#i read Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers the other day and i LOVED it but i cant find another fic like it :(

[neobomb]

give into things i (dont) want to [lee jeno]

(yandere ish) creep/stalker! popular fuckboy/badboy!jeno x christian!reader, hints of shy boy! (kinda dumb) naive! christian!mark x reader. Part of the give into things i (dont) want to series. Warnings: mature themes, toxic behaviour, manipulation, stalking, forcing??, inappropriate behaviour, choking, menstions of perv behaviour, MDNI, there will be smut in part 2 Word Count: 2.3k Summary: Jeno is on a mission: to assist his friend Mark in getting with you. But is he genuinely helping Mark or leading him down a questionable path? © 2023 @neobomb. Unauthorized copying, translation, manipulation, or alteration of this work is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

“Would you really do that for me?” Mark's eyes sparkle with hope. The excitement bubbling within him was palpable, but Jeno knew he had to temper it. For the longest time, Mark has had a crush on you, yet never mustered the courage to approach you. It was heart-wrenching to see, truly pathetic. 

“Don’t worry, you can trust me.” Jeno assures with unwavering confidence. “She will be head over heels for you if you just do as I say.” 

Mark is overly trusting to believe that Jeno, of all people, will help him get with you. You, L/N Y/N, the one Jeno has been hopelessly in love with over the years, the one who captured the heart of THE fuckboy Lee Jeno. Jeno's deep feelings for you are something he'll never confess. He's vowed to himself to admire you from a distance, never allowing himself to get close. Jeno understood his nature, believing that a pure, innocent soul like you shouldn't be entangled with a bad boy like him. However, that doesn't mean he'll let anyone else get near you, especially not Mark. 

“I trust you, Jeno. You’re the rizz king after all.” Indeed, Jeno had been with more girls than most guys his age. With his captivating looks, undeniable charisma, and seasoned charm, he can enchant just about anyone he desires. Flirting was second nature to him. For Jeno, it was not just about the sex; it was a way to establish himself as the school's most sought-after boy. A simple power move. 

“I’m just… a bit uncomfortable with some of your suggestions.” Mark says, sounding skeptical as he scratches his head. “It just seems a bit… odd… maybe creepy even.”  

“I promise you, girls love that shit.” Jeno takes a step closer to the clueless boy. “Haven’t you read Twilight and all those cliché romance novels that girls love? Girls are fucked up enough to eat that shit up.”

"You're right." Mark concedes, deciding to place his trust in Jeno. After all, Jeno has no reason to lead him astray, does he?  

"Let's do it then," Jeno says, extending his hand towards Mark for a handshake, to which Mark readily reciprocates with a firm handshake.

The deal has been sealed. Jeno has Mark right where he wants him. Mark was just dumb and naive enough to believe the bullshit Jeno has been telling him. 

—

A handwritten note was attached to the string of the bouquet with tape. 

Dear Y/N, Not a day goes by that you don't cross my mind.  Your lover, lee. 

It began innocently enough – with sweet intentions and harmless beginnings.

Then there were the photographs — snapshots capturing moments in your bedroom, some pictures intimate, others harmless.

new message from lover lee: new image has been sent

Then, items began to vanish — your favorite cherry-flavored chapstick, your bra and your panties were the first to go.

What started innocently has now morphed into something more ominous.

In your room, a place that is supposed to be your safe haven. An unsettling feeling grips you—a paranoia over who might be watching. A faceless someone, so infatuated that they'd shadow your every move. You find yourself overly aware of your surroundings, constantly casting a discreet glance over your shoulder, wishing for no one to be standing right behind you. Thankfully, it is clear. It always was. 

It's become so unnerving that sleep eludes you. Night after night, you retreat to the corner of your room, ensuring every window is securely fastened, window blinds down, your gaze fixed intently on the doorway that separates your sanctuary from the main hallway. Clasping your cross necklace close to your heart, you'd whisper prayers, hoping fervently that no one lurked nearby. It had become a routine at this point. 

–

The bell chimed resonantly through the corridors. Finally, a reprieve from these tedious classes, Jeno mused. He strides down the hallway, eyes darting to the windows of each classroom, searching for a glimpse of you. 

There you are, seated at a desk away from the windows, with sun rays casting a gentle glow on your delicate cheek while you hold a book. To him, you are the epitome of beauty, with an innocence in your eyes that captivates as you survey your surroundings. You appear deeply fatigued, as though you haven't had a moment's rest in the past month.

“Y/N, I’ve noticed that you look very tired lately. Is everything ok?” Lifting your gaze from your desk, you find Jeno looking at you with evident concern. 

"Uh, yeah, I'm okay. Just some trouble sleeping," you reply, your voice carrying a hint of surprise at the sudden attention from Jeno, the school's renowned handsome bad boy. You rack your brain, realizing you haven't actually spoken to him since preschool days.

"Hey, Y/N," Mark says, appearing behind you with a wide smile that briefly startles you. "I noticed you at church last Sunday. I didn't want to intrude… you seemed deeply engaged in prayer…. as one should be..." Mark winces slightly at his own awkwardness. Your presence has a way of making him momentarily lose his grasp on social cues.

“Anyways…” Mark casts a meaningful glance at Jeno, hinting that he should give the two of you some space. “I’ve been wanting to ask you… if… you might want to… maybe… go… uhm…. I’ve been wanting to tell you something and it’s very important.” 

“Uhm… ok” you respond in a confused tone, looking back at Jeno. “I want to do it somewhere, preferably more private… uhm… maybe dinner at Kun’s… this evening…” Mark stumbles over his words, stuttering through the simple sentences.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" you clarify, boiling his words down to their clear intent. “Yes…” the shy boy confirms. 

Mark is undeniably cute — a devoted Christian, diligent, yet reserved. You have always had a little crush on Mark, but you never anticipated that he would make a move. The realm of dating had always seemed uneventful to you; you felt as if you were invisible to boys. But not until this very moment. Going out with Mark couldn't be harmful, could it? At the very least, it might provide a welcome distraction from your current stalker situation.

“Yes, I would love to.” you answer with a radiant smile, sending the timid boy into cloud nine.

Mission one complete. And so Mark thought…

–

On this typical Friday evening, the restaurant buzzed with activity, patrons streaming in and out. Amidst the bustle, you notice Mark seated at a table tucked away from the main dining area. 

"Hi there," he greets, rising to envelop you in a friendly hug. "I got here a bit early and took the liberty of ordering for us — Peking roasted duck… I hope that's alright… it's your favorite from the menu." His remark piques your curiosity. It's oddly specific knowledge for him to have. You have barely talked to Mark. How did he know your preferred dish? Strange.

"Please, have a seat," he offers, pulling out the chair for you. With a moment of hesitation, you take the offered seat.

“I’m curious about what you’ve been wanting to tell me. Seems like you were very eager to spill it out.” Perhaps it was premature to confront him, but your curiosity was too strong to resist. But with your question, you can almost feel Mark's panic. His hands tremble slightly as he opens his can of soda. 

He inhales deeply, steadying himself before he responds to your question: “I have to confess something. Uhm… I wanted to … uhm tell you … that I’m … lee, your lover” 

You stare at him in stunned horror, mustering all your composure to prevent yourself from trembling with fear and revulsion. The revelation hits you like a thunderclap — Mark Lee, the same person sitting across from you, is the stalker who has been haunting your nights with fear.

“I can’t fucking believe it. You scared me shitless.” You immediately rise from your seat, getting yourself ready to leave the restaurant. 

“What do you mean?” Mark says in a confused tone. 

“The letters, flowers, …. the creepy text messages, … the photos of me in my room, … my fucking missing underwear, constantly feel like I’m being followed, it’s all you??” Struggling to keep your voice level, the sense of betrayal washing over you was unparalleled.

“What?” Mark yelled in question “What do you mean photos?? missing underwear? All I did was send you secret letters.” 

“I swear to God it’s not me, Y/N.” Mark pleaded with you, his eyes imploring, begging you to believe him.

“Nothing you say can change what I’ve heard.” You declare, swiftly collecting your belongings before storming out of the restaurant. 

It had never crossed your mind that Mark, the quiet, church-going boy who seemed devoted to his faith, could be capable of taking such extreme actions. The revelation seemed surreal, almost too contrived to be true.

 —

A few months have passed since the unsettling discovery of Mark's unsettling behavior. Every ounce of your bravery has been summoned just to face him at school each day. Whenever he attempts to draw near, desperately trying to weave a tapestry of excuses, you fend him off with the threat of a restraining order. There's nothing he could say now to sway your resolve.

In the span of those tumultuous weeks, you found solace in Jeno. As the days passed, you and Jeno grew increasingly close, an unforeseen twist given that the popular boy had seemingly never noticed you before — or so it had seemed.  But his kindness and understanding provided comfort, especially when others doubted your account of events. 

"Thanks for walking me home from church, Jeno. You really don’t have to do it again. I promise you this will be the first and last time." you say, casting a wary glance at Mark, who lingers near the church entrance. Having Jeno's company is a source of comfort amidst the chaos, even if your home is just a two-minute stroll from the church.

"Of course, it's the least I can do to ensure you feel secure." Jeno says, casually draping an arm around your shoulders while guiding his bike with his free hand. His steps seem confident, almost familiar with the path to your home, despite the fact that in all the years of your acquaintance, he has never once been at your house, or even close to it. You try to dismiss the peculiar sense that he knows the way a little too well, reminding yourself that he's never been invited over, but the thought lingers, troubling in its implications. Strange, you thought.

Just as you near your house, the skies open up, unleashing a sudden downpour. You urge Jeno to come inside, suggesting he wait out the torrential rain before he ventures back home. To pass the time and since Jeno had never been to your place before, you decided to give him a tour.

"Oh here is your favorite place to sit and read" remarks Jeno, his tone carrying a hint of familiarity as he observes the cozy corner of your living room. How did he know it was your favorite reading spot? His ease within your home is uncanny, almost as if he's retracing well-known steps rather than discovering them for the first time, inadvertently reversing the roles of guest and guide. Strange.

The final stop of the tour is your room. Pointing to a large photo album, you say, "Here are snapshots from my childhood," and you flip it open to share a visual journey through your past. You point to a cherished childhood photograph, depicting a younger you, grinning with abandon, your face comically smeared with Peking duck sauce, as you gleefully twirl noodles around your chopsticks.

“Oh you looked so adorable while eating peking roasted duck. Must have been your favorite dish for quite some time. I guess some things never change.” He smiles at a particular photograph of you. It was a response that strikes you as odd. You hadn't mentioned your favorite dish to him before. Strange. 

“How did you know about my favorite dish? I’m pretty sure I haven’t told you about it.” you query, attempting to piece together the perplexing puzzle that has been preoccupying your thoughts. Upon hearing your question, a shadow flickers across Jeno's features, replacing the cheerful, lively demeanor of moments ago with something more somber. The spark in his eyes dims, giving way to a serious, almost foreboding intensity.

“What do you mean?” He inquires, his lips curling into an uneasy, almost disconcerting smirk.

“I… I just think you’re acting a bit… uhm… strange. It’s the first time you’ve ever walked me home, and you seem oddly familiar with the area I live in…. and you seem to know my house like you've already been here before … uhm … and you pick up on these small things I haven’t told you about before.” As you address his odd demeanor, a growing sense of regret takes hold with each passing second; his eyes darken, casting a shadow of menace that chills you to the bone.

In that instance, Jeno aggressively pins you down onto your bed. One hand holding your wrist, the other at your throat. 

“You know too much, Y/N. You should’ve just kept your pretty little mouth shut.” He whispers in your ear before tightening his grip around your neck until you are no longer registering his words. His voice faded into a muffled echo as your thoughts withdrew into a separate reality. Your hands clutch at his wrist, attempting to loosen his hold, while your eyes nearly close from the sheer force of the moment. His grip on your neck slackened, and he watched as you sucked in breath, your complexion regaining its normal hue as vitality slowly reclaimed your shaken form. As you caught your breath, Jeno abruptly pressed his lips against yours. The fervor of the kiss was overwhelming. Saying hello to lee, you did.

[myzindegiii]

Sad girl !

I’d just finished work for the evening and I walked to the bus stop in an elated mood. I got to the stop and checked the screen for the bus times and my one was due in five minutes.

Three other people were waiting in the shelter. Among them was a girl – a teenager by my guessing – and I noticed that her face was red and I kept watching her. She was crying. And holding her phone. She stood there crying quietly, not sobbing, but her cheeks were damp and the tears rolled fluidly.

Next to her was a woman in her forties or so, who I guessed was her mother because they looked similar, and on the shelter’s bench was a girl of about six who I reckoned was the sister/daughter.

The teenage girl kept looking at her phone in dismay and I couldn’t overhear what she was saying. But I heard snippets of her mother, going,

“I think he’s just taking a new path in life.”

And what was odd was that neither the mother or kid touched the teen girl. The mother didn’t hug her. And the child sat on the bench and swung her legs.

“I’m upset …” the teen girl said, a few times, “If I’m upset then …” but I didn’t catch more of her dialogue than that. It was as if she were abandoned, or lost, in her own realm of grief.

“It’s like when people get a new job,” the mother said, practically. It seemed that the mother was distracted or even disinterested or maybe she had no clue how to deal with her teary daughter and found it embarrassing that it was happening in public. At one point she yelled at the younger child because she was doing something annoying.

I heard the girl use the word “he” a lot and so I sussed that she was sad about her boyfriend who had just left her.

Many of us know how that feels, to lose a lover. That acute brutality of loss. Especially when you get that message, from the other person, freshly: when you read it for the first time. It’s worse than being punched or laughed at … it is blinding, dazing. And in my experience there comes this void in the chest, this plunging feeling of despair, dejection. And you find that everyday things which usually get on your nerves, or moments in the past where you’ve gotten angry with somebody: none of those things matter anymore.

Sadness overwhelms all the other things. Renders them trivial. Weakens you more finely than any physical illness.

I felt so sorry for that girl. She just kept weeping uselessly and I wished that the mother would cuddle her but all she did was say a jumble of flat sentences. And her little sister was too young to understand any of it; she hadn’t reached puberty yet and wasn’t able to comprehend ideas like romantic love.

It would have been weird for a random man to go up to this girl and ask if she was okay. Even weirder to offer her a hug. So all I could do was wait for my bus to come.

I was actually mourning my old lover myself, at the same time, that evening. A woman who now lived in another country; had been thinking about her all day. She and I had disbanded four and a half years earlier – and I was still grieving for her after such a long time. And so I wanted to go and tell this teenage girl that grief is important and timeless and it’s there for a reason and that you have to plough on through it and that this journey doesn’t make you a loser or a coward and that it’s different for every individual and yet always a hard trail. 

But I didn’t.

It was a warm summer evening just on the cusp of twilight. Then my bus came. The family in the bus shelter weren’t getting on my bus and so I had to leave them there. I got on the bus and they stayed in the street and my bus drove onwards and I never saw them again.

And I’d never know what the exact story with the sad girl was. For the whole five minutes I was there she didn’t stop crying and I was angry that the mother was that insensitive about it and I remembered how heartbreak at such a young age is sublime and changes you forever.

I hope that girl is coping well.......

[athlen-the-merman]

My favourites: an update

It's been a while since I post anything so why not start with my updated favourites? (I'll try not to repeat any books I may have recommended in any previous post)

-A Court Of Thorns And Roses, Sarah J. Maas.

Feyre, a human who lives in a world divided by humans and faeries is brought to Prythian where she is to face the faerie courts, magic and daily struggles as a human captive.

This one I feel pretty much every romance lover has read. The first pages in my experience were hell, I was bored out of my mind and dreaded every last word but just like that, it got good. The author gradually explains everything and you eventually get a grasp of a really interesting world that has you hooked up seriously: magic, luxury, love, plot-twists... and you've had it. You're now in love with the book and unable to put it down.

Now, I am going to shut up and not spoil anyone's experience but let me say this: if you liked the first book and are considering reading the second one, do it. Of course you know how the first one ends but just so you know that's just the start of the shitshow that is about to begin.

With this being said, in my heart there will always be a spot for ACOTAR.

-The Stolen Heir, Holly Black.

The sequel to The Folk Of The Air series. It tells the story of Wren, the wayward, runaway queen of the Court of Teeth and Oak, the crown prince and brother of the queen of Elfhame, Jude.

I am absolutely and profoundly infatuated by the universe of the Folk Of The Air, so to dive into it again brings back a sense of rightness that I can't really explain.

