#he dies. he fucking dies. and leaves charlie alone again. to carry him up a goddamn mountain by himself. shouldering this grief and anger.

[leelee1234love]

Torture

18+ Minors DNI!!!

Full Masterlist Legend Masterlist

Pairing: Reggie Kray x Fem!reader

Summary: Another gang torture you and Reggie tries to find you and when he does…

Warnings: Stabbing,Blood,Bad language,Burning cigarettes on person,Whipping with a belt,murder/killing?,carving initials on thigh,beating,punching,slapping,smashed glass,cutting someone with glass,reader nearly dies,reader is injured,injuries,reader takes medicine,stabbing,swearing,knives,guns,hammers!!!!!

(Please Tell me if I missed any warnings!!!)

It was late, I went out for a drink with my best friend, Dorothy and since it was getting quite late we decided to leave the club and go home.

The only problem is, is she lives on the other road from me so once I drop her off, I would have to walk home for awhile on my own.

"Bye dot" i smiled and she gave me a hug before I left her door step and carried on walking down the road all the way to the one dark alleyway I would have to pass.

I sheepishly walked down the alleyway and I was met with two men half way down.

"Looks like we've got compa'ny Charlie" one of them smirked.

"Yeah it does, what's a pretty gal like you doing here all alone?" He asked me.

"I'm not alone" I said and they looked at each other before chuckling when they saw no one behind me.

"Oh really?" They smirked and I nodded.

"My boyfriend, Reggie kray is coming to pick me up right now as we speak" I said and they smirked again.

"Well what a small world, because we were actually looking for krays gal" they smirked at me as they came closer to me and I yelled.

"Get off me! stop it!" I yelled and they laughed before one of them grabbed me by the arm and punched me in the back of the head knocking me out.

I woke up and I felt dizzy until I woke myself up more when I felt chains on my wrists and ankles along with the cold stone floor I was on.

I pulled on the chains and began panicking when another guy walks in.

"Ello Y/n, how are you?" He asks me with a smile and I don't answer. He blew his fag smoke in my face

"Now we aren't gonna hurt you, well we're not gonna kill you" he laughed and I kicked his shins since he was close enough to me.

"Ah! You fucking bitch!" He spat as he slapped me across the face and kicked me repeatedly on the waist as I cried out.

He took his fag from his lips and burned the hot ash onto my stomach making me hiss.

"Freddie! C'mere" he shouted and another man walked in.

"Let's show her what real pain feels like.." he said to Fred with a smirk as they both walked over to me.

———

Reggie's POV-

"You alright Sheila?" I lightly waved at her and she nodded with a smile.

"Albie! Y/n’s 'ouse" I said as I got into the car and albie nodded.

"I heard she went out last night" Albert said to me as he focused on the road.

"Oh really?" I asked since this was new information.

"Mhm, went down to the esters club" he said and I nodded along.

Albert parked outside Bees house and I went and knocked on the door to be met with a quick and worried Jimmy and Daniel Nash and Y/n’s friend Dorothy.

"Everything Alright?" I asked them jokingly.

"No reg! It's not alright! Y/n’s not come back since 6 O'clock yesterday" Jimmy half yelled.

"What?" I said worried.

"We went down to esters club and we left around 10 ish and we were both fine and she dropped me off home and I haven't seen her since, but she must've had to have went up the alley" Dorothy explained.

"Have you checked the alley?" I asked them panicked.

"Of course we've checked the fucking alley! We checked every fucking road around here!" Daniel yelled at me and Jimmy held a hand on his chest.

"Alright, well I'm gonna go look around" I said and quickly got back into the car.

"You alri-" albie was speaking but I cut him off.

"Go up to the end of the alley way" I said sternly and he nodded.

I quickly got out of the car and sprinted up the alley and something caught my eye.

An earring..the same diamond ones I got Y/n for her birthday this year, I picked it up and held it in a fist before putting it in my blazer pocket.

I was about to leave before I saw something else.

A tie clip.

But not any tie clip, a bright red one with three black lines I knew who this belonged to.

Charlie fucking Foreman.

"I've gotta get my brother" I spoke and Albie nodded as he drove to Ron's trailer.

I knocked on the door and Ron groaned.

"Yeah?" He said tiredly and I ignored him.

"Foreman, he's got Y/n" I huffed out quickly and Ron's posture stiffened as he rushed to the car with me.

"Albie! Klington Road down the second alleyway" I demanded and he nodded quickly as he drove off when me and Ron got in the car.

I held onto y/ns earring in my pocket the whole ride there.

———

"Fucking useless Whore" they spat as they left the room.

They tortured me.

They not only did that, they slapped me, kicked me, punched me, he carved his initials on my thigh.

He grabbed my leg and stabbed me in the thigh, blood pouring out of my leg and he twisted it inside before yanking it out and chucking it on the floor.

He whipped me with his belt and he smashed a glass at me.

Leaving me cut,bleeding,bruised, beaten.

I was so tired.

I was bleeding profusely and I was so sore.

I laid there and I couldn't help but cry my heart out.

My throat sore from screaming and shouting.

———

Reggie's POV-

We parked outside we had guns and knives between the two of us.

I walked into the broken down flat and i instantly heard muffled cries.

I busted down the door and I was met with about ten men.

They were weaponless.

Idiots.

Ron smirked as he grabbed his two hammers and threw them at two of the mens heads that then instantly died.

I fought two at the same time dodging mostly all there shots besides two that caused a bloody cut on the cheek.

I saw Charlie escape through the window but I didn't care I just wanted Y/n in this moment of time.

Ron sorted out most of them whilst I went looking for Y/n.

And then I heard it again the muffled cries.

I saw a door and opened it to be met with Y/n.

Bruised and bleeding with fag burns all over along with cuts and whip marks all over her too.

She was left in a white ripped gown that was blood-stained all over.

She was chained, I would've broken the chains but if I did it would have hurt her wrists and ankles.

"Reg! I've got a key" Ronnie said but went quiet when he saw the state of his best friend Y/n.

"Y/n?" He said and i ignored him and quickly took the key off of him and quickly undone all the chains.

Ron took his coat off and helped me wrap her in it.

I picked her up swiftly and placed her in my lap in the car while Ron and Albie were in the front.

Alberts face dropped when he saw Y/n and he quickly drove to the hospital.

Once she was taken by the doctors and she was situated and helped.

She was fast asleep in a hospital bed.

I stayed with her the entire two days she was asleep.

I left Ron in charge for those two days.

I was so anxious I didn't even know I could feel this type of emotion.

I was holding her bruised hand and was staring at her sadly until she slowly woke up.

"Y/n?" I said and she looked at me confused.

"What happened?" She asked me hoarsely.

"Charlie foreman, he hurt you pretty bad dove" I spoke slowly and softly and she went wide eyed.

She must've remembered what happened.

She began sobbing and I hugged her gently so I didn't hurt her.

———

It had been three days since then and nothing got better, Y/n was just continuously crying and if she wasn't she had cried herself to sleep.

She wouldn't eat anything, she wouldn't talk about anything either.

I was holding Y/n in my arms until someone knocked at the door and Y/n jumped which made me frown. She was so feisty I hated seeing her so..frightened. She wouldn't even go near Ron.

She only let me or her mum and dad go near her.

"Sh sh.. it's okay it's just Albie 'member, I need to talk to him about something" I spoke softly and she nodded before I gave her a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't go..please" she begged silently and I frowned.

"I'll be two minutes I promise" I said and held out my pinky finger and she looked at my pinky before my face debatably before connecting her pinky and shaking it making me smile.

I walked downstairs and opened the door.

"Member how y'a told me Y/n ain't talking so you can't help her or comfort her and Charlie legged it" Albert whispered and I nodded.

"Well it sounds bad but I found footage from inside the flat so we'll know about what they did to Y/n and where Charlie went" Albert said and I nodded.

"I'll be out in a minute Albie wait for me in the car" I whispered and he nodded and I shut the door.

I walked back upstairs to Y/n.

"Dove..I'm not leaving you alone but I have to do something really important, life threatening" I said and her eyes began to well up again and she began to shake.

"Sh sh.. im not leaving you alone. Im getting your dad and uncles to come round to protect you, they haven't seen you yet have they, they need to know your okay" I said and she nodded as she wiped her tears.

Y/n was still bruised and she had scars and bandages cuts but she could still walk shortly so I helped her to the car.

"I love you dove" I said softly as she rested her head under my chin.

"I love you too Reggie" she spoke quietly from her croaky voice but she still said my name how she always does. I don't know what she does but I love when she calls me Reggie it's not like how everyone else does it..it's different...it makes me smile.

"How have you been Y/n? You been alright" Albie asked her.

"Yeah I feel better" she answered and I frowned when I felt her wince when I accidentally held her bruised hand.

"Sorry dove" I whispered into her ear and she gave me a kiss on the chin to show I was forgiven.

We got to her house and was met with Johnny.

"Y/n!" He called out and instantly held her in his arms.

"God! what happened?" Johnny stiffened when he saw the bruised and cuts, scars, burns all over her .

Johnny looked at me and I shook my head as to not talk about it.

Ronnie came to the door and also took Y/n in for a hug and took her inside.

"Take care of her, I've gotta take care of some business regarding who did this, she needs to take this medicine three times a day." I said and handed Johnny the bottle.

"Who did that.." Johnny said angrily and I sighed.

"Y/n’s more important right now, take care of her alright?" I said to him and he nodded still angry.

"Thank you for saving her, we're here to help you reg, we may not show it because she's like our daughter but, we are" Johnny said sternly and I nodded before going back to the car.

———

I was sat in front of the screen, with Albert beside me and Ron behind me.

We watched the clip start with Charlie walking in the room and Freddie coming in too.

They punched her and slapped her and kicked her.

They burned her with fags as she screamed in pain.

Even more so when Charlie would burn the fag out in her open wounds.

Charlie picked her up and grabbed her leg as he then stabbed the knife into her which made Albert look away. He couldn't bare to see it since this was Y/n, our Y/n.

She was crying and screaming in pain as he stabbed her.

He then threw her to the ground and spat on her before he went to leave and she cried out a half-yell "You Bastard!" He then grabbed a glass and threw it at her as it then shattered into pieces attacking her skin.

It was gruesome. I was angry.

All I saw was red.

Then when we arrived in the footage, Charlie then ran out the window and he left and he went to the Mormons club.

I grabbed a gun and a blade, and a knife before I got up and headed down to the club.

It was late so no one was around but Charlie..he was definitely still there, he knew he shouldn't. Of done what he did.

Ron followed me with a hammer and a knife in his coat pockets.

I slammed open the club door that said closed.

And I was met with Charlie.

In the corner of the club he was about to run away but I stopped him by grabbing him and quickly wrapping my hand around his neck.

Chocking him but not killing him.

"Your gonna apologise and your gonna pay" I said before slashing him all over his body with the blade I had.

Ron stabbed him in the leg and he cried out in pain.

"Enough" I said and Charlie's eyes relaxed but were still widened.

"Put him in the boot" I ordered and Ron nodded before doing as I said, as he began tying him up.

Ron took him to the club and chained him to the wall out the back.

Whilst I walked to Y/n’s house.

———

"What happened?" Ronnie asked me and I shrugged I didn't want to say what he did to me it felt like it was going to happen again if I did. But I knew they had to know i trusted them after all.

"I- they tortured me- " I cried out and Johnny grew mad but Ronnie, Ronnie took me into his arms and held me as I cried.

"They burned me and cut me and threw glass at me" I cried out.

"But then Reggie and Ronnie came and they saved me" i said and Ronnie looked at me.

"They saved you?" He asked me and I nodded.

Then there was a knock at the door and i jumped and Ronnie comforted me whilst Johnny went and answered it to be met with Reggie.

"Is Y/n alright?" Reggie asked and johnny nodded before inviting Reggie in.

I slowly got up very unbalanced and I made my way to Reggie into the hallway and Reggie instantly hugged me.

"You alright dove?" He asked me and gave me a kiss on the head before I nodded.

"Y/n I've gotta to take you somewhere" reg asked me and I was confused but nodded.

"I love you two" I said and hugged johnny and Ronnie before leaving and they said they're goodbyes to me too.

Reggie took me to his club and I already felt panicked as to what he needed to show me.

He held me close and led me out back to where I saw Ron and Charlie.

Ron was slapping him across the face till his cheek was red raw.

"How dare you hurt her!" Ron yelled.

Reggie coughed and Ron looked over to us and Ron smiled when he saw me.

"You alright? You still in pain?" Ron asked me but I didn't answer I was too busy focusing on Charlie and making sure he was not going to be able to hurt me.

"Right you yeah? You are going to apologise to Y/n right now, and mean it" Reggie said sternly and slapped Charlie across the face and Charlie nodded profusely.

"I will, I will" He said and Reggie nodded.

"Dove, C'mere" Reggie motioned for me to walk over to where they were but I was so scared.

I felt like Charlie was going to escape and torture me again.

"He will not hurt you, I promise" Reggie said to me as he looked into my eyes.

I trusted Reggie so I nodded and walked over to them.

"Now? What does Charles have to say?" Reggie said and charlie looked up at me and apologised pleadingly.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry please, I swear I'm sorry.. please" he repeated.

I didn't accept it but I liked to see him there pleading and begging for saving.

I liked it, I didn't but I did a part of me felt better.

" go back over to Ronnie dove" reg whispered to me and I nodded before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and walking away back over to Ron.

Ron held me closely as we watched Reggie tear Charlie limb from limb.

He broke his arms and legs and he stabbed him and cut him and he stabbed him in the face so many times he was unrecognisable.

Reggie spat on him before he walked over to me and Ron.

I gave him a kiss which made him smile.

Whilst Ron motioned to Albert to take care of what and just happened.

———

"Come on dove, its late I'm taking you home" Reggie said softly before he led us outside and he opened the car door for me and drove us home.

He instantly hugged me and he led us to our double bed and we laid there cuddling for hours and I quickly went back to my normal self in the next month.

I was feisty and funny and I was normal again.

Just how I loved it and how everyone else did.

#reggie kray #reggiekray #reggie kray x reader #ronnie kray #the krays #kray brothers #kray twins #tom hardy #legend film #legend #x reader

[kaytrawrites]

Blood thicker than Water

Summary In which Tubbo makes a thing for someone he hates. Tommy also gets shot.

Notes Tubbo, Philza, Tommy, Jack and Sneeg curse because they do that.

This is partially speculation on the history of Tubbo's current Origin, and partly a challenge to for myself to get Tubbo's characterization on the OrginsSMP right.

Story

It was a surprisingly quiet day up in the pub. Tubbo, Jack and Charlie were having a mead identification contest again. Tommy and Philza were chilling nearby watching the trio as Charlie and Jack put small shots of mead on the counter for Tubbo to identify.

Jack looked incredibly smug, while Charlie was getting increasingly frustrated. The younger Blazeborn man had known Tubbo for a while, so whenever he started brewing up new alcohols with honey, he always got Tubbo to taste test. It was the pair’s favorite little game to mess with people by getting them to bet on if Tubbo was able to identify the plants the honey used in the mead came from.

Philza smiled as the trio’s voices rose as they got more excited.

A sharp rap on the door to the pub startled the five within the building. They were all so used to everyone knowing that this was a public space, that knocking was incredibly uncommon. The door opened, and a tall blonde female in golden crystalline armor, carrying a shield made of the same stuff as her armor, entered. Her features were sharp, the way she carried herself just screaming ‘well-trained soldier’.

But the most interesting thing about her was her black antennae and matched pair of translucent wings, basically identical to Tubbo’s. “Tubbo.” She stated, her voice flat and monotone. “Come.”

Tubbo’s cheery expression had fallen flat as soon as the woman spoke. He held up a hand to Jack who had set a new shot of mead on the counter for him. “Hold up. I’ll be right back.” He slowly stood, and took a bracing breath. “I hope.” His last statement was barely audible, but those who did hear it felt a wash of concern for the young bee.

As soon as Tubbo left and closed the door, Philza sighed and dropped his head into his hands. “Fuck sake.” He growled.

“What’s up, Phil?” Jack asked. He picked up the shot glass on the counter, eyed it then knocked it back. He was never one to let good alcohol go to waste, after all.

Philza let out an aggravated sigh, and shook his head. “I had hoped that those lot would leave Tubbo alone. They were the ones who kicked him out, after all.”

“Who are ‘those lot’?” Charlie asked, cocking his head in curiosity.

“Tubbo’s OG Hive. You know how wild hives have a Queen and a bunch of workers who are also her daughters, right? Well, before a Queen dies, she produces a Princess, and a bunch of drones. When the princess is old enough, she mates with a couple of drones and takes over the hive after eliminating the previous queen.” He shook his head sadly. “The drones that don’t get mated with either get to bum around the hive waiting for a chance to breed with the queen, or get kicked out.”

“And, what does this have to do with Tubbo?” Tommy asked, his brow furrowed.

“Well, Tubbo’s people also have a very female dominated society, with males being born only from the queen. They are usually seen as breeders only, and are either treated very well, or very poorly, depending on the hive. Tubbo, from what he told me, is from one of the former.”

“If he’s from one of the ones that treated him well, why did he get kicked out?” Jack chimed in.

“Well, you know how Tubbo is really good at tinkering and engineering? That’s why. He was too smart.” Philza stated.

“Oh!” Charlie said, nodding. “You said the males are generally seen as breeders, so I’m guessing that they want to keep the males nearby to have babies with. Uh. Hold one, let me get the thought together...Like that one story someone told me about with the race that requires three individuals to have kids. The culture keeps the third sex repressed so they can have babies whenever and they are scared that if the third sex learns they can do whateve they want, their species will die out, right?”

“Along those lines, yeah.” Philza nodded. “I’m...not a fan of the bee culture, but it’s their culture and they have had pressure to change from others before. Tubbo’s people pushed back. Hard. It wasn’t pretty. Full on war.”

Tommy’s expression had fallen as he listened. “Will he need to go back?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I don’t know, Tommy. I don’t know.” Philza said.

“Fucking no!” The loud angry voice of Tubbo came from just outside the door. “Never. No way in hell! Get out!”

The door of the pub slammed open, and an angry Tubbo stomped in. The female stood just outside the door, her expression unchanged. “She is sure you will change your mind, Tubbo.” She said, raising her voice so all within the pub could hear her.

Tommy’s face went white and he scrambled to his feet to get to his friend as soon as possible. Jack held out a full mug of mead to the seething bee. Tubbo took it and took a long draw. “Fuckin’ bitches,” He growled.

Jack frowned at the woman who still stood at the entrance to the Pub. He let out a frustrated sigh, and stepped out from behind the counter. “Look lady. You are obviously not from around here, and you seem to be causing a problem with one of my regular ‘customers’. As such, I will have to ask you to leave the premises immediately.” He stared her down until she turned and leapt off the edge of the floating island and flew away.

“Thanks Jack…” Tubbo mumbled.

“Bah.” Jack waved a hand dismissively. “She rubbed me the wrong way the second she opened her mouth. Makin’ demands of my friends like she owned the place. Makes me wanna stab her with a rusty sword and pin her to the wall in a glass case.” Jack shook his head and headed back behind the counter to refill Tubbo‘s mug of mead.

Tubbo sipped the mead, his wings occasionally buzzing slightly. Tommy had known Tubbo long enough to know that his wings doing that meant he was Not Happy. It was difficult to pin down exactly what Tubbo was probably feeling, but Tommy could take an educated guess.

The young Avian perched on the stool beside the one Tubbo was on. After knowing him for so long, he felt that Tubbo just needed someone nearby, for now.

-oOo-

Tubbo slammed the switch within his workshop that closed the door. He didn’t want anyone intruding right now.

He perched on his work stool and stared down at the blank roll of graphing paper, his fingers itching to draw out the plans in his head. He shook his head, frustrated. When he had left the hive of his birth, he had sworn to never pay them any more ‘favors’.

The softVwoop of his partner teleporting into the room made him turn and half smile at the lanky young man. “Mornin’ Ranboo.”

“Hey. Tommy and Charlie said something happened. Well, Tommy babbled what happenedat me. Could barely understand him.” He leaned against one of the less cluttered tables. “Want to talk about it?”

Tubbo pursed his mouth, considering. He let out a sigh. “One of the soldiers from my old hive found me. The Queen wants me to do something. But I’m scared, Ranboo. What if this ‘just one thing’ turns into ‘well, you did the one thing, what’s another’?” He shook his head.

Ranboo nodded somberly. “You made your choice when you left. This is your choice now. None of us can make it for you.” He shrugged. “But, I know you. You’ll make the right choice for you.” He smiled slightly.

Tubbo sighed and rubbed his face. “Yeah. Thanks. I’ll be out in a bit.” He half watched as Ranboovwooped out of the workshop. With a sigh, he turned back to the graphing paper. He stared down at the paper and pencil on the table. He shoved away from the table, and stood. While plans were buzzing in his head, he had to distract himself from the past.

His hand rested on the lever that unlocked the door to his workshop, and he paused. His head dropped back and he groaned. He turned back to the table, grabbed the pencil and began sketching out the plans.

It didn’t take long, being a simple design. Tubbo dropped the pencil and sighed. He stood, flipped the lever and left the blueprint on the table in the dark. He stood outside the room, squeezing his eyes closed. He let out a slow breath and closed up his workshop.

-oOo-

The plans and the uninvited guest were almost gone from his mind again, until they weren’t. The soldier was waiting outside the Bee Inc. Ammo Shoppe, and her presence immediately soured his mood.

Sneeg was perched on the counter inside with a very displeased look on his face. He was carefully and pointedly sharpening his sword, his gaze trying to burn a whole in the back of the soldier’s head.

“Tubbo.” The soldier stated, upon spying the young bee. “We must speak.”

Tubbo glared at the woman, and felt a small flash of amusement when she took a step back. “No.”

Sneeg, upon spotting Tubbo, hopped down from the counter and scurried out the small hatch that had been installed for him. “Hey boss!” He said. “This bitch,” he jerked a thumb toward the soldier bee, “has been here since before I got here. Want me to chase her off?”

The soldier’s hand drifted to the handle of the short sword at her side.

Tubbo took a breath, and turned to face the woman. “Piss off. You aren’t welcome here.”

She glared, her hand fully resting on the handle of her short sword now. She smirked. “Telling me to go away. Hah! I shall take it as an admission that you are utterly incapable of completing the project.”

Tubbo scowled at her words. “I left because of that exact sentence. I do not take challenges of my knowledge lightly. Be glad that I don’t want to start a war because of killing you.” He stomped toward the door, opening it just wide enough that he was able to enter, then slammed it in the woman’s face.

Sneeg ducked in through his hole and deftly climbed up on the counter. “Give me the order boss, and I’ll make sure that she...ahem,‘encounters a venomous creature on her way home’ .”

A smile tugged at the corners of Tubbo’s mouth. “Nah. It’s fine. I’ve dealt with this sort of crap before. Being rude as hell is the best way to get them to piss off.”

-oOo-

Tubbo slammed his fist against his workroom table, some of the smaller bits jumping at the force.The plans were spread across the table below the parts and the unfinished device. He grabbed his pencil and scribbled on the plans, altering them slightly. He let out a frustrated sigh, and picked up the thin tongs and mallet to try and get the device to work.

He had taken the challenge personally, as he did any challenge of his knowledge. Ranboo had been concerned when he came home and beelined it straight for his workshop.

Tubbo carefully slotted the price into place and tapped the activation plate. The machine briefly hummed to life then shut down after a few seconds. Progress. Awful progress but still progress. He popped the plate off and extracted the circuit beneath. He clamped it so he could work on it more precisely and pulled down his goggles swapping to a magnifying lens.

The feeling of making a thing and having it work was always a glorious one. It didn’t take long to finish the modifications, and he slotted the circuit back in place. He replaced the activation plate and tapped on it. The machine hummed to life, and Tubbo waited, with bated breath. It hummed for about a minute, made a low ding and shut off.

Tubbo grinned, and picked up the machine, moving it off the plans. He rolled the paper up and stuffed it in his inventory bag. He picked up the machine and flew out of his workroom. “I’ll be back, Ranboo!” He called out, heading through the Nether portal.

Tubbo flew through the portal to the Pub and out the door, startling Tommy. “Tub-!” Tommy started.

“No time! Bye!”

Tubbo found the woman exactly where he expected. Outside the Ammo Shoppe. He paused, then leveled a glare. “This is the one and only time I will do this. If anyone comes looking for another ‘favor’, I will kill them.”

The woman shrugged. “Very well. I will pass your desires on to the Queen.”

Tubbo extracted the device from his bag.

“TUBBO!” The familiar voice of Tommy interrupted. “DON’T YOU DARE!”

Tubbo froze as Tommy came barreling out of the sky, ramming into the shorter Bee.Tubbo’s body jerked at the force and his arms lost their grip on the device, dropping it to the solid stone patio outside the shop.

There was a long silence from the trio. Tubbo whipped around, leveling Tommy with a glare. “Tommy. What the fuck.”

Tommy froze, staring at the badly dented machine on the ground. “Whelp! I need to go!” He said, his voice pitched higher than usual. “Goodbye!” He turned and bolted.

Tubbo drew his shortbow, ran the flat of an arrowhead across the inside of his wrist, coating it with his poison. He knocked the arrow, drew and fired. It sliced past Tommy’s arm, delivering the poison quickly.

Tommy stumbled as the slight paralyzation effect set in, and Tubbo shook his head. He drew the plan from his bag and held them out. “Here. This will help the egg-heads build a new version. Again. I don’t want anyone coming to me ever again. The plans work. Bye.”

The woman took the rolled paper, and nodded stiffly. She spread her wings and took off like a shot.

Tubbo sighed and shook his head. He hoped that they would keep their word. He didn’t doubt that they would, but the queens were clever. He spread his own wings and flew up to the pub. Tommy was gulping down a glass of milk when he arrived.

Tubbo whacked the back of Tommy’s head, delivering another sting. Tommy’s arms stiffened. “What the fuck, man!” Tommy yelped, stiffly bringing the glass up to take another sip.

RanbooVwooped in, and saw Tommy basically folded over a glass of milk and Tubbo looking disappointed. “Okay. What happened?” He sighed.

Tubbo grinned, feeling more relaxed than he had in a little while. “I shot him!”

#my fic #mcyt #origins smp #osmp #osmp tubbo #osmp jack #osmp slimecicle #osmp tommy #osmp philza #tommy survives unfortunately #imma be honest tommy’s a bit of a punching bag in this one

[missymurphy1985]

The Writer (part 10) Final Chapter - Epilogue

Warning - childbirth

Massive thank you goes out to @heidimoreton for your trust and faith with your idea - couldn't have done this without you 💖

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch

It had been nearly a full year since that first encounter. Twelve months of pure bliss. Your roommate was married to your brother now, and had a job as Charlie's tutor - Thomas still hadn't allowed him back at the school so Laura had been hired as his home tutor. You'd moved into Arrow House when you discovered there was a mini Shelby on the way.

Flashback

"Y/n, come here..." Polly had been over that morning to help you make plans for Christmas dinner. Your brother and Laura were coming, along with the Shelby family, and you were panicking about the whole thing. You wanted it to be perfect. You entered the kitchen where Polly suddenly grabbed under your left breast, and you instantly pulled away.

"What are you doing?"

"Just stand still will you?"

"Stand still while my boyfriend's aunt gropes me??"

"Yes." You furrowed your brow in confusion but allowed her to continue.

"This isn't awkward at all Polly, wanna tell me what's going on?" Thomas walked in right at that moment, and froze instantly.

"Polly... Polly what are you doing?" He eyed her, but not suspiciously like you did. It was more of a 'knowing' kind of look.

"Well well Thomas.. hardly surprising considering you two can barely keep your hands off each other..." She smirked.

You were totally confused, darting your eyes between them

"Someone wanna enlighten me?"

Tommy looked to the floor, rubbing his eyes, before smiling. A huge grin, followed by a long sigh.

"Remember telling me you didn't have children with Jack because you thought you couldn't have them?" Polly asked and you nodded, still trying to work out what was going on.

"You weren't infertile, y/n." Tommy leaned against the door, his eyes slightly damp as he glanced at your stomach. The penny still hadn't dropped.

"Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on here?"

Tommy nodded at Polly who left the room, smiling to herself. Tommy pulled you over to him, his hands stroking your arms.

"After Grace died, I vowed never to love again. It felt like I would be cheating on her, disgracing her memory. She didn't need replacing, and I certainly couldn't replace her. When you lost Jack, you felt the same, which is exactly why I think fate brought us together. We discovered there was enough room in our hearts for another love. Now, it seems we need to make room for one more." His right hand took yours, and he placed them both over your stomach gently. The penny dropped, and your mouth hung open in stunned silence.

"I'm... I'm pregnant?"

"You are. Pol?" Polly came back in and threw her arms around you, squealing with delight.

"But I didn't think I could... Jack and I tried for years..."

"You clearly weren't the infertile one, y/n. I'd say you're around six weeks already, you're glowing! That's how I could tell," Polly had tears in her eyes, and you felt your emotions coming to the surface.

"I can just about handle one of you crying, both of you will send me over the edge, knock it off!" Thomas laughed, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve making your eyes water more, a choked sob leaving your chest.

He pulled you close, his chin resting on the top of your head as you sobbed with happiness into his shoulder.

"A baby..." You choked.

"Our baby. And now we know you can have them, don't think we're stopping here either," he winked, making you grin. You'd have a football team of Shelby's if you could.

Present Day

You were both lying in bed having a lazy Sunday morning. Tommy's hand drifting over your baby, still tucked warmly inside you but due to make her appearance in the next two weeks. Occasionally she would kick his hand - the clear bump visible making both of you smile.

