#the way jacob stutters once he looks at sam which could mean nothing...

[hyohaehyuk]

lestatdelioncat: whatever is going on here

Video: Screen Rant Plus - Interview With The Vampire: San Diego Comic-Con 2022

losing your train of thought getting lost in your costars eyes mid interview and i’m supposed to sit back and be normal about this??

[forpeopleidontknow]

falling into you - h.o.

chapter two - married in vegas

mob!haz au

warnings: swearing (i think that’s it)

word count: 2k

author note: i’m trying to think of a good posting schedule but I feel like posting once a week is too little and posting twice a week is too much so i’m in a bit of a pickle but I’ll figure it out!

chapter one ✕ masterlist ✕ chapter three

You wake up, closing your eyes shortly after opening them to avoid the blinding light. After giving yourself some time, you could finally open your eyes. Looking over at your desk clock you read the time

1:28 PM

Fuck. You reach over to grab your phone while being greeted with new messages from Harry

Weird Guy From The Bar (harry)

3:34 AM: hey, I’m just making sure you got home safe. I can’t have my poker date dying lol

6:05 AM: good morning. A car will be there to pick you up at 6. Don’t make him wait

6:06 AM: I just realized I don’t have your address so send that to me

You

1:30 PM: hey, yeah sorry. I just woke up lol. I will send you my location.

1:31 PM: and did you say you would send a car for me?

Weird Guy From The Bar (harry)

1:32 PM: I did. Also, the dress code is black tie. Something like you wore last night will work.

Well, that’s great. You have nothing like that in my closet which means you have to borrow clothes from Y/F/N. You get up from your bed walking towards the door when you see the heels you wore last night, instantly reminding you of the guy who caught you. You quickly shake him out of your head and head to your roommate’s room. You knock on her door lightly knowing that after last night her head is probably pounding.

“Go awayyyyy” she groaned, making you laugh lightly

“I need a dress, black tie.” you say while opening the door and walking in

“Since when do you want to wear a dress like that?” she lifted her head to look at you

“Some guy asked me to be his date for poker night and I agreed now please get me a dress, I need to be ready by 6.” you plopped down on her bed laying in the space next to her.

“Okay fine.” she got up making her way to her closet. She digs in for a few seconds before pulling out a black dress, similar to the one you wore last night and some silver heels.

“Here, now get out!” she hands you the articles and then plops back down on her bed, covering her head with the covers.

~

It was 5:48. You had showered, styled your hair, and successfully did a smokey eye. You were walking downstairs to wait in front of your building. 6 on the dot a Mercedes-Benz pulls up and the door opens.

“Hey darling, you look stunning.” Harry greeted you

“I don’t know why I agreed to do this.” you stated while getting into the car. You looked at Harry, he was wearing the exact outfit as last night, just missing the sunglasses.

“Would you care to explain to me why someone is driving us?”

“Bossman insists, I just follow orders.” he shrugs

“You play poker with your boss and he sends you cars? Where do you work!?” you asked being flabbergasted about the information you just received.

“The less you know the better.” You thought he was joking but his face was serious. You let out a nervous chuckle in hopes to clear this newfound tension in the air, but it seemed to make it worse. After being in the car for what felt like hours but more like 20 minutes the car started to slow down. You brought your gaze to the window to be greeted by a gate.

“It’s Pruitt. Arriving with Harry Holland and company. Buzz me in.” The chauffeur spoke into the call box. The gates started opening as he was buzzed in. Driving for a little while until you were shocked at the sight was in front of you.

A mansion. You counted the 33 windows that laid on the front of the house as the car pulled into the round motor court, housing a few other cars similar to the one you were in. The driver got out of the car and went around to Harry’s side, opening the door. Harry stepped out.

“Thanks, Jaxx. I’ll take it from here.” He patted the man on the shoulders and held his hand out for you to grab. You took it and stepped out of the car. You put your arm around Harry’s and walked up the stair. At the front door, were two men. Security you were guessing. You walked into the front door, hearing your heels click on the limestone floor. Your eyes went straight to the double staircase the met that the top and a crystal chandelier hanging over your head. You were torn from your thought when a voice spoke.

“You weren’t lying when you said you had a date.” A man who looked comparable to Harry spoke to us. Harry unraveled his arm from yours to take a step closer to the man.

“Don’t be such a wanker” Harry opened his arms and engulfed the man in a hug. Stepping away Harry rejoined you, next to your side

“Tom, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my brother, Tom.” Harry introduces you to the man. You hold out your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Tom winked and then kissed your hand. You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks. “Well we are about to get started, the boys are in the game room.”

They led you down some stair and a hallway until you reached an archway. Your nose was greeted with the smell of cigar smoke. Walking in a bit more the sound of your heels was silenced by the rug under you. You put your hand on the pool table in front of you and turned your head towards the bar on the left side of the room.

“And the boy made it with his date” You snapped your head. Another man, he had is arm around Harry’s shoulders. You were guessing another brother. He moved towards you putting his hand out.

“Sam.”

“Y/N.” you shook his hand.

“Well I’m glad you could join us y/n” he smiled. You smiled politely back at him

“Where’s Harrison?” Harry asked looking around the room

“Behind you, you div.” A guy walked in thumping the back of Harry’s head. He then looked at you and then it hit you.

The Mystery Guy. The mystery guy is standing in front of you. What?!? Your internal panic was interrupted

“Uh y/n, you alright?” Tom asked you

“What? Oh yeah uh, just uh... a little parched. Could I get some water? You nervously stuttered out while quickly trying to look anywhere but in his eyes.

“Could we get the girl some water?” Harrison spoke out loud, not directing the question to anyone in general. “I believe we didn’t get the chance to meet last night, I’m Harrison and you are?”

“Y/n and yeah sorry about that. My friend was waiting in a cab and I just couldn’t... keep her… waiting so...” You couldn’t form a normal sentence to save your life making you even more nervous. A man hands you your water and you thank him. You took a fairly long sip to get rid of the uncomfortable dryness in your mouth.

“So y/n, are you playing?”

“I don’t know how to play.”

“I’ll have to teach you one day.” Harrison smiles then walks away dragging Harry with him. “So what's the deal between you two?’