It's a very addicting book that will have you looking for scraps of the tiniest bit of romance and when you do find some, they're worth it.

As a young person, I have enjoyed this book since it has a very refreshing feel to it throughout most of the work (yes, eventhough there's tougher and more brutal scenes in it)

Even though The Folk Of The Air isn't very spicy per se, I am looking forward to see how everything plays out in the second and last book of the duology, I just can't get enough of Oak, Wren, Tiernan, everyone!

-All The Young Dudes, MsKingBean89.

We all know the story of Harry Potter, the boy who lived, but what about the marauders' life? It narrates the story of the quartet with a bit of a homosexual twist.

Personally, I have been a fan of the Harry Potter universe since I first watched the films, and if you're one too you know the amount of fanfiction that there is, so after days and days of looking for a good and well-written fan-fic I remembered I had downloaded atyd. And I do not regret it.

You're reintroduced to the magical world all over, you're feeling nostalgic, our main character is Remus, you get to see everyone's evolution, it gives you a broader concept of the older charaters in the series... Not to mention Padfoot and Moony have something going on...

Despite me only being halfway through the book, every time I go online to read it (it's free!) I want to discover more and more of the marauderers' untold stories.

-Crave, Tracy Wolff.

Grace, a girl who's just lost both her parents is set to live in an elite boarding school in Alaska, of which her uncle is the headmaster. Despite her efforts to fit in it, they just don't seem to work and she is left feeling left out, but then she meets Jaxon, a mysterious boy with a devastating past.

This is one of the other books I haven't finished, and if by now you haven't noticed I LOVE romance books, even better if they're enemies-to-lovers. Even though this one isn't enemies-to-lovers it's veeeery similar to the one and only Twilight: it has vampires, werewolves (if I remember correctly) and even more types of magical creatures!

I read most of this book this summer and to be honest it's really entertaining, but it's also a little bit cliché... New girl, starts dating the hottest most powerful and dark in the school, she's basically perfect, odd forces want her dead... The typical y/n syndrome.

Although I'm not sure if I'd call it one of my favourite books, it's in the "would recommend section" so, if someone wants to read something, you know what to look for.

The list has come to an end. It is very short, I know, but with all my schoolwork and extra-curriculars I have no time to read, and if I do, I tend to go for fanfics.

Hasta la vista, beibe.

[blush-reads]

Books I've read this summer (so far!) in a couple sentences or less

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White - 5/28 - Incredibly brutal portrayal of religious trauma and queer rage. I was hooked from the first chapter.

Something Spectacular by Alexis Hall - 5/30 - Suuuuper sexy and fun; I'm always impressed with Alexis Hall's writing, especially his Regency romances. They make me want to dive into Jane Austen's works cause the characters mention them at least a few times in each book.

The Color Purple by Alice Walker - 6/4 - This book is a modern classic for a reason, it is so important to read and it is really tough to at times but I really loved it. I completely fell in love with Alice Walker's writing and the emotions she so vividly portrays, I am definitely going to read more from her.

Mistakes Were Made by Meryl Wilsner - 6/5 - OMG I loved the chemistry between the leads and was smiling almost the entire book. I am so going to pick up their other book and will hopefully be adding them to my list of must read romance authors.

Artificial Condition by Martha Wells - 6/6 - Another great installment to a lovely series.

Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers by Lillian Faderman - 6/9 - Taught me so much about lesbian culture and I am so sad that I don't own a copy of this book, because even though I took pictures there's some passages that will stick with me for a long time.

Burn the House Down: A Biography of America's First Woman President by Kenna Jenkins - 6/10 - I love alternate history and for it to be by a self-published writer it was even better. It was truly worth reading.

Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler - 6/13 - This is truly one of the best sci-fi books I've ever read, and for it to be compared to anything is completely cheap because it is truly one of a kind. I ran to the library the next day to check out like three more of Butler's books.

Rogue Protocol by Martha Wells - 6/14 - Murderbot is so great I love it, and this series is incredibly fun to listen to at the gym.

Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin - 6/15 - A bit absurd at times but a witty and horrifying work that feels all too relevant right now.

The Fianceé Farce by Alexandria Bellefleur - 6/16 - Bellefleur is one of my favorite romance authors, she's so magical and I am so excited to read all of her future works. I have one left from her backlog and I'm already itching for more.

Season of Love by Helena Greer - 6/20 - The blurbs were right, this is like a Hallmark movie in book form. It was incredibly sweet and I loved the butch representation, butches have my whole heart forever.

Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree - 6/25 - Although I am not into D&D, this book was super sweet and soft. Definitely going to read more from this series.

Paris: The Memoir by Paris Hilton - 6/26 - Definitely very hard to read but was one of the better celebrity memoirs out there.

Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica - 6/27 - God this book was so horrifying I can't even fully comprehend my thoughts on this book.

Upstream by Mary Oliver - 7/2 - I love Mary Oliver, this was so good and it was top-notch literary analysis.

Educated by Tara Westover - 7/4 - This book was so good OMG my mom was so right to recommend this book to me for like four years because it is completely worth the hype it got in 2018. Everyone should read this book and pass it on to their friends.

[timespacegirls]

does anyone have any good Thasmin fic recs?

[transmascfrankiero]

all of mcr’s songs ranked out of ten based on whether or not you can strip to them:

romance: could work if you were going for a Super Melancholy smiths-esque vibe but overall too slow and pretty. 1/10

honey: headbanger soundtrack to showcase your revenge body to ur ex. bonus points for underlying ‘gonna murder shitty boyfriend’ context thanks to audition-inspired video. but slightly too angry to be seductive. 5/10

vampires: too goth, too many feelings. reminds me of pot dreads frank. would not work. 0/10

drowning lessons: this song is cursed and cannot be listened to in public unfortunately 0/10

sorrows: if u were going to do a strip routine while beating the shit out of someone for trying to stealing ur tip money this would be a gr8 choice 6/10

halos: it’s about blowing your own head off and taking too many pills to cope w/ wanting to die all the time. 0/10

turnstiles: please do not!!! strip!!! to a song!!! about 9/11!!!! what is wrong w/ you!!! -100000000/10

monroeville: if u were doing a private lil strip dance for your george a. romero-obsessed s.o. where u both cry over the idea of having to kill the other person b/c they turned into a zombie then sure??? but other than that no. .5/10

best day ever: ehhhhhh. too fast. kinda weird to get sexy to unless u have a hospital kink. 0/10

cubicles: wow the thought of doing a strip routine to a song about pining for ur coworker who doesn’t know u exist is too sad to even joke about -20/10

demolition lovers: it’s a long song but it’s got cool tempo changes for variety and if u got the stamina then go for it. 4/10

helena: so, like, i get it. it’s a bop. u could dance to this beat for sure. the costumes and color scheme from the video make for gr8 stage pictures and the dancing corpse lady is v pretty. i could understand why if u were doing an emo strip routine u would want to use helena. but please for the love of all that is holy do NOT strip to a song gerard way wrote about his dead grandmother okay i am BEGGING you -∞/10

give ‘em hell kid: FUCK YEAH YOU LOOK PRETTY WALKIN DOWN THE STREET IN THE BEST DAMN DRESS U OWN. 10/10

to the end: this would be a hilarious choice for a bachelor party ngl 7/10 for that alone

prison: absolutely you could strip to this song but u gotta COMMIT okay u gotta light something on fire onstage and challenge gender norms while screaming your head off 8/10 but only if ur not a coward

i’m not okay: it’s a bop, but can u strip to it? no. 0/10

ghost of you: mikey way did not die on a beach in fake normandy for u to strip to ghost of you. seek help -5/10

jetset life: dude this song like. actually works??? for a strip routine??? so long as you don’t actually listen to the words, from a musical perspective, u could totally strip to this 10/10

interlude: what kinda weird catholic shame kink do u need to have to strip to this song. also it’s too short and too pretty. -5/10 (unless ur into catholic shame idk)

venom: this would require such a high energy routine but if u can make being sweaty work then this is a gr8 choice 7/10

hang ‘em high: this is a BATSHIT INSANE choice for a strip routine but if u want to do it then PLEASE do. i like ur style. 8/10

deathwish: u can strip to this only if u introduce ur routine by dedicating it to everyone who ever said eyeliner on dudes was gay. 5/10

cemetery drive: i think not. 0/10

never told you: if u are a highly theatrical highly murderous stripper then yes definitely 7/10

desert song: this song is Way Too Beautiful to strip to sorry you can’t have it -300/10

the end.: the only sexy thing about this song is how good gerard’s voice sounds so no. 0/10

dead!: this is a bold fucking choice but u have to play your cards just right. high risk high reward but SO much to potentially get wrong 6/10

how i disappear: u could. but why. 2/10

sharpest lives: holy SHIT yes ABSOLUTELY u should strip to sharpest lives. the drama. the beat. the spy rock guitar that frank accidentally nailed. this is one of THE choicest options from their catalog. why aren’t u stripping to this right now 50000000/10

wttbp: cute idea but don’t actually 0/10

i don’t love you: again, a bold fucking choice. u could strip to this in an edgy, meta sort of way but it’s missing the trashy factor so it’d have to be part performance art and part strip routine. if ur into that then totally 5/10

house of wolves: i mean i would pay money to see someone strip to this song so 7/10

cancer: LMAO YIKES -2000000/10

mama: this would be GLORIOUS if u fully embraced the sheer insanity and went Bonkers in Fuckin Zonkers burlesque-show-in-hell w/ it. 100/10 but u gotta pound the floor wailing at some point

sleep: i’m conflicted on this one like on the one hand it’s a good tempo for stripping but on the other hand it’s a song about being cruel to ur loved ones in order to force distance between u and them b/c you’re terrified of them getting hurt and it being all your fault. so maybe don’t strip to this one actually 0/10

teenagers: a bop w/ a great beat and fun costume ideas from the video but two major drawbacks being 1. ur getting naked to a song about teenagers which is uhhhh sort of Inappropriate and 2. it’s kind of also about school shooters which is also Inappropriate to get naked to. 0/10

disenchanted: why would u want this. you sad fuck. idek what to say except if you want to strip to this song i’m crying on your behalf -100000000/10

famous last words: don’t????? don’t. Do Not. stop that. -12/10

blood: this is HILARIOUS omg please strip to blood 10/10

kill all your friends: sure?? no objections but it’s an odd choice. this goes for the demo too. 2/10

heaven help us: if u want to strip to this then you definitely just read unholyverse for the first time and while u are valid, Don’t 0/10

my way home is through you: not an especially sexy song but it’s fun!! you do you 3/10

astro zombies (cover): uhhhhhh it’s a no from me dawg. i’d be thinking about danzig, like, the whole time. 0/10

desolation row: sure but u gotta be willing to get punched in the face by the riot squad for maximum effect 4/10

common people (cover): just b/c gerard would strip to britpop doesn’t mean u can. 0/10

emily: NO!!!! -50000/10

party at the end of the world: nah. 0/10

not that kind of girl: literally please consider the subject matter of this song and rethink ur life choices. -10/10

all the angels: it’s a cool song but don’t strip to it that’s weird -2/10

jack the ripper: you and the person who wants to strip to astro zombies can go sit in the suicidegirls corner together how about that. 0/10

na na na: a banger!! strip away my friend 9/10

bulletproof heart: a good song but not a strip song 1/10

sing: sorry this song is [REDACTED] it gets no score

planetary (go!): you could try to strip to this but it’s such a classic four-on-the-floor that i think you’d end up just regular dancing to it and forget to be sexy so 4/10

the only hope for me is you: are you doing a strip tease for michael bay. stop. put ur shirt back on shia lebeouf 0/10

party poison: like this is a hilarious option and i support you but realistically it’s pretty fast for a strip song 3/10

save yourself, i’ll hold them back: this is a safe option. Too Safe. almost soulless. a person who’d strip to this would avoid eye contact the entire time and never smile and later when you went out for a smoke break you’d overhear them on the phone with their ex arguing over child support payments. 4/10

s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w: the more i think about it the more fun the idea of stripping to this becomes so i say go for it 6/10

summertime: i’m Certain that gerard would prefer if you didn’t -5/10

destroya: is this objectively the best mcr song to strip to? Absolutely. it’s got everything you could possibly want right down to built-in moans and fever dream drums. but the only person in the universe who Can Must and Should strip to this song is gerard. sorry them’s the breaks. ∞/10 but only if you’re gerard way

kids from yesterday: don’t. 0/10

vampire money: 100% yes you should strip to this. bonus points for stealth twilight references 1000000/10

we don’t need another song about california: do i like this song? yes. is it sexy? no. 0/10

black dragon fighting society: i can’t understand what the FUCK gerard is saying in this song AT ALL so i can’t recommend that u strip to it b/c i have no fucking idea what it’s ABOUT 0/10

f.t.w.w.w.: i mean. this song is about eating pussy. and robots that are built specifically to fuck. so yes you can strip to this but you gotta dress up like a pornbot 100/10

mastas of ravencroft: again i cannot understand most of the fucking words and the ones i do understand are something something RICKETY BONES RICKETY HANDS so like. probably not the one 0/10

boy division: i could go either way on this one like it’s really fast but it’s also about cocaine so??? 3/10

tomorrow’s money: while this song slaps overall violent nihilism does not a strip song make 1/10

ambulance: no. 0/10

gun.: antiwar messages are sexy but not the right kind for stripping 1/10

the world is ugly: PLEASE no. 0/10

the light behind your eyes: oh my god this is so DEPRESSING why would you want to strip to this who hurt you -2000000/10

kiss the ring: yes yes yes it’s got built-in audience participation conceit factor if u let ur audience kiss ur ring, totally works 10/10

make room!!!: again, slaps, but not a strip song 1/10

surrender the night: dude we talked about this!!! dying violently w/ ur loved ones is Not Sexy!!! 0/10

burn bright: i guess you could strip to this but again it’s Too Safe tread carefully 3/10

fake your death: i want frank iero to strip to this song so i can throw tomatoes at him for being a LYING SACK OF SHIT FOR TWO YEARS i’m not gonna rate this one but frank if ur out there i have a basket of slightly squishy heirloom tomatoes and i am COMING FOR YOU

[seodami]

Neon green | LYY

Genre: soulmate au, fluff, friends to lovers, some frustrated feelings,...

Warning: none (besides cursing like 2 times)

Word count: 4071 (oopsie hehe)

Pairing: Trainee!Liu Yangyang x reader

Note: I am so excited for participating in the ✨NCT secret Santa event✨ I want to thank the organizers @neoculturechristmas for preparing such a cool collaboration! It is such a nice idea and I am really excited to read all the other stories. I really tried making it a bit winter themed in the beginning but oh well I think i failed haha. But if you squint ITS THERE I SWEAR :)) So this one is for you @theleemark :) I really hope you like it! Merry Christmas ✨

“Yangyang stop it!” You laughed while running away from the boy, who currently was chasing you like a maniac through the park. His arms were loaded with dozens of big white snowballs just ready to be thrown at you.

Your feet felt like they were sinking even further into the deep snow layer on the ground with each step you took. It was impossible to avoid your best friend any longer. And before you could complain further, the ice cold snow ball hit you right on your already pink cheek.

You let out a loud scream, not being able to move. The prickling pain of the cold snow overwhelming your senses.

Yangyang however couldn’t stop laughing looking at your face. Running the last few meters to you to catch up, he tackled you down into a hug, which unfortunately ended with both of you laying in the deep snow. Your jeans were soaking wet at this point. An icy feeling shuttered down your spine.

“Yangyaanggg...god I hate you.” You fumed frustratedly, hitting your best friends chest. “Get off me! You are heavy...” your weak arms tried to lift the boy above you up but bitterly failed.

Yangyang giggled into your neck, standing up by himself while helping you up as well. “Hey I’m not heavy. More like heavenly, don’t you think?” He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly with his usual smile as he posed like a supermodel.

As hard as you tried to keep pouting and stay angry at him, you couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up behind your hands. A grin immediately made its way onto his face. “Isn’t snow so dope? Like you can literally do anything you want. It’s like a movie.” He babbled excitedly.

You couldn’t help but secretly admire his beauty once again. Lately you’ve been catching yourself a lot staring mindlessly at him when he was busy. Even when it was just him pouring boiling water into a ramen cup. Maybe it was all the mushy lovey dovey Christmas romance content on Netflix you’ve been simping over the last month or just Yangyang himself but you were certainly sure, he definitely got more attractive in your eyes.

