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merakiaes · 4 years

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A Choice - John Shelby

Pairing: John Shelby x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: #4 from the angst-list.

Warnings/notes: Angsty! This is a combination of this request and another I got for the prompt #4 a few weeks ago but can’t find for some reason😅 This is the first part in the two-part series. Link to the second part below!

Wordcount: 2884

Summary: You get fed up with having to worry for John’s safety and life every day and give him a choice; you, or the Peaky Blinders.

Part Two - A Second Chance

You had first met John Shelby when you were both eighteen, a year before the war struck. You had been a nurse in training at the time, walking home from work one dark September afternoon when you had found yourself thrown into a brawl on the street, right outside your house.

It was your brother, older than you by five years, who had managed to piss off the Shelby boys and started a fight, and as the more mature sibling, you had been the one who was forced to step in and interfere.

Seeing as your street was a good fifteen-minute walk away from Watery Lane, you invited all three of the Shelby boys inside despite your brother’s strong and rather loud protests, sending your brother’s friends home to their own homes.

Once inside, you had cleaned them all up, apologized on behalf of your brother who had turned out to have made a nasty comment about their father, and stuck together with them from then on forward. More specifically, you stuck by John.

Being the same age, the two of you instantly clicked, and as John had been the first one out of the three of them to fall victim to your brother’s scrawny fists, he had jumped at the opportunity to get under his skin by flirting with you right under his nose.

Already then, he had been a cheeky boy.

And that ever changed.

From that day forward, the two of you started seeing each other every day, and you quickly built up a relationship that was far too complicated to call a simple friendship.

You loved each other already from early at the start, but when the war struck and John finally gathered the courage to ask for your hand in marriage, you couldn’t say yes. It wasn’t the right time.

You couldn’t accept his proposal when he was just about to be shipped off to fight for his country and put his life on the risk.

You knew it probably wouldn’t have made any difference in you had agreed, seeing as you already loved him, but for some reason, you felt it would be harder to get over him, if he were to get killed if you were engaged.

So you turned him down, with the promise that you would happily take his name and give him your all when he returned, giving him something worth fighting for.

You saw him, his brothers, Freddie, Danny, Jeremiah and your own brother off at the train station that would be taking them out of Birmingham, alongside Polly, Ada and little Finn.

By the time this day rolled around, your brother had made his peace with the Shelby brothers, even though you were still to this day not entirely sure what it was they had been fighting about in the first place.

You hugged each and every on of them goodbye, including Freddie, Danny and Jeremiah despite not knowing them half as well as you knew the Shelbys.

It didn’t matter to you, you still wanted all of them to come back alive. You prayed for it every single night before going to bed, and several times throughout the day.

But your prayers only worked so well, bringing you back John, his brothers, Freddie, Danny and Jeremiah, but not your brother. He had been ambushed in one of the tunnels and died by a bullet to the head.

With both your parents having died when you were still very young, your brother had been the one to raise you despite you being the one taking care of him the later years of his life, and he had been your only remaining family.

It ruined you to hear of the news of his death. You didn’t eat or sleep for weeks. All you did was cry, scream, and cry some more.

But John and the others stayed by your side through it all, and once you had gotten through the first three months of grieving, you started feeling great comfort in being around the Small Heath Rifles. After all, your brother had been one of them, and in a way, you felt his presence whenever you were close to them.

They had seen the same horrors, felt the same pain as your brother. And although you hated seeing them so broken, it made you feel more at ease to know that your brother hadn’t been out there on his own.

True to your word, you finally accepted John’s proposal once the worst of the storm had blown over, and you got married five months after their return from the war.

Despite still mourning your brother’s gruesome death, you were happier than you had ever been, seeing a chance to a fresh start when looking into the eyes of the man you loved.

But upon his return home, you quickly realized your marriage was no different from what it would have been if you got married before he left.

The very danger he had been heading into at the time remained, and the anxiety of seeing him dead that you had been trying to avoid by declining his offer at the start was stronger now than you ever could have imagined.

You thought you would be living a normal life once he got back. That you would start a family, move to a nice house somewhere in the countryside, maybe keep a small farm, and keep the racing business legitimate.

But the business him and his brothers turned to once they had gotten situated back in Small Heath was everything but legal. Every day, you sat at home, waiting with panic buried deep in the pit of your stomach that John wouldn’t return home.

He lived a dangerous life with the Peaky Blinders, and as he did so, so did you.

You had put up with it for this long, for the unwavering love you felt for him stopped you from even considering living without him. But the instability of your life together, the never-ending cycle of not knowing what was happening when you were apart was eating away at you from the inside out. And you couldn’t take it anymore

“I want a divorce.”

It was like time and place just completely came to a stop as the sudden and unexpected words fell from your lips.

You were seated on the sofa in John’s office, while he worked his way through a thick stack of paperwork behind his desk just a small distance away from you.

As your words fled into the air, the scratching of his pen against the paper suddenly stopped, and you could feel your entire body freezing with dread as you waited for his response, your eyes not once wavering from the fire crackling away in the fireplace in front of you and the

“What?”

His voice was hard, most likely just as hard as the look he was probably giving you at that very moment.

But you refused to look at him, only swallowing as he questioned again. “What did you say?”

You twirled the wedding ring around your finger furiously, bouncing your leg slightly and biting down on the insides of your cheeks to keep the tears back.

“I want a divorce, John.” You repeated, your voice barely even audibly, thick with unfallen tears.

“Are you-“ John cut himself short, struggling to find the right words. He stood up from his chair abruptly, the paperwork now long forgotten. “You want a divorce?”

You swallowed, nodding your head and feeling your lip tremble. “I do.” You whispered in confirmation, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as he walked around his desk and approached the sofa you were sat on.

He stopped by your side, keeping some distance between the two of you. He was silent for a long moment, the air thick with a flurry of emotions radiating off of the two of you.

“Well that’s just too fookin’ bad then, innit?” He questioned finally, now fully having processed your unexpected request and the shock having turned into anger. “Because you’re not getting one.”

The grip you held on your own fingers tightened, and the first tear finally escaped your eyes to roll down your cheek.

“Once you marry a Shelby, you stay fookin’ married!”

You jumped in your seat as he suddenly yelled out, his foot shooting out to violently kick the side of the very sofa you were sitting in.

You whipped your head around to face him at that, standing up. “You would force me to stay married to you even if it killed me every day?” You asked, seething and looking at him through narrowed eyes, not even caring that you were fully crying at this point.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, throwing his arms out. “Do you want a bigger house? I’ll buy you the biggest house in all of fookin’ Birmingham!”

“I don’t want a house!” You quickly shot him down, raising your voice. “I’m perfectly content with what I have now!”

“Then what’s the fookin’ problem?!” He yelled, to which you let out the painful sob you had been holding in for the entirety of the evening.

“The problem is that I don’t have you.”

His demeanor seemed to falter ever so slightly, his face softening. But the fire was still burning strong behind his blue eyes as he walked closer to you, looking at you with questioning eyes.

“What are you on about?” He asked. “You’ve always had me.”

Your eyes instinctively fluttered closed at the feeling of his hand coming up to cup your cheek, the touch only causing you to cry even more.

“It doesn’t feel like it.” You denied, your voice cracking with the tears.

You opened your eyes, looking up into his. “Every day I have to sit alone at home and wonder whether you’re going to come back to me alive or dead on a stretcher. I’m losing my grip on you. I can feel you slipping further and further into Death’s arms for every passing day and I can’t take it.”

John watched you closely as you spoke, his lips pursed and his jaw tense, but his thumb still wiping away at the hot tears rolling down your face.

“I can’t fucking take it, John.” You admitted, crying. “It’s me or them. Me or your Peaky fucking Blinders.”

John had never in a million years expected you to want to divorce him in the first place, but when that sentence passed your lips, he was more taken aback than he had ever been before.

His face turned down with disbelief and his hand suddenly fell from your face as he took a step back. “They’re my family.” He said, and you crossed your arms over your chest, hugging yourself for some comfort.

“I’m your family, too.” You cried quietly, but he only shook his head.

“That’s not fair. You can’t do that to me. It’s not fair.”

“Perhaps not.” You agreed. “But it’s a choice I feel like I’m forced to give you.”

He said nothing, so you continued.

“I want to have a family, John.” You said, chuckling tearily. “I want to settle down and have a family of my own. Kids. And I want it all with you. But I would never forgive myself if I brought a fatherless child into this world. I want to give my child a better life than the ones that we’ve had. With the love and support of both parents.”

John shook his head, his breathing now having gotten significantly heavier and his eyes glossier by the tears that were starting to sneak up on him.

“It wouldn’t be fatherless, though, would it?” He argued. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t get to decide whether or not you stay when you get injured and can’t be saved.” You pointed out, and unwrapped your arms from around your body, walking forward and raising your hands to bring his face closer to yours.

“Leave with me.” You begged, searching his eyes and pressing your forehead to his. “Leave for me. For me and our future family. You’re bright, John. You’re so smart, so kind, and you have so much potential. You know you were meant for a life much bigger than the Peaky Blinders. This is not your destiny.”

He looked down at you with hard eyes, tears now pooling at the corners of his eyes. He sniffled, trembling slightly under your touch, indicating just how hard he was trying to keep his calm when he was really panicking on the inside.

For a moment, you held hopes that he was going to agree, tell you to go pack your bags, that he would take you away from Small Heath, gang wars and the violence and death that came with it.

But then he shook his head, and your face instantly fell.

“Fuck destiny.” He swore, tearing his head out of your grasp and taking a step back again. “Family is the only thing that matters.”

“Then what am I?” You snapped, a fresh set of tears springing to your eyes. “Because it certainly does not seem like I fit into that category.”

“You’re my wife. That’s what you are.” He answered, pointing a finger at you and glaring with all his might. “You’re supposed to clean the house, cook and keep your mouth shut. What I do by means of business is none of your concern, and you know what Tommy thinks about you putting your nose where it don’t belong. Why can’t you just be happy? My duty as your husband is to provide for you and that’s exactly what I’m doing. How the food ends up on the table shouldn’t matter so long as we don’t starve.”

This entire conversation and situation had been unpleasant from start to present, but you could swear you felt your heart break into a million tiny, prickly pieces behind your chest at his words. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

Sure, you hadn’t known each other for more than a few years and you had barely been married for two, but you really thought your loved would have matter more to him than he was letting on at that moment.

“Is that seriously what you think?” You asked, your sorrow slowly turning more and more into fury.

“Of course it fucking matters!” You yelled. “The life we build together won’t matter at the end of the day if you run off and get yourself killed!”

“I won’t get killed!” He argued.

“You can’t promise that!”

The entire room seemed to shake under the loud volume of your voice, and it seemed to take John by surprise as he calmed down after that, simply shaking his head slowly and continuing in a much quieter voice.

“You can’t keep this up forever.” He said, without a doubt referring to the countless other times you had brought up that you didn’t feel comfortable with the life he led. “People are starting to talk. Saying I don’t know how to handle my woman.”

This time, his words actually brought a scoff out of your lips. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Is that so?” You challenged, glaring at him fiercely. “Well, you’ll be glad to know that your woman is sick of getting handled and no longer wishes to be yours.”

You tore your eyes away from his and looked down at your hand, starting to twist the ring off of your finger.

John instantly took note of this and rushed over to you, taking your hand in his and stopping you from completely removing the small piece of jewelry. “Come on, (Y/N). What are you doing?”

Although it pained you greatly to do so, you ripped your hand out of his warm grasp, wasting no time in going back to tug at the ring.

“I think I’ve made it pretty clear by now that I’m not staying.” You deadpanned, keeping your attention on the ring to avoid looking at his expression as you did so.

Because if you did, you knew you would just break down completely.

“If you love me like you claim you do, you cut this shit out right now.” He told you, his voice low and threatening.

It broke your heart to hear him utter those words in that tone, but it broke you even more as you finally got the ring off and looked back up to meet his teary eyes.

You had to strain your entire body in order to stay strong, glaring into his eyes as you answered. “If you loved me like you claim to do, you wouldn’t have forced me to stay in a life I don’t feel safe and happy with. You would’ve left with me.”

And with that, you pushed the ring into his hands and turned around, leaving the room.

He didn’t make any move to follow you, and in that final moment, it was his choice not to do so that made you realize your choice had been the right one.

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder x reader #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #freddie thorne #ada thorne #ada shelby #finn shelby #polly gray

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honeysuckle-writings · 4 years

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SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 1. I JUST REALLY WANTED TO GET THIS OFF MY CHEST BECAUSE I AM A FILTHY KINNIE

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"Kokichi I said don't follow me."

"But Ran Ran please!"

Kokichi whined at the taller male in front of him. His hands were balled into fist in front of him and his face was squished into a pout. Rantaro sighed and frowned. He had told Kokichi over and over again that he wanted to go about things on his own for a little while and he certainly kept his plan a secret much to Kokichi's displeasure. One of his main reasons being he didn't want Kokichi to get hurt if something were to happen.

"But I can keep watch! Hell I could sneak into places because you're too tall! I can lock pick! You need my expertise." Kokichi stated matter of factly and m shoved his fist onto his hips.

Rantaro's green eyes locked on to the purple eyes in front of him, a soft smile replacing the frown. He could feel his chest tightening at having to keep Kokichi at a distance. He knew things like this would mess with his head and push any ounce of trust he had gained through their small amount of time together out of the window. Kokichi wouldn't get close to anyone so carelessly. The fact that Rantaro was able to dip his finger tips past the cracks in the walls Kokichi had up was both a blessing and a curse.

From day one, Kokochi seemed to latch on to Rantaro. Something about each other acted as a magnet to the other. Neither of them were quite sure what it was but they didn't find it pivotal to question. Kokichi didn't know what personal space was but Rantaro didn't mind. He would knock and come into Rantaro's room as soon as it was open the tinest bit and before Rantaro could properly invite him in.

He also noticed pretty early on that Rantaro had some information none of the others did. Kokichi hung around him and called it "keeping and eye on him" in case he was the mastermind since he was so suspicious. Rantaro knew that was not quite the truth the first time Kokichi let down a wall and fell asleep in his bed.

From then on Kokichi would make his way into Rantaro's bedroom each night. Sometimes he would leave in the middle of the night. Other times they were so caught up in laughing at each others antics that neither of them noticed when they would both doze off. Kokichi got to see the goofy side of Rantaro. Like when he would bump into something in his room and knock it over and respond with "Sorry. I've just got a fat ass." Or, "Who fucked the legend? Who fucked the legend Danny Devito?" After a random thought process. It was refreshing to know he was just as silly and could keep up with Kokichi's antics.

The two had become inseparable, but not to anyone around them. They kept their stuff private to not attract any unwanted attention or questions. It was safer for the both of them to work together in secrecy. Kokichi would still throw jokes at him across the table at breakfast or make flirty remarks but in a way that made everyone think he was completely faking it.

"I'll tell you what," Rantaro reached out and held Kokichi's shoulder gently. "If you let me go do this on my own and I get us out of here, I promise I will have you by my side when we escape. Okay? I won't just forget about you and move out when were out." He squeezed his grip only slightly to affirm his own statement.

Kokichi deadpanned and never took his eyes off of Rantaro's as he processed the words. He wanted to believe him. He really did, but something didn't seem right. "No." His voice was monotone.

"What do you mean no?" Rantaro raised an eyebrow.

Rantaro's confidence really was something to admire. Kokichi knew that Rantaro had something up those billowing sleeves of his. Something no one else here had.

"Just kidding!" Kokichi flashed a cheeky grin. "Fine. I'll let you do whatever you need to. Just please don't get yourself hurt okay? I don't wanna have to clean up your mess!" Kokichi poked Rantaro in the chest and stuck his tongue out.

A smile returned to Rantaro's face. He knew full well that Kokichi was just lying to keep his emotions about it safe.

"You need to stay out of the way and I'm serious. For your sake, just stay inside your room or something. I promise that I will be back okay?" He pulled Kokichi into a hug and held him there, an arm around his shoulders and the other hand behind Kokichi's head. It took a moment, but Kokichi finally wrapped his arms around Rantaro's waist and buried his face into his chest. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes to just be with each other, both of them uncertain of the outcome of Rantaro's plan.

Rantaro leaned down and kissed the top of Kokichi's fluffy hair before pulling back, a little reluctantly.

"I've gotta go now okay? Time is running out and I really need to this for everyone." The aura had changed back to a serious tone now and Kokichi knew that meant business.

"Okay. I love you Ran Ran." Kokichi pulled back and turned away, not wanting to watch Rantaro leave from his room.

There was no joke or lie at the end which was unusual for Kokichi.

"I love you too Kichi."

Time seemed to go by so slow as Kokichi tried to busy himself in his room. Sheets of paper surrounded him on the bed as he tried desperately to distract himself. He tried napping but no one could sleep at a time like this.

Suddenly the monitor turned on. Kokichi's heart leaped and he wondered if he would see Rantaro's face appear. Maybe he had defeated Monokuma in a cool ninja fight and had taken over the system.

The loud music that began blaring almost made him jump out of bed. He rushed over to the monitor and jumped up and down trying to even reach it, hoping there was a volume button but it was no use. He covered his ears and went for the door, reaching out for the handle but Rantaros voice from earlier stopped him. In one hour everything would be over. "Dont follow me

I promise I'll be back."

Kokichi's hand hovered over the knob, trembling slightly. His stomach churned as he struggled to decide whether he should trust him or not. He didn't realize tears had welled into his eyes until one began to drop down his cheek. The thought of dying scared him. If Rantaro failed and they all died, Kokichi would be here alone for it. His whole body shook and he let out a sob. So much for being strong through it all.

He jerked his hand back and groaned in frustration. The music surrounding him made it hard to think. As sudden as the music started, it shut off just as abruptly.

Kokichi looked up at the monitor with wide terror filled eyes. What was going to happen now? Would it be sudden or would they have to endure it slowly?

What he didn't expect was to be shaken out of his thoughts but the unwelcomed voice of Monokuma.