"She's going to be famous - Polly told me," you grinned, clasping your hand over his, resting it where she'd kicked.

"She's going to be beautiful. Any thoughts on names?"

"Yes. What do you think of Jacqueline Grace?" You asked, nervously. A mix of the two people who'd brought you both together. He looked down at your belly, moving his body down to kiss it lightly, smiling.

"I love it. It's perfect.. thank you.."

You grimaced slightly as a sharp pain shot through your abdomen, you'd had a few over the last few days but put them down to over exertion - you'd refused to rest up like Tommy had ordered, continued the renovation planning of the house.

"You okay?" He asked as you tensed.

"Yes - Ada warned me about this, it's just my body preparing that's all, nothing to worry about." Your hand suddenly tightened on his as another pain gripped you, you sat up and gritted your teeth.

"Shit..." Tommy gasped as a sudden gush of water flooded the sheet underneath you. He looked to you, both of you panicking but smiling through the fear.

"Call Polly - I think your daughter wants to meet us a little earlier than planned!" He kissed you, then shot up and ran down the stairs to the phone in his office.

You stood up, walking round in circles, rubbing your belly as another wave of pain took over. You were doubled up, haunched over a chair when Tommy came back in the room, panting through the pain.

"She's out - Michael's out looking for her... We need to call a doctor -"

"No! I wanted this to be family only Thomas, I don't want doctors fussing or drugs, I can do this without them... Just rub my back, please.." he moved to your side, his hand stroking firmly over your lower back.

"I don't know what to do y/n!"

"You do as I need you to do, then when Polly gets here you can leave if you need to.."

"Not a chance am I letting you go through this alone - I'm staying right here if you'll let me?" You turned to him surprised, but nodded.

"Fuck... Tommy this really hurts..." Another wave of pain. "Take me downstairs, I need water..." He led you slowly down the stairs into the lounge, before fetching you a glass of water. You paced the room, the pressure in your pelvis was excruciating but you tried to remember Ada and Polly's advice as much as possible - breathing slowly, staying calm.

"Thomas where is she?!" You screamed, leaning over the back of the sofa. The contractions were coming quickly and getting more painful. Weren't these things supposed to take hours?? Days even??

"Come lie down, rest - you need to keep your strength up..." He lay you down on the floor, but you quickly realised that wasn't what you wanted. You moved into a kneeling position, your upper body resting against Tommy's chest as he breathed with you through each contraction.

"Tommy, I can feel her pushing down..." You panted. He suddenly took charge - lifting your nightdress up and ripping your panties away from you. Reaching a hand between your legs, he pulled away sharply.

"Then push - she's coming now whether Polly is here or not, I can feel her head - Push!"

You bore down, gripping onto his shoulders for support. The pain was stifling. His hand between your legs, he could feel his baby's head slowly pushing through.

Pulling away from you slightly, he grabbed a cushion from the sofa and placed it between your knees.

One of the maids must have heard the commotion, and she entered the room carrying a bowl of cool water and towels.

"Mr Shelby let me help, I've delivered three sisters..." He nodded, holding your nightdress up by your waist as Clara focussed on the baby.

"Thomas Shelby, you put that cock anywhere near me again and I'll cut it off, you hear me??"

"Shh now you know that's not true.... I've got you, come on... I'll breathe with you, eh?"

"Mrs Shelby you need to pant - do not push until I tell you to, okay?" Clara ordered.

Tommy leaned back, looking directly into your eyes.

"With me... Come on..." You found strength in those blue eyes, as he panted with you. Your eyes watering from the immense pain between your legs. "Stay with me, that's it, I've got you.."

"Heads out, push now Mrs Shelby!"

A scream left you as your body took over.

"How much more Clara?!" Tommy asked, desperate not to see you suffering any more.

"We're nearly there now, one more Mrs Shelby.."

"You hear that? One more and our girl is here. Jacqueline Grace will be here in her Mama's arms, come on baby, you can do this I know you can." You shook your head to protest but again your body defied you.

"Tom... Shit shit shit...." The wave of pain, tied with your exhaustion, was almost too much to bear. You couldn't take anymore, you could see the blood on Tommy's shoulders through his shirt where your nails had dug into him. You rested your head on his chest, focussing on his heart beat as he kissed your head. One scream from you, followed swiftly by a baby's cry from underneath you as you slumped against him, completely exhausted.

A few minutes went by, as Tommy eased you onto the floor between his legs, pulling your nightdress clean off you. You didn't care that Clara saw you completely bare - there wasn't much more she could have seen at that point. Just as you regained your senses, your baby girl was placed on your chest, having been checked and cleaned by your new favourite maid.

"Congratulations Mr and Mrs Shelby, she's perfectly healthy," she smiled, handing her to you. She instinctively searched for your breast, hungrily suckling from you as a wave of pure love took over. You could feel Tommy shuddering slightly underneath you, unashamedly crying as he watched his daughter feed.

"You were so brave.. so strong.. you blew me away y/n, I'm so fucking proud of you..."

Once you'd been cleaned up and moved back upstairs in bed, Polly arrived. She stopped in the doorway in shock, seeing you lying in bed sleepily as your husband swayed back and forth, Jacqueline in his arms dozing.

"Better late than never, eh Pol?" He laughed, handing his daughter to his Aunt. She choked holding the little one close, kissing the top of her head gently.

You tried so hard to stay awake but you could feel your eyelids growing heavy. A small kiss placed on the top of your head sealed the deal.

"Sleep now Mama. You'll need your rest, because I'm putting another one of those in you at the earliest opportunity."

#thomas shelby x smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #tommy shelby x smut #tommy x fem!reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x pregnant reader #tommy shelby x childbirth #thomas shelby x pregnant reader #thomas shelby x childbirth

[raindownforme]

Writing Event

Hi! I was tagged by @jschllatt for a writing event, and this is for her!

———

5. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used] (reader had freckles for context)

y/n stirred in their sleep, doing their best to shift with the almost unfamiliar weight. Almost, as if they didn’t know what it felt like to have someone else laying on top of them.

“Charlie?”

“No no no, go back to sleep.”

y/n peeked one eye open, looking at their boyfriend. Charlie was lazily propped up on one arm, the rest of his weight draped over y/n’s once sleeping self.

“Good morning I guess.” y/n tried to move, but found themself still stuck under Charlie. He had a leg wrapped between theirs and a hand holding the side of their face. “Can I get up yet?”

“No wait I’m counting.” Charlie’s voice was hushed, just above a whisper. y/n watched him squint as he focused on various points of their face.

“Maybe you’d be quicker if you put your glasses on.”

Charlie gasped, letting go of y/n’s face to reach over to the bedside table. He returned with his glasses resting on his nose, starting to fall off from the angle. “Okay. Now I have to start over.”

“Do we have to do this right now?” y/n yawned.

“Aw, you’re adorable. And yes I do.”

“Babe, I want to get up. Can you do this later? Some other time I’m asleep?”

“Fine I’ll stop counting.”

“Thank you.”

“Now it’s time to play connect-the-dots!” Charlie pulled y/n closer with his legs. He began to very gently drag his finger across the surface of y/n’s skin, following made-up patterns and lines.

y/n hummed lowly, feigning annoyance with their boyfriend. “Can you stop playing connect-the-dots with my freckles?”

Charlie drew back his touch. “Fine.” He rolled over, releasing y/n from his weight, and rolled over.

y/n propped themselves upright, frowning. “Don’t tell me you’re upset?”

Charlie mumbled a response and y/n leaned closer to try and hear him. He leaned closer a bit as well, repeating himself. “I wanted to see.”

“They aren’t even patterns, it’s just dots.”

“No, these ones-“ Charlie turned back and very gently put his thumb over the side of their face, right over where the cheek bones began and to the side of the outer corner of their eye. “It’s almost a triangle shape. Or a couple triangles. There a couple patterns, you just don’t see them.”

y/n paused, almost freezing under Charlie’s touch, then leaned into the contact. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Get back here and keep counting loser.”

y/n opened their arms, allowing Charlie to get back to his previous position in the shared bed and continue happily connecting the dots.

———

8. Charlie Slimecicle x reader [they/them]

y/n shivered. It was that kind of early morning cold. The being on a leather car seat while the wind whipped outside. The early morning chill of January.

y/n and Charlie knew this was coming. They’d known for two months know. Earlier, in the beginning of November when they planned the trip, neither one of them felt the sadness they feel now. They’d both been happy; y/n had the ability to come stay the whole month with Charlie. Usually, the couple could only see each other a few weeks out of the year. Usually it was Charlie with the looser schedule, and usually that made Charlie the one to drive or fly the distance between them.

y/n stared out the window lazily. There weren’t very many people out on the roads at this hour. They watched the grey industrial buildings pass as Charlie turned into the airport, going up to the third floor of the parking garage and finding an empty spot.

y/n quietly and slowly unbuckled themself from the car. They left the car, turning to see Charlie already holding their large suitcase. y/n smiled at him, small tears coming to their eyes. They reached out politely, trying to take it from him.

“No I want it.”

“It’s okay, it’s not even yours.”

“Let me. Please?”

y/n gave in with a smile, taking Charlie’s free hand in theirs as they let Charlie lead them into the airport. They made their way across the patterned carpet to the check-desk.

“Hi there.” There was a lone employee working the front desk. She extended a hand outwards. “Boarding pass and ID please?” y/n fished though their carry-on bag, bringing forth the paper and plastic card. The employee scanned it and looked over at their computer. “Alright, just you y/n?”

“Yes.” y/n knew it wasn’t meant to be cruel, but the words still dug at their skin and itched at their bones. Just them. No Charlie. They’d be alone. Again.

“Alright. That’ll be gate 36B. Unfortunately, sir, you can’t come to the gate.”

“What the farthest I can come?” Charlie glanced over to y/n.

“Just to TSA.”

“Is there any way?”

“I’m sorry I can only bend that rule if you’re accompanying a minor.”

Charlie nodded and the couple walked away. They walked towards the large LED bord that displayed the flight information. y/n watched Charlie scan it with squinted eyes.

“401 right? Flight 401? We’ve got— shit.” Charlie frowned. “40 minutes. We move gotta get you through security.”

“We?”

Charlie looked back to y/n. They had tears brimming their eyes and were fiddling with a loose string on the sleeve of their sweater. They were still wearing Charlie’s sweater.

“I guess I can’t take you any further.”

“I know that.”

“You don’t have to get mad at me.” Charlie frowned at y/n. He set their bag to the side and gently took the carry-on from their shoulders, placing it near the bag. Charlie pulled them closer, wrapping his body around them and leaning his head against the top of theirs. “I’ll see you again.”

“But when?” y/n did their best to not cry, but it seemed impossible in this moment. They were tired. They were cold. And they had to leave the person they cared for more than anything within the next ten minutes.

“I don’t know. Valentine’s Day? I can try and drive over in maybe April?”

“But that’s such a long drive. God why can’t this be fucking easier?” y/n groaned against Charlie’s shoulder, grasping onto his shirt tighter with their fists. “It took me so long to save for this and I don’t know— I don’t know anything.”

“Then move in with me.”

“What?” y/n looked at Charlie with a strange smile. It wasn’t the first time Charlie had suggested the idea, but they’d only been dating for a few months the last time it was mentioned. Now they were a year and 6 months deep and it was the first it had been mentioned in a while.

“Or I’ll move in with you. We wouldn’t have to be separated, and I could work virtually anywhere.”

“We don’t have— I don’t have room at my place for a streaming set up.”

“We can get an all new place. Just us. We can go look around when I’m down there.”

y/n thought for a moment. “Alright. You better hurry then.”

“Of course.”

The two stood in silence for a minute, still hugging. y/n glanced over at the clock that hung near the LED display. “I gotta go. I still gotta get through security.”

“No. Wait, don’t pull away… not yet.” Charlie pressed y/n even closer, leaving light kisses on the top of their head and the side of their face. “I love you. Please text me when you land. Like seriously.”

“I will I will. I love you too.”

“Okay.” Charlie let y/n go. He handed them all their stuff and stepped back, taking them in before not seeing them for the next few weeks. “How many other sweater did you steal?”

“Only two more, but I think I deserve them.”

“Alright.” Charlie laughed a bit. “Go get on your flight.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Charlie watched silently as y/n made their way through security. It took them almost five minutes, but once on the other side, they sent a sad wave to Charlie and walked off to the gates. Charlie waited a moment, hesitating, then made the walk to his car alone. He crossed the airport street alone. He walked in the parking garage alone. And he got in his car and drove home. Alone.

———

12. Canon! Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used]

Las Nevadas was on fire. The water feature had died out hours ago. The casino was crumbling to stone. The tower had been cut in half. The strip club had been shattered. The restaurant had been torn apart. The roads were destroyed. The toll bridge had collapsed.

But they won, right?

Quackity stood alone. He watched his allies from a short distance. Foolish supported Purpled’s weight as he leaned against the god with a broken leg. Fundy rested against a wall, panting and covered in blood that didn’t belong to himself. Sam was no where to be seen, but they knew he was still alive.

But Slime? He was running. He was running in a large circle, searching through rubble and ash as he shouted.

“y/n?” Y/N?” He leaned on his hands and knees in the sand. His suit had been ruined for a long time now. The seams of his button up shirt had begun to rip in battle, the bottom of his pant legs had been singed and torn and blackened by the battle, and he wore only one suspender now, the other one much too weak and quite easily forgotten. He did not wear his tie, however he knew who was wearing it. “y/n?”

“Quackity,” Fundy looked upwards to his ally. “We can’t let him.”

Quackity ran a shaky, blood-stained hand down the front of his own suit in a nervous manner. “He has to find out somehow. Do you want to tell him?”

Fundy didn’t say anything, instead watching his friend run around. “Y/N!”

“This is cruel.” Foolish whispered to Purpled. The young boy could only nod in agreement, just a little too weak to do much else. Foolish, realizing this, helped the teen move over to sit next to Fundy, resting him against the crumbling wall of the fountain. Foolish turned around with the intent to aid Slime in his search, but was stopped by a simple hand placed upon his shoulder.

Quackity stood to the left of Foolish. He could see Quackity do his best to hold in the tears that had already left small tracks through the dust that had settled over Quackity’s face. “Just— let him. I can’t tell him. I can’t.”

The group watched Slime dig by hand. The rouble almost phased through his skin, but he kept digging. When he got too frustrated by one building, he ran to the next one, repeating the process. They watched on in pain for only a minute longer. Fundy looked to Foolish and Quackity. “Do we know where-?”

“Y/N.” Slime screamed in utter joy, pulling out y/n from the rubble. He proudly carried them back over to where Quackity and the rest of the group sat, gently setting them down on the ruined pavement. He kneeled with them, resting their head in his lap. Slime very gently carded his fingers through their hair, seeming to think to himself. He reached deep into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a neon pink healing potion.

Foolish shrugged off Quackity’s grasp and walked over to where Slime sat. He kneeled down next to the green guy, placing a hand on his shoulder to try and pull him away. “Slime, buddy—“

“Let me go.” Slime’s voice was gentle and somehow mature. He spoke sadly, but also as though he understood what was happening still. “I can still save them. I know I can.”

Foolish glanced back to the group to watch Quackity shake his head solemnly. “Buddy, I know it’s hard-“

“No, I promised.” Slime’s voice began to shake. He desperately poured the potion over the parts of y/n’s body where damage was obvious; bruises from the crushing rubble, burns from the fires and explosions, and the gaping cauterized sword wound to their abdomen. Slime smiled as he gazed at their peaceful face. It almost looked like they were sleeping. “I promised them.”

“Promised what buddy?”

“I told them everyone turns to dust and goes away, but I promised them I wouldn’t let it happen. I’ve seen it happen. I watched it. And I wouldn’t let them turn to dust.” Slime leaned down, pressing a light kiss to y/n’s forehead. He stayed close, whispering to the corpse in his lap. “Im so sorry.”

Foolish placed a hand on Slime’s shoulder again, trying to pull him away. “Buddy-“

“No!” He pushed Foolish away, leaning closer to y/n and holding them in a protective embrace. Slime gently laid a hand on y/n wrist, feeling the material of his neck tie in a knot around it. “I can still help them, please just let me— let me save them. Please.”

The group sat in silence. Slime’s shoulders shook as he sobbed over y/n’s body. Fundy and Quackity wiped away a few tears as well, listening to their friend wail into the night.

———

14. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them]

“Listen, man, hurry up. We were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago.” Schlatt leaned back into the plush leather seat, resting a hand over his eyes.

Charlie sighed, looking over the stuff he’d piled on the couch. He huffed, looking around. “Okay. I’ve got my phone, charger, wallet, jacket, I’m dressed, teeth brushed, what the fuck am I forgetting?”

“Uh, buddy.” Ted cleared his throat and tapped at the side of his face. Charlie paused for a moment, squinting before realizing what he missed.

“My glasses! My goddamn glasses. Alright gimme a minute.”

The two boys watched Charlie walk back down the hall of Ted’s apartment. Schlatt groaned and lazily stood up from his seat. He walked over to the small pile of Charlie’s stuff and began sorting through.

“What are you doing?”

“If I can find these faster, maybe we can actually get out of here.” Schlatt stuck his hands into the pockets of Charlie’s jacket. “Hate this fucking smog— oh.”

“Oh?” Ted sat up slightly, watching Schlatt pull a small black velvet box out. “Oh. Oh! Holy fuck.”

“Did he talk to you about this?” Schlatt dropped the volume of his voice, trying to not alert Charlie.

“No not at all. Is it for y/n?”

“I guess.” Ted and Schlatt had never met y/n in person before, only talking when they would be nearby if Charlie was in a discord call. But the two knew that Charlie loved them dearly, he talked about them whenever he got the chance. He boasted about anything y/n did, anywhere they went, any thing he could say.

“Do we— do we give him advice? Do we say anything?”

“Do you have advice to give someone who’s about to propose?”

Schlatt bit the inside of his lip. Instead of responding to Ted, he opened the box and his eyes went wide. “Holy shit dude.”

“What?” Ted got up and walked over to Schlatt’s side. The ring Charlie had gotten was beautiful; a silver band with ornate vines that held very small diamonds, all encasing a round amber gem. Ted very gently took the box from Schlatt, rotating it back and forth to see how the light glimmered on the gemstones.

“Ted this is… where’d he even get that?”

“I don’t know.” Ted stared into the ring. “We shouldn’t be hanging this. We should put it back.”

“Why do I want to wear it?”

“Why do you?”

Schlatt took the box from Ted, staring at it for a moment, then put it back in the coat pocket. He shuffled the jacket around, trying to make the setting look natural. “Now wha—“

“Okay I found it.” Charlie ran out of the room, rubbing at the glass with his shirt material. “What are we standing about?”

“Nothing.” Ted turned to Charlie quickly, awkwardly smiling. “Ready?”

The three boys made their way from Ted’s home to his car, then out onto the streets of Hollywood, headed towards Santa Monica. It was only a half-hour drive, and no one had too much to say.

“So. Charles.” Ted glanced at his friend in the backseat through the rear view mirror. “How are you and y/n doing?”

Schlatt made a pointed look at Ted as Charlie began talking. “We’re great! They got this really big job and we’re going to celebrate when I get back. There’s this restaurant downtown that’s so pretty— it’s their favorite! I mean, it was going to be a surprise, but hopefully it all goes well.”

Schlatt, thought for a moment, catching on to what Ted was thinking. “Is there something that needs to go well? It’s just dinner isn’t it?”

“Actually, can I tell you both about something?”

“Yes.” They both answered in unison, turning to look at Charlie as they stopped at the red light.

“Well, I wanted to, at dinner, I mean we weren’t doing dinner until I get back home, but I have this.” Both boys held their breath as Charlie went fishing in his jacket pockets. It took him a few minutes to procure the small black box, but eventually his found it and held it forwards, showing it off to his friends.

“Wow. Proposing?” Schlatt laid surprise thick into his voice, and thankfully Charlie didn’t notice.

“Yeah! I picked it out myself. Here look.” Charlie opened up the box, showing off the gems that sparkled in the sunlight. Schlatt glanced up at Ted who stared forwards at the 10 freeway.

“That’s really cool, thanks for telling us.”

Charlie frowned. “Is it not as good idea? You don’t sound that excited.”

“No it’s a great idea! I mean obviously we don’t know y/n as well.” Schlatt gestured to himself and Ted. “But it’s obvious you love them. I mean look at you, buying a ring and everything. Making dinner plans, Charlie this is amazing.”

“Also Schlatt found the ring earlier.”

Schlatt smacked Ted on the arm, sending him a glare. “So you guys knew?” Charlie smacked the box shut.

“Not on purpose. I was trying to find your glasses and I just happened across it. You didn’t hide it very well.”

“I—“

Ted laid on the horn, repeatedly honking at the Tesla that had cut him off. “Son of a mother fucker.”

“Starting to hate LA?”

Ted peered over at Schallt with a glare, then went back to driving. “We are happy for you Charlie, we were just kind of waiting for you to mention it to us.”

“Yeah, and we want to meet y/n! It’s been two years now?”

“Of course you can.” Charlie scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m just scared? I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never felt so strongly about anyone before. I’m terrified.”

“Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s y/n. You fly home tomorrow right?” Charlie nodded. “Let us know how it goes man. I’m invested now.”

Charlie laughed. “Alright. Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, Charlie took the 7 hour flight home. In that same day, Ted and Schlatt each received a picture of y/n wearing the engagement ring around their finger, both them and Charlie smiling wide.

———

Congrats Nat on getting 1k!

#charlie slimecicle my beloved #charlie slimecicle #charlie slimecicle x reader #slimecicle #slimecicle x reader #dsmp #dsmp x reader #dsmp fanfic #chuckle sandwhich x reader #chuckle sammy #chuckle sandwich #lunch club x reader #lunch club #origins smp #smpllive #jschlatt #schlatt #ted nivison #ted nivision

[totallyexhausted]

So, I am re-watching Danny Phantom and the idea of Lancer caring for an ill Danny crossed my mind after I read all the ones I could find. I also toyed with Danny’s powers; him being able to change, obviously, but also seance and see dead spirits (and ghosts; leaving spirits and ghosts as separate entities) walking around. Basically, I upped the rating on Danny Phantom and combined Klaus Hargreeves powers with Danny’s own abilities.

Also, I’ll say, and maybe it’s the song I’m listening to, or the fact that I was reworking Greenberg and Coach from TW, but I got the picture of Danny showing up at Lancer’s door, high off his ass mumbling about Sam, Ghosts, and other teenager things.

…………………………………..

Lance Lancer had never seen a kid so sick, nor did he remember his own son ever being this ill. Danny groaned loudly, curling further into himself, his arms tightly protecting his stomach as his nails dug bloody indents on his forearms. He was shivering, his ghost sense going off every few minutes, creating a barely visible burst of cold air biting back against his sweaty flesh. He clenched his eyes shut as he tried to forget about the spirits flooding the room. As he tried to forget their voices, their screams, their hands brushing over him as they pleaded for him to look. As they begged for him to help.

Lancer bit his bottom lip as he pressed his hand harder against the 17-year-old’s shaking front shoulder, his other trying to work through some of the knots plaguing the boy’s shoulder blades. He shouldn’t have this many tight muscles, this much stress forced in his back at his age… and the fact that Danny seemed to curl tighter into himself, straining his muscles further every time he took a slow, shallow breath, worried the English teacher more.

The teenager groaned again, clenching his eyes shut tighter as he swallowed quickly, letting out a shaky breath. He stilled, hoping his lack of movement would help ease the nausea stampeding through his body and after taking several slow breaths, he relaxed. He hated being sick… not that anyone loved puking their guts out for hours, let alone in someone else’s home, but his ghost sense always made him on-edge, unable to sleep peacefully or unwind. Every spark of Ghost-breath as Tucker called it, sent violent shivers through him making it harder for his body to heat or cool properly.

The last time Danny remembered being this sick was a few days after the Accident. He’d been on a famous “Fenton Family Vacation,” which was just code for some lame ghost-convention his parents attended every year, forcing their two kids to cram in the RV for a 12-hour car trip to some middle-class hotel. Usually, Jazz and Danny occupied their time exploring the city or making fun of the people who attended the convention. But since the Accident a few days before, for Danny, the family vacation turned into 3-days of complete feverish hell as his body tried to figure out how to survive with only half an immune system, half the person he used to be.

There wasn’t much to remember from that experience except cold showers, endless puking, aimless wondering in some sauna-type hotel as Danny tried running from himself, and the vague memory of leaning against his father several times as his mother coaxed him to take whatever foul-tasting liquid she wanted him to drink. Whether or not his parents actually attended the convention, or if Jazz had explored the same boring city, Danny couldn’t remember. But he remembered his parents arguing, his sister cradling him to her chest on the bathroom floor, and at some point, crouching under the bathroom counter as he forced himself small, trying to hide from the green-eyed, white-haired kid in the mirror or the bloody, contorted people following him. Since then, sickness never came easy despite his immune system being half-dead or ghosted or whatever it was Tucker had told him.

The 17-year-old pressed his face against the comforter, lessening the pain shooting through his temples as the thought of puking again slowly began to evade, and his head welcomed the soft cool fabric cushioning the migraine eating away at his jawline. He was lying at the edge of the bed, curled into what had to be a pathetic sweaty ball, his knees pulled halfway to his chest as he braced his arms across his stomach. This was hell. It had to be. Because only some sick fuck would make him miserable, feverishly grasping what little reality he could hold onto, and so nauseous he couldn’t move, away from his parents with only Mr. Lancer as his only comfort. It was some kind of sick joke.

Danny’s stomach churned, and he swallowed hard, his hands clammy against his overheated skin, trying to will whatever else he could possibly still have in his stomach, back down. He stilled again, breathing shallowly through his nose, feeling his stomach relax slightly. He sighed internally, praying to God he was done puking as heat lit through his veins, and Danny lurched, retching loudly as he shut his eyes, willing for everything to stop. He had no strength left to hold himself up; his mind fuzzy and everything hard to piece together through sweaty nauseating moments. He whimpered as he lurched again, retching as bitter acidic bile spewed from his mouth, running down his chin, and the 17-year-old coughed harshly, tightening his grip across his stomach, and clenching his eyes shut as he struggled to breathe through the rest of it.

He felt something wipe across his chin and mouth, his stomach lurching further at the thought of the humiliation of being so exhausted and sick he couldn’t even be bothered to wipe any of his vomit away from him. Danny whimpered loudly, letting foul saliva pool from his mouth as his stomach heaved, hanging his head off the edge of the bed over what he had been hoping for the past two hours was a wastebasket… but considering Lancer had rapidly become more concerned with other ailments such as the teenager’s temperature or the tight muscles straining in his shoulders and back, the 17-year-old was willing to bet the dark wooden floor wasn’t pretty. He’d also been too scared to look, not wanting the guilt of Lancer having to clean up his vomit added onto the guilt and humiliation he already felt.

“Alright. Easy, Daniel. It’s alright… just let it all up. It’s alright,” Lancer said as softly as he could. He was pretty sure the kid was mostly delirious by now, his fever spiking as sweat layered on top of him, soaked through damp clothes and sheets that were plastered to the teenager’s pale skin. He couldn’t even hold himself up anymore, his face pressed against the edge of the bed while Lancer kept a firm grasp on his shoulder so the kid wouldn’t topple off.

Lancer pressed the disregarded and mostly warm rag from the nightstand against the teenager’s face; forehead, cheeks, neck, trying his best to mop up as much sweat as he could, trying to cool Danny off as much as he could without physically carrying him into the bathroom and forcing him under a cold shower. It wasn’t ideal, and Lancer knew from previous experience with his own son, it wouldn’t be pretty; but considering Lancer was currently in charge of the poor kid, he was willing to do whatever was necessary. He’d just never seen a kid so sick.

Lightening flashed outside as a branch scrapped against the glass windowpane, thunder clashing loudly as rain continued to beat against the old house. The small leak in the roof audible in the kitchen as tiny droplets fell against some crappy tin figurines his wife failed to take in the divorce. Lancer had always hated them… but he didn’t have the heart to toss them… or admit to himself that those stupid scrap metal trinkets were his last thread he had tied to her. His last hope that maybe she’d come back. But it’d been 12 years… and she wasn’t coming back. Neither was Charlie.

Danny coughed harshly, flinching as something cool touched the back of his neck, brushing sweaty sticky hair matted to his neck from his burning flesh. He felt like he was on fire. No, worse… his core was always cold, freezing almost; so, his temperature was lower than any other humans. So, the fire eating away at his muscles and memories, was excruciating.

He coughed again, wheezing slightly as his heart skipped. He had to be breathing faster than normal… hell, he was breathing faster than normal. Air sucked through achy lungs and forced out through a dry mouth as his heart tried keeping up the pace. He swallowed, pulling his knees further to his chest, shivering again as his ghost sense went off, and he opened his eyes slightly, wincing as the dark room spun in a multitude of blacks, browns, and dark purples. Red mixed against almost translucent flesh as faces inched closer, and Danny’s stomach lurched, hard, as his eyes met the contorted and split face of a middle-aged man in coveralls.

The teenager choked, swallowing loudly as his stomach cramped again, barely feeling Lancer’s hands trying desperately to work out the clenched muscles in his back. Blood dripped from the man’s face; his appearance split into two as his smile dropped in opposite directions. Normally, Danny could ignore it; ignore them… but it was worse when he was vulnerable. He couldn’t block them out. And to be completely honest, the past couple of months hadn’t been easy on him.

He and Sam had broken up before they ever began dating. Tucker had maintained under the radar both boyfriends and girlfriends while helping his childhood crush, Valerie, pick off the ghosts Danny had missed. They were still close, the three of them; but Sam had been more distant, avoiding plans with Danny when it was just the two of them… and deep down the teenager knew it was his fault. Everything was.