Still it was something you would never ever in your dreams confess to him or talk about. Especially since there wasn’t really any sign that you two were connected as soulmates. He was just...well...just your best friend. And you had to live with that.

You still remember the way you two became friends. It was a very fond memory of yours and little do you know, also for Yangyang. You both were in 5th grade back then, being the little Chinese kid who showed off his tiny German skills and the clumsy half Caucasian girl with braces. It was hilarious how well you two got along besides the differences.

You two were in the age were kids began to talk about soulmates and their soulmate connections. From writing on the arm to body switches or color blindness, everything was there. In school you briefly have learned about all the indicators and the bond itself, but you seemed to always be the odd one out. There had been no sign whatsoever. Nowhere on your body. Nothing. Niente.

It was frustrating at first. You found yourself way too often admiring older girls who already found their soulmate or had unique indicators. You were quite jealous of them back then.

But then you found out you weren’t the only person without a soulmate connection. There was Yangyang, who went through the exact same emotions as you did. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t want to be lonely.

And that is how you two bonded immediately. After this, you were always together. You acted as if you were glued together, never leaving ones side. You felt safe around each other.

Adults always told you to wait and see. That yours would come sooner or later. But nothing. 9 years later and you and Yangyang still haven’t found your soulmate or anything related to soulmates. It still frustrated you at times but being the positive person you were, you just accepted it with the time.

From time to time a lot of people happened to mistaken you two for soulmates. It always made you think ‘what if’...

Your poor heart already had been through so much because of this boy. It wasn’t easy to ignore your small crush on him starting back in 7th grade. You were both growing and having loads of hormonal crises, so it was understandable at some point. But seeing that this crush hasn’t gotten any less since then, you were just totally lost.

‘Stop it y/n! He is not your soulmate! He is not...’

You snapped yourself out of your daydreams and staring as you found Yangyang smiling brightly at you. “Oh damn y/n, lately you’ve beeen really drifting off with your thoughts.” He noted as he slung one arm around your shoulder, walking with you towards your apartment, making sure to not forget your groceries at the side of the tree.

“I noticed...maybe I should just get some more sleep.” You mumbled in your sweater paws in order to warm up your freezing hands. The boy besides you let out an airy laugh while squeezing your shoulder affectionately. One habit he unconsciously took over, over time.

“Oh yes you should. Weren’t you like playing games up until 4 am last night? You sure you aren’t a zombie by now?” He joked looking over to you, you both nearly choking from air as your eyes met, making your hearts race a bit faster.

You nodded quickly focusing on the snow on the ground again. “I kinda suck. How do you sleep at 12 am already? You’re a wonder kid.”

He shrugged his shoulders, still watching you. “It’s in my genes to be a wonder kid.” His joke made you giggle slightly. Yangyang was as always Yangyang. And you found it incredibly charming. You could never deny that.

After the short walk from the snow covered park to your apartment with all of your hands filled with full grocery bags, you decided to bake some Christmas cookies before Yangyang had to head back to his shared apartment. Ever since he began training in SM entertainment as a trainee, he hadn’t that much time like he did before. But either way, you were incredibly proud of him and always happy to spend some quality time with him.

You were lucky that none of your roommates were home, visiting family over the holidays or hanging out with their partners.

It was probably the best that you were alone because you both made a whole mess in the kitchen. It was so much fun hanging out after a long time but it was a hell of a ride to clean it all up.

When the moon was already at its highest point and the night air got even fresher and chillier, Yangyang hugged you goodbye with butterflies dancing in his stomache. He would always treasure these moments with you and think about them again when he was so hardly trying to fall asleep. It was like his mind was full of you 24/7. Even if he tried staying focused on his tasks, it would most of the times end up with him thinking about your laugh and smile as you sat on the couch next to each other while making fun of the twilight characters.

He wanted to scream in his pillow how devestatingly in love he was with you at this point. You made him just so overly happy. He wanted to be near you so bad.

And people noticed. They noticed how Yangyang showed his deepest hidden personalities only to you. His playful and quirky side but also his soft and vulnerable. He simply could be himself around yourself. And you felt exactly the same. You would tell him even your deepest secrets. You knew he would keep them safe.

Yangyang was surprised to see his fellow roommates and friends still awake in the living room as he arrived home. Ten, Hendery and Lucas were all sprawled out on the couch, seemingly waiting for sleep to take over them. The flat was confusingly quiet despite the slight background noice of the TV.

“Hey guys I’m back! Why are you still awake?” It was silent for a short while before Hendery suddenly stood in front of him, making him jump by surprise.

The older boy watched him with a growing smirk and exciting twinkling eyes. “And? Did you tell her? Please say yes, we all stayed awake just to hear the news.”

Yangyang let out a sigh, he didn’t know he was holding and stripped out of his jacket. He knew this question would come but not this soon. “Just let me breathe for a second alright? I’m gonna tell you everything.”

Ten in the background let out an excited scream. “Yangyang! You did it? Ohh finally manning up and confessing...I see.” The teasing but excited tone in his voice was as clear as daylight.

“What? No... it’s not like that...” Yangyang tried to explain the situations to his friends as he walked inside heading towards the living room with Hendery behind him.

Groans came from all sides. “You didn’t?! Oh man I really thought you finally would. What are you afraid of?” The older boys words stung inside of the youngest. He shrugged his shoulders sitting besides Lucas on the couch, grabbing the nearest pillow.

“I don’t know. Like I really don’t know. She’s absolutely amazing and so stunning but...” he placed his head on the pillow with a deep sigh. “But...I feel like I’m just a coward. Just thinking about that we probably are not soulmates or never be an actual couple. It all sucks. I wish I could just tell her...”

All the boys were deep in their thoughts as they listened carefully to Yangyang sorrows and worries. They knew they needed to help the kid in some kind of way. This had been the fifth day he decided to confess but all the prior nights turned out to be a failure. He just wanted his heart to be opened by the one person he loves the most. But it felt like there was a thick layer of securing foam around it, just waiting to be ripped away. If it was just that easy...

“Hey...I know this might sound stupid but since you seem pretty lost...I might have an idea how it will be easier for you to overcome yourself.” Lucas suddenly interrupted his train of thoughts, smiling brightly at his roommates. “Oh lord...please don’t say something stupid.” Ten prayed next to him with his hand holding his forehead.

“Tell me more.”

And that was how the plan was born.

A bulletproof plan in Lucas and Henderys eyes.

And a totally stupid one in Ten’s opinion.

But Yangyang did it anyways.

Cause he was desperate, frustrated and so full of love, it was impossible for him to think 100% straight. And he did it only for you. With the intention of getting your attention in the fullest way.

It was dyeing your hair. In freaking neon green. Cause what’s a better way to show your feelings than dying your hair in your crushes favorite color?

A lot actually. But Hendery and Lucas were absolutely confident that it had something to do with the human psyche and the law of attraction or whatever they called it. Their belief: you will fall for him immediately by the time you see his hair.

The only problem with this was that this plan was obviously not thought through yet and that the only hair coloring product in this house that came the closest to your favorite color, which was green, was a bright neon green. Yuta brought it over once for Ten to dye his Neon green highlights. And Yuta indeed could pull it off.

But Yangyang began to regret ever listening to his older friends again. He looked ridiculous. Looking himself with a frown in the mirror of the bathroom at 3 am was definitely not how he imagined this day to end.

Lucas lightly joked that he at least looked somehow christmasy. But then on the other hand Hendery couldn’t stop laughing about his own joke that he found his list highlighter. It was a mess. Ten wouldn’t even want to look at his hair and when he did, all he could say was “I told you”. It was even more frustrating.

All he could do now was sleep and wish it all just had been a dream. He didn’t really had the urge anymore to show you his hair. All he wanted to do was think about you laughing and running in the snow earlier today. And he really nearly forgot his hair dilemma for the night.

You on the other hand decided to go to sleep earlier that night since you nearly hadn’t gotten any sleep at all because of your assignments for university. It was more than exhausting for you to stay up till morning to finish up all your projects. Yangyang had to force you to go to bed at the end of the day and you didn’t even complain with his soothing voice telling you stories, slowly tugging you to your dream world.

The next morning, you woke up groaning with a heavy headache. One look at your phone and you could see it was 6:30. With a long sigh you fell back into your comfortable pillows, scrolling through your phone. Why did you have to wake up that early again? Right...university.

After what seems definitely too short for your liking, you finally climbed out of your bed, trotting towards the bathroom. There was no sign whatsoever that the headache would just go away by itself.

But as soon as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you let out a deafening scream. Your heart was thrumming as fast as never before and your adrenaline was rushing through your whole body. You couldn’t find a way to properly breathe at that exact moment.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god... please let this be a dream. Nonononono. Fuck.” You mumbled to yourself while your hands searched for support at the border of the sink.

Your eyes met in the mirror in front of you. Neon green eyes. Neon fucking green. That... that was not good.

There were so many questions in your mind all at once. But one thing was sure. You wouldn’t set a single step outside of this apartment. No one could ever see you like that. You looked like a monster. As you tried rubbing your eyes continuously or trying to find a contact lenses inside of them, you came to the conclusion that you were damned.

There were many possible explanations:

1. You somehow slept too less or have some sort of hallucination due to whatever.

2. Yangyang played a prank on you and is just waiting for you to call him.

3. You suddenly have gotten a really rare disease or disability over night.

Or the most likely one (except for Yangyang and his prank maybe)

4. You just found your soulmate connection.

Your eyes widen with realization and shock, as you came to the conclusion that this could be your possible soulmate indicator. You have learned so much about them in school and by yourself that you could easily tell what it was.

It was a rare connection. But it was possible. Having your soulmates hair color as your eye color. You were 80% sure that was the reason.

The other 20% you just thought about Yangyang. How he couldn’t be your soulmate. He would have told you that he was planning to dye his hair in NEON GREEN. What in the world was this even for a hair color?

You sat down on the floor to grasp your wilding thoughts and sort out your over rushing emotions. You couldn’t pinpoint why, but your thoughts drifted off to said boy every two seconds. It made no sense at all but your subconscious probably just wanted to tell you how stupid your feelings for the Chinese boy were. He still was your best friend of many many years. You knew this day would come. The day you would finally realize that you were no soulmates. Despite all your deepest wishes.

The whole situation was nearly ironic. Neon green eyes? That could only happen to you.

With wobbly legs you waddled over to your bedroom to pick up your phone. The blood from your hands nearly disappeared all at once and left your fingers cold as ice. You pressed Yangyangs caller ID without even thinking. You knew it was still very early and it was his free day but this was definitely an emergency.

Unconsciously you began biting your finger nails nervously, trying to think straight but failed. Everything was all over the place.

After the nth peeping tone, you could hear some dampened muffles on the other side. “Y/n? Why is- are you calling?” You heard the boys broken morning voice through the speaker, gently tugging on your heartstrings. Your heart wasn’t ready for this that early.

“Uhm...I ...well Yangyang? I kind of have a big problem and I cannot leave the house. Can you...if it isn’t too much trouble... I mean come over? I just- I really don’t know what to do...” you rambled on, not knowing what to say in a situation like that. He had to see it himself to understand. God that was awful.

More ruffling could be heard, followed by damp footsteps. “Oh...yeah sure. You sound really frustrated Y/n, is everything okay? Should I bring you something?” He questioned you with concern mirroring his voice. You shook your head, remembering he couldn’t see it.

“No it’s fine... I just need some really good advices. Its just weird. You will see when you come.” You explained to him, still biting your finger nails. “Alright I will be there in a bit. I’ll still bring you some chocolate tho, that’s always one solution.” Yangyang tried to lift up your seemingly worried mood, succeeding immediately and earning a chuckle from you.

“Thank you. You are the best. See you soon.” The line went dead and left you with a more comforting feeling than before. You were still sure everyone looking at you would scream out loud but at least Yangyang was there for you and could buy you contacts or whatever. You were always thankful to have someone like him in your life.

Not half an hour later, said boy rang the bell to your apartment. You prayed to god that none of your roommates got up because of the noice. You wouldn’t want anyone to see you like this... except for Yangyang.

In a hurry you put on a pair of sunglasses, you found on your dresser before running to the door to let him in. It wasn’t your intention to scare him away in the beginning, even though you know he would never.

The Chinese boy looked tired when you opened the door but you could still see the worry written on his face. He wore a black beanie and his long padded jacket. He looked absolutely adorable for you in that moment. But realization hit you when you couldn’t see any differences from yesterday. The heavy feeling immediately made its way to your heart. You felt horrible. You were right, he couldn’t be your soulmate. How stupid you were...

“Y/n what’s the problem? Why are you wearing sunglasses? Did you hurt your eye? Did someone hit you?!” Yangyang lowkey panicked. You dragged him inside, leaving him no time to remove most of his clothing items besides his dirty shoes.

You pulled him into your room exhaling deeply while pushing him gently on your bed to sit down. You stood in front of him still with your sunglasses on.

“I...I found out my soulmate indicator. I did right this morning.”

There was an indefinable silence in the air for a second. There was a slight drop in the boys facial expression. His heart ripped open like a bag of candy. Spilling all his content. “Wha-what...” was all he could mutter. His gaze drifting off to your feet, trying to get his thoughts straight.

“I don’t know I just...woke up like this...please don’t scream.” You scrambled nervously, taking off your sunglasses slowly and revealing your neon green eyes to him.

His mouth dropped immediately. With hammering heart and shaking hands he subconsciously reached for his beanie. If his emotions would ride the wildest rollercoaster, it would be this moment right now. Everything was all over the place but his heart lead it’s way.

Your big eyes fixated on the neon green mop of hair on top of Yangyangs head. It was hard not to forget how to breathe in that moment. “Yangyang...” you whispered softly, stepping closer and reaching for his hair, which was exact the same color as your eyes. “You...what?! Why didn’t you tell me? I was so... worried.”

He looked into your eyes, not finding fear or shock, no, there was happiness in them. Pure happiness, which surprised you immensely. There was a small smile on his lips. “Worried about what?” He reached for your hand. Emotions spilling over the top.

You sat down next to him, turning your body towards him. The blood was rushing so loud through your ears, it was hard to focus on your own thoughts. It was now or never y/n!

“About having someone else as a soulmate than... you. God it sounds so cheesy but it’s true.” You chuckled nervously wanting to chew on your nails but being stopped by Yangyang. His smile grew even bigger, letting it impossible for you not to smile.

He suddenly pulled you into a tight hug, giggling like a child. Your hands searching grip on his fluffy jacket. A warm feeling spread through your whole body. You felt wonderful. Like all sorts of sorrows and worries had been taken away from you. Immediately.

“I’m so so so happy Y/n... so happy.” He mumbled joyfully in your shoulder. He squeezed your body tight. “I wanted to confess to you. So many times. God I really fell hard for you and now I know why.”

He looked into your eyes once again, surpressing a laugh but still sending you heart eyes.

“I’m sorry but you really look ridiculous. I’m so sorry about that. I had no idea.” You nodded playfully glaring at him but still leaning closer into his touch, wanting to be even closer to him. It was a weird feeling. But everything just made sense to you now. Every single moment and feeling in the past. It was all because of your soulmate connection. You were soulmates all along and you never had a clue.

“Oh you better dye that hair back right now to black or you wait for neon pink eyes yourself.” You warned him playfully. “Even though you look like a Christmas tree... I mean it’s kinda cute.” You admitted playing with his hair in hope for him not to see your incoming blush.

Yangyang grinned to himself, unable to hold back his emotions as he saw your pinky cheeks from the compliment. He felt so giddy suddenly. “Hendery and Lucas were absolutely convinced that you would fall for me easier when I’d dye my hair in your favorite color. Unfortunately they only had neon green one left at this point in time. Please remind me to never trust them again. That was a horrible idea.”

Your heart swelled up by his words. “You did this because of me? Oh Yangyang...” your hand went to his arm. You would lie if you didn’t feel flattered in this moment. “You’re such an idiot... but a very very cute one.” You smiled at him in awe, “I appreciate it. But by all means please let us dye it back.” You both began to fall into a fit of laughter, unable to stop.

“Deal. This hair and your eyes should be banned from this country.” And with that you could proudly say that you finally found your soulmate. The person you were in love with all along. Your best friend and partner in crime. Liu Yangyang.