"A body has been discovered! Please, make your way to the library to begin investigation!"

Throwing all his previous thoughts out, Kokichi swung his door open and ran as fast as he legs would go, catching up with Iruma, Hoshi, Korekiyo, Kirumi, and Kiibo.

The sight before him once he reached the back of library made his vision begin to grow blurry. The sound of his heart strings snapping into loose strings in his chest blocked out the sounds of those around him.

There laid Rantaro, dead, in a puddle of his own blood.

No. No no no no no.

"This is a lie right?" Tears were falling down his cheeks as he spoke and his lip quivered as he tried to keep a sob in. "My dearest Rantaro is dea- I mean was killed?" His voice squeaked and he cried out.

"Oh shut up would you? It's not like you even cared." Tenko shot at him.

Kokichi immediately stopped, save for a few sniffles as he tried to collect himself. No one here would believe him anyway. They all thought he was a heartless monster and he knew it. The looks he was recieving told it all. "Nishishi! You caught me! Thank goodness this thing isn't boring anymore!" He threw his hands behind his head and grinned wide enough to make his eyes squint closed. His abdomen burned as he gulped and felt his emotions plummet to the bottom of his stomach.

It felt like a slap in the face when no one took the first blood perk. Why would someone do something like that to someone like Rantaro. He didn't even do anything wrong. Kokichi wanted to scream and lash out at everyone surrounding Monokuma when they were faced with actually having to have a trial.

While the others were fixated on arguing with Monokuma, Kokichi snuck over to Rantaro's body. One last look at the boy had actually began to rebuild his thoughts on humanity. He squatted down quietly and let his finger tips brush against Rantaro's still warm cheek on his way to his collar. He clasped his fingers around a chain and yanked it off with ease. He kept a good hold on it with his index finger as he let it droop down his forearm into his sleeve to hide it.

"Well if you'll excuse me!" He suddenly shouted. "I have to do some investigating by myself. I don't need anyone with me to figure this out. Good luck everyone!"

"Oh no you don't. You can't get out of this that easily." Kaito stormed towards him but Kaede stopped him.

"Let him go. We will catch up with him later." Kaede kept her arm out to keep him in place.

Kaito huffed and glared at Kokichi but Kokichi didn't care. He just walked slowly out of the library and made his way back to his room without taking another look behind.

As Kokichi walked, he took the necklace out of his sleeve and examined it. This was the only thing he had left of him. No one would take this away from him. He slipped the necklace up under his checkered scarf and clasped it behind his neck. It was perfectly hidden from everyone else but he would know it was there.

As soon as Kokichi walked into his dorm and shut the door, he hoped that either they were sound proof or the others were still down in the library. A scream pierced the room as Kokichi broke down.

He jumped on to the bed and began hitting his pillows as he sobbed, getting out everything he could.

"You promised! You promised!"

He repeated to himself over and over. He cried until he began gagging at how hard he was crying and how scratchy his throat was becoming. Nothing felt real anymore. Rantaro was gone and now he was alone. Kokichi wished it was him instead. What he wouldn't give to be in Rantaro's place now.

"You asshole!" His voice was giving out and he was beginning to feel nauseous.

"It should have been me." The confession came out a whisper as fatigue came over his body. Everything began to settle into a numbness as he curled up on to the bed. With the last bit of energy he could muster, he reached up and held the pendant in the palm of his hand.

Kokichi wouldn't let Rantaro's death be for nothing. It was not fair for someone with his heart to be taken out of the world like that. No matter what it took, Kokichi would make sure they got out of there. That was Rantaro's plan, his wish, and Kokichi would follow through with it. Even if it meant they all saw him in a bad light until the end. He would learn to be alone again.

#kokichi ouma #rantaro amami #oumami #danganronpa #drv3 #dannganronpa v3

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potatocrab · 4 years

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Salvation is a Last Minute Business (15/18)

Chapter 15: The Liar’s Kiss That Says I Love You

A return to New England Medical Center finds Madelyn struggling with who she can trust. She and Deacon have a long conversation about the power of truth and lies, and she learns one more of his closely guarded secrets. At a Railroad safehouse, the two reminisce on their first operation and realize they may have fallen into a cliché after all.

“Kiss me, Mike. I want you to kiss me. The liar’s kiss that says I love you and means something else.” - Lily Carver as played by Gaby Rodgers (Kiss Me Deadly, 1955)

x-x

This chapter contains mild/not-so-mild sexual content. Proceed at your own desire! When you see the French language being used, you have reached the point of no return!

Major thanks to @glowstickia for her help on the French resources. :)

[read on Ao3] | [chapter masterpost]

May 30th, 1958

Madelyn had hoped she wouldn’t have a reason to visit the New England Medical Center so soon, memories of Nick’s hospitalization and near-death experience at the hands of Eddie Winter fresh in her mind. Yet there she was, struggling to ignore the sympathetic glances from the familiar faces of doctors and nurses as they patched up her arm and provided her with a tetanus shot—undoubtedly more painful than her injury, at least without the surge of adrenaline to dull her senses. Who would have guessed that a needle could hurt worse than a bullet?

The same medical staff allowed her to stay with Drummer Boy in his assigned recovery room, despite the fact she was of no relation. It was likely out of pity for all they had seen her experience in recent months. Between everything that had happened to her and Nick when they went after Eddie Winter in April, Jenny’s death when the hospital was ambushed thereafter, and now an attempted assassination at her own apartment—Madelyn was starting to think her luck—if she had any to begin with—was running out.

By the grace of God—or maybe Drummer Boy’s perfect timing—she’d escaped relatively unharmed. He wasn’t so fortunate, but the commotion of the shooting hadn’t gone unnoticed in her Cambridge neighborhood. When the Boston Police arrived, she was initially surprised to see Sergeant Sullivan, but considering he was the last trustworthy cop left in the city, she was grateful for his presence. He ensured that she and Drummer Boy got to the New England Medical Center in a timely manner while his task force secured the area. Madelyn wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of strange men lurking about her apartment, but she had little choice but to agree.

In the quiet of Drummer Boy’s room, she finally had a chance to process what had occurred and how close she had come to death—again. An unknown assailant dared to attack Madelyn in her own home, where she was most vulnerable. The list of suspects in her mind narrowed down to one as she thought about the agency’s infiltration of Fort Hagen, and the smuggled documents on Kellogg. While there hadn’t been any sightings of him since the late 40s, his vanishing act did little to ease anyone’s mind. The proof was in the casefile—Kellogg had a way of finding the people he deemed unfit for life. It made sense that he’d come for her, especially if he really was an agent of the Institute—they were likely to have their own list of reasons for wanting her dead.

An unsettling notion entered her mind as she thought about the man who had stalked her and Deacon before and again at the Cambridge campus on the day of the demonstration. What if it was him who had attempted to kill her, and not Kellogg as she assumed? What if it was a random android, set up in a building across the street, programmed to shoot into her apartment window at a specific time? Worse yet, what if the would-be assassin was just another one of the Institute’s experiments? Just another name, another face to get lost in the crowd—just as Piper feared. That meant nobody was beyond suspicion, not when it was still unknown just how long the Institute had been performing these so-called brain augmentations—if they were even behind the attack in the first place.

Madelyn clasped Drummer Boy’s hand tight as the paranoia and anxiety settled in. She couldn’t live like that—constantly looking over her shoulder—living in fear. She couldn’t go through life wondering who was or wasn’t worthy of her trust. Not when she’d finally gained back her sense of security—her sense of sanity—her sense of self. After Nate’s death, after Eddie Winter, after everything—the last thing she wanted was to fall back into the endless spiral of despair.

You can’t trust everyone.

The words echoed in her mind like so many times before, her chest tightening under the painful realization of how true they were. Madelyn closed her eyes the moment tears clouded her vision, clenching her jaw so tight she feared her teeth might chip. Anything to prevent herself from crying. It didn’t matter that she was (mostly) alone—she was so exhausted from so many nights of crying. Perhaps it was her concentration that made it difficult to hear the echoing footsteps in the hallway or the soft knock. It wasn’t until the door began to creak open that she reacted, recoiling in a way that she nearly fell out of her chair.

“Charmer?”

“Deacon?”

Madelyn breathed out his name, relieved it was him and not anyone else. While the doctors and nurses provided some comfort, it paled in comparison to the intimacy they shared. Still undefined, still unspoken—but undeniably close.

He hesitated, quietly closing the door behind him as he observed her, eyebrows raised high above the frame of his darkened shades. For as stoic and pensive as she’d seen him be in the past, especially when reacting to various tragedies and disastrous events, he appeared to be faltering now. It was always difficult to fully discern his emotions when half his face was obscured, but he looked curious, if not concerned. His silence indicated he was likely worried too, but Deacon would never say it outright.

Madelyn’s pulse gradually settled, but she had a difficult time fully relaxing under his watchful gaze. In that moment, with her willpower drained, she looked away. She focused on Drummer Boy’s steady breathing, brushing the pad of her thumb across his wrist and hospital band.

“Danny—Sullivan,” Deacon corrected himself, slowly moving to stand near the end of the hospital bed. “He tracked me and Valentine down, took us back to your apartment.”

“I know,” she responded, barely above a whisper. “I had him do so.”

“Ol’ Nick took a lot of convincing to stay behind,” he explained, setting down the canvas bag and glass Tupperware he carried on the small table. “But he didn’t want to leave those cops unsupervised. Even if they’re Sullivan’s men—”

You can’t trust everyone—he didn’t have to say it.

“It figures,” she sighed, closing her eyes again. “Probably looked like somebody died, huh?”

Deacon remained silent, though she could hear him, feel him, approaching. Soon enough, he was standing at her side, causing a tingle to run up her spine—an unexplainable feeling—but her skin suddenly ached for the simplest form of touch. As if he could read her mind (and she wouldn’t be surprised if he could), he rested his hand over hers and Drummer Boy’s. Madelyn immediately snapped open her eyes with a sharp inhale of air, momentarily stunned by the contact.

She needed more.

In an instant she was standing, clinging to him with her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders as she pressed up on her toes, tired feet and aching shoulder be damned. Deacon was quick to return the embrace, holding her close as he kept his arms snug around her torso. Madelyn stayed there, face pressed against the soft wool of his coat—she wanted to tease him for wearing it so near to summer but now she was grateful for the comfort it provided. She didn’t cry, despite the fact that she wanted to, and probably needed to as well. Bristling with quiet desperation, the only thing Madelyn was sure of was that she didn’t want to be alone.

“I just—” she started after a long stretch of silence. “I’d like to go home.”

Deacon gradually pulled her away, easing her back so her heeled feet were level with the ground. He swept back a few errant curls behind her ear, fingers lingering along the curve of her cheek. At first, she thought he might kiss her, but he skewed his lips to the side instead. “No can do, Charmer.”

Madelyn sighed—she knew that, but it was worth a try. Her eyes danced over to the belongings on the table. Deacon sensed her curiosity.

“Codsworth insisted I bring you something to eat,” he explained, nodding his chin towards the glass container.

“Better left for Drummer Boy. I’m told hospital food tastes of despair,” she flashed a meek smile. “And the bag?”

“Some clothes for you,” he said. “Any chance to rifle through your naughty drawer.”

If it were anybody else, she wouldn’t have appreciated such an ill-timed joke. Deacon’s smirk relaxed into a gentler expression, his thumb tracing down the angle of her chin towards her mouth. “Let’s get you someplace safe.”

There was a hidden meaning to his words that had Madelyn equal parts excited and trembling with anxiety. He wanted her safe, but also alone—all to himself. They’d kissed, crossed that barrier two weeks prior. But whatever was to come next was to be determined, put on hold, as their focus quickly became centered on finding Kellogg and infiltrating the Institute. Romance could wait—or maybe it couldn’t.

What was she so afraid of?

Finally, she spoke. “Do you trust me?”

“You’ve asked that before,” he responded in a low, contemplative voice.

He was right—Madelyn had poised the question on more than one occasion. And the last time, just as before, he hadn’t given a straight answer. It was always easy enough for her to assume and take his presence for granted. But now more than ever, she needed honesty—if it was even possible. She wanted nothing more than to be engulfed in the flame they’d ignited, but she’d sooner snuff out the fire if he couldn’t give her this one answer.

“I know that lying is your profession. That you’d sooner court death than the truth,” she paused, reluctantly leaning away from his touch, noting the glimmer of disappointment in his features. “Against better judgement, I trust you.”

“But I need to know that you feel the same—that you trust me,” Madelyn expressed, doing her best not to sound like she was pleading. “Not just as your partner in the Railroad, but—”

She broke off, grasping his hand as part of her silent allusion. There was a subtlety to his reaction, but enough of one that told her he understood the inference. Deacon said nothing, eyebrows firmly creased together as he considered her words. The silence dragged on enough that she felt foolish for saying anything in the first place. She tried not to feel overly disappointed or react in a disproportionate way—the last thing Madelyn wanted was an argument.

“There’s an imbalance,” she mumbled, unsure of her train of thought. “You know so much about me, a fault of my own—Nick always said I wore my heart on my sleeve—” She was definitely rambling. Blame it on her grief—she couldn’t stop. “But you are and always have been an enigma, Deacon. Your face, your hair…hell, your real age,” her eyes darted over his face as her heart raced loud enough she could hear it echoing in her skull. “Your name.”

His reaction wasn’t subtle that time. Deacon pulled away, and Madelyn feared she’d crossed a line and offended him. But he didn’t storm out of the room—rather, he dug through his coat and jacket pockets, muttering something incoherent under his breath until he pulled free a leather billfold with a triumphant sort of grin. He placed it in her hands as if she’d asked for it.

“Go on,” he encouraged with a sideways smirk.

Madelyn didn’t move an inch, only taking a quick glance at the wallet before meeting his face again. “What—”

“You could’ve lifted that off of me at any time,” he interrupted, gesturing to the faded black material. “Looked at my ID and taken some money while you’re at it. All in a day’s work for a spy.”

She frowned—it seemed honesty for him was as bad as pulling teeth. Her legal studies were easier than this. Madelyn decided to call his bluff, turning over the billfold in her hand. “A spy like you would obviously carry more than one identification.”

“Obviously,” he agreed with a nod. “But one of them is bound to be legitimate. Even a no-good scoundrel like me needs a clean copy for official reasons—never know when you’re going to end up in a pickle or interrogated by some charming blonde.”

Madelyn, understandably, had doubts as her irritation lingered. Even if she wanted to take a look, could she really open what was akin to opening Pandora’s box? Did she really want to know? What if this was just another elaborate trick? Deacon titled his head just enough that she caught a glimpse of his eyes in the low light of the room. He was serious now, all trace of humor erased from his expression.

“I trust you.”

A shockwave rippled through her body causing a deep warmth to radiate in her chest. He might as well have told her—

Madelyn blinked hard, shaking the idea from her mind. One step at a time. Trust. He slowly circled around her to be closer to Drummer Boy’s bedside, and she turned to watch his movements, still hesitating to flip open the leather billfold. Deacon leaned over the hospital bed, as if to verify the agent wasn’t secretly awake and eavesdropping on their conversation. She sat back down in the nearby chair before giving into her curiosity.

She wasn’t sure what a typical man’s wallet was supposed to contain, but Deacon’s was full of various cards and trinkets—paper receipts and scribbled notes, raffle tickets of undetermined origin. Just as she predicted, and he admitted to, there were multiple state identification cards. Many were for Massachusetts, but there was one for Virginia, and one for Washington D.C.—unsurprisingly with the obviously fake name of George Washington.

Madelyn flicked through the paper cards, finding humor in some of the clever names and disguises—Horatio Williams from Worcester County, Simon Rock from Plymouth, Guy Granger from Richmond, and Harry Morgan from Nantucket. It wasn’t until she settled on a well-faded card that she gave pause. The Deacon in the black-and-white picture was recognizable, but only because she’d seen him without his usual pompadour wig and sunglasses. The full name wasn’t visible, worn from many years of handling but she saw enough of the bold lettering—Johnathan Daniel. She knew immediately it wasn’t a fake.

“Old testament,” she muttered, half-jokingly, under her breath. At least he hadn’t lied about his Catholic upbringing. Madelyn looked up to find him whispering—praying—as he gently held onto Drummer Boy’s arm, his other hand resting against the other man’s shoulder. The sight was unexpected, to say the least, and gave her insight that perhaps their relationship stretched beyond the Railroad too.

“Drummer Boy—Robby,” she corrected herself. “He wasn’t lying when he said John D formed the Railroad.”

Deacon shrugged, glancing at her over his shoulder, as if he expected her to say that. “He wasn’t,” he confirmed, plainly. He didn’t even ask when, or why Drummer Boy told her such information. “John D didn’t do it alone.”

“No,” Madelyn knew the history, thanks to the stories and a little digging of her own. “But Wyatt isn’t around anymore, now is he?”

“He isn’t.”

“And John D?” she asked tentatively.

Deacon grinned, if only for a fleeting moment. “He’s around.”

It was confirmation enough, and Madelyn decided not to pry for a straight answer—she’d gotten plenty from him already when he confirmed his trust. Now was not the time to cross boundaries, even as more unanswered questions rattled through her mind. With a deep and steadying breath, she allowed herself to become content with the knowledge that she was one of the lucky few—if not the only one—who knew this truth.

The silence was interrupted by a soft grumbling as Drummer Boy gradually regained consciousness. Madelyn abruptly stood, dropping Deacon’s wallet into the chair and rushing to the bedside to ensure he was okay. It took several moments for him to blink the exhaustion from his eyes, and he cleared his throat a few times before relaxing against the pillows again. The Railroad agent lazily glanced up at the two, flashing Madelyn a groggy smile. When Drummer Boy looked at Deacon, his face scrunched up, stuck between a frown and a glare.

“You still owe me,” he mumbled, causing Deacon to softly laugh. “Two dollars.”