The 17-year-old bit his lip, blood coating his tongue as he buried his nails further against his flesh. Sam had almost died. She had been willing to sacrifice everything for Danny… and that was something Danny would never have been able to live with. He had fucked up. He had tried to help… and she had almost died. The faint tan scars still visible against her neckline, shining as a reminder in the sunlight and under the florescent lighting in the chemistry lab. Since then, she’d been doing her best to avoid Danny, and Danny let her. He couldn’t face her. He didn’t know how.

That had been months ago, but it still flooded the teenager’s mind every time he glanced in her direction. Every time their hands touched in chemistry… every time she forced a watered-down excuse past purple lipstick. The sigh. That sigh. She had been scared of him that night. He saw it. The fear plagued across her face. The horror. And Danny didn’t blame her because he scared himself nowadays too.

He felt colder than he had been in his youth, emotions concrete against things that troubled his peers. His demeanor seemed further away as he toppled over the puny shadow of his early years. He wasn’t a pushover; Dash didn’t come near him anymore… but he was still outcasted, marked freakshow as newer threats and tougher bullies appeared. Sam had borne witness to things Tucker knew nothing about; she had seen a darker side of Danny that the teenager tried so damn hard to hide. But it was getting harder… the spirits were bleeding through more and more, scratching his mind and haunting him with nightmares that kept the 17-year-old up most nights. Nothing was a comfort anymore. Not even his friends. Not even his sister.

The teenager’s stomach lurched again, and he felt cooper flood his mouth as he bit his lip harder, forcing his eyes shut, cutting off the images around him as the spirits continued to scream. He breathed through his nose slowly, feeling Lancer’s hand grip his fingers as he tried to pry the teenager’s grip baring against his sweaty flesh.

“Wuthering Heights, Daniel!” Lancer breathed, still trying to force Danny’s fingers away from his arm as the small bloody marks from his nails became visible. Despite visibly shaking, and his breathing coming in teeth-chattering waves, Lancer was surprised Danny’s grip remained resilient. Likewise, when Danny had grabbed his wrist in the hallway earlier, when Lancer had startled the teenager, his icy-blue eyes daggered towards him, watching the older man’s actions, his fingers tight and threatening around his wrist… Lancer had been taken aback by the teenager’s strength. Just like now.

The English teacher sighed, giving up and pressing his hand against the 17-year-old’s shoulder once more as Danny lurched, coughing harshly. Concern and sympathy ate away at Lancer’s expression; his own actions feeling clumsy and foreign as he tried to soothe the teenager as much as he could. As much as he remembered. But he hadn’t comforted his own son in almost 12 years… and Danny had become much more distant and independent over the past three. So, the comfort Lancer used to try and reassure the kid, felt awkward, just as the sickened pain written across the teenager’s pale face, looked wrong.

The lights flickered above, and Lancer glanced up, hoping he wasn’t going to lose power as that would add to his already worrying list of problems. Lightening cracked again, a tree in the front yard visible momentarily as a branch fell against the window, rain threatening to break glass, and the distant sound of a tornado signal blaring through Amity Park.

Danny whimpered loudly, clenching his eyes as voices cut through his skull, pounding against the pain enveloped in his forehead and cheekbones, trailing down his jawline and neck. The bed spun despite the teenager being curled into a tight motionless ball, sweat falling from his hairline as the smell of body odor reached his nostrils, and the 17-year-old gagged.

Lancer pressed a reassuring hand against the teenager’s shoulder, murmuring he’d be right back before rising, grabbing the lukewarm rag from the nightstand, and trashcan from beside the bed as he made his way towards the kitchen. After replacing the trash bag and running the rag through cold water, Lancer sighed loudly, pressing his hands against the counter as he watched water droplets forming through the small hole in his ceiling and ping against the metal statues harbored on the bar.

He huffed again, running a tired hand over his bald head as he stared at his reflection in the dark window. The electricity shut off as the lights flickered before the microwave beeped loudly as the powerlines fought against the storm. He didn’t need this. And if there was any type of superior being looking out for him, they’d keep the lights on. At least, Lancer would have one thing going for him then.

He sighed again, glancing towards the direction of his guestroom then back towards his reflection. It was nearing 5am, and despite the sun aimed to rise in an hour, Lancer doubted it would bleed through the storm that had showed no signs of letting up. He wished it would, wished the skies would clear… wished flights would take off because that meant Danny’s parents and sister could fly home. They’d be able to take better care their son… they’d know what to do. Lancer didn’t. He hadn’t been a dad in years… he hadn’t looked after someone in years…

Danny had been miserable all day, this had become evident to Lancer in 4th period as he berated the teenager for once again sleeping in his class. His cocky, sarcastic attitude pushing the English teacher to his limit as he awarded the 17-year-old with another days’ detention. But it hadn’t been until later that Lancer began to notice things he should have seen to begin with. The dark circles, pale complexion, the bloody nose, and red tint painted across sharp cheekbones; his voice, cracked and sudden, as Danny retorted sarcasm aimed to hurt… his stare gazing past whatever Lancer had been teaching, staring at nothing but looking at everything.

Lancer shook his head as he glanced down at the red coffee cup and abandoned bowl of cereal lying in the sink. This had not been in his Wednesday evening plans… then again, there was no way in hell Lancer was going to let the teenager go home to an empty house. Lord knows what could have happened, and the fact that Danny’s temperature had spiked in the night, confirmed any doubts the older man had of letting the kid stay with him until his parent’s plane landed, which had been grounded until tomorrow evening, at best.

The older man glanced back towards his reflection, catching sight of the radar flashing across the television in his living room, silently. The storm was huge, coming from the Gulf, pressure building from the North and East as it moved slowly over Amity Park. And it was only expected to get worse which was ironically befitting. Lancer had played with the idea of taking Danny to the Emergency Room several times within the past few hours; the only thing stopping him was the question of what was more dangerous: Danny’s illness or the storm?

Jack Fenton had argued while on the phone with Lancer that he had half a mind to rent a car and drive back, despite it being a 20-hour drive back to upstate New York. But much to the English teacher’s amusement, Mr. Fenton’s plan had been shot down from his wife in the background, asking Lancer the condition of her son. Danny’s sister groaning loudly in the background, yelling something about embarrassment. But that had been yesterday evening…

And now. Danny couldn’t keep anything down, not even the miniscule amounts of water Lancer had encouraged him to take to prevent dehydration. His fever had spiked from 102 yesterday to 104.8 through the night, and most of the hardened demeanor Lancer had come to expect from his pupil over the years, was vanquished within a matter of hours. The tough, fuck-you-attitude Danny had adapted, was replaced with the youthfulness of his age. Only 17. He was still a kid; scared, alone, and whether he wanted to admit it, trying his best not to cause his teacher any further inconveniences than he already had. And despite Lancer finding the teenager’s attempts admirable, he found himself at a loss of trying to convince not only the teenager, but himself, that he only wanted to help, to make the kid feel better. But Lancer was so far out of his parental element, and he’d never seen a kid so sick before.

It hadn’t taken long once Lancer had settled down for the night, warming his hands against a mug of tea, quietly watching the news, for things to take a turn. Danny had been rather quiet during the drive to Lancer’s house, slumped in the passenger side, forehead pressed against frosted glass and still mumbling in disagreement with whoever thought he needed a babysitter every couple of minutes. The 17-year-old had attempted to convince Lancer he was fine, that he felt better since puking in detention, and his parents were overreacting. And despite sloppily scribbling through his homework, half of which the older man was certain Danny hadn’t even bothered to read, the teenager remained sullen, flushed, barely touching the sandwich Lancer had offered.

After some time spent brooding in a chair at the kitchen table, Danny had apparently concluded his English teacher wasn’t going to take him home anytime soon. He seemed more compliant then, taking up to inspecting Lancer’s memorabilia instead, trying his best to leave everything exactly as he’d found it. The older man had admired how careful the 17-year-old had been when picking up photos or knickknacks, casting weird what-the-hell-is-this glances towards his teacher as he explored.

Something sounded to his right, and Lancer blinked, running another hand over his head as he cleared his mind. Most of the things taking up refuge in the old house were objects ghosted with the memories of previous family, previous love, a previous life. He had never had the heart to take them down… it was creepily comforting.

Lancer sighed, reaching for the water-soaked rag puddling on the counter as something moved in the corner of his eye causing the older man to jump. He turned, facing the 17-year-old leaning heavily against the wooden arch of the hallway, shaking as he pressed a hand firmly against the wall for support, the rest of his lanky form hunched.

“Great Gatsby, Fenton! What are you doing up?” Lancer advanced, his tone slightly harsher than intended causing the older man to grimace. The teenager looked fairly close to passing out, a hand on his stomach firmly, the other grasped at flat wallpaper. Sweat trailing down his flushed face, forming in droplets at the kid’s chin before melting into his sweat-soaked shirt. Red set high across the bridge of his nose, painting his cheeks as he opened his mouth to speak before closing it, confusion setting across his features.

Lancer made a move towards the teenager as Danny stepped back, his eyes wide as they observed the older man cautiously. The English teacher raised an eyebrow, taking another step forward, a sick feeling sitting in the pit of his stomach as the teenager recoiled once more. Lancer cursed softly, pushing his hand towards the 17-year-old slowly, his voice low and calm as Danny reeled back. Lancer hesitated, “I’m not going to hurt you, Daniel.”

Danny pressed against the wall as Lancer took another step forward, leaning a shoulder against the wall, his eyebrows furrowing together as he tried to focus on the swimming interior around him. He couldn’t breathe, the air around him sucked from tired lungs, voices piercing through his head as he raised a shaky hand to his ear, wincing loudly as the spirits around him grew louder. He clenched his eyes shut, feeling his body struggle against the wall supporting him as he jerked away, wincing again as questions pelted him, begging, pleading for his help, for him to look. Look. Look! Just look at what had happened to them!

“Daniel?” Lancer questioned quickly, stepping forward again as the teenager gasped loudly, forcing a hand against his left ear as blood began dripping slowly from his nose, his shoulder slamming against the ugly wallpaper, “Daniel? Danny! Hey!”

The 17-year-old felt something brush against his wrist, and he forced his eyes open against the harsh lights flickering above him. Everything was hot, confusing, mashed together in a nauseating off-kilter vibrancy that hurt; his legs refusing to support him, lungs unwilling to take air as panic took over as he tried to clear his head, as he tried to remember where the hell he was.

He grimaced, sliding against the wall as his legs fought to keep him upright. He felt wrong. Everything felt wrong, weird, gone. He swallowed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, fear crossing his face as he pulled back, red sticky liquid coating his fingertips. Tears threatened to spill as he tried to catch his breath. This was his fault. Everything. And now he had blood on his hands. Sam’s blood.

Piercing cut through as Danny pressed a shoulder to his ear, crying out as the man in coveralls laughed, reaching towards him. Danny dropped to his knees, his fingers trembling as they slid down the wallpaper, forcing a picture of a little boy in a baseball uniform to the ground; the glass breaking around it as it smashed against the wood flooring. Tears clouded his vision as he glanced towards the photo, the blonde-haired kid morphing, mirroring Danny’s own reflection through splintered glass.

“No,” The 17-year-old choked, pulling the photo from the floor, glass splinters slicing his trembling fingers as the kid’s gap-tooth smile distorted. He couldn’t breathe; suffocating fear eating away at him as he realized he was gone. The kid in the photo was gone. Taken, dead, his soul split, lifeless as the portal had taken everything from him. He had died, leaving behind grief and broken disappointment. His friend’s hurt, bleeding out on the side of the road as Danny struggled to hold onto any humanity he had. As he struggled to save those he should have left long ago.

Blood dotted the photo, the boy’s face hidden by crimson, and Danny wiped his hand under his nose again, smearing blood across his face. The innocent boy in the photo was gone; he had killed himself in the Accident, left behind by evil contentment and a nightmarish reality that he’d never been good enough. He was broken, built in a sweetness that no longer existed, a black gaping hole where his soul was, under aching ribs, sweaty skin and a tormented, fucked up version of himself. A black pit of beautiful disappointment. An unlovable thing. He had become something unlovable, the portal killing the good and resurrecting the bad, and even that wasn’t worth much. He wasn’t worth much.

Danny gagged harshly, crumpling the photo in his hands as the leftover glass pressed into his palm. The floor swaying under his body as he grasped the wall for any support he could find. He wanted to go back; to be his parent’s innocent little boy again, to forget about the shitstorm around him, forget about the portal, forget about those he’d hurt, the blood he’d shed. But that was unfixable. He was. And unforgivable. He’d hurt Sam; hurt others, the blood of death splattered on what was left of himself, his human self. And in the end, he was the cause of everything; the collector of souls, the Grim Reaper labelled by Freakshow years ago. The bringer of death.

Lancer took another cautious step forward, crunching down before reaching once more towards the teenager as Danny crumpled sideways, slamming against the wall beside him. The older man faltered. Sweat glistened against the 17-year-old’s face as he gulped for air, his breathing harsh and sporadic as he pressed a trembling hand against his chest, eyes towards Lancer, clearly alarmed by his own breathing. He coughed roughly, doubling over as he caught his breath, and Lancer reached towards the kid, his fingers brushing against the sweat-soaked cotton fabric clinging to Danny’s shoulders.

The 17-year-old flinched, shoving his English teacher away from him harshly, wincing again as he pressed his shoulder to his left ear. He fell backwards, his knees failing him as he slammed against the wall, his head smacking against the small hall table. Darkness swallowed him momentarily, his hands shaking as the photo was crumpled tighter in his hands, letting out a strangled cry as the spirits towered over him, their eyes white, pupils missing as they shouted his name.

The electricity failed as the teenager recoiled violently, and Lancer swore the kid’s cold-blue eyes flashed green before the lights flickered back on, the light in the living room broke, glass shattering to the ground as Danny flinched, gripping one of the iron legs of the hall table, tightly. He eyed Lancer, his knuckles white against black, his forehead pressed against the cold metal, his breathing labored as he pulled his knees towards him in an effort to make his lanky form small.

The 17-year-old coughed, the sound hurting his chest, forcing his headache to crawl, spreading across his shoulders. He grasped at the metal leg of the table, yearning for more cold than the iron rod was willing to give as he sucked in breath after breath. He couldn’t think anymore, the heat had taken everything from him, had taken his core, leaving him with a spinning floor, voices flooding in dizzying waves, and the horrifying notion he was surrounded by death. He had died… the portal had stolen half of him, and now, the nightmares screaming at him, had killed whatever he had left. And the photo crushed in his hand was all he had of forgotten innocence.

Phantom had taken everything. And no one knew. No one understood. The beating, aching heart pounding in his chest was a lie. He was soulless; Phantom was soulless. Welcoming the darkness that swallowed the person Danny once was. And everything else, everything he did, was insignificant. His life was insignificant, a short dull buzz, a flicker. Just shit that happened and none of it meant anything. It was the flick on his lighter as he tried cupping his trembling hands against the wind, trying to spark one of the cigarettes he’d stolen from his father; the light fading, barely there; lighting what has killing him. Because no one wanted Danny Fenton. He was just a mask of stupid disappointment, broken and haunted by his past, damaged by unlovable fear. A shell of a person; a shell of a kid with nothing else to offer the world except the blood he was willing to spill. And then, life moved on.

Something pressed against his wrist, and the teenager yanked it back quickly, clawing at the back of his neck with both hands as he pressed his forehead against his knees, trembling as he tried blocking out all of them. Tried blocking out the tormented and lost souls swallowing him. He clawed again at the back of his neck, pressing his head between his sweaty arms as he rocked on his heels.

Something wet splashed against his joggers, barely noticeable against the heat plaguing him as the 17-year-old coughed. He clenched his arms over his ears as he realized he was crying, hard. He felt sick, wrong, the ghost sense no longer going off because he had nothing else left to give. Tears sliding down overheated flesh, meshing against black cotton as loud pleas left his mouth, the taste of blood sitting on his tongue. Something grabbed his arm, and Danny choked, “Please go away. Please go away. Go away. Go away. Go away...”

His parents would be disappointed. His sister would be a wreck. If they knew. Knew he had killed himself years ago; that the innocence that he once had, was gone; eaten away by the things his parents aimed to hurt. Danny Fenton had surrounded himself in a hypocritical tranquility; believing nothing past the Ghost Zone yet praying to God every night that there was a way out, a way away from himself, from Phantom. Because despite the good he’d done, bad followed him further, bathing his body in the blood of those around him. Sam’s screams, her tears, the fear she felt as Danny shred the last remaining hope of becoming more than the ghost killing him.

Some people deserved to die, and yet, he was the exception. An unkillable thing because the Accident had done that for him; and no amount of pills, cuts, stupid mistakes, or blood could take that from him. A cosmic joke of isolated soulless bullshit. The 17-year-old dug his nails harder into the back of his neck, coughing on the blood in the back of his throat as it smeared further down his chin. Tears mixed with the monster he’d become, crushing his heart as the reality of himself, the fact that no amount of water could wash away the pain he’d caused others, was coated in blood on halfa hands. An unholy thing.

Someone laughed, and Danny flinched, digging harder as something sticky coated his fingertips. The spirits were louder, yelling for him, scratching his skin as they tried forcing him to look; to look at their pain, to look at what had happened to them, at what he had done to them. The 17-year-old gagged as the scent of blood, dirt, and rotting flesh overpowered him. This was his fault. Their lives. Their souls. Death had collected those around him, pulling their individualities from themselves as the teenager tried to hang onto his. Danny was drowning in death, spirits shredding him, ghosts pulling him apart molecule-by-molecule as he constructed more damage than his parents ever could.

Air fell between his lips as his lungs refused to take any more. He couldn’t do this anymore. He needed his friends, his family- but they didn’t need him. They needed Phantom. Leaving Fenton as nothing more than a liability, a liar with cops and parents, a part-time substance abuser as he tried killing what everyone needed. Danny refused to move, pressing his body as hard as he could against the wall as spirits crowded him, ripping skin from his body, screaming for him to look at the damage around him, the lives he had taken.

The grip tightened on his arm, clawing at bruised skin as his world morphed and the ground hovered below him. He was pulled up, his body slamming against the spirits pulling towards him, no longer able to cooperate himself. He gagged loudly as he forced his eyes open, meeting the upside-down bloodied split face of the man in coveralls, an elderly woman praying in the corner, the back of her head blown off revealing dark grey matter.

Danny heaved as some of the grey matter fell from the woman’s white hair to her rosary, liquid meshing against him as the man in coveralls slapped another man, his head decapitating slightly, spewing blood across his vision. The teenager groaned as he glanced towards a German couple screaming at each other in the hall, the wall moving as hot fingers braced against the memories etched in the wood paneling and ugly wallpaper. He whimpered as he locked eyes with a small boy reading in the corner; the boy glanced up from his book and waved towards Danny as the 17-year-old wheezed.

Words passed his ears, muttered and useless as the pleas continued to pierce his mind. Red tears of pain he’d caused, spirits forcing him to look; their bodies distorted and warped as they screamed for the souls he had taken. The ones that had left him, a bloody and tormented ending of human life. His death was coming fast, Danny knew. He could feel it. A sudden drop-off from connection, any humanity left, falling moment-by-moment, a punctuating ending happening so involuntary fast as those would soon realize the monster he had become; realize the death he had collected. Danny retched weakly as the man in coveralls forced his head together, pain screaming from his mouth as lips that no longer wanted to meet, met, and hatred ate away at his features before the heat that fell from the 17-year-old washed over them, their bodies disappearing in the flames.

Danny gagged as the smell of menthol and stale sweat filled his nostrils, his head falling back further as a heartbeat echoed around him. Sweat trailing upward as blood fell back down in a disheveled passion, choking any air left, and the teenager’s body gave out. His eyes connected with the flames engulfing the man in coveralls, his disgust bleeding from his eyes as his face separated again before he disappeared in the fire. Danny whispered, “I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save anyone…”

His vision failed as he continued floating through those he couldn’t protect… and death swallowed what was left.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Danny had fallen asleep, and relief settled across Lancer’s features as he took another slow sip of his tea, leaning further back in the couch. The teenager had been pretty quiet, but his looks and constant moving had become a distraction to the older man as he tried re-reading Pride and Prejudice. It’d been a long time since there’d been a kid in his home, and Lancer had forgotten how annoying they could be despite wrangling them during class as he desperately tried to pour some type of education into his students.

Lancer set his book down, glancing towards the television as the weatherman showed another map of the storm outside, the pictures flashing silently across the screen as Lancer hit mute. He sighed as rain began to pelt against the roof, the shutters on his windows slamming against the old brick harshly, and thunder echoing around a few other houses in the neighborhood as wind threatened to tear down the old house. It was going to be a long night if the storm kept up and the damage was probably going to cost him a fortune considering his salary wasn’t worth a lot these days.

The teenager coughed, and Lancer turned to see the kid curled at the other end of the couch. His head resting on the armrest at an awkward angle, his knees drawn to his chest as he refused to take any more space than needed, as he tried to force as much distance between himself and his teacher as possible. He shivered slightly, and Lancer wondered whether he should have told his charge to take the guestroom or given him a blanket… or checked for fever. After all, the 17-year-old had been trying to convince the teacher he was fine over the last few hours, but something about him, something about his demeanor told Lancer otherwise.

Lancer sighed again, setting his mug on the coffee table, eyeing the pile of books crammed into the rickety wooden shelf as it slanted forward. He needed to fix it, to buy another one before it fell, or before the weight of the books forced it down. He swallowed loudly as his eyes met the ripped, yellowed copy of Catcher in the Rye, dust coating it as it lay on the top shelf, untouched and abandoned for years. Despite all the books Lancer had reread, all the books he spent his nights enveloped in, that one, that book, he refused to touch… refused to move, to think about, to reread. Memories sat in its pages, crushed between folded pieces of paper from being read over and over, and that was something Lancer didn’t want to revisit, to think about, to remember.

Danny shifted uncomfortably, and the English teacher leaned back again, pulling his book from his lap once more, opening to the page he’d left off on. Considering it was closing in on midnight, Lancer debated heading to bed, but he hadn’t reread Jane Austen in a while. And besides, with the storm raging outside, and a kid he would feel guilty about waking, the older man considered waiting to see if he would need to dig the flashlights from the back of his silverware drawer before making any further decisions.

The ceiling fan sputtered slightly as the lights flickered, and Lancer grit his teeth as the teenager shivered again, his teeth chattered momentarily. Lancer sighed. The situation was uncomfortable needless to say; but Lancer had been a teacher and dad long enough to know that kids were good at hiding things… especially Daniel as he always had some excuse for his tardiness, his absences… his injuries. And a simple cold could turn quickly because most of the students at Casper High were walking petri dishes. Besides, Lancer and Danny’s parents agreed it was best, if the teenager were to become ill, to be surrounded by someone who could look after him or take responsibility for him if he were taken to the hospital seeing as he was still a minor and given the circumstances.

So yeah, the situation was uncomfortable; and Lancer knew that pissed Danny off. But the Fenton’s had gone with Jasmine to visit several Universities, refusing to let their only daughter attend if they couldn’t ensure the campuses were safe from ghosts. An amusing and almost stupid idea but considering Amity Park had seen its fair share of ghosts, not ridiculous. Besides Lancer could understand the Fenton’s concern, their protectiveness over their children as he once had felt it too. He knew what it was like to want to hide your kids from the evil in the world… to protect them, to hurt anything that hurt them, to give them everything. But that was gone now.

The lights flickered again as the screen door slammed against the side of the house. Wind howling outside as the news channel flashed a weather advisory warning across the screen, and Lancer exhaled, setting his book down, and leaning further against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, closing his eyes. It’d been a long day… like most. Lancer spent a good portion of his time trying to keep a classroom of 17-year-olds from laughing over the cringing dramaticism of The Mysteries of Udolpho. Considering most of the books he taught were classic romanticism or gothic, the English teacher understood he was faced with a level of immaturity from his students. After all, it was hard for 17-year-olds to fully grasp the concept of metaphorical and real monsters of society.

The other portion of his day was spent grading poorly written essays over whatever topic he had sought to assign his students for the week. Honestly, Lancer had come to the conclusion that the only capable student in his class, after Jasmine Fenton had graduated two years prior, was Tucker Foley. If only his intelligence would rub off on Daniel, Lancer would have very little to worry about. Clearly, the teenager was capable of decent grades as Lancer had always been surprised when Fenton passed an exam or book report. But he seemed more concerned in his peers, in his life outside academics, to give his grades the attention they needed. He wasn’t stupid, Lancer knew that… and considering he came from a family thriving on higher IQ’s than half the city, the English teacher was sure that if Danny put even a little effort in his studies, he’d have no problem climbing to number one in his graduating class just as Jazz had.

But Jasmine Fenton had been competitive; aiming for greatness through academics and challenging those who threatened her perfect GPA. Daniel, however, competed with his teachers, refusing their help as he challenged them, challenged Lancer on a daily basis. Danny’s comments and cockiness had become a problem in his classroom; his antics or clownishness, difficult, as he proved how very little he cared about his grades. And despite his attitude problem, the older man was almost certain the teenager suffered from ADHD, which would explain his inability to focus most of the time and his forgetfulness.

Today had been no different. And Lancer had given the 17-year-old several chances to correct his behavior, letting his less-than-quiet remarks slide under the radar as he continued teaching. But with the constant bickering between him and Tucker, the annoyed whispers from Sam, falling from his seat twice, and the inability to explain what page the class was even reading from, Lancer had had enough. He’d tried to push back, pointing his ruler in Daniel’s direction and explaining there was an idiot at the end of it; but this resulted in the teenager’s sarcastic question of which end? After the laughter had died down, Lancer retorted that the 17-year-old could find out in detention.

Normally, detention was Lancer’s chance to unwind; to bask in the quiet as he encouraged his students to take the time to go over their studies. But today had been different. Not only had the lights gone out more than twice during his 3-hour prison sentence, but Danny had seemed different than earlier that day. Distracted, his eyes out of focus, shivering, and his quiet, slumped demeanor. Usually, the 17-year-old was pouting, refusing to do any real work, or trying to rally those who shared detention with him. But today he just sat there, quietly tracing some type of drawing on his textbook with his finger, his head resting against his desk.

Lancer had let it go for a while… after all, it was beginning to become obvious something was wrong. But into the 2nd hour, the complete lack of motivation, had become annoying, eating away at the older man’s patience. The other students in the classroom had taken Danny’s character as an invitation to abandon their own work for better things such as texting, making paper planes, or horseplay. Through the 17-year-old’s melodramatic and pitiful attitude, Lancer was losing control of his classroom. That had been when things had taken a turn, going from long to endless.

The older man had risen, scowling the other students into compliance as he made his way towards the cause of his current problem. Lancer scoffed when the teenager didn’t even bother reacting to his presence, but continued tracing over the outline of Thomas Jefferson on his torn-up history textbook. And it hadn’t been until Lancer had slammed his copy of Northanger Abbey on the 17-year-old’s desk that Danny reacted.

He jumped, flinging his book from the desk as he jerked towards Lancer, a look of horror crossing his face as he straightened slightly. The older man crossed his arms, a stern look casted down as he raised an eyebrow while the teenager scrambled to grab his textbook from the floor, flipping to a random chapter. Lancer stood there for several minutes, ensuring Daniel was at least pretending to read the words in front of him, and to enforce his authority as the superior in the classroom to his other students. This didn’t last long.

Once he had situated himself back at his desk, opening his book to the last page he’d read, Danny had raised his hand. Lancer raised his head towards his pupil but ignored him and continued reading. After a few minutes, the teenager put his hand down but forced it in the air a few moments later. Again, the English teacher refused to acknowledge his student’s attempt to leave detention. Normally, Danny would give up and ride out the rest of his punishment, partially compliant. Lancer had learned this during the kid’s Sophomore year; refusing to acknowledge or give the teenager permission for whatever excuse he had, was the only way to ensure he completed detention without further incident.

Lancer watched from his peripheral as the 17-year-old dropped his hand, sighing loudly as he continued scanning the words in his barely passible history book; Lancer smiled slightly. Some quiet had passed, relaxing the mood in the room as the older man felt himself beginning to unwind from the day once again. A few seconds later, however, there had been a noise, and the older man had glanced up to see Daniel rushing from the room, his book once again smacked against the tiled floor. The remaining students had jumped, conversing amongst themselves as their eyes watched the open-door slam against the wall.

Lancer grit his teeth, a scowl crossing his face as he calmly rose, placing his book on his desk before glaring towards the remaining students. They straightened, returning to their tasks as the older man exited the classroom, closing the door gently as he traced over the small indent in the wall from the door handle slamming against it. He shook his head as he glared back inside the classroom to his students watching him before looking busy as the wooden door clicked shut.

Out of all his antics, Danny had never defied Lancer enough to leave. And something in his gut told the English teacher this was either a new low from the teenager or an incident that needed attending to. Lancer had hoped all that was needed was a harsh conversation and another week of detention, but as he rounded the corner past the lockers, the root of the 17-year-old’s behavior became evident.

The older man closed his eyes briefly, sighing loudly as he ran a hand over his bald head and made his way towards the kid. Danny was hunched over one of the trashcans in the hallway, retching loudly as his arms trembled slightly, threatening to bring him down from his own weight. He had expected the unpleasant smell of half-digested food, but what Lancer hadn’t expected was the warmth radiating off the teenager as he reached out to grasp his shoulder. Both him, and the 17-year-old gasped, and Lancer stumbled back slightly as Danny pushed him away, slumping against the wall as he slid to the floor.