[jensungf]

𝐌𝐘 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 🌌 𝐡.𝐫𝐣

summary: he was your best friend. you should’ve been happy when he went to go ask that girl whether or not she was his soulmate. so why was the universe pulling at your heartstrings now?

pairing: reader x best friend!huang renjun genre: fluff + soulmate!au word count: 1.6k warnings: none

6:23pm. you rolled your eyes as you read the time. where the hell was he?

your focus drifts to the onyx swirls dotted on your wrist, and you subconsciously trace all the scribbles making up your tattoo. you had been impatiently tapping your foot for what felt like forever, but in actuality, was about ten minutes. maybe i should just leave, you thought ruefully as the digit on your lit-up phone screen changed once again.

you had been through this too many times for you to simply count with your fingers. it was almost like clockwork at this point. despite this only beginning months ago, you knew the cycle. renjun would encounter someone, and would feel compelled to chase them down and ask if they were possibly his soulmate. unfortunately, it always ended in rejection.

you were always the one to comfort him when he returned with the same answer like always— that they had found their soulmate or they didn’t feel any connection at all. despite your annoyance of having to be inconvenienced at random hours of the day and having your quality time with him interrupted, you knew deep down it hurt you just as much as it hurt him.

yet you never once considered the reality that perhaps he would actually find his soulmate one day, and how that mere possibility would change your entire life.

if renjun was seriously going to confront that girl with a simple question of whether or not she was his soulmate, what was taking them so long? surely he would’ve texted you by now if he was successful, knowing you were still waiting for him. or at least let you know he was on his way back.

you winced at the thought that he might be too busy engaging in other endeavors, ones that involved less talking and more touching. you shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of those thoughts, burying the odd feelings that made your stomach twist and turn. no, that wasn’t the renjun you knew. he wouldn’t be as daring as that despite his growing impatience to find his soulmate. besides, you wanted him to find his soulmate. there was no reason for your heart to twinge at the chance that maybe this time was the right time. you were his best friend. you were supposed to be happy for him, and hope for the best.

you hastily unlocked your phone, typing out a very annoyed albeit passive aggressive text to your heck of a best friend who decided to abandon you in the middle of your weekly dinner date to chase down a girl. you should’ve just left him moments ago, yet your feet stay planted in your spot outside the moomin plushie store.

“stupid renjun,” you muttered under your breath as you realized that the sky was beginning to settle into a hazy cloud of purple and pink. dusk was always your favorite time of day, yet you couldn’t help but feel a bit embittered that renjun wasn’t here with you to enjoy the view with. just when you were about to click send, a shadow casts over your figure and you lift your head.

“hey,” renjun says simply. his hands are shoved deep into his cream-colored denim jacket and he gazes at the sky instead of at you, causing you to stare quizzically at him.

“so....” you cock your head at his silence and wait for him to answer the obvious question. however, he makes no move to look you in the eyes. you hesitate, unsure what to do at your best friend’s abnormal silence.

usually he would be telling you that it wasn’t the right person and he had made a fool out of himself again or something along those lines, but this time, he remained silent. his eyes still avoid yours and you feel panic bubbling up in your chest. why was he acting like this? had something gone wrong?

“can i... try something?” he breaks the silence, asking quietly, almost as if he would break glass if he spoke any louder. he leans in slowly, and you freeze, your breath hitching. your mind screams for you to move away, to question what he was doing and whether he was in his right mind. yet your heart palpitates erratically and you make no move to turn away. his dark brown eyes gaze into yours, and you feel your head spinning.

despite your daze, you somehow feel your head nod ever so slightly, almost out of pure instinct with no control of your own body.

albeit with great reluctance, renjun takes this opportunity daringly. he closes the gap separating you both and gently presses his lips against yours. you melt into his warmth, closing your eyes as your hands subconsciously reach up to pull him in closer by gripping his jacket. his hands raise up to gently cradle your head and his lips feel like velvet, pliant against your own. the kiss is delicate yet firm, all hesitance dissipating as the seconds pass. you both pull away for air, but it felt as if you had just taken a deep breath of air for the very first time in your life.

people had told you about how they felt when they found the one, and you had never understood what they meant about how one person could make them feel just right until that very moment. how complete you had felt. your heart tugs almost as if you had finally crossed the thin line separating you from friends and lovers, something you never knew your heart had been aching for until now. you had always had renjun in your life, but you never knew how much he made you feel whole until this very moment. like he was the last missing puzzle piece that had finally found its place in your life, and nothing more could rival the feeling of this very moment.

he rests his forehead against yours and smiles meekly. your head was still reeling, and renjun moved his hand to gently cup your cheek. your mouth opens ajar, as you wrack your mind for the right words to say. “i… what? injunnie—”

he cuts you off by pressing another soft kiss to your lips. your eyes widen at his impulsive action, taken aback by how uncharacteristic that was. “i know you have a lot of questions, but i couldn’t resist,” he admits as pink dusts his cheek.

he entwines his hand with yours, fitting like two puzzle pieces as he leads you to the park bench. he looks up at the hazy sky once again with admiration before explaining.

“i never understood why it was so difficult to find my soulmate, when my tattoo was one of the more common ones,” he confesses as he glanced down to his moon tattoo. although it was indeed not as uncommon as yours, you had always admired the beauty it held, how beautifully and different it was drawn compared to the generic crescent symbols you had seen before.

it was as if renjun had drawn it with his own hand, with every tiny detail matching precisely with his art, his masterpieces. you look at yours, your wrist adorned with tiny scribbles of planets, stars, and even the sun scattered around all in one area.

suddenly it dawns on you. the space separating the sun and planets and stars is no longer empty, instead replaced with a replica of a moon. 

renjun’s moon.

“ever since we reunited with each other, i’ve been feeling more and more desperate to find them because i couldn’t help but feel something towards you, and i couldn’t live knowing you weren’t mine. at least— not until now.”

renjun is absolutely glowing when you look up at him.

“i guess you’re my universe, y/n,” he scoffs with a smile. his eyes meet yours, but despite the firmness in his voice, his telltale signs of embarrassment say otherwise.

and you believe him, because when he smiles at you, it’s as if you were the one who put the sun and moon and stars in the sky, as if you were the center of his galaxy. as if you were his universe.

“i never realized how much i needed you, until i saw that girl. she told me that she was the sun to someone else’s galaxy, and that’s when i realized that i had been trying to push away the pull towards someone who was always beside me for too long. somehow who should’ve been with me all along.”

you both locked eyes before bursting into laughter at his cringeworthy yet heartwarming confession. “when did you become such a cheeseball?” you snort. he locks you in a loving chokehold and your heart nearly skips a beat.

“we both wasted our time, didn’t we?” you remark with a carefree smile. all the worries, the gut feeling that made your head spin, the questions of why you couldn’t feel happy when it came to not having him, disappears within a simple kiss. the puzzle was done. the masterpiece was completed, but what was funny was the mere fact that you had no idea anything was even missing in the first place. you looked down at his wrist, now full with doodles of your galaxy. it glowed just like yours.

“we can make up for lost time.”

you nod and bask in his presence, gazing up at the stars scattered across and the luminescent moon peeking out against the darkness of twilight sky.

soulmates were an odd thing— to simply leave it up to a mere tattoo to connect you both when you had been connected since the very beginning. but you couldn’t have asked for anything more, when fate had already decided that you were his universe, and he was your moon.

you completed each other.

author’s note: i wrote this for @yongiefilms to thank her for being such a good friend and also bc i needed an excuse to post smth while i work on my main wip! i seem to have a curse where i cant write blurbs cus they end up turning into drabbles. oops? also i spent wayy more time on the header than the actual story lol ANYWAYS yay to my first renjun fic <3

[karoiseka]

Starlight

((5.3 Spoilers!! I figured this should take place before the events of 5.4, just... because.  Have a sappy, Happy Starlight story!))

"It's snowing!" G'raha's surprised, yet excited voice carried to where Karo was still buried in a mountain of blankets on the large bed in their suite at the Rising Stones.  He had gotten up to tend to the fire, but the odd light from the windows had called to him, beckoning to view the world transformed by the thick layer of snow that was continuing to pile up.  He stood transfixed by the sight outside, red tail swishing--betraying his emotions as he lifted his right hand to the glass-paneled door leading out to the balcony.  Even though they had made the trek North to Coerthas since he had returned, and there was plenty of snow there, Mor Dhona had not received more than  a light dusting, melting almost as soon as it had fallen.

His braid, messy from sleep, whipped around as he turned to face the bard still in the warmth of the bed.  Karo noticed that he was rubbing his right arm again as he fully turned to face her--she was sure it was a left over habit from when it was solid crystal and almost completely without feeling.  She smiled at him, still not fully awake, watching as he self-consciously stopped and with a calming breath walked back over to the bed to perch on the edge of it.  Leaning over, he cupped her face with his hand, kissing her forehead then lips gently, fingers running along the crystal hair tassels that never left the ends of her braids.

“Happy Starlight, my Star,” G’raha’s voice had dropped to the quiet calm tone, the one sounding closer to when he wore the title Crystal Exarch.  The melding of his two personalities was going well, the older of his memories grounding the enthusiastic youth that had never left the Source.  The joy in being back, and alive, seeped into all of his actions though, making every venture new and wondrous, optimism overflowing.  

"It looks like some gifts have been delivered under the tree," the boyish mischievousness was back in his voice as he continued to play with Karo's hair as she slowly came to full alertness--the Warrior of Light happy to be somewhere that it was unnecessary to do all at once. It had been one thing after another almost consistently since she had joined the Scions, so she reveled in the occasions she could take time to be lazy. It was definitely one of the first Starlights in several years that didn't feel overshadowed by melancholy or missing friends. Leaning into his hand with a small sound of contentment and a murmur of a ‘Happy Starlight’ in return, Karo smiled, her expression matching his.

"Well then, let's see what the Saint of Nymeia has left us!" Wriggling out of the nest of blankets took a few moments, as playfulness on both their parts didn't make for an easy job of it--wrestling and tickling, burning off early morning energy before finally grabbing a blanket to wrap up in and moving down the loft stairs to the main room where the decorations glowed in the early morning light.  Karo rushed the last few steps down, blanket falling to the floor, as her eyes caught one of the waiting gifts, glowing faintly on the table next to the tree.

“Raha!! How?  But--these are from Rak’tika!!” Karo stumbled over the words as she carefully picked up the vase of blue flowers, the same that lit the path to Fanow, now here on the Source in her home.  G’raha beamed at her, his voice full of pride that she obviously liked the gift.

“You may be Feo Ul’s [sapling], but your [branch] still likes to do nice things for you, and being near you, she could hear me call as well.  I remembered how you told me you loved these flowers, and wanted to make sure you had a bouquet.  She enchanted them so they will always smell that sweet and will never wilt.  Her only request is that you don’t forget to call on her.”  Karo had the good grace to look abashed at that, knowing how many times she had frankly forgotten the pact she had with the Fae, or even just in ignorance of how much she could safely call on them.  Taking another whiff of the blooms, Karo placed the vase down on the fireplace mantle, mentaly sending a burst of joy down the connection she shared with the Fae King before clearing her throat and turning with a package in her hands for G’raha.  The paper it was wrapped in was not smooth, or secured well, but it covered the gift adequately.  Holding out to him, her ears dipped and her tail twitched nervously as he closed the distance between them to take the gift from her hands with a smile.

“I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably already heard and researched it all before, but I hoped there would be at least a few insights you hadn’t heard yet,” Karo’s babble had started as G’raha had peeled the paper from the journal he now held in his hands.  The brown leather cover was embossed with the red Star that had caged the ancient primal, and inside was a neatly written account of her personal thoughts and discoveries, including rough sketches of the wonders therein.

“I did my best to remember all we had found about Bahamut when exploring the shards of Dalamud, and I got Alisaie and Alphinaud’s help with some of the details near the end.  There was a lot of Allag technology in there that I haven’t seen elsewhere, and I know I gave a report when we were done, and you might actually remember more than I learned--” G’raha stepped forward closing the distance between them and stopping her rambling with a deep kiss.  Karo froze in place before leaning into him, relaxing and letting her nerves dissipate.  

“It’s amazing,” the scholar beamed at her, holding the tome to the side as he pulled her into a tight embrace.  “No matter what I’ve learned so far, having your first-hand account, along with notes from the twins about what you found there is priceless.  I’m going to enjoy reading this.”  He kissed her forehead as they were so close then looked back down at the book, running a hand across the cover, smiling.  Placing it carefully on the table, they headed back to the little kitchenette for some breakfast before getting ready to head out for the day.

                                                   --K--

Donning their warm Starlight robes (G’raha had received one as a gift this year), they headed down to the main rooms of the Rising Stones, hand in hand as they greeted their friends.  It seemed that the newest Scion wasn’t the only one to receive a home-made robe, as each of Scions were bedecked in a rainbow of colors all of matching Starlight garb.  Tataru in her typical pink was buzzing from group to group, ensuring everyone was fed and happy before the core group headed outside in a fit of energy to help clear Mor Dhona’s streets of the piled snow--especially around the aetheryte right outside their doors. 

The snow was still coming down lightly, sun peeking between the clouds making the whole town sparkle.  Not to anyone's surprise though, when the work was nearly done and the afternoon stretching on, the first snowball was thrown, sparking a heated battle.  No one would admit to starting it, but the group paired off with Alisaie, Y'shtola, Krile, and Karo on one team, Alphinaud, Thancred, G'raha and Uriangier  rounding out the second. 

The mock battle lasted several bells, with the townsfolk cheering on the Scions in waves, occasionally joining in. Every time it seemed to be winding down, someone else would get a lucky throw in, and the melee would begin anew. Finally winded, cheeks red with glee and exertion, a truce was struck--as the Warrior of Light was tackled into a snowbank by the combined efforts of G'raha and Thancred.  The three of them lay there laughing, Karo holding them fast to her, enjoying having them close.  Kissing them both on the cheek, she took the proffered hand from Alisaie helping her out of the snow, and pulled the younger girl into a hug before they all gathered around a fire that had been set up.

By ones and twos the group slowly retired for the evening, Karo and G’raha left alone to watch the flames flicker in the twilight.  The Miqo’te pair leaned against each other, tails twinning, worn out from the snow battle from the afternoon.  As a shiver ran through the Bard, G’raha hugged her extra close before standing and tugging her up after him.  Naught a word said as he led her back into the Rising Stones, and above to their shared suite.

                                                    --K--

“Comfy?” G’raha looked down at Karo who was now sprawled across the couch they had ended up on, head resting on his leg.  They had both changed into something that wasn’t soaked with snow, and settled in for the evening curled up together to end Starlight as they had started it.  Karo nodded almost imperceptibly, however the slight purr of happiness reached her lover’s ears as all traces of tension left her body.  He knew he didn’t have much energy left either, but the draw of the journal gifted to him earlier was not to be ignored.  Opening it, he reached down to caress one of his shining Star’s ears, amazed once more that she was at his side after all that had happened.  This had truly been the most magical, amazing Starlight he had celebrated.  Getting to stay at her side, watching her laugh, he wanted more.  To get to know her even better, know what kept that smile dancing upon her lips, to know what made her heart race, and her favorite everything.  Using a tendril of magic, he tugged at the blanket at the other side of the couch, using the magic it to cover her without having to move or disturb her one onze.  

“Happy Starlight, my love,” he whispered, turning to the book in his hands, letting her take him on yet another adventure with her words.

[musedblues]

Send My Love

summary: Eugene misses home. You miss him. But there's a lot neither of you can say.

a/n: Here's an angsty bit of nonsense I word vomited out of the blue for no reason at all- besides the fact I love Eugene. Plus I sort of owe this to @joemazzmatazz​ for hooking me up with The Pacific and for also just being the angel that she is!

w/c: 5k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

He couldn't burden you with his darkness. He couldn't tell you that he hadn't caught a wink of sleep in three nights straight. He dared not tell you whose blood was on his hands, if he even managed to figure out who it'd belonged to. Or how he'd become fearful of lingering silence. His chest would fill with lead as seconds crept by in the twilight and even the blowing of the wind pricked his ears as he waited for the next big bang. He couldn't even tell you he missed you. Because all the other throat constricting truths were tangled in that one simple fact. He missed the warmth of your bed. The smile on your face on a breezy Sunday drive. He missed never knowing what he was missing out on, before.

I love you. Now that, he could say. Actually, he said it all the time. He said it when he admired his only worn photo of you near candle light. He said it when he thought of you, as all his friends and enemies cries pierced so loudly it deafened him.