The moon still hung high in the sky by the time Madelyn and Deacon left the New England Medical Center, though she wasn’t entirely sure of how much time had passed since she first left the agency, visited Nate’s grave, and returned to her apartment, only to be shot at by an unknown assailant—it had been a long day. All she knew was that her body ached, and that she was desperate for sleep.

After a short taxi ride into the Fens district, Deacon navigated the two through a nondescript area. She lacked the energy to comment on allowing handsome men to lead her into strange alleyways, but the amusement still brought a smile to her face. Outside an old, brick apartment building she noticed two Railroad insignias itched into the wall—one for safehouse, and another for ally.

“Mercer?” she assumed.

He nodded, escorting her inside the building. “Home sweet home.”

Unlike her Cambridge apartment, the elevators there were in working order. Madelyn couldn’t help but yawn as she leaned against Deacon’s shoulder, hoping the safehouse had an ample supply of pillows. He slowly guided her drowsy form down the hallway to the correct door, propping her under his arm as he fished through his pockets for his keys.

“Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?” he teased as soon as he pushed the door open.

Madelyn snickered, and snagged the bag of her belongings from his arm. “Haven’t you learned by now I’m a capable woman?”

He laughed, allowing her to enter ahead of him into the apartment. It was just about the same size as hers, with a mirrored layout and less furniture. Seeing as it was meant as a halfway-house for weary and temporary travelers, it made sense that it wouldn’t feel as lived in. There was a couch, a record player, and a small bookshelf with an assortment of books. The kitchen was modest as well—a small island bar with a few leftover coffee cups and newspapers, as well as a cardboard box from the nearby pizzeria.

Madelyn followed the pathway of the hallway to the bathroom, glancing over her shoulder to find Deacon loitering by the refrigerator. As soon as she was alone in the tiny, tiled room, she took several moments to examine herself in the mirror. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the last time she found herself covered in blood—a macabre thought—the hospital staff had done a decent job at cleaning washing away the evidence from her skin. But there she was with another ruined dress, stained and torn from where the bullet had grazed her shoulder.

She thought to check her wedding ring for streaks of red when she realized she wasn’t even wearing it. A flicker of guilt washed over her as she remembered she’d removed it before the undercover operation at Fort Hagen. Maybe she should be relieved it was still safe and sound at her apartment—not like Deacon would’ve snagged it off her jewelry stand. Madelyn decided to look through the bag to see what he did grab. There were two dresses and stockings that complimented her current pair of heels, and she was grateful that they were appropriate for the May weather. Tucked beneath that was one of her silk nightgowns and matching robes, along with some undergarments. Rather than feel embarrassed, she could only sigh, appreciative that she had something comfortable to change into.

She quickly kicked off her heels, leaving them at the foot of the sink as she removed the rest of her clothes. She draped her discarded dress and stockings over the shower curtain rod before slipping on the pale blue nightgown, securing the robe around her body with a tight knot. She wiggled her toes against the cool floor and sighed. With one last glance in the mirror to ensure she hadn’t missed an errant mark of blood, she flicked off the light and left the bathroom.

In the kitchen, Deacon was preparing two glasses of whiskey as he stood by the island bar, pausing in his actions to watch her slow approach. “Well now I feel overdressed.”

Ironic, considering she’d never seen him so relaxed. He had discarded his wool coat and suit jacket, left hanging over the back of the living couch. Even his shoes were missing, and a cursory scan of the room didn’t give her any indication of where he’d placed them. Madelyn could only mimic his expression.

“You’re the one who packed my bag,” she replied. “I sense sabotage is at play.”

Deacon mocked offense. “I’d never.”

“Before you take the bed and resign me to the couch,” he continued, gaining her attention. He gestured to the freshly poured drinks and the pizza box. “I made a promise to a very pushy Mister Handy unit that you’d be fed, and I’m one to keep promises. Even if they are to robots with British accents.”

Madelyn laughed, imaging Codsworth’s worrying pestering. When her stomach growled, she decided that as tired as she was, sleep could wait. Deacon pulled out the barstool for her so she could sit before occupying the set next to her, sliding her the glass tumbler of whiskey and cardboard box of leftovers. She’d had worse meals but in that moment, cold pizza and alcohol was like heaven. Still, she could sense Deacon watching her carefully from the corner of her eye, and she sighed into her glass.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened,” she explained, nervously meeting his shielded gaze. “Not now, not when I’ll just have to repeat it all over again when we meet with the others in the morning or—” she glanced to the clock hanging on the wall and groaned. “In a few hours.”

Deacon didn’t push. “Whatever you need, Charmer.”

“How does the line go?” he mused. “You know how to whistle…”

“I thought I was Bacall,” Madelyn joked mid-chew. “Mr. Bogart.”

She hadn’t forgotten that conversation from their first meeting, a flirtatious tease of falling in love like two Hollywood starlets in the latest noir film. Madelyn would’ve never guessed that all these months later, it had played out exactly as predicted. She smiled, and so did he.

“Looks like we fell into the cliché after all,” she whispered, eyes darting across his face, lingering on his mouth. “What do you think?”

Deacon finished off his whiskey with a slow sip before answering. “Tu as de beaux yeux tu sais.”

Madelyn was momentarily taken aback, suddenly wishing she’d taken French as a foreign language in school instead of Gaelic—all her Irish relatives were deceased anyways, what was the point? Was Deacon deflecting again? Something about his tone and the way he turned towards her said otherwise. He used his legs to scoot her barstool closer to him, the movement causing her to lean forward and brace her palms flat against his chest so she wouldn’t smash her forehead against his nose. His hands came to rest on her waist as he gradually eased her closer.

“Si je te disais que tu avais un beau corps, tu m’en tiendrais rigueur?”

A question whispered against the shell of her ear that sent her heart racing, mind going blank as she only thought about Deacon’s heated breath along the column of her throat. Madelyn allowed herself to edge nearer to his body still until she was practically straddling his thigh, teetering on the edge of her chair, arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders.

He continued murmuring what she assumed were sweet-nothings against her skin—though they could be nonsense and she’d still be melting in his hands. “On devrait t'arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique.”

“Est-ce que tu fais partie du menu?”

What about a menu? She pondered if what he was telling her bordered on filth, but the idea only excited her. Madelyn sharply inhaled, angling her neck to give him greater access despite the fact his lips hadn’t made direct contact with her skin. When he finally reached her mouth, he paused, one hand reaching up to hold the side of her face steady.

“Dis moi ce que tu veux,” he said. After a beat, he repeated himself, this time so she could understand. “Tell me what you want.”

Madelyn didn’t hesitate to move her hands to his face, fingers wrapping around the metal frame of his glasses before gently removing them, setting them down on the kitchen counter. She held his face with her palms, taking a long moment to stare deep into his steely blue eyes. It had been more than a month since she’d seen them like this, and yet it felt like she was seeing them for the first time—brilliant, vibrant and beautiful.

“You,” she breathed the answer, the most honest she’d felt in years. “Deacon, I want you.”

There was a glimmer to his eyes she couldn’t place as he briefly smirked before wordlessly closing the distance between them with a slow, but needy kiss. It didn’t take long at all for it to grow heated, the hand on her waist silently encouraging her to scoot closer until she was fully seated across his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. Deacon balanced her against him as they hungrily kissed, a groan echoing in his throat as she frantically pushed the suspenders from his shoulders before moving her fingers to undo the buttons of his shirt. It seemed that now that the damn was broken, Madelyn couldn’t wait for the rush—patience be damned.

He matched her fervor, one hand darting to the silken knot at her waist and blinding tugging until he broke away from their kiss to glare down at the confusing tangle. With a curse he pulled open her robe and she shrugged it from her body, softly moaning as his lips instantly collided with the outline of her collarbone before the garment reached the floor. As Deacon kissed a trail along her skin, Madelyn threaded her hands through his hair, breathing a laugh when she remembered it was a wig. He didn’t seem to mind as she removed it—too preoccupied with leaving patterns on her neck—exposing the ginger locks she admired. Just as she returned to run her fingers through those soft waves, he leaned back out of reach. She didn’t have time to be confused as he hoisted her into his arms as he stood, holding her as if she weighed nothing.

Madelyn gasped and still clutched his arms in the fear that she’d be dropped. At first, she assumed he would carry her to the couch, or the bedroom, but he simply placed her on the island bar instead. With a sweep of his arm, he pushed away the clutter to make room for her body, thrilling her to the core. She watched as Deacon peeled off his dress shirt, moving her hands to his belt on the assumption—and perhaps eagerly—that they were to make love right there. He covered her hands with his own, stopping her with a soft chuckle, but it wasn’t meant to taunt her.

“Lie back,” he instructed, voice laced with desire.

Madelyn complied, swallowing down the last traces of anxiety as she eased back onto her elbows. She was so entranced by his actions that she almost forgot to breathe, eyes locked onto his face as his gaze raked over her body and the length of her legs. Deacon’s hands were soft as they traced up from her ankles to her calves and eventually to her thighs, gradually spreading apart her knees to make enough space for his body. Those striking eyes of his found hers as his hands trailed further, past the lace trim of her nightgown until heated fingers traced the outline of her underwear. Those same deft fingers pulled away the fabric just enough so he could touch, an agonizing drag along her already dampened folds. It was enough for Madelyn to completely collapse against the cold tile of the counter, tossing her head back as she moaned loudly. Just how touch starved had she been?

“Don’t close your eyes,” Deacon said, and she desperately fought to snap them open as he continued, and then stopped.

She whimpered, almost against her own volition. He was already gradually sliding her underwear down her legs until they slipped off and to the floor. Instead of his hands, it was his mouth that followed the trail up her legs, and Madelyn was sure her heart was going to burst right out her chest. It didn’t take a detective to know what he was planning, and the pure eroticism of it all—splayed out on a kitchen counter—made her skin prickle with arousal.

Deacon pushed up the silken fabric of her nightgown before hooking one knee around his shoulder, spreading her other thigh out so that his hand could easily trace along her skin. His fingers found her wet heat again, far from teasing as he probed her entrance, eliciting loader groans from her. Just as he found a steady rhythm, he replaced his hand with his mouth, and Madelyn could feel her stomach coiling at the sensation already. She was writhing, uncaring how unhinged she appeared, completely lost to the passion he was inflicting upon her. It was only fitting that the man who was so gifted at intrigue would be this talented with his mouth—Deacon was through, relentless.

Madelyn’s mind was a haze, and she couldn’t hear anything besides her own rapid pulse and intense breathing. No doubt she was chanting his name like a prayer, whispering quiet praises and pleadings that he wouldn’t stop because—oh God—she was so close, and—Jesus—she hadn’t felt so alive in years. There was more blasphemy and curses, and she was sure she was going to hell—maybe it was worth it—if this was what sin felt like.

When she came, it was blinding, and her entire body trembled uncontrollably as Deacon’s hands moved to cradle her, mouth unmoving from her core until she was spent. Madelyn still took several minutes to regain her bearings, staring up at the ceiling in delirious wonder.

“Deacon?” she titled her head to find him resting against the counter, arms draped across her body as his hands rubbed slowly up and down her sides. He glanced up at her with a lazy, self-satisfied sort of smile, and she decided he deserved it.

“I’m here,” he answered.

She softly laughed. “I’d like you to carry me now.”

Deacon was slow to move but eventually leaned back, grasping her hands to help her gradually sit up straight. He hooked one arm under her knees, the other around her torso and gave her a sideways glance so she’d hold onto his shoulder for balance. Madelyn again found herself amused at how easy he made it seem, pausing on his way out of the kitchen to turn off the front room lights. They made their way towards the bedroom in the darkness, though Deacon didn’t appear perturbed, as if he had every inch of the place memorized by touch.

Compared to the rest of the apartment, the bedroom filled more belongings and looked like it had a regular visitor. There were more books scattered there than in the front room, and several bags of clothes that had been diligently organized. Madelyn didn’t have to ask to know the regular tenant was Deacon. The shades of the window were open, allowing the light of the moon to cast a soft light of white into the room and across the unmade bed. He placed her there, and she stared up at him with curious eyes as he seemed to hesitate for the first time that evening as he slowly unbuckled his belt, sliding down his pants when there was enough slack.

“We can stop, if you want,” Deacon suggested. “The bed is yours. Couch is more comfortable than it looks.”

Madelyn was surprised, and while she appreciated the gesture, she’d expressed her desires. “No.”

“Thought you might say that,” he smirked. He removed his undershirt and tossed it to the floor before sitting on the edge of the mattress, reaching down to pluck the socks off his feet.

When he turned to her, Madelyn was struck by the man she saw in the glow of the moonlight, practically a stranger and yet somebody she trusted her entire life with. Against common sense she’d gone and fallen in love with a beautiful mystery of a man, and nothing thrilled her more. She sat up to meet his advances, kissing him desperately as he worked to lift her nightdress up and off her body.

Madelyn removed her own bra, uncaring if he could do it just as quickly. At this rate, she just wanted to be naked and beneath him as soon as possible. Deacon must’ve found the action amusing, softly laughing against her mouth as he broke away from their kiss to lift off from the bed to discard his briefs. She took the opportunity to lean back against the pillows, pushing back the sudden realization that she was about to have sex for the first time in years—the first time since—

No, she reminded herself, closing her eyes tight. There was no time for that kind of guilt, or for those kinds of memories to permeate this space. With a steadying breath, she blinked open her eyes to find Deacon perched over her, the warmth of his body causing her earlier excitement to spike anew. He lowered himself closer, and she let out a shudder at the feel of his hardened arousal at the junction of her thighs.

“Je t’adore,” he whispered against her ear.

Madelyn turned her head so that she could look at him, lock eyes—blue on blue. She wrapped one leg around his, silently encouraging him as she hooked her arms around his shoulders. “Deacon, please.”

That’s all it took for him to slowly sink into her, the air stolen from her lungs as he became fully seated within her. Deacon moved slow in those initial moments, almost agonizingly so, staying close to her body as he steadily rolled his hips against hers. It wasn’t until she let out a strangled moan and grasped the hair along his scalp that he dared to increase his speed, fully retreating with each thrust before pushing back in. There were more hushed, incoherent and foreign words exchanged, more silent prayers and whispered names against mouths between hungry kisses.

Eventually he leaned back onto his haunches and the angle created a delightful increase to her pleasure and judging by the way Deacon panted and struggled to keep his groans contained, he felt the same. Madelyn felt admired under his gaze, her skin aflame as his blown pupils darted across her naked flesh, fingers digging tightly into her hips as he gradually lost control of his thrusts. She’d been so caught up in her own past that she hardly considered—or remembered—that it had possibly been a long time for him as well.

“Come here,” she beckoned him back to her arms and he practically collapsed against her, their limbs tangling together as they lost themselves to each other.

It didn’t take more than one, two—three punctual thrusts for Madelyn to snap, crying out as she came with a trembling force. Deacon followed shortly thereafter, clinging tightly to her as he snapped his hips tightly to her with a guttural groan. The two stayed coiled together for the next several moments until the spasms passed, Deacon pulling away with a deep exhale as he withdrew to collapse at her side.

Neither said a word as they came down from their individual highs of ecstasy, the room slowly growing quiet as their breathing returned to normal. Madelyn was the first to roll onto her side to face him, and for all that they had shared in the past and just now, she felt strangely bashful. Deacon was already gazing at her with an expression she couldn’t place, the moonlight twinkling in his eyes. Still, the two remained quiet, only regarding each other with similar smiles. He silently urged her to snuggle close against his chest, wrapping their still warm bodies in a thin sheet.

Madelyn still wasn’t sure what the nature of their relationship was, but that was a conversation for another day. She wasn’t about to ruin the moment with a potentially tremulous conversation—not everything needed to be talked through, not everything needed an immediate answer. It was well enough to just be happy in the moment. And despite all the other worries in her life—God—was she happy. She could feel sleep finally calling her into the darkness.

Before she succumbed, she smiled, content to be wrapped up in his arms. “Goodnight, Deacon.”

She convinced herself she was dreaming when he responded minutes, or maybe hours later.

“Goodnight, Madelyn.”

#fallout 4 #noir au #deacon x f!solesurvivor #deacon #madelyn hardy #drummer boy #👀👀👀#the slow burn reaches it's burning point y'all #there's another monty python quote in here but it's a multilingual one jfc #escesive use of the french language

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ladylynse · 4 years

Text

Implications: [FF | AO3] Jack doesn’t intend to be fooled again, especially by blatant ghost trickery, and it’s high time this ghost learned not to underestimate him.

For @cryptidloids as a thank you for donating to my ko-fi. They wanted an angsty reveal fic, so I wrote one that includes ambiguous character death. No one dies, but it’s a distinct possibility, if action isn’t taken.

-|-

“Leave my son alone,” growled Jack.

The ghost glared at him and spat some ectoplasm in his general direction, but even he wasn’t strong enough to get out of that containment unit now that Jack had finally gotten him into it.

Well.

It was more than just a containment unit.

Jack had made some modifications on it just this morning, after the kids had gone to school.

But it was clear enough from the ghost’s cocky attitude that he didn’t know that.

Not that Jack would expect him to.

“I have no interest in your son,” the ghost hissed, and Jack didn’t bother to bite back his laugh at the obvious lie. He’d seen them in the same area, albeit rarely together—had he ever actually seen them together? Maybe once?—too often for it to be coincidence alone. He knew his son. Danny wouldn’t willingly seek out this ghost. He wouldn’t seek out any ghost, really—he actively tried to avoid their hunting trips—but he wasn’t foolish enough to go after one this powerful on his own if he’d changed his mind.

And Jack knew very well why Danny might draw a ghost’s interest. He was even less experienced at ghost hunting than Jazz. He was the easiest target of them all. True, Jack doubted this ghost was foolish enough to try overshadowing Danny and expect them to not notice that their son was a ghost, but—

“I’m not threatening your family,” the ghost insisted. As if that weren’t exactly what he was doing—or, rather, planning, before Jack had intervened.

This ghost had underestimated how much he cared for his family.