“Huh?”

“Are you two serious?”

“Mate, if I tell you this you have to swear on your life you don’t tell anyone else?”

“Code one of the Omertà oath.” Harrison holds up his hand to show his ring.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Harry laughs and punches Harrison in the arm for his dramatics. ”We aren’t even dating, I met her last night at the nightclub opening. You have my blessing, now go make her an offer she can’t refuse.” Harry said in a godfather-Esque Italian accent.

“And you are calling me dramatic.” Harrison chuckles then walks back over to you “Now let get this pretty lady into a chair.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the table where two other men were sitting. He pulls out a chair for you, pushes it in and then sits next to you. After a few minutes you learned the names of the other men at the table, Tuwaine and Jacob. Harrison cheered again after he won another game.

“Boss man, you should put your house on the bet.” Tuwaine jokingly suggested.

Wait Harrison is the boss?

“You can get my house when you do what I do.” Harrison smiled at him checking his cards

“You live here?” You had forgotten where you were after being in this room for the whole night.

“Yep, all 126 room belong to me.” He smirked while putting some chips in the middle

“What could you possibly do that gives you enough money for a house like this?”

“I don’t think you want to know that sweetheart.” He winked at you and then directed his attention back to the game. After a few more minutes you wanted to stretch your legs. You pushed your chair out getting ready to get up

“Hey love, where are you going?” Harrison speaks putting in a few more chips in the middle.

“Just going to stretch my legs, I’ll be over there.” You pointed towards the bar. You got up and walked over to it. Leaning on the counter instead of sitting on the bar stool. You ordered a cherry coke. You were about to make your way to the couch in the back of the room when you got drenched with a cold liquid. A crash following soon after caught everyone’s attention. Harrison swiftly moved from his chair and across the room to you.

“What’s all this about?” His voice was aggressive, nothing like he had been tonight.

“I’m sorry sir, I tripped. I’ll get it cleaned up.” The bartender was practically shaking leaving you with the question of why. Why was he so scared?

“Like hell you will!” Harrison spoke just a bit too loudly making you flinch. That caught his attention. His eyes softened when he looked at you.

“Follow me.” His voice was gentle now. He held out his hand. You were hesitant to take and he noticed. He looked at your eyes for some sort of reassurance but all he saw was fear. He scared you and now you were frozen in place.

“Can someone call Amy and tell her to bring one of my shirts?” Harrison spoke again not to anyone in general but just out loud. A few minutes later an older woman walks in with a shirt.

“Thanks Amy, you are an angel.” He gives you a warm and kind smile. A complete 180 from the bartender. “Here love, let's get you out of these clothes.” He put his hand on the small of your back and guided you to the bathroom and handed you the shirt.

You took a second to breathe in your surroundings. It wasn’t big, only housing a toilet and a sink but somehow it was still stunning. You quickly stripped yourself of the alcoholic smelling dress and put your arms through the silk sleeves. While you were in the bathroom Harrison walked back into the game room.

“Alright, games over.” Harrison’s eyebrows knitted together in frustration. As much as the boys wanted to stay they know not to make him ask twice. They all filed out of the room.

“Do you want me to take her home?” Harry approached the blonde.

“No, I got it. Thanks though mate.” He patted his shoulder. You peaked your head out of the bathroom looking at the back of his head. You walked towards him.

“Where did everyone go?” You asked while approaching.

“Felt bad for taking all their money.” You laughed at his comment making him smile.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. I can get you a car if you want to go home.” He has sincerity in his eyes.

“Actually if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here a bit longer.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

I was looking up different types of house while writing this chapter so the layout made sense in my head and I stumbled across this GIANT HOUSE and when I say giant I mean it. So I based some parts of Harrison’s mansion on it. If you guys want to see it you can click here! 

[anthropwashere]

Revive: maybe one day I’ll be home again

AO3 || FFN

(So glad I got something posted during Phanniemay! Here’s 3.6k of Danny having a bad time, which is like slipping on a nice pair of well-worn slippers at this point. Fic title comes from Skip the Use’s “Nameless World.”)

=

It’s a robbery. Just a plain old robbery at the 7-11 on the corner of Jacob and Marley, no ghosts involved at all. Just some guy with shaky hands and a gun. It’s like the opening out of one those crime shows there’s fifteen ripoffs of on TV; idiot teen steps in front of loaded gun in idiot attempt at playing hero. The pounding in his ears could almost be mistaken for the opening theme music.

“Oh, shit,” the guy says.

Danny’s mouth stutters, but he can’t push any words out. He can’t seem to breathe around the dull heat punched through his chest. His sneaker’s wet. The glass Coke bottle he’d been holding must have broken.

“What did you…?” The cashier shakes his head, eyes so wide Danny can see white all around his dark irises. “You shot him.”

“I didn’t mean to,” the guy blurts out. Like saying that will magically make it all better.

“You shot him.”

He can’t breathe. He’d just stopped in here for a soda and a couple protein bars on his way home from patrol. The guy had burst in waving the gun when Danny had been mentally calculating if he had enough for a bag of gummy worms too, stammering out hoarse demands without even looking to see if anyone else was in the store. It’s after midnight on a Tuesday though; who would be?

“Shit,” the guy says again. He looks terrified. He looks like somebody who’d be desperate enough to rob a corner store; gaunt and unshaven, stains and holes in clothes a little too big for him. He doesn’t look like a murderer.

Danny swallows. He finds the strength to lift his arm, to touch fingertips to the wet hole in his chest. They come away red. Way too red. He’d just touched it for a second, but his fingers are slick to the crease of his palm. He sways. One of the men shouts as his knees hit the floor, protein bars scattering from his other hand. Cold soda soaks his jeans; warm blood soaks his shirt.

He’s been hurt before. He’s been hurt bad before. But never when he was human. Never by another human, never with a weapon that wasn’t at least a little bit jury-rigged with ghost-fighting tech. This. He doesn’t. He doesn’t know what to do.

The guy’s hands had been shaking, but Danny had walked right up to him, overconfident and stupid. He’s been fighting ghosts long enough that he forgot humans can be just as dangerous. Shaky hands. Fear? Drugs? Doesn’t matter. The gun couldn’t have been more than a few inches away when it had gone off.

