#good to finally be rid of it staring unfinished back at me lol

[shiori8]

The Witch and the Warlock

Well, I don't know about you all, but I will forever be celebrating the fact that the Resurrection movie actually made these two lovable, evasive bastards canon and that they get to spend immortality manipulating, mansplaining and manslaughtering together 🤧💕

[jaetyun]

infrunami.

"can you come back to me? cause i was blind to see that you were right infrunami."

heeseung x f!reader

this is the original draft to the now smau, see if you can spot all the changes i made from oneshot ver to smau ver! also warning it ends very abruptly because its unfinished lol

wc: 4.9k

You couldn't remember how your life was before Ningning. Your best friend had moved to your street in the 3rd grade, your houses straight across from one another.

Ningning seemed straight out of a dream you had, with her closet full of the Justice you never got to own. Her hair was always perfectly groomed, and a pretty headband in place to keep it down. She was the kindest person you had ever met, and though you hadn't met many people at the ripe age of 8 you had guessed she must be the nicest person in the world because why else would she hand you sugary snacks from her lunchbox every day?!

She was comforting. Predictable even. Which is why it was such a shock when you met her older brother, Heeseung. He was the most confusing person in the world- scratch that- the *Universe*. He was always looming in the background, his closet being anything but flashy. Seriously, a black Nirvana shirt in elementary school?!

Because of this, you found yourself constantly trying to talk to him, to figure him out. Even though his shy demeanor pushed you away, you'd always come running back. Heeseung would never admit it, but he appreciated your company. A lot.

In middle school, it became even harder for Heeseung to express this sentiment. 'hey Yizhuo, is Y/N coming today?' became 'I hope to God your little friend isn't staying over', it was just a product of hormones and deep teenage angst. He couldn't help it!

As you both grew, he figured your childish interest in him would disappear. It was simply curiosity, nothing more. so when you stayed clinging onto him, Heeseung was left shrugging you off, his disinterest only feeding into your infatuation with the boy.

"You with barcode boy again?"

"Piss off, limp dick!" You sneered, tugging Heeseung closer to you as you both strode in the hallway.

"You don't have to do that y'know.." He muttered words barely above a whisper. You turned to face him, tilting your head. "Do what?"

"Defend me. or hang out with me in general" He looked away, staring at the lockers instead of making eye contact with you. You stared at him for a moment before looking away, your grip on his arm tightening.

"Don't be stupid." Heeseungs parted lips closed, unsure of how to respond.

"I'll always be here, Seung. Nobody will hurt you under my watch" You proudly grinned, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up. He just nodded, the same tight-lipped expression he had before.

"Yeah, guess I couldn't get rid of you if I tried."

You snorted "Was that the goal?"

"Damn it! You caught me" He smiled, finally turning to face you. You grinned, softly meeting his gaze.

"I take it back, only *one* person can hurt you"

He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head.

"Who?" You quickly unlinked your arm from his, punching the now-open area right above his waist. You gave his ribs one last shank for good measure before pointing to yourself with your thumb.

"I can!"

As the years passed, that mostly held up. What started as relief turned into humiliation, as he continuously got comments about your company.

What was even worse than the teasing was you: A generally popular cheerleader about half his height and a year younger berating anyone who dared to talk about Heeseung. How was he *ever* supposed to get a girlfriend at this rate?

It didn't help that you were practically an arm away at all times, given that you were with Ningning 90% of the day. Heeseung understood you just wanted to keep your oath, but he felt more than ever like a sad loser who resorts to being with his sister's cheer team rather than being his own person.

Heeseung tried to reason with himself. The people snickering were most likely just jealous! High school kids weren't known as the most accepting people in the world, so he took it with pride.

At least.. he tried to.

But the only thing worse than the people in his grade were the ones in *yours*. The glares the cheer team sent his way never went unnoticed, the already self-conscious boy only curling over himself more throughout the years.

He could hardly talk to you inside school anymore, with your presence becoming an honor more than a regular site. It didn't help that his friend was almost always whining about sneaking off to the library to play games on the computers, a sheepish smile on his face as you nodded in understanding.

He knew you were growing up, and that you'd change, that you'd both change. Heeseung told himself it was natural, that he shouldn't feel so bad every time he saw your new friends. People change, and they go with people who suit them. It became increasingly clear to him that you two didn't suit each other after all this time. It was time for your childish interest in your friend's older brother to leave, and for that interest to be with people who suited you. People that weren't Heeseung.

"You don't have to do all this for me"

"But I want to" You smiled, lazily swinging your backpack off your shoulder and placing it on his desk. You took out an old hoodie Heeseung had overgrown (It didn't quite fit you either, but trying to take it from you was like talking to a wall), swiftly sticking your arms through the holes to cover your sweaty cheer uniform.

"Which episode of Mob Psycho were we on?" He sat up, closing his laptop. You hadn't noticed, too busy grabbing materials from your backpack to see his uneasy expression. "15 right?"

"You should be with Yizhuo right now" You glanced up, eyebrows furrowing.

"She's with the team, they're out bowling" You laughed it off, looking back down at the perfume and makeup you had placed on the black wood. He cleared his throat, catching your attention again.

"That's what I mean. You should be out bowling" He offered, watching the way you waved him off with a laugh. "I like hanging out with you, don't worry about it"

"I know you do.." He trailed, Heeseungs expression saying what he didn't have to. You squinted, your hands slowing from your bag.

"Do *you* not like hanging around *me*?"

Before he could clarify, he felt the teenage angst start kicking in. Fuck, fuck! The last thing you needed was the wrong idea, but before he could stop himself from construing his own words puberty went to work.

"I just don't understand why you keep lingering around. you're forcing something that isn't working!" He threw his hands up, watching you mirror the gesture. "You think I'm forcing us? Is that what you really think?"

Heeseung's jaw tensed, of course it wasn't. But it'd be selfish of him to keep you to himself. "If you actually cared you'd leave me alone."

You scoffed, throwing the hoodie back into your bag as you spoke "I told you I wouldn't leave you anytime soon. You never seemed to be bothered by it until now"

"I don't need charity work. You're a cool girl, but you're supposed to be Yizhuo's friend, not mine."

"Y'know what? You're right, I should've been bowling right now. But instead, I'm watching anime with a fucking loser. 'Cause I liked you more than them, my bad for not getting the hint it wasn't mutual"

You gestured to the perfume left on his desk, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. "I don't want it anymore. The scent reminds me of you, tell Ning it's a gift"

You shut his door on the way out, leaving him alone in engulfing silence. Well shit, this isn't remotely what he wanted. Fuck puberty. He'd rather drag you back in here and argue with you than sit by himself, the only thing he had left to think about is your words. You had done exactly what he asked, and he made it impossibly clear what he wanted. So why isn't he happy with the result? Why did it feel like this was gonna come back to bite him? Heeseung was no master of social cues, but even he knew he couldn't text you with a simple 'Hey soz lol I was having a bad day 🙏💯" and expect you to be happy. Making his sister talk to you for him was possibly the second worst idea he had ever had in his 16 years of life (The first was the time he convinced Ningning to get into the toddler swing in middle school. She broke her hip.)

Heeseung felt at a loss for words. At a loss of emotion even, complete suspension of thought in his mind.

He glanced at the perfume, squinting to see what scent it was.

Japanese Cherry Blossom from Bath and Bodyworks. A scent so feminine no man would ever willingly keep it, let alone use it. He had to give it to his sister, he was never gonna be caught *dead* with this in his room.

*spritz*

It was surprisingly strong. No wonder you used it after cheer practice, it makes sense how you never smelt bad even when sitting right next to him, the laptop on each of your thighs so it's an equal viewing experience. The smell was the only comforting thing to Heeseung at this moment, no well in hell he was getting rid of it. He took the bottle and shoved it into the corner of his nightstand: Out of sight out of mind!

--

As Heeseung expected, now that you were out of the equation the teasing went down by a mile. It also helped that any rumors of the two of you were shut down by the entire team, all of them seemingly having a consensus it was no hard feelings. Or at least, a consensus to tell people that. Heeseung also found himself becoming slimmer and gaining muscle, most all his time was devoted to basketball to take his mind off that night.

But moving on would be simply too easy. Whatever God or deity exists was most definitely on your side, or at the very least, not Heeseungs.

When he found out you had gotten with one of his middle school bullies, he was distraught. you had seen how much Sunghoon bothered him every day, the nickname 'barcode boy' still being used on Heeseung all these years later.

Though he and Sunghoon were on decent terms now, he couldn't help but feel as if it was a targeted decision. Getting with someone you knew hated him after having a blow-up fight sure was an odd coincidence at best and bafflingly petty at worst.

"You guys are seriously so cute" Kazuha gushed, your phone in her hand as she took the role of cameraman for your insta.

Sunghoon had his arm wrapped nonchalantly around your shoulders, a peace sign being his attempt at posing for the camera. You puckered your lips, kissing his cheek as the camera flashed. "Thank you, Zuha" You took your phone back, blowing a kiss that she quickly snatched before Sunghoon had a chance. you showed him the photo, smiling up at your boyfriend.

"Still can't believe how long it took for me to realize you liked me"

He shrugged, a sheepish laugh escaping his lips. "Didnt exactly express it well"

Ningning tilted her head "I thought you two hated each other, I know Y/N did for a while"

He shook your shoulder, a proud smile on his face. "Nah, I was just jealous of Heeseung and took it out on him" You tutted at the name drop, the simple mention of him still catches you off guard. Ningning snorts, leaning onto the diner's table in sudden interest. "What? You thought they were into each other?" You nervously laugh along with them, your eyes darting wildly now that your brain has been kicked into high alert with the new conversation topic.

"Still did up till she asked me out"

"God, this is so cheesy" You deflected, your head buried into his chest from embarrassment

Heeseung had arrived a few minutes ago to pick his sister up, watching the conversation in horror. He knew you'd be there, that was a given, but he figured it was a girl hangout and he'd possibly have the chance to talk to you. Instead, you were curled up next to Sunghoon, who had his arm wrapped around your back. The casual mention of his name drove him crazy, he hated how you were no longer protective over him. He hated that he lost your loyalty.

"Speaking of Heeseung, where is he? He should've been here by now"

You stiffened under Sunghoon, resisting the urge to rip away from him and look at your best friend after she offhandedly said he'd be here. Right next to you.

Sunghoon noticed, speaking for you "You need your brother to pick you up?"

"I don't have my license" she reasoned, scrolling through her contacts to find him. "And unlike all of you, I'm on good terms with him"

"Hey! I never hated Heeseung" Kazuha crossed her arms, clearly offended. Ningning looked back up at her, an unimpressed expression on her face "You talked shit about him every time Y/N couldn't join us"

Heeseung almost yelped when his phone audibly rang, revealing his presence at the front entrance. He cleared his throat and shoved his phone into his back pocket, big brother mode turning on.

"I just got here, Gyu was holding me up" The table physically relaxed, a relieved look on everyone's face. Ningning stood up, kissing Kazuha on the cheek while saying her goodbyes. Sunghoon gave Heeseung a short wave, an awkward wave back from the latter before they were on their way.

Heeseung wished that was the worst part about you dating Sunghoon, the fact that they had middle school beef. Something as stupid and trivial as that, and that deep down you were happy and living your best life while he was bitter he wasn't in it.

He wished the worst part wasn't the fact that Sunghoon, your first love, tried to fuck your best friend. Heeseungs little sister.

It certainly didn't help that you gave him a second chance and reassured everyone you knew it'd be a one-time thing. until it wasn't, and you walked in on him and another girl

Heeseung remembered you rushing into their house, broken sobs as you begged for forgiveness from Ningning.

He had just made a new bad decision that had to make the top of the list (beating out the broken hip incident by a long shot), and it was the moment you told Ningning what happened.

His biggest regret was not running out of his room and hugging you, comforting you, just *seeing* you. Instead, he chickened out like he always did.

How many regrets can one person blame on puberty? At what point does it become your personality, just a part of you that you can't deny?

Heeseung listened through a closed door, whispering how he was gonna beat Sunghoons ass into next year. Lies, he knew he couldn't do anything. He was simply the barcode boy, the boy that couldn't stand up for anyone or anything. He felt so useless, wishing he could do more than listen

The cherry on top was he was graduating that year, shipping himself off to university that summer. Without a proper chance to say goodbye, you went 3 years without a single word exchanged with one another.

-

"She's going to some preppy art school an hour away" Ningning complained, throwing herself onto her mattress without a bed frame.

