, “with whatever it is that’s bugging you. I pinky promise I can help - somehow!”

He broke into an amused smile, one that Mags couldn’t help notice was a very nice smile at that. “Pinky promise, huh?” He prodded, “That’s pretty serious for someone who quite literally just met me and doesn’t even know what my problem is.”

“Well, whatever it is, just tell me! I won’t laugh!” Mags pleaded.

“Do you promise not to laugh?”

“I promise!” She said solemnly, her face somber, nodding with earnestness.

“Do you,” he paused, inhaling a deep breath, as Mags leaned in closer to listen, breath baited, eyes unwavering, “do you pinky promise?”

“Oh!” She swatted at him with a free hand as she realized he was teasing her, as he stepped away laughing.

“Sorry,” he smiled, not looking the least bit apologetic, “Couldn’t help m’self.”

They shared a small moment, each looking at the other with their own, soft smiles before

Harry suddenly straightened up, his smile vanishing just as Mags began to welcome the sight. His tone sobered, “I did wanna say m’sorry for being kinda a dick to you. I’m dealing with…something right now and I really didn’t mean to take it out on you, Magnolia.”

“Mags,” she instinctively corrected, “Magnolia is reserved for customers that I don’t insult.”

“Mags,” he repeated wryly, “I like that. Well anyways, just happen to pass you and wanted to say that.” He gestured to the papers she had forgotten were clutched in her hands, “Anyways, looks like you’ve got a test on…” He trailed off, squinting at her neat penmanship of carefully copied formulas and calculations, “rocket science or quantum physics or whatever those horrible numbers mean. Just looking at it is giving me a headache. I’m sure you’ll do well though.  G’luck!” He said, turning to leave.

“No wait!” She was not going to lose another chance. Truly, she did feel awful about how she treated Harry, but also, she didn’t want him to go for reasons she couldn’t quite explain. She liked his presence and didn’t want the conversation to end just yet. “Will you seriously tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

He considered her, his guarded eyes boring into hers for what felt like eternity, not even breaking contact when a boy with rounded hipster coke-bottle glasses and a plaid coat bumped against her shoulder without so much as an apology (friggin’ English majors she briefly lamented).

“Yeah, okay,” he conceded, running his hands roughly through his brown curls, “You think I’m crazy anyways and it’s not like my life can get any weirder.” He pursed his lips as he formulated his thoughts. Mags tried to be patient, resisting the urge to check her watch because she did actually care about her grades and she did have a midterm to get to after all and Niall was such a push-over he wouldn’t be able to save her a seat for much longer, but she had to hear what he had to say. Just as she was going to (gently, she swears) prompt Harry, he broke his contemplative silence.

“Um. Okay so basically,” he stalled, scratching at his hairline before spewing out in anxious, bullet-fast speech, “I um, pretty-sure-I-accidentally-summoned-like-a-demon-or-ghost-or-some-evil-otherwordly-spirit-in-my-house-and-now-I’m-being-haunted.

Brown eyes blinked in his directions. To her credit, Mags remained composed despite her thoughts that ranged from what the actual fuck, this boy is psychotic to my minority ass is not equipped for this situation to aww he looks kinda cute when he’s nervous.

“Yes,” in reality is how she responded, trying to maintain neutral as she organized her thoughts, her voice robotic, “I understand.”

“Yeah, see, I knew this was a mistake. I didn’t really expect you to believe me,” his hopeful expression fading to disappointment, belying his words.

“No! Okay, yeah I don’t believe you,” she confessed, “but,” brandishing her speech with wild gestures, “I can help you prove that your house isn’t haunted! That’ll like give both you and I peace of mind! Not right now, because I really do have to go kick some o-chem ass but like, later tonight? Take my number, text me your address, and we can like ghostbust the fuck out of your non-haunted home!”

There was a brief moment of hesitation before Harry nodded in agreement, albeit reluctantly but hey, she’d take it, Mags quickly gushed out her cellphone number as Harry’s thumb clumsily attempting to enter each digit and keep up.

Mags raced away, peeking at her watch and sparing a parting glance at Harry and calling out, “I’m serious Harry, if I don’t get a text, I will haunt you myself! And I am way more annoying than a ghost!” He smiled fondly in response, “I don’t doubt that. I swear I’ll text you,”

“Promise?” she shouted, as she retreated further away from him to her awaiting exam.

“Pinky promise.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Same day, later that evening

Mags leans against the bay window in the living room, watching the rain drops splatter against the window. A cup of chai in one hand, a worn murder-mystery novel in the other, with Pumpkin curled up against her feet hidden under thick socks, she truly felt content. Marisol had thrown a quilt over Mags legs earlier as the former left for work. Mags was so immersed in the book’s plot she barely gave the other girl an appreciative smile but she was sure Marisol knew.

She was pretty sure she aced her midterm exam earlier that day (and Niall was fairly confident that he didn’t fail so it was a win-win for all) and she was able to make some progress with Harry. The curly haired boy, whom she met for the first time a mere three days ago, seemed to consume a lot of her free time and thoughts.

He was just so curious, and skittish, and he genuinely did seem scared of something. Mags was a firm believer in science, statistics, hard, factual data. Give her an equation to solve or a statistical analysis to decipher over an essay any day. Even if she wasn’t a believer, she knew better than to laugh at others, even if her actions didn’t always reflect that. She had never believed in Santa Claus, being Muslim and all, but she’d been the one to comfort Kevin Vo in the first grade when the classroom bully had tried to convince others that Santa was fictitious. Likewise, even though she didn’t truly know Harry, she did believe that something was scaring him, and she was determined to figure out what it was. But one thing was sure, she positively knew it was not a ghost.

Her phone rang out with a small chime, alerting her of a text message.

Hey, It’s Harry. Harry Styles.

Before she could respond, her phone dinged again.

Or as you like to call me, Ghost Boy.

harry!! im so glad u txted!!!

I keep my promises. Are you sure you want to come to my house that is DEFINITELY haunted?

yes i do wanna come to ur house that is definitely NOTT(!!) haunted. send me ur addy.

Once receiving his address, Mags began to root through her closet for a warmer coat and umbrella. She grabbed her keys, gave Pumpkin an affectionate kiss on her furry little forehead, and gave herself one last look at the mirror. She almost found herself reapplying her mascara and running a brush through her hair, but she fought the urge. This is what she always looks like, and she wasn’t sure why she cared so much about her appearance for this friendly little demonic (but not really) excursion she was about to partake in. Certainly, she’s looked worse before. Liam has seem her adorned in her older brother’s shapeless, oversized sweaters as she hastily arrived seconds before her shift and Niall had seen her when she hadn’t showered in days, bra forgotten, her clothes stained, and remnants of last night’s dinner on her face (although, granted it had been Finals week).

As her blonde companion came to mind, as an afterthought, she shot one more text to Harry; just as a precaution because as attractive as he was, she didn’t know him that well yet. Though she doubted his heart was anything but sincere and good, she had to be safe.

also im bringin niall. the more the merrier rite?? (((:

Niall and Mags stood side by side on the property, their sneakers and boots respectively crunching the orange leaves that littered the lawn, as they gazed up. The house was huge, intricate, a stark contrast against the cloudy gray sky, and beautiful. Hauntingly so. If she believed in ghosts, Mags could envision how one would think this particular house was haunted. The brown and orange wood that made the exterior seemed to indicate that this house could creak when it wasn’t supposed to, the broken shutters revealing that the house holds secrets from its past, the surrounding black iron gates emitting a foreboding sense of doom.

But, she knew how to deal with facts. And the facts were that this house was old as shit and old houses liked to creak. She was sure that Harry probably just had an overactive imagination, which she was here to quell.

“Holy hell, you’re tellin’ me that Harry lives here? In this friggin’ place?” Niall let out a low appreciative whistle, “I’m definitely gonna have to convince him to host a house party here.”

She snorted in response, “Right? He couldn’t have lived in shitty student housing like the rest of us?”

They made their way to the porch, carefully side-stepping planks of rotting wood and loose nails. As Niall knocked, Mags sent a quick text to Harry alerting him of their presence. She’d filled Niall in when she picked him up for this adventure, letting him know that Harry was scared that this house was haunted and that they, soon to be scientists, were going to prove that it was all just hodgepodge. Blasphemous.  A figment of his imagination. And of course, Niall was game, as he always was, his laidback and flexible personality among the many traits that Mags loved about the Irishman. The door creaked open, groaning under the movement of shifting wood, as Harry greeted them with an appreciative smile.

“Hey. Come in. Thanks for doing this, honestly,” he ushered them inside, into the house, “though I’m not sure how smart this idea is, or why you’d be more equipped to tell if this house is haunted more than me, considering one of ya have literally drank yourself into a drunken stupor and became convinced that Big Bird was a part of a larger conspiracy theory.”

“Falsifications!” Niall boasted, while Mags yelled in her defense, “Hey that was literally ONE time!”

Both Harry and Niall shot her a concerned look. “Right,” she realized, “You were referring to Niall because we just met and how could you possibly know that about me? Haha. Moooving on.”

Niall and Harry amicably bickered in the background and Mags wandered off to take in her surroundings. She had every intention of taking off her heavy coat as she surveyed the house, taking in the wood floors, antique furniture, mosaic windows, and high ceilings, but there was a chill in the air, despite the burning fire crackling in fireplace. She turned to question Harry about the temperature, and his eyes were already on her, watching her take everything in with an unidentifiable emotion. Recovering from his unexpected gaze, she questioned, “Why’s it so cold in here? Trying to save money on bills?”

Harry seemed validated by her question, “See! So you notice that too! No matter how much I crank the thermostat or feed wood to the fireplace, it is always chilly in here.”

Niall nodded sagely, “Ah yes. A very common indicator that a house is haunted,” which caused Harry to nod enthusiastically in agreement in having found his kindred spirit and Mags to shoot Niall a look of annoyance.

“Or,” she interjected, “It could mean literally anything else. Climate change can be linked to more severe, harsher winters and this has certainly been a record-breaking cold October.” This, in turn, prompted Niall and Harry to shoot each other a look, as if to fondly say they found her adorable. Huffing slightly, she continued, “Okay, Harry, let’s get down to business. What else is making you think you’re haunted? Tell me everything.”

Harry nodded, “It’s a long story. Let’s get settled on the couch, I’ll grab us some drinks. This is going to be an interesting evening.”

Wine in hand (and a beer for Niall), bodies settled, and fire crackling, the trio sat on the rug and couch, eyes on Harry. He cleared his throat, an odd hush falling over them as he began his tale, “Well, let’s start from the beginning. The reason I even can afford to live in this house is because Bertha, the old widow who owns the place. She used to live here and took a liking to me, so she charges me cheap rent after her granddaughter took her to another state to live with her.”

“Gilf,” Niall responded nodding, as Mags inquired, “Wait, how did you even know Bertha?”

“We played Bingo together,” Harry clarified, which raised more questions, but he didn’t elaborate, “Anyways, I lived here for about a month, no problems other than the usually leaky faucets and the sorts. But one evening,” he broke off, lowering his head to focus on the arms of his sweater stretched over his palm, his fingers twiddling anxiously.

He looks so sad and worried. Mags instinctively reached out and placed a comforting hand on his knee, the warmth of his skin felt through his jeans, causing Harry to look up as she smiled in reassurance.

“Right,” he persisted, “Well, one evening, about a week ago, my friend Louis and I were having drinks and watching horror movies, as a little farewell celebration because he was going to study abroad the next day. Getting into the Halloween spirit y’know? We were drunk and shootin’ the piss, and Louis suggested we hold a séance as he had a Ouija board in his car.”

“He just happened to have a Ouija board in his car?” Mags questioned in disbelief.

“He’s odd like that,” Harry explained, coinciding with Niall’s comment “Yeah, that checks out. Sounds like Louis!” Once again, reminding Mags that Niall was such a social person, and of course he somehow knew this Louis character.

“So we were just being stupid, lighting candles and asking the Ouija board silly questions and really just goofing off,” the sound of the rain grew louder, the droplets slapping against the wooden house and glass windows, prompting Harry to raise his voice to be heard, “And off Louis went to Brazil the next day to study abroad. And over the next few days, things kept happening.”

“Things?” Mags encouraged.

“Things like…I would hear sounds in the night. The wood creaks like someone is walking through the house and I hear strange sounds like scratching on the walls. The lights randomly flicker,” He takes in a shuddering breath, his hands absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread form his sweater in apprehension, “and I dunno, a painting literally fell off the wall in the dead of the night. That is not normal! Sometimes, there’s a weird smell in here, like rotten eggs, and it doesn’t go away no matter how hard I clean or how much air freshener I buy. It is always so cold in here and I haven’t been able to sleep in days, because I feel like something is just…watching me. If I can sleep, it’s only for a little because I’ll have nightmares, or I find myself waking up in the middle of the night.” Harry’s voice gets louder and louder, becoming more agitated and fearful as he recounts, “I can’t take it anymore, but I’m stuck here until the next semester but I’m not sure how much longer I can last.”

A quietness overtakes them, as everyone processes the story. Once again, Harry breaks the silence, “I dunno what we did that night, but I think. I think we definitely woke something.”

Mags stared at him, her heart feeling for him and she so desperately wished she could just give him the answers. Her brain was in overdrive, considering what could be source causing all the strangeness. Sleep deprivation can cause a lot of symptoms, her mind raced, delirium, hallucinations, your cognitive functions skewed because of being loopy. Because she believed, that while he may believe everything he said to be genuine, there were other plausible explanations. Ones that didn’t include the paranormal.

“Well, we’re here for ya mate,” Niall promised as Mags murmured in agreement. “We ain’t leaving ya alone tonight and we’ll be here to hear anything strange.”

Harry exhaled in obvious relief, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Thanks mate,” he said, as Niall cheered and went off to grab himself another beer, leaving the pair alone, “And thank you, Mags. I just, can’t explain it, but I feel better just having you here.” Mags looked at him, the fire dancing in the reflection of his eyes. His words were sincere and made her feel warm despite the chill, alighting her nerves. “Of course,” was all she could muster in response, her voice thick with emotion.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Day 5: October 28th, 3 days until Halloween

The rest of last night had passed in a similar fashion. They watched a B-rated cult classic on the Sy-Fy channel, played a rousing game of scrabble in which Niall of all people emerged victorious (the winning word with triple points: craic), and just swapping stories about their lives. It was fun, and Harry had looked the most relaxed that she had ever seen him. But when they woke in the morning, the mood was somber. Niall and Mags hadn’t heard a single peep the entire night, sleeping peacefully until morning, leaving Harry to fret over two options: the fear that he had gone crazy or that they wouldn’t believe him.

Mags was quick to dissipate both fears, assuring him that she would go home, shower, pack herself a bag, and come back again after work. If anything, she knew just having someone there with him helped Harry sleep better than he had in days, and although Niall wouldn’t be able to make it as he had a date night planned with Marisol, Mags wanted to be there for Harry. Harry was kind, Mags discerned, the way he had draped a blanket over her snoring figure last night and had given Niall his extra pillow. And the way she felt when he looked at her? She couldn’t describe. It was unlike any feeling that not even her past boyfriends made her feel, and it was simply small touches and gazes. She felt like a Victorian woman in the early ages, having to fan herself at the slightest contact, becoming undone and exhilarated when Harry had reached to embrace her in a hug earlier that day, his sweater rising to revealing his tanned, taut stomach and a peek of tattoos.

She drifted through work in a haze. She barely could recall any of the customers and she wouldn’t be able to you what she and Liam chatted about throughout her shift. She would get off in the evening, since she was closing again, and Harry insisted on coming to pick her up so they could walk back together to his home. Pumpkin lazily stalked through the aisles of the store, darting between the shelves and under tables as Mags watched in amusement. Mags wanted to bring Pumpkin along for their sleepover, and Harry thought it was a great idea because in his words, “A black cat would totally be able to sense if something was off.” Her bosses were never in the store and she knew Liam didn’t mind Pumpkin’s presence, if the fact that he had spent the latter half of the day cooing at her pink nose and soft paws, giving her belly rubs and half his lunch to share was any indicator.

Though she knew she was being silly, she mused as she kneeled on the worn carpet and shelved a stack of books, she couldn’t help feeling the anticipation and nervousness that usually precedes a date. But it wasn’t a date. She was just feeling this way because Niall wouldn’t be there and it would be just her and Harry in that big old house, alone together. If she was being honest, she would admit that she did wish it was a date. She found herself drawn to Harry, his caring personality and really taken by his dimples and all. His husky, low voice stirred something deep in her stomach, and when she heard the baritone in his throaty voice, coated with sleepiness earlier in the morning? She felt flush and wonderstruck, all at once.

But it wasn’t a date. Facing facts is what she did best. It was just two people on their way to becoming friends, working to prove that his house was not being inhabited by any spirits, that’s all. Completely platonic, normal stuff.

When it was 8 minutes to closing, Mags began to make sure that everything was put away so she could leave on time considering there probably wouldn’t be any last-minute customers, noting that Pumpkin was now currently snoozing near the cash register. She was deep in thought, dusting a particularly dusty shelf, secretly becoming more and more excited at the thought of spending more time with Harry.

“Boo!”

“Holy shit!” Mags’ heart jumped out of her chest, as she whirled around in fear, only to be met with a laughing Harry, one hand outstretched and grasping the bookshelf, the other across his stomach as he doubled over in laughter.

“You’re an idiot!” She declared, without malice, shoving her shoulders against his. “Absolutely awful.”

“Y’know, for a girl who says she isn’t afraid of ghosts, you sure are quite jumpy.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m a girl, Harry. I have real things to fear. Like creepy men that come in here to harass me!”

His eyes flashed with amusement as he leaned against the shelf. “If you want me to leave, just say the word.”

Mags just smiled to herself in response, choosing to ignore his comment. “I’m almost finished up here and then I’ll be ready to go.”

“Y’know,” said Harry, his tone become dramatic and teasing, “This is where we first met. When you first accosted me here, in this very aisle – “

“I did NOT accost you! You have to admit you were acting so suspicious!” Mags exclaimed indignantly. She straightened out one of the books and wondered aloud, “But it’s a bit crazy innit? That we just came into each other’s lives a mere four days ago?”

“Crazy,” Harry agreed, his sudden low and husky tone causing Mags to look up at him. “Feels like I’ve known you forever.” His eyes caught her with an unrecognizable expression, and Mags stared back, unable to look away. It’s like she was in a trance. Harry takes a step towards her, closing the small gap between them, standing so close that she could feel the warmth exuding from his chest, could see the freckles that dotted his green eyes, could practically hear his heart beating in his chest. Now was it just her or was his heart beating very, very fast?

Another second passes between them and Harry brings up his hand, placing it affectionally against her cheek, as Mags impulsively nuzzles against his palm. He leans in, closing the virtually non-existence gap between, his eyes focused on her lips, and all she could think was Is he going to – Is this really happening?