“I’m going to make sure of that,” Jack said, and he reached for the giant red dial on the side of the containment unit. The ghost’s eyes went wide, and Jack saw fear settle there. He wasn’t sure if it was real—he and Maddie were still trying to determine whether or not that emotion might remain, if only to explain the Fright Knight’s power over other ghosts—but it didn’t matter right now. If it was real, all the better. If it wasn’t, he was used to ghosts attempting to fool him, anyway.

He didn’t bother to acknowledge the implications in the ghost’s desperate assertions that he’d be free soon enough anyway, that Jack might as well let him go now and save them both the time and trouble. He ignored the carefully controlled panic lurking in the ghost’s voice, behind a plea not quite disguised as a command that Jack stop, when his words had no effect. Jack didn’t blink as the ghost’s voice rose a fraction and demanded to know exactly what he was doing.

He just turned the machine on.

The screams were startling real, even though he knew perfectly well that ghosts didn’t feel pain. Against his better judgement, he turned the machine down to low and waited. He expected the ghost to take the opportunity to direct his power at the machine and try to break free, that desperation might push him past his façade of innocence.

Instead, the ghost dropped the floor, gasping as if he really needed air to breathe.

“I don’t take threats to my family lightly, ghost. You should know better than to underestimate me.”

The ghost might have whimpered. Or Jack might have imagined that. Either way, the ghost didn’t face him.

“Do you understand me?”

“What—?” The ghost’s voice was raw, raspy. “What—what was that?”

Jack turned the machine back on. He couldn’t see the anti-ecto-radiation that was flooding into the ghost, but he could see its effects. The way the ghost’s suit started to shift and melt like wax. The way his skin, though more resistant, began to bubble and blister and burst as if burned.

And, of course, the way the ghost promptly gave up all acts of defiance and whole-heartedly turned himself over to the act of screaming and writhing in pain.

Jack stopped when there was a distinct shimmer of ectoplasm on the floor of the containment unit. The ghost looked up at him. His features were still defined, still distinctly humanoid, but now he looked as if he’d gotten a face full of caustic chemical. It was….

It was unnervingly similar to something Jack had seen once before, back when he was in college.

“You imbecile!” the ghost shrieked. “You absolute buffoon!”

That was familiar, too. The way pain and rage seemed to be what motivated the ghost to force the words from his throat, the way—

“What are you trying to do to me, you blundering oaf?”

The ghost struggled to his feet, ectoplasm smearing the glass as he pressed against it to push himself up.

The way his suit hung on him now, it reminded Jack of a lab coat.

Even his hair had been shocked out of its stylized horns, looking more like—

“Do you really want to finish what you tried to do the first time?” the ghost snarled. “Do you really dare try?”

There should be no way for the ghost to break out of the containment unit, but Jack turned the dial again anyway. Just in case. He didn’t…. He didn’t like that this ghost knew enough about his past to make those implications. Those accusations.

Especially when those very thoughts haunted Jack’s darkest moments.

Vlad had been his best friend. Vlad and Maddie. But after the accident with the proto-portal—

The ghost fell, its knees buckling as the radiation hit it and once again began to destroy the cohesion of the ectoplasm it controlled. Jack ignored the screams. It was easy, especially now that the ghost was past the point of words.

Ectoplasm oozed from its form, but it was still maintaining its shape. An indicator of its strength, no doubt. Jack didn’t relent. The anti-ecto-radiation…. It should be strong enough to destabilize a ghost entirely. And Jack wanted this one gone. It had no business threatening his family, trying to find a way to destroy it and use his son in the process.

Besides, it should have never been able to follow them from Wisconsin.

Wisconsin.

Where they’d met up with Vlad at the reunion after years of silence, after—

The ghost’s skin didn’t look as blue as it had moments before. It looked…redder. But a distinctly human red, like someone who’d been sunburned, or—

The cape dissolved into bubbling ectoplasm entirely, and the rest of the ghost’s costume melted away to reveal a dark suit that was quickly becoming stained with the ghost’s ectoplasmic remains.

Jack wasn’t sure when the hair had lost its dark colour and become matted grey.

He didn’t know when the ghost had stopped screaming, either.

He didn’t notice the silence until he realized that all he could hear was the high-pitched whine of the machine, the hum of a computer fan, and the deeper drone of the portal—all interspersed with the occasional beep that warned that they’d need to change the ecto-filter soon.

Jack shut off the anti-ecto-radiation and powered off the containment unit entirely.

The ghost maintained its imitation of his best friend.

Former best friend.

Jack knew he shouldn’t open the door, shouldn’t give in to an obvious ruse and allow the ghost to escape, but he still did it.

Ectoplasm squelched underfoot.

It was unpleasantly sticky.

Jack knelt in the mess anyway.

It…it looked like Vlad. He could give the ghost that much. It looked so much like his old college buddy. He hadn’t known shapeshifting was one of Plasmius’s abilities, but ghosts had surprised them before.

Jack prodded the ghost’s arm. Still solid. Surprising, given how much ectoplasm it had lost. It should have been reduced to goo. It should—

“You always were a fool.”

Its voice was weak, more breath than anything else, but Jack reacted immediately, pulling back and drawing an ecto-gun. The ghost’s lips twitched into the briefest of smiles—or perhaps a grimace; Jack really wasn’t sure if it could be called a smile—and it focused its blue eyes on Jack’s face.

It looked too much like Vlad.

Even shifter ghosts tended to get things wrong, and eye colour was a common mistake.

“But you were right.”

Ah, there was the mistake. The ghost had betrayed itself with its whispered words, and Jack found it that much easier to prime the ecto-gun and hold it steady. As much as Jack knew Vlad was surely be proud of all his accomplishments—they spoke for themselves—he had never heard Vladdy admit it. Vlad had always preferred to defer to Maddie’s judgement and acknowledge her skills. She was the one to double check all of Vlad’s calculations. She was the one with whom he had always compared notes, the one he complimented and praised, even to this day. Never Jack.

“I shouldn’t have underestimated you.”

The ghost closed its eyes instead of attacking.

Jack wished he could close his, too, and wipe away this image of Vlad, but he knew better.

Knowing better couldn’t keep his usually steady arm from shaking, though.

“I’ll tear you apart, molecule by molecule,” Jack said, resorting to an old standby in an attempt to keep the threat in his voice. “For what you tried to do.”

The ghost’s eyes opened. This time, it found the strength to grin at him. The expression looked so wrong on Vlad’s face. It was humourless. Cold.

And it showed off impossibly bloody teeth.

Jack didn’t realize he’d dropped the ecto-gun until it hit his knee and bounced into the ectoplasm all around them.

“You already have.” Even weak, the response held the telltale note of a taunt. Jack no longer found it so easy to explain away the similarity between Vlad’s voice and Plasmius’s. He’d always ignored it before, because ghosts could only imitate humans, but—

But there was too much ectoplasm on the floor of the containment unit for any ghost to still retain its form so solidly, even one as strong as Plasmius. And it knew too much, looked and sounded and acted too much like Vlad. And…the blood. Ghosts didn’t have blood.

But humans….

If humans were exposed to enough ectoplasm, then theoretically….

No. This was a trick. It had to be.

Except the ghost wasn’t taking advantage of his lapse in judgement, and the illusion didn’t waver.

Because it wasn’t an illusion.

And the ghost in front of him…. It wasn’t a ghost. If it ever really had been. If he ever really had been. And Jack knew he should do something about that. Help him. Call Maddie. Follow their protocols for isolation. Deal with this. Do something.

But he couldn’t move. He wanted to. He knew he should. But he couldn’t.

I’ll tear you apart, molecule by molecule.

He just stared at the ghost.

You already have.

At Vlad.

He watched as his old friend’s ragged breathing got slower and slower, remembering everything Plasmius had ever said or done to threaten his family. To threaten him. Pieces that he’d never realized were missing were suddenly falling into place. He didn’t know everything, but he now knew enough.

And he knew this wasn’t something that he could fix.

He really had been a fool.

(see more fics)

#danny phantom #jack fenton #vlad masters #dp fanfiction #phanfiction #fanfiction #ambiguous character death #angst #tw torture #tw implied death #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #dp snippet

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sweetsmellosuccess · 4 years

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TIFF 2020: Days 1 & 2

Films: 5 Best Film of the Day(s): One Night in Miami

One Night in Miami…: I guess you could form an argument that basing a film on a pre-existing play would make the feature easier to put together, but that wouldn’t be taking into account the tremendous differences between the mediums, their relative strengths and weaknesses. For her feature debut, the Oscar-winning actress Regina King has cinematically adapted the stage play by Kemp Powers about a fictionalized fateful night amongst four famous Black men in 1964. Those men, Malcolm X (Kingsley Ben-Adir), Jim Brown (Aldis Hodge), Sam Cooke (Leslie Odom Jr.), and Cassius Clay (Eli Goree), are all in town ostensibly to celebrate Clay’s beatdown of Sonny Liston to first become the heavyweight champion of the world at the tender age of 22. But the film puts them all together in Malcolm X’s modest hotel room, watched over by Nation of Islam security men, to spend a night, essentially, debating the merits of what they bring to the struggle for Black equality and economic emancipation, and arguing back and forth about their distinct positions. Here is precisely where many play adaptations falter, without the dramatic friction of a live performance to power the emotional core, such conventions generally fall flat on the screen, but King’s virtuoso acting instincts serve her able cast well, and her work with DP Tami Reiker allows the film to flow, seemingly organically between its few location movements. Working from a skilled script by Powers, the celebrated figures feel three dimensional, which gives even their more didactic diatribes (Malcolm), and pithy rebuttals (Cooke) enough weight to avoid sounding contrived. The cast work wonders on the material, granting a needed organic vibe to their nonfiction characters, echoing the essences without tipping into caricature. It’s a strong debut for King, and the film’s complex ruminations on the responsibility of successful Black people towards their community as a means of bringing attention to the country’s oppression couldn’t be more on point. At one point Clay tells Cooke the four of them will always remain friends, because they are among the few who can possibly understand what it’s like to be “young, Black, famous, righteous, and unapologetic.”

Shiva Baby: Danielle (Rachel Sennott) is in the midst of having a day. Turns out Max (Danny Deferrari), the sugar daddy with whom she has frequently been visiting as part of her regular prostitution gig, is somehow a friend or cousin of the deceased at the same Shiva she has come to attend with her well-meaning, but completely overwhelming parents (Polly Draper and Fred Melamed). If that weren’t enough in Emma Seligman’s spry comedy, Danielle is also horrified to find Maya (Molly Gordon), a successful young woman she’s known for years, and a recent ex, also there. Crammed into the Shiva house, full of cousins and aunts and uncles all kvetching about everyone else, and being physically grabbed and moved about by her mother, Danielle faces this house of horrors, with everyone commenting concernedly on her weight-loss (“You look like Gwyneth Paltrow — on food stamps!” her mother hisses at her), and her lack of job prospects when she graduates, and her parents telling scathingly embarrassing stories about her in front of Max and his shiksa wife (Dianna Argon), whose 18-month-old baby, her mom says is “freakishly pale — and no nose,” with no respite in sight. As a result of this sort of hyper-scrutiny, Danielle goes the only route that makes any sense: Lying to everybody about nearly everything, from her current major (“gender business”), to the many job interviews she has supposedly lined up. She’s just trying to get through the ordeal, one that Seligman, along with a continually spiraling score from Ariel Marx, ratchets up, until, near the end, poor Danielle is in a near fugue state, sweat glistening on her face, and the attendees, shot in unflattering slo-mo, and distorted lenses, take on the sheen of a waking nightmare. At a brisk 77 minutes, the film still doesn’t have quite enough to sustain its running time — at a certain point it begins doubling back on itself — but it’s still a lot of horrific fun, as Seligman expertly captures the absolute loss of agency one can feel, swallowed up in a claustrophobic family gathering, where escape feels futile.

Limbo: If Scotland has a cinematic identity, as such, it seems like the kind of place, desolate and unforgiving, where individuals come to exit regular society and come to a land filled with eccentric loners (stoic and unique in their oddities), in order to get better in touch with their souls. Ben Sharrock’s serio-comedy captures both the pitiless beauty of the land, and the lonely plight of a Syrian immigrant, Omar (Amir El-Masry), waiting with a group of other men from across the Middle East and Africa, on an island off the mainland, for word from the Immigration Office that his bid for political asylum has been accepted. Omar, sweet-faced and approachable, was a musician by trade in his native Syria, and walks around everywhere carrying his precious oud, bequeathed to him by his grandfather, also a musician, even though his right hand is locked in a cast from an unspecified injury. Even without the cast, however, you get the sense that his heart really isn’t into playing, despite the entreaties from Farhad (Vikash Bhai), his Afghani roomie and self-appointed “agent and manager,” who wants him to enter a local music contest. Omar is carrying a significant amount of weight beyond missing his mother’s fragrant home-cooking. Talking to her on the lone payphone on the island, where other immigrants-in-waiting stand in line for a chance to hear from home, she implores him to speak to his older brother, who chose to stay behind in Syria and fight in the Civil War that has plagued the region for years. Omar feels guilty for having left, and suffers from having disappointed his father in the process. It doesn’t help him that the culture he finds himself in seems so foreign to him, despite his speaking flawless English. Sharrock’s brand of deadpan perfectly suits the setting, but as funny as the film can be (when asked in a culture/language class to create a sentence using the “I used to” construction, one immigrant offers “I used to be happy before I came here”), it doesn’t paint a rosy affirmation for Omar and his ilk, stuck as they are, as the title suggests, between countries and lives. Omar’s pain is real, and for every positive step forward he takes, it’s one further away from his family and his beloved home country.

Enemies of the State: Sonia Kennebeck’s challenging and curious documentary seems at first to present a case for its protagonist, Matt DeHart, a young teen hacker interested in social justice, who through his work with Wikileaks runs afoul of the U.S. government, and his beleaguered parents, Paul and Leann, who vigorously defend their only child against the evil forces conspiring against him. Through a series of personal interviews with Paul and Leann, both retired Air Force intelligence officers, who believe their country has turned against them for what Matt had downloaded from his computer into secret thumbdrives shortly before the FBI arrived at their door and confiscated all his equipment, and various lawyers they employed, first to protect Matt from what they claim as utterly bogus child-porn charges, then, after they slip away to Canada in the middle of the night, the lawyers trying to earn them asylum. While in Canada, under close supervision and confined to his parents’ apartment, Matt uses his charms, his hackavist bonafides, and his skill at PR, to generate enough interest in his case to become a digital cause celebe, along the lines of Edward Snowden and Chelsea Manning. Protests are fronted, defense funds gathered, and pressure put on the government to come clean about why they seem so hard-driving against the young man. During a peculiar reenactment set in a Canadian immigration hearing — Kennebeck employs actors who apparently lip sync their lines in perfect time with the actual recorded audio — DeHart describes a harrowing ordeal earlier in the affair, after having moved to Canada to attend college, being abducted by the FBI shortly after crossing the border to renew his Visa, and tortured for days for information related to the material on the thumb-drives. Some documentation seems to corroborate his claims (even Paul and Leann, as fierce supporters as can be, were shocked to see just how ready the FBI were to snatch him), but as the film continues, and we hear more and more from the investigators and prosecuting attorneys about the original child-pornography crimes, it becomes clear that our sympathies are being played with by Kennebeck. By the end, the film itself becomes an indictment of our rapid-assumption culture, in which decisions of guilt and innocence are determined in seconds online and forever after based on the presentation of information before us.

The Way I See It: For non Trumpites, the switchover from eight years of the dignified, intelligent, and measured leadership of Barack Obama, to the perma-tanned tackiness of power-mad, narcissistic bloviating of Donald Trump, was like a double-feature that went from Citizen Kane to Kevin James’ Loudest Farts. One man better than most to measure Obama’s time in office against the subsequent regime is photojournalist Pete Souza, who served as the official White House photographer for both of Obama’s terms, and has gone on to become an outspoken critic of Trump by way of his devastating IG account, in which he juxtaposes stately Obama photos with Trumps scandal-du-jour. Lest you think he’s just another divisively partisan liberal, you have to take into account his previous turn in the White House, as one of the official photographers for Ronald Reagan’s presidency. In fact, Souza’s fly-on-the-wall quality was considered one of his strengths in the oval office. Documentarian Dawn Porter travels with Souza as he makes the media rounds promoting his newest book, Shade, a collection of those IG photos that have earned him millions of social media followers (a sort of companion piece to his previous book Obama: An Intimate Portrait). Hauling from far-off India (where he gets a standing ovation before he even takes the stage), to domestic conferences and speaking engagements, Souza emerges as a man becoming more used to being out from behind his ever-present Canon lens. Through that lens, as he displays to his rapturous audiences, he has taken many hundreds of indelible photos, showing Obama’s various interactions with foreign dignitaries, his council of cabinet members, and his more raucous time with his two daughters (one shot of Obama with his girls making snow angels on the rear lawn during a heavy snow storm remains his computer screensaver, Souza says with pride). As Porter moves from talking heads to public oratories, Souza’s remarkable photos — brilliantly composed, and inspiringly intimate, having been given nearly unlimited access to the president — play throughout, showing us a collection of images that capture the inspiring hope the president inspired and the agonizing rigors of the job he was elected to perform. The film spends little time on his Reagan years, except to note how media and image-savvy the former Hollywood actor and his wife were (Souza professes no political ill-will towards the Reagans, other than noting that while he didn’t always agree with him, he was a genuinely caring man, who at least understood the parameters of leadership). At first, the film trolls Trump by a sort of subtweet level of backhandedness: Without directly naming names, Souza makes it entirely clear who he finds failing in comparison to Obama’s empathetic, engaging deportment, but by the time the film comes around to his notorious IG account, there can be no doubt the subject of his ire. Souza maintains it has less to do with his partisan feelings (his political affiliation is never revealed), and more the way he finds the current president’s undignified manner and total disrespect for the office and the leadership it demands unacceptable. Trumpers will of course take great exception to the portrait the film portrays of the sitting president, but even the most hardcore GOP folks won’t be able to help noting the blatant differences between the loving, genuinely close Obamas; and the preening, viciously competitive Trumps, each trying to outdo the others in acting as their father’s primary sycophant.