"You'd rather have her come to us with our tuition rate? hard pass" Heeseung was on the opposite side of the room, placing boxes in a miscellaneous order. Ningning rolled over, now on her back as she continued to whine.

"Going to art school on a full-ride scholarship is about as embarrassing as wearing a varsity jacket after high school"

She peered at her brother who was in fact, wearing his varsity jacket after high school.

"Mom paid a lot of money for this!" He reasoned, pointing toward her. "You better watch your mouth before I leave you to unpack by yourself" She sheepishly smiled, mumbling an apology.

"Why do you have so much shit??" He continues to nag, opening the boxes to see what in the world could've made them so heavy and full. "You're gonna end up throwing half of this.." He trails off, not finishing his statement as his attention began to drift. Peeking through one of the box's flaps was a picture frame of the 3 of you. Heeseung could only half listen to what Ningning was saying, too preoccupied with flipping the box's lid with his backhand to get a better view. It's been years and there are absolutely 0 reasons he should still be hung up over you, but the sense of yearning for what could've been has been looming over his head like a notification he couldn't swipe away.

"They're filled with memories you heartless asshole!"

"That's what a hoarder would say" He scoffs, now kneeling over the box with the picture in his hand. Ningning fell silent, pulling herself up to get a better view of Heeseungs dejected sigh. His eyes flashed with so many thoughts and memories she couldn't even begin to imagine what he was thinking.

"She came to the party crying when you guys had that fight. She kept asking me if you never liked her" His heart sank to his ass, and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to shit out all the guilt pooling in his stomach. "It was for the better, she's happy"

"Have you been happy, Heeseung?"

He closed his lips together, forming a thin line over his teeth before pushing it back out to make a pout. "That's irrelevant"

"Not when she would ask how you were doing every day"

"I thought you were just being a caring sister!" Heeseungs frown was met with Ningnings evil cackle, putting her elbows on the bed and sliding so she was on her stomach.

"God no!" She snorted, tilting her head as if a thought bubble had appeared on the side of her temple. "it was always 'Is Heeseung okay? what's he up to? Has he made any new friends?' and I'd always have to be like 'well...'" she trailed, smiling mischievously when she saw his annoyed expression.

"Wait.. she was checking up on me?"

"The whole time." She hummed before shrugging "Not sure if it makes you feel better or worse, but I hope it helps you make the right choice"

He furrows his brows, placing the frame back into the box carefully, and he could barely spare his sister a single glance when his gaze was busy lingering on your giddy smile.

"What choice?"

"She's coming to the party later tonight."

Party was a bit of an overstatement, it was closer to a medium-sized get-together. Now that Ningning was a freshman at her brother's university, he gathered his friends (reluctantly after they practically begged to see her) and some of their acquaintances to hang out at Jake's fraternity house. Although it was optional, everyone was also welcome to bring a plus one. Heeseung had joked she was gonna bring you but hadn't expected her to take it as genuine advice.

"Does she know what it is?" Ningning brought her hand up to her shoulder, shaking it loosely. "So-so??"

Heeseung deadpanned, tilting his head in a final show of how unimpressed he was, leaving Ningning to drop her head with a sigh.

"I'm just saying. I want you to be happy again Seung." She lifted her head back up, and pursed her lips as she thought for a moment. "Y/N wants you to be happy. I'm her carrier pigeon" She finished, finally drawing a short laugh out of her brother.

"Yunjins my plus one" Heeseung breathed out, his expression turning sour at the mention. Ningning furrowed her eyebrows, her mouth tugging itself into an unamused smile. "Okay? You're not trying to fuck my friend are you?"

He quickly shook his head, hands coming up defensively. "No! She just never liked when I was around other girls."

Ningning face curled into disgust at the insinuation "You last talked to her when she was 15, I think she can handle you having a girlfriend."

"Not my girlfriend" He groaned, standing up to resume his task of relocating all the boxes.

"Whatever, just don't be stupid!"

-

An hour into the party, Heeseung was sure his sister had just bluffed. He had yet to spot you, which was embarrassing when he took a good look at himself in the mirror.

He had worn his best sweatshirt, paired with baggy jeans he only wore on special occasions. Though it wasn't obvious to any onlookers, to Heeseung the fact that he had dressed to impress you only reminded him of the anxiousness he possessed as a teenager.

Staring at his reflection, Heeseungs eyes widened once he peered down lower, a strip of pictures you two took in a photobooth sticking out his pocket slightly. Yeah, definitely resembling himself 3 years ago.

Now exiting the bathroom, he could hardly hold back the frown etched on his face, his mood undeniably soured.

"Didn't know you cared so much about losing beer pong" Jake teased, an arm slinging around his friends as the other arm handed him a red solo cup. "Hey, no hard feelings. just had to get back at you for the other day"

Heeseung tried his best to put on a more lighthearted expression, the corner of his lip quirking at the mention of his victory. "I've always been better at basketball" He nonchalantly shrugged, Jake's unimpressed glare working the other corner up into a full smile.

"But seriously, what's with the attitude?" Heeseungs eyes perked up the question, a confused furrow of his eyebrows functioning as a reply. "You look like you wanted to leave since you got here"

"Ah," He started, his gaze faltering when he realized he wasn't as secretive with his emotions as he had hoped. "I just, I dunno.." He continued, open hand going to the crook of his neck as he scratched absentmindedly. "Guess I acted weird cause of someone"

Jake frowned at the vague answer, tutting as he unlinked his arm from the other boy. "You can't wear your best for a girl you've been ignoring all night"

Heeseung winced, slowly moving his eyes from the crowd to his friend. "Am I that obvious?"

"Dude, you are *not* as slick as you think you are." Jake laughed, taking the untouched cup back into his own grasp and taking a sip. "Yunjin thought you were mad at her"

Heeseung blinked, worry turning into confusion. Jake was so incredibly close to hitting the mark, and then completely avoided it in true Jake fashion.

"Well I'm not"

"Tell that to Yunjin, she's been with Yizhuo and her friend the entire time. By the way, do you recognize her? figured I'd ask 'cause no one else does" Jake points to their general direction.

Absolutely nothing could've prepared Heeseung for the sight.

The reason he's been ignoring everyone, the reason he was nervous to show up today, the reason he had a stupid photobooth strip (that had to be at least 5 years old at this point) stuffed in his pocket.

There you were, laughing away with a small group of girls right by the assortment of drinks.

All he could do was gulp, a silent nod was all he could manage. "Knew I should've asked you first! Who is that?" Heeseung was utterly unresponsive, his eyes boring into every inch of you. Jake watched for a moment, cracking a grin eventually. "You're helpless," He chuckled, giving his friend a light shove in your direction. "Go talk to your girl!"

It completely flew over Heeseungs head that Jake had intended to tease him about Yunjin, his mind now coming up with a plan. He had to show he wasn't the same kid he was when you last saw him. He had to prove that he had grown.

And that he was really.. really sorry about that night.

The same question kept repeating in his mind: how can he act cool? What should he do to show you the best first impression he can?

What would Jake do? What would Jake do?! Since Jake always seemed to have a roster at any given moment, Heeseung figured he had to be doing something right. so if he just used the advice from his somewhat womanizing friend...

"Guess who?" He spoke lowly in your ear, covering your eyes with his hands.

Holy shit. Heeseung wanted to curl into a ball and roll off the face of the earth from how corny and absolutely *not cool* he was being.

You softly gasped, arms tugging away at his and turning around in complete shock. "Heeseung?" Your eyes beamed, looking him up and down as if you couldn't believe he was real. Though in a split second, all emotion drained from your face as you glanced back up and made eye contact. "What the hell was that?" He opened his mouth to respond, but he was quickly cut off by Yunjin.

"You guys know each other?" Her curious glance at the close proximity made the moment suddenly awkward, both of you nodding wordlessly.

The question was.. hard to answer. With your complicated relationship, neither of you were sure how exactly to answer without going into detail.

"We grew up together" Although you said it as more of a question than a confident response, you earned a nod of approval from both Ningning and Heeseung. you turned back to Yunjin, smiling as you took his arms and crossed them over your shoulders to prevent him from running away.

"This is the first time he's ever approached me first actually" The passive-aggressive comment had made one thing clear to him: you were most definitely still mad at him.

"Really? He's not that shy.." Yunjin looked back up to the boy for confirmation, earning a sheepish laugh.

"I used to be"

"Aww, that sounds kinda cute" She smiled, eyes never leaving his. Ningning groaned, a waving hand in dismissal

"Can you guys *please* not flirt at my party? Save it for the ride home"

You turned around, an unreadable expression as you glanced at Heeseung. He blinked as if he was asking you a question with his eyes, one you answered with an annoyed eye roll. "Looks like there's some catching up to do"

Ningning's eyes rose in realization, mouth forming an 'o' as she slowly nodded. "I guess I never told you, did I?"

"Let's not talk about it right now! It's so embarrassing" Yunjin had a shy smile, staring down at her cup with a finger circling the rim.

Your eyes never left Heeseungs, a passive-aggressive smile stabbing daggers into him. "A *lot* of catching up."

you let go of his wrists, waving a short bye before signaling to the bathroom. As if Heeseung was in a trance, he watched dumbly before walking after you wordlessly. He resembled a puppy as he mindlessly followed wherever you went, waiting outside the restroom with an awkward lean against the wall.

When you exited, your eyes widened with another unreadable expression. You had since stopped your motion of rubbing the excess water onto your skirt, arms crossing as though you were about to say some snarky remark to Heeseung. He cleared his throat, trying his damn best to fake nonchalance. The one question popping in his head over and over: What would Jake do?

"Didn't notice you there" You snorted, face visibly relaxing. "You didn't?"

His demeanor faltered, hands combing through his hair as Heeseung longingly glanced away. "Nah."

You took a wide step to the left, using your hands to gesture to the room behind you. He blinked, unsure of what your body language is implying.

"If you're not here for me, you need to use the bathroom." Heeseung eyes slightly widened, his eyebrows jerking upward before it falls back to his neutral expression. Your eyes crinkle as you smile, stepping back in front of him. "You're the exact same dork you were when I last saw you."

He couldn't mask his expression this time, his eyebrows furrowing in worry and his eyes now losing focus.

There's no way he was the same person. That's not possible, not when everyone treats him so differently. He must have changed drastically if he went from being bullied to having a best friend in a fraternity.

"I am?" You nod, your hard expression softening into a chuckle.

"I can still read you like a book."

"You can?"

"You've never been good at hiding secrets anyways, but you did the thing you always do when you're caught in a lie"

His mouth falls open, the defensive mode automatically kicking in for him. "I don't do anything when I lie" The teenage angst was about to take over until Heeseungs parted mouth closed, realizing what had just happened within his brain.

Fuck, maybe he hasn't changed.

You mimick the eyebrow flicking, your eyes widening and your eyebrows quirking up like a twitch.

"Is that you trying to hit on me?"

"Were *you* trying to hit on *me* when you did it?" You both blink for a moment, the pause only catapulting the two of you into a fit of laughter.

[lonesome--hunter]

The Man in the Black Mask 2

Continued sorta from here. Eventually I’m going to write how we got here but for now just fun bits of drama lol. Thank you to @crowned-avery and @girlsjustwannadrawwhump for letting me use their peepers on this one.

CW: GRAPHIC MURDER, creepy whumper, threats, gore, blood, multilple whumpees, knives

Jones is almost gone, his blood is everywhere and his open neck looks like a sinewy smile. Cooper and Dmitrios stare in silent shock as their friend chokes on his own blood, the unfinished wood armrests of the chair he’s tied to now stained dark red from the fountain of blood. Neither man takes a breath when Jones lets out one last death rattle before going totally still, his head falling motionless against his chest.

“Bye, bye.” The man in the black mask says from the dark corner of the room where he watched Jones bleed out after slicing him from ear to ear. He wipes the blood from his knife on Jones’ crimson soaked shirt then dips his finger in the puddle around him and paints a smiley face on the dead man's mouth before turning his attention to his next victim, Cooper.

A smile a mile wide is plastered on his face. Cooper is the second rat to get caught in one of the many vicious traps that surrounded the secluded property.

As their tormentor approaches Dmitrios’ screams are muffled by layers and layers of silver duct tape and cloth whereas Cooper’s gag has been pulled down around his neck, he doesn’t attempt to scream yet. He’s hogtied in a heap on the floor and manages to scoot on his side away from the approaching masked man who’s crystalline green eyes send chills straight through to his bones.

"Now for you...I think I want your death to be much slower. Who knows when I'll get my hands on another one of you. So let's not rush things. There are many enjoyable things I can do to you before I allow you to die."

