#Danny: lying on the bed with his eyes wide awake and already staring at the ceiling as the vent above him opens. *waves* “Sup���.

[kizzer55555]

The Vampire Aesthetic

Ok so Danny knows two billionaires personally and they really couldn’t be more different. Yet they had one thing in common. A vampire aesthetic. Sam is fully into goth. Spiderwebs, bats, the color black. She enjoys fangs and fake blood and the darkness of her soul. Meanwhile, Vlad is Vlad. If his name wasn’t enough, the dark clothing, pale skin, and flying around with a cape and fangs with coffins in his mansion really sells it.

Danny doesn’t know many rich people so he thinks this might be some kind of trend. (If Paulina is rich, her family likes the chupacabra) So he just thinks that all rich people have some kind of vampire thing going on.

Cue Danny somehow ending in the Wayne household. Maybe he was brought over as a friend of one of the bats, maybe rescued from a field trip/vacation gone wrong, maybe some other situation. But he is there in civilian form with civilian Waynes and Danny just takes a good long look around the inside of the mansion.

“So where’s the vampire aesthetic?

Everyone freezes.

Danny just starts looking around, checking behind paintings and feeling the walls for secret levers. Used to secret passages with Vlad and possibly Sam. The Fentons definitely had them when they were temporarily rich.

“Come on, I know you guys are hiding it.”

Cue the entire batfamily thinking that this is another Tim and that he is fully aware that these people are the batfamily. Danny hangs around the mansion more and the bats just start dropping their disguises and not even bothering to hide stuff around Danny because they assume he already knows. (Possibly even trying to recruit him to be a new bat) Meanwhile, Danny, who does not know these people are batman and his birds, just does not pick up on any of it.

He grew up in a health violation with a giant ballon observatory lab above his head and a portal to the afterlife in his basement. He is a half dead teenager who has tea with the god of time and his godfather is the other parent to his clone child. He’s used to death lazers being scattered across his home and mysterious stains on clothing.

People are weird! He doesn’t judge!

[poke-me-with-a-stick]

Chapter 12 of 'Artificial Wingman'!

For the full story click Here!

Enjoy!

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Later that night, Danny found himself wide awake. Not for the same reason as the night before, though. He lay there, in the guest room’s bed, staring at the ceiling with a dazed expression. His core buzzed in his chest, the events of the Astronomy Museum played on loop in his head. Its vibrations were making it difficult for the teen to fall asleep. 

He had to admit, even though he felt exhausted from not sleeping the night before, along with all the excitement from today, it was pretty nice to have his core purring so contently. Definitely better than the way it ached the night before, while his mind was plagued by all the ways things could go wrong with the potion. All the ways something could go wrong when Robin drank the potion.

:read more:

The teen’s core died down at the reminder of what would happen tomorrow. As relieved as he would be, knowing that Robin would be freed from the love potion’s effects, he knew how easy it would be for something to go wrong. He could have made the potion incorrectly, or Robin could have some sort of reaction to it. Or it could not work at all! (It should have been telling that that last one didn’t make his chest ache the way the other worries did.) 

Of course, he could just be worrying about nothing, and everything would work out perfectly tomorrow. Then everything could go back to normal. He would be lying if he said he wouldn’t miss Robin, though. Part of him didn’t want to go, wanted to keep hanging out with the teen. This week has been the most fun he has had in a long time. More fun than anything had been since the Accident. 

Sighing, Danny rolled onto his side, his eyes tracing the chipped paint. As much as he wanted to stay a bit longer, he knew he couldn’t. For starters, despite what Robin and his own insecurities claimed, Danny was sure that the potion would work. And he had no idea if Robin would feel the same way he does now about Danny. Would the teen want him to stay, after the love potion was no longer affecting him? Would he hate him for putting him in that situation, thinking him irresponsible and reckless for the childish way he used such a dangerous potion? 

Second, both boys were vigilantes. They had things to do, people to protect. Goofing off for a week hadn’t been the most responsible thing to do. And that was ignoring the fact that they came from two different dimensions. At least here, there were more heroes to rely on. There were other vigilanties that could cover for Robin, until he came back. In Danny’s dimension, the only line of defense was a group of teenagers with little to no official training and a lot of first hand experience, and a teen vigilante that held a grudge against the beings she fought. Specifically against him. Not the most comforting thought. Just thinking about it had his core squirming in discomfort, itching to check in on them and make sure nothing had happened. He longed for his haunt, but his core also yearned to stay here, even for just a little longer. 

Another thing that had him wanting to get home as soon as possible, was the fact that his parents were due home very soon. If they weren’t already home. He really didn’t want to explain to them what he had been doing. Not that he thought anything particularly bad would happen if he told them the truth (A lie). They would just give him a hypocritical lecture on how using the gadgets irresponsibly was dangerous and not allowed, and they would probably demand to see the book he had been using on this ‘adventure’. What had him worried was whether or not they would give it back to him. Or worse, if they tried to recreate anything from the book. His parents were dangerous enough, the world did not need to add the power of magic to his parent’s volatile inventions. Or a spell that would summon some sort of spirit. Or some sort of binding spell, one that would leave a ghost defenseless and helpless. 

Shivering at the thought, he tossed onto his other side with a grunt, wiggling to try and get comfortable. Closing his eyes, he prayed for his mind to quiet down and let him sleep. Exhaustion tugged at him, but his thoughts stubbornly refused to be silenced. Nothing he could do would keep them hushed, not that he had much energy to do that anyways. Reason after reason flooded his mind, reasons to get home as quickly as possible. Reasons to stay for as long as he could. With each new thought, his good mood from the day plummeted further. 

The halfa managed a few hours of restless sleep, waking up every now and then in a new, awkward position with the sheets tangled around him uncomfortably. He was pretty relieved when the sun began to shine through the blinds, lighting up the room with beams dimmed by the city smog. Seeing no reason to stay in bed and struggle with sleep, he pushed himself to his feet, shaking the covers free of his body and grabbing the spare pair of clothes Robin let him borrow as he headed towards the bathroom. 

He turned the knobs for the shower until it ran with icy cold water, a sigh escaping him as he quickly stepped under the cool spray. The water felt so good on his back, wetting his hair and acting almost like a balm for his sore, dry eyes. 

This had become a habit, taking showers at their coldest setting, since his ice-core had fully formed. Warm water had made him feel feverish, almost like he was melting any time he took a steamy shower. And definitely not in a good way. The warm water would feel like pinpricks anywhere it touched, his skin turning a painful red if he stayed under it for more than a few minutes. When he had tried to stick it out, his core took matters into its own hands and iced the bathroom over completely, the water freezing in an almost deadly arch. After the third time it happened, he had decided that something needed to change. 

He had tried colder showers, cool but not icy, and found that it felt much better. Eventually he stopped adding warm water to the mix altogether, and that had been one of his best ideas to date.

Jazz had been horrified when she found out, after he had accidentally dripped water all over her one night. He had been way too tired to dry off properly, and had just left his hair to air dry after a-once over with a towel. 

A smile crept onto his face as he washed his hair, remembering the way she had  tried desperately to get him back to the bathroom for a warmer shower. His sister had been so worried that he would catch a cold, taking frigid showers like that. 

She had calmed down a bit when he had explained to her what warm water did to him now, and after getting him to promise to let her dry his hair that night, she didn't bring it up again. Though he did find warm drinks in his room after he got out from then on. Surprisingly, warm coco was something his ice core seemed to relish, despite its apparent intolerance for other warm things. 

Danny stayed in the shower for a good half hour, only cutting the water off and stepping out when he noticed his fingers resembling raisins more than skin. Drying off was a pretty fast ordeal, and not even forty minutes after he had entered the bathroom, he was walking out. Clean, refreshed, and dressed in the ridiculously comfy clothes that Robin had given him to use. He briefly wondered if he would be able to keep them, as he knew that he wouldn't find anything this nice back in Amity. Surely the teen wouldn't miss a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve, right?

Walking into the kitchen, the halfa was surprised to find it empty. From what he had seen, Robin was quite the early riser, getting up with the sun, or even before the sun, most days. Beating Robin to the kitchen, well after the sun had risen, made his core churr worriedly. 'He must have been up pretty late.' Thsr had to be it, right? He hoped that was the reason Robin was sleeping in.

Resolving to ask the teen later, Danny turned his attention back to his next task. Breakfast. Looking through the cabinets brought hum across a large variety of things, canned and dried foods mostly. Shuffling some boxes around and reading their labels, Danny finally pulled one free with a pleased chirp. Acting his feet back on the ground, he looked over his prize.

On the front of the box was a blue and black dressed vigilante drawn in a cartoonish style, leaning against a spoon with a smile. The spoon dipped into a large bowl of black and blue 'puffs', clearly themed after the vigilante, turning the milk a blueish purple color. 

"Nightwing Blueberry Bursts?" Danny read off the brand, remembering the Nightwing was one of the vigilanties that Robin had told him about. 'He must have been pretty popular,' Danny mused. Popular enough to get his own cereal. "Good for him, I guess." The teen murmured, pouring himself a bowl. He pretended not to be a bit jealous as he took a seat at the table. So what if this Nightwing dude had his own cereal? It's not like he wanted one, nope. What would his own cereal even taste like? Ectoplasm bites?

He took a bite of the sugary food with thoughts of glowing green cheerios floating through his mind. His bowl was emptied and washed within minutes, the blueberry flavored cereal put back into the cabinet where he had found. He had to admit, he kind of wished that he had had the oatmeal that Robin had made him the other day. That would have been better, but the cereal hadn't been that bad.

Breakfast finished, the teen looked around for something to do. Preferably something quiet. He might be worried about the vigilante sleeping in the other room, but if he needed the sleep then Danny didn't want to wake him up. 

Eventually, he settled on reorganizing his bag. Since being kidnapped by a lovestruck vigilante, he had acquired a lot of extra stuff. Stuff that, at the moment, was just shoved carelessly into his bag. 

Sitting down in the living room, he turned his bag upside down. All of his stuff fell out, piling on the cushion beside him. At the top of the pile, the trinkets and stuffed toys, mostly ghost themed, from his and Robin's trip to the arcade. A small smile crept onto his face as he moved the memorables to the side. Under them was Robin's vigilante suit and mask.

If Danny was being completely honest, he had forgotten that he had shoved the suite in his bag. 'I should probably return thes,' he thought, pinching the thick fabric between his fingers. For now though, he neatly folded the kevlar-lined suit and put it to the side, setting his domino mask on top of it before turning back to what was left of the pile.

A few granola bars, a half-empty bottle of water, and his spellbook sat at the bottom of the pile. He grabbed the spellbook first, not paying much mind to the snack bars that fell off of it. His smile faded as he traced the starry pattern on the edges. 'You've caused a lot of chaos,' he couldn't help but think, the tingle of magic making his fingertips feel odd. Abruptly, he shoved the book back into his bag, the snacks he had left following soon after. The trinkets and stuffed toys followed, hiding the spellbook completely from view. Zipping the main pocket closed, he opened a smaller pocket, carefully tucking Robin's suit in for safe keeping. 

Settling the bag's strap over his shoulder, the teen sighs. He had hoped that Robin would be up by now, the time nearing lunch now. For a moment, he contemplated checking on the teen, but he quickly discarded the idea. He would know if something were wrong, wouldn't he? He was sure that Robin was alright, he hadn't heard anything besides the teens even breathing and soft snores. This didn't really help to calm his core, so he promised himself that he would check on the teen if he wasn't up within the hour.

That settled, he really didn't have much else to do while he waited. Moving back to the kitchen, he set his bag down on the table, giving the room another once-over. Dishes were done, and he had put all the boxed food back where he had found it. Nothing was out of place. 'Hmm…'

Slowly, the halfa's eyes fell upon the jar. His core twinged oddly at the sight of it, the reason for his own discomfort unknown to him. Maybe it was because the glass signified the potential end of a friendship? 'That… that sounds about right.' He admitted to himself. He really didn't want to mess with it, not until Robin was up. But he couldn't really think of anything else to do for the time being.

Sighing, he grabbed the jar and moved it to the table, setting it down gingerly beside his bag, being careful not to disturb  the tea towel wrapped around it. Setting himself down in one of the kitchen chairs, he let his head rest on the table, staring down the jar with his hands tucked neatly under his chin. 

Danny let his mind drift as he traced over the floral pattern of the towel with his eyes. Part of him was kind of worried that he had messed something up with the potion. The spellbook had said that it would glow when finished, but no light broke through the thin fabric surrounding it. So it left him wondering, worrying, that he had done something wrong. Did he add too much of something, or too little of another? Was the recipe affected by sunlight? Did he make a mistake putting it in the window for the three days set time? Should he have left it on the table or the counter instead? Should he check? 

He really, really wanted to check. His hands itched to unwrap the towel, to make sure that it looked right. But he also wanted to wait for Robin. It felt wrong to do the big reveal without the person who had helped make it, the one who had kept him company through the whole process. Somehow, leaving him out of the last step seemed really unfair. 

Thankfully, he didn't have to suffer through a long wait for the other teen. As if summoned by Danny's thoughts, Robin appeared in the doorway, his clothes rumpled and his sunglasses slightly crooked. Danny lifted his head off the table, a smile curving his lips. "Good morning," he greets the teen, his worried thoughts fading like a morning mist.

Robin smiled right back at him, an action that made Danny's core flutter in a way he couldn't(wouldn't) identify. 

"Have you checked the antidote?" He asked before Danny could really ponder his odd reaction. Danny reflexively glanced at the still-covered jar before turning his attention to the teen again.

Danny shakes his head. 'No, I haven't. I was waiting for you." He watches as Robin makes his own breakfast, getting a hum of acknowledgment in response. After a minute, he continued. "How did you sleep?"

Robin was quiet for a moment, taking a bite from his breakfast before speaking. "I slept adequately enough." They fell back into a semi-comfortable silence as Robin finished his food and washed his dishes. Finally, setting them aside to dry, Robin walks back to his seat across from Danny. With a sigh, Robin gestured to the jar. 'There is no reason to delay anymore."

"Oh, yeah. We should probably go ahead and get this over with, huh?" Danny didn't wait for the teen to respond, reaching for the jar. Pulling it towards himself, Danny found himself hesitant. Exhaling an unnecessarily loud breath through his nose, he roughly tugged the towel free. 

Almost immediately both boys were blinded, the jar producing a bright white light. The light didn't last long, dying down rather quickly to a golden glow that coated the room in a warm light, leaving both boys to blink the black spots from their eyes. When they could see again, they observed the jar, a somber air about them both. When the silence stretched too far to be comfortable, Danny cleared his throat, drawing Robin from his thoughts.

"Why don't we go out somewhere?" Danny wasn't sure where the thought came from, but it was out of his mouth before his brain could truly process it. 

Robin was quiet for a moment, mulling over his words. Finally, he nodded. "Alright. Where shall we go?"

He thought it over for a minute. The mall would be too crowded for something like this, as would the rest of the places that Robin had taken him to. Maybe… "How about the park? The one where we met?" He suggested.

Robin nodded again, pulling the jar out of Danny's hands and sliding it carefully into his messenger bag. Closing it back, he slung the strap over his shoulders and held his hand out for Danny to take.

"I can carry my stuff, you know." Danny pointed out, but still accepted the hand nonetheless. 

"I know." Robin smiled, leading him out the front door. He makes no move to give it back as they traverse the alleyways, instead squeezing Danny's hand lightly. 

Both teens fall silent as they walk, and Danny can't help but think that Robin seems a bit stressed. Definitely more stressed than he had previously been leading Danny to be. If not for the fact that they had been hanging out for almost a week now, Danny probably wouldn't have been able to tell. But all the signs were there. His tense shoulders and stiff, almost formal walk were a bit obvious, when you looked. Despite all of this, his grip was still gentle, squeezing slightly as if to make sure that Danny was still there. The thoughtful care made the teen's core hum pleasantly in his chest.

Danny was pulled from his observations when he, quite literally, ran into Robin. The teen had come to a stop, his head tilted towards the ground. Danny looked around, growing a bit confused when he spotted the entrance to the park barely a block down the street. Turning back to Robin, he tilts his head slightly. "What's up?" He asks the teen.

Robin tugged his hand, pulling Danny closer, yet still leaving a respectable distance between them. He remains silent though, a scowl forming on his face as he debates something in his head. Danny stayed quiet, letting the teen think.

After a few minutes, the teen finally opened his mouth. "I-" Whatever he was going tobsay was abruptly cut off as a scream tore through the air, causing both boys to immediately drop into defensive stances. It was so sudden, one moment they were standing on the sidewalk of an almost empty street, and the next they were amidst a sea of frightened, panicked civilians. Screams and shouts drowned out all rational thought.

Robin tried to keep Danny close to him as bodies jostled and pushed at them from all sides, but the crowd proved too much for his grip. Danny can briefly hear Robin shout his name as the crowd pushes them apart. 

The halfa could do nothing as he was pushed and shoved towards the back of the crowd. Sure, he could take a chance using his ghost powers, but he was literally surrounded by people right now. Changing into his ghost form was very obvious, and using his powers in human form would be equally so. Having a secret identity made it hard in situations like this. He would just have to wait until he could find a nice, private place to transform and go after Robin. 

Stumbling, Danny finally broke free from the crowd, slowing to a jog as he looked around for any sort of danger. There had to be a threat, to cause so many people to run like that, right? But, as he looked around, he couldn't find anything particularly life-threatening. 

It was only as he was passing by an alleyway that he saw anything odd. A suspicious shadow darted behind a dumpster, just barely catching his attention. 'Maybe it was a cat,' he tried to dismiss, but his core buzzed uncomfortably, and he found himself tensing, his hackles rising with the hair on the back of his neck as he went to investigate. Breathing deeply, he started to make his way cautiously into the alley. 

Danny had almost reached the back of the alley, a dead end made of grime-covered brick with rotting cardboard propped against it, when something tried to attack him. His instincts kicked in, his body curling as he ducked a swing and rolled, shoes spinning as he crouched, turning to view his attacker. 