I love you. He thought, hours after sending you another letter, as he dug his nails into the dirt of a foreign land. He thought only of how dearly he loved you because even the mud he crawled through wasn't enough to ground him. Not when the dirt clouded his already blurred vision.

///

"I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I-"

You let the new letter fall against your writing desk as your eyes scanned the page. It was chock full of those same three words without punctuation. His writing was sloppy, almost careless. But he'd taken the time to scribe the sentence in repetition, so you knew his heart was in the right place.

But the word's meaning didn't leave a long enough effect on your heart before worry swallowed you whole. He loved you, and you knew it. But a whole page full of the declaration felt tragic. Like a warning. Not at all what it should have felt like.

You bit your lip as you pulled your own stationery in some kind of sudden hurry. The quicker I write this the better. You though. But the thought caught you off guard. You'd never thought it before.

"Dear Gene,"

No sooner than your pen hit the paper did a knock come across your bedroom door.

"Come finish dinner before your father and I have to leave to beat the snow." Your mother softly demanded, and you stood without haste. But your eyes lingered on Eugene's letter as you turned to leave.

"The mail was from Eugene, wasn't it?" Your mother grinned, stabbing her fork into a lump of mystery meat she insisted on coming over and cooking for you. The exchanges between yourself and Eugene had dwindled significantly over the while he'd been away. And quite the while it had been indeed. So when a letter finally did arrive between the collection of cobwebs in your mailbox, it was like Christmas day. Better.

"Uh-huh." You agreed, biting into some asparagus and hoping to high heavens that your voice sounded even and calm. The new letter was so sweet. So why did it leave you with such a heavy heart?

"How's Gene, then?" Your father boomed.

"He's good." You decided, keeping your gaze fixed on your dinner plate. Sure enough, your father spun into the most frightening updates of the state of your country's men. You pretended to listen, white noise flooding your ears and stealing your focus. The sinking feeling in your gut took up too much space for any more food.

Your sister changed the subject to some school girl fantasy. The boy she fancied had yet to leave the comforts of his family home. But he would likely be up and away like the rest of em' soon enough. So was it really a change of subject at all?

///

"Gene?" You called. His silhouette was shaped by a sunlit door frame. When he stepped into the room all the way, the floorboards didn't creak. But your heart did. He lifted a silent arm toward you, but you couldn't let him any closer.

"This isn't real. Don't break my heart in another world, Gene."

You shot awake from the dream with the realization that you hadn't finished writing a response to Eugene's latest letter. You couldn't be stopped from padding toward your writing desk in the black ink night.

You scribbed a hurried response that assured your lover you loved him just as much as all the times he said so on paper. You tried to keep it short, but as you kept jotting down your feelings, you couldn't stop. You took up three pages confessing how scared you were. How lonely and worried and dazed you'd become. If anyone should know your heart's murmurs, it was your Gene. So you sealed your words in an envelope and sent your lengthy letter through priority mail the next day.

///

You couldn't be sure if your letter got to where it was meant to go. Six long dreary months passed since you'd seen anything besides bills in your mailbox. The winter's snow had been melted by a warm spring. Trees blossomed and flowers too. So why were you wilting? Because you hadn't received one single bit of mail from Eugene since his page-long declaration of his love for you.

The repetitive letter laid exactly where you left it on your writing desk, something your eyes glanced over at least once a day. It had become a fixture of your scenery, and you were glad for the reminder.

Maybe Eugene knew he wouldn't be sending more letters. Maybe he filled up every blank space in his last with love, for all the times he feared he'd miss out saying so in the future.

Some days you let ideas like those get the better of you. Friends of friends would be united with their war-torn lovers. A girl dropped her grocery basket in the produce aisle to sprint into her long lost man's embrace. Another would brush past you at work to tackle her husband to the ground with all the kisses she'd saved up. You would pretend to smile for them and curse at yourself for feeling so selfishly bitter. Their love came home. And in a way, yours did too, in so many written words. You had to remind yourself that Eugene's last letter was better than nothing at all.

But soon, nothing at all was your everything. No letters, no calls, no news from anyone you'd hope would have some. Nothing. You kept Eugene's side of the bed neatly tucked in, and his clothes on his side of the closet. You ran out of shirts that smelled of him, after cuddling them all too close. Their charm might have washed off in the laundry, but they were still Eugene's.

///

You worked through the summer and went out with your friends on the weekends, if you could. When another lonely autumn started to approach, the steadily dissipating hope you'd been grasping hold of, had been lost. You'd passed the stage where everything made you sad; like frequenting Eugene's favorite shops in the city, and catching glimpses of his favorite cars on the road. You'd turn the radio down when songs he liked came on air. You'd noticed his favorite trees outside your cozy home, but wouldn't let yourself admire how they'd grown.

One afternoon you noticed the letter on your desk for the first time in a while. It'd become a part of your background, something your eyes were so used to it was almost like the letter wasn't even there. But one day, you sat down to do some mind numbing paper work; and glanced over to realize half of Eugenes scribbles had started fading from the sun that crept past your curtains day in and out.

You took the sun bleached letter into your grasp and let your eyes fall across the page. His words might have started to disappear but you didn't have to squint to know what he'd written. The patterns of each sloppily scrawled line had been burned into your brain for good, by now. But you couldn't let it go on fading. It was all you had left. So with a heavy sigh, you pulled out the box where you'd kept all the other letters, and stuck it in the very bottom of the pile. That way, if you'd ever venture to read through some of Eugene's outdated updates, the last one you received would hopefully keep some semblance of it's original form. And if the words were even harder to make out by the time you came upon them again, you'd know exactly what was missing from the washed out letter.

///

Your friends stopped asking if you were alright, because they knew you'd only answer like you always did, by pretending you were. Secretly hoping that forcing a smile on your face would make it stick till it became real, or at least natural, again. But you hadn't felt that fizzle in your chest for a long time, the one that bubbled up in the theater during a funny film, or a thrilling plot twist. You hadn't even felt a tinge of jealousy when your coworkers went on trips to spend time with their lovers distant relatives.

By Halloween, you barely felt anything at all.

Your sister begged you to come along for a night-long hallows eve celebration. You didn't know what kind of night she planned on having, but you simply weren't up for pretending to have any kind of fun. And you really didn't want to be pulled through a house of horrors or tossed a handful of sweets to tied you over till the next scary thing popped out. You'd spent too many nights scared of what might happen next. You wanted to stay in and practice your new routine of praying for a better tomorrow.

But nothing could stop the neighborhood children from knocking on your door, asking for candy. And you'd be a real monster if you didn't have any to offer. So you filled a big bowl with chocolates and spent the night marveling over kid's homemade costumes.

You spent a while chatting with little werewolves and ghouls, musing with their parents about the weather. You handed out candy as the sun went down and put a record on in between. Your home felt lonely as ever but the bustling streets were an odd comfort.

When a fireman, and a lion knocked on your door for a treat, a princess was leaving a trail of flower petals on your porch, dedicated to her role. You chuckled and watched her twirl into the crowded street, shouting about the excellent quality of the candies you were handing out. Children of all ages were floating down the block, and your neighbors were giving out sweets too, on their aptly cobweb-covered porches. For a moment you wished every day could be so full. You wished the streets were always jam packed with smiling faces. You wished the knocks on your door were always so frequent.

Among the sea of costumed kids, and parents with cameras, one figure slowly parted through the rest, making their way toward you. It was akin to an eerie vision. A sick joke. You'd had dreams like this, that never came true...

You stilled as the kids on your porch reached into your candy dish, and more came up the steps for their share. But your gaze was fixed to the person in the road.

Could it be? A lone soldier was drifting closer and closer, a familiar swath of auburn hair tousled in the warm night air. This was no costume. Suddenly, children's laughter was muddled, and the record inside your door sounded miles away. This wasn't another one of your dreams, for once- even though time seemed to slow down while your heart beat a mile a minute.

Eugene was here. Eugene was home. He was looking right at you, and when he realized you noticed him, his face relaxed into something softer, sweeter than a smile.

You dropped the dish of sweets in the doorway because you were only capable of running now. You pushed through the group of children scrambling to collect your mess of candy and bolted down the petal covered porch steps.

Eugene stopped walking through the crowd in order to brace for impact. He scooped you up in a long-awaited embrace, nearly stumbling over from the momentum you'd gained.

"Hey watch it!" Some kid cried, ringing the bell on the front of his bicycle. The crowd of comers and goers had to redirect their swarm that you'd rushed into the middle of. But you were in no state to offer up apologies for disrupting the bustle. All you knew was the feeling of Eugene's strong arms around you. That's where you belonged. You wrapped yourself around him, like if you didn't cling on for all it was worth, that he would evaporate into a fever dream you'd had once before. But then he spoke up, reminding you this was all really real.

"I missed you." Eugene's warm voice was muffled in your hair. And he meant it. He always had, of course. But now that he was back, he didn't have to miss you anymore. So he could finally say it. And it wasn't until then, that you realized he'd never said it before. You realized why, too.

You couldn't hold back your tears as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck. If you could have focused on anything besides the reappearance of your long lost love, you would have been able to register the neighbor's chatter and the children's ongoing griping for you to get out of the middle of the road. But you just kept on crying.

So Eugene kept one arm around your middle, and pulled the pair of you steadily toward the porch steps, apologizing to the candy snatching children he maneuvered around.

By the time he shut the pair of you inside your home, the record had stopped playing and the neighborhood's collective buzz was reduced to white noise.

Eugene pulled you to the floor and held on to you all the same. He couldn't tell you he was too relieved too cry along with you. He couldn't ever find the proper words for a moment like now. So he just savored the way you adhered to him; as he held you close in the living room of your home that's carpet felt like clouds beneath him.

Your cries slowly morphed into whimpers as he smoothed back your hair and hummed in your ear. It was amazing, the way Gene sent you reeling and calmed you down all at once.

"I'm sorry." Embarrassed that you couldn't stop crying, you buried your face in Eugene's shoulder. Only then did he dare to release his comforting grasp on you.

He tugged you to face him, wiped your tears away and peppered your cheeks with soft kisses. The way he always used to do, when you were angry or exhausted. You lifted a hand to his face and relaxed into his frame in a way you'd longed to do for ages.

"It's alright. I'm just glad to know you missed me so much." Eugene admitted through a sweet chuckle as you pulled back to gaze into his eyes that were even more striking than you'd managed to remember.

"Why didn't you tell me you were comin' home?" You asked, not unhappy in the least, just curious when you recalled all this time you'd gone without hearing from him.

He couldn't tell you why he'd gone so long without sending you something. He couldn't tell you that time seemed to tick, and when it stalled, the words he could have conjured just for you were stolen away when those rare moments of respite were, too.

But he could tell you that when he was finally sent on his way, the train he'd boarded with anxious glee- broke down in the middle of no place at all. He combated another couple days of waiting to get home with the peaceful knowledge that he was headed in that direction without a doubt.

"Well, welcome back." You smiled, sitting up with your knees on either side of his legs, pulling his shoulders closer toward you for a kiss. You felt Eugene melt in your clutch as his strong arms coiled around your waist. This was just like before. But better. You could get used to this.

///

He was everything you missed. He was patient smiles as you fretted over what to wear. He was the last to ask for help with anything, but you were the first he asked, when defeated. He was around every corner with big strong arms already outstretched, eager to pull you in for a bit of reassurance, or just because he simply longed to hold you close.

And as the weather turned cold and you got used to his being home, readjusted to the way his presence brought you warm peace; you had a few other things to get used to, as well.

He still waited for the perfect time to crack jokes, when he knew they'd make you laugh hardest. They made your family laugh too. And when all the champagne bubbles and chuckles fizzed out near the end of a big dinner, so did something in Eugene's gaze. He didn't go missing his spark or the warmth that radiated from his forest toned eyes. But you noticed the shift before everyone else seemed too. You watched his focus break away before he got up from the dinner table without a word and slipped down the hall.

Your sister's boyfriend would halt mid tall tale and act as if he couldn't wait to go on telling his story without Eugene near to listen. You had to rest your hand on top of the schoolboys, when he made as if he was going to shoot up away from the table and down the hall to talk your man's ear off. The boy would cast you a curious glare, and you would shake your head as your father made a show of kicking conversation in an all new direction. Then you all sat and waited, hard as it was.

You wanted to run after Eugene too, but you knew he needed the space.You knew, when he'd found whatever he went off looking for, he'd always come back in time to help clean up with a soft smile that reminded you why you'd fallen so hard for him way back when.

So you learned to leave him be. You learned it was normal to find he'd wake up before you, now, and linger in the kitchen with a cup of tea. He'd let the drink go untouched and grow cold till you found him nodding off at the table, and offer to make him another.

When you went on walks, you watched him drift toward the nearest patch of quiet until you'd finished catching up with the women you bought fresh flowers from. When you'd finally manage to float in his direction again, he'd hold his arm out for you to take; and then greet you with some cheesy line that left you blushing, despite all your years of becoming accustomed to his sweet talk.

So you'd let Eugene go quiet. Because you knew sooner or later, he'd pull you into his lap or close to his side, where you'd spend the rest of the day dreaming of the many more you had left to waste away together.

Of course, though, some days you couldn't let him go by sulking in the sunroom one minute longer. Your heart would crack down to the wire, each hour you passed by the door to peek in on him-  slumped a little lower in his favorite old chair.

And when the day started turning to night and all that time passed without a peep reminded you too much of the quiet that crept in when he wasn't around at all- you swayed into the sunroom on a mission.

You found Eugene how you'd left him early in the afternoon, flipping the yellowed page of a book you knew he'd read a thousand times before.

"Why don't we call it a night, then?" You wondered softly, leaning against the chair and letting your hand fall to Eugene's mess of hair. His locks were mused by wrestling for a wink of sleep the night before, and his fingers today, as he fought to stay awake through his parents surprise morning visit.

He glanced up at you now, letting the book in his lap flutter to close. You knew just the method to settle his duo of restless exhaustion. So with tender encouragement, you got him up from the chair and scurried to run a bath.

His smile flickered back to life in the dim light of the washroom. The softly coloured walls and the scents of the soaps you'd always found worthy of splurging on, all combined into some kind of small luxury. You filled the tub with bubbles, and unbuttoned your man's shirt while the sky went dark.

When you ushered him to settle in the bath, you kneeled at the edge and asked Eugene if he was happy; like your efforts were a tried and true formula set to melt away every trouble. He responded by splashing a bit of warm water your way with a grin that faded, like he was exhausted by the effort to remember how to smile.

"Would be happier if I had a little company..." He swept his eyes across the vast expanses of the bath as if it were the sea that had kept you apart for too long before.

So then you joined him without discussion. He watched you ease before him, your form disappearing below the steam and bubbles. His gaze was dazzling, albeit foggy, but entirely fixated on you. His brow furrowed when you brought a hand to his face, like he'd never been treated so kindly in all his days. As you studied his expression Eugene hung his head with a deep slow breath, solidifying his unsettled nature. His long, water warmed fingers trailed up your wrist, pulling your hand between both of his to hold.

"I should have written more."

"You wrote plenty." You assured, firmly, softly. Shifting closer, trying to catch his eye.

"But I could'a done more. I went so long without-"  He looked at you just in time, before you managed to hide the flash of sadness that crossed your eyes.

"What you must have thought..." Eugene suddenly realized in a shudder, reaching up to wipe drops of water that he'd splashed to your cheeks.

"It doesn't matter what I thought." You spoke decidedly. "You're home, now." You watched Eugene watch you, the crease in his brow deeper from being so permanently furrowed, his lips curled into a small frown, still. And when you nodded, to guarantee you were simply glad to have him back in your arms again, he still wasn't settled. Eugene's eyes searched yours as his frown grew.

"You... you thought I died, didn't you?" He asked.

It wasn't so much a change of topic as it was a direct acknowledgment of the matter you'd both been dancing far around since long before his leaving. It was always a concern, always a worry. Always something morphing into an ugly, mangled, all consuming thought you'd never let come out from the very back of your mind. And as you try to hide the way Eugene's question made your heart plummet, and as you consider what to tell him without lying or adding to the sadness filling his gaze; you failed to say anything at all.

Eugene decided your silence was plenty loud enough of an answer.

And then his troubled gaze started turning to the look that flooded his expression you'd come to recognize. The look he'd get before leaving families to wonder where he'd gone at the end of dinner.