He can’t breathe.

“You shot a kid,” the cashier’s yelling. “Are you crazy? I was gonna give you the money!”

“He—he got in the way! He was trying to stop me!”

“So you killed him? Shit, man, put the gun down, okay? You’ve done enough.”

They keep yelling at each other, both high and frightened. The gun’s still in the guy’s hand, not like he means to shoot the cashier but. Still. It could still be loaded. The guy’s freaked out. What if this plays out like bad TV? No witnesses, trash the security tapes. The gun’s probably stolen already. The cops’d just have two bodies on their hands. Danny’s school ID is in his wallet. He wonders what the cashier’s name is, who this guy with the gun is too.

He slumps against a rack of candy bars, feels it bow under his weight. “Nnn,” he slurs. He can’t breathe. The pounding in his ears is hiccuping, hard and off-kilter, like he’s about to pass out. That’s. That’s not good. His shirt’s soaked. He’s shaking. All bad signs.

“Put the fucking phone down,” the guy with the gun yells, brandishing it at the cashier. Danny can’t see what the cashier’s doing from where he’s spilling across the floor. This is bad. If he doesn’t. He’s gotta do something. The guy’s gonna kill—

“St—” He chokes. Blood in his throat, filling his mouth. He drops his chin and lets it leak out, too weak to spit. “Stop.”

Incredibly, the guy stops. Stares down at him like he’d forgotten Danny was even there. Danny’s chest hitches pointlessly. Is it his imagination or can he feel the bullet, an alien lump of metal caught at a weird angle between his muscles, his organs? Don’t. Don’t think about it. Can’t breathe. Who cares. He doesn’t bother breathing half the time he’s Phantom anyway. What’s it matter now that he’s human?

“Luh. Leave ‘im ‘lone.” Ugh. Not his most eloquent. So sue him. “Drop it.”

“Kid,” the cashier says from somewhere out of sight. “Kid, hey, don’t talk. Just stay still. I’m gonna call an ambulance—”

“Like hell you are,” the guy yelps, not looking away from Danny.

“He’s gonna die if I don’t. I don’t care about the money, man, just let me help this kid before—”

“Stop.”

They stop.

Danny stops too. He forces himself slack, makes himself limp. Don’t struggle. Stop. Stop. He’s been hurt before. He’s been hurt bad before. This isn’t. This is bad, but he isn’t dying. He isn’t. He won’t die here. His lungs empty. His head lolls. The pounding in his ears beats once, twice, then stammers to a standstill.

“Oh god,” both men whisper feebly.

Oh. Hey. Hey. Now that his body’s not having a conniption, he feels—okay, good is maybe stretching it, but he feels better than he did a minute ago. He’s pretty sure he can stand up. It takes him a couple tries; he’s still feeling cold and weak, there’s not much leverage off the rickety shelves, and he’s a sticky mess of blood and soda. He manages it okay though, one elbow resting heavy on the counter, a slippery grin on his face, his knees shaking but keeping his weight.

Both men are screaming at this point, and the guys pointed the gun at him again. He huffs. It feels weird. He decides not to think about why it might feel weird. “Seriously?” It comes out phlegmy, or maybe it’s better to say bloody. Ugh. He swallows, grimacing. “I, nngh. I think you did enough already. Don’t you?”

“Wh-what the hell are you?!”

That’s a dumb question. This is Amity Park. He doesn’t bother dignifying that with a response. Instead he narrows his eyes, bares his teeth in a feral grin as neon green stains the flickering white lights overhead. “I think you should go,” he rasps. “Before I change my mind. Leave the gun.”

The guy drops the gun and bolts. The automated chime on the door sounds so absurd after everything that’s happened Danny wants to curl up and giggle. Maybe later. He swallows—guh—and looks over at the cashier. The poor man’s pressed up against the wall of cigarettes, gray-faced with eyes wide as saucers, his mouth a perfect O.

Nothing he says is going to make the man any less afraid. He doesn’t have a clue what he’d say anyway. He doesn’t have a clue what’s happened. He looks down at the spill of blood—his blood—across the tile, the candy bars, the counter. The broken glass, the spilled soda. What a mess.

Wait. Blood. Bad crime shows always do DNA tests, right? He doesn’t know anything about how that stuff works, but he does know he’s spilled… well. More than enough to stop his heart. A lot.

He looks back at the cashier, who hasn’t moved. The cashier swallows, stammers out, “Wh-what?”

He doesn’t say anything before he sets fire to the counter. More specifically he sets the blood he’s left smeared all over on fire, but the sudden green flare sure looks intimidating. The cashier whimpers. Danny, one hand clinging tightly to the counter, methodically melts down the entire rack of candy to a noxiously sweet-smelling slag, then burns the tiled floor black and bubbling. As an afterthought he runs a hand across himself, drying the blood on him in a wave of sour heat so he doesn’t drip anymore.

He bends down—whoa, easy there gravity—and picks up the gun. It’s heavier than it looks. He keeps the barrel pointed at the ground, finger off the trigger ‘til he taps the safety on. That’s about all he knows how to do with guns that aren’t meant for ghosts. It’s enough for now.

He should probably care about the security footage too. He takes an experimental breath; he’s almost positive he can feel the bullet shift. Yeah. Screw the footage. He’s got bigger problems.

“Sorry about the mess,” he says, and, since his cover story begins and ends with horrible 7-11 apparition, he vanishes. He stands there a minute longer to make sure the fire goes out; he’s not trying to burn the place down, he’s just trying to destroy any evidence he was there. The cashier watches the fire too, gaping like a fish. When it gutters out he sinks to the floor and buries his head in his knees, breathing wetly.

Danny phases through the door. Some terrible part of him wants to turn visible long enough to set off the automated chime to scare the cashier one last time. He doesn’t. He keeps walking, unseen, down the street for the nearest alley three buildings down. He can duck in there, have a minor panic attack because seriously, what, then he can call—

Call who?

Tucker can’t handle anything worse than a bad scrape without going gray and shaky. He’s got the steadiest hands out of all of them, sure—that A in Sewing isn’t a fluke—but this isn’t something he can bribe Tucker to patch up with puppy eyes and movie tickets. This isn’t something that can just be patched up, period.