His attacker was a big burly man, not nearly the size of his dad, but not far off. The man donned a baggy black shirt with a worn and stained blue vest over it. But it was the clown mask he wore that was the most eye-catching.

Danny groans silently to himself. Robin hadn't talked much about the rogues in his city, but hadn't there been one that sorta came up at their first trip to the BatBurger? What was their moniker, The Jester or something? Batburger has some sort of fries named after them, the teen was pretty sure. He was kind of hoping that he wouldn't have to encounter any of the bad guys in this city, but his luck was really kicking in right now wasn't it? 'It just had to be a clown.'  Danny really, really hated clowns.

Danny was pulled from his thoughts by movement. The clown-masked moron lunged at him, his knuckles glinting with an oddly reflective… something on them. Danny deftly avoided the man, diving to the side and sticking his leg out to trip him as the teen scrambled to his feet. He managed to beat the man up, planting a foot between the man's shoulder blades to keep him down.

Moving quickly, Danny brought his fist down hard on the man's temple knocking him out cold. At least, he thinks the dude's unconscious. Knowing his crazy strength and notoriously bad luck, the dude is concussed at the least, and not among the living at the worst. Thankfully Danny had great hearing as well, he would have spiraled into an anxiety attack if he couldn't hear the man's heartbeat. 'He'll be fine. Probably.' He fought back a wince as he eyed the purple bruise forming on his temple.

Nudging the man one more time, just to be safe, the teen finally turned and walked back out of the alleyway. Normally he would feel bad about leaving someone like that, but one glance at the obviously deadly set of spiked brass knuckles knuckles made any guilty feelings disappear. 

He was so distracted by the guy that he didn't register the fog-like cloud creeping towards him right away. When he did notice the tendrils rolling over the ground. The smart thing would be to try to avoid the potential murder cloud, because he had no idea what it was, or how it would affect his half-ghost biology. But he was stuck between the fog and a dead end. There wasn't much of a choice here. So, stopping his breath and eyeing the fog-smoke-whatever with a healthy dose of suspicion, he stepped back onto the street. 

The first thing that he noticed was how quiet it was. The fog filled the street, covering abandoned cars and pushing stray trash as it seemed to wander in all directions. The fact that the area was empty was a bit unnerving considering how full it had been just moments ago. 

Seeing as the road was completely empty, he saw no reason to keep to the sidewalk. Not his smartest idea, but he wasn't the smartest person. 

Starting off in the direction he had last seen the people headed towards, Danny looked around at the lifeless block. It was eerie, how fast a place could be deserted. The fog didn't help with the visuals. 

Honestly, Danny wasn't sure what happened next. Just like before with the crowd, something happened out of nowhere. One moment he was jogging down the empty road and the next he was airborne, something hit hard from behind and sent him flying a yard down the street. Instinctively, he sucked in a deep breath, unintentionally inhaling the fog. 

At first nothing happened. Brakes screeched from where he had been just a few seconds prior, but no one got out of the white van. Confused, Danny pulled himself up, groaning at the ache in his side from slamming into a brick wall. Almost as soon as he was upright, a wave of dizziness overcame him. Carefully, he propped himself on the wall he had hit, his mind fogging over. It was getting difficult to focus, a cotton-like feeling filling his head as the world spun in front of his eyes. 

By the time the people in the vehicle finally got out, all Danny could really do was blink. His body felt lax, like he had swallowed a really good pain reliever. He didn't react as he was approached, or when he was grabbed roughly under his arms. Not even when his wrists were bound. It was like he was in his own little world, random thoughts bouncing around his head as he let his eyes roam the clown-masked faces of his kidnappers. 

Vaguely, he registered words, catching short sentences. Not a lot, and definitely not enough to put together a coherent story as to what they were talking about. -"not affected by the toxin-" was that what that fog was? -"he's just a scrawny teen-" they weren't talking about him right? Jazz had assured him he was more filled out! -"maybe a meta?-" what in the world was a meta? Had Robin told him about them? He couldn't remember if he had. "-has the hair and eyes, could be a Wayne kid-" Wayne kid? What was that supposed to mean? "-boss will want to know, maybe something interesting to him-" 

The teen was so lost as to what was going on around him, but he couldn't really find it in himself to care. He was sure these people couldn't hurt him, not really. So he let the darkness that lingered at the edges of his vision spread, one last thought passing through his mind as he faded out. 

'Hope Robin won't be too mad about this.'

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(I know there are probably some spelling and grammar mistakes, but it's okay because I tried my best!)

For the amazing person that created the prompt for this story, and all the lovely people who follow along!

@halfblackwolfdemon @manapeer @xxwintrynightzxx @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 @blu-lilac @academicpurposes @secretdestinywerewolf @passivedecept @naluforever3 @postit-nope @spiteismymiddlename @2t-productions @plague-daisy @feet-achy @bubblecookies16 @thesapphiredragon13 @justwannabecat @magicalcollecter @adeniumdream @amuseofminds @lupagrim @readerkayden @dr-syko-pharm-4 @ladythugs @angelheartgamer @markthespot68 @kyrianclawraith @michikoy-yuki @servasvictoria02 @your-emo-nightmare @vala-dreams @scarlett-green-rose @t1dwarrior-of-earth @charlie-the-frogie @akikoyuii @mysticalcomputerdetective @roseuniverse999 @im-totally-not-an-alien @thefearfullone @weird-droplet-309 @jaytriesstuff @raventao @jacquelynwinchester @dragongoblet @tlise21 @longlivethefallen @the-archer-goddess @temple-of-jalebi @adepresseddwightsblogofjunk @plainly-colorful @the-legal-shipper @49saltpeppershakers @igotafewbadideas @tumbling-darkling @sparklygardenbouquet @sarcastic-yami @blueneko9314 @starscreamlover @liedboutmurder @do3y @roze-realm @some-mildly-happy-human @yinari-uchiha @azuera

[deepdonutkid]

Put your head on my shoulder

Requested: yes, by @sighonahurricane​

Pair: Tommy Shelby x female reader

Request: I'm here to make a request based on a list you just posted. Would you please do a piece with 7 from fluff and 10 from the list just after that, with Tommy Shelby? Something like this below? (Tommy laying his head in her lap?🥺🥺)

7. “Your hair is so soft.”

10. “It’s funny, in that dark terrible way I mean.” “You wouldn’t believe me if I said I was fine, would you?”

Summary: After one dirty and dark night, Tommy comes home to his wife and can’t find sleep. Maybe his wife can help him.

Author’s note:

The story is with a reader, but not written with the you form, because the story focus on Tommy. Also... I have problems writing fluff for him, so this is bittersweet.

English is not my native language and this is not proof read.

Enjoy reading! Tagging: @bonniesgoldengirl​ @justalonelyslytherin​ @retromafia​ (because we already talked about this fic) @theshelbyclan​

Words: 1,4k

Warnings: canon typical violence

It was business as usual for Tommy, but this day felt so much longer than just twenty-four hours. Somehow it was more tiring and more exhausting than his usual work day.

After he had left the office, he couldn’t even go straight home. No, instead he had more work to do, but not of the legal kind. The shady side of his business needed his undivided attention and this time he couldn’t outsource it. Tommy had to do it himself. It was the ugly part of his activities.

But he was used to it, as far as anybody could get used to that kind of work. He had done it many times before on his way to the top and now he had something like a routine with it. After all murder was just a business, a very cold and lonely one, but it was part of the reason why he became so successful.

His driveway to his mansion, symbol of his new status, was paved with blood and bones of enemies and friends. Sometimes the death was a collateral damage, like it was with Danny, but today it was the calculated outcome of his plans.

He already ruled half of England, but nevertheless he had to demonstrate his powers once again. Nobody could forget about it or question his position on the throne.

It was a bloody type of work and Tommy hated every minute of it. Besides the psychological damage, murdering someone was also very draining, as well as digging the shallow grave for that poor fella, who had crossed paths with the almighty Tommy Shelby.

A sign of relief left his lips, when he was finally done. He put the shovel in his car and cleaned up his face with his handkerchief. Somewhere along the process the pale skin of his sunken cheeks got stained with blood and dirt. He didn’t care about it anymore. The smell was omnipresent in his life and he couldn’t escape it. However, he was concerned about his wife, who was probably still waiting for him. The last thing Tommy wanted was to upset her. On top of that, he couldn’t stand when she asked him which blood it was. It was rarely his, but of course she would be worried about him anyway.

All on his own he drove through the dark, making his way home. His body was tired, when he climbed the stairs to the Arrow House, but his mind was still wide awake from all the things he did that day. Most present in his thoughts was the murder. The scene kept playing in his head over and over again.

Tommy forced a small smile on his lips, when he entered his bedroom and found his wife. “Why are you still awake?”, he asked: “You know, you don’t have to wait for me.” It was platitude, yes, but he said it anyway. Usually he wasn’t the type of person, who would say such a thing. Still he said it every time after he came home late at night, after a certain kind of work… It was part of his ritual.

“And hello to you too, Thomas”, she scolded him: “Also… you know very well, I can only sleep when you’re right by my side. Safe and sound.”  She turned out of bed and walked the few steps to greet him with a kiss. Nevertheless she was still very caring, even though he didn’t deserve it most of the time.

Of course, he tried to be a good husband for her. He started to undress himself and when he was just in his boxer shorts, he presented her his woundless body. “See? Safe and sound”, he grunted: “Now let’s go to bed again.”

She took his hand and pulled him to their marital bed. Her voice was as soft as her silken nightdress when she whispered: “Only if you come with me, love.”

Her husband sighed, but followed her lead and got between the blanks.

Just like usual he was the big spoon and she was the little spoon. He kissed the back of her head and inhaled the scent of her hair.

But even though he stuck to his routine, he couldn’t find sleep. Most of these days, he was so tired, the sleep caught him, before his thought of guilt did. And after all this time and all the bad things he did, there was still plenty of guilt left. Actually it was piling up, like a mountain of his sins.

Today the demons in his head were stronger than the desperate desire of sleep from his body. He laid there for a while, before he realized, he was still too mentally involved with all his scandalous deed.

What Tommy now needed, was distraction. So he approached his wife. “Y/N?” Maybe she was still awake like him. His voice was throaty, but also incredibly needy.  In the daylight and most of the time the Shelby acted like he didn’t need anyone, but in the comfort of his bed he was ready to show his vulnerable side.

A little sleepy and so quiet, he almost didn’t hear it, she said under her breath: “Yes, dear?”

“I can’t sleep”, he confessed and gave her hand a squeeze.  

She turned around to look him in his ocean eyes. The wheels in her head were turning, he could sense it and after a while she suggested: “Okay, how about you put your head on my lap and tell me about your day.”

The worried were visible in his face. There was no point in lying about it, “You wouldn’t believe me if I said I was fine, would you?”, Tommy asked and she shook her head silently. She was the only person who understood him even without words. Sometimes he didn’t need to say anything, she just sensed, when something was wrong.

But today he needed to make that clear. “I don’t want to talk about my day”, he objected and put his hand on her cheek. His thumb caressed her soft skin oh so gentle. The shire thought about his day made him grumpy. Plus, it was also the cause of his current problem.

With an intense gaze in her eyes she stared at him and then poked his nose with her index finger. “I’ll tell you about mine.”

Then she sat upright and leaned against the headboard. Demanding she patted her lap as a sign he should come over and rest his head on her warm thighs.

Again he did just like she ordered. Tommy had left his dominance at the doorstep. Now he wasn’t the dangerous and evil gangster boss, but just a simple, yet tired man.

There was something spiritual about the way she ran her fingers through his hair. She had just started, but Tommy already felt way calmer, than before.

“The kids were hilarious today. You should have seen them. Charlie asked if horses could smoke like humans did”, she explained: “And Rosa ate her first biscuit today. She had wet crumbs all over her face. It was so adorable.”

He laughed a little, but he was sad at the same time, because he had missed these moments with his children. Tommy really wished he had been there. But what did he do instead? Making business, getting more money, threat and eventually kill people.

Tommy was completely caught up in his thoughts, when his wife mumbled: “Your hair is so soft.” She sounded almost surprised, as if she wanted to know the secret behind his silken smooth hair.

“What?” was all he said in his confusion about the sudden change of subject.

Now she was giggling and shook her head. “I said you’re incredibly soft for a tough gangster boss.”

The Shelby rolled his eyes and grumbled: “Don’t say that” which caused his wife to laugh even harder.

She had to calm down, before throwing in a question: “Why?”

“Because that’s a secret! What would the people think?”, he explained to her and tried to look up, to see her face.

Again she laughed and vowed: “I will keep your secret then… but it’s funny, in that dark terrible way I mean… right here you’re my Tommy, my husband and my everything, but everybody else think you are a horrible person.”

“But you don’t think that, eh?”

His wife clucked her tongue and answered: “I could never.”

[rhymingtree]

Ghosts in Westview

Chapter 11 || Prelude

word count: 6k

summary: After a whirlwind of a Halloween, (F/N) and Danny try and have a normal morning. Sadly, there are a few interruptions...

warnings: a teeny weeny bit of violence, a teeny weeny bit of horror, a teeny tiny bit of angst, oh... and Agnes.

To her surprise, she woke up the next morning in her own bed. Next to an already awake Danny, staring at her with groggy eyes. It would have been sweet, had she not wondered how long he’d been staring at her sleep.

“Good morning, amor.” He held his head up with a hand, his elbow pressing hard onto his pillow. He smiled lazily at her, but he was upset. In the hazel of his eyes was a hidden anger he was trying very hard not to bring to the surface, for the sake of their somewhat peaceful morning.

Her mouth was dry, and (F/N) could only groan in reply. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away quickly, her sudden movement shifting the mattress. The light of dawn shining through their window hit her eyes, finding its way through her clenched lids. She groaned again, bringing the duvet up to her eyes.

“You alright?” She felt Danny’s hand rub her shoulder, his concerned voice muffled by the thick duvet. “I thought we agreed you would be back by sundown.”

(F/N) peeked out of the sheets, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “Funny, I don’t remember coming home at all.”

He frowned, blinking through his sleepy haze as he sat up on the bed. “You came home late last night. Knowing her habits, I thought you went out with Agnes.” He almost smirked, “Did she offer you jelly vodka or something?”

She didn’t reply, only looked away to a far corner of the room with a tired frown.

“You’re not hungover, are you?” Danny pressed on.

(F/N) frowned at him, it almost looked playful. “You seriously think I’d go drinking with Agnes, of all people?” She yawned, stretching on the bed and haphazardly throwing the sheets off of her. “I’m just a bit tired.”

He cocked his head to the side, “Mentirosa.”

She gulped, “I’m not lying,” he moved away but her hand moved onto his, firmly keeping him where he sat. “A lot happened last night.”

“I told you we’re done hiding things from each other, amor,” his brows furrowed and he inched his hand away. “I didn’t know we were taking turns.”

She inched closer to him, but he turned his back. Regret and hesitation filled her, making her sigh. She reached out to him, letting her hand rub his shoulder. “I want to tell you the truth, but I don’t know how you’ll take it.”

“Believe me, Querida, I would, but you don’t trust me, do you?”

She frowned, moving closer to wrap her arms around Danny. She sighed into his hair, breathing in his cedar scent. “I do, I trust you.”

(F/N) felt his calloused hand resting on hers, holding her palm close to his chest.

She took a deep breath, deciding there was no way this was a problem for her to bear alone.“I saw Oliver last night.”

It was his turn to freeze. They were both silent for a minute, all he could do was turn to her and study the way her wide eyes stared into his. “...Oliver?”

She nodded.

“That can’t be, he’s-”

“Dead. I know.” Her voice shook, as if she didn’t even want to believe it. “He wasn’t alive… he just-”

Cold, dead, blue eyes. Pale, gaunt face.His skin was riddled with bruises. Dark red blood, still oozing from the side of his head.

(F/N) stuttered, remembering Ollie’s unforgiving gaze, burning into her soul.

“He was just there. He’s been here all this time.”

Danny stood up, dread clouding his head. “That’s impossible…”

“Why? You’re here, too.” (F/N) shot out of the bed, walking towards him and keeping her eyes on his. “Nothing’s impossible now.”

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know about any of this?”

She was still for a second, until she nodded her head slowly.

Even he doesn’t know what’s true and what isn’t. “(F/N), did he-... did Oliver say anything to you? Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she shook her head, her voice falling into a mournful whisper. ”But he showed me something. And I think you’ve always known something’s wrong.”

“Nothing in Westview is right, we both know that now.” His mouth pressed into a thin line. After a beat, he tentatively asked, “What did you see?”

“The people at the edge of town… they’re barely alive. You know, right? You’ve seen what Wanda’s done to people, what she’s been doing to everyone?”

He nodded, “But I never knew she had gone that far.”

“This whole time you’ve known? You knew what Wanda did, what she’s doing to people?” (F/N) felt her eyes fill with tears she could barely contain. She sniffled, looking away when the tears finally spilled.

She felt Danny walk over to her, his gentle hands resting on her shoulders, helping her get through her heaving breaths.

She sighed, regaining her composure. The warm light of the sun shone into her watering eyes, and her face hardened. “We gotta stop her, or at the very least get her to explain.” Danny didn’t reply, only nuzzling his face into her hair, like he was trying to convince her that their whole world wasn’t crumbling underneath their feet. “Wanda’s hurting people, Danny. And she’s messing with a lot of things she might not be able to fix.”

(F/N) turned to face him, but what she saw made her whole body shake and writhe away from his touch.

His skin was singed, his eyes were empty and bloodshot. He was covered in sand and soot, any inch of his body that wasn’t burnt was covered in dried blood.

(F/N) paled at the sight, her sudden shout of fear made Danny inch backward. His eyes, devoid of life, were suddenly filled with worry as he stared at her trembling hand, held up to keep him away from her. “What’s wrong?”

Her knees almost buckled underneath her, and she held onto a nearby drawer to keep herself from falling onto the floor. When he tried to reach for her, she moved away so quickly, her back collided with the door, sending a shock of pain through her spine.