So to save for the way your silence deafened the room, and the way you still couldn't say anything, you pulled Eugene to your chest. You threaded your fingers through his mused hair and held him close, because your "doesn't matter, you're home now speech" hadn't worked this time around and it was the only one you knew how to give without breaking up.

Then, Eugene's cold breath fanned across your collarbone as he started stammering through a speech. All about how he could have done more and how he'd so carelessly broken the promise he made to take care of you even while he was away. How he'd failed you and how he hadn't done nearly enough for you, and how he'd never be able to make it right...

"I'm sorry for makin' you think I was dead but, for a while... well  I might as well have been.  But damn it you don't need to hear that kind of thing. I could have done more then and I could be doing more even now but-"

"Gene stop." You gripped his shoulders, pushing him away from your hold until your eyes met. His expression was still curious and grim, but it slowly morphed into something even more somber as your eye's pierced into his.

Eugene broke your stare to hang his head. When he started to cry, you clamored closer and wrapped around him all the same. You held him close as ever and assured he'd done enough. Assured he had nothing to be sorry for. Assured you loved him and were glad to have someone to worry so feicrly over. You held him close while he held you too.

///

And you stuck just as close after the water turned cold and you'd slipped into your night clothes, together. You held Eugene right against you as you both pretended to sleep.

When he drifted from under the covers as the sun rose, you let him clatter about the kitchen for a beat before you followed close behind. Then you both sat at the table with cups of tea and let the silence set in. Eugene's knee brushed against yours every time he snapped back from staring at one page of the newspaper for too long. You bumped your elbow into his side every time you rose your cup of tea for a sip.

And then, as often as you could get away with- without offending too many of your neighbor ladies who stopped for a chat, you let Eugene pull you along when he floated away. He'd never said much, then. But he made tiny promises to do better, for you. You'd tell him he'd already done enough, and sat with him till the quiet seemed less suffocating.

Then, one day, you checked the mail to find Eugene had left a brand new letter. It was written in careful scrawl, echoing the promises he'd always repeated, when he wasn't too burdened to say so out loud. And though it was still missing so much of everything he'd never be able to say, it was full of thanks for you. He wrote how he'd never even want to try and claw through the darkness that seemed to swallow him whole, if it wasn't for you. For your dumb jokes and your pretty hair, and the effort you made to show him how much you cared. He wrote that every little thing about you, were the only things that got him through minutes he couldn't kick the habit of counting as they passed by.

You had to slip into the darkest room of your shared flat to cry where he couldn't hear. But these tears were less bitter, much more sweet than before.

Eugene wrote more letters, when he skipped out on parties you attended. He wrote about how he wished he could have gathered up the guts to have gone along with you. He wrote how grateful he was to know you'd come home to him at the end of the night. He wrote to you when he couldn't sleep, about how sorry he was for keeping you up with worry, all the same.

Your mailbox was usually full of bills, but you weren't surprised to keep finding odd envelops from Eugene. You collected the notes in the same box you'd stored his others away in, and watched Eugene sit up a little straighter each day he'd managed to get some of those heavy thoughts off his chest, in so many words.

Between letters, his laughter came back. His conversations lasted longer. And he'd stick around to join in the chatter at the end of big dinners.

Of course, there were still nights his tears mixed with the bathwater and his cries seemed to echo from places you'd never know. You'd never ask, not directly. You'd just make a warm drink and sit with him in the silence that told you all you needed to know. He'd never tell you. Not even when his thoughts spilled over onto papers he'd leave for you to find. He'd just hold your hand a little tighter under the dinner table until your father was done rambling about his own time fighting.

For fleeting moments, you wondered what Eugene had been through. But you reigned in your imagination as soon as it threatened to keep you up at night. And you made sure to sing along to songs on the radio- even the ones you didn't like very well, theatrically enough to get Eugene to smile, and turn his blank gaze from the empty fields you drove past.

You realized the thoughts that kept him awake till dawn might always. You realized there wasn't much you could do. Sometimes, you wrote letters back, and left notes under his pillow, when sharing silence wasn't enough to ease his frown. But more often than not, you'd started to spend nights together that reminded you of the day's before everything changed. You'd take each morning in stride, next to Eugene.

You got back to some kind of normal. The war was over. Eugene was back in your arms and in your world. He was your world. And no matter how far away he seemed to drift some days, Eugene was finally home.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[strangest-loser]

Twilight Rewrite

Fire in my Blood ~ Jasper Hale x OC ~ Book One: Chapter Two

Chapter One

There weren't very many rules in the Swan household, and they weren't just set by Charlie, his main rule: Alessia couldn't have boys over in her bedroom, if Jacob, Quill and Embry were coming over they had to stay in the living room or the kitchen, but it was very rare that they hung out at her home anyway, they spent most of their time on the reserve.

Alessia's main rule: if Charlie got caught up at work or an emergency happened past 8pm he had to let her know he was safe so she didn't worry herself into a heart attack. That rule was established after one night when Alessia was 15 and Charlie had an animal attack emergency and didn't get home till 2am. Alessia didn't know where he was and when he came home he found her in the corner of the kitchen having a panic attack and ended up making herself sick. He never forgot that rule.

But the rule that was established by the both of them and arguably the most important rule of all: if the song was released after 1990 ... It couldn't be played in the car ever!

~' Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night and Wouldn't you love to love her?

Takes to the sky like a bird in flight and

Who will be her lover? '~

"you did not just say that to me!", came Alessia's outraged voice overlapping the velvety vocals of Stevie Nicks coming from the cruisers radio, Fleetwood Mac's 'Rhiannon' playing through the car as Alessia debated her father, "what you just said is absolute blasphemy, take it back!".

"I won't take it back, I meant what I said, 'don't stop' is the superior Fleetwood Mac song!". Came Charlie's retort as he pulled off the highway towards the airport.

"okay first of all, 'don't stop' isn't superior, the layout, 'Landslide' is their best, then 'Rhiannon', then 'Gypsy', then maybe 'don't stop'." Alessia said, leaving no room for Charlie to argue as he just gave her a look that said `we will finish this later.`

They pulled into the parking lot of William R Fairchild International Airport in Port Angeles just in time for the song to end and Alessia reached forward to change the CD. Fleetwood Mac was swapped out for The Foundations as the opening of 'Build me up Buttercup' flowed into her ears. A laugh was pulled out of Charlie as he and his daughter sang along while looking for a parking spot.

Leaning against the car as she watched her dad walk into the building to get to Bella's gate, Alessia let her nerves begin to creep back into her mind. Would Bella still be kind? Would she like her room? Would their relationship ever go back to the way it was when they were younger? Did Alessia even want that? Shaking those thoughts out of her head she felt an itching sensation in the back of her head, like someone was watching her. She looked behind her to the tree line and let her eyes focus. There was nothing there, maybe she was imagining it.

Her attention was brought back to her father walking back to the car with a suitcase in his hand and with a brunette following behind him. Alessia took this time to really look at her sister.

Bella looked like she was a little bit shorter than her. Her hair was around collarbone length while Alessia's was long, reaching the middle of her back when it was down, Bella's held a wavy curl in it while Alessia's was poker straight, the only similarity they shared was the colour, like chocolate. Bella wore comfy jeans and a shirt, a contrast to the blue and gold that was Alessia's cheerleading uniform. And funnily enough Alessia's skin held a richer tone than Bella's own pale skin, but not much.

Their eyes met and Alessia offered a soft smile to the girl she hadn't seen in four years. Her smile was returned but it didn't really reach Bella's eyes. This would take some time.

Pulling into the driveway concluded probably one of the most awkward car rides of Alessia's life. As soon as the engine cut out Alessia sprung out of the passenger seat and raced to unlock the door. After setting her keys down on the kitchen table she turned to see her father and Bella walk through the front door. "Want me to get started on dinner dad?" She asked already moving to the fridge. " I was thinking we should have a diner night tonight Al".

Alessia's mouth watered at the thought of her favourite desert at the diner, Cora's famous apple crisp with ice cream, after the weird day she had today, nothing sounded better than something familiar. "Sounds like a plan" she replies following them up the stairs to stand in the doorway of Bella's room "I tried not to decorate in here too much because I didn't know what you liked" Alessia explained looking around the room she had prepared for Bella. "No it's great, thanks Alessia" came the younger girls reply.

"ok well I'll be in my room if you need anything, dad, call me when we're leaving for food". Alessia took her leave and walked into the safehaven that was her bedroom. She adored her room. Her double bed had a homemade quilt that Leah and her grandmother had made for her 16th birthday and a bunch of pillows on top of a white bedspread. The walls were lined with photos of her friends going back through the years up until the most recent which stood on her dresser in a frame. It was taken two weeks ago in front of Emmet's jeep, Alessia and Alice were sitting on the hood laughing at each other while Emmet was staring at Rosalie with pure devotion written on his features and Jasper stood next to Alice, Edward had taken the picture. Her ceiling was covered in fairy lights and those glow in the dark stars that she put up when she was 8 which still helped her sleep at night (her most kept secret) and her desk housed her homework and her printer, next to her desk sat her bay window with a window seat that held more pillows and another blanket. The last thing that stood in her room was her bookshelf that held half fiction books and half historical books, all of which were well loved, with dog-eared and yellowed pages (her copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' was falling apart and stained with tea but she still managed to read it countless times).

Setting her backpack on her desk chair she walked over to her dresser and picked up the picture, observing it once more. It was the coldest day of February and everyone was wrapped up in coats and hats. Alice was holding Alessia's gloves hostage above her head and trying not to fall off the hood of the jeep. Rosalie was wearing her signature necklace and a pretty ring on her index finger and seemed to be engrossed in whatever Emmet was telling her. And Jasper... Alessia stopped in her tracks as she looked at the picture, Jasper was looking at her... How had she never noticed that before.

Her confusion was interrupted by a car pulling into her driveway, she set the framed picture back before walking over to the window and looking out only to see a very familiar black car pull up. An excited smile spread on her face like wildfire as she booked it out of her room and down the stairs, opening the door and running to jump on Jacob Black. "You didn't tell me you were coming! I would have planned something dastardly" she said while giggling as her best friend spun her around before setting her down and giving her his meanest look. "Absolutely not, you have gotten me grounded way too many times and it's never worth it" he said pulling her into a loving headlock while she whined and tried to escape. Once he let her go Alessia whipped her head around and her mischievous face caused Jacob so smile in a similar way. "Want to see what kind of trouble we can get into?" She asked poking him in the stomach, "oh god, we're going to die aren't we?", His response prompted a punch in the shoulder. "It's a Tuesday, I know how to restrain myself" Alessia replied like Jacob had just offended her greatly. The voice of Billy Black then came from over her shoulder, "you absolutely do not!".

Alessia zoned out as she felt that itching feeling coming from the woods again, looking out into the trees she still couldn't see anything out there, this was starting to freak her out. Her mind focused back in on her dad telling Bella that the old orange truck in front of them was her welcome home gift. This sparked a sickly feeling in Alessia's stomach, Alessia had been working her ass off doing odd shifts at the diner and even occasionally assisting Doctor Cullen at the hospital when he had patients but he needed his office sorted through and cleared up, all to save up for a car that she has needed for the past 3 years, and her sister shows up and just gets one handed to her.

Alessia stops her own train of thought there and banishes the jealousy in her mind. Jealousy was an ugly emotion that she hated seeing and hated feeling even more. Charlie hadn't seen Bella since she was 13, it made sense that he would want to spoil her.

The diner was reletively full for a Tuesday evening but it wasn't overcrowded, the atmosphere was nice, and Alessia thought that was why she liked it so much. It really felt like a friendly family restaurant. The dinner went by without much conversation other than sporadic conversations between Alessia and her dad about work and school.

"I normally get a ride to school Bella so you just need to worry about driving yourself there" Alessia said with a smile after finishing her lemonade. The conversation drew to a close when Cora came out from the kitchen with a tray of dessert, two berry cobblers and one apple crisp.

"Al, sweetheart, I've got a shift for you tomorrow evening if you are up for it, Sarah is attending a wedding" Cora told her with a kind smile. Alessia nodded through a mouthful of sweet, warm apple and Cora laughed walking away to put her name on the schedule. Bella's eyes looked up from her plate to meet her sisters, "you work here?"

"sometimes, I just do the odd shift because I don't want to get a proper job till after school, but I've gotta buy a car. Sometimes I work down at the hospital too which should help me with getting into medschool". The only thing that Alessia loved more than apple crisp was helping people.

After that eventful day drew to a close Alessia was finishing up some history homework when she thought back to her class today and how weird it was, she couldn't recall anything from the lesson but her conversation with jasper was playing on repeat in her head. He had never really spoken to her in the entire year and a bit that they were in the same class and group, but today not only did he have a full conversation with Alessia, he had started it. She thought back to the photograph on her dresser and how Jasper's eyes were very clearly trained on her face as she laughed with his sister.

This whole situation was very strange indeed.

Watching as Bella pulled into the parking lot the next morning, Alessia bid Alice goodbye and started walking towards the orange pickup parked in front of Tyler's van. "Hey Bells", Bella turned at the sound of her older sister's voice and a look of relief crossed her face at the familiar face approaching her. "I have no idea where I'm going, can you take me to the office, I have paperwork to finish", came the younger's quiet voice. Alessia shot her a small smile, she could imagine that this was nerve-wracking for Bella. She linked arms with her sister and started walking towards the building at the top of the lot.

Their quiet talking let them have time to catch up, Bella told Alessia about life in Phoenix and informed her sister that she brought her a tiny cactus that matched her own. By the time they reached the office doors they were laughing like they did when they were younger and their bond felt just a little bit stronger. "You know I missed you Bells" Alessia's voice grew softer as she looked towards the floor, for a confident girl she was never the best at eye contact when expressing her emotions. She was just about to panic at the silence that met her words until she felt her arms wrap around her waist in a tight hug, "I missed you too".

And so the next few days carried in like that, Alessia would get in the car with Rosalie, Alice and occasionally Edward, she would sit with them for lunch (catching her baby sister not-so-subtly stare at Edward, and watching him stare back), and Jasper sat next to her in every history class that week. It wasn't until Friday that things got strange.

"Honestly Bella don't worry about Edward he is so dramatic", rang out from Alessia sitting on the hood of the truck while trying to read 'Interview with a Vampire' for the millionth time in her life. Hearing Bella grumble under her breath is what made her jump off the hood and stand beside her. Their back and forth banter had Alessia standing at the bed of the truck with her back to the lot. She didn't notice it until it was too late.

Tyler's tires screeched against the ice that littered the ground and his car spun out of control. Alessia didn't comprehend what was happening until she felt a force push her out of the way making her fall and knock her lights out when her head hit the ground.

Waking up in the hospital was only something Alessia was known for once which meant that waking up with a splitting headache with Dr Cullens extremely handsome face looking down on her was thoroughly confusing for the poor girl. “did I fall asleep during my shift?”, her slurred words made the man in front of her laugh lightly before writing something on his clipboard. “No Alessia, there was an accident at the school, a van crashed into the side of Bella’s truck and you fell over and hit your head on the bed of the truck on your way down, you have concussion, everyone else is just fine”. The throbbing in her head grew worse at the words ‘hit your head’ and Alessia began to fight against the blanket that the nurse beside her was trying to wrap around her. 

“Carlisle you are gonna have to walk me through that again, my ears feel like cotton” the brunette muttered at the man as he shined a tiny light into her eyes. She was still fighting against the nurses blanket which prompted Carlisle to dismiss the nurse entirely. 

“Why do people keep trying to put this blanket on me ?”

“Because you’re in shock”

“That doesn’t mean I need a blanket. It means I need booze”.

The laugh that rang through the room didn’t come from Carlisle that time but from the opening door as the rest of the Cullen bunch came through the doors of her room. Esme, someone that Alessia considered a mother, came to her bedside and hugged the girl before Alice climbed into the bed with her and began petting her head. The rhythmic movements of the girls cool hand felt heavenly to Alessia’s poor throbbing head and she completely checked out of the conversation happening around her to lean into the younger girls touch. “you guys can afford so much expensive stuff but you cant afford blood circulation” she joked which prompted Rosalie to hit her shoulder lightly “Alessia, you are so loopy right now”. 

Her eyes drifted towards the door where a lone figure stood, Jasper’s shoulders were stiff and he looked like he would rather be anywhere else but there at that moment. This caused Alessia to deflate slightly but she quickly snapped herself out of that mentally, it didn’t have to mean anything about her.

Maybe the guy just didn’t like hospitals.