In a year of bizarre happenings, and altered realities, TIFF has shifted its gears to a significantly paired down virtual festival. Thus, U.S. film critics are regulated to watching the international offerings from our own living room couches.

#sweet smell of success #ssos #piers marchant #films #movies #TIFF #tiff 2020 #toronto international film festival #one night in miami #regina king #limbo #The way I see it #pete souza #nomadland #frances mcdormand #chloe zhao #the new corporation #summer of 85 #francois ozon

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kileyrose-2003 · 4 years

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Dan Torrance x Fem! Reader Pt. 4

A/N: Hello lovelies, this is Pt.4 of my Dan fic with it revolving around Rose. Bare with me while I write Pt.5. I have a couple of new request coming out through out the course of this week and the next week. Pt. 5 will be picking up with Rose’s perspective on things so be prepared for an emotional roller coaster. I sincerely hope you all are doing well and I love you all. Link to intro is here, Pt.1, Pt.2, and Pt.3

Enjoy!

You spent the rest of the night in yours and Danny's bedroom, never falling asleep and simply staring at the ceiling. "How could she?" Was a recurring question you found your asking over and over as images of the poor baseball boy entered your mind.

He had a family that was never going to see him again. That was always going to wonder where he was and if he was safe. There would never be any closure for them and you found your lip trembling and eyes watering at the very thought of it.

Danny didn't fall back asleep either. Constantly pacing back and forth from the guest bedroom to the kitchen in some sort of attempt to try and release some of his worry about you. He yearned to hold you in his arm and to just make all the pain go away even though he knew he couldn't do that for you. No one could.

He was scared too. Scared that one of the members of The True Knot was going to come after you and hurt you. Or worse, they'd take you from him and all he'd be left with for a clue would be a rummaged through purse and a shoe that had no matching pair. Though he tried his hardest not to think of that. He didn't want to lose you. He feared losing his control that you helped him craft to control his power to not hit the end of the bottle. Because he knew if he didn't have you, he would go back to the end of the bottle.

Around 9:30 you heard a knock on your bedroom and rolled over in bed although you were awake. "You can come in!" You called out. Danny peaked his head through and smiled. "Hey..I didn't know if you were hungry but I made coffee and breakfast. I don't know if it's as good as your cooking but I figured I try."

Despite how dead you felt inside you managed to smile. "Thanks honey...just give me a minute to wash my face and stuff, please?"

"Sure. I'll see you in the kitchen." He blew you a kiss. "I'll be there." You clambered out of bed once he walked away and walked into the bathroom connected to your bedroom and turned the light on.

You turned the water on and stared at your reflection in the mirror, taking note of how puffy your eyes looked and how tired you felt. You hadn't felt that way since you were working in that bar back when you met Danny. "God, I'm a fucking mess."

You lowered your head and threw some water on your face. The coolness alleviating some of the pain from your puffy eyes. You reached out for your face wash to wash some of the smudged makeup from the previous day but something didn't feel right. You were cold and you felt your heart racing. Almost like you were anxious. You set your hands down on the counter and gripped the sink. Trying to get rid of some of the anxiety. You noticed your ring was glimmering from the light shining down on it from your vanity and you found your lips twitching to form a smile.

(That's a nice ring you got there, Y/n. Danny spend his entire paycheck on that or did he inherit it?)

You felt the hairs on your arms standing straight up and you moved your hands away from the sink to see a set of glowing blue eyes staring back at you in the mirror. 'Rose.'

(Well, hi there darlin.)

"Shit!" You tripped over the mat in your bathroom and fell back into the wall, squeezing your eyes shut. "You're not real, you're not real. You can't hurt me here or anymore. Go away!"

(Oh sweetie, I'm very much real.)

"Stop!"

(We've always been connected, you and I. Even all that time we didn't see or speak, I always knew where you were. I just never bothered to reach out. Until now. Now that I know what special people you have in your life now that you hold so dear to you, I feel obliged too.)

"Don't you even think about getting near them or I'll-"

(You'll what? Kill me? Please, you and I both know you don't have guts to come back home and look me in the eye and admit you were wrong. Let alone kill me. You've always been the baby in the group.)

"I'm a lot stronger now, than you think I am."

(We'll see about that when the time come for it. There's no escaping me, Y/n. Or your fate. You were always meant to be with us. One of us. The sooner you accept that, the easier that process will be for you.)

Despite Rose's still face you could see the psychoticness glinting in her eyes. "I could never be like you! I'm nothing like you! Especially after what you did to that little boy."

(Oh yes you are. You're my spitting image. In more ways than one, honeybunch.)

You could feel Rose inside your head, peaking at all your thoughts and memories and you gripped at your hair.

"Stop it! Stop it!"

(My! Aren't you a busy girl?)

"Get out! Get out of my head!" The mirror began to shake and you let out a scream. "GET OUT!"

"Y/n?! Y/n! What's happening?" You could practically feel Rose laughing with malicious glee at the panic she was causing. "Stay away from me, Danny! Stay away!"

(No, come closer Danny Boy. I still haven't gotten the pleasure of seeing your face.)

"Stop! Stop! This has nothing to do with him." As much as you swore to yourself you wouldn't cave in to give her any satisfaction, you couldn't do it anymore and tears started flowing down your cheeks.

"But it does." Her voice. It shouldn't be that close to you. You felt soft hair brush up against your shoulder and the smell of strong musky incenses and flowers enter your nostrils. Her breath was so close to your ear, you could practically feel the moisture from it sitting on your skin. "I'd imagine even after all those years in AA, he still would taste like whiskey."

You started swinging your arms and kicking your legs. "DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!"

"Y/n!" Dan went running down the hallway. "What's wrong?!" You could see his feet from the crack of the door. "Don't come in! I-i can handle it."

"Bullshit, you can." You could hear him grabbing the skeleton key and you freaked out. "No! No! No!" You didn't Rose in the mirror or standing next to you anymore but if she was right on you being connected, you didn't know if she could hear or see what you were either.

The knob on the bathroom door began to jiggle and Dan opened the door. "Y/n." You shook your head. "Stay back."

"Y/n-" You pointed a finger up at the bathroom mirror. "She-she was looking at me!

"Who?" He shut the water off and helped you off the ground and held your hands in his to try and stop you from trembling. "Rose, that woman who killed that little boy!" You started sobbing.

"Okay..okay." He pulled you into hug and ran a hand through your hair, looking at the bathroom mirror with contempt. "It's alright, honey. She's gone."

"She knows your name, Danny. I don't like it." He kissed your hair. "If that's all she knows, that's the least of our worries." You tried to interrupt him but he shushed you. "It's all going to be alright, I promise." He wiped a tear from your cheek and held your face in his hands. "Okay?"

"Okay." He let go of you and held your hand. "Come on, let's get out of here." You nodded and flicked the switch in the bathroom, following Danny out to the kitchen.

You sat down at the island and he set your coffee and breakfast of you. "Thank you." He gave a slight nod and you looked him up and down. "Why are you jeans so early?"

"I'm covering Teenytown for Billy this morning, helping out with the train." You giggled and shook your head, taking a sip of your coffee. "You're such a man child."

"True, but I'm your man child." You smiled briefly and Dan's face changed as he watched you for a moment. "Look, about last night...we're good, right?" You were quick to nod. "Yeah..what made you think we weren't?" You asked. "I don't know.. it just made me a little nervous that you wanted to sleep alone last night." You let out a sigh and Dan held your face. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable or upset you last night because I was acting like an asshole but look..I love you, okay? I just worry about you."

"I know, but I'm okay. I promise." Your eyes interlocked and Dan's lip hinted at a smile. "Alright." You stood up and he kissed you gently on the lips. "I love you."

"Love you too. You'll be home for dinner?" He shook his head. "AA meet tonight then work. I stop vacation today, remember?"

"Damn it. I totally forgot. It's okay though. No big deal." You smiled. "So I'll probably be home around eight tomorrow morning. I can stop at that cafe you like on the way back. Get some coffee and bagels. How's that sound?" You looped your arms around his neck. "Sounds great. You spoil me. You know that? More than I deserve."

"With all you've done for me over the years, I wouldn't call it spoiling. It's my showing of appreciation." He booped your nose and you giggled. You released him from your hold and leaned your body against the fridge as you watched Dan slip his shoes on. "See you later, sweetheart."

"See ya." You looked out the window to watch him leave. "Promise me you'll be alright?" Dan yelled from outside and you let out a sigh. "I'll be fine. Love you!"

"Love you more!" Dan got in his car, giving you a slight wave before pulling out the driveway. You breathed inwardly and turned away from the window, looking at the huge REDRUM on the wall and felt chills run up your spine. "You'll be okay, Y/n..you'll be fine."

"You're not really okay though, are you?" You were thrown off guard and looked behind you. There was a man standing in the corner wearing a navy blue suit. "You must be Dick."

"Indeed I am. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Y/n." His energy felt warm and it brought a smile to your face. "It's nice to meet you too."

"When Danny was a boy he'd talk to me a lot about you. It feels like a second ago but I imagine it's not. This world is a dream of a dream to me now." You nodded. "He's doing okay now? Last time I seen Dan, he was down the gutter bad."

"Yeah, he's okay now. He's been sober 8 years," You hummed. "Good." You stood away from the fridge. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here because it all comes run. Ka is a wheel, Miss Y/n. Though something tells me you know that already." You didn't respond for a moment and Dick sighed.

"He doesn't want to help her. He says it's too dangerous for me." Dick chuckled heartily. "Yeah well, he doesn't have much of a choice in the matter. Does he? He owes a debt. Now he needs to pay it."

"Is it going to hurt him though? To repay it?" You rubbed your face. "Either way, it's out of our control. Over 30 years later I'm still on the hook. Same thing with your mother too. Your debt is partially paid though."

"Partially?" Dick smiled. "I know where you come from, Miss Y/n. I knew since the moment Danny first talked to me about you and I knew you were two of a kind. While the two hollow souls that raised you keep at hurting children while their shine dies and their addiction grows, yours shines bright and you ended the cycle for someone else. Fighting for the separation of identity from that upbringing. I can say only that much."

He turned away. "It seems to me despite all odds, you grew up mighty fine Miss Y/n. You keep at whatever you're doing with Dan because it's working. I'll see him later on but after that, neither of you will see me anymore. You still owe a small sum of debt though: pay it."

Before you could say anymore, Dick was gone and you started crying. "Fuck! I-i can't face them. I'm not strong enough to face them." You sunk down to the floor and started rocking yourself back and forth, glancing up at the REDRUM occasionally. "I should of never of dragged him into this. I'm going to get him killed!"

You desperately wanted Danny to come home. To have him hold you in his arms and tell you it all was a bad dream. The worst nightmare you ever had but you knew that wasn't true.

You looked at your reflection on the metallic surface of the fridge and hated what you seen. You didn't see yourself. You seen that girl. That girl who was so scared of the world because no matter how she got told she was loved and safe, she never felt. Because even when she was in a better place, the pains she buried deep inside would open themselves. Bleeding into her happiness and when people would ask her if she was okay she would smile, giving them a show they always believed because even though she could see the truth she never wanted to face it. You weren't that girl anymore. You were strong and you were true. So why did you see that girl now?

"Because I'm afraid," You answered aloud. You didn't want to go back to Colorado and see Crow and Rose but you knew you had to and you could do it. You weren't a child anymore and they had no control over you. You were in charge of your life now and you were free to make your own decisions. For the time in a while, you felt like you were loved. You loved Danny and he loved you and you weren't about to let go of that so easily. "I won't let them hurt him. Him or that little girl." There was a soft knock at the door and wiped your face. "Just a second, please!"

"Okay!" You knew that voice. Just where from, you didn't know. You looker out the peep hole before unlocking the door. "Hi, Aunt Y/n!"

The nickname sunk deep in your mind and everything clicked together like a puzzle and you stared at child in front you before speaking. "A-abra?!" A pair of small arms wrapped themselves around your waist and hugged you tight. "Yeah. It's nice to finally meet you." You returned the hug back confusedly and eventually let go. "H-honey what are you doing here? Not that I'm not happy not to see you but it's 12. Shouldn't you be at school?" You knew the kid standing in front of you couldn't of been over 13.

"I went for my first three classes but then I skipped because I wanted to see you after everything last night." She noticed your puffy eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah..I'm fine. I'm just glad you're okay." Abra smiled. "Can I come in?" She gestured to the inside of your house. "Yeah. Did you have lunch yet?"

The young girl stepped inside and shook her head. "I'll make you lunch then. You cool with grilled cheese?"

"Yeah, I'm cool with it."

...

Being a pediatric nurse meant you had met many different children, all of them with their own unique personalities and traits but by far Abra Stone had to be the most fascinating you knew now. Not only was she steamy but she was highly intelligent for her age. Comprehending things on a level you couldn't even picture yourself doing at her age.

The two of you sat next to each other at the island in your kitchen as the two of you talked. You had her go over the weird radios thing on how she found this boy in the first. "..You have it too, you know. Yours is a little different there because yours is more like a tracker thing. Almost like a GPS." You thought about for a moment. "Yeah..I guess you're right." Abra giggled and took a moment to regain her composure. "So..what exactly is what do called? Magic?"

"Dan always called it the Shining, so now that's what I call it." You shrugged and took a sip of water. "We shine..I like that." You nodded. "Me too. It's better than being called special. That's what my mother used to call me. Though I don't think she meant it in a good way." You rolled your eyes and forced a smile.

"There's not a lot of people like us out there?" You nodded. "And many of the people that are out there and like us, are dangerous."

"Like those people?" You breathed in sharply. "Yes." You paused for a moment. "How are you feeling after everything last night?" Abra sighed. "Okay, I guess. Still a little spooked though. Those people..who are they?"

"Empty devils of a sort. Who I don't want you interacting with. At all." Abra raised a brow. "You've seen them before?" You gave a slight cynical smile. "I guess you can say that." You could tell Abra was trying to dissect the meaning of the sentence but let it go. "What does Uncle Dan think about all this?"

"He won't say it to me but it scares him. He's afraid, for me and you. The hat woman, Rose is her name, she's always known who I am. She doesn't who you are though and I want to keep it that way."

"I hate her..I hate her for what she did to that little boy." You frowned. "I know..me too. When she comes back though, because knowing her the way I do, I know she will; I'm going to help you. Because it won't be a few days from now it will be weeks or months later at a time you least expect it."

"What about Uncle Dan?" You made a face. "He doesn't want to help. Yet. He's married to me though so when the time comes, he's going to help. Whether he likes it or not because I already made it clear to him he has no choice in this." Abra chuckled.

"Anyways, back on topic. With that being said, do not chase after these people. Understand? Or even think about them. Because like how we have weird radios that can find people like us, they have it too. A few of them might have it even stronger than we do and the last thing we need is one of them finding who you are."

"Do they know who Uncle Dan is?" You rubbed your face. "They know his name but not who he is and I'm trying to keep that the same too for as long as I can."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't of dragged you both into this. I just panicked and-" You interrupted her. "You don't need to apologize for something you have no control over. I was your age once. I know how it feels to be scared."

"What happens when they find out who we are?" You sighed. "That a mountain we'll conquer when the times but either way, I'm not going to let them hurt you. Got it?"

"Got it." Abra slid off the chairs and gave you a hug. "Thank you for being there for me and believing me." You hugged her back. "Of course."

"I got to go. The bus ride back to my house is about an hour and neither of my parents know I skipped." You nodded and Abra grabbed her bookbag. "Take care of yourself, kiddo. And stay safe please?"

"I will. Bye, Aunt Y/n!" You smiled and waved to her. "Bye honey." As Abra left, you looked at the REDRUM and your posture stiffened. Thinking about how Rose made you seen that girl after you swore to never see her again. You gave her the satisfaction of getting to you but getting Abra, you refused to let that happen. Even if it cost your life.

"I think the fuck not, Rose. I think the fuck not..."

#dr sleep #doctor sleep #rose the hat #the true knot #The Shining #stephen king #danny torrance #dan torrance #imagine #imagines #x fem reader #x female reader

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darks-ink · 5 years

Text

Disinterred CH.15

Chapter 15: Clean It Up

And Amity Park… Amity Park was used to dealing with the unusual. The impossible. The non-existent. So, really. Having a ghost and a clone of said ghost testify for the crimes of another ghost… It wasn’t that far out of there.

(Tumblr hates links and I want this to appear in the tags so… for author notes/full fic summary/links to the other chapters/mirror links to AO3 and FFnet, click here)

“We need to talk to detective Payton.”

The woman behind the desk quirked an eyebrow at him, then glanced at the group behind him. “If you have a crime to report, you can speak to whichever officer is available.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Danny insisted. “It involves a case he was working on.”

She opened her mouth again, clearly intending to shoo him away. Jazz cut her off, however. “It’s really important, please. Can you just contact him and tell him that the Fentons want to talk with him.”

The lady glared at them shortly, but complied. The call involved a brief back-and-forth, but once Payton had heard the words “Fenton” and “case” he seemed to have made up his mind.

Sighing, the woman at the desk put the phone down again. “He’ll be here in a few moments.”

“Thank you.” Danny grinned, just a little too pleased with the small victory. Hey, he would take whatever he got right now. Any distraction from the upcoming conversation was more than welcome.

When Payton appeared he looked more than a little resigned at the sight of their group of teenagers. “I thought that the Fentons wanted to talk to me?”

“We’re temporary stand-ins for his parents,” Sam said with a shrug. “They’re… occupied.”

Payton sighed but, to his credit, didn’t otherwise react. He simply led the four of them to an empty room so they could talk.

“What is this about, then? Because I’m guessing that the ‘case’ you wanted to talk about is yours?”

“Yeah,” Danny confirmed with a nod. “We… We kind of left our some details.”