“(F/N), talk to me-” His voice was warped, almost robotic. It sent another jolt of fear through her.

“Stay away from me!” her eyes stayed on his own, the sight of him making the bile rise up from her stomach, threatening to spill out with her fear.

She tried to blink, hoping this was just an illusion, a fault in Wanda’s reality. But when she opened her eyes again, Danny was still the way he was on the fateful day of the ambush. Like a twisted, horrifying phoenix from the ashes, another ghost come to haunt her waking nightmare.

“Stay the hell away…” her hand reached for the doorknob, and she pushed the door open, almost falling onto the floor.

“(F/N) wait!” He tried to run after her as she stumbled out of the room, clutching her chest with one hand, and holding onto the walls with the other as she rushed to the bathroom. Despite her fear, she took one look back at the figure of her husband back from the deep depths of her memory, the version of him she never wanted to see again.

She ran to the bathroom, paying no mind to what she collided with on the way there. She heard something crash and shatter behind her before she slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it with still trembling fingers.

It felt like her whole body was seizing up on itself, and she crumpled onto the floor, heaving and sobbing. She couldn’t close her eyes to clear away the tears clouding her vision, because when she did she saw him again, his burnt corpse illuminated by the roaring flames of explosions and gunfire all around them.

Her head was filled with the noises of war, the echoes of shouting from voices that only haunted her in her sleep made her heart beat so rapidly, it was as if she was right there again.

Like she was in the desert, laying there helpless, broken and bloodied. Surrounded by a war of her own making. One she never knew she had joined, and one she inevitably lost so much to.

But not her life.

As much as she wanted to die right then and there, she didn’t.

She waited for the impending quiet that spelled the next part of her suffering. She waited for something to drag her body away from the heat, to shove her into a cold despair, but it never came.

She stared at the bathroom tiles as they came back into focus. She rubbed her eyes, getting rid of the tears blurring her sight, and stared at her hands. She flexed them, the numbness on her fingers vanishing as she held her hands up to her face.

To her relief, (F/N) was met with darkness when she closed her eyes.

Her ears had been ringing, and she only noticed when the gentle knocks on the door pierced the sharp sound.

(F/N) inhaled, planting her hands on the cold tile. “Danny?”

“I’m here, amor,” a beat of silence. “I’m here.”

“Are you-” she gulped down the fear that was creeping back up her spine. “Are you okay?”

“I am if you are.”

She chuckled softly. He heard her quiet laugh through the door.

(F/N) didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t want to tell him what she saw, what it made her remember. “I don’t know, Danny,” slowly, she pulled herself off the floor, reaching for the door. Slowly, she opened it, the soft creaking of the wood adding to the sound of her heart picking up its pace.

She let out a breath of relief, seeing Danny, alive and well on the other side. He gave her a reassuring smile, his hazel eyes looking her up and down. She tried to smile at him too, but for some reason couldn’t.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know-” she was interrupted by his warm embrace.

“You don’t have to know. You don’t have to explain,” he whispered into her hair, “You just have to be okay.”

She held onto him, pulling him close to her so she could listen to his heart and count each beat. Her hands rested on Danny’s back, feeling him inhale and exhale, and she followed his rhythm. (F/N) knew though, that this wasn’t real.

The man she was holding in her arms, whose lips were softly pressed onto her scalp, and whose hands were holding her close to his chest, was a lie.

---

The living room was empty, except for (F/N), reclined on the couch, clad in sweatpants she found on the bedroom floor and Danny’s red Henley over her shirt, keeping her warm. She was staring at the ceiling, deep in thought, until she broke the silence.

“What the fuck is going on?”

She stared at a corner of the room, chewing her lip. If she thought about it for long enough, she could remember bits and pieces. (F/N) had been preoccupied trying to remember her own life, but part of her also wanted to avoid whatever she dredged up from her memories.

Danny interrupted the silence, walking down the stairs and bouncing onto the couch, taking (F/N) away from her line of thought. He sighed and laid down, letting his head rest on her lap. She looked down at him with a soft smile.

He hummed as (F/N)’s fingers carded softly through his hair, realizing she was still quiet. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“It would take more than a penny.”

He smirked. “So you just wanna be left alone, is that it?”

Her hand stopped, but it didn’t leave from where it was in his locks. She just closed her eyes and sighed, “I don’t know.”

“If you want to be alone for now, it’s okay.” He reassured her, reaching up to take her hand and bring it to his lips. “If you need to clear your head and you don’t want me bugging you, I swear it’s okay with me.”

She shifted, making Danny sit up straight. He didn't take his eyes off her. “Thank you.”

Danny chuckled, “We need to restock the fridge, anyway.” His hand reached for the back of her neck, and he gently pulled her closer so his lps could softly meet her forehead. He pulled away and stood up, “If you need anything, I’ll be at the grocery store.”

“Love you!” She called after him, making him turn back and open the door wider.

He smiled brightly at her, “Love you too,” and he was off.

When she heard the rumble of the car engine and saw Danny leave the driveway, (F/N) groaned, splaying herself over the couch. “Now that we’re alone…”

“I’d love to give you a recap, but I don’t really know if what I’m remembering is actually me or if I’m making this up.” She had no idea who she was talking to, but it felt like someone was listening. As weird as it sounded, she would welcome a listening ear who wouldn’t talk back to her, or probably didn’t even know what the hell she was saying.

“From what I can recall,” she squinted, bringing a hand up to count with her fingers. “One, I worked with a group of other soldiers, and they called me Ghost. Two, I was really good at my job, until I wasn’t… and there was a lot of fighting, a lot of explosions, a lot of pissed off people, and then… everyone I knew was dead.”

(F/N) sat up on the couch, bringing her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on her knee. “Also, my husband is most certainly dead…” she clenched her jaw, hesitating. “Is he though? I don’t fucking know at this point, maybe I’m dead! Maybe I’m in heaven.”

She laughed a bit at that, “Or considering the shit I did, I’m more likely in hell.” She fell silent, hissing through her teeth before she continued listing them off, “Three? Four? Uh… at some point, I fought some aliens… with another bunch of people called Avengers. Speaking of which, Agnes called me an Avenger, along with Vision, who is also apparently dead.” Her eyes widened, the surprise catching up to her, “Christ, what if everyone's dead?”

“This whole thing was started by Wanda, and I don’t know if she can end it. Maybe she wouldn’t even want to.” (F/N) sighed, looking up as she continued. “I hope someone out there can put a stop to this, and hopefully I can just get out and forget Westview ever existed.”

(F/N) stared straight ahead, as if she was looking someone in the eye. “...I knew someone. And I loved him.”

Her eyes drifted off to the mantlepiece, seeing the wedding photo. A photo taken in a lost part of time, in a fabricated reality that she wished was actually real.

Her mind was racing, and her senses were overtaken. Flashes of two different men who looked exactly alike, memories of him jumbled up in her head and brought up at random.

A blue-eyed gaze, cold and calculating… Warm and loving.

The coolness of his metal arm, holding her in a chokehold… embracing her in a protective hold.

The rusty smell of blood, overtaken by the sunkissed scent that comes with spending far too much time with goats.

The shattering of a baby blue vase, echoing with a gentle laugh.

“Я тебя помню, Девушка-солдат.” I remember you, Soldier Girl.

“...(F/N), baby, please. It’s me, I swear.”

(F/N) narrowed her eyes at the voice that kept repeating in her head, the panic laced in its words making her heart beat faster and faster. She shook it away, running a hand through her hair.

“Shit. I can’t remember him. But I love him,” (F/N) could only chuckle, “God, what kind of mess have I gotten myself into now?”

---

It felt like hours and hours had gone by, spent in the company of her own memories. But to (F/N)’s surprise, it had barely been an hour. Sick of the silence, she walked over to the stereo, letting the serene harmonies of a pop song replace the silence.

Her stomach grumbled loudly, like it had been trying to alert her all morning. Feeling too tired to put effort into a proper breakfast, she made a cup of coffee and reached for the cupboard to make a bowl of cereal.

She almost dropped the box when it crackled in her hand, the colors and design changing. It was like the cereal jumped from oats from the fifties, to the same Lucky Charms she took from the cupboard.

(F/N) waved it away, thinking she was just seeing things after the rough morning she’d already had, and poured out the cereal into a bowl. On the counter, she heard the same strange crackling noise. The coffee changed appearance in a split second, going from the box they bought at the groceries to a black and white tin, and back.

Confused, she eyed the coffee, watching for any more changes. But her head whipped around when the radio started to do the same thing.

It was a normal speaker one second, the next it was a Motorola radio, and then the portable they haven’t owned since the 70s. The songs jumped from one era to another, all the ones that had filled their house from when they moved in were jumbled and meshing together, screeching and jumping from song to song.

Cradling the coffee cup in her hands, she stared at the stereo, watching as the rest of the mantelpiece glitched too. Their wedding photo changed ever so slightly, going from balck and white to the yellowish hues of a picture taken with an older camera. Their smiles remained the same though, but (F/N) frowned at it. None of this was real, and it all changed according to Wanda’s desires. But then why won’t their wedding photo change? It always stayed the same.

As if it had read her mind, it glitched again, the photo seemed to be jumping from era to era, until for a moment, it stopped at a picture she had never seen before, or at least, she can’t remember ever having seen it.

Instead of the altar in the background, there was a large black plane looming over the figures in the photo, wearing combat gear.

This whole time, she had been looking at her family, and she never once recognized them. As she stared at them more and more, the voices in her head became clearer and clearer.

--“Oh, girlie, let’s get you outta here…” A barrage of bullets followed...

...There was smoke and debris everywhere,obscuring her vision, someone screamed. “I can’t feel my legs!”

A cold and dark empty room, chains on the walls and dread hanging in the air...

“You don’t have a plan, do you?” Oliver asked, “We’re gonna die here, aren’t we?”

“I’ll think of something,” you said.

Oliver lifted his redhead to stare at you again, his bloodshot eyes seemingly staring straight through you, “You promise?”

“I promise.” --

(F/N)’s head was pounding in pain, the onslaught of voices coming to a harsh stop, leaving her in silence.

Aftermath. Her family.

All she had left of them were her memories. All she could hold onto were their voices and their smiles in her head. The way they were all so alive in her mind, the way they were taken away from her so suddenly and so painfully, it came back and it was hitting her all at once.

An avalanche of grief, all over again,

Commander Weston.

Turner.

Oliver.

Wanda took all she had left of them away from her, save for a single picture. One happy memory of a time that never even happened, as a substitute for everything she had ever been through.

It wasn’t enough.

---

Thinking it was time for Wanda to tell her what was going on, she made her way across the street to their house, only glancing at the neighbors passing by who waved at her. Her stride was quick, panicked. The neighbors watching her walk barely seemed fazed by her urgent march.

She rapped her fist on the door, waiting for Wanda to answer the door.

To her disappointment, Billy was the one who answered, a worried look morphing into a happier smile greeting her. She couldn’t help but smile back, but it barely met her eyes.

“Hi, Auntie (F/N).” Tommy ran to the door, joining his brother.

Billy frowned at her, noticing her worried, frustrated expression. “Y-you don’t look so good.”

(F/N) chuckled, waving away his concern. “I’m fine, just need to talk to your mom. Is she home?”

Tommy shrugged, “She’s still in bed.”

(F/N) nodded, breathing heavily. “Um… how about your dad? I just need to talk.”

Billy and Tommy looked at each other, frowning. “He didn’t come home last night.”

She frowned. “Vision didn’t come home?”

Billy shook his head. His wide eyes staring up at her, “Auntie (F/N), where’s our Dad? What’s happening?”

“Mom and Dad have been acting weird, Uncle Pietro is missing, and something’s wrong with our game!” Tommy held up a video game controller, glitching and shifting into a deck of Uno cards.

“And… I think I’m sick. My head feels really weird.” (F/N) looked at Billy in concern. “Last night, I heard Dad screaming in my head, and it’s been really noisy. But, I don’t think he’s okay.”

“We don’t know where Dad is.”

“Shit,” (F/N) mumbled under her breath, making sure it wasn’t loud enough for the boys to hear.

Vision could be in danger, and Wanda, still sound asleep, probably doesn’t know.

“Okay, I’m going to go see where your dad went. And I’m going to bring him home.” The boys’ eyes lit up with hope. “But I need you two to keep an eye on your mom, make sure she’s feeling okay.”

Tommy nodded at her. “Roger that, Auntie (F/N).”

Billy held the door open, taking (F/N)’s hand before she could walk away. He looked worried, almost scared. “Are you gonna be okay, Auntie (F/N)?”

“I’ll be fine, Billy.” She held his hand in hers, giving it a light squeeze. “I know what to do. I’ll be back in no time.”

“You promise?”

(F/N)’s sure and confident smile fell for a second, her eyes hardening. She pushed away the voice echoing in her head and nodded. “I promise.”

She smiled at them as she walked away from the house and they closed the door. “See you in a minute, boys.”

---

(F/N) walked through the town square, noticing how the whole place seemed eerily silent. A great contrast to the liveliness of the town last night, full of cheer and children. She made her way to Ellis Avenue, ignoring the dread creeping up her spine.

What will she see? What will the people at that edge of town be miming? Will she be able to get them to move, to free them from Wanda’s control?

Her line of thought was interrupted by someone’s grip on her wrist, tugging her backward. She stopped and turned, finding Mrs. Hart smiling up at her, her hand wrapped around her wrist, keeping her from moving away.

“Mrs. Hart, can I help you?”

The older woman’s smile stayed on her face, it looked like her cheeks were being pulled and she had no way to stop it. Her eyes were sad and afraid, her gaze burning into hers.

“...Are you okay, Ma’am?”

Her lips trembled when she finally found her voice to reply, straining her smile. “Tell… her...”

(F/N) leaned down to hear her rasping voice. She winced when her grip became tighter. “Who? What do you want me to say?”

“Let… us… go.”

(F/N) tried to pull away, but someone was behind her, unmoving. It was Herb, barely flinching when her back collided with his chest.

She shivered at his strange smile, much like Mrs. Hart’s, cheerful and casual, but barely hiding the fear and pain welling in his eyes. He looked almost exhausted. “(F/N),” he sounded like he was struggling to get the words out, like someone was trying to sew his lips shut while he was trying to scream. “Listen.”

Suddenly, more and more people from town walked towards her, struggling to step in her direction, like their feet were being pulled downward by quicksand as they fought to get to her.

Dottie, Bev, Norm…

There were hands on her shoulders. She whipped around, seeing terrified smiles swarm her until she had no way out. She wrenched her arm away from Mrs. Hart, who immediately reached out to grab her again.

In every direction, someone was reaching out to grab her, to get her to listen to whatever they could find the strength to say.

“Help… us.”

“Make her… stop.”

“It hurts…”

(F/N)’s eyes darted around, and she shook in fear. “Wait, please.”

They inched closer to her. She flinched away when someone pulled at her sleeve, trying to yank her back.

“I-”

Tears spilled from their eyes, but their smiles were unmoving. Smiles they forced to keep on their faces.

Panicking, she barreled through the crowd, pushing against them, not caring who fell to the ground from her force. She ran back to the neighborhood, dodging the people who were headed her way.

Before she could get any further away from the crowd, a pair of deathly cold hands grip her shoulders and pull her backwards, bringing her face to face with Oliver, still dead.

His eyes were filled with sorrow and anger, and in the bloodshot blue, she saw her own face reflected back. She looked like she was screaming in fear, but nothing came out of her mouth.

“You… promised.”

(F/N) fought against Oliver’s iron grip, falling to the ground from the force. She crawled away from him, not daring to look away as slowly followed, leading the mob towards her.

His hand shot down to yank her by the ankle, but she pulled away, kicking him on the chest and sending him backwards. She took the opportunity to get up and run.

She found herself back in her own neighborhood, empty and quiet. Her knees almost buckled with panic and exhaustion weighing her down. She kept looking back at the street, praying no one followed her back.

It was terrifying to see them fighting Wanda’s control. It was as if they were dead, already halfway through rigor mortis, but pushing to keep moving and breathing.

The way they smiled like nothing was wrong when their eyes were begging for her to end this nightmare.

(F/N) clenched her eyes shut, shaking the image out of her head. She stood up straight, running a hand down her face as she tried to calm herself down.

She heard someone’s door open, and light footsteps on the grass, making its way to where she stood. She froze, thinking it was another Westview resident.

“(F/N)? You alright there, hun?”

She turned around, seeing a concerned Agnes looking her up and down. She realized she was glaring at her when Agnes stepped away, her hands carefully raised upwards.

“Agnes, hi.” (F/N) tried to smile, relieved to see someone who was still… fine. As fine as someone in Westview can be.

“I don’t remember seeing you drink the punch last night, but you look like you took the whole bowl!” Agnes chuckled, walking closer to her. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just…” she looked at Agnes, confused. “Got carried away with the jog.” She mumbled.

Agnes looked her up and down again, quirking a brow. “By the looks of it, you’d be used to a good jog. Do you do squats too?” She playfully nudged (F/N)’s ribs, laughing cheerfully with a wide smile.

(F/N) gave her a serious look, not bothering to laugh along. “Agnes, are you alright? You were pretty out of it last night.”

Agnes stopped laughing, her face falling at the query.

“Last night, when Vision and I saw you.”

She fell silent for a minute, her eyes searching (F/N)’s face, before another smile creeped up, and she laughed again with her whole chest. “(F/N)! Don’t be a party pooper, I just had fun last night.” She leaned in to say something through clenched teeth, “I had one too many of those jell-o shots, but don’t tell Ralph.”

(F/N) didn’t reply, only staring at Agnes with concern, but she feigned a polite smile. One that made Agnes’ falter.

“You know what, you look like you need a break from that workout.” Her hand rubbed (F/N)’s back, a friendly gesture that calmed her down and helped her breathing even out. “How about I make you some tea?”

---

“Do you prefer chamomile or jasmine?” Agnes said from the kitchen, peeking at where (F/N) sat on the couch, holding a purple mug.