“Please tell me you guys are still open!” An unfamiliar voice shouts, as a male college student races in, eyes frantic and voice desperate.

Harry and Mags spring apart, their bodies separating as they turned to face the newcomer.

“I’ve got a paper due tonight on a book that I haven’t read. Please tell me you’re open and that you have Shakespeare!”

“Y-yes,” Mags answered, her voice a little shaky as she avoids looking at Harry, “Technically, we’re still open for another 2 minutes. You said Shakespeare? Which one?”

The boy looks around, scanning the books in the aisle before answering, “William, I think.”

She lets out a huge sigh before finally looking at Harry. “I’m just gonna help this last customer and then we can lock up and head out.” “I’ll be waiting.”

She guides the customer to the classic literature section; On the outside, she was explaining how prolific of an author Shakespeare was but internally, she was still thinking about her interaction with Harry. They were already becoming so close. When people get close, Mags discovered from her 23 years on Earth, they find the things they like and appreciate about you. But it’s a double-edge sword. That kind of intimacy also reveals the unpleasant things, it gives the other an opportunity to see the all the little things that makes a person real. Real was messy and not always pleasant. What if Harry saw all the little things that made Mags real – her tendency to ramble, her need to always have opinions about everything that she often loudly expressed, her struggle to be emotionally vulnerable with others – and decided that she’s easier to admire from afar. It was always a fear of hers, one of those doubts deep within her heart that she’d never expressed, never spoken into existence, but that still dwelled profoundly within; the fear that the more you got to know her, the harder she’d become to love.

In the middle of asking the customer probing questions, and finally being able to deduce he was looking for Othello, she turned to look at Harry who was across the shop. Just like countless times before, she found that his eyes were already on her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Okay,” Mags twisted the key into the lock and pulled the door of the bookstore before turning to face Harry, “We are good to go.”

It took Mags seemingly forever to get the last customer checked out and out of the store. She and Harry seemed to have an unspoken agreement to not speak of whatever it was that almost happened between them.

Harry lifted the cat carrier up into his arms as Pumpkin let out an adorable little mewl, begging for attention. Harry stuck his finger between the bars, laughing as Pumpkin’s pink tongue darted out to lick his finger. “Well, how about this? We go drop Pumpkin off at my house and let her get settled. And then how about you and I go grab some dinner. There’s a diner nearby and I’m sure you’re famished,” Harry suggested, all the while playing with Pumpkin and not meeting her eye.

On the outside, Mags was cool, calm, and collected and she offhandedly remarked, “Sure” in agreement. But on the inside, she was a whirlwind of emotions. Dinner? Like a date? I’m not ready for this. I mean, I know I was just wishing this was a date but maybe I should have wished that I’d have the foresight to have changed into a top that didn’t have a coffee stain on it or to have applied some gloss before coming to work today. She felt so unprepared.

But then Harry’s looked at her when she responded affirmatively, his eyes shining happily and a broad grin overtook his face, and suddenly, she didn’t quite feel so panicked. It was as if he was nervous that she’d shoot his idea down. Anew with confidence, she stated, “Lead the way.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The diner that Harry had chosen was very kitschy, decorated in a way that heavy handedly embraced the retro 80’s vibe, with neon signs and polyester covers on the booths. The diner even got into the Halloween spirit, as evident by the fake bats that were hung all around the place, and the jack-o-lantern tablecloths covering each tabletop. Harry and Mags were seated across from each other, staring at the menu, as a male artist’s voice crooned from the juke box, singing about holding hands.

“So,” Mags began as she finished assessing the menu, “My options are either a hamburger or a cheeseburger. How ever will I decide?”

Harry laughed at her reaction to the limited food options. “What can I say? Don’t need really need too many options when everything tastes amazing.” Ordering a cheeseburger and coke for herself, Harry followed suit, and Mags inquired, “You come here often?” “Yeah,” Harry admitted, his fingers interlocked and resting atop the table, “I just really like the vibes. It’s also a 24-hour diner and I’ve been coming here more often within the past week, since I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

Right. Harry’s haunting problem. She’d almost completely forgotten, but she wasn’t really to blame. Was she really supposed to stay focused when she and Harry had walked to the diner, their arms intertwined, chatting about anything and everything? When he sat only a few feet across from her, trying to catch her eye but also nervously looking away?

“Hopefully, you can finally start getting some rest soon enough. Maybe we’ll finally be able to put this whole ghost business to rest tonight,” she suggested optimistically.

He gave her a sad smile in return. “Hopefully,” he said, his voice betraying the fact that he didn’t really believe that to be true.  

Her heart ached for him once more, so she decided to change the subject. “What song is this anyway? I kinda like it. It’s cute and – what?”

Harry regarded her strangely. “What’d ya mean who is this? It’s the Beatles.”

“Like the bug?” she joked, before quickly admitting, “I’m kidding, I know of the Beatles. I just don’t usually listen to this kind of music, now don’t go and have a heart attack,” she explained as Harry eyes had initially widened at her statement.

“So, what kind of music do you usually listen to?”

“I’m definitely a top 40’s kind of girl,” Mags responded, shifting in her seat. She thanked the waitress, who adorned a festive witch’s hat, as she set down their cokes and began to work on unwrapping her straw, planning to blow the wrapper at an unsuspecting Harry’s face.

“Top 40’s? What’s that?”

“Y’know,” she responded, “Like, the top 40 songs that are most popular on the charts. The songs that are always playing on the radio.” Harry held his hand against his chest, as if he couldn’t fathom anything worse. “You are so pretentious!” She laughed, “Those songs are popular for a reason!”

Harry laughed too, making sure to let Mags know that he was really just teasing her, no malice behind his mockery. “And just when I thought there was absolutely nothing wrong with you, you go ahead and admit to that.”

Mags couldn’t help her own smile from creeping across her face. “I’m far from perfect Harry.”

There’s a look of affection that seems to flash in Harry’s eyes and Mags flushes, not really sure how to deal with it. “Yeah?” he responds, looking down to swirl the condensation pooling at the bottom of his glass of coke, “Could’ve fooled me.”

The rest of their dinner passed by in a similar fashion. Comfortable jokes, casual conversations, and longing looks passing between them. It was the first time that Mags had ever seen Harry look truly happy. She decided it was a good look on him, and right then and there, she made a silent vow to herself that she would do everything in her power to keep that happiness. Even if it meant she’d have to face the devil himself.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Although Harry’s house was cold, it was still much warmer than the bitter icy wind howling outside. Entering his home, Mags immediately took off her shoes and coat, with Harry following suit. She looked to him to see where she should place her coat, and when he removed his dark peacoat and tossed it over an armchair, so did she. He was wearing a cranberry colored crew neck sweater, and he wore it well, leading Mags to ponder if his closets were just an endless supply of comfy clothes, each cozier than the last. Not wanting to be caught eyeing him, she shuffled into the living room, pausing to scratch Pumpkin under her chin, just like she liked it, and to drop her duffle bag onto the floor.

“There a bathroom just down the hall, if you’d like to change into your pajamas there,” Harry offered. He scratched the back of his neck, “I’m just gonna, um, go in my room and change into mine to give you some privacy. I’ll meet you back out here and maybe we can watch a movie or something?”

“Sure,” she replied, somewhat amused. In the bathroom, she changed into her pajamas, which consisted of an old Maroon 5 shirt she had from years ago and a pair of soft fleece pajamas. When packing earlier that day, she had briefly considered wearing something a bit more flattering, but she realized it was futile because she liked to be comfortable when she slept, let alone the fact she didn’t actually own any proper sleepover, her pajama wardrobe made of oversized promotional t-shirts unsuitable for public wear. She washed her face and turned to face her reflection in the mirror. She gazed at her big, brown eyes, droplets of water tinting the tips of her lashes. Her warm tawny brown skin seemed dull and washed out under the harsh fluorescent bathroom lighting. Her dark hair was due for a haircut, and in its windswept state, wasn’t doing her any favors. She swept back her hair into a high ponytail, the stubborn baby hairs quickly reclaiming their rightful spot by framing her face.

Mags was never one of those girls that couldn’t acknowledge that she was pretty (not that girls who struggled with their beauty were less than, everyone had their own struggles. Mags was a large supporter of girls and wouldn’t speak ill of her sisters). She found that she did quite well with the male population, garnering attention when she so desired, and sometimes unwanted attention as well (looking at you, creepy Walmart man that had the audacity to comment on her big boobs just because she wasn’t wearing a bra). But then men she usually gave the time of day weren’t men of substance. Usually, she sought them out for something physical sans the intimacy. But something about Harry had her feeling self-conscious, unnerved. Raw. It was like he was appreciating her outer beauty but also truly seeing her, erratic enthusiasm and all. And even more baffling? He seemed to like what he saw.

Mags broke out of her reverie and found Harry lounging on the couch, remoted aimed at the tv as he flipped through channels. He looked up and automatically offered her one of his signature smiles, “You look lovely,” he commented nonchalantly.

“Thanks,” she responded reservedly. She joined him, careful to sit on the other end of the couch and looked around. “Where’s Pumpkin?”

“I put her on my bed,” Harry confessed, “Figured it’d be more comfortable than the hardwood floor.” “You’re gonna spoil her,” Mags snickered, “She’s used to sleeping atop the rusty radiator in my apartment.”

Harry and Mags quickly decided they should watch a movie, both wanting to stay in each other’s presence for a little while longer but struggling to find the words to express as such. Picking a movie, however, was a more difficult challenge as Harry felt that he’d had enough horror in his life to last a lifetime and couldn’t bear to suffer through another horror film, prompting Mags to put on “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before,” partially because she wanted to annoy Harry and partially because she just thought the move was really cute, okay? The joke was on her, because apparently Harry loved romance films and was really into the movie.

As entertaining as the movie was, both found their eyes wandering from the screen, looking at each other and quickly glancing away. Mags was very hyperaware of Harry’s presence on the couch, aware of his every movement. It was like her body was in tune with his. Meanwhile, Harry couldn’t help himself. He automatically gravitated to her, like he was seeking out warmth that only she could give. Mid-movie, they found themselves to be sitting side by side, practically no space between them. If Harry wanted to, he could reach out and enclose her hand with his.

And he wants to. And so he does.

And she doesn’t pull away.

They don’t speak, just hold hands, the only source of light illuminating from the television. Neither saying a word in fear of breaking the moment. Harry finds that for the first time in a while, he feels safe. Safe and happy. He hopes she feels the same way. 

Needing to hear her voice, to get some reassurance, Harry breaks the silence once again, his eyes never leaving the scene playing out on the television. “I don’t get this part. Why is Lara Jean so scared to be with Peter? She’s so hesitant when he obviously cares for her and she does too.”

“I think it makes sense. It’s pretty accurate,” Mags responds, shrugging slightly. “Yeah? Why’s that?” “Because,” Mags bites her cheek in contemplation, “Love is scary, y’know? And letting yourself fall for someone? That’s…well, it’s terrifying.” “Not if it’s the right person,” Harry said with all the sincerity of an honest man, before quickly adding as an afterthought, “And obviously, Peter is the right person for Lara-Jean.” “Right, for Lara-Jean,” Mags agreed a little too quickly, “But it’s still scary nonetheless. Some guys aren’t all that great. It’s hard. To trust someone else, to trust them with your vulnerability, to let them know every part of you, and trust them not to hurt you.”

Harry broke the spell. He no longer referred to the characters and implicated himself. “Y’know I would never intentionally do anything to hurt you, right? I…I care about you. You do know that, don’t you?”

As she peers up at him through her lashes and meets his widened eyes, she becomes mindful of how close they had leaned towards each other. She fidgets under his intense gaze, his green eyes piercing through her own. She feels the warmth of his hand on her thigh as he inches closer until his forehead rests against her. A loose stray curl tickles her cheek and his lips just barely brush against hers. She hesitates for only a moment before deepening the kiss, pressing her lips against his forcefully. He pulls away, his pupils blown and the smallest of smiles playing on his lips, and his eyes scan her face for reassurance. Whatever he’s looking for, he must find because he rushes to close the gap and his soft lips captures hers again. She responds eagerly and her hand cups the nape of his neck. His tongue lightly sweeps across her bottom lips before slipping into her mouth, making her hum in approval.

He gently pushes her back until she’s lying on the couch. He breaks the kiss for only a moment to pull off his t-shirt and toss it carelessly across the room before swinging his legs over her until he’s practically straddling her. One hand flies to his head, pulling at his curls as the other rakes it’s fingernails into his shoulder. She angles her head back and lets out a sharp intake of breath as he leaves a trail of wet kisses down her neck. She feels the hand resting on her lower back slide up and swiftly unclasp her bra. His hands explore her body until he’s palming her breast, grazing her nipple and rolling it between his fingers, making her gasp. Harry always thought of himself as an ass man, but now, in this moment, he has a newfound appreciation for breasts. Her tongue darts between his lips hungrily and he pulls his body closer to hers, grinding steadily. She can feel her whole body on fire, the tingling sensation spreading to the pit of her stomach. Her hands immediately go for the band of his pants, but she breaks away suddenly, and he outwardly moans at the loss of contact.

“What – What is it? Are we moving too fast?” Harry questions, panting rapidly.

Mags places a hand against his chest, as Harry allows her to push him upright and she follows suit, both now sitting up.

He would never forgive himself if he had pushed her and scared her away. “We can slow down. I didn’t mean to –“ “No, shhhhh,” Mags harshly shushed him. “Don’t you hear that?” And suddenly, they’re still, unmoving like stone. The house just as quiet as the two, the only sound filling the air is their own ragged breathing stabilizing. In the silence, just as suddenly, another loud creaking resounded against the wooden interior.

“Okay,” Harry said anxiously, his eyes wandering upwards from where the sound was seemingly coming from, “I heard that.” “Do you think it’s Pumpkin?”

“I’m gonna go with no, considering Pumpkin’s right there by the fireplace.” And sure enough, Mags turned to see her kitten had at some point, bounded into the room and found comfort beside the warm flames.

Then an even more frightening sound could be heard. Mags would describe it as heavy, a hefty thumping sound that was very different from something that could be explained away, like the light scurrying of a rat.

Harry would describe it as footsteps.

It was irrational. Mags couldn’t explain it. She didn’t know what making that sound, but she did know that the sound was frightening her. She couldn’t rationally chalk it up to the characteristic creaking of an old house or wood settling, the thumps were too loud, too sporadic. Logically, she knew she should use the flashlight on her phone and go straight to the sound source. But the fact of the matter is, she’s scared. 

Just when she began to steady her racing heart rate and begin to think she could work up the nerve to go investigate the sound, a sudden crash came from the other side of the room, causing her to yelp in surprise and clutch Harry’s arm in fear. One of the picture frames that Harry had hung on the wall fell on to the ground, the glass shattered from the impact. It just fell. Nothing to cause it, as if the material had literally leaped from the wall to its untimely death. “Fat load of good you are,” Mags glared at Pumpkin who, unbeknownst to the danger, was playing with a discarded bottle cap.

Harry put in quick work to shrug his sweater over his shoulders, and then taking care to ensure that Mags wasn’t too frightened. “Well, at least now you believe me?”

“Believe you?” Mags asked in disbelief, facing him “I more than believe you. I think, I think we should get outta here. Let’s just go stay at my place.” She frantically stood up, brushing her stray hairs from her face, trying to clear her mind so she could form rational thoughts. Harry stood up just as suddenly, standing next to her, holding her elbow and shoulder, pulling her towards him in a comforting hug. 

“We need to come up with a game plan,” she said, her breath slightly muffled as she nuzzles her face against his sweater clad chest. “I think it’s best if we just spend the night at my apartment. And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Harry questioned encouragingly. 

“We’re going to do whatever it takes. A cleansing. Research. Anything to un-haunt this house, because this shit? It’s scary.”

They both spared one last glance upwards, to where the sound was coming from, an array of emotions filling the room; frightened (Mags, because ghosts can’t exist, they just can’t. It transcends the rules of physical science!), agitated (Harry because how could he be so dense as to put Mags in danger, though he figures that once she sets her mind to something, there’s no stopping her), and confused (Pumpkin, wondering why the humans were looking up when she was right here, as she softly mewls from the lack of attention).

_______________________________________________________________________

Day 6, October 29th, 1 day until Halloween.

The sun filtered in through the linen curtains, illuminating the white sheets beside her, warming her skin and giving her a bronze glow. Mags slowly peeled her eyes open, immediately noticing Harry’s absence. His side of the bed was empty, and Mags wasn’t sure how to feel. Was it really just a few hours ago that her world was shook by the presence of ghosts? If science wasn’t solid, then what else was there to rely on?

Once they got to her place, they were both too strung-out and tired to do anything. They shuffled under the covers and slept in her small bed, sleeping together in the most innocent way possible. The only touching was the hand holding that occurred under the bed, which although much less risqué than what happened last night had it not been for the potential ghost encounter, the thought of which still made Mags warm and blush. Stretching out her limbs and gathering her relentless hair into a manageable bun, she created an itinerary for herself. Bathroom first. Find Harry, second. Figure out what happened last night, third. Although she wasn’t so sure about the last one. Did she want to figure out the ominous sound they heard or figure out exactly what happened between her and Harry last night? All she knew was, it was way too early for this.

Once emerging from the bathroom, she tuned into the sounds of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen, immediately deducing Harry’s whereabouts. She knew it couldn’t possibly be Marisol, because she’d never be up this early, and she knew she had spent the night at Niall’s place.

His back was facing her, his shoulders moving as he poured batter into a frying pan, Pumpkin nuzzling against his ankles. Mags didn’t even know they owned a frying pan. Marisol and Mags mainly lived off of frozen dinners, take-outs, and Niall’s generous discounts at the café where he occasionally moonlights as a waiter.

“G’morning,” she croaked, alerting Harry to her presence. She cleared her throat and tried again, “Mornin’, Harry. What’s all this?” “I’m making pancakes,” He turned, greeting her drowsy appearance, his voice thickened with lack of use, guttural and raw. “Ran out to the convenience store this morning and grabbed some ingredients. Figured we could both use a hearty breakfast.”

Mags hummed in appreciation, rubbing a sweater-clad fist over her dreary eyes, sleepily offering help which Harry firmly denied and directed her to sit at the small kitchen table. “Are the pancakes chocolate chip?” “Is there any other way?” Harry responds, smiling warmly at her sleepy antics. He sets a plate of scrambled eggs and chocolate chip pancakes in front of her, placing a bottle of syrup within her reach without her having to ask.

Mags suddenly felt out her element. She wasn’t used to this kind of treatment with any guy she had ever been with, and she technically hadn’t even been with Harry. Was she meant to kiss him in appreciation? He was so tender in everything he did, always putting her needs and comfort first. The situation was foreign to her, so domestic and comfortable that it made her feel uncomfortable. “Um, thank you – It all looks delicious,” she finally managed to stammer out.