The masked man hops down onto Cooper and straddles his hips, the bloodstained ropes around his victim tightening from his weight settling on them.

"The three of us are going to have such a time together. I know Dmitrios will never forget it. Will you dear?"

Dmitrios shouts unintelligible expletives through his gag and stares daggers at him.

"Why are you doing this to us? For fun? Or because you get off on it you sick fuck." Cooper coughs out when the masked man shifts his weight to lay on his chest, their faces uncomfortably close now.

"It's because he needs to see that his old life, his old friends, all of that means nothing to me. It's dead. It's in the past and once I've rid myself of all of the vermin like you coming to play hero, Dmitrios will finally be all mine. No more things keeping him distracted and all caught up in his dreary moods. In time he'll accept his new life here. We just need time. Right dear?"

“More will come. They won’t stop coming until you’re dead and he’s back home. I promise you that.”

“Good. More piggies for me to slaughter.” Without warning he plunges his razor sharp knife into Cooper’s thigh, his ear shattering screams drowning out the masked man’s laughter.

Dmitrios shakes with anger and struggles with all his energy to free himself from his bonds but they are expertly tied and impossible to escape from, he can’t help Cooper at all. He can only sit and watch his tormentor carve into Cooper at his feet. It’s almost tempting to look away in his helpless despair. 

Cooper begs for mercy a few hours in, it never comes. The man in the black mask doesn’t deal in mercy. Overwhelmed with pain, his begging becomes incoherent. 

Eventually when he begs to die, the man in the black mask kindly obliges him.

[jamilelucato]

hi!! I just followed and saw your open request for hp fics!! congrats btw!! I was wondering if you could write for me either a Fred Weasley x reader or Sirius Black x reader with Enemies to Lovers? If y/n could be a hufflepuff that'd be awesome too lol ❤️❤️ also I'm here for the banter + unresolved sexual tension 👁️👄👁️ thank you!!

Gryffies and Puffies [F. W.]

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!reader

Summary: Fred and [y/N] were never close, in fact, they hated each other, but Angelina is determined to change that.

A/N: Hi! Thank you, really! I tried to follow your request as much as I could, sorry if the Hufflepuff portrait is not much Hufflepuff like, I’m not one and I don’t have many friends that are, but I tried to keep it as I knew. Hope you like it! (gif not mine)

Last chance to send a request! || Harry Potter Masterlist

Although, generally, [y/N] doesn’t bother doing her homework way earlier than needed, this time she knew she had to start soon if she wanted a good grade.

Professor Snape wasn’t very fond of the Hufflepuff’s students, so, as a proud member of her house, [y/N] felt like she had to prove the Professor wrong, and show the authoritarian how smart Hufflepuffs can be.

It was the third book she had got from the Library, and this one specifically was just about the subject — Ageing Potions — but [y/N] seemed more lost than before while reading it. Sh even asked, politely, to the Librarian if the book was in English because she couldn’t understand a full paragraph.

“Having trouble there?” asked Angelina Johnson before sitting down in the chair next to [y/N]’s.

[y/N] smiled at her long-time friend. Angelina’s mom was a great friend of [y/N]’s mom, and so, they grew up together, as a weird but cool duo. Angelina had a more explosive personality, when [y/N] was generally softer and prefered to talk instead of punching.

“A lot, actually,” [y/N] sighed. “Have you started yours yet?” the sixth-years Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors shared Snape’s classes, so [y/N] knew Angelina had the same assignment as her.

“Oh, haven’t even started,” answered Angelina, catching one of the books in front of them and flipping through it.

“Angie! Professor Snape already has something against you, don’t give him an extra to work with!” [y/N] retorted, genuinely worried for her friend.

Angelina chuckled. “By something against me, you mean because I sit with the twins?”

“Exactly!” the girls burst into soft laughter.

Angelina knew that [y/N] was out for the Weasley twins ever since third-year when they painted the whole Hufflepuff common room black for one week. Professor Flitwick had to step in to help get rid of the magical paint.

But that wasn’t just it. It seemed as if whenever [y/N] got into trouble, the twins, and more specifically, Fred Weasley, was around.

“So... Hogsmeade this weekend. You comin’?” asked Angelina when the laughter calmed down.

“Nope, got this to finish,” [y/N] sighed, pointing to the parchment blank. “Or gotta start it.”

Angelina protested, “come on, you never come!”

“With you, I don’t!” [y/N] frowned. “You always bring them!”

“They’re my best friends!”

“Ouch,” [y/N] pretended to be offended, but only gained a shove from Angie before her best friend started laughing again. Those two were always laughing.

“I promise they’ll behave,” Angie sparkled her dark brown eyes towards [y/N], and seeing a pit face, [y/N] knew she had lost.

“Fine,” the Hufflepuff agreed, closing the books in front of them, knowing very well that no preparation in the world would make her homework worthy of a good grade in Snape’s eyes. “But you owe me one.”

“Put it on the account,” smiled Angie.

***

“Here she comes, the Hufflepuff princess,” smirked an inpatient Fred Weasley, watching with a brow raised as [y/N] finally got out of the train.

Without staring the identical redheads, [y/N] apologized to Angelina, “sorry, got stuck with Bryan and Clary, they were tellin’ me about the...”

“No one cares, puffie,” Fred whispered, in a voice that sounded almost like a whistle.

“Shut it, Weasley,” [y/N] warned, with a tired look. If her visit to Hogsmeade was going to be like that, she did not know if she’d be able to honour the motto of kindness and forgiveness of her Hogwarts House.

“Oh, she acknowledges I’m here,” Fred smirked again, “finally.”

[y/N] rolled her eyes, wrapping her arm around Angelina’s, while she murmured apologies. The two girls took the lead, while the twins followed, and [y/N] could swear that every announced turn she and Angie decided to take, she could hear Fred sighing in complain — and she was loving that.

“First stop: Honeydukes!” [y/N] shouted, stating the way.

Angelina stopped when she noticed Fred had stopped too.

“No way — Zonko’s first,” he debated.

[y/N] turned around, facing the redhaired boy — really facing him, like she had not done yet. She sometimes forgot how cute he was.

Well, any boy taller than her, she considered cute really, because she loved how they leaned down to look at her — and Fred had a lot of leaning down to do.

“Honeydukes,” [y/N] said, hoping her voice sounded as scary as Professor Snape because he was the one she was trying to imitate.

“Look, you can eat later, puffie, but the good products will sell out if George and I don’t go to Zonko’s now,” he continued his pledge.

“You two go then — I’m going Honeydukes first,” [y/N] was trying her hardest to stand her point, but when Angelina and George puffed next to them, she lost a bit of her posture.

“You expect George and I will let you two girls walk around alone?”

“I don’t need a bodyguard!” [y/N] shouted, crossing her arms.

“If that’s supposed to be your scare-people-away face, then yes, you need bodyguards,” Fred argued.

“Let’s go to Zonko’s first, y/N. It’ll give less time for the chocolates to melt,” Angelina stepped in the argument, knowing that the two would continue to argue all day if they could. In fact, Angelina had already witnessed them arguing two whole hours about which team was better at Quidditch — and it seemed to be horrible to [y/N] offend Angelina as a player just to win the argument.

Puffing the whole way and not daring to face Fred, [y/N] followed them to Zonko’s. It was easier to avoid looking at him when the boys entered the store (already crowded) and got lost from the girls in the middle of the shelves, their eyes shining with new and classic products.

Taking advantage of the momentary peace, [y/N] wandered around the store, looking for something that could be used for good fun, like some board game. She didn’t realize that Fred was right behind her until he opened his mouth.

His voice a whisper so close to her ear, that it shivered all over her: “you should buy it if you can’t stop staring,” he smirked.

She turned around to face the boy way too close than she expected. Trying to step away, she bumped into the shelve, but fortunately, nothing fell.

“I don’t want a stupid...” [y/N] battled with herself if she should say or not the next word, “furry bear,” she ended up saying because she hated leaving phrases unfinished.

“Yeah, okay,” Fred pretended to believe, puffing his chest.

“I don’t,” [y/N] stated again.

“Sure, if you say so,” he continued his little game.

“Just because Hufflepuffs are kind, it does not mean we like all cute and fluffy and soft things, okay,” [y/N] tried to prove her point using of more complex sentences, but noticing his smile, she thought she only contradicted herself.

“Not all Hufflepuffs are the same,” Fred tried to help her.

“Exactly,” [y/N] crossed her arms.

“But you like the fluffy and plushy,” Fred raised an eyebrow, but he did not look into her eyes.

“Yes,” [y/] agreed, before even realizing what she was saying yes to. She only had time to listen to Fred burst into laughter, she could no longer take back what she said.

But for a second, it didn’t matter; his laugh was worth it. Until it wasn’t.

“So you like plushy, huh,” he repeated non-stop.

“Oh, for Helga’s sake,” [y/N] she puffed, desperately trying to get away from the ginger boy.

***

When the boys had finally bought all they wanted from Zonko’s, [y/N] and Angelina were already outside waiting. There weren’t many things that the girls founded interesting there. Angelina favours Quidditch stuff and, [y/N], as pointed out by Fred himself, prefers fluffy things.

“That took a while,” you pretended to whisper when actually you spoke loud enough for the twins to hear.

“Oh, did we make you wait, puffie?” Fred teased, but [y/N] just rolled her eyes, not ready to fall into his traps again.

“Well, for fairness, it’s you girls’ time to pick a place,” George said, and [y/N] involuntarily smiled at the more delicate Weasley twin.

“Honeydukes!!” [y/N] shouted before Angelina could say anything, but it didn’t matter. The three Gryffindors immediately started giggling at the girl’s excitement to visit the candy store.

Angelina and George got themselves involved in a talk about the new best broom in the market, leaving Fred and [y/N] behind. They both played Quidditch too, but George and Angie made no effort to include them in the conversation.

“See,” [y/N] decided to tease Fred since they were closest, “if we had gone to Honeydukes first, you wouldn’t need to carry those many bags around.”

Fred almost forgot how to walk. He was generally the one that started the teasing — [y/N] wasn’t much of the provocative kind unless she was provoked. However, Fred liked it.

“You would be the one carrying the bags then, genius,” Fred pointed out, turning his face sightless to the right to get a glimpse of her reaction.

“How many sweets do you think I’m buying?” she asked, analyzing the three plastic bags in his left hand and the two others in his right one. She compared it to the three chocolate bars and a couple of chocolate frogs she had in mind, and she was sure it would be just one bag.

Fred shrugged, letting out a soft chuckled. [y/N] might have had a point, but he was not going to admit it.

When they finally arrived at the candy shop, Fred lost sight of [y/N] because she fastly ran inside. Angelina entered the shop too, but George and Fred had so many bags they were afraid to walk in, so they decided to take turns inside.

Fred went in first, excited to see how [y/N] would be in her environment, but he didn’t like what he saw. As soon as he walked in, he saw her in a corner on the left-back, surrounded by some boys. At that distance, Fred would not guess they were Hufflepuffs.

His first instinct was to suppose she was in danger, but then she laughed. Really laughed, in the sweetest way possible, in a way she had never laughed to his jokes.

He knew she was alright, but he wasn’t. He rushed out of the store, surprising George.

“Back so soon?” George asked.

Fred was not in the mood to tell his twin that might have caught feelings for a certain uneasy girl, so he lied.

“Yeah, had no money left. I mean, if I still want a butterbeer,” Fred said, shrugging and taking his brother’s place as the guard of their Zonko’s products.

George said no more, glad to have the chance to buy something sweet for himself. In the middle of the night, after running around with Fred, George loved having a chocolate frog to recharge his energies.

“Next stop,” said Angelina, once the three got out of the candy store, “Three Broomsticks.”

Everybody agreed with ununderstanding whispers. [y/N], as she planned, got out of Honeydukes with only one plastic bag, that she teasingly raised towards Fred, who rolled his eyes, with a troubled expression.  

His reaction wasn’t the one [y/N] was anticipating. She wanted him to make a quick remark, mess with her bad eating habits, anything like that. But ignore a clear chance to mess with her — she did not expect that.

She rushed to Angie’s side, happy to get a chance to gossip with her best girl about what the boys she had met in the shop had just told her.

“So, Luke told me that Cormac McLaggen is chasing after your friend Alicia, is that true?” [y/N] asked.

Angelina turned her face to her best friend, confused with such a question. Not that the two never gossip before, but [y/N]’s tone was generally less invasive and judge than this.

“Why? Are you interested?” Angie asked, raising a brow.

[y/N] almost choked.

“Interested? Me?” she puffed. “Please.”