(F/N) leaned into Agnes’ couch, her eyes roving around the comfy living room. Agnes popping up to give her a choice surprised her more than it should..

“Uh… surprise me.”

Agnes smiled, “Well, I hope you like my surprises, (F/N).”

She chuckled, listening to the small noises from the kitchen as Agnes brewed her a cup of tea. The house seemed lived in and cozy, maybe a bit shabby. Which she didn’t expect from someone as bubbly or as vivacious as Agnes. It was almost as if she wasn’t the one actually living there.

For some reason, Agnes was calming and warm in a peculiar way, but (F/N) thought it felt wrong. She wanted so much to just relax around her, but she can’t just welcome her presence, something was telling her not to.

After a few minutes, Agnes walked back to her, carrying a tray of sandwiches and mugs of steaming tea. “Some chamomile green tea. To help calm you down a bit.” She plopped down next to her on the couch.

“Thank you, Agnes.” She took the mug from the tray, welcoming the warmth seeping into her fingers. She breathed in the scent wafting from the cup.

“It’s a pleasure, dearie.” Agnes gently blew into her mug, eyeing her curiously.

(F/N) did the same, sipping the tea gently. She was more of a coffee person, but Agnes’ brew was, to her surprise, a better substitute. She sipped it again, ignoring the hot liquid as its flavor soothed her on its way down her throat. “I’m not much of a tea person, but this is good.”

“It’s my own special brew, glad you like it.” Agnes winked at her, a small smile hidden by her mug. She put it down on the table, clinking it gently as she gave (F/N) another look. “(F/N), you’ve been in this neighborhood for a while now.”

She was mid-sip when Agnes striked up the small conversation, but she drank a bit more before putting her own mug down. “Yeah, it feels like we’ve been here for a lifetime.”

Agnes hummed softly, “And you’re quite close with Wanda’s family, but I rarely see you talk to anyone else in the neighborhood.”

(F/N) chuckled, trying not to feel uncomfortable at the subject. “Well, I’m not good with people.”

“You’ve been my neighbor for so long, and yet I know absolutely nothing about you!” Agnes exclaimed. She squinted at her, as if inspecting her as she sat there and wagged a playful finger. “You and your husband are a really secretive pair.”

She was about to reply when Agnes chimed back in. “By the way, how is he? Where’d you find a guy like that? He’s easy on the eyes.” Agnes wiggled her brows playfully, “I gotta ask where he gets his stuff and take Ralph shopping. He isn’t as appealing, unfortunately.”

“Danny’s doing fine.” She smiled, silently hoping she would stop. “We’re fine.”

“You and Wanda are close, right?” Agnes changed the subject, her smile growing. “You two moved in at the same time.”

“It was a coincidence.” (F/N) furrowed her brow in confusion. “It’s not like we planned it.”

Agnes tilted her head, her dark hair falling on her face. “That’s strange…” She shrugged, laughing softly. “It must have been fate.”

(F/N) laughed along, trying to hide her frustration to be polite. “I doubt that.”

“I think you’d better finish that before it gets cold.” Agnes pointed at her mug. There was no steam anymore, it looked lukewarm despite being almost hot to the touch only a minute ago. Time doesn’t pass like that, does it? Not even here.

Don’t trust Agnes.

Whatever you do, don’t trust Agnes.

(F/N) stared at it, wondering whether she should excuse herself and look for Vision. She shifted in her seat. “It’s about time I leave Agnes, I’m a bit busy-”

“Oh, but we’re just getting to know each other.” The dark haired woman interrupted her with a pleading look. “Come on, just stick around a bit longer, I like talking to you.” She picked up (F/N)’s mug and pushed it into her hands.

She stared at the swirling liquid, spotting the tea leaves at the bottom of the mug. She looked up to see Agnes smiling kindly at her. She brought the mug up to her mouth, slowly drinking the rest of the tea. For a split second, Agnes’ smile grew, a sinister excitement flashing on her face before it disappeared.

“You’re right, we barely know each other.” She smiled at Agnes, feeling her fingers tingle as she put the mug down and stood up slowly, feeling a bit lightheaded. “But I have somewhere else to be right now. Sorry to have to leave so early.”

Her legs shook as she made her way to the door. She tried to ignore the growing drowsiness that was begging her to sit back down. Her head felt fuzzy, she barely heard the click of the lock.

“But we have plenty of time to talk right now.”

She turned to Agnes, seeing her slowly stand up to face her. The menacing grin on her face made her freeze on the spot.

“Besides, it’s not like you have a choice.”

(F/N) tried to back away, but her legs wobbled, and she had to latch onto the couch to catch herself before she fell to the floor. She couldn’t even talk, it was starting to become more and more difficult to breathe in.

“You don’t even know my name, do you?” Agnes’ eyes flashed violet, glowing with a terrifying kind of glee. She propped up her hand with her arm, idly carrying a glowing orb of purple. “Agatha Harkness. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Captain.”

She sighed, staring at the woman struggling to stay awake. “Or, would you prefer it if I called you Ghost?”

(F/N) felt her heart drop to her stomach at the mention of her name. Agatha knows her more than she let on.

What the hell did she put in that tea?

Her eyes were growing heavier and heavier. As much as she wanted to run, she was too tired to even speak.

With a flick of her hand, (F/N)’s eyes glowed purple, before she fell backwards and gave in to the siren call of sleep, into a dark and seemingly never ending abyss.

//

tagged: @darke15 | @violetvictoriabarnes | @kippykasey | @turtleedovee | @itsarussian | <3

[standbi-ghost]

Guess I’ll Just kms

Words:  1812

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Suicide (technically), suicidal thoughts, panic attack

Go say hi on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387829 

In order to go ghost, Danny has to kill himself. It isn’t that bad really, but when his mom finds a journal where he keeps track of the best ways to kill himself (which sounds sketch in and of itself) and thinks he’s suicidal, he has an important decision to make.

It was a grounding feeling; the cold touch of a knife pressed to his throat. What once would’ve frightened him to no end, was now becoming something of a constant in his otherwise chaotic life. He let the knife find its keep and in seconds, his Jugular vein was sliced.

As he let the all too familiar feeling of his ghostly transformation happen, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the ghastliness of his situation. Was this technically suicide? No, probably not, it’s not like he was actually dying, just, playing dead. Lots of animals do it in self-defense and this wasn’t that far off. Plus, Danny knew he didn’t want to die, or in his case, cease to exist, right?

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he turned to see Skulker already in a fighting stance. He sighed and shot into the sky ready for the chase to begin.

-

At the cursed hour of 4 in the morning, Danny found himself sneaking into his own room. He flopped onto his mattress and let out a long, well-deserved mind you, groan.

He felt like he’d been run over by a car which was probably because that’s exactly what happened. Hey, to be fair, he had also been invisible. How was the poor driver supposed to know Danny was stupidly floating in the middle of the road? The driver was fine too, a little shaken up but he managed to phase him out of his car before any damage was done to him.

He lazily snaked his arm into his abandoned backpack and pulled out a dying black notebook barely holding itself together by a thread. There were rips, tears, and folds everywhere and a suspicious amount of green and brown stains were spattered throughout the pages. He liked to joke that it was his own personal Death Note except the only one doing any dying was him. It had started out as a way to record which death methods were quick and easiest, which were dramatic but efficient, which shouldn’t be tried again, but it had developed into a coping mechanism of sorts, some kind of morbid diary filled with a mixture rants and execution plans. He flipped to the next clean page and began to write his death-of-the-day and the events that followed.

A sinking calm settled into his core as he continued to rant about missing yet another test because of Skulker. He was halfway done with the entry when his eyes began to flutter closed, no longer being able to fight his body’s plea for rest.

He didn’t hear the soft creak of his door open, didn’t see the hand reach out and take his notebook, didn’t feel that same hand run itself through his hair, giving way for a pair of lips to kiss his forehead.

-

When his alarm went off at the usual 6 am it always did, he didn’t notice the suffocating stagnant air in the room, just stretched out his sore limbs, rubbed his eyes awake, and went on with his usual morning routine.

As he made his way downstairs, Danny made sure to annoyingly, as any younger sibling should, yell at his sister.

“Jazz I swear to the Ancients that if you try and leave without me again, I will piss your pants, you know I can’t be late again, Mr. Lancer-”

His voice trailed off when he took in the sight of his parents before him.

His dad was avoiding direct eye contact in the most obvious manner. His mom was wearing a watery smile, most likely trying to mask whatever had both his parents so tense. For a second, he panicked. Had they figured it out? What was it? Was it the mannerism, the eyes, the hair?

“Danny?”

He looked up from his panicked haze and saw concern plastered on both his parents’ faces. It looked wrong.

“Uh- where’s Jazz?” he asked, looking around in a last-ditch effort to crawl out from under their crushing gaze.

“Jazz left for school early today, something about a meeting with one of the counselors” his dad quietly responded, almost like he was tiptoeing around Danny, which set off all kinds of red flags.

For one it was hard to forget his dad could even be that subdued, the man practically radiated excitement. He also seemed, tired. Not the kind of tired you get after working at a lab all day, no, this was a soul-crushing tired, one that reflected inner turmoil. He looked away to catch his mom’s gaze only to look Danny in the eyes again, a forced smile finding its way on his face.

“Danny boy, we just wanted to talk to you about some- about how you’re doing.”

“I- uh, don’t know what you mean dad” he stuttered out.

“You’ve just been really closed off lately and, as your parents, we worry Danny.”

He turned his wide eyes towards his mother. Had he heard her right? They worried? Had he been worrying his parents? Was he a distraction? He was already indirectly messing with their inventions but now he was distracting them too. What kind of son-

“I’m fine. I mean, school’s been, uh- something, but I’ve been dealing- “

“Danny, are you suicidal?”

It came out as a whisper, but it echoed loudly in his head.

All he could do was stare, mouth agape, desperately trying to form words in his favor.

Heavy wasn’t the right word to describe the air in the room. Suffocating came closer. How was he even supposed to respond to that? If he told his parents the truth, they would hate him for keeping it a secret for so long. For lying to them, manipulating them, making a fool out of them. They would do much worse than dissect him, they would no longer see him as their son and that cut deeper than any scalpel could. On the other hand, if he lied and told them he was suicidal, they would ship him off to a loony bin. They would stuff him with pills and strip his mind away from him leaving him an empty husk of a person. And would it even be a lie? How many times had the thought crossed his mind? How many times had he begged for death at the end of an alleyway, at the bottom of a ditch, passed out at the foot of his bed, only to get up, dust off, and continue to live- no- to exist as a drone.

His breath began to pick up- could he even call it a breath? He knew if he didn’t say something, anything, his parents would come up with their own answer. What was the question again? Why couldn’t he think straight? He would lose any and all control he may have had. Was he in control? Why couldn’t he control his own body? His own mind? His thoughts were racing, and he was dragging behind them. Why was everything moving so fast? Why couldn’t he catch a break for once? He felt like a cornered animal, quite literally too. A feral growl crawled out of his throat as he backed himself into a wall, attempting to make himself look less pathetic. Attempting to make himself look like a threat. Maybe then they’ll go away. Maybe then he would stop hurting so much.

Don’t let them know you’re weak.

They’ll hurt you.

They won’t understand.

They’ll never love you.

How could they love you?

You-

“Danny”

And just like that, the fog dispersed and he was left stranded in the empty halls of his mind. He felt the cold wall behind him taunting him with its cold embrace.

“Danny it’s okay, you’re okay, breathe”

That was his mom’s voice. He felt the adrenaline seep out of him, embarrassment taking its place. That was all the confirmation they needed. He was fucked. No matter what they thought of him before, nothing could erase the scene he had just caused. Ancients he was fucked. What even was that? What normal person freaks out over a simple question?

He groaned as he let his face fall into the palm of his hands. He felt a wave of shame wash over him as his mom took him in her arms.

For a moment everything was back to normal. There was still tension in the air, but it all melted in the warm embrace of his mom.

“I found your notebook last night.”

And with that, it all made sense. He flinched out of her embrace and felt shame at seeing the hurt on her face the action caused. He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his chapped lips. Of course, the one escape he had was what had exposed him. It was naïve of him to think that no one would find the notebook he practically carried everywhere. Sooner or later this had been bound to happen, he just hoped it would be later. He had been careless and now he was paying for it.

“I guess I should come clean huh?” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared, terrified, but he couldn’t shake the possibility that maybe, maybe, his parents would support him, be there for him. The very thought left a warm feeling in him.

“It started a few weeks before Freshman year...”

And so, he let the dam break. 3 years filled with pain and fear poured out in a flurry of words. He found that, once he started, he couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t help but flinch as his dad reached out and took his small hands in his. He looked him dead in the eyes, searching for confirmation, that this was okay, and when Danny nodded, he pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, his mom following closely behind.

“Oh Danny, how could you not tell us?” his dad asked.

“We’re sorry for making you feel anything but loved and accepted. There is nothing you could do or become that could get rid of our love for you.”

So that’s how he found himself skipping school, in a cuddle pile with his parents, binge-watching Star Wars, Marvel movies, and the occasional Space Documentary.

And when Jazz got home after school that evening, she didn’t question the sight of her parents holding on to Danny for dear life in the middle of their living room, caught in a pile of pillows, blankets, and love, acceptance. She just smiled, shook her head, and made her way up the stairs.

She would have a talk with her brother about his mental health another time. Right now, she knew, everything would be okay.

“oh uh, you guys should probably stay far away from the red bulls in my room.”

“Wha- “

“I may or may not have filled them with arsenic...”

“Daniel James Fenton”

“It's death on the go!”

Everything would be okay.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars LXII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Many things are coming to an end in these chapters uwu -Danny

Words: 3,458

Warnings: Vomit and injured kids???

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Twenty-One: Timing for a Miracle.

"What amazes me most is the behavior of the dementors... you've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?"

"No, Minister... by the time I had come 'round they were heading back to their positions at the entrances..."

"Extraordinary. And yet Black, and Harry, and the girl —"

"All unconscious by the time I reached them. I bound and gagged Black, naturally, conjured stretchers, and brought them all straight back to the castle."

Mel felt terribly lightheaded, her body was there but her mind was floating on her right, not many things made sense. Which Dementors? What about Black? Harry and which girl?

Then it came to her. She'd pulled out the piece of metal and was bleeding out, Pettigrew had escaped, Black was injured, her uncle had run off, and Ron...

"Ron needs help..." She grumbled half-awake. "Snape–"

She tried to sit up and sudden dizziness made her doubled on the bed and she leaned to her left, where she threw up bile. Madam Pomfrey rushed over. She was carrying a big chunk of chocolate but it only grossed her out more. She scrunched up her nose and threw up a second time.

"Now now, child," Pomfrey told her sort of motherly-like. "You lost a lot of blood, that thing you did was very foolish– you're lucky Snape found you on time."

"I woke him up on time..." She groaned, coming back to her senses.

"I'm sure things are confusing," Pomfrey nodded, not really listening to her while she vanished the vomit with a flick of her wand. "But you'll feel better as soon as you drink this..."

The woman handed her a cup with red liquid in it, Mel stared at it with aversion.

"It's Blood replenishing potion," She explained plainly. "Like I said, you lost blood."

The girl drank half of it at once and grimaced.

"Merlin's bloody corpse," She coughed.

"Drink the rest or you'll be vomiting again in five minutes," Was all that Pomfrey said before turning around and looking at the bed next to hers. "Ah, you're awake!"

Mel hadn't noticed Harry laying there, he was disoriented and sleepy.

"How's Ron?" He and Hermione (who was on the bed next to Harry's) asked together.

"He'll live," Madam Pomfrey said casually. "As for you two... you'll be staying here until I'm satisfied you're — Potter, what do you think you're doing?"

Her friend had stood up, just like she'd tried to do moments before.

"I need to see the headmaster," He said, putting his glasses back on.

"Potter, it's all right. They've got Black. He's locked away upstairs. The dementors will be performing the kiss any moment now —"

"WHAT?" Mel and Harry asked in unison.

Harry and Hermione left their beds immediately, Mel was struggling to get out without moving the bandages on her leg when the Minister and Snape walked into the Hospital Wing.

"Harry, Harry, what's this? You should be in bed — has he had any chocolate?"

"Minister, listen!" Harry urged. "Sirius Black's innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can't let the dementors do that thing to Sirius, he's —"

"Harry, Harry, you're very confused, you've been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back down, now, we've got everything under control..."

"YOU HAVEN'T!" Harry said angrily, he was starting to grow rather fond of yelling, and Mel wasn't elated at that. "YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!"

"Minister, listen, please," Hermione insisted. "I saw him too. It was Ron's rat, he's an Animagus, Pettigrew, I mean, and —"

They were standing in the middle of the room, pleading to be heard.

"You see, Minister?" said Snape. "Confunded, all of them... Black's done a very good job on them..."

"WE'RE NOT CONFUNDED!" Harry roared.

"Why don't you see our thoughts, then?" Mel asked sharply. "I know you know... what was it? Legilimency? Yes– You can see our thoughts, carve a little and you'll see what we're talking about!"

She saw something flash through Snape's eyes that didn't look heroic at all.

"Minister! Professor!" said Madam Pomfrey. "I must insist that you leave. Potter and Dumbledore are my patients, and they should not be distressed!"

"I'm not distressed, I'm trying to tell them what happened!" Harry said furiously. "If they'd just listen —"

Pomfrey forced a piece of chocolate onto Harry's mouth, causing him to choke on his own words. She guided him back to his bed.

"Now, please, Minister, these children need care. Please leave —"

The door opened a second time and Dumbledore walked in.

"Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black —"

"We aren't lying, Pettigrew's out there!"

Hermione and Harry started at the same time, making it impossible for the children to be understood.

"For heaven's sake! Is this a hospital wing or not? Headmaster, I must insist —"

"My apologies, Poppy, but I need a word with Mr. Potter and Miss Dumbledore along with Miss Granger," The man replied calmly. "I have just been talking to Sirius Black —"

"I suppose he's told you the same fairy tale he's planted in Potter's mind? Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive —" Snape sneered, but it was soon interrupted by Dumbledore.