Harry carried his own plate of food in one hand, his other opening the fridge to grab a carton of orange juice. Witnessing how comfortable he seemed to be in her small apartment made her unnerved, but it was also exciting. Thrilling.

As he sat across from her, their eyes met once again. “I figure,” Harry began, “I mean, I think that we should probably talk about what happened last night. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Mags agreed, nervously wringing her fingers, “Good idea. It…scared me. Um, I didn’t like it.”

Harry’s face blanched for a moment before he smoothed his features into an expressionless façade. “You didn’t?”

“Of course, I didn’t, it was just so…I don’t know how to put it. It all happened so fast, one thing after the other. It’s a lot to process.

Harry nodded slowly, gently, as if Mags was fragile and he was handling the situation delicately, although she couldn’t figure why. “It is a lot. And it was a bit fast. Maybe we need to just slow down and figure out what it meant?” He suggested nervously.

Mags eyed him in confusion, his apprehensive demeanor puzzling her, as she continued speaking. “It was just so unexpected. I didn’t think that was going to happen when I went to your place last night. It was so awful.” Harry’s brows furrowed together, looking wounded, as he murmured, “I mean, well me neither but I don’t think it was necessarily a bad th-“ “What do you mean you weren’t expecting it?” Mags probed, pausing to chew her scrambled eggs, “it certainly seems like you were positive that it would happen.”

Harry’s face, despite his efforts, flashed with hurt. “Well, I mean, I hoped it would happen but of course I wasn’t expecting anything. I just –” Abandoning his food, he rubbed his hands over his curls, then dropped them to rest against his knees, palms up as if pleading, “Look, I really, really like you and obviously it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way but I really thought - ”

“Who says I don’t feel the same way?” Mags questioned in confusion, wondering if perhaps Harry, as cute as he was, might’ve been a few screws short. Guess people truly can’t have it all.  

Meanwhile, Harry’s own face contorted in confusion, his voice borderline hysterical. “What do you mean who says, you says! I mean, you just said that you didn’t like what happened last night.”

“Right,” Mags nodded empathetically, “The noise we heard really scared me and I think it’s quite normal to not like the fact you have an actual fucking ghost in your house.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Did you think I was talking about, whatever happened between us?” Mags clarified, gesturing at their bodies. When Harry offered a sheepish look in response, Mags smiled with fondness, putting her fork down on her plate. “You’re silly. Let me be clear. Ghosts? Bad. Harry and Mags? Good. I’m not sure exactly what happened between us last night, but I like you. I think it should happen again, minus the paranormal encounter. Not just the, erm, the touching part. The diner part. The talking part too. We can table that for now and come back to it when we aren’t in fear of lurking ghosts. We can figure that part out together.” The relief that washed over Harry couldn’t have been more evident. “Oh thank god, I’m so happy to hear you say that,” and when Harry was happy, Mags couldn’t help but think that the sun was trapped within him, warmth, comfort, and blinding brightness and all. “And um, what about the other thing? The ghost thing?” Mags beamed at him, at the 6-foot boy that towers in her small apartment but looks over at all five feet of her with concern and care, before replying, “We can figure that part out together too. I have a game plan.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After the tenderness and confusion of their morning breakfast, Harry and Mags got dressed for the day, each renewed with a determination to solve this ghost problem of theirs once and for all. It wasn’t just Harry’s problem anymore. Harry’s safety and happiness were now Mags’ priority as well. Cleaning up and getting dressed took a little longer than usual, as they spared moments to steal glances and accidental touches. By the time they made it out of her apartment, the sun was brilliantly shining in the sky, for once the skies clear of any clouds, and it was noon.

Mags truly did have an anti-ghost plan. And she intended to put it to use before tomorrow. It was as she explained to Harry, that tomorrow was Halloween, and everyone knows that on All Hallows Eve, the world between the paranormal and normal collided. Her extensive repertoire of horror movies led her to confidently assert that the if the dead were to roam the earth, then Halloween would be the best night to so do. She figured that now since science and everything she’s ever known has changed; she might as well rely on literature to guide them through this ordeal.

“So, first on our agenda is to seek out a priest,” Harry commented, eyes squinting at the sun, hand firmly holding hers. “Which church should we go to?” “Askin’ the wrong person here,” Mags chuckled while gesturing to herself, “Nearest mosque, I could help ya with. But church?” “Right,” he said, blushing despite her obvious joking tone, “Well, I guess we’ll have to trust google?”

Finding the church was easy enough. Getting the minister to believe that they weren’t pulling a prank was a little trickier. After much clarification and pleading, they left the church armed with some information.

“I dunno about you, but this bottle of holy water has me feeling a bit indestructible,” Harry joked, wagging the holy water tauntingly. Mags owns hands clutched the pewter candlestick holders and candles the church had generously donated to them. Though they had initially hoped for the church to interfere with their dilemma, the resources and tips they provided would just have to do. “Although,” Harry said, raising his eyebrows, “I must say, I’m surprised.” “Why? ‘Cuz I thought of such a brilliant plan?” “No. I’m shocked that you were able to last that entire trip to the church without swearing even once.” Mags opened her mouth, feigning offence, before shoving him. “So, what’s next?” Harry questions, after composing his laughter, “A psychic?”

“A medium,” Mags corrected.

“Oh, I didn’t know there was a difference,” Harry admitted good-naturedly.

“Me neither,” Mags confessed, but google sure did.

As they followed the GPS directions to the location of where the medium was located, Harry had another question. “How’d you pick this medium? Does she specialize in ghosts and exorcisms?” “Hmm?” She said, looking up, “Oh no, she just had the best Yelp rating.” She scrolls through her phone, thumbing through the device before presenting it to Harry. “And, she’s got a Halloween special going on right now. 50% off for her services. Pretty crafty of me, huh?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The medium, a woman named Clair LeMadeline, had looked relatively normal. Her red hair curled into define ringlets and her eyes were a piercing blue. She was wearing a simple pea blouse and black slacks. The only thing that was even considerably odd about her appearance was her green eyeshadow, bold and unnaturally glittery. She was a stark contrast from what Mags was expecting, which was a woman, possibly raven haired, with a crystal ball in a dark room with thick purple drapes.

Even more so, she had hoped the woman would be able to help them out a bit more. For someone who claimed to have a unique ability to hover between two worlds and a connection with spirits without a physical body, she wasn’t really helpful.

Mags recalled the only bit of information that was slightly useful. Clair had taken Harry’s hands into her own, hoping to get a ‘read’ on his aura.

“Ah yes,” she had said, her sharp nails outlining the lines on Harry’s palm, “I’m sensing something here. I see that recently in your life, you’ve come upon some suffering.”

“Yes!” Harry fervently nodded, with Mags reservedly watching from his side.

“Your future,” Clair continued melodramatically, her eyes tightly shut as she focused, “it’s blurry. Unclear. I see, red liquid. Lots and lots of red. It’s staining your shirt, dripping onto your shoes, there’s so much red.”

Harry’s face pales, dread overcoming him, as he frantically tightens his hold on the medium’s own hands. “Is it blood?”

“Hard to say, but my best guess is that it is indeed blood. Yes, I can see that. And, you’ve suffered a great loss. I also see here that you’re a widower.”

“Erm, no,” Harry confessed, pulling his hands back slightly, “I’ve never even been married. Way off base.”

The medium had looked slightly put out with that comment, “Well, I never. Surely you must’ve been married. With those dimples and a body like that, you’ve probably had your fair share of wives. You don’t have to lie to impress your little girly over here,” she harrumphed, gesturing towards Mags.

“Okaaay,” Mags announced, offering the medium a tight polite smile, “I think we’re done here.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“That was a waste of time,” Harry groaned. “She was obviously a scam artist. Also, I’m pretty sure she was hitting on me.” He glanced at his watch and groaned even more audibly, “And we’re running out of daylight. Halloween is tomorrow. What are we gonna do?”

“That woman certainly was…a lot of things,” Mags said, carefully choosing her words, “But she was surprisingly helpful.” Harry brows furrowed, his face distorting in disbelief. “Think about what she called you,” Mags explained, answering his unasked question. “She said that you were a widower.” “And you believed her?” He explained, “Mags, I’ve never – “ Huffing slightly, she interrupted his speech, “Okay, no. Obviously, I’m not an idiot. But that just got me thinking. Didn’t you say Bertha was a widow? Do you know anything about her husband? Maybe we can look into his death. Maybe his spirit was awoken by the Ouija board and it’s restless for some reason and unless we help him with his unfinished business, he can’t pass over to the other side.” “You’re a genius,” Harry commented, which prompted Mags to thank him and inform him with sincerity that it was all because she watched a lot of Buzzfeed Unsolved. “I don’t know much about her husband, but I know how we can find out more.”

And that’s how Harry and Mags found themselves standing on the steps outside the town’s public library. Harry’s idea was brilliant, Mags had to admit. The town newspaper always printed the obituaries for residents that passed. Older editions of the newspaper could be accessed using the microfiche. Even more promising was that if Bertha’s late husband had passed under unusual circumstances, the paper was sure to have done a story over it. But even with a great idea put into action, and their hopes and spirits renewed, Mags couldn’t help the nauseous pit growing in her stomach.

As they embarked up the steps, Harry looked over at Mags in concern. “You okay there? You look a little green.”

“Hmm?” She feigned ignorance, “No, I’m fine.” Harry opened the door, ushering her inside before stepping into the heated building. “Must’ve been something I ate.” “My pancakes have you feeling nauseous?” Harry exclaimed in concern.

Oops. Right, Mags had forgotten that the only thing she’d eaten today was Harry’s cooking. This was why she hated lying – she was bad at it.

“Hush, Harry,” is the route she decided to go with, “We’re in a library. We don’t wanna disturb the other patrons.” She gestured to the room, mentally groaning when she saw that the library was jam-packed with three other people, a young girl and her mother were fiddling on the computers, and an old man that was sleeping on one of the armchairs. Or, at least Mags hoped he was sleeping. One would think the library would be more popular on a Friday night.

Harry shot her another concerning look but chose to drop the matter, for now. In fear of being shushed again, he gestured to the circulation help desk, indicating that they should ask one of the library assistants where they could find the catalogued newspapers. As they approached the desk, Mags legs felt like they were heavy lead as she dragged them across the carpeted floor. She just needed an excuse to slip away for five minutes and then this upcoming crisis could be averted.

She stopped in her tracks, spinning around to face Harry. “I, um, need to go to the bathroom. It’s an emergency. Not that you asked,” She nervously chuckled. “Anyways,” she pushed Harry’s back towards the help desk, “Why don’t you ask where we can find the newspapers while I’m gone and I’ll just meet you there and – ” “Magnolia?” The voice came from behind her, just as smoky and honeyed as she remembered.

She froze in her tracks. This cannot be happening. I’m a good person she thought, I fast during Ramadan. I try to be nice to others. I’m fairly sure that I pay all my taxes. Why is this happening to me? Would it be too late for her to make a run for it? She could just tell Harry it was an emergency and then meet him back at his house once he acquired the information.

Just as she began to inch towards the exit, the voice called out again. “Magnolia, that is you! I thought it was. I’d recognize you anywhere. ” Ignoring Harry’s look of confusion, she turned around reluctantly. She looked at the other boy, his dark hair perfectly styled atop his head, not a strand out of place. His cheekbones sharp and proudly protruding, his lips slightly turned into a familiar smile. Unlike her, his brown skin didn’t seem to have a problem with dulling under florescent lights, as he was golden and glowing. One tatted arm reached out to embrace her in a hug, pulling her softly against his chest, before pulling back to get a look at her. “You look good,” he professed, looking at her intently form head to toe, “Beautiful like always.” From her peripheral, she could see that Harry certainly didn’t like that, if his body language was any indicator as he crossed his arms and shifted his stance to stand closers to Mags.

“Zayn,” she greeted, trying to modulate her voice and stifle her feelings of panic. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” “At the library?” Zayn questioned, “Where I work?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” She nervously answered. Just as she was going to grab Harry’s arm and steer them away from the upcoming train wreck, Harry himself piped up. “I’m sorry. Mags hasn’t introduced us. Who are you?”

Zayn looked at Harry, as if he just registered that Mags wasn’t alone. “This is Zayn,” Mags answered quickly, “He’s my –”

“I’m Magnolia’s ex-boyfriend,” Zayn interrupted, reaching over to shake Harry’s hand, muscles tightening, jaw clenched, “She and I used to date.”

“He knows what ex means,” Mags hissed.

“Oh really?” Harry responded, his face unreadable, “Funny. Mags actually hasn’t even mentioned you.” His emphasis on her preferred nickname was evident to both Zayn and Mags, because Harry was as subtle as horse. “I’m Harry.”

Mags, despite the train wreck happening before her very eyes, was relieved that Harry introduced himself. She didn’t know what title she would’ve given him. She didn’t even know what they were. They were in some weird limbo until this ghost mess was past them. What would she have said? Harry piping up saved her from the verbal onslaught that would’ve been sure to follow. Hi, yes Zayn, my ex-boyfriend who broke my heart, this is Harry, a boy that I almost slept with and really want to sleep with but haven’t yet because I was cock-blocked by a ghost. Anyways, can you point us to the non-fiction section?

“Um,” Mags spoke, breaking the palpable tension, “While we have you here Zayn, we could actually use your help with some questions.”

Ignoring Harry’s disgruntled expression and Zayn’s self-satisfied smirk, she continued on. “Aren’t you doing your senior thesis on like witchcraft or something of that nature?”

“It’s on magical realism and occult fiction,” He clarified, before giving her a sly smile, warmer and more comfortable than his smirk, looking more like the Zayn she knew. “Y’know, all that haram and Jinn stories that used to bother the hell out of ya.”

Despite not wanting to, she couldn’t help but smile in return. “Right,” she warmed at the mention of their insider, “Well, we could use your help. For your research, did you come across anything about how to perform an exorcism on a house that’s possessed by a ghost?”

Zayn, to his credit, didn’t bat an eye at her odd question. He was used to Mags’ antics. “Yeah, from what I’ve read, the best bet is to light some sage. Ask the ghosts what they want and try to get them what they need, and they’ll leave.” He paused as if he truly registered what he just asked her, and then eyed Harry suspiciously. “But I know you. You don’t believe in that kinda stuff.”

“It’s nothing,” Mags lied, wanting to end this conversation, like, five minutes ago. “Can you tell us where the newspaper archives are? Ones from like 10 years ago?”

Heading towards the corner of the library that Zayn pointed them to, Harry and Mags walked in silence. Unable to take it anymore, Mags spoke up. “So, that was Zayn. My ex-boyfriend. But you already know that.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Harry assured her. And it seemed like he truly meant that sentiment, his voice unwavering and genuine He didn’t seem the slightest bit accusatory, no hint of sarcasm lining his tone, which was so unlike what she was used to when she was dating Zayn. Not that she was dating Harry, but she and Zayn had a knack for being able to get under each other’s skin. Had the roles been reversed, Zayn wouldn’t have let that interaction go, hounding Mags for more answers to impossible questions until they’d inevitably get into another one of their infamous fights. Zayn was an English major, through and through, envious and passionate. He felt deeply as an artist and fought just as dramatically too.

It was the fact that Harry was nothing like Zayn that encouraged her to share. “No, I want to explain,” She insisted, as they carried a stack of newspapers to a table, ready to dive into their town’s obituaries. “Zayn and I, well, he and I dated for a good while. It was one of those things where, when it was good, it was really good, y’know? But when it was bad? It was awful.”

Harry encouragingly nodded, his green eyes looking to her in sincerity, letting her tell the story at her own pace. “Well,” Mags exhaled, “It was serious. One of the most serious relationships I’ve ever had. But it didn’t work out. Obviously. We were just too different. We both retreated when we were hurt and angry instead of talking things out. And it wasn’t just his fault, it was both of ours. It wasn’t anything dramatic or serious. We just broke up because we never really tried our best, never gave our best effort to fix our problems.” She recalled the months after the end of their relationship, Mags tried her best to hold it together, but it really did wound her. “The break-up still sucked though,” she admitted. She may act collected and composed, but when she does let someone into her heart, it’s different. If it wasn’t for Niall and Marisol, she wasn’t sure if she’d have gotten through it.

Harry placed his hand atop of hers, taking care to look into her eyes. “He’s the guy that broke your heart, isn’t he? The reason that you’re scared to be vulnerable with someone.”

Mags kept her gaze on the stack of newspaper, unable to meet his eyes, wordlessly nodding in affirmation.

“Well, thank you for sharing that with me,” Harry said earnestly, reaching over to put a finger under Mags chin, turning her face so they were looking at each other. “Thanks for being vulnerable with me.” Mags raised her gaze, smiling at the kindness of the boy who sat across from her, unsure how to respond.

She needn’t worry though because she didn’t have to reply. “Anyways,” he continued, “We have a ghost to get rid of. Let’s get to looking through this decade’s worth of obituaries.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As they started to head back to the house, Mags was a ball of nerves, filled with anticipation. The trip to the library had been a success. Mags was able to find Bertha’s late husband, Tom’s, obituary. It simply stated that he passed due to a head contusion, with no information on how it occurred. News must’ve been slow that week because Harry then found the real treasure: an investigative article that revealed more information about Tom’s death. They discovered that Tom and Bertha had gotten into an argument, over something silly as she had to remind him multiple times to check the circuit breaker in the basement. Tom had begrudgingly gone to do so when one the wires in the breakers shocked him with a small current of electricity. The electrical shock didn’t kill him, but it did surprise him enough so that he stepped back, falling over and hitting his head on the edge of his workbench. The death was quick and painless, the article assured readers, but Mags still felt awful while reading it. Poor Tom, she thought, and poor Bertha. Even more so, it was a bit unsettling to Harry that a death had occurred in the house in which he was currently living.

As they had prepared to leave the library earlier, armed with knowledge and a secure plan to conduct their exorcism, Zayn had caught up with them, giving Mags a bottle of sage that he had lying around in his office that he acquired during his thesis research.

Now, she and Harry trekked back to the house, loaded with goodies that would hopefully guarantee an end to the paranormal activities; bottle of holy water, pewter candlesticks, and a bottle of sage, not to mention everything that they learned throughout the day. As she mentally recounted the day’s hectic and odd events, she voiced her thoughts. “Wasn’t that medium funny? The things she so-called predicted about you were so wild.” Mags laughed, brandishing her speech with air quotes.

“Heh, yeah,” Harry said, uncharacteristically without elaboration. There was a small pause, and then, “Actually, she wasn’t all wrong.” “How’s that?” Mags inquired, wondering how much longer their walk would take. She was so ready to deal with the ghost. Especially now since she knew it was Tom and he probably didn’t mean them any harm.