Behind the girls, one of the twins was paying very close attention to the conversation.

“He’s not really your type, is he?”

“I’m not interested in him,” [y/N] debated. “I could be, but I ain’t.”

Angie turned her face to the front again before pulling the door of the Three Broomsticks. The four got in, and George was looking around for an empty table when [y/N] asked: “what are you guys taking?”

“Butterbeer,” the three Gryffindors answered together, causing the girl to smile at their synchronization.

“I’ll get it; you go sit down,” she was actually being nice because, of all of them, she was the one with fewer bags.

Being friends with Madam Rosmerta had its privileges, such as [y/N] was first attended as soon as she reached the counter.

“Hey, Madam Rosmerta! How’s it goin’?” [y/N] asked, working extra hard her charm. The whole counter was staring at her, half angry, half not believing, that she was being served before them.

When the woman finally gave [y/N] her drinks, she headed to the table her friends had picked, noticing with an exhalation that the only chair left was in the middle of Fred and George.

“That was fast,” pointed out George, getting his butterbeer with a smile and tossing you a sickle.

“No need, it’s on me,” [y/N] said, giving George his coin back. “Actually on Rosmerta, but that’s supposably to be a secret.”

Angelina smiled, reaching for her cup and savouring the butterbeer as if it was more tasteful because it had been free.

Fred looked at you without exactly turning but grabbed his drink anyway.

“Thanks,” he whispered, this time Fred’s tone had no sign of banter.

[y/N] was scared they would remain in that dreadful silence, bt Angelina took her chance to tell everyone about her father’s newest accomplishment and how it would affect them — he had a bought a summer house near the beach. She was sure he would allow her to bring them for a weekend.

“Wow, Angie, count me in! Would love beach day!” [y/N] beamed.

Angelina chuckled. “I’ll see if we can go next holiday.”

The whole table cheered in excitement, and George was so happy that he decided to buy them the next round of butterbeer.

When the day in Hogsmeade was over, [y/N] and Fred got back to their usual bickering. George knew that would happen, but Angie was, in fact, hoping for them to finally develop a real friendship, better than the day to day teasing.

Days and months went by. [y/N] ended up getting the better side of Professor Snape, after all — he said her essay was the best one from that class.

Angelina kept trying to connect Fred and [y/N], but it was like she was running from him. Fred seemed neutral about it all, and that was a first.

“So my father got back to me...�� Angelina started telling the twins as soon as the Quidditch practice was over.

“And?” George was genuinely enthusiastic.

“And we can go for the Easter holiday!” cheered Angelina. “Unless your mom doesn’t allow you to come...”

“Molly will be pleased to have two less in the house,” admitted George.

“Is [y/N] coming?” Fred asked, raising his voice so he could be heard since he was in the back of the tent.

Angelina exchanged looks with George before answering, scared that he wouldn’t like her answer. “Yes, she is, and I hope you behave.”

“Are you saying that to her?” Fred retorted.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t the one who messes with her,” Angelina tilted her head towards Fred, who just shrugged, puffing as if he was innocent. “Well, gonna invite Alicia and Katie. See you later.”

***

Part of [y/N] wondered why she had said yes. Sure, Angelina Johnson was her best friend of all times, but still, as her father drove you two to the beach house, all she could think of was that it would be a house filled with Gryffindors and she would be the only outsider.

She wasn’t friends with the others. She could become friends with Alicia and Katia, she guessed, and George was somewhat of a colleague, but Fred? Oh, Helga, she signed in for a nightmare.

Since the Hogsmeade trip a couple of months ago, things without explanation kept on happening with [y/n] more often than before. Clothes coloured in bright pink, her cat turning in with two tails instead of just one, and she even received letters with nothing written on — those were the most confusing of the pranks. Again, she was almost sure it was Fred’s fault, but since the pranks were harmless, she never confronted him about them.

Angelina and [y/N] had time to settle themselves down in a room just for the two — Katie and Alicia were getting another one, and Fred and George the one far most at the end of the corridor.

When the six kids were all together, things started getting, well, exciting. There was no way Fred and George were going to let that trip be a bore.

Without parents around, you six stayed on the beach until 4 a.m, watching the sun rising far away. Alicia had brought some firewhisky, but since it was only two bottles, the group decided to save for later.

When [y/N] woke up on the second day, she found herself lying in a mattress-shaped floater, tossed in the middle of the pool.

“WEASLEYS!!” she shouted, waking the whole house up.

With no wand around, [y/N] had no option but to jump in the pool and swim to get out of there. When she managed to cross half of the backyard, Fred and George appeared at the door, and you took a glimpse inside the house, where the girls ate breakfast like nothing was happening to [y/N].

“Morning-swim, huh?” Fred crossed his arms, smirking slightly.

“You’ll pay for that, Fred,” she replied, shaking, the coldness of the water that soaked her combined with the wind of the beach was not doing her good.

“Cute pyjamas, puffie” he continued teasing as she passed him by — his eyes following her back as she went upstairs. The nickname was not something she was quite fond of, especially because she knew he used it just because of her house.

George nudged his twin. “Don’t ask why she doesn’t like you,” George said, leaving his brother at the door and sitting down next to Alicia.

“What? You helped,” pointed down Fred, sitting too.

“Yeah, but she likes me,” George raised a brow, his confident expression did not even shake at the dark look his twin cast.

*** When the night came, [y/N] was sure she had gotten a tan, but after she got in the shower and took a good look in front of the mirror, it was like the tan was gone. She wasn’t hurt, though, so it wasn’t all bad.

Getting downstairs, she noticed that the group hadn’t been able to keep themselves away from the firewhisky any longer, because the only two bottles were displayed in the middle of the table set outside in the backyard.

[y/N]’s white dress was practically sparkling in the dim light of outside, and for a minute, Fred was out of breath, staring at her in a way he had never before.

Well, actually... Never before since they arrived. But Fred was not gonna mention the other thousand times she left him breathless by her looks.

“Where’s Angie?” [y/N] asked before sitting down, noticing that her bestie was the only one left.

“Still showering. Angie says she can feel the sand everywhere yet,” explained Katie.

“And who’s to blame...” [y/N] wondered aloud, trying to provoke the twins who had been fighting everyone in the sand earlier.

Even though Fred teased her the whole afternoon — how she would never win him in the fight, how she was laze, how he was fast — she didn’t give in, preferring to get sunbathed. It didn’t work though, but at least she didn’t have sand in all weird places now.

Angie finally got outside, wearing a beautiful set of shorts and a floral blouse.

“Let’s start the game, come on, I really need it,” she said, and the whole table agreed.

They played an updated version of beer pong, the muggle game, and [y/N] was losing badly to everyone else. That meant that she was the one drinking more, and, for Helga, she was not used to it, but with time, the effects seemed to disappear.

When the game was over, [y/N] had been sitting for minutes at the edge of the pool, wetting only her feet. There was a cup of firewhisky in her hands, but even if not drunk, she knew she shouldn’t keep drinking it.

Someone found a way to play muggle music, and Angelina, Alicia, Katie and George were having the time of their lives in the improvised dance floor.

Fred was walking, as silently as he could, towards [y/N]. He wasn’t very fond of the music playing, and he wasn’t as drunk as the others. Generally, he would have pretended to be, like George was doing, just for the fun of it, but watching [y/N] all alone, he knew he had to something about her.

“Hey,” she smiled softly, noticing the boy sitting down next to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, but she never answered. She put the cup down though — Fred thought that was a good sign. “I’m sorry about the pool earlier.”

[y/N] stared back at him, this time trying to analyze every aspect of his face. Like how he had moe freckles on his left cheek then the right. How his nose was big but yet perfectly pleasant to look at. How he was leaning towards her even though he wasn’t noticing. But she did. And she leaned in too.

“You know, if you wanted my attention, there were other ways to get it,” she said, surprising herself with the bravery to speak up.

Fred froze.

“You could have apologized to my cat, that would’ve been nice, for starters,” she said, this time surprising him, who laughed it off.

“He didn’t like the extra tail?”

“He actually did,” she joined him in the laughter, remembering her pet playing with a smile in her dorm room because he now had two tails. “Hey, how did you found out that he was my cat and not any other?”

Fred smiled in the dim light.

“He was the fluffiest,” was his answer. [y/N] elbowed him, pretending to be angry, but she knew that, unfortunately, her cat was the furriest cat Hogwarts had ever seen.

After a moment of silence, [y/N] decided she better get back to her room — and she hoped this time she would wake up there too. Getting up without warning, she ended up scaring Fred.

“Where are you going?” he asked, getting up too.

“Back to bed,” she said. “Better get a good night sleep before tomorrow — it is our last day after all.”

Fred wrinkled his nose. He knew she was right, but he also knew that it was his last chance to do something with her, at least, under the spark of the moon.

But she seemed so far away...

“Well, at least let me accompany you,” Fred offered [y/N] his arm, which she took with a smile.

They walked in silence — the rest of the group didn’t even notice they were gone.

[y/N] was about to get to her room when Fred stopped her.

“Wait,” he was confused whether it was the best time or not, but it was his only time so... “wait here, I’m gonna grab something for you.”

He walked to the end of the corridor, rushing to his room. Fred was rummaging through his suitcase, looking for what he wanted to give her.

[y/N] waited patiently — and quite anxiously — for whatever Fred was going to give her.

“Here, ” he said, giving her something he had hidden in his back. [y/N] grabbed from his hands, surprised with the texture of what she got. “I don’t know if Angelina ever mentioned me and my brother want to open a joke shop, and well, this product... You kinda inspired me to do it.”

She studied the hairy, yellow ball in her hands. Thankfully, she held it gently, because when she turned the thing over, she noticed that two little blue eyes were staring at her, startled.

“Oh my Helga, Freddie, is this alive?” she asked, but the answer didn’t really matter because she was already petting the small furry ball.

“It’s she, actually,” he smiled, noticing how happy she was with the gift. “Has no name, though.”

“What is she?” she asked while playing with the pet, noticing she was warming up to [y/N]’s touch.

“George and I named it Pygmy Puff — a miniature Puffskein,” Fred explained, petting the furry ball too. “They are generally pink or purple, so yours was made with a lot of care.”

[y/N] looked up from the yellow Pygmy Puff to Fred and tilted her head, uncontrollably smiling.

“Guess the Pygmy Puff has something to do with me too,” [y/N] teased.

“The whole thing has something to do with you,” Fred let out, blushing immediately, but [y/N] didn’t notice. Fred fake-coughed. “So, what will you name her?”

[y/N] thought about it for a while. “I guess it would only make sense if she was named Gryffie. After all, her creator is a Gryffindor,” [y/N] blushed but avoided looking at Fred, focusing solemnly in the Pygmy Puff.

“It makes sense,” Fred looked from the pet to the girl and bit his inner cheek. “Two houses come together for an invention.”

“That’s the Hogwarts spirit,” [y/N] laughed it off. “Thank you, Fred,” she said before leaning on tiptoes to place a kiss on Fred’s cheek.

The Pygmy Puff enjoyed the time with no attention and walked from [y/N]’s hand to her shoulder, and Fred stared at the fluffy thing while [y/N] kissed him.

And somehow it felt like the pet was trying to say something.

[y/N] stepped away and said good-night, entering her room with a sad look. She didn’t want the night to end. So, after placing Gryffie on the bed, she turned to the door, ready to open it again. But Fred was faster.

They stared for a full second before both rushed towards each other, locking their lips in a soft but potent kiss.

Fred’s hands found her waist and pulled her closer, as closer as Fred could — close as he always wished she was. [y/N], of course, ran her fingers through his hair, something she had been wanting to do for a while now, and she was glad to find such fluffy and soft hair.

They were breathless, but neither wanted to pull away. Fred leaned to her neck, finding her sensitive spot right away, and there was nothing better than hearing her moan so close to his ear.

Behind them, the Pygmy Puff made some sound weird, but they just laughed it off and pulled each other closer again, as if they could be closer than they were.

The Pygmy Puff cried again, and this time non-stop, so [y/N] had to pull away. She was the mother of that pet for only a couple of minutes, but she was very protective over it already.

“What is it?” she murmured towards the fluffy ball at the same time Fred cleared his throat, making [y/N] turn to Fred again, who was looking at the stairs.

“Hi, little love birds,” giggled a very drunk Angelina.

Fred and [y/N] were instantly red, from head to toes, but Angelina and the rest of the group didn’t even care, they just couldn’t giggling and bumping into each other.

“Hey, George, I think I’ll better sleep in your room,” Angelina spoke again. “I believe you’ll have an empty bed.”