Danny had landed with a small smack, and he groaned as he eyed his teacher before closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall. He mumbled something that sounded like a half-assed apology as Lancer inspected his character. Pale, sweaty features set in a flushed undertone as pink ate at his cheekbones. The English teacher ran another hand over his head as he glanced towards his classroom, then back towards his pupil, before turning and advancing towards the class.

After explaining that he felt like cutting detention short due to the storm clouds forming outside, Lancer had gathered his belongings, slinging Danny’s tattered backpack over his shoulder as he crossed through the halls towards the teenager still slumped against the wall, pitifully. He knelt down, reaching a hand out to rouse the 17-year-old, his fingers brushing against his hairline as he made an attempt to check his temperature before the kid jumped. He grasped Lancer’s wrist, pulling it from him harshly, his fingers tight enough around his arm that the older man could feel Danny’s fingernails digging into his flesh.

The teenager’s eyes were locked on his English teacher; the warm blue turning cold and hard as a menacing look crossed his face. Lancer had opened his mouth to speak but closed it a second later as Danny tightened his grip. He’d been surprised by the amount of strength the kid possessed seeing as he always seemed lanky, awkward, and weak. And the threat crossing the 17-year-old’s face sent chills down Lancer’s spine as Danny blinked, releasing his grip before apologizing quickly.

The older man stilled, his eyes glancing over his student as the kid refused to make eye-contact with him. Lancer sighed, offering the teenager a ride home, only to find out that his parents had been out of town for the past few days and weren’t due back until later that evening. And after a very awkward but short conversation with the Fenton’s and finding out their flight had been cancelled due to the oncoming weather, Lancer was driving a pissed off teenager to his own house until his parents returned. Thus, claiming an uncomfortable situation which neither Daniel nor Lancer liked much. But the older man wasn’t a monster… and if a night of letting Danny occupy his guestroom until he was convinced the 17-year-old was fine was what it took, then the English teacher would bare through it.

Lancer sighed again, letting his mind drift as he felt his body relaxing, sleep creeping towards him. Outside, the wind ate away at the chimes and shutters surrounding the house, lightening sparking against powerlines as the lights wavered in and out. Thunder roared overhead, creating a low rumble through the old house as the imminent threat of a tornado loomed in the horizon. But silence engulfed the English teacher as the thought of just resting for a few minutes evaded his tired mind…

It hadn’t been the flinch that woke Lancer, but the loud crash of things falling. Panic clouded his mind as the thought of a tree crashing through the front windows washed over him as he jumped up, cursing loudly. He glanced towards the windows quickly to find them intact and instead turned his attention in front of him as another sound hit him. Heaving.

“Lord of the Flies!” Lancer remarked as he turned his attention towards the sound. The coffee table had been overturned, laying on its side, its belongings littering the floor. And the rickety bookshelf the older man had been wary of earlier, had fallen slightly; its shelves no longer apart of it as the books wedged between non-existent space had crashed to the floor, surrounding Danny as he struggled to breath.

Lancer made his way around the overturned table, crouching down next to the kid as he gagged again, vomit coating his sweatshirt, puddling on the floor below as sweat trickled down his temple. The older man put a steady hand on the teenager’s shoulder, running his hand between his shoulder blades as the muscles in the 17-year-old’s back spasmed between heaves. Lancer let out a slow breath, his voice low and calm, “Alright. It’s alright, Daniel. You’re alright, just get it up. It’s alright…”

The teenager tensed, breathing through his nose lowly as he spit foul-tasting salvia from his mouth, and concentrated on settling his stomach. He felt disgusting, sweaty and embarrassed. He could feel vomit squished between his fingers, and the fact that he had just emptied the contents of his stomach on his English teacher’s floor, mortifying. But considering he had forgotten he wasn’t home, and in attempt to seek out the bathroom, tripped over the coffee table, not only taking it and its belongings down, but falling against the bookshelf, bringing a pile of books crashing to the floor with him, was more humiliating than the acidic puddle in front of him.

Danny closed his eyes briefly, breathing slowly as he leaned back on his knees, scrapping a hand against his mouth and chin. He turned his head towards his teacher but refused to make eye contact because he was afraid of the expression on the older man’s face. The 17-year-old groaned inwardly, setting a hand on his stomach as he let the short silence pass over them; the television cutting off then flicking back on a second later.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Lancer asked softly as he glanced around at the state of his living room. Surely, the shelves or books had fallen on top of the kid when he fell, and given the state of the coffee table, Lancer was betting the kid had tripped over it or something. The splintered shelves could have cut him, or his foot could have gotten caught on the ledge, and injury wasn’t something the older man really wanted to add to his list of problems right now.

Danny was quiet for a while, making brief eye contact with Lancer before looking back towards the floor. He swallowed loudly against the hiccups forcing themselves up his throat and hunched his posture further. He looked downright miserable which didn’t help Lancer’s current situation. The 17-year-old swallowed again before muttering quietly, “Sorry, I’ll help you clean up… I’m sorry about all the mess.”

Lancer sighed, relief washing over him as the kid finally spoke. He ran a hand over his head as he bowed his head, trying to get the teenager to look him in the face, “That doesn’t answer my question, Mr. Fenton. Are you hurt?”

Danny froze for a few seconds before meeting the teacher’s gaze slowly. He shook his head, his body twitching slightly as hiccups still resonated through his chest. Lancer nodded, glancing over the kid quickly, looking for any visible injuries but finding none, and ran his hands over his knees before standing, exhaling loudly.

The wind howled outside, and the branches on the tree outside knocked against the window forcefully as Lancer glanced towards the clock hanging on the wall. It was around 2am, which answered two questions: Was he to be expected at school tomorrow and was he going to get any sleep tonight. The 17-year-old coughed gently, and the older man turned his attention back towards the teenager.

“Well,” Lancer started carefully, “Let’s get things cleaned up.”

Danny cast his gaze back towards the floor as he moved to pick up one of the books next to him. Lancer crouched down again, pulling the book from the kid’s grasp, “What are you doing, Daniel?’

The teenager glanced up slowly, “You said to clean-”

Lancer shook his head, cutting the kid off, “The state of my living room doesn’t concern me right now, Mr. Fenton. You, however, do. Despite what you and your friends may think of me, I’m not heartless.”

Danny’s expression shifted as the older man grasped the kid’s arm, pulling him to his feet. He put a hand on the teenager’s shoulder as he swayed slightly, an eyebrow raised as a silent question flashed across the teacher’s face. The 17-year-old swallowed and gave Lancer a weak nod before crossing his arms over his stomach gently, stepping around the chaos as he followed Lancer into the hallway.

He shivered harshly as his ghost sense went off, and his eyes danced over the photos nailed against the ugly wallpaper in the hallway. Pictures of family- of times no one at Casper High knew of; a different side of the English teacher never shown. Danny lingered on the photo of a young boy with blonde hair, a huge gap-toothed smile swallowing his face as he held his ice cream cone towards the photographer. Confusion crossed the teenager’s face as he glanced over some of the other photos, the blonde kid present in almost all of them… and a pretty woman in a few others, posing next to the kid. As far as everyone knew, Lancer didn’t have kids, and he wasn’t married.

His ghost sense went off again, and Danny shivered as he paused momentarily, the photos around him blurring together, spinning into a colorful mess as dizzying fatigue washed over him, his limbs shaking as they fought to bring him down. He made a slight noise as he glanced towards the end of the hall, towards a small boy hiding behind a half-closed door; his green eyes huge and alarmed as he watched the teenager. Danny swallowed, Lancer’s questions floating over him as the boy peered further out the door, motioning for the 17-year-old to follow.

The teenager made an attempt to move, the hallway spinning as the pictures on the wall melted together in an array of sickening colors, and Danny blinked slowly as several spirits began to crowd around him, blood forced from gruesome wounds. A sharp noise escaped his mouth as he glanced back towards the boy, only to find the doorway empty, the door fully open now. Chills washed over him as his knees gave out, and his ghost sense sparked again.

Someone grasped at him, a hand gripping his arm while another snaked over his torse, pulling him back on his feet. Black filtered through Danny’s vision momentarily as his body went limp before he groaned, looking towards his left as Lancer adjusted his grip on his torso, asking something Danny couldn’t grasp. The teenager’s feet dragged against the wooden floor as he struggled to gain his footing, but his legs felt clumsy and foreign. He felt like shit, weird, split into two, leaning heavily against his teacher as the older man led him slowly down the hall, towards the room that’d been previously occupied by a scared little boy.

The 17-year-old hadn’t realized he’d been deposited on a bed until everything stopped moving. The room swaying slightly but no longer spinning in a multitude of nauseating colors. Heat pressed against his body as he glanced over the side of the bed towards the boy he’d seen earlier, hiding behind the rocking chair in the corner. His eyes fixed on the teenager as cold air pushed past Danny’s lips, and he shivered again, turning towards the ceiling fan as his shoes were slipped off his feet, followed by his socks.

He groaned as Lancer pulled his hoodie over his head gently, forcing his arms from the sleeves, leaving him shivering against the warmth dotting against his skin. He was freezing. His ghost sense going off every few minutes, causing his body to ice, goosebumps breaking out over his arms as warmth rushed through him a second later. He blinked slowly, feeling something press against his forehead, and he squinted towards Lancer leaning over him.

“We need to get that fever down, Daniel,” He whispered, running his hands through the kid’s messy black hair. Danny groaned, tuning out his teacher’s movements as he turned back towards the boy hiding behind the chair, hoping that this was as worse as his night got…

……………………………………………………

Heat. Heat blistered against tired flesh and limbs that refused to move… and warmth. Warmth pressed against bruised flesh gently, killing the heat sweating against him, weighing him down in thick blankets. Warmth poured over him, comforting him, drowning the confusion and panic etched in his veins, and Danny suddenly found himself calling to his childhood memories.

“M-mom?” He whispered, his voice barely audible as it scratched past his throat, rough and raw. He swallowed harshly, trying to force his eyes open but finding the task difficult. His body felt heavy, weak, tired… he felt like he had gone several rounds with Skulker… or someone worse.

“Shh, don’t talk, Daniel,” Someone said softly, and Danny blinked slowly, squinting against the dim lights swaying next to him. He shivered as shadows danced around him, and he groaned loudly as he tried pushing himself up. Strong warm hands pressed against his chest, keeping him in place as any strength the teenager had, left him momentarily.

Warmth threatened to pull him under again, and Danny swallowed, his head lolling to his right as he forced his eyes to stay open against flickering, dancing lights. Something pressed against his temple, his cheek, his neck, dampening the fire momentarily wherever the warmth touched, lingering against his skin just long enough to cool the sweat clammed against his body.

Danny coughed harshly as he opened his eyes sluggishly, unaware he had closed them, and he glanced around disoriented, his neck aching from the little effort he put into turning it. His vision wavered slightly, and the 17-year-old groaned as he made another feeble attempt to move only to be stilled by calm hands.

“Just relax, Daniel. Otherwise, I might be obliged to add to your weeks’ worth of detention,” Someone chuckled softly, and Danny forced his eyes open again, “Mr. L’ncer?”

The 17-year-old winced as his voice met his ears, weak and small; the syllables barely leaving his mouth as his tongue felt heavy against his teeth. He swallowed, his mouth feeling cottony and thick as his eyes lazily met his English teacher’s face hovering above him; a stern expression settled on tired features.

The teenager groaned loudly, closing his eyes briefly as the room began to spin, leaning his head back as he listened to the silence surrounding him. A quiet popping echoing around him, and Danny squinted, noticing several candles sitting on the counter and next to him, their flames flickering wildly. Confusion crossed his face as Lancer leaned further over him, “The power went out a while ago, so I had to improvise as I couldn’t find any batteries for the flashlight.”

The older man held up the flashlight, shaking it gently as confusion continued to sit on the 17-year-old’s face. He blinked slowly as he tried to piece together everything. But it was hot. And he felt weird, sick, his mind a muddled mess of exhaustion; his headache still pounding behind his eyes. He tried moving again, sitting up slightly before being pushed back down gently as Lancer sighed, “I swear, Mr. Fenton, do you ever listen?”

Danny swallowed, doing his best to understand his surroundings. He sighed loudly, letting his head fall behind him as he slowly connected the dots. He was in a bathroom. More importantly, he was lying in a warm bath, shivering against the heat beaded on his skin. And more embarrassingly, Lancer was soaking washcloths in the water, pressing them against his face, wiping down the sweat that was forming on Danny’s body. It took him longer than he liked to realize his shirt was gone, gentle fingers pressing lightly against his torso, covering every inch of heat that surrounded the bruised and scarred flesh. Whether or not he was wearing further clothing wasn’t something Danny tried to think about, and if he had the energy, he would have protested this level of comfort. This level of embarrassment. This level of weakness. But he felt too tired, too sick, and too hot to care.

Something moved in his peripheral, and Danny peered at the end of the tub to find the boy from earlier sitting on the edge, his gaze still watching the teenager. He bent down slightly, his blonde hair covering his face as he touched the water before jerking his hand back and shivering. Warmth hit him as Lancer washed over his chest, and the 17-year-old squinted, his eyes still watching the boy, refusing to let his exhaustion overpower him.

The boy disappeared momentarily before returning to his spot at the edge of the bathtub, a rubber duck in his hand. He set it in the water gently, pushing it in Danny’s direction before smiling widely, his two front teeth gapped, three missing from the bottom. The 17-year-old stirred, pressing against Lancer’s hands as his eyebrows furrowed together, and he yelled, “Hey!”

The boy jumped from the ledge, fear setting on his face as Danny struggled against his teacher’s grasp. His ghost sense went off, goosebumps breaking out over his naked skin as the boy disappeared, and the teenager let out a strangled cry as he shoved Lancer’s hands away, leaning over the edge, water splashing to the floor as he scanned the hallway for the boy. The 17-year-old gripped the slippery ledge of the tub as he scrambled to pull himself up, water slapping against the ground loudly.

Lancer gripped the kid’s shoulders, forcing him back down as alarm crossed his face. He held the teenager down as the candles flickered, water soaking into his khakis as the 17-year-old continued to thrash. The older man let out a quick breath as he tried grabbing the kid’s attention, “Daniel! Danny!”

The teenager stilled, his gaze moving from the hallway towards his teacher as his nickname left Lancer’s mouth. The older man sighed softly as he felt the kid’s body relax, his grip loosening on the bathtub as the teacher eased him back down. The alarm that crossed Danny’s face earlier, vanishing as confusion set in, his head smacking once again against the back of the bathtub as exhaustion ate away at his features.

He exhaled loudly as Lancer pressed a washcloth against his forehead, leaving it there for several minutes before repeating the action. Danny swallowed softly, closing his eyes against the dimly-lit room as his teacher cleared his throat, “I’m sorry about the circumstances, Daniel. But your temperature spiked again causing you to pass out, and I had no other way of bringing it down quicker. I know it’s uncomfortable. My son freaked too.”

Danny turned towards his teacher’s voice but kept his eyes closed as his mind spun violently. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to understand the information, as he tried to recall the pictures on the wall in the hallway. He coughed, sweat dripping from his hair plastered against his face, “The kid…”

“In the photos. Yeah,” Lancer sighed, wiping across the teenager’s chest again before pressing another rag against his forehead, “He passed some time ago… a car accident.”

The 17-year-old’s eyes opened slightly as he met his teacher’s sad smile before his focus lazily danced towards the hallway. The boy stood there, leaning against the doorway as he fumbled with the zipper on the bottom of his blue jacket, worry flashing across his face as he met Danny’s gaze. The teenager swallowed again, closing his eyes as he turned his head away from the door, sweat rolling down his cheeks as it dripped from his chin.

“Hey…” He muttered softly as he tried calling the boy closer, as he tried to connect the dots. He felt like shit. Even after being extremely sick after the Accident, he didn’t remember it feeling like this. Then again, that had been 3 years ago… and Danny hadn’t really been sick since. But maybe that had to do more with Phantom. Maybe he’d left… leaving the 17-year-old as a barely alive thing. Maybe this was his immune system dying, the other half giving out as it had struggled to survive with half function over the years. Maybe this was the portal killing the other part of him, claiming what it had started.

Danny’s teeth chattered loudly as he shivered against the warmth, “I shou-should call my parents…”

“I assure you they’re fine, Mr. Fenton,” Lancer said calmly, rewetting a washcloth and pressing it against the teenager’s neck, “They’re just concerned, trying to find a quicker way back to New York… unfortunately, the storm is making that difficult.”

The 17-year-old swallowed slowly, confusion washing over him before swallowing again. He coughed, his throat raw and his mouth dry like sandpaper, feeling his mind slipping, the reality he could understand becoming harder and harder to grasp. Everything was muddled, fuzzy, hard to comprehend.

“I- I should call them,” He muttered softly, “Apologize for killing myself… they’re going to be-be so- disappointed in me…”

Lancer froze, alarm flooding through him as he choked. He watched the confusion on Danny’s face melt, his features relaxing slightly as moments passed. The older man turned the teenager’s face towards him, shaking his shoulder gently as he let out a sharp breath, “What? Mr. Fenton- what! What does that mean? Daniel? Daniel- Danny!”

The kid whimpered but other than that, showed no sign that he had even heard Lancer’s questions. The English teacher took a few slow breaths, closing his eyes as he forced the panic back down. Perhaps he had misheard… or the 17-year-old’s temperature was getting to him. Hallucinations and muddled speech were common, so perhaps, that’s all it was. Thoughts of a delusional and feverish mind.

Then again, Danny’s attitude had shifted over the years as he still maintained his cocky and sarcastic demeanor… but darker things lurked over him. Lancer knew the kid smoked from time-to-time, and he had heard from a few rumors that Fenton had become no stranger to weed or alcohol. Then again, the aspect of rebellion was fairly common in teenagers, and Lancer couldn’t see the Fenton’s letting their son get away with anything too serious. But perhaps they didn’t know… perhaps they didn’t know about their son’s newer habits. Or the fights. The grades. The attitude problem. The bruises or scars. Perhaps Danny was hiding his true self from them just as he was from his peers.

But it wasn’t Lancer’s place. Not exactly. Sure, he cared for the kid, as he did for many of his pupils. But Jack and Maddie had become neighborly to him after the loss of his son, and the divorce. They expected Lancer to keep Jasmine and Daniel on the straight-and-narrow when they entered high school… which Jazz was no problem… but Danny. Danny was a different story.

Every direction Lancer took, the 17-year-old steered in the opposite direction. And it seemed even worse the last couple of months. Lancer knew something had happened between Fenton and Manson… and Danny seemed really broken up about it. After all, he had overheard Foley’s comment that the two had begun dating… among other things. And rumors were they’d been caught in the Janitor’s closet several weeks prior… But for the past few months, both Danny and Sam could barely sit next to each other, let alone look at each other. And most of the flirting Lancer had come to expect from the two, was replaced with cold stares, harsh short comments, and feeble excuses as to why they couldn’t work together.

Something sounded behind him, and the English teacher jerked, turning his head quickly towards the hall, squinting against the flame’s shadow dancing over the dark doorway. He scanned the empty area before closing his eyes briefly, breathing slowly through his nose, allowing his thoughts to calm as thunder roared overhead. Most nights Lancer could swear his house was haunted. Haunted by the memories of his past, the memories of his wife, his son… the life he missed every day. But that was ridiculous. An idealization deluded from the minds of Jack and Maddie Fenton… and nothing more.

The lights flicked several times as one of the lightbulbs above the bathroom counter popped, before burning out. The TV in the living room spluttering to life, news blasted through old speakers loudly before silence and darkness once again evaded the small house. Lancer sighed, running a hand over his head, listening to the rain pelt against the roof. Despite it being close to 10am, the storm hadn’t ceased… in fact, it seemed worse with every passing hour which was ironically befitting given Lancer’s current situation, and Danny’s condition.

The English teacher sighed loudly, wringing another washcloth out before pressing gently against the teenager’s forehead, cheeks, and neck as lightening cracked against the house. The 17-year-old whimpered softly, his eyebrows drawing together momentarily before Lancer shushed him, forcing another rag against his forehead lightly. Despite trying his best to bring the kid’s fever down, the older man was more than certain he was doing little to cause a significant change in the teenager’s temperature. Or at least it felt like that.

When the 17-year-old had passed out in the hallway, collapsing against Lancer the second he was pulled from the floor, going limp in his arms as the older man tried his best to hold Danny as gently as he could, Lancer had been at a loss. But when the lights spazzed, the shutter door slamming against the entryway and the power gave out, Lancer was close to both panicked tears and self-consumed anger.

He’d been angry over the situation. Over the power going out, the storm wreaking havoc outside and forcing flights to ground. Angry with his own useless attempts to soothe the teenager he thought he could care for. Angry he hadn’t taken Danny to the Emergency Room earlier and angry, that in spite of everything, the teenager seemed to be getting worse rather than better. Panic had eaten away worry and concern, leaving fear racing through thoughts riddled with questions; his own parental instincts, despite having died long ago, blaring as every sound, every cough, every whimper, and every unconscious groan that whispered from the 17-year-old’s mouth, sent Lancer’s senses on high alert.

Something that had scared Lancer more than he could account for was the fact that the 17-year-old was crying, hard, and his temperature. The moment he was near, the heat melting off Danny was deeply concerning, sweat plastered down pale flesh, dripping in puddles down his face and soaked through hand-me-down clothes Lancer had given him earlier. The teenager had been on the verge of hyperventilating when Lancer pressed his hand against his forehead, worry and panic lacing his tired mind as Danny cried harder, pleading with fevered hallucinations to leave and forgive him.

The thought of which was worse, the storm or Danny’s illness, no longer a debate but a firm decided answer that should have been sought long ago. But Lancer wasn’t sure if he would be able to find his keys in the dark, the rain pounding sideways against the windows as it threatened to break glass… and even though it was early morning now, the sun having rose two hours prior, it was still black as hell outside. Lancer’s own attempts to calm the teenager were futile. He was out of his element… so beyond his own familiarity, and he had forgotten how to soothe his own child. Lancer needed help, he needed another adult, and Danny needed a parent, but the older man hadn’t been a parent in a long time…

…………………………………………………………………………………….

He wasn’t a hero. Because a hero wouldn’t do this. A hero couldn’t. And Danny Fenton was no hero. He’d shed blood through Phantom hands, ghosted in hellish torment as he sat, throne to bodies and souls collected at his feet. Human hands forever red with mortal lives, halfa instincts more dead than alive as Fenton became a facade for Phantom. A mask. A plaything. A puppet of normality and bitter resentment as Phantom was forced to live in a barely alive flesh suit. And now, only now, was the teenager hit with the realization that he was no hero. He’d never been.

He’d been a boy. Stupid and ignorant in childish idealization, playing make-believe, costumed in his parent’s clothes, pretending to be something more. Something better. But he wasn’t. He was joke. A harsh cosmic occurrence of puny humanity and preemptive temperament of selfish actions. Cocooned in the tranquility of his youth as he tried to convince himself that he was more than the blood dripping from halfa hands, that he was the savior of death instead of the bringer. But he’d been stupid. Weak. Pathetic. Insignificant. A joke.

Danny Fenton was a joke of unlovable fear and horrible outcomes. Death followed him. Shadowed by terrible posture and cold features. Sam had fallen for the wrong boy. Had loved the wrong boy. Fenton wasn’t a hero. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t save her… fuck, he couldn’t save anyone. He was just a stupid kid with stupid luck. A false identity born to humanity, mirrored from the reality of Phantom, a messenger, a front for what had killed him years ago. Fake bravery. Fake chivalry. Everything fake.

Ectoplasm oozed down his temple, sliding past his left cheekbone, gathering at his chin as sweat and dirt fell past, splattering against ashen snow and green puddles of forgotten souls. Blood pooling from open wounds, forced between busted knuckles and broken fingers as red stained white. Danny choked, his fingers pressing tighter across Sam’s neck as blood gushed from wounds he couldn’t close… from a death he couldn’t stop. From a love he couldn’t lose.

The purple haloed around Sam no longer vibrant or visible through dark crimson, eaten away by the innocence of her youth, and the immorality dripping from Danny. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a good guy… and Phantom? Phantom couldn’t save her. Phantom couldn’t save anyone. Ever. But Phantom wouldn’t have done this… he couldn’t. Fenton had.

Fingers slipping from flesh, Sam’s necklace pulled from her neck as Danny fought for a better grip, forcing the broken bones in his right hand to bend, to curve, to keep blood from puddling around him… to fix this. But he couldn’t. There wasn’t a way to fix it. A way to fix death. To restore what was lost. What he had taken. What he had always taken. Over and over and over again.

And now, because he wasn’t willing to live without Phantom, Fenton had destroyed the one thing he loved more than anything. The one girl he loved more than anyone. The one girl willing to fight for him instead of Phantom. But that had been a mistake. Sam loving him had been a mistake. He and Sam had been a mistake. An intimate beautiful mistake.

Danny wasn’t the same person she’d fallen in love with. He wasn’t the same person he used to be. He was different. Darker. Quieter. Colder. He was awkward in his own shadow, uncomfortable in a foreign skin as he allowed Phantom more and more control. Danny Fenton was a waste. Danny Phantom wasn’t. He was the thing people needed. But Phantom wasn’t the one Sam had loved. He wasn’t the one she trusted. He wasn’t the one she tried so desperately to save… He wasn’t the one who had killed her.

The fight was over the second it’d begun. Box Ghost had slipped through the Ghost Zone, followed by Skulker and Johnny; the three musketeers of complete failure as they threatened to destroy the state of New York. But Danny had barely broken a sweat. Ghosts were easier now; less challenging than in his youth, repetitive and old, and most of the time, the teenager had bigger things to worry about. Like Spirits. The Veil. The Spirit World. And Vlad. There was always Vlad fucking Masters. A pain in the Fenton family ass… not that Jack would ever admit it.

Snow had started littering the ground in heavy flurries by the time Vlad appeared. Danny had sat on the park bench for hours, waiting for the stupid pointy-haired bastard to make an appearance; after all, Danny had gotten his message the night before when he was pulled into the Veil. He always got the message while in the Veil. He wasn’t welcome. He was never welcomed. And the Spirits collected within made sure he knew it, made sure he stayed long enough to understand the damage he had caused, the lives he had fucked, and the lives he had taken. Many in the Spirit World knew him, but he knew very little about them.

Despite knowing almost everything about the Ghost Zone, the teenager knew almost nothing about the Spirit World. About summoning. The Veil. The Spirits. He only knew how to tune them out, but the older he got, the more his power grew, the harder it was to keep them in check. Too many times had he been caught in public, or with his parents, or his sister, talking, ranting, yelling or even fighting Spirits that refused to leave. He couldn’t block them out. Their voices, cries in the dark, hands pulled through murky water towards his body as he dreamed, screams echoed through restless thoughts. They were getting harder to ignore… harder to kill.

Drugs didn’t really work anymore, barely a dull buzz of quiet whispers, and other outlets were laughable options. Weed made it hard to focus between Fenton and Phantom, his abilities harder to control… and the Spirits had barely left. Ecstasy was great, the screams a distant thought, the Spirits warping into smokes of green, yellow and red; but Phantom disappeared too, refusing to appear for several days after. And Acid… Acid just made the teenager more jittery, more paranoid, more on-edge than he already was.

Vlad had taught him a few tricks to keep the Spirits quiet enough to function before he died. He’d promised to teach Danny more, but his death made that almost impossible. Unlike the Ghost Zone, the Spirit World lacked a supernatural possession; rather turning anyone such as Vlad, normal and human- barely able to summon Danny through the Veil to talk. And Danny? Danny’s powers were pretty much useless inside the Veil, humanity coursed through fragile bones, muscle, and skin as blood beat through a half-alive thing. The teenager could barely summon, barely survive a night in the Veil, of being pulled through, forced out-of-body through airless lungs and the stillness of a barely beating heart.

In the Spirit World, the teenager was human. So very human. And so very vulnerable. A War progressed through the Veil, the Spirits capable of darker, more sinister realities than Ghosts such as Skulker or Freakshow could ever procure. A world of Death. True Death. The promises of the Ghost Zone vanquished through shreds of paper-thin souls of victims to the War. Death in the Spirit World meant no Ghost Zone after. No other World beyond. No connection or tie back to humanity. To the Human World. Nothing. Just black. Just…

The 17-year-old’s ghost sense had been going off for hours; his teeth chattering as he pulled the thin green jacket closer, cursing Vlad for taking his sweet time. To any untrained individual, the teenager appeared to be alone… but Danny was never alone. Not anymore. His shove through the Veil on his 16th had killed any isolation or solitude he had. They were always there. Always watching. Always with him.

The teenager grit his teeth as he smacked his head against the bench behind him, staring towards the grey sky as white dust fell in clumps, blanketing Amity Park… and most likely, the rest of New York. The weather had been unpredictable lately; a chaotic shitshow of indescribable patterns, something his father chalked up to some weird readings in the Ghost Zone. Despite never really seeing a ghost, his parents still obsessed over them, inching closer and closer to diving into the portal with each passing week. But Danny, Danny wished he’d never have to see another fucking ghost in his life.

More and more of the transparent bastards had been slipping through the portal lately. Part of that was Danny’s fault. The other, unknown. Valerie had helped pick up the slack, along with the Fenton Duo, but the teenager had more important things to worry about like Spirits. The harder they were to ignore, the more of them appeared… and they could touch him. Hurt him. Kill him… the scars plastered against his right ribs should be evident enough to speak to their danger. He’d barely survived his first trip through the Veil, and Vlad kept pulling him fucking through… mainly because summoning wasn’t something the 17-year-old had mastered yet. And with Vlad dead, Danny doubted if he’d ever actually be able to master summoning… leaving no hope for resurrection.