"That, indeed, is Black's story."

"And does my evidence count for nothing? Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him on the grounds."

"That was because you were knocked out, Professor!" Hermione was quick to explain. "You didn't arrive in time to hear —"

"Miss Granger, HOLD YOUR TONGUE–!"

"You know," Mel threw him a warning glance, continuing her comment in a rough voice. "You are very welcome to check our memories, surely there must be a way–"

"Memories can be easily corrupted, even amateurs know it," The man emphasized the word so she could tell it was an insult. "Of course, I suppose I shouldn't expect a child to know enough about the subject– But I beg you, Miss Dumbledore, do not try to lecture a Professor on matters where he's got a larger skill than yours."

"I got to see exactly how skilled you are while we were in the shack, Professor," She retorted.

"You churlish–"

"Now, Snape," said Fudge, sensing the danger. "the young ladies are disturbed in their minds, we must make allowances —"

"I would like to speak to Harry, Mel, and Hermione alone," Dumbledore demanded at once. "Cornelius, Severus, Poppy — please leave us."

"Headmaster! They need treatment, they need rest —"

"This cannot wait– I must insist."

"The dementors should have arrived by now," Fudge said, already making his way out. "I'll go and meet them. Dumbledore, I'll see you upstairs."

"You surely don't believe a word of Black's story?" Snape said lowly, staring intently at the Headmaster.

"I wish to speak to Harry, Mel, and Hermione alone."

"Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen– You haven't forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill me?"

Mel opened her mouth to reply, but Dumbledore held up his hand to indicate her now it wasn't a good time to speak. She obeyed.

"My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus," He said instead.

Snape threw him one last, resented look before leaving the room. Harry and Hermione erupted into their own speeches once again.

"Professor, Black's telling the truth — we saw Pettigrew —"

"— he escaped when Professor Lupin turned into a werewolf —"

"— he's a rat —"

"— Pettigrew's front paw, I mean, finger, he cut it off —"

"— Pettigrew attacked Ron, it wasn't Sirius —"

"It is your turn to listen, and I beg you will not interrupt me, because there is very little time," Dumbledore finally spoke up. "There is not a shred of proof to support Black's story, except your word — and the word of three thirteen-year-old wizards will not convince anybody. A street full of eyewitnesses swore they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry that Sirius had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper."

"Professor Lupin can tell you —" Harry said.

"Professor Lupin is currently deep in the forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again, it will be too late, Sirius will be worse than dead. I might add that werewolves are so mistrusted by most of our kind that his support will count for very little — and the fact that he and Sirius are old friends —"

"But —"

"Listen to me, Harry. It is too late, you understand me? You must see that Professor Snape's version of events is far more convincing than yours."

"But his version is also tainted!" Mel exclaimed with wide eyes.

"He hates Sirius," Hermione added. "All because of some stupid trick Sirius played on him —"

"Sirius has not acted like an innocent man. The attack on the Fat Lady — entering Gryffindor Tower with a knife — without Pettigrew, alive or dead, we have no chance of overturning Sirius's sentence."

"But you believe us."

"Yes, I do, but I have no power to make other men see the truth, or to overrule the Minister of Magic..."

"Then what should we do? Wait for a miracle?" Mel scoffed.

"What we need," said Dumbledore carefully "is more time."

"But —" Hermione's eyes widened. "OH!"

"Now, pay attention– Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this: you must not be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law — you know what is at stake... You — must — not — be — seen."

Harry and Mel shared a dumbfounded expression. What was he saying?

"I am going to lock you in. It is —" Dumbledore took a quick glance to his watch, "five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck."

"Good luck?" Harry and Mel asked.

"Three turns? What's he talking about? What are we supposed to do?" Harry approached the girl standing beside him.

"Harry– Mel, come here," She urged them. "Quick!"

Mel got out of her bed and finished her potion with a last awful gulp. Her leg was better and so were her energies, even if she hadn't slept a lot.

"Here —" Hermione threw a thin golden chain over their necks, a small hourglass was hanging from it. "Ready?"

"What are we doing?" Harry asked.

Hermione turned the hourglass over three times.

The world around her turned for what it felt like the fifth time, she was afraid of puking once again, so she held onto Harry's arm tightly and closed her eyes; when she felt it was over, she found herself standing right in the middle of the entrance hall.

"Hermione, what — ?"

"In here!" Hermione dragged them to a broom closet; pushed both of them inside, then slammed the door behind them.

"What — how — Hermione, what happened?"

"We've gone back in time," Hermione took off the chain from Harry and Mel's necks. "Three hours back..."

"Oh," Mel said simply. "Okay, so I'm still dreaming."

"But —"

"Shh! Listen! Someone's coming! I think — I think it might be us!"

Hermione pressed her ear against the cupboard door, Harry and Mel shared a look and they knew they weren't the only ones thinking their friend had gone mental.

"Footsteps across the hall... yes, I think it's us going down to Hagrid's!"

"Are you telling me that we're here in this cupboard and we're out there too?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Yes, I'm sure it's us. It doesn't sound like more than three or four people... and we're walking slowly because we're under the Invisibility Cloak — We've gone down the front steps..."

Hermione sat down, Mel stood beside her not knowing where to start. However, Harry seemed to know all the right questions.

"Where did you get that hourglass thing?"

"It's called a Time-Turner– and I got it from Professor McGonagall on our first day back. I've been using it all year to get to all my lessons. Professor McGonagall made me swear I wouldn't tell anyone. She had to write all sorts of letters to the Ministry of Magic so I could have one. She had to tell them that I was a model student, and that I'd never, ever use it for anything except my studies... I've been turning it back so I could do hours over again, that's how I've been doing several lessons at once, see?"

"So that settles things," Mel said to Harry. "Now we know who McGonagall's favorite is."

"Come on, Mellow. We've always known– Ouch!"

"I don't understand what Dumbledore wants us to do. Why did he tell us to go back three hours? How's that going to help Sirius?" Hermione rambled on, ignoring her friends.

"There must be something that happened around now he wants us to change," Harry offered, rubbing the arm Mel had pinched. "What happened? We were walking down to Hagrid's three hours ago..."

"This is three hours ago, and we are walking down to Hagrid's, we just heard ourselves leaving..."

"Dumbledore just said — just said we could save more than one innocent life... Hermione, we're going to save Buckbeak!"

"But — how will that help Sirius?"

"Dumbledore said — he just told us where the window is — the window of Flitwick's office! Where they've got Sirius locked up! We've got to fly Buckbeak up to the window and rescue Sirius! Sirius can escape on Buckbeak — they can escape together!"

"If we manage that without being seen, it'll be a miracle!"

"Well, we've got to try, haven't we?" said Harry.

"We've achieved far more complicated things," Mel said ironically. "Saving a convict and a massive bird won't be a problem."

"Doesn't sound like anyone's there... Come on, let's go..."

They quickly left the castle and moved through the school grounds.

"If anyone's looking out of the window —"

"We'll run for it," Harry interrupted. "Straight into the forest, all right? We'll have to hide behind a tree or something and keep a lookout —"

"That or I'll just knock them out!" Mel added excitedly. "I'm pretty good at it."

"Okay, but we'll go around by the greenhouses!" said Hermione. "We need to keep out of sight of Hagrid's front door, or we'll see us! We must be nearly at Hagrid's by now!"

So they ran through the path Hermione had told them to.

"Right. We need to sneak over to Hagrid's... Keep out of sight, Harry..."

They made their way through the edge of the forest. As they reached the front of Hagrid's house, they heard a knock on his door.

Hagrid opened it.

"It's us. We're wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off." She heard a second Harry called in front of her, just like the Harry next to her had done a few hours prior.

"Yeh shouldn've come!" Hagrid whispered as a reply.

"This is the weirdest thing we've ever done," Harry said.

"Let's move along a bit, we need to get nearer to Buckbeak!"

They crept through the trees until they saw the nervous hippogriff, tethered to the fence around Hagrid's pumpkin patch.

"Now?" Harry whispered.

"No!" said Hermione. "If we steal him now, those Committee people will think Hagrid set him free! We've got to wait until they've seen he's tied outside!"

"That's going to give us about sixty seconds," said Harry. This was starting to seem impossible.

At that moment, there was a crash of breaking china from inside Hagrid's cabin.

"That's Hagrid breaking the milk jug," Hermione whispered. "I'm going to find Scabbers in a moment —"

Sure enough, a few minutes later, they heard Hermione's shriek of surprise.

"Hermione," said Harry suddenly, "what if we — we just run in there and grab Pettigrew —"

"No!" said Hermione in a terrified whisper. "Don't you understand? We're breaking one of the most important wizarding laws! Nobody's supposed to change time, nobody! You heard Dumbledore, if we're seen —"

"We'd only be seen by ourselves and Hagrid!"

"Harry, what do you think you'd do if you saw yourself bursting into Hagrid's house?" said Hermione.

"I'd — I'd think I'd gone mad," said Harry, "or I'd think there was some Dark Magic going on —"

"I'd believe myself, if I'm honest," Mel raised her eyebrows absentmindedly. "I like to think I'd know a way to make me believe–"

"Don't you see?" Hermione asked in exasperation. "Professor McGonagall told me what awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time... Loads of them ended up killing their past or future selves by mistake!"

"So what do you suggest?" Mel asked.

Hermione had her attention back towards the castle. Dumbledore, Fudge, the old Committee member, and Macnair the executioner were coming.

"We're about to come out!" Hermione said.

Mel watched as her past-self left through the pumpkin patch.

"It's okay, Beaky, it's okay... Go on. Get goin'."

"Hagrid, we can't —"

"We'll tell them what really happened —"

"They can't kill him —"

"Go! It's bad enough without you lot in trouble an' all!"

"You're not alone, Hagrid– We'll come back tomorrow."

"How nice of me," Mel whispered with a grin, then focused on her back while they disappeared under the cloak. "I might need a haircut soon..."

"Shut up!" Hermione hissed.

"Where is the beast?" A man's voice came from the hut.

"Out — outside."

Mel was pulled out of sight by her friends when Mcnair looked out Hagrid's window.

"We — er — have to read you the official notice of execution, Hagrid. I'll make it quick. And then you and Macnair need to sign it. Macnair, you're supposed to listen too, that's procedure —" The minister explained.

"Wait here," Harry told them. "I'll do it."

The boy walked over to the creature and tugged at the rope around its neck, but it was no use, Buckbeak wasn't moving.

"Come on, Buckbeak," Harry murmured, "come on, we're going to help you. Quietly... quietly..."

"This isn't working," Mel said before standing up walking over.

"Buckbeak, move!" She heard him grunt.

"Hi there, Buckbeak," She bowed shortly, meeting the creature's eyes.

Buckbeak stared at her intently. She lifted a hand and closed it tightly around the rope, a little above Harry's hand.

"Move."

She tugged at it once along with Harry, and they managed to drag him out. They pulled and ran into the forest until they couldn't see Hagrid's garden.

"Stop!" Harry whispered. "They might hear us —"

The men's voices didn't take long to appear.

"Where is it? Where is the beast?"

"It was tied here! I saw it! Just here!"

"How extraordinary," Mel recognized that one as Dumbledore's. He seemed to be enjoying the ordeal.

"Beaky!" said Hagrid.

Mel, anticipating how the creature could react to his call, reached over to the creature's head and stroke it with both hands using enough force so the beak would remain close.

"Gone! Gone! Bless his little beak, he's gone! Musta pulled himself free! Beaky, yeh clever boy!"

Buckbeak indeed tried to get back to Hagrid. Harry and Hermione tightened their grip while Mel whispered short commands into Buckbear's ear without letting go of its beak. 'Stay put'- 'Good boy–  don't run now, it's alright...'

"Someone untied him!" the executioner continued. "We should search the grounds, the forest —"

"Macnair, if Buckbeak has indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on foot?" said Dumbledore. "Search the skies, if you will... Hagrid, I could do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy."

"O' — o' course, Professor– Come in, come in..."

Mel turned to look at her friends and raised her eyebrows.

"After this, I'll be needing a long nap."

"Now what?" asked Harry.

"We'll have to hide in here, we need to wait until they've gone back to the castle. Then we wait until it's safe to fly Buckbeak up to Sirius's window. He won't be there for another couple of hours... Oh, this is going to be difficult..."

"That's not the mindset we ought to have," Mel replied, loosening her grip on Buckbeak. "Think of it as a test, all right? Timing and memory, that's all we need."

"You're strangely fine with this," Hermione frowned. "Why?"

"I went back in time," Mel laughed. "Half of me feels like the greatest adventure of all time is happening right at this moment– it's exciting."

"And the other half?" Harry grinned.

"Still thinks of this as a hallucination," She smiled.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@vampiregirl1797​ @tiphareth2018​ @siriuslysirius1107​ @celestialhayi @omiwashere @mikariell95 @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @steve-thotgers @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @mikariell95​ @bloodorangemoonlight​

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @lone-chicken!

Author’s Note:

I am completely incapable of writing angst, so I decided on fluff and happy ending and pack feels instead. I hope the story still pleases.

Summary:

Five times Stiles was in Derek's bedroom and Derek frowned about it, but really didn’t fight it.

Read on AO3

*****

Why Can’t I Say Goodnight?

I.

Derek was the first of the pack to crawl into bed that night, the pack’s first night together in the newly rebuilt Hale House. The entire house smelled of Pack and only a little of fresh wood and varnish and fresh furniture. There were three floors, a wraparound porch, a massive kitchen, a small and a large dining room, an even bigger library, and numerous other rooms and amenities. Each pack member also had a bedroom of their own, with a few other guest bedrooms and bathrooms besides.

Derek’s room was on the second floor, closest to the main staircase, with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over the forest and the lake out back. He stretched out on his soft, comfortable bed, buried his face in his pillow, and breathed in the smell of clean cotton.

For the first time in a long time, he felt… settled.

There was a soft creak of his bedroom door opening, and Derek’s wolf immediately perked up at the sound of that heartbeat and the familiar scent of sun-ripened raspberries. Derek kept still, kept his breathing calm and even, even as he heard the figure shuffle none-too-silently across the hardwood floor before clambering none-too-gently onto Derek’s bed.

Derek sighed, turning his head to the side to see that boyish face with the big, brown eyes, upturned nose, mole-speckled face, and a wide smile.

Stiles grinned down at him before letting his arms buckle beneath him and landing right on Derek’s other pillow, face just inches away from the werewolf’s. He lifted an arm and let it flop gently across Derek's shoulder. “Watch it,” Derek mumbled, more into the pillow than to his packmate. With Stiles so close, he couldn’t help taking in a lungful of his scent and listened to his erratic heartbeat.

Stiles scooted closer towards him a bit more. “Der, you awake?” he whispered.

Derek kept his eyes closed, but he could just about imagine the other male’s big brown eyes staring closely at him. “No, so go back to your room and go to sleep,” he replied, burying his face deeper into his pillow. “Deeeer...” 

Derek could hear the pout in Stiles’ voice. He sighed.

“Fine. What is it?” He opened one eye.

“We shouldn’t sleep!” Stiles whispered, shaking Derek with the arm around his shoulders. “How can you sleep at a time like this?”

Derek groaned. “Stiles, it’s half past eleven at night. How can you not sleep at a time like this?” He ignored Stiles as the male proceeded to poke his cheek repeatedly. 

Stiles’ voice came closer and Derek cracked an eye open to glare at him. Stiles just grinned wider. “This is our first night together. We shouldn't be sleeping!” 

Derek groaned and turned around, presenting his back to Stiles. Behind him, Stiles whined and grabbed his shoulder, trying to get him to turn back around. 

“Stiles, we're a pack, not married.” 

Stiles now moved from pulling him to shimmying over him until he was looking Derek in the face again.

“You know what I mean, Sourwolf!” He grinned. “This should be like a slumber party! Where we stay up all night talking and stuff.”

“Stiles,” Derek groaned. “It’s late, and at this point, everybody else is sleeping. We’re not going to wake them up just to have a stupid slumber party like a couple of teenagers.”

“We are all teenagers at heart,” Stiles said. “And who said everybody else was asleep?”

As if on cue, Derek’s bedroom door creaked open and even without looking, Derek knew everybody was just outside his door.

“What’d he say?” Erica hissed into the room.

“Have you convinced him?” Allison asked.

Stiles hushed them rather loudly to be quiet. It was all so counterproductive. 

“I’m working on it,” he bit back.

“Stiles, you said you had it!” Scott whined.

Lydia scoffed. “I said so. I said I should have been the one to talk to Derek.”

“I think Derek’s mad,” Isaac muttered, not at all worriedly, just curious.

“Can we just go back to bed?” Jackson groused. 

A soft grunt and a softer sigh signaled Boyd’s and Danny’s presence.

“Stiles.” Derek groaned. He grabbed his blanket and pulled it tightly over his head. 

Suddenly, Derek found himself on the bottom of a puppy pile. Stiles was pulling and yanking at his blankets.

“Come on, Derek! Come on!” Isaac leaned his entire weight against Derek.

“Get up, Alpha! Let’s do something!” Erica demanded, grabbing Derek’s blanket and, by extension, his head and his hair.

“No sleep! No sleep!” Scott chanted, bouncing up and down the bed.

“Stiles, move your feet,” Lydia demanded. “And Jackson, grab the fluffiest pillow for me.”

“I brought my laptop,” Danny was saying, while Allison added, “Boyd, can you pull Derek’s desk over here? We can put Danny’s laptop on it. Let’s find something on Netflix.”

Derek groaned as he felt the bed shaking around him and felt more and more weight pressed over his body. Eventually, Erica managed to tug his blanket off of his head.

“Come on, Der!” Stiles grinned. “Let’s–”

Stiles yelped when a pillow connected with the back of his head.

“Pillow fight!” Scott and Jackson shouted.

With that, a pillow connected with Derek's head from his left, followed by Isaac’s triumphant laugh. Stiles launched himself off of Derek as Lydia shrieked.