“Good idea,” George said, locking arms with Angelina to protect her from falling — she could do it at any moment now. “Good-night, love birds. Or should I say love puffs?”

The four teenagers were laughing out loud, they could wake someone up if only someone were sleeping. George and Angie closed their door as soon as they walked in and winking at [y/N] and Fred, Alicia closed the door of hers and Katie’s room.

“Well, I guess I just lost my bed, puffie” Fred sighed, pretending to be upset, leaning on the door frame.

His eyes sparkled in the dim light of her room. [y/N] smirked, pulling him by his collar, suddenly very aware of her Femme Fatale powers.

“Good thing I have an extra one here,” she said, kissing him again, and again, and again...

[minnochu]

Interference (pt. 24)

Officer!Jimin x Reader

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt 10 | pt 11 | pt 12 |pt 13 | pt 14 | pt 15 | pt 16 | pt 17 | pt 18 | pt 19 | pt 20 | pt 21 | pt 22 | pt 23 | pt 24 | pt 25 

(A/N): Um hi. Turns out summer makes me lazier lol. 

Warnings?: Violence, and a sprinkle of gore if you squint.

..

On the day that Jungkook came home battered and bruised…

“Father, if I may…” The dark haired male bowed his head in respect, keeping his eyes trained on the ground as his ears picked up the soft snickers of the group members that line each wall of the room.

“Out with it then,” his adoptive father bellows, impatient with his son’s hesitation. His brow twitches with annoyance, dark eyes glowering down at the meek male in front of him as he leans back against the sofa in his lounge.

“She.. that girl is not a threat to us,” he finally musters up the courage, raising his head to stare into the steely eyes of his father and boss, “She has lost her memory, she would pose no threat in ousting our crimes when she remembers none of them. There is no use in getting rid of her.”

His mouth shuts immediately, opening and closing like a fish as his father’s stare burned holes into his own. Perspiration beads at his forehead and makes his hands all clammy with anxiety. 

The silence is unnerving. His gaze almost falters as the members on the sides look to the boss for his answer. There’s a chuckle that reverberates against the walls, a throaty laughter that is almost mocking as his father tilts his head in indignation.

“That makes her all the more dangerous you know? Don’t tell me you’re such a failure, you can’t bring yourself to kill her again?”

He opens his mouth to continue when he realizes the emotions that swirl within his son’s eyes, “You… you love her?”

The four letter word is emphasized, almost spat out with the same disgust that is reflected in his glare.

“It wasn’t my intention…” he whispered quietly.

Anger flashed over his father’s expression, the elder standing abruptly as his hands curled into shaky fists. His leg cranked back before launching forward to deliver and kick to the younger’s bowed head. A mangled cry leaves the son as he falls backward, a hand reaching immediately to cup his cheek. Unfinished, he seized the youth by his dark hair, ripping him upwards to face him.

“Bull fucking shit. I gave you one job and you still can’t carry it out!” He seethes, yanking the male by his hair to display him to his underlings, “This will be a lesson to the rest of you to never defy my word.”

Shoving him to the floor, the elder stomps his foot against his temple, an action that causes a gasp of pain to push passed his lips, “You disappoint me, either dispose of her yourself, or I’ll kill both you and her myself.”

It was left at that, but not before the boss had motioned for his underlings a signal to teach the quivering youth a lesson. It was too many to take on at once, but he fought back with fervor and anger at his father. Too many fists met his face. Elbows, kness, kicks. It was torture. He tried, he really did. Dodging as much as he could as he hook punched one in the jaw and grabbed another’s head and smashed their face into his knee.

He coughed up blood, cursing as he caught a punch aimed at his face, twisting the arm of the offender and shoving him back, but not before one of the others smashed their elbow into his face. The sudden attack caught him off guard, his feet stumbling backwards as the arm extended and pressed harshly against his collarbone and slamming him down onto his back with a loud thud. He coughed and wheezed, air leaving his lungs as the others took advantage of his downed body. Shadows circled around him from above, yelling and berating him for his soft-heartedness as they kick at his face and body.

Fuck.

He left that damned place battered and brokenhearted. His heart hurt at his fate. It was no lie that he never intended to fall in love. How could he not with such a beautiful woman, both inside and out that made him feel normal. Like he was no killer, no merciless murderer who followed the orders of his father like it was law. A law that determined whether he lived or not.

In all his life, he wished this was the one assignment he could refuse.

His feet dragged him towards the nearest bar, ordering a screwdriver and whatever the hell he could get his hands on to drink his feelings away. At least until he got home and felt his love for that woman make his heart skip beats and his breath to catch in his throat.

“I’m giving you no more than 24 hours to finish the job. Do it before I take matters into my own hands you impudent little shit stain.”

Those final words from his father causes a sob to bubbles up from his throat, uncontrollable and full of anguish as he hails the bartender for a shot.

“I’m so sorry…”

.

“Google said aloe vera and vitamin C is helpful with reducing bruising…” you whisper as your fingers graze over the shelf lined with different aloe vera gel products. As you pick out one, you headed towards the food section, wondering if maybe you should make a fruit salad or something. Bromelain from pineapples was also helpful... according to Google.

Groaning, you ruffle your hair as you purse your lips at the thought of Jungkook so beat up from the night before. Looks like nothing’s changed from the time you saw in your memories ‘till now. It only made you worry for his well being if he was getting so beat up like so. Who was he friends with? Why didn’t they extract him from the situation? Why hadn’t they defended him instead of letting him look like the whole high school football team just ganged up on him?

For now, you paid for your items, including groceries good for the next few weeks until you had to next make another visit to the supermarket. Unlike Jimin, Jungkook always praised you for the meals, smiling sweetly as his eyes curved into crescents. He ate your food so heartily, always making hums of approval.

You couldn’t help it. It was harder and harder each day to stop yourself from making comparisons between the two men. In the end, even though you’ve started to grow comfortable being around Jungkook, you missed the boys and that call from last night did not help when you heard the rasp of Jimin’s voice, heavily laced with sleep, call out your name instead of one of his insulting but still somehow endearing nicknames for you. You couldn’t stop yourself from responding a soft goodnight to his before promptly turning over to mute a sob against your pillow.

You couldn’t sleep to the point of finding yourself entering the hallway. Anxiety held your breath when you knocked on the door further down the hall. It was no later than ten seconds when footsteps hurriedly bounded towards the door and Jungkook squinted down at you in the darkness. His hair was tousled all over, body clad in a plain tee that hung loosely off his frame and grey joggers. Hand messing with his hair in a failed attempt to tame his bedhead, he blinked once, twice, and a third time before his brown eyes focused on your meek form in front of him.

In the dark, you can make out the ridges of the bandages that are patched over his handsome face, and the beginnings of the wrap that peeks from underneath his tee. 

“(Y/n)?” his voice rasped in confusion, slipping his phone out of his pocket to glance at the time, “You okay?”

“I… I can’t sleep…” you admit, cheeks flushing as you stare down at your feet. You suddenly felt like a child asking their parent to accompany them to sleep. Was this how Jimin felt, seeking out your company at night?

Jungkook didn’t waste a second to invite into the darkness of his room, save for the moonlight forcing its way through the cracks of blinds and illuminating parts of his bed tucked away in the corner of the room. A dresser was situated beside his bed, adjacent to that had been a desk, and then a closet covered by sliding doors. He led you towards his bed, smiling softly as he pressed himself towards the wall to give you as much space as possible. You shook your head at his actions, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt and shyly asking if he’d come a little closer.

In your heart, you wanted to keep any spooning to be strictly something Jimin would do for you. But at this point, you realized you needed to let go of whatever thoughts or feelings you had for Jimin. This was your life. You chose to leave them.

He merely nodded, turning over to face you and scoot slightly closer, making sure you were comfortable with the proximity before resorting to brushing his fingers through the hair to lull you asleep. It was sweet, you had to confess.

Maybe, just maybe… you’ll fall for Jungkook once again. You’ll forget Jimin and you’ll have your previous life again, just like how you wanted from the very beginning. Right?

Then why did it hurt so much? You thought as you placed the bowl of fruit salad in the fridge and went to tend to the finished laundry. With not a job yet, you deemed you could at least do the laundry for Jungkook as thanks for letting you stay with him without paying for rent.

After you folded the clothes, you decided to put away Jungkook’s clothes, bringing the basket of his garments and setting it on his bed as you began putting them away. You went about your way until you had to put away his blanket on the top shelf, the movement causing a box to teeter and eventually fall.

“Crap!” You exclaim, jumping out of the way to keep your toes safe from the fallen box.

The cover falls over and its contents spill out from within. Cursing under your breath, you hurry to shove the contents back in when you notice exactly what they were.

In your hand is a picture. You recognize the photograph when yourself is noticeable in the center, holding a younger boy that you recognize as your younger brother. To your left and right are your parents along with an elderly woman that you immediately deem is your grandmother to the side of your mother. Everyone is smiling, grinning, but you wonder why their faces displays x marks drawn hastily over their faces. If that wasn’t already chilling enough, your face is the only one circled.

Your gasp sticks to your throat, your heart beating faster as you shove the picture back into the box and feel your arm brush against the cool surface of the jar that hadn’t shattered completely under the force of the fall when the shirt that was wrapped around it had protected it. You inhale sharply at the dark brown that is blotched and sprayed across the shirt. Bile fills your mouth as you unveil the jar further to find it filled to the brim with four pairs of eye balls suspended in liquid that you assume is preserving them.

Before you go running towards the bathroom to clear your stomach, you notice the gun that had also been in the box. As vomit surges from your throat, it comes rushing back to you. Tears spring to your eyes as you heave and claw at your head in shock and fear.

“Mom? Dad?”

That night, a year or two ago… you didn’t know. You returned home from your part time with a bag of their favorite pastries, hoping to surprise them. You found them in the living room. The television was on and they sat still on the couch that faced away from the entrance. The innocent you had merely smiled and went to surprise them, but you stopped when only the bloody sockets of where their eyes were supposed to be had met you. At that time, your grandma had been out of town. When she came back, you both carried out a funeral before she too had been murdered. And your little brother? He was missing for days before they found his body by the highway with his eyes missing as well.

It was everything you feared. Being left alone but you found your solace in meeting Jeon Jungkook. He became everything to you. Without him, you would’ve withered away with no family

As you continue to heave into the toilet bowl but nothing comes out anymore, that night comes rushing back to you. You were working late that night. When you got off, you began your walk back home to where you stayed with Jungkook. It was painfully obvious that you had a pursuer. Cornered in an alleyway, your pursuer… your supposed killer…

You sob into the toilet bowl as it flushes and you nearly crawl back to Jungkook’s room to put away his things before he comes back home.

You remember now.

The hood fell off his head during the hassle of him seizing you by the wrists and dragging you towards further seclusion. You had fought but he obviously had far more strength than you did.

He.

He was Jeon Jungkook.

A sob tore from your lips as you gripped the photograph.

“(Y/n).”

Your heart fell to your stomach in that very instant. How could you not have heard the door open and close? Why was your very nightmare playing out now? The tears fell from your eyes as you glared down at the picture.

“(Y/n),” his voice called again, this time more heartbroken and remorseful. Why did he sound like so?

“It was you this whole time,” you whispered sadly, almost wanting to believe that it were not so. Your best friend, and once lover if your memories assumed so.

He remained silent, neither denying nor agreeing, but it was enough to tell you that you were correct. His heart tore to pieces at the sight of you. At first, it was a sight he had no care for. He’d let you weep and cry all you want, beg for your life before he’d get bored and put you out of your misery. But now he felt more in misery than you did. His chest tightened and begged him to not go through with it.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, voice barely audible as you finally glance up at him through bleary eyes.

“It’s either you dispose of her yourself, or I kill both you and her myself.”

There was no other way, he thought. He couldn’t let his father do it.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apology!” you spit back, glaring at him as you take the jar of eyes and throw it at him. He doesn’t dodge. Nor does he flinch when the container bounces off his hip and shatters on the floor. The glass flys outwards from the impact, the preservative liquid splashing and the eyeballs bounce and roll away with a sickening squelch.

“Those were their eyes?” you ask as you refuse to let your eyes off of the man in front of you.

His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows deftly and nods.

“I’m sorry,” he says once more, “I love you.”

You can’t react in time before his fingers wrap around your wrist to yank you to your feet. The hold is harsh and painful on your wrist, a contrast to the gentle strokes on your hair from the night before. Yelping, you wince and bite your lip as you step on the shards of glass and disgusting liquid on the ground.