Something kicked against the teenager’s red converse, and Danny shot up quickly, expecting Vlad to be standing over him. A smile crawled across his face as his eyes met Sam, her black hoodie blowing viciously against the winter air, small specks of white clinging to the fabric. She kicked his foot again, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Danny smirked, forcing his hands in his pocket, his right hand clamped around the red lighter he had stolen from his dad’s secret stash. Whether or not Jack Fenton had noticed a few of his smokes were missing, the teenager would never know. After all, if his father ended up confronting him about it, then that meant Jack would also have to come clean to Maddie about smoking… something he supposedly gave up a few years after Danny was born.

Sam slumped down next to him, her shoulder hitting his as Danny turned towards her, smiling. Sam rolled her eyes, her purple lipstick twisting into a grin as she leaned her head against his shoulder. She sighed, “So, I take it Vlad hasn’t shown?”

The 17-year-old shook his head, before clearing his throat, “No.”

“That’s pretty unusual for him, isn’t it?” She asked, pulling her head up as wind forced her hood down, short black hair flying chaotically. She glanced in Danny’s direction as he flicked some snow off his jeans. He hadn’t really thought about Vald’s behavior- about his pretty punctual habits, but now that it was mentioned, it was rather worrisome the older man hadn’t shown yet. Especially given he seemed rather paranoid the night before. But surely, the older man would have said if he was in danger.

Danny shrugged his shoulders, meeting Sam’s gaze, biting his bottom lip. Pieces of ice clung to her hair, freckled across her face, and the 17-year-old hesitated, before brushing his thumb across her cheek carefully, wiping away some of the fallen snow. He paused, his fingers pressing gently against her jawline, following the curve softly before Sam pressed her hand over his. Danny froze, warmth flooding his face as he refused to advert his gaze.

Sam had been weird lately. She’d been acting weird… almost feminine… which was weird for both Tucker and Danny as they had always seen her as one of the guys. But between a few awkward non-date dates, a few fake-out make-outs, and being caught half-naked in the Janitor’s Closet a few weeks prior when Danny had phased through the wrong room after a fight; Danny was finding it harder to act normal around her. And then there was the Annual Winter Dance last month which neither Sam nor Danny refused to acknowledge, involving some sloppy drinking, heated kissing, and one awkward morning after at the Fenton household as Danny tried sneaking Sam from his room only to be caught by his sister.

Since then, Sam had become more… Well, it was hard to explain because Danny was pretty sure he’d become more of it too. Every moment he was around her, it seemed like he had reverted back to his weird, awkward, clumsy demeanor. He couldn’t talk around her anymore, let alone act normal anymore. His ghost sense unpredictable, his powers uncontrollable as his body forgot how to be him around her. He couldn’t eat or sleep and paying what little attention he normally did in class, unbearable. He couldn’t get Sam out of his head. Her purple lipstick. Her laugh. Her hands clasped around his. Her mouth… Her. And it was driving him insane.

Mentioning it to anyone was out of the question. Tucker had them married in 9th grade. His parents were too hyperactive and weird to be able to deal with their only son dating- let alone his sister’s recollection of her very awkward first date that involved more of Jack Fenton than Danny wanted to picture. And Jazz? Jazz had freaked when she had caught Danny and Sam together the morning after the Annual Winter Dance, forcing both teenagers to attend a lecture involving responsible actions, so asking Jazz for advice was out of the question. Honestly, Danny had found some console in Vlad, but that bastard’s advice was wishy-washy and outdated.

Sam’s fingers brushed over the rough scars on his hand before she trailed up his arm. Her hand hesitating on his shoulder before cupping the back of his neck, her fingers tussling his hair softly. The wind whooshed past, snow raining over them as Sam met the 17-year-old’s gaze, a small smirk painted across purple lips. Danny shivered slightly, brushing his thumb over her cheek again, “I-”

“Shut up,” Sam cut him off, pulling herself from the bench as she pressed her lips against his, pushing the 17-year-old back slowly as he dropped his hand from her cheek, trailing down her shoulder slowly, arm, back. He inhaled loudly, a hand pressed against the small of Sam’s back, the other pressing her closer to him as she kissed him again, one of her hand’s slipping underneath his shirt. Cold fingers pressed against the warmth on his back. Black nails scrapping gently over scarred flesh, fingers through black hair, and Danny’s hands dragging her closer. Sam was driving him insane… but maybe this time, they could acknowledge it… maybe this time, he could tell her how he really felt.

Maybe this time he could tell her he couldn’t get her out of his mind. That he couldn’t concentrate around her, he couldn’t get that night at the dance out of his mind… that she made everything better, made everything okay. He needed her like he needed air. She was a reminder that he was still alive, that he was still human, that he was still more than Phantom. Because she seemed to want him more than Phantom… She liked him. Not Phantom. And that- that was all Danny ever wanted from someone. From her…

Her nails scrapped harder against his back as Sam straddled him; her hair flying in the wind, covering her face, smacking against Danny’s face comfortingly. His hands gentle as they trailed down the rest of her back, her thighs, holding her steady against him. Her lips forceful against his, nails marked against skin, her heart pounding against his. She breathed deeply, “Danny…”

“Well, isn’t this nice,” Someone sneered. Danny pushed Sam off him gently, jumping to his feet as he pressed Sam behind him, his stance protective as he met the stranger’s gaze. The 17-year-old watched as a woman stepped forward, a smirk on her face as she pushed some of her long blonde hair behind her ear. She eyed the 17-year-old, sizing him up as she walked around the small bench. She scoffed, “They said the halfa was young, but I never would have thought this young… Tell me, handsome, do you even know how to tie your own shoes?”

Danny tensed, “Do you want to find out?”

The woman laughed loudly, circling them once more before standing a few feet from him, “Oh, and that wit. I bet you’re a troublemaker, uh?”

She crossed her arms, straightening her posture until she was eyelevel with him. Her skin almost translucent against the white ground, blood dotting against her neck where a necklace should have been. Her bright pink and blue jumpsuit standing out against the snow, fitting the ideal clothing for an 80’s teenager… her blonde hair in half-buns, purple triangle earrings dangling from her ears. She laughed again, shaking her head, her red lipstick twisting slightly as she peered towards Sam.

Sam had risen from the bench, pulling her hoody back over head as her hair still fought against the wind. She forced the sleeves past her hands, her fingers intertwining gently with Danny’s as the 17-year-old stepped forward, “Where’s Vlad?”

The woman cocked her head, her smile offsetting as she held up her hand, inspecting her chipped blue fingernails, “I wouldn’t worry about Grandpa anymore. He’s been taken care of.”

The teenager swallowed, dropping his hand from Sam’s as he took another step forward, his hands burning slightly as Phantom threatened to appear. Danny swallowed, “What did you do to him?”

The woman laughed again, shoving her hands on her hips as she faced the 17-year-old again, “You’ve become quite the gossip in the Veil. Did you know that? Everyone talks about the halfa; the teenage boy with a hitlist bigger than… well… for decency, think of someone historically bad. The merciless angel. The bringer of death. The red. You could say you’ve become very popular amongst Spirits… and to hear, the little ghost boy could be harmed,” She paused, clasping her hands together as a smile painted her face, “Well, that was like Christmas morning.”

Sam reached for Danny’s shoulder, her fingers gracing over the fabric of his hoodie as he stepped forward again, “What did you do with Vlad?”

The woman smirked, “Me? No, honey, I’ve done nothing. See, I don’t really care for the creepy-uncle-lotion-in-the-basket types. You, however, are much more interesting. Much more powerful than Vlad would be… I can feel it. Radiating off you like the wind around you. It’s beautiful… And we can hurt you. We can touch you. Something those pathetic airbags in the Ghost Zone could only dream of. And believe me, pretty boy, there are many in the Veil eager to show you their real power. Eager to walk this Earth again… all we need is the blood of the halfa.”

“Fuck you!” Sam yelled, stepping in front of the 17-year-old, her finger’s gripping Danny’s wrist. Sam took a step forward, her stance tense, her hood down as wind washed over her. Snow beading in black hair, melting down her face as hatred flashed across her features. Her grip tightened around the teenager’s wrist, protectively; and Danny swallowed softly as he realized she wasn’t about to let go.

The woman stepped forward slowly, smirking again as she chuckled, “Call off your guard-dog, Daniel. I have no intention of killing you today… besides, in order for us to be reborn, you have to come to us willingly. Which I give you… a year before you enter the Veil for the last time.”

Danny scoffed, “Unlikely.”

He shivered as he met the woman’s gaze, her smile hiding something that scared the teenager more than the threat. An understanding… knowing. She knew what went through his mind. What he thought about, how he thought about himself… The way she looked at him, the way she smirked towards him, sneering… she knew. About the drugs. The blood. About the recklessness. She knew what stimmed through a tired mind in the nightmarish reality of Fenton from Phantom. She had to know… but the only way she would, would be- Vlad.

Danny glanced down for a second, swallowing loudly. Him and Vlad had had their differences, but they seemed to work it out over the years… so would Vlad really tell people about him? Would he really betray his secrets to other people, well, Spirits? The teenager had confided in him over the years. Not about everything… but about himself, about how he had come to hate Phantom. How he had become forced to live with Phantom’s pain and torment. How he felt, as the years past, and he let Phantom have more power, he could feel reality crumpling around him. Crumpling in, and slipping through his fingers, through the cracks created by Phantom, opened and birthed through the Ghost Zone and Spirit World. How it felt like he was being drained… that his humanity was dying. Would Vlad really betray him like that? After all this time?

The woman scoffed again, “Perhaps. But I’m willing to help you out… give you another nudge in the right direction.”

Confusion crossed the 17-year-old’s face as he stepped forward again, only a few feet from the woman as she crossed her arms, raising her head. She shook her head slowly, “I can see you’re confused, so I’ll make it simple for your stupid hormonal teenage brain.”

There was a flash, and Danny dropped harshly, his hands and arms burning as he felt the shift starting to take over. Phantom gaining control as the Fenton canister, forgotten on the park bench, exploded loudly, and the teenager pressed his burning hands against the snow. Cold braced against his fingers as he looked up, wiping away some green ectoplasm that litter across his body, blood dripping down his chin slowly from a cut on his upper lip. His eyes flashed green as he let Phantom gain control, his body burning slightly as he shifted, the aching pain that plagued him, gone as Phantom took over.

Within a second, he had the woman pinned against the tree, a smirk twisting against his lips as she struggled pathetically. He huffed, his tone cocky as he tightened his grip, “You missed.”

The woman hesitated before laughing loudly, snapping her fingers as Phantom reverted back, forcing Fenton through translucent skin as he was shoved back into his teenage body. Sweaty fatigue washed over him as she kicked his leg, slamming him against the ground harshly, pinning him against the snow. The 17-year-old squirmed, trying to coax Phantom out, trying to shift but finding the task difficult, his fingers tingling and sparking green but refusing to change.

The woman snorted, grasping his hand in hers, smiling down at him as her blonde hair brushed over his chest. She pressed her fingers between his, humming softly before jerking her hand back, bending Danny’s fingers as she clawed at his palm, bones cracking, causing the teenager to scream loudly as he fought against her. After a few seconds, she let go as wind rushed past them, and she pressed her chest against his, stroking his hair back gently. She bent down further, her lips brushing against his ear, “I wasn’t aiming for you, honey.”

The 17-year-old twisted; his head jerked towards Sam as he tried forcing the woman from him. Blood splattered against the snow as Sam fell, her face pressing against the ice, her hand, bloodied and shaky, as she reached in Danny’s direction. The teenager cried loudly as Sam’s hand dropped in the snow, her body going limp as red bled through white. The woman pressed her fingers against the 17-year-old’s cheek as he screamed again; his hands and arms burning as heat clawed through his chest. Sam opened her mouth, purple lips parted but no words came, only tears trailing down pale flesh before green eyes shut.

The woman laughed softly, digging her nails painfully into Danny’s cheek and chin, prying his eyes away from Sam and towards her. Rage ate away at his features, his skin scorching against Phantom as green began to steam off him, his eyes flashing bright green before darkening as his eyes met hers. The woman tightened her grip as green smoke continued to envelope them; a smirk plastered to skin pulled back too tightly as she pressed her clammy forehead against his, gently. She took a deep breath as Danny struggled against her, his skin itching as black ectoplasm began to drip from his nose and ears, running down his face before smacking against the ground. Cold soaking through his clothes as his skin began to burn away, green fading to black, and black sparks radiating from his fingertips as the woman pressed her lips against his.

The teenager jerked away, his gaze meeting Sam’s stilled face. Her features silent, and Danny choked again as he yelled her name, fighting against the woman’s grasp again. Her nails dug once more into his flesh, pulling his face back towards her as black tears fell down his cheeks in thick trails. She thumbed some away slowly before licking the liquid from her thumb and smirking, pressing her chest once again against his.

“Such power. Such a waste,” She bent down further, her lips pressing against his temple, “Two down… See you in a year, lover.”

Pain seared across his chest, and the 17-year-old screamed as her hand pressed over his heart, burning against flesh as the greenish black swallowing him, ceased. His eyes flashed back to blue as he choked, grasping towards her hand before realizing she was gone. His hand pressing over the bloody handprint stained against his shirt as the pain slowly began to evade, and he twisted around, stumbling to his feet as he forced himself towards Sam….

#in the mood to watch danny phantom #danny phantom #fandom life #i need some fanfiction in my life right now #sick Danny #I was told to stop writing this and create a book out of this lol #posted on archive #lancer taking care of Danny #kb

[moral-turpitudes]

Just Business:

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Some Fluff, Slight smut?, Swearing, Drinking, Neglect, Fighting, Blood/Gore, etc.

Word Count: 3,195

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader 

Requested by: Anon

Request: “Could you make one with Tommy where he married the reader for business purposes and she wants to make things work but he’s cold towards her so she spends most of her time with Charlie, and when the whole family have to go back to Small Heath they become close but he gets jealous. Angst/Fluff and Smut if you think it fits.”

Summary: A marriage done for business seemed fitting at first, but as tensions rise among the family, Tommy eventually finds it in him to love again, but it falls on deaf ears as Y/N struggles to cope with his antics. 

The clock struck midnight as you lied awake, the door ajar where Tommy had left to go to his study. He’d often leave you in the middle of the night when his thoughts became too much and when his emotions would threaten to take over. He had only cried around you once before, and it was when his wife Grace, had passed. Other days his mood would swing like a fragile ball on a pendulum, and you being one of his assistants at the company, you got to see almost every face of Thomas Shelby first hand, except one of genuine love. His love seemed to only be reserved for ghosts.

The next morning you would awake and hear Charlie crying, and scuffling down the hall looking for his father. He was a toddler, hell-bent on trying to run through the house any chance he got, so mornings were often spent chasing him around the vast expanse of rooms. Unfortunately, Tommy was already gone for the day, leaving you and the nanny to care for him until it was time for you to come in during the afternoon.

At some points while at home, you swore you could feel the portrait above the stairwell giving you daggers as you carried Charlie up to his room, Grace’s glistening, painted eyes boring a hole into your soul. Tommy hadn’t been the only one affected by her sudden death though, as the whole family was facing his wrath lately.

Your marriage had been a quick business arrangement ordered by Polly. She grew tired of Tommy’s antics, thinking him finding someone else would help him move on despite Grace’s death being only 6 months prior. And so here you were: a diamond ring and signed paper here, a nice dress and a family portrait of fake smiles there, and nothing but tense conversations and awkward attempts at affection getting you by until now.

Tommy was never one for love, at least not with you. You knew that deep down the only time that he seemed to love you was when he fucked you on the nights that the business became too much for him. When he’d come home needing some sort of release that wasn’t opium or whiskey, something to keep the memories of Grace and the shovels at bay, if only for a little while.

As the clock down the hall drew nearer to noon, you finally got Charlie down for a nap and got ready for work, a tear threatening to flow down your cheek as you put on your makeup, thinking about how much you had loved him secretly, even before Grace died. You’d always steal glances at him and would stay after to help him with paperwork, and it didn’t take long for Polly to know. She hated Grace, seeing as she betrayed them years before, almost destroying the family. But she’d always see the way you interacted with him and the rest of the boys and Ada, and how you immediately helped with Charlie when things got too much for Tommy. She loved you and the rest of the family did too, seeing as you were one of his most loyal assistants, and so it only made sense at the time that maybe you would be the perfect fit for Tommy. You never wanted his wife dead, and you could’ve gone your whole life just admiring from afar like all the other women would do on the streets, but you didn’t think you’d end up how you were now. Taking the place of his dead wife, being a step-mom to Charlie, and trapped in a loveless marriage to the man you felt so strongly towards.

As you blotted your tears away, you quickly finished up your makeup. Attempting to look somewhat alive despite your loneliness inside. If it wasn’t for this union being for “the sake of the business” as Tommy harshly put it when you’d overheard him talking to Polly, you’d be out finding someone who actually loved you, but in your twisted turn of events this was what had to be done.

The nanny came by the room, giving you a sympathetic glance as you tightened the belt around your waist that was accentuating your dress, you mentally kicking yourself for wearing such a revealing dress without thinking about the cold weather outside.

“I’ll have Charlie for the rest of the day as usual Mrs. Shelby, and I’ll let the maid know to straighten up and the cooks to start prepping for dinner later.” She said softly.

“Alright, thank you...truly. I...I mean we don’t know what we’d do without you all. I know Tommy doesn’t say much...but thank you for all your work.” You say, giving her a small hug. She was your only friend in the house it seemed. She’d help you when you’d drink yourself into a crying fit when Tommy was off on business, and she’d listen to you when you needed reassurance on if it was the right choice by marrying him.

“If he didn’t love you, you’d be sleeping elsewhere my dear. He’ll wise up, just give him time.” She would say, helping you back to the bedroom on those cold, dreary nights.

As you left the insanely large house you drove out onto the gravel roads, nearing Small Heath gradually. Your heart raced as you parked the car along the black dirt roads, the smell of burning wood filling your nose as the sounds of pounded metal filled your ears from the warehouses in the distance.

Other women and children would move out of your way as you swiftly walked down the narrow sidewalks and through the doors of the shop. The sound of papers flipping and typewriters clicking as you made your way silently over to your desk that was next to Tommy’s office.

“Good afternoon Y/N how was the drive?” Polly asked sitting near you. You sighed and looked at the stack of papers on the desk as you answered.

“It was fine. Quiet as usual up until arriving here of course.” You said with a small smile. You hoped she wouldn’t see the silent pain behind your eyes but you knew she did because she lingered there for a bit longer.

“Trouble at home?” She asked, her eyes flicking to Thomas as he sat in his office smoking a cigarette and looking at his own stack of papers.

“Always.” You said shortly, getting out your own cigarette and lighting it.

“Am I doing something wrong Pol? I’ve tried my best to be there for him. To be there for Charlie. To try to love him even though he couldn’t give a damn about me...” You said looking out at the lobby of the shop, wanting to be anywhere but here.

“You’re doing the best you can my dear. I’ll have a talk with him.” She said, an annoyance in her voice as she said the last part.

“Thank you.” You said as she walked off, knocking hard on Tommy’s door. You could see in through one of the windows, but you willed yourself not to look at him as your anger bubbled up inside you.

The stack of papers in front of you seemed like a mountain at the time, business proposals, unsigned license agreements, betting numbers, bank statements, anything and everything under the sun needing to be signed by the end of the day, and so while you heard Tommy shouting at Polly, you poured yourself into your work.

After awhile you saw Polly leave in a hurry and so you got up, following her out the door with your coat draped over you.

“Where are you going Polly?” You asked, the chilled air almost taking your breath away.

“To the Garrison. I need a drink. Do you care to join?” She asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.” You said sighing in relief as you both hurried into the bar. The familiar scent of smoke and whiskey filling your nose as a few people sat inside drinking their woes away.

“What will it be?” The bartender said.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic, what about you Y/N?” Polly said.

“Whiskey.” You said eyeing the bottle you’d grown to love only because of your bastard of a husband.

“He’s already rubbed off on you. Whiskey was never your drink till now.” Polly said sipping her gin.

“Well, now it is. Needed something strong enough to deal with his bullshit.” You said, knocking back a shot.

“What did he say when you talked to him?” You asked, bracing yourself for the worst.

“He told me that he’s wanting to move you and Charlie back here to Small Heath due to the recent gang problems.” She said.

“Is he mad? He can’t up and move right now! Why would he do that? He doesn’t care about us! I practically see his son more than he does.” You said, grabbing the bottle from behind the counter.

“Hey that’ll cost ya!” The bartender said. You and Polly shot him a look and he glanced at the huge rock on your finger.

“Oh...I apologize Mrs. Gray...and...Mrs. Shelby. It’s on the house.” He said before turning to serve the other patrons.

“Why would he fucking move us down here...if he doesn’t love me why would he want to protect me? I was just a fucking business deal after all...right?” You said, a tear slipping down your face as you knocked another shot back.

Polly glanced at her drink as she let you continue.

“He told me he wants to keep you safe because he loves you, I know my nephew well enough to see that he does love you, he’s just god-awful at showing it recently.” Polly said.

“Well when he wants to actually care about me more than his dead fucking wife then let me know.” You said before taking the shot glass and whiskey bottle and walking to one of the booths in the back of the bar.

Polly sighed and finished her drink, watching as a blonde haired man came over to your table and sat next to you, draping an arm around your shoulder.

The shots slowly made their way into your system as you poured yourself another one, barely acknowledging his presence at first.

“Why are you alone and wearing a dress like that with a ring around ya finger aye? Old husband getting ya down?” He asked, whiskey tainting his breath as he spoke in your ear.

“How about we go somewhere more quiet. I can love you like he couldn’t.” He said. You knocked back a couple more shots and smirked as you awkwardly ignored his advances and made flirty conversation to pass the time. Polly stiffly turned back to her drink, striking up a conversation with the bartender as you soon let your hand wander down the mans chest as he got closer.

You felt wrong for making moves on him as he wasn’t your husband, but at this point you had no love to really lose, or so you thought.

Just as you and the blonde haired man started making out, you heard the doors to the Garrison fly open, revealing your emotionless shell of a husband. His stoic face looking towards the bar to see Polly nursing another gin and tonic and chatting up the bartender.

“Thought you were working, Polly.” He said annoyed.

“I am. I’m trying to work on your love life because you won’t. I love you but you don’t know a good thing until it’s gone.” She said, her words stinging him a bit as he thought of Grace.

In the distance he heard a familiar giggle and his head shot up, his eyes glaring at the woman he desperately came to love, wearing a revealing evening dress, kissing and giggling with some blonde haired worker from god knows where.

“Is that what you call working on my love life Polly?” He said pointing to you in the distance, your face burning as the now half-drunk bottle of whiskey coursed through you, helping you not to have a care in the world as you giggled at the mans joke as he reached for your waist.

“If that’s what gets you to see reason, then yes.” Polly said sipping her drink as she watched you two making out.

“As much as I want to I can’t. I’m sorry...I’m married...” You said breathlessly, stopping his hands from traveling further.

“He doesn’t have to know.” He said.

You looked up through your slightly blurred vision to see the familiar peaked cap of your husband getting closer to your table.

“He already does.” You said, a nervous edge to your voice as you watched everything unfold before you.

Tommy yanked the man off you by the back of shirt and spun him around to where he was facing him.

“What are you doing here messing around with my fucking wife aye!?” He said pushing him roughly into the wall before landing a fist to his jaw.

The man smirked, spitting out blood right onto Tommy’s shirt before speaking.

“I was just about to do what you couldn’t.” He said.

You cringed and took another shot as you heard the sound of the mans jaw break as Tommy’s fist landed on his face once again, rendering him unconscious.

As you watched in silence, he grabbed his cap and cut a gash in his face that was deep enough to need stitches.

“Tommy stop!” You yelled, struggling to get up and stumbling towards him, nearly knocking him over. His breathing was ragged as you clutched onto him, his arms gripping your waist and steadying you.

“I-I can explain...” You said wiping a stray tear from your eye as you felt your mascara streaking down your face.

“Explain fucking what Y/N!? That you wanted to fuck him? Am I not enough for you? You had to go find some random man just because I’m busy?!” He said shouting loudly.

You shakily stepped forward looking him in his eyes which were burning like blue flames from jealousy.

“If I did why would you care? Just say it Thomas...you don’t fucking love me! You love Grace, and no woman will ever amount to her even though she’s six feet under. You’ve never loved me...and you just expect me to act like everything’s fucking fine, but it’s not!.....Hell! I even see your fucking son more than you do, now how is that love Thomas? If you don’t love me just say it. Because I’ve loved you as best I could...and I’ve loved you long before that. If you did love me, and I mean actually loved me...then this wouldn’t have been a “business deal” it would’ve been a proper fucking marriage!” You yelled, throwing your shot glass on the ground, watching as the glass shattered into a million sparkling pieces on the wooden floor.

He stood there silently as you stumbled off towards the restroom, shooing Polly away as you closed the door behind you and locked it. You practically collapsed on the floor sobbing as the cold tile soothed your burning skin, the room spinning the longer you laid there.

“What are you going to do Tommy?” Polly asked as she eyed him from her seat at the bar.

“I’m going to try to get my wife back. It’s not a fucking business deal anymore Pol. Never was. You think I didn’t notice the whispers from you and the lads when she’d leave the room? About how she liked me and how we’d be good together? You think I didn’t notice her eyes watching me as I worked despite being married to Grace? Of course I loved Grace but she’s not been the easiest fucking thing to get over. I know I’ve been a terrible husband, I can see it in Y/N’s eyes every day...I can see her withering away from me as well as Charlie and it kills me inside...I’m just not the best at loving people and you know that...ever since Grace died it’s like a part of me has too, but I’m going to get that back. I have to.” He said, his eyes glistening a bit as he headed for the restrooms.

He knocked lightly and waited before calling your name, panic coursing through him as you didn’t answer.

Without a second thought he shoved his shoulder into the door, busting the lock and stumbling in to find you on the floor barely conscious.

You mumbled something unintelligible as he crouched down and picked you up, bringing you out to his car as Polly followed quickly behind.

“My god where are you taking her?” She yelled over the start of the engine.

“Home. Tell the lads I’m taking the day off.” He said before speeding off towards the house.

Once there, he carried you to the lavish bathroom that connected to your all’s bedroom and sat you down in a chair. He quickly got a cold rag and wiped it on your forehead and around the rest of your face trying to keep you conscious. You perked up slightly at the cold sensation but were quickly overcome by the all too familiar feeling of nausea, your body cursing you as you stumbled towards the toilet almost blindly. Tommy held your hair back as best he could, waiting for what felt like ages for you to stop getting sick. With a weak hand you flushed and stumbled up, shakily brushing your teeth and staring at your tragic reflection in the mirror as Tommy kept an eye on you from the door frame. He held a pair of your sleepwear and one of his t-shirts in his beat up hands.

You looked at him as you grudgingly took the clothes from him, changing into them carefully as your balance was still shit.

After wrestling them on, you went straight for the bed, barely acknowledging Tommy’s presence as he watched you carefully.

“I’m going to bed Thomas. You can leave for all I care.” You said wrapping yourself in the plush covers and closing your eyes.

“I’m not leaving Y/N.” He said as you heard his footsteps softly move towards the bed. The mattress shifting a bit as he climbed in next to you, letting you snuggle up against him.

“You should be at work.” You mumbled.

He stroked your arm lightly as he laid there, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not while my wife’s a mess.” He said.

“Why should you care?” You asked, sleep threatening to take over.

“Because I love you, Y/N. I’ve just been terrible at showing it. To both you and Charlie. I love you and I’m not going to lose you. I can’t lose you.” He said quickly, knowing you’d fall asleep at any moment.

“Tell me you love me when I wake up then, because I won’t remember this.” You said, listening to his heartbeat as you let the darkness overtake you.

“I will, I promise.” He said, gently kissing the top of your head as he laid there with you, hoping sleep would take him too.

Tag List:

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Main Tag List

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee

#katiesrequests #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders oneshots #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby x female!reader #katiesWIPlist #I’m sleep deprived but I hope this was good lol

[bippityboppitybibuck]

@valleydean As of the start of writing this it's nearly 3:30 in the morning, I am almost exactly 13 hours away from the minute I was born on this day 23 years ago and I am awake thinking about Dean fucking Winchester so here you go. As a weird birthday gift from me to you on my birthday, I present mild angst but also of course fluff. By the time you get this my birth minute will have passed and I will be 23 ((oh my god just like Dean and Cas AGS.)) As with all of my ags posting this contains spoilers for the story, you’ve been warned!!

Dean’s 27th birthday snuck up on him. Well, as much as a date that comes around every year without fail can sneak up on a person who also has a solid five people clamouring to remind him. Somehow even Jack memorized the date after he heard Cas talk about it one time years ago and now the kid won’t stop bringing it up, which yeah is cute as hell but also Dean’s never been one to make a big deal of his birthdays before.

But 27 fucks him up. And hard.

He’s officially lived longer than Dean Wesson did, which sure, he technically did when he made it to the end of December, but the milestone feels bigger now that he’s 27. He’s 27. Dean’s never been 27 before because Dean Wesson never made it to 27.

It shouldn't mean anything, Dean Wesson is as much him as he is, even more so now that there’s no door keeping the memories from the light of day, but as he'd watched the clock flick from 11:59 to 12:00 with Cas beside him ready to give him his first of 27 birthday kisses something within him had felt morosely finalized.

A chapter closed, one that he’ll never be able to reopen the same way he did the first time around. Dean Wesson’s story is over. Dean Wesson’s story is his, but a part of it, the largest, hell only, part of that story came to a close when those red numbers switched over.

He doesn't know what to feel. He doesn’t know how to feel the loss, he died so young, he died with so much life still to live, he died and left Sam to live his decades out alone. He was young.