“I actually, uh, well you know how she said I suffered a great loss?” Harry reached over to rub the back of his neck before continuing, “Well. She wasn’t wrong about that. My uh, my dad passed away. Not too long ago really.” “Harry,” Mags said, concern and sympathy and sadness all intertwined in her voice, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“We don’t,” Harry agreed, but then he looked at her. And if Mags had to guess, the look in his eyes showed that he felt comfortable with her. Safe. “But I want to. My dad was an okay guy, not the best husband but a good father. He passed quickly – cancer, but not painlessly. It was tough for my sister and mom. Tough for me too.” He cleared his throat, sneaking a peek at Mags before looking down at his feet. “I just, I wanted you to know that about me. I like sharing things with you. You’re easy to talk to.”

Usually, Mags was quick to stick her foot in her mouth. Her special talent of saying the wrong thing reared its ugly head when it was most unwanted and in the most awkward situations. But surprisingly, that didn’t happen this time. Mags took one look at how exposed and open Harry was, how he shared his sorrow and confided in her, and she knew exactly what she wanted to say. “He must’ve been a great father,” Mags noted, “To have helped raise someone as wonderful like you.”

They shared a smile. A small one that meant that whatever this was, whatever was happening between them, it was going to be big. The shared smile revealed that there were wonders and adventures yet to come between them. But it would all have to wait until after tonight, when they would finally leave Harry with a ghost-free home.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Harry unlocked the door to his house, they didn’t waste time in removing their shoes or coats and got straight to work. Harry began to burn the sage and Mags set the candle around the room, lighting the wicks and igniting flames. They worked in silence, the magnitude of what’s to come weighing heavily on their shoulders. When finished with their respective duties, they met back at the center.

Harry’s grip on the bottle of holy water tightened. “You don’t have to do this, y’know? I won’t hold it against you.” He was offering her an out, not wanting to put her in any unnecessary danger.

Mags rolled her eyes, before reaching over to grasp his free hand. “I’m not that easy to get rid of. I’m not going anywhere.”

Just then, the awful thudding and heavy footsteps could be heard from above. It was loud, the steps so heavy that it caused bits of wood shavings to fall from the ceiling. It was now or never.

“Hello?” Mags called out, her voice trembling at the unknown. “Is that you Tom? I mean Mr – “ “Bleakman,” Harry helpfully supplied.

Mags gulped, “Mr. Bleakman. If that’s you, can you give us a sign?”

Was it her imagination, or had the room suddenly gotten colder? The inside of the house seemed to be even more freezing that the harsh winds outside. It was chilling. Goosebumps began to dot her arms and an uneasy feeling settling around her.  She held her coat closer to her exposed neck, her grip tightening in Harry’s intertwined hand.

“Mr. Bleakman?” Now it was Harry giving it a go. “If you can hear me, I just want you to know. I’m Harry. Your wife, Bertha, rented this house to me. She’s a real sweet woman.” “They play Bingo together,” Mags offered.

“We did. We played a lot of Bingo together and – “ “Which isn’t a euphemism by the way!” Mags exclaimed, before mouthing an apology to Harry when he shot her an exasperated look.

“Right. Well, Mr. Bleakman. Tom. I was hoping that you could stop haunting this house. The thing with the Ouija board the other day? It wasn’t very cool of me and I won’t do it again.” The thudding didn’t stop. The cold air didn’t seem to warm. In fact, things began to worsen. Mags and Harry looked around just as the lights began to flicker, casting an ominous lighting around the room. Just as suddenly, the lights went out all together and everything was dead silent. In the dim lighting, with the candles their only source of light, Mags eyes struggled to adjust. A chill ran down her spine, causing her to tremble. She clumsily reached out for Harry, having let go of his hand earlier, and then let out an audible sigh of relief when his hand found hers instead, squeezing it once as reassurance.

The thumping sound stopped. The only sound that could be heard was their shallow breathing that seemed deafening in an otherwise silent room. They waited, breath baited, for something to happen. It couldn’t be that easy Mags thought. There’s no way.

And though she didn’t want to be, she was right. No sooner has she mentally expressed that sentiment that there was a loud smashing sound that came from the right of her, followed by a loud bang of something crashing to the ground. She screamed, backing up into Harry, who immediately pulled her behind him, trying to shield her from whatever danger that lurked. Before they could even question what caused that smashing sound, a sudden gust of cold air could be felt, causing Mags to shudder and simultaneously, and all the flames in the candles went out. They were trapped in pitch darkness.

The front door slammed open, and the pair whirled around to look at the entrance. A hooded figure could be seen, face hidden, a blunt object in his hand.

This time, both Mags and Harry screamed bloody murder.

The figure screamed back.

A voice thick with an Irish accent resounded in the room. “Why’re ya screaming?! It’s just me!”

“Niall?” Mags questioned desperately, while Harry shouted, “What’s wrong with you? You don’t just bust into someone’s home like that!” The latter’s voice sounding suspiciously scared in a falsetto.

As if this was a playwright and not reality, the lights flickered back on, almost on cue. The lights revealed that it was indeed Niall, as he pulled down the hood from his jacket and stepped into the room. The large object in his hand was just a scroll of paper, rolled up into a tight cylindrical shape.

Mags took long strides to cross the room and stand before Niall before not so lightly pounding him on the arm repeatedly. “What is the matter with you?” “Ouch!” The Irishman exclaimed, wincing and rubbing him tender arm. “I’m here because I’ve found the answer to Harry’s problem.” He was met with unimpressed stares. “Yikes, tough crowd. Look, why don’t you guys take a seat?”

Mags and Harry shared a look, and then walked over to the couch, sitting close to each other, practically on the same cushion, not wanting to be apart after what they’d just witnessed. Once settled, all eyes were on Niall, who physically claimed the center of the room.

“I have found the solution to this haunting,” Niall began. Mags noticed that he was using the same rambunctious, haughty voice he employed when he had to present a subject in class over something that he hadn’t done the reading on, but she ignored calling him out as he actually had piqued her interest. Could he truly have the answer to stop all this madness?

Harry hunched over and ran his palms across his face, and Mags instinctively reached out to rub his shoulders comfortingly. “Oooh! When’d this happen?” Niall asked excitedly, pointing at them.

Mags eyes just flashed in irritation.

“Right!” Niall exclaimed, as if he suddenly remembered he was in the middle of something important. “The solution.”

He began to pace the length of the living room rug, his hands tied behind his back, the rain droplets from his jacket dripping onto the floor. “I’ve been thinking long and hard about everything that Harry had said about this house. All the things that spooked him. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I did some digging of my own.”

He bent over and unfolded the roll of paper, and Mags and Harry reached out to hold opposite edges to keep it straightened.

“Erm, what exactly are we looking at here?” Harry questioned, his head cocked to the side trying to make sense of the white lines and measurements adorning the navy-blue page.

“I went to the town hall and asked for a copy of this house’s floorplan. You mentioned it was old, Harry, something in Bertha’s family for a while so I figured they would have it. If you look closely, right about here,” he pointed to a section on the paper of what Mags deduced was the living room that they were currently in, “that’s the room we are in right now. And if you follow the measurements of the floorboards, you’ll see that they don’t quite align.”

From Harry’s squinted eyes, it was clear he hadn’t caught on yet. But Mags had. The paper showed the square footage, measurements, and scales; Numbers! She was back in familiar territory! She excitedly traced the area that Niall pointed out. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered, “This bitch is built crooked.”

“What?” Harry exclaimed, exasperated at being out of the loop. “What is this even showing me?” Niall seemed gleeful at Mag’s realization, validating his findings. “The house, while structurally sound, was built crooked. The plot of land it’s on is uneven. The left dipping lower than the right. Which is why sometimes,” Niall threw his arm out to point at the right wall, splattering Mags and Harry’s faces with more water droplets that flew off his sleeve, “the painting from that wall falls off periodically.” They all looked to where he pointed. The sound Mags and Harry had heard moments ago, the loud banging in the darkness, had been a picture frame that fell off the wall. That’s all it was. Mags felt just the tiniest bit of air fill back into her lungs in relief.

“B-but,” Harry nodded his head side to side in apparent puzzlement, “But how does that explain the lights? We – “He nodded his head at Mags, “We found out that Tom, Bertha’s husband, had died while messing with the breaker in the basement. The flickering lights has to be his ghost.” Niall only patted Harry’s head in response. “Oh, you silly lad! If only that were true. In actuality, Bertha forgot to tell you that in the winter months, the house needs a scheduled appointment with the town’s electrician. The house is old, the wiring is faulty, and it needs a nice tweak now and then in the cold weather.”

Niall stood up once again with a flourish, one finger raised and poised in the air, “And how would I know that? Fret not Harry,” to which Harry deeply exhaled in frustration. “I looked up Bertha, found her granddaughter on Instagram. She’s a fittie by the way, has a boyfriend though. Real shame.” A swift kick to his shins from Mags got him to stop his harmless flirting and get back on track. “Right, so I reached out to her. She relayed that information to me. She also pointed out something else that she thought we’d ought to know.”

He treads to the other side of the room, to the wall that has four large windowpanes covered by thick, velvet drapes. Grabbing the curtain from one corner, he peels it back, loudly exclaiming “Ta-daa!”, his hands outstretched as if he was presenting something fascinating to them, a magician in front of an audience.

Eyes blinked back at him. “There’s nothing even there!” Harry exasperatedly noted.

“What?” Niall did a double take, and then chuckled to himself. “Oops, wrong window.” He repeated his same dramatic motions, this time uncovering a window with a large, crack on it. On the corner, was a missing shard of glass. “Bertha had been meaning to get this fixed. The neighbor’s kid accidentally threw a baseball through the window. She got really forgetful towards the end, according to her granddaughter, which is why she whisked her away.”

Mags nodded excitedly, “That’s what’s been causing the drafts.” She turned to Harry, eyes glowing with relief, “That’s why it always so damn cold in here. Your thermostat can’t compete with that.”

“Hopefully the flickering lights will offset how high your electivity bill is going to be,” Niall joked.

Harry seemed unconvinced. “What about that smell then, huh? It smells something dreadful in the kitchen and I’ve cleaned the place spic and span.”

Mags turned to Niall in wonder, looking at him in a whole new light, as if he was an all knowing being that held all the answers.

“Follow me,” Niall said, leading the trio into the kitchen while continuing his monologue. “I called up our dear friend Louis. Hard guy to keep track of, that lad, with the time zones and all. I told him about the smell, and wouldn’t you know it? Our friend remembered the fact that when he was here, he had drunkenly tried to make himself scrambled eggs for breakfast when you,” he pointed accusingly at Harry, “were passed out on the couch. What he actually did was drop an egg on the ground. In his drunken state, he simply just kicked the egg yolk under the fridge, like ice, and promised to clean it later.”

Niall leaned against the fridge, arms crossed dramatically. “As we know, no follow-through that one. He forgot to clean his mess. So that smell you smelt? The scent of rotten eggs? It actually was a rotten egg. Disgusting but true.”

“I –” Harry couldn’t believe it. Gently pushing Niall away from the fridge, he knelt down on one knee, sinking onto the cool tile. Sliding his phone out of his front pocket, he turned on his flashlight app and shined in under the fridge. Niall and Mags also leaned in to get a closer look. Audible gasps could be heard from all three of them. There, under the dusty and sticky tile bottom of the fridge, wedged between a dust ball and an expired coupon, was a broken, rotten egg.

Mags pinched her nose, unable to take the scent anymore. “Niall, you’re an absolute genius,” she complimented nasally.

Before Niall could bask in his glory for long, Harry interrupted once again. “You’ve explained the lights. The painting falling off. The cold. The smell. But,” his eyes bleary and red, his arms flailing in frustration “what about the sounds coming from the ceiling? The footsteps?”

He turned around and looked at Mags frantically for support. “Mags heard it too! The night that she stayed over and we – um, she just heard it too!” while Mags nodded feverishly in the background.

Niall looked away, breaking eye contact. “That’s the only part I can’t explain,” the blonde confessed, scratching his scalp. “But the blueprints show this house has an attic. Let’s all go search up there together.”

Emboldened by Niall’s other explanations, everyone geared up for their excursion, which really meant that everyone had their phones in hand, flashlights shining. Once again, Niall lead the way, stopping in the middle of the hallway. It was no wonder Harry had never noticed it before. There, on the ceiling, was a subtle outline of an attic door and a very small chain dangling. It was so high up that Niall and Harry took turns hopping and trying to reach the latch, while Mags didn’t even try, watching the boys struggle because she know her attempts would be futile. Eventually Harry was able to grab ahold of the chain and pull the attic door open, as the wooden steps fell along with it. Harry looked back at Mags, feeling a surge of affection for this girl that was willing to risk everything for him, and then looked at Niall, the friend who jumped through hoops to help a friend. Inspired by the love and support around him, Harry took the lead, climbing up the steps as Niall and Mags respectively followed.

“Please don’t be a creepy man that’s been hoarding and hiding in Harry’s attic for shelter,” Mags whispered, climbing the last steps “Because I WILL die of shock, and that’s a promise.”

Niall and Harry helped her up, and she stood upright. They each flashed their lights at different corners of the attic, trying to find something amiss among the dusty boxes of forgotten belongings and storage.

“Wait,” Harry whispered, pointing in the opposite corner. “Look over there. Something’s glowing.”

And sure enough, Mags saw it too. Something was glowing and moving. Two little round balls of light.

“I think,” Harry began, taking a step closer to the source when all Mags wanted to do was drag him back to safety, “Oh wow, it is.” “Is what?” Niall exclaimed, unable to handle the suspense.

“It’s a family of possums!” Harry cried in relief, “It’s just a mama possum and her babies. It’s not a ghost!”

“Awww,” Niall cooed.

The release that everyone felt was almost palpable, the relief tangible. There was no ghost after all! No otherworldly being! All of this was caused by a forgetful old woman, a drunk friend, and a family of critters.

Mags could almost cry tears of joy. Science was valid. Her whole wasn’t flipped upside down. Numbers were important, her beliefs restored. Rationale could explain everything unusual that had occurred within the confines of this house. Without being too dramatic, she could firmly declare that once again, her life had meaning.

She took a few minutes to herself to truly appreciate that there was no haunting before finally speaking up. “I hate to ruin the moment,” Mags said as Harry and Niall admired the critters, “but mama possums are very territorial and will attack if she feels threatened.” When neither Harry nor Niall made any intentions to move, she added, “And possums are at high risk to carry strains of rabies.”

“And that’s our cue!” Harry quipped, as Niall vehemently added, “Yup!”

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Day 7: October 31st, Halloween!!!

Mags beamed with content, relaxing every muscle in her body as she laid on the bookshop’s couch, her head resting on Harry’s warm thigh, his face partially obscured by a book, reading snippets from the murder-mystery novel she had started but never got to finish given how hectic the past few days had been. His other free hand was draped across her shoulder and chest, and Mags divided her attention, taking turns to hold his hand and running her fingers across his forearm, despite Harry’s constant claim that it tickled.

It was Halloween, the day that she had first anticipated because she loved all things horror and it was her favorite holiday, and then the day that she had started to dread when she believed that Harry’s house was being haunted by a ghost. Now, she was back to loving her favorite holiday again, the world was ruled by science, and everything felt right. And it truly did. Ever since last night, when Niall was able to demystify all of the strange occurrences, Mags felt lighter than she had ever before. She let out an exhale as she relaxed into her position, nuzzling closer to Harry as his low voice rumbled, reading aloud to her, and embraced the pleasant sound.

She was so comfortable, so relaxed, she felt could fall asleep right here and now. A little nap was well-deserved at this point, she decided as she closed her eyes contently, considering the hell she’d been through this past week.

“Do not fall asleep,” a voice demanded.

She inhaled deeply in frustration, peeling one eye open to see Liam passing by. He eyed her, irritated, though Mags knew he wasn’t truly annoyed. “You’re still on the clock, y’know?” Liam said, “Just checking in to make sure you’re all set to close up.” He paused to nod at Harry in greeting, because apparently it was really a small world and Mags had found out that Liam and Harry actually knew each from freshman year history class.

Mags sat up, running her fingers through her hair in a futile attempt to tame it. “I don’t understand why you always ask me that when you never offer to actually help close up.”

Liam laughed in response. “I’m nothing if not consistent.” He reached over to give Harry one of those boy handshakes that would always elude Mags. Why couldn’t boys just say goodbye normally? “Anyways, I’ll see you at Harry’s place tonight. I’ve got a wicked costume planned,” he concluded as a farewell.

It wasn’t hard for Niall to convince Harry that he should host a Halloween party at his house, to celebrate the fact that he wasn’t haunted, but also because it was a great excuse to bring everyone together and get drunk. Mags, always eager to wear costumes, agreed with his sentiments and thus, they were hosting a last-minute Halloween party with no invitations spared.

Mags twisted her body to face Harry, his eyes already on her. “I probably should get up and start to close up.” She straightens herself up, ready to check inventory and cash out the register. “Before another student comes rushing in last minute again. Or God forbid, an English major,” she jokes.

“Um,” Harry treaded cautiously, “You know I’m an English major, right?” “You’re a what?” Mags eyes widen in shock. “Nope. No way.” She shakes her head vigorously. “Absolutely not.”

Harry smirks in amusement. “Unfortunately, yes. Sorry to break it to you, hon.”

Mags froze, flabbergasted. She guessed she really did have a type. Karma really was a bitch. “I’m so glad you decided to reveal your major after the fact,” she joked, “Or else it might’ve been a deal breaker.”

“Oh!” She exclaimed, changing the subject, “Don’t forget! I’ll need to rush home and put on my costume before meeting you at the house.” “Ooh,” Harry resounded in excitement, “Can you pretty please bring Pumpkin with you? I haven’t seen her all day.” She rolled her eyes in response. “I’m beginning to think you’re only dating me for my cat,” she joked amicably.

And that is what they were doing. Dating. As soon as all the ghost nonsense was put to rest, she and Harry finally had the opportunity to address everything that happened between them. Though their coming together was unconventional, the feelings were real and strong, and they decided to give their relationship a try. Mags felt good about it. They way Harry made her feel made her think they were in it for the long haul and she was excited about their future holds.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Adjusting her halo that fell askew when she threw her head back to take a shot, Mags looked around the kitchen in happiness, the kind that fills your heart when you’re in a party, surrounded by close friends and loved ones, loud music thumping from a distance and filled with good vibes. Alcohol definitely plays a part too.

Suddenly, two tattooed arms reached out to envelop her, careful to avoid smushing her wings. She leaned her weight against Harry’s chest, allowing him to support her, as she turned her face slightly towards him. He lowered his head to her ears, his breath tickling her skin and making her blood rush. “You look so good,” Harry murmured, “I’ve got half a mind to call the cops on my own party so they can kick everyone out. Want you all to myself.”