“Let me go!” You demand, clawing at his hand on your, tugging and trying to pull away from him. Tears stream down your cheeks as you dig your heels further into the broken glass on the floor in hopes of keeping you from being dragged along with him. A glint from his other hand catches your eye, you focus on it before you realize what it is in his other hand.

All oxygen in your lungs leave and you sob harder as you recognize the gun gripped in his hand. He was going to kill you.

Was this a joke?

If Jimin saw you now… he would laugh.

You had willingly let yourself into the home of your attempted murderer.

In a last attempt to fend for yourself, you reach back to the gun on the floor, the one that had been kept in that god forsaken box. It points shakily at him, your hand uneasy as you place your index on the trigger.

“You wouldn’t do it if you tried, (Y/n),” he smiled wryly, not moving an inch as you point it at him, “You can’t. You would never kill someone, not me, not your best friend.”

“Please don’t do this Jungkook.”

His smile is melancholic and sad as he takes hold of the barrel instead of your wrist and presses it against his forehead, “Do it. You won’t.”

Blinking through the blur of tears, you feel his hand slide over the gun and his thumb brush over your finger to apply pressure to the trigger. You shut your eyes tight as you prepare yourself for the recoil, the loud explosion of the bullet leaving the barrel. 

But only a click is heard.

“Safety’s on,” He whispers chillingly as he easily knocks the weapon from your hands and repositions his grip on your wrist. 

“Don’t make this harder than it already is (Y/n)!” He sighs, shaking his head as you start bashing against his arm and shoulder with your fists.

Huffing, he bites his lip as he shakes his head and slams the side of your head with the butt of the handgun. Your resistance falters, everything going blurry as you nearly cripple at the knees.

The last of your coherent vision catches the barrel of the gun, a silencer attached to it, pointed straight at you.

.

:’) Hope you liked it. Lemme know what you think !! Also so sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes ahh.

[phancystuff]

Trying to Remember How it Feels (To Have a Heartbeat) 7/7

Pairing: Dan/ Phil (Phan) Summary: Dan moves into a new apartment in London and, though it’s a step up from his old apartment, his landlord gives him strange warnings while he’s touring the place– something about the last renters leaving because of ghost sightings. But, Dan doesn’t believe in the supernatural. He quickly changes his tune when he meets Phil Lester, the ghost haunting his apartment. Well, if haunting means quickly becoming the best friend he’s ever had. (Title from Harry Styles’ song Two Ghosts) Notes: Wow. It’s the end. I hope the ending does the story justice! I also did a lot of research into Samhain and I hope that if any Wiccans read this fic, that they feel respected. Please note that, although this fic has the warning of major character death, it is not in any way graphic. Tags/ Warnings: ghost au, Halloween, major character death (obv. it’s a ghost au lol), depictions of panic attacks, angst, fluff, HAPPY ENDING, mentions of suicide (it happens in a movie they watch)

Read it on AO3 Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Before the possession accident, Dan and Phil thought that they couldn’t get any closer, but they were wrong. Because now, everywhere Dan went, Phil followed. He had to follow. Before, the pull Phil felt toward Dan had been completely metaphorical, but now it was physically magnetic and he couldn’t resist it. They could only conclude that, somehow, Phil had broken his tether to the flat and had reattached it to Dan. It was the “how” that they really didn’t understand, not really believing “sheer force of will.” They also didn’t really know what the new tether meant. Surely it had some deeper significance; it wasn’t just a meaningless prison for Phil. Dan would never be Phil’s prison.

Dan had seemingly made it his life’s work to read up on why Phil was now spiritually and physically connected to him. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot of information out there. The only answer that was consistent throughout the dodgy websites that Dan browsed, was that a ghost might be unable to leave somewhere or someone that they had unfinished business with. But, Phil hadn’t known Dan in his life. How could there be unfinished business between the two of them?

It was frustrating to try to find answers and also have to sift through bullshit . There were thousands of people always trying to feed him misinformation or sell him potions, tarot cards, and charms. As always, Dan was finding more information about interesting, but unimportant supernatural things.

Sooner or later, Dan figured that he would take what he could get. Phil had refused to possess Dan again and, figuring that Phil wouldn’t change his mind, Dan had made it his mission to at least find something else that they could experiment with. Dan knew it would take a lot of convincing to get Phil to test some other ghost power, but that didn’t stop Dan from trying.

Along the way, though, Dan found something that piqued his interest and he poured over page upon page of information about it. For once, there was some history backing it up. A whole religion, in fact, that was still being practiced to that very day.

“Phil, have you ever heard of Samhain?” Dan finally asked the ghost sometime during the end of the week. It was the end of October. Halloween was coming-- it was only a couple of days away. The few trees outside their flat had been stripped of their leaves by a powerful, unrelenting wind. Dan was freezing and, for once, it had nothing to do with Phil’s touch and everything to do with the fact that winter was coming. Dan was in his sofa crease and wrapped in a sweater and thick, faux fur blanket, reading intently at his macbook. The steam from a hot cup of tea was curling up from the coffee table in front of him. Phil played the strangely cute horror game, Little Nightmares on the Xbox, yelping in surprise and terror every time he got jumpscared. Mirthful giggles replaced the screams and Dan couldn’t help but smile along. The scene was almost idyllic, especially after weeks of sadness, fear, and slow recovery.

Phil sighed and paused the game, turning his head to look at Dan. The peace of the evening was shattered by Dan’s question. “No. If this is another one of your ghost experiments… I’m not doing this again. I almost lost you the last time.” Phil nervously spun the wireless Xbox controller in their air. Dan ignored both Phil’s serious expression and the piece of technology hovering in front of him.

“Yeah, I know, but this is different; hear me out. Samhain is a Pagan Celtic holiday,” Dan began. Phil groaned and dropped the controller. It clattered on the rug-covered hardwood floor and Phil flopped back next to it.

“I’m not going to--”

“I get that, Phil! I get it, ok? You’re scared. I’m not. Now shut up and listen. I’m on a legitimate website: the BBC for chrissakes.” Phil clamped his mouth shut and stared at Dan upside down from the floor.

“Fine. I’ll listen. But I don’t have to do anything that I don’t want to do.”

“Yeah, and water is wet.” Dan flicked his blanket out of his face. “So Samhain is a holiday that marks the Feast of the Dead. It’s on October 31st.”

“So, it’s Halloween’s origin,” Phil said, exasperated. “What does this have to do with us?”

“Well, if you’d just listen, then you’d know,” Dan huffed out a breath and scrolled to a part in the article that he wanted to read aloud. Phil clamped his mouth shut. “They believed that “it was the time of year when the veils between this world and the Otherworld were believed to be at their thinnest: when the spirits of the dead could most readily mingle with the living once again.’” Dan looked up from the screen, his eyes shining with an excitement that Phil didn’t really understand.

“I don’t get it. I’m already “mingling” with you, Dan.” That was the understatement of the century. Dan and Phil didn’t need “Samhain” to be with each other nearly 24/7. It had gotten more intense ever since they had discovered that Phil was literally tethered to Dan. The ghost couldn’t be very far away from the living man; a few hundred feet was about as long as Phil’s invisible “lead” could stretch. Dan had made a lot of jokes about leashes and puppy play. Phil had been anything but amused.

“Well, that’s just it, Phil. So, the Celts thought that there was this boundary between spirits and humans that became thinner and allowed the two to interact. We don’t have that kind of boundary, but there is another between us.”

Phil furrowed his brows, focusing deeply on what Dan was saying. “Well, it used to be that I couldn’t leave the flat.”

Dan shook his head, “no, that was one of your boundaries, but not the boundary between us.” Phil quirked his brow thoughtfully. Were there really any boundaries between them anymore? They talked about anything and did everything together. Phil had been in Dan’s body. They could touch. Well… could they really? Phil glanced down at his gloved hands. Their touch wasn’t really genuine or mutual. It was so one-sided that Phil had mostly put a stop to the casual cuddles they used to share. Clarity came to Phil suddenly.

“It’s touch, isn’t it? I mean, I can touch you. But I can’t really do it without hurting you.”

“That’s the only boundary that I can really think of. But, on Samhain, the Celts believed that the boundary between the living and the dead dissolved.” Dan inclined his head eagerly.

Could it really be that easy? That on Halloween, some sort of boundary could be broken between the two and they could touch? Or that a boundary would just dissolve? Would Phil want to do that? He thought back to how very wrong possession had gone. He would never be able to rid himself of the terrifying image of Dan laying on the dead grass, his limbs splayed around him unnaturally and his face a deathly grey. Could something like that happen again to Dan? “I dunno, Dan.”

“Here’s the thing. This doesn’t require you to do any ghostly things to my body. I’ve looked into Samhain a little and it’s very much like Halloween. We’ll light a fire in the fireplace, because they had bonfires. We’ll eat a bunch of food, because they celebrated the day with a feast. We don’t have to do any animal sacrifices or rituals. I might just find a little prayer to say.” Dan gripped the edge of his blanket so hard that his knuckles went white.

Phil sat up uneasily and tossed the Xbox controller back and forth in his hands. “This still feels wrong, though. Like, are bastardizing someone’s religion for our own gain?”

“How is it anymore wrong that someone only going to church on Christmas and Easter? Or giving each other presents and pretending to be the easter bunny on sacred Christian days?” Dan raised his right eyebrow at Phil, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Is it any different?”

Phil considered his answer carefully. Was it really any different? Why did he feel so uneasy about disrespecting this Pagan religion, when the bastardization of the Christian religion was so normalized, commercialized, and even encouraged? Maybe it was because this holiday felt more real… felt more serious. And, was that a good thing? Did that mean that this would work? “I… I guess it’s not any different. But, if we are gonna do this, let’s just try to be as respectful as possible. Maybe we can find someone who celebrates the holiday. Get their help. Use the internet.”

A small smile grew on Dan’s face and his eyes widened. “Wait, does this mean you’ll try it with me?”

Phil breathed deeply and studied Dan’s eager face. Was he going to do this? The thing was, it didn’t seem harmful to Dan. Phil wasn’t going to enter Dan’s body, possess him, and use him like a skin suit. Phil couldn’t even believe there had been a time when he thought that was a smart idea. But no, there would be no Dan-possessing. They were going to have some dinner and try to touch each other. If Dan felt the usual spark of cold pain, they would stop and their life would continue as normal.

And if it worked? Hope grew in Phil’s chest and he squashed it quickly down. He wasn’t going to let himself get on that train of thought. If it worked, then it worked. But, it probably wouldn’t. “I don’t… see why not. It doesn’t seem dangerous.” Dan sprung from the couch, shoving the laptop off his knees and onto the sofa cushion. He landed painfully on his shins with a loud crack. He ignored the pain shooting up through his bones and gathered the ghost in his arms.

“Thank you, thank you! I have a good feeling about this. Something warm and right is just growing in my belly.” Dan clutched Phil’s shoulders, driving his face deeper into Phil’s icy chest.

“But,” Phil carefully pried Dan off of him, strong hands on Dan’s shoulders. He held Dan’s happy gaze. “You are going to tell me everything. If you feel even a little bit off, you have to tell me. I don’t care what it is. Your vision flickers? Tell me. You lose feeling in your fingers? Tell me. Your ass cramps up? Tell me, damn it.” Dan’s face fell with a mixture of embarrassment and guilt, and Phil felt bad immediately. “What happened wasn’t your fault; it was mine. But if we can prevent something bad from happening again--” Phil’s voice broke.

“--Phil,” Dan interrupted, “we’ve already discussed this. It was completely my fault. You’re not the bad guy here.”

Phil didn’t disagree with Dan out loud, but Dan could see it all in his face. Dan didn’t know if there would be a day that Phil didn’t blame and hate himself for what had happened to Dan. But, maybe they didn’t have to dwell on what was in the past. Maybe they had so much more to look forward to in the near future. Dan pulled a reluctant Phil close to him, “I promise to tell you if anything feels off. But we have to do this; we have to. I can feel that it’s the right thing to do.”

***

Dan considered asking his followers if any of them were Wiccans or Pagans and if he could pick their brains about Samhain, but ultimately decided against it. He didn’t know how it would look for him to suddenly be asking about a Pagan holiday; he couldn’t exactly claim that he was making a video about it, or that he was suddenly becoming religious. Plus, he didn’t want to take advantage of anyone for his own gain. Those were the sorts of things he had to worry about as a YouTuber.