“If someone hits my laptop, I’ll shoot them full of wolfsbane,” Danny shouted over the din.

Derek sighed as the bed bounced so hard that he was thrown off of it. He glanced over the edge at his pack’s chaotic mess of shrieking, tangled limbs, pillows, and blankets, until a pillow fell off the bed and landed beside him. 

He looked at it, then back at the bed.

He grabbed the pillow and launched himself into the fray.

II.

“Der?”

Derek internally groaned, and kept his eyes closed.

“Der? Deeeeer?”

Derek squeezed his eyes closed.

No.

No way in hell.

“Derek?”

A finger poked his cheek.

“Derek. Derek. Der. Der. Sourwolf.” Each word was punctuated with a sharp poke to Derek’s cheek, his chin, his forehead, and all across his back and ribs. 

With a soft growl, Derek opened his eyes and glared up at the other boy, who stared back at him, unflinching and unafraid.

Stiles smiled sweetly. “Hey.”

“Stiles, for fuck’s sake, go to bed,” Derek growled. “No.” Stiles tossed himself on the bed, and by extension Derek’s back, and curled up against him. This close, Derek could smell Stiles’ apple shampoo. “Der, I can't sleep.” 

Derek’s anger fizzled a little, and he shifted his shoulders a little to jostle Stiles.

“Why not?”

The younger male moved around, elbowing Derek twice, before lying belly down across Derek’s back. He was a warm and welcome weight, and Derek’s wolf couldn’t help reveling at the comfort.

“I'm hungry,” Stiles suddenly said.

“Stiles.” Derek sighed.

“Derek, I really can't sleep!”

Derek sighed again. “And what the hell do you expect me to do about it?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles shrugged. “Feed me?”

“Stiles.” Derek growled.

“I don't know! I'm sorry! I just really can’t sleep,” Stiles whined. He snuggled down deeper against Derek’s back. “Do you mind talking to me a little? I promise I'll go to sleep, but I can't right now.” 

Derek's resolve vanished in an instant. Everybody knew he wasn’t the most scintillating conversationalist, so he couldn’t help melting a little at the fact that Stiles always seemed to want to talk to him.

He huffed, looking back over his shoulder. “Fine, but only for a little while.”

Stiles raised his eyes, smiling, and Derek felt a lump form in his throat. He shifted awkwardly until he and Stiles were lying side by side and staring up at the ceiling. Their arms were pressed close together.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” the Alpha asked.

Stiles’ face lit up instantly and Derek felt a tug against his wrist as Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand, the fingers lightly tracing over Derek’s palm and the back of his hand before he linked their fingers together, Stiles’ hand warm against his.

Derek let Stiles’ babble wash over him, responding in turn to his every query, question, and comment. Eventually, Stiles’ stories tapered off and his breathing started to slow and deepen.

Sighing deeply, Derek closed his eyes, squeezed Stiles’ hand one last time and let his heartbeat lull him to sleep.

III.

Derek followed silently as Stiles stomped into Derek’s bedroom, a first aid kit tucked under an arm.

“On the bed,” Stiles growled at him.

Derek did so without a word, wincing when the movement stretched the wounds that spanned his chest and torso. Stiles’ lips thinned when he noticed, and he helped Derek slowly remove his shirt. He crouched down in front of him and started wiping away the blood and grime.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Derek grumbled.

Stiles just glared harder at him and, with a vindictive gleam in his eyes, pressed the antiseptic wipes right on Derek’s wound. Derek jumped and hissed, averting his eyes.

“People who jump into the middle of a fight, completely unprepared and unknowledgeable, don’t deserve the non-stinging wipes,” Stiles muttered.

Derek scowled, but he knew his heart wasn’t in it.

This time, he knew he fucked up.

“Hey, how are you guys?” Lydia asked, looking into the room a few minutes later.

“Fine. Derek’s fine. I’m fine. Everyone’s fine.” Stiles closed the first aid kit with a snap.

“Okay, good to hear,” Lydia said, unperturbed by Stiles’ mood and demeanor. “We’re all patched up downstairs. Erica and Jackson already ordered pizzas and Chinese takeout, double the orders. We’ll bring you some once the deliveries arrive.”

Stiles nodded. “Thanks, Lyds.”

Lydia gave Derek a look that clearly said, ‘Fix this, you idiot,’ before leaving.

Stiles placed the kit on Derek’s beside table and moved towards his walk-in closet. He came out toting Derek’s softest sweatpants and his maroon sweater. He tossed them on the bed beside Derek before heading back into the closet.

Derek changed his clothes, wincing a little as his wounds were pulled and stretched. Stiles came out of the closet in Derek’s clothes just in time to see Derek trying to put on his sweater. Stiles cursed under his breath and helped Derek shrug into it.

Stiles stood between Derek’s legs, hands on his shoulders.

“You’re an asshole,” the younger male sneered down at him, glaring pointedly at Derek’s torso and slapping away Derek’s hands when the Alpha tried to reach for his waist.

“Sorry,” Derek said, trying again until Stiles finally relented and allowed Derek to pull him on his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re a dumbass,” Stiles said, still fuming, but one hand coming up to rest on the back of Derek’s neck. “I am so mad at you.”

“I know,” Derek murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Derek clung to Stiles as the male kept on fuming on his lap, but kept on stroking Derek’s neck and eventually tangling his fingers in Derek’s hair. Derek ended up dozing against Stiles’ chest.

He came to a few minutes to maybe half an hour later, curled up with his head on Stiles’ lap and the bed surrounded by pack members and boxes of pizza and takeout.

“Sorry,” Derek muttered to the room.

Danny handed Derek a box of sweet and sour chicken, while Stiles tapped his fingers against a box of Derek’s favorite meat lovers pizza. Allison offered him a cold can of soda.

“You’re forgiven, but you’re still an idiot,” Stiles muttered.

Derek took a bite of his chicken, humming a little at the hand that rubbed his back.

IV.

Derek cursed inwardly as he entered his bedroom, only to find Stiles curled up on his bed and the overpowering, acrid smell of sickness. He had smelled hints of it all over Stiles for the past two days, but had mistaken it for tiredness and crankiness as Stiles struggled with grading his students’ exams, none of whom seemed to be getting satisfactory scores based on Stiles’ angry tirades.

It also explained Scott, Isaac, and Erica hovering just outside Derek’s bedroom with scrunched up noses, or Allison, with her less supernatural nose, who was rubbing Stiles’ back and holding a trash bin in one hand.

Stiles groaned loudly, and everybody immediately held their breaths. Thankfully it passed with the trash bin remaining unused.

Derek sighed. “Let him rest.” He turned to his betas. “Allison, Isaac, make some soup and get some meds. Erica, get a bowl of lukewarm water, a sponge, and a change of clothes from Stiles’ room. And Scott, tell the Sheriff his son is sick and tell Stiles’ department head from the university that he won’t be in for a few days.”

“Are we taking Stiles home?” Scott asked.

Derek shook his head. “No. We can’t have the Sheriff getting sick too. At least werewolves are less prone to colds. And with that, Allison, make sure you and the rest of the humans drink meds. We can’t have any of you getting sick too.”

Everyone walked off to their little assignments, murmuring well wishes to their sick pack member as they did so. Stiles could only groan in reply at each one.

Later, when Stiles was more comfortable, with about a quarter of a bowl of soup and some meds in him, and a reassuring phone call from his father, Derek clambered up on the bed beside him and leaned back against the pillows piled against the headboard.

Stiles looked up at him from swollen, red-rimmed eyes, a redder nose, and shuddering breaths.

Derek reached a hand out, taking Stiles’ hand in his and entwining their fingers. Their hands fit together perfectly, just like all the other times their hands had met in the space between them.

“I don’t feel good,” Stiles murmured. “My head hurts, my throat hurts, everything hurts.”

“I know.” Derek winced, squeezing his hand a little. “Come here.” He tugged on Stiles’ hand. 

Stiles’ face scrunched up in confusion and a bit of dazedness, so Derek gestured toward himself and the blanket across his lap.

“Come here,” he said again.

Derek helped Stiles sits up and move closer to him until he was settled between Derek’s legs and across his broad chest. He wrapped an arm around Stiles’ back, and helped Stiles curl up against him, his head on Derek’s shoulder and his face tucked against Derek’s neck. His breath was sticky and warm with sickness, but Derek ignored all that. He placed a hand against the back of Stiles’ head to leech away the headache and stuffiness Stiles was feeling.

“Mm, thanks,” Stiles murmured, melting against Derek. He squeezed their hands together. “Thanks, Der.”

“Get some sleep,” Derek said. 

A small nod, and minutes later Stiles was fast asleep, snoring a little against the Alpha’s chest. Derek pressed a kiss to his forehead.

That morning, Boyd was the first of the pack to peek into Derek’s room to check on them. Derek had been awake most of the night and looked up when his taciturn beta walked in.

Boyd didn’t react any different at seeing his Alpha and packmate lying so intimately together. Instead, he asked, “Breakfast?”

Derek nodded, one hand rubbing Stiles’ back when the other shuffled uneasily in sleep. “Yes. And some soup, toast, and meds for Stiles. Let’s see if he can keep some more food down.”

Boyd nodded and quietly walked out.

“And Boyd?”

Derek raised an eyebrow at him and Boyd only shrugged.

“It’s not as if everybody doesn’t know,” Boyd muttered, but when Derek just kept staring at him, Boyd sighed. “Fine. I’ll tell the others to pretend that we don’t see, hear, or know anything.”

Derek nodded and left Boyd to it.

V.

Derek already knew what was going to happen when Stiles led him into Derek’s bedroom with half-baked excuses of ‘forgetting something’ and ‘needing Derek’s help to make the search go faster.’

He knew what was going to happen, and he knew he shouldn’t come with him and he shouldn’t give in, pretty much because there was a bunch of nosy people waiting impatiently for them.

And yet, he held onto Stiles’ hand and followed him where he led.

And when Stiles pushed him inside his bedroom and then shoved him back against the wall, Derek could only grab him by the hips and kiss him. Stiles’ hands were immediately on him, across his chest and back, in his hair, stroking his face and beard, squeezing his ass, sliding under his shirt.

Derek knew better, but he tugged Stiles closer by the waist anyway, yanking their bodies together against the wall. He bit those wonderful, pillowy lips, and let his hands wander up and down under the back of Stiles’ shirt, fingernails making marks across his hot skin.

They knew the pack was waiting for them downstairs, but these moments were rare and Stiles was hot and wanting beneath Derek’s hands and lips and affection. All they both cared about now was each other and the way their kisses grew deeper and hotter and more wanting.

Derek kissed along Stiles’ jaw before kissing and sucking lightly on the curve of his neck, careful not to leave marks. Stiles gasped and moaned, leaning his head back as Derek’s kisses travel lower. 

Derek moved back up against Stiles’ temple, whispering a breathy, “We have to go.” He shuddered when Stiles’s hands squeezed his behind. “The pack is going to be looking for–”

There was a knock on the door and then the clamor of the pack followed.

“Alpha, Stiles, stop sucking face!” Erica demanded before kicking the door.

“We’re going to be late for the movie!” Scott whined loudly, while Isaac added, “And we’re going to miss the previews!”

“Guys, let’s not be rude. We should let them finish…” Allison trailed off, before she and the others erupted into laughter.

“Fuck you, people!” Stiles shouted, though he was also snickering a little under his breath.

Danny snorted. “In this case, fuck you,” he drawled, sending everybody into another round of laughter.

“Or it is fuck Derek?” Lydia asked, voice obviously bored.

“Why the hell am I even here?” Boyd complained, exasperated and annoyed.

“I’m asking myself the same question,” Jackson muttered loudly. “Lydia, I blame you for this.”

Derek and his wolf growled at the interruption and the din, and reluctantly relinquished his hold on the younger man’s waist. Stiles leaned against the wall across from him, laughing.

This was what he got for choosing those people as his pack.

“We’re coming! Derek just needs to pull up his pants,” Stiles called out.

“I guess that answers that question,” Lydia said, sending everybody howling with laughter. 

Derek glared loudly, only a little satisfied when the pack ran off, shrieking and laughing as they went.

“Remember,” Stiles wagged his finger at him, “No maiming the pups.” He grinned and pressed one last kiss to Derek’s cheek. “We have all the time in the world for that.” He ran out the door, threatening retribution on his wayward packmates.

Derek watched him leave, heart warm and full in his chest. “I'll hold you to that,” he said quietly, knowing that it was true.

END

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 12

Chapter Summary - Danielle reacts to the article by hiding at Paul's, but she has to go home eventually, meaning she has to face Diana.Tom goes through with the fashion show with Taylor, seeing first hand how she can manipulate situations to suit her.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog  @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1

The article made Danielle sick to her stomach, she could not believe what that manipulative little harpy had stated. She could not bring herself to even go home, and had, for three days, stayed at Paul’s apartment. As a result, their relationship had progressed a slight bit faster than she would have elected for otherwise, but it felt better to have someone comfort her and try and show her affection than to be alone. The words repeated over and over in her head throughout the morning as she attempted to sleep, with Paul’s arm around her as she lay staring at the far wall.

“I can hear you thinking you know.” His voice was heavy with sleep.

“I…”

He pulled her in against him. “It’s all lies Danni, you know that, and I know that, nothing else matters.”

“My job…”

“The only ones who realise it is you being talked about know that it’s bullshit, so come here.” He turned her so she was lying with her head on his chest, her fingers sliding over the t-shirt he had put on getting into the bed. “Just get some rest.”

“It’s not that easy.” She whispered, but she gripped him tightly.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He kissed her forehead and played with a few strands of her hair that had fallen out of the ponytail she had thrown it in.

Desperate to forget everything, she leant up and kissed him, trying to initiate his interest; when he responded, she seized her opportunity and put her hand down to toy with the hem of his boxers, grateful that for a few minutes at least, she would forget her woes.

Paul was called to work a few hours later; leaving Danielle with four hours alone in his home before she had to go to work. She was walking Mac Tíre outside to allow the dog relieve himself, cursing the text she received from the other paramedic she was going to be working with that evening, asking her to return the book she had borrowed on terrorist attack procedure, which unfortunately was at her home. She knew she would have to bring it with her, meaning she had to risk seeing Diana, something she had been avoiding, so after she grabbed her things from Paul’s, she packed Mac Tíre into her car and headed back to her home. She groaned when she saw not only Diana’s car, but Emma’s one also in the neighbouring driveway, she contemplated driving on and telling Graham that she forgot it, but the youngest Hiddleston had been getting something from her car, noticed Danielle and purposely stood in the road outside her mothers’ driveway, forcing Danielle to a halt.

“Are you out to kill yourself?”

“You weren’t going fast enough to kill me, and let’s face it, you are the person to call in such emergencies anyway.” Emma joked, but her face was solemn. “You haven’t been home in days.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw you and your boyfriend the other day, all kisses and holding hands on the beach.” She smiled, “When are the four of us going out for a meal?”

“What?”

“Oh come on Elle, mum’s met him and she adores him, and you look so cute together, and you have been staying at his place for days, so that tells me you are sleeping together, which with you never having a boyfriend in all the time you were here means it’s serious. I want to meet him.”

“Emma, with…”

“Yeah, I saw.” There was a disgusted look on her face. “Tom rang, apparently he has some sort of ‘explanation’ but mum didn’t even listen, she went off on an absolute rant about it to him, about all your hard work, everything you sacrificed, how you were never anything but nice to him, and he allowed you to be dragged through the dirt like this, seriously, I was getting second-hand fear from her.”

“She didn’t need to do that.”

“Well, she feels like it is some bit her fault,” Emma stated sadly.

“How the fuck is any of what that cow does your mum’s fault?” Danielle snapped.

“She allowed her into the house, it’s her son she is dating.” Emma began to list.

“This isn’t her fault, it never was her fault.” Danielle shook her head.

“Well, only one person can tell her that in a way she’ll listen.” Emma smiled, opening the car door.

“My car is in the middle of the road,” Danielle argued.

“Elle, please, she feels so bad,” Emma begged.

Unable to think of Diana being upset because of her, Danielle nodded slightly, causing Emma to close the car door and for Danielle to reverse into her driveway. Emma had the gate to the back garden open, so Mac Tíre trotted in happily as you got out. “I really should get some clothes sorted.”

Emma grinned widely. “Really?”

“I did not sleep with him.”

“So what, you played monopoly all day?”

“Well, we did stuff, just not everything.” She blushed, causing Emma to snigger. “You are such a child.”

“I am not the one getting all bothered about doing things with her boyfriend.” Emma retorted, linking her arm with Danielle’s. “So, when am I meeting him?”

“I’m not sure I want you to.”

“Spoil sport, I won’t be too embarrassing, I swear; I mean, I would never tell him about the time we got drunk and you started singing Mariah Carey, and of course I would never show him the video I took of it, that I still have.”

“I hate you.” Emma erupted in laughter at those words as they got to Diana’s front door.

“Emma?” Danielle froze when she saw Diana standing in the hallway in front of her. When the older woman saw her, her face became a mixture of delight and shame all at once. “Elle.”

“Hi.”

“I…I’m so sorry.” She had tears in her eyes.

Danielle did not even stop to think; she rushed over and embraced her. “It’s not your fault. I am sorry this is even happening, I should never have pissed her off.”

“Has Tom tried speaking to you?”

“Not since the day of the car accident.”

“I could not bare to even speak with him, he began by saying not to judge after the article came out, can you believe that?”

“I don’t…I can’t talk about it.” Danielle stated.

“Of course, I understand.” Diana nodded solemnly. A moment later, her face became one of interest. “Why do you smell of men’s shower gel?”

“Because someone has been staying with a handsome doctor the passed few days.” Emma sang from behind her, going into the kitchen to put on the kettle.

Diana’s eyes lit up at that information. “Really?”

“Oh God, not you too.”

“Well, as a surrogate for your mother, I have to say, I approve.”

“Of course you do, it was you that thought to try and set us up, to begin with,” Danielle stated.