Sam’s got the strongest stomach of the three of them and she’s a better liar than Tucker, but this is way beyond anything they’ve had to deal with before. They’ve smuggled a lot of medical supplies out of his parents’ basement, but they aren’t equipped to handle gunshot wounds. The bullet’s still in there. He can’t ask her to go digging around in his chest for it. Did it shatter? He could just phase it out. Maybe it’s better to leave it in for now. Less evidence to leave lying around—

His chest throbs. A low cry is squeezed out of him, more surprise than pain. He staggers, trips over his feet, almost faceplants on the sidewalk. His bloody hand jumps to his chest, fingertips pressed to the hole over his heart. He wavers in the middle of the sidewalk, in the relative darkness between two pools of yellow street light. What was that?

Another throb, as sharp as a knife, as hard as a kick to the ribs. He feels it under his fingers, feels something pulse under his skin. He doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t need to breathe right now. His jaw is clenched tight enough to make his teeth ache; his lungs feel like wet plastic bags. Throb. He curls in on himself, forcing one foot in front of the other. Throb. Stay invisible. There are cars passing by, people lingering at a street sign, looking around for whatever made that funny noise. Throb. Almost at the alley now. Almost there. Almost there.

He turns in and it’s mercifully empty. He staggers to the end of it, where dented trash cans and bulging black bags make a decent hiding spot. There’s a faint smell of old beer, old piss, something greasy gone to rot, all of it settling heavy on his tongue. He’s distantly glad he doesn’t have to breathe right now, more focused on the pulse beneath his crabbed fingers.

He turns visible again as he sags against the brick wall, grunts as another throb beats through him. There’s another one right on the heels of that one, and another after that. Something cool and wet dribbles out of the wound and he yelps, pulling his hand away.

Neon green paints his palm, filling the alleyway with dim luminescence. He’s gobsmacked, straight up speechless, even through the next hard throb of what can only be his heart trying to kickstart itself again. His heart, trying to pump ectoplasm, somehow funneled through that cold little spark in his chest that never leaves, that connection between his two halves, the reason he was able to walk away from being shot at all.

Okay. Okay. This. Uh. This is new. This is good? It hurts, but that makes sense. Maybe phasing the bullet out now is a good idea after all. He passes his hand through his chest, hears metal ping on the asphalt by his knee. Another pass to be safe. It’s probably enough. He’s more worried about the hole he can’t do anything about and the ectoplasm splurting sluggishly out of it with every beat of his inexplicably beating heart.

His vision blurs, dips, hazes over with unearthly shades of green. He swallows, blinking rapidly until he can see clearly again. Okay. Bad. This is bad. This is arguably worse, maybe. He doesn’t know. But he can’t stay here. He’s gotta get—where? Who’s closest?

...Valerie is, actually, but he doesn’t think this would go over well. He hisses laughter between his teeth. Home, then. Home, and Jazz. Jazz is gonna lose her mind when she sees him, and honestly? He’s not gonna blame her one bit.

Another particularly sharp throb makes him cough, hoarse and wet, and he spits out a glowing gob of he-doesn’t-wanna-know. His chest goes tight. Spots dance in his eyes the longer he sits there, rubbing at the slick mess all down his front. He spits again, wheezes on pure human instinct, and feels better.

Oh. Breathing. That’s a thing his lungs would like him to do again, apparently. He takes shallow, careful breaths. Guh. It smells nasty here. But he’s breathing, and it’s sore sure, but he’s breathing, and his heart’s beating, and while he’s not so sure he’d be able to stand at the moment at least he’s feeling pretty clear headed. All in all, he’s arguably doing better than he was ten minutes ago.

His hand’s wet again, cold and syrupy, like he stuck it in a can of paint. He wipes it on his jeans, leaving a huge neon smear. He peels his shirt off his skin, shivers when it sticks reluctantly, slips his hand under to palm the wound directly. Ectoplasm, at least, has a higher viscosity than blood.

He shivers again. Shock, maybe? He snorts, wincing when his chest protests sharply. Of course it’s shock, idiot. Each sluggish throb of his heart still feels like a kick to the sternum, green hazing his periphery. He breathes, putting as much pressure on the wound as he can. He breathes. He’s got to do more than this, but he doesn’t know what. Stop the bleeding—how? It’s his heart. If he plugs his chest, then he’ll have to deal with internal bleeding. Right?

...He’s definitely got to sign up for Anatomy next year. If he makes it that long. At this rate, he’s not sure if he’s gonna make it to school tomorrow—no, shhh, shut up, he’s gonna be fine. This is fine. He’s alive, sort of, right? He’s fine. He’s gonna be just fine. Somehow.

He knocks his head against the brick, looking skyward. From here he can make out a few twinkling stars, the dark gray smear of a cloud, the blinking red light of an airplane passing by. There’s always so much going on above the city. It’s not so out of reach as it used to be for him, but it’s all so still so impossibly far. Funny, that he finds some kind of comfort in that. Here he is, bleeding out for the second time in one night in an alleyway, and if he did die right here the universe would wheel on without him. It wouldn’t even notice.

He likes that. He likes that just fine. Sam’d call him morbid, and she’d be proud (and maybe a little worried), but hey. A guy’s gotta cope somehow, right?

...Huh. His heartbeat doesn’t hurt as bad now. Is that good? That’s probably not good. He takes a deeper breath, expecting splintered pain… and is surprised when there’s only soreness. He eases up the pressure on the wound, expects a fresh spill of cool ectoplasm, and yeah, there’s a little, but not nearly as much as before. What the heck?

The gun’s still in his left hand, nearly forgotten. He’s not willing to put it down, still uneasy about the bullet he’s left on the asphalt by his knee, glinting in the green light of his ectoplasm. He can’t forget that, just in case. This neighborhood’s poor, not dangerous. A trashed corner store and an alley coated in ghost gore not a hundred yards away is going to raise questions, even in Amity Park. His parents are going to be all over this place tomorrow with a fine tooth comb. His dad might miss the bullet, but his mom? No way.

Right. Gunshot wound. Not bleeding as much as it was just a minute ago. That should be concerning. That should be really concerning. But, funny thing, he doesn’t feel worse. He feels… better?