Instead, Dan found a Wiccan using the normal-people way. He googled it. Since it was an actual religion, and not just ghost-hunting bullshit on the internet, he found someone legitimate pretty quickly. Late into the night on that same day that Phil had agreed to try a Samhain celebration, Dan was scrolling around on a Wiccan forum, when a particular post caught his attention: “A Beginner's Guide to Celebrating Samhain” by amod3rnwitch. The article was simple and insisted that anybody could celebrate Samhain. It outlined some of the traditional modern ways to put together a Feast of the Dead. At the end of the article, the author invited anyone to come to them with questions, judgement free. Dan quickly made an account through the forum and messaged the user.

“Hi, amod3rdwitch, my name’s Dan. I am interested in celebrating Samhain this year, mostly because I want to have contact with a friend of mine who passed away. Do you have any recommendations? I don’t want to be insensitive to the religion. Dan clicked send and leaned back in bed. Phil was at his elbow, reading on his iPad.”

“I feel silly.” Dan said, switching tabs to yet another article about Samhain. “Five months ago or whatever, I would have described myself as completely agnostic. I didn’t believe in the supernatural. Only cold, hard science. Now, here I am asking someone who describes themselves as a “modern witch” how I can accurately celebrate a Pagan holiday.” Dan skimmed over the article, despite the fact that he had already read it.

Phil lowered the iPad into his slightly translucent lap. “Hmm, I understand. I was a little bit more superstitious when I was alive. I did a little dabbling in tarot cards and other forms of divination. My grandmum was a psychic, did you know?”

“I didn’t know. Did she pass her powers down to you?” Dan said teasingly, poking his finger into Phil’s belly. “Y’know, there were some times that I thought she might have. Wait, let’s test it. Think of a word and I’ll tell you what word you’re thinking of.” Phil widened his eyes and trained their piercing blue irises on Dan. Phil lifted his hands and paddled his fingers in the air, “I’m building the psychic connection,” he explained.

“Of course.” Dan smiled fondly. “Ok, I have a word.”

“Mmmm…” Phil closed his eyes. “Meme!” He called out confidently. “Nope!”

“Toast?” Phil responded, a lot less confident this time.

“Toast? No, you spoon. I’m thinking of my favorite word.” Dan leaned his head back into his pillow and smiled softly at Phil.

“Ummm…” Phil pretended to think. “Is it Phil?”

Dan traced his finger in little swirl patterns of Phil’s thigh. They left little trails of warmth in their wake. “Mmmhm.”

“No fair, that’s not a word, it’s a name!” Phil pouted.

“Names are words.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

They could have gone on for hours, probably. But Dan looked down at his laptop and noticed a little notification in the corner of the forum’s tab. Had amod3rnwitch already responded? Dan clicked on the tab, finding that she had, in fact, responded to his inquiry. True to her assurance in the forum post, she was very nonjudgmental and kind.

“Hi, Dan. I, for one, love to include anyone interested in the religion, no matter what purpose it serves. In fact, plenty of people have watched some of my rituals for purely academic reasons. I’ve outlined a couple little things you can do to celebrate Samhain. If you could find a High Priest or Priestess to lead a ritual for you, it would probably be better. Either way, I wish you luck to you and your friend from beyond.

Blessed be, Beth”

Below the message, Beth had typed out how to build a simple altar to the dead. Among other things, she also recommended that Dan wait as close to midnight to begin the festivities. Dan read through the suggestions and showed Phil, positioning the laptop between them. Phil read silently to himself, his face betraying every emotion that he felt, as always. Uncertain, appreciative, then slightly disgusted.

“Dan, you are not making an altar to me.”

***

But, Halloween-- Samhain-- came and Dan was planning on doing just that. That day felt like any other day. Dan woke up early afternoon and pretended that it was morning by taking a shower, checking his social media like it was the morning newspaper, and tweeting his obligatory Happy Halloween tweet. At first, both of the the boys ignored the elephant in the room and didn’t really talk about their evening plans, despite the fact that odd little Samhain materials were strewn throughout the flat. They served as a reminder for what could possibly happen that night. When making breakfast, Dan pushed a gourd and pumpkin out of the way so that he could place his bowl on the counter and pour in a generous helping of Shreddies. When he put the milk back in the fridge, he had to tuck it behind a couple of loose pomegranates. As Dan placed his cereal bowl on the table to eat, he pushed a black tablecloth to the middle of the table. Instead of talking about what the materials were for, Dan and Phil chatted about the new season of Stranger Things.

The boys had gone shopping for their odd items the day before. Dan and Beth had messaged back and forth. He wondered if he sounded weird or suspicious when he asked her what he should cook for the celebration and if he should say some blessings. She had answered like none of it bothered her… which it probably didn’t, since this was her religion.

Dan spooned the last mouthful of cereal past his lips. Over his mouthful, he asked, “are we gonna talk about this?”

“Talk about what?” Phil replied innocently. His head was rested in his cupped hand as he watched Dan eat. Of course Phil knew exactly what Dan was talking about; he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Obsessing over it. Worrying. In 12 hours, Phil was either going to be able totouch Dan, or it would have been a complete waste of time and energy. And there was always the possibility of something going wrong. Phil didn’t know exactly what could go wrong, but he was still mindful of the possibility.

Dan swallowed and dropped the spoon into the bowl with a loud clatter. “You know exactly what, smartass.”

Phil shrugged in response. “There’s not much to talk about. Either it works or you just look like an idiot, making an altar to your ghost lover. Like, talk about creepy, Dan.”

“What can I say? I’m Phil trash number one.”

Phil snorted and they got up and washed dishes together. Dan scrubbed, enjoying the feel of the hot water on his freezing hands-- he really had to get the flat’s heat checked out. Phil dried, unable to stop himself from bumping his hip into Dan’s companionably. The rest of the day passed uneventfully and slowly, as if they were two little kids waiting for Christmas day to come. They tried to pass the time by watching cooking shows and showing each other funny videos on the internet. It didn’t matter how much they distracted themselves, the sun took its sweet time slinking below the horizon, as if it didn’t want to say goodbye to the sky.

As midnight slowly crawled closer, Dan found himself thinking back on his last few months. He didn’t even remember what his life had been like before Phil. Had it really even been a life? Sure, he worked and made money. He spent his money and watched TV and played video games. He visited friends, wishing he was home the whole time. He celebrated holidays with his family, mostly because he was obligated to. But had he really enjoyed any of it?

Phil had made him slow down and appreciate the whole life thing. Each day was a renewed opportunity to breathe and taste and feel and think and learn. It could be taken from him at any moment, so there was no point in being anything other than happy. And being with Phil made Dan happy. It was heartbreaking and painful and terrifying at times. But, Phil was also the most wonderful, beautiful, kind person that Dan had ever met.

Dan had no idea how the rest of his life was supposed to go; he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a dead person. People didn’t do that, unless they were lying to some tabloid. People were supposed to find a living, breathing partner and pop out a couple of kids. They were supposed to raise the kids, make more money, retire, and then die, Dan guessed. Phil seemed to think that it was unfair of him to stop Dan from living this kind of life, but Dan couldn’t disagree more. He felt that Phil had saved him from this fate. A meaningless fate that simply controlled Dan. By loving Phil, Dan was finally controlling his own destiny. It was cheesy, but true.

This didn’t mean that Dan didn’t wish he could tell people about Phil. People had noticed that he had become distant and were worried about him, but also noticed how much happier he was. Dan wished that he could take Phil by the hand and parade him around, showing him off for the whole world to see.

And then, of course, Dan was continuously heartbroken that Phil had lost out on his chance for life. It had been so unfairly ripped from him. What would happen to Phil when Dan eventually died? Would he be forced to live out the rest of his afterlife alone?

Dan was plagued by thoughts of the future. But for now, for tonight, he had a plan. Dan and Phil had something to do, a new experiment to try. If Dan could touch Phil one night a year, it would sustain him for a lifetime with Phil. After that, Dan could only hope that they could share an afterlife.

10:00 PM rolled around after a fifth rerun of The Great British Bakeoff and Dan figured it was time to work on their dinner. Beth had suggested some “traditional” meals that were still, thankfully, modern. Dan appreciated that Beth was down to earth enough not to suggest something ridiculous like “first you must sacrifice and ghost and slaughter it on the altar you have built for the ghost you are trying to summon.” Instead, she recommended a baked chicken, with stuffing and autumn vegetables. It was a lot more grandiose than anything Dan made on the regular-- he stuck with stir fry and pasta-- but it wasn’t past his skill level, especially if he had Phil’s help. Phil had proven to be quite adept at cooking and Dan had been more than willing to let him make Dan meals.

“Is it bad luck for you to make your own meal?” Dan asked, genuinely curious, as he watched Phil carefully place the stuffed chicken and vegetables into the oven.

“I dunno,” Phil said, turning around and throwing the oven mitts at Dan’s face. “We are kinda making this up as we go, if you haven’t noticed.”

Dan huffed and caught the oven mitt on its way down to the ground. “We are not! We have followed every one of Beth’s suggestions.”

“Except for, you know, the whole fact that her ritual is for inviting spirits to dine with you and speak wisdom. I can already dine with you, although the food won’t taste like much to me. And here’s some wisdom: you’re a nerd.”

Dan spluttered and swatted at Phil’s bum with the oven mitt. “You’re the nerd, nerd. Now help me build your altar.”

Phil rolled his eyes and mumbled something about “crazy fanboy stalker,” but helped Dan anway. They lit a fire in the small gas fireplace in the lounge (“Why a fire? Beth didn’t say anything about a fire.” “Look, it just seems right… aesthetically.”) Dan spread the black tablecloth over their dining room table. (“The black is fitting for you, Dan. It should be blue and green checked if it’s for me.” “Shut up, it’s symbolic.”) They scattered black candles, tiny pumpkins and gourds, and pomegranates across the table, strategically and aesthetically rearranging them. Dan and Phil lit the three large candles and then stepped back to admire the table. Even Phil had to admit, it looked good. If anything, it was a perfectly spooky Halloween aesthetic.

“Oh! I almost forgot. It’s missing one more thing.” Dan bounded to his bedroom and dug out a small item from his bedside drawer. He returned with it clutched to his chest. “Don’t laugh at me, ok? This is just a thing that Beth suggested might help.” Dan placed the object in the middle of the table, revealing it to be an unassumingly small picture frame. Inside the frame was a photo of Phil. Phil leaned over, looking closely at the picture. It had been printed out on regular printer paper, meaning the color was less than vibrant. He picked it up and studied it. It was recent: a little candid shot that Dan had snapped on his phone before the possession accident. Phil’s hair was cut into its 2017 style and his eyes crinkled with smile lines. It was weird to look at a picture of himself; it was the first one in at least seven years. Phil didn’t really make it a habit to look at himself in the mirror, after he had grown tired of trying on clothes and changing his hair. He found that he didn’t like the constant visual reminder of his ghost state. It was hard to tell he was a ghost in this picture, though.

“I… wasn’t sure if I should have gotten a picture of you from before you d-died.” Dan stuttered over the word. “But, it just didn’t seem right. I don’t want that Phil, I want you. Does that make any sense?”

Phil placed the frame back where Dan had carefully set it down. Next to the candles and black tablecloth, the altar was looking uncomfortably like a memorial. Phil hadn’t seen his own funeral. There was some sick piece of him that almost wished that he could have watched his loved ones mourn for him. A much bigger piece of him was glad that he didn’t have to watch it. “It’s a good picture,” Phil said simply. The jokey atmosphere that had filled the flat beforehand was replaced with something more sombre and reverent.

Dan shut off all the lights in the flat and powered down the technology, placing his phone, laptop, and Phil’s iPad in their bedroom closet. Beth had emphasized the need for the celebration to be quiet and free of distractions. And it felt very right for the altar to be enveloped in silence.

The chicken was ready to come out of the oven and it was twenty minutes to midnight. Dan stared at the table and decided that it was time for them to eat. Dan gestured to the head of the table, silently asking for Phil to sit. They didn’t say a single word to each other, mutually deciding that speaking would be inappropriate. Dan carved the chicken and served Phil first, spooning a generous helping of meat, vegetables, and stuffing onto Phil’s plate. He felt a little silly, knowing that Phil couldn’t really taste anything. Eating for him was like playing pretend, and he often told Dan about how weird Phil felt about the fact that none of the food ever came back out of him. Despite the feeling, Dan continued with the ritual. He served himself similar portions and then sat down.

Dan and Phil watched each other for a moment. Dan could tell that Phil was feeling similarly. Despite Phil being a supernatural being, neither of them really believed in the ritual. It just seemed too mythical, too far-fetched. Dan nodded to Phil and they began to eat.