“You are aware that it’s illegal to lie to the police?” Payton crossed his arms, a mild glare send towards the teens.

“We didn’t lie!” Sam exclaimed, throwing out her hands. “We just didn’t tell the entire truth.”

“Is that so?” Payton didn’t look particularly convinced. Danny didn’t really blame him. In fact, he kind of felt bad for the officer. His involvement in the case certainly made it a lot harder than it had any right to be. Ghosts, in general, made work for the police difficult.

“When we talked about my… ghostly nature,” Danny started hesitantly, “we implied that my… more ghostly appearance was just a one time thing. It’s not.”

Payton nodded, now looking slightly more believing. “Is this related to your glowing green eyes during the confrontation with your parents?”

“Uh, yeah. I can trigger the whole transformation on command, but the glowing eyes happens for all sorts of reasons. Usually when I’m using my powers or when I’m experiencing really strong emotions.” Danny shrugged. “I kind of… use my more ‘ghostly’ form as a disguise of sorts, so people don’t recognize me.”

“But what would you need a disguise for?” Payton squinted at him, suspicion clear on his face. “Nothing illegal, I hope?”

Danny snorted in response, leaning back in his chair. “Hardly,” he said, before tapping into his powers to make his eyes glow on purpose. “Come on, it can’t be that hard to figure out.”

Payton scrutinized him for a few long moments, eyes gliding over him. Then the man sat forward, arms resting on the table. “You’re saying that you are Phantom? Well, that certainly explains why you laughed when I said that if Phantom thought you were okay, it was probably safe to trust that judgment.”

“What can I say, ghost hunting runs in the family.” Danny smirked, a rather Phantom-like expression, to drive the point home.

The detective continued to eye him, then sighed. “You do realize that this isn't going to change the decisions we made last meeting, right?”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed with a shrug. “I mean, I guess I’ll try for college but if I can’t get in I’ll just work for my parents. I’m already following their footsteps as Phantom anyway, might as well give inventing a shot too.”

Then his expression fell again. “But to get back to the original topic… I’m not just telling this for fun. It’s a secret for a reason.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Payton agreed, sitting back again. “What is it then?”

Danny frowning, running through his options. Apparently he took too long, because Jazz spoke up. “He’s not the only one. Not the only one with a human and ghost appearance, I mean.”

“And you’re telling me this because… you don’t think they deserve their secret if you didn’t get to keep yours?” Payton queried, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“No,” Danny bit out. “I’m telling you because he’s a jackass who uses his powers for bad purposes!” The vivid green light from his eyes flickered on the desk in front of him, but he ignored it. “He hurts people, he manipulates people! And he has gone too far!”

“And who is he, then?” Payton seemed genuinely intrigued. Apparently Danny’s rant had convinced him to at least play along.

“In human form or ghost form?” Tucker piped up. “Because he looks drastically different and he has no problem flaunting that fact.”

“In his ghost form he calls himself Plasmius.” Sam crossed her arms. “But the public usually calls him the Wisconsin Ghost, I believe.”

“The blue skinned vampire ghost?” Payton frowned. “I’ve heard of him, yes. Known to cause problems, picks fights with… Phantom.” The last word he said more quietly, realization of Phantom really being a 16 year old apparently striking him.

“That’s him,” Danny confirmed. “His human form is also well-known. Old family friend of my parents, current mayor of the town…”

Payton grunted. “You’re saying that the Vlad Masters is a ghost like you?”

“How do you think he won the election?” Jazz questioned with a scoff. “He didn’t stand a chance until he overshadowed most of the voters.”

“And that’s just one of many sketchy things he has done with his powers.” Tucker’s jaw visibly tightened at the thought of everything the man had done. Of what he had tried to do to him. Danny was glad for friends like these. “Stealing money, overshadowing business rivals to take over their companies, attempted murder of Jack Fenton…”

“Kidnapping Maddie Fenton, twice. Kidnapping Danny at least that often, including trapping him in ghost-proof bindings and electrocuting him,” Sam continued. “Sending potentially dangerous ghosts to Amity Park, in the hopes to either kill Jack or hurt Danny.”

“And that’s not even to mention that he tried to clone me,” Danny joined in. Then with a grimace, he added, “And emotionally abusing the one clone that survived. Well, as far as a ghost can survive, of course.”

Payton blinked, apparently stunned by the information overload. Then the last part processed, and he frowned. “He cloned you?”

“Not very successfully, but yes.” Danny shrugged, a faux casual air about him. “She didn’t quite come out right, and she wasn’t stable. But she’s with my parents now, and we managed to save her.”

“Which is also why they’re not here,” Tucker explained, leaning on Danny’s shoulder. “Hence Sam and I as the replacement parents.”

Payton remained quiet for a few moments. Then he sighed. “You are aware of how bat-shit insane this sounds?”

“Welcome to my life,” Danny said with a snort. “Or, well, you know what I mean.”

“We can’t just take your word for all of this,” Payton insisted. “It sounds… Well, it sounds too bizarre to come up with, but that doesn’t mean that it’s true.”

“And we can provide you with whatever proof you need.” Sam glowered at him. “We just need your assurance that you’re gonna look into it, and that you’ll do your best to arrest Vlad.”

Payton sighed, looking like he was very much regretting his involvement in this case. Again. “Of course. That’s literally my job, miss Manson. Although I do wonder how you expect us to arrest and contain a ghost.”

“Inventions to restrict his powers exist,” Tucker supplied. “You can probably move to arrest him the normal way, since he won’t be expecting you to know. Use some ghost-proof cuffs and you’ll have him before he realizes.”

“Fine. It’s a deal. I’ll need all evidence you have of his crimes, including witness reports,” Payton instructed, looking like he was trying to get back in control of the situation.

Danny nodded, then pulled out his phone. “I’ll call the Red Huntress. She was one of the people Vlad manipulated, and he straight-up tried to hire her to catch the clone when she escaped.”

Looking he was going to regret asking, Payton nonetheless asked. “I thought the Red Huntress didn’t like Phantom? Or ghosts in general?”

“Misunderstanding,” Danny explained, waving Payton’s concern off with his hand. “We got everything figured out, and she knows of both my identities.”

“Of course,” Payton groaned. “And I’m guessing you know who she is, then?”

“We all do.” Sam grinned at the clearly overworked detective.

The detective only groaned, but didn’t say anything. Danny figured he had a pretty good idea of what the agent was feeling like.

But it was for a good cause.

It took a few days to gather all the evidence the police required. The witness reports alone took a considerable chunk of time, considering the sheer amount of people in Amity Park alone that knew about Vlad’s shady business. Aside from the Fentons (all five of them) and Sam and Tucker, Valerie also had to be included.

And sadly, that was easier said than done, as she needed to reveal her identity for the report to count. After all, a judge wouldn’t just accept the statement of a masked vigilante that no one knew.

Thankfully she trusted Danny’s judgment (and, of course, the judgments of his friends and Jazz) and allowed Payton and his team to know. They were… less than pleased to discover that she, too, was a teenager.

Knowing that it had been Vlad who pushed her into ghost hunting in the first place… Well, that eased their moods a little. Besides, she and Phantom now worked together – and they trusted Danny to keep the people of Amity safe. From ghosts, at least. Human crime… Well, that was their job.

Additionally, there was some trouble with Dani’s witness reports. Law wasn’t exactly made with cloning in mind. Legally, Danielle Fenton didn’t exist.

But then, neither did ghosts.

And Amity Park… Amity Park was used to dealing with the unusual. The impossible. The non-existent.

So, really. Having a ghost and a clone of said ghost testify for the crimes of another ghost… It wasn’t that far out of there.

Most of the people involved who knew enough about the case to know that three of the people involved were ghosts… Well, they were just glad that the ghosts were solving their issues like normal people. Instead of, you know, blasting each other to bits on the streets.

When Danny first heard people mention it, it had been some of the other officers of Payton’s team. People who knew he was a ghost, but who hadn’t been told about his Phantom alter-ego. He immediately thought back of all the times he and Vlad had brawled and burst into laughter.

The officers looked at him like he had gone crazy, eyebrows raised. Between giggles, Danny managed to explain himself. “You- You really don’t know the half of it.”

That hadn’t really explained anything to the cops, but Payton coaxed them back to work before they could question Danny. The detective attempted to glare the boy into behaving himself, but failed once more. Now that he knew what the boy had faced off against, he wasn’t surprised.

Finally enough evidence had been gathered. The cops set out, armed with anti-ghost weaponry and ghost-proof cuffs. A cell had been prepared beforehand, covered by a ghost shield provided by FentonWorks. A special one, they assured, which would hold even the most powerful and skilled of ghosts.

Payton double-checked his gear. Then he gave the start signal, allowing his officers to pour into the mansion.

Within minutes the team returned, guiding Vlad Masters in their middle. The man was dressed, as always, in an impeccable suit. He frowned at Payton when his guides stopped him in front of the detective.

“Sir, with all due respect, but what on Earth is happening here?”

Payton offered the man a lopsided smile. Then in one swift movement he cuffed Vlad’s wrists together, preventing his escape.

“Vlad Masters, also known as Vlad Plasmius, you are under arrest for… Well, for a lot of crimes.” His smile grew a little wider, a little more genuine. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court.”

Vlad’s eyes widened, his gaze shifting between his bound wrists and the police officers surrounding them. Payton ignored him, continuing with his whole rights speech.

“Wait, no,” Vlad pleaded. “You must be mistaken- I have never heard of a name like ‘Plasmius’ before.”

“Save it for court.” Payton shoved the man forward, towards the van that would transport him. Several officers, all armed with ectoplasmic weaponry, would ride with him. The cuffs should prevent him from using his powers to escape, but better safe than sorry.

Then he turned towards the rest of the officers still waiting. He inclined his head towards the mansion that stood before them, looming in the approaching dark.

“Well then, let’s see how many sketchy things we can find in here. Sources say that he has an underground lab hidden, like some kind of supervillain.” He grinned at the crowd of police. “First one to find and enter it without disturbing actual evidence gets a reward.”

He clapped his hands together. “Ready, set. Go!”

And then the officers were off, leaving Payton to observe. The boy had been right. Arresting Vlad had been easy, as the man hadn’t expected them in the slightest.

How clever he thought himself. What a sham.

The Summer vacation hadn’t done much to calm Casper High’s rumor mill. The turbulent arrest of ex-mayor Vlad Masters right after the start of said vacation had spurred on all rumors. Not much was known about it, but that didn’t stop the teenagers. They whittled away, discovered the smallest details. Any slip-ups were gladly accepted and brought into the rumors.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise that they discovered that Danny Fenton had been involved as well. Not as a perpetrator, oh no.

As a victim.

Which, of course, combined well with the previous rumors of him being a ghost. It didn’t take long for the first theories to emerge, suggesting that Vlad was his killer. That he had played a critical role in the death of Danny Fenton.

And so when the school year started, against all odds… The rumors hadn’t died off. Quite the opposite. Even more people than before believed that the boy, now in his final year of school, was a ghost.

So they kept their eyes open for his arrival.

Eventually, their wait was rewarded. The doors of the school opened, and in the opening he stood.

Lanky, with unbrushed but shiny black hair. Icy blue eyes that, ironically, sparkled with life. A surprisingly healthy gloss to his pale skin. A playful but kind smile on his face. For once, he looked well-rested. No bags under his eyes.

Perhaps… Perhaps Vlad Masters really had been responsible for his death. Perhaps Danny Fenton could finally rest easy, knowing that the man was finally arrested.

His outfit was much like the usual.

The girl he had his arm wrapped around… much less so.

She, unlike Danny, looked uncertain. Shaky. A red beanie sat perched on her head, but messy black hair still spilled out of it.

Her eyes, blue as the skies, glanced around the entrance hall with vigor. She looked guarded, like she was expecting someone to suddenly attack her.

She had her hands stuck in the pockets of her oversized blue hoodie. A crease in her brow suggested, however, that said hands were clenched into fists.

Standing right next to Danny Fenton, it was very very clear that she looked almost exactly like him. A little younger, perhaps, but undeniably identical.

The crowd parted the let the two through. But they remained nearby, hovering around the two. Waiting. Watching.

In the end, it was Dash Baxter who decided that he’d had enough. He stepped forward, breaking from the line and into the circle of personal space that had been granted to Danny and his… whoever she was.

“Hey Fenton,” he bit, stressing the last name of the ghostly teen. “Who’s this?”

“Oh hey Dash,” Danny greeted as he turned to face the other boy. He pulled the girl next to him a little closer to his side, drawing a displeased hiss from her. “This is Danielle, or Dani.”

“With an i,” the girl muttered under her breath, barely audible.

“Okaaay.” Dash frowned, looking between the two. “That still didn’t answer my question of who she is.”

“Oh, right.” Danny flapped his free hand. “She’s my dead sister.”

Dash froze up, and sharp intakes of breath could be heard from everywhere in the crowd. “She’s your what?”

“My dead sister,” Danny repeated, finally releasing the girl to reach towards his locker. Then he looked over his shoulder at the crowd and grinned.

And stuck his arm right through the still closed locker door.

“Funny how that works, huh?” he said, with his arm still waving through his locker. He looked like was searching for something without being able to see it.

Dani, meanwhile, seemed to have gotten over her nerves. She leaned back against the lockers, standing right next to Danny. She was still eyeing the crowd, however, a little warily.

Soft mutters could be heard from the crowd, but no one had a real response. Sure, everyone had been convinced that Danny was a ghost. Hell, Dash had even seen the boy go intangible before.

But this was undeniable proof. And it was a lot less feeble than a whiffed punch by a jock.

Finally Dash got his thoughts back in order, though. “So why’s she here now?”

“Well,” Danny hummed as he finally pulled his arm out of the locker again. Held in his hand were several books for school. “You guys all knew I was a ghost anyway, so she didn’t have to hide anymore.”

He turned back to face his once-bully with a lopsided grin on his face. Then he shrugged. “Besides, where else is a ghost going to get an education?”

#danny phantom #phanfic #dp fanfic #dp fanfiction #phanfiction #dark writes #disinterred #the last chapter! ooh #i'm drafting this on Tumblr AO3 and FFnet beforehand so i can post from mobile tomorrow #so if something screws up i blame it on that

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

Isn’t it lovely... {biadore} - imafuckinglibra

Oh hi. Do I have other fics I need to finish? Yes. Did I have a dream about this where I was Danny and decided to write this one shot instead? Yes. We have some fluff and a lotta smut so enjoy bitches. Title is from the song Lovely by Billie Eilish & Khalid btw. K bye.

“Let’s get turnt!” Jay yelled from somewhere in the corner of Willam’s bar over the loud pop music playing as Danny watched from a distance, absentmindedly tapping the droplets of condensation on his cold beer bottle with his fingertips.

It was a little gathering amongst former drag race alum at Willam’s house, which in all honesty made it feel more like some fucked up family reunion. Everyone had clinked their drinks together setting the night of an hour or two ago but since then they all split into their individual groups.

Jay, DJ, Gia and Justin, aka the Haus of Edwards, were all in a corner tongue popping and screaming.

Some of the local LA girls were somewhere else, presumably the bathroom or the patio (most likely up to no good). A few visiting New York queens were on the make shift dance floor and everyone else just scattered about in their smaller groups around the house depending on their seasons or home towns.

Danny however was sitting by the bar alone.

He had initially followed the LA girls until they started fussing over Dequan and his announcement of finally getting on season 10.

He was happy for him, the queen who inspired his now iconic party line, but he didn’t feel like talking about the show or All Stars all night so he spread off with Jay. Big mistake.

The Edwards girls were all too much energy for him to keep up with when he was already feeling a bit blue. The only other season 6 sister he could tail that was there was Roy, at least he thought he was there. Was he?

He remembered seeing him briefly talking with DJ at the start of the night but after that he vanished too.

Feeling unable to fit in with any of the cliques reminded him too much of being a loner in high school only bringing him down even more so he silently excused himself to go try and find Matthew and the others again on the patio.

“Maybe not.” He sighed to himself when he realized they weren’t there. The emptiness of the quiet space felt too alluring though so he opted to stay there anyway.

Nestling himself into a make shift fort of throw pillows on the patio chair he watched the way the leaves of the potted plants blew in the night breeze taking a breather from all the festivities.

“There you are, chola.”

He lifted his head from the overly fanny grindr messages flowing across the screen and saw Roy towering over him with his hand in his pocket, the other holding his empty wine glass.

“Hey.” He eagerly smiled up at him tucking his phone back into his pocket.

“I just wanted to say bye before I took off.” Roy raised his shoulders stepping closer.

Danny’s heart dropped. Being with Roy would’ve made the whole night so much more bearable, he’d at least then have someone to hide behind as they usually did in these instances.

Since their season Roy has become his on again off again…whatever. He wasn’t quite sure what they were to be quiet honest. They’d get close, commitment level close and then they’d both get too busy again and it would all fall away.

However when their schedules did coincide every so often they’d take the opportunity to be together as much as possible. Sometimes even if that meant just a quick fuck in an airport bathroom or even backstage before a show.

But he wanted more. He loved Roy, he loved him more than just a friend or a mentor. He was there for him during their season, there for him after All Stars failed so miserably even there for him during everything else shitty going on with drugs, work, his family, his lawsuit - all of it.

Since then the sweet nothings exchanged under hushed breath in passing or the lingering stares watching each other had left him utterly dependent on Roy Haylock. Even the way he sat him down and told him off more honestly and more brutally than anyone else ever could when he was spiraling.

Lost in his thoughts he hadn’t realized Roy was still saying something until he bent down to hug him goodbye.

Mid hug when he registered what was happening Danny seized the opportunity and wrapped his legs playfully around him to keep him from leaving accidentally tripping Roy when he did.

“Oh, you bitch!” Roy laughed pushing himself off the chair, grabbing hold of his ass and lifting him up sliding his hands to his upper thigh in the process.