Despite rolling her eyes, Mags couldn’t help the pleased smile that snaked across her face. “Easy there, I’m spending the night anyway.” She turned around so that her wings were no longer a barrier between them, wrapping her arms around Harry from the front, her face against his chest, as he placed his head affectionally atop hers, the wisps on her Halo tickling his cheeks.

Mags had chosen an angel as her last-minute Halloween costume, mainly because it was an easy outfit, but also because the white contrasted well with her golden-brown skin and this particular outfit did wonders for her boobs. A fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Harry, if the look he gave her when she first made her entrance was any indication. On the other hand, Harry had chosen to dress as a devil. Or at least, a very lackluster devil. He had a red sweater on earlier, but the warmth from the house crowded with bodies caused him to abandon that hours ago, and he was left with a white t-shirt, dark jeans, and a pair of devil horns hastily placed atop his mass of curly hair. It was mysterious the way the world worked. Just a week ago, she imagined that on Halloween she would be at home, watching the Scream movie series with Niall, Marisol, and Pumpkin, with a bag of Halloween candy to pass out to trick or treaters. And now, she was celebrating her favorite holiday with her friends and her boyfriend with a fun party.

As the Monster Mash played deafeningly in the background, and they were jostled from people entering and exiting the kitchen to get punch, they swayed to their own silent music, content to be lost in their world for just a moment.

A moment that was interrupted by Niall. “Seriously Harry? You were supposed to grab Mags so we could play charades!” To which Harry muttered an insincere apology. Niall turned to Mags, “It’s a Halloween version of charades. I know how competitive you get. You and Harry can be on the same team. It’ll be a true test of your love!” He declared, his speech slow and slurred.

Mags was game. “Oh, we are so gonna win!” She declared, already leaning into her competitive streak.

“Great!” Niall declared enthusiastically, his arms sloppily flailing in excitement. Unfortunately for him, and for Harry, Niall had forgotten about the cup he was holding and just emptied its entire content onto Harry. His white shirt was completely stained with red punch.

Niall avoided Harry’s harsh glare as Mags slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Oops! I’ll just let ya take care of that before our game,” he announced, adjusting his fake leprechaun beard before hurriedly making his exit.

“Great,” Harry groaned, dabbing his shirt with a paper towel in vain, “I have to go change my shirt.” Unexpectedly, Mags was hit with a sudden realization. “Oh my gosh!” She exclaimed in a tone of wonder. “You’re completely covered in red liquid.”

It took Harry a moment, but then his eyes flashed with recognition. “That crazy old psychic was right!”

Mags laughed at the absurdity of it all. “I wonder,” she began, rubbing her chin thoughtfully, “If she was right about two things so far, I’m starting to suspect that she was right to warn me. I’ll bet you are a widower! How do I know I’m not dating a married man?” She teased.

Harry just looked at her fondly in response, at the crazy girl that he called his girlfriend.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Buzz! The electronic buzzer resounded, indicating that Mags and Harry’s turn was over. She threw her arm up in frustration. “Seriously Harry? The word was Leatherface! It’s the killer in Texas Chainsaw Massacre!” “How was I supposed to get that?” He howled with laughter.

“I was pointing at Zayn’s leather jacket!” She explained, pointing at the boy dressed as a Greaser, “And I was miming a chainsaw!”

“A chainsaw?” Harry questioned, as Niall guffawed, “I thought you were chopping vegetables!”

Mags sat back next to Harry, arms crossed, and lips pouted in pretending to sulk. “It’s okay baby,” he comforted her, “We’ll get them next round.”

“You promise?” She teased.

His pinky reached out to capture hers. “Pinky promise.”

Mags had chosen a seat next to Marisol and Niall, her main competition in this game. She had squeezed Liam’s shoulder as she passed to get to her seat and shot Zayn a smile in greeting, noticing other familiar faces in the room. It seems that the people that she was the closest with had chosen to join the game.

Niall observed Mags and Harry tangled within one another, as she sat close to Harry, her back to his chest, his arm slung around her shoulders as they waited for their next turn. “You guys are so cute. We should go on a double-date!” He exclaimed, the alcohol causing his enthusiasm to increase ten-fold, “Marisol,” he called, turning to his girlfriend, “Let’s all get brunch tomorrow morning!” Marisol shared a knowing look with Mags, to say Gosh my boyfriend is so cute but such an adorable handful when he’s drunk. “Sweetie,” she began understandingly, as if she was speaking to a toddler, “Y’know I have church in the morning. The church on 3rd street holds their sermons really early on Sunday mornings.”

“Oh, the one with Pastor Mike?” Mags questioned, “He’s super nice!” Marisol looked over at her roommate in concern. “Why do you know that?” She questioned in exasperated confusion, the synthetic hair from her blue Coraline wig slipping over her eyes as she narrowed them at Harry suspiciously, who was busy playing with the ends of Mags hair, the long strands skirting against the small of her back. Marisol lowering her voice in a drunken whisper that wasn’t actually that quiet, “Is he trying to convert you?”

Harry looked offended at the accusation and Mags bubbled over in laughter, unable to explain to Marisol. She didn’t even know what’d she say. Yes, I know Pastor Mike is really kind because he helped Harry and I with an exorcism.

As Marisol and Niall got distracted because it was their turn, Mags turned to admire the mantle above the fireplace. When rooting through the basement for Halloween decorations, she and Harry had found a beautiful picture of Bertha and Tom. They felt it was appropriate to have it up, as a reminder of the love that once filled this house, instead of the horror they previously feared. “I guess I’ll have to go out and buy another frame,” Harry commented, following Mags eyes to see what got her attention. “Why’s that?” Mags asked curiously.

“For a picture of us, of course!” Mags shoved his arm playfully. “Harry, we’ve literally been officially dating for one day, why are you like this?” In turn, he dropped all pretenses of joking, carefully looking into her eyes. “When you know, you know,” he explained, his words firm and laced with adoration. He reached out to tuck a strand of her dark hair behind her ears, his actions tender and careful, his gaze unwavering. This time, Mags didn’t have to guess what expression was on his face, wasn’t confused about the look in his eye. As he ducked forward, dipping down to touch his nose against hers, she recognizes the emotion that all the signs point to: love.

Just as Harry’s lips are about to make contact with hers, Liam speaks up boisterously, gathering the attention of everyone in the room. “After this,” he boldly proclaims, his once carefully applied zombie makeup now smudged and his speech imprecise due to the effects of the punch, “we should all get into the true Halloween spirit by playing the ultimate spooky game.”

His proclamation is meet with cheerful jeers of encouragement and questions about what the game was.

“Great!” He all but shouts in enthusiasm, “I’ll just go and find us a Ouijia board.”

Time stood still. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion.

Completely in sync, their motions fluid and graceful, contradicting the amount of alcohol consumed between the three of them, Niall, Harry, and Mags jumped up from the couch in harmony, bellowing a resounding chorus of “NO!”

The End. (or isss iiiiiit?)

(Just kidding, it is.)

[noncommited-writer]

WARNING FFH SPOILERS!!

Basically all my thoughts!

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.

.

Okay can we just talk about literally the beginning??????

'I Will Always Love You' memoirs??? Holy shit I was cackling but also crying inside when they showed pictures of Tony

Then the whole plan??? To get MJ??? Oh my god, I fucking melt. I want a man like Peter who will confess to me on top of the Eiffel Tower and buy me jewellery based on the shit I'm passionate about!!!!

Also, that scene at the shelter? When he becomes overwhelmed by the mention of Tony, I started to think he might have PTSD or some sort of knee jerk reaction whenever he hears his name. The way he was already teary eyed after swinging away. I couldn't deal with that.

Then the whole plan failing on the plane and oh my god the bathroom scene?? When he starts cleaning up oh my god that's just pure cinnamon roll Peter, I die I swear.

Theeen Betty and Ned???? OH MY GOD SUCH CUTIES!!!!!! AHHHHHH they were so fun to watch istg "babe?" "babe."

When they had the whole montage of Peter just trailing around MJ and being sulky over Brad like an adorable puppy. Then getting that necklace??? Ooooof ugh kill me with your cuteness istg.

Then the whole thing with Peter not having his suit with him??? And wearing that festival mask? Shit cracked me up

And dear god save this kid from the never ending concussions from the bell tower.

Then the whole conversation between Talos Fury and Peter in his hotel room. Literally two very different energies meeting to a head. It was glorious.

Also when they introduced Quentin?? I was like fucking shOOk. For two reasons

One because he was such a dramatic, unsubtle, little bitch talking about his family's death and praising Peter like Tony did!

For another, BECAUSE HE HAD LOWKEY DADDY ENERGY AROUND PETER AND THE WAY PETER LIGHTS UP WHENEVER HE PRAISES HIM OH MY GOD IT REMINDED ME SO MUCH OF HIM AND TONY. FUCK.

ALSO UNIVERSE 616?? CMON BITCH HOW DARE YOU PULL THAT STUNT. MARVEL YOU COP OUT! :(

Then the inevitable glasses. Dear lord. Fuck me up with the whole Iron dad (or starker) feels that whole scene gave off. My heart hurted.

Then that scene when he had to take off his clothes to wear his suit fUCK! Lowkey tho I felt hot. Then Brad walks in and then tells him he's gonna tell MJ?? Like who the fuck????

Then that bus scene. Oh my god, shit made me laugh so hard istg. When he punched Flash and actually had to web the freaking air strike drone he sent in!!!!!!! Hswhhdhhe Peter is a fuckin mess.

EDITH :(((((( even dead I'm the hero. My fucking feelings took a fucking dive. "He always did love his acronyms" and the way Peter just chuckles, looks away with tearing eyes, voice cracking as he says "Yeah he did"

God fucking damn it.

Istg Marvel is just playing with my feelings now. It's so fucking unfair.

And then that whole fighting scene with the Fire Elemental? When I saw one of the drone take the hit, I was like. Wait a fucking moment.

Also, I caught this thing where Mysterio's magic hits the windshield of Fury’s car but instead of cracks like it should be, I saw bullet holes. And I took a moment to notice that.

NIGHT MONKEY! NIGHT MONKEY!

Then that bar scene!!!! Jesus christ. That was a whirlwind of emotions. The way Peter's smile just dropped when Beck wore the glasses and saw Tony within him. God.

Also like those backstories????? Damn. Legit. I got no other words.

The way that Peter seemed soooo disappointed when MJ lied about the reason why she kept staring at him? Ugh my heart.

YAS GIRL DO IT FOR ALL OF US! TURN AROUND!!!! (Also what the fuck that cute little chub on Tom's tummy before he tenses up for the camera is so fucking cute oh my god I fucking melt, I wanna hug him)

"It's not a competition." Yea sure, Ned. Sure.

Holy fuck. Holy fuck. HOLY FUCK.

THAT WHOLE ILLUSION SCENE?

One of the best things ever. It reminded me so much of the intros to the James Bond movies. All the smooth transitions and stunning fx. Fuck. It was all trippy.

And jesus. Using MJ like that????

Also What The Actual Fuck. When he made an illusion of Tony rising from his grave.

When I saw that tombstone, I already knew what name on it was. Didn't make it easier to see it with my own eyes.

I cant with this movie its too much for my poor heart to take.

Jesus christ when he got hit by the train.fuck nylife.

Then happy?

Oh no, I actually pretty much died at this scene.

The way Peter was so desperate on who to trust and the way he just relaxed when he realised Happy wasn't an illusion. The way Happy just went with it immediately, having similar past experience with Tony's paranoia. The way he held Peter in his arms, confused but so so so worried. The way he takes care of Peter's wounds and tries to calm him down. The way Peter breaks down over being alone, his friends being in danger, hurt over MJ, not being enough to measure up to Tony, all of his emotions coming to head. That was probably the most grounding scene I've seen of Peter ever. It really hurt in all the best ways.

"You can't measure up to Tony. No one can. Not even Tony." That line was so good because he knows the weight thats on Peter's shoulders, he knows that Peter feels pressured to take on the world, unwavering and brave and so sure of himself like Tony was. But the truth is, Tony was exactly like him behind the scenes. Tony was always breaking down, lagging behind and alone. So when he sees Peter break down, it's like seeing Tony all over again. And he can't help but soften.

"I don't think Tony would have done what he did if he didn't know you were going to be here after he was gone." And that just shattered me. He basically said that Tony would've done it all over again if he knew Peter was going to come back.

That moment, when he stares at Peter, that moment when he notices something that twists and warms his heart at the same time. When he sees Peter handle that tech and holograms seamlessly like Tony did, the way he runs his mouth with his genius, the way he seems so excited over the tech, you can see in Happy's eyes that all he sees is Tony. Tony imprinting the best parts of himself onto Peter.

He knows Peter can handle it.

And jesus christ, baby no. Its not led zeppelin, cmon.

That whole fight scene was fucking lit! I can't really explain much but wow MJ!!!! GO MJ AND BETTY!!! AYYY.

Fuck and the way Peter used his Peter Tingle to fight off the rest of the drones. That was so cool. Then when illusion Beck was handing him the glasses, he already knew that it wasn't the real him.

That heartbroken look in his eyes when he realised he can't save Beck.

His voice cracking when he wants to know theres no more illusions.

That peck? That kiss? That makeout???? These two ooze so much chemistry it actually hurts.

Ahhh that hand brush and them actually holding hands!!!!! That!!!!!!

Then flash with his mother not being around comment, fuck that kinda hurt me in the feels.

Peter having an intervention with Happy and May???? Holy shit I need more of that.

Then that date? Where they swing??? Wow goals.

And fuck Peter getting exposed. I swear my heart dropped down to my stomach.

ALSO J JONAH JAMESON HOLY SHIT I WAS SHAKING BECAUSE OF THAT!!!!

Credits scene:

Fury taking a vacation but not really is such a mood. Like he'd like a vacation but he also has to work. Idk but it might be hinting at the next captain marvel movie!!!!

Ahhh

This movie is a treasure. I am most likely going to watch it again because wow. I don't think I can take it all in 100% without watching it twice.

I saw it only a few hours ago but I already love it with all my heart. ❤️

I cant believe Marvel has me hooked with their Peter Parker. ❤️❤️❤️

[ain-t-bovvered]

15x04 Commentary

bunch of tired and caffeinated Europeans ( plus a sleepy American) scream together, and then die and try to get on with their day ( lol AS IF)

Hello and welcome:

@purpleskiesandcherrypies​  (Nat)

@dean-winchesters-bacon​  (Kat)  

@waywardbaby​  (Zee)

@ain-t-bovvered  (Giulia)

Giulia: Ok so in my haste of things i just spilled all my hot coffee on my self.  I’m burning but the ep is ready. But fuck

Kat: Oh shit. Go rinse with cold water

Zee: You alive ??

Giulia: No i burned my self with coffee

Nat : Where did you spill it

Giulia: Leg

Nat : You need a minute?

Giulia: No i think I’m good

Zee: Any blisters ?

Giulia: Well i’ll see tomorrow won’t I.  Whatever just start the episode I’m already angry. Just...start the ep so I can deal with the mess later on , can’t wait for that

Nat : ok

Nat : 3

Nat : 2

Nat : 1

Nat : go

Nat : "We're gonna be free"

Giulia: No i don t wanna see this again

Zee: Becky ?

Giulia: Gasps

Zee: Wtf?

Nat : is

Nat : that

Kat: BEARDED DEAN BEARDED DEAN BEARDED DEAN

Giulia: AAAAAAH

Nat : AHHHHHHHHH

Giulia: jesus christ

Nat : BAMF

Giulia: Yes please

Nat : I THINK I'M WET

Kat: I KNOW I AM FUCKING HOTNESS IS WHAT IT IS

Giulia: YUM

Nat : I JUST SQUIRTED?

Zee: Are you asking ?

Nat : I'M NOT SURE IT'S ALL WET

Giulia: THE FUCK THE FUCK

Nat : FUCK

Nat : I'M NOT OK

Giulia: I HATE HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS

Nat : IT'S MORE THAN I HOPED FOR

Giulia: YES

Giulia: YES SAME

Kat: SO MUCH BAMF BEARDED DEAN

it’s what we deserve

Giulia: FUCK AAAAAAH

Nat : LUMBERJACK

Kat: BBBEEENNNNNNNNYYYYYY

Zee: Benny?

Giulia: AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Nat : BENNY

Giulia: BENNY

Nat : I KNEW IT

Giulia: BEEEENNY

Nat : BENNYYYYYY

Giulia: NO

Nat : I TOLD YA

B: I'll see you on the other side, brother

Giulia: NOT THE SAME LINE

Zee: I can’t type

Nat : I'M CRYING

Zee: Bye

Giulia: FUCK OFF

Giulia: FUCKING HELL

Nat : OK BACK TO THE BEARD

Giulia: NO WHERE

Nat : THE VOICE

Kat: SAME THING HE SAID BEFORE HE WENT INTO DEANS ARM

Giulia: FUCK OFF

Nat : HE CAN LITERALLY HAVE ANYTHING HE WANTS

Nat : WHY ARE WE ALL SCREAMING

Giulia: AAAAAAH

Kat: FUCK HES SUCH A BADASS

Zee: OHHH FUCK

Nat : SHIT

Giulia: HATE THAT

Nat : CAN WE HAVE A PARALLEL SHOW WHERE EVERYONE IS BAMF

Kat: BOYKING DEMON SAM

D: What you did to them...what you did to Bobby...to Jody...

S: They tried to stop me. But I will not be stopped.

D: Sam, you listen to me.This is the demon blood. You have to fight it!

Giulia: JENSEN MY GOD

Nat : SHIT

S: Why would I do that?

D: Sammy Please

Giulia: MY GOD I CAN T

Nat : "SAMMY" I HATE IT WHEN HE SAYS IT

Giulia: SAMMY PLEASE

Nat : SAMMY PLEASE

Giulia: HOW ABOUT NO

Nat : NO

Giulia: WOW OK

Nat : FUCK YOU SAM

Kat: OUCH

Nat : Is that chucks book

Kat: And bye bye bearded Dean. Gone too soon

Already missed

Giulia: Well Sam do see his shit now

Nat : The beginning with Dean sounds like something I would write

Nat : I WANT MORE OF THAT DEAN

Giulia: Don t we all

S: Dean, you know I don't eat --

Is Sam vegetarian now?

Nat : VEGGIE BACON

Zee: VEGGIE BACON

Nat : WHY ARE WE STILL SCREAMING

S: "I don't want any of that hippie, Sarah McLaughlin grass-eater crap in the Meat Man's kitchen."

Giulia: MEAT MAN

Nat : THE MEAT MAN DOES HE KNOW WHAT IT MEANS?

Zee: ARE WE ALL GONNA BE TYPING IN CAPITALS?

Giulia: YEAH

Kat: It means he has a big dick

Nat : I KNOW, BUT HE DOESN'T

Nat : Anyway, I'm done watching am I not? That's it. That's the whole episode

Kat: My boys need hugs

D: Look, man, I get it, okay? With Jack...and Rowena..