He prods at it experimentally, and his middle finger doesn’t slip through like it did before. There’s—muscle? Something that feels like the slippery firmness of exposed muscle, anyway.

“No way,” he whispers, wide-eyed. There’s healing quick and then there’s straight up video game logic. This shouldn’t be possible. But even as he’s thinking that he feels something shift under his fingertip, feels something grow. He twitches his hand away. When he dares to touch again, there’s skin. Raw, tender, like the skin under a torn off scab. He swallows, reeling, belatedly remembers to keep breathing. “Oh. Oh, wow. Okay. Okay. Right.”

So. Not going to die. He wasn’t planning on dying here, no way, but. Still. Nice to have that confirmed. Uh. He’s maybe just going to sit here a bit longer. Give his body—his ghost half?—time to do… whatever it’s doing. No sense jumping up to head home just to bust his heart open again.

He grins weakly. “Oh man, this is nuts.”

But hey, if it works, right?

Mmm. Home. Right. He pulls his hand out from under his shirt, wrinkles his nose at the mess of blood and ectoplasm smeared up to his wrist. Gross. His left hand, the one holding the gun, is still clean. He eases himself cross-legged, places the gun on one knee, fishes out his phone and dials Jazz’s cell. She doesn’t pick up the first time so he calls again. She picks up the fourth ring.

“...’lo?”

“Hey, it’s an emergency.”

“Danny...? It’s the middle of the night. Where are you?”

“Yeah. Patrol ran long, then I, uh. Had some trouble. I’m gonna need your help when I get home.”

“Mm. What happened? Are Sam and Tucker—”

“They’re fine, probably home by now. I—” He swallows through a low throb of pain, tries not to think about what might be happening inside himself. “—I got hurt.”

“Hurt? What happened? How serious?”

“...Uh. Bad.”

“...Danny?”

He clears his throat, shakes off the cobwebs. “I’m gonna be fine. I just need to get cleaned up. Where are Mom and Dad?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“Well find out.”

“Okay, okay. Just a sec.” Shuffling sounds. “Do you need me to come get you?”

“No. Just. I could use your help hiding some stuff once I get there.”

“Stuff?”

“My clothes are, um. Trashed. There’s a gun too.”

“A what?!”

“Yeah.”

“Where did you get a—a gun from?”

“Tell you later.” Ooh, he’s tired all of a sudden. He feels wrung out, sore, and starving. “Nnngh. Any sign of ‘em?”

Her voice drops to a whisper. “Looks like they’re asleep.”

“Mm. Perfect. Meet me in the lab with some clean clothes for me, okay? I’ll be home soon as I can.”

“Danny, talk to me. Tell me what happened. How badly hurt are you?”

“Told you, Jazz. M’fine. Just need to get cleaned up.”

She hums like she’s not convinced. “You sure you don’t want me to meet you?”

“I can fly faster than a car. M’not far, okay? Just. Fifteen minutes, tops.”

“That’s a long time if you’re flying.”

“I’m taking a breather right now, nosy.”

“Danny���”

“Jazz.” He sighs, almost rubs his eyes but remembers how gross his free hand is. “I’m… I’m okay. I just need a few minutes. Picked up a new ghost power, I think. I’ll explain at home.”

“...If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

“M’kay.”

“I mean it. If you’re not here in fifteen minutes I’m calling you back. You don’t pick up, I’m calling Sam and Tucker.”

He chuckles softly, too tired to laugh. It hurts, but not half as much as it did a few minutes ago. “Okay, okay. Fifteen minutes, tops.”

He hangs up after they exchange quiet goodbyes and he sets his phone on his right knee, opposite the gun. He takes a deep breath, wincing a little. Not too bad. Two more minutes. He’s going to sit here two more minutes, then he’ll get up and head home.

He rests his head against the brick again, watches stars twinkle impossibly far away. A thought comes to mind unbidden that has him biting his lip to keep from laughing outright. It’s so dumb, but it’s the middle of the night and he may or may not have just discovered he’s a little bit functionally unkillable. So sue him, he’ll laugh a little.

He can never go back to that 7-11 again now that he’s gone and haunted it.

[hazinhoodies]

October part 4

A/N: i had this ready for so long and decided to rewrite it last night and i didn’t proofread to the best of my abilities so im sorry. all parts are tagged under october fic

Warnings: none

Word count: 2k (the longest chapter so far at least)

Emma and Hannah talked for the rest of the night about anything they could. When no one spoke, they sat in a comfortable silence until it was broken with one of them sarcastically threatening the other or speaking with no provocation.

“Cough one more time and I’ll throw you in the lake” -Emma 9:34

“What do you think our pets name us?” -Hannah 9:57

“Thanks, I hate it” -Emma 10:22

“How confused do you think a lion would be if it saw an octopus?” -Hannah 10:49

“Frankenstein is oddly symmetrical” -Also Hannah 

After the last one Emma finally looked up. “You know, it’s times like these when I wonder how we ever became friends’

“We were both lonely so we decided to be lonely together”

“Ah right, the greatest mistake of my life” Emma recalled. Hannah’s jaw dropped in shock

“Emma!”

“Okay okay i’m sorry” Emma couldn’t hold back her laughter “I should probably go, it’s getting late here” She glanced at the clock 11:52pm.

“Oh sure break my heart and run away why don’t you” Hannah spoke flatly before they said their goodbyes and hung up.

Emma hadn’t noticed how dark her room had actually become until Hannah had hung up. Her laptop providing the only light in the room. She quickly changed and got into bed, pulling the duvet up over her shoulders. She started to ponder the events of the day, almost definitely overthinking everything. How could you have already made him hate you.

Harrison lied awake in his bed, he’d been struggling to sleep for a while. The photo still etched into his brain. Did something happen? Was it just for a project?  He’d never craved answers so much. If he could actually talk to her without making a fool of himself then maybe he’d get them. After about another hour and a glass of water, sleep finally took over.

A few days had passed and went pretty well. Emma had already figured out how to get around set, at least to the important parts; Her trailer, Toms trailer, Z’s, Jacob’s. The important ones. Her first interview of the day was Tony, she had to wait an hour or so for Z and Jacob to finish their next scene so she stayed in Tony’s trailer and talked with him.