“So, is he nice…”

“Mum, if you are asking Elle what he is like in bed, I swear to God, I will drop dead here and now of mortification!” Emma shouted from the kitchen. “Besides, I already asked, sort of.”

“I need to get new people to talk to, Brit’s are mental.” Danielle shook her head as she walked passed Diana and into the kitchen.

*

Automated voice - You have fourteen new messages. This message was left on the eighth of September at 4:30 am.

“Elle, its Tom, I…fuck I need you to call me back, as soon as you get in. Please.”

This message was left on the eighth of September at 6:30am.

“Elle, its Tom again, I never even thought, you might not even be working these few nights, but anyway, please, ring me when you get this.”

This message was left on the eighth of September at 9:05 am.

“Elle, I know you are finished work or awake if you didn’t have work last night, please ring me.”

This message was left on the eighth of September at 2:30 pm.

“Please Elle, look I know you are probably pissed about that piece, I am…I am trying to have it dealt with.”

This message was left on the eighth of September at…

The messages went on and on, all fourteen had been from Tom, and after a while, his tone became shorter, until the final one, left that morning. “I am just trying to make this right.” He had snapped on it. But the article came to her mind once more. She thought for a second that he had seen through that bitch, but when she Googled his name, she regretted it immediately, the first result was an article, from that day’s Daily Mail, declaring the pair to be the hottest thing in New York for that evening's fashion show.

Annoyed, Danielle decided to erase all the messages and went to get ready for work.

*

Tom looked at his phone, three missed calls but none from Danielle while he had been out for lunch with Taylor, having gone over everything with her over what they would say to the reporters that evening, making sure it was crystal clear that nothing ever happened between him and Danielle, and that the ‘source’ the magazine had was false.

“Ready?” he turned to see Taylor standing behind him, looking beautiful in a pair of shorts and high boots. He knew now that behind that beauty, there was a coldness that could rival that of a boardroom CEO that would fire every last subordinate, just because he could.

“Yes.” He gave as good a smile as he muster.

“After this, she’ll be cleared so try to make that smile more believable.”

“She never did anything to be cleared of, she is not on trial, she did nothing.” He stated.

“Whatever, she will have her sad pathetic life back, and we will get on with ours.” She smiled.

Tom frowned, the way Taylor was speaking, she seemed to think they were still in a good place in their relationship. “I just need to talk to Luke for a moment.”

“Chop chop.” She ordered.

Tom bared his teeth after she left the room, scrolling to Luke’s name and pressing the call button. “It’s nearly midnight, this better be good Tom.”

“Hey.”

“Hello,” Luke replied curtly, “Now what is it?”

“Luke…just don’t start.”

“Look, we spent years making you the nicest guy in Hollywood, remember that. No having public flings, no acting the fool, no drunken incidences and you are now the laughing stock of the free world, so after everything I sacrificed to make sure you got ahead, I really am not interested. Whatever it is, ask ‘PR Barbie’s’ people to deal with it.”

“I am going to a fashion show with her.”

“Because of course, you love those things,” Luke replied sarcastically.

“It’s all done as soon as the show finishes.”

There was silence on the line for a moment. “Why not before?”

“I have her agreeing to rubbish what was published about Danielle.”

“And she will willingly do that? I don’t buy it, Tom.”

“What else can I do, Danielle…?”

“There is no need to tell me about Ms Hughes, I have spent the passed week of my life trying to stop leeches getting anything on her, including photo’s.”

“I never thought to ask…”

“No, you didn’t; your mum did, though. Not that she had to. I was already on it.” The publicist snapped.

“Luke, I fucked up.”

“Thank you for stating that, I was not aware before now.”

Tom sighed at his friends’ sarcasm. “You were right.”

“Yet another obvious statement of fact.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah well, next time a narcissistic bitch who writes countless songs on his legion of ex’s sniffs around, will you listen to me?”

Tom could not help the smile on his face. “I think I can do that.”

“Good, now what are you doing about this statement?”

*

“Mr Hiddleston, please, Mr Hiddleston, this way please.” Tom turned obediently to face the photographers, their lights blinding him as he did. “Mr Hiddleston, have you anything to say about the claims being made that you forced your ex-girlfriend to get an abortion?”

Even hearing those words made Tom’s jaw clench. “Yes, actually, I do. I have not now, nor have I ever made such a request to any woman much less the woman in question. She has never been anything but a close family friend, and she is one of the most honourable women I have ever had the good fortune to befriend. These claims are wholly untrue and have been terribly hurtful to her, for which I can never apologise to her enough. Whoever put about that story is lying and is doing so to hurt a hard working and good woman.” He stated clearly.

“Taylor,” the same reporter looked to the blonde songstress, “the article stated it was a source close to you that leaked this story, and that you received the email, what have you to say?”

Tom had to force himself to remain calm at the manner in which the reporter had dismissed what he had just said, but he looked to Taylor to see if she would do as she had promised.

Taylor gave a small laugh. “Well, its rubbish of course, I mean, how would this person have even get my email address? My squad and I don’t need to talk about people we don’t know; our lives are interesting enough to occupy us. People just like profiting off my name, it’s something I have had to get used to sadly.” She gave a sad puppy face at that, trying to sway the journalist to see her as as much a victim in the situation as Danielle. Tom had to give her credit, Taylor knew how to play reporters and public image, and that worried him.

[gretavanfleetlife]

Only Time Will Tell:

Chapter 7

AN: hey! Sorry about that last heartbreak of a chapter, I’d promise it gets better but I might have to break my promise like reader lol🤭 Anywayy i hope you like the symbolism and metaphorical sense a certain part of this chapter, a bit deeper than it may seem on the surface... lol enjoy babes!!💖💖

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 2,200 words

"I'm sorry."

Sam looks at you, his face miserable. His eyes begin to water and he fights hard to hold back tears. Your heart truly feels shattered. The way he looks at you makes you think of Josh.

"Oh Sammy," you sigh, your words heavy as a side effect of your broken heart. You step towards him and give him a brief hug, as if I'll apologize for what you've done. You know that you still have feelings for him, but you also know that it will only make things worse if you embrace them before he leaves. You pull away from Sam's gentle touch and gaze sadly into his eyes. Looking at him reminds you too closely of Josh, both images being enough to make your eyes water. Ever since you were younger you've absolutely hated seeing any of the boys cry. It didn't happen often, but when it did it almost always moved you to tears. Sam looks at the ground, refusing to meet your eyes.

"Look at me," you whisper. Sam does as you say, lifting his head and gazing down at you. "I-I'll wait for you, ok?" you hear yourself sniffle. Sam nods, running a hand through his long hair.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he whispers, his voice cracking. He turns, running a hand across his face and walking out of your room. Moments later, you hear him leave your house by the creaking of the front door echoing throughout your home. You sink back on your bed, lying down into the mattress as you begin to think about everything you've caused in such a short amount of time. You bury your face in your pillow and cry softly, eventually falling into a heavy dream by accident.

You dream that you are back at the creek, sitting next to Sam on the smooth rock just as you did last night. You rest your head on Sam's shoulder as his arm is wrapped around you gently. Everything seems to be happening in the same way as it had the night before. When he pulls away from you, you no longer feel disappointed at the loss of contact, because you know what's coming. You look up at him and gaze into his deep brown eyes, dreading to hear him speak.

"Beautiful," he whispers. Your heart falls, remembering what came after Sam uttered that word the night before. He leans in closer to you, but instead of pulling away like you know you should, you close the gap between the two of you and kiss him. Your lips danced sweetly with his, but unlike the night before, it was Sam who pulled away first, quickly ending the kiss. You look at him, confused and suddenly unsure about what's to happen next.

"I thought this was what you wanted," you wonder aloud to Sam. He looks straight into your eyes but doesn't reply, his face a blank canvas void of expression. He leans closer to you again and you brace yourself for another kiss, but are stunned when you feel him suddenly push you strongly into the creek. You crash into the water, the stream becoming as deep as an ocean as you sink like a stone. You swim back to the surface and you splash about the water, unable to stay afloat against the sudden heavy current. You desperately scream out to Sam for help but watch in horror as he stands up from his place atop the rock and walks away through the trees. You are left alone, thrashing about in the water. You feel exhausted from fighting against the crashing waves around you, so you tiredly let the water crash over your head, submerging you completely under the water. You reach your hand above your head as a tired final attempt of hope. You feel water begin to splash into your lungs as you feel a sudden tight grip around your hand. You are pulled strongly out of the water, crashing down onto a soft bed of grass. Sam must have come back for you, you think, coughing up seawater. You look back at the water that you just escaped from and realize that the deep ocean you had almost drowned in has turned back into the shallow stream that ran through the creek.

"You alright?" a familiar voice asks. You glance upward, expecting to see Sam but instead locking eyes with Josh, who sits in soaked clothes beside you. Sam is nowhere in sight.

You startle awake from your dream, breathing quickly as you attempt to relax into the comfortable mattress beneath you. You roll over onto your back and notice that your pillow is still damp with your tears. You rub your eyes and glance at your phone. The time reads 4:38 p.m., but that's not what catches your eye. Instead, you notice a text appear, sent to you about an hour ago.

'Sam: Josh just talked to Jake and Danny without me and convinced them to leave today instead of tomorrow :( '

Your stomach drops as you lie still on your bed, too stunned to move. You reread the message a couple of times before snapping out of your haze and rushing to reply.

'Y/n: What time?' you type. Seconds later, Sam replies.

'Sam: In like 10 mins'

'Y/n: I'll be right over'

'Sam: Hurry'

You roll out of bed and rush to change out of your pajamas, throwing on a loose pair of shorts and a large hoodie. You hurry out of your house and walk quickly over to the Kiszka house. Approaching their driveway, you see Danny and Jake loading a large van with bags and equipment. Danny sees you first, delicately placing a red snare drum into the trunk of the car.

"Y/n!" Danny yells, causing Jake to look to you as well, "I thought you weren't coming!" He pulls you into a giant bear hug, lifting you off the ground and causing you to squeal.

"I fell asleep, but I'd never miss saying goodbye!" you reply with a genuinely wide smile as Danny carefully places you back on the ground. Danny never fails to make you grin like a fool. He mimics your smile as Jake approaches you, holding his precious red guitar in one hand and a reaching out to you with the other. You hug Jake closely as he rubs your back with his free hand.

"We're gonna miss you y/n," he says softly, "don't forget about us while we're gone, ok?" Jake lets you go with a smile.

"Only if you don't forget about me."

"Deal," Jake grins, holding out his hand to shake yours as if to solidify the agreement. You shake his hand but instantly regret it.

"Ew, Jake! Why's your hand wet?" you ask with a disgusted look on your face. You carefully smell the sticky substance on your hand and recognize the scent immediately, laughing in relief.

"I dropped a case of beer when I was loading it into the van. I may have spilled a little bit," he laughs, motioning to the driveway at pieces of shattered glass and a puddle of beer. You shake your head jokingly.

"Clutz," you tease, "where are the other two?"

"Josh and Sam are inside doing who knows what," he says, waving his hand dismissively towards the house.

"Alright, I'll be right back," you declare, walking up the driveway towards the front door. You hold your breath and walk up to the door, already ajar. Just as you are about to walk inside, Josh pushes past you, giving you a short glance before quickly returning his focus to the ground ahead of him. You feel a familiar pang of disappointment return but you let him go, seeing Sam waiting just inside the house. He lets out a heavy sigh of relief when he sees you. You step inside and Sam ruffles his hair nervously while shoving his other hand in his pocket.

"Hey," you begin.

"Hey, I'm glad you made it over before we left, I was starting to get worried," Sam admits.

"Me too, I don't think I'd be able to forgive myself if you left without saying goodbye."

"Yeah well we shouldn't be leaving today anyway," he complains.

"It's alright Sam, I'm sure Josh has his reasons," you say unconvincingly.

"Pfft, I don't give a shit about his reasoning, he could've asked me," Sam rants, clearly upset.

"It's ok, don't worry about it," you try to calm him, knowing it's definitely your fault that Josh wanted to leave a day early. Sam opens his arms to you and pulls you into a hug. Your heart flutters but sadness still seeps through you. He adjusts his grip on you, pulling you tighter to himself as he buries his face in your neck.

"I'm gonna miss you so fucking much," he says, his voice muffled by your hair. You smile sadly. You rub his back in response, not wanting to speak in fear of your voice cracking unevenly. He lifts his head away from the crook of your neck and you feel his warm breath against your ear. "Promise you'll wait for me?" Sam whispers softly into your ear. You remain still for a moment, unable to avoid remembering the last time that you made a promise. You nod against his chest.

"Of course," you breath softly. He pulls away from you but you can't bring yourself to look at him. He reaches out to you and gently lifts your chin, forcing your eyes to reconnect with his.

"I need to hear you say it," he asks, "please." His eyes are still swimming with sadness, reminding you of your earlier conversation with him.

"I promise, Sammy. I'll wait for you," you whisper.

As you help Sam grab the last of the bags from the house you feel the former uneasy tension between you and Sam drift away. You load the luggage into the van, saying a quick goodbye to Sam before he hops into the car. Recapping in your head, you've hugged three of the four of them goodbye, and you know that the last will be the most difficult. You walk around to the driver's seat and knock on the car window. Josh doesn't open the door right away, and you begin to wonder if he'll even get out to say goodbye before they leave. You're put slightly at ease when the car door opens and Josh steps out, closing the door strongly behind himself and turning to face you. His eyes stare into yours, his face emotionless and impossible to interpret, although you know for certain how he's feeling on the inside.

"Do us both a favor and leave me alone," Josh says urgently in a deep voice. Your heart drops lower in your chest at the harshness of his tone, this is not going to be easy. You shake your head slightly, denying the possibility of meeting Josh's request.

"I know you're upset, and you have every reason to be," you begin, your voice low and desperate, "But I need you to know that I'm going to miss you with every piece of my heart. I'm sorry, you have no idea how bad I feel about this."

"Oh, I understand perfectly how terrible you must be feeling," Josh scoffs, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at you, "I'd even say I'm feeling quite similar myself."

"Right, um sorry," you stumble, feeling idiotic. Of course he knew how you were feeling, how could you say that to him. "Anyway uh, I'm gonna miss you," you stutter, feeling very unsure of yourself after Josh's last comment, "can I... can I have a hug?"

He hesitates for a moment, but eventually opens his arms towards you and you hug him tightly. You close your eyes, feeling tears begin to form and trying not to let them fall.

"Please remember that I love you, Joshie," you whisper into his ear. He pulls away from you.

"Don't call me that," he says, opening the car door and swiftly getting inside. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying. You gave Josh that nickname when you were seven years old. Since then, Josh has gotten mad at anyone other than you who called him it. You both know that the name is reserved for only you to call him, or at least it was until now.

"Bye y/n!" Danny calls from the back of the van, bringing you out of your daydream while the car makes its way down the driveway. You cross your arms and wave back at the car. Jake leans over to the wheel and honks the horn, waving to you and earning a serious slap from Josh. You laugh, continuing to wave as the van backs onto the road and drives away. You hear another honk and you giggle at Jake's second attempt at a goodbye. Soon, the van disappears over the horizon. Wiping a small tear from your eye, you begin to slowly walk home in the middle of the road.

Taglist: @aliensforleaders @kiszkaboi @greta-gvf @rogers-wristbands @strawberry-fieldsssss @gretavanqueen @spngvf @goodoldfashionedqueen @mutantpanda54 @allons-ytomyworld @diggrycedric @sammysgirll @rogerinascigarette @thaliamessi @pazmonkey @yesmynameisbelle @a-queen-and-her-throne @grapesarepurple @cherrrywitch @edgeofdrkness @livcappolella @ohsososophisticatedd @lunautica13 @oddolive @daydreamqueenjaycee @jenjenhill @neonslushies @fruityfreddie @izmo16 @gwilsbri @safarimama @thicchardy @mr-stank-i-dont-feel-so-dank 💗💗💗

[lilaclily00]

Sunsets and Stars

Valerie Gray meets her clone.

(DannyMay 2019 Day 5: Sunset)

This is somewhat a recap of "Kindred Spirits" in the D/V roleswap!AU. Dani's appearance is based off of this post. This is for you, @goinggoblin​ and @pigte​!

AO3 link

Being Phoenix was exhausting. Valerie felt like she could barely function as she trudged home after yet another ghost-troubles-related detention.

“Ugh, I just wanna nap,” she muttered to herself as she came up the stairs and to her bedroom doorway. She dropped her backpack from her shoulders, flicked on the light--and was suddenly wide awake, instinctively crouching into a defensive stance. Someone was on her bed.

“Who are you?” she demanded, eyes narrowed and heart pounding. The figure pulled down the magazine away from her face and Valerie blinked at how... young it was. It was just some girl maybe a couple years younger than her, with big gray-blue eyes and freckles dancing across her bronze skin.

“I’m Danielle,” the girl stated with surprising confidence as she folded down the corner of the page to mark her place. “Do you have something I could eat?”

Valerie reasserted her stance; there wasn’t a real reason yet to let her guard down. “Not unless you tell me why you’re here and how you got into my room.”

Danielle placed the magazine beside her--it was a random copy of Vogue from Valerie’s collection in her closet--and folded her legs under herself. “I walked through the door.” She pulled a grin, which shrank when Valerie didn’t smile back. “I ran away from home, and... well, you’re the closest family I have. Distance-wise.” She sheepishly rubbed at her neck, beneath her black, wavy hair. “We’re, like, third cousins once-removed.”

Valerie inched closer. Third cousins once-removed? Strangely remote relationship and specific. “We don’t know each other. Why would you come to me instead of one of your friends?”

Danielle flinched, and Valerie sighed. Something about that reaction told her what she needed to know--no friends. She loosened her stance, standing up and watching the girl with crossed arms for a few seconds. Danielle watched back, fidgeting under the stare, but she held the gaze.

“Alright,” Valerie finally said, motioning to the door, “let’s go start making dinner.” Danielle’s eyes lit up as she ran back out the room, Valerie following. It would take receiving a few more answers before she could trust this strange girl, but so far, she didn’t seem so bad.