It never registered, even back then, how young he was, and he’s sure that with every birthday he has going forward that feeling is only going to get worse.

He and Charlie spent the Halloween of their 21st year watching the clock in a similar way. Waiting for the moment they lived longer than the Potter’s did - Charlie's idea that Dean went along with without putting up a fight - and it felt like this did. A shock to the system, a race won that you hadn’t known you were running. The realization that they were barely adults and now you are there living past what they ever got to.

Except, this time, it’s him he outlived. He outlived himself. It’s different for Cas, or at least Dean thinks it is, because there was never that separation, that differentiation within Cas of his two lives because there was no distinct difference when it came to his knowledge and understanding of his old life - and therefore no disconnect from himself in that way. Cas’ disconnect came in another way but Cas has already outlived himself sorta… it’s hard for Dean to tell when technically Cas has only really been alive for a short time but still was resurrected at the age he died at. Either way, Cas never made a fuss about being older than his past self.

The clock reads 12:02 now, Cas is sitting behind him, arms wrapped around his middle and Dean can’t think of what to say. 27 isn't a big birthday milestone, there's no grand party waiting for him with cards that list his age or balloons or any of the hooplas that 30 or 50 gets but this birthday feels more momentous than any he’s had or will ever have. He just doesn’t know how to deal with that yet, so he just goes and grabs it all right by the horns.

“I’m older than he was,” he says into the stillness of the dark room.

“Who? - oh, yes I suppose you are,” Cas responds, dropping his chin against Dean’s shoulder and resting it there.

“You never loved me at 27 before, is it any different?” There's a fear there he can’t name, something brought forth from etches in his bones that whisper that Cas may never love him like he did Dean Wesson, shared memories be damned, years spent together be damned.

“Mhmm, no it’s not, I love you all the same. Maybe even a little more now. A little more love with every year we get together that we never got before. Also, I’m loving you right now, that counts as loving you at 27 doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess it does.” He drops his head back against Cas’ shoulder, their cheeks brushing gently together with the ebb and flow of their breathing.

“Do you feel any different?” Cas asks lightly, tentatively, as though he knows Dean is struggling with this new reality.

“Outrageously so. But I couldn’t begin to tell you why. There's just this thought that he’s not there anymore, he doesn’t have any side-by-side memories now. I don’t have any memories anymore… I sorta got used to them always being there, following me through the things I experienced in real time. But now I’m going to do things and I won’t be able to think back to what I did before. He’s not felt so separate since before Dorthey and the manor and I don’t really know what to make of it.”

“You know you can mourn him Dean. That is allowed. You can mourn that loss of yourself. Grieve for the future you didn’t get before.”

“But why should I? I mean I’m here now, with you, Sam, Mom, Charlie, Kelly and Jack too even if they are thousands of miles away. I’m getting to live, I’m getting my future and Dean Wesson is getting it too because he’s me, I’m him. I just - he feels disjointed within me now and I want the peace back but I don’t know how I’ll ever manage to get it when from here on out Dean Wesson stops being there alongside Dean Winchester. I’m moving away from him and like everything that dies, he’s stuck perpetually at 26. He’s stuck and I have to leave him behind.”

Something thick coats his throat with the words, a darkness that seeps in and threatens to choke him if he’s not careful. Grief is such a finicky thing.

“You don’t have to Dean, same as you don’t have to leave your middle school self behind or your pre my resurrection self behind. It’s all you in there still. You get to pick what you carry with you for the rest of your life. If you don’t want to leave that part of yourself in your past, then don’t and keep it with you.”

Dean’s quiet for a while, thinking about a lot of shit, including how the hell Cas managed to get so good at this shit, because that little speech would put Dr. Phil to shame in an instant. But then of course Cas would probably have had to do the very thing he’s telling Dean now.

“Do you remember how we spent my first 25th birthday?” Dean asks.

“Hmm, I do, and I gotta say the frozen ass I got from the fence was completely worth it.”

Dean huffs a laugh into the darkness, picking his head up from Cas’ shoulder as he asks, “Do you think that for the first birthday he won’t have we could do that again? Fly back to Amherst, maybe see Kelly and Jack too?”

“Absolutely, but no smoking this time, even if I did get a rise out of you back then.”

“You bastard, I knew that was intentional!”

“You caught me,” Cas says, the phrase all but dripping in sarcasm. “Jack will be thrilled to see us again, Kelly too.”

He smiles picturing it. Cas playing with Jack, running around the backyard of the duplex Kelly bought only a year ago, smiles wide, Jack’s blonde hair sticking haphazardly out of his puffball touque, Cas’ hair tucked into a hat he’ll surely steal from Dean. Their joyful shouts echoing around them all. So like they used to all those years ago when Jack was barely five, and now he’s almost double digits and Dean can’t remember the years flying by until he looked back and they were already so securely in the rearview.

“I’m old now,” Dean says a little while later.

“If it makes you feel any better, regardless of what that fake ID you made says, my birth year is technically 1845 so… I’ve got you beat in the old age department.”

“Oh Cas, you don’t look a day over a hundred and twenty, you’re fine,” Dean jokes, Cas’ light mood rubbing off on him.

Dean gets a pinch to the ribs in retaliation and awards Cas an indignant squawk and a begrudgingly given laugh before he settles back against him, his eyes slipping closed though he wants not for sleep.

“What should we do now, I’m not particularly tired, and I feel certain in assuming that you aren’t either,” Cas murmurs lowly, breath dusting the shell of his ear soothingly.

“I dunno, maybe we should just keep sitting here,” Dean says, a memory playing behind his closed eyelids. In the heat of the room, frozen air bites at his skin just as it did back then.

Cas answers this time around, but instead of using words he pulls Dean in for a kiss - the second of his 27 birthday kisses - and within that press of lips Dean knows he remembers too.

Their skin pressed firmly together, neither move, their eyes kept forward, staring through the window at the still portrait of the winter stars.

#ags #a ghost story #destiel #destiel ficlet #my writing #ags ficlet #its my birthday and i am thinking about the sadness of birthdays no longer celebrated #valleydean #read the og story for real tho #you will not regret it

[mascwhump]

Chapter 17 - Video Killed the Shooting Star

I changed my format a little bit. Let me know if you hate it and want me to go back to the old one.

BTHB: Tied to a chair

TW: Blood, knives, caning.

Tag list: @whatwasmyprevioususername @milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101 @whatwhumpcomments @mnmlover2002 @ashintheairlikesnow @badthingshappenbingo

-

A faint tingling in Charlie’s neck jolted him awake. He sat up quickly, and found himself being laughed at by both Mallory and Rudy.

“See? It’s great,” Mallory said as he turned off the current. Charlie narrowed his eyes at them as he reached up to gently rub his temples.

“Come on, Charlie. We’re going upstairs while Rudy does some work down here,” Mallory said. Charlie slowly got to his feet on his own accord and followed Mallory upstairs. He wondered what he meant by “work”. A large crate was sitting in the hall by the garage door, and Charlie took a long look at it as they passed by.

“Sit,” Mallory spoke as he pulled a chair out from the dining table. Charlie sat down and waited. Mallory set a plate of toast and a glass of milk in front of him, then went back down into the basement. Charlie nibbled on the toast; his lip stinging as crumbs found their way into the cut. He could hear a drill going downstairs.

He finished his meager meal and waited for Mallory to re-emerge. The collar was digging into his skin. He tried to get a finger between it and his neck to relieve some of the pressure, to no avail. Mallory finally came back after a few minutes and instructed Charlie to follow him into the garage.

A metal folding chair sat in the middle. A camera fixed atop a tripod was directly across from it. Just as Mallory instructed Charlie to sit down, Rudy opened the door, carrying the crate. He dropped it next to the workbench and flipped open the top. Then, he pulled a handful of zip ties from his pocket, and secured Charlie’s wrists behind his back and his ankles to the chair legs.

“We’re going to make a video to send to your friends,” Mallory said. He turned on the camera and adjusted the zoom.

“Say hello,” he said.

“Hello,” Charlie croaked, avoiding looking into the camera. Mallory stepped next to him and grabbed his jaw, forcing his head to face the camera.

“Anything you want to say to them?” Mallory asked.

“Um, I’m doing fine, guys. I hope you are, too,” Charlie spoke.

His throat was dry and started to become tight. Rudy wheeled the workbench closer, just out of view of the camera. It blocked Charlie from seeing the crate. Rudy began to dig in it, and Mallory turned to face Charlie.

“Rudy’s going to pick two objects from the crate. You’re going to pick one,” he said. Charlie shook his head slightly before stopping himself, changing it to a nod. Rudy set a thin black wooden stick on the workbench, along with a knife.

“Go on, then. Pick one,” Mallory insisted. Charlie took a deep breath.

“The... whatever that is. That stick thing,” Charlie mumbled.

“It’s a cane,” Mallory remarked, picking it up. Rudy pulled out a pair of dice and threw them down.

“Seven,” he said.

Mallory looked into the camera before raising the cane and bringing it down on Charlie’s chest. Charlie hissed, and was given no time to recover between the next six hits. Each was worse than the last, and some drew blood. Charlie breathed heavily as he looked down at his chest. The new wounds added to the previous ones from last night. When he looked up, Rudy had set a pair of pliers next to the knife.

“Choose,” Mallory spat. Charlie considered the pliers. All he could imagine was his tooth getting ripped out. He decided to take his chance with the knife. Mallory spun it around in his fingers while Rudy rolled the dice.

“Four,” Rudy said. Mallory put the tip of the knife against Charlie’s left shoulder, then dragged it down, applying light pressure. Charlie clenched his teeth as his skin was cut. Mallory moved the blade to his other shoulder and made an identical cut before putting it against his right cheek.

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut as the blade dug in. Finally, Mallory made one last slice on his sternum. Charlie watched the blood slowly trickle out of the cuts and drip down his body. The last item added to the workbench was a piece of cloth.

“What is that?” Charlie asked.

“Choose it and find out,” Rudy replied.

“Um... alright. That, then,” Charlie said.

“Two. Dammit,” Rudy said after rolling the dice. Mallory picked up the cloth and wrapped it over Charlie’s eyes.

“What’s the number mean?” Charlie asked.

“You get to wear it for two hours,” Mallory answered.

Charlie exhaled through his nose as Mallory walked away from him. Rudy moved in front of him to cut the zip ties from his ankles, resting his hand on Charlie’s knee as he bent down. Charlie kicked his leg up to get him to move his hand away. Rudy laughed as he dug his nails in and cut the zip ties with his other hand. He moved to Charlie’s back and cut him lose.

Charlie stood up and spun around, blindly throwing his fist at Rudy. He managed to land a hit right to his cheek. Rudy shoved him, and he tripped backwards over the chair before ending up on the ground.

“What the hell?” Mallory questioned.

“He hit me!” Rudy exclaimed.

“Well, suck it up,” Mallory replied. He lifted Charlie back to his feet and lead him out of the garage. He then guided him down the stairs and over to the wall. Charlie could hear a chain rattling, and Mallory slid the collar around so the loop was at the back. Charlie coughed as it choked him slightly. Then, Mallory attached the chain to the loop.

“This is what he was working on,” Mallory explained, “He attached a little hook to the wall so I could keep you in place.” Charlie reached up and tugged the chain to get a sense of how long it was. Rudy roughly grabbed his arms and pulled them behind his back again, rejoining them together with another zip tie.

“So you don’t take the blindfold off,” he said, his voice a vicious tone.

“Should we order lunch?” Mallory asked.

“Oh god, yes. I’m starving,” Rudy replied. They ordered something for delivery, and Charlie could hear glasses being moved.

“None for me, thanks. I’m a bit sick of being hungover,” Mallory said. The two discussed business related things by the bar. Charlie didn’t care to listen. He sat down on the carpet and zoned out.

Their food soon arrived and they ate at the bar. Based on the amount of liquid being poured, Charlie estimated that Rudy was on his fifth drink by the time they finished. His speech was slurred, and it was obvious by the tone of Mallory’s voice that he was becoming annoyed.

“I’m going to wash these dishes,” Mallory said, “I’ll be back in a moment.” Charlie became nervous. He hated being around Rudy, anyway, but now, he was alone with him. His heavy drunken footsteps moved around the room in a seemingly random way. Charlie listened closely until he could hear him breathing in front of him.

“You think you’re a tough little shit, don’t you?” He growled, roughly grabbing Charlie’s chin. Charlie jerked his head away and kicked his legs out, managing to land a kick to Rudy’s shin.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Charlie spat. He could smell the alcohol emanating from him. Rudy smacked him hard before stumbling away into a different part of the basement.

Mallory called him upstairs soon after. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief once he was finally alone. The stinging pain from the various cuts and welts made them impossible to ignore. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt. Mallory returned, alone, after awhile.

“Guess what? The camera died right after I began filming,” he said.

“Please don’t make me do it again,” Charlie mumbled.

“I won’t. Not today, at least,” Mallory replied, “Rudy’s going to nap off the alcohol before he leaves. Then, I’ve got a few ideas as to what we can do later.”

He ruffled his fingers through Charlie’s hair before leaving. Charlie ended up falling asleep from the physical exhaustion, his head slumped forward as much as the collar allowed.

Fandom: Original Characters

#easton’s unnamed story #oc #whump #whump oc #whumpee #whumper #whump story #bthb #bad things happen bingo

[angstyaches]

hello! can we get the trope where the sickee starts crying over something trivial and that’s how everyone realises they’re sick, except : it’s shayne, who is extremely stressed out and/or just having a bad day tm and he just?? starts crying?? over something v small?? and charlie and rin are going ???? is he okay?? and then they take care of him. thanks!🍄

Hi and welcome to Carried Away Inc., where I’m the founder and CEO. I decided to flesh this out and let the babies talk about college and stuff. All happens after the exams and grad ball, but before they receive their exam results and college offers.

CW: references to past trauma and disordered eating, anxiety, crying, angst (comfort will be in Part Two)

PART ONE OF TWO

The chair didn’t have a back, so Shayne’s shoulders were pressed against the wall. The music in the shopping centre had turned to complete white noise at this point, blending in with the sounds of customers shuffling about, hangers being slid onto railings, cash registers clicking open and shut. The worst of all was the sound of toddlers whining for the justified reason of being torn away from their cartoons and toys, only to be dragged about town for hours, with only the promise of a shitty balloon and a Burger King at the end of the day.

He hadn’t realised how hard he’d been clenching his jaw until it suddenly popped inside his head, making his back teeth grind and slip. He sank forward on the stool and cradled the side of his face in his hand, begging the ache not to travel deeper into his head. He already had so much tension in his stomach and chest that breathing had grown uncomfortable, though he hadn’t realised it had gotten quite so bad until he was left alone outside the changing rooms.

His heart was pounding, and his limbs tingled with adrenaline, like he was running away from something he couldn’t see.  

There were less than twenty-four hours to go until the first round of college offers went out, and although they were freaking out too, Charlie and Rin seemed to be able to keep themselves occupied. The shopping trip was supposed to be about getting ready to leave for college, but Shayne suspected it was a distraction.

Fuck, there it went; the tension in his jaw sprouted lightning bolts of pain through his skull at the thought of what would happen the following morning. The Aldridges had promised the same thing to him that they’d offered to Felix and Elliott in the past; financial and familial aid for as long as he was in formal education. The way Ryan had mentioned it, it seemed as though it was a given. As though him going to college was a given.

But what if there was no offer?

Shayne had to bite his lip to keep it from trembling. The knots in his stomach seemed to bunch up tighter. If the Aldridges would only help and support him if he got into college, there would be nothing to stop the Devines getting their (literal) claws back in him.

“Hey, what do you think of these?” Charlie asked, suddenly appearing from around the corner without his jacket and without his shoes.

God, he’s perfect, Shayne thought, swallowing hard against the pain in his throat and his chest. That should have been your first hint. Nice things aren’t for you. You’re good for one thing and one thing only and that’s –

“I wasn’t sure of the colour at first, but they’re growing on me.”

Shayne realised Charlie was asking about the light blue jeans he was wearing, with the red cardboard tag still attached. He was also trying on a navy-blue knitted cardigan, with two of the four buttons closed, but by the way he was glancing down at his legs and twisting his calves in different directions, he was asking specifically about the jeans.

“Yeah, they’re alright,” Shayne said quietly, sitting up and releasing the hold on his jaw.

“Only ‘alright’?” Charlie turned to the side to examine himself in the full-length mirror at the end of the row of fitting rooms. “Is that code? Does that mean you hate them?”

“What?” Something twisted in Shayne’s gut at the quiet despair buried in Charlie’s tone. It was like the dark feelings inside him were creeping out and infecting his friends. “No, I just – I’ve worn the same outfit every weekend for the last three years, Charlie. I’m not exactly qualified for this.”

“I know what you mean,” Charlie admitted, his palms grazing gently over the thighs of the stiff jeans. “That’s sort of why I wanted to get some new stuff for college. Re-invent myself a bit. Can’t be the hoodie guy forever, I guess.”

“I like your hoodies,” Shayne mumbled, without really meaning to.

“I know you do.” There was a warm smile on Charlie’s face, and it made Shayne wince internally. “But if I’m wearing them less, it means you can wear them more.”

The feeling in his stomach was far from the light, fluffy sensation he used to get from Charlie’s smile. Are you going to leave your hoodies with me, Charlie? When you go off to college and I go back to -?

“Charlie Bear, you look so cute!” Rin gasped, appearing on the opposite corner. She was trying on a pair of floral pants and a blouse, and her hair seemed to have fallen loose while she’d been changing. She looked more like a young teacher than a student about to start college.

Charlie saw her in the mirror and turned around. “God, so do you. I never thought I’d see you in any pattern other than stripes.”

“Hey, shut up,” Rin laughed. “I never thought I’d see you without scuffed Converse and a hoodie.”

Charlie glanced at Shayne. “That’s literally what we were just saying, huh?”

“Yeah,” Shayne nodded. He awkwardly got to his feet, so as not to be the only one of them that was sitting down. He shifted his shoulders inside his leather jacket, suddenly conscious of the fact that they could also have been calling him out on his predictable fashion choices, but weren’t.

“I’m still not sure about the light blue denim with the cardigan,” Charlie mused.

Shayne cleared his throat, panic building up in his head the longer he stood there without saying anything. “If you like them, you should get them.”

Charlie frowned, despite the look of pleasant surprise on his face. “What? Just the jeans, or do you mean the cardigan, too?”

Shayne shrugged. “Both.”

“I think so, too,” Rin said, folding her arms as she watched Charlie turn back to the mirror. “Add a little pair of brown boots, and you’ll look like a cowboy-slash-bookshop worker.”

Shayne heard Charlie laugh, but didn’t quite catch what he said back to Rin. He felt his stomach growl quietly, untying itself from one knot and immediately twisting into another in the opposite direct. His throat didn’t seem to want to let him swallow.

Fuck. Why did he feel so lonely right now? He’d been alone for years, never even entertaining the notion of friends, never mind a boyfriend too (the word still made his insides quiver), and maybe he’d have been better off without either. When he’d had nobody, it was easier to accept the fact that he’d never make it out into the real world.

When he’d had nobody, he didn’t have to think about anybody leaving him behind.

“Sorry, Shayne, we’re taking forever; you must be so bored,” Rin said, catching his attention by picking up a baseball cap that someone had left on the opposite seat, tag still attached.

Shayne’s spine stiffened. Rin placed the cap on his head, smiling at him as she finished tugging it gently into place.

“We should find somewhere to eat, once we finish up here,” she suggested. “Are you hungry?”

The back of Shayne’s neck prickled, as though Madelyn were already standing right behind him, cold fingers clutching his shoulder as her words moved breathlessly past his ear.

Are you hungry, you useless little runt? Isn’t it about time you put your existence to good use? Shouldn’t you stop draining the world of things that aren’t meant for you? Why can’t you be more like your mother?

He wasn’t sure why he had put a hand over his own mouth, until he felt the tension squeezing his throat, and then he was glad of it, because the scream died behind his palm before he could voice it. His stomach rolled, stopping just short of making him gag.

You haven’t stopped eating since you were born.

“Shayne? Babe?”

Are you still hungry, Shayne?

The screaming in his head tapered down his throat, making his ears ring, and all that made it past his lips was a simple, “No.”

He grabbed the cap by the peak and flung it back at the seat.

The motion was so quick and unexpected that Rin took a step back from him. In the quiet seconds that followed, Shayne got the feeling he’d stuck a needle in the air and let something leak out of it. Something important. Something he didn’t have a grasp on because it was for fun, normal people, and he was never going to be fun or normal.

He swallowed, trying to ignore the ache spreading through the pit of his stomach as he glanced down at the ground, sensing Charlie and Rin watching him. His jaw was twinging as his teeth began to clench together.

“Shayne?” Charlie asked softly.

“What?” The tone of his own voice took Shayne by surprise, and so did the tears that he felt drop from his chin.

“What’s – what’s wrong, lovely?”

“I don’t want to go back.”

The undiluted confusion and worry that had suddenly drained the excitement from Charlie and Rin was enough to make Shayne’s ears start to ring again. He could barely believe he’d said the words out loud, and he couldn’t imagine what they’d sounded like outside of his own thoughts.

“Go... go back where?” There was pain in Rin’s voice, like her words were being wrung out of her. “All I - all I asked was if you wanted to go for food.”

Shayne sighed shakily and wiped at the tears that had already streaked his face. He took a step back, ears ringing again, craving space between him and his friends. “I’m n-not hungry, so, um – I’ll just – I’ll catch up with you later.”

Tears started welling in his eyes again as he turned to leave. He heard Charlie say his name, and then Rin telling Charlie he couldn’t leave the shop in the clothes he was trying on, and then his friends fizzled out into white noise and blurry white lights and you’re good for one thing and one thing only -

#okay okay that was mean #Part Two will be later this week #probably #angst fic #sickfic #angsty fic #angsty Shayne #stomach ache #stress #sad boys #sick boys #my OCs #whump #emotional whump #disordered eating #trauma

[astudyinfreewill]

look what you made me do || 1/?

aka: me making taylor swift songs about dean winchester and/or deancas bc it’s what dean himself would want

(i will be keeping track of these with a masterpost, just in case i need to find them again or someone enjoys seeing me go hogwild on lyric analysis, lol. also, there’s a wee treat at the end of the post!)

and without further ado, our first tswift x dean song is...

the archer

combat, i'm ready for combat i say i don't want that, but what if i do?

we start off with an extremely obvious line: dean winchester is always ready for combat - he’s been trained all his life to essentially be a soldier/vigilante figure, an ultimate warrior of sorts. the thing is... he doesn’t want to. when dean is left to his own devices, without his father to order him around or a Big Bad to spur him on, what he chooses to do is is cook for his loved ones, have movie nights with them, play music, tinker with parts to build something new. at his core dean is kind, and full of care for others, and his deepest fear is that he truly IS nothing more than just a killer or a weapon - hence the ‘but what if i do’.

'cause cruelty wins in the movies  i've got a hundred thrown out speeches i almost said to you 

‘the movies’ here is just shorthand for everything he’s witnessed happening around him in real life. as far as dean’s experience goes, cruelty does win. why believe in softness and kindness when your father has taught you that either of those things is a weakness, and the world simply doesn’t care? 

as for the second line, well. you can guess what THAT’s about. dean feels so deeply, but really struggles to verbalise his feelings, often brushing them off until he explodes. we usually see him at his most vulnerable while praying to cas, but even then, you get the sense that he’s holding back on so much. (“cas, i need to say something--” “you don’t need to say it, dean.” so it goes, so it goes.)

easy they come, easy they go i jump from the train, i ride off alone  i never grew up, it's getting so old help me hold onto you 

a few points here: “i jump from the train” could easily be a callback to dean’s impulsive self-sacrificing ways, and “i never grew up” underlines how he never got the chance to evolve and grow into himself because he got essentially stuck in the “child parenting another child” role. sure, he had to be a mother and a father to sam, so in some ways he grew up really fast; in others, he was stuck as an insecure teenager, because he never got the opportunity for healthy emotional growth himself. 

and of course, “easy they come, easy they go” is a tragically accurate representation of dean’s most devastating insecurity: that everyone he loves eventually leaves him. mary died, john was constantly absent, cassie broke up with him when he tried to tell her the truth, sam left him behind for college, and then, of course, there’s cas... who just. keeps. leaving, one way or another, and dean just desperately wants him to stay - which also ties into “help me hold on to you”. the irony of it all, of course, is that dean wants castiel to choose not to leave, whereas castiel desperately wants to be asked to stay; and ain’t that just a fucking tragedy.

i've been the archer, i've been the prey who could ever leave me, darling? (but who could stay?) 

the first line is pretty self-explanatory: dean has been both aggressor and victim, both literally and emotionally. he’s a fearsome hunter who gets hunted down by monsters in turn; and he’s lashed out and pushed people away, while getting his heart broken in return too. 

but it’s the second part that really strikes me as a dean line, because the first half - “who could ever leave me, darling?” - is the bravado that dean wears like a mask. charming smile, a flirty wink, swagger in like you own the place, “i think i’m adorable”, “i’m a joy to be around”, etc. but the second part... that’s the whisper of truth behind it. for all that dean can turn the charm on and put on a brave face, he’s thoroughly convinced that he’s not worth sticking around for.

dark side, i search for your dark side but what if I'm alright, right, right, right here? 

so, can you say trust issues? remember how long it took for dean to believe an angel could be on his side, and then how deeply he came to trust cas? and remember how heartbroken he was when castiel betrayed them in s6, and how that heartbreak was covered up with anger when cas came back? yet, no matter how many twists and turns they go through, inevitably, dean ends up trusting cas with his life - he’s not only the definition of a ride-or-die, but he also trusts him in smaller, more intimate ways, such as letting down his guard and allowing himself to be vulnerable only around him, or praying to him for comfort as much as guidance.

and i cut off my nose just to spite my face  then hate my reflection for years and years 

...but because of those trust issues, and because of dean’s deeply entrenched abandonment issues as mentioned above, often dean ends up reacting to things more harshly than is needed, by lashing out in anger and pushing people away (or, in more than one occasion, through the infamous silent treatment). but we also know he immediately regrets it, because it ends up hurting him just as much, if not more. basically this correlates to his speech from 15x09 about his anger issues.

i wake in the night, i pace like a ghost the room is on fire, invisible smoke and all of my heroes died all alone help me hold onto you

there’s also the fact that having attachments as a hunter isn’t exactly safe, and comes with a shitton of fear of losing people - or remorse and regret when you do lose them. “the room is on fire, invisible smoke” - i can only imagine dean would still have nightmares of that fateful night when he was 4 years old and his mother burned alive on a ceiling (and so: “i wake in the night, i pace like a ghost). as for his heroes dying alone... mary. john. ellen. jo. ash. kevin. charlie. the list stretches way too long. it’s only natural he’d be afraid of losing cas too... especially since he’s already died multiple times, and dean has mourned him more and more devastatingly each time.

i've been the archer, i've been the prey screaming “who could ever leave me, darling”-- but who could stay? 

the same concept as the previous chorus, except that here the façade of confidence and swagger comes off almost as desperate (screaming “who could ever leave me”). but then we know overcompensating is kinda dean’s thing.

'cause they see right through me, they see right through me they see right through me -- can you see right through me? they see right through me, they see right through me  i see right through me, i see right through me 

and we circle back to dean’s constant fear of being found worthless, damaged, and unlovable. no matter how much bravado he puts on, his actual self-worth is close to non-existent, so of course he’d feel like a fraud, and it makes sense he’d fear other people seeing through his act, or wonder if they do - can cas see right through him? because dean himself certainly isn’t buying his own lies.

all the king's horses, all the king's men couldn't put me together again 'cause all of my enemies started out friends help me hold onto you 

the first line just... hurts me a lot. i guess it’s the nursery rhyme sound of it, almost trying to take the bite of a statement which is, essentially: i’m broken beyond repair. as i said above, dean’s not buying his own lies, he knows exactly how much baggage and trauma he carries. and not to go back to the trust issues again, but it is hard to believe someone could see past that when there’s so much betrayal in your history (which, yes, has included cas at one point too, as well as sam, or, say, fucking chuck).

i've been the archer, i've been the prey who could ever leave me, darling? (but who could stay?) who could stay? who could stay? you could stay, you could stay... 

and then... we have the third repeat of the chorus, which echoes the first, softer version of it, but with a fundamental difference. this time, the rhetorical question “who could stay?” finds a pointed answer in “you could stay”. because yes, maybe cas leaves a lot, but he always, always comes back. so i’d imagine dean harbours hope that one day, maybe, cas will want to actually... stay for good.

combat, i'm ready for combat

and that hope kinda gives this final line a whole new lovely layer of meaning: dean’s no longer ready for combat just because he’s been trained for combat all his life; rather, he’s ready for combat because for once in his life, he has something to look forward to; something to fight for: the happy ending he deserves, where someone - perhaps someone in a dirty trenchcoat and tired blue eyes - will finally stay.

---

BONUS: literally the day after i started obsessing over this song as a dean song, i found a fanvid of it! if that’s not serendipitous, i don’t know what is <3

#spn #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #taylor swift #meta #mp #long post for ts #uuh how else to tag this #tswift x dean winchester #??? that sounds like a ship #anyway. i know there's been some interest in this so hopefully it doesn't disappoint #and if you wanna be tagged in these/suggest songs lmk!!! #lwymmd

[themadauthorshatter]

I'M BACK!

So, like I said in my break announcement, I got some ideas for Toppat!Henry, but that unfortunately happened AFTER I posted Part 4.