At first, it seemed like any other meal eaten in the dark by candlelight. But, a noticeable lightness settled over them. The only sound that could be heard in the flat was the quiet tinkling of cutlery on plates. The candles flickered, casting the table in a strange, dancing light. Shadows grew and shrunk in the flames. With each bite, the shadows seemed to grow more and more unnatural. They weren’t frightening, just unfamiliar. Dan stared at them, almost hypnotized by their strange shapes. He gradually forgot about any of his previous disbelief.

Phil felt strangely calm. A peace settled over him, along with a quiet realization that tonight would change their lives. The epiphany came over him softly, like waves licking over his body. He wanted to tell Dan, but knew that he couldn’t break the spell of Samhain.

They ate their last bite of food at the same time. Any other time, they might have joked back and forth about their creepy synchronization. But tonight, neither of them thought it weird. Just right. The wind whistled outside their flat. Dan glanced at the clock on their kitchen wall and saw that it was a minute to midnight.

He had memorized one of the blessings that Beth had provided him with. She had sent along a whole archive of them and Dan had read through every single one, finding the prayer that felt the most appropriate. Now, he spoke those words, looking at Phil the whole time. Fire was reflected in Phil eyes, the blue and orange mingling together. The elements colliding in Phil’s irises. Dan watched, rapt.

“To those whose feet are stilled, and those who laugh with us no more. To you we say, our love was with you here and goes with you now… to that place where you rest and take delight.”

When the first candle’s flame flickered out on the other side of the table, neither Dan or Phil noticed, they were so entranced in each other. Dan’s eyes were an intoxicating brown and orange, reminding Phil of autumn soil. Both were rich and full of life.

“May your feet walk along the coffin paths to that place where all is fresh and green, where lovers, friends, and ancestors wait with open arms to greet you. Go in peace, and with our blessings.”

Both, however, noticed when the candle in the middle of the table went out with a soft hiss. Black wax dripped down the side and solidified in a wobbly line. Joyful darkness encroached in on the flat.

“Or remain awhile this eve, with us the living, and life and hearth, and love. Be rested amongst your own, this eve this one night, this Samhain.”

Dan paused and held Phil’s gaze, hoping that the weight of his words were sinking into Phil’s mind and into his ghostly flesh and into the thin, liminal air between them. There was magic, there, he realized. Of course there was. There always had been. Now, it brushed tenderly against his skin and ruffled his hair. It flowed between him and Phil; tendrils of magic curling around their tether.

“With countless turns of the wheel we miss you, be near us this eve, we pray ever for you… And we will meet again, once more when the wheel turns for us. Pray be there to greet us, in that place we will walk the coffin paths together and bide awhile with kin and hearth until that time be near us. Our kinsmen, our guardians, our ancestors, our beloved dead.”

The last candle between them lost its flame and comforting darkness engulfed the flat. The clock continued to tick and Dan knew, without looking, that the face would read midnight. Dan’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light and picked out Phil’s form from among the shadows. Dan reached his hand out slowly, like the wax crawling down the candlestick in front of them. Phil followed suit, eyes trained on Dan’s fingers. His head was surprisingly, blessedly quiet. He knew. He’d always known.

The moment that Dan and Phil truly touched for the first time was warm.

“Dan.” Phil whispered, unwilling to break his silence, but realizing he had to. He had to touch, to speak, to confess. He didn’t know how long this was going to last. He couldn’t waste it. But already, the feeling of a single fingertip against his was overwhelming.

“Phil.” Dan returned calmly. He curled his fingers around Phil’s and tugged, pulling them both out of their chairs. “You feel…” Dan closed his eyes briefly and that was enough to communicate the sensations dancing across his palm.

“You too.” Phil responded almost shyly, shivering despite himself. This wasn’t like possessing Dan. Phil still couldn’t smell anything, couldn’t feel the draft on his bare feet, couldn’t taste the chicken that he had just eaten. But none of that mattered because, this was a thousand times better than using Dan like that. Phil could feel soft skin in his hand. He squeezed and could detect the give of muscle, the strong pushback of bone.

Dan led Phil to their bedroom. They stood for a moment, contemplating each other. Tension pulled taught and then snapped and Phil finally pulled Dan into his arms. He reveled in the warm, living press of Dan against his body. Dan felt tears prick the corner of his eyes because, finally, touching Phil didn’t hurt. It felt like it should-- hot, pleasant, solid, soft, perfect. Perfect, perfect.

They tilted their heads and inched their lips toward each other. Dan’s hot breath puffed out and over Phil’s face. The gap between them grew smaller and smaller until:

All at once, there was no gap at all. Phil and Dan both had imagined this kiss a thousand times, thinking that it would never happen. Dan sighed into the kiss and Phil purred. It was so human, and that was all either of them ever wanted. They didn’t want fireworks and wind machines, dramatic rainstorms and fainting. It was a hot press of muscle and skin against similar muscle and skin. Sweet, quiet, perfect. Perfect, perfect.

Phil opened his mouth ever so slightly, inviting Dan in deeper. With deepness, came passion. They began to move and suckle. Hands traveled up shirts and across skin, painting each other with eagerness and love. Phil explored with a curious tongue and he was greeted by sweet, blissful wetness.

Sooner or later, they found themselves on the bed. There was nothing in between them. Not the supernatural boundary between death and life. Not the physical boundary of clothing. They pressed up against each other; trying to marry each of their every last atom of skin. They moved together, grinding and sweating.

“Phil, I love you.” Dan said, breathlessly. Phil was between his legs, seemingly everywhere all at once. He kissed, sucked, grinded, caressed, stroked. Dan tried to keep up, but found that he was more than contented to allow Phil’s frantic exploration and clutch at the ghost’s back in response. Dan wrapped his legs around Phil’s back and stroked the skin with shaky hands, intrigued by the goosebumps that he left in his wake. Phil shuttered at the smallest, most innocent touches and Dan felt intoxicated by the power. “God, I love you Dan Howell.” Phil responded, slipping a wet finger inside.

They moved together, adding, slipping, thrusting. Their most intimate body parts strained toward each other, begging for attention. Phil’s got attention before Dan’s as it slipped into Dan’s body. Twinges of pain were quickly replaced with reverberations of pleasure.

Phil cupped Dan’s face in his hand and stared at him lovingly. Phil loved Dan with every fiber of his supernatural being. His DNA sung Dan’s praises and vibrated with electric pulses. He was overwhelmed by sensation; this was more than he had ever felt, even when he had been alive. He had never made love when he was alive. Phil kissed Dan deeply, their tongues twisting together and caressing each other. He reached down between them and grabbed Dan, rubbing, massaging.

They chased a mutual climax. Their bodies strained toward each other and they kissed wildly. Dan’s hands touched everywhere he could reach. Phil’s thumbs rubbed softly into the skin of Dan’s face. Tears began to leak out of Dan’s eyes. They slipped down his cheeks and coated Phil’s fingertips. “Don’t cry, love.” Phil said, feeling his peak sneaking up on him.

“I love you. I will always love you. Whatever timeline, whatever lifetime.” Dan responded, his voice reverent and wise beyond his sight.

“Oh, Dan.” Phil thrust one final time and they both came together in a crescendo of emotion and physical pleasure. There were no ostentatious metaphors, no past memories, no historical or fictional references to compare it to. It was simply an act of life and humanity, and that was all Dan or Phil ever wanted.

They rolled over on their backs and Phil gathered Dan in his arms. They lay together, silent. Together, they just felt. They felt pleasure, waves of it sending aftershocks through their bodies. They felt happiness, pure and overwhelming. They felt sadness, because it would never be the same again. Phil clutched at Dan for dear life and began to cry. Dan made soothing noises and rubbed Phil’s back. “I can’t go back to a life without this, Dan. I can’t” Phil snuffled into Dan’s hair.

Dan was pressed into the sweaty skin of Phil’s neck, wondering how much time they had left. He knew exactly what Phil was talking about. How were they supposed to just… carry on like nothing had happened? It wasn’t possible. Dan knew that he would remember this night every day until it could happen again. That wasn’t a way to live. “I know, Phil.”

Phil opened his eyes and pulled Dan away from him slightly, just enough to look into his red-rimmed eyes. He leaned down and kissed Dan. His lips trembled against Dan’s. Dan could taste salty tears; he had no idea if they were their own or Phil’s. “Dan, do you see that?”

Phil was staring up at the ceiling, suddenly, looking awed. Dan followed his gaze, only seeing the rough texture of the wall. “See what?”

Phil glanced down at Dan, mouth agape. “You’re telling me you don’t see a whole lot of darkness right above us?” Dan looked up again, only seeing the normal shadows of the night on the ceiling.

“No?” Dan’s brows furrowed and he stoked his fingers down Phil’s neck. “What’s it look like, exactly?”

“Um, black. Just a… hole. It should be scary, but it actually looks, welcoming?” Phil responded, sounding confused.

Dan closed his eyes, understanding immediately. Of course. Phil’s unfinished business with him. “Phil, I think you should go toward it.” Phil twitched like a shock had gone through him.

“You don’t think....” Phil reach his fingers up toward the black portal, feeling the comforting energy that it gave off. It drew him to it.

“I do think.” Dan communicated silently to Phil and they both understood exactly what was staring down at them.

Phil turned his head away from the thing’s siren call. He cradled Dan’s head in his hand. “I can’t leave you, Dan. I can’t do this without you.”

Dan leaned into Phil’s touch, wondering if the first time he could feel Phil’s warmth would also be the last. What would the rest of his life be like? Could he ever get over Phil? Would he even try? Despite the worries eating at him, Dan knew that he couldn’t keep Phil from his great beyond. No one deserved to be imprisoned in a world that wasn’t made for them. Seven years had been long enough, and it was time for Phil to move on. Dan felt at peace. Dan whispered to Phil with finality, trailing his hand up Phil’s neck, into his hair: “And we will meet again, once more when the wheel turns for us. Pray be there to greet us, in that place we will walk the coffin paths together and bide awhile with kin and hearth until that time be near us.” Dan didn’t know if they would meet again in death, or if he was promising Phil something else entirely. Either way, the words seemed to calm Phil ever so slightly. “You have to do this, Phil.”

The clutched at each other desperately, their mouths meeting in a kiss. Only an hour after their first, they were already sharing a kiss goodbye. “I don’t know if I can do this,” Phil cried into Dan’s shoulder after they separated. “What if I never see you again?”

“You will.” Dan said confidently. He believed it; it wasn’t a bullshit platitude. Dan pushed himself up into a sitting position. “This is fitting. We met in this room.” A quiet tear pushed its way out of Dan’s duct, despite the fact that he was trying to keep his voice even as possible.

“Dan, don’t--” Phil choked and his voice broken. Tears were spilling out of his eyes hurriedly.

“The very first thing you said to me was an apology.” Dan smiled, letting himself remember the day that changed his entire life.

“And rightfully so; I gave you a panic attack.”

Dan snorted. “I get a panic attack if someone looks at me funny.”

“You do not.”

“Do too.”

Dan and Phil looked at each other and laughed through their tears. They laughed long and hard, holding each other’s hands. Because, this was the way they did things. They made self-deprecating jokes and lewd comments and made fun of each other relentlessly. They had never wanted it any other way.

“It’s time, Phil.” Dan squeezed the ghost’s hand reassuringly and Phil looked up to the ceiling, feeling unsure and scared and sad and lost. But Dan urged him up out of bed and let go of his hand and gestured up at the ceiling.

And Dan had always been stubborn, but Phil also knew that he was right. It was time. He allowed himself to float up toward the ceiling and was enveloped by a comforting, soul-emptying blackness. There was nothing for while.

***

And then: the initial notes of Muse’s New Born filled his ears and he flopped back on his bed. Things were ok, he supposed. He was home, which wasn’t his favorite place to be so late in his life. His parents were sweet, but suffocating. And they didn’t understand what he was going through.

He found solace in the depths of the internet and the friends that he had made on YouTube. They seemed to understand him. Not exactly what he was dealing with, because he didn’t explain that to his audience-- of course he didn’t. But they seemed to at least relate to his ridiculous mind and he appreciated that.

He turned on his side, propping himself up with his hand, and opened his laptop. It had been awhile since he checked twitter. He typed in the familiar url and looked at his feed. He favorited and responded to a few tweets, thinking entirely too long for witty and zany things to say. He saved his replies for last, because they were his favorite part. He had a few, not a lot. But one in particular stuck out him:

‘danisnotonfire: @amazingphil luvd ur last video ^_^ i love muse too we have so much in common!’

Phil clicked the tweet and typed out a silly, slightly flirty response, smiling to himself. Something was interesting about this danisnotonfire; he didn’t know what exactly, but he was going to find out.