They asked each other an abundance of questions. By the end of it Tony could have probably written her biography. Emma could have answered any questions you had about him. Favourite food? Favourite colour? She knows it.

“You and Tony got real close huh?” Z asked after her interview.

Emma shrugged “I guess so. I mean, he’s really nice and we had an hour to kill so we just.. Talked. Things just flowed. It was a nice change honestly”

‘Change from what?” Z looked over at her as Emma sighed. “Come sit here, we’re gonna be awhile” she patted the seat next to her and Emma sat down.

“A change from from what?” Zendaya repeated

“Holland and co” Emma paused “They're all super nice don’t get me wrong, Sam and I constantly. Just whenever Harrison is there things get kinda awkward”

Zendayas features soften, her voice filled with sympathy “He’s just like that sometimes I guess. Tom and him have been friends for years already. Just don’t take it to heart Em.” Emma nodded “Good. Now tonight you’re coming back to my hotel with me and we’re gonna talk got it? Great”

Emma chuckled “I see that i get no say in this whatsoever”

Zendaya shook her head “None at all”

Once Z wrapped, her driver drove both of them back to her hotel, which was significantly larger than Emmas.

“Okay important stuff first” Zendaya starts as soon as the door shuts behind them. “Hogwarts house. Favourite musical. Favourite band or artist or whatever” she counts them off on her fingers as she speaks.

Emma smiled “Ravenclaw, les mis or grease, probably Bowie”

“Bowie, really?” Zendaya echoed as they sat down on the couch, Emma nodded

“Yeah or maybe the Beatles” Zendaya looked shocked “What do you think i only ever listen to orchestra music?”

“No just didn’t picture you as a classic rock fan”

“I’m just full of surprises” Emma spoke sarcastically.

“Okay well I still know nothing about you and that seems kind of unfair considering you could google everything about me. So tell me stuff” Z leaned in closer, whispering the last sentence

“How personal do you want me to get?” Emma asked

“As much as your comfortable with” Z explained.

“I mean if were going all the way back I lived with my mom growing up, bout an hour outside of Toronto, never really knew my dad. I have a few vague memories but he left when I was six so they aren’t much. I’ve always been pretty music-oriented and my family never knew where I got it from. They were all science and math people My best friend, Hannah, we met when we were 7 at a youth band thing and have been stuck together since. We did everything together. We actually both graduated early and applied to the same universities but she stayed in the city to do musical neuroscience and I moved six hours away for performance music and then switched into composition” Emma ended.

“What about like dating and stuff? There's no way you’ve never had a boyfriend” Z leaned back, resting her elbow on the back of the couch, holding her head up.

“I dated the same guy for all four years of high school and into uni” Zendaya’s eyes went wide “Yeah it was really good at first but around the end of my junior year it got ugly. But we’d been dating so long I was almost convinced that it was normal. Once I got into university it got really bad and that’s when I came to my senses” Emma spoke calmly. Something about Z made her easy to trust.

The rest of the night went by quickly. They talked, ordered food, and watched Brooklyn Nine-Nine for the rest of the night.

The next two weeks on set went by pretty much the same. When Emma wasn’t doing post-scene interviews, she was in either Toms, Zs or Tony’s trailer. She had become pretty close with some more of the cast, particularly Jacob and Remy, definitely the most comfortable with Tony though.  She’d grown pretty close with Sam and Harry. Even becoming closer with Harrison. To the point were the two of them plus Sam watched the dark knight rises in Tom’s trailer after Emma had admitted to never having seen it. Even still, it was always fleeting gazes or staring way too long with both of them, neither approaching the other unless someone else was there, and still, they were all stutters and flushed cheeks.  

Emma had not had a good morning so far. It was Michael’s last day on set for a while so it was going to be only her now. Of course the first day without Michael and she woke up late and couldn’t get her coffee maker to work and found that the pants she’d planned on wearing, she hadn’t packed. Instead opting for a black skirt and a yellow top with the same pair of ankle boots as always, her hair pulled into a ponytail. Michael had gone in early so the drive to set was just Iris and Emma. It was slightly awkward, normally Michael would be the one to speak up and start conversations but without him there it was silent. The only good part of her morning so far, had been Iris offering to stop and get coffee when Emma told her of her morning so far.

Once she was out of the car, Emma started towards her and Michaels trailer, coffee in hand and her bag on her back. She felt her phone start to ring and pulled it out of the waistband of her skirt and with one hand, answered it holding it up to her ear

“Oh perfect you answered” Michael started, not even giving emma time to say hello “I have some stuff for you to listen to once you get here. I’d really like your input”

“Okay. Iris just dropped me off I’ll be there in like two minutes” Emma found herself walking in between the abundance of trailers.

“Great. You remember which one right?”

“Yes of course I do Michael, it’s been two weeks. I’ll be fine. Bye”

“Okay well just text if you get lost. Bye now”

Emma pushed her phone back into her waistband. She looked up, but not soon enough to avoid the chest she walked straight into, the other person also on their phone.

Harrison

Emma stumbled back, dropping her pretty much full coffee on the ground. Harrisons hands immediately went to her waist to stabilize her, feeling her stiffen underneath his touch.

“Sorry about that, I should’ve been paying more attention” Emma looked up at Harrison. He was easily six inches taller than her. Everything she’d worried about during the very first interview had come true. She wasn’t able to look away now. She noticed the smallest details about him that she hadn’t before. Like the way his eyes got more green towards the outside, or the light stubble along his jaw, or how his cheeks seemed slightly more pink than normal.

“It’s alright darling, just watch out next time, yeah?” Harrison gave a small smile and Emma nodded. They were both lost in each other for a few moments. As if they were trying to memorize every detail of the other. Like the faint freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks.

Darling? It had rolled so easily off his lips, he hadn’t even noticed he said it.

It took a minute before Harrison realized how close they really were. He reluctantly pulled his hands away from her waist. As he did Emma broke their eye contact and took a step back, bending down to pick up the fallen cup.

“Ill uh.. I’ll buy you a new one” Harrison spoke, Emma looked up at him as she stood.