Valerie startled awake at a sound, which was immediately followed by whispered apologies. She fought her grogginess away to focus on Danielle’s face hovering by her blanket-bundled self. The girl was standing next to her, much closer than she anticipated. Valerie scooted back, then sat up. “Ugh, what time is it?”

“Time for you to--eh, that one’s overused.” The younger girl hunched her shoulders up. “Sorry again, didn’t mean to interrupt your nap. I was trying to get over you to look at the sunset.”

Valerie frowned, then turned her attention to the window hanging over her bed. Oranges, pinks, and purples painted the sky outside, tinting wisps of butts and a weaning moon already peeking out. She slowly relaxed into a small smile, even as Danielle messily climbed onto the bed beside her. The girl’s face glowed in the gentle light, her expression filled with childish awe.

“Sometimes I forget how pretty these can be,” Valerie mused aloud.

Danielle began to bob her head, then shook it to disagree instead, beanie nearly falling off. “I just don’t get tired of them. I can’t. It’s like the sky is on fire! But in a good way!”

“Hey, I’ve thought the same thing!” The girls looked back to each other, considering each other, twin grins on their faces.

Danielle was the first to turn back to the window. “Would you get mad at me if I stayed up to look at the stars too?”

Vlad’s ugly blue face leered at her with triumph. “Good afternoon, dear girl.”

Valerie snarled at him, then her gaze diverted to the computer screens behind him, playing clips of her transforming. Her glare renewed. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you are intelligent, just like myself.” Vlad swished his cape behind him as he turned to type commands into the computer.

Valerie wished so, so badly she was not trapped so thoroughly so she could sock him for that comment alone. “I am not like you, you psychopath!”

“Oh, I do believe we’re alike, not just with our shared powers.” He stood straight in the air, chest puffed out, as he watched the computer do some analyses on the video clips. “You also keep using that word, but I don’t believe it means what you think it means.” He floated back over to her. “You say it as if it is synonymous with ‘crazed villain’. I am neither a psychopath or a crazed villain. All I ever wanted was happiness.”

“At the expense of everyone else’s,” she spat, but he paid her no heed, instead merely pressing a button on the wall. A chamber to the side began to open, hissing with released pressure.

“Yet you and the Fentons refuse to let that happen. Maddie and Daniel will not become a family with me, and you have denied my offer to become my apprentice time and time again. You have all forced my hand to get what I want in a different way.”

Her jaw dropped as she watched the chamber reveal a replica of... herself, her ghostly half, limp and connected to tubes.

Vlad continued, “The good clone is the product of many months’ work, and is close to completion--it is almost ready to accept your DNA.”

Valerie’s brain hurt with how fast it was moving. This was far beyond espionage and sabotage and even outright obsession. He had been creating clones of her--presumably to have a half-ghost child and apprentice of his own. “So those ghosts--”

He apathetically watched one of those very ghosts from earlier that day drift to his side, long white hair and red boots dripping ectoplasm. “Yes, the bad clones, the failures.”

She thought back to Danielle--and her betrayal. Calling Vlad her father. A stone settled in her stomach. “Is Danielle one of them?”

Vlad narrowed his eyes at her for a second. “She’s actually my most successful yet. I had thought the problem was the instability of your DNA, and added another person’s DNA to help, which worked, but not quite enough.” Alarm bells rang in her head, but he didn’t give her a chance to think on that more. “Turns out what I really need is a mid-morph sample from you.”

“And you think I’ll just give that to you?!” Valerie screeched, struggling in her trap.

“I wish you would, but alas,” Vlad sighed, snapping his fingers, prompting one of the clones to action, “that is an unrealistic expectation.”

She heard nothing after that except for her own screams.

“I know you can’t beat me,” Danielle declared, squeezing her fists tight at her sides. Her white, curly ponytail floated and her eyes glowed green.

Valerie slowly worked at standing up, lightheaded and trembling. “You’re right, but I’m not going to fight you. It’ll hurt you more than me.”

“You heard him, I’m the most stable clone!” Danielle began forming an ecto-blast, then stopped as she realized her body wasn’t handling it anymore--ectoplasm bubbled off her feet. She bit her lip, then said, “If you don’t give him your morph DNA, then I’ll always be like this. He needs it to save me!”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s true.” Valerie had successfully stood all the way up, keeping her distance, tired eyes set on the smaller girl. “He said you’re the best one yet, but he also said you’re not good enough. He’s using you, just like he’s using Danny and so many other people.”

She suddenly remembered why Danielle looked so different compared to the other clones. She had DNA from someone else, too, and it really wasn’t terribly hard to guess who on her name alone. Vlad’s ability to do messed-up things was truly unprecedented.

“You--you’re lying!” Danielle shot at her, horror setting into her eyes. Valerie had just barely managed to put up a feeble shield, yet she still got knocked back a foot. Determination settled back into the younger girl. “He cares about me too much.”

“He doesn’t care about anyone, not really. He doesn’t know what real love is!” Valerie’s chest ached, not just physically, and before she knew it, she was shouting. “Look at me--look at this situation! Look at what he’s done! I’m only fourteen!” She looked into Danielle’s acid green eyes, nothing like her own, yet strangely reminiscent of the girl’s namesake. “Danny’s only fourteen, too, and--and he claims to love Danny as a son, then goes and creates you out of him? What do you call that?”

Danielle stepped back, doubt making her every move difficult. Valerie regretted her words a little; she didn’t want to watch the girl go through so much pain. Finally, in a small voice, Danielle said, “It feels like he just bosses me around, and... he’s cruel to the other clones.”

Valerie hesitantly walked towards her. Her clone gave no indication that she intended to fight anymore. “I don’t want him to start being cruel to you, too. I know it’d be hard to leave, but anything’s better than staying with Vlad.”

“Where would I even go, though?” she whined, holding her head in her hands.

“I think our bigger priority right now is just getting out of this mansion, but... well, we are family,” Valerie began, amazed by the words coming out of her mouth. She’d become incredibly attached to the girl, even thought it’d only been one day. “We’ll figure it out.”

Danielle gaped at her, hope shining through, and Valerie just had to hug her. The girls melted into their embrace. The moment was brief, though, as they remembered where they were, and both looked down to the floor, as if gazing straight into the basement.

“We need to destroy the equipment, don’t we?” Danielle stated.

Valerie added, “And beat up Vlad.” She breathed into her nonexistent lungs, then back out. She already felt a little better than just a few minutes ago. Ghostly healing really was something else. “But just enough to do the job; I don’t think either of us have the strength for more than that.”

“Deal.” Danielle grinned at Valerie, and Valerie grinned back before both went intangible and flew down through the floor--together.

Danielle disappeared right after the fight, and Valerie agonized over whether to go looking for her or head home. She ultimately picked the latter, flying out before Vlad got to recover. Danielle had still been in... okay condition, at the last sighting, and she knew where Valerie lived, if she planned to go back there as well.

Valerie sat on the roof of her house that same night, watching the sky fade from orange to black, when Danielle made her appearance, popping into visibility right next to her. “Dang it, the sunset’s almost over.”

The elder girl didn’t even flinch. Instead, she gnawed on her lip, picking her words. “Were... you thinking of staying here?”

Danielle curled herself up into a ball. “No, I think I shouldn’t. I don’t want to make you or your dad take care of me.”

Valerie’s eyes widened. “You’d rather be out there all on your own?”

“Well, like you said, it’s better than being with my father--uh, Vlad, still.” The girl shrugged a little to herself, hugging her knees closer to herself. “And I know I’m not all alone. I still have a friend.”

Valerie scooched over to wrap her arm around Danielle. She could see her point--if she were in the same situation, she’d be sick of people pretending to be parents, too, even if their intentions were good. She wasn’t sure her house would be the best setting for Danielle, anyway, if both of them were going to be hiding so many secrets from her dad. She still didn’t like the idea, but maybe she could trust that her clone would be okay out there, and find someone she was comfortable living with when she was ready for that.

“So I take it you came to say bye?” Valerie asked, eyes focused on the fading sunlight.

“Yeah, but I wanted to watch the sky a little longer first.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

The stars slowly appeared, and Danielle vanished once again.

[nokia-group-1-blog]

In the End, The Choice is Yours

The night was so deep the shadows seemed to bleed darkness. James glanced toward the hidden sky, searching for the moon that would not come. Not tonight. Even the brightest starlight was strangled in the canopy of trees. The temporary blindness was frightening, but it ensured that no one would notice him slipping away.

With each step he took, the silent crackles of the twigs and dried leaves will be heard. Finally, he reached his destination: an old house. As he opens the door and took a step inside the house, the floor rattles.  He was welcomed by a dustless living room. Passing it, he walks toward the stairs.  After reaching the end of the stairs, he took a turn to the right. Closing his eyes, he opened the door of the room located at the end of the hallway.

The darkness of the room welcomed James. Inside the room was his life’s work. Now is the time to test it and be able to obtain the reason why he created this machine. Many people said that he was mad of ever thinking that he can make one. Alas, they are wrong and now he finally made one, his very own time machine.

James started working on the mechanism of the machine and pressed different gears for finishing touches. He desperately wants the thing to work, to be able to go back and change the things that have to be changed. So engrossed with his work, he didn’t notice the shadow that lurks the house. Watching and observing him from a far.

Sleep swallowed him as he works. In his sleep, come the terrible nightmares.

A girl crying and begging.

A woman dead in the arms of his husband.

A boy who looks bewildered, clueless of what’s happening.

A pool of blood.

A cracked glass.

Three lifeless body lying on the floor.

Then, it stops. Now, emptiness filled his dreams, a short break for an antagonizing agony that will come next. Another dream appears the memory that keeps on resurfacing no matter how hard he suppresses.

           He woke up sweating and in an uncomfortable position. He looks at the calendar, then at the machine. “Tonight will be the perfect time for you to function”, he said longingly.

           The night came; the stars are showering the night sky with its twinkling lights. The shadow of the trees engulfs the old house. Inside, James was preparing for his time travel, packing everything that he might need when he arrived in the past. As he packed his things, he saw a family picture, his family picture. He remembers the bittersweet memories that come with it. A tear fell from his eye, but he never bothered to wipe it out. It’s a reminder of everything that he needed to do.

           James seized the old pocket watch and turned the gears to the time that he yearns to go back. The watch starts to turn fast and as it turns, there’s a blinding light that engulf James. Then puff, James is nowhere to be found. The old house is once again empty. However, in the midst of the darkness, there’s someone who witnessed all the things that happen tonight.

           Opening his eyes, a new place welcomed him. A place so familiar to him. Standing up, he feels wobbly, like a fast train that hit him. He can’t stand straight because of the awful headache that he is experiencing. Then a curious looking woman comes to his aid,

“Hello, Mister. Are you alright? You seem to be in a tight situation.”

“I’m alright, I just have a headache. I can still manage”, James said while looking at the ground and steadying his stance.

           The voice seems familiar, it brought back memories. Curious of whom the woman is, he looked up to see. It’s like the heavens are singing right now, happiness field his heart. He finally did it. He is now on the right timeframe. After so many years of trials, he did it.

           The happiness is overwhelming that he started to cry. Then he hugged the woman out of joy. The woman looked bewildered at his reaction and kind of uncomfortable. He didn’t know the man but he looks familiar to her and she feels like she knows him all her life. She just let the man cry on his shoulder.

           “Are you okay now, Mister?” she asked as the man finally stops crying and distanced himself away from her. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. It’s just because you look so similar to the person I know”, he apologized to the lady.

“I’m Jason, by the way. Thank you for your concern”, James introduced himself to the woman while using a fake name, hoping that she will also give her name. “I’m Louisa. Are you a traveler? I haven’t seen you around here before and I know the entire person here in town”, the woman said looking intriguingly at James. James doesn’t know what to say, his mind went blank for a second. He forgot that he is a stranger in this timeframe.

A person with no identity and a nomad.

So he just said yes to Louisa and explained that he is from a town far away from here. “Is there any available place to stay here?” he said inquiring Louisa, hoping that she will let him stay at her house.

           “You can stay in our house. There’s an extra room there that you can use.” The way to Louisa’s house is so familiar to him. The canopy of trees and the bumpy road. There are puddles of water around and the grass are still wet, it seems that rain has just passed by. They arrived at a small two story house. They were welcomed by the noisy squabble of a girl and a boy. A muscular man approached them, who hugged Louisa.

           Their home is so lively. The sound of laughter filled the house. He can smell the delicious soup broiling in the caldron. The smell of the fresh flowers in the vases. The sight of the scenery in the balcony.

           Louisa introduced him to her family. They whole heartedly accept James in their household. The one who hugged Louisa is his husband, Danny, a large muscular man. The girl who is arguing with her little brother is Lisa, a petite and brunette girl. Finally, James, who has a clean, cut hair, tanned skin, and a handsome young man.

The 13 years old version of him.

Seeing him feels nostalgic. It feels like he wants to take the life of the young James but he couldn’t, his time has already passed. The only thing that he can do is change the circumstances and save them. He will save his family. Maybe his present will also change and he will have his family back.

           Night came, the meal was great as he expected. His mother was a great cook. While they were eating, the family members were talking to each other. James was staring at them as they joke with one another, laughing, and telling stories that make up their day. It’s a sight to behold. A memory surfaces, wherein he was the young James, he was the one laughing and telling funny stories. It’s all in his past; it’s here in their present.

           It’s time to retire the night and go to sleep. Louisa approaches him and brought him some blanket, “Here, take these. You can use the room at the end of the hallway.” He took the blanket and thanked Louisa for letting him stay in their house. He entered the room and takes a look at the veranda of the room. The night was so beautiful, the moon filled the sky with its blinding light and the stars are exceptionally brighter tonight. Amidst, this beautiful night will be a terrifying event that changed James life forever.

           In his room, James is laying in the bed staring at the ceiling. Remembering the things that will happen tonight. If memory serves right, there will be a big fire. It’s still painful to reminisce. He remembers it clearly, especially because he will be the cause of the fire and he will be the only survivor in that incident.

           Then, James’ family was soundly sleeping. He, on the other hand, was still wide awake and seems anxious for a reason he don’t know. So, he got up and gets himself a glass of milk but there is no hot water. While boiling, James decided to take a stroll outside and watch the beautiful night sky. The sky was so clear and the blanket of stars envelops it. He can see so many constellations. So engrossed in star gazing, he forgot that he was boiling water.

           After the stroll, he goes back to their house, but alas. The house is on fire, the hot red flower was consuming his house and his family, too.

They are trapped inside.

He tried to go inside and save them, yet the authority won’t allow him. He tried and tried and tried. But the fire is so big now that it’s impossible to go inside.

           Despair consumed his heart. He hates himself for what he has done. He hates himself for being the only one alive. He hates himself that he killed his own family. That day he made a vow, he will do everything to turn back the time and these time he will definitely save them.

           James went downstairs, to see if the young version of him had gone down. There he saw young James pouring water in the kettle.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked as he approached the young James. “Yes, so I’m getting myself a glass of milk. Want some?” young James asked while starting the fire. “No, thank you. Why can’t you sleep? Is there anything bothering you”, he asked even though he already knew the answer.

He is him after all.

“I just feel anxious, today, I can’t explain”, he answered James. The conversation between the two James continue until they become so sleepy and have to retire the night and go to sleep.

           James was ecstatic when he woke up in the morning. He stopped the fire it means that he saves the lives of his family. It also means that they are alive in his timeframe now. He is eager to go back, so he said his farewell to Louisa and her family. He thanked them for their warm welcome. As they part, he saved the picture of his family in his memory and treasured it in his heart.

           He put out his pocket watch and turned the gears to the time where he belongs. It’s another nauseating ride and amass headache. But it’s all worth it; just imagining that his family is in their house alive takes all the pain away.

           When he arrives at his time, a new set of memories bombarded his mind. As the new memories come; he remembers the changes that happen. He starts to cry, “No, no, no. I save them. I change it. So why?! Why are they still not here?!” Then he laughs, he laughed really hard, “It must be a joke. They are alive. My mind is just messing with me.”

           He runs as fast as he could to his old house. When he was near the door, he stopped. It’s true, the memories are true. They are still dead; they never live past that date. He sat on the rung of the stairs, looking forlorn. Staring at the ground as if it has all the answer that he needed; he recalls all the changes that happen.

           He saved them from the fire, but they didn’t die because of the fire. They died because someone else killed them. That’s what his dreams were all about.

The girl that was weeping and begging was Lisa.

The pool of blood.

The lifeless woman in the arms of his husband.

His father being tortured by a group of men.            

He witnessed it all. He saw how they were killed. He saw all the gruesome things that they did to them. They were suffering, while he was hidden in the cabinet where his mother placed him. He saw everything in the fissure of the cabinet. He wants to erase them all.

           He looks up at the dark sky and weep.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have changed anything. I should have just accepted the fact that you are dead. If I didn’t turn back the time, you won’t experience those things”.

The rain starts to pour, but he just stayed there soaking and crying silently. All of the things that he had built have gone astray. He can’t use the time machine now. The young James that he met never builds one, instead he sought after the murderers that killed his family.

           James has no time left in making another time machine. He already consumed his life line and that would be the last time travel that he had done. He already gave his all and sacrificed his own life for changing the past.

           He got up, drench in the rain, and slowly moved into the house. As he walks inside, droplets of water fall in the floor. The last essence of his life is slowly fading away. He walks past every room, remembering all the happy memories that he created with his family. The good and the bad, everything is essential and everything will always remain in his heart and mind.

           As the last essence left, he thought “Maybe I should have just moved on and never gone back to the past. Maybe if I just accepted the truth, everything had gone well. Maybe I have my own family now. But, look what I have done. I made everything worse. I made them suffer more. I should have never fought with destiny. Mom. Dad. Lisa. I’m so sorry.”

James left the world with a heart full of regrets. Regrets can never redeem. Regrets that lick him up in his entire life.

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This Story is Made by Claire Aubrey Altamera, Jackylyn Tibor and Argie Balingbing.