Giulia: ARE WE GONNA ADRESS

Giulia: SEEMS NOT

Giulia: OK FINE, IT’S FINE, WE’RE FINE

Kat: What

 Zee: What?

Giulia: Nothing . We just gonna push it down in true Winchester style. 

Nat : Of course not, it's a filler episode

Kat: Oh, I think I know If it’s what I think, it’s not mentioned at all

Giulia: What else is new

S: That’s real bacon

D: You're damn right it is

meat man

Nat : Ok bye guys

Kat: SIT YOUR ASS DOWN

Nat : I WANT TO THINK THAT I SAW EVERYTHING I WANTED

Zee: No you didn’t

Kat: But it’s Jensen’s last ep. And I really like it.

Giulia: Anyway

Nat : lAcrOsS

Zee: The end of the world

Zee: He knows

Nat : The little prayer thing at half time

Kat: Ugh parents

Nat : me talking to someone

Nat : SIR CONTAIN YOUR EYEBROWS

Zee: That’s awesome

Giulia: That’s awesome

Giulia: Ok but u know what i don’t like about filler eps tho. That they are like these oases outside of everything where seems like things don’t matter .... Whatever

Nat : Gag me

Zee: Kinky

Nat : please do

Kat: What she said

Nat : SHOULDER TO HIP RATIO

Giulia: Oh the flask again.  What esle is also new, this day is already ruined anyway

Kat: So good

Nat : also it's been shot in the beginning, I hardly think that Jensen knew what happened the episode before that.

Zee: Why is dean drinking and eating all the time?

Nat : don't you do that?

I mean....same

S: We keep them from dealing with the truth, with what's out there, and we carry the weight. It's great. They have no idea What's out there.

Kat: Sammy is a little disillusioned

Giulia: OH WHAT

Nat : oh no

Zee: Becky?!

Giulia: awe

Kat: She’s so normal now

Nat : There's something wrong with Becky

Zee: Great

Giulia: No fuck off

Nat : Ah, there it is

Kat: Not with her lol

Nat : God is fucking desperate

Giulia: That’s not everybody’s else problem tho so can he fuck off

Zee: Somebody’s got a fetish

Kat: Okay Dean

Nat : Don't we all

Kat: Cheerleader fetish lol

Nat : Mine is Dean

Kat: Many

Giulia: Of course she is

Giulia: Oh becky

Nat : mY WOrK

Zee: Oh honey

Nat : A little obsessed

Giulia: Oh honOh look she is us after the show ends

Nat : What show ends?

Kat: The one you’re not watching

Kat: At least she’s not a complete wackadoodle now

Nat : A little bit of a falling out

Zee: Poor God,  Nobody wants to hang out with him

Nat : God is a fucking child throwing a tantrum

Kat: Because he’s a douche

Giulia: Awe that’s so pathetic it’s almost cute

Nat : It sounds wrong

B: I am married to an amazing man, I have two great kids,and I like myself, Chuck. For the first time in a long time, I like myself. So I don't need you.

YOU GO GIRL

Nat : you do you, becky

Zee: By Becky nonetheless

G: You don't need me. No one does.

Zee: Boo fucking hoo

G: I feel so lost.

Kat: Oh shut up with the pity party chuck

B: Then, Chuck, you have to write.

Giulia: Oh no he doesn t

Nat : Dean is eating his way through the episode

Kat: Rob plays annoying so well

Kat: thicc arms

Giulia: Sure she wants to help you lol

Kat: Dean with the slow clap

Zee: That smile

Nat : I can't with Dean's eyebrow this episode

Giulia: Felt that

Kat: I need wine lol

Nat : It's the dad?

Giulia: Wow

Nat : Anything stronger than what? Water?

Zee: What does he want with Becky ??

G: I mean, I used to be able to see Sam and Dean in my head, wherever they were, whatever they were doing. It was all just there, ripe for the picking. And now it's just gone.

Nat : oh god, chuck annoys the fuck out of me

Nat : throw him out, becks

Giulia: Hey

Zee: Fan fic isn’t the same ?? Excuse you dick

Nat : I read EXPOSE your dick

 Kat: I wish she wouldn’t push him to write

Giulia: Awe look at that maniac stare

Kat: Bad idea

Giulia: Ew no

Kat: Of course

Nat : Ah, it's both of them

Nat : Sam walks in with a puppy look

Kat: He looks like that the whole ep

Giulia: How they know

Zee: TheY seriously need to control their ducking faces

Zee: Fu

D: We're not FBI.

Giulia: Well that was hot

Nat : Where did he keep the machete

Nat : in his pants?

IN HIS MEAT MAN PANTS 

Kat: A holster under his many layers

Giulia: Not great

Nat : The way he says Sammy

Kat: JUST WAIT

Nat : But right at his ass

Zee: FOCUS

Kat: She is. On his ass.

Nat : I can't. I wanna see how he pulls it out from another angle

Zee: What she said

Nat : finger guns

B: No one even mentions Cass.

Giulia: AH

Zee: Thanks Becky

Giulia: I LIKE BECKY

Nat : Becky gets it

Giulia: chuck angry

Kat: SHUT UP BECKY

Nat : Ah no,

Giulia: Fuck. No thanks

Nat : I give you danger

Zee: Fuck you becky

NO, WE LIKE HER NOW

Nat : get off my dick god

Nat : Ah

Kat: Now you know

Nat : Well

dad: You don't have children, do you? Because if you did, you would know that to see your child in pain rips your heart out. And you'd know that you'd do anything. You'd die for them.

Giulia: AH but he does. They all do

Nat : He had a child, thank you very much

Giulia: JACK

Zee: And Ben

Nat : EMMA

Giulia: Meh whatever

Giulia: Hate this

Kat: This whole thing is sad

Nat : I mean, I kinda feel for them

Zee: The kid wants to do good

snorts.....like Jack....lol ring any bell?

*sound of someday starts to play*

Nat : AH

Giulia: AAAAAH

Zee: NOOOOOOO

Nat : SOUNDS OF SOMEDAY

Giulia: FUCK

Nat : WHAT

Giulia: STOP

Nat : MY GOD

Giulia: SOB

Nat : Great, now I will associate it with that scene?

Giulia: UGH

Zee: IM DEAD

Giulia: WOW OK

Nat : I'm sads

Zee: SHIT

Giulia: WELL OK

Nat : It's so sad

Giulia: oh no this is so sad. This shot is beautiful tho

Nat : Cuz it's true, the lengths parents are willing to go

Giulia: Chuck fuck off

Zee: FUCK YOU CHUCK

Nat : CHUCK SHOULD FUCKING GET OFF OUR DICKS

Giulia: Yeah it is dark af

Kat: IT GETS SO BAD GUYS

Giulia: Nice

Kat: HOLD ME

Zee: FUCK YOU

Nat : GO TELL HIM BECKY

Kat: Winchester 😭

Zee: WHYVIS BECKY US ?

B: You can't do this to the fans.

Nat : It's good right?  Fuck off

Giulia: I already hate this

Kat: OH NO OH NO OH NO

Nat : Ah no

Giulia: OH COME ON

Nat : WTF

Giulia: CHUCK

Nat : FUCK YOU

Kat: IT GETS WORSE

Nat : FUCK YOU CHUCK

Zee: I can’t

Giulia: Ah babe dean already did that. Remember when Dean prayed to God about Mom, Crowley and Castiel? lol Bet this fucker made the exact face , maybe munching on popcorn 

Nat : WHAT IS THIS SHIT

Giulia: and we are at 5 goodbyes . So: Kevin, Ketch, Rowena, Becky, Benny

Nat : I SHOULD HAVE STOPPED WATCHING IN THE BEGINNING AFTER THE RIDICULOUSLY HOT DEAN

Kat: See she shouldn’t have encouraged him

Giulia: With my leg burning

Zee: Shut up both of you

Nat : Go look after your leg

Kat: Now for the BM scene

Giulia: My room smells like coffee

Zee: Not bad

Giulia: Coffee i did not drink

Nat : Ah stop it Dean

Giulia: Why they look so much all over the place tho

S: we'd have done the same thing. For Jack. If we had the chance.

I can’t decipher Dean’s expression right now . idk.

D: I get it. We have lost way, way too much. And it's hard not to feel like just...cashing out. I felt like that.  After Chuck, back at the crypt. But you know what brought me back?  You did. By sayin' that what we do still matters. I mean, that's why I wanted to drag us out here  That's why I wanted to -- to work a case, to save lives, you know? 'Cause it is -- it's a -- it's a crap job.  We do the ugly things so that people can live happy.

S: lucky them

D: We still do the job. But we don't do it for us We did it for Jack,  for Mom, for Rowena. We owe it to anybody who has ever gave a damn about us to keep putting one foot in front of the other. No matter what. And, hey, man, like you said, now that Chuck's gone,

Giulia: AH THEY THINK

D: we're finally on our own.  We are finally free to... move on, you know?

Nat : Sam with his stupid puppy face

S: I can't forget any of them. Dean, I still think about Jessica. I -- I can't just let that go.

Giulia: aw sam

Kat: I still think about Jessica

Zee: Someone hug Sam

Kat: Damn it not the hearts

Kat: Sammy is broken af 😭

Nat : "I can't even breathe"

Nat : Same, Sam

Giulia: Hate this

Giulia: Hate

S : But maybe tomorrow. You know, maybe I'll -- I'll feel better in the morning.

Giulia: Can sam stop crying

Giulia: Asking for a friend

Nat : Can Sam just stop Period

Kat: Ugh chuck again

Giulia: Asshole

Nat : We all know it

Zee: I hate it

Nat : Promo?

Nat : So young,  and the way he's so full of himself "obviously", so proud

Giulia: So cocky

Giulia: Bastard

Kat: Makes me giggle bc the fandom always says he doesn’t age

Zee: I can’t wait for the million red gifs

Kat: I’ve already reblogged a few sets

Zee: I saw

Kat: And made a post about his beard

Kat: Did you look before the episode?

Zee: I can’t hear you. I’m entering a tunnel 

Why am I not even a bit surprised.

Zee: I’m talking about the gifs Giuls will start slapping us with

Giulia: Idk I don t feel like it. I’d would love to make them nicer BUT NO ONE I ASKED TOLD ME HOW so....

Nat : I’ll rewatch the first 5 minutes and keep on squirting

Zee: TMI bb?! lol

Nat : Is there anything like TMI with us?

.

NO, there ain’t

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If you want to get tagged send an ask HERE or to @waywardbaby or a smoke signal, idk whatever I’m tired af.

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[johannesviii]

Top 10 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 1994

Back in the day, M6 (what used to be the French equivalent of MTV) would broadcast a lot of music videos and my favorite to watch were always the Dance ones.

What I’m trying to say is that you won’t like this list either.

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones

There’s so many honorable mentions this time I’m gonna list them all, with some short commentary in some cases:

Another Night - Real McCoy

Mangez-moi - Billy Ze Kick (this is a novelty song about eating shrooms. Obviously I didn’t get that as a kid.)

Nouveau Western - MC Solaar (this guy is going to end up on a list eventually, watch this space.)

Linger - the Cranberries

La Corrida - Francis Cabrel (this is a song about a corrida seen from the perspective of a bull and it’s horribly tragic.)

Think About the Way - Ice MC

Juste Après - Fredericks, Goldman & Jones (this is a song about a guy watching a documentary about a nurse who just saved a baby who was about to die at birth and he’s wondering what she was thinking about afterwards. Only in a Goldman hit song, I guess.)

Loser - Beck (the fact that this song didn’t make the list just because of two Eurodance acts should enrage every single person I ever met who tried to convince me Beck was the best artist of the 90s.)

10 - Saturday Night (Whigfield)

US: Not on the list / FR: #28

Yep. Goldman and Beck were kept off the list by Whigfield and Reel 2 Real.

I have nothing more to say about that.

9 - I Like To Move It (Reel 2 Real)

US: Not on the list / FR: #6

Nowadays I’m pretty sure everyone is thinking about Madagascar and bouncy lemurs first when they hear this song, but holy S H I T did it sound dangerous and menacing back when I was a kid. If Eurodance was full of wizards and magic and epic fights to little me back then, that singer right there was definitely the evil sorcerer of the land and all would recoil before his power.

Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to grow up in a country where you can understand 99% of the songs playing on the radio, and I can’t help but think it might be slightly less interesting.

8 - Streets of Philadelphia (Bruce Springsteen)

US: #54 / FR: #13

If my taste in music was less shitty this would be much higher. Alas, you’re reading the lists of someone who genuinely thinks Haddaway is amazing, so yeah.

Possibly one of the saddest songs ever written but the pleasant and soft music makes it incredibly beautiful, which in turn makes it sound even more tragic and ugh it always makes me want to cry. It’s so perfect. It’s so potent I knew it was a tragic and beautiful song long before I started to learn English and could understand a single word of it. And yet it’s only #8, because the fact it destroys me every time makes it hard to listen to it very often.

EDIT: I was browsing my old top 30s to take pictures for the next top 10s and I was shocked to discover I had actually put that song on one of my lists at the time, so take that as you will.

7 - Always (Erasure)

US: #73 / FR: Not on the list

The fact that this kind of weird new wave still existed AND charted in 1994 is nothing short of a miracle and makes absolutely no sense, but I’m not gonna complain. Not my favorite Erasure single by a mile though (that would be Oh l’Amour. Not surprising at all, I know).

Also I dare you not to laugh at the lyrics, especially the first line ("Open your eyes and see... your eyes are open"). Campy in all the best ways. Do I feel bad for putting it above Streets of Philadelphia? Oh yes. Will I change my mind? Probably not.

6 - 7 Seconds (Youssou N’Dour & Neneh Cherry)

US: Not on the list / FR: #1

#1 on the French year-end list, like, damn. Sometimes quality wins, I guess. But yeah, I remember this song being everywhere, to the point I’m surprised it never really charted in the US. It was overplayed to death by the radio here.

And yet... I never, ever grew tired of hearing it. Never. Not even at the time. It is that good. It’s one of the best hits of the decade if not the best.

Of course I’m gonna put some stupid shit above that song but I beg you to listen to it if, for some extraordinary reason, you’ve never heard it before.

5 - Here Comes The Hotstepper (Ini Kamoze)

US: #85 / FR: Not on the list (#10 the next year though!)

I don’t have anything to say about this song in particular. It’s a lot of fun, and it’s one of the best songs to listen to while walking because you always feel super cool, even if you objectively look like wet garbage. It just gives you an automatic +2 in charisma. That’s just the way it is.

4 - Return to Innocence (Enigma)

US: #33 / FR: Not on the list

I listened to this song on a loop for literal days when I was 15 or so.

It’s not one of the best Enigma tracks and this album isn’t even one of my faves, but listen, I’m a simple human, I see an Enigma song that charted, I put it on my list. That being said, it’s still beautiful and moving and weirdly powerful for such a soft song. And it’s not like I will have any more opportunities to put Enigma on my lists after that, so I’ll gladly take what I can get.

3 - Move On Baby (Cappella)

US: Not on the list / FR: #78

These guys had such strange music videos, full of weird props, costumes and masks, and as you can guess it was fascinating to me at the time. It still is, mostly. It’s great eurodance but with the added bonus of weird, peak new wave-like visuals. In another music video, the guy had a time machine and was wearing a top hat and was meeting Egyptian gods, a medieval princess and possibly himself!

But yeah, even without the visuals, this is a killer beat that stays in your head but never gets annoying. I love it, it’s been on my playlist for years now, and only a king of Eurodance can top this.

You already know who’s coming.

2 - Rock My Heart (Haddaway)

US: Not on the list / FR: #54

This is the song (and the video - may I remind you I was mostly hearing these songs on tv because of the French musical channel) that cemented Haddaway as “one of the coolest, most beautiful people alive and possibly a wizard” to me. Because he had a cane and it was CLEARLY a magic staff to me. Also, in my eyes, all his friends in the video looked like mysterious goddesses and spirits. Because I was six, mostly. But come on, look at them, you can’t blame me.

This is still on my mp3 playlist to this day, by the way, if you were wondering.

Why isn’t it #1 if I love it so much, you ask?

1 - The Rhythm of the Night (Corona)

US: Not on the list (...yet) / FR: #7

All hail the queen of eurodance, who is actually not credited on the single and isn’t even in the music video: Jenny B. These vocals are so. good. It’s repetitive and catchy in all the ways I love, it has an untouchable synth beat, I listened to it hundreds of times and it never gets old. N E V E R. The colors in this melody, holy SHIT

And that music video with the weird cabalistic circles is partly responsible for making me believe eurodance was the music of wizards and magic when I was a kid.

And that’s a wonderful thing.

Next up: A list with a top 3 in which every song is actually possible to defend? Sounds fake but okay

[starkerfortwo]

OKAY im sorry thi sis late to be posted but I’m really busy at the moment. These prompts are for @swankyspankyhankypanky panky i tried reallyhard to come up wih a good story line for you! Happy valentines day! @starker-valentines

So I know this isn't exactly the original prompts, but I'm a bad writer and before I knew I had written this, I'd already done it, so I'm very sorry, hope you enjoy this though!!! Prompt 2

Tones Hey sweets, I'm picking you up at 7, be ready!

Peter Oof, wish I could, but I'm at the library with Ned and MJ studying for midterms. I'm free at nine tho

Tony sighed and switched his car onto automatic.

Tony Really? Okay, I'll pick you up at nine outside the library, where'd you wanna go?

Peter sure and hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm maybe Delmars? Pretty pretty please with sugar on top

Tony How can I say no to you? If you want to then sure, but if that cat bites me one more time

Peter You'll do what? Go all IronMan on a cat's ass? Pshhhh okay, now stop distracting me I rly have to study

Tony But bothering you is so so so so fun. But if you insist. I love yoy

You*

Peter I love yoy too Tony. Yoy, im dead

Peter laughed at his phone and slid it back into his pocket. "Did Tony say something hot?" Peter looked at Ned with a disgusted face "Ned, gross dude. And no he just made a typo" MJ rolled her eyes "You two are gross, but It's kinda cute so I feel you" Peter smiled and picked up a textbook. "So, what's the sweetest thing Tonys done?" Flash asked hooking his arm around Liz's shoulders. "Sweetest? I don't know man, on our first date he serenaded me with a song" "That's not sweet. Come on! What was the thing that you couldn't stop smiling about for weeks afterward?" Ned asked leaning forwards.  "Well, our first time do-" "STOP" Flash shouted covering his ears as Peter chuckled to himself.

Peter Pls save me, they're all asking me about our love life. It's excruciating

Tony Want me to come and blow them away with my awesomeness?

Peter Yes please, I managed to shut them up by talking about our sex life but Ned seems to be plotting his next question.