“No no you don’t have to really” She shook her head “It’s just a coffee. It’s not a big deal” They stood there for a moment, neither speaking, Harrisons hands in his pockets as Emma’s fiddled with the now empty cup “I should uh” Emma wet her lips quickly “I should get going” she barely looked up as the both nodded and she walked towards the trailer.

Once she was inside she threw out the cup and grabbed a paper towel to wipe off the  drops of coffee that had bounced up onto her legs. She placed her stuff on her desk and dragged her chair over to Michaels desk.

“You wanted me to listen to something?” she said as she sat down

“Yeah yeah give me one second” he said placing a few final notes in the composition program before hitting play on the theme he had written so far for the movie. After about four minutes, what he has so far ends. He looks towards Emma with a questioning glance “So?

“I uh It’s amazing obviously but.. I think it should have less to do with that triumphant superhero stuff you’ve got going on and more towards Peters loyalty and concern for his friends. I definitely wouldn’t scrap this though, maybe just not for the scene you’ve got it for” Michael nods as Emma speaks. Adding little “hm”s and “okay”s here and there.

“How about this. I want you to write it for this scene” Emma’s eyes widen in shock.

“Waitwaitwait you- I- you want me to write part of the score?” Emma barely stutters out

“Well yeah. Your name doesn’t get put in the credits unless you actually write something because technically you work for me not marvel and I want you name in there as badly as you probably do. So if you write something, you get credit.” Michael looks over at Emma, her jaw dropped. “I’ll take that as yes but Emma you’re going to catch flies. I have a meeting to go to now but you know what to do” Michael grabbed his bag and left.

Heres some writers that let me tag them :)

@cherryhollands @darlintom @starksparker @starksmile @hollandroos @marvelellie @dej-okay @h-osterfield @upsidedownparker

Taglist: @rainbow-marvel (thanks :))

[wolfpackimagines14]

Sadie Black (Chapter 1)

“I can’t believe you almost made us late,” I huffed at my brother as we pulled into the school parking lot.

“Calm down,” Jacob chuckled. “We made it on time.”

“Barely,” I said, putting my notebook into my backpack and zipping it up. I had a big test today; all my teachers had realized that winter break was starting in a few days and decided to throw a bunch of tests at us last minute.

“Oh look,” Jacob muttered as we got out of the car. “Paul’s back… and what a surprise, he’s joined Sam’s cult.”

I glanced over to where he was looking and sure enough, Paul Lahote was getting out of his truck with Jared Cameron. They both hadn’t been in school for at least a 3 weeks. This was the second time that Jared had disappeared.

“So what?” I asked him, shouldering my backpack. “What’d they ever do to you?”

That pissed him off. There was nothing Jacob hated more than Sam and his ‘cult.’ I rolled my eyes at him before glancing back over at Paul. I had always had a slight crush on him and damn it was like he had gone through puberty again in the past 3 weeks. His biceps had grown twice in size since I had last seen him.

It was at this moment that Paul looked over at me. Normally, if someone caught me staring at them I would look away immediately, but this time I couldn’t. It was the most intense eye contact I’d ever had with someone.

Paul’s face looked like he had seen a ghost. His jaw had literally dropped and my face must’ve looked like a tomato from how hard I was blushing.

“Oh for god’s sake,” Jacob grunted, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the school. “I don’t want you near them, Sadie.”

I stumbled a bit as he jerked my arm again as I had turned around again for a second. I don’t know why I did, something was pulling me towards Paul. It kinda freaked me out a bit.

Jake stopped right outside the school and turned towards me.

“I mean it Sadie,” he said, placing his hands on my shoulders. “They’re bad news.”

My breath was still caught in my throat from whatever had just happened back there so I couldn’t exactly answer him. I just nodded instead and Jacob, satisfied with my answer, walked into school.

Before I followed him inside though, an arm reached out and grabbed the door for me, pulling it open. I looked up.

Damn he was tall.

“Hey Sadie,” he greeted breathlessly.

“Hi Paul,” I replied softly, smiling. “Where’ve you been?”

“Oh… umm,” he stuttered. “I was sick.”

“Really?” I questioned, eyeing his large biceps. “You don’t look like you were sick.”

“Are you flirting with me, Black?”

“I… uhh, what?” I was the one stuttering now. “I’ll… uhh, see you around, Paul.”

I tried to bolt at that point, but he grabbed my arm, making me turn around and stumble into him.

“Do you want to go out with me tomorrow night?” he asked me after I had put both my hands on his chest to brace myself.

“Uhh.”

Damn it, Sadie. Get it together.

“Sure,” I answered.

“Great!” he exclaimed with a huge grin on his face before kissing me on the cheek and jogging to his locker.

What the hell just happened?

I shook it off and walked quickly to my first class. Jacob was not going to be happy with me. But I couldn’t find it in me to care.

After school the next day, my friend Kim came over to help me get ready for my date with Paul. Kim and I had been best friends since kindergarten. Because she was an only child and she lived right down the street, we were always at each other’s houses.

“So what time is he picking you up?” she asked me as she rummaged through my closet.

“6 o’clock. And don’t bother, Kim,” I sighed. “There’s nothing in there to wear. I checked last night.”

“How about that black shirt that that Rachel left?”

“Eh. Maybe.”

She left the room to go across the hall to my sister’s room, coming back with the black long-sleeved shirt that tied at the bust and flowed out. She had left it when she went to college.

“Wear this with a pair of skinny jeans and your boots,” she said, feeling accomplished. “I still can’t believe you’re going on a date with Paul Lahote.”

“Me neither,” I sighed. “Jake is gonna kill me.”

“How is Paul picking you up without him seeing?” she questioned me.

“I’m just making a run for it. He can’t stop me.”

“I’ll tackle him,” Kim laughed.

“Yeah I’m sure that you can take down my brother, Kim,” I answered sarcastically. “It’s not like he’s a giant or anything.”

“Honestly though! How is it that your twin brother is so tall and you’re literally so sma-”

“I’m average height for a girl!”

“Whatever,” she giggled.

“5’4 is average!” I groaned. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Fine, fine,” she said. “You’ve got two hours until he’s picking you up, so let’s get started.”