The giggling pair fell backwards when Roy lost his balance again, landing on another chair behind them with Roy breaking their impact. However somewhere in the commotion their lips met, their bodies instinctively melting into each other.

The smell of his heavy, strong cologne hit Danny’s nostrils intoxicating him, making him forget for a split second how extremely awkward it was when their dicks brushed over each other through their pants.

When Danny eventually pulled back as slow as humanly possible from their kiss he looked straight into the brown eyes staring confused back at him.

“I gotta’ go.” Roy quickly blurted out lifting him back off of his lap, disappearing out the gate just as quickly as he had emerged a minute ago.

‘What the fuck?’ He began panicking internally. Why did Roy run away so quickly? Did he go too far when he kissed him like that out in the open? Was Roy mad at him?

Danny shook off any uncertain emotions and made his way back inside to try and forget what had happened between them but after an hour of grinding between the queen of the hour, Dequan, and Thomas he was still as miserable as before.

While the others weren’t paying attention he made his way to his secret hideaway again. This time with a considerably warmer beer and a pair or earphones he swiped from Willam’s room to avoid any interaction. He probably could’ve just left but he didn’t want to be walking home alone at this time of night after Chris gave him a speech scaring the shit out of him.

He decided on just waiting it out another hour or so before calling John to come rescue him, at the very least his over the top friend could distract the others while he made an escape.

While swiping through his social media checking on what new video Chris posted he heard footsteps approaching and started mentally preparing himself to put on a face for whoever it was. He looked up expecting, literally anyone else, when he saw Roy again.

“Thought you’d have left by now?” Roy smiled his big beautiful grin that could melt even the coldest of hearts framed by those gorgeous dimples.

“Thought you already left?” Danny eyed his beer suspiciously. Questioning if Willam or one of the others put something in his drink again and he imagined the whole altercation earlier.

While he was elsewhere mentally Roy leaned forward resting his hands on Danny’s crossed knees running them up his thighs. His heart immediately started pounding out of his chest the minute it hit him that their lips were touching.

“Wanted to come get you. You want out?” Roy’s smile grew as he gently kissed him again.

It was almost exhilarating getting to kiss Roy in public, not entirely public public but they’d never been intimidate except behind closed doors so this counted in his mind.

He nodded halfheartedly going in for another kiss when Roy took hold of his hands and pulled him up off the chair instead, disappointing him a little.

And just like that they left.

Not giving anyone a heads up or any further words exchanged between them they just left hand in hand with the usually anal Roy acting suspiciously casual about their PDA.

While Roy was finishing up some things like cleaning his face or feeding the dogs Danny made himself at home in his almost luxuriously comfortable bed. Taking in everything about his room and how at peace he felt whenever he spent the night. How warm and soothing it was, like a genuine home despite the always meticulously neat nature of it.

Roy must’ve thought he was asleep already because by the time he came back he climbed into bed next to him without a word. Danny looked over at the man next to him trying to not disturb him so he could silently watch Roy scrolling through his social media.

The bedside table’s light was hitting him just right, his glasses and now scruffy face from being off for a week after finishing the first leg of his tour made him look beautiful, absolutely breathtakingly beautiful.

Without thinking Danny reached his hand out to the one by his side, clasping their fingers together without any explanation just as Roy had done with his when they left the party.

After a minute or two Roy finally acknowledged the foreign hand and looked over at Danny faintly smiling at him. Danny raised his hand to his jaw, his fingers admiring the way his dimples looked highlighted in the soft glow.

Slowly they both leaned into each other, their kissing remaining tender and never rushed. Their lips lingering where they made contact every now and then when Roy finally dropped his phone and brought his arm around Danny to tangle his fingers in his hair.

“Want me to fuck you?” He whispered when they pulled apart, moving a piece of his unruly brunette hair out of his face as his eyes searched for something in Danny’s.

“Yes please.” Danny responded, his voice barely audible. His index finger brushed over Roy’s puffy bottom lip but the older’s hand on his wrist stopped him.

“I’ll be right back.” He kissed Danny’s forehead and got up.

Returning a few minutes later out of the hallway followed by various light switches flicking off with a bottle of lube and a pack of condoms he began fiddling with the box counting something.

“You been tested lately right?” Danny asked.

“Yeah why?”

“Then don’t bother.” He shrugged.

Shane would probably kill them both for this if he found out but fuck it. He missed Roy and had no idea how long till he got to see him again after they both went back on tour. He needed to savor every single second he had with Roy and feel every inch of his body for as long as he could.

“Alright then.” Roy nodded abandoning his counting, leaving the condoms by the dresser next to the door before trying to take off his shirt.

“No.” Danny protested again. “I wanna.”

“Okay.” Roy agreed softly almost as if he was scared that saying no would hurt his feelings.

He put the lube down next to Danny now sitting up slightly against his pillows and straddled him like they were earlier. Danny could feel Roy’s thickening bulge pressing against his as he leaned down to cup his face resuming their make out.

Danny’s hands ran up from the thighs either side of him into Roy’s shirt. His cold fingers leaving goosebumps on the warm tender skin of his ribs as they trailed upwards lifting his shirt off over his head.

His hands stilled on Roy’s ribs to take a second to gaze at his gorgeously tan, slim physique while he threw the shirt over his head and swiftly pushed him back down with his hand on Danny’s chest in one smooth move.

The older having shifted to hover over him on all fours gave Danny’s hands the opportunity to reach inside his underwear, pulling them down just enough to let his ass be exposed.

Kneading his firm cheeks clawing his nails into the tender skin like a cat purring from being scratched while Roy continued kissing from the corner of his mouth to his jaw.

Danny blushed when the vibration of Roy’s chuckling against his jawline made him realize he was literally purring while his hips sunk back down grinding their growing erections together.

Roy’s hand gently turned Danny’s head as if the younger was fragile, scared of breaking him if he moved to fast as he continued kissing along a familiar path that always made Danny squirm, biting softly at his jaw and towards his earlobe.

Danny melting in his touch the moment he felt him suck a piece of his neck into his mouth, his erection twitching against Roy.

Roy’s lips continued working lower to his collarbone, nibbling on the tender flesh as he moved. Danny could already tell there was a bruise forming when his mouth released it, the same on his neck as well. His skin was stinging and heated, feeling raw almost.

When Roy moved lower the absence of his cock against his made him whine, which quickly turned into a moan when the lips on his ribs and down his abdomen ignited something inside him.

He watched with hungry eyes at the man smiling up at him when he reached the place Danny wanted him most desperately to touch.

He knew Roy could be a sneaky fucking tease though which just made him even more aching. Roy nuzzled his cock through his underwear, peppering gentle kisses from where his precum left a stain along the shaft till he reached the base of his cock still pulsing at every touch.

“Oh my…god.” He moaned dropping his head into the lush pillows when Roy’s hot mouth began sucking his balls through the fabric.

His devilish smile growing as he hooked his fingers into the white waistband and pulled them down, letting his dick spring free but never actually giving in and touching it.

“Quit teasing me!” Danny whined in a raspy voice, blushing at how embarrassingly over eager he sounded.

Roy bit his bottom lip pulling Danny’s briefs off. “Patience, baby.”

Discarding his underwear next to the bed Roy sat up on his knees, calling Danny closer with his index finger curled.

Too eager to ever disobey Danny quickly jumped up and crawled over to him where Roy pulled him closer by his waist to resume their kissing. His hand reaching between them to finally give Danny what he wanted and jerk him off excruciatingly slow, drawing out every stroke.

Roy’s thumb moved in circles around where his pre cum was bubbling out, swirling it around the head of his cock making his legs tremble. He knew exactly what he was doing and how to make Danny writhe in ecstasy.

“Open.” Roy ordered. He brought his thumb up pushing it inside Danny’s mouth.

Just as much as Roy liked to tease him Danny knew exactly how to turn the usually uptight older queen into putty.

He sucked his thumb into his mouth hollowing out his cheeks to give him a little show while moaning when the taste of himself slid on his tongue. All the while giving Roy his best puppy dog eyes.

“Good boy.” Roy praised proudly with that perfect toothed smile again when his hand resumed it’s stroking.

“I want to taste you.” Danny pulled on Roy’s bottom lip sliding down on his knees till he was on his stomach.

His big eyes still on Roy he could tell he was having the desired effect by the way his scruffy chest was rising and falling ever so slightly quicker while he kissed along his inner thighs taking his sweet time.

“Payback’s a bitch.” He whispered, muffled against his skin.

His lips moved up to his hips, gnawing at his hipbones till Roy’s hand came to run his fingers through his long hair. Clearly not amused anymore by his pursed lips.

“I’m losing my patience, bitch.” Roy gave his hair a harsh yank.

Danny took the not so subtle hint and moved his lips to where his erection was poking through the grey boxers. Kissing along the line of neatly trimmed hair trailing to the base of his cock.

“Put your ass up.” Roy instructed, waiting with a stern face.

Danny took his time however pulling down Roy’s boxers while he slid his knees back up to wiggle his ass in the air as told.

“That’s it.” Roy continued praising running his hand down to wrap his fingers around the back of his neck.

With a tight grip he pushed Danny’s face down into his lap towards his cock, a slight hiss being released when Danny’s young mouth finally wrapped around the head.

Danny couldn’t deny it, hell he’d admit it openly to literally anyone - he loved giving head.

Especially when it was Roy, he was so responsive to every touch yet so forceful. The fingers around his neck digging into the muscles from Danny’s tongue swirling around the thick head of his cock making his head spin.

When he was fully erect he completely filled his mouth, just the sensation of it enough to make Danny moan. Especially when Roy’s strong hand pushed him down further so he’d take every last inch of it in, even when it hit the back of his throat making him gag he wouldn’t let up.

His eyes flicked back to Roy’s when his head’s bopping picked up an even pace. When Roy’s other hand snaked from his back to his ass Danny’s skin flared up with goosebumps from anticipation.

Roy’s hand on his neck moved up to grip his hair again, tugging his face up to hold his fingers in front of him. “Spit.”

Danny obliged and almost immediately again his head was pushed back into his lap. While he continued bopping his head in slow circular movements Roy leaned over him and with his now lubed finger he massaged the rim of his asshole for a second before it slid into him.

It felt so amazing Danny couldn’t help moaning deeply around Roy’s cock, the sigh coming from the older when he did encouraging him to try and give him as much pleasure as possible.

When he managed to take him all in, regardless of the fact that he was already gagging, Roy forcefully held his head down.

Now unable to breathe from the cock blocking his airway and Roy’s finger pumping inside him he felt himself get lightheaded.

His face and neck growing unbearably hot, probably turning red or even purple at this point and his eyes tearing up when Roy slid a second finger in without warning.

Just as his eyes nearly started rolling back into his skull Roy finally released his hold on him. He quickly pulled back coughing a little with a sticky string of pre cum and saliva following his bottom lip.

“That’s fucking hot though.” Danny smiled at the now glistening cock slurping up what dribbled from his lip. He let his hands take over jerking him off for a second so he could catch his breath just enjoying the sensation of getting stretched open by his fingers.

“Come here.” Roy pulled him up by the chin.

Eagerly he crawled back up to resume their kissing with Roy holding onto his ass while the other kept fingering him without ever skipping a beat.

When Roy stretched his arm to start reaching around for the lube on the other side of the bed Danny pushed him down.

“My turn to be bossy.” He teased tongue in cheek pulling off Roy’s underwear while he lubed himself up. Not that a lot was needed, Danny’s sloppy blowjob did most of the work for them.

“Last chance.” Roy cocked a brow over in the direction of the box of condoms still on the dresser when Danny straddled him.

“I want to feel all of you.” Danny breathed into his mouth before crashing their lips together.

With his hands rested on his toned pecs feeling up the faint stubble under his fingertips he steadily lowered himself onto Roy’s cock.

Both men pulled back from their kissing to star down between them watching Danny’s tight hole engulfing him gradually inch by inch. He couldn’t help smiling to himself at the sight of Roy dropping his head the minute his ass reached his hips.

“Feels fucking cool right?” Danny smugly smiled rolling his hips still adjusting to the feel of his ass being filled by his lover, watching Roy’s aroused staring at their bodies rolling together.

Seeing Roy reduced to absolutely nothing behind closed doors as he increased the speed at which he rode him made Danny both incredibly proud of himself and aroused. Nothing could get him off like seeing Roy wrapped around his tattooed little finger.

“So good.” Roy breathed out holding onto Danny’s thighs as his body started matching his rhythm, lifting his hips in time with the younger.

Taking hold of his hands Danny kept them pinned back above his head, their lips meeting once again. Their kissing growing more intense between strained breathing as did their movements.

A heated coil tightening in Danny as his much needed orgasm began building dangerously quick. It wasn’t just from watching his lover coming undone so easily under him or the pleasure of his asshole being stretched by him it was Roy himself.

He’d been his comfort since day one, his friend, his lover, the man defending him whenever someone attacked him or even slightly provoked him. But since being on tour he hadn’t gotten to see a much of him, the longing he felt for him that he’d been bottling up for months suddenly began to overwhelm him.

When Roy noticed that his moans had turned into sobbing before even Danny really had he quickly sat up and wrapped his arms protectively around his back.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Roy’s strong hands were rubbing up and down his back massaging his shoulder blades with his lips lovingly against his neck. “Talk to me.”

“I just missed you.” Danny admitted resting his chin on his shoulder. His arms as tightly as possible clinging onto him around his neck scared he’d leave if he let go.

In the beginning when their relationship was still just quick drunk fucks Roy had a habit of leaving as soon as they finished. His abrupt exit from earlier when they had accidentally kissed had left him, to say the least, slightly paranoid.

“I missed you too…but I’m back now.” The older reassured him as if he read his mind.

“For how long?” Danny’s hand found it’s way to Roy’s slightly grown out hair pulling him closer, an attempt to take in more of him.

“As long as you need me.”

“I’m being serious.” Danny leaned back to look in his eyes to show that he wasn’t joking even though he probably sounded more like an annoyed child by the tone of his voice.

“Me too,” Roy retorted with his usual ‘I know better’ stern tone pursing his lips. His eyes flicking between Danny’s before his voice and expression both grew softer. “I’m staying this time. I want to get serious about this - about us.”

“You sure?”

Honestly probably neither were aware of it but Danny had started grinding his ass into Roy’s lap again. They were too distracted by their stare down to either acknowledge it until Roy finally broke the silence.

“Yeah.” Roy nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching into a faint smile as he wiped away the tear from Danny’s cheek leaning in to kiss him again.

The softness of his lips suddenly on Danny’s nearly knocked the wind out of him, blinding any other thoughts on his mind so he could only focus on the man who’s legs he was sitting between.

Soon their kissing intensified as tongues glided around each other tasting the desperation for one other as their hips followed along.

Eventually through their feverish making out Roy ended once again on his back with his hands lowered to his damp porcelain thighs. Freshly manicured black nails scratching up to his hips before traveling back down leaving bright red lines as they went.

That scorching coil turning along in Danny’s lower abdomen becoming dangerously tight when Roy took hold of his dick that was bouncing between them.

Danny’s brows furrowed in a concentrated, almost painful attempt at trying to hold back his orgasm and control his erratic breathing through an open mouth.

He didn’t want to cum so soon but it’s been a hot minute and Roy’s expert hand working him made his ability to restrain himself any longer nearly impossible. He dropped his head so Roy couldn’t see how much everything was getting to him - a completely futile attempt.

“That’s it come on. Cum baby, cum for me.” Roy’s low gravely voice encouraged him in a hushed tone pushing him too far over the edge.

There was no going back now.

“Don’t stop your hand.” Danny hissed. He slammed his ass down a final time all the way onto Roy’s cock so he could fill him completely while he continued jerking him off.

Danny’s legs began trembling from the intense stretch of his asshole and the wave of electricity crashing onto him like a house being dropped.

“Ah…sh…shit.” Danny gasped arching his back when his load shot onto Roy’s chest, decorating his tan toned chest with his sticky pale white cum.

“That’s it. Good boy.” Roy continued praising still stroking his cock very slowly working out the last of his cum. Once his cock pulsed for the final time Roy let go and tapped his thigh. “On your side, my love.”

Like a baby deer with shakey gangly legs Danny lifted himself off of Roy assuming the instructed position resting on one side on his elbow.

Kissing along his neck after wiping some sweat from his forehead Roy reinserted himself behind him. His hand gripping Danny’s hip pulling him back with every thrust while the other arm was secured around his torso.

“Kiss me.” Roy whispered tilting Danny’s head.

Danny’s free arm draped around his neck holding onto him while their kissing mimicked the rushed way Roy was plowing into him, his own orgasm very evidently drawing nearer.

“I want you.” Danny breathed between kisses when it became difficult to keep their lips locked through Roy’s panting. “I want your cum.”

“Yeah?” Roy picked up his pace.

“Yes please.”

“Yes please what?”

“Yes please, Daddy.” He begged further for Roy’s cum.

Roy gave him one last drawn out kiss before pushing him down onto his stomach with his palms on Danny’s intertwining their fingers to keep himself somewhat grounded.

“Oh fuck yeah. I’m gonna cum.” Roy warned, his voice getting higher and his breathing getting more broken.

His fingers tightly gripping his turning his tan knuckles white. With a few final grunts and his hips slamming into Danny with swift, full thrusts he soon came growling loudly.

His deep gravely voice and warm breath against his nape sending chills down Danny’s spine.

When Roy began filling him he wiggled ass eagerly taking every last drop of cum that shot into him, every pulse of his thick cock sending more of his load into his asshole.

“God I missed your cute little ass.” Roy finally chuckled a few seconds later breaking the silence after collapsing on top of him.

He pulled out slowly, kissing the back of his shoulders along his tattoo until the very last second. When he rolled off the bed Danny bit his lip watching his tan ass bounce away as he walked to the bathroom.

When he came back with a towel Danny kept making grabby hands at him every time he would pass him.

“What?” Roy finally asked when he came to stand in front of him.