Tony I'm parking the car

Peter looked up to the door and smiled at the sight of Tony Stark walking in. "I believe people were talking about me" He smiled sitting down on the chair next to Peter. "Hey, Mr. Stark," Ned said flashing him 'Please accept me for an internship' smile. "Relax, Ned, I shouldn't tell you this but you got the Internship" Ned let out a scream and was quickly hushed by the librarian "So, Mr. Stark, what do you think is the sweetest thing you ever did for Peter?" Flash asked returning his hand to Liz. "Hmm, I think It would be the night that Peter called me Tony for the first time"

2 YEARS EARLIER

"Mr. Stark I'm a big boy I don't need you to keep on saving me from fights," Peter said in protest, landing on a rooftop in downtown New York. "You're a baby, and that wasn't a fight, that was an attack that was specifically planned to target you" Peter tensed his face up "You could've taken those guys on so why can't I?" Peter argued ripping off his mask and letting the brown curls fly around his face. "Because I'm more experienced than you and I have an iron suit. Yours is... spandex" Tony pointed out stepping out of his suit and onto the ground as Peter took a step back. "You helped me create this suit so technically It's not my fault that I don't have a stronger suit. And that's not what you said when I fought Captain America" "I've said this before and I'll say this again, if Cap wanted to take you down, he would've" "Yes but he didn't. Can you just accept the fact that I might be more mature than you think? Why won't you let me fight the bad guys? I took on Thanos when we were stuck on Titan!" Tony scrunched his face up "Because Peter, I can't lose you again! I watched you die in my arms and I was waiting for the time that I would go and help save you in any other fucking world that you had gone to, but I didn't! I couldn't save you Kid, I never want to lose you again, you mean to much to me!" Peter stared at Tony. "I'm sorry, I am, you just, you need to let me do this stuff okay? If I'm really in danger, Karen will let you know" Tony didn't say anything just embraced Peter in a hug "Don't die, kid, please don't. I can't lose you too" "I won't Tony"

"That wasn't something sweet that you did, that was just a sweet moment between us" Peter scoffed turning to Tony. "I saved your life! I think that counts as being sweet" Tony argued turning his head. "Okay then, Peter, what was the sweetest thing you did for Tony?" MJ asked, suddenly intrigued in their love lives. "Oh, for sure the time that Tony said 'I love you peter Paker' for the first time"

A year earlier.

"Wassup Tony," Peter said sliding on the hard wooden floor in his pink fluffy socks. "Morning Peter, why are you in such a good mood?" Tony asked pouring himself a cup of coffee "Well if you must know, I have a date" Tony's heart dropped to his ass, figuratively but still, as peter announced he had a date. "Cool cool, who with?" Peter smiled "Quinten Beck, I met him on Tinder and he's hot as hell!" Tony covered up his disappointment with a smile. "I'm happy for you kid, I'm going down to the lab"

three hours later.

"FRIDAY has Peter returned from the date?" Tony asked attaching a string to a door and slamming it shut making a crate fall "No, he never left the tower, he is sobbing on the couch upstairs" Tony paused "He's what?" He asked again unsure if he heard her right "Sobbing upstairs" Tony left the crate and rushed upstairs. "Peter? Peter, what's wrong?" Tony asked trying to console the hyperventilation young adult on his couch. "Beck canceled the date, he told me that I was ugly and too nerdy" Peter sobbed, resting his head in the crook of Tony's neck. "When I find that lil bitch" Tony whispered. "Why am I not good enough? Is there something wrong with me? Why does no one like me?!" Peter shouted sobbing harder. "Oh Peter, you're good enough and everyone is crazy to not see that, you're perfect peter" Tony whispered, "Then why does no one like me?" He cried out "They do" "Who Tony! Who likes me?! I'm just some ugly person" Peter screamed coming up for some air "Me Peter! I like you. No actually. I love you, Peter Parker. I always have and I always will"

"That was sweet, but that wasn't something you did for Tony" Nd pointed out, yawning in his seat whilst Betty rested her head on him. "Yeah I guess it was, I don't know actually, either I'm a shit boyfriend or Tony just doesn't tell me when I'm sweet" Tony laughed and pecked Peter's cheek. "I know what one of the sweetest things peter ever did was."

one month earlier.

"TONY!" Peter screeched from the lab. "BOI IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS VERRY FUCKING SECOND I WILL END OUR RELATIONSHIP!" Tony raced down the stairs and into the lab where he was met by Peter standing over an Iron Man suit "Yes my love? Something wrong?" Peter's eyes went soft at the sight of Tony's sleepless eyes and dropped shoulders. "Baby, when was the last time you slept?" Peter asked moving slowly towards Tony. "Like, seventy-two hours ago" Peter sighed and took the white blanket off of his shoulders and wrapped it around Tony's shoulders. "Come on, let's go to bed" Tony sulked and let Peter lift him off of his feet and carry him upstairs. "You know what's not fair" Tony yawned "What?" "The fact that you're younger and smaller than me, yet so much stronger than me" Peter laughed "Blame the radioactive spider for that one" Tony chuckled and felt his body sink into the memory foam mattress "I don't want to sleep" Tony sighed sleepily barely able to keep his eyes open. "Why?" Peter asked wrapping his arms around Tony "Because every time I close my eyes I see you slipping away in my arms. I can't keep reliving that Peter" Tony cried pulling Peter down to his eyesight. "Tony, hey Tony, look at me." Tony brought his eyes up to look at Peter. "I'm not leaving. I'm never leaving. You are my home, I love you and I always will. You're not going to lose me again. We won. He's dead." Tony sobbed quietly "I love you" He whispered falling asleep. "I love you too" Peter whispered back.

"Yeah, I have to admit that was pretty sweet of me to do" Peter laughed resting his head on Tony's lap. "It was, so tell me, what midterm do you all have first?" Tony asked gently caressing Peter's hair. "Peter has Law then Bioengineering. I have Law and physics, MJ has human relations, Liz has technology, and Flash has English Lit" Ned explained yawning gently. "That sucks for all of you." Tony laughed "Hey if we leave now we can still make our reservation" Peter whispered looking up at Tony. "You sure?" Peter nodded and looked up. "I hate to cut this short, but me and Tony-" "Tony and I" "Yes, thank you MJ, have a dinner reservation to attend, so we will be fucking off and I won't see you for the rest of this night" Tony smiled as Peter grabbed his hand and ran out the door. "I love you" Tony whispered "I love you too Tony" Peters's lips met Tonys in a sweet sensual kiss. "Come on, let's go"

Prompt 1

"Good morning handsome" Tony smiled as Peter rubbed his eyes. "Mornin' what time is it?" "The time is currently twelve minutes past nine in the morning" Peter rolled his eyes and slumped his head back on the pillow but evidentially rolling over and burying his face in the crook of Tony's neck. "I'm tired." He whined, feeling Tony's arms wrap around him. "I know, but, guess what" Peter looked up at his boyfriend "You're taking me out of college and whisking me away to a holiday in LA?" Tony smiled and kissed the tip of Peter's nose. "Nope, but I am taking you training today" Peter groaned again "In what universe is training better than a holiday" Peter deadpanned sitting up straight and pulling one of Tonys AC/DC shirts over his head "My universe. Hurry up, Peppers gonna be here in five" Peter whined for the fifth time in the time-space of an hour and sulked his way over to the chest of drawers currently holding all of his things. Since Peter and Tony had started dating, Peter had been slowly moving objects from his room into Tonys. A couple of CD's stacked up on the desk, along with some chemistry books, and some clothes. So far they hadn't been caught. Plus, they only had three months until Peter's twenty-first birthday when they could finally announce that they had been dating.  They just needed to keep it a secret for now. "Hey, I love you" Tony smiled lifting peters head up by his chin and kissing his softly "I love you too. I'm gonna shower though because I smell" Tony laughed "Yeah, you do" They stayed there for a moment, staring at each other and smiling. "Tony! You need to sign off- oh hi Peter" Both men separated quickly trying to cover it up by Tony fakely handing Peter a biology book on cells and reproduction. "Um hi Miss Potts I was just getting a book from To- Mr. Stark" Pepper smiled fondly "That's okay Peter." Peter smiled meekly at Tony and Pepper as he slipped out the bedroom door. "Fuck" He breathed out.

Peter dodged a punch and swung from one corned to the other. "Come on, babe, you can do better than this" Peter panted and landed on the floor next to him "Nope, I'm out" Tony smiled and pulled this small boyfriend up. "Come on, one more round and we can relax." Peter pulled himself together and nodded. "Okay, I can do this," He said dodging a kick and other suits that came flying past him. "One more!" Tony said cheering him on from the sidelines, "Fuck, Tony I can't do this" "There's no such word as can't" Peter smirked t himself "Nope, but there is a word called cannot and I cannot do this" H said turning his back as Tony shit down te simulation. "What's going on? You're usually so much better than this" Tony asked as peter layed his head on his lap. "I don't know, I've been in a funk ever since we lost the Titan battle" Tony frowned. "I'm never letting you go okay? I love you, Peter Parker. I love you so much. And that shit that happened with Thanos was not your fault. You were fifteen kid and were already conquering so much that I couldn't even do at fifteen. Don't beat yourself up because of one mistake" Tony leaned down and kissed peter's lips passionately. "I love you too Tones, and guess what day tomorrow is. Valentine's day" Tony rolled his eyes "Ugh, don't remind me" Peter laughed "Ill remind you in my way" Tony raised an eyebrow "Kinky" "That's not what I meant and you know it"

"Mr. Parker, you have a meeting in five minutes downstairs" FRIDAY chirped from the speakers in the kitchen. "SHIT! FRIDAY can you remind me when to take the cookies out of the oven?" He heard no response but figured that FRIDAY heard him. Peter raced over to his bedroom and pulled on one of Tonys' old AC/DC shirts and a pair of ripped skinny jeans before jogging down to the meeting room. "Good morning Mr. Parker, so nice of you to join us" Tony smiled sarcastically swiveling around in his chair. "Uh sorry, I was baking" He replied Shiley taking a seat next to Tony. "Baking?" Tony whispered moving his chair closer to Peter's "Yep, made some peanut butter cookies" He smiled. "Damn, get you a man that can cook" They both laughed a little before turning their attention to the man presenting as he 'cleared his throat' "Something funny?" The man asked, obviously tired of having to stop his presentation. "Nope, just laughing about the world" The man rolled his eyes at Tony and continued presenting his slideshow on 'Why Peter Parker should not take over SI' which wasn't the name but Peter thought that it might as well be the name since he was droning on about how someone with a manufacturing and technology background would be more suitable. But still, peter being peter he just sat quietly and held Tony's hand underneath the steel table. "Pete, you okay?" Tony asked quietly looking at the boy "Yeah, I'm just focusing on how many ways I could walk out the room right now" Tony laughed "Don't even walk, just jump out the window and let the suit catch you" Peter burst into laughter and fell on the ground wheezing. "What the fuck is so funny Mr. Parker? This is a serious meeting" Peter laughed as he stood up and regained his posture and self-control. "Nothing nothing, just thinking about a vine" He chuckled sitting down in his seat again. "What vine?" Tony asked playing along with the Vine story. "Is that a chicken?" He quoted not even missing a beat. "Kyle Jenner please report to the foyer," Tony said finishing off the stat pf the vine. The man presenting looked unamused and closed down the PowerPoint. "When you two can stop behaving like children we will come back," He said walking with his men out of the room. "Think we broke him?" Peter laughed spinning in his chair. "Nope, but you're gonna break your back is you don't stop spinning on this chair" Peter giggled and continued to spin on his chair until the chair gave way and he fell on Tony "Hi" He grinned dopey "Hi, think you can-" Tony was cut off by the man walking into the room again causing both men to jump and Peter to fall on the floor with an "Ouch" Along with Tony. "Never mind" Tony watched as the guy left and turned his head to look at Peter. "You okay?" He asked helping Peter stand up and regain his balance and confidence "Mhmm, are you okay?" Tony laughed at Peters's kindness. "I'm not the one that just fell off of a chair and hit my head on the floor" Peter smiled and rested his head on Tony's shoulder as Tony helped him into the elevator.

An hour had passed and the two lovebirds were sat on the couch eating Peters cookies and watching 'Burlesque' on Netflix. "I'm tired." Peter sighed wrapping a blanket around his cold body "If you wanna go to bed by all means go, I just wanna know if Jack and Ali will start dating" Tony smiled ruffling Peters's hair, "They do, now will you please come to bed with me?" Tony gasped "You just spoiled the movie" Peter rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah, come on just cuddle with me" Tony pulled peter towards him on the couch "I don't wanna" "Stop being a child Tony" "I'm not being a child" "Yeah? Then come to bed" "No" "Come to bed, Tony." "No" Tony, come to b-" Once again, they were interrupted by Natasha walking and Peter rolling off the couch. "Sup, what are we watching," She asked grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoveling it into her mouth. "Nothing, I'm gonna go to sleep. Night" Peter gave a 'Bed now' look to Tony who acted like he didn't see it and carried on watching the film. "Child" He muttered under his breath.

Peter sighed as he pulled on a pair of pajamas and slipped under the blue silk sheets of Tony's bed. "It's so cold, FRIDAY turn the heating up" and just like that Peter felt as if he was in Spain, relaxing on a beach and letting off steam. That was until he felt a dip in the bed and muscular arms cover his body and held him tight. "Let's go" Peter turned around. "What do you mean?" He questioned rubbing his eyes "You said you wanted to go to Spain right? Then let's go, let's spend Valentine's day in Spain" Peter smiled and hooked his arms around Tony. "Okay. I'm down for that. when are we going?" "Right now, get some clothes on, we'll buy whatever we need when we get there" Peter squealed and jumped out of the bed grabbing some jeans and sliding himself into them. "You're not getting changed?" He questioned looking at Tony. "I already am" Peter rolled his eyes as Tony flipped away the covers to reveal a fully tailored suit on him. "When did you have the tine to get fully charged? A second ago you were in a tank and sweat pants" "I have my ways. May i just say, you look ravishing" Peter blushed "I'm wearing an oversized shirt and Khakis, how is that ravishing" "Because it's my shirt that you're wearing" Peter rolled his eyes. "You're incredibly predictable Mr. Stark" Tony scoffed "No I'm not, you don't know what I'm going to do now" "Yes I do, you're going to pick me up and run with me in your arms to the helipad" Tony paused fr a minute "No I'm not." "Then what are you gonna do?" "I'm going to pick you up, and run with ou in my arms into the living room" Peter sighed "Wow, big difference" Tony smiled and grabbed Peter before running down the corridor. "Oh my god, Tony! Peter squealed "Put me down! Put me down!" Tony laughed and placed Peters feet on the floor kissing his 'Button nose' as Tony liked to describe it "I hate you" Tony shook his head "No you don't, you love me" "Unfortunately yes, yes I do, and it's a shame because I can never get mad at you" Peter smiled and kissed Tony passionately. "Don't eat each other's fucking faces" Both of them jumped to see the room filled with the avengers and Rhodey. "Uh, we can explain" Peter sighed pulling away from Tony/ "We can? " Tony questioned. "No, I'm out." Rhodey sighed. "I told you they were dating." "You knew?" Tony asked, shocked and in disbelief, thst they're amazing (Terrible ) attempts of covering up their relationship didn't work. "We all knew, you two cant keep a secret for your life." Tony scoffed at Natasha "Yes I can, I kept being Iron Man a secret" Peter scoffed this time. "No you didn't, Rodey and Pepper organized an entire speech on what you should say so you wouldn't reveal that you were IronMan and you still got up on that stage and said 'I am Iron Man' " Tony ignored the comment and looked at the group. "Yes, I and Peter are dating, but as of this moment we are going to Spaun to celebrate our first Valentine's day together" Tony picked Peter up and in a squeal, they were both gone from the eyesight of the other. "Damn, they're cute you've got to admit," Bruce said from the back. "They are, also who said they were eating each other's faces. Because Props to you" Rhodey smiled at Pepper. "All me, the look on their faces were priceless, I wish I had taken a photo" "I have taken a video of the moment and sent it to all of your phones" FRIDAY spoke chirpily, she wasn't a human, but goddamn could she sense when people liked her.

[loveyourselfirst2020]

so im cute huh ?

‘‘ Hey ren , wanna come to watch the boys practice ?’‘ my friend Juliana called out in the hall way while walking with Rebecca ,Chloe,Daisy and Jazmine.

‘‘I really have to finish this essay for Mr.Evans , i don’t want to fall behind ‘‘ i said

‘‘ sis , your a straight A student with a 4.5 gpa , we’re asking you if you wanna come watch hot sweaty guys kick a soccer ball not go to party and get shit faced ‘‘ 

i was beginning to think out it when Jules reassured me that i could just write it while hanging out with them . We made our way into the stadium , we found some shade from the sun starting to set . I pulled out my laptop and started to write my essay all while listening to the ranting of Jules and the others eye raping the soccer boys and rating them shirtless . I really wasn’t boy crazy because i have other important things to do than to worry about boys who don’t even remember my name and also boys never looked at me , even in high school , not that i’m complaining , God knows where i could be right now if they did . 

‘‘ All the guys are hotter than hell “ Daisy commented

‘‘ but have you seen number 6 the sexy new guy !’‘ Jazmine followed 

‘‘i know ! , he sits in front of me in my morning class with Mrs.Robinsosn , and let you tell you i coudn’t take my eye of of him and that gorgeous head of hair but i couldn’t get his name since i was late ‘‘ Jules said disappointed 

all nodding their head in agreement , Chloe looked at me ‘’ what do you think ?’’

I looked into the field trying to find to this mysterious hot new guy , i quickly found the number six , but i could only see the basic features since we were sitting kinda far . He had light brown curly hair , very muscular with a golden tan and was around almost 6′0 feet . I see what all the hype was about but he wasn’t really my type but the again i didn’t even know what my type was . i finally looked back to the girls and replied ‘’ he is cute ill give him that ‘’ 

They all looked at me dumb founded 

‘‘ I swear ren you need a man in your life or ill just die !’‘ she said in a exagerated shakespearan tone 

‘‘ well go ahead get your casket ready then because its not gonna happen no time soon ‘‘ i replied while laughing 

We all of a sudden here a whistle blow and looked at the field to see the coach wrapping up practice . We hurried and gathered all our belongings in hopes to not get noticed by the boys but sadly we forgot that the down the tunnel home side exit right beside the football locker room is also the soccer boys locker room .

As we try to be ahead of the boys so they wouldn’t see us , i suddenly fell and all my school work came flying out  . I cursed mentally when remembering that i had forgot to close my backpack when we were hurrying to get up to leave , suddenly my anxiety rose when i hear all the hard stomps of multiple feet hitting the group and panting from the soccer boys from being out of breath passing by. I quickly put my face down from embarrassment when the boys were passing by , all of a sudden i saw a pair of cleats stop right in front of me , me being curious as to who is was and why they stopped i looked up to meet the most beautiful pair of eyes i have ever seen , they were a pretty brown that i couldn’t describe with specks of gold and a face that looked softer than the sky with a few beauty marks on the right side of his face. God took his time on this one i mentally said 

while in astonishment of his beauty i watched him and he looked at me then back down and started helping me pick up my papers 

‘‘ thanks i-you didn’t have to ‘‘ i said nervously 

‘‘no problem ‘‘ he said as he smiled 

his smile was so perfect and heavenly i forgot where i was for a minute .