I was thinking of ideas like this:

Everything remains the same after the chase with RHM, rather than getting captured, Charles pulls a Bold Action Man and jumps off the building. Or so we think, because we'd switch to Henry watching 'Charles fall' and shoot to his feet and shout, "NO! CATCH HIM!"

Funny thing about Bold Action Men: they're plans work. They horribly mangle themselves, but their plans work.

Charles actually landed on a window cleaning lift, which kind of broke when he landed on it. His phone, however, wasn't so lucky.

The lift breaks and Charles catches himself before he falls for real, swinging and climbing into an open window so he can then roll to the floor.

The supplies, including a heavy coat, all fall to and hit the ground; the phone's absolutely fucked, by the way.

Right rockets down to see if Charles actually died, and Charles sees him fly down.

When Right's gone, Charles groans and sits up, opening his jacket to see that he caught himself a little too well, evidenced by a gash that's opened on his ribs, right on the side that was already injured, too.

He groans and stands up, stumbling to the wall.

With Right, we see him hiver over the ground and report back to Henry that Charles did not fall at all. It was just a bunch of supplies and a spare coat. Henry, on the orbital station, sighs and falls back into his chair, silent for a second before he orders them to look inside the building they're on, in case Charles slipped inside to escape.

With Charles, TV perspective, we'd follow a blood trail to see him stumble through an office space, panting and light headed; he's walked down a couple flights of stairs and reached the office to try and look for an elevator, and that gash he has is doing nothing to help.

A wave of exhaustion washes over him and Charles catches himself on a desk, dry heaving as a whistle catches his attention.

"Don't look so good there, pilot. Heh, guess what they say is true: a Nine'-to-Five' does get you killed."

Charles demands the owner of the voice reveal himself, and he obliges.

Hope you remembered him from the "epilogue" in the secong Henry Stickmin Headcanon post, because, ladies and gentlemen, you know him, you either love him or you hate him, please welcome with open arms the worst leader in Toppat history: Terrence Suave

Before they can make proper introductions, Terrence grabs Charles and pulls him behind a wall, into that rec-room in the office space for coffee and food, and puts a hand over his mouth as he shushes him.

Right flies around each floor to survey and find Charles. He does try to get in the window, but the group has to leave and report back to Henry while the beam is hot and ready.

Right flies off and, once he's sure they're gone, Terrence lets go of Charles, who immediately backs away from him, which makes his wounds worse.

Charles doesn't exactly recognize his face, but asks why he's there, all things considered.

Terrence only laughs and admits he likes THIS version of Charles, bold, brave, confident even with a wound, and not an absolutely mindless psychopath working for or with the Toppat Clan- "Well, not as long as Right or Henry get a hold of you."

Upon seeing Charles's confusion, Terrence backtracks and says he'll explain later as he helps Charles to an elevator, grabbing a stapler on the way.

"What... What's that for?"

"Well, I can't really have the fireworks expire before the show begins, now can I?"

Charles shakes his head. "I don't know what you're saying."

"Don't worry about it. Let's just get you back to your government friends."

They enter the elevator and leave, Terrence admitting that he hopes Charles is in that numb state of shock as he knocks him down, lifts his shirt to reveal the gash and then pulls out the stapler. "Try not to move to much, pilot. This might sting a little."

At the base, the twins are getting a HUGE scolding and shout-at by Galeforce, who's very angry that they didn't tell him or anyone else about what Charles was doing, or the fact that Henry had called him.

They're still sorry, but, when asked, admit they don't know where Charles went, only that he was in a hurry and wanted to go alone. Again, Henry had called him, so maybe he had something to do with Charles running off.

Galeforce rubs his temples as Canterbury admits that Charles has been breaking his rank a lot recently, even blindly and stupidly wondering if he's a Toppat spy.

The twins, Galeforce, and Rupert all gkare at him for this, and he holds up his hands and admits he got the idea from remembering how slippery Henry is.

Rupert politely disagrees, as the government is all Charles has. Sure he's broken rank very often, but that's out of impulse and drive to stop Henry without anyone getting hurt. And before you say Charles is being a martyr, his sole goal is arresting Henry and making him call a total surrender for the Toppats. He can't take the clan all at once, and he won't because the government is on his side. He doesn't really care about taking out the clan as a whole, but he does want to stop Henry; and he's focused on Henry the most because of the failed airship mission and the still raw wound Henry left behind. Yeah, he took that very personally.

Regardless, just as Rupert offers to go and look for his friend, the phone rings and Galeforce answers.

"Ch... General? Are y-you there?"

"Charlie!? Where are you right now!?"

In the phone booth, leaning against the wall and paler than Snow White, Charles fights a gag. "Mid... Midtown. I-I got chased. They tried... They to kidnap me. Or-or kill me. I don... don't know, but-..."

Charles groans and slumps down, the pain fading, adrenaline wearing off, and exhaustion catching up to him.

Terrence catches him and sets him down, sitting him down as he takes control of that phone call.

"General Galeforce, I believe I've found your pet pilot for you. Thank goodness, too, he's injured. Bad."

"WHAT!?"

He shrugs and waves a hand. "Don't worry, a couple staples solved that." He turns to Charles. "Right, Charlie?"

"Screw you," Charles spits.

"Don't tempt me."

"Where is he?" Galeforce demands. "Wherever he is, bring him back!"

"Relax, Hubert. He's fine. Just needs a doctor andsone rest, that's all."

Galeforce, tired and just wanting to see his boy, tells Terrence to meet at the base, and to get there as soon as he can.

Terrence agrees and hangs up before helping Charles up and getting him in the car Terrence is "borrowing from a friend😈" and setting out.

On the orbital station, Henry paces as Right and Reginald explain what happened, admitting that they didn't see Charles fall all the way down. Just a little bit. If they didn't know better, they'd say he vanished into thin air.

Right also informs him that he saw Charles's phone fall, but there was nothing there when he went looking for Charles. Reg even explains that on the way up to the roof, the door jammed for a second, having been barred by an old screwdriver.

Apparently whoever was there just wanted to distract them for just a few seconds.

Henry notices this and growls, slamming his fist against the table.

Back with Terrence and Charles, the half cybernetic man is tapping Charles every now and again to keep him awake, in case he checks out for good.

Charles is sick and tired, but also extremely confused as to what just happened.

"I don't... Who are you?"

"Terrence Suave. Nice to meet you, Charles Calvin."

"How d'you... how do you know-... Are you-"

"Before you call me a stalker, just think of it like this: Are you religious, Charlie?"

Charles cringes at Terrence calling him a nickname only Galeforce uses or is allowed to use, but still shakes his head. "That's none your business."

"Fine. Believe in spirits? The afterlife? After some folks die, their souls are free to do whatever they please only catch is they can't DO anything because they're, you know, dead."

Charles only stares at him incredulously.

"I'm basically a spirit, kid. I see just about everything. I see things and I know them."

Charles shakes his head and asks, "How'd you know I... I'd be in the city?"

"I guessed. Good thing I was right."

"W-... Who-"

Terrence waves off the questions and tells Charles to stay awake as long as he can, so they can get him help.

They get to the base just as Charles passes out, Galeforce, the twins, and Rupert all rushing over to catch him.

Terrence tells them not to worry because he just passed out, even admitting he really shouldn't have used staples to close the gash.

Galeforce berates him and demands to know who this crazy bastard is and what he's doing, and Terrence reveals the bits of Charles's phone. "Give the kid a fossil. It'll be harder to track and tap."

They get him to the infirmary, Charles murmuring about keeping the twins safe and that they're after him, they being the Toppats, and he needs to leave town.

Galeforce hushes him up for this and tells gets him to the infirmary.

As Charles is carried away, Terrence watches, amused and perky as he smiles.

Slight gore tw, he then sighs, takes out his glass eye, cleans it off, and then puts it back in, groaning about how finicky it is.

Once it's back in, Terrence sighs and relishes in the fact that he's probably giving Henry a couple migraines

Again, this is just a possible revision, and if you guys like it, I can continue Part 5 off of this

Sorry for being away, I'll try to be more consistent now

Either way, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!!!!

#henry stickmin #charles calvin #completing the mission au #completing the mission #toppat!henry #slight gore tw #blood tw #terrence suave

[mythrilhusk]

Korosensei Never Dies - Chapter 3

Words: ~2600 Chapter 2 (Last) AO3 Version Chapter 4 (Next)

Quackity stumbles into the classroom, exhaustion dragging on his eyes. The silence of the room almost deafens him. He yawns and slouches into the desk beside Sapnap's. "Sup, mothers and fuckers of the court."

"And they have the gall to call me late." Technoblade sighs. "Quackity, you missed first period."

"Just get on with the motherfucking class." Quackity grumbles, his head on the desk. And when did he get so comfortable with talking back? He wonders about it briefly, then scrunches his eyes and tries to block out the oceans of hatred beating through his skin.

"You good, mate?" An unfamiliar voice chuckles from the front of the class.

Quackity looks up at the new guy- two new guys. "Who the fuck are you?"

"This is Philza." Technoblade's dry tone almost hides the notes of fondness. "He'll be teaching you how to kill me."

"The lessons will be applicable in later life, I guarantee." The skinny man with ragged blond hair must be Philza. He slouches unconcernedly beside the other, heavily armed, fellow. "Oh, and this is Punz. He's my guard. He'll help me with demonstrations."

"However, the deal is that you will all attempt to at least get a C in every class." Technoblade adds.

"Who agreed to that fucking shitass deal??" Quackity cries. "You think we couldn't get A's if we tried?? None of us give a fuck about school, that's why Puffy stuffed us all together here!"

"Hm. You make a good point, Quackity. Get all A's in every class by the end of the first semester, and Philza here will tutor you in the art of assassination."

Quackity feels his fellow students glaring at him. "It's a fucking deal, baby! You're as good as dead!" This, added to Bad's smuggled weapons, should be enough to level the playing field.

Lunchtime rolls around, and Quackity learns from Sapnap that Punz and Philza have been employed by the school ostensibly to teach extracurriculars like Sociology and Martial Arts. He demolishes his food as Sapnap and Foolish argue over the best way to go about attacking Technoblade with their new weapons.

At the front of the class, Technoblade cleans off the whiteboard. Hannah Rose, the only girl in class 3-E, sits alone at her desk. Quackity watches her for a moment, considering whether he should let her join his group or not.

His mind is just about made up to beckon her over when she stands up and produces a second lunchbox and thermos from her backpack. Placing both on Technoblade's desk, she scrawls a little note, and then returns to her seat.

Technoblade turns around, sees the food and tea, and makes a little "Heh?" sound of confusion. Quackity glowers at Rose. She tilts her head and glances at him with a mysterious smile.

The rest of the day passes as uneventfully as it possibly could with having a terrorist, hostage, and military guard as teachers. Punz has declared his intent to teach Mathematics for the rest of the year after Technoblade started ranting about the economy while attempting to explain trigonometry. Quackity has a feeling the rant was partially a bait for that very purpose, but then again, he's grown used to Technoblade's rambling segways from the actual topic of discussion.

The situation has started to feel almost normal. A simple fact of life. The truth is that people adapt to their environments. As Quackity follows Sapnap out of the classroom, he shoots one last glare at Technoblade, almost a tradition of sorts.

Technoblade meets his eyes and gives him a subtle nod before returning his attention to whatever Philza is on about. Quackity scoffs and hurries to catch up to his friends.

Clubs have started to form for the year. But, cut off from the rest of the highschool by both merit of their reputations as delinquents and the threat of their teacher, class 3-E can't join in any official clubs. So they've made their own.

The Ducklings plus Charlie have formed the Prank club. Tommy, Tubbo, Eret, and Wilbur made the Theatre club. Ranboo and Rose remain separately aloof. Foolish reports to Quackity that Rose disappeared into the Chemistry lab a bit ago, and Ranboo has just been wandering the forest line surrounding the building.

Charlie, as Head Prankster, proposes going over to the main grounds and pranking the other classes. The Ducklings agree on the condition they steal Karl from his club.

When they reach the main grounds of the high school, a mile away from the secluded building for class 3-E, Connor whines about his twisted ankle as Foolish carries him. Quackity drags his feet on the clean linoleum, smirking at the disdainful glances of passing students.

"Well, if it isn't the loser class." Jack Manifold crosses his arms and stands in the middle of the hallway. "Come to beg for scraps, have you?"

"Out of our way, Jack." Charlie snarls.

Jack adjusts his heterochromatic sunglasses. "Niki and I have a proposition."

"What the fuck do you assholes want with us?"

"Give us a cut of the money when you kill that dumb teacher and we'll help you study for college admissions. Win-win." Jack grins.

Quackity gestures for his gang to discuss. "Yo, we don't need that prick."

Sapnap nods. "We're already splitting the winnings with Bad, we don't need another reduction."

"Wait, who's Bad??" Charlie hisses. Quackity shoves him out of the circle.

"We could always take the help and then not pay him. Like, as a prank." Foolish suggests.

"Good idea. In favor?"

Connor and Sapnap agree. The motion passes.

"Alright, Jack, we'll fucking take it."

"Nice. Okay, we want fifty percent of the bounty in return for our splendid, magnanimous help." Jack puffs out his chest.

"Deal." Quackity spits in his hand and holds it out for Jack to shake. The boy looks disgusted.

"Ew, I'm not touching that."

"Deal or no deal?" Quackity grins, watching Jack squirm.

"For the love of Newton, Jack!" Niki Nihachu storms out of the nearby empty classroom, her pink hair pinned up in a messy bun. "It's a deal." She spits on her own hand and takes Quackity's without flinching.

"Great, now piss off. We have club business to attend to." Quackity shoulders past Jack, and his club follows.

"How are you planning to kill the Blade??" Niki trots to keep up.

"Secret."

"I want to kill him, too!"

"Join the fucking club."

"Rude! I'm offering help!"

Quackity shrugs at her. "I just told you, join the club. Fail your classes to get transferred into 3-E, then we'll talk."

"I- I will!" Niki cries, then storms back to Jack and drags him away.

++++

"Can I kill him for you?"

Philza glances at the mercenary guard in question. "Mate." He chuckles darkly. "I won't stop you, but he could be useful."

Punz, oblivious to Techno's bloodlust, cleans up the shattered glass on the scorched floor of the Chemistry lab as one of the students cries in a corner. Fake. Philza can spot crocodile tears from a mile away.

"Techno, you didn't eat the lunch she gave you, did you?"

Techno shrugs. "It was a good attempt. Five stars."

Philza laughs a bit. "What's arsenic taste like, then?"

Technoblade glances at the crying girl. "Eh, nothing much."

The girl sobs harder, clearly attempting to play the sympathy card. "I- I didn't p-poison it, it wasn't m-mine." Lies. All lies.

"K." Techno scratches his head and turns away, uncomfortable with the tears.

A knife whistles through the air and buries in Techno's shoulder. He gasps a pained, "Heh??" And he grips the smoke wound as the metal melts and sizzles.

"Techno? You good, mate?"  

Keen steel digs into his back. "Don't move." Rose says, adrenaline making her voice tremble.

Punz laughs in the background. "Nice job, kiddo. Now, twist one arm behind his back, and force him to back away from the Blade."

Philza sighs as Rose does as Punz ordered. "Rose, mate, you don't want to be a murderer."

"You won't be my first kill." Rose retorts in a tremulous attempt at a cold voice.

"Technoblade, hands up." Punz comes around in Philza's peripheral vision. "Try anything and my associate will stab the old man."

"Hey!" Philza cries. "Watch your tongue, motherfucker, I'm not fucking old!" He just could kill the girl and let Techno take out Punz, but Techno has already told him to leave the students alone.

"Phil?" Techno says in a low, furious voice. His wound has already healed. "I'll take care of this." The blade against Philza's skin trembles, then steadies.

Punz smirks and draws his gun. "You'll take care of this, will you? I've got the biggest payday of my life waiting for your death."

"You've caused enough suffering." Rose snarls. "It ends here."

"Phil is innocent. Let him go." Technoblade growls.

"Not unless you let us kill you. You made a big mistake, and now you're going to pay."

"And we're going to get paid!" Rose laughs.

"Rose, kid, let go and run before you get hurt." Philza warns.

"That would be smart, yes." Techno remains motionless.

"Stay there, Rose." Punz snaps. "Don't move. We've got them."

"Ha, the only thing stopping me from punting both of you into the sun is Techno." Phil yawns.

"I could kill you!" Rose presses the dagger between Philza's shoulderblades. "Don't try me."

"If you kill him, what's stopping me from killing both of you?" Techno muses. "Rose, let Phil go, get outta here, and I'll forget this ever happened."

"Don't listen to him." Punz urges.

"You don't stand a chance, buddy." Philza grins mockingly at Punz. This is exciting. Philza hasn't felt so alive since he was burning down cathedrals with Techno.

A smoke grenade drops in-between the four. It shudders on the ground. Philza barks to startle Punz and Rose, "Scatter!"

Punz leaps away. Techno jumps for Phil. Rose lets go and shoves Phil into Techno. Smoke poofs out and fills the entire room.

Techno throws Philza over his shoulder and storms for the door as Phil coughs out the burning air. As they reach clear air, Philza laughs. "Not even close, ey, mate?"

Techno's eyes are dark as he growls, "Never again." A threat. A promise.

++++

Ranboo stares at his empty hands. The smell of smoke lingers on his clothes. What was he doing? He can't remember. That's nothing new, though. He doesn't want to remember.

He staggers shakily through the forest, unable to recall why he's here. Why is he here, so near the school? He opens his book and flips to page two, the day Technoblade joined the school. Right, right, he's supposed to be helping everyone kill Techno.

Was that what he was doing? He can't remember.

++++

"Alright, nerds." Technoblade slams a fist on his desk. The chatter abruptly ceases, leaving the air tense and cold. "If anybody, and I mean anybody, so much as looks at Philza the wrong way, so much as harms one hair on his head, I punt first and ask no questions ever."

He doesn't even glance at her, but Hannah Rose shrinks in her chair anyway, regretting ever choosing the front row for her seat assignment. She could have done it, she could have gotten rid of Technoblade, if it weren't for the damn smoke bomb.

"Who teh fuck tried to kill Philza??" Tommy cries, somehow sounding more incensed than Technoblade.

"Punz." Technoblade replies. Rose frowns in confusion. Why wouldn't he tell them about her involvement? He certainly has no reason to hide it.

"I'll kill him!!" Tommy barks, gesturing with his knife haphazardly. "Where is he??"

"He met an unfortunate accident and is now recovering in the hospital." Technoblade deadpans.

Rose wonders if she should feel bad that her former partner got hurt. She doesn't. He wasn't a friend, he was a business associate. He even blamed her for the failure of their attempt. So fuck him.

"Good. Serves the fucker right." Wilbur hums. "Philza, we're going to try to kill your friend, sorry, but you're safe with us."

"Killing friends is not cool, Wilbur, I'm trying to be cool." Tommy complains, brushing back his hair.

"Tommy, we kinda need to kill Techno. Again, sorry about that, Philza."

"Fuck you, bitch!" Tommy retorts.

"Kids, kids. Chill." Philza chuckles. He smiles at Rose for a moment, then turns his attention back to Tommy and Wilbur, who have devolved into slapping each other with notebooks. The look leaves her confused and angry. She was going to kill him. Why isn't he respecting that??

"Tubbo, please sit between your friends so they stop hitting each other." Philza snaps as the playfight grows louder.

"With pleasure." Tubbo grins.

A few minutes into the start of class, Tommy yelps. "Tubbo!!"

"Wilbur paid me to."

A few minutes later, Wilbur cries, "Ow, hey!"

"Tommy paid me more."

Rose snaps and turns around, leveling a glare at Tubbo. "How much do I need to pay you to make your friends shut the hell up??"

"Ten." Tubbo holds out his hand. Rose stuffs a tenner in his hand and turns back around, huffing.

"T-Tubbo, put away the duck tape!!" Tommy cries. "Eret, no, don't help him, help me!! Phiiilza!!"

"Kids, will you just shut up and fucking learn something??"

Hannah spots Quackity in the third row, sitting beside Sapnap and glaring up at Technoblade. He hasn't spoken once the entire time.

A movement from Ranboo catches her gaze from all the way in the back of the class, beside the window. He smiles nervously, not meeting her eyes as he stuffs a kitty-decor notebook back into his backpack. She's seen him with it often, in every class, and it doesn't seem to be for regular notes. She saw the cover once. It was marked 'Do Not Read', which only makes her want to read it.

"Hey, Rose." Eret steals her attention with a wave. "I heard you know martial arts. Can you teach me?"

++++

Ponk grumbles to himself as he strides up the stairs to the small, rundown building that houses class 3-E. He was supposed to begin teaching here at the start of the year, but he got delayed by family issues. His substitute should be gone by now, but if they aren't, he'll get rid of them soon enough.

He opens the door to absolute chaos. Two kids are firing guns at the substitute teacher, who just sits there and takes it as he munches a sandwich. Another man demonstrates to a small group the correct method for throwing knives. Still others are crowded in the center of circled desks and wrestling as a girl criticizes their techniques. And in the back corner, scrawling in a notebook, is the only normal person there. Ponk makes a beeline for him.

"Hey." Ponk sits beside the normal person.

"Hey." The normal person replies in a growly and annoyed voice.

"What's with the chaos?"

"You get used to it."

"Oh. I don't think I want to."

The ?normal? person looks at Ponk's forehead. "Then leave."

Ponk shivers and excuses himself hastily.

But before he reaches the door, he stops himself. No. He's not going to give in so easily. He's the teacher here. When the gunfire ceases to reload, Ponk storms up to the substitute and slams his boot on the- on his desk. "Out of my seat."

"Nah."

Ponk stares at the piggy-mutant man. "What the hell, man? What are you??"

"Some would say I'm death incarnate." The man says in a tired voice.

"Would they, really??"

"Nah. They're already dead."

Ponk glowers. "I'm the teacher here."

"K. Ponk, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Right. Well, hate to break it to you, but I'm the head teacher now. I guess you can help out, though. Not that I need help."

"Right." Ponk groans.

"How good are you at teaching math?"

Chapter 4 (Next)

#ranboo #technoblade #philza #quackity #hannahxxrose #ponk #punz #fanfiction #dream smp au #ao3 link #tw violence #tw threats #no ship

[rudemaidenswrite]

Letters

Thomas Hewitt x Reader, Leatherface x Reader

Part 1

By: @pusantheamazonian            For: @sylvanasthebansheequeen​

You’ve been sending letters to him ever since you moved. But you never got a response until now.

"This place is a dump. Can't believe you actually lived out here." A scoff comes from the driver. Scott's always been a jerk, saying the first thing that comes to mind.

"It's not that bad. The people are what made it the best."  You really don't want to argue about this again. 

"No, Texas is a shit hole. Good thing you left." Scott cackles.

Against my will. 

"Like Mississippi is any better?" Donna chimes in from the front seat. 

Ignoring them both and their ignorant bickering. Texas was the best time of your life. That's why you're going back. You have to know if your happiness is still there. A deep itch of finally being almost home. Has you restless as fuck. You can only hope they remember you. It's been fifteen years since that horrible day. But as it turns out, the world is testing you today. 

"Can you fix it?" Donna whines as the three of you are on the side of the road, looking at the flat tire. 

"Yeah I got a spare in the back. Must have been a nail in the road." Grumbling Scott opens the trunk pulling everything out.

"Well thanks for the lift but I'm gonna bail. I'm just gonna walk the last few miles." Scooping up your backpack, you slowly start walking backwards. 

"What? No you can't just abandon us. We don't even know where we are." Donna practically screams in horror. 

"In good old Texas. Just keep following this road until it hits the interstate." Forcing a smile you keep backing up. 

"Seriously?"  Scott stares in disbelief. 

"Yup! Thanks for the ride and hope you have fun in California." Waving you turn around and start power walking before they can guilt you into staying. 

Freedom! Now it's just you and the land in this long trek. You forgot how eerily silent the town has become. You had heard that the meat plant closed down a few years ago. Hell you'll be surprised if there is anyone still living out here. The plant should have killed everyone, would have saved money if they did it that way. Rather than let the whole town slowly bleed dry. 

*Woop Woop*

"Fuck." Whispering you stand by the side of the road and wait. You know that annoying Woop Woop anywhere.

The old sheriff car slows to a stop a few feet from you. The car rattles as he steps out, an old grouchy looking man.

"You lost missy?" The gruffness is matched with a sour look.

"No sir. Just taking a walk." You remain neutral as possible and polite. 

"I ain’t seen you around. Where are you from?" 

"Rhode Island but-"

"You wouldn't happen to know what happened to the two young'uns a few miles back?" Cutting you off he steps forwards with a purpose. 

"What do you mean?" That question peaks your curiosity.

"A ways back looks like car trouble but both are dead."

"What? I left them thirty minutes ago. How can they be dead?" Confused, you don't know what to say. They were alive, bitching at the car but alive.

"So you do know them. Well I think we need to have a talk. Get in the back."

"Sheriff-"

"Get. In." He pulls a pistol out. Pointing at you and the car. Panicking you shuffle towards the door. This situation is not good but what's worse is you can't figure it out but the sheriff looks familiar. The tattoo on his forearm, you know it from somewhere. 

Sliding into the back seat you place your backpack beside you. The car stinks, it's a putrid smell. Either something died in here or there's something dead in the trunk. 

The Sheriff climbs back into the driver's seat, slamming the door hard. He's not interested in any conversation. Driving in silence he gives you the side eye from the mirror the whole way.

Now this is confusing, he's pulling up to the place you were going. 

"Sheriff how-"

"Stay here." Barking out the order with a glare, you nod in response. Leaving you alone in the locked car, he walks inside. 

What is going on? You didn't tell anyone that you were coming for a visit. The Sheriff certainly didn't even ask for your name. So how would he know to bring you here?

Leaning on the front seat you can see the house has taken a beating over the years. But it's still the same two story white plantation style house as before. 

The loud bang of the front door opening scares you. A massive man wearing a stained apron walks towards you. Keeping his head down the whole way. Retreating into the back seat. Who the hell is this?

Reaching the door, he pauses a second before quickly opening it. Startled by the force you scoot towards the other door. Panic sets in. Suddenly he's grabbing your ankle and dragging you to the edge. Just as you start to fight him, he lets go of you. Curious you risk a glance. You’re staring into chocolate brown eyes. Eyes you know so well, the ones that haunt your dreams.

“Thomas?”  Whispering you can't believe it.

He blinks in shock. He never thought you would recognize him. He recognized you instantly.

Out of muscle memory, at the same time you hold your left hand up using the sign language I love you symbol. He is doing the same symbol with his right hand. Pressing them together you both stare, never blinking. Different emotions are flowing in the silence. That is before you throw yourself into his arms. 

Falling onto his back he holds you tightly watching your happiness explode. As you babble about how happy you are to see him, how you have missed him to upset that he never answered your letters back to squealing in joy. 

“How dare you leave me without a word!” Teasing you can't help the tears. His hands cup your face, wiping the tears away. "I’m okay. They're tears of joy, I always hoped that I would see you again.”

Everything is clearer now the rude Sheriff has to be Uncle Charlie. He was always an ass but now with power he's gone a little psycho.

“Thomas quit fuckin around get her inside.” The Sheriff's gruff voice returns. 

Speaking of the asshole. Thomas steps in front of you shaking his head no. 

“No?”

“Hoyt what's going on?” A faint voice comes from the house. 

“Nothing Mama.” He shouts back.

“Hoyt? When did Charlie change his name?” Confused, you practically shout the question out. 

“What did you say?” Uncle Charlie, Hoyt whatever he wants to be called questions. 

“I asked when did you change your name to Hoyt? I clearly remember calling you Uncle Charlie.” Peeking out from behind Thomas you stare at the man dressed in the Sheriff's outfit. You knew there was something familiar about that tattoo. 

A huge arm he pushes you back. Thomas wants you to stay behind him.

“Y/N? Y/N Y/L/N?” 

“Hello!” You peek back out. With a frustrated huff he shoves you behind him again. “Thomas I was just saying hello.”

“Bullshit.” Scoffing, Hoyt can't believe it. 

“Uh huh!” Side stepping around Thomas, lifting your shirt up. Exposing the scar on your stomach. The one that dons most of your stomach, separating into three individual scars. You two were playing in the woods when you crawled over a piece of barbed wire. Uncle Charlie had to hold you still while Mama Luda stitched you together. 

“I'll be damned. There's never be a girl stupid as you that crawled over barbed wire for fun.” 

Frustrated, you watch him laugh. They never did believe you that it was a simple mistake. 

“It was an accident!”

“You knew better than to be playing in the woods.” Huffing he  remembers the two other people from today. “Well shit, your friends.”

“It's okay. I was only hitching a ride with those assholes." Shrugging if you're being honest they were not your friends. A coworker introduced you to them because you were looking for a ride. 

“Asshole? Good riddance then. Common on Mama and Uncle Monty aren't going to believe this.” He nods at the house. 

Smiling you interlock your hand with Thomas's and follow Uncle Charlie inside. Pulling Thomas with you. Giddy you can't believe everyone is still here. 

"Mama! Uncle Monty! You're never gonna believe who I found." He yells once passing the threshold. 

"Hoyt, why are you yelling? There's no yelling in the house!" The scolding voice carries from the kitchen. Followed with the shuffle of two footsteps. 

"Mama you remember Y/N." Hoyt smirks.

"Oh my… Y/N is that really you?"

"Yes it's me." Smiling you never thought you could be this happy. Mama Luda and Uncle Monty haven't changed either. 

"Well I never! You've grown up so beautifully." She's in tears cradling your face, treating you like glass.

"Thank you."

"You come and talk. Tommy has some work to finish." Hoyt orders interrupting your peace.

Turning you stare at Thomas like he's going to fade to dust right in front of you. You can feel Thomas staring the same way. Neither one of you wants to let go. 