An hour and a half later, Kim finished putting my hair into two french braids as I touched up the makeup I had put on. I had already changed into what we had picked out earlier.

“Hey, Sadie?” I heard my brother coming down the hall before he opened the door. “What do you want to do for dinner toni…? Why’re you all dressed up?”

“Umm…” I stuttered, not being able to think of an excuse on the spot.

“We’re going out!” Kim replied for me.

“Really?” I could understand why Jacob was confused. Whenever Kim and I hung out we always just stayed in and watched movies.

“Yeah, we’re going to… uh,” she trailed off.

“We’re going to dinner,” I finished for her.

“Yes. Dinner.”

“Okay, then,” Jake muttered before leaving the room.

“That was a close one,” Kim giggled before wandering over to the window.

“Yeah well now he’s onto me,” I sighed. “There’s no way he believes what we just told him.”

“Well you better get downstairs.”

“Why?”

“Because I think Paul’s here early.”

“What!?” I rushed over to the window. Sure enough, Paul was stepping out of his truck as my brother burst through the door of my bedroom once again.

“What the hell is Paul Lahote doing here?” he growled. Kim and I stayed quiet before we made eye contact. Kim nodded before running and jumping onto Jake, attempting to tackle him to the ground.

“Run, Sadie!” she yelled as her battle cry. I bolted around Jake before he could grab me. Kim wasn’t exactly doing well holding him back. I rushed out the door just as Paul was stepping up onto the front porch.

I grabbed his hand as I ran pass and pulled him along to his truck.

“We gotta go,” I laughed. “Now!”

“What?” he questioned me as I jumped into his truck, him following suit.

“Jake’s not exactly happy about you taking me out,” I muttered.

“Yeah, I figured that,” he sighed in response. “But… you’re happy right? I don’t want to force you into anything that you don’t want to do and I don’t want you to fight with your brother.”

“Jacob is not in charge of me. He may think that he is, but he’s not,” I said firmly. “And I want to be here with you.”

“Okay, good,” he responded, smiling widely.

“So where are we going?”

“I thought we could get dinner at the diner and then we could head down to the beach,” he said nervously. “Does that sound alright?”

“Sounds perfect.”

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

After getting dinner at practically the only restaurant in La Push, a small diner that has the best burgers and milkshakes I’ve ever had, Paul and I made our way down to First Beach.

We walked side by side, our fingertips brushing, neither one of us sure if the other wanted to hold hands or not.

After a few minutes of this slight awkwardness, I took a deep breath and grabbed his hand, interlacing my fingers with his. I blushed slightly, purposely not looking at him, but he squeezed my hand and as I turned towards him he grinned at me.

“So why does your brother hate me so much?” Paul inquired.

“Well, it’s not just you that he hates,” I laughed. “He doesn’t like you, Sam, or Jared actually. He thinks you’re apart of some drug cult.” “Drugs?”

“Yeah well you and Jared both disappeared from school for a few weeks and then you came back all big and uhh…”

“Big?” he laughed.

“Well yeah,” I answered awkwardly. “You’re like super tall now and umm… you’re like buff now.” He barked out another laugh and pulled me closer to him, wrapping one of his abnormally warm arms around my shoulders.

“And you’re also really warm,” I shivered, cuddling into his side. In my rush to leave the house earlier, I had forgotten to grab a coat.

“If I had brought a coat, I would give it to you,” he sighed. He stopped walking and sat down, pulling me with him so I sat between his legs. He wrapped both his arms around me and I instantly felt warmer.

“It’s definitely not healthy how warm you are,” I sighed in content. “But I’m not complaining.”

“So… do you think my friends and I do drugs?”

“No I don’t, but that won’t stop my brother from hating you. But he would hate anyone that I went on a date with.”

“Yeah, he seems like the protective type.”

“Well ever since my sisters moved out and my dad was put in the wheelchair, Jake thinks he needs to take care of me,” I whispered. I didn’t mention my mother dying; everyone on the reservation already knew what happened seven years ago.

He didn’t say anything more, which I appreciated. He tightened his arms around me and kissed my temple. I had never been so happy.

The rest of the night went by smoothly and by the time that Paul and I got back it was late. I had never had so much fun. He had made me laugh and we had gone for a walk on the beach after dinner at the local diner.

He pulled up in front of my house and we both could see the lights were still on.

“I had a really great time tonight,” I said softly.

“Me too. Do you, umm, maybe wanna go out again sometime?”

“I’d love to!” I replied, trying not to sound too eager, but failing miserably.

“Great! I know it’s kinda last minute, but there’s a bonfire tomorrow night down on the beach,” he said. “Would you maybe wanna go… with me?”

“Sure,” I couldn’t help but smile at how cute he was. “I better get inside.”

I opened the door to the truck and stepped out, walking around it. But before I could get too far, I heard the door to the driver’s side open. I turned around, confused, but before I could say anything, Paul’s mouth was on mine.

He had one hand on my waist while the other rested on my cheek. I kissed him back fiercely, wrapping my arms around his neck and getting up on my tiptoes. His tongue pushed his way into my mouth and I tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck.

He groaned a bit before pulling away.

“You should probably get inside,” he whispered. “I don’t need your brother hating me more than he already does.”

“Okay,” I answered him, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move.

“Sadie? You have to go inside now,” he chuckled, but I tightened my arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him again instead. It was shorter than the first one, but still just as amazing.

“Goodnight,” I told him as I broke away from him and started walking to my front porch. When I got to the door, I turned around and saw that Paul was waiting until I got into the house. I waved as I opened the door, stepping inside, and he grinned and waved as he drove away.

I stepped into the house, grinning from ear to ear. I couldn’t stop smiling. I had never felt this way before.

“So you had a good time, then?” I heard my father ask as I stepped into the living room. He had a look on his face, almost like he knew something that I didn’t.

“Yeah,” I blushed. “I’m umm… I’m going out again tomorrow night. If that’s okay?”

“That’s fine with me,” he smiled. “I don’t know how your brother’s going to feel about that though. He’s been moping around in the garage since you left.”

“Well he can deal with it,” I muttered.

“That’s what I told him,” he chuckled.

“I’m gonna go to bed, Dad,” I told him before kissing him on the forehead. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Sadie.”