I quickly remembered where i was and it was getting dark and Jules was supposed to take me back to my dorm she knows i’m afraid to walk by myself at night .

I quickly looked at him and said thanks and ran off i think i heard him yell something but i was to nervous to look back .

The next day i went to my morning class as i walked in i took my seat and waited for my teach to walk in . As the door opened i sat up thinking it was my teacher but the attractive new guy walked him instead , i looked down pretending to be on my phone as soon as i saw he was scanning the room looking for a seat . he made his way towards me and sat beside me he looked at me and said ‘’ is this seat taken?’’ 

‘‘no’‘ i said i then smoothly put my Airpods in to avoid any conversation or question why i was at the stadium . A few moments later the professor walked in and he took attendance as he called name after name he finally called my name ‘’ Loren Carter’’ he said softly 

i softly said ‘’here’’ he continued to call names when i heard a unfamiliar name 

‘‘ Noah Beck ‘‘ he called out . suddenly a booming voice beside me said ‘‘ here’‘ realizing that was beautiful brown eyed new boys name 

The lecture felt like it would never end . FINALLY i heard the teacher getting ready to dismiss the class . i bolted as soon as i heard ‘’ that’s all for today ‘’ 

Later on midday i was walking with Jules outside and telling her what all happened yesterday and how embarrasses i was and i filled her on his name . 

‘‘ who would’ve guessed that the hot new guy has a hot name as well ,i would’ve flirted and and shot my shot , you need to have game my friend  ‘‘ she said 

‘‘ I don’t need game . Noah is not even a hot name , i don’t even think he is all that and a bag of chips but he is somewhat cute ‘‘ i said all while walking backwords as soon as the words left my mouth i turned by around and bumped in to a rock hard chest i looked up to meet the familiar beautiful brown eyes from yesterday ‘‘ 

‘‘ so you think i’m cute huh ?’‘ he said smirking 

[dearlazerbunny]

Lie to Me (Ch. 4 of ?)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 1300

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug for their amazingness.

Requested Tags: @deraniel @iamverity @yasnooshka24 @themusingsofmany@dark-night-sky-99 @wegingerangelica

“What are you reading?”

“Um-“ you glance up, forgetting where you are for a moment. SHIELD. Underground cell. Right. “Say again?”

There is a long suffering sigh from the man behind the glass. “I said, what are you reading?”

“Oh. One of my old textbooks I found in the back of my closet.” You run a hand over the page you were just leaning over. “I hated this professor so much,” you say grumpily, but there’s still a small smile on your face as you say it. “He was an absolute git.”

“Fascinating.” The derision dripping from that one word could fill Olympic-sized swimming pools.

“Do you like to read?” You offer offhandedly, trying to get him to talk about something. Anything. Two weeks of sitting in stony silence has worn on your nerves. Hence, why you brought a book to keep you company this time.

“Yes.” His fingers fidget with each other as if searching for pages to turn. “There is a library on Asgard that contains more volumes than your puny mind could comprehend.”

You ignore the jibe. You’ve practically become immune to them by now. “What’s it like? The library, I mean.”

“You wish for me to describe it to you?”

“Well, only if you want.”

“It has been weeks,” he growls. “Should you not be asking more important questions?”

“What would you rather me ask?”

“I invaded Earth with legions of soldiers intent on crushing humanity beneath my fist.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes. He does tend to be dramatic. “And you’re asking about libraries.”

You shrug. “The library sounds more interesting.”

Something shifts in his eyes, something you can’t identify, and he leans forward slightly towards you. “I could tell you things you have never even dreamed of,” he purrs. “Knowledge no mortal has ever been graced with.”

Well that’s a drastically different tone of voice. You close your book, marking your spot with your finger. “Like what?”

“The libraries of Asgard contain the very secrets of the universe. All of it would be at your beck and call.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific. Puny mortal mind, remember?”

“Have you ever wanted to see the future?” The god’s eyes are glowing faintly. “Discover how you die? Better yet, cheat death entirely, and learn to live forever? Or perhaps you are more interested in people bending to your every whim with a flick of your wrist. For them to lie down their backs for you to step on, rising to your rightful place. You could have everything you have ever wanted. Money. Fame. Power. Knowledge.” His voice is sinfully silky, washing over you in subtle, undulating waves like the seaside kissing the shore on a warm summer’s day. “And of course, you’d have me by your side. You will be crowned my queen, respected and feared throughout the nine realms and beyond. Plus, my eternal… adoration.” His voice drops into the realm of something obscene with that last comment. You can only imagine what that ‘adoration’ would entail.

You sit back in your chair, considering his words as you tilt your head a bit, taking in the god. “I think I’m gonna call you Trickster.”

Instantly, the suave illusion is broken, leaving behind a man with fury in his eyes. “What?”

“My boss said I couldn’t call you Your Highness,” you explain. “And I’m fairly sure you just tried to convince me to let you out of your cell in exchange for eternal power, or something. Tricky. Hence, Trickster.” You want to replace convince with seduce, because it seems more accurate, but there’s no way you’re going to say that out loud.

He growls at you. “Don’t flatter yourself. The second these ridiculous manacles were off I’d dispose of you in an instant.”

“I figured.” You flip open your book again. “But that was the most entertainment I’ve had in weeks, so feel free to continue if you’d like.”

A bang against the glass makes you look up. The god has risen from his spot on the floor, fist against the barrier in front of him. “Are you not frightened?’ He snarls. “I could snap your neck from where I stand.”

You have to fight a little to keep your breathing steady. Having a ridiculously powerful immortal being threaten you to your face is bound to pluck anyone’s nerves. “SHIELD has assured me you’re very well contained. And that those magic-suppressing handcuffs have done their job more than once.” You gesture to the metal binding his wrists. “So I think I’m okay for now.” Still, if looks could kill, you have no doubt you’d be barbecued to a crisp right about now. Eventually, he seems to get ahold of himself, and sits back down with the poise and grace you definitely wouldn’t expect from someone who’s been imprisoned for almost a month.

“You’re staring.”

Shit. You tear your gaze away. “I’m not.”

“Oh, but you are.” Even though your eyes are trained on your book, you can hear the smirk in his words. “Has my offer interested you after all?”

“Hardly. Then I’d have all of SHIELD on my back, and I don’t care what universe you’d hide me in, they’d find a way to get the Black Widow to poison my tea one way or another.”

“Then why so intrigued, little one?” When Thor said it, it was a fond gesture, almost like calling you a little sister. In the Trickster’s tone of voice, it is most definitely an insult.

You huff. “I think if all the stories you once considered pure fiction were suddenly proven true, you’d be a little curious too.”

“Ah.” The god settles back against the concrete wall behind him like he’s lounging on a chaise. “Then I take it you have heard of me?”

“After that shit you pulled in Manhattan? I guarantee you, everyone’s heard of you.”

He dismisses your retort with a wave of his hand. “I mean prior to our arrival on Earth.”

You let out a breath. “Well. Yes. I studied mythology in college. Have a couple degrees on the subject. So I was aware of you, as much as I was aware of any of the other gods and goddesses from Greek, Roman, and Germanic history.”

“I see.” The statement has a droll tone to it, but underneath you can hear a genuine curiosity. Interesting. “Is this why you fell in with this lot?” He gestures around him in what you assume to meting SHIELD.

“Yup. They wanted some archivers with knowledge in ancient cultures and religions. So here I am.” You stop cold for a moment, then look at him suspiciously. “Why the sudden interest? I already told you, I’m not gonna be coerced into doing anything for you.”

He shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly. “I am rather bored, and while you are not particularly fascinating, it seems you will be the only respite I get in my torment.”

“Wow, thanks. You sure know how to woo a girl.”

You’re surprised with a small piece of laughter from the opposite end of the room. “Indeed, I have been told many times. Though it seems Midgardians are woven from a different cloth.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Do.” Your heart stutters again. He sounds sincere, but he’s the God of Lies for Christ’s sake. He’s probably just switching tactics since his earlier plan didn’t win you over.

You’re relieved when you glance at your watch. “Time’s up for today, Trickster. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it.”

You roll your eyes on the way out the door. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Trickster.”

[gaygwenpool]

give me literally All Headcanon for that post for Mysterio p l e a s e (also, for the one of my choosing, whether or not you hc he commentates movies while watching them or insists on ABSOLUTE SILENCE)

:D!!! my sweet boy, BLESS you nonnie! 

◉ whether or not you hc he commentates movies while watching them or insists on ABSOLUTE SILENCE IS A FANTASTIC QUESTION IVE BEEN LITERALLY LAUGHIN ABOUT IT ALL DAY THANK YOU

   Both actually! if you try to comment on the plot or react to an actor, immediately you get rudely shushed with the most scorching glare because how DARE you, focus on the ~ART~ you heathen!!! but also the Moment a slightly more advanced special effect takes place, he is all hoppin on his seat excitedly explaining how it’s done and how genius that is, how would he improve on it and how another movie dealt with it, the dialogue for the big plot reveal goin on the screen be damned :’D Also as the movie advances, he starts gettin more and more into long passionate rants either complaining about the lack/surfeit of respect the creators got, how arrogant this one actor is and how he doesnt respect his cues and so on….. lots of the stuff he says is actually pretty interesting but yeah, if you counted on just enjoying the movie, tough luck 

   He really likes watchin movies with people but prefers to see the movie first on his own at least once, to really focus on it. Often, he will watch a movie in the livin room while others do their own thing and he will comment on the good scenes, however if you agreed to actually watch somethin with him and got distracted during screening or worse, was on your phone?? you are dead to him. (and you can expect some …unpleasant surprises in the upcoming days)   

im gonna put the rest under the readmore cuz this is gettin long ^^;;

[ask meme]

☾ - sleep headcanon

Beck is the UGLIEST sleeper, he is the worst. He snores loudly, drools, moves, KICKS, mumbles and has the most vivid wildest dreams. (it happens rarely but sometimes he’ll dream about somethin, wake up and for a while be convinced it actually happened, you know like when you dream about arguing with your friend and being mad at them the next day etc) On the other hand, sometimes, all his features relax, he loses the scowl and looks surprisingly peaceful and happy… oh and he hogs the blanket.  

His sleep schedule is a fuckin mess, he is able to go like the whole week on few hours of sleep total when he is workin on a project but other days he gets grumpy if he doesnt get his 10h of beauty sleep every night.. 

★ - sad headcanon

uhhh i dont actually have much sad stuff for this boy yet, he brings me so much joy that i dont have the heart for that :’’’D (also i like him and chameleon team ups and Dmitri brings enough angst to the table for the both of them)

He really actually died that one time and went to hell (though in Patchwork, im not gonna keep everythin about that Daredevil plot, i really like Mysti being dangerous and actually a worthy opponent but most of it was too fucked up for my tastes…) and well… it wasnt great :’D  it mostly targeted his insecurities about his own talent he buried so deep he almost stopped believing them, the lack of respect and recognition and him willingly throwing away any chance he had at those by becoming Mysterio and of course everything that happened with his ex Brick Johnson…

☆ - happy headcanon

blease consider: autistic Quentin !!!!!!

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

he doesnt have a hair trigger temper like Ock or Electro but Damn does this boy holds grudges over literally everything :’D lots of overcomplicated, carefully crafted revenge plots just for eating the last yogurt in the fridge… He gets frustrated easily, getting snappy and rude, especially if people are not listening to him, but it’s often about the pettiest things, the bigger stuff doesnt affect him as much.  

He doesnt enjoy violence for the sake of violence but he is not above it either, everythin is allowed for his big performance…… he can be quite a good n friendly boss if you listen to his orders and work well but can just as much set you up to die in an explosion, all while smiling and patting you on the back… 

✿ - Sex headcanon

my Mysterio is gay as hell but also somewhere on the ace spectrum… not sex-repulsed but definitely not a high drive either (he feels oddly smug about that, like look at those fools trying to get into each others’ pants, how pathetic, *I* in the meantime have time for things that Truly matter, like recreating every Xmen battle ever with only straws and gum.) 

■ -  Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

listen, i basically grew up on those “the entire villain team lives in a single place - shenanigans ensue” fics so im not givin up on the Sinister Six HQ, okay. (Chameleon usually finds them a suitable house with enough rooms, as luxurious as their current fonds allow, and he prides himself in putting in lil personal touches that he knows the sin six members would enjoy, for Quentin it’s often very obscure movies, rare memorabilia from his favorite ones, stuff for his illusions, a stolen Oscar…) 

 When these are unavailable (aka superheroes got them busted) or when he aint in the middle of a crime job, he usually stays at one of the Cham’s safehouses (with or without him) and in a few of them, he already has his own dedicated room with some of his fav old tricks on display. Speakin of which, he has a BIG warehouse with most of his setups and stages or at least models. He doesnt really plan on reusing them but he likes having them all together 

♡ - romantic headcanon

((jakjgkfajga im a loser and ended up shippin him with Chameleon and everythin i’ve thought off so far is EMBARRASSING AND CHEESY AS FUCK :’’’’D so im gonna leave those for another time))

Beck being an Extra Bitch he is, lives for the Big Romantic Gestures like in the movies and he often gets so caught up in the prep he.. kinda disregards the person he was makin it for, the making of the effect means more for him than  the actual sentiment behind it… 

(ok maybe One mysteleon hc, while it pains him, Quentin knows Chammy Would Not Enjoy being a target of such grand display… he gotta be more subtle, creating a scene where he could play in disguise and dupe some superheroes mayhaps…) 

♥ - family headcanon

like 99% of the villains and their grandma, his family wasnt great, mum left when he was very young with another guy, his dad considered his passion for movies a great waste of time and let lil Quentin know how disappointed he was at every occasion both vocally and physically.. After the first few broken models and ripped tapes with stop animations that took weeks to complete, Quentin stopped tryin to impress and convince his father about the greatness of special effects.. He joined a boxing club and learnt some other martial arts but as soon as he could, he left to join a proper film school which led to his father dropping both financing and all contact with him. 

☮ - friendship headcanon

Im not even gonna start about Chameleon’s and Mysterio’s friendship because that shit is canon and i cry about it on a daily basis. 

Despite his penchant for Dramatics, the constant Need for Validation and Backstabbing and other Throwing Shit in the Fan just cuz it was narratively better, Quentin actually has quite a few friends? He gets along quite well with everyone from the Sin Six and many other villains and even has some ‘normie’ pals from the film industry or just neighborhood… 

One of his most surprising is actually Doc Ock with whom he gets along even outside of business partners/partners in crime basis. Though maybe not so surprising, Mysterio is quite vocal with his praises when he feels like they are deserved and Doc as well actually admires and recognizes Beck’s talent while it is still enough specific for him not to feel threatened in his superiority (once he tried to improve them and show them to Quentin with his usual arrogance and flair and that was the biggest fight they ever had and they werent on speaking terms for a loooong while after that… Oct cant stand not having the last word so he still modified some of Mysterio’s tricks even after that but he actually cares about their friendship enough to not tell Mysti about it.. Not like he would ever admit that to Quentin’s fishbowl face) 

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

like 99% of everythin Mysti does is Somehow related to special effects/film or the Drama in general but my boy is a nerd in general, theater, books, comics, manga, roleplaying games, you name it. He especially likes flashy stuff obviously. 

He really enjoys learning new techniques and figuring out how to make something happen. When he was younger, he was viciously against CGI but later he started to sorta respect it as its own category that needs talent and effort… he still prefers to use the traditional techniques of course :’D (…as traditional as HYPNOTIZING PEOPLE WITH NEURAL GAZ IS) 

☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon

He has a very Complicated relationship with the film industry……. on the one hand, he loves the behind the scenes, the rush, the Action…. but on the other hand, he hates it with a fiery passion, everythin from how you get treated like dirt and the pretentious prizes being awarded just for the Big names and hollywood and everythin turning around the money an-…., he has a very long list and it is alphabetized. (While he has a point for many of those complaints, the fact HE himself never got any pretentious award remains probably the main issue…) 

he absolutely despises people making fun of D-grade shitty movies in the “this shitty horror is so cheesy and dumb it’s funny and i love it” way, either because the people workin on it were good and trying their best but the money or the producers etc ruined it (his experience) and then it’s an unfair critique or because the creators just didnt try hard enough and that’s even worse in his books and this movie should not get Any Attention much less a positive one.. 

he likes complaining and being snarky :’D he enjoys the challenge Spidey sets for them and loves playing tag with him (even when he loses..) He loves the prep before his big shows both alone or with help, the adrenalin when actually pulling it off and when he discusses it with Cham in details. He lives for the applause and recognition and ~Fame~ 

▼ - childhood headcanon

not as much as hc as adopting the Webspinners’ aproach: he spent most of his childhood daydreaming, hiding himself behind the stories and special effects….. not many friends aside from Betsy but he didnt really need them, he wanted audience not pals.. In the film school he started to be more social and communicative, he met Brick there and they started goin out… 

∇ -. old age/aging headcanon

hhhhh im conflicted, there are like 3 comics where Q is retired because he has enough of superheroes beating him up and he Really doesnt want to go back to it.. I cant see him actually givin up on it totally tho… idk idk

♒ - cooking/food headcanon

Like with sleep, it oscillates wildly. He can forget to eat when he is hypefocusin on a particular project (one single chip suffices as nourishment) or he just subsides on ramen for a month but on the other hand he is quite a capable cook. Nothing Extraordinary but he can make enough diverse simple meals. When livin with Chammy, they both enjoy eating out so they do that as much as the budget allows (so not that much, illusions arent cheap…) 

☼ - appearance headcanon

im still thinkin about that one post that described Quentin as a “toenail of a man” and i couldnt agree more :’D very short, pig nose, hairstyle à la Spock, stocky built and weirdly beefy, like this guy’s thigh is bigger than some heads… (for a nerd he is surprisingly strong what the fuck) 

All Mysterios are Good Mysterios but my preferred ones have a bigass ROUND fishbowl, the longest cape and somethin as a belt, preferably sash.. 

ൠ - random headcanon

he actually isnt….. that great of an actor nor director nor creator………………….. (im sorry baby i love you but it’s tru….) he unconsciously copies a lot of stuff he has seen elsewhere, he follows overused tropes, his work is packed with cliches and cheesy over the top pathos… his special effects mastery n creativity with workin out his illusions is absolutely INCREDIBLE dont get me wrong, it’s just… the plot/ideas……..  at first he lived in denial about this still believing 100% his work is Wonderful and Perfect and he is just a misunderstood author… later he decided to embrace it and he is livin the life now :D