[heckyeahitsnick]

Her Soul is Like Magnolia

Written By: @heckyeahitsnick​

Pairing: Harry Styles/OC

Word Count: 20,979

Warnings: Some explicit/foul language

Summary: 

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

Harry Styles has a ghost problem.

Mags has a Harry Styles problem.

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

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

Day 1: October 24th, a week from Halloween

“You’re stepping on my foot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait! I’m sor – “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________________________________________________________________

Day 3: October 26th - 5 days until Halloween

“Be honest with me. Am I gonna die?”

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

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

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

“But I – “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the boy! The boy from last night!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________________________________________________________________

Day 4: October 27th, 4 days until Halloween

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

“What’re you doin’?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you promise not to laugh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pinky promise.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Same day, later that evening

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

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

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

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

Hey, It’s Harry. Harry Styles.

Before she could respond, her phone dinged again.

Or as you like to call me, Ghost Boy.

harry!! im so glad u txted!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Things?” Mags encouraged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 5: October 28th, 3 days until Halloween

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boo!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Top 40’s? What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he wants to. And so he does.

And she doesn’t pull away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry would describe it as footsteps.

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

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

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

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

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

“Tomorrow?” Harry questioned encouragingly. 

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

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

_______________________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passed. Then another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A medium,” Mags corrected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He knows what ex means,” Mags hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time, both Mags and Harry screamed bloody murder.

The figure screamed back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mags eyes just flashed in irritation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Awww,” Niall cooed.

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

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

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

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

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

Day 7: October 31st, Halloween!!!

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

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

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

“Do not fall asleep,” a voice demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You promise?” She teased.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End. (or isss iiiiiit?)

(Just kidding, it is.)

[inorganicone2230]

The Caged Bird (Part 1) Yandere!Erasermic x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Summery: For the Gods of Life and Death, loneliness seemed a heavy thing to bare when confronted with the prospect of facing it for an eternity, even with each other. That is until a chance encounter with a certain someone prompts them to think that just maybe, that lonely eternity can be abated, as long as they have the right person to share it with.

Side Note: This is a prequel to my other Yandere!Erasermic story called Divine Intervention. If you have not read that one yet, I highly recommend you go and do that before reading this one.

Warnings: Not many for this chapter, just some light stalking, mentions of future kidnapping and some mentions of breeding.

Eternity matters very little when one has existed since the beginning of time, and will continue to exist well into the future.

The same can be said for time, Hizashi thought as he stared into the waters of the koi pond. It was quite hard to understand the concept of time when it holds no meaning to beings like himself and Shouta, creatures who had come into existence already knowing who and what they were. From the moment they first breathed life they knew what their purpose in the world was, they knew everything, even what they meant to each other.

It had been so long since those early years, when they first began to watch the creatures that inhabited the world they now looked after, when they first began to watch the humans grow and live and die under Shouta's care, and Hizashi himself began to help them create new life and souls to take the place of the fallen who waited to be reborn.

Soon though, like with many things, habit took over and after a few centuries, the day to day flow of life and death took to the pattern and went on without much needed assistance from either of their respective deities. They were needed very little anymore, seeing as the humans seemed content to handle their affairs without any intervention from the ones they called gods.

Yes they were still worshiped, but anything the humans took as a sign from them was merely all in their heads, they saw gifts and blessings and answers to their prayers only in what they wanted to see, never realizing that it was all perceived.

Perhaps this lack of stimulation is when he and Shouta began to feel a need to spend more time together. It was inevitable really, even if they hadn't felt an immediate connection to one another the moment they were ‘born’, it was only natural that they would eventually be pushed together. Even beings of higher power were not immune to the effects of loneliness and being the only ones in this immortal realm, they soon found solace and love in each other, both emotionally and physically.

This day however found Hizashi alone and without his love to keep him company. Shouta having had to travel to the underworld, a place Hizashi adamantly refused to ever set foot in, for some reason he couldn't be bothered to remember. Standing up, he made the decision to try and find something to occupy his time until his counterpart returned.

Walking back into his and Shouta's room though, he noted that something was off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was out of place. It took him a moment to notice that the change wasn't visual, but auditory, there was an ever present sound missing from the room.

The song of a little red cardinal that Shouta had gifted him with a few months ago. He had smiled sweetly, saying it was meant to keep him company on the rare days he would wake up in bed alone. Hizashi had dotted on the creature from the very moment he had seen it, and he felt very saddened as he stared at the now empty golden cage. He must have made the mistake of not latching the door properly when he had fed it this morning.

As luck would have it though, Shouta chose that very moment to walk in and upon seeing the forlorn look on his golden lovers face, immediately began to question him. “Zashi? What's wrong?” He asked gently, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Hizashi turned to face him, worrying Shouta even more when he saw the small tears in the corner of his eye. “Oh Shouta, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, a slight tremble to his voice.

Perplexed, Shouta took the blonds face in his hands. “Now what could you be apologizing for my love? Tell me.”

“The cardinal you gave me,” Hizashi started, looking once more at the empty cage. “I must not have locked it's cage properly this morning, and it got out.”

Now he understood the reason for his somber mood. “Ah, that is a shame. But we may be able to find it still.” He said teasingly, loving the way Hizashi instantly perked up.

“Really?! You think so?”

Shouta chuckled, Hizashi's eagerness practically contagious. “Of course, it was here in our realm long enough that some of our essence must have rubbed off on it. I bet it flew to the human realm and we can follow the trail. It couldn't have gotten very far after all.”

“Then let us go right away! We can just cloak ourselves to keep any of the mortals from bothering us!” He began to turn away, heading straight for the gateway they used when crossing realms, but stopped and turned to give Shouta a brilliant smile. “What would I ever have done without you Shou?”

Now it was Shouta's turn to blush a bit. “Probably about as well as I would have done without you Zashi.”

----------

Of course even for Gods, trying to find the little bird in the mortal realm was no easy feat, even if they did have an idea where it was. Namely, in one of the eastern countries forests.

“Perhaps we should come back tomorrow Shou? We will still be able to find it in the morning, our essence should still linger on the little creature even after a night away from us.” Hizashi suggested as he looked around. The sun was already beginning to set, twilight colors of orange and yellow filling up the tucked away little glen they found themselves in.

Hizashi’s good mood seemed to stick with him, even if they hadn't yet found his beloved little pet. Something that Shouta was extremely grateful for, he hated to see his golden partner without his trademark smile. But, his loves chipper mood does give him an idea, one he is all to willing to share with him as he reaches out to pull the blonde closer.

“You know, we don't have to return right away.” Shouta whispered into his ear. “It's so peaceful and quiet here, and the sunset is so lovely, it would be such a shame to waste it. Wouldn't you agree my love?” He pressed himself against his hip, laving Hizashi's neck with feather light kisses.

It didn't take Hizashi long to catch on, not that Shouta was being subtle about his desires, and he reached up to tangle his hands in black as night hair. “I think you are right.” He sighed, leaning back against a tree for support as Shouta grinned wickedly and dived in for a deep kiss that he was all too eager to return.

“You poor thing…”

Their passionate kiss abruptly ended the moment they heard the voice from somewhere behind them.

Tuning to look at a break in the trees, they spotted the figure of a young, pretty, mortal woman. Dressed in simple robes and kneeling in the grass to gently cradle something in her hands, Hizashi instantly recognizing the bright red feathers of his cardinal, along with the faintest hint of the heavenly aura that clung to it.

“Your wing is broken, but it appears to be a clean break.” She mumbled thoughtfully, bringing the lovely bird closer to her face for a closer inspection, her brow scrunching in a rather adorable way. “I should be able to fix you up, and in a few weeks you will be flying high in the sky again.”

The bird let out a weak little chirp and continued to lay still in the girls hands, as if it sensed that she posed no danger and was only looking to help. Both Gods silently admitting to themselves that it was a rather precious sight to behold.

Shouta noted that Hizashi was making no move to stop her as she got up and began to move away, walking slowly so as not to jostle or further harm the animal. “Are you not going to stop her? You were so adamant about finding it.”

The God of Life seemed to come out of a daze, shaking himself a bit and blinking his eyes. “I… don't know. It seems as if she is just trying to help.” He mumbled, as the two of them began to follow the oblivious girl through the darkening forest. “Quite the odd gesture for a human, they normally wouldn't stop to help one of their own kind unless it benefited them in some way, let alone a wounded animal.”

Shouta couldn't deny his agreement with the observation. It seemed they were both intrigued by this turn of events. He was curious to see where this fascination would lead them if they continued to watch this play out. “Perhaps we should allow her to care for it. We can retrieve it once it has been healed.” Shouta said, knowing that Hizashi’s interest would cause him to take to the suggestion right away. The blonde grinned and nodded, just as he expected him to. At the very least, this will prove to be a way to kill some time, he thought.

They continued to follow her, listening as she cooed and spoke to the feathered creature in her hands. Hizashi found himself thinking that it was a voice best suited for a mother, a voice meant for singing lullabies and chasing away nightmares.

Wait… what…? Hizashi gave himself pause. Where had that come from?

It was so random, a prospect that had never crossed him before. But now that it was there, it was running rampant in his mind. Like a wildfire, it exploded and he was consumed with thoughts of little bodies nestled in strong arms, the pitter-patter of feet on marble floors, and the sounds of mirth and laughter echoing through the empty halls of the palace.

He was so consumed with these fantasies that he failed to notice they had followed the girl all the way to her destination, jumping when The God of Death took his hand in his own and bringing him back to reality.

“Are you alright Zashi?” He asked, genuine concern lacing his tone.

“Of course!” He replied, just a tad bit too exuberantly. His smile dropping a bit when Shouta raised a knowing brow indicating that he was not taken in by it. “Truly, I'm fine Shou. I was just caught up in some rather unexpected thoughts. I can tell you all about them when we get home. How does that sound?”

“I have a feeling I know what those thoughts might entail, but I would love to hear them nonetheless.” Shouta said, satisfied for now with the knowledge that they could speak about it later.

They watched as the girl entered a modest looking home that was secluded away from other people, close to the edge of the forest. And upon closer inspection, it appeared that she lived alone as well.

They watched her for a bit longer as she lit candles and a fire in the hearth and began tending to the birds broken wing with expert hands, her touches light and quick as if she had done this plenty of times before.

All to soon she was done, preparing a small meal for herself and crushing a few berries for the bird before retiring for the evening, leaving the two men to reluctantly return to their home in the heavens.

----------

Later that night, as Shouta and Hizashi held each other close in bed, they spoke quietly of many things, including what had transpired that day and how it could affect their future.

They spoke of the need they felt to be together more often than in the past, of the guilt Shouta felt whenever he had to leave Hizashi to go to the underworld, of Hizashi's lonely days spent in this large empty palace tending to the Water’s of Eternity, and of what Hizashi realized out in the forest. Unbeknownst to him at that time, Shouta was having the same thoughts concerning the pretty human girl.

They whispered to each other how wonderful it would be to have another with them to fill the void whenever the other was gone, how nice it would be to have a feminine presence around their home, and how soon they would be filling the rooms of it with little ones.

“She has such a sweet voice Shouta.” Came Hizashi's dreamy sigh as he nuzzled his face into  his lovers broad chest. “I can't stop imagining what it will be like to listen to her sing a lullaby, it will be so perfect!”

Shouta chuckled at his antics, his own thoughts consumed with many of the same ideas. “Yes. And she seems to have a very nurturing personality, perfect for a mother.” He added, feeling himself being swept along by Hizashi's enthusiasm.

“I know it's a bit early to make a final decision, but I can't help feeling like this was meant to be Shouta. Like this is what we have been waiting for and we were supposed to find her.” Hizashi felt a wellspring of happiness at just the thought of what the future was looking to hold for them.

Shouta nodded along, content to listen to all of the blonds gushing fantasies and plans, taking note of ones he came back to repeatedly so that they could better plan for them later on.

“We can go back tomorrow and watch some more.” Hizashi finally seemed to have calmed down a bit, though the big smile he wore for the last few hours stayed in place. “I want to know everything about her. She is going to be so happy once we bring her home, once she sees all the work we will have put in. I just know it.”

“I agree, we’ll have to plan accordingly and approach her only when the time is right. We don't want to give her cause to think she has reason to fear us, that just wouldn't do.” Shouta said, plans already forming in his head as he ran his hands through Hizashi's hair.

The two stayed up well into the night discussing all their hopes and dreams this new plan was bringing out, neither one ever realizing that they had never even learned what the girls name was.

I’m not too sure how I feel about this chapter honestly, but as long as you all like it I’ll be happy!

Let me know what you thought and please enjoy!

[avoutput]

Gaps Between Worlds || Live, Love, Link

Nothing keeps a story going like a love interest. In almost every adventure story, at some point, the hero flirts with love, falls into it, is blinded by it, or is even betrayed by it. Love is the strongest emotional connection we share as humans, a double edged sword that can drive us, but also hinder us. Even when a story lacks a love interest, the listeners might begin to imagine one just to keep themselves interested. One adventure series has lacked cannon love for such a long time, it's hard to imagine how it’s been kept alive in our collective consciousness for as long as it has. The Legend of Zelda has jump-cut to Link saving Zelda so many times, but remains nebulous on what kind of relationship blossoms from their journey. As a longtime fan, I have been starving for more from the world of Hyrule, and I think fans across the world agree with me. The official Nintendo Hyrule Timeline wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for pressure from the fans. Before that release, it had been locked inside the mind of Miyamoto, creator of the series. But it didn’t really whet my appetite, because what I wanted is to know of Link and Zelda. Today, we are going to explore the facets of Link and Zelda’s many re-incarnated relationships, which could have turned into love, and where they must have gone after Gannon was sealed and their adventure came to an end.

Before we go any further, the usual caveats to my writing, just so you can get where my head is at. First, I am not going to be super concerned with minute details of the timeline in its purest sense. It has a tenuous linear connection from one game to the next, but it still can provide a little fun for us to speculate on. Second, I have completed every mainline adventure with two exceptions. I have made it to the end of Link’s Adventure and Twilight Princess, but I just never walked up those steps to beat Gannon. I can’t really put my finger on why, but usually I just lost interest by the time I made it to the end of the game. Everything else, including the GB, GBA, and DS releases, I have completed.

In the beginning, one of the most bizarre parts of the overall Zelda lore is how little we actually discuss Link’s obligation to do anything for Zelda. As the games mature, they motivate Link in more realistic ways, but I felt that they mostly lacked a real punch. Lets imagine you DID NOT read the manual for the NES titles, the original LoZ, it just starts by breaking the 4th wall. I always thought it was funny that it just drops you into the mountains with absolutely no direction, as if to say, “You bought the game, dummy, do something! Press a button… ooo… check out that cave!” However, what actually happens is Link saves Zelda’s handmaid, Impa, from an attack by some of Gannon’s henchmen. She then begs him to find the 8 fragments of the Triforce of Wisdom, which Zelda has hidden in 8 dungeons, and he just resolves to do it. In the next game though, she’s just struck with Sleepy Disney Princess disease. Classic. But have you ever noticed that true love’s kiss wasn’t an option here? That’s because Link is not her true love in this incarnation, so he has to kill the curse maker. LoZ and Link’s Adventure are directly related, so we know that in between the two games, they never became lovers. And I don’t know if you need any more proof about these games, but if you ever watched the 80’s Zelda cartoon… you’d know she’s better off.

Climbing up this timeline, we end up at the incredible Link To The Past, a story that’s titular description kind of defies its storyline unless you are really paying attention. Either way, the game has Link, a descendant of Hyrule Knights, being woken up by a psychic message from Zelda. As usual, Link has no real discernible parentage, but he does start off with an uncle. As I grew up, I often wondered if this was his real uncle or the Asian kind of uncle, just an older man with the same familial distance as an actual uncle, just not actually related. (It goes without saying that the west has this kind of uncle as well, but rarely does it rear its head as ubiquitously as in the east) Who knows what happened to his parents, the game never really goes into it. Either way, he runs into his possibly real uncle after following Zelda’s request, only, he is mortally wounded, and with his final breath, he begs Link to take up his blade and his responsibility. Again, he is motivated simply by some sense of obligation, but there is never a moment's glance of flirtation or love. By the end of the game, he revives his Uncle, the Priest, and the King, only to get on a boat and end up ship wrecked on Koholint island, where he dreams up a girl who is much more likely to become someone he could have a life with rather than Zelda.