“I miss your butt.” Danny pouted, now being cleaned off he could sit up with his legs hanging off the high bed. He took the opportunity and snaked his arms around Roy’s body to grab onto his ass, jiggling it a little

“You whore I just fucked you?” Roy laughed.

“I know but I want to top this time!”

“You said that last time.”

“I mean it this time. Remember how much you liked it when I fucked you?” Danny mused, his smile growing at the flashback of when he first topped Roy one night on the BOTS tour.

Roy clearly thought of the same memory by the intense red his cheeks were turning, either that or the fact that Danny was teasing his entrance with his finger.

“I think I need a shower instead.” Roy raised a brow down at his sticky chest that still had Danny’s cum on it and swatted his hands away.

“Fine.” Danny pouted. “One kiss please? Two?” Danny held his fingers up and Roy obliged, bending down with his hands either side of his face kissing him twice as promised.

“Love you.” Roy smiled into the 2nd kiss instantly turning to walk away again after he did.

“Love you too…” Danny dropped back onto the bed blushing, utterly baffled that Roy would so casually throw the L word around. Especially since it was like pulling teeth to get him to say it the first time just a few months earlier.

When Roy had returned to bed now fresh and his skin still slightly steaming from the hot shower Danny took over as the big spoon. Roy had passed out almost as soon as his head hit Danny’s torso, in his defense it was most likely from the way Danny was playing with his hair.

Danny watched him drifting off thinking back on the first time he fell asleep in his lap, it was on a van ride to the venue at their first pride together after drag race. He had even made a joke that day about Roy being like a puppy that still seemed to haunt him every so often.

He genuinely was just a big puppy dog though. Protective and defensive until you scratched his head and he’d shake his leg falling asleep in mere seconds regardless of where they were.

‘I want to get serious about this - about us.’ The words echoed in his mind.

His heart skipped a beat just thinking about the prospect of finally being a real couple. This wasn’t the same as last time when drunk Roy made a big declaration of their love to a hotel lobby plant before throwing up in said plant. He was really serious about this.

“No time like the present hey, my willow?” Danny kissed Roy’s forehead.

With his free hand he groped around the bedside table for his phone careful not to move too much and disturb the man sleeping in his arms blissfully unaware of his plans.

He dug through his private collection of photos they’d taken together but never shared because of how telling they’d be for a few minutes before deciding none of them truly fit.

click

He took a moment to admire the selfie that he had just taken of Roy resting his head on his chest, his arm draped over him with his fingertips still holding onto his jaw even in his sleep.

The glow from the remaining bedside lamp along with the moon peeking through the curtains illuminating every curve of his naked back. He looked absolutely fucking perfect.

The smile on Danny’s face in the photo kissing Roy’s temple was almost as bright and genuine as the one he had while looking at them together.

He loved little moments like these with Roy. Away from fans, expectations, work, their ‘sisters’, or even from their drag alter egos they both looked so at peace. So content. A feeling Danny never truly associated with himself and yet the proof was right there every time he’d open his phone.

He continued debating taking another one seeing as Roy’s naked ass crack was slightly visible but decided screw it - this was the real them. As raw, unfiltered and uncensored as it was going to get.

Without giving himself another second of hesitation he posted it as is and waited for the notification on Roy’s phone to light up before he drifted off to sleep with his love. Kissing him goodnight one final time.

adoredelano just posted a photo

Isn’t it lovely… @biancadelrio ❤️🌸❤️🌸

#imafuckinglibra #biadore #oneshot #smut #fluff #bianca del rio #adore delano #rpdr fanfiction #submission #isn't it lovely #canon compliant

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dp-pastandpresent · 5 years

Text

Past and Present: Chapter 28

"One. More. Just One. More."

The ghost as paced his realm, trying to be patient as he waited for his hire to return.

"I've spent ages tracking down the locations of those ingredients, the least he could do is return sooner," he said through gritted teeth as he glanced over at the table behind him.

Sitting on top were several beakers, a few containing varying solutions, as well as some pretty grotesque items.

The biggest vial, at least 5 gallons, was currently half full of a bright green solution, a slight glow emitting from it.

"I just need that last element and then it will be ready."

As if in answer, the door behind him suddenly flung open, and a ghost in a metal body suit wearing a medallion flew in.

"I swear if you EVER send me to get ANYTHING again, I am going to blast you so hard that you'll have your own plot in that graveyard of yours!"

Looking up and down at his visitor, Clockwork noticed a few burn marks and scratches on the ghost's suit.

"Well, hello to you too Skulker." He grinned.

"Hmph…" Was all he armored ghost could say as he dropped a bag to the ground and kicked it towards Clockwork.

"Just take it and pay me already."

Clockwork floated forward and grabbed the bag, opening it up to look inside as it wiggled a bit.

"I take it Pandora's realm as a little bit harder to get through than we thought?" he said , trying to keep the tone light. "You'd think the Ghost Zone's Greatest Hunter would be able to handle a few demons."

"Demons? Yes. Fire breathing, 3 headed dogs? No." He crossed his arms. "Now about my pay."

"Aww, yes, that." Clockwork waved his staff and another bag appeared in front of his visitor.

"Finally!"

Skulker turned to leave, but Clockwork stopped him one last time.

"Hold up. I think you have something of mine." He floated over to the ghost and reached for the medallion around his neck. "Our business is through, and I wouldn't want this landing in the wrong hands…" He grinned as he pulled it away.

Skulker laughed. "I was hoping you'd forget!"

"Just be happy you're still standing Skulker." Clockwork smirked as he aged up.

With that, Skulker flew out of his realm, the door slamming behind him as he murmured to himself.

"You'd think collecting hundreds of these things would give a guy a little more freedom to come and go… Can't even tell me what they're for…"

Clockwork turned and floated back to the table, where he emptied the contents of the bag into a small glass case.

"Now, what to do with you?" he asked, watching the small bat-like creature trying to escape its box.

The largest screen was illuminated with a map, a single red dot blinking in the center.

'Well, Daniel, I see you made it through my first challenge, but the rest will be much harder.'

He turned quickly as he heard his guest stirring behind him. Not wanting the girl to know about his secret map, he quickly let the screen turn blank.

"Wha…?" Sam asked as she rubbed her eyes.

"My dear, you were tired again, so I was letting you rest…" Clockwork began.

Sam looked up at him, only to find her tired eyes growing large as she looked at the screen behind him.

Clockwork noticed this change and turned himself, his own eyes glowing in confusion.

'I swear I turned that off!'

Danny and Sarah were standing in an aisle of the record store, the racks of CDs Sam was used to instead containing vinyl records in sleeves with large colorful labels. All along the walls were record players emitting various tunes for the whole shop to hear.

Danny was holding one in his hands, and Sarah looked over his shoulder. Both let out a small giggle as they read the song list.

After a moment, Sam finally spoke. "I knew Danny loved that store, but I never realized the connection it held to Grandma."

Trying to keep the confusion over his screen's sudden change, Clockwork responded with the best answer he could come up with: "My dear, in all the scenes I found of Danny and your grandmother, the record store was always a common location."

'Whew.'

"And here I was, making fun of his Elvis obsession…" she said quietly, her eyes darting to the ground.

The ghost in front of her began to forget his frustrations with the screens as he felt the girl's energy begin to change. He flew closer to her, aging himself into his oldest form in the process. She didn't even flinch as he did so.

"The record store means a lot to you as well?" he asked, trying to sound like he cared.

She looked up in shock; was it possible her captor was showing some compassion?

"I didn't… say…"

"You didn't have to. By now, I can read your emotions. And sense your feelings."

She jumped up at this, startling the ghost beside her.

"What ELSE can you do?!" she demanded.

"Girl. Please. Calm down. You of all people should know by now that my powers are almost limitless," he said as he forced her into her.

Clockwork looked up from his book and over to the large container in front of him.

"All that reading. All that hunting. All that mixing. And finally, FINALLY, I have a solution!"

The solution in the container had turned from green to a bright blue, having been mixed with the essences from the final ingredient.

"Finally."

He aged himself down as he took a small vial and filled it with the blue solution. Floating over to the large holding tank , he opened the door and poured the solution into an open tube. Smiling, he flew back to the table and grabbed the large container before quickly disappearing.

"Daniel Fenton. I have been watching your grave for years now, waiting for the perfect moment to present itself. Collecting ingredients and researching myths. And now, here I am, standing before you, ready for the prophecy to unfold."

Floating above the grave, he held his glowing blue solution with a small smile. Without hesitation, he tipped the container and watched the thick contents spill out onto the stone.

His eyes got big as he watched the stone suck up the liquid like a sponge, taking in every last drop as the stone began to glow as blue as the solution. The writing on the front quickly began to shuffle and rearrange, only to eventually disappear completely as the glowing began to fade.

"They may not understand now, but soon, things will change. And you, Daniel, are exactly what I need to make that change." He grinned as he disappeared again.

His realm was filled with blue light as he reappeared in the main chamber. Adjusting to the change in light, he quickly turned to his tank, only to find it was filled with a dense, blue fog.

"Perfect."

He floated closer, trying to see through the thickness. Beyond the fog, a body was starting to form.

"And now, to check on the girl…"

He turned away from the tank and changed his focus to the large screen on his back wall. It quickly lit up to reveal a girl, dressed in a fancy black dress, standing on the edge of a rooftop.

"If only I could figure out why I never see more!" he said, frustrated.

Despite his recent success with the boy, he was still struggling with the girl. As hard as he tried, he had yet to see anything on his screens taking place immediately after the timestamp on this scene. He knew there had to be something, for he had seen many images from 2019. But for one reason or another, there were many moments he knew must come between.

"How will they meet? How will they work together? How will they become…" He hissed as he tried once again to will his screen forward, only to have it jump to the all familiar ice cream scene.

"It's like time doesn't want me to know these things…"

"Dude. Stop controlling me. Seriously," Sam demanded as she sat in her chair, unable to get up.

"When you stop poking around where you don't belong," Clockwork smirked back.

"I didn't POKE INTO anything, I was just freaked out by your powers, which for the record you used on me AGAIN!"

"Well, this is my realm, and I can do whatever I please. Remember, you are here for one purpose only."

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow at this.

"Because I was questioning things too much? Because I'm pivotal to Danny's destiny? Did you forget that you've told me all these things already?"

'Indeed I have. Smart girl…'

"You know what you haven't told me? What will really happen when I remove this stupid medallion," Sam said through gritted teeth as her hand moved to her neck. Clockwork's eyes got big at this, causing him to lose his mental grip on her.

"Trust me, Samantha, you do NOT want to take that off."

"Oh yea!? Why? I'll fall through the floor again? If it's between that and being stuck here, I think I'll take my chances." Her hand began to lift the trinket over her neck.

"STOP!" Clockwork demanded, using every last ounce of power to keep her from removing it any further.

"DUDE!"

Sam glared at her captor, unable to move her hand.

"You cannot tell me that out there is any worse than in here."

"That… may be true…" he contemplated out loud, "but at least in here, with my power over your necklace, you are able to breathe."

Sam stopped of her own accord this time, comprehension slowly showing on her face.

"Wait? Humans can't breathe in the Ghost Zone?"

"Exactly."

"So this whole time, if didn't have…" His grip had loosened and she looked down at the medallion, "I wouldn't be able to… breathe?"

"You're welcome," he said sarcastically.

"Mind explaining what else humans CAN'T DO here?"

"Hmph, my dear. If I felt like handing out that kind of information, I would have told you sooner," he said with a chuckle as he aged down to a child.

"So there ISSSSS more," She said slyly, a small smile on her face.

Clockwork blushed as he backed away a bit, looking at the ceiling.

'She's got you now…'

"Well, I… I mean…"

"Please, continue," the girl went on.

Clockwork found himself trapped, almost as if the hold he had been using on her was suddenly reversed. Could she really have that effect on him? This girl had always been a mystery, but was it possible that he was losing his touch? What could happen if those powers he had were somehow taken away?

'Think. You've been alive for eons, find a way to talk yourself out of this…'

'She's got you in a corner, Clockwork, you need to just tell her the truth. The WHOLE truth, about the Ghost Zone.'

'And risk unraveling the future? I don't think so! I have come too far to lose to this child!'

'But this child is the key. Maybe telling her will lead to an answer.'

'Or your defeat!'

'My defeat!?'

"STOP!"

It was Sam's voice that pulled him back to his realm, for he had backed himself into a corner and was shivering uncontrollably.

"Just. STOP!" she said again as she stood up. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but the answers are not worth watching you freak out!"

He looked from her to his shaking hands and back at her.

"Samantha, I… should probably explain," he said quietly.

'She's giving you an out; take it!'

"I don't want to know. So just… don't"

She turned and stomped off towards the back of his castle leaving him there to sort out what he had just done.

'What am I letting myself become?'

It seemed like years as Clockwork searched his screens, constantly glancing behind him as the blue fog faded in the tank, only to see a humanoid form slowly taking shape. For a ghost who was used to speeding up and slowing down time, waiting on it was something he found tedious.

'I have been trying to get this thing to cooperate for too long! That dance, it must be important. But why won't it show me more! If only I could speed time up a bit, just to forget about this and move onto the boy's return.' he found himself thinking on multiple occasions, only to decide that it wasn't worth the risk.

Finally, as if answering his thoughts, the screen crackled and changed. The scenes began to switch, but not at his normal command. Instead, it was as if someone had hit the fast-forward button and he had no way of stopping it.

'What the—?'

His eyes darted as he caught blurs of black and white, purple and green. Heard snippets of voices, some he recognized and some he didn't, but no conversation he had ever heard.

Finally, it stopped. Back on his 'favorite' scene with the ice cream. Frustrated, he willed his screen to turn itself off, only to notice no more blue in the reflection coming from behind him.

He turned. The fog was gone, and in its place was a very human form of what looked like an 18-year-old boy.

Clockwork slowly flew over to the tank, a bit of skepticism in his face, and looked in.

The boy blinked back, and Clockwork jolted backwards.

Coming to his senses, he flew back over and opened the door, allowing the boy to fall forward onto the ground, waiting to see if he would fall through.

'I've got a medallion ready boy.'

But he didn't need it. Instead of sinking through, the boy just landed on the ghostly ground as Clockwork took a better look. He was on his knees, head facing down at the ground with hair hanging in his face. White hair.

"I've done it. At last, I have finally found an answer."

The boy looked up, green eyes wide with confusion.

'But… isn't he supposed to be? Black hair? Blue Eyes?' Clockwork found himself confused as he shifted from young to old. 'The boy the girl loves, he's not like this…'

The boy lurched back, afraid of the figure's touch.

"Don't worry son, I won't hurt you. I'm here to help." The young figure spoke with compassion in his voice.

'I need to figure out why this didn't work. Why he isn't… human.'

"What? Where? Who?" was all the boy could say in response.

Trying to remain calm—after all someone had to answer questions—Clockwork looked down at the boy again.

"Of course, you're confused. You've only been back for a few hours now. Your mind hasn't fully returned yet. I should have known that would be a side effect of resurrection."

"Resurrection?"

Confusion spread across the boy's face as Clockwork tried to hide his own.

'Maybe I opened the door too soon? Or didn't add the ingredients in the right order?'

But instead of saying these things out loud, he simply answered, "Of course. You, Daniel, are the first soul I've ever been able to retrieve from death."

"Death? You mean, I…?'

"Died, yes. But I've brought you back." The figure smiled.

'Or at least part of you.'

"Back to where?"

"I believe the humans call it 'The Ghost Zone,'" he answered with amusement, "but this part, my home, is the Island of Lost Time."

Clockwork was staring at his screen, thinking about all he had learned since that fateful day, finally beginning to understand why those memories had gone by so fast, when Sam decided to return .

"My dear, I am sorry for any pain I may have caused you earlier," he said as she came up behind him, choosing to continue looking at the screen instead of turning around.

"Now you apologize," Sam said under her breath.

"I heard that, you know." He smiled.

She didn't respond as she looked at his screen; another scene of Danny and Sarah playing out.

"Why do you choose to watch so many of these? Doesn't it get old?"

"Trust me, when you've been around as long as I have, there is always something new to learn," Clockwork responded, emotionless.

'All those scenes with you, they were new to me too.'

"Still, knowing you've been watching our lives for so long, controlling our actions, it kinda makes me feel… violated," Sam said as she came forward to stand in front of him.

"Have you ever stopped to realize how wrong it is to do that?"

'Recently? More often than you'd believe.'

"I look at it more as research. Trying to find the answers to the future." He tried to stay emotionless but wavered a bit.

"Well, I think you need to start researching something else!" Sam said loudly, stomping her foot to get his attention away from his screen.

He finally looked at her, seeing her violet eyes full of anger again.

"You cannot begin to understand," he said, raising his voice.

"Again with that! How can I not understand something you won't even tell me!"

As if answering her question, the screen behind her suddenly turned to fuzz, startling both the girl and her captor. She turned to look at him, only to see utter confusion on his face. Rattled himself, he responded under his breath, "I didn't do that."

They both turned to the other screens, which had also turned to static, confusion drawing even stronger in their faces. Sam was the first to respond this time.

"Did it just get warmer in here?"

Clockwork couldn't answer as he found himself suddenly becoming old again.

'What? I didn't choose to change!'

He looked back at the girl, who was looking around the room skeptically, before turning back to the screen just in time to see it spark.

'What is happening?'

He found himself aging down against his will once more, and with this knew that something odd was happening.

"What...?" was all that Sam could say before Clockwork raised his staff.

"Time Out!"

The world around him froze, allowing the ghost to have a little time and space to himself.

"What is happening? Why can't I control my screens? Why can't I change? It's almost like before, when I heard…"

"I don't know about what you've heard before, or what you've seen, but I am willing to bet it has something to do with me."

Clockwork's red eyes got huge as a familiar figure entered his realm, clad in a body suit and glowing green with energy.

Clockwork found himself too shocked to move for a brief moment, before finally responding in the most self-assured voice he could muster.

"Ahhhh… Daniel… It's about time you showed up."

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