"Y/N. Tommy. You can see each other later." Luda takes you free hand in hers. 

"Yes Mama." The words tumble out slowly as she tugs you along. Internally screaming you don't want to talk. You just want to hug Tommy until there's no tomorrow. Nonetheless you let her pull you into the kitchen. 

Planting you in an empty seat at the table. She pours some lemonade as everyone sits down and you notice that Thomas heads to the basement.

"Now tell me. How are your parents?"  Mama Luda scoots her chair closer.

"Both have passed on." It's a somber moment officially talking about it. 

"Oh dear. I'm sorry." Instantly she's frowning. You guess she didn't expect that answer. 

"Father was eight years ago. Mother last fall."

"What have you been doing since school? There must be something." Trying to sound cheerful she diverts the conversation. 

"I'm a mechanic."

"A what?" Mama Luda and Hoyt question in unison.

"You became a mechanic!" Uncle Monty is laughing his ass off. Everyone knows that's something you must have picked up from him.

"That's not fit for a lady." The frown temporarily returns to Mama Luda’s face. 

"Mama wasn't happy about it either." Smiling you remember the horrified face she made when you told her. "I was thinking about trying to buy the old house back and maybe open a mechanic shop." Shrugging you take a sip of lemonade.

"Dumb idea no one left out here." Uncle Monty states sourly.

"I know." Smiling it feels good to be home.

After dinner Thomas is showing you to your room, the same room you used to use when you would spend the night. But with each step towards the spare bedroom you feel queasy, you don't want to sleep alone. Grabbing his shirt you insist that he stop for a moment.

"Thomas...Can I stay with you?" He turns, staring at you with wide eyes. Now you feel embarrassed. "You don't have to say yes. I understand that you'll want your personal space. It's just been so long and I have this overwhelming need to be close to you."

With a silent groan he pulls you towards his room. It's just as you remember. The old spring bed, dresser off to the side and the now seemingly too small desk and chair. You place your backpack in the corner. You don't want him to accidentally trip because of your clutter. Leaning you pull out some pajamas. 

That's when he sees it. Your shirt rose up and in black ink is his name. It could be anybody's name but in shaky writing is the name Thomas. Before he knows it he has a hand on your hip. 

“What are you doing?”  Startled, you didn't expect such a warm hand on your hip, especially Thomas's. 

Bewildered, he looks at you quickly removing. Pointing at your hip, he pokes it. Following his eyes you see what has him curious, most of your tattoo is showing. Exposing your hip so he can see it completely. Curiously he traces it with a finger with wide eyes. 

“Yes I have your name tattooed on my hip.” He gives you a look that you interpret as him asking why. “Because we were always attached at the hip.” 

Minutes go by as he processes this, slowly caressing the letters.

“After you left school to work at the plant. I stole some of your homework that the teacher still had. Then when I got old enough I brought with me to the tattoo shop. I wanted it to be in your handwriting.” Embarrassed you've never told anyone the truth about the tattoo. That you wanted it because it was your way of staying sane and remembering the good times. Before he dropped out of school to help support the family and you moving away.

You see him frown slightly as he turns to the closet. Opening it he's searching for something, it's not long before he finds it. His body is trembling as he hands you an old shoe box. You've never seen him this worried about showing you something. Sitting on the bed you carefully open it. 

“Oh. My. God. You did receive my letters.” Your heart drops.

Everything's gone numb, you don't know if you exist anymore. The box is filled with everything you ever sent him and things from when you two were little. Picking a letter up you notice the worn edges like it has been read over and over. 

“I never knew if you did. I thought that they were ending up in the trash somewhere or to another person.” 

Placing it to the side, you see the pictures you have sent with the letters. Most just the yearly school photos but during high school you started to add different candid photos you thought were cute. But there's some old ones, of you two or just him that are burnt. Picking up the least burnt one, you and Thomas are in your Sunday best. Sitting on the front porch with his head resting on your shoulder while the two of you are reading Clifford the Big Red Dog. It looks like someone started to burn his face out but chose against it at the last minute leaving it an obscure dark color.

“You…have no idea how much I've missed you.” Breaking down, you sob uncontrollably. Holding the picture tightly. "Please…. Please don't ever leave me again." 

Thomas doesn't know what to do. He never meant to hurt you, he just wanted you safe. He didn't think that ignoring your letters would cause this much pain. Watching you cry feels like a stab to his own heart.

#leatherface x reader #leatherface #slasher #slasher fanfiction #rudemaidenswrite #reader insert #reader #letters #reunite #this is crazy #childhood friends #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #fluff #angst

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

It would be cool if they did another 400 days type mini series with some characters. like showing us the beginning/middle/different parts of the apocalypse from the perspectives of: Marlon, Louis, Violet, Sophie, James, and Lilly. I think it would do well

I think something like this would do well, too. We talk about this a lot and I keep hoping that if we continue to talk about it, they’ll somehow hear us and actually do it haha. 

Just think of the possibilities- a game with each episode dedicated to following a different protagonist during a different time in the apocalypse, telling a previously unheard story. They could even do more character-driven stories that focus more on that aspect rather than the walkers and outside dangers, y’know? 

Really the only downside I could see if they actually did this is that people outside the fandom would be whiney about it? I mean, people who casually played Telltale games would look at Skybound like “Rehashing old characters who aren’t muh Clementine? Pass.” Y’know? And to be fair, I could see people within the fandom being disappointed, too. 

But a majority? I think we’d all be happy to just have another twdg installment if Skybound wanted to make one... as long as they leave Clementine alone. That’s my one condition haha. 

Leave her alone, Robert. 

I’ll even throw out a bunch of possibilities for episodes-

Carley and Doug - I would love an episode that starts with Carley working as a reporter just as the walkers come. We could meet her crew, go through when they were attacked and explore the trauma she experiences after watching her producer get eaten alive in front of her. 

Then, in comes our hero: Doug. Doug saves her life, and the two of them manage to escape and hideout. This is the perfect time to explore Doug’s character, too, as well as the relationship he and Carley had before they met up with the drugstore crew. 

We can learn more about how Carley came to be so good with firearms and more about Doug’s technical background. Not only that, but it would be interesting to see these two actually interact since, y’know... they canonically have romantic feelings for one another. 

Then the episode could end with them meeting Glenn outside, who brings them back to the group at the drugstore. 

The St Johns - Here me out, but I would totally be on board for an episode about these people and how they starting picking off their farmhands for food. We don’t even have to play as any of the St Johns, we could play as a farmhand that actually escaped that fate after discovering what these people were doing. 

It could definitely be more horror based, too. Like a cat and mouse sort of chase scene with the protagonist and Andy or Danny with them escaping with their life at the end and journeying off. 

We could also see more of the bandits and how that agreement came to be with them. We could see more of Jolene, too. 

Lilly - Okay, I want to know what the hell happened to Lilly between s1 and s4. From what I’ve gathered and inferred, Lilly wandered alone for years before finding the delta, the first place she ever considered home since... well, the motor-inn. Which... is nuts. 

Then there’s all the trauma of losing Larry on top of what a piece of shit he was. I know I laugh at her for being all “No more ice cream, no more hair dryer” when she was telling Clementine about Larry cutting their power but we don’t know much about just how abusive Larry was. 

Plus, we don’t know what happened to her mom. Larry still carried her wedding ring even into the apocalypse and died with it in his pocket. There’s just... a lot of things. 

So I think an episode about Lilly by herself could be an interesting exploration of her being her own enemy, y’know? When I say character-driven, I mean solely character-driven with Lilly having flashbacks or nightmares or talking to herself or even hallucinations. Think Michonne, but even better executed. And with no ghost children. Maybe a ghost Larry, though. Which is arguably worse. 

And it could end with someone from the delta finding her. 

Christa and Omid - I feel like this is an obvious one since everyone loves these two and we’re still salty that they never brought Christa back. So it’d be cool to see these two either before meeting Lee’s group, or their time with Clementine between s1 and s2.

This is the only time I’ll allow Clementine to be here. If they feel they have to plop Clementine into this, then do it this way. We could explore Clementine’s guilt of what happened to Lee and the trauma she suffered while with the stranger, we could explore Christa’s pregnancy and learn more about her and Omid’s relationship. 

We could see some dad moments with Omid as he and Clementine bond, perhaps dive into the fear and anxiety of a baby that’s coming, too. 

Kenny and Sarita - So... while Kenny’s not my favorite person, I can’t deny that I’d be interested in seeing him after he apparently escapes the walker horde after killing Ben and what he went through before he met Sarita. 

Hell, have an episode where we play as Sarita as she stumbles upon Kenny and how she saved him from the restaurant he was hiding in. We could get a glimpse into Kenny from Sarita’s point of view and what they went through during their time together. We could learn about Walter and Matthew, too. 

Honestly, I just want to know more about Sarita as a character rather than a plot device to die in order to further Kenny’s development, y’know?  

Bonnie - Yeah, yeah, I know. No one likes Bonnie and “who wants to play as Bonnie again?? she sucks??”, but damn it... I want them to redeem how badly they fucked up with her story in 400 Days. 

I want an episode about her struggling with her drug addiction and how it affected her when the dead started walking. What she was willing to do to get her fix, y’know? Bring back Leland and Dee and how they helped with her road to recovery.

Leland himself even said that when they found her, she was still so stuck on those drugs. I think exploring that could be a fascinating experience. 

Jane - An episode about Jane and Jamie? An exploration of Jane’s struggle with keeping her sister alive while having that internal survival instinct trying to take over all leading to her finally giving Jamie what she wanted- to leave her. Then how that guilt and loss took a toll on Jane and hardened her.

And like, I know Jane is kind of in the same boat as Bonnie where a lot of people [specifically Kenny followers] absolutely hate her and would whine about an episode dedicated to exploring her character, but I don’t care. I’d play it, I’d love to understand Jane more, even if I don’t particularly like her. 

David - This one is here for selfish reasons. I want an episode all about David. I don’t care what you do, but I want to see David’s struggle of literally losing his entire family in a single night, as well as losing the world to the apocalypse and having to move forward.

Like... seriously, remember what Kate was all “I bet David was happy when the world ended” or some shit? I actually disagree, Kate, since the day the world ended, he lost his father, mother, brother, uncle, his fucking children, and you, his wife within a night.  He spent years thinking you all were dead while traveling with Ava and his unit, fighting the dead and trying to survive.... but no, the day the walkers came was probably super great for him. Ugh. 

The bonus is we get more Ava, too. Also, I don’t think anyone would oppose if you threw in the whole “David and Lingard might’ve had a thing”... just sayin’. We stan bisexual David. 

Javier - Throwing this one in there because I think an episode about Javi, Kate, Gabe, and Mari would do incredibly well. Everyone misses the Garcia’s, everyone was bummed that we ever got a follow up to what Javi was up to after ANF. 

Y’know... since ANF was a mess, they probably didn’t feel they could do a follow up because people wouldn’t play... but I’m telling you, we’d play another adventure as Javier Garcia. I don’t know what kind of story you’d tell, but it doesn’t matter. Well, it does... but ya get me. 

Plus, more Gabe and Mariana content. C’mon. 

James - *slams fists on table* I want my James and the whisperers episode damn it!! And I’m gonna keep saying it until someone either makes it or pays me to shut up. 

I don’t care if you like James or not, you can’t deny how fascinating it would be to have an entire episode dedicated to the whisperers. On top of that, we’d get to see James and Charlie and how their relationship suffered during their time with the whisperers, as well as James realizing what a monster he became. 

Maybe we could have a scene where James actually makes his famous mask, or a scene of James escaping them and leaving Charlie behind. It could end with James in his camp until he hears gunshots one night. When he goes to investigate, he finds Clementine and AJ trying to escape Lilly and Abel and we get him intervening from his perspective. 

There ya go, there’s a second Clementine cameo that doesn’t fuck everything up. Ta-dah. 

Sophie and Minerva - A popular one that most of us would want. Them after they were taken away and how they suffered within the delta. It’d be cool to play as Sophie, and tragic since we know how that would end. But we could be the one who acts out and tries to escape all while doing our best to keep Minerva from giving into them... which again, imagine the heartbreak. 

The Ericson crew - Like with the twins, this would be a popular one that most people would want to play. While I’d rather they kept their fingers off Louis and Violet since they’re bound to fuck them up, I can’t deny that I want to know what happened at the school during the first days. 

We could even play as Ms. Martin as she chooses to stay and take care of all these kids, how she bonds with them before inevitably meeting her fate in the greenhouse. 

And c’mon, you know you want to see baby child versions of our Ericson kiddos. Imagine Louis and Violet at these young ages? Seeing other kids we never got to meet? We’d eat it up! ...Well, assuming they did a good job with their characterizations. Y’know. 

---

Those are all the major ones I’d like to see, but hey, if any of you had other ideas for episodes following characters I didn’t mention, feel free to share! 

#asks #twdg clementine #twdg aj #twdg louis #twdg violet #twdg carley #twdg doug #twdg lilly #twdg christa #twdg omid #twdg jane #twdg kenny #twdg bonnie #twdg sarita #twdg david #twdg javi #twdg gabe #twdg mariana #twdg kate #twdg larry #twdg james #twdg sophie #twdg minerva #twdg ava

[kyloswarstars]

Come on! • Part 5 – „Black Clouds“

Peaky Blinders • Mini-Series

Vendetta had brought your family back to Small Heath for a while. As a Blinder you received orders from Tommy like everyone else did as well. Your current one: Keep eyes on Bonnie Gold. When you first heard those words you wouldn’t have dared to imagine this order would take a complete turn on you.

Pairing • Bonnie Gold x Shelby!Reader

Words • 2.2k

Come on! • masterlist

/////

Another funeral. Another brother turning into dust. Were you supposed to get used to losing those you loved? Because if so you would never be able to.

This time, seeing another one of your siblings go, Bonnie was at your side. He stood next to you. He grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours when you flinched at the sight of Charlie as he soaked the wood under the caravan in petrol.

It was the same place where you held John’s funeral. It was the same people. It was the same damn black clouds floating behind your back and waiting for the perfect moment to come and get you. But that moment never came. Something else came. Rather someone else: Mrs. Changretta – holding a white flag.

She had the audacity to show up at Arthur’s funeral when one of her men had been responsible for his death. And Tommy had the audacity to not send her away – or put a bullet in her head which you would’ve preferred in that moment.

He lit the fire under your brother and not long after you’ve been shoved in a room with her, Tom, Pol and Finn. You stared out of the window, noticed Mrs. Changretta was talking about how the vendetta was won and they would take all of the Shelby businesses. Otherwise her son would kill all of your family. But their words seemed too far away. The window brought some daylight in but your vision was blurred. The black clouds were reaching out and you finally had enough of them. Resisting was hard and you didn’t have the strength for it anymore. Though, you didn’t have the strength to grieve as well.

You felt torn, just wanted to leave when Mrs. Changretta was finally brought out. Finn had already left, Tommy and Pol were already in a quiet conversation but he broke it off and you heard his steps hurrying after you.

„Hey, Y/N, stop it!“

You had avoided being alone with Tommy since the night Arthur died. 

That night Bonnie rushed out of the ring and tried to shake you out of your shock, but it must’ve taken him a good while until he was able to. Everything was a mess. You remembered him bringing you back home, that he undressed and laid you down in your bed. You were laying on your side, looking through him once again when he tried to wash off the blood on his body over the tiny wash bowl. He blew out the candle, climbed in bed and held you. You didn’t sleep that night. Instead of celebrating his victory, you buried yourself in his chest and listened to his quiet humming while he was rubbing circles on your back.

You had expected the clouds would intensify in quantity but they didn’t. What changed was the force they tried to pull you with them. So no, you didn’t want to face your consequences for disobeying Tommy’s orders back at the boxing venue. Now in the hallway, though, you couldn’t avoid him anymore.

„What did you think you were doing?“ Instead of him being furious he was almost compassionate. You wouldn’t fall for it, though. 

„I was protecting my brother after I just lost another one. It’s what siblings do. Protect each other.“

Tom’s face was a mystery and none of his expressions ever made sense to you. All he said was: „Finn has to become a man.“

„And you have to remember what it means to be a brother. So leave me the fuck alone.“ You had enough of this. He never told anyone anything about his plans, therefore his orders were hardly ever comprehensible for someone who wasn’t Thomas Shelby. He wanted Finn to grow up, even though he wasn’t ready yet to take that step. And you wanted Finn to be okay with the decisions he made – seemed like a dilemma to you.

The clouds fuelled your anger and before you would say anything else you’d regret later, you left for your room.

Bonnie was waiting.

You grabbed your bag. „I have to get out of here.“

He nodded.

Bonnie wasn’t in shape yet to go boxing again but he accompanied you to King Maine’s. There were not many people anymore, given it was almost nine in the evening. He was already at your favorite punching bag, waiting for you when you got out of your little lumber room. He silently wrapped the bandages around your hands, tied your gloves over them and then steadied the sandbag as you started hitting it.

His face was still a bit swollen, the cuts were finally closed and didn’t look that intimidating anymore.

You didn’t look at him when you rammed your fists into the hard surface. All you wanted was for the clouds to go away but they didn’t. Your thoughts didn’t decrease. Everything that had happen, the burden you were carrying no matter what – the clouds were coming, gnawing on your skin and your fists couldn’t push them away anymore.

You stopped boxing and let yourself flop on the floor sitting. You gave in to the clouds. Running away was always only a temporary solution.

Bonnie sat down next to you when he realised you wouldn’t stand up soon. Within his presence you felt safe enough to let go, fall into the clouds and wait for the tears to come. You stared at him with your vision slowly getting blurry. Maybe that moment had been inevitable. After John died there hadn’t been a moment like this because you ran away from it. To suffer through losing someone was something you must’ve known you weren’t strong enough for on your own.

Bonnie was there. He dragged you into his arms when the sobbing started. And only let go when Finn came into the boxing studio to take your ass home.

/////

As always, you didn’t know the plan. All you knew was that Tommy wouldn’t surrender so easily. So there must be a plan you didn’t know of and which would save all of your asses. Otherwise he and Polly wouldn’t have been so calm when Finn and you followed them to the gin distillery.

You didn’t sleep at all last night but there hadn’t grown any hair back yet you could’ve shaved off. Thinking back at it now, you didn’t even need to shave your head again to feel better. Recovering from falling into the clouds with Bonnie at your side had been enough.

Luca Changretta and his men arrived. They spread some papers on the table, searched you and took your guns. He wanted Tom to sign over the businesses but your brother didn’t move.

It seemed that Luca Changretta didn’t have much self-control because it didn’t take long for him to push the papers off the table and tell Tommy to sign them on his fucking knees. He did kneel down. And then pulled the shit he always did.

When Tommy told him that big always fucks small, and he found people who wanted to take over the Changretta’s businesses in New York, it slowly dawned on Changretta that he perhaps could take Sabini, the Titanics and even Alfie Solomons, but not the Shelby’s.

He fully realised how fucked he was when Tom told him his people had new orders because obviously Luca Changretta wasn’t the highest bidder anymore.

Changretta pulled his gun but your brother pushed it away. They started to hit each other. You always forgot how incredibly ruthless Thomas could be once he started throwing punches. He shoved Luca Changretta into a table full of empty bottles and repeatedly forced his body down into the shards.

Some people entering the distillery distracted you from the rather unpleasant image of Changretta’s cut up face.

When you turned your head and saw who had entered the room, you reached out for Finn next to you and dig your fingers into his arm.

Arthur. Your brother Arthur. He was dead. You burned him. And now he was standing only a few feet away.

You turned to look at Finn – being the twins you were, you most likely had the same expression on your faces, looking each other in shock and trying to comprehend as to how Arthur could be here. You simultaneously turned to your dead-not-so-dead brother again.

Tommy pulled Changretta up as if he had expected Arthur to come and finish him off. Sure, Tommy knew. And Polly – that was why they had been so calm. 

Arthur ever so slowly aimed his gun at Changretta and gave him a bullet to the head which exited his brain on the backside and made its way to the barrel behind him. The body sank to the ground and got soaked in gin.

Tommy had some last words for the men and then Arthur ordered them to leave.

Just like he hadn’t been dead – which he obviously wasn’t but your brain couldn’t comprehend that yet – Arthur’s voice was strangely calm. „Tell your boss what you saw here today. Tell him… you don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.“

Never had you been so quick to throw yourself into Arthur’s arms. You wrapped around him and heard him coughing because you probably cut off his air – it didn’t stop you, though.

„It’s alright, kid.“ He gently petted your back but didn’t break the hug. Finn threw his arms around you and Arthur as well and now squeezed the air out of both of your lungs.

Black clouds had made you give in and grieve for John and Arthur and now one of them was back. The mess in your head was real. Tonight you needed more than one drink, that was for sure.

/////

So, Tommy launched a family party at Arrow House. The vendetta was done. Last time the whole family was at this place hell broke loose but now, you were at a ‚happier place’, to go by Tommy‘s words. 

He raised a toast and everyone was raising their glasses. Bonnie stood across the room and you looked at him. He was holding out his glass into your direction. You nodded. He nodded back.

Arthur took over the word but you didn’t really listen. You noticed he suggested Tommy should go on holiday and put his feet up, your eyes and thoughts were fixated on Bonnie, though.

You sat with him during dinner. Right after everyone finished eating you snuck out into the huge backyard of Arrow House. It was dark, the moon only a small crescent. You dragged Bonnie along.

„Where are we going?“

„I don’t know, Bon. I just want to run!“ You started to run in the same moment and didn’t stop until you reached the first trees. Collapsing next to each other on the damp grass, Bonnie still had your hand in his.

Your breathing, trying to get back to its normal rhythm, filled the nocturnal silence. It was just like the night on the blanket as you laid there on the grass. When you finally admitted to those feelings you had for him. When you realised it was love.

You still couldn’t believe the plan Tommy had went through with. And Arthur not being dead. When they explained it all, the immediate wish emerged that John’s death should’ve been only a farce as well. 

Your mind took you back to the night of Bonnie’s fight. Finn had took you aside tonight, thanking you for doing what he couldn’t do that night. The shock when Tommy had shot in that hall tried to creep back along with the black clouds. But something else, something more important to you right now, took over your thoughts.

„Bonnie.“ You rolled on him and tried to see a little more than nothing of his face. It took a good minute until your eyes got used to it and you could figure out where his eyes and his lips were. „We didn’t celebrate yet.“

„No, we didn’t,“ he confirmed.

„I promised something.“

„You did.“ You couldn’t see it but by the tone of his voice you knew he was smirking.

„Come one!“ Getting back on your feet and pulling him up, you ran back to the house together and sneaked your way up to your room. You kept your promise. 

And Bonnie made a thousand other ones while you laid awake until the next morning. He would always hold the punching bag throughout your session. He would always treat you the way you deserved to be treated. He would always be there and fall with you into the black clouds so he could pull you out if you couldn’t do it on your own. He would never stop loving you. And he would be there, for the rest of your life, to remind you that being unapologetically you was everything he ever wanted you to be with him.

#peaky blinders #fanfiction #imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #bonnie gold #peaky blinders bonnie gold #peaky blinders bonnie #bonnie gold x reader #bonnie gold x shelby!reader #bonnie gold x shelby!sister #shelby!reader #shelby!sister #peaky blinders sister #shelby sister #shelby reader #peaky blinders bonnie x reader #bonnie gold fanfiction #bonnie gold imagine #kyloswarstars

[zodiyack]

Tommy Shelby Special HCs

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x (read note)!reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, a bit o’ sexual reference, alcohol

Note!: So I had an idea. Rosa Diaz from B99 kind of reminds me of Tommy, so what if the reader had a personality...like Rosa’s? I have more ideas of weird kind-of-crossovers || I slightly hate this, so if you like it please let me know! <33

masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

He would meet you because you were friends with Ada. She was one of the few people who could make you smile

However, the way he met you would be forever known as one of the scariest...but horniest moments of his life

You threw a guy off his stool and he landed at the feet of the Shelby brothers.

In all honesty, you were pretty much visibly f u m i n g

It was hot

Anyways

Tommy watched as you drunkenly stumbled to Ada, scooping her up in a hug before yelling,

“I’ve only known this sexy woman for a month. But if anything were to happen to her, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

I had to

It honestly took him by surprise...

Well really, it took all the Shelby family by surprise, but you get it

After Ada sobered you up the best she could, she introduced you to her family

“Hunka Hunka” were the only words that came out of your mouth, and they came out...when you turned to Tommy.

The brother’s laughed it off while Ada tried to remind them that you were still somewhat drunk

Tommy thought it was amusing though- so he encouraged you to drink more

“Okay, if you’re buyi-” “No Y/n, no more alcohol.” “Boss lady says no, sorry Tommy-boy.”

The night went by alright, you didn’t speak much, nor did you smile at all

It genuinely made the Shelby boy curious

Ada and you slept over at the Shelby residence, and as always- you woke up first.

Charlie was crying so that might’ve been the reason why, but this time, it was cause you missed the cutie

Ada had babysat him with you before, that went unknown to Tommy though

You picked him up and smiled, whispering kind words softly to the young boy

At some point you even sang a nice little song, your voice no longer the dull emotionless voice you put on daily

After 10 minutes or so, you felt a gaze on your back

Your smile fell from your face, “Tell anyone about this and I’ll slit your throat.” You really didn’t mean it..or did you?

“Ah, but then the other Shelbys will have to slit yours. We don’t want that, now do we?”

Before you turned to face the ocean eyed man, you kissed Charlie’s head lightly and returned back to your infamous emotionless face/attitude

He didn’t tell you, but he did see at least a minute or two of your smile

and damn did he want to see it again

He questioned you about how you knew his son and why you thought it would be okay to hold and kiss him

You simply replied with, “I’ve learned to love and adore him thanks to Ada.” and handed him the little boy, walking out of the room

And you can’t tell me that you didn’t purposely bump his shoulder on the way out

He couldn’t help but feel a bit turned on

A woman, dressed in a nightgown she borrowed from Ada, just showed her true colors to a boy that isn’t even hers, and then turned right back to a badass within the presence of the man most people feared.

You showed no fear, let alone any emotion

You were stuck in his head

The question is- is that a good or bad thing?

You left and Tommy would.not.stop.bothering.Ada.

He asked questions about you over and over again

It was amusing but still annoying

Ada, being over Tommy’s need to know information of his crush, decided to invite you over again just so he’d shut up

When you did, you asked about Tommy

“No, not you too!”

“Oh hush, I’m just curious. I don’t want him stopping me from saying hi to Char Char”

Oml I wanna say Char Char Binks now

And well...speak of the devil.

Tommy greeted you, with Charlie on his hip

You held the empty looking face and waved to the two

You’d say a proper hello to Charlie later

This went on for a while, you being greeted by the Peaky Blinder, then you giving him a small wave plus emotionless expression, you sneaking off to go hang out with Charlie... You were surprised Tommy hadn’t caught onto you

That was because he had

Every time you snuck into Charlie’s room, you were giggling with him and smiling so much it made your face hurt

It was this one day, that he knew he loved you, the woman who preferred trousers over skirts;

You were talking to Arthur and Tommy about joining the Peaky Blinders when some guy bumped into Tommy and then you

Before Tommy could do anything about it, you shoved the guy

“Move it, scum.”

While the man was on the ground, you kicked him in the gut and then continued the conversation as if nothing happened

“Yes, I can be ther-” “You’re hired.”

Both brothers interrupted you

Their faces were full of awe

You fought off a smile and thanked them

Tommy and Arthur both saw the smile itching to show, exchanging looks of amusement

Later, at the Garrison, you were attempting to open a bottle of whiskey 

When you couldn’t get it open, you threw it at the ground and kicked the pieces of glass across the floor

“I’ll pay for that.”

Again, it was very much needed

“Y/n!” Ada now had mom mode activated “Please. Just- just go pay for that so we can sit down.”

While you were paying, a random person came up behind you and asked what you were doing all alone, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You grabbed his hand off your body and twisted it, “Fuck off, creep.”

Ada quickly grabbed you and hurried back to the table of her brothers- who were laughing their asses off

even Tommy

“What- No one touches me without my permission.”

Arthur was the first brother to speak up from his laughter. “You, Y/n, are a scary woman.”

You winked in response. Who has time for ‘thank yous’ and smiles?

After they caught their breathe and the laughter died down, you took a seat next to Tommy.

He would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat

This night was fun...and crazy, and not just for Tommy

A man walked up to the table and started insulting and threatening the Shelbys, and you didn’t take to lightly to that.

“Son of a bitch!”

Shelby families eyes = wide asf

they can handle themselves but like, wOaH woman

You leaped out of your seat and tackled the man

When the Shelby boys and Ada got out of their seats, they saw you straddling the guy with his shirt collar in your fists, his nose was already bleeding thanks to your knuckles

He was crying and apologizing continuously 

Ada pulled you off the man and told you to let him go

your breathing was not steady in the slightest, but that wasn’t alarming due to how badass you looked

That, unfortunately, wasn’t the end of it.

The man decided he was gonna fuck up his mercy, and insult as well as try to throw some punches at Tommy

And boy did he fuck up big time

You broke out of Ada’s grip and jumped onto the man’s back

With your gun against his head, you said words you thought no one would hear, “Leave my lover alone. You do anything involving him again, and he tells me, I’ll do something to you and it won’t be pretty.”

He scurried out of the bar as fast as his legs could carry him

Just as you sat back down in your spot by the Peaky Blinders leader and closed your eyes...

“So, I’m your lover now?”

“Yes. Now shut up and hold me.”

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders x reader #plus size reader #petite reader #reader insert #x reader #x you #x y/n #fanfic #by order of the peaky blinders #shelby family #ada shelby #arthur shelby