Let’s take a quick moment to recognize Link has about 5 or 6 games that have nothing to do with his relationship to Zelda: Link’s Awakening, Oracle of Seasons/Ages, Majora’s Mask, and Minish Cap to name a few. In these games, it rarely meditates on his relationship to his previous adventure or the girl he left behind. Link is a very forward thinking… little boy? Adolescent? Teenager? It depends on the game. The more I think about this, maybe the more obvious it really is supposed to be. Zelda, Link, and Gannon are reborn into conflict over and over again. It’s possible that the stories that we play through are the only time they are born into a point of conflict. Basically, Link and Zelda might be born into a world without each other. Maybe the world only falls into chaos when all 3 of them are born. Maybe only when a certain amount of power accumulates on the dark side. The story just makes room for whatever it finds appropriate.

Climbing up the timeline, we get to the only game that implied young romance, Ocarina Of Time. Granted, it kind of dashes this with Majora’s Mask, but it's possible he could return to Hyrule for love. He is only 10. Still, in OoT, Link is the only character that keeps his memory of both the young timeline and the teen timeline. When you think about it, Link is pretty mature for a 10 year old, but waking up in the body of a 17 year old would throw you a bit. People in the future might have found him odd… if they weren’t scattered to the winds and mostly worried about famine, death, and Gannon. In both his young and teen timeline, the Zora princess is very interested in him, and yet, the game still ends with a longing look between Zelda and Link, Link remembering everything, Zelda new to the whole thing. Now, I am willing to admit that as a kid, I probably misread this as a longing look, as an adult, it's really just the culmination of Link’s struggle to finally right all the wrongs, but I was a young shipper, and I wanted everyone to fall in love. (You are reading the thoughts of a boy who was super upset that Ash wasn’t awakened by a kiss from Misty (or Pikachu), and instead the tears of all the Pokemon. I almost walked out of the theater. I was a fresh-faced 13.) Given everything we know about both games, and that we know the timeline splits here, it would stand to reason that since in either case, triumphant or not, Link doesn’t end up making baby Link and Linkles with Zelda. In the Triumphant Timeline Child Era, none of the games end with Link in love, including Twilight Princess. In the Adult Era, the Wind Waker series of games always finds Link closely aligned with Zelda, but the whole cell-shaded, PG universe basically ensures that all the people of Hyrule are grown out of the ground, like palm trees on the beach. In the end, Link always makes for the nearest boat or horse and follows the sun, trying to escape the PTSD that haunts him.

Finally, at the very beginning of the timeline is the largely maligned Skyward Sword. As of this writing, SS is the supposed beginning to the entire legend. It is also one of the few games where there does seem to be an infatuation between Zelda and Link. Throughout the game, they share what looks to be a mild flirtation. When I thought about this budding romance, I began to think it only appears that way because of some cultural filters. First, Nintendo likes to make games for kids, so they aim to get an E rating by the ESRB. So if we ratchet that up to M, the standard for modern day games if you want people to take them seriously, we can adjust the love meter on scale with E = Sesame Street and M = Breaking Bad. They might as well be engaging in some hard sexting, maybe a couple of low-cut Link bathroom mirror selfies. Don’t worry, he has his famous hat over the goods. Why do you think its shaped like that? Secondly, mild flirting in Japan is the equivalent of hardcore furry S&M in America. In actuality, what you are really seeing is the courtship of Link in a Wolf costume and Zelda dressed as a Fire Keese batting eyes at each other. Truly, in this world, Link and Zelda are destined for each other. They are the only freaks in the sky! With this assumption, I can conclude that the legend only continues because once, at the very beginning of their timeline, the Triforce of Courage and Wisdom banged it out. This could mean there is a whole series of games we have never played where the timeline is split at the top. One in which they have children and one where they don’t. Personally, I look forward to their kids journey in The Legend of Steve, the new holder of the Triforce of Wisdom. Let a girl save the boy for once!

There is always hope for our legendary heroes. You may not want them to be joined in glorious, child-making coitus, but I always have. I have always found it odd that it doesn’t end like most JRPG’s with a very obvious death of the “mains” so that love can’t blossom, or with a lavish royal wedding. The worst part is that often, Link has many love interests, but none of them are Zelda. There is some hope for them in the new Breath of the Wild timeline, which is supposedly the furthest in the future of the “official” timeline, so much so that there is no connective tissue left, so it might as well be a “new beginning”. I would actually hate for them to finally, really, fall in love in the BotW universe, mostly because it's my least favorite Zelda game of all time, squeaking past Skyward Sword and Wind Waker.  All 3 of which I dislike for a combination of gameplay-style and story, though honestly, the best part of BotW is the story. It's just a game I never want to play again. Rambling aside, I look forward to the fate of love between Zelda and Link in their next chapter. Maybe we’ll finally play as their love child some day. 

[friendofhayley]

ship history meme

Embrace your past and get to know your friends’ fandom origins!

Rules: Post gifs of your fandoms / ships starting with your most current hyperfixation and work backwards. (Bonus points if you share any stories about how or when you got into that ship! But not necessary!!) Then tag anyone whose fandom history you’d like to learn about!

Tagged by the most gorgeous, smartest, sweetest, and kindest person in my life @sightetsound​ <3 Sorry y’all, I have a lot of hyperfixations and I’m on NyQuil!

1. Katsuki Bakugo and Eijiro Kirishima, My Hero Academia - I literally can’t watch Season 4 until it’s finished because my heart will Explode if I’m left on a cliffhanger involving these too!!! (Unbreakable T.T <3) I don’t usually like animes but I fell in love with his trash bastard and his soft rock boyfriend by the villain’s attack in S1. It all started when I got a TikTok because a Very Hot Bakugo cosplayer was on there. (Literally, their rendition of Bakugo is just, umph. They have appeared in my dream.). As she got more popular he started cosplaying more of Class 1-A of MHA, and I kept wondering?? What the fuck is this anime about?? Why is there an alien girl?? I soon gave in and watched the show to gain context to this thirst trap. I have so many feels for these boys, even though I don’t post on them much here, and T.T

2. Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane, Shadowhunters - I literally almost wrote my thesis because of this ship. I got into Shadowhunters because I was depressed in a foreign, racist country where I couldn’t go outside alone because old white men would corner me on the street, and everyone was talking about how Mike from Glee was kissing a guy at a wedding? Instead of partying during my study abroad trip, I gobbled down Malec content. And like who wouldn’t?? Harry Shum Jr. was playing a bisexual warlock?? And he had lines and a main character role??? An interracial couple where the characters are both POC?? Sign me up! But then I quickly fell in love with awkward gayby Alec and immediately knew how it felt to be in his shoes. (Disclaimer: I still haven’t finished the show because I don’t want their story to end, but just seeing their wedding scene????? Tears!!!!!!!!!! Both wedding scenes! I-) I just love how soft they look at each as they realize how lucky they are to be able to fall in love against the odds. T.T They deserve the world and all the warlock and shadowhunter babies and T.T This is just going to devolve into me crying so-

3. Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale, Teen Wolf - I got into Teen Wolf to escape the hellfire that had become the Glee fandom around S3-S4. (Tbh it might have been Dereklei’s constant Sterek content on my dash that led me to give in.) Stiles was bi (through subtext) and definitely turned on by an older werewolf. What more could a depressed Gleek ask for? And listen - now looking back, Sterek is definitely gay Twilight - if Bella was snarkier, had a mental illness, and also a personality. Sterek was the ship to get me back into writing fanfiction and where I could read paranormal characters working through PTSD, ADHD, and other mental illnesses while fighting monsters and having unrealistic sex! I also love those future fics where Beacon Hills isn’t a Hellmouth anymore, and everyone’s alive and just living as one big found family. Truly, Derek deserves the world and I love him so much, and Stiles definitely agrees.

4. Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles, One Direction - If it’s a surprise that I’m a dark larrie, please read my bio. HL made me believe that love is real and exists and can last for years. I got into One Direction in 2011 through a Lilo fanfic, but as soon as I watched the Video Diaries,,,we knew. Louis has saved my life in ways I can’t describe and the songs that they’ve written for each other through their tough times are so inspiring to listen and dance to. Seeing how they’ve been dragged apart by management, Sony Entertainment, and the whole music industry as a whole even though they exist in glass closets is very disheartening to see. But their resilience that they show through their art (Only the Brave, Sweet Creature, If I Could Fly, and like so many others) is always there. If you want to fall in this rabbit hole, look at freddieismyqueen on YT and come inside lol. Larry is real.

5. Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson, Glee - the ship that got me on Tumblr! I didn’t start watching Glee until the summer before S2 came out. My whole choir was into it and I didn’t want to be “mainstream”, but Kurt was the first openly gay teen character that I saw on TV. When I heard a character played by Darren Criss, a musical theater YT legend from AVPM, I had to watch it. I ended up binging the first season with those Netflix DVDs during summer break (yeah remember when Netflix wasn’t streaming? lol). I watched every episode of that god-forsaken show the night of (or night after illegally, hidden from my parents) for that ship, and then me and my best friend would rant about it for the whole week: rinse and repeat. The episode they got together made me scream and I definitely put those Glee Rewind songs in my iPhone. (Fun fact: I used to cry at night because I wished someone like Kurt could love me like that because I heavily related to Blaine and his whole situation). I naturally stopped watching Glee the moment they broke them up and I’m still mad at their hasty attempt to marry them out of nowhere with no well-written getting together / make-up arc other than Jigsaw?? and a barn wedding?? As if Hummel would. What a trash fire. But dang, Glee fanfics have some of the dirtiest, kinkiest, forbidden fics out there. If you were ever on Glee_Kink_Meme on LJ, you know.

6. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter - the ship that started it all, the big kahuna, the ultimate enemies to lovers for 90s kids. Drarry got me into the fandom world in middle school, where I basically lived on FFN and LJ while pretending to do my homework. I used to get ready every day by watching the same playlist of “The best Harry Potter videos on Youtube!” (curated by Ariel333Lindt, who was the only queer person I knew but lived in Eastern Europe, where I could see two gay people kiss and fall in love in the safety of my room through badly photoshopped videos. Please check out that playlist). I just love how each fic is a microcosm where they have to construct how magical systems work, the backstories of pureblood families, creatures, or just wizarding culture for the end goal of having Drarry fuck and fall in love! I love redemption arcs that take 200k to achieve, I love dark!Harry takes, and every single different damn take on Narcissa, Pansy, and Millicent - because deep down that’s the writer trying to come to turns on whether or not Draco should be redeemed to get together with Harry. (I mean we all know they’re obsessed with each other, book 6 anyone?) I feel like Drarry fics have the best worldbuilding and characterizations of these characters, and I just love those moments when Draco and Harry take a moment to take a breath together and realize how far they’ve come. No one else can understand how it felt to be the pariah or the chosen one, they both interacted with Voldemort the most, and they have the most history together. They should have gotten together! But I mean the author’s dead, am I right?

So that was a lot! Those are all the ships that impacted me that I still participate with. They have shaped me for better or worse, and have made me learn more about who I am and what I want (or don’t want) in a relationship. This was the most fun essay I’ve ever written on NyQuil!

I’m tagging @homosociallyyours​ because I really want to know your fandom story! Also @stozierbrak​ because I love you and must hear you gush about your boys. I’m also tagging @iamaqualady​ because you’re literally the most intriguing person I know and I’m glad we’re friends even though we haven’t interacted that much? ish? 

[theblackmarketofsanseroche]

The Beautiful (Series) - Renee Ahdieh

Rating: 4/5 stars  

The Beautiful is a new series by American author Renee Ahdieh. This series contains all of my favourite elements of YA: period romance, the supernatural, magic and the 19th century aesthetic. A series I truly enjoyed reading despite not having a long lasting impact on my emotions or memory after finishing, yet having left melooking foward to the third ( as of yet unanounced) installment (because trust me there cannot not be a spectaluar, final showodwn after that conclusion).

I shall dicuss this as an overall series, having only discovered the first installment  a few weeks back and having devoured the highly interlinked volumes, both in a couple of days. Spoilers ahead: Warning!. I found our main charcter Celine to be truly enojoyable and not a laughable stock image of the typical strong female protagonist who is not like other girls ( although Celine is most definitely not like other girls). She’s quick witted, unapologetically true and forthcoming, qualities I truly enjoy seeing in historical fiction as they set aside the stereotypical 19th century woman, a second class citizen longing to be rescued by a knight in shining armour.

This series does wonders for inclusivity and giving racial minorities important roles. We have an Indian lawyer, biracial protagonists who progress into an interracial romance, queer characters and a former slave made business-man all under the esotheric skies of New Orleans: a place of rebirth, in more ways than one; wrapped in a noir, captivating vail of beauty.

As well as a fresh cast of characters, we still enocounter some tropes as old as time which, I must confess, I am a true sucker for. Queue our mesmerising love intrest Sebastien: edgy badboy in the first book, tormented and lovesick protagonist in the sequel. Though I am not the type to swoon over romance I found it impossible to resist the heartbreak and entaglement between Bastein and Celine, an amost retelling of the infamous star crossed lovers Romeo and Juliette, if only bloodieer and more magical. It is perhaps this element that makes my heart ache for the tormented heir of the Saint German empire, who longs to be a better man for his beloved whilst still maintaining a truly badass facade.

This series has acheived the impossible: the redemption of the ever meme-tastical Twilight, the embodiment of shame among vampire novels. These vampires posses a dark aura around them that will drag you to a far more enchanting world, although not the most complex, without ever sparkling. The way Ahdieh costructs the supernatural elements of this story is just what I love to see (even though the feys were a little unexpected and, at first, seemed to almost comedically clash against the goth-y vampires, until we begin to understand the true nature of the fight between this rapresentation of Light and Dark.)

From a writing point of view, I found a couple of slightly irking details. The first, originally noted in the first installment of the series, is the occasioanlly awkward phrasing which forces the reader to skim sentences a couple of times to grasp them well. Another element that I hope will dispear in the third book is the use of alternation between first person and third person point of views. In The Beautiful, our anatgonist was wrapped in complete mystery, and the use of present first person POV worked beautifully in giving the reader the sinister feeling of something malicious lurking in the shadows, allowig us to feel just as Celine does and keeping us on the edge of our seats. Unfortunately, this doesnt work as well in the sequel, The Damned, as all the first person POV are Bastien’s chapters which, whilst giving us more insight on his previously mysterious character, fail to deliever the edge this writing technique had in the first book.

Narrative wise, as already mentioned, the sequel brings far more depth to this world than the first pictoresque scenery of New Orleans presented us with. Although, as it is a little unexpected, it takes some getting used to. The fey world our protagonists become heavily involed with seems rather cheesy at times and something out of Lord Of The Rings, which seems to clash almost too much with the vampire, Tim Burton-esque world of vampires. However, it is just this immersion into the broader world that allows us to learn more about the history of vampires themselves and although I would not have admitted it at first, it only works by having the book told mostly from Bastien’s POV, which therefore heightened the whole reveal about Celine’s mother and her royal heriatge in the Otherworld.

A key element of this series which I truly enjoyed is the tragic and passionate romance that prevails against all odds. Although in the first book it appears a mild case of instalove masked as turbulent physical attarction, it becomes far more concreate towards the end and believeable, especially in the second book, where our star crossed lovers are willing to sacrifice their lives for the sake of the other. What I particularly enjoyed is the conflict within Celine when it comes to Bastien and Michael. I grew to hate love triangles after The Infernal Devices ( I have more than several probems with said series and its author despite my love for Will Herondale). However, what we find in The Beautiful isn’t a constant back and forth on what boy should Celine choose. She’s strong willed and follows her heart more than anyone or anything else. The conflict is far more real as it presents as struggle between her heart ( which longs for Bastien despite her blurred memories of him) and her head (which knows a lady in this era should long for a good, respectable husband such as clever detective Michael Grimaldi).

Now, where does this leave us in regards to the third book? If I have to (SPOILER) give my opinion, I think Ahdieh might pull a Twilight twist on us but actually execute it in a logical way: by the time The Damned ends, we have two lovers heirs to two rival thrones and a long to reuinite and restore peace in the Sylvan world. Plus, with the constant talk of legacies, heirs and family, it would be fair to assume we may face yet another half vampire pregnancy in YA. However, far more is yet to be revealed, plenty of characters still hide secrets, a pack longs for a leader, a man has been betrayed by his beloved and we may have met a new antagonist, far more evil than the werewolf full of hatred that has set motion the conclusion of the series as of yet.